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anyarose011 · 6 days ago

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Born Too Late III: "It Ain't Me, Babe"

Pairing: DBF!Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader

Summary: You're not out of the woods even after your roommate's crazy ex-boyfriend beat you to a pulp. Over a series of setbacks pushing you to the brink of several panic attacks (or is it just one really long one?), you still manage to find refuge in a few, safe people. But, in the words of Doechii "And just when it couldn't get worse", the worst possible person finds out about you and Robby...

Part 3 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Past Physical Assault, Blood, Inevitable Medical Inacuracies, Allusion/Mention of Sexual Assault, ANGST, Trent and Kimi, Reader has valid crashout(s), Healing of Daddy Issues?, Rant about a Real Criminology Concept, and a Realistic but Open-Ending.

I do have to say that this was one of my favorite stories to write on here. Not even for the purpose of Robby x Reader, I just loved the dynamics of all the characters and plot overall. I truly hope that the ending doesn't seem like a cop out; my intention was to write it as real as possible, especially since this all took place in one day. I'm tempted to write a prequel to this, showing all of the "missing scenes" alluded to throughout the story with Robby. We'll see how I feel lol. Thank you guys for ALL your interest, and hope you enjoy the ending! Sorry not sorry about the length, I yap 😭

Word Count: 9.2k

There were people you knew who had resting bitch faces. Dennis Whitaker was the first person you met to have a resting scared face.

That, and it was also because he asked you if you were okay, and you didn’t say anything.

He called your name. “Are you okay?”

Your mouth trembled as you tried to find the words. What left your lips must have been from the depths of your subconscious.

“Where-where’s my dad?”

You were outside of your body, but you couldn’t even see yourself. Hell, you didn’t feel like yourself.

Whitaker furrowed his brow. “Your…your dad?”

All you could do was nod.

“I’m not sure.” He responded gently. “Can I take your hand?”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. You wanted to cry, but you didn’t know why you couldn’t. Whitaker took your hand, leading you alongside him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a bit; I know things have been crazy.” He smiled reassuringly.

“It’s okay.” You whispered.

“Have you eaten anything besides chocolate today?”

You shook your head. “Have you?”

“No.” He laughed. “We can go get something from one of the vending machines in the break room.”

“I want to go home.”

God, could you sound even more like a sniveling child?

Whitaker stopped just a few feet away from the elevator and so did you. He got a better look at you; either that, or he was finally saying everything he first noticed when he ran into you.

“What happened to your nose?” He asked gently. “It’s kinda swollen.”

“I don’t know.”

Why did you say that so swiftly?

He frowned. “Were you crying just now? I think some of your mascara got onto your cheeks.”

Instinctively, you wiped your face with your free hand as if you would find any residue. You shook your head.

“It’s nothing.”

Whitaker took a deep breath, lowering his voice and saying your name. “I’m going to be honest, I think you should get checked out by someone here. It doesn’t have to be me, but I think something bad happened to you. You don’t have to tell me-.”

“-I’m fine.”

“But please, let me help you.”

It felt wrong, how he wanted to. No, it was his job to do that; there’s no way someone could see right through you when you were actually not doing well. You had relationships (friendships and romantic) where you had to earn the privilege of people caring for you.

You’d gotten used to it. Mainly with Kimi but also others who you thought were safe.

It felt like your skin was burning, and it was only then you realized you were still holding his hand. So, you dropped it.

“Thank you,” you felt like a puppet on strings as your mouth moved. “but really I’m fine.”

“Did you drive here?”

He wasn’t giving up.

“Yes.” You sighed. “I know what you’re doing, I can-.”

“-One of the guys on the night shift got here early and discharged me.” He interrupted, yet somehow, you weren’t annoyed. “We can go get your stuff and then get dinner. Anywhere you want, my treat. I mean, as long as it’s not like over a hundred bucks or something.”

You wondered if he was smiling out of nerves or trying to cheer you up. In your experience, it was usually both.

“I’ll drive.” You stated.

He thinned his lips. “You had a rough day; I can do it.”

You snorted. “So, if you’re driving my car, how are you getting home?”

“I’ll call an Uber.”

Usually, you would’ve made a joke about his male privilege and being so carefree about taking an Uber home late at night, but circumstances didn’t allow you to. Still, as if it hadn’t been one of the worst days of your life, a watery smile pulled onto your lips.

The ‘ding!’ of the elevator beside you made your head turn, and the doors slid open. Standing there, was Trent, seething. Blood coursed down from his nose to his chin, and where you once saw nothing behind his eyes, they were now filled with the rage you knew all too well.

You met his gaze the same time your soul left your body.

“You fucking bitch!” He charged you.

It happened all so fast.

Trent was just a hair away from you one moment, the next, Whitaker flung you behind him. You landed onto the ground, and when you looked up, you saw Whitaker go face first onto the floor beside you.

Crying in horror, you grabbed onto a nearby cart and pulled yourself onto your feet. Everything playing in your ears was simply noise; people were yelling and screaming, but you couldn’t make out a word they were saying.

It was only your eyes you could trust.

If they did not deceive you, you watched Jack Abbott tackle Trent to the ground; the first one to do so…When did he get there?

And, it was then that your vision began to blur as tears clouded your sight, that part of your hearing returned. As you stood there, with Jack holding Trent down, for verbatim, you heard.

“Did you get off my little girl when she told you to?!”

Someone wrapped their arm around your shoulders, turning you away, but something in your body told you that they were safe. You could barely see anything as you were led through the ER; only hazy objects and blaring lights. Someone was talking in your ear too, but again, it was just all noise upon the noise coming from the catastrophe behind you.

You hadn’t even realized you were clinging to the person like a buoy in an ocean you were stranded in until you heard a door slide shut behind you. Like a miracle, your vision started clearing up, and air entered through your nose and into your lungs.

Then, the taste of blood on your tongue.

You touched your nose, pulling your hands away to see them coated in red.

Melissa King gently called your name, placing her hand on your back.

“You should sit down.” She moved away from you to dim the lights, and your eyes caught sight of one Heather Collins in the room as well, prepping one of the beds.

Somehow, just at the sight of a medical bed, did you finally realize how much everything hurt.

Yet, you couldn’t rest.

The little girl, practically a baby, the one who got stung by a bee, you had to make sure she was okay, you had to-!

Collins rested her hands on your shoulders, stopping you. “It’s okay. Robby checked on her a minute ago, she’s fine. You need to sit down.”

Did you say all of that aloud? Could she read your mind? Oh God, if she could, then does she know-?!

“-Holy fucking shit!” Santos opened the door, and you never knew her face could morph into such fear. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. “Is Dennis okay?!”

He threw himself in front of you and was fucking pummeled to the floor!

Santos looked out the door before looking back. “I’m gonna be honest, his nose kinda looks messed up. But hey, you’re twinning.”

“Santos!” Collins scolded.

“Right, you’re right.” She nodded. “I’m so sorry I-.”

“-I heard you had a spinal tap to do.” Collins interrupted.

“I’ll go.” Santos gave one last look to you. “I’ll talk to you later, I swear.”

And then she left. It wasn’t the strangest, nor the quickest, interaction you had with someone…but fucking hell, this day.

Mel said your name again, but this time, strained. You looked at her and saw her gaze downwards at your pants. Following it, you saw blood seeping through the fabric around your groin.

Your jaw trembled as you looked back up at both her and Collins. As professionals, you knew they had seen worse than this. As women, you could see that familiar look of horror on their faces.

“He didn’t do anything.” Were your first words. “Not like that.”

“Baby…” Collins uttered.

“No, no,” You resisted. “I’m on my period! I-I-Mel, you gave me a pad this morning. I got him off me and-and I got it out and put it in his face so he’d stay off. I-I-I mean he bragged about pulling a girl’s tampon out of his mouth one time, so I didn’t think he’d overreact.”

What were you even saying?!

“I’ve had sex before! I-I would know, I would know if that bastard did something to me and-and-!” You hiccupped, feeling more blood seep through your nose and into your mouth.

“It’s okay,” Collins soothed. “we believe you. Can you sit down so I can assess you?”

What other choice did you have?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you tried to catch the blood still gushing out of your nose before it could get on more of your clothes. Too late for that.

Mel went to one of the drawers nearby as Collins held up her finger. “Follow it.”

You did; passed with flying colors.

“EOM is intact.” She told herself, then took a mini flashlight from her pocket, shining it in your eyes. “Pupils are reactive. Do you have a headache?”

“Kinda.”

“Does it hurt to breathe through your nose?”

“Weird, but doesn’t hurt.”

Mel came beside you with a handful of tissues and a nasal tampon. “I’m going to clean up the area around your nose, and this should pack the bleeding.”

You hummed. “You got one for me to put between my legs?”

She shook her head.

“Extra pants?”

Collins slipped off her sweatshirt, draping it over your legs. “I got some in my locker, plus a pad.”

You nodded, getting choked up. “Thank you.”

“Mel,” she looked at her. “could you finish up?”

She affirmed. “Of course.”

“I’ll grab some icepacks.”

Collins left, leaving you alone with Mel. It felt strange; both your body and the entire day. Still, Mel wasn’t one to dwell on it, unlike you.

She brought the tissues up to your nose. “Your gonna feel some pressure.”

You grunted as she placed the Kleenex onto your nostrils. The white tissues turned red, and she carefully slid the tampon into your left nostril. Apparently, that was the only one bleeding.

Mel placed her thumbs on your face. “Tell me when you feel pressure.”

They traveled up around the area of your nose, and it was only when she touched the septum did you hiss in pain. Mel walked back over to the drawer, then taking out a few wet wipes.

“Well,” she hunched over, cleaning the blood off of you as gently as she could. “it’s not misshapen, so that’s good. It’s not broken either. Swollen and bruised, but all you really need are icepacks and I could get you some pain medication.”

“Could you take pictures?” You asked out of the blue.

“I’m sorry?”

“Police usually take pictures of injuries for evidence, but could you?” You explained. “I just want to get it out of the way.”

Mel nodded. “Yeah, of course. Is it just your nose?”

You sighed. “No. It might be my head, I don’t know. He kicked me in the ribs…I think…yes, he did.”

“If you feel comfortable, would you want me to take pictures of those too?”

“Yes.” You said with certainty.

She backed up enough to give you space, taking out her phone. You decided to start with your ribs. They were tender, but thankfully, it wasn’t impossible to pull your shirt up. After Mel took a picture, you pulled it back down and she took a few photos of your nose and head.

“This is the worst photoshoot I’ve ever been in.” You joked.

“I’ve never been in one.” She stated.

“Let’s change that when the weather’s better.”

“Alright.” She put her phone away. “Now-.”

The door slid open, and in came Kimi like a bat out of hell.

“-What the hell did he do to you?!” She approached you.

Mel placed her hand on her shoulder. “You can’t be in here-.”

“-Fuck you, she’s my roommate.” She kneeled in front of you. “Baby, what happened?”

You hadn’t realized there was a long list of people you didn’t want to see at that moment, and she was near the top. You looked away, scowling and slipping the tampon out of your nose. Luckily, the blood finally stopped.

She didn’t take that as you being angry with her. She huffed. “Motherfucker. What’d you say to him?”

You finally looked at her. “What?”

“I’m just asking.” She explained. “He’s never done this before when I was a bitch, so you probably pissed him off-.”

You laughed. “-You’re an idiot.”

Kimi’s eyes shifted. At first, she was confused, then it quickly seeped into appalment. “What do you mean?”

You fell into a fit of giggles like Alice did down the rabbit hole. “I have told you hundreds, thousands, of times that whenever Trent hit something near you or me, then he actually wanted to hit one of us!”

Standing up, you weren’t laughing now. “And my God, I have never met someone who hates themselves so much, they bring a baby into the world for validation. But no, no, no, they’re not expecting to get it from the kid, they’re so fucking stupid they still think they’ll get it from the dad!”

The door slid open gently, and Collins came back in, carrying the pants, a single pad, and an ice pack. She said nothing.

Kimi didn’t lash out, and that’s what terrified you. Tears flew down her cheeks as you yelled at her, but she took a deep breath once you were finished.

“So, what should I do? Fuck my fifty-year-old boss?” She huffed. “How’s that working out for you?”

She marched out of the room, past Collins.

A part of you wished that Trent had killed you in the bathroom; you couldn’t feel shame if you were dead.

If not that, then you wished he somehow blinded you; just so that you wouldn’t have to see the way Heather Collins’s face dropped at the revelation.

Those two seconds in that room were brutal after Kimi left. Just where your gaze could only fall to the floor, and you didn’t even want to imagine the looks Mel and Collins were giving each other; or you.

“She has whiplash.” Collins said. “She can’t leave alone unless she signs an AMA.”

Just like that, you felt Mel hover her hand over your shoulder before retracting it and rushing out of the room. You stood there like a child who had just been yelled at, and didn’t dare to even breathe.

“How about we put these on?”

And Heather spoke to you like you were still one, but not with any hint of disdain in her voice. Hesitantly, you looked up and saw her holding the pants out to you. With shaking hands, you took them in yours.

She picked up her sweatshirt from the floor. “I’ll cover you. You can turn around if that makes you more comfortable.”

You nodded, and she draped the sweatshirt in front of you, giving you privacy from any peering eyes outside. Slowly, after getting your pants down to your knees, you slipped your underwear down; your ribs aching with every move. You managed to secure the pad, and as you tried to pull your pants all the way down, the sharpness in your side forced a hiss out of you.

“You need help?” She asked.

You shook your head immediately but seethed and clutched your ribs when you tried again. Collins set her sweatshirt aside, placing a comforting hand on your back and dropping down.

“I got it.”

She helped you out of your bloodied pants, and you placed your hands on her shoulders as you put one leg into each hole of the pants she got for you. Your eyes watered at the familiar feeling; how old were you the last time you did this? Seven? It’s so strange to remember such a small thing as your mother dressing you, not knowing when it would be the last time.

“There we go.” Collins smiled, standing back up, then guiding you to sit back down on the bed.

“I’m sorry.” You finally managed to say, even if it was barely above a whisper.

She shook her head, handing you an ice pack. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

She hates you. You told yourself.

You saw Kiara come to the door, and your heart leapt into your chest. She waited as Collins cracked it open, and they talked in hushed tones. In the end, Kiara came in and she sat at your side.

You had to cross your arms to keep yourself from throwing them around her. You doubt she would’ve cared, but it was strange; at that moment, you wanted to be held, but still would’ve felt like you were suffocating.

“Hey.” She greeted gently.

“Where is he?” You asked.

“Well,” she began, not knowing exactly who you were asking for. “Whittaker’s being checked on, and he won’t stop asking if you’re alright. Trent was secured in a room, but the police just arrived so he’s in custody now. They want to talk to you, is that okay?”

You nodded. “If it’s a fucking man, I’m leaving.”

“There’s a woman.” She comforted. “She already volunteered to speak with you. At any point, if you want to stop-.”

“-I won’t.”

She said your name, warning but not to scare you. “I know you want justice; we all do. Still, you have to do what is best for you in the moment. You have every right to react the way you need to. Do you want Dr. Collins to be in here?”

You shook your head.

“Alright.” Kiara looked at her. “Could you send in officer Moreno, please?”

Collins nodded. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

Before you could say that her shift was over, she left. There you sat with Kiara, staring at an empty corner of the room. Without thinking, you laid your head on her shoulder. She said nothing; just ran her hand up and down your back as the officer came in.

It was different being the one to tell the police what happened to you. You were either in the cop’s position asking questions, or Kiara’s, just being a support for the other person.

Officer Moreno was nice enough. She never pushed you, but she wasn’t exactly comforting either. You understood she just wanted everything to write a report for, but you knew this wouldn’t be the last person you’d have to talk to.

The more you spoke about what happened to you in the last fifteen minutes (fuck…was that all it’d been?), the heavier your body became. You didn’t even feel a hint of fear or sadness within you; just the aching in your nose, and the exhaustion that swept over you.

Officer Moreno asked to take photos of your injuries, and you told her you’d taken them already, saying you’d give them to her.

“You’re efficient.” She complimented.

I have to be; you wouldn’t do anything if I wasn’t. You said in your head, but aloud you uttered. “Thanks.”

She left you with a phone number to send pictures to the police, a case number if you “remember anything else”, and a “Goodnight.”

That left you and Kiara together.

“Where’s Kimi?” You asked.

“She was calling her mom to pick her up last time I checked.” She answered. “Do you need a ride home?”

You shook your head. “I’ll get my dad to.”

“Dr. Abbott’s on call right now.”

Of course she knows.

“I can do it.” She offered.

“Kiara.” You said. “I’ll call a friend from my building.”

“I just want you to get home safe.”

“I will.” You smiled. “You’ve been here longer today. Go home.”

She sighed, standing. “You’re not coming in tomorrow. I’ll get Zidan to escort you out if you do.”

You forgot who that was for a moment, until you remembered him as the security guard. You were going to have to make him cookies or something; he probably had to deal with not just Trent, but a million other people.

Kiara said goodbye, giving you one last look before leaving. Just as you stood up to escape, Collins came back inside, carrying your purse and lunchbox.

“I’m sorry, I got the code from Jack.” She set them down. “How’re you feeling?”

You don’t know why, you had been asked that damn question countless times that day, but Collins asking it was the final nail in the coffin. Hours of repressed tears finally escaped your eyes, and you covered your mouth.

She immediately placed her hands on your arms, looking over you. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m sorry.” You hiccupped, rubbing your eyes.

“There’s nothing to-.”

“-Yes, there is!” You sobbed, and everything came out like a confession in a Catholic church. “I-I didn’t know you and Robby were together. I-I didn’t even know that he’d be a supervisor, or-or that I’d work with him, or even-or even that…”

Collins wrapped her arms around you, and you hid your head in her shoulder. She shushed. “I’m not mad.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No,” she pulled away, still holding onto you. “I’m not.”

You searched her face. You couldn’t find a hint of anger, but you knew she had to have felt something towards you. “Weren’t-weren’t you together…?”

“Not for a long time.” She shook her head.

You rubbed your face with your sleeve; you had cried all of your mascara off. Sighing, you picked up your belongings.

“I’ll wash your pants. Thanks.”

She laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Just wait a little bit.”

“You’re done with your shift, I’m done with mine.” You shrugged her off. “I’ll call a friend, I won’t drive.”

Except you would.

Collins said your name, and you only wished her goodnight, walking out the door. It was a miracle no one was instantly surrounding you, asking for answers to questions you had no energy to even listen to. You were making your way to the door to Chairs when-.

Your name left your stepfather’s mouth. You glanced to the side and saw him making a beeline towards you from across the room. Without any uncertainty, you turned around and walked back where you came from.

Like a demon in the night, you felt panic fester within you once again, just when you thought it was all over. You weren’t running, but your legs began to burn alongside your chest as you tried to find the nearest exit.

You pushed your way outside and found yourself in the ambulance bay. Still, despite there being only two paramedics and one security guard, there were still too many people. Your vision blurred once again, and you limped against the wall until you found the small opening to the alleyway.

Collapsing against the brick wall, you dropped everything you were holding and hid your eyes in your hands.

And you cried; really, truly cried.

Then crying turned into sobbing, then to weeping, then into you having to cover your mouth as you started wailing. You didn’t know when the walls of the alleyway started closing in on you, and neither did you know if it was your own shame or the walls crushing you to the point where it hurt to breathe.

You couldn’t even think. Every time you panicked, the weight of the world and all of your actions came into your head like a horrible flicker. Not now; no, there was nothing but white, hot pain.

“Put your head between your legs.”

They were just words. You couldn’t recognize the voice, but you listened. Knees bent, you bowed your head.

“Breathe.” The voice said, and it sounded deeper. “In and out. In and out.”

You did. The countless times you had to coach someone through an anxiety attack coming back to you.

It must’ve been another minute before you could feel your heart slow down and hear the ordinary sounds of the night; a pleasant mix of the bugs on the ground beside you, and a near-distant ringing of an ambulance.

“Rough day?”

It was Robby. That was the voice who had guided you through the second panic attack that day…or was it your third? Or had you just been in one that lasted a full half-hour?

You laughed upon looking at him, shaking your head and drying your eyes.

He offered a pitiful smile. “That bad?”

“Yeah.” You heaved. “Does this mean I’m doing a good job at coping if I’m laughing?”

Robby shrugged. “If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.”

“I’ve done too much of that today.”

He nodded, not saying anything. You rested your head against the brick wall. Maybe it was better that you saw him after all the shit that hit you in such a short amount of time. In the end, tears and all, the whole day was just ridiculous.

“Do you want me to tell you what happened?” You asked.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He looked at you.

Sighing, you realized that, yes, you actually did.

“I wasn’t sexually assaulted.” You said it so easily. “It just…hurt, what he did. Nothing’s broken but I still feel like shit and it’s…it’s funny. I apologized. I was so unprofessional towards him, and I apologized, but he still did this. I did everything right and he still did this!”

Robby shook his head. “Don’t go down that road. Nothing you did to him could ever justify what he did to you.”

“No,” you didn’t even listen, tone laced with sarcasm. “I did so many things wrong now that I think about it. ‘Christie’s Ideal Victim, 1986’; there are five things that make the perfect victim. ‘She, always a she, is physically weaker than the attacker’; gold mine if she’s a kid or a grandma, so I did that wrong. ‘The victim is doing a respectable task when the attack happens’: I was having a mental breakdown, so debatable. ‘Next, the attack happens in a place she could not be blamed for being in’; I was in a sketchy as fuck bathroom in the basement, so yeah, my fault. ‘The offender is physically stronger’; holy shit, he was, so I did that one right! ‘Finally, the victim has no prior relationship to the offender; he is a stranger.’ Well shit, I failed the perfect victim test.”

He sighed, saying your name.

“I’m not done.” You said, voice shaking. “Now I added my own qualifications to this obviously bullshit concept we were taught for ‘educational purposes despite how out of date it is’. What did I add, you’re asking? Only pretty girls, only nice girls, only virgin girls, and only white girls. Those are the only girls that apparently are the perfect victims to a lot of people. It’s been almost forty years, and there are still people who believe it.”

Robby’s gaze never left you, even when you looked away from him, talking to the actual brick wall in front of you. Yet…he listened. He was quiet after you finished, but only to let you breathe.

“I didn’t know any of that.” He finally said. “It’s horrible.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry, that teaching just always stuck with me and…”

“It came out tonight?” He asked.

“Yeah…” You brought your knees to your chest. “I’m gonna have to see Trent and Kimi again. Court, I think.”

“If you ever need-.”

“-I need a cigarette,” you tried to diffuse the pain, despite bringing it up. “that’s what I need.”

He scoffed. “Should’ve asked me five years ago. Anything else I could get for you?”

“Is there a Jewish prayer that kills someone?”

“You smoke and you’re religious?” He feigned shock, but you could still see inklings of it on his face. “Didn’t know you had so many secrets.”

“Answer the question, Robinavitch.”

“No.” He huffed. “Not that I know of, at least.”

“I’m not really religious either.” You sighed. “After the day I had though…”

He nodded. “I’ve been there.”

“You’ve been a girl lost in her twenties before?”

“I’m a son-of-a-bitch in my fifties, and I’m still lost.”

As if you shared a mind, you both laughed. It wasn’t loud or even jubilant; more so just an acknowledgement of how weird the whole situation was. There was a sense of familiarity with how you were talking to him.

How you and Michael joked around but also were capable of serious conversations, whether it was about personal struggles or just current events.

Now though? As you sat in an alleyway just outside of the place you discovered who Robby really was? There was more of an honesty; a shameless one.

“Makes sense,” you wheezed. “we fucked each other.”

Although he was getting over his laughter, he still asked. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Your smile began to fall, but somehow, you couldn’t lose it fully. Call it insanity, or call it nerves, you still spoke with it.

“I mean…I actually liked you.” You admitted, and instead of feeling horrible, it felt better to finally say it. “I slept with you because you were nice, and you made me feel safe, not just because I had an itch or something. I knew we wouldn’t date or anything, but…I just really liked you.”

Robby had a horrible poker face when it came to women; he told you that when you first caught him smiling in a way you’d never seen a man smile at you before. Now, he was looking at you, face fallen into…not exactly pity, but something alike to it.

He took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt you; it was never my intention.”

“…You kissed my forehead the next morning, then left. I saw the note saying I could stay but…I felt stupid just waiting for you, so I went home. You didn’t leave me your number or anything else, then I didn’t see you again.” You sounded more confused than wounded. “I know I was stupid. You probably just wanted to feel younger and-.”

“-It mattered to me.” He stopped you. “Yes, there’s no way we can keep this up; I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. Don’t think that I regretted it, or that it didn’t mean anything to me. I liked you too.”

You genuinely didn’t expect him to be so vocal about it. It would’ve been easier for him to just nod and agree that it was nothing more than a primal feeling; no emotions on his side. Still, there he was, openly admitting it all.

You breathed in through your nose, despite how strange it felt. “I wish I was born the same year you were.”

Robby kept his eyes on your form, and when you glanced over at him, you wondered if his response would be ‘Me too.’

But it wasn’t.

“I wouldn’t have been good for you.” He confessed.

“Why not?”

He said your name, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

You swallowed, knowing that he meant it. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s…” He sighed heavily. “You’re going to find the right person one day, and they’ll be your age-.”

A laugh left your mouth. Except, it wasn’t a spiteful or doubtful one, even Robby could tell. It was the most genuine and honest one you felt that day.

“I fucking knew it!” You bragged.

He snorted. “What?”

“You had to have had that line in the holster or something.”

“Maybe I’ve just seen too many movies.” He laughed with you.

The both of you just sat there in the peculiar change of emotions. Of course it wasn’t the strangest thing to happen to you that day. To add to it, you said.

“I’m wearing your ex-girlfriend’s pants. She and Dr. King know, by the way.” He snapped his gaze at you, and you thought he was going to go into cardiac arrest. You shrugged. “Collins she…it’s probably just because I got the shit beaten out of me, but she acted like she didn’t care.”

Robby looked back at the brick wall, taking it all in. After a while he said. “That’s why she looked like she was gonna kill me a second ago.”

You snorted. “When?”

“Before you ran out here.” He clarified. “Jack saw you, I told him I’d talk to you because he was technically on duty, Heather comes out guns blazing saying something like ‘Don’t say a word to her,’. She tried to go after you, but I managed to get her to go home.”

You pursed your lips, surprised at Collins’ protectiveness. “Wanna divide and conquer? I talk to King, you talk to Collins?”

He nodded. “Sounds good. You uh…you gonna be alright? Going home?”

Looking down at your shoes, you took a bit to think. You didn’t really want to go back to your apartment, and maybe Kimi would stay home with her mom…but you were immature, you had just been beaten to a pulp, and you didn’t want to talk to her on the small chance she was at your apartment.

“Yeah, I mean…” It was second nature to avoid the conflict, but you caught yourself. “I know Trent won’t be there, hopefully never again, but I don’t know how I feel around Kimi. I was a piece of shit for what I said, but I don’t know how safe I’ve felt around her for a while. I told her how I felt about her boyfriend, she saw how he treated both of us, and I feel horrible she’s with him, but I won’t be collateral damage again.”

Robby nodded, taking a deep breath. “I might be overstepping, and I get if it’s a last resort, but if you ever feel unsafe at your apartment, you’re welcome to sleep at mine.”

You furrowed your brow, scoffing. “Is that really professional?”

“Just be respectful; and unless you’re dying, you’re on the couch.”

You both chuckled, the overall day only becoming more ludicrous by the second. You decided to add onto it.

“So, save for Collins and King,” you held your pinky up. “swear to never tell anyone about us?”

He snickered. “Really?”

“Yeah, mutually assured destruction. Whoever tells, has their pinky broken.”

“Makes perfect sense.” He locked his pinky with yours. “Do we have to swear on anything or-?”

“-Nope.” You let go. “Pinky sworn.”

It felt natural after that, how you moved to hug him with no hesitance. He responded in kind, enveloping you into his arms. It felt…different. When you thought of it, the only times you really embraced were in moments of desperation, passion, even.

Now, it was quiet. For the first time that day, you felt at peace; both in your body, and inside his arms.

When he pressed his lips to your cheek just for a second, while it brought back memories, it was simply innocent.

He pulled away first from you, and you rubbed your eyes. “Thanks. Sorry about everything.”

“Don’t be.” He said. “‘Let everything happen to you, beauty and terror. Just keep going, no feeling is final.’”

“Oh hell yeah,” you smiled. “Jojo Rabbit.”

He furrowed his brow, not hiding his amusement. “Rainer Maria Rilke.”

“Yeah, it was in Jojo Rabbit.”

“Really? Haven’t seen it.”

“Oh, you’d love it. It’s about a little German boy in the 1940s who has an imaginary friend, and you’ll never guess who it is!”

“I don’t think I want to know who it is.” He chuckled.

You hummed, feeling just a little better. You looked around the alleyway, feeling as if you weren’t outside of an ER. “No wonder this is Jack’s favorite place to have a mental breakdown.”

“I would’ve thought the roof?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, you saw that he wanted to take them back.

You blinked. “The…what?”

Well, there was something you had to talk to Jack about. It certainly wouldn’t be that night; too much to unpack.

“You didn’t hear it from me.” Was all Robby said, standing up and holding his hand out to you.

Sighing, you took it. “Think he’ll say more to me, or to you?”

“Whenever I find him up there,” he pulled you up. “I just guilt trip him into not jumping because that’s a horrible way to start a shift.”

“On parr with finding out you screwed the new hire?”

“Don’t push it.”

You snickered. “I’ll leave you alone. Have a good night.”

He wished you one as well, watching you go back into the ER, carrying all of your belongings. It seemed about as chaotic as you had known the night shift to be; although, it wasn’t even seven-thirty. There was one more person you wanted to see before you left.

Turns out though, there were two more who needed to speak with you.

“We’re not gonna ask if you’re okay because you’ll probably have an aneurysm.” Trinity Santos came up to you with Dennis Whitaker at her side. Her hair was down.

“Okay?” You snickered, then looked at Whitaker. “Hey…thanks. I’m sorry your nose is fucked.”

He shook his head, offering a shy smile. “Don’t be. My brothers have hit me harder.”

“Aw, he’s just being modest.” Santos draped her arm around his shoulder. “He’s a regular ol’ Superman.”

“More like Clark Kent.” He corrected.

“Same person, Huckleberry.” She counter corrected. “Okay, so medically speaking, how are you doing?”

You pursed your lips. “Medically, my nose isn’t broken but always needs an icepack, I kinda have a headache, and my ribs hurt. Emotionally…everything.”

Santos nodded, a forlorn feeling upon her face; but somehow, you didn’t feel like she was pitying you. “I was about to beat the shit out of that guy if I didn’t have a baby coming in at the same time for a spinal tap. But we-Dennis has a proposition for you.”

All eyes fell on the poor boy whose nose bore a similar, semi-swollen resemblance to yours. He stumbled a little until he found the right words.

“We sometimes get together after a shift and watch a movie to decompress. We get food, and the person who had the worst day gets to choose the movie. We uh…we kinda appointed you, if you want to come. It wouldn’t be anything huge, just the three of us. That might be too much, and maybe you’re exhausted-.”

“-Oh,” you interrupted, crossing your arms. “so the only reason you’re inviting me to this secret movie club is because I got the shit beaten out of me?”

“No!” Whitaker gasped. “I-we just thought it’d be good to help overall after a stressful shift-.”

“Huckleberry,” Santos snickered. “she’s just fucking with you.”

He paused. “Oh…”

You smiled. “I’d love to. I uh…I technically shouldn’t be driving but my car’s here-.”

“-Do you mind stopping at Target to get some snacks?” Santos asked.

Pleasantly surprised by her question, you chuckled. “Um, no?”

“No sorry,” she laughed at herself. “I mean that I’ll drive your car, but is it okay if we get snacks on the way back to my place?”

“Oh! Yeah, sounds good.”

“Great!” She slipped her keys out of her pocket, holding them out to Whitaker. “You remember how to drive something other than a tractor, right?”

He made a face. “I’ve never driven a tractor before.”

“Bullshit, you told me you did.”

He shrugged. “Nebraska doesn’t even exist, why would I know how to drive a tractor?”

The conversation from earlier that day came to mind, and you saw in his eyes that he had it in mind as well. You smiled, turning your face down to hide it from the world. It had been a while since you had an inside joke with someone.

Whitaker took the keys. “I’m just kidding. Yeah, I’ll meet you guys there.”

“See you soon.” You wished him goodbye. Santos gave him a nod before he left. She turned to you, a shit eating grin on her face. You frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged. “Ready to go?”

“Actually, I need to talk to someone first.”

“Who?”

Ah fuck it, You decided.

“My stepdad.” You answered. “He works the nightshift.”

“Damn! Who?”

You smirked. “You’re welcome to follow me at a distance to see.”

She made a face as if debating it. “Nah, I’ll give you privacy.”

Smiling, you nodded. “I’ll see you out front?”

“See you.”

She left through the doors into Chairs. Sighing, you began your search for Jack. On the way, you said a quick ‘hello’ to Ellis and went to check up on the little girl who had a bee sting. She was still there, speaking with the same police officer you had.

Your name cut through the air, and you looked to your right, seeing Jack approaching you. He wore the same look on his face you’d only seen on parents who had just lost their child in a supermarket only to soon find them.

“Hey.” He greeted once he stood in front of you.

“Hi…” You said. “Uh…is it okay to talk? I don’t know if you’re busy-.”

“-Unless Death himself comes into the ER, we’re gonna talk.”

Jack Abbott had technically only been a father for a few years (who knows if you can even count all of them considering you barely were at home after high school?), but he somehow managed to perfectly blend his strict tone into one of reassurance.

So, the two of you walked into the breakroom, and he spoke first.

“How was the shift?”

You smiled, sitting at the table. “Aside from getting the shit beaten out of me by my roommate’s boyfriend? Pretty okay.”

He sat beside you. “That’s a win in my book.”

That was the thing you and Jack had in common the second your mom introduced you to him: dark humor. You never hated him, but you never exactly got close with him. Maybe it was time to change that?

“Are you still in any pain?” He asked.

“Nose is getting a little better but is still sore, and so are my ribs.”

Jack nodded. “You got a ride home tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m actually gonna go hang out with Santos and Whitaker at their place, and then…” You couldn’t finish it. What were you going to do? You didn’t have the strength anymore to lie, saying you’d drive back to your apartment where Kimi might be.

You refused to stay with Robby, maybe Santos and Whitaker would take pity on you?

“I don’t know.” You choked on your words. “I said some horrible things to Kimi, but she also blamed me for what Trent did, and I…I don’t wanna go back to the apartment.”

Jack’s eyes softened. “You still got a key to the house?”

“Yours? Yeah.”

“If you want to, your room’s still the same.”

You hadn’t slept in it since your mother died. You’d sometimes drive home from college and sleep over, so both your mom and Jack left it alone.

“You didn’t change it?” You couldn’t believe it.

He shrugged. “It’d take more effort to turn it into something else. I mean, it’s probably dusty as hell, but your bed’s still there, all your weird little trinkets and stuff from high school too.”

You scoffed. “It’s only weird to you, grandpa.”

“Sure, Jan.”

Both of you snickered, falling back into a rhythm you hadn’t known you lost. As it died down, Jack asked.

“But, you’re doing okay, kiddo? If you want to talk about it-.”

“-Not tonight.” You interrupted. “It’s just a lot but…you’ve probably seen worse.”

Jack looked like he wanted to say more, but he held back. It would’ve led down a farther hole of trauma, which you both knew you could not deal with. Instead, he asked. “You do anything I taught you?”

You grinned. “Yeah. Kicked his knee in and got creative with what I had around me.”

“Your pad, I heard.”

“It was his own fault he dabbled in fuckery!”

“Certainly was.”

“What…happened to him?”

Jack’s face grew sullen. Breathing through his nose, he said. “I got to him first and Robby had to pry me off. Bastard’s lucky he didn’t get a taste of my right foot.”

Damn…he was serious.

“Police took him away; I didn’t even get a slap on the wrist because he assaulted both you and a student doctor.”

You nodded. “Thank you...”

“Don’t mention it.”

You both fell into a tender yet awkward silence. There was so much but also nothing to say. It was actually Jack who tried to end the conversation.

“Well,” he stood. “I don’t wanna keep you from your new friends-.”

“-Would you wanna get breakfast sometime?”

It just fell from your mind and out of your mouth. You were hungrier than you thought and also wanted to spend time with him.

Despite working several shifts with Jack, and knowing him for years, you never saw him so surprised. Still, his face soon relaxed into one of mild glee.

“I’d love to, kiddo. How does tomorrow after my shift sound?”

Your eyes grew. “Really? You wouldn’t want to sleep in or something?”

“There’s nothing else I’d rather do.”

You weren’t going to cry, you had decided. Your stepfather, and essentially everyone else who had comforted you that night, were making it incredibly difficult.

“Do you need a hug?” He asked upon seeing your face; and most likely your attempt at repressing tears.

You shook your head. “I’ll bawl my eyes out again, and I gotta be somewhere after this.”

He hummed. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass you now, would I?”

“Well…” You placed your hand on his shoulder, attempting to still have physical affection without being overly vulnerable.

The awkward act, alongside a beat of silence, caused a fit of giggles to erupt between both of you. You must’ve laughed this hard with him at some point, but you couldn’t remember.

“I have therapy tomorrow at ten-thirty anyway.” He said, recovering.

“How’s it been?” You asked.

“Fine, nothing out of the ordinary.”

You nodded. “I’m really proud of you for going. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

He shifted in his seat but smiled. “Honestly, with what you’d been studying, it helped convince me. It sounds like the bare minimum for everyone if they’re able to go.”

Smiling, you teased. “You’re doing great; you’re raising my standards for men.”

“That a fact?”

You hummed. “If you didn’t start going to therapy, I would’ve married the first military man who asked, even if I only met him three weeks ago.”

“Hell no,” he played along. “eight weeks, I told you that.”

“Would you have proposed to my mom that quickly if you met her before you were deployed?”

“I would’ve married your mother sooner because I loved her.”

“Did you think that while you were dating her?”

“Of course I did.” He leaned forward, saying your name. “There are some people in this world who know in an instant who they want to spend the rest of their life with.”

You pursed your lips, thinking back to Robby, and everyone else you had ever dated in your life. “I don’t think I’m one of them.”

“And that’s okay.”

Sighing, you looked down at your watch and immediately stood with your belongings. “I should go. Hey…thanks for everything.”

Jack got up with you. “Don’t mention it. You got a ride?”

“Yeah, Santos. She’s driving my car.”

“Are you gonna sleep at the house tonight?”

“Uh huh.” You walked out of the breakroom, and he followed. “I’ll pick you up after your shift and we can get breakfast.”

“Are you okay to drive home?”

You turned to face him in the hall as you approached the door to Chairs. “I’ll be fine. If anything bad happens, I’ll call Ellis because you don’t have your phone on you, and she can tell you. Okay?”

Jack sighed. “Just doing my job, kiddo. Have you figured out which shift you want to do?”

That was the question. You’d done a week’s worth of the night shift, and only one day shift. You enjoyed people on both, and had personal history with both of the attendings…

“I think the day mostly.” You said. “I can’t come back in tomorrow, but I will after that. I think I like the vibe more. But, I’d also like to do at least one night shift a month; maybe two.”

Independence, but also not ignoring your stepfather’s existence.

Jack smiled. “I think that sounds reasonable. Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Jack.”

You’d work your way up to ‘dad’, and even the casual ‘I love you’. Still, it was more than apparent both of you were wholeheartedly fine with where you were at. Progress, that was what was being done.

Finally, you made your way out to the front of the hospital, and there was Santos, leaning against a streetlamp. She smiled, approaching you.

“How’s your daddy?”

You snorted. “He’s doing fine. How was your shift?”

She began walking to the parking lot with you beside her. “Not bad. I mean, kinda boring until your roommate and her batshit insane boyfriend came.”

“Glad they could entertain you.”

“I don’t mean it like-.”

“-No, I know.” You eased. “Do you have Mel’s number?”

She took out her phone. “Yeah, why?”

“I had her take pictures of my injuries, and I have to send them to the police.”

Santos glanced up at you. “How’d it go talking with them?”

“Eh.” You shrugged.

She chuckled, showing you her phone with Mel’s number on the screen. You created a new contact in your phone, then texted Mel as you and Santos walked.

“Hey, it’s your fellow member of the ‘Dead Moms and Unknown Dads’ club.”

Just as you typed it, you deleted it. Apparently, you still had the mental power to overthink things.

“Hey it’s,” you typed your name. “Could you please send me the pictures you took so I can give them to the police?”

It was then you decided to send another message. One completely different.

“I still owe you dinner, or lunch if you prefer. If you have any questions about what Kimi said after I blew up at her, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m okay with talking about it. Just could you not bring it up to anyone else, please?”

You had a feeling she wouldn’t text back that night. Maybe she’d talk about it tomorrow, or maybe she never wanted to hear about it? Still, you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

“All good?” Santos asked.

You smiled, putting your phone back in your pocket. “Good.”

“If you ever need help with legal shit, I’ve kinda been around the block with it.” She reassured. “But I know you’re probably smart enough to handle it if you want.”

“Thanks.”

The two of you walked in silence, apparently you had parked in Kansas, your car was so far away. To fill the space, Santos said.

“Whitaker likes you.”

You looked over at her, a funny look on your face. You knew what she meant but tried to deflect. “Yeah, I like him too. He got decked in the face so I wouldn’t.”

“No.” She shook her head, chuckling. “You didn’t hear it from me, but I think he wants to ask you out.”

There it was. Even with all the shit that happened to you that day, there were good things. You reconnected with your stepfather, you somehow managed to have the most mature “breakup” with a guy twice your age, his ex-girlfriend took care of you despite knowing about all the shit you had done, and you made new friends for the first time in a while.

Still…it was all so much.

“I don’t think I’m ready to date anyone right now.” You admitted. “I’ve got a lot going on.”

“No, of course.” She said. “I just wanted to give you a heads up, just in case if you weren’t feeling that way towards him, or if you were-.”

“-Trinity,” you stopped her, smiling. “I’m good.”

She nodded. “Right.”

Even with an abrupt ending, there was not a hint of discomfort. After finally finding your car, you thought it would’ve all been over when.

“Hey, doctor Robby.” Santos greeted.

You drew your head up at his name and saw him approaching the car beside yours. This whole time…he had parked beside you and hadn’t even known. He rose his brow as if he had the same thought process as you.

“Hey, how’re you two?” He asked.

She shrugged. “We’re just dying down for the night, you?”

“Same. I have a date with my bed.” He chuckled, then looked right at you. “Are you doing alright? I can only guess how many times you’ve been asked that.”

You smiled. “Several, but I’m doing better now.”

“That’s good. Are you okay to drive?”

Santos jumped in before you could answer. “Nah, I’m driving little miss Starshine.”

“Starshine?” He asked, trying to hold back his amusement.

You hid your face in your hands. “Oh god.”

“How’d you get that from Dr. Santos’ extensive list of nicknames?” He questioned.

Santos took that as her cue. “She had too much caffeine one night shift, and both Whitaker and I were greeted by her.”

“It’s not that funny.” You rolled your eyes.

Robby disagreed. “I for one think it’s hilarious.”

Santos jumped in. “Please say you’re in tomorrow. I was gonna rely on her to be entertaining, but Kiara ordered her to stay home.”

He clicked his tongue. “Sorry to disappoint, but it’s my day off.”

She sighed. “At least tell me you’re gonna do something useful.”

“I was thinking of going to a coffee shop, maybe.”

“Where?” You asked, curiosity bettering you.

Robby pursed his lips. “I heard Big Dog is good. Ever been?”

You tilted your head, managing to hide how perplexed you were. “Yeah, a few times. It’s alright.”

“I might try that one.”

All you could do was smile, not knowing his intentions. It could have been bait for a reconnection, it could have been a way of saying goodbye to a fantasy, or it could have just been him making conversation.

You tossed the keys to Santos. “Let’s go before Target closes.”

She smirked, unlocking the door. “You think I drive slow?”

“Maybe.”

Robby stepped in. “Please don’t get either of yourselves killed.”

“Yes sir, Dr. Robinavitch sir.” Santos snorted, getting into the car. “Come on, Starshine.”

You gave Robby one last smile before ducking into the passenger seat. After buckling up, Santos plugged her phone into the aux chord.

“Don’t play trash.” she said, starting the car and putting it into reverse.

Snickering, you put on your favorite song. As Santos pulled out of the parking spot, you made eye contact with Robby. Not knowing what else to do, you waved to him.

He waved back.

While Santos drove, you couldn’t help but ponder the day. It was one of the worst, there was no doubt about that, and it ended with more questions than answers. Yet, where that would leave you in a deep storm of turmoil, you decided to weather it.

If all of that happened in a day, who’s to say what would happen in a year?

Maybe you’d still be in Pittsburgh, maybe you’d be in a different continent.

Maybe you’d still be single, maybe you’d be married.

Maybe you’d still be roommates with Kimi, maybe you’d never talk to her again.

Maybe you’d still work the day shift, maybe you'd switch back to the night.

The best part?

You didn’t have to know right away.

#the pitt #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #doctor robby x reader #robby x reader #dr robby x reader #dr robby #dbf #jack abbot #trinity santos #dennis whitaker #mellisa king #heather collins #dennis whitaker x reader #trinity santos x reader #melissa king x reader #michael robinavitch

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insufferablemod · 1 year ago

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not a huge surprise but still, damn, bros just ready 2 murder at the drop of a hat

also

neatly side stepping the bathroom question............

actually checking out pesterquest for the first time and

lmaooo nailed it B)

#:(((((#also just................... hmhmmmg the way they talk about the cameras and dave seeming like hes Performing....#(like yeah theres thte cool guy facade but.... this feels like an extra layer........)#also the whole comment about the reader narrating things and dave also mumbling about everything hes doing..... in a way also narrating....#growing up not just feeling like but Knowing you are actually under constant surveillance....#like christian kids with god but like #way more puppets and a very real physical presence that kicks ur ass on the reg actually being there #n how that kinda shit also effectts how you think #idk im just rambling #this isnt anything new really but like..................#yeah #shits fucked up n upsetting B))#have 2 stop watching again cus friend came over lol #rambles #pesterquesting

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cosmica-galaxy · 3 months ago

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♣--Ex!SMC Underling!Reader x Pure Vanilla Cookie--♣

Genre: Can be Romantic or Platonic Warnings: Manipulative/Partially Abusive SMC Word Count: 3,173 Words

You’re tired. You are so…so…tired. You have tried everything to please your master and you never found anything that could ever bring him any happiness nor praise. What were you doing wrong…?

You were loyal to Shadow Milk even before he fell from grace as the Sage of Truth. You weren’t some…nobody welp that he happened to take in from off the streets. You were there when he fell…when he became the beast of deceit. His large web of lies spread chaos in the surrounding region…and you were a minion that was destined to spread it as far as you could across Earthbread. It wasn’t just you that served as a minion, but you also had two fellow loyalists that would help do Shadow Milk’s bidding. Black Sapphire Cookie and Candy Apple Cookie. Black Sapphire Cookie would spread rumors far and wide, cause couples to fall apart or fight, and would break apart friendships and relationships with such grace…and your lord would give him so much praise for his deeds. Candy Apple Cookie would deceive, assassinate, and infiltrate so many places to deal with any forms of resistance to your lord’s rule with such savagery and devotion…and he would praise her as well. Then…when you went out and performed so many deeds in the name of deceit ...you have told so many lies, broken so many friendships, and even had kingdoms fight one another over petty lies and deceitful tactics to please your lord. But…he would barely look your way. However, he would always take notice of your mistakes rather than your accomplishments. The moment you messed up, he would berate you. Shadow Milk would always comment about how you were such a worthless minion and how he could literally replace you with a puppet and have better results. But that was him on his good days. On his bad days, it was worse for you. He would physically abuse you for your failures by forcing you to act out plays as a puppet. Strings would pull you roughly around the stage, forcing you into painful positions, and you would take very real attacks from other members of his ‘cast’ during his tales. Beaten, battered, wounded, and breathless…Shadow Milk would laugh at you, as well as the “audience” he would conjure up. Among the crowd were his two disciples, Black Sapphire and Candy Apple. While Candy Apple Cookie seemed to enjoy your torment, Black Sapphire seemed to be more…reserved in his reactions. “Aww…are you all done? Learned your lesson yet?” Shadow Milk would taunt from above your entangled form. Yet, like a beaten submissive dog, you would always crawl back to your master. Agreeing and begging for more chances to prove your worth time and time again. Much to your master’s dramatic disgust-filled reaction, and then he would drop you from his strings. Then Shadow Milk would bring up the statues in the spire courtyard…all the time. Always telling you that if you wanted the empty pedestal to be filled with your stony visage, you had to earn it like Black Sapphire and Candy Apple did. And you would always try so hard to do as he demanded. To earn your place in the garden of deceit and to finally be recognized as a valuable member of his following. But, that was during the time of the Beasts’ reign over the continent you once called home. When the Witches intervened and your lord was broken and sealed away in the seal guarded by a silver sapling, you waited for your master to return with such eagerness. But many springs…summers…autumns…and winters passed. Many moons later…you suddenly find yourself doubting why you were waiting in this forsaken spire for your lord to return. His sealing had given you plenty of time to think and wonder…just…why? What were you doing wrong? Then, one fateful moonless night…you had an epiphany while staring at the empty pedestal in the garden of deceit just outside of the spire. You…were never going to get recognized as an honorary minion of deceit.

Only during that moment on the moonless night did you finally understand the truth…you were being constantly deceived…and you felt it in all of its cruel irony. Shadow Milk Cookie cared for you less than his other underlings…but you were useful for all the hard work and labor that the other members didn’t feel like doing. You were just being strung along by Shadow Milk…like a puppet on a string. He would dangle the carrot in front of you and you would pursue it relentlessly, and would get no closer to your goal. Your world became shaken and suddenly…your devotion in your lord of lies…waned. You and the other minions of deceit would regularly talk or hang out at the spire during your master’s absence–until after that night. You began to shut both of them out of your life slowly and steadily. You would stay away from them at dinner, hide in your room all day, and you even swapped your sleeping schedule to avoid them entirely. Candy Apple wasn’t as bothered by your sudden isolation, but Black Sapphire Cookie would always try to check up on you at least once in a while. Yet, you refused to reach out or indulge in the rumor spreader when he came knocking on your door. He always asked if it was about Shadow Milk Cookie being imprisoned…but you would never reply. If only he could understand the betrayal and heartache you were enduring because of your revelation in the garden that night. Then one full moon night, after all those tear-filled sleepless nights and silent suffering of what you were going to do that you endured, you decided to make the difficult choice to leave the spire entirely…to leave the chaos of deceit that you had grown to know for so long behind. You had packed your bags with all of the necessities, packed food and drinks, and opened the window to the outside. Your demon-like wings spread wide and your bag close to your side. You could only look back at the room that once served as your home one last time before you turned around and flew out the window. You slipped away to the far borders of the Beast of Deciet’s territory. Stopping on a moonlit hill to look over what used to be your kingdom and your place of residence. There was only one thing left to do. You look at the insignia you wore, the crest with the slitted eye that held your pledge to the lord of deceit himself, and you ripped it off. You stare at it with a mix of uncertainty, fear, and hatred.

For a moment, you hesitate. But…you already came this far.

There was no going back now…besides…what would await you at the spire anyway? An abusive lord that would eventually return to give you more empty promises? A life of never being good enough for him? An empty statue pedestal that would never be filled?

You were no longer going to be some Beast’s loyal little puppet. You raise your hand up high…and you sling the deceitful jem that held your pledge towards the ground with force. It shatters. With the shattering came the pain of you being severed from the powers of the dark side of the moon, the otherworld, and even your own master of deceit.

You wince and grit your teeth as your corrupted form is burned away from existence by a golden light and you could only let out breathless gasps when you finally feel the weight of your pledge of servitude that was marked upon your very soul be lifted away from you–like a heavy ball and chain that was finally cut from your leg and how that allowed you to fly away freely. You have done it. You had freed yourself from the Beast and liberated your soul from his influence. You had the chance to be reborn anew. Your wings remained, but they now held a different shape, and you took that as a small blessing from your shift away from the path of deceit. You gathered up your things and finally turned away from the place that served as your cage for the last time. You disappear into the jungle of Beast-Yeast and never look back towards the spire ever again. . . .

That was years ago now.

You had taken on a different name, a different appearance, and began to travel the continent of Beast-Yeast for a majority of years.

You became known as a rather talented traveler. Going from place to place and seeing all that Beast-Yeast had to offer…until the day of the Dark Flour War.

You had remembered when the skies had darkened, the moon turned red, and the continent itself shook with such fury. You won’t lie…you hid away for most of that era, as it reminded you of the time when you used to serve…him. How kingdoms would fall, how lies would reap what was sowed, and how easily others crumbled when pushed to certain limits. But…the war had passed and life continued on like not much had happened. You continued with your own soul searching journey that you undertook in solitude. Traveling, meeting other cookies, fighting dangerous beasts, and finally getting to a point where you felt like you could cross the licorice sea and discover what lied beyond this land that you had now explored over the years. Plus…you would do anything to get farther away from the hellhole you crawled out of. You managed to make a decent boat, cross the sea during the calm season, and then you began your explorations in the land of Crispia. You explored the mighty mountains of the dark cacao kingdom, drank the fine berry juice in the dragon-ruled Hollyberry Kingdom, sampled the various delicious cheeses of the parmesan desert (apparently there used to be a kingdom here…but it got wiped out long ago), and finally you began to make your way over to a rather far away kingdom. However, you were surprised that you got ambushed during your walk through the chasms that supposedly led to a fabled “vanilla kingdom” by a Cookie who used raisin crows as companions. She tossed raisin buns at you, which you caught and began to eat without hesitation. “Thank you! I was quite famished!” You had exclaimed and continued to eat the raisin bun, much to the Cookie’s surprise. “You…aren’t from around here. Who are you? Where did you come from?” The cookie interrogates, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Me? I’m just a traveler. Going from place to place and meeting all types of cookies. As for where I came from…well, it’s pretty far away. It doesn’t really matter where I came from…since I didn’t belong there anyway.” You explained. “I promise that I mean you no harm, unlike those unfriendly waffle robots I ran into a little while ago…” “The waffle bots attacked you as well?! . . .I see that you are injured. You said that you have no home, right…? . . . Follow me, I know someone who can help heal your injuries.” That was how you met him.

At the time, he was known as “Blind Healer Cookie”. A cookie that helped heal a group of injured and famished cookies. You have never met someone so…kind before. He was the polar opposite of your old master, the one you had deserted so many moons ago. The moment that Black Raisin Cookie lead you into his tent, you felt a strange feeling of nostalgia. Regardless, the cookie smiled at you while he healed the sick and injured in his tent. “Oh? Who is this?” The kind cookie inquired and he welcomed you into his tent after spotting your injuries. “Oh my, you’re hurt…please come in and have a seat. I will be with you in a moment!” You had sat down obediently and waited patiently. Thankfully, your injuries weren’t as nearly as severe as some of the cookies in the tent. You could afford to wait for your treatment. “This is a drifter. They claim to hail from a far away land…and that they don’t have a home. Like most of us.” Raisin Cookie explains in your place. “Oh…that’s a shame.” The friendly cookie smiles warmly at you. “Do you at least have a name?” You tell the cookie your name. “What a lovely name! I can see you now, please allow me to assess your injuries.” “Oh…they’re not that bad. If someone needs assistance, you can help them first!” “. . .Traveler, your arm is leaking strawberry jam with a deep gash! How can that possibly be a not that bad?” The healer cookie had asked you in worry. “. . . I’ve had worse.” You mutter out and look away as the healer looks at your deep injury with concern. “Goodness…you must have had quite the journey to get this far…” “Well…I don’t really have anywhere else to go. I was on my way to the vanilla kingdom, but I just ran into trouble on the way there and those waffle bots gave me this nasty cut. I will probably move on after I heal so I don’t use up too much of your resources.” “Nonsense! If you ever need a place to rest your head, you are free to stay here in the village with Raisin Cookie and I. Any cookie is welcome here!” “. . . Thank you, Healer Cookie.”

From that moment on, you stayed with the healer cookie in the small unimpressive village. You truly had no reason to stay, but you didn’t want to travel with such an injury for a while. Yet, the longer you stayed…the less you wanted to leave. Especially if Healer Cookie wasn’t going to go with you. Instead, when you got well enough, you began to help Black Raisin Cookie defend the village from the onslaught of waffle bots that would come every red moon. Your survival and combat skills have served you well over the years, as it has kept many a cakehound, cake wolf, and even a ferocious ridge lion from devouring you. Many of the villager cookies have even taken up calling you a “knight”. You also tried to help understand where the robots were coming from, and they seem to be originating from the island floating in the sky. Which you later found out to be the fabled Vanilla Kingdom…but why would a kingdom send down so many robots to hurt cookies specifically? You wouldn’t get an answer to that until a ragtag bunch of Cookies by the name of Gingerbrave, Strawberry, and Wizard Cookies came hurtling into town. One thing led to another and the next thing you know, you’re helping fight off an invading force of cake monsters that had taken over Healer Cookie–no…Pure Vanilla Cookie’s old kingdom. Your sword skills served the group well and you never strayed too far from Pure Vanilla Cookie until he was separated from your group during a fight in the bedroom. Once Dark Enchantress Cookie revealed herself, and your imprisoned friend, you flew into a rage that you haven’t ever felt before. The team joined you in your assault on the Cake Witch and you all sent the beast reeling. Pure Vanilla even broke out of his confinement and assisted you all when you needed it the most. In the end, the enchantress and her unwanted lackeys fled the kingdom that now rightfully belongs to Pure Vanilla Cookie and the Villagers that housed you while you healed. You could only feel delighted when you see Gingerbrave, Strawberry, and Wizard cookie off as they continue on their journey across Crispia to bring the letters that were written by Pure Vanilla to the other surviving ancient heroes. Then, you get an unexpected proposal from the king himself as he addressed you by your name to get your attention. “I was wondering if you would accept this offer of mine. You see, I think you would make a great knight for our kingdom. If you want to…would you like to become the first Vanilla Royal Knight?” You could only blink in response and your wings fluttered slightly in excitement.

Admittedly, it took a lot of time for you to start opening up to anyone at all. Let alone to learn to trust again after your abandonment of the Beast of Deceit. But something about Pure Vanilla just made you feel…warm and safe. Maybe it was his kind demeanor or his devotion to his subjects that made you feel this way…or maybe it was because he was so willing to give what you were craving so much from Shadow Milk Cookie.

A sense that you belonged. “. . .I would…I-I…” “Ah?! Are you okay?! You’re crying…” “I…am I?? My apologies…I just…do I deserve it…? Have I earned my place h-here?” “Shh…” Pure Vanilla Cooke quickly embraces you and strokes your trembling back lovingly. “Of course! Why wouldn’t you belong here? We all love you very much and the only thing we would hate about you…is if we had to see you go.” For the first time in your ancient life…you lean into a figure that was giving you the affection and recognition that you seeked so desperately from the Beast you used to serve. “So…will you stay?” “. . .Yes, my king.” From that moment on, you had fully shed your past life as a follower of deceit.

You have taken on a new identity, a new title, and now…a new kingdom to call home and a new king to follow, Not a king of deceit…but a king of truth.

You served as his strongest knight that fought off any lingering waffle bot threats and guarded the edges of the floating kingdom with your wings serving as your method of transportation. You now wear a signature vanilla kingdom set of armor that was crafted for you specifically, dressing your once tattered clothes into a fine suit of armor. Not only that, but you were given a powerful sword to replace your old and worn one.

Now you spend your days standing protectively at his side as Pure Vanilla went about his business in the kingdom. Whether or not he was in a meeting, checking on his devoted villagers, or even watering the vanilla flowers in the garden.

You were always nearby and watching over his kingdom with rigorous and unshakable loyalty. You were no longer a pawn of some puppeteer to tug around and be forced to dance for entertainment. Though, you do wonder from time to time how Black Sapphire is doing…but he and Candy Apple Cookie were in the past…and that is where they can stay. You have changed.

You now reside as a resident of the new vanilla kingdom and a servant to a king who actually deserves your loyalty, tenacity, and devotion to your duties. And the king would return your effort with so much kindness, praise, and words that always reassured you… That you would always belong here with him.

#cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk x you #crk x reader #crk x y/n #crk tag #haxorus imp #hax speaks #cosmica galaxy #cosmica-galaxy #my writing #POSTING ON TUMBLR IS A BITCH HOW DO YOU ALL DO IT?!

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brookghaib-blog · 1 month ago

Text

Silence between hearts - III

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x reader

Summary: After Project SENTRY fails, Robert Reynolds is declared dead and sealed in a glass coffin to be hidden by O.X.E. Y/N, a doctor who secretly fell in love with him after a complicated path between them, refuses to believe he’s gone—fighting to save what’s left of him while grief and denial consume her, the path to look for him would ruin her, but to what extreme.

Word count: 7,5k

Warning: physical violence, alcohol consumption

Chapter II - IV

The air between them had changed.

Y/N still ran every test, every scan, every draw of blood. Still watched him like a subject, not a person. But Bob had grown quieter. Sadder. He didn’t joke. He didn’t smile. He followed orders, endured the pain, but something was slipping.

Today, as she adjusted the restraints on his arm for a nerve conductivity test, he finally spoke.

“Why can’t we just be friends?”

She didn’t look up. “Keep your arm still.”

He did. But his voice came again, lower. “You stay longer than anyone. You talk to me like I matter, sometimes. And then it’s gone again. I just want someone real. Someone to sit with.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, eyes on her clipboard. “Bob, don’t start this.”

“I’m not asking for much. Just company. You’re here anyway.”

Her tone snapped. “Stop.”

Bob blinked, confused, but kept going. “Is it because I’m not like you? Not smart, not rich, not—”

“Enough.” She turned to him, voice rising. “Don’t make assumptions about me. You don’t know anything about who I am or what I feel. This is a project, not a therapy group. You’re not entitled to my time.”

Bob flinched.

Then something shifted.

His eyes shimmered gold.

He stood, slow and deliberate, and crossed the space between them. Before she could react, he grabbed her—not violently, but firm. Back against the wall. His hand wrapped lightly around her throat.

His voice was ice.

“Who are you talking to like that?”

Y/N froze, staring at the burning gold in his eyes.

“You think I’m just some broken lab rat?” he said, low. “I let you hurt me. Let you poke and cut and watch me fall apart. I let you see me weak.”

His grip didn’t tighten, but his presence did. It filled the room. Commanding. Divine.

“I’m not a toy,” he said. “Not your puppet. If you want to treat me like something less than human—fine. But don’t lie to me and pretend it’s kindness.”

She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat.

He leaned in, eyes burning.

“You forget what I am, Y/N. But I never do.”

And just like that, he let go.

Stepped back.

She coughed, stunned, one hand at her neck, the other gripping the edge of the counter for balance. Bob’s shoulders heaved, chest rising and falling as if waking up from something.

Bob stood frozen.

Y/N was on the ground, gasping for air, one hand clutching her throat, her face flushed red from the pressure. She coughed violently, struggling to find her breath again. Bob’s body went cold, all the adrenaline from before vanishing in an instant.

“Y/N—” His voice cracked.

He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands hovering helplessly, terrified to touch her again. “Oh god. I—I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean to do that. I don’t know what happened, I just—please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you—”

She flinched as his hand got too close.

Bob pulled back instantly.

The hurt in his eyes was almost worse than the attack itself. His lips parted, trembling, panic overtaking his face. “Did I—did I break something? Did I choke you too hard? Did I hurt your throat—?”

“I’m fine,” Y/N rasped, her voice raw, trying to sit up. Her head spun from the pressure and shock, but she pushed through it. She didn’t want to look afraid of him. She wouldn’t.

Bob hesitated before offering his hand again—slowly, gently, like approaching a wounded animal. She looked at it. Then at him. Reluctantly, she took it.

He helped her to her feet, supporting her with more care than she expected, leading her slowly toward the medical bed where he'd been tested a thousand times before. She sat down with a wince, exhaling shakily, still holding her throat.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered again, more to himself now, backing away just a little but never taking his eyes off her. “I was just—I was angry and…I felt like I wasn’t anything to you. I don't know why I did that, I'm so sorry I don't know what happened.”

Y/N swallowed, wincing at the sting.

“You’re okay, I know you,” she said softly, barely above a whisper. “You’re not yourself either. Not always.”

Bob’s shoulders hunched. “It took over me. Just… something I don't know, I can't control myself sometimes. ”

She watched him. The fear in his face, the remorse in his body language. And beneath it all… the boy who just wanted to be understood.

Y/N let out a breath, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You didn’t kill me. I’m okay.”

“But I could have,” he said, eyes wide with guilt. “I felt it. And if I ever did that to you for real…”

“You didn’t,” she interrupted firmly.

He went quiet, his chest still rising and falling too quickly, hands clenched into trembling fists.

For a long moment, there was only silence. The hum of machines. The pounding echo of adrenaline wearing off.

Y/N sat straighter, gathering herself. “I’ll file a report,” she said flatly, eyes on the floor. “We’ll document it like any other reaction. Just another test.”

Bob’s jaw clenched. “Is that all I am to you again?”

She looked up at him. Saw the pain. The longing.

Her throat burned. Her chest ached.

“No,” she whispered. “You’re not.”

And for once, she wasn’t sure if that was a lie.

"Bob, let's get to your room for now okay, I need to take a break and deliver this record, you're good but we need to learn these effects of the serum." She was still holding her neck not sure if still hurts or out of shock. Dr.Ilari is right, the creation won't always love it's maker.

"Can you ahm...at least come by so I could see that you are okay?" Bob said in a very soft voice, almost scared given the boundaries she had setup just days ago.

"Don't worry I will."

The harsh overhead lights in the lab flickered slightly as Y/N stood at the terminal, eyes scanning through the footage. She had already reviewed it three times—frame by frame, tracking the moment Bob's demeanor snapped, when the gold seeped into his eyes and the man became something else. Her neck still ached faintly, though she covered it with a high collar. She didn’t need anyone asking questions.

The door to the observation room opened behind her.

“Y/N,” Dr. Ilari’s voice was low, edged with concern. “I read the incident report.”

She didn’t look away from the screen. “It was a contained outburst. Nothing that hasn’t been expected.”

“You say that like he didn’t nearly crush your trachea.”

Now she turned to him, her arms folding defensively. “He stopped himself. That’s the difference between him and the Sentry. He came back. Bob came back.”

Ilari crossed his arms, studying her. “You’re doing too much alone. First you take full control of the project, now you're getting physically attacked and brushing it off like you stubbed your toe?”

“I told you, I'm fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re isolating yourself from the team, you’re emotionally investing in the subject, and now you’re defending him when every sign is pointing to instability.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not emotionally investing. I’m managing the only thing that matters in this facility. Every test, every breakthrough, every ounce of control we have over him is because I kept pushing. If I step back now, we lose everything.”

Ilari took a breath, softer now. “Valentina isn’t going to keep waiting. She wants the kill switch implemented. Protocol 8-C. A single trigger to neutralize him. The board’s growing concerned. The reports show erratic behavior—unprovoked aggression, memory lapses, exponential power spikes.”

Y/N froze.

“No.” Her voice was sharp. “Absolutely not.”

Ilari sighed, already expecting her answer. “We don’t even know what he's capable of yet. If something inside him ever fully takes over—”

“I said no.” She stepped forward now, tension in every muscle. “That would kill him. Not Sentry. Not some abstract idea of power. Bob. That switch wouldn't neutralize an entity—it would murder a person. And I won’t let that happen.”

“He’s not just a person anymore,” Ilari said, his voice more careful now. “And I think you know that.”

She looked away, jaw tight.

“Do you really believe you can keep him in check?” he asked.

Y/N took a breath, swallowing hard. “I believe I can reach him. There’s something inside him that listens. That wants to be better. And I’m the only one he trusts right now.”

Ilari studied her for a long moment. “You’re falling into this too deeply.”

She turned her back to him, returning to the footage. “Maybe. But so far, it’s working.”

“Until it doesn’t.”

There was silence again, just the low hum of the recording looping on the screen—Bob’s hands unclenching, the golden glow fading from his eyes, the look of horror on his face when he realized what he’d done.

“I won’t authorize the kill switch,” Y/N said quietly. “If they want it, they’ll have to take me off the project.”

Ilari stood still. The weight of her words sat between them like a loaded weapon. He nodded slowly.

“I’ll hold them off as long as I can. But be careful, Y/N. You think you’re saving him, but I’ve seen what this job does to people. What your father’s pressure did to you. Don’t make yourself the next casualty.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

Dr. Ilari didn’t leave. He lingered behind her, arms folded across his chest, waiting for the silence to wear thin.

Y/N knew what was coming. She felt it before he even spoke again.

“Just build it.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose, her back still to him. “You think if you say it softer, I’ll listen?”

“I think if I remind you that Valentina Fontaine signs your paycheck, you might remember we’re not running a charity here. This isn’t a healing center, Y/N. It’s a containment facility. And Bob—”

“—is not a monster,” she snapped, spinning to face him.

Ilari didn’t flinch. “Then what is he?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

He stepped closer.

“Build it. Don’t install it. Don’t even show him. Just give them something on paper. She’ll back off. The board will settle. You’ll buy yourself time. But if something goes wrong again—when it does—we’ll need insurance. You need insurance.”

“I’m not putting a kill switch on him like he’s a rabid dog.”

“I’m not asking you to use it,” Ilari said. “I’m asking you to survive this. Because if Valentina thinks for one second you’re letting emotions cloud your judgment—”

“I am using judgment,” Y/N growled. “I’ve tested his vitals. Tracked every response. Monitored the shifts in his brain activity. What happened yesterday was a trigger—emotional, not primal. He came back from it. He fought it off. That means something.”

“And what happens when he doesn’t?” Ilari countered. “What happens when the thing inside him decides it likes the control? Or worse—when it realizes there’s no one to stop it? Do you think it’ll hesitate to level this entire building?”

Y/N's throat tightened. Her voice dropped.

“I’m not killing him. I won’t.”

Ilari’s expression softened—just slightly. “Then don’t. Just design the blueprint. Lock it in a drawer. Let it collect dust, for all I care. But if you don’t give Valentina a way to feel in control, she’ll replace you. And whoever comes next will use it.”

Y/N’s shoulders slumped.

She turned back to the monitor. Bob was still on screen—sitting in the corner of his room from hours ago, curled forward, fingers tangled in his hair. His lips moved, talking to no one. Or maybe to her. Maybe to the Void. Maybe both.

“She’ll use it the second she feels threatened.”

“She will. But you don’t have to. Not if you stay ahead of her.”

Y/N stared into the frozen frame.

“Build a god,” she whispered, “and everyone wants the off-switch.”

Ilari’s voice was gentler now. “You’ve already humanized him, Y/N. That’s why this is so hard for you. But this world… it doesn’t care how kind his eyes look when he apologizes. It cares about survival.”

“I know.”

She paused. The cursor blinked. Her mind spiraled.

“If I design it,” she said finally, “I build it so it never works.”

Ilari smiled faintly. “That’s your call.”

She nodded, quietly, as her chest ached with the weight of compromise. Looking at the screen again, her voice was barely a breath.

“But he trusts me. He trusts me like I’m the only good thing he has left.”

“And that,” Ilari said, heading to the door, “is exactly why it’ll destroy you if you’re wrong.”

He left.

And Y/N, standing alone in the glow of the monitor, let her fingers hover over the keyboard. A blank file stared back at her.

"Failsafe Protocol: Subject SENTRY."

She didn’t type another word.

The hallway was quiet.

Y/N paused outside the door to Bob’s room, the security panel blinking patiently as if questioning her resolve. She stared at it for a moment, then placed her hand on the scanner. A soft beep, then the door slid open.

Inside, the room was dim—calm, almost peaceful. The sterile overhead lights were off, replaced by the warm glow of a small desk lamp. Bob was curled in the corner of the couch, a thick paperback in his hands, eyes trailing each word with slow intensity. He looked up at the sound of the door, blinking once like he wasn’t sure if she was real.

Then, a quiet, small smile tugged at his lips.

“You actually came,” he said.

Y/N stepped in, letting the door close behind her. She folded her arms, offering a small shrug. “I promised.”

Bob’s smile shifted, crooked now, something heavier behind it.

“I don’t know if you’re good with promises.”

The words hit her sharper than they should have. Not because he was wrong. But because he was right—and it was her fault he thought that.

Her arms dropped, and she took a slow step forward, sitting carefully in the chair across from him. “That’s fair,” she admitted. “But I meant this one.”

Bob closed the book softly, resting it on his lap. He didn’t look angry. Just... tired. There were darker circles under his eyes than before. His jaw was more tense.

Y/N watched him for a second, debating whether to speak. She knew she should keep things neutral—clinical. But then he met her eyes again, and she couldn’t.

“I wanted to check on you,” she said, gently. “See how you’re feeling today.”

Bob looked away. “Like I’m losing my mind.”

Y/N felt a knot tighten in her chest.

“It’s the walls,” he added, voice low. “The waiting. Waking up and seeing the same ceiling. The same guards. The same fucking tests. I try to read, but it’s like my brain gets full too fast. My hands shake some days. Or I just... go numb. And no one talks to me unless it’s with a clipboard.”

His eyes flicked up to hers again.

“Except you.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She’d designed this room, this schedule, this isolation. She’d made sure he was locked down. That he was controlled.

She was the one who lured him here.

“You’re not crazy,” she said softly. “Your mind’s just... trying to protect itself. It’s adapting to something it’s never had to face. And I’m sorry. I know what being alone like this does to someone.”

Bob scoffed, but it wasn’t mocking—it was sad. “Do you?”

Y/N hesitated. “Yeah. I do.”

He nodded, slowly. “Well... I don’t want to hurt anyone. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean to grab you. I didn’t even remember doing it until I saw you coughing on the floor.”

She nodded.

“I thought maybe after that... you wouldn’t want to come back.”

“I did,” she said. “Because it wasn’t you.”

Bob leaned back, the book forgotten in his hands. “Still felt like me.”

“It wasn’t,” she said firmly, then softened her voice. “And it’s not your fault you’re stuck here. It’s mine.”

His brow furrowed slightly, confused.

“I was the one who asked you to trust me,” Y/N said. “To follow me out of that hell. I gave you hope, then put you back in a different kind of cage. I told myself it was for your safety. For the world’s. But maybe I just didn’t want to admit I didn’t know how to fix any of it.”

Bob stared at her for a long time.

“Why do you care?” he asked, voice quieter. “Not as a doctor. As you.”

Y/N looked away.

That was the question, wasn’t it?

She stood, unsure how long she could let herself stay this close.

“Because I made a promise,” she whispered. “And because I see you. Not just what they call you. Not just the power. You. And you don’t deserve to feel like this.”

He didn’t respond. But she didn’t expect him to.

Instead, he picked his book back up, but didn’t open it. His fingers just touched the cover, thoughtful.

“Can you stay?” he asked suddenly, almost childlike.

Y/N looked at him—exhausted, bruised by weeks of silence and fear—and nodded.

She walked over and sat beside him on the couch. Close, but not touching.

“I’ll stay,” she said. “For a while.”

She gets up from the couch and starts walking toward his bed.

Bob watched her move in silence, eyes flickering with something unsure. She didn’t hesitate, just sat at the edge of his bed, keeping a respectful distance. Not too close, but close enough that he felt her presence—calming, grounding.

“I have a few questions,” she said, voice soft, but not clinical this time. “Personal ones. Harmless.”

He nodded warily.

“What brought you to Malaysia? I mean… before all of this. What were you doing?”

Bob’s shoulders tensed. His eyes dropped from hers, and he rubbed the back of his neck—embarrassed.

“I was running,” he admitted after a pause. “From everything. My name. My past. From who I became.”

Y/N didn’t say anything. She waited.

“I didn’t have a job,” he added, quieter now. “Not a real one, anyway. I was… a full-time addict. Mostly meth. Sometimes whatever I could find. I wasn’t surviving. Just… stalling.”

His voice cracked near the end—not from shame, but from something deeper. Resignation. And something that sounded like fear of being seen.

She already knew about his addiction, that was why she targeted him. But some of her, in this moment, hoped that he had something for himself, a family, friends, maybe a girlfriend, someone waiting.

She didn’t try to comfort him with platitudes. She just sat with it.

After a long moment, she asked gently, “Did you accept my offer to die… or because you thought it might keep you sober, Bob?”

He took a breath.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “But I didn’t care. If I did die—I think I would’ve been okay with that.”

That hit her harder than she expected.

Y/N blinked fast, willing the sting in her eyes to go away. A few tears welled up, but she refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not here.

She shifted her posture, straightened her back. Bob glanced at her and noticed—he didn’t say anything, but he saw it.

Then he asked something that caught her off-guard.

“Why did you take this project so personally? Why… care about me at all? You've already told me beofre. People died before me. I’m not the first attempt.”

She hesitated.

Her eyes flickered toward him before she finally said it.

“It was my father in charge before,” she began. “I wasn’t involved yet. Not really. Not until you.”

He looked confused. “Then… why now?”

She sighed. “Because it was mine. Originally. I came up with the initial formula. The groundwork. He hijacked it and sold it because he believe it would fail but it was good money. Valentina really wants to build herself a superhuman. And he never cared if it worked, just if it yielded power.”

She paused, voice low and bitter now.

“I joined again because I wanted one that stays alive.”

Bob’s brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

“I knew something was off. Everyone treated the subjects like they were machines. Inject. Wait. Watch. If it failed—dispose and try again. But I had a feeling… it needed more than that. It wasn’t just about serum compatibility or gene splicing. It was also psychological. All of them fall mentally and that ended up consuming them and something killed them, mostt likely something from the serum obviously.”

She finally looked him in the eyes.

“You can’t build gods in a lab without building them up as people first. And my father—he doesn’t get that. He’s a machine. I’m not.”

Bob swallowed.

Something settled in the room. He could feel it, like the weight of an unsaid truth hanging in the air between them.

“And what happens when this project ends?” he asked. “When they decide I’m not useful anymore?”

Y/N didn’t answer right away.

Then, with a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “You are useful, you are something, and if it fails than...I'll fight for you to get to live.”

Bob stared at her, disbelieving at first.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” she replied. "But something tells me that if you have some type of trust than your mind will have strength to keep going, at least until settling."

Y/N looked down at her hands in her lap, clasped too tightly. She hadn’t planned on staying this long in his room, not like this—not talking, not connecting. But something about being near him tonight made the walls she kept around herself feel… exhausting.

And so, quietly, she began.

“I was cruel to you,” she said. “At the start. Cold. Strict. Like I didn’t care.”

Bob blinked, taken aback. “I mean… yeah, maybe a little,” he offered with a soft laugh, trying to defuse the weight in her voice.

But she didn’t laugh. She looked at him, eyes more vulnerable than he’d ever seen them.

“I did it because I was scared,” she confessed. “Because I wasn’t sure my theory would work. And instead of trusting myself… I mimicked my father. I used his methods. His cruelty. Because… he always seemed to be right.”

Bob’s smile slowly faded.

“I tortured you,” she said bitterly. “With all those tests, the harsh regimens. I justified it as science. I told myself you were invincible. But I was trying to silence my own insecurity. I didn’t know if I was good enough to lead this. I still don’t.”

Bob’s chest rose and fell, slow and steady.

Y/N bit her lip and glanced toward him again.

“But then I met you. And… started knowing you,” she added softly. “And you weren’t just another experiment. You were… someone broken, like me. Someone full of pain, and still breathing. You reminded me that this was never about formulas. It was about people.”

Something shifted in Bob’s face then. His eyes softened. Warmth crept into them—real, flickering emotion. Not the fire of power. Not the gold of the Void.

But Bob.

He moved slightly, closing the space between them. Just a little.

“I’m grateful you said that,” he said, voice low. “You didn’t have to.”

She looked away again, suddenly self-conscious.

But he went on, braver now.

“I hope you prove your father wrong. I hope you make something real. Something better. And… if I’m part of that… I’m glad. Because for the first time in years, I don’t want to die.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. Her throat tightened.

“You gave me that,” he said. “A reason to try. To live. Even if I don’t understand it yet.”

They didn’t move for a while.

At some point—neither of them remembered when—their hands brushed.

Her fingers touched the edge of his. Warm. Tentative.

They didn’t pull away.

They didn’t speak.

They just sat there, fingers barely linked, as if holding on would make the moment last longer. As if breaking it would mean returning to the silence, the tests, the weight of the world they carried.

Bob looked at her like she was light.

And for the first time, she allowed herself to see his features. Indeed, he was really handsome, and his eyes so blue...

It was as if they were afraid to move, feeling the slight touch of each oher hoping the other would notice and pull away. Both were thinking the same, looking at each other with a sparkle in their eyes. Perhaps it was just the moonlight, or maybe it was something much more complicated.

The past few days had brought something soft between them. The sharpness of their sessions dulled, replaced by quiet laughter between tests, inside jokes scribbled in the margins of files, and teasing remarks during blood draws. Where once she stood above him with a clipboard and a guarded expression, now she lingered beside him, her smile easier, her walls thinner.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

Dr. Ilari said nothing. But when Y/N passed him in the hallway that morning with a coffee in her hand and a barely concealed smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, he gave her a single, knowing glance—one she refused to meet.

Later that night, Bob sat alone in his room, a book open in his lap, though he wasn’t really reading. His mind kept drifting—back to her, to her laugh that slipped through her lips like an accident, to the way her eyes softened now when she looked at him. It scared him, how much it meant. How much it soothed.

The door burst open suddenly.

“Bob,” her voice rang out.

He looked up, startled—and then completely still.

There she was.

Not in her usual lab coat or the sharp ponytail she wore when in command. Not in her practical shoes or pale eyes dulled by overthinking. No.

She stood framed by the doorway like a vision—wearing a fitted top tucked into a long, flowing skirt that swayed with her movement, the soft candlelight from the hallway catching the shimmer of the fabric. Her heels clicked on the tile floor, elegant and certain. Her makeup was subtle but defining, her lips painted in a deep, soft hue. And her hair—styled, parted in a way that framed her face just so—was down, like silk.

He blinked.

For a second, he truly forgot how to breathe.

“I had a crazy idea,” she said, breathless from excitement, a wild gleam in her eyes.

Before he could respond, something soft and heavy hit his lap.

He looked down.

A bag.

Confused, Bob opened it slowly—only to find a neatly folded pair of men’s dress pants and a crisp button-up shirt. The colors... they matched her outfit.

Matching.

His heart stuttered.

“Y/N…?” he started, unsure what this was.

But his voice faltered when he looked back up—because she was smiling at him like something good was finally happening. Like they were about to escape the walls that had been closing in on them for weeks.

She tilted her head, playful. “You said you were going insane locked up in here. So I figured… why not go a little insane with style?”

Her eyes sparkled.

And Bob—speechless. "Get dressed." She says as she leaves the room.

Y/N leaned casually against the wall just outside Bob’s room, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward the hallway camera with a glint of rebellion in them. She could hear him moving inside—soft thuds, the rustle of fabric, the occasional grumbled curse under his breath as he tried to figure out the buttons on the shirt she picked. It made her smirk.

When he finally emerged, her gaze swept over him—dark slacks snug on his tall frame, the shirt slightly wrinkled but charmingly so, sleeves rolled just below his elbows. He looked…human. Not like a patient. Not like a weapon. Just like a man.

And a devastatingly handsome one at that.

He raised an eyebrow. “So, are you going to tell me what this is about, or am I being lured into some underground fighting ring?”

Y/N chuckled, pushing off the wall. “No fighting tonight. Just a little... sneaky escape.”

Bob blinked. “Wait. Escape? From here?”

She nodded, her grin widening. “You said you were going crazy. So we’re going out. A bar. Some street food. Maybe a rooftop. You deserve to breathe real air.”

He looked around like someone might pop out from a corner and say this was all a test. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” she said, already turning on her heel. “Come on. You’ve got five minutes of freedom before the moral part of my brain catches up.”

Before he could respond, she was gone—heels echoing lightly down the hallway.

Bob followed, pulse ticking faster than usual. The lab always felt like a cage. But this? This felt like something out of a dream.

Y/N ducked into the control room with practiced ease. She scanned her badge, fingers flying over the keypad until the surveillance system blinked into standby mode. Cameras looped. Lights dimmed in the lower corridors. Power to the locks was momentarily redirected.

“Just a little blackout,” she murmured to herself.

Outside the room, Bob waited, fidgeting, still half-convinced someone would storm in and drag him back to a testing bed. But when she emerged and gave him a simple, triumphant nod, he smiled.

They crept through the lab’s halls like teenagers sneaking out past curfew. Every closed door was a thrill. Every quiet footstep a tiny rebellion. At the exit, Y/N used a physical key—one of the only old security measures left—to slip them out into the humid Malaysian night.

The city opened up before them like a pulse. Neon signs buzzed in the distance. Scooter engines growled in the streets. The scent of grilled food wafted through the air, sweet and smoky. Music played faintly from a corner bar, the kind where no one would ever recognize a living weapon or the daughter of a mad scientist.

Bob took a deep breath.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was real.

And when he glanced at Y/N—walking ahead of him, skirt swaying, hair lifted slightly in the breeze—he felt, for the first time in a long time, like a man walking next to a woman… not a subject under surveillance.

“Where are we going first?” he asked, falling into step beside her.

She looked up at him, lips curved in a grin. “Wherever you want.”

And just like that, the night was theirs.

The bar was nestled between two noodle shops, its glowing red lanterns swaying gently in the night breeze. Inside, the atmosphere was golden and easy—walls painted deep maroon, string lights overhead, the air rich with spices and the faint scent of incense. A live band played from a corner, their music a jazzy mix of old Western swing and local soul, the perfect rhythm to make hips sway and laughter bloom.

Y/N was the first to pull Bob toward the dance floor. He hesitated—looking at his feet like they might betray him—but she only smiled and dragged him by the wrist.

“You’re fine,” she shouted over the music, “Just follow me!”

“I can barely walk straight, let alone dance,” he muttered, but his feet moved anyway.

They found themselves in a group of cheerful, lively dancers—locals, expats, tourists. The kind of people who didn’t care where you came from as long as you knew how to smile.

A playful, older man with silver hair and a tropical shirt cut in with a charming wink. “May I steal your lovely partner for a spin?”

Y/N laughed, giving Bob a conspiratorial smirk before twirling into the man’s arms. “Only if you promise not to show him up too hard.”

The man’s wife, a short, beaming woman in a bright orange scarf, clapped her hands and turned to Bob. “Now it’s your turn, handsome.”

Caught off guard, Bob gave a sheepish smile, but followed her into the rhythm. She was light on her feet, graceful in a way that made Bob feel less like a statue and more like he belonged there, in motion, in life.

The music slowed, then sped up again, and the couples spun and twirled. Laughs echoed off the bar’s warm walls. The room glowed like honey.

Then, in the natural rhythm of the dance, it happened—partners switched again, laughter in the air, arms brushing past, and suddenly—

Y/N was in Bob’s arms.

She blinked up at him, breath catching for a moment. His hands found her waist. Her fingers curled gently behind his neck.

They were close. Too close for comfort. Or maybe too close for denial.

Neither said anything at first.

The music pulsed softly now—less wild, more sensual, the kind of melody that made time stretch and bend.

“You’re not half bad,” she finally whispered, looking at him through her lashes.

“You’re the one carrying me,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, though he didn't pull away. “I'm just trying not to step on your feet.”

She smiled, but it was softer now. Smaller. Real.

Their bodies moved slowly, swaying in sync. Something in the air had shifted—no longer just dancing, no longer just playing pretend in a borrowed night. Bob’s hands were gentle, respectful, but he wasn’t looking away from her this time.

He was watching her.

Really watching her.

And Y/N wasn’t pretending not to notice.

She felt his warmth through her clothes. Felt the steadiness of his breath. His eyes weren’t glowing gold now—they were just... Bob’s. Kind. Searching. Like maybe this moment meant more than it should.

“Thank you,” he said, suddenly.

“For what?”

“For tonight. For this.”

She swallowed, her voice almost lost in the music. “You needed it.”

His hand slid slightly along her back, anchoring her. “So did you.”

The streets of Kuala Lumpur pulsed with life, even at this hour. Lanterns swung over narrow alleys, street vendors called out in bursts of Bahasa, and the air smelled like fried garlic, smoke, and sweet condensed milk.

Y/N and Bob slipped through the crowds like two teenagers cutting class, hands brushing accidentally, heads tilted back in laughter. The first bar had been quaint and old-fashioned, but the second was neon-drenched chaos—walls glowing pink, electronic music thumping through the floor. The kind of place where no one looked too long and everyone was dancing like the world might end.

Y/N had dragged him inside before he could even read the sign. Bob had protested weakly, but one drink in, he was laughing with his head thrown back, loosening up in a way she hadn’t seen before—not even in their quietest sessions.

At the bar, she leaned into him to yell over the music, her breath brushing his ear. “Try this,” she said, handing him a drink with a mischievous grin. “It’s like fire in a glass.”

Bob raised a skeptical eyebrow but took a sip. He instantly coughed, eyes watering. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“No,” she laughed, eyes bright, “just trying to remind you you’re alive.”

He looked at her then, the lights turning her face violet and gold. “It’s working.”

The song shifted to something slower but bass-heavy, and Bob turned his gaze away, setting the drink down as though afraid of saying too much. Y/N said nothing either, but the corner of her mouth curled knowingly.

They hit the next spot just down the street—a rooftop bar with glowing tables and dim candlelight. The city stretched below them in soft blues and oranges. The breeze tugged gently at her hair as she stood at the edge, arms out like she might fly.

“This is the most alive I’ve felt in years,” she said, her voice lower now, almost reverent.

Bob leaned against the railing beside her. “You look it.”

She turned to look at him, eyebrow raised.

“I mean—” he fumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean you just… look happy.”

She didn’t respond at first, only let the quiet hang between them.

Then, softly: “I guess I forgot I could be.”

They didn’t touch. Not here. But when she stepped a little closer and he didn’t move away, their shoulders brushed, and neither of them pulled back. Their silhouettes stood together, dark against the lights of the city, like two survivors just remembering what joy tasted like.

From there, it was a stumble into a back-alley karaoke bar filled with locals cheering each other on. Y/N shoved Bob into a booth with a devilish grin. “Your turn,” she said, flipping open the worn songbook.

“I’m not singing.”

“Oh yes, you are.”

“Absolutely not.”

Ten minutes later, Bob Reynolds was standing under a flickering spotlight, mumbling the first verse of an ‘80s rock ballad with all the shame of a man sent to the gallows. But by the second chorus—her laughing in the front row, clapping off beat—he was belting out the words like a man possessed.

She joined him for the last chorus, pulling the mic from his hands. Their voices collided in awful, glorious harmony. The small crowd roared. Bob bowed theatrically. She curtsied. Their laughter echoed off the walls.

They exited hand-in-hand, still breathless.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed like that in years,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You were awful,” she grinned.

“You were worse.”

They ended up on the curb of a quiet street, shoes in hand, legs stretched out. Her head leaned on his shoulder for just a second. A quick, unspoken moment of surrender to the softness between them.

Neither commented on it.

They didn’t need to.

Because in the electric warmth of the night, with the stars overhead and alcohol blurring the edges of their pain, they weren’t test subject and scientist. Not invincible man and guilt-worn genius.

Just Bob and Y/N.

And the world, for now, was big enough to let them forget who they were supposed to be.

The lab was silent.

Cold, humming white lights cast long shadows across the floor, washing the room in sterile calm. After the warmth of the city, the contrast felt like stepping into ice water. Gone were the neon colors, the blaring music, the laughter echoing through open streets. Now there was only the quiet whirring of machines, the distant click of cooling vents, and the echo of their footsteps down the hallway.

Y/N walked a little ahead, heels in hand, her skirt brushing her ankles. She didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

Their silence wasn’t heavy.

It was… tentative.

Careful.

Like something had changed out there in the night, and now it followed them like a ghost—gentle, but undeniable.

Bob paused just outside his room, looking at her. “Hey,” he said, voice low.

She turned, her makeup slightly smudged, her eyes tired but soft. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, leaning against the doorframe. “Thanks. For tonight.”

Her smile was faint. “Don’t mention it.”

“No, I mean it,” he said. “I haven’t felt… I don’t know. Like a person. In a long time.”

The words landed between them, bare and honest.

Y/N looked at him for a long moment, then stepped closer, letting the distance shrink just a bit. “You are a person, Bob,” she said quietly. “You’re more than what they made you. More than the serum. More than what you’ve done.”

He swallowed, eyes flicking to the floor. “You make it easy to forget the other stuff.”

Her voice almost cracked when she replied. “Then let me help you forget it a little more often.”

Their eyes met, and there it was again—that quiet tension, the kind that made breathing feel deeper. Neither moved. Neither touched. But the air between them felt fragile, like a ripple waiting to break.

He gave a small nod, eyes searching hers. “You know... there was a moment tonight. Just one.”

“Hm?”

“When I looked over at you, dancing… and laughing,” he said, voice rough with sleep and something else, “I thought, if this is it—if this is all I get—then maybe that’s okay.”

Y/N’s lips parted slightly, stunned by the honesty of it.

She didn’t know what to say.

So instead, she did something smaller. Simpler.

She stepped forward and gently reached for his hand, still bruised from a recent test. She didn’t hold it. Just brushed her fingers along his palm before letting go.

He looked at her like she’d touched something deeper than skin.

“I should go,” she whispered. “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Okay.”

She turned, but before she could walk away, he spoke again—so softly she barely heard it.

“Y/N?”

She stopped.

“You looked beautiful tonight.”

She didn’t look back. Just stood there in the hallway, letting the words settle into her.

Then: “You weren’t too bad yourself, Bob.”

She walked away with a small smile playing at her lips, her footsteps echoing into the silence of the lab.

Y/N’s footsteps echoed softly through the hallway, fading with distance as she walked away from Bob’s door.

But something tugged at her.

It wasn’t just his words. It was the way he had looked at her—like she was something fragile and rare. Something he couldn’t quite believe was real. It had been a long time since anyone had seen her like that. If ever.

She slowed.

Then stopped.

Turned to glance back.

The sterile hallway was still and empty, but the weight of everything hung there—what they'd said, what they hadn’t. Her heart was pounding, not just from nerves, but from the pull she could no longer ignore.

Before she could talk herself out of it, her feet moved. Fast. Purposeful.

She doubled back and reached his door, pausing just long enough to take a breath. Then she pushed it open.

Inside, Bob had his back turned, shirt halfway off as he reached for the dull light green set of clothes folded on the cot. He turned, surprised by the sound, his shirt still hanging from one arm.

“Y/N?” His voice was low, uncertain.

She just looked at him—really looked. He was beautiful in his brokenness, in the way his shoulders tensed like he was always bracing for pain, in how human he looked now compared to the power she’d seen before.

Her shoes hit the floor with a soft thud as she stepped inside.

“I’m going to regret this,” she said under her breath, more to herself than to him. Her voice cracked a little. “But can I do something really quick?”

Bob blinked. “Uh… yeah. Of course. What do you—?”

He didn’t get to finish.

Y/N closed the distance between them in two quick steps, reaching for him—hesitant for a second—and then her hand slid to his jaw, thumb brushing lightly along his cheekbone.

And then she kissed him.

Soft at first.

Searching.

Bob froze, eyes wide, every part of him stunned by the sudden contact. It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t supposed to do this. He wasn’t supposed to deserve it.

But her lips didn’t lie. They trembled slightly, like she was scared too. Like this was something neither of them knew how to survive, but they couldn’t stop.

And then, slowly, something in him gave way.

His hand found the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, and he kissed her back.

Deeper this time.

Not desperate. But reverent.

Like she was something holy, and this was the only language he had left to speak.

Their bodies pulled closer, the air between them too charged to ignore. His shirt slipped to the floor, forgotten. Her hands gripped lightly at his sides, holding him there like she didn’t know how to let go.

When they finally broke the kiss, their foreheads rested against each other’s. Their breathing was heavy, uneven.

Bob’s voice was rough, full of everything he couldn’t say. “Why did you do that?”

Y/N closed her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “Because I didn’t want to walk away without knowing what it would feel like.”

Silence.

Then his fingers brushed against her wrist, gently. “And now that you know?”

She opened her eyes.

Still afraid. Still unsure.

“I’m still trying to breathe.”

He smiled softly, bittersweet. “Me too.”

"Ok so..now I really have to go I have to shower and sleep cause my feat are killing me but...I see you tomorrow Bob." She got up, all smiley at him, making her way to the door.

"I see you tomorrow Y/N." For the first time in a long, Bob felt it, he didn't know if it was love, he didn't even know how complicated things could due to their circunstances but for now, his path started to make sense.

Everything happens for a reason right.

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