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[science-hoes]

Angel Kisses

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: graphic medical descriptions, needles

Description: Robby comes in on his day off with a minor injury, and the Reader ends up much closer to him than she had anticipated.

Michael Robinavitch Masterlist

—

The Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center was rumored to be the 9th level of Hell. So when it was time for you to begin your schedule for trauma surgery, you prayed for a different hospital. Literally any other hospital.

But there you were, in the depths of the Pitt, working your fifth 12 hour shift of the rotation. Only 1pm, but you felt like someone had changed the clocks because there was no way that the day was only halfway done. You were reading a pediatric patient’s CBC results, getting ready to tell your senior attending for the day, Dr. Jack Abbott, that the child is anemic. But Dana’s voice distracted you:

“You can’t even stay away on your day off. Do you have a life besides the Pitt?” She said to someone out of your view.

“Trust me. This is a last resort.” You heard a man respond, the voice slightly familiar.

You turned around and saw Dr. Michael Robinavitch, the senior attending from your first four days of working here. He didn’t look too different out of his scrubs and navy hoodie that he wore at work. Black joggers and gray long sleeve athletic shirt that hugged his waist…really nicely.

“Last resort for what?” Dr. Frank Langdon called out from where he sat at his desk, charting his patient case.

“I fell of a ladder and tore up my back on the fence in my backyard.” Answered Dr. Robinav- Dr. Robby, you had to remind yourself. “I need stitches, but I can’t reach the cut.”

Langdon winced and leaned back in his chair. “Need me to stitch you up?” He asked.

Dr. Abbott walked up to the desk near Langdon and laughed. “No, he wants his friend to stitch him up. Right, Robby?” He joked, referring to himself.

Robby laughed and crossed his arms, biceps straining against the fabric of the athletic shirt. Damn. “Friend is a strong word. I don’t have friends.” He said with a smile.

Langdon scoffed. “We went fishing last weekend. What does that make me?” He asked.

“I prefer the term ‘coworker that I hang out with sometimes outside of work.’” Robby said, but you could see the teasing in the way his eyes crinkled.

Dana rolled her eyes. “You are all annoying me. Jack, go stitch him up so he can get out of here and rest.” She said before walking off to a patient room.

Robby shook his head. “No, no, just let a med student do it. Good learning opportunity.” He said.

“No med students today. Only interns.” Langdon mumbled as he continued typing on his computer.

Robby clasped his hands together and held them close to his chest. “Even better. I would love for my scar to be in a straight line.” He joked.

Abbott looked to you, who had been watching the group interact from a couple of desks over. Your face flushed slightly, realizing you probably look like an eavesdropper. He motioned with his head toward Robby. “Why don’t you take our patient to holding and fix him up? I’ll take the CBC results.” He said.

“Yes, sir.” You answered, almost a little too seriously. The Pitt was an intense environment, but these attendings did not have the same egos as the ones from your last several rotations.

Robby chuckled at your earnestness. “Hear that, Langdon? ‘Yes, sir.’ You should be taking notes.” He ordered facetiously, pointing his finger at the senior resident.

Langdon looked up from his desk as you began walking with Robby to the back of the Pitt where the holding rooms were. “You know, we tell all of our patients over 65 to be very careful when doing yard work.” He called out.

Robby shot him a bird without turning back around. You smiled at the banter, not used to the lax interactions between physicians of different ranks. Once you made it to the room, Robby sat on the bed, and you grabbed a standard suture kit.

“Is it on your back?” You asked, turned away from him.

“Yeah. I’d do it myself if I could reach it. I managed to cover it up though.” He said.

When you turned back around, his tight fitting shirt had been peeled off his upper body. Holy shit. In the last five days, you didn’t really give yourself time to fantasize about your attending. He was handsome for sure and charming when he wasn’t jumping down a resident’s throat (yet he still had the patience of a saint). His abdomen was well toned, and his chest was smooth. Not what you expected based off his hairy forearms and face.

You must have been staring too much because Robby’s shoulders hunched, as if trying to subtly cover his exposed body. “Let me just take a look at the cut.” You said, trying to come back to earth. You moved to the edge of the bed and removed the bandage that he had placed himself.

You could see the blood that had leaked through the dressing, but you were not prepared to see the extent of the cut stretch across the majority of his upper back. “Oh, shit.” You swore.

Robby chuckled. “That’s not a comforting thing to hear from your doctor.” He said, shifting uncomfortably as the cold air of the hospital struck the wound.

You shook your head in a panic. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t say that to a normal patient.” You covered for yourself.

Robby shook his head. “No, no. Listen. You’re taking everything a little too seriously. Just relax. Roll with the punches. That’s the only way you’ll survive down here.” He explained.

You nodded, taking in a stiff breath anyway. You disposed of the bandaging and picked up the lidocaine syringe. “Okay. I’m about to start injecting lidocaine around the cut. You’ll feel the burning more than the needle.” You said. You placed one gloved hand on his back, giving yourself a guide while you held the syringe in the other.

“90 degrees or 45?” He asked, making you freeze in place.

You paused for a moment, almost afraid to say your answer in fear of being incorrect. “90.” You answered.

“Why?”

At this point, the needle was hovering just an inch above your first injection site. “Recent studies show that patients report less pain with a 90 degree angle.” You said, confident in your sources.

Robby smiled, but you didn’t see it. “Very good.” Was all he said.

You injected the first round of lidocaine, and he hissed at the burning around the open wound. You kept moving around the cut, injecting small doses. “You’re doing great, Dr. Robby.” You praised, just as you would with any patient.

“Fuck, I say that to patients all the time. No wonder it makes no difference.” He grumbled.

You smiled slightly and injected the final dose. “All done.”

Robby let out a heavy breath, hanging his head as the skin slowly numbed where you worked. You began to open the suture kit and sort out its contents on the metal tray near the bed.

“What stitch?��� He asked.

You grabbed some gauze and antiseptic from the drawer in the room before returning to his side. You cleaned the skin around the wound where the blood had dribbled down his back in a mix with sweat from working outside.

“Running stitch. The cut is long but not at risk of tension.” You answered. Robby nodded in approval. You carefully started on your first stitch, delicately inserting the curved needle into his skin. “So, you were on a ladder?” You asked.

Robby huffed in slight irritation. “Yeah. Trimming some branches that were reaching over the fence into the neighbors’ yard. I misstepped on the way down and lost my balance.” He explained.

You grimaced. “That sucks.” You said matter of factly.

“Yeah. Maybe Langdon is right. I’m getting too old for that kind of stuff.” He said with a chuckle.

Your hands carefully moved as they continued to sew. “You don’t look old.” You said.

Robby smiled to himself, not expecting you to respond at all. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” You said, glad he couldn’t see your involuntary blush. As you continued to stitch, you noticed all of the spots and marks that dusted his back and shoulders. “I like your freckles.” You noted.

Robby’s mind halted. It was a compliment he had never received. Your words went straight to his chest, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt flustered.

“My freckles?” He repeated.

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah. You got ‘em on your face too?” You asked.

Robby turned his head, not to present his face, but because he was still surprised and wanted to see if you were being genuine. And there they were. A light scattering of freckles across his cheeks and bridge of his nose.

“Yep. They’re precious.” You said after inspecting and returning back to your stitching. Robby’s face flushed, and you could especially see it in his ears as you worked. “You know, my mom used to tell me that freckles were angel kisses. Every time I got a new one, I thought an angel had kissed me. I went an embarrassingly long time into junior high before realizing it was just a tall tale.” You explained.

Robby smiled at the charming story, feeling an unusual feeling of comfort. “My grandmother used to say the same thing.” He said.

You grinned. “Looks like the angels couldn’t get enough of you then.” You teased.

Robby chuckled and ran a nervous hand across the back of his neck, careful not to pull against the skin as you worked. “How’s it looking back there?” He asked, trying to continue conversation.

“I need to run about five more stitches. Then you’ll be on your way.” You said.

He nodded and folded his hands in his lap. “Are you working tomorrow?” He asked.

You thought for a second, honestly not sure. “I don’t think so. My first off day since I started.” You replied. “Are you?”

“No. Seven on, seven off.” He said.

You pulled at the last suture and cut the remaining thread. “All right, Dr. Robby. You’re all cleaned up.” You announced.

“Great.” Robby hopped off the bed and stood up straight, popping a few kinks in his back from being hunched over. He towered above you, losing the intimacy that you temporarily had. “Take a picture and show me.” He said.

You pulled off your gloves slowly, unsure of how to respond. “Of the stitches?” You asked, afraid that he was going to grill you for sloppy suturing.

“Yeah, just to see the damage.” He responded.

You pulled your phone out and stood behind him. Fuck, even his back looked good. You snapped a picture and zoomed in to show him your work. Definitely saving that for later. “Does it look okay?” You asked timidly.

Robby nodded, impressed. “Actually yeah. Don’t think I could’ve done it better myself.” He complimented.

You laughed in relief. “Oh, good. I still need more practice on different suture patterns. I’m just lucky you were a simple case.” You said.

Robby looked down to you, letting his eyes linger as he watched you put your phone away. “If you aren’t busy tomorrow, maybe I can give you a masterclass. All ER docs have to know every suture.” He offered.

You looked up to him, suddenly very aware that he was still shirtless in front of you. You smirked and crossed your arms. “Sure. But only if you teach me just like this.” You said, looking him up and down. “You know, because you’ll need to let those stitches breathe.”

Robby grinned. “Wow. That was pretty smooth.” He admired.

You shrugged. “Just rolling with the punches.” You responded, repeating his quote from earlier. “Give me a call tomorrow.”

And you left. Robby stood there, smiling to himself. He pulled his shirt on and walked out to the desk hub. Langdon was still charting, but caught the attending before he snuck out. “What’s that goofy smile for?” He asked, even though he knew the answer.

Robby shrugged, hands in his pockets, unable to shake the smile off his face. “I don’t know.” He said before walking away to leave.

Abbott leaned against a desk near Langdon. “His ears are red.” He noted. “That motherfucker is in love.”

--

A/N: I thought this fic would be a little less fluffy and more spicy but I just can’t help it. Plus I love Noah Wyle’s barely there freckles. I feel like this isn’t my best work because I had severe writers block. Hope it’s good enough for yall tho 💕

[girlfromflor]

idk if this makes sense but i couldn't stop thinking about it. omega!reader x pack!141 but simon and reader have a backstory.

you were rescued by los vaqueros. that was all anyone knew about you. there were no files, no archives, no photos, no information at all that you were indeed a living person. the ones who believed you were real were the ones that had seen you. but that's it. the only proof that you existed came to those who stared into your lifeless eyes and got a glimpse of your seemingly cold, distant demeanor and sharp, almost unnatural reflexes. almost is the key word, because they were in fact the most natural, primal form of your being. your omega.

it has barely been a week since you were rescued and they haven’t let you stop for a second. the higher-ups transferred you from place to place. from the local hospital to the base's medical center, back to back like you were some important patient even though there was nothing wrong with you. they just had no idea what to do with you. you were a deceiver. they had no trust in you to “allow” you to the outside world because that would mean a threat to civilians. and there was no locking you away either because they liked to pretend they weren't just as worse as the ones who kept you locked in some dirty dungeon far away from humanity.

they couldn't figure out what to do. you had a way of controlling your scent with such expertise that wasn't known to trained military soldiers. most of the time you masked your omega scent well. you didn’t smell like nothing at all, a neutral almost non existent aroma lingered around you. it wasn't very different from when someone would use scent blockers and they wondered how did you learn that in the first place. it took them seven long days to get you to let go and allow an omega specialist to get a sniff of your natural scent, no manipulating involved. 

just as you could mask your scent to a non existent one, you could also make it more appealing, more seductive. it was a problem, really. it brought alphas and betas to a dizzy haze where they felt like they had to do what you wanted so you could allow them closer for as long as it was possible. you made them submit in your own, fucked up way. even the elite forces couldn't help but give in to you. you lured people in, just to whisper your way into their hearts and minds to have what you wanted. and all you ever wanted was to survive, no matter what. always.

it wasn’t long before word spread and you were faced with the reality that your future once again was stripped away from your hands and put into the care of others. people you didn’t know and that you didn’t want to be forced to get to know. people you didn’t want to meet in the first place. and you were prepared to stand your ground. you were ready to do whatever it'd take for you to feel like you took back at least a bit of control of your life. the one you've long lost. the one you so deeply yearn to have back. even if it meant war. hell, you'd chase a way to feed your needs even if that meant death.

you waited patiently, sitting down on the hospital-like bed in one of the many rooms in the base's med center, playing with your fingers to pretend you had something to do other than think. you let yourself daydream from time to time, usually you fell in the arms of your very vivid memories from the last place you used to live in – the place you've been kept pretty much your whole life, but not anymore. you weren't given options, you knew you were going to be handed to someone only for this person to decide what was going to happen. the lack of opportunities to give consent and to have control over your own life were both things you never had the privilege to have. you caught yourself overthinking more often than not. it was a cruel habit, of course, but one you rather have over suicidal ones. you used to have those too, you recall. 

you never indulged in self harm of any kind, but suicide was a regular thought of yours before you met simon. your dear, cherished best friend who you kept well hidden somewhere in the back of your mind. the last time you saw him you were helping him escape the grey walls and steel gates where you were trapped for years. the place was supposed to be a orphanage. and it was, for a while. the younger ones were adopted by loving families and, eventually, moved on from the cold, creepy place. the ones who weren't chosen, the neglected and overlooked like yourself, were left behind to grow older and to grow wiser on their own. they were left alone with the slow understanding that if they weren't picked by the time their adulthood came, they would be sold somewhere else. 

you were a teenager by the time you stumbled upon simon. the tall, threatening young alpha who seemed to be older by only a few years, maybe months. alphas and omegas were kept in separate places of the building, so imagine your surprise when you were met with his warm chest, your cheek knocking on the fabric of his hoodie as you walked without looking forward, and rather to your right where anyone could appear at any moment. it was late, probably past midnight and you had the habit of sneaking around the building to find its secret places. simon never questioned where you were really going that night, you never explained yourself either, that would feel much too forced. after a while you didn’t have to either, because simon got to know you all too well, he was glad he accidentally caught you when he did.

after a few days of pining over each other's company, you sat down beside simon during lunch. none of you said a word but it became a routine. before either of you could realize a few months had passed and you saw each other every day, the two of you developed a very deep friendship filled with care and mutual understanding. lunches turned into whole days together, the days turned into months and as you grew fonder of each other you also realized there wasn't much time left. that’s where it all started. it was you who told simon to run away, it was you who said that he could make it, that he’d find a pack, a family, a home. you showed him every single one of the alternative exits around the building, you wrote down by memory the schedule of every security guard that worked on the big gates that kept you inside. you ran with him and you fought with him – you fought for him, because when the plan went down, you gave up on your own attempt of running away to be sure that he would make it out. you did it for him, for the love you found with him – one you only ever saw in books, one you never knew you'd ever be able to experience.

the place was huge, to this day simon doesn’t know how you managed to know it all so well to help him out. he later in life realized why it was so big. the place had a hospital-like facade only to be a lot of other things from inside. it was a reformatory to the kids who were sent there to be lectured, the ones like simon. it was an orphanage to others, but he only realized that when he met you. he still remembers that night, even with all the heavy emotions that came with it. he had been woken up by a nightmare and decided to grab something to eat from the kitchen – which was forbidden, but he really didn't care –, only for his idea to be totally forgotten when a smaller being collided with his chest. after that night his nightmares seemed to be slowly but determinedly replaced by images of you,  after a few days he didn’t have sleepless nights anymore and when he realized both of you had come to terms with the fact that you were in fact friends, he didn't even have nightmares at all. although, by the time he was out of the steel gates, hidden behind a tree, scared and panicking as he watched you being dragged back to the stone cold walls of the place he knew you likely wouldn't escape any sooner, he knew he'd never sleep as calmly as he did when he had you. 

it wasn’t long before he was found. price took him in and took care of him. they had a weird alpha to alpha relationship at the beginning, but it was more than simon could've ever asked for and as he grew used to long conversations and talks about his past experiences, simon finally felt like he belonged somewhere. as he joined the first project of task force 141, simon learned how to care for others. he only ever had you who was a fragile, delicate little omega – in his mind, at least – that he avoided hurting at all cost, which meant he avoided you altogether. you cared for each other but it was you who called the shots, it was you who laid boundaries and limits, it was you who took care of him. not the other way around, like it should be – like he wanted it to be.

as the task force 141 became a solid and stable unit, it also became simon's pack. he loves john with all he has, he’s always ready to follow him to the end of the world if that means they’ll still be together. john taught him how to love kyle – sweet, loving kyle who is too kind for his own good –, in a way that felt natural. kyle deserves all the love in this world and simon slowly learned how to give that without feeling like he was going to mess everything up. it was too bad that simon only realized that he was in love with you after he met johnny. johnny came like a hurricane and brought all simon’s walls down one by one. it was johnny who helped him with the nightmares he had of you, johnny was the only one who knew the whole story – how you sacrificed everything for simon, and how he would never allow himself close to another omega who weren’t you. you were probably dead, most likely gave in to the insane torture they must have put you in and either died from it or went into distress and had to be put down somehow. he couldn’t live with any of it, he never forgave himself for what he did – he left you behind, what type of person does that? it doesn’t matter that you were both young and scared for your lives. it doesn’t matter that you purposely threw yourself on the guard that was almost catching simon, only so he could escape and you would be the one captured and dragged back inside. johnny always tried to get simon to get back to the institution and look for you, but simon always sank so fast in the idea that you were already dead that johnny stopped asking, stopped questioning. both he and kyle did a great job at keeping simon’s mind out of bad thoughts and john was there to catch him if he ever fell. now, after so many years, the only reminder that you were part of his life was the nightmares he had of the day he left you, the ones who haunted him every other week.

caught up on reminiscing about your past life, you don’t acknowledge the opening door and the heavy steps that make their way inside of the room you're currently located in. you also don’t realize someone is talking to you until a hand touches your shoulder. you are shaken back into reality at the movement, your body reacting involuntarily and getting on guard and wary for a second. it was a soft touch that you knew meant no harm, but you were distracted and vulnerable. but then again, when weren’t you vulnerable? you look up from your fingers as you quickly take in the person in front of you, a woman – a beta – she is pretty, with kind eyes and kind intentions. her black skin is as beautiful as the night sky. you can see right through her, she’s scared you will think she has any other intentions when she actually only wants you to have some peace of mind. you can see it in the slight frown of her brows and pressed lips, the edge of an overbearing desire to comfort you well masked, only the soft and comforting beta scent more apparent – if you weren’t so good with scents, you might have missed it.  

“okay…?” she takes her hand away as she asks you, the british accent catching you off guard because most of the people you came in contact with since arriving from the hospital were either mexican or american. you’re not sure what she means.

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i heard a word you said…” you answer matter-of-factly with a chuckle, wanting to ease her nerves if that meant she’d stop projecting her scent to try and calm you down. you didn’t need that.

she chuckled as well, and you could see her shoulders relaxing a bit as her hands found their way to rest inside the front pockets of her cargo pants. “you seemed distracted, so i don’t blame you,” she jokes back, the atmosphere getting easier to deal with as you both settle in a normal conversation, despite the unusual circumstances. “i said that i’m here to make sure you’re okay and see if you’re ready for the meeting.”

oh, yes, the meeting. it was the usual power speech, they made you feel like you had the opportunity to choose if you want this or not. neither you nor the pretty beta in front of you fall for it, of course. because you aren’t ‘ready’, and you don’t get to voice it. she knows that as much as you, but you know she still wants you to be okay. so you sigh, stepping out of your bed and answer, “yeah… yeah, i’m ready.”

the walk was kind of long, but it was the first time you got to walk around the base, so you took your time watching your surroundings. you realize very quickly you’re wearing a uniform, given that the plain shirts and cargo pants were a very common occurrence – the only difference was that yours were a slightly different colour. you were silently thankful for the break from the hospital gowns you had to wear for the past week. you also thanked the discreet clothing they chose, despite you being a civilian, that way you could blend well among the soldiers and, with your scent masking skills, you became so normal you almost disappeared.

it took two busy days for you to fully comprehend everything that had happened. the orphanage where you grew up was in england. you stayed there most of your life until the day – about six weeks ago – that you were transferred to las almas. a place that stayed just on the border of mexico and the united states, which meant you were transported to the other side of the world without your acknowledgement – an information now known to you, because you were told after you were moved to the base’s med center, three days after you were rescued.

“i’m sorry if that’s, uh… crossing a line… but, what is your name?” you ask the beta that is walking by your side. she hadn’t said anything since you left your previous room, so you guessed maybe she had orders to not talk with you. but that was quickly proved wrong when she gave you a quick glance and a smile formed on her lips.

“i’m sorry,” she starts, seeming like she was trying to hold in a laugh. “i was so nervous i forgot to introduce myself…” she says with a shake of her head, and you wonder if she’s a new recruit or something to be acting so sincerely. “i’m natalie, but you can call me nat.”

“shouldn’t i address you with a respectful name?” you ask, genuinely confused at the intimacy she was allowing. she then lets out a giggle.

“i’m just a recruit with superiors who get me to do their work. i guess you could say they trust me a lot.” she answers in a nonchalant, calm voice. giving you another glance as she guides you inside of a building. she gives you a wink and points to a door by the end of the hall and you understand immediately what it means. you try to keep at least some of the good atmosphere that surrounds you and natalie as you approach the door and she knocks at the wooden surface. 

there’s a moment of silence before some chairs are moved and a deep, masculine voice calls from inside for you to come in. natalie steps in first, holding the door open for you to walk right after. the wave of mixed scents knocks you out a bit, but it’s manageable. the meeting room is just what you expected, plain and organized. practical. there are three chairs being occupied around the long table. you recognize two of them. natalie walks towards the third person, who was sitting at the head of the table – a woman but an alpha, nonetheless  –, they exchange brief greetings before natalie moves to stand behind her. you try to take in her scent alone, distinguishing some floral notes under a smoky cloud, like smelling a flower while standing in front of a bonfire. it’s a pleasant mixture, it brings a sense of warmth without the uncomfortably intense scent of domination alphas usually had. her brown hair was well tied, except for her bangs that covered part of her eyebrows. she had more of a relaxed appearance compared to the other two.

the shortest one was sitting at the woman’s right, closer to the door. a beta like natalie but a man, he was the doctor that accompanied you during the week that had passed. he was polite but very reserved, he asked you to call him doc but never indulged in any other activity to help you feel at ease. you didn’t hold that against him, you rather enjoyed the silence and peace that came with it. the other one, sitting on the left side of the woman, who had an imposing figure and hard stare, was the alpha that took you away from the dirty and dimly lit basement you were being kept in. his name was alejandro, by what you remember from that day. he seemed all too eager for this meeting to be over, while the doctor remained as unfazed as he had been while treating you.

the woman offers you a seat beside the doctor, and you realize he’s only there to ease the tension of you being an unclaimed omega sharing a space with two alphas, maybe that’s the reason natalie is still here too. you take your seat, wondering how long you could keep a neutral scent of your own – it was safe but it was tiring, much like having to keep a raised arm or leg up for too long, it’d eventually give out.

“i’m kate laswell, i’m sure you’ve already been introduced to doctor ortega and to colonel alejandro vargas,” she starts, her tone purposeful and assertive, everyone in the room had their eyes on her. “i know you already answered everything you could, so i’m not going to repeat that,” she says more to ground you for what is to come. she goes through a few papers on her hand but you know she’s trying to buy time, you can smell it in the anxiety that sours the edges of her floral notes – and the worst, the empathy that causes it. “we thought of this with much care considering your situation and with unwavering intentions of solving the undeniable problem caused by our lack of success in keeping you safe as a nation and armed forces,” she takes a pause and you know she is not only talking about las almas, she is talking about your whole life. even if she wasn't part of the british military. after a sigh, she finishes. “and we’ve decided that you’ll be moved to live under the care of trained soldiers who volunteered to take care of your needs, keep you safe and offer the comfort you seek not just as an omega or an addition, but a part of the pack. if, of course, you decide to accept their offer. if you don’t, you can simply share their spaces for a while and whatever happens in the future is up to you and them, rather that is you moving on alone and starting a new life or staying with them.”

“there are two packs who stepped up in your regard,” she says, eyeing the alpha on her side. “los vaqueros, which you may remember from the day they helped you out…” she says, eyes roaming your face looking for any sight of a reaction. you stayed as expressionless as you could, but your eyes flickered towards alejandro, who was already looking – boring his eyes – at you. after a pause laswell continues her small speech, “the other pack you haven’t met yet. they’re called task force 141, an elite unit just like the one who saved you, but they’re from england.”

it is too much, everyone in the room knows that. you blink slowly trying to take it all in, soldiers volunteered to take you in? what kind of people do this? you can’t decide if they’re too good or too evil. your scent wavers in the air as you start to grow tired from having to deal with so many thoughts in a day. you try to appear to have some inner control and voice out your doubts. “i’m sorry, ma’am, who are those who volunteered?”

your ear immediately perks up at that, what are they doing so far from uk? you tilt your head only slightly, lips parting to start your questions. she nods in understanding, letting you talk. instead of wasting time with non-important matters you ask what has been burning in your mind. “so, if i choose to stay with los vaqueros, we go to mexico… and if i choose task force 141, we go to england…?” you ask, sounding unsure despite the firm tone of your voice. laswell only nods, already knowing what you’ll choose. you grew up in england, after all. you turn to look at the alpha on the other side of the table, eyes full of honesty as you speak, “i’m grateful for what you did, despite knowing that it is your job…” you watch him nod, knowing what will come next. he doesn’t seem mad, he doesn’t smell angry either, so you turn back to the blond woman, her hands are grabbing the papers sprawled in the table and putting them on a pile, but her attention is on you. you eye natalie behind her, she has a small smile adorning her lips. when she notices you looking at her, she gives you a reassuring nod. you take that as a cue to voice your decision. “i’d like to go with task force 141, please.”

the plea comes involuntarily, a habit you were taught since you were very young and never really had the chance to grow out of it. laswell smiles though, happy to know you actually chose something for yourself, other than choosing the alpha who had saved you like you had something to pay back. because you felt like you did, but you also didn’t want to lose the opportunity to go back to england, even though there wasn’t home anymore. no where was, really. 

you didn’t even think about who this pack is. why they volunteered and what it meant. at least you knew alejandro had helped you, but you knew nothing about this new group or what they wanted with you. you don’t get time to panic over it, though, because the second after you finish your statement kate is muttering a ‘very well, then’ and you are being moved out of the meeting room by natalie, who says that now you’ll just have to wait a few hours before you get to meet them and that your flight to london is going to happen in a week from now – and that’s when you realize that maybe you didn’t really have a choice, because they knew from the start that you’d pick england.

a/n: let me know if you liked it! <3 | part 2

[lifeforcemedbedsusa]

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[sempiternalmuze]

Running Through the Halls of Your Haunted Home

Jack Abbott x doctor!Reader who has some problems being loved

tags: dr. jack abbott x female!reader, hurt comfort, reader runs away for a bit (story takes place when shes back), Robby being Jacks best friend, age/jobs not really established, implied not great childhood for reader, jack loves her ohmygod??, jack would never leave her tbh, a bit more flowery than i'm used to writing so let me know, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2.3k

Five months. That was the timeframe Robby had laid out for you when you'd came to him a few days after Christmas, explaining that you needed a break, need time away from the Pitt, the city, the state. He'd been kind enough to not ask too many questions, but you knew he'd hear it sooner than later directly from Jack during one of their therapy sessions.

So three days after Christmas you packed your bag, grabbed your passport, and changed your number. From one day to the next you had gone from Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center to Portel, Brazil with Doctors Without Borders.

And you lived. You took the time you needed to find your peace again, to pick up the pieces that you had left behind in the dusty apartment Jack and you had shared.

But now it was May-- and Robbie was calling your number every few days. And today when you answered he'd sounded at about wit's end.

"Time's up kid, we need you back here." He sighed, and you could almost see his hand running over his face, tired and no doubt thinking about a fourth—fifth—coffee.

You had stayed silent for a moment, playing with the sheet of your hammock. You glanced at the tents set up by the river, kids running around in a game of tag, parents watching from the sides as they spoke to the other doctors on your crew.

"What if I told you I liked it here more? Then what?" You said, glancing back at the water.

Robby lets out a throaty laugh, one that pulls you away and forces you back to the shuffle of the Pitt. "Because if you did, you would've just said that."

It's a valid point— and true. You wouldn't be asking, wouldn't be hoping he'd tell you any different. You probably would have blocked him, sent an email to Gloria and moved on with your life.

"And I also know what you've got waiting." He whispered. And he was right. You wouldn't just leave like that and not tell Jack. The only reason you had been able to do it the first time was because you knew it was temporary, and small fold in the story you two shared.

"How is he?" The weight was heavy on your shoulders, an invisible force that only left in the depths of night and that was if you were tired enough to fall asleep as soon as your head hit your pillow. Jack was strong, and smart. He'd been through so much worse than a girl who was afraid.

"Well...he visits the roof a lot more now. The first few weeks were...well they were real bad kid." He pauses, like considering what would be too much to tell you. "I offered him to come stay with me, get away from the apartment, but he said he liked it. It gave him a reason to hold on."

Reasons to hold, how very Jack Abbott of him. To want to have hope, to find the reasons even though he wasn't sure where any of it would lead.

"He'd doing better now, I don't have to act like a hostage negotiator too much these days. He comes out to the park with us after work and he makes jokes with the new med students. But he misses you, a lot."

You nodded with a hum into the phone. The sun was so peaceful this time of day, it bounced off the water and on to your skin. You let your eyes close and let your mind drift back to those months ago, from even before the fight, to when things were still solid between the two of you.

Walks in the park after a long shift, hands intertwined as he poked fun at you for your decisions during a shift. The nights spent in bed, room slightly too cold because otherwise you'd burn up with his body heat. Even on the days when it was hard, when his active duty days caught up to him, there was still something to have, because he'd let you hold him, let himself talk and talk about the people and the days of roughing it, of the bad things he saw, of the pain of a leg that was no longer attached to his physical being.

"Kid, I gotta let Gloria know by tonight. Are you back?" Robby's voice broke through the speaker with a crack of static.

"Of course I am Robby."

Now you were running through the airport, hair a mess, sanity hardly in tact. Cassie had been kind enough to come grab you after dropping off Harrison with Chad for the weekend. Today and tomorrow would be your days to get settled, then straight back to it on Monday.

"I've missed you so much!" She squealed, arms wrapped around your center tightly. "You have no idea how much it sucks to have to take on that waiting room with myself and Javadi." She laughs.

"Oh I bet, what would you ever do without me?" You laughed. You held her tight before you both crawled into the car. She started the engine, waving off some security yelling at her and took off.

"How was it?" She asks, face covered in excitement.

"It was amazing Cassie. The people, the pace, the location, all of it was just-perfect." You sigh and throw your head back. "I think it was exactly what I needed."

"That's great." She says. Her tone tells you that there's something else, something on her mind that she isn't saying out loud.

It takes about three minutes of uncomfortable silence and a red traffic light for her to turn to you. "Have you talked to him?"

Cassie was one of about four people who definitely knew what was going on between you and Jack, one of a few who knew lengths you'd go for one another. Her tone is soft, prodding but not overstepping.

"No, Cass I...I didn't want to do anything that might...I don't know, hurt more than it already would?" You sighed. You covered your face with your hands. "I felt horrible, for taking off on him the way I did. But I just...I knew that he'd make me stay."

Cass nods along, listening. She takes your hands in hers, holding it softly over the center console. She doesn't push or try to interject her own thoughts about the whole thing into your mind. She knows you well enough to know that no decision you made came lightly, that it took hours and hours of thought and careful planning.

The light turns green and the car starts moving again. "You don't have to go back so soon. You can stay with Harrison and I if you want to." Cass offers, a small glint in her eyes.

You take a moment to consider before looking out the window. "I need to go back Cass. To my home, to my stuff. I need to go back to him. I ran once but I'm ready. I finally feel ready to face what we left behind." You smile, hands gripping the door handle a bit too tight.

Cass nods and hums. "Just know I'm there. If you need me."

And that's what the conversation is left at. Fifteen minutes later your left staring at your building. Cass offered to go upstairs with you, but you'd elected to face it all yourself.

There were two options that stood in front of you. One, Jack was home, asleep, getting ready to head to bed and face another grueling night shift. The blackout curtains would be drawn and the apartment quiet. Would the floorboards remember your steps or creak under the unfamiliar weight of your long lost body? Maybe they would, and then they'd wake him, and you'd have to explain the last five months of your life to him while he was half asleep.

The other option was simple, he wasn't home, maybe getting groceries before he inevitably came home to crash out on the couch. It had irked you so much when you first started dating. The way he'd get off a few hours before you and offer to do the shopping, just for you to come home and find him asleep in the most neck sore position possible, jacket barely off, jeans twisted too tightly across his legs. But eventually it became a comfort, the way you could rouse him and make him follow you to bed, where you'd help him take off his prosthetic, rip off his scrubs in return for a clean shirt and pj pants. Or sometimes when you were both so tired after a rough day you could snuggle yourself between his arms, him hardly waking up, but still opening his strong arms so you could press against his chest.

And you find yourself hoping it can be like those distant couch sleeps. That he'll be there, asleep on the couch, and you can just lay with him, head pressed against his chest, snuggled right below his chin as his fingers splay over the middle of your back, gripping you as to not let you disappear again.

So when you turn your key into the lock, you take a deep breath. With the click sounding, you push the door open. You roll your suitcase in first, setting it to the side. Then you pause, listening. There's silence, and for a moment you think you're safe. The buzz of the AC when it clicks on startles you, but not as much as the man standing before you.

Jack stands near the couch, hand holding on to it, like he might fall over. He wears a tight black tee, some washed jeans and his tennis shoes. When you finally meet his eyes you see something, a glint of pain? Maybe sadness, maybe shock. His hair is slightly longer along the sides, his facial hair a bit more clean shaven than the stubble you had last seen him in. He doesn't move, neither do you. Its like the saddest cowboy stand off you've ever witnessed.

The click of the door behind you finally breaks the silence. You take a step forward, placing your keys down on the entry table. You can't tear your eyes from his. You wish you could read his face, know where to start on the long list of apologies and begging of forgiveness.

"I know you probably hate me. I know you maybe wish I would have never come back. And I know when I left we were in a bad position, a position that I never wanted to be at with you." Jack opens his mouth to say something, but you're quick to silence him with a raise of your hand.

"But I'm here. I'm here because I love you. Because I never wanted to leave in the first place. And you are the first stable thing I've had in my life since med school." A sudden hiccup burst from you, followed by tears. You couldn't stop it. In an instant your face was crumpled, warm, tears spilling from your eyes.

"Sweetheart..." Jack mutters, marching towards you until his arms swaddled your frame, arms pressing tight around your ribs, fingers grasping at your hair. His face pressed deeply against the crown of your head, and his chest pressed perfectly against your ear until you could hear the thumping of his heart.

"Jack Abbott you— God you fucking took my life and put it back together in ways I didnt think possible. You showed me that I could be loved. I was worthy of love and attention."

You pulled away, Jack's arms still resting across your waist, fingers digging in, as though fully releasing you would mean you walking out the front door forever this time.

"And I ran. I ran because I was so fucking scared that you'd wake up and decide that I wasn't worthy, that you didn't need to be here. And I wouldn't be able to handle that." You glanced at him, and while your vision remained slightly blurred, you found that he was already looking back at you. For a moment you thought pity might be the thing coursing through his dark eyes, but you realized it wasn't even close. It was more like concern, fear.

"I picked that fight because I thought it was the only way to get you to leave. But you didn't. You refused to leave, to give in. And that made me mad." You laugh, wiping your face. Jack cracks a smile, followed by a small chuckle of his own.

"You made me mad because instead of doing what everyone else has done, you planted your feet. And that made me the most scared." You said, staring down at the ground. Jack gave you a moment to collect yourself, and when it seemed your breathing had finally calmed a bit, he took your hands in his, fingers intertwining with his own, his calloused palms pushing against yours.

"I planted my feet because I knew exactly what you were doing." He says, soft, speaking more into your hair than into the open space around you two.

"It was a stupid battle, and you're not stupid, so of course I knew what you were doing. Because I know you, sweetheart." he chuckles a little, the sound vibrating in his throat. "And more importantly, I planted my feet because I wanted to stay. You have never ever been anything short of the most beautiful, loving, smartest, strongest woman in my life. You are the best thing I've had in years." He sighed, his hand lefts yours as it moved up your arm, until it fell onto your jaw, guiding your eyes to his.

"And you put me back together. And I love you for that." He finishes. Neither of you two move, letting each others words swell around your embrace.

Your eyes drop to his lips, soft and kind. He doesn't hesitate, pulling you against him, letting your lips grace each others for the first time in months. You sigh, pressing your body against his. He holds you close as you two drink each other in.

Eventually he pulls away, rests his forehead against yours.

"I've missed you."

ϟ.·:¨༺ ♡ ༻¨:·.ϟ

[witherby]

The long-awaited next part is here! It's not my best work 😔 be gentle in your criticisms.

Flight of Fancy, part 4

Masterlist is Here!

"Ah, sorry —" Clark apologizes over the comms line when day breaks, "I'm actually in Russia doing search and rescue after a natural disaster. Won't be back for hours. You could try calling Lantern?"

"He's off-world right now." Damian slumps into the chair in front of the bat computer and resists the urge to rub his temples. "Thank you anyway, Superman. You can go back to what you were doing."

"Alright, stay safe!" Clark says, then cuts the connection. Damian punches a few keys and the screens of the Batcomputer go dark. He leans back in his chair and rubs his face, irritated and exhausted. After dealing with the shit show that was Jason scolding him for "tonguing" a victim — which was not his fault! You kissed him, not the other way around! — and then bullying him into coughing up more money than necessary to take his hoodie to a dry cleaner, a headache bloomed and has been steadily worsening with time and sleep deprivation.

He's been up for almost twenty-four hours, now, and called most flight-capable contacts at his and his father's disposal to no avail. Nobody is available for your extraction, and Damian can't let you, an undocumented and uncategorized meta, go off by yourself lest you either get recaptured or end up committing a villainous act without supervision.

So you're stuck in the cave for a full day, until everyone comes together for patrol in the evening to clear the rogues out the metahuman outpost and get you safely moved out of Gotham.

Damian spins in the seat and looks at where you're balled up on the floor. Or, rather, he's looking at your wings, fully extended and wrapped around you like a cocoon. He watches the puddle of feathers gently and silently rising and falling with your dozing breaths after you refused a bed and curled up like this three hours ago.

Cute, he thinks, standing up and stepping quietly around your figure. He slips his fingers underneath the domino mask to rub the grit from his eyes, then messages Alfred requesting two breakfast trays be brought to the cave whenever he has the time. They're delivered half an hour later, the quiet rattling of the butler's cart rousing you again.

"Sorry to disturb you, dear," Alfred says, watching your head poke out and you blink groggily at the food. Damian takes the trays from him with a nod of thanks. "Might either of you require anything else whilst I'm here? I'm happy to check on your stitches."

You shake your wings out as you stand and then carefully tuck them against your back, glancing at your shoulder. The bandages are slightly stained gold, the wound disturbed from how hard you'd shoved Jason back earlier.

You look to Robin for guidance. He gives the bandage a similar once-over, then clicks his tongue.

"That might be wise. Agent A won't hurt you," he promises. "You can trust him."

Alfred bows and offers his hand for you to shake. You grasp it a touch too firmly and just hold it in place for a few seconds, but he just smiles and excuses himself to fetch some supplies from the med bay. While he's gone, Damian carries both trays to the table near the center of the room, placing them down and taking a seat.

"You can come eat," he says. You sit and look at your offerings — buttered wheat toast, two poached eggs, a couple strips of turkey bacon, and a glass of orange juice — with no change of expression. "Something wrong?"

"No," you say, "I just... can't eat this."

"If it's a matter of diet, we can find you something else —"

"I apologize," you gently interrupt, "I mean to say, I don't eat. I don't need to."

Damian pulls the notepad, crinkled from the earlier confrontation with Jason, out of his pocket and jots that down.

"How do you get energy, then?" He asks. You shrug.

"I rest. Other than that, I need nothing."

"That is a shame," Alfred says, returning with some fresh bandages and a small bottle of saline to keep the wound clean. You don't protest when he asks to remove the old gauze. "Should you find yourself curious to try a nibble, I hope it might please you. I am also available for anything else you might require — new clothes, perhaps."

You perk up at that. You dislike the gaping tear in your sleeve, so a replacement robe would be nice.

"Yes," you reply. "Please. What do you require in exchange?"

"Nothing but your measurements, so I can make sure it fits correctly."

You nod, acquiescing to whatever is needed. Alfred pulls out a tape measure and, with your consent, notes your size and approximately how much fabric space you'll need on your back to accommodate your wings. Damian finishes eating by then, so he retrieves the trays and leaves with another bow and a promise to be back in a couple of hours with new clothes.

"Robin," you say, when Damian gets up to go back to the computer. He looks at you intently. "I know I cannot leave this place, but is there somewhere...bigger that I can fly?"

He frowns, shaking his head. "The cave system is mostly long, not wide. It doesn't get much bigger than the part we're standing in."

Damian turns and points to his left, to a dark corridor just beyond the Batcomputer.

"If you don't break anything and keep away from the bats, you can fly around as long as you want. The pathways split off in different sections and levels, but they all lead back here to the center of the cave."

He looks at you again, hand on his hip.

"Does that suffice?"

Well. It's not open air where the breeze can rush through your wings and you can admire the sky overhead, but it's something and you are restless. It'll have to do.

Wordlessly you extend your wings, feathers shaking themselves out as you stretch the limbs, and you take off.

Damian sinks into the chair in front of the computer again, pressing a couple buttons to reawaken the screens. He glances at the roster of available allies and feels his headache intensify when there's no change. Still no help for now. Still stuck in the cave, watching over you and not getting any sleep.

He leans back and rubs his eyes under the mask again, lids drooping. Damian can't hear any wing flapping, which indicates you're likely long gone in the elaborate cave system. He can switch the cameras on the computer from key observation points around the city to the different levels of the cave itself, but the idea of subjecting his corneas to the harsh screens again is nearly unbearable.

You're likely going to be occupied for a while, and you already know not to leave the cave.

Damian could just...can just...

Just rest his eyes for five minutes.

[suchawrathfullamb]

Interests I think Will has based in canon that aren't just fish:

- Art: my boy recognized the Botticelli reference in Il Mostro's tableau and it wasn't even the center piece, it was a reference to two characters on the right corner like come on. I know tumblr people are geeks but that is not how people are out there in the real world. Will likes art, and he takes time contemplating it.

- Pharmacy: he knows the names of extremely specific medications and their uses, and he doesn't have a med degree or pharmacy degree. Yes, he has experience in the field but I headcanon he didn't just learn because he had to, but because he likes to know about things and the specific ways they alter biology.

- Music: he had a piano in his weird ass house that had almost nothing but bed and books. I'd say he doesn't care about decor that much to just put a piano there randomly, or is the type of person who would buy a piano just cause. He probably understands musical theory.

- Horror: I just know he has all of Lovecraft's works. He knows them by heart, he's a little secret nerd about it.

- BDSM: I just know he knows stuff. He sails so he naturally knows about ropes. My man has secret knowledge of sex techniques, I can feel it. It's like a party trick.

[httpsdana]

Hiii lovely!! Hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if you could write this for me? I adore when you write soft and comforting things, it honestly feels like this request is so your vibe.

The reader is a med student going through a really intense phase. She lands a hospital internship, but it’s on the night shift — which means long nights and a whole lot of exhaustion. After one of those shifts, she goes straight to Kenan’s place. Hours later, she wakes up to soft morning light pouring through the window and the most comforting smell coming from the kitchen. Still half-asleep, she gets up slowly… and that’s when she sees it: Kenan, back turned to her, those broad shoulders on full display, shirt casually thrown over a chair, making lunch like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Just… a quiet, beautiful moment.

Thank you so much in advance! I think you’re amazing. 💓💓💓

After the Shift~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: when one of my fav mutuals requests smth yk i have to write it asap. I hope you enjoy this my love <3

She barely remembered the ride to Kenan’s place. Just that her hands were shaking when she took off her hospital badge, and her feet ached in a way that went straight to the center of her chest. Night shifts bled into mornings slowly, and her brain hadn’t shut off once in twelve hours. Maybe even more.

She’d texted him something short. Coming over. That’s all she had the energy for.

He opened the door within seconds of her knocking, like he’d been waiting. His arms were around her before she could speak. She barely got her shoes off before he was guiding her to the bed, murmuring something she didn’t catch, brushing her hair back from her face.

Then he kissed her temple and helped her out of her scrubs. Another kiss on the top of her shoulder when she sank into the bed, pulling his hoodie over her body. One more at the corner of her mouth before she closed her eyes.

Then sleep came in seconds.

She woke up slowly. Heavy-limbed and warm, wrapped in the kind of warmth she hadn’t felt in weeks. No beeping monitors. No stretchers. Just the faint sound of birds outside and…something else.

Her nose twitched immediately.

What was that? Garlic? Onion? Olive oil? Something cozy and like home. It didn’t belong to a hospital cafeteria or her rushed takeout meals. It smelled like love.

She pulled herself with a quiet groan, rubbing her eyes, trying to blink the sleep away. Her scrubs were folded neatly over the desk chair. Her phone was plugged in beside the bed. And she was still wearing his hoodie that was soft against her bare skin.

She moved down the hallway barefoot, guided by the sound of the stove and the low hum of something playing from a speaker. Jazz? Or something with piano. She didn’t know he listened to this kind of music in the mornings.

And then she saw him.

Kenan stood there in the kitchen, shirtless, loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His back was to her, broad and relaxed like usual, the curve of his spine soft in the light. His hair was messy in a way that made her want to run her fingers through it just to put it back in place.

A dish towel hung on his shoulder. He had a wooden spoon in one hand, and the other rested on the counter, absently scrolling something on his phone.

The pan sizzled as he stirred. There were fresh herbs on the cutting board. Bread in the toaster. A pot of coffee brewing on the counter, the rich scent reaching her like it had missed her too.

She didn’t say anything. Just leaned against the doorframe, arms folded loosely, just watching him move. He looked so at home here, so quietly competent, like cooking was just a way of how he loved.

It wasn’t until he reached for a plate that she spoke.

“You always look this good when you’re cooking, or did I just catch you on a lucky morning?”

He turned, surprised but then he smiled when he saw her. An easy, a little crooked, sleepy around the edges, kind of smile.

“You’re awake,” he said, like it was an achievement.

“Barely.” Her voice was hoarse from sleep. “How long was I out?”

He shrugged. “A while. You needed it.”

She walked toward him slowly. He didn’t move until she was standing right behind him. She slid her arms around his waist, pressed her face between his shoulder blades, and just…stood there.

He reached for her hands and held them where they rested against his stomach.

“I missed you this week,” he said quietly.

“I missed everything this week,” she murmured. “You especially.”

He turned, gently untangling her arms so he could face her. His hands cupped her cheeks like she was still something delicate he didn’t want to break.

His thumbs brushed over the dark circles under her eyes. And then he kissed her slowly. He wasn’t in a rush. He wanted her to feel it in every nerve ending. It wasn’t urgent, just deep. Familiar. Real. Her fingers curled around his wrist, and she kissed him back like she’d forgotten how much she needed this, him, to feel human again.

“You haven’t been eating right,” he said. “Your fridge was empty last time I checked.”

“I’ve been-”

“Busy. I know.” He didn’t say it like a complaint. Just a fact.

Then another kiss, this time at the corner of her mouth, lingering just long enough to make her smile. He kissed the spot beneath her eye, then her temple again, as if he could press away all the exhaustion she’d built up in silence.

He turned back to the stove again, hands moving like it was second nature.

“Go sit down. I’m almost done.”

She did. And for once, someone else was in control. And he wasn’t rushing. He was taking his time, cutting tomatoes with precision, plating eggs and toast like it mattered. Like she mattered.

He brought the plate to the table and set it in front of her with a soft “Here.”

And she looked at him, her eyes soft with affection. And he leaned down and kissed her again, upside down this time, like something out of a lazy morning dream. Because he had missed her. Oh so much.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For this. For you.”

He nudged her nose with his, then kissed it, then her mouth again, just because he could. Because she was here. Because he’d been waiting for this moment all week.

And as she picked up the fork and started to eat, he pulled a chair beside her, one hand resting lightly around her shoulder, thumb brushing over the fabric of his hoodie.

And she felt it again, that ease in her chest. The quiet knowing. That this wasn’t just comfort.

It was love.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha @universefcb @mariejuli (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[soggyriceee]

stress reliever - captain price

“yea just shut the fuck up and take it.” he would growl above you, your hair wrapped around his knuckles, his other hands fingers digging into you hip as he fucked you against his desk.

another failed mission, another dead recruit from lack of patience and carelessness. another stress add on. and the only stress reliever he had was you and your cunt.

of course whenever he called for you it was never to make love. no he wanted to abuse something. take his anger out on something. and you, one of three girls on the team, had exactly what he needed.

“you love me bunny, hm?” he would whisper, his eyes trailing to the door as he watched the shadows pass, pause, then keep walking again through his door cracks. “tell me you love me.”

of course, you would tell him you love him as his tip pounded right against your gspot, your fingers gripping onto the edge of the table, the beds of your nails turning white.

but the truth is, as much as it was a kink for him and he didn’t really love you, you couldn’t help but with your last encounters, actually begin to feel feelings for the old man.

now it was every young adults womams dream to be an older guys controversially young girlfriend, but the difference was that he wasn’t an actor or singer. he was your captain. and what you both were doing was absolutely illegal in every single book.

but the way his hands wrapped around your waist so perfectly, how your eyes looked at him so purely when he first saw you. how you whimpered out his name pathetically with each thrust he gave you.

his cock twitched inside you, his nose flaring as he tried to distract hos mind from wanting to cum so badly. he hadn’t even been inside you for 5 minuets at this point, and the first few thrusts were enough to get him off, pathetically pulling out and letting a small, almost impossible to hear whimper.

“all mine yes? this pussy is all mine?” he asked, pulling your hair back to make contact with your eyes. “a-all yours captain.” you whined, your right hand frantically looking for the hem of his boxers. “mhm.. who’s cock are you only allowed to cum on hm? tell m-me.”

his hand slipped from your hip to your throat, gripping it as ypu choked out his name. “again.”

every time you told him his name, he’d push all the way inside your squishy hole. his cock was wet with a mix of you and your cum, two orgasms of yours coating his cock right now.

“q-quit. quit leave here.. i’ll t-take care of you.. let me make you a… a mommy.” he panted, his eyes dilated and thrusts becoming more and more sloppy. “ w-what?”

before you could say much more or move more, he shoved your head to the desk, his cum shooting deep into your pussy as his toes curled against the carpet floor. he chanted your name, a long shiver running through his body as he gave on last thrust into you.

the next day he actually avoided you at all costs, making you actually sick to your stomach. and of course there was nobody you could tell about this or you’d have to really leave. so, you took a plan B from the camp med center and returned the energy captain price was giving you.

sorry for the super angsty endings yall. i think it adds some spice to ze story

[silent-stories]

𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐁𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐒 (𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐅 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄)

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: Noah is sick, and you and Luna make sure to take care of him.

Luna was already at daycare, off with her little backpack and a wave goodbye, and you and Noah had taken full advantage of the quiet morning by curling up in bed together.

A movie played on the screen, something you’d both seen before, background noise more than anything. His arm was draped lazily around your waist, and your head rested against his chest.

One side of the dresser was cluttered with your skincare bottles and a little dish holding your rings and hair ties, while Noah’s side had tangled chargers, a black wristwatch, and a small stack of books he swore he’d finish eventually.

The nightstand held one of Luna’s bedtime storybooks and a pink plastic hair clip she’d left behind that morning.

But something wasn’t right.

You could feel it. His body wasn’t as relaxed as usual. His breathing was heavier, and despite being wrapped in two blankets, he gave a faint shiver. You pulled away just slightly, enough to look up at him.

His eyes were half-lidded, the skin beneath them slightly dull. There was a flush on his cheeks that hadn’t been there earlier, and his lips looked dry. You reached up instinctively and pressed your palm to his forehead.

Hot. Way too hot.

“Noah,” you said quietly, eyebrows knitting together. “You’re burning up.”

He blinked slowly at you, clearly a little out of it. “Just a cold,” he mumbled.

You sat up, brushing your fingers along his cheek. “You’ve got a fever, babe."

“Mh. Maybe. Didn’t wanna ruin the morning,” he whispered, barely able to lift his head.

“You didn’t ruin anything. You just need some rest, meds and cuddles.”

So, you made him stay in bed, even when he insisted he could get up. You helped him sit up against the pillows and brought him water with a straw, watching closely as he sipped it slowly. Then you brought him ibuprofen and cool washcloths and sat by his side, dabbing his forehead and the back of his neck to bring the heat down.

When he started to shiver again, you piled the blankets around him, soft fleece, the heavier quilt, even one of Luna’s small ones with cartoon clouds on it. He didn’t even tease you for it, just pulled them in closer with a tired sigh.

“Babe, you literally catch everything,” you murmured, “If there’s a virus within a ten-mile radius, you personally invite it over."

Noah let out a weak laugh, half muffled by the blanket. “I know, It’s not my fault,” he mumbled.

He fell asleep with your hand in his, clutching it loosely even as his fingers twitched from fever dreams. You stayed right there, curled beside him, your free hand stroking his hair back from his damp forehead in slow, calming motions.

Every so often, you leaned down and kissed the bridge of his nose or the corner of his mouth.

After a couple of hours, when he stirred and whimpered quietly, you gently shushed him, pressing a hand against his chest to soothe him back into sleep.

You checked his temperature more than once, running quietly into the bathroom to grab the thermometer and frowning when the number blinked back something higher than you liked. But the medicine started working eventually, and you could feel the warmth in his skin slowly begin to settle just a little.

You spent all morning like that, kissing his knuckles and making sure he had water every time he woke up with a dry throat.

At one point, he woke enough to murmur, “Also a good nurse mh? Is there something you can't do?”

You smiled and kissed the center of his forehead. “You’d do the same for me. And you’ll do it again when I inevitably catch this from you.”

He chuckled, weakly. “Don’t kiss me, then.”

But you kissed him anyway. Soft and lingering and warm.

Eventually, his voice broke through the quiet. “Babe?”

You looked over from where you were folding a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer. “Yeah?”

“Will you go pick up Luna for me?” he asked.

You glanced at the time and nodded. “Of course I will. Just stay here and rest. I’ll be back in no time.”

He gave your hand a soft squeeze and whispered, “Love you.”

You kissed him one last time, his temple, his cheek, his lips. His skin was still warm.

“I love you too.”

Then you grabbed your jacket and keys, glancing over your shoulder as you left. He was already asleep again, snuggled deep in blankets.

As you stepped outside, the soft afternoon light filtered through the clouds, painting the garden in a warm haze.

That’s when you spotted Neki.

He was crouched low in the grass, eyes locked onto a bird perched on the fence. His tail wagged in slow, calculated swishes, clearly in hunting mode, even though he hadn’t yet figured out he wasn’t quite stealthy enough.

“Hey,” you whispered with a small laugh, crouching down beside him.

He froze for a second, ears twitching, then turned his head toward you with a huff, as if annoyed that you were interrupting his mission.

You gave him a few quick scratches behind the ears. “Go back inside, soldier. Keep an eye on Noah for me, okay?”

Neki blinked once, then, surprisingly obedient, trotted back toward the door like he understood exactly what you meant.

You smiled to yourself as you watched him disappear inside, then headed toward the car, ready to pick up Luna.

The sun was starting to dip low, casting a soft amber glow across the sidewalk as you pulled up in front of the daycare. You stepped out of the car, the door clicking shut behind you, and made your way toward the entrance.

Inside, as soon as the door chimed, Luna’s head popped up from where she was coloring at a small round table. Her whole face lit up.

She shouted your name happily, hurrying toward you with her arms outstretched.

You dropped to one knee and caught her in a hug, lifting her slightly off the floor. She wrapped her arms around your neck, clinging for a moment like she hadn’t seen you in days instead of just a few hours.

“Hi, baby,” you said warmly.

In a moment, she was already wriggling out of your arms to grab her little bag from the cubby near the wall.

As you walked out to the car together, hand in hand, Luna chattered without pause.

“I made a picture with colors today,” she said proudly as you helped her climb into her booster seat. “It was a rainbow but with extra stripes.”

“Oh yeah? Extra stripes?” You smiled, buckling her in. “What colors did you add?”

“Pink twice,” she said, swinging her legs a little. “And I made the clouds orange because I thought they could be orange if they wanted to.”

“Absolutely they can. I love orange clouds, like at dawn,” you said, closing the door and getting into the driver’s seat. “Did you draw anything else?”

“A tree. But the tree was also a house. And the house had a flower garden on the roof. And a slide.”

You smiled to yourself, pulling out of the parking lot. “Wow. That’s one fancy house.”

“Neki would like it,” she said with a grin. “So he can slide down when he wants to chase butterflies.”

You laughed, glancing at her in the mirror. “He’d love that. He tried to chase a bird earlier, actually.”

“Did he catch it?” Her eyes widened.

“Nope. But he looked very serious about it.”

Luna giggled. “He’s so funny. When we get home, I want to brush him. I think he likes it when I use the blue brush.”

“I think you’re right.”

She kicked her feet lightly against the booster seat, watching the trees go by outside her window.

“What did you have for lunch today?” you asked.

“Chicken and broccoli,” she said, wrinkling her nose slightly.

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like broccoli?”

She shook her head. “It’s weird. It looks like a squishy tree.”

You laughed. “That’s the best part! They look like tiny trees. They're cute.”

“But they taste like...green.”

You chuckled at her reaction, eyes still on the road. “Yeah, they definitely taste like green. But you were super brave for eating them anyway.”

She smiled, proud of herself, then looked down at Mr. Flop sitting on her lap, stroking its ears absently. “Do we have to eat broccoli at home too?”

“Nope,” you said, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “Not today, anyway. I think we’ve had enough green trees for one day.”

She relaxed back in her seat with a satisfied little sigh. “Good. I like other veggies better. Like mushrooms. They look like tiny houses.”

There was a small pause, then you spoke again.

“Hey, baby,” you started gently, “just so you know… your dad’s not feeling too good today.”

Luna’s eyes flicked up from her bunny. “Is he hurt?”

“No, no,” you reassured quickly, shaking your head. “Nothing scary. He’s just a little sick. He’s got a fever, and he’s probably going to be sleeping when we get home.”

She tilted her head, thoughtful. “Like when I had that sneezy cold?”

“Something like that. He’s just very tired and needs to rest a lot so he can feel better.”

Luna nodded seriously, accepting the information likr an adult, something that always made you proud. “Okay. We should be quiet then.”

“That’s right,” you said with a smile. "I’m gonna check on him and make sure he is gonna feel okay soon. But it’s better if you stay away from him for today, at least until he’s feeling better. We don’t want you to catch it too."

You knew how easily kids got sick, and if Luna had inherited Noah’s immune system, then you were sure she'd come down with something the second she breathed the same air as him.

Luna looked a little disappointed but nodded anyway. “Okay. I can wave from the door.”

You smiled. "That's perfect."

Then you glanced back at her through the mirror. "Hey, do you want to help me make dinner when we get home? We can cook something nice for the two of us, and if your dad feels like eating, we’ll make something warm and yummy for him, too. I’ll ask him what he wants."

Luna’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I want to help. Can I stir the pot?”

“You got it,” you laughed softly.

As soon as you got home, Luna sat cross-legged on the floor with Neki beside her, happily chewing on a toy.

“I’m going to check on your dad, okay? You stay here with Neki.”

She nodded as you headed down the hallway to Noah’s room.

The door was slightly ajar, and you heard a faint cough just as you reached for the handle. Pushing it open gently, you found Noah sitting up in bed, wrapped in blankets, his face pale and drawn.

He managed a weak smile when he saw you. “Hey,” he croaked, voice rough.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

“Like shit. My head fucking hurts.”

You moved closer, brushing a hand across his sweaty forehead. “I can see that. You are burning up again.”

He sighed and lowered his head back onto the pillow. “Is Luna okay?”

“She's fine. Playing with Neki in the living room,” you reassured him. “I told her to stay away for now so she doesn't catch whatever you got. I must be immune at this point.”

Noah’s eyes closed briefly, then opened again with a tired flicker. “Good.”

You nodded, noticing how exhausted he looked. “Did you eat anything?” you asked gently.

“I'm not hungry.”

You frowned. “You have to eat something. You didn't even have lunch, and you need energy to fight this off.”

“No appetite,” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

You sat beside him on the bed, taking his hand in yours. “How about some ramen? Warm broth, veggies, something light but nourishing. We are gonna make it for you, Luna wants to help me cook.”

Noah blinked slowly, then let out a small, tired laugh. “Of course she wants to.”

You smiled warmly. “Hey, she's my little chef in training.”

He sighed, but nodded. “Okay. I guess some ramen would be good. Only because my girls are gonna make it.”

“Great. Give us some time and you'll have your amazing ramen.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze and rose to leave, but he stopped you softly.

“Thank you… for everything.”

Your heart softened. "You don't have to thank me. Isn't this what a family is supposed to do?"

In the kitchen, you tied Luna’s little apron around her waist, light blue with faded stars. You washed your hands first, showing her the right way to do it, then helped her up on the step stool so she could reach the sink. She giggled as the soap bubbled in her palms.

Once she was dried off and ready, you brought the vegetables to the table, a small pile of mushrooms and a couple of carrots you had at home, already washed and set on a cutting board. You kept your motions careful and slow, slicing them into thin pieces while Luna leaned over the table, watching with wide, fascinated eyes.

“Carrots first,” you said, nudging the little bowl toward her once you’d finished.

She reached in with her small hands, grabbed a few slices, and tossed them into the pot in the center of the table, which you’d already filled with water and a bundle of ramen noodles.

“They go splash,” she giggled as the carrots hit the surface.

“Just like that. Good job.”

Next were the mushrooms.

You put the pot on the stove and stirred everything together gently while she leaned on the table beside you, chin resting on her hands. Soon, the smell of the broth started to fill the room.

“Daddy’s gonna like this,” she said quietly. "And he will feel better after this. Warm food always makes you feel better."

“Yeah, I'm sure he will.”

As the ramen simmered, you turned your attention to something simple for the two of you. You sliced some potatoes before spreading them on a tray and sliding them into the oven and cracked some eggs in a pan.

“Can I mix?” Luna asked.

You handed her the fork and helped her steady the pan with her other hand.

“Perfect,” you said when the eggs were ready to be cooked.

She looked so proud and that made you smile.

You checked the ramen, stirring it one last time. The vegetables had softened just right, the noodles tender, steam curling upward in ribbons.

You carefully ladled the steaming ramen into a large bowl. After setting out chopsticks and a fork, just in case Noah preferred it (only because he was sick), you balanced the bowl on a tray and made your way to the bedroom.

You chuckled. “What’s all this for?”

Settling on the edge of the bed beside him, you placed the bowl within easy reach on the bedside table.

Noah looked up at you, his face still pale but softened by a faint smile. He slowly sat on the bed and without hesitation, he reached out and pulled you close, resting his head against your neck and holding you tightly.

Then, to your surprise, he began pressing soft, lingering kisses along your collarbone and the side of your neck.

He laughed softly, voice low and warm. “It's because you take care of me. Because you cooked for me. With my daughter. And that means a lot. And I realized I'm the luckiest man on earth, despite everything.”

"Oh baby. Is the fever talking?"

“No,” he whispered, “This is me trying to tell you how much this means to me. How much I have always wanted this and never had it until I met you. How much I love you.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips gently against his warm temple. “I love you too.”

You stayed there a little longer, arms gently wrapped around him. His head was still tucked into the curve of your neck, breath slow and warm against your skin. You could still feel the heat from his fever, but his body was relaxed in your arms.

After a moment, you slowly pulled back, just enough to see his face. You reached up and began to massage his shoulders, your thumbs working in slow, careful circles over the muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.

His eyes fluttered closed almost immediately, and he exhaled a shaky breath. “God, that feels amazing.”

“You’re all knotted up,” you murmured, voice soft, thumb pressing into the tight line just above his shoulder blade. “The fact that you have the posture of a shrimp all the time doesn't help.”

He gave a quiet chuckle, eyes still shut. “Guilty.”

You leaned in and kissed the side of his head gently, your hands still moving with steady pressure. “You need rest. Real rest. And food. That ramen is waiting for you. And in a couple of hours you can take meds again.”

“Mmm. It smells good, actually.” he whispered.

You smiled and let your hands slow to a stop, giving one last gentle squeeze to his shoulders before letting your arms fall away. “I have to check on the oven. We made potatoes and eggs.”

He opened his eyes just a little, lips curving. “Tell her to save me a potato.”

“You’ve got your ramen.”

“Yeah, but now I want potatoes too.”

You laughed quietly. “I’ll see what I can do. Be good. I’ll be back after dinner, okay?”

He nodded slowly as he leaned back against the pillows, finally taking the bowl in his hands, “Okay.”

You lingered by the door just long enough to watch him take his first bite, slurping a mouthful of noodles.

“That’s the best ramen I’ve ever had,” he said seriously.

You gave him a look. “No it’s not.”

“Yes it is,” he insisted, already going in for another bite.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. “Noah, it’s packaged noodles with carrots and mushrooms. The broth literally came from a cube.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You raised an eyebrow.

He nodded. “My girls made it. For me. In our house. In our kitchen. Because they cared enough to make me something warm. Of course it’s the best I’ve ever had.”

Your chest tightened, the corners of your mouth tugging upward even as you tried to keep a straight face. “You’re just saying that because you’re sick and emotionally vulnerable.”

He gave a lazy smile. “Maybe. But it’s still true. Tell my princess I said thank you.”

You started closing the door. “Will do. Enjoy your soup, Romeo. I’ll be back after dinner.”

“Save me a potato!” He called from the other side.

In the kitchen, Luna sat at the table, legs dangling off her chair, humming to herself as she watched you scoop scrambled eggs onto her plate, next to the roasted potatoes.

“There we go. Chef Luna’s well-earned dinner.”

She giggled, stabbing a potato piece and popping it into her mouth. “It tastes better ‘cause we made it.”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling and sitting in front of her "That's what your dad said too."

"Really?"

"He said it was the best ramen he’s ever had.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Even better than restaurant ramen?”

“Even better than restaurant ramen,” you confirmed. “Because it was made by his favorite people.”

She wiggled proudly in her seat. “He’s gonna feel better now. I think soup can fix anything if you make it right. With love.”

You couldn’t help but laugh gently. “Yeah, you might be right.”

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog @pandora-08 @geminigirlfromfinland @bloody-spades

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @clickmedead @whenyouwannafindlove @kenjipepsi1

[zegrasdrysdale]

Heyyy could I ask for an Ethan Edward’s fic where him and the reader have been together for about a year and a half or something and she unexpectedly goes into labour at the frozen four game, neither her nor Ethan had any idea that she was even pregnant.

[ a tiny surprise ] e. edwards

paring : Ethan Edwards x fem!reader

summary : Ethan’s girlfriend has to leave the Frozen Four game versus Boston College because she’s having intense cramps, but the biggest surprise of all time waits for her and Ethan when she gets to the hospital

warning(s) : labor and cramps, pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of period

author’s note : i thought this would be a good request to tackle since it’s mother’s day. so anon and everyone, enjoy !! <3

༺═──────────────═༻

From the moment she woke up that morning, she’s been cramping. It wasn’t any worse than her normal period cramps so she took some medicine and went on with her day. There was some pain in her lower back though. She wasn’t worried that it was something else. Sometimes there is some back pain when she’s dealing with period cramps.

They eventually got to a tolerable level where she wasn’t curled up in bed anymore so she got ready for the Frozen Four game that Ethan and Michigan are playing in that night. She throws on the jersey that Ethan left for her, drawers a ‘73’ on her cheek right under her eye, then heads down to the lobby where she’s meeting the other girlfriends so they can head to the game together.

For a moment in the elevator, it feels like her uterus is stabbing her right in the gut. She winces and doubles over in pain with a hand flat on the wall. She lays a hand on her stomach and breathes out until the cramp passes. Sometimes they get painful like this.

Hopefully one of the girls has some medicine she can take in a little bit.

Once she gets to the lobby, the girls pile into the bus that they rented as a group since the boys had to go to the arena early. She sits with her arms crossed over her belly because the cramps are stronger than normal.

Rutger’s girlfriend, Kayleigh, sits next to her as the bus pulls out of the hotel parking lot. “Hey, are you okay?” she questions as she lightly rests a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t look very good.”

“I don’t feel very good,” she admits with a light laugh. “I think my uterus is trying to kill me or something. I’ll be okay for the game.”

Kayleigh laughs. “Oh, I get it,” she replies. “I have Advil in my backpack if you need it. I can grab you a drink so you can take the meds too.”

“Thanks, Kay,” she says with a small smile. “Mind if I take some now? I’m really hurting.”

She nods and grabs the bottle of Advil out of her bag. As soon as the pills are in her hand, Kayleigh grabs her small water bottle and lets her take a sip to take the meds.

The ride to the Xcel Energy Center seems like an eternity because of how much pain she’s in. She’ll just have to push through the pain until after the game because she just wants to support her boyfriend in one of the most important games of his life. The Frozen Four games are always important games. She wants to be there for him.

When the bus arrives to the arena, the girls walk inside together. There is a half hour until puck drop so the boys are probably warming up on the ice. Or they’re about to start warming up.

She sits in a seat until the boys start warming up. Even after the medicine she took, it feels like the cramps are getting worse and closer together. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Ethan would’ve understood if she told him that she wasn’t feeling good. She would’ve watched on the television in the hotel room.

As soon as the boys come out for warmups, she stands up and cheers with the other girls. Ethan skates by and she bangs on the glass, trying to keep a smile on her face despite her insides trying to kill her. Ethan looks at her with a smile on his own face as he warms up.

Then it feels like someone kicks her in the gut. She cries out in pain and wraps an arm around her stomach. Kay is right at her side. “Sit down for a second,” she orders. “I don’t think standing helps cramps. The Advil should kick in soon.”

“They’re never this bad,” she says. Her voice is so shaky. “I’ve taken so much medicine. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

There’s banging on the glass in front of her. She looks up and sees Ethan. “What’s wrong?” he shouts. His voice is able to carry over the glass because fans are still making their way to the ice from the concourse.

Kayleigh taps her stomach in response to Ethan. “Bad,” Kay yells back.

“I’m fine,” she reiterates. “Meds just need to kick in.”

“Are you sure?” Kay asks. “I don’t think he’ll be mad if you need to go to the hotel, or the emergency room since I think every urgent care in the area is closed now.”

She looks up at Kayleigh and Ethan. “The emergency room?” she questions. “They’re just really intense period cramps.”

Ethan points up the steps. “Go to the ER, baby,” he calls. “It’s okay. I know you’ll be watching.” With a frown, she shakes her head. “Please. You’re never in this much pain. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

Kay helps her stand up even though she doesn’t want to go. “I have her, E,” she calls. “Can you tell Rut?” Ethan nods.

He holds up half a hand heart. She holds the other half up before she and Kayleigh slowly make their way up the steps.

As soon as they’re on the concourse, another more painful cramp hits her. Her entire body shakes with pain and she groans. “Kay, hold on,” she begs. “I can’t-”

Something starts dripping down her leg, wetting her leggings. Confused, she looks down and sees a puddle at her feet. It’s clear fluid. She looks back up at Kayleigh.

“What is that?” Kayleigh asks.

“I don’t- ah!” she cries out in pain again. Her legs almost give out and Kayleigh has to hold her weight.

“Okay, I’m calling an ambulance,” Kayleigh explains as she sits her friend against the wall. “You’re in too much pain to walk and clearly something is very wrong.”

She nods as Kayleigh dials 9-1-1 and tells them what’s going on. Her entire body shakes and she has to curl up in a ball to elevate some of her pain. Some of the medical staff has come over to her to try and help. She’s in too much pain to speak.

When paramedics do arrive, Kayleigh manages to let her go to the hospital with them. She also has to do some begging, and she mentions that their boyfriends are on the ice at the moment and there is no one else to go with her.

She’s given some morphine on the ambulance, but it doesn’t do much. The ride is shorter than the ride to the arena from the hotel.

When she gets to the emergency room, they do an exam. When they poke at her stomach, they decide to do an ultrasound because of how ridged her torso is.

The doctor comes back with the machine and puts some of that cool gel on her belly. She grips Kayleigh’s hand as another cramp hits. She bites her lip and winces in pain.

“Miss, did you know you are pregnant?” the doctor asks after a moment.

Her eyes widen. “Pregnant?” she questions. “There’s no way. I still have a period and I never gained any weight. I have no belly.”

The doctor turns the screen in her and Kayleigh’s direction. On the screen is a full term baby. “That’s your baby,” the doctor explains. “And this baby is coming in the next hour or so. Your water has broken, which is what happened at the hockey game.”

“My baby,” she echoes. She blinks and begins to panic. “I have a baby? Oh my God. Ethan has no idea and he’s on the ice.”

Kayleigh asks, “Do you want me to call someone to get him so he’s here?” She nods. Kay disappears a second later to make a phone call.

As the doctor wipes away the gel, she says, “I’m going to get you admitted to the maternity ward and into a labor suite.”

“How is this possible?” she questions as the doctor pulls the jersey back down. “I mean, I had no idea. No signs.”

“It’s rare but it might be because you have two uteruses,” the doctor explains. “One continues to have a period and the other holds the baby. I don’t know why you didn’t show but it happens sometimes. Most women have a belly, some don’t show much or at all.” She puts away the wand and stands up. “I’ll be right back.”

She nods and rests her hands on her belly. Somehow, there is a baby in there. She had no idea that she was even pregnant. Neither did Ethan.

He’s going to be in for the biggest surprise of his life in a few minutes.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

She has never screamed more in her life than she has in the last hour. Her contractions, not cramps, are intense and close together. This baby is coming, and Ethan isn’t here yet.

Kayleigh got a hold of someone, who got a hold of Naurato, who told Ethan what was going on. He said he was leaving as soon as he could, but he’s still not here.

“Where is he?” she cries out as she feels a contraction. “I need Ethan. Now!”

“He’s on his way,” Kayleigh tells her. “He left during one of the TV timeouts. He should be almost here.”

Her OB is checking to see how many centimeters she’s dialated. “Okay, you’re ten centimeters,” she explains. “I can wait a few more minutes but this baby is coming.”

Another contraction and she screams. She grips Kay’s hand so hard she’s afraid she might’ve broken her hand. She feels bad but she needed something to hold.

“I need to wait for my boyfriend,” she pants as soon as the contraction passes. “Please.”

Her OB nods and leaves the room. She looks up at Kay. “Let me go see where he is,” Kayleigh tells her. “Give me literally ten seconds and I’ll be right back, okay?” She nods and breathes.

Kayleigh walks out of the room and she looks out the window. Looking outside helps her stay calm sometimes, even when she’s in sudden, active labor with a baby she didn’t know she was carrying.

Another contraction hits and she takes deep breaths. The door opens a second later and she’s ready to beg the doctor to wait for Ethan when she sees her boyfriend running in the room. He’s still in full gear, minus his helmet and skates. “Oh my God, baby,” he gasps when he sees her on the bed. “How is this-”

“I have no idea,” she replies as Ethan presses a kiss to her sweaty forehead. “All I know is that in a few minutes, we are going to have a baby. I’m scared.”

Ethan grabs her hand and kisses it. “I’m right here,” he assures her. “I’m right beside you through this, okay? I love you and I love our little baby even though neither of us knew.”

Her OB comes back in as she nods. “Are you dad?” her doctor asks. Ethan nods in reply. “Great. We need to push on the next contraction, okay?”

She grabs Ethan’s hand and sits up a bit. As soon as the next contraction hits, she pushes as hard as she can. She screams in a lot of pain since it feels like her body is tearing in two. Ethan has a hand on her back and helps her out. Kayleigh stands on her other side as she pushes.

When she takes a break from pushing, she looks at Ethan. “How are you guys doing?” she questions. “Are you winning?”

He shakes his head. “No, but it’s fine,” he tells her. “I’d rather be here with you. The guys told me to be here with you when Naurato told me what was going on.”

“Full hockey gear,” she teases him.

“I needed to be here for the birth of our baby,” he replies with a smile.

She smiles right back, but it’s short lived as another contraction hits. She pushes more. Her OB tells her to push a little longer.

Then the sound of a baby crying fills the room. She feels almost immediate relief between her legs a second later. She slumps back against the pillows as the doctor stands up with a baby in her arms.

“Congratulations, mom and dad,” she says with a smile. “You have a beautiful baby boy.”

She smiles at the crying baby as he’s handed to her. “Hi, baby boy,” she laughs. “You were quite the surprise.”

Ethan is given the chance to cut the umbilical cord and is right beside her. He puts a little blue hat on the baby’s head as he stops trying. She gives the baby her finger and he seems content.

The OB cleans her up a bit then takes the baby to clean him up. Her eyes never leave her son. “E, we don’t have a name for him,” she realizes out loud.

“We don’t have to think of one at this moment,” Ethan tells her. “I mean, up until an hour ago, we didn’t even know about him. I think we can take a day or two before we name him.”

She nods as her son is handed back to her. The OB leaves the room. Kayleigh snaps a picture of the three of them and says, “Sending this to Rut so he can show the guys. I think they’ll want to know that a future hockey star was just born.”

Ethan laughs and Kayleigh leaves the room to give them a moment alone with their baby boy. She caresses her son’s cheek and tears up.

“I already love him,” she admits. “This is our son, Ethan. We have a baby.”

He kisses the side of her head. “You’re gonna be the best mom,” he tells her. She looks up at him. Ethan wipes away the tears that have rolled down her cheeks. “We’re going to be the best parents. The team is going to spoil him so much.”

“So are we,” she laughs as she looks down at baby boy Edwards. “We have nine months of lost time to make up for since he decided to be a little surprise.”

Ethan laughs and gives his son one of his fingers. “We do.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[narcissisticpdcultureis]

npd culture is lowkey wishing you were in a hospital bed for something so you can be the center of attention for a bit but you’re american and you ain’t risking that med bill

.

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Fives always kisses the reader on the forehead before mission - they’re friends but theres a little bit of tension- but then he gets badly injured and the reader spends the night next to his bed, incapable to leave him, and when he’s still not waking up she kisses his forehead and bammm the flirt is awake and they just have stars in their eyesssss

“Kiss It Better”

Fives x Reader

Fives always kissed your forehead before a mission.

He never made a big deal out of it. No lingering looks, no awkward pauses. Just a brief touch—soft and warm—right in the center of your brow as he passed, like it was the most natural thing in the galaxy. And maybe it was. He kissed Jesse’s helmet for luck once. Echo got a punch in the arm. You, apparently, got forehead kisses.

It had started on Kamino. First deployment. You were shaking in your boots, pretending not to be terrified. Fives—cocky, charming, and stupidly handsome in the way all the clones were but only he knew it—had given you that trademark grin, leaned in, and brushed your forehead with his lips. Just for luck, he’d said. Nothing more.

But he kept doing it.

Every mission.

And every single time, your heart skipped a beat.

“Ready to go, cyar’ika?” he asked one morning, helmet tucked under one arm, the other reaching out toward you.

You scoffed, stuffing extra medpacs into your bag. “Don’t call me that unless you mean it, Fives.”

“Oh, I always mean it,” he winked, stepping close.

He bent, warm fingers brushing your cheek as he kissed your forehead again, soft as breath.

“I hate you,” you whispered automatically, voice unsteady.

“Liar,” he said, and then he was gone.

⸻

That mission was supposed to be a quick recon. In and out. But the Separatists had gotten smarter—or maybe just luckier—and the outpost exploded before anyone could retreat.

You saw the blast before you saw the blood. Smoke. Screaming in your comms. And then Jesse’s panicked voice yelling, “Fives is down! I repeat, Fives is down—!”

You didn’t remember running. Just the taste of ash in your mouth and your hands shaking as you dropped to your knees beside the twisted figure on the ground. His armor was charred. His face—oh, stars, his face—was bloodied, lashes fluttering as you pressed your hands to the wound in his side.

“Stay with me, Fives,” you begged. “I swear to the Maker, if you die, I will hunt you down and bring you back just to kill you again—”

He didn’t respond. He was already unconscious by the time the med-evac arrived.

They stabilized him.

But he didn’t wake up.

Not that night. Not the next.

You refused to leave the medbay. You were a medic—technically off-duty—but no one dared argue. You sat beside his cot, curled into the too-small chair with your knees drawn up, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the sheets.

You were numb. Exhausted. And heartsick in a way you couldn’t explain. Because this was Fives—flirtatious, charming, annoying Fives—and the thought of him gone made something deep in your chest crack open.

You realized, sometime around the second sleepless night, that maybe you hadn’t hated those forehead kisses at all.

Maybe you’d been waiting for the day they meant something more.

⸻

You fell asleep with your head beside his arm, one hand resting lightly on his.

The beeping of the monitors was your lullaby. That, and the quiet sounds of clone medics passing in and out, voices hushed out of respect or fear. No one knew if he’d wake up. The damage was internal. The bacta was doing what it could. But his body… it was tired.

He just needed a reason to come back.

You looked at his face in the sterile light. Even pale and bruised, he still looked like Fives. There was a hint of a smirk in the curve of his lips, a stubborn quirk in his brow.

And suddenly, you knew what to do.

You leaned forward.

Your breath caught.

And for the first time, you kissed his forehead.

Soft. Lingering. Like a promise.

You whispered, “Come back to me, Fives. Please.”

You drew back slowly.

And that’s when his eyes fluttered open.

You froze.

So did he.

His gaze—bleary, confused—found yours almost immediately. And despite everything—despite the pain, the haze, the IV lines—he smiled.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he rasped.

Your breath hitched. You stared at him in disbelief, tears instantly blurring your vision.

“You—kriffing idiot,” you gasped, half laughing, half sobbing. “You weren’t supposed to—!”

“You kissed me,” he interrupted, voice low and hoarse, but unmistakably smug. “That was new.”

“I was saying goodbye,” you lied, cheeks burning.

“Liar,” he whispered, echoing himself from before. His fingers moved slightly, brushing your hand. “I heard you. You said please.”

You pressed your lips together, throat tight.

“I missed my forehead kiss before the mission,” he murmured, trying to sit up.

You pushed him gently back down, blinking away tears. “You nearly died. Maybe don’t flirt while you’re still bleeding internally?”

He gave a weak chuckle, but it turned into a groan.

You cupped his cheek carefully. His skin was warm under your palm. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I scared myself too,” he whispered, sobering.

There was a pause.

Then, quietly:

“You kissed me first this time.”

You swallowed hard. “Maybe it meant something.”

He tilted his head, eyes glinting despite the exhaustion.

“I was hoping it did,” he said softly. “Because every time I kissed you before a mission, I wanted it to mean more.”

You blinked.

Then smiled, slowly.

“Stars in your eyes, Fives?” you asked gently.

“Only when I’m looking at you.”

You leaned down again, and this time your lips brushed his—barely there, a feather-light kiss.

His hand squeezed yours, and he sighed, utterly at peace for the first time in days.

You didn’t leave his bedside for the rest of the night.

[inawickedlittletown]

Through The Darkness To The Dawn (BuckTommy) - 3/4

Notes: Yes, you did see that this was originally two parts. Well, after 8x18 I really wanted to continue it. Summary has been updated and I hope you guys like it.

Title comes from Nobody Knows by The Lumineers.

Summary: 8x17/8x18 coda. Buck is grieving, Eddie is the worst, and Tommy is the soft place that Buck needs to deal with it all.

Words: 4.2k

Read on Ao3

Part One

Part Two

-

Part Three: It Moves My Feet To Carry On

Buck almost called in sick. Thinking about it made him remember the single time that Buck had actually called in sick. He’d caught a bug that practically had him bed bound. Aching body, a fever, nausea, and a very scratchy throat. Buck had never felt weaker and as he’d croaked out to Bobby over the phone that he wasn’t going to make it in. Buck had expected to be miserable for the rest of the time it took for him to get better. Except that Bobby showed up sometime that afternoon bringing him a big container of soup, a bag of cough drops, and some meds. He hadn’t stayed long because he was technically still on shift, but Bobby had made the time to take care of him in the best way he could. He had shown up. 

Buck didn’t think anyone else had ever really shown up for Buck like that. There was Maddie, of course, but she was his sister and it felt different with her. Expected, maybe, except that she was far too busy to be burdened with Buck’s stuff these days. It hadn’t stopped her from sending him a text every day asking how he was doing. 

So, he didn’t make the call. 

Tommy was going into a shift too and that helped because Buck would have felt a little weird if he had to ask Tommy if he could hang out at his house while he was at work. The thought of going back to his — Eddie’s house — was enough to make his stomach turn. 

Most of the calls were easy and quick. Routine. A fender bender, a heart attack in the middle of a garden center, a carbon monoxide leak, a kid who got his head stuck in a banister. A couple of calls about minor fires due to the methanated water. Nothing out of the norm. And then they were sent to a structure fire at a recycling center. It was the first time that Buck felt like they might be alright as they stood together watching the fire die down. 

All day he had been thinking about how different everything felt and about the huge hole that Bobby had left behind. It wasn’t that Bobby wasn’t there — at least not entirely. It was that right alongside not having him there, he really had been the glue that held them together. But maybe…maybe Buck could do what Bobby had told him to. He could bring them together. 

So, the next day, he proposed going out and getting groceries so he could cook lunch for everyone. Gerrard hadn’t even said no. Buck didn’t know what Gerrard would have said, because it was actually Chim that shook his head. 

“Is that really a good idea?” Chim had asked. 

So, Buck left it alone. Ravi had given him a sad smile. 

“Maybe next shift,” Ravi said. 

Buck already knew that wouldn’t happen. Hen had looked like she was ready to start giving Buck an excuse as to why they shouldn’t do that. So, Buck just shrugged and when on the way back from a call Hen asked him what he wanted for lunch he just shrugged again. 

“Get me whatever.” 

They got him a sandwich. It tasted dry. The bread was somehow both soggy and hard and the lettuce wilted. Buck barely ate half of it before he threw it out. Since no one bothered to eat at the table with him they didn’t even see him do it. 

Ravi appeared then with a stack of papers. 

“What’s all that?” 

“Gerrard wants everyone to fill one of these out,” Ravi said, passing him one. “Also, he said he wanted to speak with you.” 

“With me?” 

“Yup,” Ravi said, popping the p. “Better go see what he wants.” 

Gerrard this time around was different. Gentler. He hadn’t even written Chim up over him yelling at him that first day back after the funeral. Maybe it was better to have a familiar face than someone they didn’t know at the helm. Still, Buck couldn’t wait for Hen to take over. When Buck entered his — Bobby’s — office, he just motioned for Buck to take a seat. 

“You wanted to see me?” Buck asked. 

“Yes, Buckley. I wanted to ask you if you had ever thought about putting your hat in the ring for Captain. You’d be good at it and you’d have my full support.” 

“I…no,” Buck said at once. “No, that’s — no. I couldn’t.”

How long had it been since Buck had felt slighted by Bobby when he wasn’t even considered as a possibility for interim Captain? Bobby had told him point blank that Buck wasn’t ready and Buck didn’t think anything had changed since. No, it had to be Hen. She had the experience and everyone respected Hen. Buck couldn’t imagine anyone listening to him or taking him seriously. And how dangerous could that become if Buck had no control of his team? Maybe if he worked with other people that didn’t have a skewed and set view of him, but even then Buck didn’t think it was the right move. Not yet. Someday, maybe. 

“The person that was offered the position turned it down,” Gerrard informed him. “I’ve been looking at personnel files and I think you’re more than ready. It would take some time, you would need to pass the Captain exam and do some additional training but I could call the Chief right now and he would take my recommendation seriously.”

Buck shook his head. “That’s not what any of them out there want. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I think this isn’t the place for me anymore.”

As soon as he said it, Buck knew it was true. He hadn’t been considering it necessarily, but if things were going to continue as they were then—

“What does that mean, Buckley?” 

“It means that I don’t belong here anymore. I’d like to put in for a transfer.” 

Wasn’t it weird how freeing saying that out loud felt? 

Gerrard tutted. “I’ve heard time and again how devoted you are to this house, Buckley, are you sure?” 

“I think I am. I love this place, but the 118 is…it’s just a number now. What Bobby made of this place went with him and I can’t stay here and watch it disappear more and more every day. I just can’t.”

Gerrard pressed his lips together and then he nodded. “If that’s what you want, then I can’t stop you. You know, Captain Nash would have recommended you as well. It’s in your file. He recognized how creative and committed to the job you are. I’ll sign your transfer paperwork, but this is not the only firehouse in LA that needs a Captain. Get your certifications and take the exam, Buckley.” 

“I’ll think about it.” 

Gerrard nodded and dismissed him. 

“All good?” Ravi asked when he got back. 

“All good,” Buck said even if something guilty sparked in his gut. 

Was it really the right choice? He didn’t want to stop working with Ravi. In the time that Eddie had been gone they had bonded and worked well together. He hated that he might be leaving him in the lurch and yet, he also knew that Ravi would understand. The question was, would everyone else? And what about Bobby? He wouldn’t have wanted Buck to go off and work elsewhere, but at the end of the day Bobby was gone and he’d been wrong about the team needing Buck and Buck being okay. It felt like the right move. It felt like Buck doing something that was for himself. He didn’t tell any of them about it, but he did take a moment to text Tommy and ask for his opinion. He didn’t get a response which meant that Tommy was probably on a call. 

He got a response when they were on the truck on their way to their own call a couple of hours later.

Tommy: If you feel that transferring is what you need right now, then that’s all I need to know. I know you wouldn’t leave the 118 without cause. 

“Is that Eddie?” Hen asked. 

“Uh. No. Why would it be Eddie?” 

Hen shrugged. “I was texting him earlier. I don’t think we’re going to be able to pull off the barbeque.” 

“Too bad,” Buck said and he was glad they were arriving at the scene. 

A young woman on a bike had crashed into a pedestrian. They made quick work of both the biker and the woman that had been hit.

By the time the shift ended, Buck had no idea if he was going to Tommy’s or if he was headed back to his own place. He’d seen Hen and Chim talking to each other about the barbeque that wasn’t going to be and refused to join the conversation. As far as he was concerned, they didn’t need any kind of party for Eddie. Eddie had moved months ago and they had all gone out to dinner for him. He didn’t understand what could have inspired Hen to want to have another going away party. 

Once he was back in his car, Buck considered calling Tommy. He didn’t. As good as the night before had been, Buck couldn’t put everything on Tommy to fix. So, in the end, he headed to his house. 

He recognized the feeling in his gut as he approached the front door. It was exactly how Buck had felt in those years after Maddie left for Boston when returning home had meant seeing his parents and not knowing what he would get from them. Would they ignore him completely? Would they show their disappointment in some other way? He had pushed through then and he would push through when it came to Eddie. 

He opened the door and stepped inside, dropping his duffle bag right there to pick up later. 

Chris and Eddie were in the living room, the tv on. A movie Buck didn’t recognize was on and it almost felt like stepping back in time to when he would arrive at Eddie’s house maybe carrying in a pizza, definitely a six pack, ready to just hang out on Eddie’s couch. Instead all of the stuff was Buck’s and he didn’t really want to join them on the couch. 

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie said. 

“Buck!” Chris said. 

For Chris, he walked over. Gave him a quick hug. 

“Hey, kid.”

“Do you want to watch the movie with us?” Chris asked. 

“Ah. No. Sorry, bud, I’m exhausted.”

Hungry too, but he didn’t want to mention that to them. It might inspire them wanting to order take out and Buck had just about had enough of take out. He also didn’t want to cook or trust Eddie to make anything truly edible even if he’d gotten better in the kitchen. 

So, he walked through to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water, his eyes finding the bottle of champagne he’d rescued from his freezer. Tommy’s champagne. He considered the rest of the contents of his fridge, but snapped it shut when he heard Eddie. 

“We can order pizza or something if you’re hungry,” Eddie offered. 

“I’m good,” Buck said. 

“You didn’t come home the other night.” 

“I know.” 

“You didn’t text me back. Or call me.” 

Buck scoffed. “I didn’t know I had to check in with you, Eddie? Last time I checked, I’m an adult.” 

“Come on, Buck. That’s not what I meant. I meant I was worried because you left suddenly in the middle of the night and never came back and then I texted and called and got no response. We’re first responders, anything could have happened to you and then I would have had to explain to Chris that—”

Buck shook his head. “Nope. No, you don’t get to read me some guilt trip for not letting you know where I was. Now, I had a long shift and I just want to go to bed. Can I do that, or do I have to ask first?” 

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I have to report to my new job on Monday. Chris and I aren’t going to be here for much longer. You could spend some time with us.” 

“Tomorrow,” Buck said. 

Eddie looked about to say something else before he shook his head. 

His room felt stifling, like the walls themselves were moving in closer and closer. It reminded him that this had been Eddie’s room once and that even though all his stuff was there, it didn’t feel like his. 

Buck could hear the tv in the living room and Chris’ voice blending in with Eddie’s. Buck tried his best to ignore them. He wasn’t even that tired. Not really. Going through his phone he did find a few calls from Eddie and even more texts. In a way, he supposed that it was nice to know that Eddie might care about him in some way. 

The weird thing was that Eddie really did think they were back to normal, as if he hadn’t said awful things to Buck. As if he hadn’t outright blamed Buck for not doing enough to save Bobby. 

His fingers found Tommy’s contact and before he could stop himself, he pressed ‘call’.

“Hey,” Tommy said. His voice was strong and warm. 

“Hi,” Buck said. “I, uh, I think I just wanted to hear your voice. How was your shift?” 

“Not too eventful. I did hear about the recycling center fire. The ground team was called in to assist. Almost asked if I could go with them. See you in action.” 

“Hmm, that would have been nice.” 

“Can I ask what happened? You said nothing about transferring last night.” 

Buck told him about his conversation with Gerrard. 

“He isn’t wrong,” Tommy said. “You would make a great Captain.” 

“One day,” Buck said. “Not now, but one day. And about me transferring? Do you think I’m making the right decision?” 

Tommy took his time. Then, “I know you and the 118 are close. Chim will still be your family and Hen won’t let you disappear on her. You’re not going to lose them, Evan, and if you think going to another station will help you then I’m all for it. I just, I don’t want this to be you running away from your problems.” 

“I don’t think I am,” Buck said. “I just…I think I’m not allowed to grow because they don’t see that I can.”

They talked for a while longer, until Buck actually finally felt tired enough to change out of his clothes and crawl into bed.

Buck woke in the morning to a text from Hen to the group chat that didn’t include Eddie. 

Hen: Hey, guys, I felt bad not pulling off the barbeque, so I was thinking we could do something next shift. We can order catering and just spend some time together. Already cleared it with Gerrard. 

Chim: Sounds good.

Hen: And since he’s not coming back to the 118, Gerrard said we could give him his turn outs to take home with him. 

Ravi: Cool. 

Buck just liked her initial text. 

The house was silent. He spied the Eddie lump on his couch and he figured that Chris was probably still sleeping too. Buck started the coffee maker and tried to pretend that everything was normal. It was his day off and he was home alone preparing for the day. He’d go to the gym, maybe pick up a few more groceries to make something good for dinner and maybe see if Maddie was available so he could stop by and hang out for a while. Except that, nothing was like it used to be. Buck hadn’t gone to the gym in weeks and Maddie was way too busy preparing for the baby to indulge Buck in stopping by just to stop by. He thought about the crib that Chim was struggling to build, had they even considered calling him to ask for help? Probably not.

His phone vibrated in his hand and Buck gave it a glance, hoping it wasn’t the group chat again. He was relieved to see Tommy’s name. 

Tommy: Do you want to have breakfast with me? 

Suddenly, his morning brightened. Warmth filled his chest. 

He was quiet as he got ready to head out. He did remember that Eddie would be leaving soon and he had hardly spent any time with Christopher. Making an impulsive decision after checking with Tommy, he went to Chris’ room. 

Chris was already awake, sitting in bed on his phone. He lowered the phone when he saw Buck. 

“Hey, your dad is still asleep, but do you want to go get breakfast with me and Tommy?” 

Chris nodded at once. He didn’t take too long getting ready. Chris didn’t even ask why Buck didn’t wake his dad. How much did he know about the tension between them? How Eddie was ready to brush off the things he’d said without an apology and how Buck couldn’t forget the words or the look on Eddie’s face. 

Buck did have Chris leave Eddie a note and then they were off. 

“Are you and my dad fighting?” Chris asked, five minutes into the drive. 

Buck didn’t answer at once. 

“You are,” Chris said. “What did he do?” 

Buck came to a stop and he dared to look over at Chris. “We had a disagreement. It’s nothing for you to worry about, alright?” 

Chris made a noise, but he didn’t bring it up again. Instead he asked about Tommy. “My dad said you guys broke up?” 

“That’s true, but we made up. I, uh, I love him.” 

“I like Tommy,” Chris declared. 

Tommy was already seated when they got there at an outdoor table. He stood up when he saw them and pulled Buck into a quick hug and then he hugged Chris too, ruffling his hair when he was done. 

“Wow, you’ve gotten tall,” Tommy said, then. “How was Texas?” 

“It was fun,” Chris said and jumped into telling Tommy all about the friends he’d made there. 

Buck hadn’t really given it much thought, but Chris had definitely put roots down in El Paso. He had a bunch of friends and he liked his school out there. Buck didn’t ask, but he couldn’t be sure that Chris actually missed LA much at all. It was a good thing, though, since Eddie was taking that job and heading back. 

The whole meal was fun. Getting caught up with Chris and joking around with him and Tommy. It made Buck forget for a moment that he was still sad and still mourning Bobby. This is what it should have been like, he realized, but not just with Tommy and Chris. With everyone. It was just that they had picked other ways of dealing with their grief, ways that didn’t include Buck. 

Halfway through, Chris’ phone started ringing. 

“It’s my dad,” he said. 

“Better pick up,” Tommy said. 

Buck nodded. 

Chris made a petulant teenage sound, but did pick up. 

“Hi, dad.” 

A pause for Eddie to say something. 

“You were sleeping. I wanted to hang out with Buck.” 

Eddie said something else. 

“Why? We left a note. Isn’t that enough?” 

Buck almost choked on his coffee and Tommy had to pat his back. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Buck said. “I guess a note is okay when he leaves it.” 

Chris got off the phone a moment later and he let out a sigh. “He’s not happy we didn’t wake him up.”

“Oh well,” Buck said. 

He saw Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up, but he schooled his face for Chris’ sake. They didn’t talk about Eddie as they continued breakfast. Chris wanted to know about everything he’d missed while he was gone and they tried to fill him in. They had a good five minutes of laughing about Hotshots before Chris got up to go to the bathroom.

“It’s good to see him,” Tommy said. 

“It really is,” Buck said. 

“But Chris isn’t an apology for what Eddie said to you. Have you talked to him about it?” 

“Not in so many words,” Buck said. “To Eddie it’s like it never happened. He got to say what he said and then he brought Chris and that was that. Everything is normal. Is it even worth it?” 

Tommy reached for his hand. “If you want your friendship to return to what it used to be.” 

“Mostly it’s that I don’t,” Buck admitted. “At least right now.” 

Tommy hugged Chris and got a promise out of him that he would at least text him every once in a while. 

“Seriously, Chris, if you ever need anything at all. Call me. I have access to a helicopter, you know.” 

“I promise I won’t ask you to steal one,” Chris said with a grin. 

While Chris got situated in the car, Buck wrapped his arms around Tommy. He felt any bit of tension drain from him just at a hint of his scent. Tommy kissed his forehead. 

“I’ll be at home all day,” Tommy said before letting him go. 

“Maybe I’ll stop by,” Buck said. 

Eddie was sitting at the dining room table when Buck and Christopher arrived. His tablet was out in front of him and he had a notepad next to it, a few notes scribbled onto it. Chris greeted his dad quickly before making for the living room and turning the tv on. 

“So, I don’t even get an invite to breakfast,” Eddie said. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Buck said. “Chris and I were awake. You said just last night I won’t have much time before you two go back to El Paso.” 

Eddie scoffed. “So you couldn’t be bothered to wake me?” 

“Looked like you needed the sleep,” Buck said. 

Eddie didn’t respond to that. He curled his fingers around the notepad, knuckles going white. 

“What’s all that?” 

“Just a few things about the new job. I have to go back to the Academy for a bit.” 

Buck was the first to admit that he hadn’t handled the news that Eddie was leaving well. Not because he disagreed that Eddie needed to patch things up with Chris, but because it had all felt so final. On top of that, Eddie had made him promise not to say anything to anyone and so Buck had been a bit in his head about it. 

In the end, he’d just made the best of it. He’d made it as easy as possible for Eddie to leave, even when it didn’t benefit Buck at all. He’d given up his loft…the very first place that was actually his own. All the memories that it held. All the parts about it that Buck liked. He never told Eddie how hard it was to leave it and to move into a place that wasn’t really his. He never told him about all the nights he slept over at Maddie and Chim’s. Buck had made it so easy for Eddie and he never got a thank you. It wasn’t even just the subletting, it was that Buck made himself available for Eddie to call, it was that he helped and advised Eddie on everything and yet Eddie never asked about how Buck was doing. 

Friendships were a give and take and Buck just hadn’t realized how much Eddie took and took and took without giving much back and then claiming that Buck made everything about himself the moment that Buck had any feelings. It was something that Buck had never allowed himself to consider and it was the thing that made him glad that Eddie was leaving. 

Who would have thought he’d be glad to see Eddie go? But, he actually was. 

When he checked his phone, there were ten new messages in the group chat. Between Hen and Chim, a whole plan had come together for Eddie’s not a barbeque party. Buck was glad that his input wasn’t needed. He did wonder if Hen was using the excuse of a party for Eddie to announce that she was becoming the new Captain. So far, she hadn’t said anything but they were all expecting it. If it was a good time for announcements, Buck might tell them about putting in for a transfer. 

He wasn’t running away. It was all for the right reasons, right? Professional growth for one thing and for another getting rid of that feeling that sat in his chest every time he walked into the station expecting to see Bobby up at the balcony, or on that table where he preferred to do this paperwork with his glasses perched on his nose. Nothing could fill up those blank spaces or get rid of his grief, but Buck didn’t think that was the point. 

He and Eddie gave each other a wide berth. While Buck went and played video games with Chris, Eddie kept himself in the dining room on his tablet. And when lunch rolled around, he took over playing so Buck could fix them some sandwiches. Chris didn’t say anything, but he looked between them like he was waiting for something to happen. 

When it got to be too much, Buck did go to his room, gathering a few things. 

“Hen planned a whole thing at the station for you tomorrow,” he informed Eddie. “I don’t know if I’ll be back tonight, but I can pick you and Chris up on my way into work.” 

“What do you mean, you won’t be back tonight?” Eddie asked. 

“I just have somewhere else to be,” Buck said and left it at that before he ruffled Chris’ hair. “See you tomorrow, kid.” 

“Bye, Buck.”