#and mckay should get to get all up in his face

[obvious-captain-rogers]

1 and/or 20 for Rabbot?

From the prompt list here: 1. Are you drunk? and 20. It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me

Jack could count the amount of times that Robby had been late to anything on one hand. Because despite the fact that, at times, Robby could be endearingly scatter-brained outside of work, he was always annoyingly punctual. Like, if I’m not ten minutes early, I’m late levels of time management. It was something that they went back and forth about since Jack was almost always perpetually five minutes late to everything.

So when Jack looked at the clock and saw that it was 7:30 and Robby wasn’t in yet- the rest of the day shift crew looking just as baffled as he felt as they gathered around the central hub- Jack felt the hair at the back of his neck prickle with something like worry.

“Alright, kiddos, look like you’re stuck with me for a bit,” Jack said and clapped his hands to get the residents and med students’ attention. Collins raised an eyebrow in silent question but Jack just gave her a quick shake of his head since he genuinely had no answers. “Dr. King, if you will take Whitaker and give them a hand in chairs, help thin the herd so to speak-” Dr. King gives him an easy nod before she shot a sunny smile at Whitaker and the two of them peeled off towards chairs, “Javadi, I want you with Dr. Mohan for the next couple hours-” he and Robby had talked about how Javadi needed to build confidence and Samira’s calm supervision and experience seemed just the thing to help make that happen, “Collins, Santos, and McKay, be ready to jump in on any incoming traumas with me.” Nods all around and then they were stepping away to start working with the patients that were already set up and waiting.

“Think we should be worried?” Dana asked as she leaned her hip against the desk, arms folded across her chest to exude a casual air even though Jack could see the concern behind her eyes. She knew Robby nearly as well as Jack did, so she was probably thinking the same thing he was: Robby being late probably meant trouble.

“Maybe. Dunno,” Jack said and that was the thing, wasn’t it? The thing that prickled under his skin uncomfortably. “His last shift…?” Jack trailed off and tipped his head questioningly.

“Nothin’ outta the ordinary,” Dana said and shook her head. “Nothin’ I would’ve thought anythin’ of anyways.” Jack just hummed and nodded along with her words. Dana was the eyes and ears of everything that went on in the Pitt so if she hadn’t thought anything was wrong with Robby before he left, then there probably hadn’t been. Though he still found himself unsettled by the whole thing. “Want me to try callin’ him?”

“Can’t hurt so you might as well,” Jack said and he knocked his shoulder against hers. “Keep me posted on our boy?” Jack’s mouth twitched up at the corner playfully.

“Always, Jackie,” Dana said and reached out to pat his cheek softly.

Jack didn’t have much time to think about it after that because he was being pulled from case to case. Between the trauma that rolled in- crush injury from a construction zone- and supervising the baby doctors, he had his hands full with what was in front of him. He was just peeling his gloves off after consulting on McKay’s facial fracture patient when he caught sight of a familiar lanky frame making his way into the ED, sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence,” Jack teased as he leaned back against the desk as Robby moved to tuck his backpack in its customary place beneath his work station.

Robby shot him a look just over the rim of his sunglasses. “Not really in the mood, Jack,” he muttered and Jack noticed the dry hoarseness of his voice, the way he reached up to adjust his sunglasses on his nose rather than taking them off now that he was inside.

“Oh yeah? Well, maybe you should show up on time then, Mike,” Jack said  and, quick as could be, leaned forward to pluck Robby’s sunglasses off his face. Robby cringed against the fluorescents and Jack took in Robby’s red-rimmed eyes as he squinted through the adjustment to the sudden burst of light. Jack let out a low, disbelieving laugh. “Are you drunk?” He kept his voice down but there was still an edge of incredulousness to it.

“Of course not,” Robby scoffed and scrubbed a hand over his mouth in another tell that Jack recognized. It was what Robby always did when he felt queasy and was trying not to be sick.

“So if I were to draw your labs right now-” Jack started, mostly teasing, but Robby cut him off with a flat look.

“It would be fine,” he grumbled narrowing his eyes at Jack. “I just… overslept.” Another Michael Robinavitch tell, pausing right before trying to feed someone a lie.

“Robby,” Jack said and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. As if Jack didn’t know him well enough to know when he was full of shit. “You wanna talk about it or am I just supposed to pretend I don’t see what’s right in front of me?” Robby’s jaw ticked in genuine annoyance at Jack’s prodding so Jack decided to pivot a little. “Come on,” Jack said and put a hand between Robby’s shoulder blades.

“I need to-”

“Come with me, I agree,” Jack cut him off and started walking, the steady pressure on Robby’s back making him have to either come along or wipe out on the floor. Jack found Dana across the way, her eyebrows shooting up at him all but dragging Robby by the scruff, and gave her a short thumbs-up to let her know that he had it handled.

He steered Robby into the break room first, only letting go of him long enough to pour a cup of black coffee, before he balanced the Styrofoam cup in one hand and caught the back of Robby’s hoodie with the other before he got it in his head to try and get away. This time Jack steered them away from the ED entirely and towards the familiar path to the elevators.

It was telling enough that Robby didn’t argue with him.

Jack let his hand drop from Robby’s back once they were out on the roof. “Here,” he said and pressed the lukewarm cup into Robby’s hands, making sure Robby’s fingers were curled around it securely before removing his own. “Probably need the caffeine.”

“Thanks,” Robby mumbled before lifting it up to take a sip. He grimaced as the bitterness hit his tongue but he didn’t complain as he took another measured sip.

“Talk to me, Mike,” Jack said firmly and he planted himself between Robby and the doorway back down into the hospital. “Was this drinking for fun or to forget something?”

Robby’s grimace had nothing to do with the burnt acidity of the coffee. “Neither.” Robby’s eyes were fixed on the dark liquid in his cup and he took another small sip, a stalling tactic, before he sighed heavily and continued. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Jack nodded, hoping it would encourage Robby to keep speaking but when it didn’t, Jack figured he’d have to slowly keep pulling information out of him. “So you got hammered instead?”

“I wasn’t-” Robby started, snappy and defensive before he paused to take a deep breath. “I thought if I had one, maybe two, it would help me relax. But then I just-” Robby bit his lip and shrugged. “Didn’t stop.”

 The doctor in Jack itched to check Robby over, run tests to reassure himself that Robby was okay, but the friend overrode that impulse and Jack just nodded silently. “Okay.” And that was it.

“Okay?” Robby asked, eyes finally lifting to Jack’s, with confusion etched between his brows.

“Yeah,” Jack said and tucked his hands into his pockets. “I mean, don’t do it again, obviously, but I think we’ve all been there at some point, right?” It’s why the statistics for alcoholism in doctors was what it was. Sometimes the stress was too much and sometimes people didn’t cope in the healthiest of ways.

“Should get back down there,” Robby said before he drained the last of the coffee from the bottom of the cup. His nose wrinkled a little at the taste before he looked at Jack expectantly.

Jack swept his eyes over Robby assessingly- more habit that actual concern at that point- before he blew out a breath and nodded. “Alright, but only if you promise me something.”

“What’s that?” Robby asked and tipped his head, eyebrow quirked up.

“Next time you decide to get plastered,” Jack broke out into a teasing smile so that Robby would know that they were good, “invite me along so I can finally see you let loose a little.” He winked at Robby, feeling a deep thrum of satisfaction in his chest when Robby’s face flooded with color as he blushed.

“Yeah, sure, alright,” Robby laughed and shook his head as he started towards the door. They fell into step together and Jack felt something in him settle at having things out in the open between the two of them. It wasn’t much, really, Robby telling him about his late night, but it was better than he likely would have gotten six months ago. Even baby steps were progress, as his therapist liked to remind him.

They stepped out of the elevator onto the ED floor and Jack took the cup from Robby’s fingers so he could trash it as they walked over to the central hub. “Pretty sure Dana’s got some aspirin stashed in here somewhere,” Jack murmured and moved to open up one of the drawers to dig around for it.

“I don’t need you to doctor me, Jack,” Robby said and propped his hip against the desk as his eyes flicked over the board curiously.

“Old habits die hard,” Jack said and offered the bottle to Robby once he’d found it.

“Seriously, Jack. I’m good. Go home.” Robby gave Jack a soft, reassuring smile. It actually reached his eyes and Jack believed that he was good. But there was still this protective instinct nagging at him to hang around for a bit longer, make sure that Robby’s smile stayed genuine and didn’t dim throughout the shift.

“It’s really not a big deal if you need me to-”

“Go home,” Robby laughed and shook his head. “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover, and you’re annoying me.” But there wasn’t any real irritation there, it was all just playful teasing and smiles as Robby popped two aspirin in his mouth and swallowed them dry.

“Gonna give yourself an ulcer,” Jack muttered before he fished out one of the mini bottles of water that Dana kept in her drawer of wonders. He cracked it open and shoved it into Robby’s hands with a pointed glare. Robby rolled his eyes but took a few mouthfuls dutifully.

“Okay, I’m caffeinated, medicated, and now hydrated,” Robby laughed and knocked his foot against Jack’s lightly. “Will you go home now?”

“Fine,” Jack sniffed indignantly, putting it on because he knew it would make Robby laugh. “Since you don’t want me around, I’ll go.” Robby snorted with amusement and Jack felt his mouth twitch up at the corner. “See you around?” Jack asked as he bent to fish his own backpack out from under the desk.

“Yeah, Jack,” Robby said and rolled his eyes with a fond sort of annoyance. “I’ll see you around.” The words finally settled that something that had been clawing at Jack’s ribcage since he’d realized that Robby was late. Because even if he was rolling his eyes and being sarcastic, the promise to stick around was sincere.

Jack shouldered his bag and let himself look at Robby one last time- he’d already been pulled away from the desk by Javadi and Samira to talk about one of their cases- before he turned towards the doors to leave.

[nicollekidman]

absolutely hilarious that every character comments on robby not acting Right and after one of the worst days anyone has ever had the behavior in question is like….. getting pissed off by antivaxxers and being too sympathetic to an incel teen…. okay king

rewatching the last ten minutes of this week’s the pitt and jesus christ the way robby lets david talk to mckay… the way HE talks to mckay….. sir slam a gogurt, take a lap, and get good with god…

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 8

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: An ER visit and a long awaited conversation.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: a variation of the hospital scene has been in my head since the beginning, and the one that convinced me to start this in the first place. Obviously it changed a bit after I figured out where it took place in their relationship. Thankful to be finally sharing it with y’all! The scene after that? Uhhhh👀😭

Special shoutout to @cherriready for being so extraordinarily amazing and helping me with the end bits!!! Thank you for letting me vent about the show and this series💜

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: age gap, ANGST, feelings, still avoiding those feelings, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, foul language, little to no comfort

not beta read

Michael was thankful this shift was nearly over, just under two hours to go and he could go home to crash. He really needed it, spending sleepless night after restless night, thoughts turning over and over in his head. He should not have cared so much, or felt so deeply about not talking to you. You should not have mattered nearly as much as you did.

But he had laid in his bed night after night, thinking only of you. Feeling stupid. Feeling perverted. Feeling like he wasn’t good enough. You had walked out, after all. You were the one who had stood and chose to leave.

So why did it feel like it was all his fault?

He remembered the warmth of your lips, how your eyes had held him so tenderly, how soft your hands had been. The rush he had felt when you finally connected. Like something had finally clicked into place.

With a long breath, Michael tried to get back to work. Maybe check out triage, or chairs and just grab anyone to take you away from his thoughts. He stopped by Central to check on a few patients, turning around to make his way back towards chairs.

And like the universe had finally taken pity on him, there you were. Hair pulled from your face, one hand held upward. Still in your work clothes: a pair of chinos, a light blue sweater and a jacket slung over your other arm. Any thoughts he had been having about anything crash landed. He had to be seeing things. He had to be seeing things; if you were here, then something had happened and you were hurt. That thought moved his heart into his throat — couldn’t he have just gotten more nurses if the universe had taken pity on him?

Then you looked up, your unmistakable eyes met his and his heart stopped.

—

Michael was on you in only a few long strides, next to you in only a blink. Taking your hand — gently, but firmly — into his, he looked over your wound with careful eyes. You held your breath, watching him, assessing him. His eyes, focused and unreadable, lips in just a hint of a frown, his hands warm and rough against your own skin.

It had been nearly a week since you had seen each other, and worry sank low into your gut. How had you ended up at the hospital he worked at? You were never supposed to be anywhere near his professional life. That was the deal.

…was there even still a deal?

“Dr. Robby?” Dr. McKay asked tentatively, glancing between you.

Robby? Who the hell is Robby? Is Michael a fake fucking name—

“Sorry, this is Doc—”

“I got it.” Michael—Robby—muttered, releasing your hand.

Dr. McKay’s eyebrows furrowed, “Boss, I think—”

“VIP, I got it.” He said again, harder this time, looking at Dr. McKay and not allowing any room for argument.

Dr. McKay’s eyebrows raised, glancing back at you, you were still staring at Michael dumbly. Giving a curt nod, Dr. McKay handed over the tablet and walked back towards the waiting room. You only spared her a glance before you moved into the room, Michael on your heels.

“What happened?”

Mild anger flared in your chest, “Was Michael a fake name, was nothing real?”

His eyebrows came together and his frown settled deeper onto his face, “What?”

“Robby.” You stressed, annoyed.

Realization flashed over his face, “No, no. It’s short for Robinavitch. Michael’s my first name.”

“Oh.”

Michael Robinavitch.

Well, at least it felt like you were on a more level playing field; all of your information was on that tablet now in his hand. At least now you knew his full name and where he worked. But did it matter?

Michael moved to close the door, before turning around and just looking at you. He was wearing a blue hoodie over his scrubs, a stethoscope around his neck. You hated how your mind went to how good he looked. You squirmed under his gaze, glancing over your shoulder at the exam table.

“What happened?” Michael tried again, stepping closer.

You looked at him, and let out an embarrassed sigh. “I was chopping vegetables for dinner. Knife fell, tried to catch it. Clearly caught the wrong end.” Your lips pulled up momentarily, finding it so stupid.

He nodded. You got onto the exam table, minding your injured palm, and looked back at him. The air between you felt tense enough to cut with a knife, both of you resorting to awkward movements that had once been behind you.

Michael sat on the wheely stool, scooting closer to you, reaching for your palm again. “Let me see.”

You held your palm out to him and he held it delicately in his hands. He turned to pull the tray toward him, a few things scattered across it, but you kept her focus solely on him. You hoped any of his expressions might give something away to what he was thinking, but he was painfully neutral.

“You’ll need a few stitches and then I’ll get you outta here.” He said, not looking up from your palm, grabbing some blue latex gloves.

You frowned, not thrilled this was how your night was turning out. But whatever divine deity was out there had decided to hand him to you on a silver platter. You swallowed thickly, anxious mind running rampant on all the things you could say to him.

“Pin prick and some burning.”

You noted the needle and glanced to the other side of the room until it was done. Your heart was racing and you feared he might have heard it. The last thing you needed was for him to know the effect he had on you. The air was heavy with all the things unsaid and you had the urge to run again, but his hold on your hand never wavered.

“How have you been?” You finally got out, cheeks hot.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours before looking back down to his work. “I’ve been okay.”

It stung, it had no right to, but it hurt somewhere deep in your chest.

“Good, I’m glad.” You bit out, rougher than normal.

He paused for a long moment, needle hovering over your open palm before resuming the stitches, his movements calculated and precise. You looked away from his face and swallowed your feelings. They were bitter as they went down.

“I’m sorry about the other night.” Michael told you quietly, still not looking at you.

“I’m sorry for leaving. I should’ve stayed.” You whispered back to him, hoping maybe he’d catch the hint this time.

Michael’s eyes quickly snapped to yours, holding you steady in his gaze. You did your best to hold it, captured by how soft his brown eyes were — pulling you deeper. It could have been hours that you held like that, his hand on yours making a heat crawl up your spine.

“Dr. Robby—”

Both of your eyes snapped to the opened door, the bubble bursting. The man who had interrupted was leaning into the room, hands on either side of the doorway, one leg slightly bent and the toe of his shoe tapping against the tile. His brown hair was swept up in a nice style, blue eyes flickering between you and Robby.

You released a breath the same moment Michael opened his mouth to speak.

“What?”

The man blinked, “MVA inbound, three minutes out. Do you want me to finish this?”

Michael frowned, “No, I got it, Langdon. I’ll be there in a minute.”

The man—Langdon—studied you carefully for another moment before turning and walking back down the hall. You watched him go, your breath stuck in your throat. You inhaled shallowly, trying to keep your feelings at bay, but you picked up the scent of him. Sandalwood and vanilla, and the burn of antiseptic.

“Don’t let me keep you,” you said, looking away from him, “I’m sure anyone could finish up.”

“Let me take care of you.” Then he coughed awkwardly, “I’m almost done, anyways.”

You nodded, trying to savor the feel of him just a little longer and hating yourself for it.

Michael hummed, “I’d like to…talk tonight, if you’re available?”

You looked at him and blinked, “We can do that, yeah.”

A small smile cracked at the corners of his mouth. “Good, I can come to yours so you don’t have to travel with your hand. But you can still come to mine, if that makes you more comfortable.”

Your face burned at his consideration, “Oh, thank you. Yeah, I’ll text you my address.”

He finished, placing the needle back onto the tray table and removing his gloves, “I’ll have a nurse come in and go over wound care, but then you can be discharged. Take Tylenol as needed, but don’t exceed 1500 milligrams in a twelve hour period.”

You nodded, “Thank you, Michael.”

Michael stayed a few moments more before lingering in the doorway, looking like he wanted to say something. He only spared you a last glance before rushing back the way he had come, likely to assist with the MVA.

The nurse who had come in to go over a few details on your wound care was an older woman, with blonde hair tied up and a smile that made you feel at ease. She introduced herself as Dana.

You visibly relaxed after Michael had walked out, but your mind was still reeling from your interaction. Dana made a few notes in her chart, eyeing you occasionally from the corner of her eye in an expression you couldn’t quite read. It made you tense up, like your secrets were spilling all over the floor.

Dana sent you on your way shortly after Michael had left, with specific instructions and a timeframe to come back to get your stitches removed. You felt awkward, knowing you might have to come back. Add in the way Dana was looking at you like she could read all your secrets like they were written on your forehead, you were happy to head home.

You pulled out your phone and sent your address to Michael, anxiety churning in your gut.

—

Since getting back to your apartment, you had only snacked on a few things after cleaning up the mess you had left. You were grateful no blood had gotten on the kitchen rug. You attempted to tidy the best you could with one working hand, not knowing when he would arrive.

You pulled out the Visa card and stared at it for a while. You went to a kitchen drawer, pulled out a pair of scissors and cut it in half, deciding you were done with it, no matter what Michael had to say tonight. You struggled with using your non-dominant hand, but it halved easily enough. Placing it back in your wallet to put into the shredder at work, you let out a long breath of air, putting it in your pocket.

Michael texted around 7 to ask if you wanted him to bring food.

Only if you haven’t eaten.

He showed up with Thai food, having remembered your order from their time previously. It warmed your heart, and your stomach was thankful for him, grumbling impatiently.

Michael looked around your apartment, taking it in. It was considerably smaller than his, with a rushed paint job and lackluster appeal. But hey, it was cheap.

You sat across from him at your dining table, the kiss lingering in your mind and making your hand ache more, even after taking two Tylenol. Your heart was pounding and your mouth felt dry, worried any comment would be a complete misstep.

Did he want you in the way you were thinking? Was this going to be his way of letting you down easy, over your favorite Thai food? Did he want to scold you for forgetting the agreement? Did he want to apologize for doing the same? Did he want to say fuck it and throw caution to the wind?

Your stomach churned uneasily, flickering your eyes to his face and back to your to-go container. The quiet was eating you alive.

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but each time thought better of it and closed it, attention going back to his food.

“How’s your hand?” He finally settled on.

Your eyes moved up to meet his, “It’s…fine. A nice doctor patched me up real good.”

A smile flickered on his lips, “Just nice?”

“He seemed to know what he was doing.” You said, eyes not wavering, a smile of your own hinting at the corners of your mouth, suddenly feeling bold. “He was handsome, too.”

You immediately noticed the blush blooming on his cheeks.

He cleared his throat, “Yeah?”

The smile grew on your face, “Yeah.”

His big brown eyes glanced away from you and back to his food, “Let me see your hand.”

You raised a careful eyebrow, but gave your hand to him, palm facing up. It was still well bandaged from when Dana had wrapped it up for you.

“Dana tell you everything—”

“She did. I wrote it all down.”

He nodded, placing your hand back on the table and letting go.

“So…you wanted to talk?” You ventured, hoping he would speak his mind first so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself.

“Well…the agreement. I think some wires got crossed—”

“You do?” Hurt bloomed.

Michael met your eyes, a long pause extending between you. He looked so unsure, eyebrows pinched together, lips pursed.

“I’d like to think this is more than just the agreement now.” You said softly, not looking at him.

“Oh, please, you wouldn’t even be here if I wasn’t paying you.”

You recoiled like you had been slapped, getting to your feet, your eyes snapping to his, “You really think that?”

“You mean to tell me you would’ve seen me somewhere and come up to me? A man almost twenty years older and what? Flirted with me?” He stood from the table, his tone harsh.

“Would you have?” You rounded back at him, knowing he never would have even considered it.

“I don’t want to pretend this could ever be more than it is. It’s unfair to both of us.” He said, frowning, shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pockets.

“Pretend?” Your voice was shrill, a laugh escaping your throat. “We’re way past pretending.”

“Do you want me to still pay you, then? Still pay for your companionship? Maybe some nice clothes—”

“Fuck you.” You snarled, grabbing your wallet from your pocket. You threw the two pieces of the Visa card at him, watching as they landed beside his shoe.

They landed with the weight of a brick rather than a flimsy piece of plastic.

Michael looked dumbly down at it.

“If that’s what you really think of me, take the stupid fucking card and get out.”

Surprise bloomed across his face, and something strikingly similar to regret, or insecurity, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t care. It took all your strength not to shove him out the door.

You had been so stupid thinking tonight might have gone differently, like your stupid, far-fetched fantasy might’ve come true. Your heart began to ache, taking away all the pain in your hand.

Michael leaned down quietly and picked up the pieces of the Visa card, eyes glossed over and unreadable. You watched him silently, breathing heavily and trying to calm your racing heart. Trying not to scream. Trying not to cry in front of him, but it burned your eyes.

He walked past you without a word and stepped out of your apartment, closing the door behind him — he didn’t slam it, but it rattled through your apartment like he had.

You crashed to the ground and sobbed.

[ Next ]

want to join the any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Companionship Taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty @elli3williams @ksyn-faith @yournerdmodziata @i-know-i-can @dickheadturner @dcgoddess @pittobsessed @glamorizethechaos @blueb33ry-cat @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange

All Dr. Robby Content Taglist: @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys

All The Pitt Content Taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc

I’m so sorry😭

but hey, the worst is over (mostly)

[scarletttries]

When The Pitt Boys Have a Crush...(The Pitt Headcanons)

Pairings: Dr Robby x Reader, Dr Langdon x Reader, Dennis Whitaker x Reader

Author's Note: I've been super run down lately so have been enjoying slowly working my way through The Pitt and now my feelings for Dennis Whitaker have become strong enough that I simply need to write about him 💞 Enjoy and pls send in any more Pitt headcanons you'd like to see :)

Dr Robby

- It's been long enough since the last time Dr. Robby allowed himself to feel this much of anything, that when Nurse Evans teases him for having a little crush on you he can barely find the words to argue. He could try and tell her she's wrong but as you walk by on the other side of the emergency room and his heart starts to hammer in his chest like he's just heard there's a trauma inbound, well, he knows there's no point fighting it.

- Robinavitch isn't the kind of man who'll fret about what to do next. He's spent a lot of years dealing with the most stressful day of peoples' lives, so he knows that the best thing to do is just act on the information he has as he receives it. The doesn't mean he won't spend a moment worrying he's been coming across as an idiot at work if even the nurses have noticed how he feels about you before he manages to.

- Suddenly he realises that there's a reason sometimes he leaves even the longest shifts with a smile on his face; it's always the shifts when you're working alongside him. Why he finds himself hovering a little longer at the nurse's station when he should be hurrying; because he gets to hear a little more of your voice before he has to face his next calamity. Why his steps have felt a little bit lighter since you joined the team down in the Pit six months ago, making him feel just that bit more excited to take on every single shift, because doing almost anything together with you feels almost brand new.

- He manages to contain himself until the end of that shift, pacing outside the locker room until you emerge and he can pretend walking out with you was all just good timing. Luckily it gave him time to check the rota for the next time you both have a day off, and before you know it you have plans with your boss. Dr Robby would go for a classic date like a ballgame or dinner, something where he can talk to you as much as he wants to without being interrupted by the chaos of your jobs. He'd play it cool, letting the atmosphere on your date be relaxed and casual, the doc already so confident that the spending time together can only go well that he's planning dates two and three in the back of his mind the whole night.

Dr Langdon

- Oh Dr Langdon, my chaotic disney prince with beautiful boy band hair, you would be so useless at having a crush. Dr Langdon's so used to people pursuing him, feeling confident and in control, and yet when you're around him suddenly he feels like he can't remember the order words are supposed to come out in, and now Javadi's talking to him about how you're like Utah and his day is only getting worse.

- He'll try to avoid you, letting other doctors take the more interesting cases so he can hide himself in the South rooms, far away from the panic you seem to stir up in him. When Dr McKay finds him peeking around corners like he's in danger, she has to hold back a laugh at his dishevelled state when he tells her there's something wrong with you that only he seems to notice. She leaves him to work out what he's missing on his own, knowing any attempt to tell him the truth would only spook him worse.

- It's a torturously long shift for Dr Langdon, so much so that when he's finally trudging out the door exhausted to his core, he doesn't even notice that manages to stumble right into your path.

"Long day Dr Langdon?" You ask softly, with that same smile that made him forget half his patients' names today.

"Yeah, just - you know how it goes." He feels himself cringe at his sheer inability to form a sentence under your warm gaze, his mouth going dry and you nodded knowingly and spoke again,

"I do. I was going to go get breakfast if you want to talk about it?" The offer rattled Langdon to core: He had spent all day avoiding you, terrified of the effect you seemed to have on him, and yet he could feel his cheeks tighten into a wide smile as his head nodded of its volition. You were going to be the death of him.

Dennis Whitaker

- Sweet, soft, pasty Dennis is no stranger to a crush. He's felt the sting of hope and then rejection more times than he would care to remember, so when he walks into the emergency room on his first day in Pittsburg and sees you practically floating between rooms, he knows he's a goner.

- He'll put in every effort to be nothing but friendly and polite, no matter how much his stomach flutters every time you say his name, or how he forgot how to breathe when your fingers brushed over his cheeks when put a mask on him while his hands were full. It's not easy for him to concentrate when he's sure he can feel the warmth radiating from your skin whenever you have to step past him to work on a patient, but he also can't deny how nice it feels to someone as wonderful as you checking in on him in the new, chaotic place.

- It doesn't take long for Dr Robby to notice the way Whitaker's eyes follow you across the floor, a dopey smile painted across his face whenever you glance back at him. He'll wait for a quiet moment between patients to subtly mention to Dennis that 'there's no policy at the hospital against dating a colleague, just in case anyone's caught his eye.' Dennis will laugh off the implication, quickly reassuring his boss that there's no risk of you actually going out with him so he doesn't need to worry about that. No Dennis doesn't need to work beside you for long to know that he's got no chance of someone of brilliant and beautiful as you wanting to spend time with him outside of the hospital, but it's still nice to let the warmth of his adoration rush over him as he resumes working by your side, despite Robby's attempts at pep talk.

- Thankfully Whitaker is being far too hard on himself, and is truly oblivious to way you eagerly return his every dopey smile, and blush when he hovers just behind you to read a screen over your shoulder, and how his gentle nature with all his patients only makes you want to spend more of your time with him. You'll have to be the one to ask Dennis out, and even then he's probably going to assume it's not a date until you wrap your arms around him at the end of it and lean it for a kiss he would have never imagined he'd actually get.

[rileygorski]

more fluffy langdonmel headcanons because why not

okay we love protective langdon but what if it’s the reverse? they don’t tell anyone aside from the people who absolutely need to know (robby and hr). it’s a crazy saturday shift when the chairs are pact, tensions on the er floor and at chairs are astronomical—langdon takes a fist to the face when a fight breaks out, resulting in a broken nose, a possible concussion from hitting his head on the way down, and a black eye. samira asks if she should call his emergency contact (his ex-wife? maybe? she thinks just because they’re not together doesn’t mean she’s out of his life.)

and despite langdon’s efforts (“i swear to god, i’m fine. she doesn’t need to worry anymore than she already does.” “don’t call her. she needs the day off today.” “robby—jesus christ it fucking hurts!”), robby does it anyway.

“i told you i was fine.” he mumbles to no one in particular when he hears mel’s voice ten minutes later, frantic and asking dana what the hell happened.

“i’m fine, angel.” he tries to pacify but flinches when she touches his nose. “you don’t look fine, frank.” she retorts. it’s cold and passive, but the look etched into her eyes: of worry and concern and oh so much love says otherwise. he almost forgets the many pairs of eyes in their direction. almost. he sees the grin on whitaker’s face, mateo passing a twenty to perlah, a high five shared between santos and mckay. (“since when was mel his emergency contact?” langdon hears samira whisper to robby. “since uh, about six months ago..” he confirms.)

frank hates the healing stage because he can’t kiss mel for longer than a couple seconds and makes it everyone’s problem.

they’re good—great—at what they do. almost too good. knowing what equipment each other needs without having to speak, finishing each others thoughts like they share one brain. it’s magical when they’re paired together but a nightmare for literally anyone else who is with them. one time whitaker got roped into working a case with them and the whole time they spoke in half sentences he almost left the room. (“dr. king, can i get—“ “on it.” “dr. langdon, there’s bleeding in the—“ “i see it.”)

they’re also super professional. for the most part. little touches here and there are saved for moments in passing when they think no one is looking, but the air during a valentine’s day shift catches up to both of them. mel, usually hyperaware contact she’s giving, can’t seem to keep her hands to herself. brushing the hair out of his face, or wiping the sweat off his forehead during downtime spent at the nurse’s station. and langdon is ten times worse than any other day. (“look at my mel, isn’t she beautiful?”). all the staff are tired of him by the end of the shift. like he brings her up to every single patient for no fucking reason other than he can. he also leaves a rose in her locker every hour with little notes because he’s just that obsessed with her.

mel tried to bake him cupcakes which she also left in his locker but she’s terrible at cooking so it doesn’t come out as pretty as she’d like and langdon thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

“the least you could do is keep the eye fucking away from patient view.” santos tells him ten hours into the shift. he simply grins, stealing one more look at her. “if being in love is a crime, baby i’ll do the time.” santos leaves to find the nearest trash bin to hurl into.

[popcornpoppypop]

Best Worst Date Ever

Summary: 18+, Minors do not interact. You go on a terrible date. Dr. Jack Abbot shows you how a good man treats a good woman.

Warnings: Smut, bad dates, alpha male talk

A/N: I had a bad date and need to be rescued by a hot ER attending. Alas that isn't happening. So, here we are. This is the first time writing anything smutty in a looooong time. By gentle. I was also half drunk writing this so, yeah.

“He’s some kind of architect. I met him at my sister’s engagement party. He seems nice, I don’t know.” You shrugged as you worked on your chart.

“So he’s got some money. Good, at least if he sucks, he’s still paying for dinner.” Mckay laughed.

“That is terrible!” You shook your head.

Jack Abbot was watching from his computer, he didn’t like how red your face was getting. He’d never say anything. It wasn’t his place.

“Thanks for covering the last half of my shift.” You thanked her as you made your way over to Dr. Abbot.

“You finished up?” Jack grumbled, he made the effort to keep eye contact in an effort to try and read your mind. He never could.

“Yep. Went over my cases with Dr. McKay and all my orders are in. Anything else you need?” You smiled. Jack was quiet tonight, more than usual at any rate. He had been ever since you’d mentioned your date.

“No. If you’re satisfied with your work, you’re free to go.” Jack snapped back to the computer.

“Okay then. See you tomorrow.” You looked at him confused as you turned.

“Hey, Whiplash!” Mateo called after you. He had given you the nickname after you worked one of the Salmonella outbreaks and ran from room to room, being the only resident that didn’t fall victim to it had you giving out orders to the nurses as fast as you could. He made a joke about watching you give orders giving the nurses whiplash.

“I’m off, bother McKay.” You waved.

“Oh right! The hot date!” Mateo laughed. Jack leaned back a little to get a better view of the conversation.

“Yes, he is hot.” You smirked.

“Alright Dr. Hotstuff, get you some.” He laughed. “We’ll be at the park tonight if he’s a dud though.” He nudged you with his elbow.

“Hopefully I won’t see you later.” You spun on your heel and pranced out.

Jack’s body was tense, tight like someone had punched his gut. He had fought his feelings for you for so long, it was second nature. But you hadn’t dated in a while. Seeing you excited by another man, or the prospect of one, made him grind his teeth.

“Dr. Abbot, we’ve got a trauma coming in. Nail to the foot.” Bridget informed him.

“Heard.” He nodded and went to glove up.

“Do you want Ancef at the ready?” Mateo asked.

“Sure.” Jack nodded.

“You good, Doc?” Mateo asked.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” Jack mumbled, his eyes intense as he stared down Mateo.

“You’re more…abrasive than usual.” Mateo shrugged.

“Shall I sugar coat everything for you?” Jack griped.

“Easy, just checking in.” Mateo raised his hands.

“Sorry. No. You’re right. I’ll let up.” Jack nodded. “What do you know about Y/N’s date?” Jack cleared his throat.

“Oh the architect. She showed me a picture, dude looks like superman. Clark Kent type guy. I blushed a little at his picture.” Mateo laughed, shaking his head. “Outside of that, I don’t have a clue. Why?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Just, curious. Somone should know who she’s with. For safety.” He said as the patient was rolled in. Mateo smiled to himself but didn’t say anything.

You were so over this date. He was cute but that’s all he had going for him. He spent the entire dinner talking about his job or himself. At one point he started rating his exes. When you had mentioned how unsavory that was, he scoffed and called you sensitive.

“Look, Mark. Thank you for taking me out, I’m just not feeling any connection. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m going to take this any further.” You sighed over the glass of wine you gulped down.

“What the fuck?” He scoffed.

“There just isn’t a connection. It happens.” You shrugged.

“Fucking females. You’ve got an alpha in front of you and you’re going to deny me? Bitch, you’re a four at best!” He snapped.

“Fuck you, I was being nice. You’re repugnant. Waste of my damn time!” You barked as you stormed out of the restaurant. You were so pissed, the anger causing tears to form involuntarily.

You wiped the tears from your face, as the lights of the park came into view. You took your phone out to make sure you didn’t have mascara everywhere.  You straightened yourself up and headed for the sweet release of shitty beer.

“room for one more?” You sighed as you walked up to the group.

“Oh no! How bad was it?” Princess asked as she handed you a beer.

“terrible.” You shook your head and chugged the beer.

“Oh sweetie.” McKay sighed.

“His loss, our gain.” Mateo raised his beer to you.

“Did he at least pay for dinner?” Samira asked.

“I didn’t give him a choice. Left him sitting at the table.” You sat next to Jack. His body was so stiff, like he was angry. You couldn’t remember doing anything to piss him off.

“What did he do?” Princess asked.

“Well, did you know I’m a four at best?” You gave a sad laugh. “Fuck him.” Jack growled. Everyone’s head shot to him. “That was a boy. You need a man.” He sipped his beer. You looked at him, surprised.

“Yeah, well. I don’t attract any good men.” You shrugged.

“You’ll get someone someday.” Princess smiled.

“Eh, I’m done for a while. Not worth the bullshit.” You said, wiping the stray tear from the corner of your eye. You felt Jack put a tissue in your hand. You looked up at him.

“I don’t like when my residents cry and you all cry a lot. I’m prepared.” He shrugged. The group chatted around you, but you couldn’t pull your eyes from Jack.

“Whiplash, you want another?” Mateo asked.

“Uh, no. No, I’m going home. Thanks.” You smiled.

“I’ll walk you home. It’s too late for that bus nonsense you do.” Jack stood with a groan.

“You don’t need to do that.” You argued.

“It’s happening, deal with it.” Jack said as he started walking away. You followed him.

“Thank you.” You sighed. You two walked in silence, his arms swinging past yours, nearly brushing hands, but never quite close enough. It was close enough that it made your skin feel electric.

“You were wrong, by the way,” Jack said once you were far enough from the group for them to hear.

“What?” You looked up at him, confused.

“Well, I don’t know if I’m a good man. But I’m sure as hell not a boy.” He said his gaze felt like it was burning your core.

“You like me?” You cleared your throat, it was suddenly so dry.

“I’m done fighting it. Your senior enough now, it won’t cause any trouble. Y/N, the thought of anyone saying you’re anything but glorious makes me want to tear this world apart.” Jack said as he put a hand on the small of your back to lead you across the street.

“I had no idea.” You whispered.

“Tell me now if you don’t feel the same. I won’t make a thing of it. I’ll drop you off and we never have to speak of it again.” His eye contact was so intense.

“You’re sure?” You asked in a daze. He furrowed his brows in confusion.

“I’ve never been more sure in my life.” He said. He walked you up the steps to your apartment.

“This is surreal.” You sighed as you leaned against your door.

“I need a clear yes or no, here.” Jack crossed his arms.

“Jack, I’ve been dreaming of this for too fucking long.” You smiled. “Yes.” You said. He smiled as he put a hand next to your head, leaning close to you.

“You’re sure?” He hummed, millimeters away from your lips.

“Fuck yes.” Your breath hitched in your chest.

“Let a real man take care of you, then.” He said, a firm hand pressed to your back, and pulling you close as your lips crashed together. You thread your fingers into his hair, the other hand wrapping around his broad shoulders.

“Having yourself a nice night, Doc?” Your neighbor laughed as she walked past.

“Sorry, Mrs. Lincoln.” You chuckled.

“No need to apologize. Bout time someone took good care of you.” She laughed.

“Mrs. Lincoln!” You looked at her in shock. The woman was in her 70s and was diabetic. You took to looking out for her when her son wasn’t around.

“Honey, that man is fine as hell. Get in that apartment and stop worrying about me.” She shook her head. “You take care of her, son.” Mrs. Lincoln waggled her finger at Jack.

“Yes, Ma’am. I plan to.” Jack smiled down at you. You fumbled with your keys in the lock, falling forward a bit as you opened the door.

“It’s a mess, sorry.” You shrugged, suddenly very nervous.

“Mess never bothered me.” Jack growled as he closed the door behind him, wasting no time to gather you in his arms, trailing kisses down your neck, nibbling at your collarbone.

“Oh, Jack…” You sighed.

“Which way is the bedroom?” He held your face in his hands. You pointed down the hall. His hands trailed down your body, feeling every dip and curve with reverence until he got to your thighs. He grabbed them and hiked you up in his arms and started for the bedroom. You wrapped your arms around his neck, biting at his ear. He laid you out on the bed, your dress riding up and giving the slightest peak at your lacey underwear.

“Take your shirt off.” You ordered, a rush of confidence or desperation came over you. Jack obliged. You knew he kept fit, you admired the sight of his arms on a regular basis. You weren’t prepared for how muscular he was. He was solid, not like the superhero actors, like a real man. Like a man who worked out to make sure he could do his job well and protect himself or anyone who needed to.

He walked over to you, standing between your legs. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until his fingertips grazed your thigh and you gasped.

“I’m going to show you how a real man treats a good woman.” He growled, his eyes dark as he ran his hands up your body, pulling the dress over your head. You lay still in your bra and panties, Jack stood admiring you for a moment before diving down and kissing you.

“You tell me what you want.” Jack whispered against your lips.

“You…” your voice wispy and delicate as your head started to swim with pleasure. Jack bit at your bottom lip. His hand cupped your breast as his kisses trailed down your body until they stopped at your hip, and he took a bite. He pulled the sweet, little, lacey panties down your legs and threw them across the room.

“You should be worshipped with a pussy like this.” Jack was practically drooling. He drifted a finger along your slit causing a shudder to escape your lungs. “How long since you’ve been touched?” He looked at your naked, writhing body as he moved his thumb to your tender clitoris.

“Ah! T-too long!” You whined, your hips instinctively grinding against his finger.

“You’re mine now. I am not ever neglecting you like that. I swear.” He drove two fingers into your warm, wet pussy.

“Please!” You bit your lip as he curled his fingers inside you and hitting the sweet spot.

“So wet, so soft.” He smiled as he palmed his growing erection.

“Jack, I want you. Please!” You were desperate, begging.

“Patience.” He said as he pulled you to the edge of the bed and moved to get to his knees. He kissed your inner thigh before dipping down and letting his mouth devour you.

“Jack!” You gasped as he made quick work of turning your body to Jello. His tongue circling your clit, making you see stars. You were teetering on the edge.

“Taste so sweet, baby.” He hummed against you.

“I want you, now.” You growled, pulling his chin up and forcing him to meet your eyes.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He smiled as he pulled his pants off and let his boxer briefs fall. His erection springing forth. He loomed over you, his eyes never leaving yours as he teased your entrance.

“Please…” You whimpered. Jack didn’t hesitate, thrusting into you slowly. You gasped at the fullness, your nails digging into his back.

“Fuck! Wanted this for too long!” He groaned as he bucked his hips.

“So fucking close…!” You whined. Jack kept his pace steady, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. Your fingers thread in his hair and tug, eliciting a groan from him. You felt yourself nearing the edge, unable to do anything other than beg for more.

“Such a good woman, taking this so well.” Jack hummed into your neck. You buried your face in his shoulder as you came, biting into his shoulder.

“Fuck! Oh fuck, Jack!” You screamed. He grunted as his pace picked up and pulled you close. A scream ripped from his throat as he came, his body shuddering slightly.

“Fuck…” He was breathless, lying atop you. You two lay clinging onto each other like if you let go you’d both crumble.

“You were right.” You panted.

“Huh?” Jack rolled next to you, brushing a lock of hair from your face.

“I did need a good man.” You smiled, closing your eyes. Jack watched you for a moment, completely enthralled by you. He got up and went to your bathroom.

“Jack?” You looked up confused.

“Oh don’t tell me no one has cleaned you up after?” He looked horrified as he came back in, wash cloth in hand.

“I usually did it myself.” You said reaching out hand for the cloth.

“I told you, I’m going to treat you how a real man treats a good woman. Relax.” He said as he ran the cloth across your body. He crawled back next to you, pulling you in close. “Best worst date ever.” You giggled, laying your head on his chest.

[etherealily]

𝕊𝕀ℕ // ​🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​

My other Nate fics. If you have the time.

No one seemed to like the cliffhanger, so here's a draft that I converted into a bonus chapter.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. NSFW. Drugs. Contains brief explicit content. MDNI for this part alone. Closest thing to sm*t I've ever written (and will write).

Part 1 : Whiplash Part 2 : 9 Lives Part 3 : Blessed Part 4 : Shards Part 5 : Eighteen

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

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Nate had never been more pissed in his life. Ever. You'd blatantly disobeyed him. Well, not technically. No technically, you hadn't been told anything, but he'd have figured you weren't so dense as to go and visit Shane motherfucking Crestin in the motherfucking ER !

Honestly. It's like you had one braincell and all it told you was to piss him off.

And fuck him. He definitely saw that in your eyes the last time.

Or was that the molly?

Probably the molly.

But whatever. The fact was, you wanted to fuck him, and he wanted to fuck you, and he had no idea why you wanted him out of your life if that was the case. Wasn't that fate? Two people want something so bad, they should end up doing it, no? Not going and visiting the reason they couldn't do it in the ER.

Yeah, he decided.

Yes. They. Should.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

He'd figured you would avoid him like the plague, anyway. So he didn't care if it reached you or not that he was helping McKay host a party. So imagine his surprise when, after about two months of no contact, you showed up at his party.

"Whoa."

You frowned. "Excuse me?'

"What happened to 'get the fuck out of my life, Nate?' What, were you just full of it?"

"Dude. If me being here bothers you that much, I'll just fucking leav-"

"Jeez, don't be a baby, short stuff.", he cooed, patting your head before slinging an arm around you. "C'mon, let's do shots."

"Hey, whoa, whoa, none of this friendliness."

He rolled his eyes, removing his hand from you. "Fine. C'mon. I missed you."

And the problem was, he did. He actually fucking missed you. Which was the weirdest thing to happen to him since... well, birth. It wasn't anything in particular, it wasn't even the fact that you were easy on the eyes.

He, like a fucking simp, just liked you being around him.

With as much trepidation as a sycophant scorned by his master, he gently, reverently, offered you a shot. "For old times' sake?"

You rolled your eyes, taking it from him. "For old times' sake? Like, the time you got me drunk at school?'

He smiled, his hand slowly back around your shoulder as he tugged you closer, kissing your temple. "We could always go back, y'know?", he murmured next to your ear. "Get high on the bleachers again."

"No."

"C'mon, we haven't hung out in two months. Ditch these fakes. I'm the fun one, anyway."

Jesus.

He took a long drag of his vape, the smoke bombarding your face. He proferred it to you and frowned when you declined. "Why not?"

"I don't vape."

"Are you one of those bitches that says 'smoke a real cigarette'?"

"No, I don't smoke at all."

He rolled his eyes. "We're going to the bleachers."

It was weird, to say the least, the air between you two back at the bleachers. You sat, looking up at the sky, the grass, anywhere but his eyes, and he sat with his head on your lap.

Silence covered the two of you until he sighed. "Can we just pick up where we left off?"

"And where was that?"

"With me almost eating you out."

You scoffed. You wouldn't have done that if you thought he was being serious. You wouldn't have done that if you were entirely sober. But you didn't and you weren't, so you scoffed. "Right. Yeah. Sure."

"I'm not joking. You're making this harder than it needs to be. There isn't any ulterior motive, this is just... boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy-"

"Debatable.", you muttered, but he ignored it.

"-Boy wants to fuck girl, girl wants to fuck boy, boy fucks girl. Why are you adding shit? Do you want drama? Is that what this is? Because we could do drama. I could do drama like you've never fucking seen before!"

In Nate speak, that meant he had a big dick and he wanted you to know.

"Look. It's just too complicated. You've- there's too much-"

"Forget it all. 'Kay? Just you and me.", he replied immediately, sitting up.

"Because you quote-unquote 'love' me."

"Exactly that." His lips found yours, and surprisingly, this time, you actually had a spine and pulled away.

"What the FUCK?"

Huffing, he rolled his eyes and stroked your cheek as he shifted and knelt down. "Can we skip the part where you scream 'what the fuck, what the fuck' and push me away and get to the part where you admit you want me? I've had a long day."

Seeing him down there did nothing to make you feel safer.

"Nate-"

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, please, just, for the love of god-", he muttered, as if you were being an inconvenience at the moment and not him, the asshat on his knees. "Would you just relax?"

"Look, Y/N. I love you.", he said, and his hands slowly slid up to the hem of your shirt, his thumb rubbing the skin right under it. "Let me show you."

"You don't love me. Stop saying that."

"Fine, then. I want you. And stop telling me you don't want me, like it's a mortal sin or something.", he warned, gripping the backs of your thighs.

Sadly, you couldn't entirely blame this on the molly this time.

It definitely contributed to the decision, but mostly to the fact that it made every single touch of his explode with a robust... flavour that you couldn't replicate even if you tried.

He smiled up at you so softly you'd think he was on his knees to propose. But no. Instead of opening up a little box, he opened the fly to your pants.

"Can you look at me, please?"

You sighed, looking down. "What?"

"You really don't look like you're against this. I'd even go so far as to say you want me, but you're too much of a pussy to admit it."

You did want him. BUT. You were against this. Because it was wrong. But you were letting him kiss up your thighs, bite at your lower abdomen.

Meaning it was the world according to Nate and it both infuriated you and turned you on.

FUCK.

Hums came from both your mouth and his, and before you knew it, your fingers felt nothing but the locks of his hair, pulling so hard there was no way he wasn't in pain. And he must have been, because gently, so seamlessly, he trailed his hand up to yours, removing it from his hair and interlocking it with his own.

But he didn't pause. His tongue continued doing... well, whatever the hell it was doing that made you want to stab the Earth for being able to produce Nate Jacobs as well as praise it for... well, being able to produce Nate Jacobs.

"You're a virgin?", he asked, breathless, raising a brow in incredulity.

You'd be lying if you said your brain even registered his question - registered anything but his tongue and lips.

"Are you a virgin?"

"Why? Don't tell me this is still a test to see if I'm easy or not-"

"It's not.", he assured, reaching up slowly, and then kissing your cheek of all fucking places. One of his hands trailed back down and into you while the other one immediately closed your mouth, though you had no idea why. It was a fucking desolate high school football field. No one was going to hear anyway.

He grinned, pressing his forehead against yours as he added another finger, curling them as he worked into you. "Shh, shh, shh.", he murmured, after probably feeling the results of you trying not to lose your shit beneath his palm.

"See? We go great together."

You screamed. But it didn't quite carry.

He frowned in confusion for a moment when you made a muffled noise and then muttered an 'ah' as he gently removed his palm from your mouth.

"That's not..."

"Hm? That's not what?"

You could have killed yourself right there, because he smirked is what he did. He smirked when you couldn't finish (and barely even start) your sentences.

"That's not even remotely..."

You were stalling. That was clear. Why? You didn't know. There was no logical reason. He was already fucking inside you, there was no point in backing out of this now.

But there was reason to hesitate.

He sighed, licking his lips and shaking his head in disappointment, brushing hair from your face. "Hey."

"What?"

"If you don't fuck me right now, I will lose my shit. I will cut myself. I will play Russian Roulette again. That work for you?"

Oh, this sick, sick, sick, SICK motherfucker.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

Why you did it? Question for the ages.

You should've said no. You should've gone home. You didn't go home, though, not even after the fact. You probably should have.

Instead, you found yourself back at Fezco's store. Not voluntarily, either, it just seemed your car was as drained as you were, and you forgot to fill it back up.

"Rue?", you called out into what you imagined to be an abyss. Her voice appeared like light at the end of a tunnel. "Hey."

"You high?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I need someone to pick me up."

"Maddy's not free?"

"I didn't check."

"Well.", she groaned, shifting around, clearly in some sort of drug-induced discomfort, "You should. I don't wanna kill you, y'know, you mean so fucking much to me."

The sarcasm in her voice was mildly hurtful, but hey. At least she cared enough not to kill you.

More than Nate had ever cared.

"Okay."

So, of course, you called Cassie. Because no fucking way were you calling Maddy to come pick you up from the store owned by the local dealer, which was suspiciously close to the party thrown by her ex.

The car ride with her was smooth and lovely and peaceful. Because she was smooth and lovely and peaceful.

"You think your car will be safe, out there, all night?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I told Fez. He knows what to do."

"Y/N, I... I've noticed you've been off, like, the last term or so."

You did not need her therapy session right now.

"Nah, I'm fine."

"You're not.", she chuckled, nervously, shaking her head as she slowed down at the red light. "You seem on edge. I think it's cause of him."

"Him?" WHAT? How the fuck did this ditz know?

"Yeah. Like, I don't know, maybe you're in love with him, and you think it's, like... forbidden, because he's a bad influence or something, but you just kinda look... strung out. Like there's a huge secret you're keeping."

She was supposed to be clueless about what was going on around her. Isn't that the thing they say about hot blondes?

"Love? In love? With who?"

"Fezco, of course. I get it, he's a dealer, but he's also hot, and I guess, let's face it, he's quite nice for a criminal."

Oh, thank god. The dumb blonde theory stands.

"I'm not in love with Fez."

"Then why are you so... off?"

"I...", you sighed, deciding to stick to the truth as much as safely possible. "I got in with some bad people during spring break."

The look of concern on her face made you want to apologize and buy her whatever she wanted, or maybe even confess to every fucking sinful thought you'd ever had.

"What? Oh, my god, what? Like, hard drugs and shit?"

"More like guns and shit."

"Y/N, WHAT?!"

"Yeah, it was fucked up, but I'm out of it now, though, so you don't have to worry, okay, Cass? I'm peachy. I'm great, honest! Hey, it's turning amber."

She frowned, turning back to the road in front of her. "You sure?"

You'd never been more grateful for Nate throwing the lamp to your right rather than your left.

You'd never been more grateful for Nate giving you a hickey on your right rather than your left.

You nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, though."

"So. Did you... you went to his party, right? Did you see him? Did you guys talk?"

It took you a moment to figure out that she was talking about her ex.

"McKay? Yeah. Yeah."

"How is he? Did he mention me?"

"He's, um... he's doing fine, I guess. He looks like he misses you, but you know him. He probably won't tell me."

"I just... maybe we... I just want to, um... fix things."

"You should."

"You think?"

You nodded. What the fuck else could you do to distract her from the fact that if she took one look down, she'd see Nate blowing up your phone? "Yeah, you guys were great together."

You instantly cringed. Because that was what Nate had said about you and him. "See? We go great together."'

"I don't know if I want him back, or what. What do you think?"

That I just fucked Nate Jacobs. And that the molly was only half of it. That I'm going to kill myself.

"I think... I think you broke up for a reason, Cass."

She nodded, and the rest of the car ride went in pleasant silence.

Then she dropped you home.

And Rue was waiting for you.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

"You're pissing me off. What is this, blackmail?'

"Yeah. It is. I saw you two in the bleachers, and if you tell people I'm not sober, I'll let it slip that you let Nate Jacobs inside you."

Keep your calm. If you show even a tiny sign of accepting that she was right, you're dead meat. "It was a psych project. He had just finished a practice, so we sat there and finished some work."

"With tequila?"

Silence. Okay. She was not talking about tonight. She was talking about the gun-night. This was salvageable.

"Funnily enough, Y/N, according to what Lexi told me, there's been no 'psych assignment-slash-project.'"

"Rue-"

"So you've not only been lying to all of us, you've been betraying Maddy. And you've done Jules so wrong.'

"Look, you don't even know-"

"Then tell me."

So you did. You told her about the Instagram story, you told her about the Russian roulette, hell, you even told her about the dinner and the scar. What you didn't tell her about was the sex. The mind-blowing guilt-inducing sex.

"But I saw you kiss him on the bleachers."

"I was drunk, Rue. I'd have let the fucking janitor kiss me."

"Look, Y/N, those are my terms."

"You're asking me to lie to everyone about your health, your wellbeing! We're all looking out for you, Rue! Y'can't just blackmail me into not doing right by you."

"As nice as that is, the fact still stands that you fucked Nate."

FUCK!

"Rue, please-"

"He doesn't even fucking want you. He wants to get back at Maddy, and you're too fucked out to see it!"

"Rue, you're crossing the li-"

"I bet that fucking him was the only thing you've been doing this whole time. What, did you fuck him when Maddy was with him?"

Rue laughed after you slapped her and that definitely told you she was so high she couldn't even feel it. "C'mon. Grow up.", she scoffed, tucking hair behind your ear. "Girl code's not important anymore, is it? We're all eighteen - adults - now."

WHY must everyone always do that with your hair? So fucking condescendingly, too?!

"Rue, I didn't fuck Nate Jacobs."

"Then why is he blowing up your phone? Yeah, you think I didn't notice the name on your screen?"

"He blows up my phone because he's a psycho- I told you about the Russian Roulette thing and the gun and the slit wris-"

"Yeah, but you said you asked him to leave you alone and he did. Why would he break no contact? What could've happened?"

"Rue, I am not going to help you fake sobriety in front of your family- I- Rue, what is that?"

She frowned, looking down and following your line of sight. Her bag. The front zip. A needle. She looked back up, deadpan. "Fent."

"RUE! YOU CAN'T EXPECT ME T-"

"Look, Y/N, I like you, I do. There's no reason for you to worry, okay? If you could be quiet, your life will go on as it always does. No reputation loss, no guilt, no embarrassment."

"This will kill you! I can't do that to you, Rue, please!"

"But you can do Nate Jacobs?"

You were genuinely about to strangle this fucking trapper cunt.

"Think about it."

What, had she gotten lessons in blackmail from him?

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

That night, you were too fucking exhausted to even question why Nate was knocking at your window. You just opened it for him. You just let him kiss you. You just let him tuck your hair behind your fucking ear.

"I have a question."

"What?"

"Did you visit Shane in the hospital?"

Okay. No way he could have found out about that. You didn't tell a single fucking soul.

"Huh?"

"I beat him up for you. 'Cause he was saying you fucked when you didn't.", he said, his voice oddly calm for a man betrayed.

"I didn't ask you to!"`

"Please.", he scoffed, clapping sarcastically. "Biggest cop-out of the century."

"I didn't!"

"He was calling you a slut, basically. As if you'd just give it up to anyone." What, like he knew you that well?

"Hundreds of people say hundreds of shit about me every fucking day! What am I, supposed to set you on them?"

"You could."

You scoffed.

"I'm being serious. You could say "'sic 'em' " and I'd beat them to a bloody pulp.", he informed, brushing hair over your ear again. "Say it. Tell me someone to beat up. I'll do it. No matter who it is."

"Nate. I didn't ask you to do any of this. I asked you to leave me alone, and you did the opposite!"

"You're acting like I showed up, fucked you, and then just left!"

He clenched his jaw, his grip on the piece of hair he just pushed behind your ear, now shifting to the rest of your hair. "No, cunt. I said 'I love you'. Or did you conveniently forget that?"

Oh. Right. THAT.

"What? You're suddenly acting like a pussy, baby, what's up with that? Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't remember. Don't be a pussy. C'mon, tell me. Oh, yeah, wait a minute, you can't."

"You didn't mean that. You wanted to get what you wanted, so you-"

"You think I say shit like 'I love you' lightly? You think I throw that word around?" Yes, he did, but you didn't need to know that. He decided to deploy the trauma card.

"You've seen what my parents are like. You think I'd abuse the words 'I love you'?"

"I guess not-"

"Yeah. EXACTLY."

Ooh, you were putty in his hands and he almost got a semi because of it.

"Look, okay, fine, Nate, that- that was out of pocket, but you can't expect me to-"

"But I do. I have never lied to you. Have I? I've blackmailed you and threatened you and, fuck, yeah, I've stuck a goddamn gun down your throat, but when have I ever lied?"

"So you're saying you 'love' me and I have to just accept it."

"I'm saying I love you, and you have to just believe it.'

And god help you, you somehow did.

"Rue's blackmailing me."

He mock-gasped. "You're cheating on me, then."

You couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips. Him being so calm in the face of danger should make him look foolish in your eyes, not admirable.

And the molly excuse was being held up by string the breadth of dental floss, honestly.

"Does she use firearms as well? Did you think about me the whole time?" He was clearly trying to make you laugh, and it was working.

He kissed your forehead. "What did she blackmail you for?"

"For or about?"

"Both."

"For : keeping her relapse a secret from everyone. About : the gun-night at the bleachers."

"Okay, so the choice is clear."

"What?"

Nate Jacobs had scared you when he'd said he loved you and when he'd said he'd kill himself for you, but he'd never scared you as much as he did with what he said next.

"We just sit back and watch that bitch OD."

[nfr-girly]

Discreet // Dr McKay x f!reader

summary: You and McKay have been together for 6 months now, every day you’ve had to hide the attraction you two feel for each other. But what happens when an unhappy patient attacks you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starting the day off, you walked into the ER with three coffees. You found yourself heading to the front desk in the lobby and placed one in front of Dana.

“Ah! My sweet lord and saviour thank you.” She says, reaching out for the cup

You smile, “anything for you sweets, hey you seen Cassie?” Dana knew about you two 3 months into your relationship. And only strictly because she caught you two making out in the storage closet one time.

“I think she’s with a patient in trauma 1. Hey remember we have those new med students starting today”

You groan and lower your head. “Jesus, I know we all were new at some point but they better not fuck anything up. Especially not today”

She laughs and looks to her computer “yeah well Robby’s working today and he’s already gonna be in a sour mood. Can’t have ’em poking the bear”

You quietly laugh and before you say anything else, you feel a hand creep on onto the side of your waist

“Hey gorgeous” Cassie whispers in your ear as her hand lingers on you for a few seconds more.

You smirk and look to your right, her eyes meet yours as she places her hand onto the counter, dangerously close to your own

“Hey stranger, I brought some coffee for you” you hand her the cup

“Oh thank you baby”

“How was your night?” You tease, knowing full well she was at your place.

“Eh it was okay, went to a girls house, kinda boring” she jokes

You lean closer to her, “oh yeah? Maybe you should come to mine then, much more fun”

She smiles, “yeah I bet” she says in a low tone

You’re both interrupted by Dana, “ugh, get a freaking room, and lock it this time I don’t want another storage room incident” she says as she walks over to Perlah.

You both quietly laugh at her, Cassie straightens her back and whispers to you

“You know maybe we’d ought to tell people about us, I’m sure a few of the nurses have already figured it out”

You scoff and look at her. “We tell people about us and all of a sudden you aren’t allowed to show me where the mylanta is in the storage cabinet”

Cassie stumbles on her words and freezes in place, realising you’re right.

“Yeahh, on second thought why don’t we just keep it a secret a little longer?” Cassie says

You laugh and look away. You grab a chart and start to head off. “Have fun with the med students Dr. McKay”

She mouths “fuck you” before walking away, leaving you giggling to yourself as you head to trauma 2.

She heads over to where dana is, taking a sip of her coffee.

“You know eventually people are gonna figure things out, especially when you flirt with her like that in public” Dana whispers to her

“Cmon it’s fun, being all touchy like that? Gives me a thrill” McKay jokes before walking away, Dana rolling her eyes

~~~

the events of the day play out as usual. McKay got to have 3rd year med student Dr. Javadi under her wing. You managed to have a brief conversation with her, finding out that her mom was Dr. Shamsi from surgery (you also realised the two didn’t have the best relationship).

Currently, you, McKay and Javadi were checking in on a patient, a 19 year old had been skateboarding and fell on his face, causing his cheek to split open.

At the moment, Cassie was showing Dr. Javadi, or Victoria, how to properly stitch up the cut.

After typing in his information on the chart, you walk up to the bed.

“Okay sir, you’ll need to leave in the stitches for at least a week, come in after that and we’ll take them out for you.” You grab some antibiotic cream off the table and show him

“Now it shouldn’t get infected, but if it hurts then I’d recommend applying this. If it does get infected with something come back to the ER and we’ll help you out.” He nods takes the cream, Dr. Javadi now done with stitching him up

“Now during the first 24 hours I’d please ask you not to let your stitches get wet. After that they can be wet for a short amount of time, like after you get out the shower but id really recommend drying them once you do since a moist environment can create a breeding ground for bacteria, and that can lead to infection.”

The man nods and thanks you all.

McKay nods, “Of course. Dr. Javadi, why don’t you show Mr. Miller the way out.” You don’t look at her but you grin, knowing what she’s trying to do

“Oh yeah of course.” She leads him out of the room, leaving you two alone

You finally turn around to see her, hands in pockets walking towards you

You laugh. “You think you’re so slick”

She laughs as she puts her hands on your sides. “Like to think I am”

She doesn’t let you get a word in as she pulls you closer, connecting her lips to yours.

You let out a soft moan as you bring your hands up to gently cup her face. you can feel her smile against your lips as she pulls you in more.

After a few seconds, you pull away. “As much as I’d love to continue, we have to clean out this room for the next patient” you grin against her lips

She groans and looks down at the floor, before looking back up. “When am I going to get a moment with you by myself”

“We work in a hospital. So never” you chuckle as you move to sort out the equipment.

As McKay checks through the patients files, you speak up. “So Victoria seems nice”

She turns around to look at you before looking back at the computer. “Yeah she is, she’s learning a lot too. Especially after this morning.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“She passed out after looking at seeing blood. Happens to everyone though, you know she took stitching up the 19 year old like a champ”

You smile in acknowledgment. “She observed a patient with me and Mateo earlier, whole time she was just staring at him. And whenever he spoke to her it was like the air was knocked out her lungs” you laugh

McKay smiles at your story, “kinda reminds me of us 8 months ago”

You look at her. “Well you definitely fell for me first so you’d be the Javadi in that story”

She jokingly acts offended, “what?! No way you are the one who fell first. Don’t pretend like I didn’t notice you tripping over your words whenever I would ask you something”

You scoff, but have no words to reply with, knowing damn well she’s right.

“Okay I see how it is. Well I’m going to go out there and tackle the waiting room” you say

She chuckles. “Fine it’s your funeral”

You roll your eyes jokingly, as you walk behind her to leave, you whisper. “Love you”

She smiles and looks at you walking away, you turn to look and she replies back. “I love you too”

~~

You make it to the waiting room, and needless to say it’s chaos. You could count at least 50 people in there. As nurses, you needed to regularly check up on the waiting room, make sure no one was dying out there.

You looked around, ensuring no one was in need of immediate attention. Right now, the hospital was stacked. Rooms were constantly full and only very few were being able to be moved out the waiting room per hour.

You decided to go outside to quickly have a breath of fresh air. Giving yourself no longer than 2 minutes. You head outside, not even hearing the footsteps that follow you.

You rest your hands on your hips as you look around the entrance, outside it’s quiet, you can actually hear yourself think. You can’t say the same for inside the Pitt.

“Hey!” You hear shouted behind you. You turn around to see a taller man come towards you, you can only assume having come out the waiting room.

“Hey sir. What can I do for you?” You ask.

“Here’s what you can do for me. You can explain why you’re holding up 50 people in there including me, and how you claim to be busy yet you’re able to come out here and take a break?” His voice is raised, very visually angry

“Sir I promise you we are trying to get people in as quickly as possible. But you have to understand this is not first come first serve. We help people first purely based on the level of injury.“

He laughs. “Bullshit. The guy next to me is basically a walking disease. You’re all just too lazy to actually work.”

You have to remind yourself to stay professional, even though your brain is telling yourself to do the opposite

“Listen sir as I said. We see people based on how critical their condition is. We have not nearly enough rooms which is a whole separate problem-“

You couldn’t even get a word in before he pushed you. You took a second to regain your posture

“Okay you need to calm down. You can either wait for your turn or I’ll have to have security escort you out, but sir you understand you leaving means that you could very well have a heart attack at any point and we will not be there to be able to provide you care.”

He stays silent for a minute and looks around him. He scoffs and looks down to the ground, looking back up he says “think I’ll take my chances”

Before you can react, you feel his fist collide at your face at an alarming speed. The punch knocks you to the ground and it takes a second before you can feel the pain, certain you can feel blood dripping down your nose.

You look up to see the man walk away; you don’t bother to follow him, you just want to get inside.

After a few minutes your headache calms down, though it still severely hurts. You stand up and slowly walk into the hospital. You don’t even register when you’re fully in the place until you see Robby rush over to you.

“Jesus!” He stops in front of you and holds your face, checking for further damage.

“It’s fine I’m okay” you weren’t, but you didn’t want to take attention away from any patients

“You are not your nose is bleeding and your eye is bruising” Robby exclaims, he helps you towards a chair to sit on. Dana, Santos, Mateo and the security guard now surrounding you.

“Christ, who did this to you?” Dana asks

You hesitate, although you want to shout his name from the rooftops you don’t want to make this into a whole thing.

Hearing your silence, the security officer speaks up

“Listen if we know who did it we can tell all hospitals in the area to keep a watch for him. If he needs medical help he’ll for sure be heading to somewhere else for it”

You nod and speak up. “It was a man named Doug Driscoll. He came in for chest pains and was complaining about the wait”

Mateo spoke up. “That asshole in chairs?!”

The security officer shook his head. “I’m gonna go alert all the hospitals around us, we have his face in his records and his address if we can’t find him. Motherfucker won’t know what hit him” he walked away

Robby cleaned you up. Dana quickly went to go get an ice pack for you.

“You’re gonna have a horrible headache and you’ll be too dizzy. You gotta head home” Robby says

“I’ll be fine.” You thank Dana as she hands you the ice pack. “We have patients and rooms that need to be empty you can’t afford to lose a nurse.”

“We have plenty of people down here, gives us more cases for the med students to learn from anyway.” He says

“Robby I’m fine.” you weren’t even sure if you believed yourself. You weren’t fine. You were swaying from side to side and your head felt like it was on fire.

He knew you’d be too stubborn about it. So he nodded his head. “If I see you tumble into a gurney I’m sending you home.”

You chuckle. “Got it.”

He helped you up and you kept the ice pack on you just in case. You see a girl being brought in so you quickly head over to help them, ignoring the worried looks from the medics at your face.

Robby looks over to you and looks back at Dana. Who’s smiling and chuckling.

“It would take a fucking crane to keep her out of this hospital” Dana says

Robby chuckles lightly before looking over to Santos.

“Hey Santos why don’t you head over to trauma 3 and observe Dr. McKay?” She nods and hurries over there.

~~~

Slowly opening the curtain, she smiles at the patient and looks towards Cassie.

“Oh hey, thought you dipped.”

Santos doesn’t reply, instead introducing herself. “Hey sir my names Dr Santos, uhh Dr. McKay can you catch me up”

Cassie nods. “Sure. This is Mr Bennet. He was playing with his grandchildren in the yard when he tripped and cut his hand. We’ve cleaned it up but we’ll have to put in stitches. Mr Bennett, Dr. Santos is one of our med students would you be happy to let her do your stitches for you? Absolutely fine if not.”

He nods. “No that’s okay.”

Dr santos smiles and sits down, preparing the suturing kit.

Cassie observes how she does it, making sure it goes correctly.

Santos speaks up. “Hey did you hear that someone from the waiting room attacked one of the nurses?”

McKay freezes. “No, Jesus who got hurt?”

“It was Dr. (L/N) I think? I’ve only been in the same room as her once but the injuries looked quite bad. Bruised eye, bloody nose..” she looked back to see that Cassie wasn’t even there anymore.

She looked back at the stitches and continued. “Okay…”

~~

Cassie rushed over to find you, she couldn’t find you anywhere in the main lobby, until Dana spoke up.

“Trauma 1. She’s cleaning up”

McKay nods, silently thanking her as she rushes over

She doesn’t want to scare you so she makes sure you can hear her approaching, she opens the curtains to see you already looking at her

She pauses, taking in the sight. She closes the curtains and goes over to you

“Jesus fucking Christ” she gently takes your face into her hands

“Who did this?” She asks, worried out of her head

“Just an unhappy patient” you mumble. “I’m okay”

She shakes her head. “You are not okay, your eye is bruised and so is your nose. For gods sake you’re holding an ice pack onto it” she stops, she doesn’t know why she’s taking out her anger onto you, she takes a moment before talking again, this time taking your ice pack from you and holding it herself, making sure your eye gets coverage too.

“You need to go home baby.” She pleads

“Cassie I’m okay. We can’t afford to lose a nurse we’re packed today”

She argues back, “we have the med students we’ll be fine. You won’t be. Plus you think patients will feel at ease seeing your face like that?”

Unfortunately, she had a point. You sigh and nod your head. “Alright, alright. But I can’t drive I’m too dizzy”

“I’ll drive you, cmon.” She places a hand onto your back and leads you out.

She walks over to Dana with you. “Hey can you grab my car keys? They should be in the bottom. Got a picture of me and her on it” you smile at the fact she keeps a photo of you two with them

When Dana hands her the keys, Gloria walks over.

“What happened here?” She asks, seeing the ice pack on your face

McKay looks at her sourly, she takes the ice pack off your eye and shows her.

“This is what happened. Because of the fact you can’t be bothered to put in more safety measures for the nurses, Dr (l/n) got attacked”

The sudden confrontation shocked you, Gloria and Dana, who was now watching like it was a movie

“Now hang on, we care deeply for our staff but I don’t believe she got attacked because of us”

Now, Robby had joined the conversation. “What is going on here?”

Cassie speaks up “I’ll tell you what’s going on. We are not safe here. Why is it so easy for someone to attack a nurse or a doctor like this? What if that man had a knife Robby. We got lucky it was only a punch.”

Gloria responds, “we are working on it.” She turns to Robby “this is why we need to get those patient satisfaction scores up so we don’t have unhappy patients and situations like this”

She can’t get another word in before McKay interrupts.

“Oh screw your patient satisfaction scores! You come in here all the time so can you not see that we are doing everything that we can? We can’t send these patients in and out in under a minute, they need proper care. But since you don’t give a crap about us my girlfriend got assaulted!” Cassie doesn’t even realise what she just said until she looks around and sees everyone staring at her. By now, her outburst was attracting the attention of every single person on that floor.

She stops, only just realising what she admitted. She looks to you, worried you would be mad at her outing you both. Instead, she’s met with a small smile.

Relieved, she smiles back at you before facing Gloria

“Put in better safety measures and maybe crap like this won’t happen again.” She exclaims before she storms off with you, hands now interlinked

Behind you, Robby looks at the two of you both with a small smile.

You reach outside and you both take a breath of fresh air, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You look at eachother for a second before laughing, she walks towards you and caresses your face

“I’m sorry I said that, it was just out of anger” she apologises

You shake your head. “No it’s okay. I’m glad they know now”

She smiles and pulls you in, kissing you so much the air goes out of your lungs. After a minute, she pulls away

“Cmon. Let me take you home” she takes your hand in hers and you both walk towards her car. A new sense of relief is felt in both of you. Although you wished the circumstances were different, you were excited to finally be able to call her yours, with no need to hide it.

~~~~

I’m so sure no one’s written a fanfic for her yet so this is me providing 😋 this may be shit but hope you all like it <3

[starboye]

jealousy, jealousy

pairing: nate jacobs x male reader

summary: nate gets jealous that someone is flirting with you and decides to handle it his way

warnings: smut, some angst, lil praising, not established relationship, and yeah i think thats it

words: 1.1k

nate watched you from across the room with jealous eyes as you openly flirted with another man, the man giving you small touches and sappy compliments while nate stood there leaning on the living room wall beer in hand and annoyed look on his face as mckay tried to talk to him about his problems with cassie but he drowned his words out, only focusing on how you lit up while talking to the man.

he soon notices you heading to the bathroom and shoves his beer into mckays hand and walks to the bathroom, as youre about to close the door nate intercepts it and squeezes into the bathroom with you "what the fuck nate" you yell jumping back a little "we need to talk" nate demands locking the door "after what you've put me through i should fucking punch you" you say annoyed at the situation youre in.

"now you know you wouldnt do that to me" nate egotistically scoffs "dont flatter yourself now" you say "now what do you need to talk about" "why do you continue to make me suffer" nate asks closing the distance in between you two "how" you ask with furrowed eyebrows "by flirting with other guys while knowing the im watching you" nate asks now towering over you.

"well im sorry for trying to move on after our barely a situationship" you sarcastically say "c"mon you know you still love me deep down" nate says snaking his hand around your waist "no i dont nate" you say heart picking up pace quickly "then if you really dont, walk out right now and i wont follow" nate says kissing your neck, you glance at the door while trying to hold back a moan before wrapping your arms around nates neck.

"thats what i thought now let me make you feel good" nate grins before beginning to leave hickeys on your neck "youre mine" nate growls lowly "you dont own me" you say choking back a moan "then what do you call all those hickeys on your thighs and your chest" nate says moving his hand past your inner thigh to your neck.

"do you think any other guy could make you fell better than this" nate questions turning your head to the side to lay more kisses before squeezing his hand lightly on your neck making you let out a moan "n-no" you shyly say "oh no dont be shy baby you werent shy when you were flirting with that other guy" nate says smirking widely.

"what was his name anyways" nate asks lubing up his hand with his saliva "el- eliot" you stutter due to the feeling of nates hands sliding past your underwear and to your hole "well ill be sure to give eliot a visit after this, to tell him youre taken" nate says.

"you want me to put it in" nate asks turning your head to look him in the eyes "mhm" you whimper "use your words" nate demands "yes" you moan "thats a good boy" nate says sinking his fingers into your warm hole resulting in you moaning loudly before dropping your head onto nates chest.

"you always did look so cute when id finger you" nate chcukles "please fuck me" you squeak "speak up y/n" nate says "please fuck me nate" you let out with a breathy moan "i happily will" nate grunts lightly pushing you onto the wall, your face resting on the bathroom wall.

nate unbuttons his pants and lets his lengthy hard on fall out "is this what you want" nate asks sliding his dick up and down your bare ass "yes please" you moan "then you can have it" nate say sliding into you quickly, you let out a passionate moan while nate lets out a deep hungry groan.

"still tight as the day i first fucked you" nate chuckles "what, no man can fuck you like i can" nate asks hips thrusting into yours "no only you can" you weakly say "thats right only i can fuck this pretty hole" nate demands.

you let out needy moans with every thrust nate makes into you making nate go harder with each one, you hear a knock at the door and stop all movement but nate doesnt "what" nate yells still fucking you deeply "i gotta piss" some random guy yells outside the door "well go piss outside im busy" nate shouts before directing his attention back to fucking you.

"hell no theres people out there" the guy yells now pounding on the door "dude get fucking lost im busy" nate curses "nate lets just get out" you try to calm the situation "im not leaving till im done fucking you now shut up" nate snarls as the dude starts banging on the door and telling nate to get out.

"get the fuck away from the door or i promise to god ill fucking kill you" nate barks loudly punching the wall "fine fuck this" the guy says walking away, "thank god" nate sighs "now back to you" "you didnt have to do all that" you say rolling your eyes.

"dont you worry your pretty little brain about problems i got you" nate reassures "and roll your eyes again and ill make sure they stay back there" nate lowly says in your ear with a harsh smack to your ass, nate tightly grips your hips and eagerly watches as you moan and whimper to the thrusts of his cock.

he admires how your hole tightly grips his dick after every movement desperately wanting his cum in you " youre so pretty" nate compliments "please shut up and cum in me" you whine "i wonder how someone so cute and nice can turn into a cock whore in a matter of minutes but i guess i could give you what you want" nate chcuckles.

nate pounds into you with an unrelenting rythm before cummin in you with a long husky groan "you gonna cum" nate asks as his dick still spasms in you "mhm" you whine desperatley before nates large hand wraps around your dick and pumps it quickly.

it doesnt take long before you cum all over nates hand with a shaky moan "lick it off" nate orders holding his hand to your face before you eagerly lick every drop of his fingers "good boy" nate coos kissing the top of your head.

"y'know jealousy looks good on you" you say "im not the jealous type but whats mine is mine" nate retorts "fuck you" you snarl "wether you like it or not youre stuck with me" nate say kissing you "yeah yeah whatever" you chuckle, you knew this ind of happiness wasnt gonna last long but you were determined to keep it for as long as possible.

[thatguywrites]

Hi!! Absolutely LOVE what you do. I spend HOURS just looking for x male reader and even longer for ftm masc. Thank you for all your hard work!!

for req… I was thinking maybe Frank Langdon is with the reader but it’s very private. People always ask about Frank’s love life since his divorce, but he always brushes it off. Reader is an EMT that was contract working at Pittfest and is wheeled in as a victim. Frank fully loses it, all forms of professionalism out the window and he runs to attend his partner.

Thanks!! 🩷🩷

Healing together

Fr I got so tired of looking for male reader content I decided to start making it

Should I make a pt 2 of this of Frank's out patient and reader's recovery?

Frank Langdon x EMT!Reader

He was thankful that you were stationed at PittFest when he made his walk of shame past the ambulance bay holding all of his belongings. You had complained about being stationed there, saying you could handle more than dehydration and exhaustion, although you did end up driving a guy to the hospital after he got crushed by a pole.

But he's glad you're out there dealing with those every day issues, and couldn't see the tears that slowly escaped his eyes as he sat on a bench just down the street of the hospital. He sat frozen on the bench for about an hour, debating what to do. Should he hide away in your shared car, and have a good old fashioned mental break down before he's inevitably fired? He didn't want you to find out like that though, to find your boyfriend a mess in the back seats of your car.

Frank was snapped out of his spiral by the sounds of sirens, a lot of sirens. Ambulance after ambulance pulling into the hospital, which had clearly prepared for the onslaught. Frank got up and began rushing towards the hospital, he could guess what had happened. There was only one place that so many people would be coming from. And he could already guess the mechanism of injury.

He may be an addict, but he's still a doctor, and he couldn't just sit by and not help with a mass casualty event. He entered through the ambulance bay, searching for the vehicle that you had set out in that morning to no success. As he threw himself into treating patients, his eyes couldn't help but to whip to the doors every time new patients came into the hospital. He saw Robby try and fail to save Leah. He couldn't let that happen to you, he couldn't see you with a black and white band on your wrist. He asked the other EMTs if they had seen you when they were at PittFest, getting confused answers from your coworkers who didn't think he would know your name, and checked his phone every ten minutes, but no news.

He quickly got lost in his work, checking his phone less, and asking around less, but his head still snapped to the door, hoping to see you bring in a patient, but dreading to see you as a patient. He was in the middle of completing a makeshift crike on an otherwise stable patient when his head yet again automatically snapped to the door, but this time, he was not so quick to look back. Dr. McKay figured out the situation quite quickly, and took his tools out of his hands, nodding her head towards the door which his eyes had not yet left, as his entire body had gone completely still.

The sight made him sick to his stomach, your black pants and light blue shirt that he himself had seen you put on that morning, were now torn open to reveal a gunshot through your abdomen. Your left hand was clutching your side as you cried, and he caught a glimpse of your name badge, now covered in blood, face id barely legible. Your co-workers wheeled you into the red zone, keeping pressure on the wound and calling out for supplies.

Frank felt his tounge get unstuck from the bottom of his mouth, and his feet began to move on autopilot. "Y/N? Y/N! LET ME THROUGH!" He pushed his way through the red zone, assessing your injury and calling out for blood and Dr. Garcia or Walsh, but before he could put new gloves on, Dana was pulling him away. "No, no" he gasped out, "That's my boyfriend, Dana, Dana I need to- I- Dana you don't get it that's my boyfriend, I need to help him, I- I can't just-"

Dana manhandled him around, his hands too shaky and weak to fight back as she maneuvered him to lean against the nurses station, grabbing a juice box and shoving it into his hands. "Yes, I can guess, you love him, that's your boyfriend. But that means you cannot work on him. Robby and Abbot will help him. Walsh will be back and can fix him up, but if you work on him, you'll make a mistake." Frank opened his mouth as if to argue, but his eyes flickered back to your bleeding body and any words got lost in his fear. Frank drank the juice under her supervision breathing heavily, eyes unable to look away from the gurney in the middle of red. Walsh had made it down, and Abbot was working on you too. He managed to take a deep breath, you were in better hands than his own. Dana gave him a sad smile, "Stupid kid, go work in yellow, send Mel and Santos over here, ok? We'll call you when Y/N is stable, and you can visit him. I promise"

Franks breathing slowed, as he nodded and went over to share the message. He worked methodically throughout the night, not thinking beyond you and his patients. Robby came up to him in an attempt to talk about their previous conversation, but he simply broke down in tears at the thought that you may not survive to see him get better. That he wouldn't even get to tell you, to be honest with you.

Eventually Dr. Abbot brought him upstairs to sit by your side, along with bringing him some clothes to replace his blood stained scrubs. Dr. Walsh came in an explained you condition, the bullet had gone into your lower abdomen, and they'd had to take it out and repair your digestive system, you you would have to rely on a feeding tube for some time. She told him to get changed and shower, that you may be there for a while, before silently shutting the door behind her. Frank was silent as she left, only moving to hold your hand to his cheek, tears falling down onto your hand.

He spent the next day holding your hand, and reading a half finished book that McKay had brought from your flat. He barely managed to eat the food that Yolanda brought to him and tried to guilt him into eating. He also refused her attempts to get him to shower, or go outside, terrified that you would wake up the second he left the room. 'He would want you to take care of yourself' doesn't work as well when you're holding as much guilt in your chest as he is. Despite how much it clawed at him, he didn't tell your resting body what had happened the day before. He told himself again and again that you would wake up and he could tell you then that you would be upset if he told you when you couldn't respond.

When you finally woke up, it was before the sun rose two days after PittFest. Frank was still asleep, cradling your left hand next to his face with tear tracks being all that was left of all the crying he had done for that past two days. Bringing your hand up to cradle his face, you couldn't help but smile, all you'd gone through, you still had your Frank.

The movement awoke Frank with a startle, as he looked up into your eyes for the first time in almost two days, looking dazed, and as if he couldn't belief it, and he looked as if he was yet again going to burst into tears with just one look.

"You're awake"

"It's seems so, yeah"

Tears began to flow as he pulled you into a loose hug, still scared to touch you healing wound, and wet cries of how he thought he was going to lose you escaped his mouth as he sobbed into your shoulder.

When Walsh came in to explain your condition and the process of healing and returning to work, Frank didn't leave your shoulder, only looking at her to hear how to take care of you at home. On her way out, she looked back at him, "Congrats, by the way. Really kept it secret. Dana won the staff betting pool. And Frank, Robby says 'to tell him', real ominous vibes."

Frank's face paled, he'd been thinking about how to tell you for the past day, but now that it was the moment, he didn't know what to do. As he looked up into your eyes, he could see the concern and love that you held for him, and he felt like he was about to break all of that.

The ensuing conversation resulted in Frank's head resting on your lap as you played with his hair while you talked. You agreed that he would start an outpatient program while you healed so that he could help around the house, before then doing some inpatient and going back to work. When you told him you wouldn't leave him, and that if he would be with you through your injury, you would be with him through his rehab, he began sobbing on your lap.

Throughout the day Garcia, Dana, McKay and Robby all came up to visit the two of you, and Frank finally began to eat the food that Garcia brought, as he could take her guilt tripping, but not your actual disappointment. Dana thanked the two of you for being gay and coworkers, her personal bet, and gave you her number, so that you could update her with any health issues, and any blackmail she could use on Frank.

When you and Frank were finally able to go home over a week later, there was an entire parade bringing you out, your fellow EMTs, the surgeons, and all Pitt workers on staff all bidding you farewell, and wishing you well healing as Frank wheeled you out.

Taglist: (Comment or DM to be added)

@koalapastries @op-81-lvr-reblogs

[threeriver]

just need a win

jack abbot x samira mohan

7k | ao3

cw: explicit sex. dacryphilia. descriptions of trauma. MDNI

it's the blood on his shoes that does it, he thinks.

he's not well before that. (of course he's not, how could he be?) but he can keep himself in check when it's needed, when the team is falling apart and the closest thing they have to a leader is unraveling. so he holds himself together with copper sutures and staples, just as ad-hoc and reliable as the maneuvers he pulls throughout the night, results more important than his ability to justify them later. it works - on himself, on robby. on the fucking pelvic obliteration that should have never been.

it works until it doesn't really, blood on his shoe and robby's retreating back. he eyes the collection of young faces around him and sees that same hollow look he knows so well, the bravado that will only cover it for so long and the pallid resignation of those who've only now figured out the kind of lifetime they've signed themselves up for.

jack's in no better shape.

later, his therapist will tell him there's nothing wrong with this - that being of a level with day one residents just shows his humanity, means he's not grown calloused and immune to the endless suffering he's borne witness to. he knows this, truly, knows what a shit doctor he'd be without that reserve of sympathy he's taken with him his whole life - a baggage that felt too heavy in the aftermath of his tours, and his leg, and his everything.

that doesn't make it any easier when he's stuck on a park bench surrounded by people he's supposed to be some sort of mentor for and he can't even haul himself off the seat to have his breakdown somewhere private because they'll all see how his hands shake when he tries to reattach his prosthetic.

sometimes it's like this. often, it's worse. jack has the unique advantage of combat, of knowing where his career and his past overlap. he knows what it is, knows his therapist will disagree when he says the easiest ways around it are a fight or a fuck. (knows he almost had the prior when those fucking cops had tried to come for mckay, if only.) he knows when he sees it in others, too.

dr. mohan's eyes are red-rimmed and unfocused when she takes robby's vacated spot. she misses the beer when it's tossed her way, her fingers just as shaky as his. she's stiff in picking it up, hasty in opening. delayed in her laugh when it sprays across the chest of her sweatshirt. she's tired, undoubtedly; crashing from that last leg where she'd flit around the ED desperate to keep herself attached to the ground however she could - tied down by a tourniquet if need be.

she needs a rest, sure. and probably some food, too. she needs something else worse.

jack knocks his knee against hers when she goes three full minutes without so much as a sip from her fresh beer. she jumps before he can even get a word out, big dark eyes turning on him in some confusing mix of accusation and fear. more suds line the folds of her sweatshirt, fizzing out alongside her tension when he holds up a placating hand. "easy," he murmurs, low enough he's not sure she can even hear him, voice gone thin and ragged from years of tobacco use.

(he wishes he had a cigarette now, misses the way he could externalize his symptoms when the nicotine had him shaking and sweating worse than the trauma did.)

"can i -?"

help you, probably, pretty lips pursed in concern. he tells himself it's the aversion to making her help anyone else tonight that has his chest constricting. "how you holding up?"

it's like he's asked her what year it was, like he has reason to initiate concussion protocol and she's been left out of the loop. "how am i… holding up?"

jack nods, patient. dr. mohan drifts untethered for a moment as she considers his question. "i'm… okay."

his laugh is jagged, too abrupt even for his own ears; like it started in his finger tips and pulled all sensation with it as it rattled around his brittle costals and knocked some teeth loose on its way out. he swallows down the next batch, jaw flexing uncomfortably with the effort. he thinks, now, he's been on the edge of this ever since he first heard the call on the scanner - earlier, maybe, not quite slept off after robby found him on the roof.

he needs to get home.

"samira," he tries again, keeps his tone level like he's guiding her hands through another home brew angioplasty. she looks at him just the same, too; trusting, awed. it's the only thing that staves off the tic in his jaw he might be developing. "how are you holding up?"

she's pretty when she cries because of course she is, though words seem to get a bit difficult for her. she barely needs them, though, not when he knows. not when they all know, apparently, the group around them offering thin but appreciated platitudes. what she's got ain't nothing new, and she knows just as well as him that she'll be better come next shift, too brilliant and talented to be kept down for long.

that doesn't help tonight, not when she sits with him long enough for all the rest to fade away, quiet well wishes and 'sleep tight's offered in passing and all the while she shakesshakesshakes. she won't take his hoodie, not even when he points out she'll make herself sick sitting in that beer-soaked thing.

she just sniffles, tears finally drying, though he suspects that's more to do with dehydration than it is a genuine improvement in her mental state. "you're not cold?" she counters, and he shrugs.

"freezing."

she scoffs, rounds on him with that same manic intensity from earlier, if a little thinner; watered down by her own tears. "oh my god, robby was right, wasn't he? i do talk too much. oh, i'm so sorry! you must be exhausted! look how late i've kept -!"

he can't really feel her pulse when he manages to corral the arm that swings wildly toward his temple, a prospect that has his nerves frazzling ever further before he remembers how his extremities had been prickling earlier, that numbing itch that had left him clumsy and floundering. he's shushing her before he can think better of it, cringing because he knows in any other circumstances she'd rightfully hand him his head for doing so.

tonight, she just obliges, breath catching as she hangs on his every word. she knows what he'll say, clever thing. he tries not to think too much about what it does to him, knowing she wants to hear it. "you're okay, samira. you're fine," he mutters. (he might not want to think about it, but that doesn't mean he can stop himself doing it.) "you're not botherin' me."

"but, you -?"

jack shakes his head before she can even finish that thought, grip adjusting on her arm until he can feel it, that steady pulse hitched rapid and thready, running on fumes. "i'm right where i wanna be," he assures, watches her eyes track between his and the park bench with so much sudden clarity he'd be worried about his position come tomorrow if he wasn't also so tightly wound.

it's not what she deserves, but they both know the appeal of results over practice on nights like tonight.

"you want to be here?" she challenges, the first he's heard her voice so level since that last batch of wounded had been sorted.

he shrugs, palm scraping against his stubble. "guess i'd rather be home," he concedes, too many ways to tell her she's right tying his tongue.

"am i keeping you?"

she says it like a challenge, too confident to doubt her instincts, no matter how robby tries to ruin it. he'll make it up to her, piling on as he's about to. "your bag is on my leg."

it's strange how much he misses her eye contact, considering she only blinks away for a moment. there's a yelp and a quick shuffling. she springs from the bench with the sort of agility people train for their whole lives, graceful even here, at the end of her rope.

but not graceful enough to stop the clattering of his leg, carbon fiber clanging as it bounces off the pavement. her hands cover her mouth in shock, holding back the string of expletives like a dam, though it doesn't it apparently doesn't do much good as she can't seem to hear his laughter over her own embarrassment.

"i'm so sorry," she gushes again, bending to retrieve the appendage for him even as he leans to do the same. there's a small clambering of limbs, her fingers tangling in his as she continues to apologize, a litany of 'let me's.

there's a warm glow of streetlamps haloing her iridial ring, the fine curls around her face an untamed riot and yet still so soft, light enough to catch and pull in the night breeze, obscure her vision for a moment before being blown away with an impatient huff, as if she can't bare to keep her eyes off him another moment. he remembers how she'd held his gaze when walsh had been spouting off hesitations and the kind of stringent procedural processes that would have let their man die. he can practically feel her taking something from him, gives it to her just as freely now as he did then, and her lips part in wonder, just the same.

"samira," he tries, voice gone gritty and thin with the glass he's sure he's swallowed tonight. she blinks up at him slowly, and he wonders if she knows her fingers are tracing along his own. "you don't have to."

it puts her back in her body, at least, her brow pulling tight as her situation comes slamming back into reality. she seems to take a minute to collect herself, noting her position kneeling on the ground before him in the park just outside their place of mutual employment. there's problems with this, ethics and repercussions to consider above the mutual need for control and the lack of it. he doesn't bother outlining them for her, trusts she knows what she's doing here same as anywhere. everywhere.

and she does, of course she does; better than him, even, the strength of surety returning to her grip as she adjusts it, pulls his prosthetic fully from his own hands. he lets her, one hand falling to the bench beside himself as the other fists uselessly in front of him, the tic on beat with the agitated flexing of his jaw. dr. mohan knows better than to take it for apprehension, or worse. there's a bit of a learning curve to her fumbling, but he doesn't offer help. selfish, maybe, enjoying the feel of her dexterous fingers against the tight, dry scar tissue. mostly he just doesn't think she needs it.

"and risk my impeccable customer satisfaction score?" she quips, manhandling his leg into a position that suits her with the kind of strength and abruptness that makes the mark of any emergency care doctor. he's known practitioners who hand wring over things like this, sincerely believe patient autonomy trumps all else. it's a nice sentiment, but means little more than that when most of their patients cannot move themselves even if they wanted.

he'd be embarrassed by the snort it earns if they hadn't already seen each other at their absolute most basic functions tonight. "you're right. what would robby say?"

her smile is less manic as she pats his leg, encouraging him to inspect her work. her breath catches when he nods his approval and he does her the courtesy of pretending not to notice.

"excellent as always, mohan." a beat passes, another. even in the stillness, his skin feels stretched thin, drum-tight and trembling with each pulse. his jaw is flexing uncontrollably now, his fist following suit, but there's no amount of tremors that can stave off the numbness, his body confused about the cause.

"he's only just come around to my particular brand of care," mohan concedes. "wouldn't want to disappoint."

jack doesn't quite care for this train of conversation, though he struggles to articulate why. "i wouldn't worry about robby. he'll -."

"i don't think it's actually robby's opinion i'm worried about at the moment."

and brilliant doctor that she is, she sorts his twitchiness with enough ease. he watches her, while she patently avoids his gaze. it's not something he usually abides, but he won't ask her for more than she can give right now.

her own dark eyes draw across the skyline as if she's only just noticed that evening has come. "night shift," she comments blithely, the intensity of her glare cutting when she turns it back on him, well worth the wait. "in your hands now, isn't it?"

any other night and he'd make her say it, outline specifics and triple check their math before providing the assist. any other night, that type of studiousness would make a mass casualty event that much more massive.

his hands drive them back to his, white knuckles flexing the whole way. the steering wheel creaks under his grip, barely audible over the sound of the heater running. the weather's nice enough for an early summer evening in pittsburgh, but mohan's tremors rival his own, the adrenaline having eaten through every ounce of fuel her body could provide. if he were a better man he'd be thinking about how to get her restocked - what he could make her, where he could tuck her in. but that man, the one he's shaped himself into with meticulous care, pleached and inosculated, has been burnt away, too, the evening all-consuming.

(a controlled burn, his therapist will call it, probably. necessary for growth. he'll have to take notes to share with robby.)

and that might be true, but it doesn't help him tonight, roots exposed and sapped. he can make her cry so easily like this, monsoon in a drought, wants to see how far she can bend with all her bark stripped away; greenstick fracture, easily set.

there's an established flow to this, a give and take. check points they're skipping, but he trusts her. samirah mohan isn't in the habit of being rushed when she needs time; knows when to dig her heels in and is learning when to push when necessary. it means she trusts him, too, and that's -. that's…

she doesn't ask for a drink. she doesn't ask for anything. just stands there in his kitchen all wide-eyed and pretty, keeps his gaze as he deposits his keys in the tray, his bag and her sweatshirt onto the hooks next to the parka he really needs to store for the season. in his hands. his voice barely sounds human when he asks if she wants a shower, jumbled and thin from disuse, or too much use, or maybe just the fry of… everything, and perhaps she doesn't trust her voice either because she neglects to answer, simply tucks her fingers under the hem of her t-shirt and pulls it up over her head, expects him to get the message despite the sight of her taut belly rendering higher brain functions defunct. but it's little more than instinct to reach out, let his thumb follow the line of her iliac crest as he pulls her a half step closer. her shoes stumble over his own, the phantom pressure of her treading on toes which are no longer there. she knows better than to apologize, the words breaking off in a thready whisper, so close he can feel the shape of them against his lips.

she still hasn't looked away, eyes never once darting to catalog the jumping cords of his neck; that same undivided attention and devotion she'd given him when he'd held up a pigtail catheter and asked for her trust. jack thinks maybe they'd been doomed since the moment she nodded, crowded close so he could hook his jaw over her shoulder, all the better to guide you with, my dear.

he doesn't kiss her, takes a cruel sort of pleasure in the unmoored way her eyes widen when he tilts his chin up, lets his lips graze the soft skin between her brow as he tells her where she can find the restroom with a gentle push to her hip. "top of the stairs. on your left."

it's short-lived, as she's not someone often dismissed. "need one worse than me, old man," she counters, eyes flicking to the specks of blood he knows still mat the stubble under his jaw. it will take some adjusting to remember whatever control he might glean from her is only ever freely given. and he was going to see about that drink or maybe a snack, but he remembers how she'd ignored her beer so he jack takes her lead, more than earned, and hooks his thumbs into the back of his collar to pull it up and over his head. when he resurfaces, she's already moved on, hips swaying enticingly as she begins to climb the stairs he steadfastly refuses to have an aid installed into for another five years, at least, bum fucking knee be damned.

he stares too long, evidently, eyes darting up to meet hers when she turns to ask if he's coming.

with any luck.

samira isn't sure if she should be surprised by the quality product lining the tub or not. it's not that dr. abbot has ever appeared anything less than immaculately coiffed, she's just unused to men knowing anything other than five-in-one, let alone the secrets of proper curl maintenance. not that she expects she'll be doing a full routine tonight, but it's nice to know there are contingencies. she'd left the shower curtain open behind herself, expecting him to join, and can feel abbot watching her take it all in, unable to look away since she started stripping. before that, even.

he's… intense. the very model for that old school ER cowboy industry standard she's been working against her whole life. but that didn't stop him from being a damn good doctor, nor herself from being wrong about him. he's like robby, in that, though robby could stand to prove her wrong a few more times.

but she doesn't want to think about robby right now, finds she can't really when abbot's shirtless before her and staring at her like he wants to follow the line of runoff that flows down the valley of her chest with an oscillating saw, get to the core of her via entry points he himself would carve. it's strange, thinking she'd trust him to.

he needs a new water softener, the taste bitter on her tongue when she licks her lips and drops her gaze to his low slung waistband. he's a little hairier than she expected, a fine line of steel wool beginning just above his bellybutton and disappearing below his hem. his fingers thumb the button of his jeans, hesitant in a way she hasn't seen him all night and she shivers despite the warmth of the shower, scared he will simply leave her to it, drop a stack of linens on the couch and sleep away the rest of his off-shift holed up in his bedroom alone, resting easy with the knowledge his job will remain safe.

"fuck," he grunts when she shivers again, his pants pooling on the tile. he goes to step out and then sits on the toilet seat when he remembers his shoes, eyes still glued to her. she only remembers herself after he gets the first one off, bending to unclasp his prosthetic instead of bothering to unlace the shoe itself.

"let me-," she starts, water sloshing onto the tile as she goes to help him.

"stay," he commands, and following his direction has worked out well for her so far, so she does.

he's methodical as in all things. doesn't have a care for show or finesse. pants and sock (she braces herself for the inevitable double the milage joke she's sure she'll hear at some point if she's ever lucky enough to buy him a pack one day) shed, abbot stands and shucks his boxer briefs and doesn't give her so much as a second to appreciate him before he's leaning forward to grab the handles on either side of the stall, first one and then the other.

samira has no doubt he does not need the support, but she gives it anyway, appreciates the fact that he lets her. she helps guide him to the bench but he doesn't sit for another moment, lets himself sag slightly into her space and press his nose to her temple, the hand not currently anchoring him to the grab bar rising until he can cup the back of her head. she doesn't know what to do with the fact that he hasn't even kissed her yet; with the fact that he still doesn't. she's not sure if she's ever been wanted in this way.

his name feels strange on her tongue. it's a sharp name, all awkward, bludgeoning consonants; heavy with implication. she's too tired to care, just wants to know if it's okay to sink into him.

he doesn't respond in kind, simply falls away from her until he's properly seated, his hands staying rooted to her hips to pull her closer, position her between his spread legs. her hands fall to his hair when he rests his cheek against her diaphragm, the curls winding around her fingers without her conscious input, and time melts away a bit with the residue that clings to them - not wholly, still observable, but distant and diluted, a thin rainbow of disinfectant washing down the drain. it should be nice. should be a much needed moment of reprieve after one of the most trying days of samira's life. instead, she feels untethered without his eyes on her, without the rough edge of his voice reassuring her. samira shifts on her feet, trying to swallow back the panic that's been rolling like a tide in the pit of her stomach for hours now: here tame and low-level, revealing all the washed up debris for her careful inspection should she so choose; there overspilling the breakers, an endless well she's powerless to stave off herself.

it's building to the latter when abbot's palm slips up her side, presses firmly against her sternum. when she snaps back to focus, his eyes are heavy on hers again, protected from the spray of the shower by the curtain of her hair. she hadn't realized she'd bent herself so far over him. his hand slips higher, fingers framing her jaw, base of his thumb pressed flush against her carotid like a brand, somehow warmer than the water.

"i want to see you cry," he informs her simply, a depth to the request she can't quite plumb.

she thinks she might already be when she nods.

she thought she'd had enough of it, thought maybe she'd nothing left to give, even if the release had sounded appealing when he'd said it.

that was before jack abbot had her sprawled out on his bed with his fingers buried in her pussy, whispering a steady string of words against the crown of her head compounded specifically to take her apart.

it's not what she expects, though so few things about him are. he lets her take his weight as they stumble into the bedroom, his crutches not having made it to the bath with them. she straddles his thighs, her adductors trembling with the stretch and the stress, just to take stock of him, trail her fingers over the rolling dips of his impressive musculature until finally she plants her palms on either side of his head. he doesn't let her hover, forearms folding over her back to pull her fully onto him, bodies slotting together deliciously. he's only partially erect against her belly, though he seems in no great need to hurry things along.

one hand finds the side of his face, familiarizes itself with the stubble there. "can i -?" she manages before words fail her, and her finger slides over the ridge of his malar bone, down to brush feather light over his philtrum.

"of course, sweetheart," he murmurs, lips quirking like he's holding back a laugh - like the answer should have been obvious. "whatever you need, baby. you've earned it."

she may have miscalculated the nature of his request to see her cry, she realizes with a sudden, unfortunate lurch. raw, animal need for an outlet she can weather. intense, direct affection and praise -?

abbot gives her no time to reconsider, one hand skirting up her spine to grab her by the nape of her neck. she doesn't fight him and he rewards her with a sweet, chaste kiss, quiet approval leaking out the sides of his mouth whenever she tries to deepen it, desperate to distract him. did so good today. so fucking perfect. looked so pretty out there, in your element.

the swell of panic climbs up her throat, brackish water that chokes her, makes her gasp and sob before she even realizes it's upon her.

"that's it, baby," he whispers, his lips following the trail of tears with devastating care. "let it all out for me. i've got you."

and he does.

the worst (best) part is that he won't shut up, weak voice only made all the more jagged from the long night, and the quiet way he talks to her, trying to be gentle. she cuts herself on it anyway, words tearing at her softest spots - uneven sutures she'd applied long before she'd ever properly learned, reinforced with steri-strips and staples along the way. of course he finds the frayed edges, peels them back to check for infection. she's never been with another doctor. med students, yes, fellow fledglings who had been too distracted by their own make-shift care to notice her's. it's not that she believes for a second that abbot has sorted his own old wounds out completely, but she knows longevity starts with stability, and his hands are weathered enough to prove the effort he's put in.

samira watches them now, firm but careful on her sternum, between her breasts with his thumb framing the bottom of her left, as if supporting her heart. she wants to feel them pinching her nipples, but she likes how careful he is with her too much to stop him, especially when the things he says have her so..

"jack -."

"what do you need, baby? hm? tell me."

she needs him to shut up before she ruins the whole evening, breaks down worse than she did in the restroom earlier. "can i -? your mouth -?"

abbot's grin transforms his whole face, cheeks crinkling endearingly as his dark eyes bore holes into her. she realizes with a jolt of fear that he's still going to be able to see her - will probably keep staring at her the whole time with that unbearable intensity.

too late.

his hands turn insistent on her hips, pull her forward until her legs struggle to straddle the breadth of his chest. "you got it, honey," he grits, too much, too much, too much. "come here and take it. need me to kiss it better?"

and that's not something she can stand another word of, so she hauls herself the rest of the way with a strong grip on the headboard, and lowers herself unceremoniously onto his mouth.

and he moans like a whore.

in only seconds samira can tell she's never been with anyone who likes giving head as much as jack abbot. with his eyes closed she can almost stand it, the slight divot between his brows as he concentrates, his strong hands traveling up her back to keep her firmly in place. it's good - good - and she rocks her hips down, testing, and his eyes flick open to see - watch her move, check in, she doesn't know; doesn't matter when the effects the same - pinned in place for the hundredth him tonight by his unwavering gaze.

trusting, challenging. a dangerous cocktail designed specifically for her, has her drunk with it in record time.

"fuck," she hisses, and jack's mouth opens wide, sloppy, completely lost in it.

it's so different from how she's used to seeing him - intense, focused in a way that honestly intimidates her. here he's pliant, doesn't have much of a goal beyond making her feel good and enjoying himself as well, evidently. it's intense, in it's lack of intensity. she's unused to this languid speed, quick and easy trysts with partners she knew she wouldn't be keeping around never preparing her for this. it's a sobering amount of power to hold over a man like jack abbot.

(and not one he lets her keep for long.)

her hands land on his taut belly for leverage, hips working the firm line of his lips insistently. as she leans back, her fingers graze a familiar spot of stickiness and she cranes her neck to see, delighted to find him fully hard and twitching against his hip. it looks heavy, and samira takes advantage of her position to find out, lets her legs bear more weight as her fingertips skirt over the softened ledge of his inguinal ligament, flatten feather light over the heft of his cock. she hears him sigh into her cunt, breathy and unabashed, and she smiles in that way that only ever happens like this, stripped bare, the kind of openness that doesn't permit self-consciousness or smiles trained to hold the perfect amount of tooth-to-gum ratio. abbot's stomach twitches on her first stroke, and samira readjusts her grip, settling in.

it's an awkward angle, but worth it. like this, smothering him and working his cock, jack seems almost as lost as her. she revels in the change, watches down the long line of her own body to see his eyes go soft and unfocused, his tongue getting lazier and less coordinated until he gives up altogether, his grip changing to keep her locked in place just above him, her hips working against nothing as he stares - embarrassingly, reverently - up at her drooling cunt.

it gets worse when he remembers his mouth is no longer busy.

"samira." it shouldn't sound that good in his gravel-rough voice, lilting syllables turned clunky and grating. but dr. abbot's tone is soft as ever, private, something only for her to hear, and she knows - she knows - she shouldn't be thinking of anything but this moment, shouldn't be sinking herself further into that attending/resident cliche, but she remembers how he stepped between her and walsh earlier, close and broad enough to block out the whole room. just them and a man who desperately needed their help.

'you've got this,' when what he meant was, 'i've got you.'

it's not the first time she's heard it. not even the first time a partner has said it. but it is the first time she's believed it, and samira -.

of course he notices. the way he fucking stares, there's no way he'd miss it. one hand skirts up her thigh, palm settling against her mons as his thumb works her clit in the kind of tight, direct circles that she's helpless against and of course, he doesn't stop talking. "feel so fucking good, honey. so clever, aren't you? don't need to help you at all, hm? fucking perfect."

honestly, it's just not fair how easily that rips through her, pulls a sob with it as it goes.

she's flipped with the sort of ease she's ashamed to admit she didn't think him capable of, at least not with his leg still abandoned in the bathroom. but his hand plants on her chest pushes, and she feels the broad belt of his rectus abdominus flexing before he's even out from under her, and then his hand's there to cradle her head as she slips sideways, sprawled out on the bed with gangly limbs being tucked one by one under his body, cocooned in his hold with her hands trapped between their chests to prevent her from tucking herself away. not that there's any hiding form him anyway, not when his face nuzzles into hers, susurrations pressed into her cheek, nearly too quiet to make out. you're alright. i've got you.

she knows.

with one hand keeping her from turning away, the other drifts lower, calms her trembling with a broad, warm palm. it settles in the cradle of her hips - not pushing, just resting - and he waits, with all the time in the world, for her to meet his gaze.

"there you are," he mutters, thumbing the steady font of tears as if it hadn't been his singular purpose to earn them. his next question is pressed into the crook of her nose, chapped lips absorbing salty tears. "needed that, didn't you?"

she can only nod, distrusting her voice. the motion brings her mouth up to his and he indulges her, his tongue slipping easily past her lips to make her taste herself.

he doesn't let her settle into it, pulls away just to butt his forehead against her. "i'll make it better," he promises, before promptly making it worse.

he's just so unbearably close. doesn't even give her enough room to catch her breath properly. samira hiccups when he slides back in, yet still she doesn't force him away when she gets one hand free. instead slips it up his chest to cup his neck and pull him closer, pants into his mouth as he just keeps pushing.

"so pretty, samira. just let me in."

she's not sure how else she can without giving him the scalpel and outlining where to start the y-incision. she settles for hitching one leg higher, up and over his elbow. doesn't quite manage to suppress the tremor when he thanks her.

thanks her. she should tell walsh about that one. maybe when coherence returns to her, if ever that is. no time soon at least, not when he's got all the leverage he needed apparently, clever fingers crooking until she feels full, his thumb pressed tight against her clit. it's good, but his voice is better, a steady constant as he works her over, leads her right up to the edge and gives her the strength to fall.

"you're right there, baby. can feel it. you feel it too, hm? feel how tight you are around me? you've got this. i'm right here, let it go -."

she'd feel bad about the flood of tears that goes with it, if not for how eagerly he groans in her ear, leaning his whole weight against her to better kiss them away. he's too heavy, her breath forced shallow and ragged, but it takes her a moment to even notice because he doesn't stop, and she assumes the hitching and the shaking are because he's got his fingers set hard against that spot that makes her want to flinch away but he won't let her, keeps her pinned so he can lap up the tears streaming down her face and swallow down her sobs.

he pulls away when the fingers on his neck threaten to draw blood, a line of little crescents lining his levator scapulae she'll find it within herself to regret tomorrow. for the moment, it's beyond her.

then the realization he hasn't cum yet crashes through her come down like a bull through the hall. one moment she's basking in the breath he finally lets her catch, and the next she feels him, hot and heavy against her hip and she groans, her throat feeling ragged and raw.

asshole that he is, he only chuckles, breath huffing across her cheek because he still hasn't stopped peppering kisses over her face and if she thinks about that for longer than two consecutive seconds she'll start crying all over again, so she doesn't. just holds him close and enjoys it for as long as she can.

of course, he misunderstands. "we can be done," he offers sweetly, and samira kind of wants to choke him again, though it's hard to articulate why when her thoughts feel like wool being spun. too tender, maybe. too much. at the end of his rope and in need of a win of his own, yet unwilling to take it. he seems the sort, self sacrificing to a fault. she knows it well.

"i thought you were gonna make it better?" she challenges, makes no effort to cover the raw edge of her voice.

jack sighs and leans their heads together again, eyes unfocused with nearness and still unblinking. "yeah," he mutters, lining himself up. "i've got you."

here is the patience he didn't show before, fishing delicately to the bottom of an overused bedside drawer to find a condom before sinking into her so slowly she thinks he's maybe waiting for her to confirm every centimeter. might be, considering how much he seems to enjoy the high, thin whine he pulls from her.

"that's it, honey. let me hear you."

she can hardly do anything but, breath hitching when his hips do, making any hope of keeping herself quiet much too difficult to bother. she's rewarded with a warm palm tilting her chin up, his hips halting when he bottoms out. he takes a minute just to look at her, tuts when she can't maintain eye contact because he's just too much like this.

of course, he's not pleased with this. "you're gonna look at me when i make you cum," he threatens - promises. he thumbs away the tears that are already building along her lash line and watches as they disappear into the dry, flaky skin at the edge of his nail. she hadn't even noticed them falling, too tired to care. easy target.

it's easier to watch him like this, with his gaze lowered. she takes in his damp curls, threads of silver catching the low light filtering in from the hall, and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, inviting where his rigid military bearing had once frightened her away. she can only nod when he looks back, tongue tracing the salt from his skin.

there's not much left of that kind attending when he begins to fuck her, the slow roll of his hips mounting quickly into something that leaves her scrambling to keep up, her pleasure building before she even realizes it's there. but she's helpless in the face of it, so full she swears she can feel his pulse.

she's close, somehow, jack's will winning out against her body's every natural instinct to just be fucking done already, and she snakes her hand between them to hurry it along, fingers barely even reaching the edge of her trimmed curls before he's dropping to his elbow, his weight dispersed so he can chase her hand away and crush it to the pillow above her head, a cruel chuckle ringing in her ear when she wails in frustration.

abbot's teeth graze her ear, voice so close she swears she can feel his humid breath on her tympanic membrane. "slow, mo."

she should shove him off. she should call him an asshole and storm out of here, crawl into her own bed and sleep for three months and wake up in a world where she no longer holds a position under him, or fucking robby, or alongside anyone else at that godforsaken joint; where she can find a new career helping marginalized individuals struggling to find effective care because of ER cowboys like the man currently making a name for himself inside her fucking womb, it feels like.

and she may yet. one day. tonight, she's gonna let him pick up the fucking mess he made because she certainly isn't in any shape to do it herself.

she thinks she manages to tell him to fuck himself, but it garners no reaction beyond a breath punched through grit teeth, so probably all she's accomplished is a garbled moan, and by the time she realizes that she's already forgotten what she was so mad about so she gives it up, her hips flexing futilely off the bed in an attempt to speed him along. still, jack goes at his own pace - brutal, but effective. results oriented.

"you can do it, baby. know you can. just like this, i'll show you, hm?"

english is hard to parse, his voice even harder. samira shakes her head anyway, instinctive.

then he's gone from her and that's worse, her hands following after to grip the strong forearm by her head, plaster flat against the soft wall of abs flexing above her, anywhere at all just to pull him close, within touch, keep his hands on her -

one finds her jaw, insistent but soft as he tilts her face up. she can feel the film of something between them. perspiration and something similar, the grit of saline. her diaphragm buckles when she tries to speak and she abandons the attempt just as quickly as it came, meeting his eyes instead and hoping he has enough words for the both of them.

devastating mistake.

"you've got this, samira."

and of course she does, because jack's got her.

it leaves her breathless, but it's more than just that, the gasps she can manage only making her spiral further. pleasure mixes with pain, her body run ragged. there's a desperate, panicked edge as well, her inability to draw a full breath leaving her shaking in confusion. but it's good. great. more than she can handle on her own, but he's right there, catching her. his hips still with a groan as he seats himself deep within her, little aborted thrusts timed with the way she can't stop trying to milk him. when he sits back, his hands run over her thighs, pull her closer by a firm grip on her hips.

he makes her wait until she can meet his gaze as best she can, her vision watery and unfocused.

"christ, you're pretty," he mumbles, almost to himself. the shape of him blurs until it blocks out the rest of the room, his body warm where he folds himself over her to pepper more kisses over her cheek. "hiding all these away in some bathroom, weren't you? next time you have a fucking breakdown at work, you'll come see me, hm? i'll make it better."

she wants to be snarky. yes, doctor. more than that, she wants him to be nice. her curls are gonna be a mess, scraped across his pillow as she nods.

"you gonna be okay if i get up, or do you wanna be held a bit longer?"

and that's a bold question to be asking when he's not even really holding her now, so samira reaches up behind him and pulls until he flops, considerable weight pressing her into the mattress. (firm. excellent back support. old bastard.)

jack doesn't laugh at her, just turns so he can kiss her cheek, her temple, his other hand threading into her hair to keep her close. "you're okay, samira. did so good today."

"you did too," she manages, sniffles abated just long enough to eek it out.

she expects resistance, robby's typical rebuff. but jack just presses a smile to her hairline, nods. she forgets sometimes how vocal he is about attending therapy. "we all did," he agrees. "hell of a team we got."

and she wants to ask if that's what they are, a team, but when jack pulls away he only tosses the condom and fishes out some sleepwear for both of them, tucking himself up behind her before setting an alarm on his watch that makes her cringe, and she reasons she'll have time to ask tomorrow when he tells her not to worry about it.

"not for you. just my morning run."

she hopes she never lives to handle shit like tonight as well as he does.

[group-dynamic]

Episode 13 Spoilers: My favorite thing about The Pitt is how subtly literary it is.

Some shows are overtly symbolic (like The Bear), and you are given time by the filming and the editing to pause at times and see the cleverness and the grand design.

The Pitt's realism and pacing does not allow you to linger, though, just as the characters don't have time to linger. Which means--as in real life--we don't get to see the hand of God designing the story to deliver meaning. We have to sense and make patterns of meaning ourselves. (That's actually one of the biggest issues these characters are all facing mentally. Despite their best effort there's literally been no time to pause and make meaning.) That being said, just because it's hard to see doesn't mean there aren't very deliberate choices made every moment of this show.

So, anyway, on today's rewatch, I caught:

The patient that Langdon and Mohan revived with Narcan answered Langdon's question "What did you take?" with "I took one Percocet so I could dance. I have a bad knee." in a direct mirror of Langdon's earlier excuse for his own addiction: "I have a bad back."

McKay hears that the shooter might be heading their way and says, "What?! My kid's in the break room!" This is immediately followed by Javadi’s mother asking "The shooter is heading this way?" Because her daughter is also in the hospital.

Jack Abbott, former combat medic, hops in to save the uniformed officer, and we get an actual, genuine smile of relief because he ended his last shift losing a vet, a loss he took so hard he ended up on the roof. Framed behind him in this moment (significantly) are SWAT in militarized camo and heavy combat gear.

Langdon being unable to "hear himself think" when McKay's ankle monitor goes off is probably a reminder of his drug usage, but also perhaps a reference to his earlier comment that "all of us have ADHD."

Also, I noticed this while watching the first time, but loved the "the mentor does, mentee imitates" line of succession from Robby to Langdon to Mohan to Santos.

A small one, but Santos says "stay strong, Crash" to Javadi as she leaves from the team effort on the older hippie, and this time it sounds like genuine camaraderie. They're transforming our interpretation of her without losing her characterization.

Finally, everyone's pointed out already that Robby's mentor died in Peds? Pedes? and how significant it is that this same room is where he's having his breakdown. But I have big thoughts about the motif of fathers & sons in this season, and the even bigger thread of parents / kids. At minimum, I'm talking: David's father died and he spiraled, Robby's mentor died and he spiraled, but this also includes Robby learning that Collins had an abortion when they were together, something Robby clearly had an emotional response to as he now has to imagine a reality in which he might have had a child with Collins, and he handles it very maturely and centers her, as he should, but he didn't get to process that or make meaning.

So it feels very deliberate that the show chose to put the morgue in the part of the ED normally used for children. And now he's in that same children's department his mentor died in after losing three (four?) kids that day. A morgue where he's standing behind the closest thing he has to a son who he feels he failed and wow are they just making that room a powder keg of trauma representation.

And to top things off, they literally gave us a clown this episode (or as Whitaker points out "a children's entertainer") who is worried about whether he'll be able to make balloon animals ever again. And that's silly and it's also human but--thematically, and more importantly--it's a man wondering if the pain inflicted on him will prevent him from doing his job in the future. I don't know. Something about Robby being everyone's dad and being the head clown at the circus that is the Pitt and trying to keep all these kids afloat. Like--I'm sorry--the music festival had a clown? Nah, this is symbolism now (because I say so, haha).

Finally, these didn't fit into the meaning category, but I really appreciated that Whitaker had that very human moment reassuring Carmen after she wakes up after the REBOA (you know, the balloon thing).

Also, so many people were irate about Jake's comments to Robby, but if you listen closely, the captions miss that he says, "Are--are you okay?" when Robby starts to drag him out of the room. Robby has just said an accidentally cruel thing to him and Jake is genuinely, honestly concerned. They're both grieving but that is a good kid.

[berabee-writes]

the devil's plaything

authors note: this is my first ever fan fic, i've wanted to get back into writing for a while so i just thought fuck it i'll try it out. im very new to the community, so feedback & constructive criticism are appreciated. enjoy!

warning: light language, slow burn?, eventual toxic dynamics.

part one.

Friday ~ 

Nate Jacobs. The captain of our highschools football team. To some he’s a respected, confident, and charming guy. To others (specifically women) he is known as the absolute definition of toxic.

He’ll do anything to get what he wants. He might not seem like it from the outside looking in, but Nate Jacobs is strategic, he's calculated, and self aware. He knows exactly what he's doing and what he has to do to get it.

A smart girl like me should know to stay far, far away. Right?

Trust me that this was not my doing, I never wanted Nate. I never even wanted the idea of a guy like Nate.

But here I am on a friday night in Nate. Fucking. Jacobs. pickup truck.

We should probably rewind a bit.

Monday ~ 

I woke up today feeling different. Something was off. At first I blamed it on lack of sleep, but I was wrong.

I got ready for school regardless. It was a warm day so I wore my favorite dark green tank top and some denim shorts, I slicked my hair back into a ponytail and started doing my makeup.

I walked downstairs, made some toast for breakfast and left for school. But as hard as I tried, I couldn’t shake this feeling that something horrible was going to happen to me.

I blasted fleetwood mac on my drive to school, a good way to start the day. 

Class was boring per usual, I actually tried to pay attention today just to push away this sense of dread in my stomach.

Relief washed over me after the second period. Lunch, finally. I was starving for two things, food and my friends.

I was making my way through the halls to the cafeteria when I physically bumped into the devil himself. 

I mumbled a quick “sorry” and was met with a death stare.

They say looks can kill but have they ever seen a minorly inconvenienced Nate Jacobs? God I did not want to see him actually mad. 

“Watch it.” he warned under his breath. 

Did I not immediately say sorry on impact? Ugh whatever, I rolled my eyes and kept walking. What's his problem?

Maybe I inherited the mom gene of “eyes in the back of my head” or maybe it's this sense of impending doom I've felt all day but I could've sworn he was still watching me.

I looked back before I turned into the cafeteria and there he was down the hall, glaring at me. Ew. Weird. 

The rest of the school day was okay, and my nerves calmed down after eating lunch and talking with my friends. I wish I had told them about my interaction with Nate but it didn't seem important in the moment. Wrong. Again.

I ended up driving straight home after school so I could decompress and catch up on some homework. I took a hot shower and put on some music and layed down on my bed.

 I scrolled through instagram for a while and came across a picture of Nate. I felt that pit in my stomach once again. 

Why was he so intimidating? Why couldn't I help but keep staring at the photo?

I zoomed in on his face. His eyes. Those damn eyes. There was something behind them that I could feel even through the screen.

A coldness that lurked just below the surface. 

Fuck. I accidentally liked it. 

Whatever. It was on his friend's account anyway, it's not like Mckay would tell him. Right? 

Fuck. I put my phone face down on the bed and sighed. Thoughts lingered in my head. Nate Jacobs.

Who is he really? 

Tuesday ~

School was normal, the usual boring classes, lunch with friends and what not.

I glanced at Nate a few times during lunch but he didn't seem to notice me. Good. Maybe yesterday's weirdness was just that.

Weird. Nothing more.

My friends Alissa & Chloe invited me to the mall after school. Cool. Finally something to do in this fucking town.

The mall was the same as always. Fluorescent lights and the faint smell of cheap perfume and pretzels. Yum.

We walked around aimlessly, sipping iced coffees and talking shit about people from school. 

Alissa led us to victoria's secret, determined to find a very specific red lace bra.

I rarely wore bras, but we’d been in the store so long that I even started browsing. I came across a delicate looking baby pink lace bralette. Cute. Simple. Me.

I walked over to them to see if Alissa had found it yet. No luck. 

“Can’t you just get that one?” I pointed over to a red lace bra, desperate to escape.

She shot me a glare. “NO, y/n its not the same!.”

She huffed dramatically and looked over at Chloe who was shuffling through thongs. 

I sighed.

She blinked at us. “What?”.

Classic. Clueless Chloe. 

I knew that if i didn't fake an excuse to leave now i'd be here for another 45 minutes listening to 2016 ariana grande on repeat and would eventually want to blow my brains out.

I pulled out my phone and frowned.

“Ugh, my mom just texted. She needs me to grab something from the store for dinner.”

A lie. A necessary one. 

I checked out at the register, clutching my bag as I made my way out of the mall.

My phone buzzed in my other hand. An actual text from my mom. Distracted, I looked down, reading as I walked– 

Smack. 

I stumbled forward, my phone slipped from my grasp and crashed onto the floor. My bag flew from my hand and I hit the ground hard. 

“Fuck” i muttered, pushing myself up off the ground. My stomach dropped.

I think you can take a wild guess who I bumped into. again. 

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I looked up and met Nate Jacobs' amused stare. He stood there, his head tilting slightly, that ever present smugness tugging at the corner of his lips.

I hated it. His 24/7 around the clock cockiness. 

“You really gotta watch where you’re going.” he said, his voice practically dripping with condescension.

I felt my face go hot when I noticed something pink out of the corner of my eye. My pulse literally pounded in my ears.

Oh, fuck. 

The bralette. My bralette. 

It lay there sprawled across the cold mall floor between us. Just my luck! 

He reached his hand out to help me up from the ground. At least that's what I thought he was doing.

He crouched down, casually plucking it off the floor. He inspected it, his eyes flicking up to mine with that same smug grin.

“This yours?” he said, his tone mockingly polite.

I furrowed my brows and reached for my phone and stood up. 

Nate laughed, like he was amused by my embarrassment and slipped the bralette back into the bag and held it out to me.

“Thanks." I muttered through gritted teeth, snatching the bag from his hand. 

How fucking embarrassing. 

His smirk deepened.

“Anytime sweetheart.”

And just like that, he turned, walking off like nothing happened. 

I stood there confused and frozen in place. Humiliation burned at the back of my throat, but beneath it lurked something darker. Something, I didn't want to name.

Nate Jacobs was toying with me.

And I had no idea why.

[pierremcguire]

all of my episode 12 live watch thoughts, written while I had no service on the plane 😭

• my stomach HURTS

• how do they even have this long to prepare

• mel my asd best friend

• i can't believe it only took a mass casualty event for gloria to be sympathetic. fuck.

• I know langdons coming back but I don't know how when or why and that has me on edge

• everything's moving so fast and im so anxious

• STOP. HE JUST SHOWS UP IM CRYING AND HE SAYS "TRUST ME" ?!?!?! GIRL. GIRL BABES I GET WHAT YOURE TRYING TO SAY BUT LIKE YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID. "I KNOW IM IN TROUBLE. YOU NEED THE HELP. LET ME HELP" if robby wasn't having literally the worst day of his fucking life you'd . be punched probably.

• this episode is somehow moving SO fast but time feels likes it's going so slow

• mel almost slipping in a puddle of blood. oh.

• "you're here!" MEL IM HAPPY THAT YOURE HAPPY BUT NOW IS NOTTTTTT THE TIMEEE ALSO DONT GET TO EXCITED ROBBY IS GONNA DESTROY HIM AFTER THIS YOUR NEW BESTIE IS GONNA HAVE TO FACE THE MUSIC

• McKays ex is the fucking worst. and then he tries to get the son to go home w him? would you lead him out of that room and let him witness that?? fucker.

• Garcia and langdon have the best banter he needs to go to rehab so he doesn't get fired so we don't lose this. I love frenemies

• if Dana ever looked at me like that I'd probably cry on the spot.

• LANGDON LEAVE. SANTOS ALONE RIGHT NOW GIRL YOURE ON THEEEE THINNEST ICE POSSIBLE DO NOTTTTT ENGAGE

• ok good ok langdon you used ur brain for once!

• JAVADI STANDING UP TO HER MOM!!

• mel donating her own blood !!!!

• lk surprised the people in the cafeteria weren't more hysterical?

• Abbott donating WHILE working on a patient. god i need more of this guy .

• SHOOTER COMING TOWARDS THEM.!??!!?!??!!??!?!?!?!?!!??!!?

• and we still don't know how jake is doing . . . . .

• oh my god how many people did this one person shoot what the FUCK

---

I forgot to put this in properly at the right time but

santos did a good job explaining to that woman about her injuries !!

hahaha. they still have three more hours . to go. hahaha. ok.

[exhausted-archivist]

New article by Jason Schreier from Bloomberg on Dragon Age the Veilgaurd. [Source]

Most I think has been covered at some point but some highlights to me, below the cut. To be fully transparent: This is going to have my commentary. I’m familiar with a fair bit so I have feelings.

I feel like this article could have dug in more and condemned EA and BioWare leadership for is gross mismanagement. It’s a little short, but it overall is a decent-ish round up.

“Like much of the industry, EA executives were growing increasingly enamored of so-called live-service games, such as Destiny and Overwatch, in which players continue to engage with and spend money on a title for months or even years after its initial release. With EA aiming to make a splash in the fast-growing category, BioWare poured resources into Anthem, a live-service shooter game that checked all the right boxes.

One day in October 2017, Laidlaw summoned his colleagues into a conference room and pulled out a few pricey bottles of whisky. The next Dragon Age sequel, he told the room, would also be pivoting to an online, live-service game — a decision from above that he disagreed with. He was resigning from the studio. The assembled staff stayed late through the night, drinking and reminiscing about the franchise they loved.”

The article also touches on the “pulpy” tone of datv.

Former art director Matt Goldman replaced Laidlaw as creative director, and with a tiny team began pushing ahead on a new multiplayer version of Dragon Age — code name: Morrison — while everyone else helped to finish Anthem, which was struggling to coalesce. Goldman pushed for a “pulpy,” more lighthearted tone than previous entries, which suited an online game but was a drastic departure from the dark, dynamic stories that fans loved in the fantasy series.

The article touches on how they turned the game around from a multiplayer to a single player in, to contextualize it for people, roughly the same timeframe they turned da2 from an expansion to a full game.

Throughout 2020, the pandemic disrupted the game’s already fraught development. In December, Hudson, the head of the studio, and Darrah, the head of the franchise, resigned. Shortly thereafter, Gary McKay, BioWare’s new studio head, revealed yet another shift in strategy. Moving forward, the next Dragon Age would no longer be multiplayer.

“We were thinking, ‘Does this make sense, does this play into our strengths, or is this going to be another challenge we have to face?’” McKay later told Bloomberg News. “No, we need to get back to what we’re really great at.”

In theory, the reversion back to Dragon Age’s tried-and-true, single-player format should have been welcome news inside BioWare. But there was a catch. Typically, this kind of pivot would be coupled with a reset and a period of pre-production allowing the designers to formulate a new vision for the game. Instead, the team was asked to change the game’s fundamental structure and recast the entire story on the fly, according to people familiar with the new marching orders. They were given a year and a half to finish and told to aim for as wide a market as possible.

I do like the article touches that the team was aware of shortfalls. The reason for them, and their trouble shooting. Though over all this article could have really spotlighted and focused on the devs struggles. Elements that have been publicly spoken on.

The game’s biggest problem, early players agreed, was a lack of satisfying choices and consequences. Previous BioWare titles had presented players with gut-wrenching decisions. Which allies to save? Which factions to spare? Which enemies to slay? Such dilemmas made fans feel like they were shaping the narrative — historically, a big draw for many BioWare games.

But Dragon Age’s multiplayer roots limited such choices, according to people familiar with the development. BioWare delayed the game’s release again while the team shoehorned in a few major decisions, such as which of two cities to save from a dragon attack. But because most of the parameters were already well established, the designers struggled to pair the newly retrofitted choices for players with meaningful consequences downstream.

This bit more than ruffled my feathers. The team leadership was excluded from meetings and decisions. They were ridiculed because they were told to do things with less resources and then those who came to “help” got the resources they were denied.

As the Mass Effect directors took control, they scoffed that the Dragon Age squad had been doing a shoddy job and began excluding their leaders from pivotal meetings, according to people familiar with the internal friction. Over time, the Mass Effect team went on to overhaul parts of the game and design a number of additional scenes, including a rich, emotional finale that players loved. But even changes that appeared to improve the game stoked the simmering rancor inside BioWare, infuriating Dragon Age leaders who had been told they didn’t have the budget for such big, ambitious swings.

“It always seemed that, when the Mass Effect team made its demands in meetings with EA regarding the resources it needed, it got its way,” said David Gaider, a former lead writer on the Dragon Age franchise who left before development of the new game started. “But Dragon Age always had to fight against headwinds.”

And I’m glad the issue with advertising and the strike got mentioned.

A mass layoff at BioWare and a mandate to work overtime depleted morale while a voice actors strike limited the writers’ ability to revise the dialogue and create new scenes. An initial trailer made the next Dragon Age seem more like Fortnite than a dark fantasy role-playing game, triggering concerns that EA didn’t know how to market the game.

[glamorous-egoist]

So I haven’t been this sad in an episode of a medical drama since a handful of ER episodes. (I won’t spoil for folks who are discovering the show for the first time.)

Literally the saddest hour I’ve experienced in a while. Spoilers under the cut for Ep. 8.

I’ll start with the drowning death because honestly what the hell man…

The little girl who drowned that was agonizing, whoever played the mom? Heartbreaking, like I felt that through the screen. Once again Mel, my girl Mel, watching her sit with the sister actually made me teary eyed, she’s excellent, I love her so much. Like the entire part of the episode with the drowning victim and the sisters, she was so good.

Mel also finally getting relief about Rita and her mother too, I’m glad she came back.

Shifting to Javadi, Santos and Garcia for the Crohn’s Disease patient, which was not GI related. Javadi realizing it was a spider bite and getting the patient the help she needed, while showing off to her mom? Yes! I’m so glad to see her gaining confidence. Javadi is quickly becoming a favorite.

Santos. Nope not going there. I get it, I do, but she’s really bothering me. Kudos to her actress. Also for the record I don’t actively hate her, the writing just makes me really dislike her, I recoil with her behavior. It reminds me a lot of Carter in Season 2 of ER, I would actively cringe when he was on screen with his nonsense.

I am actively rewatching ER as I watch The Pitt, I’d started before The Pitt premiered. This is my third or fourth rewatch of ER, after watching it air live in the 90s/00s. So my crush on Noah has been two decades long in case you’re wondering.

Though kudos to Garcia for standing up for Langdon, I’m glad to see that there is no bad blood just good natured ribbing.

McKay and the weird pair of women, that may or may not be trafficking. It sounds like trafficking though, but her with Dana keeping them apart to try and get to the bottom of it? Love it! But I love Dana, that is my GOAT. Just really curious as to where that’s going?

The pacemaker patient, great little tidbit of history it’s great when a show can do that, this show really has shown the POC struggle and I really have to commend it.

Both Langdon and Robby teaching in that scene, so good no notes. Mohan also, I mean she’s great same with Javadi, all four of them were just excellent. I really love Langdon, I think he’s a great doctor, and I’m excited to see how he develops. But also the fact the pacemaker patient spoke about Adamson, seeing Robby get choked up, I felt that, you can tell it meant a lot. Kudos to Noah and his acting.

Collins, McKay and Santos and the missing finger. Another scene I had to close my eyes for because it was a bit too much. Though the patient hitting on Collins and realizing something was wrong a scene later was quite interesting esp after mentioning he was studying psychology.

Which brings me to Collins, the choice to show her having to get back to work after the miscarriage is hard. It’s hard to know that this is a reality a lot of women face and one that people don’t want to discuss out loud, but we should. I didn’t think she’d finish the shift, but here she is. Also what level of torture is this making her work the damn drowning, you all are out of your damn minds.

I’m really curious on the background with that and Robby, just keep dangling it I guess. Whatever. Pfft. (I care so much, please tell us!)

On Robby the exchange at Central with Dana about Mohan, Carter my love is that you? (Again if the lawsuit comes for me so be it, I really don’t care!) also him sitting down and explaining things to grieving people with compassion? It reminds me of Dr. Mark Greene… I’ll do my time in jail I don’t care!

Finally we get to the organ donor and honor walk, what a heartbreaking scene, but just so real. Ever seen those videos on social media? Ugly crying over it here too, but glad to see that story wrapped.

Honorable mentions? Myra girl, do not scare me like that again! Mohan and the heavy metals patient, again Dana my GOAT with the patient scores dig at Robby, she’s right and we all know it. Dana and Whitaker another great exchange, she’s the best. Also my boy made it another hour!

See you next week?