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itacats · 19 days ago

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In His Steady Hands

FT: Soap x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and physical symptoms of dystonia, minor self-doubt

SUM: An unexpected encounter at a lively party sets the stage for a connection you never saw coming. As Soap's lighthearted humor and genuine interest break through your guarded exterior, you find yourself cautiously drawn to his warmth. A simple coffee date challenges your fears and opens the door to something new—something hopeful.

A/N: Ngl, this was written purely for selfish reasons for my dystonia... Since I have yet to come across a fic that has a reader with dystonia, I did it myself. Here it is...

In His Steady Hands Masterlist

Part 1: Unexpected Connections

The lively hum of conversation buzzed around you as you stepped into your friend's apartment, already alive with energy. Music thumped in the background, mingling with bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses. You hesitated at the threshold, clutching a drink you didn’t plan to finish, scanning the room for a quiet corner to retreat to. Crowds weren’t your thing—not anymore.

Your gaze flitted across the gathering until it landed on a mysteriously handsome man, standing near the kitchen island like he belonged there—like he belonged everywhere. His laughter rang out above the noise, a sharp, carefree sound that made heads turn. His easy charm drew people in, like moths to a flame. You watched, half-amused and half-envious, as he regaled a group with a story that left them in stitches.

Still, you lingered at the edges of the room, tugging at the sleeves of your sweater. The familiar weight of anxiety settled over you. Your hands felt like their muscles were slowly being replaced with cotton - light and unfamiliar. What if the tremors started, or your muscles locked up, and the party’s lighthearted atmosphere turned to confusion—or worse—pity?

You turned your attention to the window, deciding to lose yourself in the city lights instead. The coolness of the window as you rested your head lightly on it was grounding. Just as you started to resign yourself to another night as a wallflower, a ripple in the room’s energy pulled you back.

“Hey there,” a voice called, warm and lilting.

You turned, startled, and found yourself face-to-face with the man you saw moments ago by the kitchen. Up close, his presence was even more magnetic, his eyes glinting with curiosity. He wore a casual smile, but there was something sharp in his gaze, like he saw more than you were willing to show.

“Didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Figured I’d better introduce myself before you disappeared altogether. I’m John, but my friends call me Soap.”

You hesitated for a moment before replying, “Nice to meet you. I’m—” You gave your name, the words feeling small compared to his larger-than-life energy.

“Now that’s a proper introduction!” he said with a laugh. Soap leaned against the armrest of the couch, his head cocked slightly as he grinned at you. His presence was magnetic, and though you’d tried to avoid being noticed, it was clear he’d made you his focus.

“That’s quite the case you’ve got there,” he said, pointing to your phone with a teasing glint in his eye. “Looks like it could take a hit from a tank and keep on ticking.”

You glanced down at the rugged, shockproof case engulfing your phone, running your thumb along its chipped edges. “Yeah, it’s durable,” you replied with a light shrug, hoping to brush the moment off. “I drop it a lot.”

“Drop it, or chuck it at people who annoy you?” he quipped, his laugh rich and unreserved.

Your own laugh came softer, more hesitant. “Only when absolutely necessary.” The lie rolled off easily enough, though inside, you cringed. You hated that you couldn’t just explain the truth: the cover wasn’t for clumsiness but for the moments when your grip was unreliable, the moments when your muscles betrayed you.

Soap raised an eyebrow, his smile never faltering. “A bit of a secret weapon then, aye? Remind me to stay on your good side.”

He held out his phone suddenly, its screen glowing as it displayed a blank contact entry. “Here, go on then. Add your number. That way, if I ever need tips on indestructible phone cases—or need to dodge one flying at my head—I’ll know who to call.”

You froze for a second, glancing between his phone and his face. There was no pity in his eyes, no trace of judgment. Just easy warmth, like this kind of exchange was the most natural thing in the world.

“I, uh…” You hesitated, the familiar tightening in your chest returning. Your fingers felt stiff against the rugged surface of your own phone, and you weren’t sure if you’d even manage to type steadily. But the way he looked at you—open and unhurried—made you feel like there was no wrong answer.

Taking a deep breath, you reached for his phone. Your hand trembled faintly, the motion slight enough that you hoped he wouldn’t notice. Carefully, you began tapping in your name and number, hyper-aware of every keystroke.

Soap leaned slightly closer, peeking at the screen. “I see you’re a perfectionist,” he teased. “Every number exactly where it should be. Respect.”

You huffed a small laugh, handing his phone back with a quiet, “There. Done.”

“Perfect,” he said, glancing at the new contact before tucking his phone into his pocket. “And just like that, I’ve got the most interesting person in the room on speed dial.”

“Interesting?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Aye,” he said without missing a beat. “I mean, anyone who carries a phone with a case like that must have a story or two. And I intend to hear them.”

Your face warmed under his steady gaze, but you managed a half-smile. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

He grinned, straightening up. “You could never.”

Before you could reply, someone called his name from across the room. He threw you a parting wink before striding away, leaving you standing there with a strange mix of relief and intrigue settling in your chest.

You glanced down at your phone, your reflection on the screen faint but visible. For the first time in a long while, someone hadn’t just looked at you—they’d seen you. And despite yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

The days stretched on, but Soap’s playful grin was impossible to shake from your thoughts. It lingered like the echo of a melody you couldn’t quite place, tugging at the edges of your attention when you least expected it. You told yourself it was just a fleeting impression, that you’d both forget soon enough.

Then, one evening, your phone buzzed. The message was simple but direct:

Soap: Coffee tomorrow? Your pick.

For a moment, you stared at the screen, your mind at war with itself. The idea of sitting across from him, one-on-one, was daunting. What if you said the wrong thing? What if your hand or arm twitches a little too aggressively and you spill your drink on yourself? The usual fears unfurled, ready to drag you back into your shell.

You started typing a polite decline, then deleted it. A second later, a hesitant reply formed instead:

You: Sure. 10 AM at Groundswell?

His response was nearly instant.

Soap: Perfect! Can’t wait!

The next morning found you seated at a cozy corner table in the small café, a steaming cup of tea between your hands. You’d arrived early—an old habit to give yourself time to settle—but it didn’t take long for Soap to sweep in, a gust of energy and warmth trailing behind him.

“Morning!” he greeted, his smile as bright as the sunlight streaming through the café windows. He dropped into the chair across from you, sliding his coffee onto the table. “Been here long?”

“Not too long,” you said with a small smile, thankful that your voice came out steady.

The conversation began easily enough, Soap’s knack for storytelling filling the space between sips of coffee and tea. He regaled you with tales of his military life, each one more absurd than the last. There was the time he and his squad accidentally set off a fire alarm while trying to cook, and the ill-fated attempt to prank a superior officer that ended with them scrubbing floors for a week.

“Wait—hold on,” you said, trying to stifle your laughter. “You’re telling me no one stopped you when you tied a bucket of flour to the door?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Stopped us? Nah, everyone wanted to see if it’d actually work. Spoiler: it did. Too well, actually. Poor Captain Price didn’t know what hit him.”

Your laughter bubbled up despite yourself, startlingly genuine. It felt strange, unfamiliar, but in a good way. Soap leaned forward, his grin softening into something more thoughtful.

“See? That’s the laugh I was waiting for,” he said. “Knew you had it in you.”

The words caught you off guard, warmth spreading in your chest and dusting your cheeks. You looked down at your cup, swirling the liquid idly. “You don’t even know me,” you murmured.

“Not yet,” he said easily, his voice low but certain. “But I’d like to.”

The earnestness in his tone disarmed you more than his humor ever could. His curiosity wasn’t prying; it was genuine, like he saw value in knowing you—not just the surface, but everything underneath.

For the first time in years, you felt the tiniest crack in the armor you’d built around yourself. You hadn’t realized how heavy it had become until now.

“So, what about you?” he asked, breaking the moment with a lopsided smile. “What’s your story? Any rogue pranks I should know about?”

You laughed again, though this time it was softer, tinged with nerves. “Nothing nearly as exciting as yours,” you admitted. “School, work, and a lot of quiet nights. That’s me in a nutshell.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Quiet nights aren’t so bad. Sometimes, it’s the best way to think. But something tells me you’ve got more going on than you let on.”

The words felt too close, too accurate. You shifted slightly, gripping your cup tighter. “Maybe,” you said vaguely, not ready to share more.

Soap didn’t push, just nodded as if to say, Fair enough. He took a long sip of his coffee, and the two of you fell into an easy rhythm again, the conversation flowing naturally.

By the time you left the café, the sunlight felt warmer on your skin, the air lighter. Soap walked you to your car, his hands shoved casually into his jacket pockets.

“Thanks for coming out,” he said as you reached your car. “I know busy schedules and all that, but I’m glad we had the chance.”

“Me too,” you said, and this time, you meant it.

As you drove away, you caught sight of him in your rearview mirror, still standing there with that boyish grin. You couldn’t help but smile back, even if he couldn’t see it.

For the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe—just maybe—connection wasn’t so terrifying after all.

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