pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader
summary: What starts with years of coffee, rooftop conversations, and quiet closeness unravels in the aftermath of a violent patient attack. As the hospital reels, so does Robby—until everything he’s buried comes to the surface.
warnings: depiction of violence towards women
genre: slow burn, pining, angst, fluff, you both suck at feelings word count: 3.6k
a/n: yes this show still has me in a chokehold, this man is old enough to be my father, and protective/emotionally constipated Robby has consumed my every waking thought. also someone please sedate me because I don't know how I'm going to make it between episodes.
p.s. also check out my other Dr. Robby fics (Not Enough | Feels Like Trouble) if you're interested
Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch always clocked in just after you.
It started as coincidence—years ago, when you were a new year-2 resident fumbling your way through charting and sleep deprivation. You’d arrive blurry-eyed at 5:58 AM, and two minutes later, he'd walk through the side door with two cups of coffee. One always ended up in your hand.
"This is my warm welcome to the pit, I’m not on coffee rounds," he’d grumbled the first time.
"Yet, my savior, here you are," you smiled, taking the cup. "Thanks, Dr. Robby."
He gave you a look, dry and fond. "Don’t get used to it."
Needless to say, you both did.
Now a senior resident, you’ve long since earned your stripes—but the morning coffees kept coming. So did the banter.
"That differential on bed 7 was a mess," Robby muttered one morning.
You sipped from your cup. "I was experimenting with chaos as a teaching strategy."
He stared, deadpan. "Rein it in, Nietzsche."
Late nights sometimes ended on the roof—shoulders nearly touching, silence stretched long between you. The rooftop was a liminal space: above the noise, between shifts, between you and him. You'd talk about patients. About medicine. About what the job takes and what it leaves behind.
One night you’d murmured, "Do you think we make a difference? Or are we just putting out fires that never stop?"
Robby didn’t answer right away. You could hear him breathing. "Some burning buildings are worth running into," he said eventually, voice low like he was admitting something he'd carried a long time.
It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t not. You were close—so close it blurred. You never noticed how often he drifted into your orbit. But others did.
"So... you and Robinavitch—what’s the deal?" McKay would tease with a grin.
You furrowed your brow, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"
She leaned on the nurses' station, unbothered. "C’mon, you really don’t see it? The way he looks at you? Brings you coffee every morning? Steps in before anyone else can when the ball rolls downhill?"
You waved a hand dismissively. "He just… cares. That’s his job."
McKay raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Except he doesn’t bring me coffee. Or look like he’s going to deck someone if they so much as raise their voice at me."
You opened your mouth to reply—but the sliding ER doors slammed open. A gurney rushed in, shouting echoing off the walls. Without thinking, you turned and ran toward the trauma bay.
"Saved by the bell," McKay called after you, but you were already gone.
But you didn’t see how his eyes tracked you in a crowded hallway, lingering just a second longer than necessary—guarded, but unmistakably drawn. How he'd appear at your side before anyone else when things turned sideways, voice calm but stance protective, like he was positioning himself between you and whatever chaos had just erupted. The way his jaw would tighten when residents spoke too casually around you, especially if their tone dipped into flirtation. The moments when his voice dropped low, quiet and edged with something softer, when asking if you’d made it home safe after shifts—always phrased like a passing question, but one he never failed to ask.
Earlier that week, Robby had been leaning against the counter in the break room with Dana and a few of the nurses clustered nearby. He was sipping bad coffee and flipping through a chart when Dana nudged him lightly with her elbow.
"You know," she started with a smirk. "You're getting pretty soft on that senior resident."
Robby didn’t look up, adjusting the frame of his glasses. "Yeah? What makes you say that?"
Princess glanced at Perlah, who grinned. The two exchanged a few rapid lines in Tagalog—something teasing and full of mischief. Robby raised an eyebrow.
"Just because I don’t speak Tagalog doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly what you’re saying," he said dryly, finally taking off his glasses and staring at the nurses judgementally.
Dana just about cackled. "Come on, Robby. You bring her coffee every morning, you hover when she’s in a tough case, you barely let interns breathe near her."
Perlah added, "And you always look at her like you’re trying not to."
Princess laughed. "Sir, that’s not just coffee—that’s courtship."
Robby rolled his eyes, biting back a smile. "You all have too much time on your hands."
"We're just saying," Dana said as she turned toward the door. "If you're gonna pine, at least be subtle."
He shook his head and muttered, "Back to work, people."
Then came the day everything cracked.
The patient had come in hostile—angry at the world and bleeding from a cut above his brow—muttering about how no one respected him, how women thought they were better than him. According to his chart, he had a record of violent outbursts and a chip on his shoulder the size of the hospital.
"You think you're smarter than me, don't you?" he sneered when you entered the bay, his arms crossed and chest puffed like a bull ready to pick a fight.
You kept your voice calm and professional. "Sir, I'm just here to update your chart and make sure you're getting what you need."
He laughed—sharp and bitter. "What I need is for people like you to stop looking at me like I'm some kind of freak. All you female doctors think you're so much better."
You froze for just a second. "I'm here to provide care. Nothing more."
"Don't lie to me!" he spat. "I see how you talk to the others. You think you're above me like some queen. But you're not. You're just another stupid cunt—"
"I'm going to get another physician to help with your case," you said quickly, trying to disengage, stepping back toward the call button.
"You walk away from me, and I swear—"
The second he was out of your peripheral vision, he lunged.
You cried out as his weight slammed into you, sending you hard to the ground. Everyone around you scattered, the staff protecting patients and patients protecting themselves.
Your elbow struck tile and pain bloomed across the crown of your skull. Your head snapped back like a slap bracelet. He loomed over you, shouting a string of vile insults, hands grabbing at whatever they could. Another set of fingers clamped around your throat. A scream pierced through the air shouting, "Robby!" Only after a set of doors burst open did you realize it was yours.
Before you had time to process what was happening, he was there.
Robby knocked the patient off of you with brute force that stunned the entire hospital staff. Without help, Robby pinned him to the floor facefirst with practiced strength, knees braced, and jaw clenched. "Security!" his voice thundered.
Subduing the attacker by his wrists, Robby's knee dug into the man's back thigh without mercy, making him cry out in pain. "Collins! Dana!" he barked, voice sharp and commanding, reverberating through the trauma bay like a shockwave.
You were on the floor, dazed, breath knocked out of you. The two women rushed to your side in the blink of an eye. All around, med students and residents stood frozen, eyes wide.
They had never seen Robby like that.
No one had ever seen Robby like that.
The patient struggled once more before Robby leaned in and drove his knee harder into the attacker’s thigh, his grip unrelenting, voice low and deadly calm. "Stay down."
Security took over a moment later, but Robby didn’t move until he was sure it was safe. Then he stood, exhaled once, and turned to Dana and Collins.
"I'll be over as soon as I can, brief me later," he said. "I'll assess her myself."
Dana crouched beside you, one hand firm on your shoulder. "We've got you," she said gently, then glanced over her shoulder. "We'll be in 4."
Collins helped you up with care, guiding you slowly down the hall while Dana kept close at your side. You were still disoriented, a sharp ringing in your ears, but you caught a glimpse of Robby speaking to security. He didn’t even glance your way—focused, furious, deadly calm.
In Exam Room 4, Collins set you down on the cot, already checking your pupils with a penlight. "You hit your head?"
"Yeah," you managed, wincing as you moved. "Elbow too. Think I caught most of the floor on the way down."
Dana pressed a cold pack into your hand. "You’re in shock. Just breathe. We’ll handle this."
Collins nodded, gently examining your face and palpating around your ribs. "No obvious trauma, nothing broken. Expect some bruising around your throat the next few days. We should get you in for a head CT just to be safe. You took a hard hit."
"I'll get that booked ASAP," Dana said, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping out to handle the order. She paused at the doorway just long enough to exchange a glance with Collins—an unspoken check-in—before disappearing down the hall.
Moments later, the door opened again. Robby stepped in, his expression unreadable but his eyes scanning you like he was cataloging every mark, every breath.
"I’ll take it from here," he said quietly to Collins.
They exchanged a glance, then wordlessly stepped out.
And then it was just you and him.
He crossed to your side, kneeling. His hands moved automatically, gently tilting your chin to check for swelling, eyes flicking to your pupils, then the scrape along your cheekbone. "Can you look up for me? Good. Follow my finger."
His voice was low and clinical, but his touch was careful—too careful.
"Headache? Nausea? Double vision?" he asked, bringing your hand into his and turning it over to assess for any injuries.
"No, just a little dizzy," you murmured.
He nodded, eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed your elbow, then the bruising along your neck. Then the questions stopped. His hands stilled.
He just looked at you—really looked at you—and the silence took hold.
His jaw flexed, like he was trying to say something but couldn't. Something had cracked open in him. Not just from what happened. From what it revealed.
And you could feel it—the weight in the room. Something unsaid between you, thick as blood and twice as loud.
You tried to fill the silence. "Dana said she'd put in a rush order for a head CT. Collins didn’t think anything was broken, just some bruising and—"
"Don’t," Robby said, almost too softly.
Your words faltered. You watched him—how his shoulders stayed tense, how his eyes didn’t move from yours, how still he was, like saying the wrong thing might make everything unravel.
"Robby," you said gently. "It's okay, I’m fine."
His jaw clenched, masseter muscles carving his sunken cheeks like a marble sculpture. "No, it's not. You’re not."
He said it so quietly, like he hated the truth of it. Getting up, he ruffled his hair and shook his head, voice still quiet but heavy. "Just... give me a second."
It wasn’t the injury that had shaken him—it was the realization. That in those terrifying few seconds, the worst thing he could imagine had nearly happened. And it wasn’t because you were his resident. Or his colleague.
It was because you were you.
You watched him pace as the silence dragged, your heart still pounding faintly in your ears. "Robby," you tried again, softer this time. "I'm okay, really..."
Still, he said nothing.
You gave a half-scoff, half-sigh, trying to shake off the tension. "I’ve had worse nights. Dana and Collins already cleared me—CT’s just precautionary. Nothing to worry about."
His movements stilled and eyes didn’t leave yours.
"What is it?" you asked, finally, your voice gentle but steady—like you already knew the answer but needed to hear it.
That cracked something in him. He looked away for a beat, jaw flexing again, his breath hitching as if he was holding back something too big to name. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, raw—nothing like the sharp, composed attending everyone else knew.
"I didn’t know it would feel like that."
He rubs the back of his neck, a self-soothing gesture in an effort to hold back whatever threatens to overflow. "Seeing you on the ground. Hearing you scream. For me. I’ve seen worse—God knows we all have. But nothing’s ever felt like that."
You froze.
His eyes met yours again, and the walls he always held in place—stone and steel and professionalism—weren’t there anymore. He looked at you like he wanted something he had never allowed himself to want. Like he was terrified of the feeling and already grieving it.
You felt the shift like gravity tilting. Like the air changed around you. It was as though the ground beneath you had tipped on its axis.
And suddenly, everything between you was different.
Not unspoken anymore, just unbearable to say aloud.
You felt yourself retreating into the space between what you wanted to feel and what you needed to believe. The part of you that ached wanted to lean forward, close the distance, tell him you felt it too—that terrible, awful, beautiful clarity.
But another part held you back. The part that lived in hospital hallways and stared at name badges and remembered what it meant to be professional. To be younger. A resident. His resident. The part that convinced you it could never be more.
You searched his face, trying to decode what this moment was, or if it had always been there, hiding in quiet coffees and rooftops and restrained glances. And still, he said nothing. Maybe he was waiting. Maybe he didn’t know how to cross that final line either.
So you just sat there in the quiet with him, suspended between the ache and the boundary—between what was true and what you were still too scared to say.
Eventually, you broke. Your voice came out barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."
His brows furrowed instantly. "For what?"
You shook your head, feeling heat rise behind your eyes. "I don’t know. For not calling for help. For being alone in there. For... allowing this," you gestured between the two of you, "to happen." You sniffled. "For letting myself—"
"Don’t," he cut in sharply, but not unkindly. "Don’t you dare apologize for any of that, you did nothing wrong."
You blinked.
He leaned in slightly, voice steady now, like he needed you to hear every word. "You did everything right. You followed protocol. That man was unstable, and what happened wasn’t your fault."
Your lip trembled, but you didn’t speak.
His voice softened again. "And if this is about me... if you think you’ve done something wrong because of how I feel about you—how I care about you—don’t."
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was everything neither of you knew how to name. It sat heavy between you—thick with the ache of things buried too long and the sharp edges of everything that couldn't be said. You could feel it in your chest, pressing against your ribs and threatening to claw itself out, the unspoken confession of a man who just laid bare more than he meant to, and your own desperate need to pretend you didn’t hear it.
But you had. You’d heard it in his voice, in the way his hands had trembled just slightly when he touched your face, in the way his eyes wouldn’t leave yours even when they should’ve.
And now, as your chest rose and fell too quickly and your heart tried to find steady ground, all the small moments you’d buried—or maybe just refused to examine—rushed back like a crashing wave. His hand guiding yours during your very first incision, firm but not overbearing. The coffees every morning—always your usual, always on time. The time he’d found you on the stairwell after you lost your first patient, sobbing uncontrollably, and he didn’t try to fix it—he just sat there beside you until you could breathe again. The rooftop shifts when you couldn’t quiet your incessant thoughts, he somehow always found you there.
The silence that needed no explanation.
It had always been there. A quiet, steadfast presence. Not loud, not showy—but constant.
And now, undeniable.
And maybe you were still trying to find the line between what had always been there and what had just changed—but the silence was no longer uncertain. It was waiting.
You decided to break it.
"Can I kiss you?" you whispered, eyes searching his, breath catching somewhere in your throat.
Robby didn’t answer. Not with words.
He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. His eyes searched yours, one last moment of hesitation flickering there—one last out, if you wanted it.
But you didn’t. Instead, you met him halfway.
His lips brushed yours, featherlight at first, reverent, like he still couldn’t believe he was allowed. His skin was warm against yours, soft in a way that surprised you. Your fingers found his jaw, the roughness of his beard brushing your palms as your hands slid down slowly, until they came to rest at the curve of his neck—right where his pulse thrummed hard beneath your fingertips.
The kiss deepened a breath later, quiet and aching, full of everything you’d both held back for far too long. His hands rose to cradle your face, holding you like something fragile, like if he wasn’t careful, you might break. His thumbs grazed the corners of your cheekbones, grounding and gentle, anchoring you both in the impossible tenderness of it.
There was nothing hurried about it. Just warmth and softness and the quiet admission of something real. Something that had lived in the silence between you for years.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, exhaling shakily.
It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a confession.
He let out a breath, rough and shaky against your cheek. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that," he murmured. His voice cracked just slightly at the edges—like the truth cost something to say. And maybe it did.
You pulled back enough to see him clearly, your hands resting on his neck, feeling the steady, trembling pulse beneath your fingertips. He looked at you like the moment might vanish if he blinked.
For years, probably. You just hadn’t let yourself admit it. Not through the early mornings or the long nights. Not even when he stood too close, or when his voice turned soft just for you. Not even when your heart always found him in a crowd. But now, with his breath still warm against your lips and his hands still cradling your face like something precious, you couldn’t pretend anymore.
You’d been his and he'd been yours, long before either of you were brave enough to say it. You pulled back just enough to look at him—really look—and gently stroked his cheek, admiring his freckles like newly formed constellations in the sky.
His eyes drop ever so slightly. "I'm old," he starts. "My work-life balance is absolute shit. You deserve someone who can give you what you need."
You stare at him, puzzled. For a second, you think he’s serious—like he's about to start building walls where they’d only just crumbled.
Then you catch the flicker in his expression. The barely-there smirk at the corner of his mouth. He’s only half-serious. Nervous. Teasing you.
You grin, easing the weight with a well-aimed jab. "At least you're not old enough to be my father. And it's not like my hours spent outside work ratio is any better."
He scoffs, ducking his head before shaking it all too lightheartedly.
"And for the record," you add, tapping his chest with a pointed index finger. "This is not some personification of daddy issues, I'll have you know that my father and I have a very healthy relationship."
"Well, that’s a relief," he murmurs, his smile softening as he encloses his fingers around your hand.
You sit back, playful. "I’ll keep you up to date on all the hottest trends the youths engage in. Like cat cafés and strawberry milk matcha lattes. And emotional vulnerability."
He groans, rubbing his face shyly. "God help me."
You grin, careful not to laugh too hard, and lean into him again. "Too late for that, Robinavitch. You’re stuck with me."
"Yeah," he whispered. "I really hope I am."
Outside, the hospital buzzed as it always did—pages overhead, heels echoing on tile, lives beginning and ending behind curtain walls. But for a moment, the noise faded. The only sound was your breathing, his.
And the quiet hum of something long overdue settling into place.
You didn’t know what came next—how this would unfold outside the safety of Room 4, outside of bruises and adrenaline and low-lit confessions. But for now, with his forehead still resting gently against yours, and the weight of unspoken feelings finally aired between you, it didn’t matter.
You had time.
Until a round of cheers and high fives broke the stillness like a confetti cannon bursting into the air.
Both of you jerked apart, startled. Just outside the half-closed door to Room 4 stood a cluster of med students, nurses, residents, and paramedics—huddled together like a peanut gallery, barely containing their glee.
Your face flushed tomato red. You buried it in Robby’s chest as he turned around slowly, one hand instinctively coming up to rest on your back as he started to laugh.
Langdon, of course, was the ringleader. He held up a neon orange post-it like a trophy, waving it proudly as the group chuckled and whooped behind him. In black Sharpie were the words:
UNPLANNED CONFESSION - Langdon & King—the bet circled and underlined. And below it: $7/week. Scribbled in tiny pen just beneath that, barely legible, was a date—six months ago.
He high-fived someone out of view next to him just before giving the two of you an exaggerated thumbs-up, grinning like he’d just won the Super Bowl. On cue, Mel stood up from beside him and gave you a quick wave and a shy smile, arms held tightly by her sides.
You groaned, still pressed into Robby's chest. "I swear to God, if they made a bracket—"
"Oh they definitely made a bracket," Robby said, laughing into your hair.
You peeked up at him, still mortified but grinning. "Are we seriously the plot twist in someone’s trauma bay soap opera?"
"Apparently," he muttered, pulling you closer. "Should we give them something to talk about for next week's episode?"
You scoffed, swatting lightly at his chest. "Take me out to dinner first, will you?"
Outside, the group began to scatter—some called back to rounds, others still giggling as they walked off. But you stayed there, tucked into Robby’s side, warmth blooming in your chest despite the chaos. Whatever came next, you’d figure it out. Together.
And if the hospital had front-row seats to your slow-burn becoming a soft landing? So be it.
Warnings: patient violence, needles, injury, HIV mention, Santos
A/N: I literally cannot stop writing about this old man omg. But I love him. And he is a Good Man. Just some good fluff between an attending and his resident.
—
“I need a doctor!” A voice emerged from one of the exam rooms. “Please, I need a doctor!”
You looked up from your computer and over to Dana, who rolled her eyes. “Is it my turn?” You asked with hesitation.
The Pitt had been flooded as usual, and one of the psychiatric admissions was still being boarded in an exam room until a bed was available upstairs. Fred, the middle-aged opioid addict, was currently going through withdrawals, and he made sure everyone on the floor was aware. You felt bad for him because you know addiction is not entirely the fault of a patient, but Fred was verbally abusing every person who walked through the curtain to check on him.
Dana chuckled and walked over to your chair. “You’re up to bat, champ.” She patted you on the shoulder. “Think you’ll need backup? I can go in with you.”
You sighed and rubbed the aching dark circles under your eyes. “Not if he’s restrained. I’ll be fine.” You mumbled, kicking back on the floor so your chair rolled away from the desk.
You swung your stethoscope around your neck and walked through the curtain. There was Fred. He came in with tremors and sweats, but the withdrawal medication seemed to be helping for now. “Hey, Fred. I’m Dr. (L/N). What’s going on?” You asked, taking a seat on the stool next to the bed.
Fred shook his head. “No, I don’t want a fucking nurse. I want my doctor!” He screamed.
You squinted at his loud voice. “Sir, I am a doctor. Now, how can I help you?” You asked again, with the same patience as before.
“Give me my fucking medicine right now, bitch. I’m not playing any games.” He growled.
You moved to the computer to look up his chart. “I think Dr. Langdon already gave you medicine about thirty minutes ago. What symptoms are you having?” You replied calmly, not taking his anger to heart.
“I want my fucking pills.” He hissed, struggling against the fabric restraints tied to the gurney.
You turned to look at him and sighed. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that for you.” You turned back to the computer to search for the time on his next medicine. “I know you are feeling really bad right now, but the pills will not help you in the-”
You were cut off by your head being yanked back by your hair with strong force. You let out a startled scream and twisted around to look at Fred. He had gotten out of one of his arm restraints, and before you could cry out for assistance, you felt pressure on your cheek. Naturally, your eyes squinted shut when you saw a hand coming at you, so you didn’t see that he was wielding a scalpel. Before you could open your eyes, a closed fist knocked you to the ground.
“I told you to give me my fucking pills, you cunt.” He snarled and spat on you.
The curtain swung open to reveal Langdon and Robby, who both looked ready to tackle Fred if he was free. You crawled away from the bed and shakily stood up.
“Dana, call for security!” Robby yelled out as he and Langdon grabbed Fred’s free arm and tried to tie it back down to the rails of the bed. The metal clang of the scalpel dropping to the tile fell deaf on your ears.
You ran out of the room as a security guard bumped into you, causing you to stumble. Luckily, Dana was there to catch you. “Hey, I’ve got you.” She assured you. But then she stood you up straight, seeing red streaks on your face and dripping to your neck. “Oh, holy shit.”
You felt numb. Numb to everything. Even the pain in your face couldn’t bring you back to reality. “I just…” You mumbled, looking around. All of the nurses and doctors had their eyes on you. It was overwhelming, and the fluorescent lights started to burn your eyes.
And then your cheek began to hurt. The pain seeped across your face, and hot tears pricked your eyes.
You didn’t even realize that Dana had snatched gauze from a patient’s room. She pressed it to your cheek firmly. “Collins, get over here!” She called out.
You sat down in the chair you had abandoned only two minutes before. Collins ran over to you and tilted your head up with a gentle hand.
“Oh, sweetie, what happened?” She asked sincerely, lifting the gauze delicately.
You winced as fresh air hit the cut. “I don’t know. I think he hit me. And he pulled my hair.” You responded, still in shock.
Collins winced at the wound and replaced the gauze. “I don’t know, that looks like a pretty deep cut.”
Before long, the med students and interns surrounded your chair. You reached a hand to your cheek and carefully pulled the gauze away, finally seeing how much blood had flooded the cloth.
“Oh, shit. That definitely needs stitches.” Santos commented.
If you could roll your eyes, you would have. But you were focused on not puking your guts out in front of the team.
“I shouldn’t have turned my back to him.” You mumbled.
Mohan shook her head. “No way. That is not your fault. Sure, never let a patient get between you and the door. But you shouldn’t have to keep eyes on the patient at all times to ensure your safety.” She redirected.
You closed your eyes, but you could hear others agreeing with her. The pain and attention was too much to handle. You just wanted to be alone. So, you stood slowly. Dana held a hand to your back as you did.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She asked. “You might need a CT.”
You looked to her sluggishly. “I just need some air. I’m just going to the empty room.” You said before quickly escaping from the crowd.
You swished the curtain open and shut. The light above the bed was out, perfect for some peace and quiet. You sat on the bed and crossed your legs. The pain from your cheek was becoming more unbearable by the second as the adrenaline wore off. You closed your eyes and pressed the gauze harder against your skin.
You were incredibly embarrassed. Maybe you were too naive. Fred had a history of violence toward healthcare workers, and you still turned away from him. Trusting him as innocently as a child would. It wasn’t the first time that you underestimated a patient. Langdon always chastised you for being too trusting.
The curtain opened, and you could see the light from the Pitt through your closed eyes. “Dana, please let me have a minute.” You begged.
“I think she’s already given you two minutes.” Robby’s voice responded.
You opened your eyes, and you saw Robby standing in the doorway with a suture pack in his hands. “Oh. I’m sorry, Dr. Robby.” You responded, slightly embarrassed.
Robby smiled and shut the curtain behind him. “No need.” He said and stood over the bed. “Why don’t you let me see what we’re working with?” And tapped your hand holding the gauze.
You moved your hand away from your face and winced. “It’s fine. Just stings a little.” You lied through clenched teeth.
Robby chuckled and shook his head. “No, ma’am. That’s gonna need at least five stitches.” He said.
You watched him move to the side of the room and grab a syringe of lidocaine and some more gauze. He turned the overhead exam light on, and you furrowed your brow at the brightness.
“Are you okay?” He asked as he sat down on the bed next to you. He titled your chin up and began patting down your neck with the extra gauze, cleaning the blood that had dripped from your cheek.
Honestly, you weren’t okay. You felt like you had been taken advantage of, but you didn’t lose anything besides your pride. And a few precious minutes of charting. You felt silly for thinking that a hostile patient wouldn’t lash out at you, even though he had screamed at someone as sweet as Mel King. You felt the tears prick your eyes again, and your bottom lip quivered.
Robby stopped cleaning your face as soon as he met your eyes. “Oh, no. Sweetie, please don’t cry.” He begged and tilted your head back. “The tears are gonna make the cut hurt even more. Just wait for me to inject the lidocaine.” He said.
You swallowed thickly, taking in shaky but deep breaths. You felt his hand grab one of yours and squeezing tightly. “I’m sorry.” You managed to whisper.
Robby made quick work of the cleanup and grabbed the lidocaine syringe. He pulled his black-rimmed glasses out of the pocket of his scrub top and placed them on the bridge of his nose. “Don’t apologize, dear.” He let go of your hand to place his on under your chin to stabilize your head. “Okay. I’m about to inject the lidocaine, and it’s going to burn like hell for a few seconds.” He warned, peering over his glasses to meet your gaze.
You saw the syringe in his hand. The needle wasn’t that big. You knew that. You gave the same injection to patients every shift. But as the needle slowly moved closer to your face, your breathing hitched, and you pulled away from his grasp.
“No, no, I can’t.” You struggled to say through labored breaths.
Robby held his hands up, as if to show you that he wasn’t going to make a sneak attack with the syringe. “(Y/L/N). Look at me. Look at my eyes.” He said, lifting his glasses to rest on the crown of his head.
And so you did. His dark chocolate eyes were framed with permanent laugh lines. Even when he was in a pissy mood, he would smile with sarcasm or exasperation. You didn’t even realize that your breathing had slowed as the silence grew between you. Robby placed the lidocaine syringe on the tray next to the bed, but never broke eye contact.
“Tell me what’s going through your mind.” He said.
You didn’t answer immediately. It almost seemed like a trap. Admitting your insecurities and shortcomings to your boss that he could use as leverage or blackmail whenever he saw fit. But something about his face seemed sincere and almost…worried.
“I’m just…embarrassed. Overwhelmed.” You whispered, finally admitting it out loud.
Robby nodded. “Okay. Those are reasonable feelings to have after an event like that.” He affirmed. “Do you want to talk about it?”
You shook your head. “No. I’m sorry for being a bitch about the lidocaine. I’m ready now.” You said quickly.
Robby reached for the syringe again and placed a hand under your chin. “Okay. I’m going to make a few injections around the cut. It’ll be over before you know it.” He said and tilted his glasses back down.
You closed your eyes and waited. The needle inserting wasn’t painful, but the lidocaine burned like a motherfucker. You furrowed your brow, trying not to scrunch your face in pain.
“That’s a good girl.” Robby praised as he inserted the needle into your skin again.
Oh. That wasn’t something you expected to hear from him. You opened your eyes to see Robby meticulously moving the needle around your cheek, his mouth open just slightly in concentration. You hoped that your face had already been flushed from the anxiety and pain because you could definitely feel the heat rising up your neck. Suddenly you realized just how close Robby was to you. Even while you both sat at the edge of the bed, he was all but cradling you as he worked.
“And done. How does it feel?” He said, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You raised a hand to your cheek and pressed gently. “Oh. I don’t feel anything.” You said, huffing a small laugh.
“Great. That means I can start sewing you up.” He said.
Robby opened the suture kit and began to sort out its contents. You watched him grab the utensils he needed and the suture thread. “Thank you for doing this.” You said.
He turned back to you, ready to start suturing away. “It's the least I can do. I’m upset that one of my residents got attacked under my watch.” He responded, inserting the suture needle. But you didn’t feel it. “After this, I’m gonna write you a prescription for a PEP antiretroviral and do some blood tests.”
Your eyes widened. “For HIV?”
Robby met your eyes for a moment before looking back to your cheek. “Yes, Dr. (Y/L/N). Fred is HIV positive. And while we don’t think the scalpel he cut you with had his own bodily fluids on it, your health comes first. We have to treat because of the risk, even though it’s slim to none.” He explained.
Your heart fell to your stomach, and the tears that you managed to hold back before began to spill over your eyes. “I’m so fucking stupid.” You breathed.
Robby pulled tightly on a suture before beginning the next one. “Hey. Don’t talk like that.” He said. “This is not your fault.”
Your lip quivered, and you looked to the ceiling to try and stop more tears. “Langdon is right. I’m fucking naive. I shouldn’t have ever turned my back to Fred. I knew what he was capable of.”
Robby sighed heavily and tied off the last suture. He placed the instruments back on the metal tray. But then he grabbed one of your hands and lifted his glasses with the other. “You are a good doctor, (Y/N). You are not naive. You are one of the last good people around here.” He said honestly.
Your cheeks flushed again, but you shook your head. “I need to start thinking more like Langdon, like Santos, like…like you.” You said.
Robby frowned, almost in disappointment. “I don’t want you to ever be like me. You are a ray of fucking sunshine, and you make everyone around you smile. Even me.” He said. “As soon as you walk in the room, it gets brighter.”
You smiled slightly. “I can make you smile?” You asked shyly.
Robby chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, you do.” He replied. “Sometimes you’re the only good thing about my day. The days where you’re off and I’m here…those are a lot darker.”
You watched your attending fidget with his hands in his lap nervously. You placed one of yours over them. Robby looked up to you, and you felt a real connection this time, deeper than holding each other’s gaze. He held your small hand in both of his.
“Well…you’re making a really shitty day turn into a good one.” You said.
Robby smiled, and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkled. You didn’t realize how close the two of you had naturally inched towards each other until you could feel his breath on your nose and smell his scent. A mixture of coffee and what had to be Old Spice deodorant.
You weren’t sure who leaned in first. But Robby’s lips pressed against yours in a sweet, gentle kiss. His nose brushed against yours, nuzzling your uninjured cheek. You grinned at the feeling of his mouth peppering small kisses across your face.
“Does this make it better?” He asked in between little kisses.
You placed a hand on his neck, fingers reaching up to stroke his hair. You finally pressed your forehead against his to catch his eyes. “All better, Dr. Robby.” You said before giving him another kiss.
Ok I'm sorry but if I see one more story labeled x reader and when I go to read it your fugly ass OC named 'nicole' or 'bridget' are in there IM GONNA LOSE MY FUCKING MIND! THAT IS NOT X READER! I know some of you could say "well just switch it out with your name"
NO I WILL NOT! ITS ABOUT THE PRINCIPLE OF FALSE ADVERTISING! STOP IT!
Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk
And if you are one of the people that does this... I will find you and it will not be pretty
No hate to you if your name is nicole or bridget those re just examples
Summary: Joaquin helps you through some big feelings.
Warnings: angst, fluff, mention of friends with benefits situation, mentions of near death experience, language that would make Steve Rogers berate you
Word Count: less than 1K
A/N: it’s another quick one before I sleep imagines. Came across a dialogue prompt when scrolling Pinterest and then my brain just started running with it.
“Go away Joaquin.”
“No.”
“Seriously, I’m not in the mood.”
“I don’t care.”
“No! Joaquin” You snapped, finally turning around and bringing you both to a halt as you squared up to him. “I have had a really shit day and I just want to go back to my room- on my own-“ you stressed, “scream into a pillow- maybe rip it to shreds- take a nice long bubble bath and sleep.” you finally finished, quickly turning your back on him to end the conversation, but he wasn’t having any of it.
“Uhhhggg seriously, Joaquin! Just fuck off!” You snapped again, but still he remained on your heels.
“No.” he said, reaching for your wrist to get you to stop and look at him.
“Look! Why do you even care?” You snapped. “We fight and we fuck- that’s it!”
“Bullshit!” he countered. “We are so much more than that and you know it.”
You shook your head, a defensive wall of denial going up like a solid block of ice between you. “That may be the case for you, but it is certainly not for me.” You snapped again, wishing the cutting words would finally work. Finally push him away. It was meant to be lighthearted. A way to blow off steam, but over the last week of missions, things had started to get way too real between you and Joaquin and that terrified you. Especially when he came close to getting seriously hurt and you didn’t know how to handle that.
You hadn’t had a relationship for years. It wasn’t just that your work didn’t afford you the time to nurture one, you just didn’t think someone who had killed as many people as you had deserved that kind of life. Sure you were trying to turn things around now, but it couldn’t erase all that you had already done. And who was gonna love someone carrying that many ghosts around with them.
“That’s bullshit Y/N and you know it,” he said again.
You tried to fight the tears that came to your eyes, telling yourself they were there out of frustration and nothing more, but the ache in your chest told you that wasn’t true.
“Talk to me,” he insisted softly as he reached out for you. His hand brushed over the top of your arm, but you didn’t pull away. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Talk to me.” You closed your eyes and shook your head, continuing to fight against your better nature and keep him shut out, but it wasn’t working. Your closed eyelids only worked to push the tears over your lower lids more and before you knew it he was wrapping you in his arms as you sobbed.
Finally you gave in, your arms wrapping around him. You could feel your tears beginning to soak into his top- knew he could feel it too- but the way he held you tight told you he wasn’t going anywhere. Eventually your breathing began to regulate and his hold loosened allowing you space to breathe, but instead you just grew angry again.
You hit at his chest and he took a step back. “Ah,” he said confused, “what’s that for?”
“You could have died,” you said, hitting him in the chest again.
“Ouch. Hey, HEY!” he exclaimed, grabbing your wrists to stop your assault. “But I didn’t, I’m here,” he insisted.
“But you still scared the shit out of me!” you stressed.
“Wait-“ he said hesitantly, backing up enough that he could easily look into your eyes, “is that what this is about?” You frowned, unable to answer. “You thought I was gonna die?”
“Yes!” You replied quickly. “I-“ you thought back to the moment he had started to free fall out of the sky. “I thought you were gonna hit the ground and-“ you froze, unable to say it, tears welling in your eyes again at just the thought.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said to you again, this time the meaning of his words completely different. “I need you to know that, okay?”
“Don’t promise that. You can’t promise me that. What we do-“ Once again your sentence became silent, your thoughts cutting off before they could become morbid again.
“Fine, then I’ll keep fighting for you. I will do my best, to fight to get back to you until I physically can’t anymore. Okay?” he said.
You softened and he stepped forward to wrap you in his arms, his lips pressing tenderly to the top of your head as he held you. “Okay.” you conceded, whispering the word into his chest, finally beginning to accept whatever this was that you and Joaquin were. “Okay.”
summary: Eddard Stark did not know when he had made friends with the idea of remarrying. Maybe it had been when with each passing month the thought hurt less, maybe it had been when Rickon started to walk and Ned now had six children running around, making him turn grey, or maybe it had been when your name had come up in conversation and he had remembered a tourney he had visited. You had been there.
series masterlist // asoiaf/got masterlist.
chapter i // chapter ii // chapter iii.
warnings: smut (minors dni), mention of previous canon-typical dub-con, mention of death (catelyn stark), let’s ignore that winterfell is always warm
word count: 2.5 k
Eddard Stark did not know when he had made friends with the idea of remarrying. Maybe it had been when with each passing month the thought hurt less, maybe it had been when Rickon started to walk and Ned now had six children running around, making him turn grey, or maybe it had been when your name had come up in conversation and he had remembered a tourney he had visited. You had been there with your husband, an old man, but your eyes had had that glint. You looked glad to be there, looked almost happy on your husband’s arm.
The man had passed away around the same time that Cat had and since you had no children, the title went to your late husband’s brother and you returned to Raventree Hall, the seat of your family.
Your father had approached Ned with the idea of marriage, and he had agreed.
A week after your wedding under the hearttree, Ned had come into your bed chambers in the nightfall. “Good evening, my lady.” Ned said quietly, standing in the door after you had invited him in.
"Good evening, my lord." You ran your fingers over one of the pelts on your bed, smiling almost shyly at your husband.
Ned returned the smile, studying your expression, taking note of your shy mien and the way you looked at him. Your face was lovely, and your hair hung in long waves down your back.
He cleared his throat. "My lady, I want you to know that I do not expect anything of you. I heard you had been too cold most nights and I would join you if you wanted." He reached out and touched your chin lightly in a gentle caress. “I have my heirs; our marriage is consummated – we are able to handle this however we want."
You nodded, a touch of surprise on your face at his words. “I have no problem with you joining me.” You said softly, your skin tingling from his lingering touch on your chin. "In fact, I have not yet gotten used to the cold – the temperatures in the Riverlands are much milder." You pulled back the corner of the comforter for him.
Ned smiled warmly. He slowly began to take of layers of pelts and coat, looking at you as he did it, waiting to see if you minded him disrobing like this. He was built strong and lean with muscle from years of training and fighting. The firelight danced across his chest as he slipped under the blankets beside you. Your words were true, you were cold; he could feel the shiver of your body. He pulled you close to himself.
"It will get better." He muttered, his voice quiet. One arm wrapped around your waist, he drew you into his chest, his body warm.
You sighed as you felt the heat of his body, practically melting into him.
The first night, and the nights that followed went like that. He didn’t touch you beyond your bodies being pressed together, holding you close through the night; to keep you warm.
Ned was distant in the beginning, almost cautious; now he began to open up a bit more, telling you about his childhood, and his past. He was a good listener too; he was quiet, and he paid attention. He would look at you with those grey eyes, as if every word you spoke was important.
You appreciated him - many a man would ignore any and everything a woman said.
Ned grew fond of you. He would smile softly at you when you entered a room, his eyes lit up and he would come up behind you to pull you against his chest on occasion just for the sake of holding you. He would hold you close in the night, but he never pushed you, never tried to go further.
Days passed and the both of you started falling into a routine. You would break your fast together, sitting together at the high table during meals with his family.
In private you would talk in low voices, his touch would always be brief, a hand to the small of your back as you walked together, him offering his hand to help you down a flight of stairs. And he always pulled you close to him at night, holding your body flush against his own. His breath warm against the curve of your neck.
He found himself looking forward to those nights in your chambers, you in his arms. He would bury his face against your hair, breathing in the scent of the oils and soap you used. He would press the occasional kiss to the back of your shoulder or against your neck, just soft, barely-there touches. Sometimes, he would let his hands wander, touching the smooth line of your waist and hips, or feeling the curve of your leg where it was thrown over his hip.
One night in particular, Ned was lying back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, one of his hands absently tracing up and down your back, stopping just at the top of the swell of your behind.
The silence was comfortable, but he felt the need to fill it this time, and he spoke after a few minutes of silence. “What was he like?” He asked, his voice a quiet rumble, like distant thunder.
You mustered him, laying on your stomach. "My husband?"
"Mmm." He hummed, continuing to drag two lazy fingertips softly up and down your spine, occasionally slipping under the thin fabric of your shift just a little. "I haven't heard you talk about him."
"You haven't asked." You smiled candidly, stroking a strand of hair out of his face. "It was an arranged marriage. I was supposed to be his broodmare. He came to see me for a quick fuck every night - like he would a whore - and otherwise ignored me when we were alone."
Ned’s hand stilled and he studied your face, grey eyes searching. “He was a fool.” His voice was low, a little harder than before.
"He was - and he's dead now."
“Good.” He muttered, his hand resumed its journey up and down your back, and he let out a little hum, as if he hadn't meant to say the word out loud. There was silence for a few minutes, and he spoke again, his voice thoughtful. “You deserve better.”
"Oh, I have you now, Ned. You didn't even allow a bedding ceremony. You're about as respectful as it gets." You giggled.
A smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. He let his hand slip lower on your back.
"I will never let a room full of drunk men strip you and throw you on a bed." He said, "Not unless you ask me to." He stroked a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes roaming your face, taking in your warm eyes and your plump, pink lips.
You smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to his eyebrow.
Ned closed his eyes as you kissed him, your lips warm and soft, your hair falling like a waterfall down your back as you leaned over him. He lifted his head for a moment and brought his mouth to the bare skin of your shoulder, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your skin.
You took his hand on the spur of the moment, using it for leverage as you shifted your weight over his body. He leaned against the headboard, your body now straddling his, your shift riding up, giving him a glimpse of the smooth skin of your thighs.
His eyes darkened as you straddled him, his body immediately responding to the feeling of your weight on his hips. His hands settled on your waist, holding you where you sat on top of him, his fingers gripping your form.
“Are you sure, darling?” He asked, his voice quiet, cautious.
You nodded, your pupils blown and lips slightly apart.
He slid a large, warm hand up your thigh, almost without thinking, his eyes locking on yours. Slowly, he moved his hand higher, caressing the bare skin, his fingers moving teasingly towards the sensitive flesh between your legs, his touch light and barely-there. He let out a soft, low sound when his fingers reached your core, feeling the heat and the dampness there, and brought his mouth to your throat.
You let out an encouraging moan.
He moved his mouth to your jaw, continuing his gentle administrations. He groaned into your ear, feeling how soft and wet you were already. “You are so warm…” He mumbled against your neck.
"Ned," you whispered, your hand holding onto his shoulders, "I want you."
He felt a shiver go up his spine at your words. He was already hard underneath you, and the feeling of your body on top of his had him aching and strained.
He brought his hand to the back of your neck, drawing your mouth down to his. He kissed you slowly, his tongue slipping between your parted lips. While his lips were on yours, his hands were at the hem of your shift, tugging it up and up, until he had it bunched up around your hips. He had to pull back from the kiss to pull the garment over your head, leaving you naked and flushed.
You steadied yourself with one hand against his chest as you took him and settled yourself on him. Your sparkling eyes entangled with his sharp, grey ones.
Ned closed his eyes, his jaw going slack as you sank down slowly, taking him inside you. "By the gods…" He let out a low, guttural sound.
He was hard and thick, and you enveloped him perfectly.
Ned let out another strangled sound as he bottomed out. His eyes opened to look up at you. He had given up control, the dominant regal man was gone for that moment. “Move, darling.” He rasped, his voice wrecked.
You started to shift, moving your hips slowly, lifting them and lowering yourself back on him, rocking gently into him.
He was at your mercy, your eyes hooded and dark with desire as you looked down at him. Your nails pressed into his chest, leaving little half-moons in his flesh. Ned gripped your hips, supporting you in setting a pace, guiding you as you rode him.
Each time you lowered yourself down on him he hit a spot inside you that had you clenching around him, your body squeezing him tighter.
He kept his eyes fixed on you; his mouth parted as he panted. He could see the flush on your face and how your hair was cascading around your shoulders. Ned felt like his body was overheating, his blood rushing in his ears. “Gods, you’re so beautiful.” He thrust up slightly into you, a curse escaping his lips.
Little gasps fell from your lips.
Ned continued guiding you in your movements, encouraging you to move faster, harder, until you were both sweaty and panting, lost in a haze of pleasure. Each time he pushed up into you, you made soft little sounds, spurring him on.
One of his hands moved from your hip to slip down between your legs, stroking his thumb against you, adding to the pleasure.
Your moans grew a little louder, more desperate, and he knew you were close.
“I want to feel you come around me.” He mumbled against your neck, his voice heavy and raw.
"Ned." You moaned desperately.
“Let me hear you.” He murmured, “Come for me, darling.”
He continued to touch you keeping pace with the rhythm you’d set.
You were trembling, your head thrown back and chest heaving as you fought to find your release, muscles fluttering and clenching as your orgasm built up. His name came as a continuous hymn from your lips.
Ned felt you squeezing around him, your body almost pulsing around his own, as the waves of pleasure crashed over you. He let out a low guttural moan and thrust up into you once, twice more before he followed you over the edge with a low curse.
You gradually came down together, your bodies slick and flushed. He looked up at you, his hand coming to your hair, caressing it and pushing it away from your face. You were beautiful – hair wild and messy, your chest rising and falling rapidly.
You smiled at him, hands still on his chest.
He smiled back, his breathing starting to slow down. He let his hands fall to your hips again, still inside you and wanting to stay there. Still buried within you, he could feel the aftershocks running through your body.
His thumbs were stroking small circles against your hips as you leaned down to press a few kisses to his jaw, resting your forehead against his, your warm breath fanning over his skin.
It took a few unhurried moments, but you eventually lifted your hips, letting him slip out of you and moving to lie down beside him. You cuddled close into his chest, your face burying in the crook of his neck.
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest, enjoying the feeling of your body. He buried his face against your hair, breathing in the scent of you. “You are going to be the death of me, woman.” He muttered quietly, his voice heavy with contentment.
You giggled quietly at that.
“Sated and giggling.” He murmured, nuzzling into your hair.
He pulled the heavy furs over the both of you, trapping your body heat underneath. You lay there together, limbs tangled under the furs. He was absent-mindedly tracing little patterns on the smooth skin of your back, the pads of his fingers moving in lazy, soothing circles.
After a while he could feel your movements getting slower and heavier. Your body was sinking into the bedding, your breaths growing deeper. He thought you were asleep until your soft voice came from where your head was tucked under his chin.
“Ned?” You whispered.
He hummed quietly, his hand still moving against your back. “Yes, darling?” He mumbled, his eyes now almost closed as well.
He felt you shift under the covers, nuzzling into his neck and placing a sleepy kiss against the underside of his jaw.
"Thank you." You let out a low hum, your breath fanning out against his skin.
Ned’s arm tightened around you. Your words, spoken in your sleepy and drowsy state, sent a strange, fluttering sensation in his stomach. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “For what, darling?” He asked, his voice a calm rumble.
You shifted even closer to him - as if that were possible - burying yourself against him, seeking his warmth. “Being a kind man.” You mumbled, your breath ghosting over his neck. And with that, you fell asleep. He listened as your breathing evened out, signaling that you had fallen asleep. He pulled you a little closer, a soft smile on his lips at your words. He fell asleep soon after, his arms wrapped protectively around your body.
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Summary: The reader's been assigned to watch over Dory Shaw when she runs into trouble. But when her big brother, Colter, shows up in town, things in the case are about to take a dramatic turn...
Pairing: Colter Shaw x reader
Word Count: 5,100ish
Warnings: language, serial killers, drugging, smidge of violence, innuendoes galore, not so implied smutty times
A/N: Welcome to my first ever Colter one shot! Please enjoy and let me know what you think and if you want more Colter! 😊
________
“So that’s the brother that does the reward thing you told me about?” Dory hummed beside you at your hightop, smirking at you. “What?”
“Nothing. You’ve only been drooling over him the past hour.” She gave her brother a wave from where he was getting the three of you refills at the bar. You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Defensive pose. I must be totally wrong, hm?”
“So what if he’s hot? I wasn’t drooling.” She shuddered. “You have hot brothers, Dory. Live with it. It’s a shame how you turned out. Your poor parents.”
“Screw you,” she said, flipping you off with a smile. You only grinned, stealing one of the cold fries from the basket before you. “I thought you swore off men anyways.”
“I swore off boys. Douchebags that don’t want commitment. Men? Men, I’m okay with.”
“Ain’t that the fucking truth,” she said, Colter wearing a pleasant smile as he returned with three bottles.
“Ladies,” he said, setting one down in front of each of you before taking a seat.
“So how long are you-” Dory groaned when he phone started to buzz. “Oh, come on. It’s fucking Hendricks.”
“Yikes,” you said, taking a sip as Colter frowned.
“Who’s Hendricks?” he asked, Dory answering and walking away to a quiet corner of the bar.
“The department chair. They’ve been having a problem with one of the professors and keep asking Dory to cover his night classes last minute,” you said. Colter frowned, keeping his thoughts to himself. Slowly you brought the lips of your ice cold bottle to your lips, taking a baby sip, Colter’s gaze on Dory’s agitated form. “What did you study in college?”
“I never went,” he said, Dory approaching again with her phone by her side. She gave you a look. She had to go. Colter picked up on it as she faced him, an apology in her eyes. He only softly returned a smile, hiding his disappointment well. “Go to work. I can stick around town a few days.”
“Really?” she asked, her voice so young sounding, a little girl’s spark in her eyes.
“Of course, kiddo,” he said, handing her the black bag on the table belonging to her. “We’ll get dinner at your place tomorrow.”
“You’re serious? You’re not going to run off in the night?” He shook his head, hiding the flash of pain on his face. Dory only smiled, pecking a kiss on his temple. “Alright, I’ll text you later. Oh, and Y/N totally thinks you’re hot. Have fun!”
“Dorian!” you screeched at her as she happily scurried away, heading out the bar entrance. Your face felt hot as you turned back to Colter, he eyes suddenly narrowed. “Uh, she was just joking-”
“You have five seconds to explain who you are and why that man by the door followed her out. Five. Four,” he said, already getting to his feet. “Three-”
“Protective custody,” you grit out. Colter took two steps to be by your side, leaning down to your ear.
“How many are covering her?”
“Three at all times. One of us is always by her side. That call was a cover. She has to go into the agency for a debrief,” you said quietly. You felt his hot breath over the back of your neck, your skin prickling. “Back off, Shaw.”
“You’re going to tell me what’s going on, right now.” You growled, pushing out your seat and standing, forcing him to take a step back, if only so.
“Not here.” You left without waiting for him, Colter right on your heels though. You stopped by your SUV in the parking lot, Colter crossing his arms. With a sigh, you put your hands on your hips. “You’re not going to let this go, are you.”
“The only reason I didn’t storm out after Dory is because I believe you. Now what is my kid sister involved in?” You shook your head, Colter tilting his own back. “I will not interfere but you need to tell me. Or else, I’ll go poking on my own and then I very well might end up interfering which you don’t want. Talk.”
“You would never risk putting her in danger so no, you won’t do anything. You are going to get in your truck, go sleep in your camper and tomorrow, hang out with your sister and me, her old friend from college that’s visiting until further notice. Got it?” you snapped. He looked you up and down, searching for a weapon maybe? He’d never find the small pistol in the back of your waistband though. “Shaw, I told you to go.”
“You need to be better at your job,” he said, reaching around his back and pulling our a small pistol. Your small pistol. Your hand shot to your back, now feeling very flat.
“How-”
“I distracted you in the bar.” He flipped the gun around, holding the grip out to you. “I’m sure you know all about our family. If someone is after her, I can find them. You know I can.”
“You think you can do a better job than the FBI?” you scoffed, taking your weapon back. He shrugged. It was maybe a sliver of cocky but you knew he had the record to back it up.
“I think if you don’t find this guy soon, the case will go cold and the FBI will not waste so many agents time. You’ve probably got what, a team of seven people covering her?”
“Four now,” you mumbled, his eyes flashing wide for a brief moment. “Maybe a few agents have been pulled the past few days but we wouldn’t leave her to fend for herself.”
“How long before that team drops to two? To one? Before they force her into witness protection or this bastard finds her first?” You tucked your gun away, Colter tilting his head to the side. “You know what’s going to happen? You’re going to be the last agent left and either you both get killed, you do and she goes into witness protection or she does and you have to live with the fact you failed her. You seem capable of defending her but if this person is as dangerous as you make it seem, you are going to need all the help you can get.”
“Go to your camper,” you said, opening the drivers door, Colter making a face. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
“Cozy,” you said, stepping into the airstream forty minutes later. You’d changed into a pair of jeans and an oversized hoodie from college. Colter pouted from the kitchenette area, nodding to the table. You tucked yourself in along with your backpack, tugging out your laptop and files before he set a beer down in front of you. “I ordered us a pizza. Should be here soon. You’re paying.”
“Of course I am,” he said, taking the seat across, spinning your folders around and opening one as you got your computer booted up. He barely glanced at the thing before you felt his heated stare. You met it quickly, Colter pointing a finger to a picture on the page. “A suspected serial killer? Seriously?”
“She saw him drug a woman at a bar. Gave a good description to locals, it flagged in our system. Two days later, someone broke into her house. Luckily for your sister, she was covering a lecture that night and wasn’t home.” He ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes. “I know. She’s his next target. Good news is we know what he looks like and have a name. Bad news-”
“Twelve years and he hasn’t been caught?” said Colter. He grabbed his beer, tightening his grip around it but not drinking. Yet. He steadied himself, breathing deeply. “When do you lose sight of him normally?”
“He’s not shy. After a kill, he sticks around the area for a day or so. We get footage of him at coffee shops, stores. We’ll track him to bus stations and then we lose him.”
“He doesn’t take the bus?” You shook your head. Colter pursed his lips, flipping through the pages of your files. “You think he changes appearance in station bathrooms and sneaks out with the crowd?”
“That is the agency’s working theory,” you said, Colter giving you his attention. You were no stranger to working under scrutiny but his intense stare made you feel like you were back in the academy on your first day.
“You disagree with that.” You nodded, turning your computer around, his eyes darting around the screen, pondering the data. “Huh. You think he uses the station as a cover and heads into the sewer system through maintenance.”
“I have…been told this is impossible and there’s no way he has done this in eleven separate cities and no one has been the wiser.” You took the computer back, Colter flipping up a page. “It doesn’t matter. We need-”
“It does and I agree with you. He always goes into the station wearing gray trousers, black boots and a black hoodie. That could easily be covering a maintenance jumpsuit that he uses to gain access and then escape without watchful eyes.”
“But it tells us nothing about where he might be now,” you said. Colter smirked, finally taking a sip of his beer. “I know what you’re thinking but countless stores sell basic jumpsuits.”
“You’re right. But if I were him, I wouldn’t want to get behind the wheel of a car smelling like crap while I get out of town. Now this guy is tall, right? He’s not going to want to walk more than a few miles at most hunched over in a sewer. Let me see your computer.”
You slid it over, Colter pulling up a map of the city, dropping a pin on the bus station. He typed something and then his phone was ringing, Colter muttering something to someone named Bobby before he hung up. A few seconds passed before he smiled, turning it back to you, a giant red circle on the screen.
“People would notice if a guy came in stinking to a hotel or motel. My best bet, he has a hideaway somewhere in that perimeter. My guy is looking into foreclosures, rentals, abandoned properties. We’ll hear back soon.”
“You could be wrong. You’re making a pretty big assumption based on the fact the guy wouldn’t want to sit in his own stench.” Colter shrugged, holding up his hands.
“I might be. Or I might be right. What’s the harm in looking?” You sat back, crossing your arms, glancing out his wide back window to the darkness beyond.
“I’m meant to be Dory’s handler. I sleep in her house, I am by her side almost twenty four seven. I cannot spend time kicking down doors and I won’t be able to get my boss to approve more field agents to go off on a wild goose chase.” Colter cocked his head, licking his lips. “What?”
“You already figured all this shit out about the perimeter on your own,” he said, leaning forward. You sighed, Colter shaking his head. “They turned you down when you brought it up.”
“Like I said, I’ve been told it’s impossible.” You grabbed your beer, picking at the paper label. “I was the junior lead on the case. I was demoted to protective services when I presented my idea. I was told it was childish and clearly I was not ready for difficult case work. If I go off on my own and they find out, I’m fired.”
“Then we won’t let them find out,” he said. “I have an idea.”
“Well that was mortifying,” you said twenty minutes later after hanging up the phone, Colter smirking from the drivers seat. “Oh, shut up. It was your shitty idea.”
“They seem to have bought it,” he said, still smiling as you glared. “You do this thing with your nose when you get embarrassed.”
You flipped him off, Colter chuckling before heading down the road out of the parking lot and towards the perimeter circle form the bus station.
“I can’t believe I asked for a night off for a fake date with you,” you mumbled, pressing your fingers to your temple and rubbing.
“Well you were drooling over me at the bar and your little agent friend and Dory seeing it certainly helped.” You smacked his arm, Colter feigning pain.
“First off, I did not drool. Second, you are objectively attractive and I allowed to appreciate good looking men. Third, you are lucky I’m overworked and my boss was happy I’m taking some time off to recharge.”
“I’m pretty sure I heard your partner say they wished you a happy trip to pound town tonight.” You growled audibly, Colter laughing to himself.
“One more word and I will arrest you, Shaw,” you said. He held up his hands, that stupid smile still on his face. “Don’t be cocky.”
“Interesting choice of words.”
“Someone kill me now,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest, your vest heavy underneath your hoodie.
“Seriously though, thank you for doing this with me. It’s a lot safer having backup,” he said. You nodded, knowing fully well that if you did find your killer, tonight was most likely your last night as an agent.
“Yeah well…I’m only letting you do this because Dory told us all about how you were raised. You can handle yourself if it comes down to it.” The air was quiet, the jovialness slipping away with a single breath.
“I’m sorry you were laughed out of the room,” he said, turning down a quiet street. “We might not be right but it’s worth investigating.”
“They were looking for any excuse to move me down the ladder after my boss’ son started in the office. He took my old job the little shit,” you said. “Straight out of the academy, never even seen a dead body and he’s working a damn serial killer case.”
“I see you hold no resentment,” he said. You rolled your eyes, Colter clearing his throat. “For what it’s worth, I’d rather have the woman that gives more of a shit about my sister than her job than have the nepo baby ridin’ shotgun.”
“So you know I’ll probably lose my job tonight,” you said, Colter humming. “I won’t if we don’t find the guy.”
“We both know odds are good we’ll find him,” he said, sparing you a look when you stopped a red. He had a look of…softness, a sad smile there. “Thank you for protecting her.”
“Well, at least I won’t have to look at nepo baby’s stupid face anymore. He looks like a smug little prick,” you said.
“Is he good looking?”
“God no. Ugly as sin like his dad.” Colter chuckled, a quiet one leaving your lips.
“Looks like you got an upgrade then,” he said. “Even if you do drool.”
“Just shut up and drive, Shaw.”
Three hours and twenty eight minutes later, you were staring at the ceiling of a rental house, blood dripping down from your temple from where you’d been pistol whipped in the face. Your body told you to make sound, move, call out for Colter who was at the front of the house. But your lungs weren’t working, the breath knocked out of you.
A dark shadow leered down at you, his eyes narrowed.
“Little miss roommate,” he said, squatting down, pushing the gun that’d fallen from your hands away. He cocked his head, resting a hand over your throat, stopping you from getting the air you desperately needed. He squeezed harder, pushing up your hoodie with the other one, tsking when he saw your vest. “Come on, sweetie. Look at me. Get a real good look at me, Y/N.”
He let you get a rush of air in your lungs as your eyes drifted over. The man looked slightly off somehow as he reached behind his neck. There was a sound of rubber as a synthetic mask was ripped off, a sweaty face appearing underneath that made your eyes go wide. He spun the mask around before setting it down beside him, fixing his hair as he applied more pressure again.
“I know you have questions,” he tutted, patting your face as you squeezed his wrist. “Come on, really?”
Something sharp pricked your shoulder, a syringe pulled back as you felt your limbs get heavy. He backed off with choking you at least when all you could do was manage a limp grasp of him.
“That’s better,” he said. “So I-”
He went down the ground hard, Colter standing over his prone form, eyes shooting to you. “He stabbed you with a sedative because this sick fuck likes his victims to be awake. You should be okay.”
“Nepo baby,” you mumbled, Colter tilting his head like he heard you wrong. “Him. Nepo baby.”
Colter got him restrained and tied to a nearby radiator before helping you sit up against the wall. He was shoving a cup of coffee in your hand by the time your attacker was waking up, your body heavy but a few sips of the scalding hot liquid had you feeling a tiny bit better.
“Good morning,” said Colter, his voice way, way darker than you thought it could go. Franklin was fully awake now and staring at you. “I interrupted your monologue before. How rude of me. Continue.”
“I ain’t saying shit-” he said, cutting himself off when Colter pressed the cold barrel of his gun right in Franklin’s crotch.
“It probably won’t kill you but you’re going to think of me every time you take a piss the rest of your life. So, I’d take a second and really think about the next words out of your mouth because you’ve tried to kill my sister and you’ve tried to kill my friend over there and I am more than happy to pull this trigger if you don’t tell us everything. Now.”
Franklin slammed his head back against the wall, muttering curses to himself.
“His name is Franklin,” you said, forcing yourself to chug back the coffee.
“Franklin,” sang song Colter, his hand grasping Franklin’s chin. “You have three seconds before I start shooting off body parts. Three. Two-”
“I did it! All of it. My dad found out and…”
“Fuck. He protected you,” you spit out.
“You figured out where I hid so he made you a laughing stock, got you demoted for being crazy. We knew we had to get rid of you so we…set up a failed job. I picked the blonde girl cause I thought she was pretty-”
Colter pressed his gun down hard, Franklin making a guttural sound in response.
“Keep talking,” Colter snarled. Franklin caught his breath, closing his eyes.
“He put you on protective detail and I was going to lay low until he pulled the whole detail except for you and the blonde girl. I was going to make it look like I got the jump on you before I played with the blonde…and you…before I…” he trailed off.
“Play with the blonde? With Y/N?” growled Colter. “That’s my baby sister. That’s my friend.”
“Walk away, Colter,” you said, forcing yourself to your feet. You swiped the gun from his hand and sat down in a nearby chair, aimed at Franklin. Colter didn’t move though, his body like solid steel. “Colter.”
He forced himself away, breathing hard and putting his back to Franklin. You imagined you looked like shit. Your head was pounding and you felt like going to sleep and running a marathon at the same time.
“I want you to call my old partner, Denny Piplin. Tell him everything. He has friends in high places and will make sure a trusted agent is watching Dory when shit goes down in that office.” You handed him your phone, Colter’s eyes darting around your face. “I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding,” he said, taking the phone. After a moment, his jacket was pressed against your head, his strong hand holding it there as he flipped through your phone contacts. “You need a hospital.”
“I’ll go when this bastard is behind bars,” you said, lifting your chin at Franklin. “And you over there? You don’t make a sound, move a muscle, or else I give him back the gun and let him do whatever the hell he wants with it.”
You swore Franklin didn’t move a millimeter for the next hour while you waited for agents to arrive. An ambulance showed up as they escorted him out to the back of a car, driven away to the field office most likely. You got lucky and your cut looked worse than it was thankfully.
“Hey,” said Colter, taking a seat next to you on the front steps of the house.
“Hey,” you said, holding an icepack to your head. He shifted and you felt his fingers brush yours, holding the pack in place for you so you could lower you arm. You sleepily smiled at him, Colter returning it. “Were you really going to shoot his balls and dick off?”
“Would you think less of me if the answer was yes?” You shook your head, resting it against his shoulder. “How long until the sedative wears off?”
“A few hours they think. How’s Dory?”
“Fine. She’s back home. Some agents are going to spend the night with her. You old partner picked them himself.”
“Good. Denny’s a good guy,” you said, shivering when a gust of wind caught you. Colter shrugged out of his only slightly bloody jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. “You were laying it on kind of thick in there with the ‘you hurt my friend’ schtick, you know.”
“It wasn’t a schtick. He was going to do vile things to you too. That pissed me off.”
“Still, you didn’t have to…” you stopped talking when he sat you upright, his eyes darting to your lips.
“There you go, doing that thing with your nose again,” he said, cupping your cheek. “You deserve to protected too, even if you are a badass, got it?”
You nodded, Colter smiling. “Good girl.”
“You think just because you saved me, you get to kiss me?”
“No, I think I get to kiss you because you think I’m objectively attractive.”
“Shut up, Shaw,” you said, brushing your lips against his as you heard a squeal nearby that made you both flinch.
“Aha! I so knew you two were into each other!” said Dory, suddenly standing there with Denny trailing behind. “You guys were so eye fucking each other at the bar.”
“Dorian,” groaned Colter as Denny shook his head and came over, giving you a big hug.
“She’s right, he is cute,” he chuckled, earning a slap on the back from you. “What’d I tell you when I retired? Stay out of trouble. What’d you go and do?”
“It wasn’t my fault I’m smart,” you said, a wave of fatigue rolling over you. Colter placed a hand on your back when you wobbled.
“We need to get her somewhere she can sleep this off,” he said.
“Come on kid, the guest room is all made up.” You were about to protest that he should stay with Dory when Denny cut you off. “I’m sure Colter can handle it. You can see them in the morning.”
“Fine,” you grumbled, both men helping you stand and over to Denny’s truck. They shared a word in private after getting you inside, your eyes drifting shut now that you were in the nice warm cabin.
“Y/N,” said Denny with the thud of a car door. You hummed, not bothering to even look at him. “You need anything?”
“I wouldn’t say no to food truck tacos before I pass out,” you said.
“That’s my old partner,” he chuckled. “Let’s get you some dinner.”
Two Days Later
“Hey,” you said when Colter pulled up outside Denny’s place in his truck. Between countless meetings at the office, you hadn’t been able to catch up with him and Dory yet. You didn’t miss the way your stomach did a small flutter at seeing him again.
“Y/N,” he said with a subtle smile, walking around the truck, stopping where you were washing your dirt bike at the end of the driveway. “You trail ride?”
“Denny got me into it when I first got paired up with him years ago. He let’s me keep my gear in his garage. I think I might take a trip, hit some trails I always wanted to.” Colter nodded, biting his bottom lip. “Dory told you I quit?”
“Yeah. Not that I blame you,” he said. You wiped off the frame with a towel, Colter picking up the spare nearby and getting the wheel spokes for you. “I was thinking of heading over towards Park City.”
“For a job?” you asked.
“Play,” he said, standing and handing you the towel. He shoved his hands in his jean pockets, cocking his head and doing that little shrug again. “I’m pretty decent at mountain biking myself you know.”
“Oh, are you?” you said, crossing your arms.
“He’s flirting, moron,” said Denny as he passed you on the way to the mailbox. You shot him your best bitch face, Colter stifling a laugh as Denny returned with a package and some mail in hand. “She’d love to go.”
“Denny! He could be a serial killer!” Denny ignored you, looking over Colter.
“She’s never been good with boys you have to understand. Always ends up with duds,” he said, Colter nodding with a smirk. “Little bit of a workaholic this one. Probably a good fit for you though. Take her on one of those reward jobs when you two are done with the mountains.”
“Angela!” you shouted, Denny’s wife popping her head up where she worked in the flowerbed by the front of your house.
“Oh he has a point, honey. You are awful with men.”
“I should have let Franklin kill me,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. Denny dodged your attempt at smacking his arm, laughing as he ran back towards the house. Your face was hot when you found Colter’s cheeky smile. “Let me guess. I’m doing the thing with my nose again.”
“So what if you are?” he teased, looking down at your bike, nodding his head. “If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty awful with women too.”
“I imagine it’s hard to do the relationship thing with a job like yours.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly, pursing his lips. “We could just…go have some fun for a week. No strings.”
“Is that what you want? No strings?” you asked. For the first time, you noticed a small flush to his cheekbones, his eyes intense as they met yours. “So you can get flustered. Good to know.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, hiding his shyness behind a cocky smile.
“Answer the question, Shaw.” He looked up and then over your head.
“I wouldn’t…mind strings…with the right person if that makes sense.”
“You two can take down a serial killer but you can’t ask each other out? No wonder your generation is screwed,” said Denny, going past again with a dirty car mat in hand.
“You, quiet,” you said, pointing at him when he flipped you off. “You, Shaw. Park City. Whoever gets down the mountain fastest pays for dinner. Then you take me a reward job and by the end of all that, I think we’ll know how we want things to proceed, got it?”
“Yes ma'am.”
Two Weeks Later
“What are you giggling at?” you asked Colter. He chuckled underneath you in the airstream bed, his arm tightening over your waist. “Are you a giggly cuddler? Is this what I’m discovering?”
“I’m just thinking Dory’s never going to let us live this down when we tell her,” he said, pushing down the sheet on your back to trace up and down your exposed spine.
“I know,” you sighed. “How will she ever live with the fact you’re slow as fuck down a mountain?”
He gently smacked your ass, pointing a finger when you grinned. “You cheated.”
“You’re a sore loser,” you said, his hand brushing the hair out of your face, thumbing over your mostly healed mark on your temple. Your chin rested on his chest, Colter continuing to stroke over the faded scar. “If you’re thinking of telling Dory about us, does that mean you want me to stay?”
“I like the strings,” he said quietly, his warm hands traveling up and down the sides of your body. “This is what it’s like. A job, downtime, a job, downtime. S’all I know.”
“I get that,” you said, lowering your eyes to his chest. “It’s easy to get wrapped up in the job and forget to have a life.”
“Why’d you really quit? They would have promoted you back up I’m sure,” he said.
“They broke my trust. The only person that had my back was you.” He tipped his head forward, kissing your forehead. “I want to stay.”
“Well that’s good considering I wasn’t letting you go.” You smiled when he tucked your hair behind your ear. “So. Ladies choice. We take another job we don’t yet have or we head over to Washington, hit some trails, maybe I show you some rock climbing basics. Or we stay here in bed until further notice.”
“Such hard choices,” you said, Colter grinning and shifting his leg so you felt him poking you in the thigh. You sat upright, narrowing your eyes. “If you make a hard joke, I swear-”
“You’ll what?” he teased, flipping you around, body hovering over yours. You frowned up at him, Colter kissing the tip of your nose. “So you don’t want the bed option?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Shaw.” He raised his eyebrows, a dark smirk on his lips that had your hand flying to his mouth. “Do not say it you filthy gutter mind. Nothing in my mouth. Got it?”
“You make it so easy though,” he chuckled, burrowing his face in your neck, kissing under your jaw. You purred, Colter humming. “That’s my girl.”
“Bed. Washington. Job. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds like you like the strings too,” he mumbled trailing his hand down between your bodies. “I can’t blame you. You do drool over me.”
“Why don’t you shut that mouth of yours, Shaw and put it to better use?” you said, slipping your hands to his hips.
“Whatever you say, beautiful.”
____________
A/N: Let me know what you thought and if you'd like to see more Colter x reader stuff in the future!
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Frank**
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Steve**
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Steve**
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Peter**
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Steve**
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
2019
Clint**
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Steve**
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
**This is the second part to my Peter Parker Series Master List, as I have filled up the first one. I have no shame. Haha.**
***Reminder: I write Andrew Garfield as my Peter Parker.***
[AU]
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
(Rewrite)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
[AU]
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
***Reminder: I write Andrew Garfield as my Peter Parker.***
Book One*
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Book Two*
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
[AU]
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
[AU]
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
[Mini Series]
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
[AU]
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
[AU]
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
***This Master List Continues over to Part 2 of Steve Rogers Series***
(Re-Write!!)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Deleted Scenes
Baby Come Home
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Deleted Scenes
Missing
Mini Series
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
That Connection
[AU]
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Royally Fucked
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
How Will I Know
[AU]
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
As It Seems
[AU] (How Will I Know Sequel)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Nothin’ Like You
[Soul Mate] // Mini Series
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Need More???
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