#put that thing back where it came from or so help me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drrobbysbabygirl · 2 days ago

Text

2 Hands

A/N: It's finished! It’s already been posted to ao3, which I’ll make a separate post about. I had SO much writing this, and I hope y’all enjoy it as much I do!

Word count: 9.8k (It got a bit out of hand)

Warnings: Masturbation, faginal fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex (f!receiving), creampie. I think that’s it, but let me know if I missed anything! ASFAB!reader, reader is 25-35, has hair, and is described as shorter and smaller than Robby.

It all started with a brush of his hand over yours, as cliche as it sounds. It was a quick thing, his large hand over yours in the middle of intubating a patient whose airway was blocked by blood. It wasn't something you put too much thought into until later, when you were home in your empty apartment, sunk low into your bathtub, stroking over the spot he had touched. Robby was touchy; it was well known within the Pitt. He’d squeeze a shoulder, gently touch a hip to get past, or hover with a hand on your lower back for stabilization when guiding a tricky procedure. It wasn't the first time one of his large hands had touched you, nor was it the first time it had fanned the flames of desire low in your belly. But it was the first time he had looked at you and not through you while doing it. It was there and gone in an instant.

As a third-year resident, you had been giving orders to the interns hanging near the patient, demanding more space and orders for propofol and ketamine for sedation. You couldn’t see, but you had done more intubations than you could count and knew you could do it. However, the patient's blood pressure tanked, and Robby grew irritated and snapped at you to move. You had a stubborn streak a mile wide and were confident in your abilities, but you also knew when to ask for help.

You had shaken your head. “I just need help, but I can do it,” you said tensely.

Then, before you could blink, Robby was beside you, his warm hand on yours, helping you guide the tube down the blocked airway. After the tube was placed and you were pushing more meds, you had caught Robby looking at you from the corner of your eye. He didn’t say a word; he just looked you in the eye before walking out to assist with another patient.

Two patients later, Robby had found you. “You could have cowered and let me do it instead, but you knew you could do it, and you asked for help when you needed it, good job,” he had said, brushing his fingers over your arm. You had shivered, and he noticed, letting his fingers linger just a second longer than he should have, his eyes open and gleaming with something you couldn’t put your finger on.

Then, you were fresh out of the bath, lying in bed, imagining where else those hands could go. It wasn’t something you made a habit of; it was bad enough that you thought about him nonstop during the daylight hours, at work, nonetheless. The last thing you wanted was for your…infatuation with your attending to reach a level you couldn’t handle. But as your hand slid down your body, the only thing you could think of was how Robby’s large hands would feel on you, how hard he’d grip your thighs, or how big they’d look on your breasts, and especially how they would look between your thighs. You threw your head back as you pictured it, circling your clit with a soft moan. Your breath came out in short pants as you imagined just how full two of his fingers would make you feel, or how his larger frame would loom over you. You rubbed faster and slipped a finger inside yourself, gasping as you thought about how deep his voice would get, and how deep he'd bury himself inside of you when he finally sank inside your velvet heat. You cried out into your empty apartment, the thought of Robby’s large hands roaming your body and the deep rasp of his voice as he praised you just enough to send you over the edge. You didn’t make a habit of it, but sometimes the temptation was too great to ignore.

The next time, you didn’t think anything of it. It was weeks later, the ED was at a lull, and you had been catching up on charting, your fingers practically dancing over the computer keys. Every once in a while, you would look down and scribble a note into your small notebook. Eventually, your pen stopped working and wouldn't work again, despite your scribbling in the margins. “Dana, can you toss me a pen?” you asked the older woman. Engrossed in her own charting, she had replied absentmindedly, “Yeah, just give me one sec.”

Robby, who had been leaning against the nurse's station, piped up. “Here, take mine, I have more in my locker,” he said. When you hesitated (pens were personal around the ED), Robby had taken his pen out of his scrub top pocket and physically put it in your hand, letting his hand linger momentarily, all while staring you in the eyes. You glanced down at your lap, uncommonly shy, and when you glanced up, he had still been staring at you, a look in his big eyes that tugged at your heart. You ripped your eyes away, cheeks pink, but before your thoughts could stray too far into not-safe-for-work thoughts, the ambulance bay had opened, and a seizing patient was wheeled in. Robby had tossed a glance at you, and before you blinked, the two of you were over to the woman, going through the checklist to stop the seizing.

The time after that, your suspicions were confirmed. It had been six p.m., two hours before you were both scheduled to be off, which meant at least two hours before you actually went home. You had a massive headache and knew you were dehydrated. Your monogrammed cup had long been left behind at a different station, and you had just been ready to go home and crawl into bed.

“You look like you need this,” Robby had said, materializing out of thin air, your cup in his hand.

“Jesus,” you said, throwing your hand over your heart. “If you do that again, you may be down a resident,” you joked tiredly.

Robby had laughed, and your cheeks heated up. You liked it when he laughed, and enjoyed it even more when it was you causing it. “Well, I’ll be more careful next time, I definitely can’t afford to lose the staff I have, especially one of my best residents,” he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up.

“I’d be careful, praise like that could go to my head and inflate my ego,” you quipped.

Robby tilted his head to the right thoughtfully, slowly reaching out with his long fingers to touch the inside of your knee. You had swallowed heavily, your eyes never leaving his as his fingers stayed there for three long seconds, and then another, and another. “Maybe it should, you deserve every bit you get,” he said honestly.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks heating up once again, and you watched as his eyes tracked the movement of your throat. He moved half an inch closer, and you nearly gasped when his whole hand enveloped your knee. You had stared up at him, water long forgotten, but then you were ripped out of your reverie by Trinity yelling across the ED for Robby. Robby’s hand had fallen away like something had burned him, but the look he threw over his shoulder was enough to make your cheeks heat up again.

By somewhere around the eleventh time, and many months later, you had started to play along and would intentionally seek out his touch. You’d pass by him, ghosting your fingers over his hip, or brush your fingers over his when you passed him something in the break room on the rare chances you got to eat. Occasionally, you would be brave and place your smaller hand on his if he stayed still long enough and no one was paying attention. The most memorable occasion happened on a cloudy day in June, after you had worn his patience thin.

You had been sassing him all day, bantering back and forth like always. At one point, though, he must have gotten tired of it and snipped at you. You had been surprised, but didn’t let it outwardly show. This thing between you may have grown, but you were still first and foremost a professional. So, you finished what you had been doing, swiftly threw your gloves away, sarcastically patted his shoulder, and walked out of the room without a second glance.

Later, after he had finished with that patient, he found you tucked in a corner at a portable workstation. You had been pretending to work for the better part of twenty minutes, glancing at him across the room, when you worked up the nerve. You had jumped slightly at the touch of his hand against your hip, and he made a soft sound of reassurance. He pretended to look over your shoulder, like he was consulting on what you had been working on.

“Did I upset you?” he had asked, his voice hushed but earnest. You didn’t immediately respond, body tense. You were upset but didn’t want him to know it immediately. Some groveling would do him good. He leaned closer. “I know you hear me, I can practically feel your pulse through your scrubs,” he had commented, squeezing your hip gently.

You had shaken your head. “No, I’m fine,” you said curtly. You knew it was ridiculous to be upset about something as small as Robby getting pissy at you. Robby snapped at most people at some point throughout the day; you just happened to have drawn the short stick for the day.

“I know you better than that by now, whether you realize it or not. I see the way you look at me; look at my hands,” he had said, giving another slight squeeze to get his point across before continuing. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I’ll try not to let it happen again,” he assured you. Your spine was ramrod straight, and you had felt the tension radiating from him behind you. He went to pull his hand away, and you could see his panicked, shuddered expression from the corner of your eye. Before he could pull away, you had reached behind you and wrapped your small fingers around his wrist, keeping it in place.

You slowly let your body relax, the thought of him entirely pulling away from you more than enough to encourage your mind to slow down. “You didn’t read this wrong,” you had assured, already aware of where his brain went.

“I didn’t,” he asked, voice small. “Because you can tell me to fuck off right now and I swear to god I’ll never touch you again,” he swore.

“No,” you said, dropping your hand as someone walked by, “you didn’t,” you finished.

“Good.”

Robby had wrapped his long fingers around the curve of your hip, squeezed with his whole hand, pulled away, and walked off, his calm exterior back in place like he had never lost it.

After that, it turned into a game: How many times could you get his hands on you in one shift without it being glaringly obvious? It turns out there were quite a few; you just had to be more subtle about it. But, much to your frustration, it never evolved into anything more than the brief touches. You were wary of making a firmer move, even though you had somewhat of a confirmation that Robby felt something for you, he was still your superior. Over the months his eyes had gotten softer towards you, but he still had a guarded aura around him, like he was afraid you would change your mind and tell him to fuck off at any moment. You had no intention of doing that, but your frustration was starting to reach its peak.

When your best friend, Dr. Samira Mohan, slid up next to you, you had been looking up at the board, scanning for a new case, and occasionally glancing at Robby across the room. “So, has that happened yet?” she said casually.

Your eyes had instantly snapped away from Robby to glance at her, and your cheeks heated when she raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at you. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” you hummed.

She smirked, and you glanced across the room reflexively, just to find Robby already staring at you. You forced yourself to turn towards Samira, whose smirk had grown. “So?”

“No. Apparently, he’s determined to drive me insane,” you sighed.

“You should be straightforward. Invite him out for drinks, or if you’re feeling saucy, just invite him back to your place,” Samira had said, shrugging.

It was your turn to smirk. “Is that how you got Abbot?” you asked slyly.

Her cheeks had pinked, but she smiled. “That is exactly how I got Abbot,” she responded.

“Robby is a bit different than Abbot, in lots of ways. I think he’s a bit worried I’ll change my mind, which is ridiculous because we haven't even done anything for me to change my mind about,” you grumbled.

“Dr. Robby is more reserved, maybe, but he’s still a man. I would just use that, bend over in front of him, or something,” she had said, eyes focused on the board.

You laughed. Samira was nothing but direct. It was something that you appreciated about her. “I think I’ll wait just a bit longer, I’m sure I’ll think of something, or who knows, maybe he’ll surprise me,” you said.

Samira had looked doubtful about your approach, but your conversation was cut short when Robby called her to assist with a patient.

It all came to a head exactly a month after your conversation with Samira, and four days before you, half the residents, a handful of interns, and most of the attendings were due to be in Boston for a fundraiser gala.

All the months of touching, of longing for Robby’s hands on you, led to now.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down,” you said firmly, attempting to shine your pen light into the man’s eyes.

“I’m not calming down, you need to calm down,” your patient jerked away as he shouted, slurring his words.

He was drunk, so much so that his buddies decided to drop him off outside the ambulance bay, unconscious, for Dana to find on a smoke break.

Now, he was wide awake, and pissed.

“Are you in any pain…” you asked, glancing at his chart, “Mr. Wade?”

“No,” he snapped, rubbing at his arms aggressively. “Get these fucking bugs off me,” he complained loudly, scratching at his arms.

“Bugs?” You said, slightly alarmed. The last thing you needed this week was another lice treatment. It was only Wednesday, and once was enough. You glanced down, but his arms were bug-free, and a quick glance at the rest of him told you so was the rest of his body.

“Yeah, bugs! Jesus fuck lady use your eyes,” he said agressivly, now scratching at his arms so hard blood was starting to appear from unhealed scabs.

“Perlah, get me fifty of Benadryl and two of Lorazepam,” you called to the Filipino nurse. Alcohol induuced hallucinations were common, especially the closer it got to summer.

“On it,” she said, walking away.

“Okay, sir, I am so sorry about those bugs. I’m going to get something to help you calm down and take care of the bugs,” you said, trying to soothe the larger man.

“I told you, I am fucking calm,” Mr. Wade yelled, attemptig to rise from the gurney.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to ease him back down, but that made him angrier. “Get your hands off me dammit, fuck, they are everywhere,” he exclaimed, now wobily standing on his feet. You heard Perlah’s tennis shoes across the room, and a quick yell for security.

“Sir, please sit back, do-”

The larger man cut you off by screaming. “Get them off! Get them off!

“Sir, I’m just trying-” Once again, he cut you off, only this time, he used his weight against you, and pushed into you.

The world went sideways, and you felt the thunk of your head against the linoleum. You had just enough time to cry out in pain before Robby was above you, cradling your head in his hands.

“Don't move,” he said, voice uncharacteristically soft.

“It hurts,” you groaned.

“I need Neuro down here, and order an MRI, no contrast,” Robby barked. You heard the shuffling of feet and Mr. Wade being hauled away.

“How bad does it hurt, one to ten?” Robby asked, shifting so that your head was cradled in his lap.

“Three,” you said, grimacing.

“Don’t bullshit me right now,” Robby said seriously, a shadow passing over his face.

“Five, final answer,” you groaned again.

“Okay, okay, we can work with a five, he said, running his hand over the crown of your head. His lips twitched when you pushed your head further into his hand. “Any blurry vision or spotting?” He asked.

“No, Dr. Robby,” you told him, cheeks heating up. He looked at you like you were going to disappear, and you could see the desperation lurking in his deep brown eyes.

“Robby, they are here to take her up to the MRI,” Dana said, resting a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

Robby closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “Okay, come on, sweetheart, I’ll be here when you get back,” he said gently, helping you up off the floor into a wheelchair.

Your heart fluttered at the nickname. Inconspicuous touching was one thing, but him calling you a term of endearment in front of other people was entirely different.

“I can walk, I’m fine,” you tried to assure your attending.

Robby shook his head. “Nope, you fell and hit your head for Christ’s sake, you could have a concussion. Sit your ass down, and we’ll talk when your neuro work up and MRI is done,” he said, placing a hand on his hip.

You sighed and let the medical assistant wheel you away. You knew a losing battle when you saw one.

Later, after being cleared by neuro and being assured that you did not have a concussion, you walked back into the ED.

Samira found you first. “Well, I said get his attention, but I didn’t think you'd go that big,” she laughed and nudged your shoulder with hers.

You giggled and rolled your eyes. “I can promise that was not the plan, but I guess it worked,” you told her.

“Oh yeah, it worked for sure,” she said, nodding in the direction Robby was approaching. You sucked a breath in at the instense look on his handsome face. “Good luck,” Samira sang before walking away.

“You didn’t come and get me,” Robby stated as he stopped before you.

“I’m fine, no concussion. Neuro even said I could stay for the rest of my shift,” you told him.

He made a sound of disbelief. “Absolutely not,” he said.

You ground your teeth together. You should have guessed he’d be this way. The way he had looked at you when he held your head in his hands…something changed for him. You could see it in his expression now.

“Neuro said-” He held a hand up.

“I don't care what Neuro said; I’m your attending, and you need rest,” he said.

“Is that your professional opinion?” you asked tersely.

He squeezed his eyes shut, took his glasses off, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I mean it, go home, and don’t come back tomorrow. I’ll see you Friday when we fly to Boston,” he said, eyes burning.

“Dr. Robby,” you said, attempting to regain control of the conversation.

“Home,” he said, voice raised.

Your whole body was tense, even when he deflated and reached out to touch your elbow gently. “Please, go home. Rest, it’s going to be a long weekend,” he told you, rubbing gentle circles into your elbow.

It took everything you had to pull away from him. You snatched your arm to your body, and his eyes widened. “Hey, I-”

“I’ll see you Friday, Dr. Robby,” you told him before walking away.

You drove home in silence, and once home, you mechanically removed your scrubs, showered, and crawled into bed. It wasn't even six. You fell face forward into your pillow and screamed. Damn Robby and his big brown eyes. You knew he sent you home because he cared, but it still upset you. You really were fine. Really. You only closed your eyes because your pillow was so soft.

Hours later, your doorbell ringing woke you up. You blinked awake and slipped on your slippers. The doorbell rang again. “I’m coming,” you called. Door-to-door salesmen were the worst in your neighborhood.

“I’m not interested in what-” Your mouth snapped shut when you saw Robby standing on your porch, a bag of takeout in his hand.

“Dr. Robby,” you said primly.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, eyes fond.

“Oh, we are back to sweetheart?” you asked.

Robby grimaced. “I was an ass, but god honey, you scared the hell out me,” he told you, eyes shining.

You felt the tension bleed out of you. “At least you see me now,” you joked weakly.

Robby shook his head. “I’ve always seen you. Always. I-” he cut himself off, pinching his nose in frustration. I got you some food, it's just some soup, but you didn’t eat anything today, so…” he trailed off, offering you the bag.

Your stomach flipped at his observation. “Do you want to come in?” you asked hesitantly.

Robby shook his head jerkily. “No, I shouldn’t, can’t actually, I uh, I have to get home, but I’ll see you Friday,” he said, stepping back.

“Oh. Okay, um. Bye,” you said, closing the door as he turned away.

Once inside, you opened the food container to find warm matzo ball soup. You smiled and brought it into your room to eat. After you ate, it didn’t take long for you to fall back asleep, a smile on your face.

The next day passed in a blur, as you used the unexpected day off to run errands. You picked up your two formal dresses early, made a last-minute hair appointment, and even had time to get your nails done. By the time you got home, you were exhausted. You might not have had a concussion, but the excitement of the previous day, plus the anticipation of Robby seeing you in your gowns, was enough to have you going to bed early.

Friday came early. Your phone rang on your bedside table, and you blindly picked it up. “You're packed and ready, right?” Samira questioned.

“Samira, it is,” you checked the time, “it is seven A.M. Our flight isn’t until one,” you groaned.

“Right, but I wanted to check on you,” your friend told you.

You smiled. “I’m okay. Robby came by after he got off yesterday and brought me food,” you told her.

“Oh my god, shut up,” Samira responded.

“Yeah, don’t get any funny ideas, though. He didn’t stay,” you said.

“Oh, I’m not worried. I know what your dresses look like, he doesn’t,” she said confidently.

You laughed. You and Samira had gone shopping almost immediately after getting your invitations to the gala.

“If you wait until Saturday night, I’ll split the pool with you,” she said kindly.

“The pool,” you exclaimed, laughing.

“Oh yeah, did I not tell you? It's up to about five hundred dollars,” she explained.

“Oh my god, who has bets in?” you wondered, still giggling. You genuinely thought you and Robby had been better at hiding whatever was happening between you.

“Like, everyone. Trinity bet on tomorrow, in the bathroom. I think Jack bet on tonight, but on the balcony or something like that,” Samira said gleefully.

“Abbot bet,” you gasped in between giggles.

“Oh yeah, he was the one who created it,” she told you. You heard murmuring in the background of the call. “He says no pressure, by the way,” she informed.

“I’m hanging up now, I’ll see you both in a few hours, you responded.

After arriving at the airport, you slid onto a bar stool and ordered a drink while waiting for boarding.

“Nervous flyer?” Robby asked, sliding onto the stool beside you.

Your heart rate spiked, glancing at his fingers as he flagged down a waiter.

“Scotch, neat,” he told the man.

It had only been two days since you had seen him, but you had missed him. Robby glanced at you, and your cheeks heated at being caught watching him.

“No, I thought I’d just wind down a bit, it’s going to be a long weekend, after all,” you said, echoing his earlier words.

“Ah, not a bad choice,” he responded, bringing his glass to his lips.

“What about you, Dr. Robby, are you a nervous flyer?” you asked, looking into his eyes as you sipped your drink.

The older man shook his head. “No, not at all. But I think you can call me Robby now, sweetheart. After all these months seeing you watch my hands the way you do, I have a strong hunch it’s what you call me in that pretty head of yours anyway,” he said casually, taking another sip of his scotch.

You sucked a sharp breath in and he smirked. “Well then, Robby, I’ll see you on the plane,” you said, tossing the rest of the drink back as Samira and Abbot approached.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” you told your friend, reaching out to link your arm with hers. “I have to use the ladies' room,” you said, looking Samira in the eyes.

Her eyes sparkled, glancing from your face to Robby’s. “Oh, perfect, me too, we’ll see you guys later,” she said, steering you away from the older men.

“Oh my god, Mira, he’s trying to drive me insane,” you gasped the second the two of you stepped into the ladies' room.

She giggled. “Hopefully, Jack will talk some sense into him,” she said, looking into the large mirror to fix a stray hair.

“God, I can only hope so, because I’m telling you, he started this thing, he can finish it,” you said.

“Oh, it will be finished,” your friend paused to wiggle her eyebrows, “by the end of the weekend, of that I’m sure. Like I said, I know what those dresses look like,” she said.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed her hand. “Come on, I think it’s almost time to board,” you said, dragging her out of the restroom.

You noticed Robby had an empty seat beside him as you boarded, but you just brushed your hand on his shoulder as you passed. You and Samira went for two empty seats a few rows ahead. The two hours passed quickly. It had been a while since you and Samira had uninterrupted time to talk, and it was nice to catch up with her. You didn’t see Robby again until you arrived at the hotel. He was just putting his key card into his door slot when you got off the elevator. He paused and watched as you rolled your suitcase down the hallway, stopping a few doors from where he stood.

He watched you for a moment, multiple emotions flitting across his face as you stood there and stared back.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, Robby,” you said, slipping inside your room.

You sighed happily as you walked in. The hospital was too cheap to hire more nurses, but obviously not too cheap to put all the doctors in a nice hotel. You carefully unpacked your things and hung up your two evening dresses in the closet.

You laid on the bed, sighing as the cool sheets touch your skin. You glanced at your watch, deciding that you had enough time for a quick bath.

You had just wrapped a fluffy towel around your body when your phone lit up with a text from Samira letting you know she, Cassie, Trinity, and Mel were coming to your room to get ready. You had just enough time to slip into your robe before a loud knock sounded on your door. You opened the door, and all four women filtered in, their intermingling conversations filling the ample space in your room.

“Okay!” Samira clapped. “We have two and a half hours to get ready. I,” she paused, pointing to her travel makeup case, “will be in charge of makeup, Cassie is in charge of hair, Trinity is in charge of the tunes, and Mel will assist with hair,” she finished.

“And me,” you asked your best friend.

“You, my gorgeous friend, are in charge of raiding the minibar. If the hospital is dumb enough to pay for a bunch of stressed-out doctors to relax for a weekend, that’s on them,” Samira said, shrugging.

Cassie laughed. “We are here to bag donors, actually,” she said.

Samira waved her hand. “Samantics,” she said as she opened up her makeup case.

Trinity turned the music on, and Cassie got her hair tools plugged in.

You turned to the mini bar, and felt Mel come up next to you. “Do they have juice in there? I don’t really drink,” she explained.

You smiled and pulled out a bottle of sparkling grape juice. “Even better,” you told her. She smiled, and you smiled back.

“Do you think you could do my hair in a twist?” you asked as you poured the drinks.

“Oh, definitely, I can do most basic styles, my sister loves it when I play with her hair, so I have learned all sorts of tricks,” Mel explained as she sipped her drink.

“I love that,” you told Mel.

Two hours quickly passed, and you thought the five of you looked radiant by the time jewelry was being put on.

Trinity was wearing a red, tight fitting dress with a corset top and a small slit in the bottom, Mel was wearing a soft lilac colored dress that had small sleeves, and she had curled her hair. Cassie had straightened her hair and was wearing a deep emerald floor-length gown with a tasteful cut-out in the back. Samira’s dress was a deep, jewel-toned purple with a bust that went straight across.

You stepped out of the bathroom, and Trinity whistled. You were wearing a deep navy, floor-length gown. It had a deep neckline, and it fit you perfectly. “Damn, is it too late to change my bet,” Trinity wondered.

“Yes!” Cassie said emphatically.

You glanced at the older woman, and she shrugged. “It is,” she said.

“Mel, did you bet?” you asked, giggling.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But I think Frank did. Oh, I was going to meet him downstairs to look at the garden,” she said, grabbing her bag.

“I actually brought Mateo as my plus one, and he’s waiting in our room,” Cassie confessed.

The other two women made similar comments, Trinity saying that she wanted to find Yolanda, and Samira saying she wanted to ‘show Jack something’ before they went downstairs. Your friends trailed out of your room, and Samira turned to face you, the door propped open with her black heel. “You gonna be okay? I can go find Robby and smack some sense into him, bets be damned,” she said, eyes sparkling.

“No, I’m going to go ahead and head to the ballroom. I think I need something to calm my nerves, just a bit,” you laughed.

Samira nodded and paused, looking you in the eye. “You’re going to knock him dead,” she assured you before letting the door shut behind her.

You smiled and turned to look at the floor-length mirror against the wall, smoothing over your dress once more before walking out the door, your wristlet tucked under your arm.

“Fuck,” you heard.

You turned to find Robby staring at you. Even a few feet away, you could see how his eyes darkened. He was wearing a simple, fitted black suit that hugged him in all the right ways.

You smiled and made your way to the elevator, Robby close behind you. You pressed the ballroom button, and Robby stood next to you. “You look, fuck, you look gorgeous, sweetheart,” the older man rasped, hand rubbing as his flushed neck.

You tracked the movement of his hand with your eyes, and he smirked just as the elevator doors opened. You both stepped into the empty elevator, standing side by side, and you watched his expression in the mirrored walls as you reached your pinky out just enough to trace over his larger one.

Robby made a slight noise in his throat before surprising you by grabbing your hand and threading his fingers through yours, his grip firm. “You have no idea, no idea, how much self-control it is taking for me not to press you up against the wall of this elevator,” the older man said, eyes staring into your soul through your reflection.

You sucked a breath in, pulse fluttering wildly as you stared at your intwined hands. His hand practically swallowed yours.

“I read an article once that said letting yourself lose control in a contained environment can be good for self-development.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Self-development?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

Your cheeks heated up. “It’s a real article, I could send it to you sometime,” you said, aiming for casual. You rubbed your thumb against the taller man’s hand, and he made a low sound.

Before he could respond, the elevator opened. You both stepped out, hands still intertwined. He glanced at you. His jaw was clenched, and he was looking at you like he wanted to eat you. He took a deep breath, dropped your hand, and walked away, but not before you noticed the slight tremble in his hands.

Later, after multiple flutes of champagne and more schmoozing than you had anticipated, a younger donor approached you. He looked younger than Robby, though not by much, and had kind eyes. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

Your eyes scanned the room, and when you didn’t spot a particular doctor to come to rescue, you smiled and accepted the stranger’s outstretched hand. “I’d love to,” you told him.

He kept his hands in the appropriate spots, and you talked as you danced. He told you he was from the area, that he was an attending, and that he specialized in cardiac surgery. In return, you told him your hometown, that you were a third-year resident, and that you planned on specializing in emergency medicine.

Pleasant conversation flowed until the song ended, and then you excused yourself to get a glass of water. Samira found you at one of the small tables in the room. “I don’t know what you did, but Robby looks like he’s about to lose it,” she said conspiratorially.

“Huh? I thought he went back up to his room. I haven’t seen him in an hour,” you told your friend.

She shook her head. “Nope. He’s been down here the whole time, see,” she said, pointing over to a shadowy corner where Robby was talking to an older woman in a mauve dress.

You looked over and felt your knees go weak at the way he was looking at you. His eyes glinted in the ballroom's low light, and his jaw was clenched. His hands were balled into loose fists, and you could see them twitching occasionally.

“I danced with a potential donor, but it was all very PG,” you assured your friend when you saw the look on her face.

“Well, I guess that was enough to make the green monster come alive in Robby. Look alive,” she said before slipping away. Just as the live band was getting ready to play a new song, you looked up and saw Robby making his way across the room.

It was the second to last song of the night, and Robby practically swept you into his arms. “Dance with me,” he demanded, voice low. You nodded rapidly and let your hands fall into position just as he wrapped a firm hand around your waist. “Having fun,” the older man asked, voice laced with double meaning.

You ignored his jealousy and fluttered your eyelashes at him. “I am, Robby, are you?” you asked innocently.

“Oh yeah, lots. Meeting up with old acquaintances, enjoying the free champagne, watching you look for me while another man’s hands were on you, all hallmarks of a great evening,” he said.

“I thought you left, but I’m glad you didn’t,” you confessed, squeezing his hand lightly. Some of the fire in his eyes died down at your confession.

“I wouldn’t have left without telling you, sweetheart,” the older man said as he spun you around.

“Good, I was hoping to get at least one dance out of you before the night was over,” you admitted.

“Do my hands feel better than his?” Robby asked as he squeezed your hip.

“Robby,” you gasped as he pulled you closer.

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he told you.

“Yes, a thousand times better, I only ever want your hands on me,” you groaned.

“Damn straight,” he said before pulling you in for a kiss.

You gasped, and he gripped you harder, letting his big hands fan over your hips.

He seemed to possess you, mind, body, and spirit, and you let out a tiny moan when he pulled away.

“I know our friends are going to a bar, but I suggest you go up to bed and go to sleep for the night, because the second you step out of this ballroom, there is a very strong possibility that I won’t be able to control myself,” he growled.

Your breath came out quicker, and you let yourself lean into him. “What if I don’t want you to control yourself?” you asked, voice low.

He shook his head. “Because I promised Gloria two full nights of ass kissing, and God only knows we need whatever resources she is going to send the ED’s way if I fulfill that promise,” he explained, eyes never leaving yours.

“Well then, in that case,” you said, pulling away, “ I’ll just take care of myself.”

Before you could entirely pull away, he pulled you flush against him, and you could feel the outline of him pressed against your hip. “You just love testing my patience, don’t you?” he groaned into your hair.

“It’s quickly becoming one of my favorite pastimes, yes,” you quipped. He groaned again and pressed a single kiss to the space below your ear.

“Go, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, releasing you.

You grabbed his hand, placed a chaste kiss on his palm, and walked away.

When you got to your room, you fell back on the plush bed and squealed. “Holy shit,” you said into the empty room. It took way less time to undo the evening's preparation than it did to do them, and soon you slipped under the cool sheets. You knew you’d be too wound up to sleep, but it didn’t hurt to try. Right before you closed your eyes, you pulled your phone out and sent Robby the article you had referred to earlier in the night, in the elevator.

The next morning, it was your turn to wake Samira up.

“Wha?” She mumbled.

“Good morning to you, too!” You laughed.

“Too early,” she complained.

“What, did Abbot keep you up all night?” you asked.

“Something like that. I made him come twice last night,” she said, voice smug.

“She did not need to know that,” you heard Abbot complain.

“That’s actually pretty impressive, on account of him being an old man,” you teased.

You heard him mumble something. “He said, just wait, you’ll understand,” she giggled.

Your face heated up just thinking about Robby. “The girls want to go shopping,” you told her, attempting to change the subject.

“Don’t think you are out of talking about whatever happened last night. I can be ready in fifteen,” she told you.

Later, after a nice breakfast and a pit stop at a cute coffee house, the five of you wandered around the shopping district.

“Jack told me about a lingerie shop I wanted to stop by. It’s supposedly higher-end stuff, but well worth it,” Samira said, switching her armful of bags to her other arm.

“I could use some new panties,” Mel agreed.

Trinity made a face. “Mel, you know I love you, but please just say underwear,” she said.

“Panties is not a bad word,” Mel responded, glancing at Trinity when the younger woman made another face.

“I think that sounds great, it’s been a while since I’ve splurged on myself,” Cassie interjected.

“And you need something for Robby,” Samira said, pointing the group in the right direction.

“You guys are horrible,” you said, a smile on your face. “I don't even know if anything is going to happen,” you said, trying to tamp down the excitement of the thought of Robby seeing you undressed.

“Please, we all saw that kiss last night,” Trinity said, sipping her iced coffee.

“It was a nice kiss,” Mel said kindly.

“It was a nice kiss, thank you, Mel. And it was just a kiss,” you told your friend ass you walked into the small shop.

“I’ll believe that only if the pool goes uncollected,” Samira said seriously.

“Hello ladies,” the shop attendant said, smiling. “Are you looking for anything in particular?” she asked.

“Yes!” Cassie said. “Our friend here needs something that will blow her man's mind. Her older man,” she emphasized.

“I see,” the woman said brightly.

“I just want something nice,” you shrugged, cheeks warm from your friend’s encouragement. “My dress is a deep wine color, if that helps,” you supplied.

“It does, I have a few sets in mind. Ladies, my associate Angela will help you while I help your friend here,” the woman said.

Thirty minutes later, you stepped out of the secluded changing room, cheeks pink as your friends whistled at you. There was no such thing as modesty with ER doctors. A jet black teddy clung to your body, with a single thin ribbon settled between your cheeks.

“Girl, if you don't buy that and send that man a picture, I’m going to do it for you,” Trinity threatened.

“You could always send him that one, but buy a different one to surprise him,” Mel suggested.

“Ooh, send him three different ones, so then it’s really a surprise,” Cassie said, sipping her coffee.

“Oh, that’s good too,” Mel agreed, nodding.

Samira held out the next set for you to try on with a smirk.

“That might give him a heart attack before I get to kiss him again,” you joked as you slipped the teddy off behind the curtain. (but not before taking a picture).

“He’s surrounded by doctors,” he’ll be fine,” Cassie said, giggling.

You stepped back out, feeling more confident as your friends cheered. You wore a sheer, white lace suit with matching thigh highs and garters attached.

“Oh, that one is beautiful,” Mel said, her cheeks matching yours.

“If that doesn’t make him lose his mind, I don't know what will,” Trinity agreed.

“One more,” Samira sang, dangling the hanger at you.

You snapped a nice picture before shimmying into the next one, a deep red slip that had lace detailing on the breasts and a slit through the delicate chiffon.

“That one is great, but it’s up to you,” Samira said.

You nodded and slipped back into the booth to snap a quick picture and change back into your clothes.

“We have enough time to get lunch before we head back to get ready,” Mel pointed out as the five of you walked out of the shop, arms even more weighed down with bags.

“Good, I’m starving,” Trinity said, groaning.

You: Attachment: three photos

You watched as the three bubbles appeared and then disappeared.

Samira laughed at her phone from across the table. “Jack said he dropped his phone,” she said.

You smiled.

Robby: What the fuck is that

You: I tried a few things on, do you not like them?

The bubbles appeared and then disappeared. Then, repeated the process.

Robby’s name flashed across your screen a few seconds later, signaling a call.

“Shit, he’s calling,” you said, standing up.

“Go! You better answer that thing,” Cassie told you with a grin.

You rushed to the bathroom and stuffed yourself in a stall before hitting the answer button.

“Hello?” you asked breathlessly.

“Sweetheart,” Robby groaned.

“Hi,” you said softly.

“Hi? That’s all I get after you show me how pretty you are all wrapped up in lace,” he asked.

You laughed, but he continued. “You wear one of those tonight, and I guarantee my hand will end up making a necklace around your throat,” he growled.

“Robby,” you gasped, a flash of heat going through you at his words.

“Babygirl, I can promise you, when I get my hands on you tonight, they aren’t leaving your body until you are begging me to stop,” he promised darkly.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered.

“Now, back to lunch. I’m going to take care of a little problem that you created. I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart,” he said before hanging up.

You cursed and let your head fall back against the stall. How did a few innocent touches end up with your attending spewing filth at you over the phone? You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You sighed and rubbed your thighs together briefly before returning to your friends.

Hours later, after going through the hair and makeup process once again, the five of you were ready. Mel had already left to find Langdon and looked beautiful in her soft pink, floor-length halter dress. Cassie had left not long after, her long black dress trailing after her.

Samira was putting the finishing touches on your makeup as Trinity quickly straightened her hair.

“I know we have been teasing,” your best friend started, brushing lipstick over your lips. “But whatever happens, or doesn’t, it’s clear to everyone that Robby cares for you,” she said, pulling back. She looked radiant in a light green mermaid dress. Jack Abbot was a lucky man.

“True,” Trinity agreed. “Even though I’m salty about not winning, you guys are obviously over the moon about each other,” she said, setting the straightener down. She stunned in a royal blue dress with a slit in the side, very similar to her dress the night before.

You checked yourself over one last time, fixing a stray hair as you looked over your wine-red gown. It had a soft neckline and a slit in the thigh.

“Should we walk down together? I think the attendings are already down there,” Samira said as she grabbed her purse off the bed.

“Absolutely, " you said, taking hold of Trinity’s hand. The younger girl smiled and rolled her eyes fondly.

Once in the ballroom, Trinity made a beeline for Yolanda, while you and Samira went to the open bar.

“Two glasses of Merlot,” you told the bartender.

“You think I might have to give Jack mouth-to-mouth when he sees the thong I bought?” your friend said, smirking into her wine glass.

“It’s in the realm of possibility,” you laughed as you searched the large room for Robby. You spotted him before he spotted you. He and Abbot were both in deep conversation with a group of donors, and you admired how animated he was. He was laughing and waving his hand in the air, clearly in the middle of a story.

You sipped your wine as you watched him, and then, as if sensing your eyes on him, he looked up. He stopped midsentence before catching himself and resuming his conversation, glancing at you occasionally as he spoke.

An older woman approached you, and you lost track of Robby as you talked. The music started, and you were pulled into a dance with a much older gentleman, whom you delighted with stories from the ER. The night went on much the same, and you kept a genuine smile on your face as you talked and danced with prospective donors. You were having fun at the hospital's expense, but securing the funding your department desperately needed was still important. You caught Robby’s eyes from across the room once more as he danced with a donor, who was obliviously chattering away at him while he stared at you. His eyes were heavy, and you could see the fire in them as he danced.

You snatched a flute of champagne from a passing tray, mouth suddenly dry.

The song ended, and you felt yourself going to him, as if drawn by a magnet.

He caught you by the hips as you fell into him.

“I’ve been watching you, sweetheart,” he murmured into your ear as the next slow song started.

“Yeah?” You asked breathily.

“I’ve been so damn hard all night, watching you be so good and talking to everyone, I’ve seen the way the others have been looking at you. Have you felt their eyes on you?” he asked as he dipped you.

You whimpered at his praise. “No, I’ve only been watching you,” you confessed like a prayer.

Robby’s mouth twitched, and he pulled you closer. “I can’t stop thinking about how wide your eyes are going to get when I finally get my hands on you,” he whispered roughly into your ear.

You moaned softly, and he squeezed your hip. “I think it’s time for us to go, don’t you think?” he asked, eyes full of desire.

You nodded your head as the music came to a stop. He grabbed your hand and practically swept you off your feet, leading the two of you to the bathrooms.

He crowded you into the empty bathroom, hands already squeezing your hips.

“What about Gloria?” you asked with a gasp.

“Fuck Gloria, Jack can handle the donors, he owes me one,” Robby said as he tangled his hand in hair. He gently pulled your neck back to attach his lips, and you groaned as he sucked a mark into the tender flesh.

“Robby, please, don’t make me wait,” you begged.

The older man moaned lowly and pressed himself against you, moaning again when his cock made contact with your hip. “I’m done waiting, sweetheart. Watching you tonight made me lightheaded, and I barely had a single sip of alcohol. Fuck,” he groaned, hand tugging at your hip, trying desperately to bring you closer.

“Please, I want to touch you,” you whined.

“Not here,” he said, pulling away. You whined at the loss of contact, and he took your smaller hand in his. “The first time I get my mouth on you is not going to be in a bathroom, no matter how nice it is,” he said, pulling your body back against him.

“Take me to bed, Dr. Robby,” you said, looking up at him.

Robby shuddered. “That has no business being that sexy,” he said, sticking his head out of the bathroom, hand never leaving yours.

“Come on, if I don't have you naked under me in the next ten minutes, I might not be able to be held responsible for what happens,” the older man said, tugging you along to the elevator.

Once safely behind the elevator doors, Robby pressed you into the wall and gently peeled away the strap of your dress, revealing the white lace that lay underneath.

“Goddamn babygirl, you’re trying to kill me,” he said, pulling your dress down further to wrap two think fingers around a nipple, causing you to cry out.

“Robby!”

He pulled back to look into the eyes. “When I have my mouth on you, or you’re in my bed, it’s Michael. Let me hear you say my name, pretty girl,” he said, pinching.

“Michael,” you groaned as he attached his mouth to your other nipple.

“That’s it, let me hear you,” he encouraged against your skin.

Just as you cried out, the elevator came to a halt, and Robby quickly covered you back up. You stepped out first and wrapped a finger around two of his thicker ones, leading him to his room. He fumbled for the key card before inserting it and shoving you inside the room, lips on yours.

“I could kiss you for hours, sweet girl,” he moaned into your mouth.

“Just kiss me?” You asked as you pulled his tie off.

“I’m going to do more than kiss you, of that I can assure you,” he said darkly as he rid himself of his jacket and undershirt.

“Turn around,” he murmured. You did as he said, and he slowly pulled the zipper down the back of the dress, his breaths coming out in harsh pants. Your dress fell to the floor, and just like that, his hands were finally on you.

He ripped the panties right off your body, and you cried out in surprise.

“Those were new,” you gasped as he pressed you against the bed.

“I’ll by you another set, shit, I’ll by you four,” he said as he attached his lips to your skin.

“You want to know why I didn’t come in when I brought you dinner?” he asked, running his hands along your body.

“Why,” You whimpered as he sucked a mark onto your breast.

“Because I knew the second I got my hands on you, I’d never want to take them off,” he said, rubbing his beard against your sensitive skin. His hand went lower, and your fingers gripped his bare shoulders as he ghosted his fingers over your core.

“I need, fuck, I need,” you whimpered as the older man ran his fingers along theoutside of your lips.

“Tell me, tell me what you need, honey. I’ll give you anything you want,” Robby cooed against your lips as he stroked your core.

“You, your fingers. Your fucking pants off,” you cried in frustration, tugging at the older man’s dress pants. He breifly pressed his thumb to your clit and you cursed as he pulled away, divesting himself of his pants, underwhere, and sock.

He crawled back onto the bed and propped himself up so he was eye level with your pussy.

“Fuck I can’t wait to taste you,” he groaned as he threw one of your egs over his shoulders. The very next second, his tongue was pressing into you. His big hands held you open as he tasted your slick.

“Michael,” you gasped, hand flying to hold onto his hair. Robby groaned into you and slid one long finger into you.

“You taste so fucking good honey, you’re doing so good for me,” he praised.

“Fuck, fuck,” you screamed, arching into his mouth.

Before you could catch your breath, he slid another finger, causing you to moan at the stretch.

“More,” you begged, pleading.

“So fucking greedy for me,” he growled as he slid a third finger inside of you. “Come on, sweetheart, just give me one and I’ll give you what you want,” Robby said into your skin. He curved his fingers just right, and you arched off the bed, mouth shaped in an O as you silently screamed.

His lips were instantly on yours, and you gasped into his mouth at the taste of yourself on his lips.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby girl, you think you’re ready for me?” he asked, teasing his tip over your entrance.

“I need it,” you panted, hair stuck to your forehead with sweat.

He leaned down and kissed you one more time before pushing in as gently as he could.

“So big,” you gasped into his shoulder.

“Shh, just breathe, baby, you can take it,” he soothed.

After what felt like forever, he bottomed out, and you gasped, walls fluttering.

“Fuck, I need-” You felt his whole body twitch. “I need just a second,” he groaned.

You whined and wiggled your hips.

“Michael, please,” you begged, tears forming at your waterline.

He cursed, and his hips reflexively twitched against yours.

“I’m not going to last if you keep doing that,” he warned.

You clenched around him, and he huffed out a laugh before pulling almost all the way out, before quickly pressing back in.

“Fuck! Please, more. Michael, I need more,” you gasped as the tears fell.

“Shh, I have you, baby, just let go and feel,” he said before setting a brutal pace.

You cried out as the tip of his cock hit that spongey spot inside you.

Robby didn’t let up, groaning when you scratched down his back.

He pulled your leg up to rest against his hip, and you screamed at the change in angle.

“I feel so full, oh my god,” you whimpered..

“You’re taking me so fucking well honey, fuck, you should see yourself. Next time I’m fucking you in front of the mirror so you can see how pretty you are when you fall apart,” Robby mumbled, almost to himself.

“Michael, I’m close,” you gasped, clutching his arms.

“I love you, fuck do I love you” he gasped, snapping his hips.

“Michael,” you said, eyes wide and full of emotion as you fell apart under him.

“Come on, sweetheart, come for me, let me feel you squeeze me,” he begged, eyes desperate.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered. Robby leaned down, pressed his lips to yours, and gently wrapped his hand around your throat, applying just the slightest pressure.

You saw white as your orgasm tore through you, and Robby groaned loudly, hips stilling as he spilled into you. The older man fell forward, landing next to you. You shivered, and he pulled you closer, arranging you so your head was on his chest. He wrapped his arm around you, and you relaxed into his embrace. You both lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow.

“Did you mean it?” you asked softly, some time later,

He turned to look at you, and you grimaced at the sticky feeling between your legs.

“I did, and you don’t have to.”

“I love you, too,” you said, cutting him off with a kiss.

He melted against you and pulled you closer. “I’m so glad,” he confessed against your lips.

“Will you shower with me?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“Of course, let’s get cleaned up, sweetheart,” he said, helping you stand, gently laughing when your legs didn’t hold you.

“I have you, honey, come on,” he said before scooping you up into his strong arms.

The next morning, as you and Robby boarded the plane, you made eye contact with Abbot and slightly nodded at him. He smirked and whispered to Samira, who stood up from her seat to loudly annouceto the plane, “Jack won the pool, suck it losers!”

Half the plane groaned while Robby simultaneously looked at you with confusion. “What pool? These fuckers bet on us?!”

#dr robby #michael robinavitch #robby robinavitch #robby robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby smut #the pitt #the pitt smut #smut

229 notes · View notes

eeuni · 2 days ago

Text

what was i made for? ❀ b.e

fluff, depression, relapses, ed, sh, childhood memories

billie came home; the sixth time she'd come home this late. it was almost 4 a.m. and she assumed you'd be asleep in bed, waiting for her. her steps were vague, trying to see through the darkness of the house where she was walking. she noticed the television on, the large couch with its back to her.

when billie approached to turn it off while yawning, she noticed a figure lying right there. her heart nearly leaped out of her chest, but she soon realized it was you. wait—what were you doing here?

"baby?" your girlfriend's voice reached your ears, yet you didn't move.

maybe you were too sad to react to anything anyone said, or your mind no longer knew it was real. you had recently visited your childhood home, yes, the one that still haunted your dreams. you went alone, without billie, you hadn't dared to ask her to accompany you because she seemed too busy, going back and forth to the studio or to meetings.

the only thing that came to mind and stuck like a stake were those letters that were in a box under your bed, names of relatives on each one. they were the kind of letters you only write when you slowly put hundreds and hundreds of pills in your mouth to end your misery.

it seemed unreal until today the way you had treated yourself, cutting your skin, stopping eating to become lighter than a feather like in your childhood. maybe that was the whole point of what you did in the past, to feel like a little girl again. hurt, fragile, maybe, just maybe someone seeing you like this would take care of you.

but not even the ghost of your mother appeared there to hold you, and that was something you would always carry with you.

billie noticed your open eyes, you weren't asleep, you were motionless, your eyes dry with no tears left to cry. her heart ached, the few times she had seen you after you had returned from your childhood home she had seen you discouraged, and every time she tried to ask the alarm went off to go to the studio. she felt a guilt weighing on her soul, even more so when she noticed a plate of food on the coffee table.

the same plate of food she served you before leaving without warning. the food was in its place, you hadn't even taken a bite. but how would you do it? how could you eat with such profound sadness occupying every space in your body, including your stomach?

"baby, please talk to me." your girlfriend sat next to you, right where your legs were. "i know you're not asleep."

you were a little more hurt by the way billie spoke, you could tell she was tired with her yawns.

her hand rested on your waist, caressing it gently. that was the action that made you burst into tears, so simple but so full of love that you couldn't believe it. you trembled slightly, hiding your sobs in your hoodie. you didn't want her to see you cry, you didn't want to agree with her that you were so bad that you couldn't be alone.

"can you stop pretending for a moment?" she asked, not firmly or harshly, but gently, wanting to help you open up to her. "come give me a big hug, sweet girl."

with that you got up from your place, loud whimpers coming out of your mouth you were able to approach billie hiding your head in her neck. it's been so long since she hugged you like this.

she did nothing but stroke your back, humming a soft song to help calm you down.

you couldn't be mad at her, not when you were the one who had kept everything to yourself. it was like blaming a baby for crying. you stay there, on her neck, your lower lip constantly trembling. you felt weak; you hadn't eaten anything in a few days, which only made you feel worse. you wanted to talk...to tell billie everything that was bothering you, but now you couldn't, even looking at her was difficult.

"baby, you're shaking too much," she whispered, very worried. she slowly pulled you away, noticing how you looked.

you looked over at the piece of furniture where the television was. pictures of yourself as a child were there. you were dying to show them to billie, but she'd been very busy.

"did you eat, angel?" that question made you look at her. you could tell billie the truth or lie. your heart sank and you denied it. "nothing? why, love?"

"i wasn't hungry." was the first thing you said. she looked at you as if you were lying. "it's true, i'm not hungry, billie."

she remained silent for a few seconds, stood up slowly —not before giving you a kiss on the forehead and making you comfortable on the couch— and grabbed the untouched plate of food.

your girlfriend came into the kitchen, serving some food you two had in the fridge after giving the other to shark, she heated it up quickly and brought it to you. you looked at her as if she had placed a very heavy weight in front of your eyes. she sat back down, grabbing the fork and with little food on it she brought it up to your mouth.

you didn't open your mouth.

"billie, i don't—" billie interrupted you.

"please." she begged you, her eyes slightly covered by some hairs from her bangs. "i know you don't want to, my baby, but you have to eat, okay?" she tried again to bring the fork closer.

it took you a while to open your mouth but you did it anyway, the food invaded your palate and you let out a sigh as you chewed. you closed your eyes for a moment, convincing yourself that you were doing this for billie and for yourself.

"there you go, my sweet angel." she took your hands, caressing them. "i'm so proud of you for trying."

you wanted to cry again, but this time you didn't. Instead, you threw yourself into your girlfriend's arms again, closing your eyes tightly, as if what you were experiencing was a bad dream. she placed her hands on your waist, placing you on her lap, rocking you gently like a baby. you could feel her breath on your forehead.

"it's all right, i got you."

you felt a little better, but that feeling was mild. you still felt a deep wound in your soul, a desire to ask billie why she didn't stay a little longer before going to the studio. you looked up, conflicted with your own thoughts.

"why did you leave without warning?" you whispered.

billie seemed to tense for a moment, her mind filling with guilt. maybe if she had paid more attention to you, you wouldn't be like this.

"finneas called me, told me i had to come quickly to hear something new he had." she replied, caressing your left cheek. "but anyway, sorry for leaving so quickly. i missed you."

the last thing she said made you feel a little —just a little— better, you couldn't stay mad at this woman, not when the look on her face looked so real, so guilt-ridden.

you got up from her arms without saying anything else, she became a little desperate at losing the physical contact she had with you a few seconds ago.

"where are you going, babe?—" you didn't answer her question.

your barefoot steps echoed in the large house you two shared. you reached the furniture where the television was and grabbed a couple of photos of yourself. not just any kind of photos, but photos from when you were just a baby. the same ones you brought from your childhood home. you sat back down, now next to billie, and passed her the photos.

the first photo was on your 5th birthday, you were sitting in a chair in the kitchen of your house, your hair in a simple ponytail, the cake in front of you, you blowing out the candles. the second was you in the park, your little hands trying to catch a pink balloon, your expression full of life. the third photo was one of your right eye, next to a dandelion flower, your favorites, the brightness of your eyes in the sun only stood out more, a vivid color. the fourth photo was where you were lying face down on the floor, a dollhouse decorated with recycled things, your hands holding a barbie. you were looking straight into the camera, laughing.

each photo stayed stuck in billie's soul, her eyes stung, she wanted to cry. the tips of her fingers traced your small figure in each photo; the world in her mind had stopped. you remained silent, nervously playing with your hands.

"i see myself there and isee myself today. i don't really know what to do with myself, billie." you started. she looked up, her eyes watery. "i didn't want to worry you. i feel like you're not made for this, so i didn't say anything. i didn't want to burden you with this. you have a whole life out there waiting for you."

you started crying again, this time billie did too. she pulled you into her arms, desperate, making you want to feel her love for you.

"don't say that. you'd never be a burden in my life, but rather the person who helps me bear the full weight of what the world expects of me." billie sobbed. "you don't know how good it feels to have you around, you're the only thing i look for when the world stops seeing me through a screen."

tears remained impregnated in billie's chest.

"i don't know how to feel, billie." you confessed.

"you don't have to solve this now, okay baby?" she stroke your hair, she was trying to convince herself that she was okay so she could hold you.

but the truth is that you two felt the same, so you decided to hug each other and cry together.

"sorry i wasn't there." your girlfriend grabbed your face, asking you—or rather, begging you—to forgive her.

"it's okay, bils, i love you. i'm sorry for keeping all this to myself." you let out a slightly bitter laugh, wiping away your tears.

she held you tighter, shark jumped onto the couch with one of his toys to play, but the dog quickly noticed something was wrong. "oh, shark." you whispered, calling him to lie on top of you.

the dog came quickly, lying on your lap, his expression sad now. you petted him, letting him know everything was okay.

that one day you would remember how to be happy.

"do you want to watch a movie?" your girlfriend asked softly, noticing that you were calmer, your breathing soft against her neck, tears now dry on your cheeks.

you nodded slightly, she stood up so she could look for the remote, but not before putting that photo of you playing with a barbie next to one of her photos when she was little. in her photo, she was playing with another barbie, the photos were so similar.

you smiled softly at that, billie sat down next to you again, pulling you closer. she put on any barbie movie, the first one that came out.

billie, you and shark were lying on the couch, hugging each other, watching the movie. everyone felt less heavy for you, even for your girlfriend. after a few minutes you both started laughing like little girls watching the movie scenes. you looked at the beautiful woman at your side, stealing a kiss on her cheek.

"thanks, bils." you whispered.

her eyes connected with yours, she looked at you full of love, so much that it touched your soul.

"you don't have to thank me for loving you, baby girl."

you two moved closer, joining your lips in a sweet kiss, leaving aside your problems, even your uncertainties. being like this with billie made you feel more than good, she was perhaps your only medicine.

forever.

"finch, i think i have the idea." billie smiled.

despite all the pain she suffered and not only her but also you, she was now in the studio, the hairs of her bangs all over her face, it was night, but she had already thought about the idea.

"about the barbie song?" he asked, turning around and stopping playing the piano.

she nodded, showing him the whole idea. the song, the reflection of barbie's life, the uncertainty. and she wrote everything from barbie's point of view, but also from yours.

"...something i'm made for." your girlfriend's smile was evident, her —now— red roots decorating the small pink baby tee she wore.

it had been a while since you'd disconnected from yourself. billie made it clear to finneas that even though she had all the inspiration in the world, she needed to take care of you. he quickly understood. she stopped disappearing in the morning, she started singing to you every night so you could sleep, helping you face your fears or questions, she truly accompanied you.

you were able to feel better, you started accompanying billie to the studio which only made her more inspired. she showed you her lyrics, the ideas she had and she asked you if it was okay to be inspired by you.

you felt honored, happy to be that bridge that connected billie to the peak of her creativity. when she finished the song, you were the first to hear it. you cried a lot, feeling something inside you healing.

your childhood.

they had given it back to you. billie had given it back to you.

you stood up, clapping proudly, your eyes filling with tears. everyone behind you stood up, causing a standing ovation.

(...)

"of course, you know...i've had a lot of inspiration from barbie, not just her, for sure." billie explained to the interviewer, moving her hands.

staring at you.

"i couldn't have made this song without...you know, my girlfriend— i don't know, it's all easier if i write from someone else's perspective."

applause was heard, you smiled, remembering the photos of you and billie when you were little girls playing with barbies.

that song honestly saved your life.

billie saved you too.

153 notes · View notes

steviebbboi · 2 days ago

Note

For your celebration, I would like to make a request 💙

Steve Rogers. Soulmate AU. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Go wild, hon!!! And congrats!! 🎉🎉

The Heart and the Head (Captain America/Steve Rogers x F!Vigilante!Reader)

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Captain America x F!RogueVigilante!Reader

W/C: 5.2k~

Prompt(s): Soulmate AU, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Summary: Finding your soulmate was always a dream for other people. But certainly not for you and Steve. It’s too bad that fate had other plans.

A/N: Well, lads, and my special lad @justagirlinafandomworld - this is a long time comin'. This ask was sent by the lovely Yvette back in September for my 200-follower writing challenge. It only took the new year and 100 followers later - im so sorry. The writing muse really left my soul after publishing my challenge and it was just terrible timing. Hoping the cosmos will bless me with more energy to write as I love interacting with you all on here, feel so grateful to have a community on here, and also because I still love to write for our bb Steviee Rogers. Hope this won't disappoint too much! Yvette, thanks for sending in this ask and hoping all has been well with you, lovie~

*Soulmate AU where people who have soulmates develop their soulmate’s heart rate on the inside of their wrists. It’s a light gray color that just slightly glows and when you touch it, it can fade but eventually comes back. When they meet for the first time/find each other, the heart rate burns slightly and becomes a permanent tattoo on their wrist. Doesn’t fade but turns into a faded black tattoo.

Warnings: 18+ due to explicit language, angsty, Reader has powers that are mildly descriptive, sorta cliff hangar-y-(ish) but can be considered complete. Mild violent fight scenes and descriptions of theft/policework/etc.

Steve hasn’t ever given too much stock on finding his soulmate. To be honest, he never had the time to truly think about it.

He knew that it would be aimless to try and find ‘them’, wherever ‘they’ may be out there.

Even before the serum’s transformation, Steve was committed to enlisting– to contribute to keeping his country safe. It wasn’t fair for him to put his soulmate in a position to wait for him, only to find that he likely would never return from a war that was dead set on taking away lives to give more lives a chance.

Even when he fell for Peggy, even though they both knew that they weren’t rightfully each other's' ‘other half,’ he thought that maybe his fears surrounding love would end with her. But ultimately, his fears still came true. She was kept waiting for 90 years only for him to return to her, not dead, but heartbreakingly unchanged– forced to level with an incompatibility that went beyond not sharing the same heartbeat.

Even with this knowledge, Steve celebrated the privilege of having his soulmate’s heart rate glow on his wrist. Not many people would develop the mark – he was surprised to see it still beating strong too when he woke from the ice. The knowledge that he was meant to be in this modern era oddly satisfied his deep seeded curiosity about his soulmate, not enough to go and find ‘them’, but enough where he was admittedly comforted by the jagged lines still running past his humming veins.

Despite not seeking ‘them’ out, seeing that mark was the only thing that he felt that he had to grasp onto sometimes. It felt familiar and felt like home.

One brush across his wrist was enough for him to start his day but ‘they’ never preoccupied his thoughts for too long lest he wanted to bring himself a shot of angst in the beginning of his day.

But he couldn’t help the stray thoughts that would come sometimes when the day would be too idle. What did ‘they’ look like? They say that your soulmate smells like the scents that attract you the most. Would ‘they’ smell like fresh ambrosia? The potency of a fresh summer day? These questions stalked Steve when the days ran long and the nights became darker by each hour. Suppressing them became harder the more that he carried his mantle as Captain America.

Witnessing his team, feeling the camaraderie, even seeing Tony and Pepper just reminded him of what he was truly living for– he wanted to serve and protect. He just never gave thought about himself, or to consider building his own life personally until after the blip. As everyone frantically looked for others and found them again, he realized the importance of being someone other than Captain America…of being important to someone. His soulmate.

But how could he place his soulmate into a position to cope with the fact that he’s not just Steve Rogers.

“Captain Rogers, an alert has just been registered within the parameters that you’ve previously requested.” The dulcet tones of FRIDAY’s Irish brogue interrupted Steve’s daydreaming.

Steve’s heart thundered in his chest in anticipation, “Thank you, FRIDAY.” More alert than ever, he pressed a few keys on his desktop to pull up a live feed of one other thing that seemed to preoccupy his mind lately.

One thing that did come out of the Accords was that they’ve learned to finally listen. More than ever, Steve understood how important the Avengers needed to be mindful of reparations after their dangerous missions. Civil liberties should include repairing what was ruptured, and so, more efforts have gone into not only world-saving missions but also local crimes.

There was a new vigilante on scene– every time that he’s sent an agent to apprehend said Enhanced, they seem to always slip right through their fingers.

Until today.

Steve watched the masked vigilante calmly center themselves in the middle of the armed room – and with a gallant wave, the contents of the room that once sparkled expensive jewels and gems vanished leaving stark, blank empty display shelves.

The robber’s face flashing a grainy smirk through the lens of the video, with one last wave of their hand, they disappear from view as if they were never even there.

Watching the feed one more time, Steve couldn’t help but release his own smaller smirk at witnessing the thief in the act once more. FRIDAY promptly pulled up news headlines next to the feed to reveal in huge bold font:

“Brooklyn’s ‘Heart’ Makes Its Mark: Stolen Gems Become Jewels for the Local Community”

The Heart of Brooklyn. Steve had to hand it ‘em – it's not a bad name for the local hero. Certainly wouldn’t have minded one of those kinds of folks back in his day, could have saved him from getting beaten on so often.

Steve didn’t admonish ‘vigilantes’ as much as long as they carried on to do the right thing. However, the UN doesn’t seem to share that opinion – especially given the Accords. A stipulation that Steve still hadn’t had the time to fully process how he felt about it – this ‘Heart’ person committed crimes to benefit the people around them. The ‘Heart’ protected the people while he protected the world. How could he suddenly and justly prosecute when he was just like them once upon a time?

If he were being honest, Steve held admiration for the vigilante. It didn’t seem like much would be getting in the way of their agenda to bring about their own sense of justice.

Steve sighed as he looked at the official order of arrest for the ‘Heart’ signed and decreed by the state, along with the federal official government seal. A resolve settled in his chest as he did his best to put his unsettled feelings to the side to make space for Captain America. The ‘First Avenger’ who is sent to ultimately carry out and enforce these set of agendas that never seemed to benefit anyone else but the world.

Though, as he geared up later that afternoon to investigate a solid lead, the admiration for this local hero didn’t seem to wane.

Beads of sweat seemed porous as the anxiety-ridden man paced a few feet behind you before coming in close. His destabilizing emotions felt palpable despite the internal processing. The older man did a poor job of concealing his nerves, automatically putting you a bit on edge.

“Seriously, we need to move! It’s been too long– the police are on their way!”

“Oookay, relax, hotshot. I’ve got some scatters in place to lead them in a tizzy for awhile, alright? Just keep an eye on the door fo’me.” You said with a forcibly placating tone that obviously had no effect on the semi-masked man behind you.

You tried to work jobs on your own – it was better that way. Unfortunately, the prospects of this current lead led you to hire the most green man in NYC (as green as a thief could be) – but the score was too good to pass up. Thinking of what, who, and where this money could go was too high of a risk to lose.

Schematics of the building forced you to need a team to watch your six as you tried your hand at cracking the safe. But the poor guy’s nervous rambling and anxious pacing made it so hard for you to focus - you were spending more time calming the man more than getting the job done.

“I’m telling ya, Heart - I think they’re onto us! We need to leave this place before we get caught.” The heat of the man’s breath hit the back of your ear from where you were kneeling. His rattling nerves are practically audible and steaming off of his looming figure, frustration fueled through you with an annoyed eye-roll.

“Listen, Mattie. Mike told me that you were good and that you were the one who wanted to come on this one. You need to calm down, buck up, and do what I need you to do- which is stand over there, keep watch and shut your mouth. Can ya do that?” Pure irritation was the only thing being emoted now in your command.

Mattie released a reluctant sigh as he petulantly stomped back towards his original position to face the windows, finally quiet for once since the entire time that they had reached the location.

“Thank you.” A reverent breath couldn’t help but escape your mouth at the newfound relief in the sudden, yet much needed, quiet.

You were only a few more notches until you would be inside. When you felt the weight of the door give, your lips curved upwards in victory. Tilting the handle, you opened the steel opening…to reveal nothing inside of the safe.

“What the fuck?!” Your thoughts were intrusive and scrambled as your mind tried to process the emptiness in front of you. You were so confused, the intel that you had seemed so solid! Unless…

Your whole body tensed as you stiffly glanced behind you to see Matt, who hadn’t noticed the newfound tension– too preoccupied with his own. He resumed his pacing and was anxiously looking out the window with angsty glances here and there.

Turning back to the empty safe, you mutedly closed the heavy door as quietly as you could before calmly standing up from your posed position.

“Remind me, ‘Mattie’ – what’s the color of the day?” Stoicism and a cold fury radiated off of you in waves, making the man across from you sweat profusely. His face turned pale as he responded dumbly, “Pur–uhm, huh?”

The pallid man’s answer infuriated you even more as your theory just became confirmed. You knew that the cops usually gave each other a code to indicate their undercover status - this guy must be so (ironically) green that he basically gave it away with his anxious pacing and his near-answer.

A fierce growl left your snarled lips, “This is a fucking set-up!” Gathering your duffle in a rushed frenzy, you turned to the revealed, fumbling cop to state, “Tell ‘Mike’ or whoever you actually report to that we’re through, Officer.”

The undercover mess was speed talking his excuses at you as you continued packing your duffle to get out of there when all of a sudden, tear gas canisters splintered through the glass windows. The shards sprinkled everywhere around you as you attempted to flinch away from the shattered pieces.

Quickly crouching down behind a large cabinet, you could distantly see a blur of black tactical uniforms surrounding the darkened warehouse. Trying to control your breathing, you muffled a surprised shriek from hearing the distinctive multiple shouts, “POLICE! FREEZE NOW!”

Your mind was in a frenzy but your body was in a frozen state, until it forcibly stumbled away from you as another canister landed in front of your feet. Releasing a loud curse, you panicked and ran into view. Ignoring the spearing voices shouting different commands, you gave a sharp wave of your hand, coughing up a lung from all the smoke invading your system but achieved your goal by vanishing from their naked view.

Although you had ensured your invisibility, you didn’t account for all of the smoke that was being inhaled, causing your coughing fit to exponentially expand. You also didn’t account for the glass that was suddenly in your face, successfully blinding you as you protected your face from the sudden crash. The brashed cuts of glass caused by the crash landing of something, or rather, someone that you would never have expected to see in the flesh: Captain America.

Attempting to muffle your coughs once more, the visual clarity of the renowned Avenger was hard to miss. His dark blue stealth suit on display and the States stripes in all of its glory had you gobsmacked with your mind running rampant once more.

You didn’t realize that your recent…behaviors would’ve ever caught the attention of someone so high up. The Accords were criminalizing all and any Enhanced beings, but you weren’t hurting anyone! The communities deserve more than what they’re receiving from state and federal governments. There wasn’t enough money, food – people needed help.

For some reason, as you looked at Captain America, the hero that stood for the hearts and wellbeing of others, who stood there scanning the room for his enemy, for you– the hero hunting down those who he swore to protect– a sudden rush of hot indignation filled your entire body.

How dare he stand there? How dare he use his gifts to triumph over the needs of others? How dare he?

A harsh snarl left your lips as your body reacted first, any sense or voice of reason leaving your mind. Your feet were suddenly rushing over to the super soldier, who heard your exclamation as soon as it left your mouth. Steve’s preparedness in your capture heightened his other senses as he listened for your rushing footsteps towards him.

His shield at the ready, and with the smoke in the air aiding his instincts, he looked out for the sudden brush of fog and lept to action in blocking a sudden thunderous blow to his face. In the midst of throwing a vicious punch, ignoring the blinding pain to your fist from the hard metal’s impact, shock settled on your face on how easy it was for him to dodge your advances- but it didn’t stop you. Blind anger fueled in your veins and energy surged through you once more.

You and Steve proceeded to engage in a dangerous dance, with your relentless energy and forceful strikes attempting to land on his physical body. Steve was doing a careful job of listening to the brush of air as you attempted another punch, being attentive to the electric charge that only seems to be apparent when in close proximity with another human being, the swoosh of moving white fog, heavy landing steps of your physical presence.

It became clear that despite you being invisible, your current environment was destined to fail you. Your muscles ached in pain as your breathing became heavier, exhausted panting leaving you even more breathless. After one more lousy and tired punch, Steve’s mindful gaze attested a faint outline of a physical body heightened by the fading smoke in the room. With a determined lock of his jaw, Steve quickly crouched down to land a quick swipe at your legs.

Not expecting the swift move, you yelped in pain as his strong boots connected with your ankles. It was as if you were in slow motion with the way that you landed on your back. Muscles screaming in pain with a sharp ache on the back of your head pulsing in agony. Strength was distancing itself slowly but surely as your vision started fading.

Laying flat on the floor, all you could make out was Steve’s bouldering figure standing over you, and all that left your mouth was a tormented whisper, “Traitor.”

As you passed out, whether from the pain or fatigue from your fighting blows, Steve only furrowed his brows in confusion from hearing your last words. All he knew was that his curiosity for you grew larger as he finally met the Heart of Brooklyn.

Both of you also neglected to pay attention to a telling zap that ran throughout both of your forms the moment that Steve’s body collided with yours. It’s easy to chalk it up to the familiar aches and pains of a fight.

Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.

You came to in the quinjet, the flying saucer already up in the air with the way that you fumbled slightly on the metal bench. Blearily, you looked down to take in the feelings of your arms across your chest and your fists being swaddled in strong, metallic cuffs. The silver wristlets looked like they were made for something stronger than you, that’s for sure. But – they did the trick. With these cuffs on, you weren’t able to access your powers. With another flick of your wrist, you could’ve been invisible from peering eyes and out of these cuffs in a flash.

“Just remain calm, Heart, and there shouldn’t be any issues.” A deep-baritone voice cut through the frenzy of observations running through your mind.

Blinking fiercely through the blurriness of fatigue, your eyes centered on the domineering force that was Captain Steve Rogers. The fury of the past day started to thunder the looming clouds that were your thoughts – feeling stupid is all you could center your anger into.

You felt stupid that you allowed greenies to intervene in today’s mission. You felt stupid that you even trusted the people who decided to come along under the guise of ‘’the cause’’. And, you felt stupid that you even thought that you could take on Captain fucking America in his tight spandex outfit. His limb features and muscular figure were cut like no other. It became clear to you that images of the First Avenger could not compare nor embody the pure visceral power that this dude emotes in person.

Sitting tall and straight, his helmet emphasized his determined blue eyes as they peered over your rigid position only to flit over the jet in wariness. It was like he was waiting for something else to happen with you on the plane, always monitoring.

You couldn’t help the derisive scoff that flew from your mouth, “The forever stiff and vigilant soldier for Big Brother, huh? Psh, pathetic.”

Your comment seemed to break his hard exterior as a tiny glint of– what seemed to be guilt, shined over his cerulean blue eyes. The glint disappeared though as soon as it came in, “Those are some abilities you got there. What else can you do?” The question seemed non-objective, though the curious tilt in his voice made the hint of warning glaze over his voice all the same.

Meeting his warning with your own blaze, you leaned in to whisper tauntingly, “I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

After hours of interrogation from countless federal agents, you were able to exasperate the last one with a long exalted sigh of frustration and the metal door slammed after their departure from the cold, steeled room.

Your hands were still bound together uncomfortably so that your fingers interlocked together, creating the inability for you to snap out of your cuffs. Their analytics team detailed that a wave of your hand is one of the triggers to your abilities…giving you information that they don’t seem to be aware of all of your abilities. And you’d like to keep it that way.

Short of whistling and popping noises with your lips out of boredom, the agency seemed to have given up and have finally sent in the big guns.

Ardently groaning your frustration, “UGH - finally! Captain Rogers, we meet once more. I guess your agents have finally had enough of my poor rendition of Uptown Girl till they put me back onto your plate, huh?”

Just wearing his suit, shield and helmet out of sight, the super soldier still embraced intimidation within itself by just baring his broad shoulders out a bit more as he stood before you. A beige manila folder in his grip as he clasped the belt around his waist.

Trying not to look at the area south of his belt, you distractedly pointed it out, “That looks ominous.”

A slight smirk fell on his pink lips, “It’s meant to be. You got some heart, kid.”

You couldn’t help the weathered chuckle that erupted from your throat, “Wow, you really are as old as they say, huh ‘Cap’?”

Blatantly ignoring your jab, Steve released a resounding sigh as he took the empty metal seat across from you. Setting the folder down with a sharp slap, he proceeded to read out your file.

“What we know so far is your alias being measured by the media as, “the Heart”. Real name- unknown. From what our intelligence could gather, you’re an Enhanced with tactile and perception control—“

“Argh— blah, blah, blah, blah,” you interrupted with an exasperated roll of your eyes, “Just give it to me straight, Captain, what am I looking at?”

If Steve seemed perturbed by your bluntness, he didn’t show it. Only gave you a knowing and understanding look with his eyes, “You may not be looking at anything if you’d just be honest with me. Drop the snark for once and tell me what you want. The Accords are here to protect not just others, but as well as you. I can’t help you do that if you’re hiding underneath all of the smoke and dagger.”

A lump formed in your throat from how compassionate he sounded. If he was being sincere, it was convincing enough to bring a small glisten of tears in your eyes (not that you’d ever let them fall).

With a clenched jaw and a speculative squint, you gazed back at Steve and met his compassion with curiosity. “Why would you want to help me?”

Steve gave you another tired and soft smile, “Why wouldn’t I help you?”

The barriers inside that were locked and solid lowered just a bit at the genuine tone to his voice. You couldn’t help but notice the softening around his eyes, or the long eye lashes that enhanced his stern looking features. But his smile, it felt so open. Suffice to say, it wasn’t what you were expecting from the super soldier that you criticized as a defector.

Feeling your own features soften, your tense posture relaxed unconsciously as you leaned back into the discomfort of the metal chair. The cold parts of your cuff seemed to seep into your skin as you accepted this moment for what it is: a truce.

Steve seemed to catch the moment your guard went down and mirrored your physical ease by leaning back into his own chair. Soft smile and gentle eyes still intact as he cut into the retired silence, “So, all cards on the table. What can I help you with?”

Looking back into his soft gaze, you suddenly felt the air stifle around you and could barely keep eye contact with the man. Your voice was quiet as you spoke, “I only want to help people. While the Avengers are saving the world, there’s barely anyone around to help the world also save itself. Neighborhoods, communities— people are suffering.” Anger fueled through you as your words haunted the steel room, “People are going hungry and no one is doing anything about it. I got sick of waiting around for someone to do something— so I did instead.”

A reverence caught in your gaze as you felt your heckles arise, “I’ve only done what was right. If I could do something with what I have, then maybe, I can restore some good into the world.”

All the while, Steve hadn’t moved a muscle. Just silently listening and taking in your intentions and reasons for your “considered crimes”. There was something about the anger and rage that disguised something that Steve was all too familiar with— powerlessness.

He understood what it felt like to be without resources. Memories flooded his mind of moments before the war, gaining food scraps from Bucky’s family as he could barely make dinner for the day. He remembered how it felt for his stomach to make unnatural noises of hunger and to feel a desperation for change.

Powerlessness leads to motivation. To change. He knew it was possible— but he hasn’t seen it for some time, he realized.

Until you.

A stark realization embodied him as he took in your ambitious gaze and clenched jaw. A fierce embodiment of someone who understood their own capabilities and the willingness to do something good with it. In the most non-egocentric way, Steve saw himself in you. Not the broader back soldier, but the scrawny kid from Brooklyn who enjoyed stencils and baseball. He saw the version of himself that he had just now found again, through you.

Cutting through the thick silence, each of your brains processing the sudden change in air, something seemed to resonate and click with Steve the minute that his eyes met yours once more.

With a determined nod, he stood up and took out a small metallic pencil-shaped device and leaned forward to uncuff you. You looked at him in confusion and weariness as you felt the cuffs pressure release and you grip your wrists with a protective hiss. Rubbing the insides for comfort, you failed to notice the zap feeling once again as you touched your mark- chalking it up to the cuff release (again— spoiler alert: it definitely wasn’t that either).

“Are you sure you won’t regret doing that?” You asked deliberatively. Steve only looked down at you with heavy silence. Meeting his gaze hesitantly, you were met with an instantaneous warmth that felt so jarring that your own eyes widened in surprise. His eyes were darkened with a certain cloud of suspicion and unknowing in the last few hours – but right now, it was colored with a vibrant hue of faith, as if he could see right through you.

Before you could mask it, you felt your cheeks redden as you flushed under his familiar sight. You couldn’t deny that the super soldier was gorgeous…and tall..and had long eyelashes –

“Get up.” Steve interrupted your intrusive thoughts with a firm command.

“And go where?” Getting up slowly, you felt weirdly nervous about leaving the metal-boxed room. The room that was your prison had felt strangely comforting. Under this new territory with Steve, you suddenly felt that the outside world was something new, and that you had to be ready to explore.

As if sensing your newfound fear, Steve sent an easy going smile your way that you could only describe as a boyish grin.

“To go do some good.”

You couldn’t describe it but your entire body just felt off. You figure it must have been those cuffs that they put on you - maybe some weird Stark tech. Walking down the sleek hallways to the large gymnasium, you did your best to put your odd body aches to the side and reflected upon the past week.

Lo and behold, the moment that you left the room, you were met with the rest of the Avengers and a welcome package to the team. You initially rejected it (not that they really let you - it was either join or go swimming with the sharks at the Raft) but Steve insisted that you had potential to grow - to continue your work, to help others and help the local communities that needed it. He mentioned how you were right – the Avengers couldn’t be everywhere. They needed people on hand, on the ground to help fight the good fight where they couldn’t.

The prospects of being an Avenger certainly incentivized you. You never thought you’d be able to live up to its name, but realized that if Steve was able to see something in you that you couldn’t, it may be worth a shot. As much as you despised him when you were off the radar, there was something that cleared in your vision and you quickly were able to learn that the team certainly didn’t unanimously agree with the dynamics of the Accords. You also learned that Steve did his best to keep everyone together, and that he also genuinely just wanted to help.

Reluctantly, you realized - you admired him.

There was something about Steve that you found honorable. Was he handsome? Sure. Muscle-y? Sure. Light blue eyes that you could drown in? Perhaps. But it wasn’t just his looks that drew you in. The energy felt like something deeper and more ingrained…you respected him. And his capacity to understand that underneath it all, people were just people, and that we need each other.

You’d like to think you could be like him some day. Or be on top of him, or under him…–

‘’Stop that!’’ The parts of you that felt attracted to Steve certainly became louder as you spent more time with Steve. There was just something about him that you couldn’t seem to just put away.

You’ve been training with the team, mostly Natasha, to become more equipped in hand to hand combat. Today, you were pleasantly surprised by the screens that greeted you at the gym. Natasha waved over to you and gestured you over with a curious smirk.

“Hey!” Flushed from being lost in your thoughts, you stood next to Natasha reverently while staring at the computer screens in front of you. “What’s all this?”

“Penny for your thoughts, Ghost?” Natasha’s grin was unfaltering as she cued in your new nickname. Ghostface - slipped right out of Stark’s smug mouth after watching the footage of some of your enhanced abilities. Ever since then, the team has taken a liking to the codename.

Rolling your eyes good-naturedly, you replied dryly, “Oh - the infamous Black Widow is asking me a question - your interrogation skills are quite unmatched. But I think I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.”

Letting out a small chuckle, she turned back towards the screen and nodded for your attention, “I wanted you to take another look at the footage from the warehouse–,”

“Ughhh, do I have to? Why are you rubbing it in my face? I get it - Steve is way better at hand to hand combat but to fair – “ you interrupted childishly only for her to swat her hand in your face to disturb your complaints. “Relax, that’s not why. I want you to analyze your footwork in comparison to some of the skills that we’re learning right now. I want you to point out anything different about your moves.”

Sighing petulantly, you crossed your arms and proceeded to watch the grainy camera footage from Steve’s suit. After a few minutes of watching Steve kick your ass, you pointed out a few steps that you felt that you can do differently now. Natasha seemed to agree and continued to encourage you to point something out, but this time in your upper body movement. After a few more minutes of silence, you looked closer at your arms and noticed something peculiar right as Steve basically tripped you.

Brows furrowed in confusion, you gestured to the video once more and asked Natasha to go back a few seconds. It was hard to see, but you could see the sliver of your wrist exposed in the video. The quality wasn’t the best, despite the Stark tech, as Steve was moving pretty fast.

Your heart stuttered as your brain attempted to process what you were seeing on the screen. Something that clarifies the ‘’off’’ feeling from the past few days, something that made sense of the dysregulation in your body– without thinking, you shoved Natasha’s bent form from the controllers and proceeded to go back and forth between seconds in the footage.

Natasha only frowned in confusion from the move and allowed her eyes to match your suddenly focused gaze. What she saw made her eyes widen in slight surprise.

The height of both of your fixations was the slight glow of your soulmate mark on your wrist suddenly fading as Steve’s legs intercepted yours. Although faint, the mark’s glow disappearing from your wrist was too clear to dismiss as simply the trick of the light.

Almost in fascination, you felt your body disconnect from yours as you found yourself unable to deny what you were seeing. How did you not notice it before?

Steve Rogers was your soulmate.

The following words escaped before you could even process them: “Are you fucking kidding me?”

A/N: DON'T HATE ME! lol, I thought that I'd do a different spin on the Soulmates!AU where Reader is kinda left with this surprise. Wonder how Steve noticed his mark also fading away 👀 figured this would leave enough room to continue this universe if we did enjoy it. Ngl, not the biggest fan of this work -- I'm sure it needs some editing but tbh, I didn't wanna leave y'all hanging anymore! It's been too long since its been asked and I wanted to be able to publish it so it can finally be read! Regardless, hope you enjoyed it a bit and please leave your thoughts, lads <3 ta, for now.

Main Masterlist

Captain America/Steve Rogers Masterlist

Join My Tag List: *if you would like to receive updates on my fics*

tag list: @patzammit @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @stellar-solar-flare @mercurial-chuckles

@caplanbuckybarnes @autumnrose40 @innorogers @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@rogersbarber @blushingrn @alexxavicry @zaraomarrogers

@mrsevans90 @thiquefunlover63 @casey1-2007 @crazyunsexycool

#series: the heart and the head #the heart and the head series #soulmate!steve #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x female reader #captain america x you #vigilante!reader #steve soulmate au #soulmate au

103 notes · View notes

qwordavoider · 1 day ago

Text

Some 8x16 coda/future ep spec based on things we’ve seen and heard from the cast. There are some spoilers from 8x16 later on, so tw: mcd

———

Maddie turned back to her station and answered the incoming call.

“911, what’s you’re emergency?”

“Help, I’m trapped,” the voice said on the other end of the line. It sounded vaguely familiar.

“Ok can you tell me where you’re trapped?”

“It’s small and dark. I don’t know.”

“That’s okay we’ll figure it out. Can you tell me your name sir?”

“Bobby. Bobby Nash.”

Maddie gasped.

Bobby continued, “I’m underground, maybe? I smell dirt.”

“Ok we’re going to get you some help Bobby, just hang on for me.”

“Maddie, can’t breathe.”

Gasping sounds came from the other end of the line. Tears streamed down Maddie’s face.

“Try to calm your breathing. Preserve your oxygen.”

“No time, tell Buck I love him. Tell him he’s going to be okay”

Buck sat straight up with a gasp clawing at his chest. His sheets, tangled and soaked with his sweat, were clinging to his body and making his skin crawl. Buck threw them off and was putting on clothes before he even knew what he was doing. He grabbed his keys, got in his car and drove. No destination in mind.

He was pulling into a neighborhood when his breaths started coming in quick panicky pants. Too overwhelmed to focus on driving, he pulled into a driveway.

Buck pressed his palm into his sternum hoping to ground himself from the panic. He took a few breaths before he was able to see straight again. It was then that he realized where he was.

He stepped out of the car, bracing himself on the hood for a minute to steady his legs. Once Buck was sure they wouldn’t collapse under his weight, he made his way to the front door. He hesitated briefly before raising a hand to the door and knocking. Buck’s realizing that it’s the middle of the night and there’s no guarantee of an answer. But he can’t go back to sleep with the image of Bobby buried in the dirt, struggling to breath. Saying those damn words.

He knocked a little harder this time, still to no answer. He was about ready to give up and head home when a light came on inside. Buck let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. He heard the dead bolt unlatch before the light of the door opening caused him to squint.

“Evan?”

His voice was slightly hoarse from the sleep Buck no doubt interrupted. But he couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty.

He had been leaving the funeral, Bobby loaded on a plane so he could go home and be laid to rest with his family. Buck wasn’t needed anymore. Maddie and Chim were leaning on each other. Hen had Karen to support her. Athena had her kids in Minnesota with her. But Ravi and Eddie invited him to go out for a few drinks in Bobby’s honor. So he would go and humor them for the perfectly acceptable amount of time before finding an excuse to leave.

He was a few steps behind them when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Tommy’s hand.

“Evan, I-”

“You don’t have to-”

“But I want to. I know we’re not us right now, but if you need anything, day or night, I’ll be here.”

Buck hadn’t been in the right frame of mind to accept it then, but it’s like his body knew this is where he needed to be tonight.

He was fidgeting a lot. But he still had some anxiety left over from the nightmare that sent him running here.

“Evan?” Tommy asked again, “Are you okay?”

The tears started flowing before Buck even comprehended Tommy’s question. His knees decided to stop working in that moment and he was falling. Luckily Tommy was there to catch before he could hit the ground.

He was sobbing, unable to stop the emotions that had been building for the last couple of weeks. Buck clung to the only man who could potentially bring him comfort tonight.

“It’s okay Evan. Let it out. I’m here,” Tommy soothed while rubbing circles along Buck’s back.

When the sobs slowed down, Tommy guided Buck inside and settled them on the couch.

“Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want something to distract you?” Tommy asked.

“I’m so tired,” Buck replied not really answering either question.

“We can go to my room and watch a movie until you fall asleep?” Tommy offered.

And that sounded like the best idea Buck had ever heard. He nodded and let Tommy lead him back to his bed. Buck quickly nestled himself into Tommy’s side while the other man looked for a movie to watch. Buck didn’t even notice what he chose nor pay any attention to it after. All he could focus on was the feeling of Tommy’s arms around him and the familiar scent of the man he loved.

After who knows how long, Buck finally got the courage to croak, “Tommy I-”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know but I want to. Thank you for this. For everything. I- We should talk,” Buck kept his eyes focused on the piece of fuzz on Tommy’s shirt directly in front of his eyes.

“We will. But in the morning. Right now, we both need sleep.”

Buck nodded against his chest and he felt like he could breathe just a little bit easier than he had been since Bobby’s death. Sleep finally claimed him as he snuggled closer to Tommy’s chest.

#911 spoilers #911 spec fic #911 speculation #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bobby nash #bucktommy fic #tw: mcd

69 notes · View notes

thesecretdcblog · 2 days ago

Text

Put that thing back where it came from or so help me

#dc #dc comics #bruce wayne #batblob

92 notes · View notes

silens-oro · 3 days ago

Text

Hold on to the Thread (Well Enough Alone Companion Piece)

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV Trespassing (companion piece) Part V Part VI Slowly We Unfurl (companion piece)

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

Title Credit: Oceans by Pearl Jam

General Synopsis: Hawk and Pope have a discussion regarding kids of their own. Word Count: 1.4k Content Warning: talks of having kids & pregnancy. Spoilers for A Cure for Wellness? AN: I am child-free to the bone, but Pope does something to me, man. I'D CONSIDER IT FOR A BRIEF SECOND IS ALL I'M SAYING 🫢 please comment & reblog :)

“She’s seven. You put her in front of a TV all day. Maybe she’s trying to get your attention.” Pope pointed out like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Got any other parenting tips for me, man?” Baz asked rhetorically, but Pope -in Pope fashion- still answered him.

“Yeah, I know kids don’t like it when you scream at them.”

“You know what, Pope? Why don’t you figure out your own shit before telling me how to raise my kid?” Baz snapped.

“Her mother left and you’re banging some woman she’s never seen before in her mother’s bedroom. It’s not Lena’s fault that your girlfriend doesn’t like your kid, Baz.” It was harsh, but it needed to be said.

“You don’t know shit and you never will.” Baz said defensively. “Do you get that? No one's ever gonna have a kid with you. You think Hawk wants that? Give me a break, man. She already raised Julia’s kid. You think she wants to raise yours too?” She’s raising yours, Pope wanted to say, but knew it wouldn’t help anything. If anything, Baz would cut his time with Lena out of spite, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Come on, Lena. Let’s go.” Was the only thing Pope ground out in response before escorting his niece out to his truck.

Pope would never outright express it to anyone, but what Baz said earlier in the day really bothered him. The thought lingered, burrowing itself in him like a parasite that couldn’t be removed. Hawk could tell Pope was stuck in his head as they lounged on the couch, watching some horror movie where a young stockbroker went to a wellness facility in the Swiss Alps to bring his company’s CEO back to New York. There were eels involved. It was…a lot.

When he came back to the house with Lena earlier in the afternoon, he was off. He brushed off any of Hawk’s attempts to get him to talk, so she gave him his space. He’d talk to her when he was ready. Now that Lena had been put to bed for the night, they decided to throw a movie on and relax, but Pope was doing the opposite of relaxing and that in itself was not letting Hawk relax.

Pope’s hand had been absentmindedly rubbing Hawk’s waist, then moving over to her stomach where he’d lay his palm flat against it for a while, moving up or down ever so slightly just below her belly button, before going back to her waist. The more she noticed it, the weirder it felt because he kept doing it as the movie went on when that wasn’t something he did previously.

“You alright?” Hawk tilted her head up from her spot notched in his side as he brought his hand to her stomach once again. This time she raised a brow at him.

“Fine,” Pope’s voice was clipped and he cleared his throat, breaking free of whatever was going on in his head. He looked down at Hawk then back to the movie. His other hand tapped on the sofa’s armrest, a tick Hawk picked up on that he had when something wasn’t quite right. “Is that an eel?” Pope asked, his face scrunching at the screen.

“There’s been eels, Andy. They’ve been in the water and now they’re growing inside of the patients. Where have you been for the last hour?” She asked with a laugh, not wanting to stir the pot, but definitely wanting to know what was going on with him. He got a pained look on his face and Hawk knew right then that something was bothering him. Hawk grasped the hand on her stomach in hers and held it up to her chest, tenderly kissing his forearm. “Something’s up with you. You can talk to me.” She encouraged softly.

“I don’t want to scare you off.” Hawk wanted to laugh so badly at that, but she knew that if she did -not with the intention of being mean about it- he’d close up like a goddamn clamshell. So she kept it in, biting her lip to ground herself so it didn’t slip out accidentally.

“You won’t. I promise.” He analyzed Hawk for a moment before nodding to himself. She gave him all the time and patience to gather his thoughts so he could say what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it.

“Have you ever thought of…having kids of your own?” He intentionally left the ‘with me’ out of the equation. He didn’t look at Hawk when he asked it, feeling much too vulnerable at the question even leaving the confines of his mind. Hawk blinked, not expecting that to be what was bothering him, but the question combined with his handsy mannerisms that night suddenly made total sense to Hawk.

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, her fingers playing with Pope’s. “I think at one point maybe I had the urge, ya know? Right after J started going to school. I missed having him with me all the time and the thought did cross my mind, but I was nowhere near a stable enough relationship with anyone to even consider it. But it’s been a long time since I felt that way.”

“Would you ever reconsider it?” His voice was so quiet, like he was afraid if it was any louder, it would shatter the confines of the conversation. He tried to sound blasé, like her answer wouldn’t bother him one way or the other, but he had to know. Baz’s voice rang over and over in his head and it was eating him alive from the inside out.

Hawk felt Pope’s stomach clench and the arm he had around her twitched in her hold. She only held onto him tighter to let him know she wasn’t running from the conversation.

“I feel like I’m a little late in life for that now,” Hawk answered honestly. “-but I’m not completely closed off to it. There are some aspects to pregnancy that scare the shit out of me though. I was there when Julia had J and both pregnancy and childbirth are…traumatizing.”

“Women your age have kids all the time.” Hawk shifts on the sofa, looking up at Pope with curiosity in her eyes. “You’re not old by any means.” He pushed and winced again when he realized how that sounded. Hawk squeezed his hand to let him know that he was fine.

“What’s got you so worked up about kids? Do you want them?” She didn’t ask him in a judgmental way, merely out of genuine curiosity. They’ve never broached the subject, but his shift with Lena, and J in more recent times, was noticeable to her. Very much so.

“I used to think a kid didn’t deserve a father like me and the fucked up life I would give them. They didn’t deserve what I would pass on to them, this shit I have in my head. I don’t wish that on anyone, much less someone who didn’t ask to be here.” Pope spoke from experience, Hawk knew.

“Both of my parents had no business having a kid, not with what they had going on, but maybe…if the kid was only half of me," Half of the crazy, is what he implied, and Hawk didn't care for that one bit. "-then they’d have a better chance, you know? If their mom was normal, then they’d be able to have a normal life.” Hawk felt her heart break at Pope’s admission. She brought his hand up to kiss the back of it affectionately. “I’ve thought about all the things I missed with Lena when I was locked up.” The baby years, Hawk said mentally. “And I think about what it would be like to hold something so small that was a part of me. Something good I’ve given to the world.” And a part of you, he wanted to say. “To love them so much and to watch them grow. Do things with ‘em that my dad never did with me. Give them a life that I never had. Being with you and Lena, it’s opened my eyes to what we could have -what we could’ve had this whole time. If that’s something you’d even want.” We, Hawk’s heart skipped when he finally said it. He tacked on that last bit when the vulnerability became too much and the self consciousness set back in.

“We’ll, I’ll tell you this -I’m not against it, but we are still in the early stages of this relationship. Let this thing grow some roots, focus on Lena and J for the time being, and then we’ll revisit this conversation, alright?” Pope looked down at her, his eyes a little glassier and his cheeks flushed just enough for Hawk to notice in the dim living room, and he nodded. “Come here,” She pulled him down gently by the front of his shirt so her lips could meet his.

please comment & reblog :)

#pope cody #pope cody x reader #andrew pope cody #andrew pope cody x reader #animal kingdom fanfic #animal kingdom #animal kingdom tnt #Shawn hatosy #well enough alone universe

140 notes · View notes

honeypiehotchner · 1 day ago

Text

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twenty-three

Once again, don't say a word, yes I'm uploading AGAIN, I can't help it!! I want to get to the fluffy weekend chapters!!!

Warnings: some good big brother bonding with Morgan and reader, Derek talks about the events of s2e12 "Profiler, Profiled" here, more curveballs lowkey I'm getting whiplash here (you'll see), apologies in advance (it felt too easy!!! so sorry!!!)

When you peel yourself away from Hotch, it’s only because there’s a knock at his door. The sound makes you jump and him stand to his feet, his hands slipping from yours automatically.

He walks to the door and opens it a crack, pausing. He looks over his shoulder once at you before opening the door further.

Rossi eyes you both as he walks into Hotch’s office. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” you say immediately, standing up. “I was just leaving, actually.”

Rossi gives you a look that tells you he sees right through you, but he doesn’t press as you weave through them and exit Hotch’s office.

The team is just coming out of the conference room when you step out, pausing as you stare at one another.

You don’t know what to say. If you can even say anything.

“Should we um…” You pause to clear your throat. “Should we go back to looking at all the evidence?”

“In a minute,” Morgan says. “Let’s take a walk first.”

You open your mouth, but Morgan hears none of it, shaking his head as he comes toward you, leading you out of the bullpen.

“Where are we going?”

“To get breakfast for everyone for the long day ahead of us,” Morgan replies, pressing the down arrow on the elevator. “And to get you calmed down.”

“I’m plenty calm.”

“You’re shaking.”

The elevator doors open and you step inside, glaring at the buttons on the wall instead of your team member. You press the ground floor button with a huff, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the fact that you are definitely not shaking.

Neither of you say a word as you walk to Derek’s car in the parking garage, parked in his same spot as usual. Derek breaks the silence with an insane question.

“Do you…want to stop somewhere for…cigarettes?”

You can’t help but laugh loudly at the way he says it. “No, dude, I’m fine.”

“Alright,” he says, turning the key in the ignition. “Was just asking.”

“Why?” you laugh again. “Last time that was brought up you were horrified.”

“Well,” he shrugs, not arguing with that. He pulls out of the space and heads for the exit. “That was before everything started imploding.”

You scoff. “Imploding puts it a little too nicely. But no, I’m fine, that was my one pack for the year, so I’m cut off.”

Morgan raises an eyebrow. “One a year?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “A rule I had with my mom. She never liked that I picked up the habit — didn’t find out why until later, but my dad smoked, too, and tried to hide it from her — so we made a deal. One pack a year.”

“And you stuck to it?”

“Surprisingly, yeah,” you reply. “Some days I don’t know how I did it, but I guess I just didn’t want to let her down.”

Morgan hums. “That feeling can run deep.”

“Especially after what happened with my dad,” you agree. “I knew she couldn’t take another thing, so when we compromised and made promises, we stuck to them.”

Morgan nods. “Mine too.”

A comfortable silence fills the car as Morgan drives into town, to one of the chain coffee spots that has a drive-thru. They know the BAU well from their frequent — and sometimes random — orders.

As you wait in one of the nearby parking spaces for your order to be prepared, Morgan starts talking again.

“Did I ever tell you about a case in my hometown a few years ago?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so.”

“I was arrested as a suspect for the murder of one of the neighborhood kids,” he explains. “I was in town for my mom’s birthday, and one of the detectives had always had it out for me, he saw a connection and booked me. Hotch and everyone came to find the real unsub and get me out of there.”

“Oh my god,” you say, unsure of how else to respond to this. “But they did figure it out, obviously, right, because you’re here, and still at the BAU?”

Morgan nods, keeping his eyes focused ahead of him. “They did. But the team had to do a lot of digging into my past to find answers. Because I wasn’t willing to share those parts of my life.”

“Right.” You look down at your hands, seeing exactly where he’s going with this now.

“Garcia unsealed some of my records, Hotch practically interrogated me as if I was the unsub,” Morgan laughs, the kind of bitter sound that tells you it wasn’t funny then, it isn’t exactly funny now, but it’s less painful than it used to be. “I kept secrets because I wanted my privacy — and I still do. I still think we each have a right to our privacy, no matter how much we see each other all the damn time,” he smiles. “But I also know things might’ve gone smoother if I had opened up a little more.”

You shake your head. “That’s not on you, Derek. Just because things might have gone smoother doesn’t mean you were wrong for trying to salvage what little privacy you had left.”

“I know that,” he says. “I’m saying two things can be true at once. You can be mad at Hotch for going behind your back and digging into your past without your permission. And you can let yourself accept that he was doing what he thought was right and what he thought had to be done in order to help you.”

You sink further into the passenger seat, resisting the urge to glare at Derek. “How’d you know I’ve been battling that one in my head?”

Morgan smiles then, wide and mischievous. “You’re an open book whether you like it or not.”

“Or maybe we’re just so similar that you’re projecting and it just happens to be correct.”

“Like I said, two things can be true at once.”

You roll your eyes that time, playfully shoving his shoulder. “I hate you.”

“No, no you love me.”

“Barely.”

“Ouch.”

“Quit being dramatic and put your window down, they’re bringing our food out.”

Once the bags of breakfast are safely tucked at your feet and the drink carrier is secured in your lap, Morgan heads back for the BAU.

“Thank you,” you finally say. “For the Big Brother talk.”

He glances at you, looking only slightly surprised. “You’re welcome. Anytime.”

“Did you and Hotch ever talk about it?” you blurt.

Morgan is unfazed by the question, though. “Yeah. We did.” He pauses. “I’m assuming you guys haven’t?”

“Well,” you scoff. “We haven’t exactly had the time.”

“Touché,” Morgan nods. “I think you should. At some point.”

Like this weekend, your mind fills in for you. It would be the perfect time. The two of you will be alone, with Rossi’s entire place to yourselves. It would be easy for you to pitch the conversation or try to steer one in that direction — or, fuck it, blurt it out at one point just to rip the bandaid off.

“Yeah,” you say. “At some point.”

+++

“Everything okay?” Rossi asks Hotch after they watch you practically bolt from the room.

Hotch shuts the door. “Fine. I was going to ask you the same, since you followed Erin out of here.”

Rossi’s on-again, off-again relationship with Erin Strauss is no secret, at least not to Hotch. It’s something he’s known about for years, having confronted Dave about it after noticing one too many not-so-subtle gestures from his friend.

But that’s not what this was about this time.

“She wants us to get to the bottom of this. Like, yesterday,” Rossi says.

“Well,” Hotch pauses to rub the headache brewing under his eyebrow. “Tell her she can join the club.”

That makes both men let out an incredulous laugh.

“What the hell are we doing here, Aaron?” Dave finally asks. “It feels like we get thrown a curveball every single day. Richard Monroe just breaks out of prison out of nowhere? Are we supposed to think the unsub helped him? Are we supposed to think Richard is going to go after Lila now?”

“I don’t know,” Aaron admits. “I don’t understand any of it. And nothing that we find seems to land us any closer than we were to figuring out who is doing all of this.”

“I know,” Rossi sighs. “I asked her last night if she remembers anything about who kidnapped her.”

“And?” Hotch sounds too hopeful, he knows he does.

Rossi shakes his head. “She might have seen his face, but she has blocked it out. What she remembered was him telling her to put the clothes she was wearing the day he took her back on, so that she’d match the description when we found her. But he was taking care of her. Giving her changes of clothes, food, water, letting her shower with a lock inside the bathroom door. She said she felt safe, despite everything. If she did see his face, she blocked it out, and it’s been two decades, Aaron. There’s no way she’d remember it now, and if she did, we couldn’t trust it to be accurate, not after this long.”

Hotch hates it, but Rossi is right. With so much time having passed, it’s no use.

“There’s something we’re missing,” Hotch turns and heads for the window, gazing at the horizon as he thinks. “When we spoke to Richard in prison, he said his daughter was supposed to be left out of it.”

“Okay…”

“So, if the unsub we’re looking for is the same person who kidnapped Lila, and the same person from twenty years ago,” Hotch talks himself in circles, “and Richard recognized her in the interrogation room that day— he’s the heart of this, but how?”

“And now he’s missing,” Rossi muses.

“Or running,” Hotch adds, then turns around to face Rossi, something clicking in his mind. “Richard had someone framed. He admitted to that.”

“But we checked on that, the man was out on parole, it was lifted once Richard admitted to everything.”

“Where is he now?”

The pair stare at one another before Hotch practically leaps for his desk to make the necessary phone calls.

As it rings, Hotch turns to Rossi, “Get Garcia to bring up everything on him — including whatever he was doing twenty years ago — and meet us in the conference room.”

Rossi nods and leaves so Hotch can handle the calls. It’s not a definite lead, but it’s something, and it’s someone that they can potentially speak to.

+++

When you and Morgan arrive back at the BAU, you don’t expect to walk into such a flurry of chaos when you enter the bullpen.

“We might have a lead,” Prentiss explains. “Come on.”

You nearly drop the drinks as you hurry up the stairs to the conference room, joining JJ, Garcia, and Reid. “Where’s Hotch?”

“On the phone,” Rossi answers from behind you. “He’ll be in in just a second.”

Garcia starts anyway. “Does anyone remember Maxwell Herman?” She barely gives anyone a second to answer before continuing. “I doubt it, because we looked at him for all of two seconds when you were investigating Lila Monroe’s kidnapping, but here he is.”

She points the remote at the screen and pictures fly onto it, one being Maxwell’s mugshot. The one next to it being his arrest record.

“This is the man Richard Monroe admitted to having framed,” Garcia continues. “Was on parole, that was lifted once Richard admitted to everything, you know the rest. Now, what you don’t know is that’s not his real name.”

She clicks again and a new mugshot appears, one of a younger man. Twenty years younger.

“Meet William Easton from Georgia, with such a crazy rap sheet that I have no idea how he was able to change his name and entire identity without someone catching on. But anyway, he was arrested for anything you can name. Including but not limited to: Attempted arson, attempted armed robbery, actual armed robbery, DUI, domestic dispute, aggravated assault, and the kicker, attempted homicide.”

“Attempted?” Reid blurts.

“They never quite found enough evidence to convict him, but—”

“He was a suspect,” Rossi says. “In the original murders in Atlanta, before we connected them to Adkins. Before the BAU stepped in.”

“What?” you blurt, that being the absolute last thing you were expecting to hear, despite knowing somehow that your father was connected.

“They caught him in the area one too many times,” Rossi continues. “They thought it was because he was the unsub, but it turned out he was just a creep with a record who was fascinated by the killings.”

“Wanna see something else crazy?” Garcia adds. “Here’s the sketch that the artist came up with after speaking to Lila.” She clicks again so the sketch is side by side William’s most recent mugshot. The likeness isn’t exact, but it’s enough to be worrisome.

Hotch comes into the conference room, phone pressed to his ear. “Thank you.” He ends the call to fill everyone in. “Officers are on their way to William’s home, they’re going to call once they’ve apprehended him.”

“For what?” you ask. “If he was on parole, he couldn’t leave the house to kidnap a child.”

“No, but he could convince a child he was their father and make them come to him,” Morgan answers. “If he had good behavior, he could leave the house for a short period to meet her somewhere and grab her.”

“Exactly,” Hotch agrees. You can feel his eyes on you as you stare at the screen, at the mugshot and the sketch. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “Just…strange that we might have a face to put to all of this now.” Too easy, almost. Though nothing leading up to this point has been easy, this feels too easy.

You wish you hadn’t had that thought. It’s almost like you jinxed it somehow, even though you didn’t speak it out loud.

Because no less than ten minutes later, Hotch’s phone rings, and you can see on his face that it’s bad news.

“Alright, don’t— Don’t touch anything. My team and I will be there as soon as we can.”

When he hangs up the phone, everyone waits, their breaths held, for his next words.

“They found William dead in his apartment,” Hotch says. “Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, I want you with me, we’ll be leaving in ten minutes. Everyone else,” he conveniently avoids your eyes, “stay here and continue digging. Richard Monroe might not be missing, he might be running from our unsub.”

“How do you know that?” you ask. “And why am I not going with you?”

“Because the unsub left a note on William’s body,” Hotch replies, ever firm and clinical. “And I need you to stay here.”

“Hotch—”

“I don’t have time to argue about this, we’ll be back before the end of the day,” he says, his voice softer, but that doesn’t help. Just because he doesn’t yell at you doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt — once again being shown by his actions that he thinks you can’t handle something.

“Fine, then, just go,” you look back up at William’s face on the screen. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

Everyone leaves quickly, except Hotch who lingers a bit in the doorway, like there are words just at the tip of his tongue. He calls your name once, but you shake your head.

“Go,” you repeat, just barely looking at him over your shoulder. “Take some food for the plane,” you gesture to the breakfast that is nearly forgotten. “Go.”

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner angst #criminal minds angst

56 notes · View notes

terriblefaun · 2 days ago

Text

𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐊𝐨𝐨𝐤 - RAFE/READER

cw. mentions drink, drugs,rafe lowk being a lil softie in this chapter, jj angst, mentions r having a bad home life. SLOW BURN. more set up than story atp. lots of f word! from the uk i cant help it x

3.7k words. part 1/? (had to divide it up cos the whole thing was killing my phone! so lmk if u acc want the next one !! <3) also not proof read! love u xx

It was the third time that morning that JJ had brought it up. You hadn’t hung out properly for ages since you moved and still it was all he could go on about. Pope had been kind enough to jump in at one point, making sure to tell you that he didn't think of you any different. Which you had appreciated, but that was about as brave as anyone got when it came to standing up to JJ or defending you.

Without Kie here you were playing 3:1 and losing bad.

John B, shyly at first and then with a confidence that surprised you, agreed with his best friend. “You are a little different now that you live on the Eight, i mean, for one: you're late all the time-”

“-Cos it takes me forever to get here!”

“-And, like, that kook fit you always wear…”

“My uniform?” You huff, exasperated. It really was pointless to argue but for fuck sake, surely you’d put up with it for long enough? It was summer, you'd come to JB’s for a little escape, a little friendship and a cold beer, but you’ve been here two hours already and all anyone had talked about was that damn kook academy, how it was going to change you- how it had already changed Kie. Like that was the worst thing in the world.

JJ opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off, “Can you just shut up? Please just fucking shut up about it already. You're going on and on and its driving me fucking crazy, J. Just stop.”

It was clear this pissed him off, but his face softened from anger to offense, and then finally to a sarcastic smile. “Fine, whatever the princess wants.”

“Oh, you're such a p-” but you stopped yourself with a tired laugh. You didn't want to fight. Not again, not now. You were still exhausted from the last one - the one that ended with Kie crying and walking home alone, despite you going after her. You hadn't heard from her since.

“What? Pogue? Is that what you were gonna say, huh? I’m such a fucking pogue!”

“Piece of shit, Jayj! I was gonna call you a fucking piece of shit! Cos you are! You can't just be happy for me can you-”

“Happy?” JJ asks like you really are out of your mind, like he can't even begin to imagine a silver lining to this situation.

“Yeah, cos Kie’s finally getting along with her mom again, and for the first time in my life i don't have to worry about making rent payments or where the hell my mom is and i finally have a step dad that doesn't fucking hate me! Can you just think about that for a fucking minute, JJ, can you really not image why that might be of some relief to us? Huh?”

He doesn't say anything, which might actually be worse.

Your eyes had started to sting with tears and you turned away from your friends to hold your face in your hands. It was hot to the touch and your head hurt. You really didn't want to start crying.

Pope and John B were sat quietly on the sofa like two kids waiting for the parents to stop arguing. Why weren't they saying anything? Is this really how they all felt- like you weren't theirs anymore? Like you had betrayed them somehow?

You snivelled, sighed and turned to look JJ in the eyes. Despite the tugging at his heart, he refused back down.

It pissed you off to see him still standing there with his shoulders squared and a hard look on his face. He was so far from the boy you were used to, the soft, funny one you had grown up and felt safe with. How do you even get back to that? Really, you knew the answer was to say sorry, but like hell that was gonna happen. Despite the fact you had nothing to apologise for, you were cursed with the same stubbornness as he was. You were two juuls in a pod, or whatever the saying was.

And then, a thought. A terrible, mean thought.

“You’re just jealous, that's it.”

There's a sudden look on JJ’s face that you've never seen before. It scares you almost enough to back down, but you stay tough. He laughs.

“Such a fucking kook thing to say i mean, c’mon!” JJ gestures to Pope and JB like they're gonna agree with him- and if given the chance to talk, they might but you don't dare to look over, just in case. “Yeah. Of course I'm jealous of you, princess. Jesus Christ, man, you’re so self absorbed! You fit right in with those dickheads on figure eight, you know that? You and kie, you're right where you belong.”

“You’re such a dick.” You swallow down all that venom you had just a minute ago, it stings, makes your vision blur.

“Cos’ i’m telling the truth?" He says, "Just go home YN, fuck off back to the eight already ‘cos we don't want you here.”

“JJ-” Finally someone chimed in, though you couldn’t tell who, probably Pope again, but it didn’t matter anyway, right now there was no one else in the world except for you and JJ.

“I don’t want you here.” He says again in a low voice. Then, turning away, mumbles something you probably weren't actually meant to hear. Something sarcastic about your dad, how proud he'd be of how you're turning out.

You gasp. A direct hit, one you never expected he'd go for. The boys look up at you, not having caught it themselves.

But you had heard it. J saw you hear it. And it hurt. And he saw that it hurt. And he didn't seem to mind. He had the sense to look guilty for a split second but then there was that stubbornness again, mean and cold.

You stood there with your mouth open for a minute. Half waiting for him to rush out an apology, to call a time out like this was just a game you could stop playing and forget all about, and you could go back to how things were supposed to be.

JJ said nothing.

Fine. You storm off, slamming the chateau doors behind you and heading straight for your bike. It's a little vintage thing with a basket and ribbons, and you feel just a little ridiculous as you cycle angrily away. I’ll show you a fucking kook princess.

Grand exit now complete, the adrenaline of whatever the hell just went down finally wears off halfway through town. Collapsing onto the sidewalk, tangling with your bike as you go down, you let yourself cry.

Not entirely sure how long you let yourself fall apart but time starts moving again when a car pulls up in front of you. The window rolls down and you look up at the sound of Bunny Wailer’s Mellow Mood coming from the speaker.

“Need a ride?” The driver shouts over the music.

“Kiwi. Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling!”

“Sorry. Don’t cry about it,” she smiles, i am sorry, and nods towards the passenger side, “get in.”

The warmth of the midday sun had dried your tears pretty quick, but your eyes were red and puffy and gave you away. Oh, YN. Kie mumbles once you're inside, turning the radio down and leaning across to hug you.

“Don’t worry, it’s Jay that's made me cry, not you.” You choke out a wet laugh and pull your hoodie up over your face for a second. “I’ll be fine in a minute, really, i’ll be fine.”

She sighs decidedly, giving you a once over. "Nah, i know what you need.”

You side eye her, unsure. "Kook party." She explains and you cringe. Sarah, a friend Kie had already made at the academy, had invited her and in turn she was inviting you. As if I'd wanna be there without you.

"C'mon. Big house, free booze, no JJ."

"OK. Sold."

Kiara’s bedroom is likely to be your favourite place on earth, though you never get to spend a lot of time there as it also happens to be one of her least favourites. You don't even know what it is that makes it so great, her bed is soft and plush but too small for two, so sleepovers are always spent uncomfortably squished between her, her plushies, and the wall. And the only CD’s she has are reggae, which you don't mind, and indie rock shit you've never heard of and can't stand.

Maybe it was just because her house was so totally not yours. Maybe that's why you liked it.

You’re in front of her bathroom mirror, chewing on your bottom lip, brows furrowed and arms crossed when Sarah comes up behinds you to ask what you're thinking. “I think…. I need to go blonde.”

Her eyes light up, “Like Buffy Summers Blonde or-”

“-Baywatch blonde.”

“Baywatch blonde…” she repeated in a whisper, an excited smile on her face. “Dude, yeah. That'd be so hot.”

She let out an excited squeak, and that was that. The make over was immediate. You dyed your hair then and there in Kie's en suit. Then she picked out an outfit while Sarah did you make up. Pamela Anderson or...Jennifer Aniston? she had asked.

"Which ones more kook?" Aniston was decided upon, though with the bikini you'd borrowed from Kie and the short denim skirt and black cami you wore, you ended up a bit more Pamela anyway.

It's gonna be rager, said Sarah, It’s at Alice’s boyfriend’s friend’s beach house, or something like that. Kiara seemed to know all these people already, so you nodded and smiled and pretended you did too.

"I have to go home quick, you know, put a bag together, let my mom know i'm still alive."

"You want us to drop you off?" Sarah had asked, sweet as she was you could tell she wanted to stay playing dress up for a while longer, so you declined.

"Just text me the address, i'll meet you there."

To no surprise at all, your mom wasn’t home. You thought best not to leave a note or text her, lest she remember she had a daughter and suddenly decide to parent it.

You went up to your room on the top floor and put together a bag. Perfume, lip gloss, $50, a rollie and some gum. The essentials. You dug out the half empty tequila bottle you and kie kept tucked away in your pj drawer, and poured out a shot for yourself. Then another. Cheers, you thought, to going full kook.

9:15 PM and you were out the door, instantly regretting your choice to meet them at the party- having to cycle there on your bicycle in the worlds shortest denim skirt was not the most comfortable experience. But alas, you looked as good as you felt, and it might have been the tequila but you felt pretty fucking good.

Kiwi where are you??

KIE!!!! im here. they have jello shots where r u

i cant fudnd u guys anyebere

KIARBRA!!!!!!!!!

You'd been at the party for little over an hour, far too drunk already but having a great time. Despite not yet having found Kie or Sarah. You had, however, recognised a few girls from the academy and most of them had recognised you too, despite your new hair and new found friendliness towards them, they knew you.

Another half an hour of slurred compliments and dizzy dance moves and you begin to feel the alcohol wear off, a tragedy that must be remedied if you're to socialise with these people any longer. How much longer? Where the fuck was Kie?

You’re making your way through the kitchen towards the back yard in hopes of somewhere quiet to call your friend, when a figure steps out in front of you. “You look like a malibu and coke kinda girl, right?”

He seems nice enough, towering over you but not making you feel trapped. He’s got a polo shirt on, clearly recently ironed, and a big drunk smile on his face. Am I a Malibu girl? You thought, that’s rum, right? What the hell, sure.

“How could you tell?”

“Sweet girl like yourself, how could it be anything else?”

Sweet. That's something you haven't been called before. It makes you feel a bit soft in the middle, clearly a line, but working on you nonetheless. “Oh, I like you.”

His smile widens, eyes almost closed, and goes to speak again but is interrupted by another mystery boy before he can reply. “Is this guy bothering you?” He says, slow and deep with a cocky smile, one arm slung over the first guys shoulder. He looks at you, leans in close like he’s telling you a secret. “Sorry ‘bout my friend Top here, S’like a puppy, not been properly socialised yet.”

“Hey thats- I was just offering the new girl a drink.” He says, holding up a red solo cup with what you assume is a malibu and coke inside.

“Allow me.” Says the second guy, taking the cup from Top’s hand and offering it to you.

“Thanks-” You laugh, half forgotten by the boys already. You look between them as they go back and forth with each other, a drunk scene clearly played many times before, and take a sip of your drink. God. Yeah, Definitely rum.

"You shouldn't encourage them." A soft voice says. Where had he come from? had he been here the whole time?

"I'm sorry?"

"They're like strays," he explains, nodding towards the boys, "show 'em a bit of attention and they'll just keep coming back."

You turn to face him completely. He's gorgeous- clearly knows it too- but the spot lights of the kitchen make halos around him. He copies your movement and only then do you realise just how close he's standing.

“Rafe.” He offers after a long moment of you saying nothing. “Rafe Cameron.”

You stop your drooling and straighten up.

“Cameron?” Why did that sound familiar? A smug smile creeps onto his face and you watch it drop comically fast as you ask your next question. “Sarah's brother? Oh, shit, have you seen her?” You ask, looking around, but it’s Boy 1 that answers.

“S’not here,” Top sighs, suddenly drawn back into the conversation. “Something about… baby turtles or something, i don't know.”

“You know my sister.” Rafe says to you, ignoring Top.

“Yeah, well, kind of. Not really. I was supposed to meet her here.”

“Well…she’s not here,” Rafe tilts his head with a smile and watches you think. Great, so I've been ditched. Double ditched. Bitches. He thinks you look a little offended, but not altogether disappointed. His little smile grows, plotting. “-but i can take care of you.”

You look up at him in all his 6’3 sun kissed glory. He’s standing close enough that you can smell his aftershave, the bitterness of whatever he’s been drinking, and the faintest smell of sunscreen applied hours ago. The thought of him putting on suncream at all makes you smile. You watch the way his shirt stretches around his bicep as he leans on the counter behind, the way his hand dwarfs the red solo cup it holds, the way his eyes blink slow and steady, lashes kissing his cheeks.

“Yeah, I bet you can.”

“She said she likes me.” Top chimes in, previous Sarah related heartbreak forgotten.

“Topper, you're drunk, just… go find Sarah.” Rafe says, grabbing him by the shoulders and pointing him in some other direction. Boy 2 is tugged along behind by some invisible string, and off they go looking for Sarah.

“Let me know if you find her!” You shout after them, Boy 1 turns, salutes in your vague direction, and then disappears in the crowd of other drunk polo shirt wearing kooks.

Rafe turns to you, shrugging his shoulders with a smile that dimples his cheeks, “Looks like it's just us.”

You click your tongue. “I was actually on my way out.” Why am I playing hard to get?

“Oh, you don't wanna do that.”

“No?” Tell me to stay and I will.

“Nah,” he starts, drawing out the words quiet and slow, “You wanna stay here with me allll night.”

Thank you. But instead you say, “Here? With you? All night?” is a voice thats sweetly mocking. The apples of your cheeks turn pink with a grin. You down the contents of the cup Top had given you, trying your best not to scrunch up your face, “Well you best get me another drink then.”

He takes the cup from you without breaking eye contact. Was he always so intense with it? Paired with the barely visible but constant grin he’d had this entire time, you worried maybe he could read your mind. Your eyes shot down to his hands again. Please god don't be reading my mind.

“I’ll be back in a minute. Don't go anywhere.” You look up at him through your lashes, giving him your best Jessica Rabbit, which seems to be working.

“I’ll be right here.”

You turn to leave, pointing quick to the plastic cup, “-No Malibu!”

The bathroom door was unlocked, which is why you surprised to find it occupied by three girls huddled around the counter. “Oh, sorry-” you turn to leave but have already caught their attention, one reaches out to you in a instant.

“YN!” She slurs out, looking up at you through lidded eyes. It’s one of the girls youd danced with earlier- Lacey or Lexi or something. Whoever she is, theres a smile on her face that lets you know she’d totally wasted. Not just drunk either.

“Did I see you talking to The Rafe Cameron out there?” She squeals, drawing the attention of the other two girls. A couple of ‘oh my gods’ are whispered as they huddle around you, desperate for more information.

“I Just-”

“Is he a good kisser?”

“I Don’t-”

“Are you gonna hook up with him?”

You bark out a laugh. “Fuck, girls, I only just met him!”

“So? Are you?” They continue to pester, unfazed and looking up at you with shining, excitable eyes, like kids on christmas morning.

You're smiling hard and trying to think of something to say. Fuck it, lets go with honesty. “Maybe, yeah.”

They squeak again and they grab at you, pulling you towards the bathroom mirror. One girls hand goes straight to your hair, curling a single piece with her finger, neatening it up the best she can. Another reaches for her bag, the clatter of makeup can be heard as she fumbles. She comes at you then with a powder brush. They’re all talking over each other and it's hard to make out exactly what is being said by any of them. I knew a girl that slept with him once/i heard he cant get it up unless you call him mr cameron/really cos amy said-

It’s then that you see the thin white lines of powder neatly waiting on the black marble counter. Ah, you think, well that makes sense.

Rafe is standing outside the bathroom when you open the door, he pushes himself off the wall casually like you haven't just kept him waiting entirely too long. His eyebrows raise as you step out with three girls following very close behind. They're all giggles and lazy grins and so are you.

“...Are you high?” You bite your lip to keep from smiling.

Tsk tsk tsk. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you get high. I can't take you anywhere.”

“I wish you would take me somewhere...” You say, confusing yourself, and then “isn't it so hot in here?”

“Right." He laughs, "Outside.” But he’s already reaching for your hand when he says this. He’s gentle, not like the girls in the bathroom had suggested. He’s leading you off towards the big patio doors, red plastic cups forgotten on a side table somewhere behind you. You plod along next to him, doing as you're told.

You couldn't even guess how long you'd been sat out in the garden with him. Forever, maybe. You mumble out a thank you, trying not to sound embarrassed. Mostly you just felt bad for him being on babysitting duty. If only Kie was here.

“S’fine. Happens to most people the first time they try blow.” You don't even attempt to protest, just laugh. Your cool girl exterior was screwed the second he had introduced himself. Your makeover had been great, blonde bombshell of your dreams, unfortunately you were still yourself underneath it all. Which isn't to say that you were insecure, or shy, just that you had always folded far too easily for a pretty face. And Rafe had a very pretty face.

And to his credit, or maybe to yours, he didn’t seem any less interested in you now that you were both sobering up, significantly less cool and mysterious but still beautiful.

You're lying on the grass when he asks, “So…are you gonna tell me your name or what?”

Ha! Looking up at him from where he stands over you, you smile sweetly, like you hadn't just spent ten minutes trying not to vomit on his shoes, like you're meeting him for the very first time, “YN.”

Rafe repeats your name quietly to himself like he’s trying to figure something out. “Do I know you?”

You smile, “I don't think so. Not really.” to be fair, he and jj happened to rarely pick fights when you were around, and he was older than you by maybe two or three years, you weren't sure, so it's unlikely your paths would have crossed outside that.

“Mhm. not really, huh? Do I get a hint?”

“No.”

He sighs, thinking like you gave him a clue anyway. “You definitely live on the island?”

“All my life!” You say, accidentally playing along. Sobering, but not sober.

“I don't know…” He bends down next to you, one hand reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, it lingers there and you try your best not to lean into it, fail miserably, and look up at him. “I think i’d remember this face.”

You blush, he probably notices but you tilt your head back and close your eyes. Embarrassed, yes, playing it cool, maybe. You bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “Apparently not.”

He laughs. Damn, Definitely noticed the blush. “Seriously, how can I not have met you before?”

While this was fun, you were drunk. And when you were drunk there was always a silly voice in the back of your head telling you sad things. Right now it was telling you how disappointed he was going to be when he found out who you were- or rather, what you were. A pogue. “I don't wanna play anymore.”

“No?” He asks, a little condescending, like he was talking to a child, but there was something about it that you liked. You shake your head ever so slightly, no.

“Want to go home?” The question surprises you. Were they your only options, play nicely or get sent home? No, you shake your head again.

“So then do as you’re told.” He says softly, testing the waters. He stands, taking your hand and you let him pull you up with him. There's a moment where you're pressed against his chest, and he’s looking down at you, his eyes dark under the moonlight, where you think he might kiss you. And maybe he would have if you’d have been good.

For the first time in your life you desperately want to be good.

“Let’s go.” It seems you're being let off with a warning. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as Rafe leads you down the side of the house and into the front yard, unlocking his car.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe obx #rafe fic #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader

43 notes · View notes

peanutbutterandbananasandwichs · 3 days ago

Text

Sam Week 2025: Day 5 - favourite Sam arc / Sam & music / psychic powers

I'm SO happy how this one came out! I think it's my favourite so far :D I feel it's really nailed the tactic I wanted to take of these prompts of coming at the a little sideways/not the first thing you'd think of. Shout out to @aliusfrater - for always helping fuel my Soulless Sam fascination/obsession - and also inadvertently inspiring this fic by including the quote below in an ask response about "favourite Soulless Sam lines".

Also on Ao3

"Dean, I am still me – same melon, same memories. I-I still like the same music. I still think about Suzie Heizer . . ."

Creed - With Arms Wide Open

Sue Heizer. “Biology class”, Sue Heizer. Weirdest possible way you could have remembered that, by the way, you hadn’t been in school in years. Front seat of her car. Volkswagen Jetta. You and Dad loved to gripe about “modern cars”. Some things don’t change. My hands were fumbling with her tits, and hers were in my hair and this ring she was wearing kept getting caught in it. And it was the hottest thing that had ever happened to me. Seventeen, ten times more hormones than experience. More than made up for that this last year. I tried to flip us so she was on top, and my foot hit the radio dial. Turns out the very last song you want to hear whilst finally getting to fuck the girl you’ve been mooning over for weeks is one about finding out you’re gonna be a dad. I had to endure that song for the next three weeks, it was at Number 1. I hated it then, and I hate it now. I can’t feel embarrassed anymore - I just think it's cheesy. This was a bad place to start. Let’s try again.

---

Digging in the Dirt - Peter Gabriel

Flagstaff. I bought a week’s supply of junk food. Last five dollars from the money Dad gave me to live on two hunts back. The one where dad sent you back after three days while he went lone wolf and you bitched about it every hour of every day until he got home. Funny how fast you shut up the second he walked in the door. You had cash on you, so we used that for food instead, and I squirrelled the note away. And waited. I don’t know why Flagstaff. Actually, I do. You were hogging the TV and wouldn’t let me watch anything I wanted to, and I got fed up, and grabbed the remote while you were in the kitchen, and wouldn’t give it back. And you hit me. It wasn’t the first time, but I didn’t think it was normal yet. The kid at the register in the 7-Eleven was singing along, and he gave me an extra bag of Funyons. Before heaven, I’d hear it and feel free. After, it made me want to vomit. Now? I like it again. Must be all that emotional growth I’m not having.

---

Landslide - Fleetwood Mac

Bus to Stanford. It stopped for an hour somewhere in Nebraska. Everyone else got off to stretch their legs, use the bathroom, grab a shitty reststop sandwich. I stayed. It was like I was afraid that if I stepped off before we got there, everything might disintegrate; it all felt so fragile. Stupid way to think. The bus driver came back from their smoke break. I remember she smoked the same brand as Dad, the smell, it was the closest I ever came to turning back. She saw me in the mirror. “Mind if I put the radio on, honey?” I knew I was doing the right thing, really knew, for the first time. I used to do that, second-guess things that were blatantly fucking obvious. Guess having a soul really slows you down. It always made me feel strong. Stevie’s voice is still beautiful.

---

The Captain and the Hourglass - Laura Marling

You were dead. You were dead, and I was in the car with Ruby. And I had that laser focus that you always found unnerving, although that wasn’t the way you said it, “Sammy’s an obsessive freak” were the exact words. And still, I decided to take the time to put an iPod jack in the car. I’m still like that. Moreso. Sammy got so scared of his own melon, he started agreeing with you on the freak part. I was in the car with Ruby, and she told me she was impressed at how quickly I was learning my powers. And she made me feel in control of myself in a way I never had before. And completely at her mercy. We stopped by the side of the road, and the song came on, and she opened up and vein in the top of her thigh, didn’t give me the option of anywhere else. I always felt kinda felt like running when I heard it again, even though I loved the song. I could never quite place why. I can now. Lack of a soul gives you a strange kind of clarity about a lot of things. You should try it sometime. “He's done with all this bullshit, he's going back to war” means something different now.

---

Whole Lotta Love - Led Zeppelin (kinda)

First gig I ever went to. You and me, and those ridiculous fake IDs. I was so sure we’d get arrested or something, I was fourteen, and the shortest kid in the class, who were we kidding? Should have known you’d found the shittiest, dingiest, divebar in town. Maybe they didn’t care. Probably, they just couldn’t see me through the fog of cigarette smoke. I think they’re still the worst Zeppelin tribute we’ve ever heard, and we’ve probably got some kind of World Record for bad cover bands by now. They’re like roaches, everywhere, and hard to kill. It was the last song of the night and, somehow, barely recognisable. And you turned to me, and you were so mad that they were butchering your favourite song. But the music was so bad, and your face just looked so cartoonishly angry, and I laughed, and then you were laughing, and we couldn’t stop. It doesn’t seem funny when I think of it now, but I remember feeling it. Dad couldn’t play it in the car for months after without one or both of us corpsing, and we couldn’t tell him why. Our own private little joke. I think you forgot about it eventually, but I never did. I didn’t think it was possible to hear it and not feel that asinine, childish joy. Still love that guitar solo.

---

Sorrow - The National

The song playing in my ears on the way to die. For once, you didn’t complain about me using headphones to listen to my own music in the car. You’d given me this big speech about how I wasn’t a kid anymore, you had to learn to let me go my own way. Guess this was part of that. Didn’t last, did it?

----

@seasononesam @suncaptor

#samweek2025 #sam winchester #soulless!sam #spn #my fic #I hope y'all like this one as I liked writing it :)

32 notes · View notes

ahappydnp · 7 hours ago

Note

Hey so I hope this is okay to ask as i’m a bit confused and crazy atm. In the WIQYT screenshots going around again about the doc, the last one talks about Dan having self image issues. I was curious if you could possibly help spread some light on the subject maybe? I remember always seeing him posted on the proana blogs back in the day frequently, and even in Dan and Depression he says his lexapro made him “gain loads of weight” but it never seemed like anything visually changed. I know you’re not a mind reader and trying to understand another persons self image is impossible, I guess I just maybe don’t understand where this comes from. I know he used to rag on himself in videos by putting pillows down his shirt to signify that he was chubby as a kid even tho he never was from the pictures available. I’m aware this is very parasocial but I’ve been going through a lot self image wise and he never got to make his documentary where he talks about it and idk. To me, Daniel is lowkey a philosopher and i’m so desperate to hear what he has to say on the subject. Can you think of any times he’s talked about this kind of stuff? (Sorry for this being such a downer anon i just kinda feel like i need to hear about it rn and i don’t know where to look)

I hope your weekend is amazing and filled with joy and laughter!

like you said, no one knows what goes on inside someones mind especially things like insecurities. but i do think it's two seperate issues that dan has talked about (under the cut for sensitive topics)

i think it's important to remember how society treated weight in the early 00s, obviously it was muuuuch worse for women but boys would also get ridiculed for their weight regardless of their size. i assume that dan did get picked on for being bigger (more than likely he was probably just taller than his classmates but kids just really like generalizing words like "fat" and that sticks in your brain). it was such a shitty time for body acceptance as a whole and he was bullied so much i'm sure people did throw in weight comments just to add to the blow.

and like everything else that's going to stick and then when you're a little older you just repeat this truth that other people told you that "i was a fat kid and fat=bad just like gay=bad so i'm going to agree with them" of course that was suuuuuuper toxic and unhealthy and dan definitely did even more damage peddling casual fatphobia and making insensitive jokes online. but he was pretty openly struggling with his body image from the get go (all the ED comments he made in 2009) and as we know, there's generally another root cause. dan's talked about his self hatred when he was younger (particularly stemming from the bullying and his internalized homophobia) at length and it makes sense that manifested into body dysmorphia the second part is in that screenshot from WIQY he was specifically talking about gay men's beauty standards which is a whole different issue altogether. he's talked a lot about his baby face and how he's felt insecure about his lack of "masculine" features and build. he's talked about how people don't take him seriously because he doesn't look like "a man". there's also the added layer of him being the poster child for ~pretty boy twink~ who's now getting older and aging out of those very rigid beauty standards solely because he's no longer 21. but gay men can be incredibly toxic when it comes to labels and what's attractive (i mean think about the fact that grindr literally has a body type filter so you can exclude whole subsets of people). so he's not saying that he's not attractive or not the general beauty standard, it's that he came out and fell face first into gay standards discourse because he was actively engaging and consuming queer community in a new light

allll of this to say i COMPLETELY get how it can instinctively rub people the wrong way when dan howell, who was famously coined "the hot one" for years and has had people drooling over him his entire adult life, says he's insecure. it can feel like a slap in the face if you don't consider his own struggles but i do think he's self aware and healed enough to know that he's very much within societal beauty standards (tall, straight sized, white, eurocentric features) and has actually benefited greatly in his career because of his looks. and he's unpacked a lot of his fatphobia and has made a point to be vocally body positive even going back to like 2016/2017

#anon ask #cw body image #cw weight #it's a reminder that two things can be true at the same time. someone can experience privilege for something theyre also struggling with #idk it's a subject very close to me personally #subscribing to dan circa 2011/2012 while i was actively in ED treatment meant having to sit out on some of his content #but also knowing he wasnt trying to be malicious and was peddling rhetoric he'd heard himself #dan and phil #phan

33 notes · View notes

pankowcrumbs · 2 days ago

Text

Skirt X Eddie Munson

MasterList

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

It had been an oddly quiet evening. The kind that stretches long and slow like honey dripping from a spoon. Outside, rain tapped gently at the windows like a metronome, the occasional rumble of thunder making the lights flicker ever so slightly. The kind of evening where you couldn’t help but want to be tangled up in someone else and in this case, that someone was currently hunched over his guitar, scribbling notes in a worn, coffee-stained notebook.

Eddie Munson, the love of my life and bane of my current cuddle-starved existence.

“Baby,” I called from the sofa, stretching like a cat, my arms above my head as I nestled deeper into the throw blanket. “Come cuddle me. It’s practically written in the rain.”

“I will in a bit,” he muttered distractedly, strumming a chord and frowning when it didn’t sound the way he wanted it to.

“That’s what you said twenty minutes ago.” I pouted, poking my toes out from under the blanket. “You’ve been working on that same verse for hours.”

Eddie glanced up briefly, curls messy, pencil tucked behind his ear, that little furrow in his brow that always formed when he was stuck. He was frustratingly beautiful when he was focused. He looked like trouble incarnate with his tattooed fingers and wild hair, and yet, right now, I wanted nothing more than for him to drop that damn guitar and wrap his arms around me.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, “I just need to finish this one thing. I’m nearly there, I promise.”

I paused, watching him. The way his lip curled as he muttered the line under his breath, the frustrated scratch of his pencil on the page. I knew he meant well. But I also knew how to get his attention.

“Fine,” I said, voice sugary-sweet. “Come cuddle me, and I’ll let you put your hand up my skirt.”

That made him look up.

I didn’t stop there.

“We can even make a game out of it,” I added, lazily twirling a lock of my hair. “See how long I can go without making a sound.”

Eddie blinked once. Then again. His pencil dropped.

“You’re evil,” he said, his tone hoarse with sudden interest.

“You love it.”

He set the guitar down so fast it thudded against the carpet.

In three long strides, he was across the room, dramatically tossing the blanket off me and sliding onto the sofa like a man possessed. His hands found my waist instantly, tugging me toward him as he buried his face into the crook of my neck.

“You really play dirty, you know that?” he murmured, voice rough and low.

I giggled, already breathless. “I learned from the best.”

“Is that so?” His fingers skimmed down my thigh, slow and teasing. “What else did I teach you, hm?”

I leaned back against the arm of the couch, legs draped across his lap, heart thudding against my ribs. He was warm and solid, the scent of him familiar leather, smoke, and something distinctly Eddie. His hand slid under the hem of my oversized tee, the tips of his fingers brushing my skin like he was memorising it.

“You okay?” he asked gently, his voice a notch softer.

I nodded, cheeks already flushed. “Yeah. Just… don’t rush.”

“I’d never,” he whispered. “You lead. I follow.”

And he meant it. That’s what I loved about him his patience beneath all that chaos. He might have had the swagger of a rockstar and the mouth of a sailor, but when it came to me, he was all tenderness.

I leaned forward and kissed him, slow and lingering. His hand moved up to cradle the back of my neck, deepening the kiss with just the right amount of pressure. My fingers threaded through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

“You’re really not finishing that verse tonight, are you?” I murmured against his lips.

“Sweetheart, that verse never stood a chance the second you said ‘skirt.’”

I burst out laughing, head falling back against the cushions.

He kissed my throat, just under my jaw. “I love you, you know.”

“I know,” I whispered, eyes fluttering shut. “I love you too.”

The rain carried on outside, a slow, steady rhythm to match the warmth pooling between us. His hand never wandered far, always asking silently with every movement. When I shifted, guiding him closer, he followed willingly, lips finding mine again, tongue brushing over mine in a kiss that promised more.

And when things finally drifted beyond the point of return, when our kisses turned heavier, hungrier, I knew I’d never felt more wanted and more safe in anyone’s arms.

We didn’t rush. We explored. We laughed in between kisses. He whispered things that made me blush and things that made me ache in the best way. And when we finally gave in to the heat building between us, it wasn’t just physical it was everything we’d ever been.

Afterwards, we stayed tangled up in each other, limbs lazy and hearts full.

“That was…” I began, but trailed off, too happy to find the right word.

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah. It really was.”

Silence fell for a moment, broken only by the rain and the occasional sound of the wind.

“I do still want cuddles though,” I mumbled against his chest.

He kissed my forehead. “You’ll have to fight me to stop cuddling you now.”

We’d somehow migrated to the floor, still wrapped in the throw blanket, surrounded by the remnants of a half-eaten pizza and forgotten notebook pages. Eddie was drawing lazy shapes on my bare shoulder with his fingers.

“You know,” he murmured, “I’ve written songs for you in my head I haven’t even dared to put on paper yet.”

I looked up, touched. “Why not?”

“Because they’re too soft. Too much. People expect me to write about chaos and fire and... darkness.” He shrugged. “But you make me want to write about softness. Like... like clouds and sunlight and the way you smell like lavender.”

I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt.

“You can still be chaos, Eddie,” I said softly, “but I like knowing I’m your calm.”

He didn’t reply right away just pulled me tighter.

“Next time I get stuck on a verse, remind me to put my hand up your skirt. Apparently, it works wonders for inspiration.”

I swatted him playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet... you still love me.”

“Completely.”

53 notes · View notes

indigosunsetao3 · 2 days ago

Text

Chapter 8

Repairing old wounds and making new ones.

AO3 (Full list of tags/warnings. Please check them.) Masterlist 7.8k Words

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

When Celeste’s phone dinged with a notification, she dug it out of her purse and glanced at it. A new message from Johnny was waiting for her, and she shifted the shopping trolley she was pushing to unlock the screen to see what he had to say. After everything that had happened with her den, John had been insistent that she have their numbers should anything else crop up. But also allow them to keep in contact and let her know when they would be working in her house.

Celeste had resisted their continued help. Tried to fend them off saying she would just call someone to do come out and do the work. She didn’t want to feel like she owed them more than she already did and felt it was crossing the line to have your neighbors do work for you. What if it went poorly? Maybe they charged her more than she could manage or did something she didn’t like and there was a falling out. She was already warring with Mrs. Nettles about trash bins, which she had put solar spotlights on just to poke the angry bear, she didn’t want a fight with these men. She had a feeling they would be much better at making her life miserable than a nosey old lady. And Celeste sure as hell would not be leaving this house, it was the last piece of her husband she really had.

John is out for the day so I’m going to work on the floors. They’re the one thing he trusts me to do without him hovering. I won’t be disrupting anything will I? No, all good. I’ll be there in a bit. Stopped in town for a few things. Do I need to pick up anything for the house? Simon’s at the hardware store getting what we need.

Stuffing her phone back in her purse Celeste went back to shopping, taking her time to wander down the aisles. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go home, but it was still a bit awkward around the men in her house. Feeling as if she were just lurking in their presence as they came in and out, hauling moldy carpet, climbing on the roof, yelling at one another when things weren’t going as planned, and laughing behind a closed door as they ribbed one another when they were. She had tried to stay out of the way, reading on the couch or wandering outside but that felt odd too, just watching them work on her place without helping. But every time she asked if there was anything she could do, they would tell her no, to relax or take care of anything else she needed.

After wandering the grocery aisles for a third time, Celeste gave up wasting time and finished shopping. She had a few frozen things to get home with, and the days were getting warmer, so they wouldn’t keep as long in the car. The ride home took a little longer than usual, not drastically, but enough for her to take notice that the early tourists were starting to arrive. It wouldn’t be long before the spring festival to kick off the season was there, which meant more chaos at work.

“Hey you,” Celeste said with a grin as she shouldered open the front door to find Samson sitting on the small table that housed her bowl of keys and the rest of her junk that didn’t have a home.

Diligently, Celeste set her keyring in the bowl so as not to misplace them, her eyes lingering on the shiny new key in her favorite shade of blue. How Simon had figured out blue was her favorite color, she wasn’t sure, but when she came home one day to both doors rekeyed, he silently handed her the master key to put somewhere safe and her key. He also let her know that the guys would be keeping a spare at their place if she was comfortable with it. Just so they could get in and out while working on the place, and for emergencies. Celeste agreed, if only for convenience, and the fact he had thrown away the fake rock where she kept the spare key. He didn’t even look mildly ashamed to admit it either as she huffed at him.

“I’m surprised you aren’t outside, it’s a pretty day,” Celeste continued talking to Samson as she scratched his ears and kicked the door shut, which also no longer stuck on the uneven tile. Simon must have adjusted it when he set about redoing the locks.

“He was,” Johnny called from the top of the stairs, his voice a little breathless from stacking support beams. “Until he decided chasing my bootlaces while I hauled in wood was more interesting.”

“He’ll do that,” Celeste said with a small laugh as she lugged her overstuffed bags of groceries into the kitchen.

Ever since the embarrassment of not having cat food, Celeste had been vigilant in actually going to the store. It had only been a few weeks, but she wasn’t about to have another incident of having to ask the guys for anything else. Having them around had forced her to assess her current situation besides the giant hole in her den ceiling. To actually take a good look at how she was living, and not just in a figurative sense. Her place was a stale tomb. Alice had said it a few times, but Celeste ignored it until strangers came into her house and she really saw what it looked like. It was as if she were a ghost living in her own place. It didn’t look lived in, with dust collecting on everything, nothing on the walls, and barren shelves.

Being forced to reckon with the den meant ripping off the band aid of all the things she had tried to pack away. Which would force her to speedily decorate and clean. Between the men working on the structural damage, she had spent her evenings actively going through all the boxes she had been ignoring. Shifting things out of the room so it wasn’t in the way and taking items to the rooms she wanted them in.

The work had started out exhausting, mentally and physically, having to keep working hours after her actual job and dealing with the emotional whiplash. But it had lit a bit of fire in her once she started seeing all the memories she had packed away months ago. Each night, she felt it become a little less draining. Even when her framed handwritten wedding vows had sent her into a sobbing fit that ended with John quietly handing her a cup of tea and scaring the shit out of her because she didn’t realize he was there.

“Simon is going to bring a receipt for these things he’s picking up, right?” Celeste asked from the doorway a few minutes later as she looked into the den where Johnny was.

“I told him to,” Johnny answered as he looked up from where he was lying on his stomach with his hands in the hole in the floor. “Doesn’t always listen to me though.”

The roof had been a repair that was out of everyone’s hands. The cottage didn’t have standard shingles, they were wood and required specialty ordering and installation. Celeste’s insurance luckily covered a good portion of it, but there was still a huge amount she had to pay out of pocket, which hurt her wallet. She had a bit of savings built up from her husband’s life insurance and other assets, but with her current job and being on a single income, putting money back into that savings was a bit harder when she had to withdraw from it.

And while Celeste couldn’t prove it, the guys were being a bit dodgy when it came to the rest of the purchases for repairs. She didn’t want to feel like she owed anyone favors, let alone money, so when the guys showed up with materials, she was always ready to shove money into their hands. But there was always an excuse. They lost the receipt, this was just left over from their own house so it didn’t cost them anything, or her favorite from Kyle ‘found it on the side of the road.’ The one time she managed to get Johnny to take the bills, they had mysteriously appeared back in her wallet two days later.

“None of you listen,” Celeste sighed as she walked over to a box she had started on the night before, smiling just a bit to herself at the vase of flowers in one of the windows.

“We listen,” Johnny answered as he grunted, tugging at something, “but that doesn’t mean we are going to do it.”

“How bad is the floor?” Celeste dared to ask as she flopped down and crossed her legs to get to work on her own project. This box at least looked like mostly her junk, so there were no risks of jump scares of emotions.

“It’s,” Johnny hesitated, “not great.” He grinned a bit as he looked over at Celeste, who rolled her head back to look up at the ceiling with a loud sigh. “But we can fix it. Just going to shore up the structure before we lay down the rest of the subfloor.”

“Would I have gone through it if I stood on it?”

“Maybe not you, but John for sure,” Johnny stated before waving a hand to gesture for her to come over. “Want me to show you?”

“I’m not sure I want to see, but why not,” Celeste answered before shifting to her hands and knees to shuffle over so she was knelt next to him.

The area Johnny was working on looked bleak and, if she were honest, a bit scary.

She knew it was going to be bad when they had ripped the carpeting out of the whole room, deeming it unsalvageable, even where it hadn’t been wet. Every section they pulled they kept finding more and more mold until they got to the walls. The subfloor was okay the further away it was from the direct damage, the carpet and padding took most of the brunt of the spores that had spread. The area that had been dripped on for weeks they had ripped up the plywood which crumbled in their hands. The insulation underneath was soaked and unusable, and there were burn marks in some of it because of the old wiring.

Now that the supports were fully visible, Celeste could see years of different damage. Spots had been eaten by termites, evidence of mice, and plain rotted out spots. John thought that they could seal the sheetrock that doubled as her kitchen ceiling to kill any other mold that hadn’t sprouted, but he was insistent Celeste keep an eye on the ceiling downstairs. They had rewired any exposed wiring, leaving Celeste in the dark literally overnight a few days ago. Kyle had tried to convince her to stay at their house with the power being cut, but Celeste had insisted on staying home. Even if that meant moving around the house with a flashlight and banging her shins more than once.

“The supports are still in working order in most spots,” Johnny explained as he pointed the beam of his torch for Celeste’s eyes to follow. “But we have a few we need to add some reinforcement,” he pointed to a piece that had cracked in the middle. “I’ll run boards from the good spots to take the load off the bad ones.” He continued before turning his head to look up at Celeste who was leaned over, hands on her knees to peer inside.

“What’s to say the rest of the house doesn’t have these issues?” Celeste asked as she eyed a suspicious looking stain on one of the beams.

“Unless you have other leaks,” Johnny answered as he groped to his side to grab a precut piece of wood, “you should be fine. May have to renovate them at some point just for the age,” he continued as he maneuvered the wood into place. “But it’s a good thing we’ll be here to help,” he winked.

“Well, I don’t ever plan on leaving, so I guess I’ll keep it in the back of my mind,” Celeste answered as she watched Johnny hold the wood in one broad hand before grabbing the nail gun.

“Are you busy with anything?” Johnny asked as he pulled the wire to give himself more slack.

“Ah,” Celeste glanced back at her box of junk before back to Johnny, “not really. Is there something I can help with?”

“Nail this board in for me. Be easier for me to just hold it in place,” Johnny said. When he saw Celeste’s eyes get big and she was about to back out he tacked on, “you just need to press the gun to the board and pull the trigger. Doesn’t matter where, as long as it’s not my hand…or yours.”

“I’ve never,” Celeste started as he held the contraption out to her. It was heavy and she had to grip it with both hands as she looked at it before back to him.

“Right there,” Johnny pointed with one of his fingers as he supported the board. “Just press the gun down as hard as you can and pull the trigger.”

She was still completely unsure, but Celeste nodded once before leaning over to press the nail gun to the board. If she could help in any way to put her place back together, she was going to. It would help ease the guilt and the feeling that she was taking advantage of them. The angle was awkward, and she pressed her hand on the back of the gun to hold it in place before darting her eyes up to Johnny, who was watching her face.

“Good?” She asked, and when he nodded, she gave him a disbelieving look before pulling the trigger.

The blowback of the air pushed the hair out of her face, and the loud pop made her shriek in surprise, to which Johnny laughed. That was why he was looking at her, to see her freak out, because he knew it would happen. She scowled and pulled the gun back, only to find the nail hadn’t gone in all the way, it was still sticking out halfway.

“Damn,” Celeste muttered as she looked at it. She tried to pry it out with her hands, but it was just far enough that she couldn’t. She gave up trying before Johnny plucked it out of the wood without barely straining and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Not a problem. You just weren’t holding it tight enough against the board,” he explained as he gestured for her to try again. “The compression of the air pushed the gun off the wood. Go again now that you know what to expect,” he nodded his head for her to try again.

This time, as Celeste lined the gun up and pressed against the back of the gun, he put one of his hands over hers and pressed down as well. His grip was strong and warm, completely engulfing her hand with his as he held the gun steady and in place. When Celeste pulled the trigger this time, the blowback was just as strong, but it didn’t kick back as hard because she felt Johnny press down even harder to hold the gun in place.

“There you go,” Johnny said approvingly as they lifted the gun away. The nail was in the wood, sunken in a bit from the pressure. “Few more to go,” he stated.

Celeste adjusted to get on her stomach like him, and together, they worked on nailing the boards. Her hands were sore and ached by the time they finished. She had still messed up a few when she attempted to do it herself, but it was satisfying when they finished and looked down at the fresh wood that replaced or reinforced all the old pieces.

“Food’s ready,” came a voice that made Celeste jump, but Johnny merely grinned.

“For someone so large, you are so quiet!” Celeste admonished as she looked up at Simon from her stomach as he loomed in the doorway.

“You get used to it,” Johnny answered as he pushed himself up in a push up position before getting on his knees and standing, offering his hand to Celeste to help her up. “John will want to inspect before we lay down the plywood,” he explained as Simon walked over to look at their work. “So, we can call it a night.”

“Enjoy dinner,” Celeste replied with a grin as Johnny took a step closer to Simon, he always seemed to gravitate toward him no matter the situation.

“I didn’t get food just for him,” Simon replied as he raised an eyebrow, “I know I’m rude, but I’m not that rude.”

“Oh, I,” Celeste felt herself growing hot. “You didn’t have to,” she started, “I actually bought myself groceries today for once.”

“Good, you can feed yourself tomorrow. Now before it gets cold or Samson gets into it, let’s eat. I set the table.” He stepped aside to let Johnny and Celeste out of the room, shutting the door behind him to prevent the curious orange cat from exploring.

----------------------------

Cleared.

The one word Kyle had been itching to hear for weeks. He hated being put on the sidelines, waiting around while the rest of them worked. It felt like a deadweight to the team, and while he knew none of them felt that way, it still bothered him. And being cleared meant he could get back out in the field and not be stuck at home all the time with his thoughts. At least when they were working, Kyle knew exactly where he stood in everyone’s eyes. There was no question as to what he brought to the table and that John valued him. At home, it was a whole different story.

John had gone with Kyle for his official appointment to get back to active work. All the other appointments had been check ins and physical therapy closer to home, but this was all the way in London. It was a long drive, almost six hours, from their place so he had booked a hotel to stay overnight. When Simon gave him an eyebrow raise when he told him he was going, he had used the excuse he needed to meet with a few contacts on the Russian issue. Simon let it drop, but John knew that he could see right through him.

“Picked up some food from the bar,” John stated as he walked into the hotel room to find Kyle already lounged on his queen-sized bed on the far side of the room. “Figured you had a tiring day.”

“Going to need another week to recover,” Kyle joked as he extended and flexed his arm.

He was sore, they had put him through some rough paces. Running, lifting, prolonged extension and raises. They had poked and prodded him, and while he bit his cheek to not let it show, some of the spots were still sensitive to touch. But after a few hours, bloodwork, x-rays and the requested re-test on shooting, at John’s discretion, they said he was fit for duty. Kyle knew if he was going keep up with the rest of the team he was going to have to work quickly to get back into the shape they were.

“You take all the time you need, we’re doing alright,” John answered as he sat down hard on his bed, which squeaked loudly. While running a three man team was less than ideal, just the thought of Kyle being out in the field again made him anxious. He blamed it on what he had to do to keep him alive, ignoring the other glaring reason.

“No, I’m good,” Kyle answered quickly as he sat up and reached his hand out for the take away box. “I’m climbing the walls at home while you’re gone.”

John glanced up at Kyle at that while handing him his food; burger cooked just like he liked, extra mayo, no pickles, and vinegar for his chips. He knew what he meant, knew that he would also climb the walls if he was stuck at home when his men were at work. Though, that small spark he worked on stuffing down lit up at the implication that Kyle missed him while he was gone. That he wanted John around, was worried about him when he was away and couldn’t wait for him to be home or be around him. But then he went and squashed it away, hurting his own feelings with the next question.

“Celeste not keeping you busy?” John asked with a small, forced grin and eyebrow raise. “The flowers were a nice touch.”

“Her den is dismal, she needed something,” Kyle reasoned as he dipped a chip in the small plastic container that held his vinegar. “And her garden is overgrown, killed two birds with one stone.” If John was going to be obtuse then fine. He would let him.

“I think you made Johnny jealous you did it first,” John joked as he toed off his shoes and shifted to lean back on the headboard of his bed to eat. This was easier, talking about Kyle and Celeste, push him toward that pursuit even if it hurt in more ways than one.

“Johnny can get Simon flowers if he needs the attention,” Kyle answered as he mirrored John and leaned back against his own headboard. “He’s got his own tricks up his sleeve anyway. Simon, too, in his own quiet way.”

“Poor girl has no idea what she’s gotten herself into,” John answered with a small chuckle.

He knew his men better than anyone else. He could see how they sat up a little straighter, looked just a bit more interested, and always brought the conversation back around to her. They all said it was out of concern, being friendly, but there was more to it. More to the way Simon silently hovered when she insisted on moving the heavy boxes herself. How Johnny stooped a bit to get down to her level to be able to look her in the eye better. When Kyle would grin just a fraction wider, the one dimple in his cheek popping, as she talked to him.

“Don’t act like you also aren’t interested,” Kyle prodded as he flipped the channel to the football game. “I see how you get flustered,” he joked, pretending he didn’t ache that John didn’t act that way around him. “Not used to someone telling you no, are you?”

“I’m not used to someone being so determined to do everything the hard way,” John countered. “I can deal with stubborn and bullheaded,” he looked pointedly at Kyle, “but she just flat out won’t listen.”

John had told Celeste over and over that he and the guys would take care of the issue in her den. He’d make the arrangements for contractors if they needed it, he knew plenty, and they’d fix what they could themselves. Money they could figure out later, that she needn’t worry about that at the moment. John knew she was on a fixed income compared to the four of them who made money for every contract they took. Not to mention their pensions. But she wouldn’t have it. Just the other day she had called a plumber to fix her leaking sinks and John had to run the guy off when he arrived, slipping him a twenty pound note for his troubles.

“You aren’t her Captain. She doesn’t have to listen,” Kyle reasoned, pausing for mid bite to watch the goalie save the ball. “Damn,” he muttered as he took a bite of his burger.

John let the conversation drop as they both focused on the game, picking up on the fact Kyle wasn’t interested in talking about Celeste any longer. The tension between them was thick these days, but one thing that was still easy for them was football. It had been the thing that bonded them in the beginning, Simon and Johnny not nearly as big of fans, and made things feel normal. Even out in the field, when tensions were high for other reasons, they could fall into sports talk.

When the game wrapped, Chelsea having their arse absolutely handed to them, Kyle cleaned up dinner while John showered. It almost felt that John didn’t want to be alone with Kyle, not without distraction, and he all but bolted from the bed. The easiest solution would have been to book two rooms, but John insisted on just sharing one. For a brief second, Kyle felt his stomach squirm with anticipation when John stood fast on that point, leveling him with a look when he tried to argue. It wasn’t unusual, the four of them would pile into a closet to sleep if needed, but John had an option this time, and he still picked to be with Kyle.

“Liverpool and Burnley play here in a moment,” Kyle said vaguely when John walked out of the bathroom.

“Not much of a game,” John noted as he toweled off his hair, throwing the linen onto one of the stiff backed chairs. “But may as well.”

Settling under the sheets, hiding the grimace on his face from the burn in his shoulder as he pulled off his shirt, Kyle turned his attention to the game. Ignoring the desire to just look at John as he lounged on top of the sheets in nothing but a pair of shorts, hand tucked behind his head as he stared at the screen. Kyle didn’t know if he did it on purpose or not, but it was getting harder and harder to just not scream his frustration. To ask John if he knew what he was doing. If he enjoyed torturing Kyle like this. Booking a single room, walking around barely clothed, making him jealous with the mention of Celeste even if Kyle also had an attraction to her. Being figuratively and literally, just out of reach no matter how close Kyle was to him.

“Fuck, that’s a red card. Don’t know why he’s waiting,” John muttered after a bit as he watched a player get in the ref's face. He looked over to Kyle to see if he agreed, but he had nodded off. Still half sitting up with his head drooped to the side, breathing softly.

Quietly, John grabbed the remote and turned the volume down a few notches before setting it back on the nightstand. His eyes roved over Kyle, taking in the way his eyes fluttered from a dream and the slow way his chest rose and fell. He always looked so much softer, younger, when he slept. The stress of life smoothed away to reveal the gentle person underneath. The one that wasn’t hardened, wasn’t angry or on edge. The person Kyle may have been if John hadn’t intervened that day in Picadilly and recruited him to his task force. He could have served his time, retired with honor, and been a civilian with an easier life, a life with someone like Celeste. Grow old, and be safe from all of this.

But John had been selfish.

He had seen Kyle’s potential and sucked him in, and was leading him right down the same path he took. Of his three men, Kyle was the one that could survive without the job, could have made something else of his life. Johnny and Simon lived and breathed for the military; they needed it like they needed air, just like him. But Kyle was better than them, he could do so much more. But he still chose to stay around, to follow all of them into the next fight. Always ready to charge head first despite the risks. And never one to back down even when certain death was waiting on them, which is what almost made John lose him last time. Why the right side of his chest was peppered with fresh scars and a mangled bullet hole in his shoulder.

John finished the game, glancing at Kyle as he barely woke from his sleep to shift further under the sheets and roll over. It wasn’t too late, but they had been up early to make it for Kyle’s appointment, so when John glanced at the clock reflecting almost ten, he opted to just cut off the television and go to sleep himself. If they wanted to get back tomorrow at a decent time, they’d need to be on the road just after dawn. John was hoping to get the floor in solid at Celeste’s so they could start working on the ceiling.

Kyle rolled over in his sleep, wincing a bit at the noise as it pulled him from his doze. The hotel beds were horrible, they squeaked and groaned, and it seemed to linger, echoing, once he stopped moving. Shifting a bit, thinking that perhaps he had rolled onto a spring that was coiled under him making all the racket, Kyle waited for it to cease. In his half-asleep daze, he reached out with a fisted hand to hit the bed to make it stop, as it just continued on. He was about to sit up and grab his phone to see if he could find the source of the noise when he heard the gasp. That roused him fully, shaking the sleep from his brain as he listened to his surroundings as he gained his bearings. It wasn’t his bed, and it wasn’t his gasp. It was John.

Throwing back the blankets, Kyle sat up and reached for the bedside lamp, squinting at the dim light from the nearly burnt out bulb as it came on. John was on his back, his face contorted as he thrashed in his sleep, arms tangled in the sheets as he fought some invisible enemy. There was sweat on his face, and the way his chest heaved, Kyle knew he had been at this for a while, but it hadn’t woken him up.

Nightmares weren’t new for any of them. There had been times Kyle had been jolted awake from Simon yelling in his sleep or Johnny groaning in pain. He had woken himself up plenty of times and had been shaken awake by John as he fell from the helicopter for the hundredth time. But John somehow always managed to keep his nightmares quiet, away from them. It was rare that he needed someone to pull him from them, and it was always Simon who would step in. Waking someone up from a flashback nightmare was a risk in its own, the brain not always able to differentiate reality from sleep. But Kyle wasn’t going to let John suffer, he was clearly panicked and perhaps even crying with the way he was gasping for air.

“John,” Kyle said, his voice still thick from sleep. “John, wake up,” he tried as he rose up from his bed and crossed the small gap between them. “Hey,” he reached out and tried to grab at his arm, but it flailed under the comforter and out of his reach. Moving to grab his shoulder, Kyle could feel the heat come off of him and the slick sweat that coated his bare skin. “John, wake up,” Kyle said firmly as he shook him a bit harder. It wasn’t working.

Wherever John was, he was deep and lost in it.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Everything was happening too fast for him to be able to do anything. There was blood all around, on the streets, on his pants, his shirt, his hands. And the screaming. The screams were circling him but also right at his feet. Simon was yelling at him to do something, but John couldn’t move, couldn’t get past the weight that was pinning his feet to the sidewalk as he watched. Watched Kyle shiver with pain on the ground as blood oozed seemingly from everywhere, leaking onto the concrete to mix with other’s blood and flesh.

The painful gasps that Kyle took to try and breathe as he fruitlessly ripped at his kit to try and get it off felt like a thousand knives to John’s ears. He needed to help him, to do something, but he was going too slow. He couldn’t get his limbs to work right, and as he fumbled with the Velcro on Kyle’s vest, the man screamed out and tried to pull away from the pain. The panic in his eyes was evident. He knew this wasn’t a wound you walked away from; it was one that he may not live past five minutes from. And his terrified eyes locked on John’s as he grabbed for him, his fingers grasping at his arms sliding in the thick blood that coated them.

“Kyle,” John groaned out.

“I’m here, John,” Kyle tried, thinking he was finally getting him awake. “Just a nightmare, come on,” he tried as he ripped at the sheets to get them away from his neck to free him a bit from the restraint.

He needed to get the bullet out. He was bleeding too badly, and they couldn’t pack it with the bullet lodged in there. Simon was fighting against Kyle as he thrashed in his hysteria of pain to try and make it stop, shaking fingers trying to rip at the gaping wound in his shoulder. Johnny was laying down cover fire as John knelt by Kyle’s side, trying to assess the damage.

He looked at the bulletproof vest that had been obliterated by the bomb shrapnel. His skin was twisted along his stomach, peppered with sharp pieces of metal between the holes in his shirt. No. No. No. He couldn’t lose Kyle. Not like this. Kyle was screaming in pain, his voice growing hoarse from the overuse and exhaustion. He needed to do something.

With a grunt, Simon placed a blood-soaked glove on Kyle’s cheek. He shoved his face to the side, the screams reaching a new octave as the wound in Kyle's shoulder was stretched. Simon didn’t hesitate as he knelt on Kyle’s good arm while the other hand held down his shredded right arm. It was now or never to get that bullet out.

“Do it,” Simon yelled as John plunged his fingers into the jagged wound.

“John!” Kyle snapped as John made a shuddering gasp and then held his breath as if he had just jumped into water. He stopped moving, stopped everything except for his eyes, which were flicking back and forth rapidly behind his eyelids. “Wake up,” Kyle insisted as he bodily lifted his shoulders off the bed a few inches and shoved him back down hard, hoping the sensation of falling would wake him.

It worked.

John inhaled a breath like a drowning man and snapped his eyes open. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew Kyle was there. He could hear him, see him in the light of the room, wherever it was. Then the panic set in. He hadn’t saved him. He failed. Kyle was gone, and this was some fucked up vision of him, an embodiment of his guilt for it. For everything. He could still feel the sticky blood on his arms, but he was too scared to look, afraid if he took his eyes off Kyle, he’d disappear.

“Hey,” Kyle said softly as he saw the wild look in John’s eyes. He was awake, but he wasn’t back. Not fully. “You’re safe,” he continued, using the words his therapist had drilled in him for when he had nightmares of his own. “You’re safe, in bed. No threats.”

“You’re here,” John said, his voice a husky whisper as he looked at Kyle. “I’m sorry for everything,” he breathed, feeling the tears. “I’m sorry I couldn’t,” he swallowed, though his mouth felt like sandpaper. “It’s my fault.”

“John, I’m okay,” Kyle said, trying to put the pieces together as to what his nightmare had been. “Look, see?” Kyle offered as he gestured to his arm. “All in one piece, a banged up piece, but a piece,” he suggested gently as John continued to look at him wide eyed, his pupils a bit blown.

“I watched you bleed,” John continued, his eyes roving over Kyle. His eyes were adjusting to the light and he could see him a bit better, not just a hazy glow. “All over the street, me,” he looked down at himself, fully expecting to see blood, but only saw the crisp white sheets and his own bare chest. “I felt you go limp in my arms,” he took a sharp breath as if trying to keep himself together and not fully break down.

“But I’m okay,” Kyle reasoned as he watched John struggle. It was so rare to see him vulnerable, it was almost enough for Kyle to fall apart. To see the fear, the dread. Despite being a fully grown man Kyle could only see a small child, one that needed someone else to be the strong person for once. “You got me out, we all got out,” he pulled the sheets back a bit more to reveal John’s chest and stomach to help him cool off, his hair gleaming with sweat. “Try sitting up, let me get you water,” he offered.

“No,” John said instantly, still afraid if Kyle moved, if he stopped looking at him, he’d disappear. “Just, stay, don’t leave.”

“I’m just going to get you water,” Kyle started, but when John reached for his arm, he held still. His hands were shaking, and Kyle scooted a bit closer. “See? I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You kept me alive, John. It was just a nightmare.”

“It was too real,” John murmured as he held Kyle’s forearm, fingers feeling a few of the jagged scars from the shrapnel.

“But it wasn’t real. I’m here, alive, breathing,” Kyle said as he locked into John’s eyes to keep him from frantically looking around. It wasn’t sinking in. The look in John’s eyes didn’t fade. If anything he looked more worried, as if Kyle were going to evaporate.

Softly, Kyle peeled John’s fingers off his forearm and dared to put them to his chest. To let him feel his heartbeat, his breathing. It was perhaps a bit intimate to be this close, but it was all Kyle could think of to let John truly see he was alive and okay. He felt the hesitation in John’s hand, but when his sweaty palm connected with Kyle’s skin and he felt the steady beat, John seemed to relax a bit, sinking down into the bed.

“It’s my fault you even got hurt if I had just-“ John tried to reason as he flexed his fingers on his chest as if to hold on.

“John,” Kyle said firmly. “It’s part of the job. You can’t save me from everything, just like I can’t save you or Simon or Johnny. We know what we signed up for,” Kyle answered. “I live with the fear every day, every minute.”

“If I had been quicker,” John tried.

“Then we both would have taken that hit from the bomb, and I probably would have been dead,” Kyle answered and felt a twinge of regret at the flinch that crossed John’s face. “But I’m not. And you’re not.”

“I’m sorry,” John said after a beat of silence, “don’t,” he added as Kyle opened his mouth to continue arguing. To try and absolve him from the guilt that was eating him alive. "Just let me be sorry and…stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, my bed is right there,” Kyle reasoned quietly, gesturing toward his bed, as John’s breathing finally started to even out and his eyes looked less haunted. Yet he didn’t remove his hand from his chest, if anything he tightened his grip.

“That’s too far,” John stated in almost a whisper. He knew he’d regret this in the morning, giving in to what he had been fighting for so long. But he needed something. Need to feel Kyle alive, there with him. Watching him die in his sleep every night was its own torture.

“I,” Kyle started before looking at John’s desperate face. “Okay,” he breathed.

This was hardly the way Kyle was hoping this would go, but he needed to put his feelings aside. His Captain, and fellow soldier, needed him. He was going to help him even if it just rubbed salt in his own wound and broke his heart tomorrow. How many times had he just laid with Johnny to be his ground when he was so wrapped in his head that he couldn’t determine what was real and what was a memory. He could do this for John, especially since he was asking for help this time instead of suffering alone.

John shifted a bit in the bed, doing his best to keep out of his head, when Kyle leaned over and flipped off the light. The dark helped with the awkward feeling, and he told himself that this was no different than when they piled in for a catnap before evac. Except it was just the two of them instead of all four. And Kyle was only in his boxers instead of a full kit as he slipped under the sheets.

“Thank you,” John said after long minutes of lying side by side, barely touching as they stared at the dark ceiling.

“You’d do it for me,” Kyle replied as he fought the urge to fidget with how nervous he was feeling. With Johnny it was easy. He curled up against him and held him tight as he fought through whatever it was he was facing. Then, when Johnny calmed himself enough, they’d talk about it. But John felt like that bomb that had nearly killed him. Any wrong move would set it off and ruin everything.

“I would,” John agreed, “but you have Johnny and Simon.” He ventured, noting that Kyle seemingly avoided going to him these days.

“You have Johnny and Simon, too,” Kyle answered as he turned his head to look at John, even if he couldn’t see him. “And me. If you’d let us.”

“I’m trying,” John breathed out, the darkness making it a bit easier to let his guard down. “It’s different, with me being Captain. I can’t,” he fought for the words but Kyle stopped him.

“Talking has nothing to do with your rank,” Kyle said. “Tell me what you were dreaming about. It gets easier the more you talk.”

“I see it,” John finally said into the dark, pointedly keeping his eyes on the ceiling despite knowing Kyle had turned over to face him, tucking one of his hands under his head to get more comfortable.

“Almost every night. That street, watching us get overrun, you doubling back for the civilians,” he paused. “I see the way you jerk to the side and fall to your knees as the bullet hits home, but you still,” he paused to take a few breaths, seeing everything as he talked. “You still got up to get them out, get them to safety even as you couldn’t even hold up your gun. Arm useless,” he was losing the fight to keep it together. “Then when the bomb,” he gasped, just like he did in his dreams to keep the sob back. “I thought you were gone in that instant. I thought I just watched you die in the flash.”

“But I didn’t,” Kyle reassured as he barely made out John’s profile, his eyes growing accustomed to the dark again. “I was awake that whole time,” he added, never having told John his side of it. “The shot, the explosion, hitting the ground,” he winced at that memory. “I watched you drop everything to run for me, not caring about yourself. How you dragged me behind the barrier, and Simon came over to help. It hurt, I thought I was dying,” he wasn’t going to lie. “But I fought it. Though when you dug that bullet out, I couldn’t fend off passing out,” he smiled, hoping it would translate in his tone. “I thought that was the end until I woke up in hospital. With you in the same spot next to me, in the same clothes you were in on the street. Still dirty and bloodstained. Simon said you hadn’t left.”

“Two days,” John replied. “The nurses were tired of me, tried to get me to change, but I was afraid if I left…I’d come back, and you’d be gone.”

“When I woke up, you left,” Kyle pushed, perhaps using the vulnerability to his advantage to get some sort of answer. “Why?”

“I couldn’t face you,” John answered as he finally turned his head to face Kyle. “Face what I had let happen. Face the disappointment, anger. They didn’t know if you’d recover, if you’d be able to use your arm properly again. It would have been my fault. Digging that bullet out could have done worse damage, mixed with the shrapnel.”

“Digging that bullet out kept me alive, John. I’d rather be alive with you than dead with a bullet,” Kyle answered firmly and finally dared to reach his arm out to wrap around John to pull him closer. He pressed his chest against John’s arm and ran his thumb reassuringly on John’s bicep when he didn’t pull away. “Stop beating yourself up for doing what you needed to do. I’m alive, I’m here, because of you.”

John didn’t answer, the words echoing in his mind as Kyle inched closer to curl against him, shifting enough to rest his head on his shoulder. It felt beyond comforting to feel each sharp angle and soft curve of Kyle pressed to him. To be able to wrap his own arm behind his back to firmly keep him against his side as Kyle adjusted to get more comfortable, sliding his leg over his.

They didn’t say anything more as they lay in the dark, wrapped up in one another. Letting their breathing and subtle shifts of their bodies fill the silence as they eased back into rest. John laid awake for a long while, long after Kyle had dozed, and did his best to memorize the feel of him. To take in what he had been denying himself for so long. And when he was sure Kyle was completely asleep, John pressed his lips to his forehead while he waged a war in his mind on what to do when the sun rose.

#poly tf141 #poly 141 #polyamory #call of duty #cod #call of duty fanfic #codfanfic #my fic #original female character #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price #captain john price #Lifeline

23 notes · View notes