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blathannabeaga · 6 months ago

Text

.☽༊˚ three word prompts; “go to sleep.”

bobby x reader

feat. an alternative post-2x04 setting, qrf leader!bobby x qrf!reader, semi-hidden relationship, minor disassociation/emotional distress on the reader's part, but plenty comfort to follow it

Despite the fact that no one took so much as a scratch in damage, the flight back to Bliss feels like one of mourning.

The drone of the helo’s blades and the roar of wind fills your ears, even above the rush of blood pumping through your head. Despite the hot crush of your teammates’ solid, tac’d-up bodies all around you, your mind is already reeling you back into the empty cold of the warehouse, and what you found there; five hundred children, five hundred faces, five hundred sets of eyes following you everywhere you go.

They see you through the descent to the airstrip, through the clamber off the bird and across the floodlight-lit tarmac to the hangar. Staring as you get out of your gear, unblinking as you try and scarf down some of what Randy throws together for you - the only time they look away is when the lump in your throat grows too big to swallow around, and you hastily excuse yourself from the table before the guilt chokes you altogether.

In the showers, fine desert sand runs off your skin and swirls down the drain in pale spirals. The water’s hot, too hot, but it gives you respite from the days-old strains in your back and hips and most of all, forces your thoughts away from little sets of scared eyes and remote warehouses for a few blissful minutes.

Like all good things, though, your revery is cut short by Carillo’s blunt entrance into the bathroom.

You dry off and dress without paying her much mind - after her outburst of a confession, you’re at even more of a loss as to where to stand with her. The rest of the team had chided you in the beginning about your treatment of her - that you were too trusting, too sweet, too naive to the ways of the programme given your short time on it. Your defence had been that you’d treated Cruz the same way, and she’d turned out solid as solid came; but now, with things standing they way they do, the uncomfortable reality is that you may owe your teammates an apology.

When you emerge back onto the hangar floor, there’s a little more life to be found than when you’d exited. Two Cups and Tex have taken up their habitual spots on the couch, and are in the throes of a new Black Ops campaign, with Tucker and Tracer passively observing from the sidelines as they clean down their pistols - and perhaps the nicest sight is Randy and Cruz cleaning up the galley together, deep in conversation and trading fire with the guys from across the room. You have kept up with Cruz, from that night in Majorca and all through her deployment in Africa, so you had an idea of how she was doing - but it still does so much for your heart to see her with a smile on her face, after all she’s been through at the programme’s hands.

One person is missing, the one you’d most be hoping to see; but there’s no doubt in your mind that she’ll be quick to reemerge.

The fatigue is getting harder to ignore, spreading throughout your body and slowing you down like each step is taken whilst wading through thick molasses. The cheap, thin material of your cot feels like the most plush and expensive of mattresses under your touch as you sit, and slowly start getting ready to turn in for the night.

Footfalls sound from over your left shoulder, but you’re too focused on squaring away your kit to notice until they stop right in front of you. Your eyes take in a khaki-clad pair of strong legs and a slim waist highlighted by a snug tank top before a familiar hand is landing on your cheek, and directing your gaze upwards until you meet hers.

These last few missions have aged Bobby - adding a subtle twinge of silver to her hairline, the start of new lines on her handsome face, a newfound heaviness in how she carries herself. But these developments only serve as proof that she’s fought through every dark and treacherous thing that this job has put her through to make it back to your side, so you’ll embrace them gratefully for as long as she’ll let you.

The softening of your eyes must be more visible than you realise, because an easy smile is quick to take over her face. She traces the pad of her thumb over the familiar curve of your cheekbone and, wordlessly, you understand that the touch is charged with all the things she can’t say right now - things that, though the love you both have for the rest of the QRF is endless, just aren’t meant for their ears.

“Try and get some rest, baby.” A gravelly quality undercuts her low voice, betraying her own fatigue after the night just past. You cup the back of her strong thigh in your hand, soothing your fingers over sore, toned muscle through thick cotton, a charged gesture of your own to show her that you’re here for her too.

You nod your understanding, but draw it out to keep her closer for another few seconds. Though it really hasn’t been that long since you’ve been off-duty and had each other all to yourselves for a few blissful weeks, it’s been long and rough enough for this little intimacy to feel like a gift - one that you don’t feel like giving up just yet. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her smile takes on a sly quality, and she taps your bottom lip in an approving way that you enjoy a little too much. She lowers her voice as she speaks, despite the chorus of conversation all around you, and offers a wink as she departs. “There we go.”

Four hours later, staring at the lofty hangar ceiling, the warmth of Bobby’s presence and the promise behind her eyes are about the only things stopping you from completely losing your mind.

As used to Tex’s snoring and Two Cup’s nocturnal fridge-raids as you are, tonight they wear on your nerves to a new height. Any other time, you’d be able to tune them out into the comfortable white noise they’ve grown to be and drift off to sleep anyways, but now, when those innumerate sets of little eyes are still hovering in your periphery, everything that isn’t dead silence only prolongs your torment.

Hands knotted tensely over your stomach, the cool night air stings against the open flesh around your nail beds where you’ve picked the skin raw. Ceaseless tossing and turning has only caused the stiffness in your back and hips to intensify, and as another painful strain sounds in your lower back as you turn over onto your side again, the sour note of defeat that settles low in your gut is harsh enough for tears to prick at your tired eyes.

You’re pulling at the thin, army-issued blanket over your lower half in search of warmth when a gruff whisper-shout from two cots over cuts through the quiet. “Go to sleep.”

Tucker, half-awake, grumbles at Bobby but she only aims a kick at his blanket-covered legs in response. Judging by his groan of annoyance it connects and you hide a smile behind your cheap pillow as the hangar settles back into silence once more.

Twenty minutes later, when you twist onto your other side and are seriously contemplating getting up and just starting your day now, a rustling of blankets and a heavy set of footfalls break the silence. You’re ready to unleash bloody murder on Two Cups if you have to tolerate his godawful belching in addition to your own self-contained torment, but the footsteps don’t lead to the galley and instead weave down the line of bunks and right in front of yours. Prying tired eyes apart, your addled mind is still trying to make sense of the situation when a wall of cool air hits you as Bobby grasps the threadbare blankets up off of you, and slips underneath them in next to you.

Surprise forces you cognizant, and she’s still fussing around to get comfortable when you rasp out something between a question and a protest. “Bobby- “

“What, you don’ want me no more?” The squeaks and groans of the cot adjusting to both your weights is almost louder than her lowered interjection, but as she settles down and tucks one toned arm under the pillow beneath your head and drapes the other over your waist, her words grow clearer. “Cold, baby.”

It’s suffocating - the sudden closeness of her embrace, the hot press of her body against yours, the love that she couldn’t hide beneath a thousand gruff mock-dismissals or unsuitable situations. Now, she doesn’t even seem to want to; and that’s even more overwhelming.

Almost borne of muscle memory, you grasp her waist and crook your legs so she can tangle hers with them. Her cheek presses against your temple, leaving you to nestle your face into the tender place where the hinge of her jaw meets her neck. You’ve grown breathless without meaning to, and the grace of your lips over the soft skin makes Bobby shift in not displeasure. “You sure?”

Her chest rumbles low against yours as she makes a noise of assent. The warm, comforting flat of her palm finds purchase in the divot of your lower back and soothes over the sore musculature as she nods, and feels an intoxicating notion of pride glow in her chest as you relax into her.

“I’m always sure about you.” Bobby affirms. Squeezing you tight to her, she presses a lingering kiss to your hairline and tucks you in under her chin, grounding the both of you. “Get some rest, honey.”

With the solid drumbeat of her heartbeat under your ear, the snores and footfalls of everyone else around fade into disregard - and, while sleep still feels a little out of reach tonight, in Bobby’s arms you’re more than sure that your heart will find the reprieve from the world it needs.

#i started this like. an hour after finishing 2x04 so that’s why the setting is what it is lol #how this ended up being 1.7k is so unbelievably beyond me but oh well. pls god someone loves her as much as i do 🫶🫶#bobby special ops lioness #bobby special ops lioness x reader #special ops lioness bobby #special ops lioness bobby x reader #bobby sol #bobby sol x reader #special ops lioness #special ops: lioness #bobby lioness #bobby lioness x reader #writing

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blathannabeaga · 5 months ago

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.☽༊˚ january writing; homesick

bobby x reader

feat. ambiguous setting, established relationship, qrf!reader, kyle bashing, team-as-family, soft bobby

If there was one upside to the operation concluding as late in the night as it did, it was that you got to hop on a red-eye home instead of spending another night in those awful temporary barracks with Kyle and his goons. Deprived of Randy’s cooking and Two Cups as a ceaseless source of entertainment, the fortnight surrounded by stony-faced Unit operators headed by that manicured asshole had felt like the longest of your life - shrouding your eventual return to the QRF house in a strange air of gratitude.

Tyres crunch over gravel as you pull up at the foot of the driveway, counting each of the trucks and seeing that everyone’s home. It’s a sunny morning on base, much nicer than the dreary grey skies and chill nights you’d grown accustomed to on the border, and a breeze ruffles the short-shorn grass of the lawn as you heft your backpack over your shoulder and make your way up to the porch.

Just short of the front door, the familiar sounds of bickering and pops of videogame gunfire reach your ears. Randy must have breakfast going because a wonderfully fragrant smell drifts out the doorway, and even in your tiredness you’re just about falling over yourself to get inside.

Dropping your bag by the door, you pad into the main house and find it rife with energy. Two Cups and Tex are sat either side of the coffee table in front of the TV, where from the abuse being hurled you take it that Tex is losing quite badly, and in the kitchen is nicking food behind Randy’s back under the guise of helping out. The radio’s on, playing some old country that’s a favourite of Bobby’s, and one of her rifles is in a state of disarray on the table by her chair.

As you shuffle around the corner and into view, a chorus of greetings rise up to meet you. Ranging from the usual hey, kid’s to comments about your less-than-fresh appearance, the very fact of their company is enough to put a bright spin on the events of the past weeks.

A teeming plate of your favourite breakfast is already on the grill, you’re told - making you all too sure that your gruff station chief had been a little more concerned with your movements than she’d let on in your sparse conversations. The back deck is set up, so the plan is to take breakfast outside - and no sooner than Tex stands up off the sofa to go retrieve his plate and give you somewhere to sit do you throw yourself down on the sofa with an exhausted groan. “Oh, God.”

“Home sweet home.” Grins Tucker as he passes by you, patting your leg sympathethically.

With a grumble you turn over onto your back, stretching your worn-out arms above you in an attempt to get some life back into the muscle. Crossing your arms over your face, you kick your legs out and address no-one in particular. “Never thought things would be going so badly that I’d be homesick for this fucking place.”

“Yeah, you’d wanna think about working that one out with a shrink.” Comes a low voice from down the hallway, and a peek through your folded arms shows Bobby strolling in. As she passes by the sofa she shoots a sly wink, wringing her hands in the gun oil-streaked cloth tucked into her waistband.

“A real good one, at that.” Adds Randy helpfully, as he passes Bobby her plate over the counter.

Pushing yourself up to sit, you lay an arm over the back of the sofa and stick a finger up at the both of them. “Love you guys too.”

Finally setting down his controller to go grab his chow, Two Cups kisses his teeth and leans over the back of the sofa to catch you in a loose headlock as you protest and try to squirm out of his hold. Mussing your hair with a big hand, he only abates when you threaten to make a move for the pushknife in your belt and pats you on the head as he departs. “Y’know we love ya, kid.”

Your groans are met with laughter as he and Randy head out onto the deck to the guys, and you and Bobby are left alone. She stands at the messy counter, fixing coffee for the two of you as you sidle up behind her and wrap her up in a loose bear hug. A quiet laugh reverberates through her chest as you tuck your face into the hollow between her shoulders and squeeze her tight to you like it’d been two months you were apart for, and not two weeks.

“Sure it wasn’t just me you missed?” She asks over her shoulder, smiling a little to herself at your clinginess. You’d been speaking most every day for the first week, but had to go dormant on the second with the commencement of the last stage of your assault on the cartel squad - and clearly, after growing so accustomed to so rarely parting from her, it hadn’t been as smooth as was envisaged.

Shrugging against the solid muscle of her back, you concede. “Maybe.”

“Maybe.” She repeats, turning in your arms to face you with a believing nod. Smoothing loose hairs back behind your ears, she holds your face in a deft hand as you smile and she can’t help but return one of her own. “I’ll take that.”

#bobby lionness #bobby lioness x reader #bobby sol #bobby sol x reader #special ops lioness #special ops lioness x reader #special ops: lioness #special ops: lioness x reader #january writing

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