#he doesn't like the inaccuracy of the first

[braceletofteeth]

Kiyoi's aversion to acknowledge Hira as a friend

or Kiyoi vs. the word '友達'

[a-fucking-tornado]

Leo cuz The Hollow s2 proved that the Kai "third wheeling" thingy was troll

The Hollow (Netflix) and Heroes of Olympus

Nerdy, scrawny jokester who appears dim-witted at first, simply comedic relief, until he is revealed to be a magnificent mechanic and fixes a way of air transportation in desperate need, which later crashes, has the ability to control fire, falls in love hard and fast, including with a female antagonist, plays pranks, yet shown as a third wheel to a couple.

Am I talking about Leo Valdez or Kai?

[somanyideassolittletime]

Hints.

Pairings: Jack Abbot x Fem!Attending!Reader

Summary : 4 Times Shen Hinted to Jack about you, only for you to beat him to it .

Warnings: fluff, Jack is yearning hard, slow-ish burn, language, grammar inaccuracies (maybe? idk), Shen being a lil shit. Not beta read. 

Author’s note: this is my first time writing a fic, sooooo might be shitty, but I can’t stop thinking of this trope so I decided to take matters into my own hands. 

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Jack has always noticed you. He notices that you always spend just a little bit more time with peds patients, he notices that you always indulge in small talks from your coworkers, he notices which nurses you are closest with, he notices almost everything about you.

He was well aware of how close you and Shen are—from seeing both of you for the first time ever, seeing the two of you whispering, thinking “these two are either way too stupid or just way too capable,” which he later proved was indeed the latter. Both you and Shen have the honor of being nicknamed ‘dumb and dumber’ due to how much you bicker with each other. It came with the territory of being best friends since med school. 

He was glad to have you both under his guidance; the two of you seemed to be able to work autonomously, and his weight has been lighter ever since ‘dumb and dumber’ started working with him. 

He knows that you always carpool with him every time you both are on the same schedule, knows that you are the one who introduced Shen to his current girlfriend, and knows that you and Shen tell each other about everything. He also knows that the care you two have for each other is nothing more than a sibling bond.

What Jack doesn't notice about you? How much you are actually in love with him.

What Jack doesn't know? Shen is so tired of seeing both of you pining for each other.

Both of you always held the same admiration for each other, and the caring nature you both have somehow multiplied when either one of you is on the receiving end of said nature. But Jack, being Jack, brushed it off as you being in your usual caring nature. Which was true, to some extent, you have always been caring for others. And you, being you, always brushed it off as Jack being a good senior. 

For others, though, it was as plain as day that you both are in love with each other, and since Shen was basically your body double, he often gets asked about the two of you which pisses him off to no end. 

(‘You can’t put a bet when you know what’s going on,’ Perlah once argued with him. Earning a nod of approval from others. 

‘I know nothing, all I know is that she’s got a big crush on someone. I don’t even know if it’s Abbot,” Shen reasons. 

‘The moment she tells you anything, anything at all, you be a man and back off from this.’ Princess points at him. 

‘Yeah, yeah, you guys know I’m a good sport.’ )

| one

After finishing up a GSW case on a police officer, Jack walked out of the room, eyes scanning for you—a habit he realized he's been doing way too much of. 

When his eyes found your figure, he watched as you were talking to an officer, friends of the patient he just finished up on, no doubt.

Now he knew that you had been asked out many times before this, but he had only heard it in passing, on gossip, on jokes that usually involve you cutting in with a laugh and a mocking tone of “yeah right as if”. Now that he has had the chance to see it in action, he doesn't know how to feel.

The officer you were talking to was smiling, with his hands on his vest, a straight posture, and chest slightly puffed. He could easily pass as the poster boy of the force, like he just came out of a police TV show you and Shen liked so much. He knew it because he once overheard you and Shen talking about it, and he arrived home, searched all of his subscriptions to watch one of the episodes. 

He tried to tear his gaze away. Really tried. But he couldn't, he was curious about what that boy could possibly be talking about with you.

Even from afar, without hearing what you two were talking about, he can confirm that the officer was definitely asking you out, with how much machismo he's exuding while offering his name card.

But he knows you better, he can see that you look awkward, like you just indulge him in a conversation out of respect and common courtesy, not out of interest.

Deciding that he could not see another minute of this, he decided to approach you but not even a step later that Shen stepped beside him and snorted.

“Jesus, she could probably make a yellow page by now if she doesn't throw those cards away.”

“What?”

“He's too young for her. She's too smart for him.” He commented as if it were obvious.

“He probably is the same age as you, man, and he seems…nice,” Jack argued, though he did find a slight comfort in Shen’s comment.

“Trust me. The moment he stepped away, she’ll throw that card.”

“And how are you so sure?”

“You.” He said it casually.

“What?” He croaked out.

Shen sighed, patted his shoulder, and walked away from him.

wanting to search for some truth in Shen’s words, he stayed in his spot, still looking at you.

True to Shen’s word, the moment the officer stepped away far enough from you, you walked over to the nearest trash bin and smoothly threw the card away.

He's not sure what he's supposed to be feeling now. Happy that you declined that guy's offer? Or sad that you didn't get a good night out with a guy that seemed nice.

But somehow his mind kept repeating what Shen told him. Looking for any reason—one that didn't give him any hope.

He must've zoned out for a while because you suddenly appeared in front of him, “Jack. Hey. Are you good?” Waving your hand in front of his face.

He's gotten you to call him Jack when it's just the two of you. Courtesy to one time you were looking for him on the rooftop, and you jokingly said, “Do I get to call you Jack now that I just walked an ungodly amount of stairs just to search you? Because I really just used the stairs.” Upon hearing his name uttered by you, he said yes, to please call him Jack.

He shook his head and searched for your eyes. “Yeah. No, I'm good. He seemed nice,” he pointed his chin towards the officer from earlier. Now standing in the ambulance bay, looking at his phone.

“Not my type,” you replied with ease. Because it was the truth, you never wanted to put anyone you decided to go on a date with, only for you to spend the entire time wishing it was Jack. 

“You never seem to be hit on by your type, huh?” He commented. Because that’s what’s been bothering him, why is it that you never even got interested in the slightest with anyone who came across interested with you? 

You smirked at that. “What would you know about my type now?”

“What is it then?”

Before you could reply, your name got called away, and you stepped away from him before saying, “Just wait and see, Dr. Abbot.”

| two

It was unusually cold tonight in the ER, and the city was raining for the entire day. Hell, the weather even got everyone who always swore by iced coffee switching it up to hot ones now.

Jack was glad for the weather, it meant that fewer people would come to the ER unless it was something like life-threatening injuries or one requiring immediate treatment.

A small part of him deep down also likes nights like this because it usually meant he got to spend more small moments with you. Not that he would ever admit it out loud sober.

Tonight, it seems fate has a different plan. It's been two hours into the shift, and he hasn't even said hi to you. He noticed that you keep moving around, busying yourself with everything.

Jack was charting on his station, looking up once in a while, looking at you talking to patients, when Shen approached him. Seeing this as his moment to ask about you, he cut to the chase.

“What's going on with her?” He nodded to your figure.

“Was gonna talk to you about it.”

Hearing that, Jack straightened up and looked at Shen, urging him to continue.

“This cold bothers you?” Shen started.

“You came to me to ask ‘bout the fuckin weather?”

“2 hours no contact and it’s grumpy Abbot today, huh?”

“No. And no.” He answered, not liking what Shen was trying to insinuate at him.

“You got a jacket lying around?”

“In my locker. What for?”

“She won't admit it, but she's cold as hell. Been moving around like she got the fuckin zoomies to manage it” he explained.

“Where's her jacket?” Jack asked, since he knew you always brought your jacket every day.

“We ran late today. Was gonna give me my jacket, but why should I when you're here,”

“What do you mean?” Jack knew what he meant, but he'd have to be held at gunpoint to admit it.

“Jacket. Give. To. Her. Okay?.” Shen mockingly said, emphasizing every word he said, miming an act of giving a Jacket and pointing to your figure. 

“Yeah, okay.” He mutters under his breath just loud enough.

Before he left his station, he called for Shen again.

“Thanks for telling me.”

Shen laughed at him and waved his hand dismissively.

Jack decided to walk over to you and intervene before you even move to another bed again.

“Come with me.” He touched your exposed elbow to gain your attention, now finally close enough to see goosebumps from the cold.

“Okay. Yeah.” You nodded at him

He leads both of you to the lockers, you following him on his side.

He stopped in front of his locker, pressing his code on the keypad, and opened the door.

You were dead curious about what stuff he had in his locker, that you forgot to ask yourself why he brought you here. So you tiptoed to get a good look inside his locker over his shoulder.

Realizing this, Jack chuckled and stepped away from his locker and let you get a good look inside. “Hope you're not expecting anything.”

His locker is filled with things you could expect: a toiletries pouch, a black t-shirt, a cargo, and a jacket. All neatly placed inside. Seeing that you already got a good look inside, he reached over his locker, extended his arm in front of you, and snatched his jacket.

You looked at him curiously, wondering where this going, why is Jack bringing you here, is he just flaunting that he got a jacket??

He handed his jacket over to you. “Wear it. Before you replaced the Iceman in X-Men” you smiled at his reference and took his jacket in your hand, softly saying thanks out of habit to him, undoing the zipper.

“You finally watched it?” You said as you started to put your arms in the sleeves.

“I liked cyclops,” he shrugged, taking in your figure in his jacket. The jacket fit perfectly. Like it was meant to be worn by you only. His stomach churned because that Jacket was, in all seriousness, his favorite jacket, and seeing you in it might just made his entire day. 

“’ Course you liked the simp,” you commented, receiving a ‘hey’ from him.

You snuggled into his jacket and frowned. “Smells like Tide Pods”

“You know I do wash my clothes, right?”

“You got your cologne there?” You asked him, pointing at his locker with your chin.

“That pouch,” he nodded and pointed at his toiletries pouch.

He was going to ask a follow-up question when you reached inside his locker and took out his pouch, unzipped it, and rummaged through it. So he decided that watching you was better than asking you.

You seemed to have found his cologne when you pushed the pouch into his hand, urging him to hold on to it, and sprayed his cologne on his jacket.

Thank god I wasn't lured by those apple watches. Would've given me notifications on irregular heartbeat by now.

You took the pouch, put his cologne inside, zipped it, put it back inside his locker, and rubbed your nose on the jacket to smell it again.

Jack couldn't form a proper sentence—the best he can do is croak out a “why?”

You shrugged as if it was no big deal—it was, you were just good at schooling your expressions.

“You smelled nice. I don't want to wear your jacket if it doesn't smell like you.”

Fuck

“5578? You should've closed your hand over the keypad before punching it in. Now I’m gonna steal your cologne when you're not looking,” you thought that your earlier statement was too bold. So you tried to change the topic.

“Be my guest.” He challenged.

You walked past him, saying, “I will, Jack, I will,” and muttered a thank you once again, but fell on deaf ears as his tactile, visual, and olfactory senses were overwhelmed by you in his jacket, smelling like him, patting at his shoulder.

| three

Jack arrived in ED 15 minutes before his shift change that night. He did the usual— putting his bag down, greeting Dana, and asking her where he could find Robby. Dana answered that he was in the break room, with Shen last time she saw Robby.

He entered the room, finding eye contact with Robby, who was sitting at the table with Shen, eating donuts. Both of them muffled a ‘hey’ to him, pushing the leftover donut in the box to him.

He muttered a ‘no thanks’ and went to the coffee machine to nurse himself a glass before perching himself on the edge of the counter.

Shen spoke up first. “It's her day off”.

Jack, who was sipping on his coffee, stopped mid-motion and searched for Robby’s eyes, who, as it turns out, is smiling smugly at him.

“So?” He replied coyly.

“Just a heads up, though I don’t recall John saying a name,” Robby replied.

Shen muttered something under his breath—just enough to be heard. “He's gonna be insufferable tonight.”

Robby laughed, “Best of luck to you, John.”

“Aren’t you two sweet now?” Jack grumbled to nobody in the room. 

Deciding that it was time to torture Jack further, Robby asked Shen in a tone Jack knew all too well. “How’s your girl?”

Shen smiled at him, even from behind, Jack could see him breathing out a sigh of contentment every time someone brought his girl up. 

“She’s doing great, kept asking me to find Y/n a guy so we can double date, I mean it’s not even my problem, whoever she’s got her eyes on doesn’t have the balls. She got me a girl for God's sake, why can’t she find herself a guy?” He shrugged and twisted his head to look at Jack. “Abbot, you gonna eat this or can I claim it?”.

Jack hated where this conversation was going – not that he was actively joining, he was already mulling over the idea of surviving this shift without having something to look forward to. Though he couldn’t ignore the pang of fear when Shen looked over at him, he felt like a kid getting caught stealing by their parents at that moment. 

“Go ahead,” hearing thi,s Shen muttered a ‘nice’ and reached over, taking another donut which was probably rationed for Jack. 

He was munching on his donut when he started again, eyes looking back at Robby. “You know I asked her out after 3 months liking her, one hint from Y/n and I was like, you know what? Fuck it. Thank god she was right.” 

“3 months? Didn’t peg you for someone to wait that long.” Robby mused back. 

“Exactly, man, I was miserable for three months. Can’t imagine pining for someone for 4 years and not making a move. Owe it to y/n though, if she didn’t make that hint, I would’ve been still single and miserable.” Shen was fucking with him. He was sure of it. Because he realized it long time ago that Shen has been hinting at him about you. From always giving a heads up on where you are, to giving hints about you that he didn’t ask for himself. And he was glad, in a sense, he could know more about you, but now that Shen has sussed him out that he is indeed screwed over, he kept on hinting to him. 

And Robby? He laughed, knowing where this was headed. He looked over to Jack, who stood still, perched on the edge, unmoving, pretending to enjoy his cup of coffee – but he knew Jack, Jack was listening intently to Shen, and that the coffee was not so good that you could enjoy it. So he decided to join in more. 

“Hey, maybe some guys just like playing the long game.” 

“Yeah, way too long of a game, more like. What if the girl’s starting to lose hope and decides that you’re not worth it anymore, huh?” Shen was so fed up with whatever is going on with Jack and you that he was dropping hints like flies.

The thing was, you never explicitly told him who it was, but Shen knew you too well – he knew what your type was, knew when you were serious about someone you’d dated or not, and he knew that a certain Jack Abbot was checking every box in your mental list. 

Shen was reminiscing about a certain memory now, both of you were 4 years younger, fresh out of med school, stepping for the very first time on this exact floor. He remembered you talking his ear off in the car, worrying about your attending. Scared that your attending will be a close-minded drill sergeant. Your words, not his. 

He remembered the two of you introducing yourselves to Robby and hearing happy squeals from you because “thank god he's nice,” only for Robby to say that he is not your attending. But when the two of you finally got introduced to your attending, Shen elbows you and leaned over, whispering “oh you’re definitely fucked now, Wishing on that drill sergeant now huh”. He would’ve continued teasing you if it weren’t for Abbot’s “you two hear me now, kid?” cutting the joke train he’s been holding on forever. 

“Well, I'm going to pee now.” He said, pushing his chair while standing up from the chair. He turned his back, pointing at Jack with his finger. “Hope that didn’t go over your head.” he walked away, leaving two men – one smirking his ass off and one suddenly interested in contemplating his life choices. 

Robby was going to say something when Jack cut him off. “What the hell did you say to Shen man?” He was irritated now. Robby lifts his hands in a mock surrender at him. 

“Didn’t say anything, man. You do realize that your girl’s close with him, right?” he tried to reason. 

“I only confide in you man, now Shen’s as bad as you in fuckin with me over it” 

“Well, if it's any consolation, maybe she talked to Shen about you?” Robby was trying to get his point across now. “And listen to Shen, he just told you that she’s starting to believe that you don’t feel the same.” 

“How do you even know that she’s talking about me, huh?” 

“Jack, as much as I love you brother, I gotta say this, you’re fucking stupid in this case for your own good.” Robby stands up, walking closer to Jack, pointing his finger at his shoulder, and says, “Just tell her. For everyone’s sake here, okay?” and that big betting money I put on you to say it to her first. Robby would’ve said. 

He left the room, leaving Jack still perched as the last 5 minutes, unmoving, and deep in thought. 

| four

Jack was on his way to see the improvement of the kid currently held in Trauma 2 when his stride was stopped by Jeremy, the new intern. “Hey, Dr. Abbot, can I have a minute?”

“Yeah, what is it?” he said curtly. 

“Got multiple lacerations and a fracture. I was supposed to be with Dr. Ellis, but she is currently overseeing other patients, so if you can assist me, maybe. If you got a minute, of course.” Jeremy, like any other person who worked under Jack for the first time, is always timid every time he talks to him. Something Jack is not proud of, actually, he’s a gruff man, sure, but scary? One conversation with him and everyone would realize that he is a yapper himself. 

“I gotta go check the drowning case earlier for a sec, you can ask Dr. L/n or Dr. Shen, I saw them charting earlier,” he explained to him. 

Jeremy nods, “Oh okay, I’ll ask one of them. Thank you, Dr. Abbot.” Before he can move, however, Shen walks over to Jack and asks him about the seizing patient he was assigned to. Jack sighs, looks over to Jeremy, and says, “Guess Dr. L/n is with you,” before he walks with Shen to Trauma 1. 

After a few trips in between cases with Shen, Jack finds himself and Shen in front of the nurse's station, telling Bridget that some of the beds are okay to be discharged when Shen asks. “Hey, Bridget, who’s in South 12?”. Jack steps a few steps backwards to search the board, his eyes scanning over it. 

South 10

South 11

South 12, - multiple lacerations, fracture. 

“Y/n is. With the new kid.” Jack answered him. “Holy shit.” realizing that Jack and Bridget are looking at him waiting he continues “sorry, it’s just I know the guy, Aaron, he’s her ex.” 

“Damn, he’s cute,” Bridget says pointedly. Though she was telling the truth, she also wanted to see how Jack would react. 

Jack felt weird in his stomach. For the first time in forever, he felt green. Like something was eating him alive. he was your man for some times in your life. He gets to spend mornings with you. He got to date you. He gets to call you- his thought was cut off by Shen saying that he’s going to go over there to say hi. 

“Between you and me, that kid got no chance of ever getting her back,” Bridget says. Jack huffs and says that he’s going to go see who can move to free up some beds, looking more sour as the second passes. 

Jack promised himself that he wouldn’t care about what’s going on behind the South 12 curtain, but somehow his feet have a mind of their own because now, he finds himself in South 11, not necessarily doing anything, and he was suddenly interested in the sleeping form of the patient occupying the bed though his ears were trained on the next curtain. 

“Okay, you’re done for now. Just gotta wait for ortho to be cleared so you can go upstairs,” he hears your voice, characteristically soft. Followed by Jeremy’s voice saying goodbye, and a curtain being opened. 

“Thanks, seriously, didn’t know you both worked here,” he hears an unfamiliar voice. 

“No problem, man. Thanks for letting that kid work on you.” Shen replied then with a familiarity. 

“Nah, with y/n watching him like a hawk, I’ll trust him with my life.” Aaron, albeit high from the pain meds registered to him still talked with a lilt to his voice.

Realizing that you’re done with Aaron, you excused yourself, “Well, I’m going now. Shen, you wanna-” your voice was cut off by Aaron’s hand shooting up, catching your wrist, “Actually, can we talk for a bit?” 

Jack clenched his jaw, he didn’t like where this was going. 

“Ookay, I’ll leave you both to it,” Shen speaks up, opening the curtain. Earning a glare from you. 

“What is it now?” you start, your eyes darting everywhere, only to find Jack’s familiar boots in the next bed, giving you comfort you didn’t know you needed. 

“I’m sorry, okay? All these years, I kept on wondering where we went wrong.” You sigh, “Aaron, what went wrong was… everything, and between you and me, parting ways was the best. We've got to focus on ourselves, and it worked. Besides, we were young back then, we didn’t know any better.” 

“You could’ve replied to my texts. You owe me that, at least.” 

“Last I recall, we have nothing going on anymore-�� Aaron cuts you to it. “You’ve found someone. That’s why you’ve been ignoring my texts, why you can pretend that what we had back then was nothing.” 

“Being together was a mistake, Aar, we both know that.” You try to reason with him. Not wanting to give his opinion as an answer, because honestly, you didn’t even know whether you had a chance with the man who has your heart or not.

Jack realized that he wasn’t supposed to hear any further, he felt like shit now that he’s heard something very personal. So he decided to leave. 

You look at Jack’s boot leaving and suddenly feel less comfortable now that you are alone with your ex. 

Jack finds himself in the ambulance bay, his feelings brewing in his stomach as firm as ever. He was feeling everything all at once now – guilt, jealousy, and most prominently, yearning. 

“He made a mistake, a big one, she’s been holding off dating because she knows no one is ever gonna replace you, sure as hell not gonna come back to him.” He doesn’t realize that Shen was behind him until his words sink in. 

“I don’t even know what to say to her, how are you even so sure that she feels what I feel?” For once, Jack listened to his heart and asked Shen the big question he’s been itching to know for the longest time. 

“Look, I know her, okay? I know she never explicitly told me that it was you, but I know that whatever it is you’re feeling, she feels the same.” Shen never speaks to him in such a manner; he realizes it was almost comforting to him. 

Jack doesn’t have an answer to that, so he stayed silent. Hoping an ambulance would come in – just to take his mind off of things he’s been thinking. Shen understands him, he doesn’t expect an answer from Jack, so they both stay silent. 

+1

Jack woke up on his day off with a call from you, not that he knew it was you who called him that morning. He was awake on the second ring, annoyed but still reaching for his phone on the nightstand to check the caller ID. Upon realizing that it was you who called, he shot up from his position and mentally prepared himself for your voice.

“Jack, are u up?”

He knows that you have seen better days— your voice is strained, tired, and almost giving up.

“Hey, yeah, I’m up now. What's wrong?”

He hears your chuckles and he realizes that this is a good way to wake up.

“Nothing’s wrong, listen- do you wanna maybe get some breakfast with me? Oh wait, you just woke up, never mind, I’ll-”

“I would love to. where are you thinking? I’ll come and get you from the hospital” He cuts you off. Scared that you've decided that he shouldn't go out.

“The diner near your place, I’m walking there currently. I’ll order your usual.”

The diner was a one-time occurrence, after both of you worked the day shift, and with two cans of beer in his system, you offered to drive him with a waffle as a bribe on the way home.

Before he can ask why you were walking alone in the cold, you cut off the call, leaving him practically jumping from his bed to brush his teeth and change his clothes.

Jack was walking to the front door of the diner when he saw you from the glass window, sitting in one booth, head tilted backward, and arms crossed with two coffee mugs and a plate of waffles on the table. His heart stopped the moment he realized that you were wearing his jacket—the one you keep on telling him you were planning to give back, but it never seemed to land on his locker ever again.

He walked to the booth, muttering your name, and he must have looked like he just woke up because you smiled— that loopy smile that always leaves him frozen. “Good morning. You definitely raised the standards for ‘I just woke up’ look”.

“Well, aren’t you cozy in that jacket?” He jested, “Always wear this one if you’re not working.” You replied with a small smile, looking at his eye. 

He smiled bashfully and was going to sit across from you when you held his hand and said, “Sit beside me, please,” and he obeyed. He sits beside you, shoulder almost touching, when you put your head on his shoulder. He went stiff for a while, before slightly leaning his position backward so you could be more comfortable.

“I'll give you this jacket back,” you speak first, your voice slightly muffled by his shoulder. he laughed, and moving his head slightly to the left to press a kiss on your hairline. You took it as a chance to put your arms around his waist, snuggling into him further as he put his arm around you, rubbing it in a soothing motion.

“Keep it.” You kissed his shoulder, the intimacy of this moment isn't lost on him, to ground himself, he decided to lift his mug and carefully take a sip of his coffee with his free hand.

“You want to talk about it?” He started, earning a simple nod against his arm and listening attentively on you talking about the shitty shift you just had—one where you lost a boy, and having to talk to his girlfriend who cried on you saying how she never got the chance to tell him she love him was just too much for you. So you made up your mind that moment to tell Jack as soon as you can.

“Jack.” You called out to him, and he hummed at you, hands still moving up and down your back. You continued. “You know I love you, right?.” His hand stopped at that, and you straightened up, hands falling on his thigh, looking at his eyes now.

He couldn't say anything— his heart beating too hard for his liking, his mind went blank, he was sure he'd never felt peace and adrenaline at the same time.

So he looked down, seeing your hands on his thigh, taking it on his own and lifting it to his lips to press a kiss on it.

He breathed deeply. “Fuck. I love you so much, I don't think it's healthy.” His voice was still breathy, from the adrenaline or the fact that he just woke up 10 minutes ago, he never knew.

“Good. 'Means I got custody of this jacket and its owner now” going back to the same comfortable position you were in earlier, and he laughed softly, with a crooked smile, he whispers, “You already have my heart, You can have any of my jackets, honey.”

“But you have to eat first, and after that you can raid my closet and take anything you want, okay?”

“Will you kiss me now?”

He leaned in and kissed you softly—not a hurried kiss, not even a hungry one, it was a genuine soft kiss with years of yearning over each other, pining over one another with nothing but pure love. He kissed you like he meant it, like how you are meant to be kissed—with nothing but love.

The next day, you weren’t even walking together to the ER, but somehow, everybody knew. Robby was talking with Shen, Dana with Bridget, when you joined in to greet everyone, followed by Jack, who put his bag on his station, not even acknowledging the gossip circle.

You were going to say something when Shen beats you to it, “shhhhh before you say anything, who said it first?” Now this caught Jack's attention, who joined in with a smirk on his face. 

“She did,” Jack said with a smile. Looking at you now. Dana and Bridget were high-fiving with a ‘yes’. While Robby and Shen quietly muttered a ‘fuck’.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck, I was so close to that 300,” Shen said exasperatedly. Rubbing his face. 

“What the fuck, you bet on me John?” you asked him. 

“Eh, we all did. Though I technically bet against you.” 

You turned to Robby, “You?” he shakes his head and juts his chin out to Jack beside you. 

“Before you ask, we both bet that you would be the first to say it,” Dana said cheerfully, thinking of ways she’s going to spend the money. 

Shen looks over to Jack before saying, “what the fuck, man. I even gave you hints.” Jack only shrugged his shoulders, “Sorry, man, I wasn’t even expecting it.” 

“That’s what you get for playing dirty, John.” Dana shoved his shoulder. 

“Told you the girl’s fierce. Never underestimate a woman in love.” Bridget commented on Shen and Robby. 

Jack nudged your shoulder, looking at you, smiling fondly before saying, “Yeah, my girl’s fierce.” 

Your face turned red at that comment. “Though, you deserve to lose that you got so little faith in me you fucker.” You pointed at Shen. who replied with a “whatever”.

Shen walked over to Jack and put his hand on his shoulder, “Thank you for lightening my burden, now she’s your burden.” you mock hurt at the comment, though the smile on your face says otherwise. 

“Gladly. Though you gotta walk me step by step later.” Jack nudged your shoulder once more, you shoved him back as retaliation, “Hey! I’m not the one eavesdropping when I’m talking to my ex.” 

Jack was frozen, his ears burning red, when everybody laughed at him. 

“While Jack could’ve given me the win, I’m happy for you both, truly,” Robby said earnestly. 

Jack leans down, whispering to you, “You should tell Shen he’s not gonna get free coffee anymore now that you’re driving with me.” You whispered back to him, “Nah, he’s a big boy, he’ll understand.” 

Your whispers were responded to with sighs and grunts from the others, who decided to leave both of you alone. With Dana walking away, smiling hard, and says, “Keep it PG now, you two.”

You both smiled at each other before parting ways. You turned over to look at him from a distance and mouthed ‘I love you,’ and Jack, who meets your eyes with his stare – now softer than ever – mouthed back ‘love you more.’. 

And that was enough, for now. 

[pythonmoth]

cw: post-traumatic stress disorder (torture). reader is unreliable, angry and inconsistent. reader is traumatized. military inaccuracies. jealous simon, jealous johnny. bros kissing their mates.

× framed traitor f!reader x lt ghost. poly tf141.

Part 6

After your talk with Price, and the promise of Gaz bringing you food, you realize there's not much you can do. You can't use your fingers properly, you can't walk, you can't read, you can't even use a phone. It's not like you can concentrate, even if you wanted to. Your mind feels fuzzy and blurry, like you're under water.

Ironic.

Having nothing else to do, your mind goes back to Ghost and Soap. You try to concentrate on the man under the mask, on Johnny's loud laugh when Simon would pin him to the bed so you could tickle him or forcefully shave that disturbing mustache he gets sometimes, or Simon's crude, ridiculous jokes. A smile makes it to your lips when you remember your favorite.

"What do you call a dog with no legs?" you mumble, shaking your head. With a sigh, you look at your hands, the dull pain making your eye twitch. "Doesn't matter. He's not coming either way" you whisper to yourself, closing your eyes. Now that the panic has gone down and now that you know the full story, from Price's mouth at least, you really, really want to forgive them.

Really.

But just thinking of them makes it impossible for you to focus on the good parts; at least not long enough to forget the rest. The soft kisses, the cuddles, the long nights filled with smoke, and drinks, and holding each other in a single bed. All of that, is covered by a thick layer of betrayal and pain. You might understand Price, but the fact that he used your deepest fear against you is something you will never forget nor forgive. Same goes for Ghost and Soap. They don't deserve your forgiveness, and you're aware of that.

Your mind goes back to the day Simon confessed, making your dark thoughts pause for a moment.

All of you were drinking that night and they wanted to play truth or dare. Price had to lick places around the base nobody would dare mention again, Johnny had to wear your bra filled with peanuts for seven rounds —Price thought it would be funny—, and you all had fun making each other kiss. Hands, cheeks, lips, foreheads. If Gaz had to kiss Price's ass, nobody will ever mention it again.

It wasn't so funny, though, when Gaz dared you to kiss Simon. You were dismissive, saying it's funnier when they kiss each other, but then:

"Just say you're a wimp. You're scared you'll like it".

Not even two weeks later, Simon confessed. He wrote a ridiculous poem of your eyes shining like grenades, your hair being as dry as the desert, and your lips tasting like the first sip of water you take right after waking up at night in a mission, rusty but perfect.

It worked, of course.

A soft knock on your door makes you flinch, sudden fear making your heart pound hard. All thoughts and memories leave your mind in a second. You keep silent, staring blankly at the door as it slowly creaks open.

"Hey, it's me. Come in peace. Brought you food".

"Gaz" you cry out, rushing to stand up. It was a bad idea, but you couldn't even focus on that. Gaz' eyes go wide and jumps forward, nearly dropping the food in his haste to catch you when your knees give out, hissing in pain as your feet touch the ground.

"What are you getting up for, you idiot?" Gaz scolds, his arms under your armpits to keep you up, gripping the bag of food between his teeth so he can help you onto the bed. "Dumbass. Come on".

He keeps on grumbling at you for a few moments, setting the food aside after making sure you're comfortable. He tells you something about how he had to fight the lady in the mess hall for it, but you can only stare at him. He looks tired.

"You look like shit" you mumble, interrupting whatever he was talking about. Gaz looks down at you and grips your nose between his fingers, shaking your head slightly.

"Missed you, too. Now, come on, let's eat. I'm starving" he says, not giving you a moment of silence. You know he's trying to take care of you, so you just let him guide you, both of you sitting on the bed. You watch him set the food between the two of you.

He talks about his mission, though you're not sure he actually did all that or if he's bluffing just to make you concentrate on something else. He's halfway done with his food when he realizes you're just listening to him talk and haven't eaten.

"Weren't you hungry?" Gaz questions, his voice a little muffled, his mouth is filled with food. It's terribly disgusting, but it makes you feel warm.

"I guess. I don't know" you sigh, uncomfortable. You stab the food silently, not really in the mood for eating. Just the thought of it being even a little salty makes you want to throw up. And, using a fork feels ridiculously hard, even with all the bandages keeping your fingers safe from pain.

Gaz reaches out to steal a piece of chicken from your plate and takes a bite, munching happily as he starts talking again, mouth full. You don't realize he slowly starts feeding you the bites he steals, filling your mouth and watching you chew.

He's the same as always. Maybe it helps that he doesn't treat you like a victim, or perhaps it is that your tummy is full, because your head lands on his shoulder at some point. Gaz watches you sleep, his yapping coming to a stop as you drool on his uniform. He gently moves the food from the bed, making sure you stay comfortable resting against him.

Deep in sleep, your dreams are haunted by Ghost's mask. It morphs into a smile, laughing at you, haunting you, the teeth opening wide as if to bite your head off. Hundreds of Soap's hands grip you from everywhere, and you scream, and cry, and beg, and Ghost's just laughing at you, Price's voice echoing somewhere in the back of your mind, but you can't make out what he's saying.

You slowly wake up from your nightmare, your head spinning. Gaz' shaking your shoulder slightly, a lazy smile on his lips. "Oi, morning. You slept like a rock for nearly a day, good for you".

Gaz has to trick you so you can eat again, but when he leaves, promising you he'll be back later, your coffee remains untouched. You stare at the cup as the medics come and go, checking your hands and your feet. They tell you it's for the discharge, but you're really uncomfortable as they touch you, as they check on the wounds. You knew they were bad and that it would take at least four to six months for you to walk with the boots again and not feel pain, but when they confirm it, you want to curl in the bed and cry.

When the military psychologist gives you a visit, your sobs just can't stop. Talking about it is even more difficult than experiencing it, you realize. Your mind has locked so many things but you refuse to let them out for now, not wanting to accept anything but the pain they caused you. In any case, the psychologist isn't there to be of help just now. You know it's for the discharge, again, but it's as if they wanted to make sure you're truly crazy traumatized enough for them to send you home.

The exams take three days. Gaz and Price have been visiting you as much as they can, both of them managing to make you smile, or at least distract you. Even Ghost? Simon comes to visit you, with a different mask, and he takes it off as soon as he's inside so you can see his face. He looks as tense as always, but he keeps bringing things he knows you like: a chocolate, sour candy, even some of Johnny's cookies.

"Is he... not visiting?" you question him, your eyes fixed on the sour candy, blinking slowly. In a way, it pisses you off that he doesn't have the balls to come and see you. Again, it's not like you expected—

"Johnny's scared you won't want to see him" Simon answers, his voice gruff and hard, but it's clear he's trying to be gentle. He sounds different without the mask, and that helps your shoulders relax. Not much, though.

"Well, he hasn't come. How is he supposed to know?" you grumble, crushing one of the cookies with the heel of your palm. "I don't want to see you and you're here, anyway".

When you don't hear his response, you look up at him. He looks like he wants to cry, you realize. He's been doing that. Whenever you tell him the truth, he goes silent. Whenever you say you're scared of him, he's silent, whenever you say no, why would I want you to hug me?, he's silent.

You know you're probably being unfair, but how is that your fault, though? You're angry, pissed, and he keeps coming, showing you his face like you're so dumb you can't understand he will still wear the other mask outside, like you're so stupid he can fool you and make you think he never meant to hurt you. Isn't that why he did that, anyway? The only reason you stand him is because Price and Gaz have been telling you he's been mopping around like a fucking pup, and that maybe just letting him sit with you isn't a bad idea. But how's that not a bad idea? It's ridiculous to think—

"Do you want me to leave?" he cuts you off, his tone quiet. Only then, you realize you were speaking out loud.

It makes you falter. You take a moment to genuinely think about it.

"No, I don't" you admit, crumbling another cookie, keeping your eyes down for a moment. The silence is oppressive, exhausting. It keeps you on edge. "Did you believe me when I told you this was over?"

"Yes".

"Good".

On the third day in the clinic, Price tells you you're going home the next morning. It's so relieving to hear that you give him a hug, and then immediately freeze because Simon's in the room, staring at you, no mask. Johnny's right next to him, looking down at his feet and using his index finger to pick on his fingernails. They say nothing, only staring as you let go of Price and turn to Gaz, your shoulders relaxing completely.

Simon and Johnny share a look at your reaction, their jaws clenching hard enough to almost break their teeth, but they both remain silent.

You've grown used to their presence at this point, but as soon as Simon slips the mask back on, you have to look away. Perhaps the fear will always be there, even if you're half convinced he won't hurt you again. After a while, the two decide to leave so you can rest. Price leaves a few minutes later, promising to be there when you leave the next morning. Gaz is the only one who stays with you, as he has the past few days, but instead of him sleeping on the floor you two share the bed.

It's the last day, so why not?

He tells you a bit more about how he got certain scars, about how he plans on visiting you when he can so you can show him your house. You smile, nodding at the idea, just listening to him talk your ears off. It's comforting. You feel like you're in a sleepover with your friend, sharing gossip about other soldiers, and making fun of Price.

Your head is nested against his chest, your arms gently curled between the two of you as he holds you lazily, one of his hands caressing your hair. It's comforting and warm, and slowly, at some point, the idle gossip turns a bit more serious, finally reaching Simon and Johnny.

"You don't have to forgive them. Fuck them. I hope you remember that" he mumbles against your hair. You can hear the anger in his voice, and it makes you feel a little better. "Maybe you'll learn to understand why they had to do it, but that doesn't mean you have to be cool with it".

"And I'm not" you mumble back, shaking your head as you shift, looking up at him. "It's hard to just... look at them and not think of it. It happened like a week ago, anyway, so I can't be blamed. Right?"

"Fuck no. I'd say you give them hell a few months" he says, winking at you and nudging you slightly. It's enough to bring a smile to your face. You shift again, feeling restless, anxious.

"I don't know. I understand, I guess. I can't say I wouldn't have done the same in their position, but... I don't want to think about that right now".

"Of course" Gaz hums, his hand gently rubbing on your back. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

It's warm, and it's nice. You melt into him, your eyes blinking lazily as you both lay in silence. Since Gaz has been taking care of you these past few days, you haven't been allowed more than two minutes of silence whenever he's in the room, so you treasure it.

Perhaps is the peace you're feeling, perhaps is the way he's holding you, but you can't help but look up at him. He's lost in his head for a long moment, looking up at the ceiling, before realizing you're staring at him. He raises an eyebrow, playfully poking your back.

"What do you want? Is there something on my face?" he asks, moving so he can look down at you properly, his eyebrows furrowing.

When he shifts, trying to get comfortable again, you surge forward.

It's only a brief, soft press of lips.

Gaz is silent when you pull back, his eyes worried, mostly surprised, but also deeply conflicted. His body is frozen, half lifted from the bed where he was changing his position. You feel shame deep in your stomach. Fear, maybe.

"I'm sorry. I'm really—"

He cuts you off.

It's a soft kiss. There's nothing but calm and affection in it. You're not sure for how long it goes, but it's only when he cradles your face, the kiss slowing down, that you realize you're crying. He hugs you closer, letting you cry into his chest, caressing your hair.

It takes a while for you to calm down, your hot face buried deep in his chest, embarrassed. Ashamed.

"Are you angry?"

"What? No. Why would I be?" Gaz asks, sounding genuinely confused.

"Because I kissed you?"

He hums, his hand never stopping where it's caressing your back. "No. I'm not mad. It was a good kiss." You groan, hitting him on the ribs with your elbow. He laughs, patting your back so you settle against him again. "Nothing bad with kissing your mates".

"Shut up!"

"Fine, fine. Well, look" he starts, shifting to turn the lamp on so he can look at you. "I think you needed that, and maybe I did too. I don't think I'm a replacement, either. Or am I?"

"No!" you shriek, your face heated.

"Then that's fine. Just kissing the mates goodnight".

"Garrick!"

"All I'm saying" Gaz says, grinning down at you and placing a hand on your head, "is that a kiss can just mean that. Did it feel good? It helped?"

You purse your lips, frowning. It did feel nice. It's not like it took away the trauma or anything, but it was nice. Your restlessness isn't there anymore. "Yeah".

"Then that's alright. Don't question it much".

"Should've asked. I'm sorry".

"It's cool. Just don't do it in front of the rest. They wanna kiss their mates, too, but they need alcohol for it".

"What? You'd be embarrassed?"

"No. You would be, though".

"Why? It's not like— ugh!"

Gaz playfully grips your face, not letting you move, and kisses your cheek loudly, making you laugh for the first time since you woke up. He manages to keep your good mood, not letting you dwell on whatever that kiss could've meant. At some point, you hear him snore softly, and decide to settle against him, focusing on his heartbeat.

Your feelings haven't changed for Gaz. You're deeply aware the kiss wasn't romantic. It's like... you're just closer, somehow. With a big sigh, you let your body relax, and fall asleep.

The next morning, it takes you around half an hour to be ready with the medics help. Johnny packed your things, now in the truck, and Simon's wearing the full black mask as he pushes your wheelchair.

Price can't make it, but you're not surprised. Gaz gives you a big hug for him, squishing your face against his chest. Johnny and Simon very carefully help you to the truck, never once touching your bare skin, never once meeting your eyes. You stay very still, but when Simon's hand gently rests on your waist to help you adjust, you look up at him.

"I'm sorry" he says, removing his hand instantly.

"It's alright" you mumble.

You both stay quiet for a moment. Then, Simon nods and slowly takes a step back. "Take care of yourself. I'll... text you?"

"I'll try to text back. Won't promise I will".

That seems to be enough. Simon's eyes warm behind the mask, filled with hope. He gently lifts a hand, his movements predictable and slow. Your shoulders tense a little, but you give him a nod, your eyes on his. He caresses your hair, drinking you in, endulging himself in the permission you give him. In the end, he steps out of the truck.

Johnny's eyes are filled with guilt, and he doesn't touch you, standing right there, just a step away from the door. "Take care, yeah?" he says, his hands gripping the seat in front of you.

"Yeah. Thanks" you mumble, your palms rubbing on your thighs. You feel uncomfortable around him, instead of actually scared. He hasn't tried to talk to you much at all, so it's a little confusing.

Finally, Gaz steps in and your smile becomes genuine.

"I'll see you as soon as I can" he says, his hands gripping your cheeks just to squish them together. "If you don't eat, I'll personally go and shove it down your throat".

"Lovely. Thanks" you grunt. You motion him closer, and press a kiss to his cheek. "That's for you. And tell Price that I'm thankful, all in all".

"No".

"Fuck you, Gaz".

"You wish".

You roll your eyes hard enough for it to hurt, but your smile is warm, content. With another tight hug, you say goodbye, and the engine rings in your ears.

Then, you're off.

so! there's that. no, this isn't gaz x reader, im just heavily projecting and I think he's down to kiss the homies for fun and comfort, like I am.

-ˋˏ✄——————————————————

Masterlist | Part 7

Buy me a coffee

simon going from simon to simon isn't a typo, she just hates him less. 😋

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird @adventurerabby @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @defronix @clickbait-official (im adding this one very nervously so😭 I'm sorry)

[bitters-n-sweets]

take a break pt. 2 — michael "robby" robinavitch x fem!reader Months after Bali, you're finally back in the US, staying with your sister in Pittsburgh. You just have no idea who lives there, too. take a break pt. 1

warnings: cursing, inaccuracies of how the ER works, angst, misunderstanding trope, reader has a sister named Jenna—who gets mildly hurt, not proofread, mentions of miscarriage (not the reader), minors go away, 5.2K words masterlist I am overwhelmed with joy at how the first part of this got so much love, thank you all, I'm so glad you liked it ❤️

"You’re telling me," your sister says, blinking like she’s trying to process it while trying not to get angry, "you spent an entire week with a complete stranger??"

You sigh. Of course she’s going to lose her mind.

"Jenna—"

"What were you thinking???" She’s pacing now.

You roll your eyes. "Look, I know how it sounds, okay? But it wasn’t like that."

She stops, arms crossed, and gives you a pointed look.

"I’m serious. What happened in Bali… it was different. I’ve never met anyone like him."

Jenna takes a deep breath a few times and sits beside you. The sharp voice softens. "I just don’t want you to get hurt again."

"Too late," you murmur with a bitter smile.

She sighs and pulls you into a hug. "Of course it is."

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Your phone sits on the table, still open from showing her a photo of you and Robby, sun-kissed and smiling. Jenna squints at it.

"Well," she says, "he is stupid handsome. Those sad-boy eyes? Come on."

You let out a laugh, some of the tension slipping from your shoulders.

"And he’s a doctor?" she adds, scoffing. "Girl."

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. She’s trying.

After months of traveling, your lease ended, so you're staying at her place in Pittsburgh for now, just until you find a new apartment. Your sister's been your rock since you were kids. If anyone bullied you, or if you needed any help with friends, math, you name it, and she'll be there for you. She's the most reliable big sister you could ever have, so you don't blame her for trying to protect you.

She's also trying to balance being the protective sister, and the fun one. It doesn't always work.

"So what’s stopping you from looking him up?" Jenna asks suddenly.

You hesitate.

"He’s one Google search away," she nudges. "Don’t even lie."

You suck in a breath. "I know. I just… what if I find out he’s moved on? What if it really was just a vacation fling for him? And what if he lives in New York or something? I mean, we didn't reveal our hometowns for a reason. We could've easily shared our phone numbers, but we didn't."

Jenna frowns. "Okay, first of all? If everything you told me is true—and judging by those photos and the way you talk about him—it wasn’t just a fling. And second, so what if he’s in New York? That’s like a 90-minute flight. You work remotely. Things could actually work out."

You don’t say anything right away. You just look down at your hands and bite your cheek, the way you do when you’re unsure. Jenna bumps your shoulder gently.

She adds, "Look, I’m not saying go camp outside his hospital with huge cards, Love Actually style. But you should at least give yourself the chance to find out. What if he’s been thinking the same thing all this time?"

You barely say anything before Jenna snatches your phone off the coffee table.

"Wait—Jenna, no!"

She's already typing.

"Just a little digging," she says, her fingers working fast on your phone.

You lunge for the phone, but she twists away, standing up. "Give it back!"

"Nope, you had your chance and you blew it. Plus, you know you won't actually do this. I'm doing you a favor."

"Jenna, I’m serious—"

"Aha!" She exclaims, stopping in her tracks. "Michael Robinavitch, MD. Trauma Attending at—"

Your eyes are wide as you stare at Jenna. Her face shifts. Something unreadable—then disbelief. She scoffs and meets your eyes. "You're not gonna believe me."

Robby sighs as he slides through the ER doors once again. Like yesterday, like the day before, like how it will be for the rest of his life, probably. Dana's already at the nurse's station, looking at the board, phone in hand.

"You know, every day you walk in here, and you look even more like shit." Dana frowns. "I thought you just had a vacation, you’re supposed to look refreshed, not like you got dumped in the ocean and left for dead."

Robby huffs. "Well, good morning to you, too, Dana."

And then something in Dana clicks. "Oh my God. You got dumped in Bali."

He lets out a dry laugh. "I didn't get dumped in Bali. I just…"

"Wait, did you dump someone in Bali?"

"Can we not do this here?"

"I mean… I just expected you to come back tanned and smug, not pining like some sad indie drama lead." Dana lets out a little laugh at her own joke.

Robby exhales slowly, a tight smile on his lips. "It was a vacation. Nothing more."

Oh but it was so so much more. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you. Let’s just get that out of the way. Your laugh, your perfume, the way you fell asleep on his chest like you were meant to be there. He swears he still smells you sometimes, and it’s driving him insane. He’s off his game at work, can’t sleep at home, can’t eat without thinking of the dinners you shared by candlelight and crashing waves. So yeah—he looks like shit. Forgive the middle-aged man for wearing his heartbreak on his face.

"What's her full name?"

Robby pauses. "What?"

Jack shrugs like it’s the most casual thing in the world. "I know you keep checking the board for any new incoming traumas to see if it could be her." Jack continues, "You feel guilty for it, but you're still doing it. So tell me her name—I’ll keep an eye out on nights."

Jack knows it's a way to ease Robby, even just for a little bit.

Robby presses his palms to his eyes, just for a second. Long enough to see your face behind his lids, then mutters your name. He doesn’t want to see you on a stretcher. God, no. He doesn’t want to see you bleeding, unconscious, coding. He hopes you never have a reason to come through those ER injured, ever.

But the truth is, the ER is where estranged people meet. And though he hates himself for it, a small part of him still hopes one day you’ll walk through that door again—alive, healthy, maybe even smiling.

"Okay." Jack nods, then smirks. "How about a picture?"

"Jack." Robby warns.

"Backing down, backing down," Jack raises his hands in surrender, "Just testing the waters."

"She must've been something, huh?" He adds, "You haven't stopped thinking about her, and it's been months. You might be really screwed, brother."

Robby doesn't say anything. He knows.

[flashback]

You're both soaked.

It started with a walk along the beach. Then a splash. Then a challenge. Now you're standing in the shallows, dripping wet, and Robby is grinning like an idiot because he 'won'.

"You cheated! You said you wouldn’t grab me!"

He shrugs. "I said I wouldn’t splash you. Technically, dragging you into the water doesn’t count."

"You’re impossible."

"You're slow."

You gasp and��lunge toward him, but he takes off running down the beach like a damn teenager. You chase after him, heart pounding, laughing so hard it burns. Eventually, he slows just enough for you to catch him, and you both tumble into the sand.

"I should’ve let the jellyfish have you," You pant.

"I think you'd miss me too much."

You roll your eyes. "You’re so full of yourself."

His voice drops just enough to make your pulse skip. "Am I wrong?"

Then he leans in and kisses you, slow and smiling, like he knows he’s already won. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his.

"You're the worst."

"Then you've got terrible taste."

[present day]

You linger outside the sliding glass doors for longer than you’d like to admit.

You'd gotten the same rosé you both shared in Bali, with a nice bow wrapped around the neck, and a letter you'd hand-written. It's very cliché, but it felt necessary. And now you feel stupid.

Fuck it.

Part of you is excited to see him, see his reaction, would he run to you? Hold you in his arms? Kiss you right there in front of everyone?

You're smiling nervously now as you walk past the doors. The emergency room at PTMC is busier than you expected, the front desk doesn’t pay you much attention, which is good, they're probably thinking you're visiting with what you have in hand. You’re not sure what you would’ve said anyway.

You ask quietly where to find him. They point you toward the consult rooms, and you murmur a quick thank-you, the gift bag tucked at your side.

You spot him almost immediately through the narrow strip of glass in the door to Consult Room A.

Your heart stops.

Robby is inside. He’s really here. Still tall, still impossibly handsome, and especially in his scrubs, exhaustion clinging to the curve of his shoulders. You almost burst through the door—when you realize he's not alone.

Another doctor is sitting on the exam bed, bent slightly forward, elbows on her knees, one hand cradling her stomach. Her eyes are red. Robby kneels beside her, not quite touching her at first—then gently, cautiously, he places his hand on her knee. She covers it with her own.

He says something you can’t hear. She nods. And then, quietly, she leans forward and presses her forehead to his, smiling, tears in her eyes.

You freeze.

All the warmth in your limbs rushes away. You feel like someone's just completely taken your lungs away and you can't breathe.

You recognize her—Dr. Collins. You’ve seen her on the PTMC staff page, probably one of the first names you found when you searched for Robby.

You take a step back, slowly, like you might disturb the moment if you're not careful. Then another.

It seems like Robby has moved on.

You're not sure what to do. You feel fucking stupid. Of course, he has moved on. It was just a fling, nothing more. Tears blur your vision as you take short breaths, the rosé now clutched tightly to your chest, and you hurrily walk back down the hall. You don't want him to see you. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Collins exhales shakily, then squeezes his hand one last time before standing.

"I'll be fine." she says, voice hoarse but steady.

"You sure?"

She gives him a small smile. "Yeah. Go save someone who’s actually dying."

He watches her walk out, her back straight even though her world just cracked in half. They’ve been through a lot, he and Collins. It was never romantic—not really—but there were late nights and shared griefs. A handful of near-misses. People who endure together sometimes blur lines. But whatever they were, that part’s long behind them.

A nurse knocks gently on the doorframe. "Dr. Robby?"

"Yeah?"

"There was someone here asking for you," she says, "I told her you'd be out in a minute but I think she left. She didn't leave a name, she had a gift bag with her though."

Robby blinks. "Okay, thanks."

People drop off things sometimes. A patient’s family, a resident trying to get on his good side, a pharmaceutical rep hoping to buy his time. He doesn’t think too hard about it. He heads back out into the chaos of the ER, unaware of the gift that nearly reached him—or the woman who had.

[flashback]

"So what happens after you leave?"

Robby doesn't answer right away. He drags a finger through the sand. "Get on a plane, go home, back to work."

"You know that's not what I mean."

He sighs. "I know."

You wait and Robby finally meets your eyes. "I don't want to ruin this."

"This." You repeat. "This… fantasy? Or us?"

His jaw shifts slightly, he’s trying to choose his words carefully. "I mean the part where I don’t have to think about how complicated this would get if we tried to keep it going."

You nod, lips tight. "Right." Complicated.

"I'm not saying I don't want this. Us." He says quickly, "I just... I don’t know how."

You know he's right. It just hurts to hear it. "Yeah… me neither."

You glance up, and there’s a long, quiet look between you. "So, let’s not make promises we can’t keep?"

Robby nods, but his hand finds yours in the sand. And he doesn't let go.

[present day]

You've been sitting in your parked car for ten minutes after leaving the entrance.

Your hands still tremble a little.

You’d come here with hope burning in your chest, you ignored all of the doubts because you wanted to believe what you had with Robby was real. Because maybe despite not sharing phone numbers, there was something there. You hoped he also regretted not continuing what you had. But seeing Robby with her, the way he touched her, the softness in his expression… it had knocked the wind out of you.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to throw the gift away—or bring it home. Or the letter. So you decide to rewrite the letter. As a goodbye. You slip it inside the gift bag and get out of the car.

This time, you don’t go to the front entrance. You spot a woman smoking near the ambulance bay, leaning against the wall like she’s on break.

You approach her quietly.

"Hi. Sorry to bother you—do you work in the ER?"

She squints through the smoke, "Yeah, why?"

"I, uh, could you give this to Dr. Robby? I…have an errand to run, so, I can't give it to him myself." You offer her the gift bag.

She eyes the gift bag warily. "You trying to sell him something?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I just want to thank him. For everything he's done for me." You hesitate. "You can tell him it's from Ove."

She hesitates, then shrugs, taking the gift bag. "Yeah, sure."

You just offer a small, grateful smile. "Thanks."

Robby's sitting on his desk, busy charting, when Dana drops a gift bag in front of him.

"And this is…?"

"Rosé delivery, apparently." Dana chuckles. "Someone wanted to thank you, so she told me to give you this. Said it's from 'Ove'."

His heart stops. He snatches the bag like it might vanish, scanning the pink-gold bottle, the smooth ribbon, the familiar handwriting he could recognize anywhere.

You were here.

He bolts.

"Wait—" Dana calls behind him, "There's—!"

But Robby’s already sprinting down the hallway, dodging a gurney, ignoring the startled nurse who calls his name.

He jogs a little down the street, scanning every face. A couple arguing near the bus stop. A woman in scrubs checking her phone. But not you. His breath fogs in the cold air, and something in his chest twists painfully.

He missed you.

"Fuck." He keeps repeating, "FUCK!"

"Robby!"

He turns at Dana’s voice.

She’s outside now, waving something in her hand. "She left a letter."

Hi Robby, I'm sorry I didn't give you this letter and gift myself. I know it probably seems cowardly to leave a letter like this instead of talking to you face to face, but honestly… I don’t think I could’ve done that without crying. Or jumping into your arms. Or kissing you… Or all of it. There’s so much I wanted to say, but maybe this will have to be enough. I’m happy you’ve found someone who makes you happy. I really am. I hope she’s good to you. I hope she sees what I see in you—your terrible jokes, your gentleness, the way you care too much and try to hide it. I hope she knows how lucky she is. Take care of yourself, doc. And thank you for all the memories. You deserve someone who makes coming home feel like peace. – Ove

Robby reads the letter once. Then again.

He’s standing in the hallway outside the break room, half-shielded by the open door, fingers curling around the page like it might explain itself differently on the third read.

You were here. At the hospital. He missed you.

His eyes skim the line again—the one about how you couldn’t face him without crying, or kissing him. Jumping into his arms. His heart clenches. It’s so you. Honest. Brave and terrified at once.

Then he hits the sentence that makes him stop cold.

I’m happy that you’ve found someone who can make you happy.

His brow furrows. Found someone?

He glances up like the hallway might have an answer. What are you talking about? There’s no one. There hasn’t been anyone. Not really. Just that moment with Collins—but even that... that wasn’t what you think.

His chest tightens. You thought he was with someone. That he moved on.

You thought he was happy.

He leans back against the wall, one hand dragging down his face. A deep exhale pushes from his lungs, but it doesn’t take the ache with it.

"Ove," he says aloud, the name barely a breath.

He lets out a quiet laugh, one that almost breaks halfway through. Of course you'd sign it like that.

Now you're leaving him rosé and a goodbye that read like a love letter sealed in regret.

His chest tightens. There's a stinging behind his eyes he doesn't want to name.

Dana watches him from the nurses’ station, saying nothing. She doesn’t need to. Robby just shakes his head, pressing his lips together.

"She was here," he says again, like he still doesn’t believe it.

"Yeah," Dana replies softly, looking at him sympathetically. "She was."

The letter is still in his hand. He folds it carefully, like it's something sacred. Then he tucks it into his jacket pocket and takes a breath.

He should have been faster.

He should have found you.

But now… now all he can do is stand here, holding the words you couldn't say out loud.

A few days after that, you're back to apartment hunting. Somewhere outside of Pittsburgh. You haven't told your sister, but you have a feeling she knows. She's been quiet in that careful way, watching you drift through nights of old movies and whiskey. Not rosé—never rosé. That would taste too much like him.

You're on the couch, laptop warming your thighs, when you suddenly hear a scream from the kitchen.

"Jenna!" You scramble.

Jenna had bought one of those aesthetic looking pots made of glass, and of course it shattered. Another sound—glass crunching, followed by a strangled yelp. You race in to find her on the floor, clutching her arm, shards of her new glass pot glittering across the tile. She must’ve slipped. Her forearm is red, swelling fast.

"I'm okay—" She groans and winces, "Okay, OW OW OW—No, I'm not okay."

You turn off the stove, moving quickly to help her up, careful not to step on the glass. "Let's get you to the hospital. I'll get a cab."

She’s quiet in the ride over, cradling her arm, the towel now damp from melted ice.

"I'm so stupid." She hisses. "It's not even that bad, it just hurts."

"You're not stupid," You say, "But it looks pretty bad. The glass shattered everywhere. You're lucky it didn't cut you anywhere else."

She lets out a breath that sounds more like a groan, then presses her head back against the seat.

"Are you sure you want to come?" She asks after a beat, always worrying about you first. "We're going to that ER. After everything that happened…"

You glance out the window, swallowing down the familiar ache that tightens in your chest at just the mention of it.

"Jenna." You cut her off gently. "None of that matters right now. You’re hurt. We’re going."

She bites her cheek, clearly reading more in your silence than you want her to. But she just nods. "Okay."

It's not that late yet, and the ER is still as busy as ever. Due to the level of Jenna's injury, you get in fast. You push through the double doors with Jenna leaning on your side, her towel-wrapped arm clutched to her chest. You follow the nurse down the familiar hall, heart tightening with every step, and help Jenna settle into a curtained bay. She gives you a strained smile, trying to act tough, but she looks worried.

"I'll go get a doctor for you, it'll be quick." the nurse says.

You sit on the edge of the plastic chair, elbows on your knees, trying not to breathe too deep.

Then the curtain rustles. "Okay, let's see who we have here."

You look up and freeze—just for a second—until you realize it’s not Robby. You exhale quietly, chest unclenching. "You're Jenna?" the doctor asks, flipping through the chart.

Your sister nods.

The doctor nods back, "I'm Dr. Abbot, and this is…" He motions to you.

"My sister," Jenna says, giving your name. 

That’s when you see it—Dr. Abbot's face changes. He repeats your full name under his breath, eyes narrowing like he’s connecting dots in real time.

Something clicks in his head. Then, without another word, he steps back. "I'll be right back." He’s gone before either of you can ask anything.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Robby!"

Jack whisper-screams down the hall, catching Robby just as he’s about to exit through the staff doors. Robby slows, eyebrows raised in surprise as Jack jogs up to him.

"Jack, I really just—"

"She's here."

Robby stops mid-step.

"She was," he corrects slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "a few days ago. I couldn't catch her—"

"No, Robby." Jack cuts in, breathless. "She's here now. With her sister. Bay 5."

Robby's eyes go wide. "…A-are you sure? Wait, is she okay??"

"Well I mean you wouldn't show me a picture of her so—"

"Jack—"

"Right." Jack says, "She’s fine, she’s accompanying her sister. Just stay in the consult room. I'll bring her over, tell her she can wait there."

Robby feels like his world is spinning again. He doesn't want to get his hopes up. He still has your letter tucked in his jacket pocket.

He nods nervously. "Okay."

You’re still staring at the curtain, blinking like maybe it’ll open again and explain whatever just happened. But it stays closed. Jenna glances at you, then at her arm, and mutters, "Well, that was weird."

"Yeah." You frown.

You’re still thinking about the way the doctor said your name like he recognized it—like it meant something. Before you can say anything else, the curtain swishes again. Dr. Abbot reappears, breathless, like he’s jogged half the ER to get back. "Um, do you mind waiting in the consult room? There's… not a lot of space here, so…"

It's an odd request, but Jenna says she's okay, so you reluctantly go with the nurse who'll show you where the consult room is.

As soon as you’re gone, Jenna raises an eyebrow at Dr. Abbot. He’s still standing there, watching the curtain fall closed behind you like it just told him a secret.

"…Do you know something?" She asks. Vague, suggesting.

Dr. Abbot turns slowly and squints at her. "I don't know. Do you know something?"

Jenna tilts her head. "I might."

He tilts his head back at her. "Then I might too."

The nurse doesn’t say much. Just a polite smile and a gentle hand on your back as she guides you down the hallway.

You pass a few curtain bays, a trauma room, and then she stops at a door with Consult Room B printed in small white letters.

"Just wait in here," she says gently.

"Wait for—"

"—OK." But the door closes before you can finish the question. You blink. Turn. And that’s when you see him.

Robby.

He’s standing at the far end of the room, one hand braced on the counter like he might be holding himself up. He's still in his scrubs, navy jacket with his sleeves rolled up, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

You freeze. He sees you.

For a second, neither of you speak. Neither of you even breathe.

Robby braves himself to step closer to you.

"Robby," you finally say, voice barely more than a whisper. You swallow, shifting your weight, arms folded like a shield. "I didn't know—the nurse just told me to—"

You break eye contact and step back as he steps closer. You can't look in his eyes, because you know you'll break. You're already fighting the tears that are about to fall.

He watches you for a moment, trying to find his voice. "You okay?"

You nod. "Jenna—my sister—she burned her arm. Slipped on glass. I just… went into autopilot."

He steps closer again, slower this time. "Is she alright?"

"Yeah. She’ll be fine." You bite your lip, still not looking at him.

"You left me a bottle of rosé," he says, gently, still stepping closer. "And a name."

You try to smile. "I thought you’d figure it out."

"I did," he says, now only inches away from you, "and then I read the letter."

Your breath hitches, just slightly. There’s a pause as you nod, your hands tighten over your elbows, fingers pressing into your sleeves. "Right."

"Are you ever going to look at me?"

You try to hide the sob escaping you and back away a little, but Robby reaches out, placing both hands gently to cup your face, brushing away your tears. You finally meet his eyes, and the sight wrecks you.

Why is he crying?

He steps closer, trapping you within his frame, and leans in. His lips press gently to yours, careful—as if asking permission, checking if you still want this, if you still want him. Your hands clutch his scrubs, holding on like a lifeline.

You pull away first. "This is wrong." You whisper.

Robby’s brows knit together in confusion until he sees the guilt in your eyes. You think he's with Collins.

"You…" You sniff, "You're happy, Robby. You—You can't ruin it."

"Look at me," His voice is firm, "Do I look happy to you?"

"I—"

"I'm not with Collins."

You look at him. "What?"

"The woman you saw with me a few days go," Robby says carefully, "she had a miscarriage. I was just… trying to be there for her."

You stare at him, breath caught. Your lips part, but nothing comes out. Then, quietly, "Oh."

You look down, heart thudding, face hot with shame. You want to disappear into the floor, you feel even more stupid now.

He asks, a little broken. "You really thought I'd move on that fast?"

You shake your head, blinking fast. "I didn't know what to think. I thought maybe it wasn’t as real for you as it was for me."

"And what? Were you just going to leave?" He frowns. "You weren't even gonna let me say goodbye. Not even one last look at you."

You shake your head, eyes glossy. "I thought it would be easier on you," you whisper. "Like Bali."

Robby's expression shatters. "That was not easy on me."

"You left before I woke up."

"I thought you wanted me to." His voice catches. "You were quiet that whole last day. I figured you didn’t want me to make it harder."

"Because I didn't want to say goodbye!" You cry out, "I didn't want it to end. But I got scared, because what if you don't like the version of me outside of Bali? Because Bali was good, so good, and back here—" you sob, "—back here I'm not as confident. I'm nobody. I'm a mess."

Robby's heart breaks a little. He sees you, truly sees you, and realizes the irony: that’s exactly how he feels.

"You think I don’t get that? You think Bali wasn’t the first time in years I felt like myself again?" He swallows hard. "I was afraid, too. Afraid I’d already messed it up. Afraid if I said goodbye, it would feel real. Final."

You close your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek.

"You’re not nobody," he says, softer now. "You're the person who saw me when I was at my lowest. Who laughed so hard on that motorbike I thought I'd crash us into a rice field. Who made me believe I could want more than just work and sleep and going through the motions. Whose letter I still keep in my pocket. You're the person who lent me your book."

You chuckle at that, still sniffing.

He cups your cheek again, thumb brushing away the tears you’ve stopped trying to hide.

"And you don’t have to be confident all the time," he murmurs. "You don’t have to be the Bali version of you. I want you. All versions of you."

You try not to cry again, nodding your head. "…I want you, too."

He exhales—like he’s been holding his breath for days—and his forehead presses to yours, gentle and grounding. "I'm no picnic, either. I overthink everything. I push people away when I should let them in. I’ve spent most of my life trying to act like nothing gets to me."

"But you do." His thumb brushes under your eye. "You got to me."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"The worst." He smiles a little.

"Then you've got horrible taste."

He chuckles. "I believe what I said was 'terrible' not 'horrible'."

You share a laugh and there's a long, quiet pause. You’re both holding your breath, holding each other like the other person could disappear, like this might be a dream.

"Robby…" you murmur.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to make promises this time?" You ask, hopeful once again. "Ones we'll try our best to keep?"

He smiles. "Yeah. I do."

He leans in again, brushing his lips over yours. Your fingers tangle in the navy fabric of his hoodie, like you're scared he’ll vanish. But he doesn’t. He just holds you tighter, steadier. And it’s everything you’ve been aching for. No longer a memory of Bali. No longer a what-if. Just you and him.

You take Robby’s hand gently and guide him towards where Jenna is to introduce them. You thought she'd be asleep, but you hear chatter from behind the curtain. When you swing it open—you see her and Jack, gossiping like two teenagers, her wounds wrapped up long ago.

"Oh hey~ We were just talking about you two," Jenna smirks, "So, Dr. Abbot, how long did you say Dr. Robby here has been broody?"

"Well, I think since birth, really, but he became worse after leaving Bali."

You roll your eyes and glance at Robby, who's blushing like a tomato now. You try to soothe him, while Jack and Jenna share a subtle fist bump, quietly whispering to each other.

"We did that."

"Hell yeah we did."

--

hope you guys like it! side note, lowkey loving Jack and Jenna's interaction and thank you to all of you in the taglist for being so excited for this 🥰 ily, and im so sorry if i missed anyone, it is really not on purpose. I hope you enjoyed!

taglist: @biggestsimponhere @thesnugglingduck @qardasngan @lol-im-done @daisydark @onlyrealjoy @sabrinaselina55 @borbalalikesdocs @livingavilaloca @evans-dejong @thinemineours @marvelousmissmaggie @maiamore @hagarsays @evermoresivy @capj-1437 @beebeechaos @obfuscateyummy @omgbrianab @honestlystop @jazzimac1967 @msdariaknight @cozyfanficnook @wowitsafemale @princessjayll @heyysolsister @mcuwhore7 @1mverstappen @aryacoulson @the-one-with-the-grey-color @ravenouswild @littlezee80 @gardeniarose13 @bitchy-bi-trash @breemary05-blog @arrowswithwifi

[rainy-day-gracie]

- wedding night -

A Venus & Mars mini series

pairing: General Acacius x virgin!wife!Reader

content warning(s): reader insert, no use of y/n, arranged marriage, implied age gap but nothing specific, oral (f recieving), fingering, loss of virginity, piv sex, innocence kink, self indulgent praise kink, Acacius definitely talks you through it, discussions of consent because consent is sexy mandatory, discussion of future sexual acts, AFTERCARE because aftercare is hot, general acacius is in loooooove but doesn't know it yet haha, romantic and intimate as hell, grievous historical inaccuracy because it's fucking fanfiction, canon divergent because duh

a/n: So guys. I saw Gladiator II and it was awesome and Pedro Pascal is the sexiest man alive (in my heart). However, this character's name is not Marcus. I don't know who lied, but we've all been fooled. So in this sequel, the general's name is just Acacius in order to stay at least a little bit true to the actual canon.

I definitely will be writing for these two again because holy shit I made this romantic and I love them so much.

Read wedding day here!

Read bloodlust here!

---

Acacius saw heaven in your eyes, a piece of salvation he never thought he might be able to grasp with his blood-stained hands.

He glanced down your body, wrapped beautifully in your white wedding gown, gold jewelry shining in warm candlelight. For a moment, he wondered Venus herself were tricking him with her immortal seduction.

But the blush of red in your cheeks, the shine of desire in your eyes, the beat of your heart in your chest....

No immortal possibly could mimic such evidence of true, temporary, and precious life.

Acacius had been with plenty women in his lifetime, had thought he understood what desire was.

I want you, you had said.

Now, he thinks he's only scratched the surface.

---

The general-- Acacius -- peered at you like a starving man at a feast, drinking you in, turning the wheels in his head of what he wanted to do first.

He grasped your hand in both of his, studying the golden band on your ring finger. Evidence of your gods-blessed union.

"I want to see you wearing nothing.... except for this," Acacius breathed, his voice low, and dreamy, like the words were slipping from him with no control.

"I'd like that very much," you said, trying to keep your hand from trembling under his touch.

"May I strip you bare, darling?" He asked, calloused fingertips fiddling with the clasp on your golden bracelet.

"Yes."

Instantly, the bracelet fell, and then the other, and then the other. Acacius' gentle touch drove you wild, methodical and sure. He stopped for a moment, glancing at the purity ring on your pinky, and smirked in a way that nearly made your knees buckle.

Glancing back up to your gaze, he held your stare as he pulled the purity ring off. His lips were a hairsbreadth away from yours, letting you smell the sweet cherry wine on his breath.

"Kiss me," you mumbled.

Acacius' smirk remained. "Patience, darling."

He tucked the purity ring into a pocket of his tunic, and turned you around, so your back pressed against his chest. A sigh caught in your throat, realizing he had turned you both to face the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom.

"Answer me honestly," he said, trailing one of his knuckles down the exposed skin of your spine. "Have you ever touched yourself?"

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you shivered at his light touch. "Uh..."

"Don't you lie to me, now. It's a great sin to lie to your husband," he whispered, his teeth nipping lightly at your ear.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I- I've touched myself. I've touched... my..."

"Your cunt?" Acacius mused.

You nodded, your chest rising heavily.

"Did you… like it? When you touched yourself?"

"N-no. I've been told it is not ladylike, to... pleasure yourself in that way."

Acacius kissed the back of your neck, making you arch into his touch. "Oh, my poor darling... there's nothing more ladylike in the world. Don't worry... I will show you how."

A full whimper escaped you at that, and Acacius undid the knots of your dress with a chuckle.

The dress fell, leaving you in only your loincloth, tied at your waist. But Acacius was looking at something else.

His eyes were transfixed on your perked breasts, his mouth slightly open as he wrapped one of his hands around the soft flesh. A high-pitched sigh left your throat, and he reached around with his other hand to take hold of the other breast.

"Do you like it when I hold you like this?" Acacius murmured, his mouth at your temple. He twitched his fingertips to pinch your nipples softly, making you close your eyes in pleasure. "Look at me."

Snapping your eyes open again, he stared you down in the mirror with a small devilish grin. He pinched your breasts again, pulling an answer from you. "Yes, Acacius."

"Good girl," he praised, your cunt throbbing at the words. He let go of your breasts, untying the cloth at your hips until you were utterly bare before him, save for your wedding ring. "Lie down on the bed, darling."

He brushed a palm over your plush backside, guiding you towards the beautiful linen bed. Plenty big for two.

You obey with a shy smile, sinking into the blankets and pillows like you were always meant to fit there. Watching from your comfortable bed, Acacius loomed over the foot, undoing buttons on his tunic, and ties on his robes.

Your lips parted slightly as he exposed the tan, scarred skin of his chest, flickering candlelight bathing him in a warm glow. He studied your expressions like a hawk, watching for any sign of discomfort or displeasure.

As he unlaced the toga and loincloth, leaving him as bare as you were, you had to keep yourself from gasping.

His cock hung heavily between his legs, not even fully aroused but still bigger than anything you had anticipated. He wrapped a hand around his manhood, smirking at your expression, but mercifully saying nothing about it.

“I am curious, my wife,” Acacius began, his voice a rumble. He pulled himself onto the marriage bed, caging you in the sheets with his arms and legs straddling. His eyes never left yours. “What did they say about me? When you learned of our union, what whispers crossed your ears?”

You licked your lips, speaking suddenly a challenge. “Um, that you w-were brave…”

Acacius leaned down, pulling one of your legs over his broad shoulders.

“…and strong…”

He mirrored the motion with your other leg, leaving your weeping cunt exposed.

“…a-and…”

Acacius paused, waiting for your answer. “And?”

“General, I shouldn’t speak ill…” you moaned, wondering if one could combust with desire.

“Tell me the truth, darling. Or you won’t get what you so eagerly want.”

“Th-they said you were cruel,” you stammered, desperately, any wall of self preservation coming down. “They said you took anything you desired, washed your hands with blood, and violence was the only language you spoke. Your rage eclipses that of Achilles, and your eyes blacken every time you raise a banner. You are of Mars himself, shedding blood like you were born to it.”

Acacius’ smirk from between your legs was wicked, and he broke your gaze for the first time since lying on the bed.

He studied your open cunt with a glazed expression, like he was lost in the pleasure of staring at your slick desire.

“If I am of Mars then you are of Venus, my darling.”

His words filled you with affection, the way his knees bent on the bed almost like he was worshiping an altar between your legs.

“So pure…” he murmured, as if the words had slipped from his lips.

Your back arched like a bow as he licked a stripe up your soaking slit, sighs escaping from your throat.

Acacius hummed with delight, fucking you on his tongue lazily, drinking your desire like nectar of the gods.

You buried your hands in his hair hesitantly, unsure of what would be pleasing to him. In all the times you eavesdropped on the married women of the court, never once had they mentioned anything like… this. Never once had they mentioned any of the overwhelming pleasure racking every limb of your body. Never once had they mentioned the lightning erupting over your skin with every brush of his calloused palm.

Acacius trailed his hands down your arched torso, cupping your breasts as his mouth traced patterns over your cunt. Your breathy moans made him chuckle into your flesh, the vibrations making you lift your hips with pleasure.

Throbbing built in your pussy, clenching around his tongue as your desire jumped at every brush of his lips.

“A-Acacius, gods…” you cried out, throwing your head back as a pinnacle raced towards you.

“Relax, my darling,” Acacius breathed, bringing one of his hands down to rest at your soft inner thigh. “I’m going to put my hands on you now.”

“Oh, please,” you begged, unsure of what it was you were begging for.

“Tell me if it becomes too much,” Acacius said, and his hand on your thigh moved.

The gentle brush of his rough fingertips on your slick folds had you gasping anew, pulling lightly on the locks of his hair.

“Such a pretty cunt,” Acacius mumbled to himself. “I have half a mind to just keep you like this.”

You whined in protest, your hips chasing his touch.

“So needy for a virgin.”

You threw your head back as his finger pushed past your slick folds, reaching spots inside of yourself that you hadn’t known existed.

“Oh, so tight, my love. You truly are pure.” Acacius curved his finger, brushing against something spongy, and sensitive. A guttural moan escaped your throat, and he laughed softly. “When the pleasure peaks, do not fight it. Let it take you away, somewhere only you and I exist.”

You nodded at his command, closing your eyes as your head sunk into the linen pillows.

Unrestrained cries erupted from you as he pulled his finger out, and in, and out again, hitting that sweet spot with every push inside of your aching cunt.

When he pressed his tongue to the bud at the top of your core, he pushed a second finger deep into your slick, making you wonder if the gods truly did become man. The stretch of his fingers pricked a pain deep within, making you clench tighter around his calloused fingertips. A slight brush of his rough facial hair against your core was your ultimate undoing.

You called out his name as the pleasure rushed down your spine, into your belly, and built in your desperate cunt. He knew it, too, and continued to thrust his fingers deep inside with renewed enthusiasm. His tongue licked against your clit with hunger, tipping you over the edge.

Cries escaped your lips as the pleasure overwhelmed you, every muscle in your body going taut as the desire took over. Your cunt clenched tightly, chasing his fingers, and your spire curved with tension as the wave of lust claimed you.

Acacius watched with a lazy smile as your core squeezed with your orgasm, evidence of your desire dripping off his lips.

“Acacius… Acacius…” you breathed as the climax subsided, your body relaxing into the bed once more.

“How do you feel, darling?” Acacius asked, crawling back up to press his nose against yours. His brown eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with adoration.

In place of an answer, you buried your hands in his curly, soft hair, pressing his lips to yours. He responded instantly, capturing your mouth with the passion of love and war.

His tongue pushed against yours, pure want seeping from every brush of his lips against yours. You gasped as his hands cupped your hips gently, like he was making sure you were a solid thing he could hold in his hands. Like he was worried you might slip through his fingers.

“I want more,” you whispered against his mouth, and he nodded with his eyes closed, like he was dreaming.

“It will hurt for a moment, but I will be gentle with you,” Acacius breathed, trailing light kisses against your throat. “Tell me when there is pain, or if you wish to stop.”

You nodded against his temple, and he pulled his lips back instantly.

“Say you want me, darling. Say you will tell me to stop if you wish.”

The intensity in those brown eyes, the desperation, had you squirming with desire once again.

You held his face in your hands, tracing your thumb against his rough stubble, studying him.

Acacius' nose was utterly Roman, looking like it had possibly been broken once or twice. Every mark on him was evidence of a man that had seen the Underworld and walked away, but not without a few scars to show for it. Though he had been nothing but gentle with you, there was no doubt he could live up to his reputation of bloodletting.

Still, you held him close.

"I want you, Acacius. I will tell you to stop if I wish to." There was no hesitation, no tremor in your voice.

He sighed in relief, reaching down to his hard cock and bringing it between your legs. You whined at the sensitive touch, and he grunted at the slickness of your folds.

"So wet for me, darling, so perfect," he moaned in your ear, guiding the soft flesh of your thighs to wrap around his hips.

Tentatively, he rubbed his cock up and down your core, getting you accustomed to the blunt feeling. You whined breathlessly, near begging for him to fuck you already.

"Patience, darling. I need to go slow to not hurt you," he mumbled.

The blunt head of his cock pushed past your sensitive folds, and you dug your nails into the strong muscles of his back.

Acacius let out a guttural groan into the heated skin of your neck. "So wet, and tight."

You called his name like a prayer, your head tossed back in pain and pleasure. Over and over again, you called his name.

"A little more, easy, easy..." Acacius moaned, pushing further into your virgin cunt.

You cried out in pinching desire. "S-so much, Acacius..."

"I know, darling. We're halfway there."

You held tight to him, his rough hands on your soft skin distracting you from the stretch of your cunt around his cock. "H-halfway?"

Acacius chuckled, holding still inside of you to let you adjust. "You feel... divine. So, so perfect, my sweet wife."

A high pitched moan escaped you as he pulled back slightly, kissing your neck as he pushed farther in. You clenched around him, and his lips on your clammy skin sent a fresh wave of lust panging though you.

But Acacius stopped, and you gasped in pain again, as if he had hit a barrier in your core he couldn't push past. You knew he could bottom out if he so wanted, but not without tearing you deeply.

Instead of pushing forward, he stayed where he was inside of you, tracing his nose along the curve of your jaw.

When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost like he didn't mean for you to hear his words.

"Do you want to know what I want, darling?"

You were too breathless to answer.

Acacius continued. "I want to fuck you so well that all of Rome hears you calling my name. I want to mark you with my mouth so you may look in the mirror and think only of me. I want fall to my knees and thank the gods that gave you to me. But for now, my darling... I want you to come on my cock with your most divine cunt."

Your cunt, as if on command, fluttered, and you moaned as he was able to fill you to the hilt without a pinch of discomfort.

"Oh, yes," Acacius whispered, his tongue darting out along your pulse point. You cried out in pleasure as he shifted inside of you, holding tight to his strong back.

"You... are... perfect, darling," he panted, thrusting slowly, in and out, in and out. "So warm, and tight..."

"Acacius, please..."

"Please... what?" Acacius teased, biting your bottom lip slightly as he pushed back into you.

"More... more," you said, digging your nails into the muscles of his shoulders.

Acacius responded in kind, chuckling at your desperation. "As my lady commands."

His thrusts into your aching cunt deepened, becoming harder as you grew needy for his strength. You tossed your head back with a high-pitched cry when he was able to hit that perfectly sensitive spot inside of you, and the reaction made him even more ravenous for you.

"Oh, you take my cock so well," Acacius praised, the words making your cunt clench around him. "So, so good, my darling."

As if he knew what you needed before you did, he pulled his chest away from yours, sitting up on his knees while thrusting into you. He looped his wide arms underneath your spread legs, angling you upwards on his thighs and pulling your hips up off of the bed. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you arched your back off the sheets with a shriek of delight.

"Acacius, Acacius," you cried out, the new angle sending him deep into your core, hitting spots you hadn't even known existed.

"That's it, say my name," Acacius said with a smirk. "Say my name when I fuck you, tell all of Rome who is making you feel this good."

You couldn't stop, the falling of his name from your lips dripping like sweet honey. All you could feel was the sweat of his skin against yours, the calloused of his hands as they gripped your soft thighs closely, and the depths of your core his cock was able to reach.

"You're going to cum for me," Acacius ordered, his words coming out in pants of breath. "You're going to cum for me, because you're a good girl. You're a good girl, aren't you? Letting me fuck her virgin cunt so nicely, such a good girl..."

At his praise, your cunt tightened around his cock, back arching like a bow. As you came, he pressed a calloused hand into the flesh above your pelvis, the pressure making your high all the more intense. You cried out his name, over and over again, the two of you becoming the only people in the world as the tidal wave of pleasure overwhelmed you.

Acacius' thrusts into your aching core sped, became less focused, and you knew he was losing control himself as you came apart underneath him. Your name fell from his lips as he pressed his hand further into the spot below your belly, where his cock seemed to bulge into his palm as your cunt pulsed around him.

"Such a good girl, such a good wife," he moaned. Only when your core could only twitch in response to his strong thrusts did he slow, leaning back over you and capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

A warmth pooled within you, evidence of his pleasure. You didn't know if you'd ever felt such an intimate connection with anyone as you did with him, his kiss burning a brand into your heart as the heat of passion faded.

Acacius pulled away after a moment, breathing heavily against your throat. "Hold still a moment," he warned. His palms pressed against your hips, his cock sliding from you with a slight sting. You followed his advice, your legs feeling weak and shaky.

You studied him as he crossed the bedchamber to the washroom, his broad back dimpling with the movement. Returning with a clean cloth and a faint smile on his lips, the dimple in his cheek made your heart swell as he saw your sprawled body on his massive bed.

"Feeling comfortable?" Acacius asked, eyebrows raised with amusement.

You nod, watching him as he crossed over to you, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips as he carefully wiped your messy core.

Breaking from your lips for a moment, he pressed his nose against yours, and you cherished the gentle, intimate gesture.

"Shall I call the servants for a hot bath?" Acacius mumbled, tossing the cloth aside.

"A hot bath sounds divine, but only if we may take one together," you reply, slightly giddy.

Acacius furrowed his brows in confusion. "What is making you laugh, my darling?"

You kissed him again, long and slow. Time stood still, and it was as if you could physically feel the bond forging between the two of you, forging in a slow burn of a crackling fire. It was warm, and easy, and comforting.

You broke away, studying him in his eyes. "You are simply... not what I expected."

Acacius smiled, that damn dimple curving in his cheek.

The most feared general on the continent.

Your husband.

Acacius kissed your forehead. "You, my darling, are everything I've been dreaming of."

---

taglist (people that asked to be tagged in part 2): @marianastudiesart @joeldjarin @fallout-girl219 @shantellorraine @lanadelslay69-420 @pedrofan

my request box is open! would love to hear y'all ideas for Joel, Acacius, Javier, or Oberyn :)

[anyarose011]

Born Too Late: "Death by a Thousand Cuts"

Pairing: DBF!Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader

Summary: Your stepfather (not your actual father, let's make that clear), helped you out and scored you a job as one of the Medical Trauma's social workers. Moving off of the night shift from your first week, you figured that you'd seen all the worst things you could. It doesn't help that, at the start of your first day shift, the man you had an...interesting few encounters with at a local cafe, is your supervisor...What's twelve hours in an ER with him?

Part 1 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Descriptions of Past Smut, Heavy Age Gap [Reader is in her mid-20s] Swearing, Past Parental Death, and Inevitable Medical Inaccuracies.

My Brain Randomly on a Sunday: "You know what? Fuck you guys! *Realistic DBF!Robby x Reader, with a sprinkle of Whitacre, King, and/or Santos x Reader (depending on what your poison is) and a 'Lost in your 20s' feel*". Lmao, yeah this idea just came to me out of the blue and I had to get it down. Now usually, I'm not a fan of the Dad's Best Friend Trope, but I think I've found a way to make it tasteful while also keeping some of the ✨drama✨. I've taken a huge inspiration from Shiva Baby, which also taps into a more realistic age gap relationship and feeling like the world is ending post-graduation (am I feeling this too? Idk). I'm also more personally experienced with the social/psychological aspect of the show, and wanted Kiara to have a partner because she was put through the wringer in the first season, so I decided to make reader a social worker. I hope I do this justice!

Word Count: 4.9k

“Fuck me!” Your roommate, Kimi, groaned into the toilet bowl seat beside you once she finished vomiting.

You rubbed her back as you continued to put on mascara. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s been twenty-four hours!” She groaned, staring up at you. “Do you think you could squeeze me in today at your job?”

“Go to Urgent Care if you keep puking.” You answered.

Kimi rested her head against the seam of your pants. It was six in the morning, and you had no idea how she had so much energy. “I thought you only worked nights.”

You weren’t a doctor, nor were you a nurse, but a secret third thing: A social worker. You graduated from your master’s program a year prior, taking a job at a senior center. To you, it was boring as shit, so you left several months later. Turns out, in this economy, job security was more important than job stimulation; and it wasn’t necessarily easy to find work with your degree.

So…someone had done a favor for you. That someone being your stepfather; the Night Shift Attending.

Everyone had known Jack Abbott was your stepfather by midnight on your first shift. There was some teasing by Ellis and Shen, but other than that, nothing. You wouldn’t call it ‘nepotism’. Jack was in the picture since you were fifteen, and you’d only called him ‘dad’ once.

It was when he found you tucked away in the corner at your mother’s funeral, unable to stand. He just held you there, not saying anything. One would’ve thought you’d grow closer to him after that; but you were twenty-two when your mother died, and he’d only been married to her for five years. You didn’t necessarily want to know him more.

Of course, then you let it slip one day that you were trying to find a job in social work, and he had to swoop in and save the day. Still, how could you complain?

You finished your makeup and helped Kimi stand. “I did last week. I’m doing the day now to see which one I like.”

She washed her hands. “Do mornings so we can talk more. Like,” she smirked as she dried her hands. “Why didn’t you come home last Saturday night?”

Laughing, you left the bathroom and walked into the kitchen, packing your lunch. She followed after you, leaning over the breakfast bar.

“Come on!” She begged. “I gave you a few days to play coy, now spill!”

You grinned from ear to ear. “I went home with a guy.”

“Fork found in kitchen. Who was it?!”

“The one from Big Dog.”

Her face dropped into disgust. “The old Jewish guy?”

You sneered. “A, his name’s Michael, and B, it’s weird that’s how you remember him.”

“Girl, how old is he?!” She laughed.

“Forty-five? I don’t know.” You did know: fifty-one, but you couldn’t say that.

Kimi tossed herself onto the sofa. “You’ve been talking to this guy for like a month, and you don’t know. Is he even that cute?”

Of course he was. His eyes were quite possibly the kindest ones you’d ever seen on a man, and he smiled at almost everything. Beauty standards be damned; you don’t give a shit if smiling “causes early wrinkles”.

After packing your lunch, you walked into the sitting room and sat on the floor, resting your back against the couch. “I think so.”

“You like rat-looking men.”

You shoved her. “Now stop it!”

“No, you do!” She relented. “You’ve always liked the ugly ones.”

“Kimi.”

“Sorry, the unconventionally attractive ones.”

If you had a death wish, you would say that she had no right to judge. You at least knew that Michael didn’t have a single baby mama, and you weren’t in an off again on-again relationship with him every few weeks. Besides, at least it was obvious that you could tell he showered; unlike her “true love”.

But, that was always Kimi. You weren’t best friends in undergrad, but got along enough to where, after going a few years of not talking after graduation, you reconnected, and she asked you to be her roommate. So, you had been living with her for seven months, and it wasn’t….so bad.

Well, unless her ex-boyfriend (that’s who Trent was at the time of this) would come over. Besides the fact he was open about getting two separate women pregnant (he had three daughters), he had a short fuse. You made one joke about his favorite movie being basic, and he threw a plastic cup in your direction.

That was the first time Kimi broke up with him; then took him back two weeks later.

“He’s sweet.” You settled upon defending Michael. “He’s ridiculously smart too and can hold a conversation.”

It was something out of a 2000s romcom how you met him. There you were at Big Dog Coffee one early morning a month ago when he quite literally bumped into you, spilling your coffee onto the floor. Thankfully, it didn’t get on you, and he attempted to joke about how you wouldn’t have to take off your shirt to check for burns.

It was awkward, that beat of silence where the realization of what he said settled in. Then, you laughed, and it wasn’t so strange anymore. You fell into effortless conversation that only lasted ten minutes before you both had to leave. You thought that’s where the story ended.

Then, he was there the next time you went, and you talked for hours. He was a doctor but didn’t say where; if anything, the two of you barely discussed work and that was fine with you. He wasn’t always there when you went to get coffee. You managed to get it out of him that there were times he’d see you in the window but wouldn’t go in, not wanting to make you think he was stalking you.

A man who went out of his way to not make you feel uncomfortable? Of course you were attracted to him.

“So,” Kimi teased. “tell me how sweet he was when he took you home.”

You giggled. “He kissed me.”

“And?”

“And kissed me,” you smiled at the memories. “and kissed me, and kissed me, and-.”

Kimi talked over you as you repeated yourself. “I mean, he’s probably ready for the grave so I get he can’t do a lot but-.”

“-And kissed me between my legs,” you snuck in. “and kissed me and-.”

“-Woah!” Kimi laughed. “Back up, how was it?”

You looked back at her, feeling yourself blushing. “His beard was soaking.”

She screamed, causing you to as well into fits of laughter. She shook you, hugging you from behind. “Okay, grandpa!”

“Stop!” You shoved her. “God, I feel weird now.”

“How long did he go?”

“Like…almost three times I think?”

“Three?! At his age?!”

“I mean, his back started hurting-.”

“-Oh my god!” She hollered. “Have you seen him since?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Well, you got his number, right?”

“No.”

“You’re the fucking worst!”

“It’s not like we’re gonna date!” You rationalized. “I like talking to him, but I don’t wanna be forty or fifty when my husband dies.”

“Who said he’d be your husband?”

“You know what I mean.”

She sighed. “Okay, what else did he do?”

You stood up after looking at the time. “I gotta go to my shift.”

“Come on!”

“I promise,” you slipped on your shoes. “I’ll recreate every position we did when I get home.”

But there were some things she didn’t get to know. Like how you and Michael were both nervous to the point of laughter, how he apologized profusely for not lasting long the first time, but you didn’t care; it was raw, and it was all real. You still wondered how that didn’t scare you.

“You better.” Kimi laid back down. “Have a good day.”

“Call if you need anything.” You took your keys and purse before leaving. It was a bit of a longer drive to the hospital from your apartment, but you didn’t mind driving. You’d grown up in Pittsburgh, so you could essentially drive downtown with your eyes closed.

It was strange arriving at the hospital in the morning when you were so used to leaving. You wondered if the time change would be the worst thing you’d deal with that day, but upon seeing your stepfather still there when you arrived, that was only the beginning.

“Hey kiddo.” He greeted, his bag over his shoulder as he walked outside.

You thinned your lips. “Dr. Abbott.”

“You ready?”

“You said day shifters are more type A.”

He snickered. “Yeah, you gonna be able to adjust?”

“I think so…” you bounced on the balls of your feet. “Uh, how was your shift?”

“Not bad.” he shrugged. “We had three patients come in from sex injuries.”

“Shit, that’s more than last week!”

He laughed. “Yeah, you wanna know the worst one?”

“Please no, it’s seven in the morning.”

“Alright.” He backed down. “So, you’re gonna stick close mainly with Kiara and sometimes Lupe if shit goes bad-.”

“-I know.” It’s as if he hadn’t already told you this. “‘The Attending’s Robby who means well but has a stick up his ass sometimes, so don’t take it personally.’ I got this.”

He smiled. “Yeah, you do.” His eyes then traveled to the direction of the parking lot, and he huffed. “Hey, we were just talking about you!”

You turned your gaze and felt your heart leap into your throat. There, approaching the two of you, with the same hair, same eyes, and same nose…was Michael.

Shit…

“All good things, I hope!” He yelled back, not making out your figure yet.

“I got your newest social worker here.” Jack introduced you, and once Robby got close enough, you saw recognition settling in his eyes.  It was only for a moment, forcing himself to remain smiling.

Robby looked at Abbott. “This is uh, this your daughter?”

“Stepdaughter.” Left your mouth before you could stop yourself.

Jack snorted. “I was gonna say I found you on the side of the road, but that’ll do.”

All Robby did was hum, nodding. “Well, I’ll make sure she stays out of trouble, even though that’s more Kiara’s job.”

“She’s a tough cookie.” He pat your shoulder. “I think she’ll make the day shift her bitch.”

“Jack.” You nudged him, clutching your purse.

“I’m sure she will.” Robby forced a laughed. “See you in twelve hours, brother.”

Oh, shut up. You thought, dreading the day ahead and turning your eyes to the ground.

Jack nodded, brushing by him to leave. “See you in twelve hours. And be nice to her!”

“I will!” Robby yelled back.

When it was just the two of you, that was when everything started settling into you like a parasite under your skin. The older guy you talked to for hours upon hours at a simple café, the same older guy you slept with just that last weekend…was technically your supervisor.

“Good morning.” He greeted as if he hadn’t acknowledged you until Abbott was gone.

You finally looked up at him. “Good morning.”

Then you walked through the hospital doors. Of course, he was on your tail.

“Alright, all on the table, did you know?” He asked.

You scoffed. “How the hell do you get ‘Robby’ from ‘Michael’?”

“Dr. Robinavitch.”

“Shit.” You shut your eyes. “And no, I didn’t know.”

He sighed as you both entered the stairwell. “Okay. Are you able to keep this…professional?”

“I’m so professional, I don’t even want to say another word about this even when we’re done with a shift.” You rolled your eyes.

“We have to talk about this sometime.”

“No, we don’t.” You stopped on the stairs, knowing no one else was around. “I’ve already agreed I never want to see you again outside of work because…well, obviously.”

“Yeah?” He rose his brows, then shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You walked back down. “Cool, cool, cool.”

It wasn’t, but you had to say that because you were going to have to spend twelve hours with a bunch of new people and him. When you arrived in the lobby, you were astounded just to see how many people there were. All ranging from kids with bloody noses, to a middle-aged woman clutching her stomach, and an old man holding a rag to his face.

“Welcome to the morning shift.” Robby said from beside you.

Pushing past disgruntled people in line to harass Lupe, you and Robby entered the ED, or, as your stepfather had called it: ‘The Pitt’.

Upon entering, a woman with cornrows approached you, smiling and saying your first name; thank God she had a hint not to say your last one. “I heard you were coming in today.”

“Are you Kiara?” You shook her hand, feeling warmth flow through you at the sight of a friendly face.

“Yes, you’ll be shadowing me today just to still get the hang of the day shift.” She explained. “Hope that’s okay?”

“No, it’s great!”

You hadn’t realized Robby left until Kiara was leading you into a room to speak with a woman who had failed an overdose suicide attempt. What a way to start the day.

Much like anyone, there were different versions of you. There was you when you were with family (yes, including Jack), there was you when you were with Kimi, and there was you when you were at work.

That was the one you could barely recognize yourself.

Still, you were pretty damn good at it. Almost like a chameleon, you could morph into whatever you or someone else needed you to be. Usually, it was the gentle and sweet girl anyone could talk to and share their deepest secrets with. While that part of you still existed on its own, it thrived while being a social worker.

Two hours later, after having only your second heart-to-heart with a patient that day, you ran into some familiar faces.

“Oh shit, Starshine!” Santos greeted as she looked away from the overhead monitor behind the front desk. You’d forgotten his name, but the boy beside her looked at you. He had bags under his eyes that you knew would never be covered even if he had all the concealer in the world. Yet, his own gaze was…kind.

You laughed as you approached them. “You gave me a nickname?”

“Well yeah,” she winked. “you made such an impression on me.”

That impression being the end of your third night shift, where you had drunk too much caffeine and, I shit you not, greeted most of the day shifters with: “Good morning, starshine!”

Trinity Santos and the Charles Dicken’s looking boy were your first victims.

You snorted. “I want to forget any of that happened.”

“I don’t.” She looked over at the boy. “Come on, Huckleberry, where’s your manners?”

He smiled shyly. “Sorry, how are you doing?”

“Don’t apologize.” You chuckled. “But I’m doing pretty good.”

“I thought you only worked night shifts?”

You shrugged. “I did last week. I’m trying out day ones; seeing what I like.”

“And?” Santos asked.

“I kinda like the vibe more here.”

“Just you wait.” She tisked, then turned on her heel and went to one of the rooms. That left you there with…Huckleberry.

“I’m sorry,” you smiled. “I actually don’t remember your name.”

He shook his head, mirroring your grin. “No, it’s good. Dennis Whitaker.”

You introduced yourself, but instead of using Jack’s surname you used your mother’s. “How long have you been here?”

“It’ll be three months on Friday.” He nodded.

“Wow, congrats. How’s it been?”

“I mean, the worst day was my first day.” He laughed humorlessly. “Everyday after that has been basically a cakewalk.”

“What happened your first day?”

He paused. “Pittfest.”

“Shit…” was all you could say.

“Yeah…” He pursed his lips.

“Hey,” a woman wearing a red sweatshirt said your name from behind you. “Kiara said you’re the new social worker. Could you come with me, please?”

“No problem.” You started following her, looking back at Whitaker. “See you later!”

You heard him utter a ‘see you later!’ behind you as you walked alongside the new woman.

“You’re usually on the night shift, I hear?” She asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She hummed, smiling. “None of that. Heather Collins. You’re probably getting overloaded with names.”

“I can keep up.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She turned down the hall, lowering her voice. “Okay, so we got this young girl who came in a few months back. We think she’s being trafficked, but she didn’t say anything the last time; now she is. We need you to talk with the woman who came in with her.”

“About?” You were on top of it.

“Literally anything.” She explained. “Her new baby, movies, herself, just somethingto keep her preoccupied for a few minutes’ tops.”

Just as you were about to say ‘Okay’, a man poked his head from behind the corner, calling your name.

“Are you busy?”

Motherfucker, you cursed in your head. Why?!

“Back off, Robinavitch.” Collins rolled her eyes, yet you heard humor in her voice. “I got her first.”

He smiled the same smile you saw him wear every time he talked to you at the café. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you, ladies.”

“Ladies?” She stretched the word, glancing at you. “Is he serious?”

You swallowed thickly. “I think he is.”

Collins sighed, holding her hand out almost to comedically present him. “This is Dr. Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch, I assume you’ve already met him.”

“Yeah.” you said without missing a beat. “He was talking with Dr. Abbott outside before my shift started.”

She put her hands on her hips, looking at you closely before smiling. “You’re Jack’s kid.”

 Luckily, you managed to bite your tongue before you could correct her with ‘step’. Unfortunately, Robby had his own words to say.

“Did you just steal her away to figure out if she was related to anyone,” he teased. “or do you actually need her?”

You and Collins mirrored each other’s somewhat disgusted faces as you looked at him. She responded first.

“Yeah, I actually need her. Do you need anything, Robby?”

“No, Heather, I’m good.” He shook his head, backing away. He looked at you. “If she’s ever hazing you, just tell me.”

You were quicker this time. “Everyone’s been telling me you do the hazing.”

Not exactly true; you just felt the need to say something sassy. Ultimately, that’ll probably kill you.

Still, while Robby rose his brows in shock, Collins snickered, grabbing your arm and leading your farther away. “Come one.”

When you both were outside the door and away from Robby, she composed herself. “Okay, that was funny, but maybe just in the future…tone it back a little?”

You nodded. “For sure. It won’t happen again.”

“No and he’s good about it.” She explained. “I know he can be a bit much sometimes, but…he’s good at what he does.”

Oh…oh they definitely fucked. You figured it out. …Shit…

And all you did was nod, then went in to distract the human trafficker. She was a bitch for sure, but your thousands of dollars in student debt paid off. You kept her busy for ten minutes, and two police officers showed up: one taking her into custody, and the other to process the victim.

Not even a minute after it was over, Robby found you to talk with two worried moms whose daughter had an asthma attack. Then after that, the most eventful thing was feeling a wetness between your legs.

No…not the good kind.

Rushing into the bathroom and into a stall, you yanked your pants and underwear down. There wasn’t enough blood to cause a scene, but regardless, you still started your period.

“Shit!” You hissed, as well as said every curse in the book.

“Are you okay?” A woman asked from the stall beside you, her voice somewhat deeper.

“Do you have a pad, or a tampon?” You asked, sitting on the toilet.

“Hold on, I got a pad in my locker.” She flushed the toilet then went to wash her hands.

You sighed. “Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it.” You heard the front door open and close. Soon after, she came back in and handed it to you under the stall.

You sighed happily. “You have saved at least one life today. I’m buying you lunch.”

“You really don’t-.”

“-Shut up, I do.” You opened the pad. “I can’t today, but some other time. Who are you?”

“Melissa King.”

You gave her your name, and then she left.

It somehow got busier the further you were into your shift. You had to skip lunch when a grandmother brought her grandson in after he fell climbing a tree and started going blind as she drove him to the ER. It was pure luck she herself didn’t go into cardiac arrest.

It was about three when you finally managed to slow down. You took your lunch out of the fridge in the breakroom and ate what you could. The moment you sat down was the moment Whitaker came into the room, breathing heavily as if he’d run a marathon.

“You good?” You asked.

He nodded. “Uh huh, yeah uh…I just…”

You stood up. “Can I take your hand?”

“Huh?” You repeated yourself, and all he did was nod. You helped him sit down in one of the chairs before getting a Styrofoam cup off the counter and filling it with tap water. Once you set that on the table, you sat beside him and opened the chocolate bar you brought.

“Go on.”

“No,” he shook his head, taking a drink of water. “I can’t, it’s your lunch-.”

“-And I doubt you had anything today.” You held the chocolate out to him.

He smiled shyly before taking a piece off the bar. “Thanks.”

You took a piece and popped it into your mouth. “So, you’re from Missouri?”

“Nebraska.” He corrected, eating more of the chocolate.

“Why’d Santos call you Huckleberry? That doesn’t make sense.”

He snickered. “Just assuming that all of the Midwest is the same I guess.”

“I mean,” you hummed. “all I really know about Nebraska is Ethel Cain and Children of the Corn.”

“No, but the movie wasn’t even filmed there.” He pointed out.

“What?”

“They didn’t film Children of the Corn in Nebraska; they did in Iowa.”

You furrowed your brow. “But…it takes place…in Nebraska.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” He laughed.

“So, what I’m hearing is that it doesn’t actually exist?”

 “Yeah, you’re right.” He played along. “In fact…I was never actually here.”

He slowly sank out of his seat and onto the floor, out of sight from you. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your chest, trying to smother it. It shouldn’t have been that funny, but aside from the delivery being impeccable, the case with the grandma really struck you so that’s why everything was now hilarious.

What wasn’t though, was the door opening, and seeing Robby being the reason it did.

“Hey Whitaker,” he stared right at him. “Mr. Lee’s asking for you.”

Whitaker stood up off the ground like a soldier as soon as Robby had looked at him. “Yeah, sorry. Thanks.”

Even when Whitaker left after thanking you, Robby stayed put, crossing his arms. “You doing alright?”

You nodded. “Yeah; it’s actually not that crazy.”

“We’re having a good day. You get along with everyone?”

Standard questions yet sprinkled with a tenseness you could see he held within himself. You pursed your lips, still meaning to remain professional.

“Yeah, really nice.”

“Should I ask a night shift resident if you distract them too?”

Okay, out of left field, but still, you were going to keep a cool head-.

“If I distract them?” You tilted your head.

“Just a question.”

“Yeah, and my answer is that he was freaking out so I just gave him some water and something to eat so he wouldn’t crash in the middle of the ER!” You scoffed.

He held his hands together, pointing them at you. “And thank you, but we never know when we need all hands-on deck. So, in the future, if you could keep it short-.”

“-He was in here for like two minutes.”

“The exact same amount of time it could take for someone to die.”

You surprised yourself and took a deep breath before responding; even though you could feel your blood boil beneath your skin.

“He’s a grown man; at least my age, but maybe a few years older. I think he can take care of himself, take accountability, and not blame some girl for it.”

Was the statement slightly targeted? Who’s to say?

Still, his eyes changed. Where they were once hardened with a mix of annoyance and passive-aggressive glee, they softened at the realization. He dropped your gaze and sighed.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, that was out of line.”

Shrugging, you stuck your hands in your pockets. “Bad day?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

He looked at you, and for the first time that day, you saw Michael; the idiot who ran into you but didn’t spill his coffee on your body and then made a stupid joke he probably made at work. For a moment, it was as if neither of you had known what you found out at 7am that day. That you were both in the worst positions imaginable, job and personal wise.

Then, he was gone and was back to Dr. Robby. “Kiara said she was looking for you. I heard about a gunshot victim coming in; teenager, so his parents are gonna love that.”

You nodded. “I bet.”

With that, you went to find Kiara. Sure enough, there was a teenager who’d been shot, and two worried parents. Still, despite the mom talking down to you, you and Kiara managed to calm their nerves. Luckily, an hour later, the teenager woke up and could talk to his parents.

“Good job,” Kiara squeezed your shoulder. “I know that was rough.”

You nodded. “Yeah, it was.”

“Do you need to talk?”

You shook your head. “No, but thanks. Do you?”

One can only talk to so many people about injured or even dying loved ones. This was actually your first shift where no one had died. It should’ve been a great day just with that alone. Still, you had no idea what the rest of it had in store, and it was already five.

What was two more hours?

Kiara smiled. “I’m doing alright. I’m gonna go make my rounds, you should too.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” You teased, and she left with a small skip in her step.

Sighing, you leaned against the front desk, looking up at the monitor. Someone lightly kicked your heel, and you turned to see who it was.

“Good evening, Starshine.” Santos bumped your shoulder with hers.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I gotta start calling you something.”

“How about ‘Goddess’?”

“‘Satan’ suits you more.”

The two of you giggled, and just as you were about to ask her how the rest of her day was, she said.

“Rumor has it, you and my roommate were really hitting it off in the break room.”

Your immediate reaction was to laugh, yet your heart still stammered. “Yeah, he’s nice.”

“Uh huh,” she bit her lip. “how nice?”

Side-eyeing her, you answered politely. “Not like you.”

She snickered. “I can be nice.”

“Sure, Jan.”

“Who?”

“Brady Bunch?”

Santos shook her head. “Never took you to have an old soul, Starshine.”

You heard two women whisper to each other as they sat behind the desk. Santos made a face before responding in Tagalog. The two women only shook their heads, giggling to each other. Santos slipped her arm through yours, leading you away.

“Don’t pay attention to them.” She said lightly. “Princess and Perlah just like to think they know and see everything around here.”

“I guarantee you, they don’t.” It left your lips before it left your mind. You’d gotten too comfortable, and now it was going to bite you in the ass.

Santos’ face dropped into a shocked smile as you stopped outside one of the rooms. “What?!”

Your chest felt like it was being constricted by a snake as your skin turned cold. Swallowing, you attempted to cover it all up. “It’s nothing, I’m just saying-.”

“-What do you know?” She lowered her voice, pulling you off more to the side hopefully away from others. “Oh my god, what did you do?”

“Santos-.”

“-No,” She grinned like the devil. “who’d you do?”

It should’ve been easy to brush it off; to act like she was crazy to assume that you had a big secret just from a stupid statement. Yet, the longer you were silent, the deeper the pit you dug yourself into.

“I promise, I’ll keep quiet.” Santos held her pinky up. “Pinky swear.”

You finally found your words. “That doesn’t mean shit.”

“We’re not doing the pussy version.” She clarified. “If I say anything, you break my finger.”

“Girl-.”

The doors to the ER opened wide and in came two paramedics wheeling a woman on a gurney. She was sitting up and alert thankfully, and you could get a clearer view of her face, and the sound of her voice.

“Where the fuck is that bitch?!” Kimi yelled. “The one who hit us, where is she?!”

As the paramedics tried to quiet her, you saw another familiar face rush to Kimi’s side. He had the same greasy hair and overall feel about him that you knew would never leave. It was almost embarrassing how surprised you were that she got back with him.

Still, it wasn’t simply seeing Trent that was the worst part of your day.

…What was two more hours?

[archangeliswriting]

Debunking a Dinosaur Movie | S. Reid

Pairing: Sub!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: When your boyfriend decides to point out the scientific inaccuracies of a movie you like, you make him pay for it.

Content Warning: s2 glasses reid is a warning, edging, dry humping, handjob, unprotected pinv

Author's note: first official smut fic kinda nervous. ive never written a sub character before but pls accept my humble offering. all the info here is from google and i dont think the research he mentions aligns with the s2 timeline but who cares we’re here for sub spence anyway not accuracy

A thud hits the floor of your apartment as Spencer drops his bag by the couch. He falls back unceremoniously on the cushions and lets out a sigh and you can't help but chuckle lightly at the sight of him, limbs sprawled out and head leaned back, eyes shut as he savors the feeling of the softness of your couch again after spending hours on his office chair.

“Rough day?” You ask as you wipe your hands on a kitchen towel after finishing the last of your dishes.

Spencer hums, “Papers upon papers upon papers..”

“I thought you liked paperwork.” You snort as you make your way to him, he turns his head to watch as you do so. His nose scrunches and his glasses shift slightly, your heart almost bursts out of your chest at the adorable sight, “Not when it feels like I’m drowning in it.”

You gaze at the way he looks right now; relaxed, the position of his head has his neck bared to the open, you want to sink your teeth in them, his legs spread wide and oh, it makes you dizzy. You avert your eyes and find his own already staring into you, a small smile on his pink lips. You're not exactly subtle with ogling him, never have been.

Spencer extends a hand to you, you take it and he leads you to sit on his lap. He twines his fingers with yours as he brings them up to his lips, he places a soft kiss and asks, “And what did you do today?”

“Not much,” You murmur, “Bought some groceries, laundry, and, oh! Jurassic Park came on the TV so naturally, I sat through the whole thing.” Your head tilts with a shy smile.

The boy grins, “Naturally.” His hands move to hold your waist as amusement fills his face, “I don’t get your fascination with it, it's not even accurate!”

A scoff leaves your lips at his statement and your hands come up to his shoulders, “Okay, first of all, dinosaurs are cool, I’m sorry your big brain doesn't understand that, and second, who cares about accuracy? It’s a sick movie. They literally brought back dinosaurs!” Spencer can’t help his little laugh at your defensive tone.

“I care about accuracy.” His fingers lightly squeeze your side and there goes that nose scrunch again, you fight the urge to just lean in and bite it. “You can't just clone dinosaurs through preserved DNA because it degrades over time due to environmental factors, they eventually break down and it would be extremely difficult to extract it from fossils. Even if it was preserved in amber, like in the movie, complete ancient DNA would not survive millions of years.”

And just like that, his mouth is rambling and his hands are moving against your waist, as if he can't stop the gestures to accompany his words but at the same time does not want to let go of you.

“They actually did a research once using a technique that sequences everything within a sample so it can pick up small strands of DNA. They used samples that were around 10,600 years old and they tried that technique to extract DNA from insects trapped inside copal, which is resin that hasn't fully hardened into amber, and they couldn't find any viable DNA. If they couldn't extract from copal then it's unlikely they could do it with amber.”

You're not sure if you heard every single word that he said but you hummed in response. How could you focus when Spencer looks so delectable in front of you? The way he’s looking at you right now with those soft eyes of his behind glasses, brows a little furrowed as he awaits your response. As handsome as he looks when he’s spewing science facts like it's nothing, you're not exactly sure if you appreciate him ruining Jurassic Park.

As if a little devil on your shoulder whispered in your ear, an idea forms in your head. If he wants to debunk the movie then you’ll let him. “Mhm, what else, baby? Wanna hear all of it.” You murmur as you tuck a stray of hair behind his ear, you don't miss the way his cheeks slightly turn pink.

Spencer’s brows furrow further, surprised that you’d want to hear about the inaccuracies of your favorite movie, but because he likes to give you what you want, he obliges. “Even if the DNA somehow was preserved and they successfully extracted it, and cloned it, there's also the issue of the dinosaurs’ ability to live in our environment.”

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head, egging him on to continue. Just as he opens his mouth to do so, you move against his crotch ever so slightly, so slightly that Spencer isn't sure that it happened at all or if you had even meant to do it but still, his breath hitches and he blanks for a moment.

Spencer realizes that maybe he shouldn't have started this discussion at all because now all he wants is to feel you. He’s not sure if he can tell you all the science when his want is slowly clouding every corner of his mind.

Your finger comes up to tap his cheek and softly ask, “Hey, where'd you go, genius? You haven't answered my question, something bothering you?”

The way you say it with a little glimmer in your eyes makes him think there's something being plotted against him but he can't bring himself to further think about it because your thumb is now stroking his cheek in delicate little lines, all while your eyes never leave his.

He swallows and shakes his head, “No, uh,” What was he talking about again? Oh, right. “The Earth's environment then is different than now. It's possible that some dinosaurs wouldn't be able to survive in our environment. Tyrannosaurus rexes or T-rexes, for example, they—” Spencer cuts off with a gasp when you move your hips against him again, firmer this time and there's no mistaking it for an accident.

“They what, hm?”

“Evil woman.” He whispers, you laugh and Spencer thinks he's fucked. His cock is stirring in his pants and he's suffering by the second.

You can feel him getting harder and the way his struggle is so obvious on his face makes it all the more fun for you. “Keep going or you won't get what you want.” Your voice is honey sweet and to make yourself clear, you lean in close to his lips and give a delicious roll on his growing erection that has his eyes fluttering shut, a small sound emitting from his pretty lips, even it affected you. While you enjoy seeing Spencer worked up, you’re suffering just as much. It's taking a lot of willpower to refrain yourself from just kissing him breathless and riding him until he's crying.

You press your lips to the corner of his mouth, trailing kisses down to his jaw, his breath is hot against your cheek and you feel the heaving of his chest beneath your palms.

“Please,” Spencer whispers when you kiss down his neck.

“You know what to do if you want more, honey.” You nudge his nose and he looks at you with the prettiest doe eyes known to man because Spencer does know what he needs to do but it was worth a shot.

Ignoring the way you start running your hands up and down his chest, he does what you want, he’s a good boy after all.

“T-rexes lived in the Cretaceous period which would be about 145 to 66 million years ago and oh,” He almost whimpers when you start moving against him again, this time you don’t stop. You resume your kisses on his neck and Spencer is so hard it hurts, “The average global temperature at that time was about 4°C higher than today–” He moans when you suck on that sweet spot on his neck and his hips buck up without meaning to. “They’d have to adapt to lower temperatures.”

You squeeze his shoulder to try to stop your eyes from closing and focus on his moving lips but the friction feels so good against your covered core that you can't help your own sounds of pleasure. His fingers find their way under your shirt and grip the skin tightly, maybe it's a little cheating that he's trying to guide your movements so you're humping him harder but you don't say anything.

Heat is coiling in Spencer's stomach, he can't take much more of this, “I can't. Please, touch me.” His voice sounds broken and something about it is so sexy that it increases your arousal tenfold.

“I am touching you, baby.” You coo and dear God, the boy pouts. You want to ruin him.

“Kiss me, please,” Spencer mumbles, doe eyes boring into yours like he knows you love it when he looks at you like that, like a puppy asking for a treat.

You snake a hand to the back of his head and let your lips descend to his. He moans like his thirst has been quenched after being deprived of water for so long. The kiss is messy, it's filthy, and Spencer's head is spinning as he chases each movement of your lips. His pants are so tight, his cock straining underneath them, and when your tongue finds its way inside his mouth? He’s gone. His glasses are in the way but neither of you makes an effort to remove it. He looks hotter with them anyway. Your fingers pull his hair just hard enough that his head tilts back, the moan that leaves his mouth is downright sinful even when it's muffled by your own.

Spencer can't think, there is nothing in his mind except you, your tongue, and your hips rutting against him. He’s so close to coming and he can't believe he's about to cream in his pants, talk about being a loser. Oh, is he sorely mistaken.

As if you could tell he’s close, your hips still and you pull your face away from him. Spencer whines. God, he looks so wrecked, lips are swollen and red, his glasses are crooked and all fogged up. You want to have this image of him engraved in your mind.

“What? No, please, come back,” He almost cries, you have to take his hands to keep him from moving your body against him.

“But you look so pretty like this, Spence.” His cheeks flush a deep rouge and he squirms underneath you, “All fucked out for me and I haven't even touched your cock properly.”

“Fuck, please, please, please,” At this point, Spencer is not above begging on his knees for you to fuck him but then again, he’s never above being on his knees for you. “Please, I’ve been good, haven't I?”

You so desperately want to see if he would actually cry from being deprived of your touch but your cunt is aching and you’re sure you’ve soaked your panties, you're torturing yourself almost as much as you're torturing him, so you give in. You lift yourself up from his lap and make quick work of undoing his belt and pulling his pants, along with his boxers, down his legs. Spencer lets out a groan of relief when his cock is free from its confinement, it slaps against his stomach, flushed red and leaking.

“Look at that,” You hum, “So pretty, baby.”

You swipe a thumb over the tip, a broken moan emitting from Spencer. Spitting on your palm, you wrap your hand around his aching cock and begin stroking him.

“Oh, yes, ngh!–” Spencer wails, head throwing back against the couch and arching into your touch, “Thank you,”

“Always so polite, aren’t you? Such a good boy for me, honey.” You coo, voice all sweet and the praise sends him reeling, meanwhile his pathetic moans has you clenching around nothing.

All it takes is a few more strokes and your voice in his ear, and he’s close again.

“I’m, hngh, I'm so close, please.” He gasps and moans, his jaw slack, he's fucking up into your hand, brows furrowed hard. Your sly chuckle is his only warning before you remove your hand from him, denying him his orgasm once more. Spencer is now fully convinced you're a devil— a devil with an angel’s face, disguised in pretty smiles and sugary sweetness.

Fuck! Just fuck me, please! Spencer is so tempted to let those words just slip out and he wonders if you’d slap him for it, he bites his tongue and decides to not push his luck, although the thought of you slapping him is turning him on more than he'd like to admit. You laugh in his face, cruel and mocking the way he's pouting, and Goddamnit, Spencer is so in love with you.

“I know, baby, I’m so mean, aren't I?” You grab his chin, faux sympathy on your face. He can only whine in response. “Don’t worry, honey, you can have it now.”

With a quick peck on his lips, you lift yourself off his lap to take your shorts and underwear off, Spencer eagerly helping you. You settle on top of him once more, “You ready, baby?”

His head nods so comically fast, you take his cock and let his tip rub up against your clit a couple times, a little whimper leaving your lips at the stimulation after spending so much time focusing on Spencer's pleasure. You slowly sink down on him, a gasp emitting from the both of you, you take a second once he's fully inside because you feel so full it's a little overwhelming.

You want to drag this out a little longer but you've reached a point of pure hornyness that you physically can't bring yourself to take it slow. Poor Spencer almost shouts when you just start bouncing on him, you're so wet and it feels like he’s died and Heaven is in between your legs.

“God, you feel so good, baby, fuck,” You moan out. Spencer's hand has moved up your back, his fingers are gripping your shirt to death, his mouth is moving incessantly, mumbling and slurring out incoherently.

“Look at you going all dumb for me, so pussydrunk you can't even speak properly, huh?” You grab his flushed face, gripping his cheeks so his lips meet in a cute pout.

Spencer whines. “Use your words, pretty, I know that genius brain can do it, come on.” You struggle to get the words out, your body feels like it's on fire, your thighs are aching but you can't stop, not when he feels so delicious inside of you.

“Fuck, feels s’good– ngh, don't stop, please.” He manages to let out, he peels his eyes open and groans, you look so fucking beautiful as you ride him like there's no tomorrow, your mouth formed in a ‘o’ shape and your eyes fluttering shut as you make the prettiest sounds he's ever heard. It's the sight of you that does it for him. He gasps, “I’m so close, fuck,–”

“Not yet.” You grit out as you continue to grind down on him. Spencer feels like he's going to fucking explode. “I can’t, please, I can't!”

Your forehead leans on his, your mouths are so close to each other that he feels your hot breath on his skin, he wants you to kiss him again.

“Just a little more, baby, I promise.” You say as you move faster, desperately chasing your own pleasure. Tears well up in Spencer's eyes, he can't hold his orgasm off and he's certain he’s gonna combust on this couch if he doesn't come soon. The knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, your moans get higher in pitch and it drowns out Spencer’s pathetic cries, his cock is continuously hitting that sweet spot inside you until you feel like you're about to burst.

“I need to cum, please, can I?” He chokes out. You nod, “Mhm, fuck, cum for me, honey.” Spencer tenses all over, his back arching from the couch as he finally comes, his moans coming out in a whiny pitch. You feel the warmth of his release in you as you hit your own orgasm.

“Fuck, too much!– hngh,” He squirms and cries underneath you as you ride him through your orgasm. When you finally come to a stop, you're both heaving, silent as you come down your highs.

You wipe the single tear that has run down his cheek and place a sweet kiss on his lips. “I love you.” Spencer mumbles and you smile, “I love you too, Spence, even if you don't like Jurassic Park.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, “I won't ever try to get between you and dinosaurs again.”

“Probably a good idea.”

~•~

Do not steal or repost on other platforms without permission.

[seelestia]

✧ a healer's touch.

although more than capable of healing himself, mydeimos finds no harm in seeking out medical help for convenience — and when he does, it's almost always and only from you. { 1.2k words }

#STARRING. mydei & healer!reader (gn).

#GENRE. slice of life, fluff, established friendship with feelings.

#NOTES. set pre-3.1, mentions of a minor injury & treating it (pls forgive inaccuracies!), one brief instance of close proximity, mentions of phainon as a tool of banter which leads to jealous mydei, reader is a bit of a gremlin & a tease.

#THOUGHTS. my first try writing for amphoreus charas and it's mydei !!! :-) bcs the concept of him w/ a healer!reader is so hdhshfhs. this was also supposed to be shorter but i got carried away. pls enjoy reading this short drabble! 𖹭

✶ masterlist.

© seelestia on tumblr, mar 2025. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own. reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Befitting of the Kremnoan pride he bears, it comes off as no surprise that MYDEI’s gaze is closely accompanied by smoldering heat that can scald those who dare to catch a mere glimpse.

But as he stands before you now with a hand over his wounded flesh, whatever flame that persistently lingers ablaze within his sunset eyes seems to have faded into something else... something more akin to avoidance.

Avoiding your gaze, more specifically.

At this point, the entrance to your small clinic might as well be considered a close friend of Mydei’s thanks to the many times he has paid this place a visit. For as often as his feet have stepped here though, it still gets annoyingly difficult to take even a single step inside when you're looking at him like that.

“This is the third time this week,” you let out a deep sigh. You aren't a fool. Obviously, the smooth cut of his injury and the prior ruckus you heard outside point to one thing: another argument-turned match between him and Phainon over... anything, really.

The disappointment in your voice doesn't bother to conceal itself and its presence alone is enough to cause the mighty warrior to flinch slightly. He doesn't question why the thought of disappointing you stings almost as much as his wounds do.

The pen in your hand has been put down, scribbled footnotes about patients are set aside, and your mind forsakes your papers in favor of addressing the looming presence at your door. Looming in appearance but not so much in attitude with the way he still refuses to look you in the eye.

"...I know,” Mydei grumbles. No resistance and no hostility, only acknowledgement towards this particular lecture of yours that he has heard several times before.

“I might have to start using webs as gauzes in the future,” you shake your head. “You and Phainon are going to be the reason I'll run low on medical supplies one of these days.”

This time, he frowns—a fearsome sight, if it weren't for how familiar you are with it in less than fearsome settings—not at you but at the issue proposed by your statement. Mydei glances around to scan your workspace and although it lasts briefly, his conclusion seems firm as he finally looks you in the eyes.

“...I'll bring it up with Aglaea next time,” he crosses his arms against his chest. Carefully, of course. Even with immortality running through his veins and his gradual numbness to the prickly touch of pain, he still can't risk getting a sharp glare from you for being inconsiderate towards his “bodily misery”.

There are times you think that Mydei can be considerate in his own way, though. Just like right now. “Oh, I jest,” you can't help the way your eyes soften around the edges. “I still have leftover supplies from the last time you did that. I'd rather not trouble her again.”

“Well then,” you quickly usher him to the empty chair near your desk before any sort of protest can escape from his mouth. “Allow me to take a look?”

He clicks his tongue—either at your act of rushing him or refusing his offer or both of them—but doesn't protest. Taking a step forward is already enough to indicate his agreement. One, two, three, four. . . exactly four steps from the doorway to reach the empty chair, a rhythm that Mydei doesn't even realize he's gotten used to.

You don't waste time getting to work as soon as he takes a seat. Following your routine, your eyes meticulously examine the wound on his skin to assess its qualities. The silence doesn't have the opportunity to stretch long as you pipe up with a particularly, frequently asked question.

“So, who won this time?” you hum as your hands deftly grab a few items off your shelf, moving on to cleaning his wound.

“Ha, as if you even need to ask,” Mydei proclaims haughtily. It's never not amusing to witness his inherent boldness resurface... after getting nagged, that is.

“Let me guess. Phainon won?” you deduce, but it's less of a deduction and more of an attempt to get on Mydei's nerves. The offended look he gives you afterwards is the exact reward you wish for.

“Don't try to be funny—” he shoots you a scowl, then hisses when you dab a damp washcloth to the area around his wound.

“Worth a try,” you smile amusedly before offering him a small apology. There is a tinge of guilt in your conscience for not giving him a heads-up about it. Cries of pain are never a melody to a healer's ears, after all. You direct your focus back to cleaning his injury, your movements more gentle: “Thankfully, your wound this time isn't as deep as your usual ones. The bleeding is also lessening faster than normal which I assume to be your ability at work,” you observe out loud.

“...Just say it's a curse,” he sighs. “No need to sugarcoat it, healer.”

“Different interpretations,” you counter.

“Whatever,” he relents, an indifference that is betrayed by his flushing cheeks. Hm, is it the heat? You're very sure all the windows in your clinic are ajar, though.

“Let me take one more look,” you scooch a little closer to inspect his injury again. The sudden shift in proximity effectively throws Mydei's senses into overdrive. He can quite literally smell the fragrance that sticks to your clothes with you this close. It only lasts for a few moments, however, and it's when you pull away that he realizes he's been holding his breath.

“Hey, you look like you're burning up,” you frown as you give him his space back. “A wound accompanied by a fever could indicate—”

“I'm fine,” his response is hastier than he would've preferred. Not enough to preserve the pieces of dignity he feels he has lost just now, but he can pick them up just fine.

“Alright then, would you like a kiss after?”

(Now, he really has to pick those pieces back up with his own bare hands.)

“I— what?”

Mydei looks at you as if you've lost your mind, as if the black tide has materialized out of nowhere to help you accomplish that.

“After I wrap up your wound,” you explain, trying your utmost best not to keel over from laughter right then and there. You know what you're doing. “Children ask me for them all the time. Says it helps with their recovery.”

Mydei can't even choose which aspect of this absolute incredulity he should address first: the logic (or lack thereof) in the sentence itself or the sheer audacity you have to ask him that. Amidst his loss for a response he deems proper, the only thing he can manage to utter is this: “Never suggest something so preposterous ever again.”

You ignore the horror in his voice in favor of fueling the flames a little more. “Not even to Phainon?” you ask, just a tiny bit goading.

“Especially him,” he snarls, “unless you want me to hurl him at death's door myself.”

“Duly noted.”

Ironically, Mydeimos thinks you are going to be the death of him someday. If that's even possible.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

— THANK YOU FOR READING! another reminder: please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

[flowersdiceandlove]

Inspired by @sunderwight cosplaying Shen Yuan posts

No transmigration. cumplane.

People obviously take pictures of him when he goes to cons and posts them. They get a lot of attention. People are always in awe at the accuracy and amazing quality of his costumes. The people he commissioned them from get a lot of business afterwards. He pulls off the crossplay really well because of his pretty face and slim body. He just has to add padding in the right areas and learn makeup from his meimei and online tutorials. Sometimes people really can't tell he's a guy it's so good. Especially his Liu Mingyan cosplay that he does the most. She's his favorite of the wives after all and one of the few he thinks close to worthy of Binghe. He's done multiple different outfits for her. He never cosplays Luo Binghe, though. He doesn't think he could pull it off, Binghe is just that amazing. (But obviously he can pull Binghe's peerless beauty wives off.)

His PIDW cosplays make their way to the forums and people talk about them. It is a known fact in those forums that Peerless Cucumber will roast them to hell and back for their inaccuracy and shoddy craftsmanship. So, it is very strange that he never comments on these cosplays. Yes, they're amazing, but surely Peerless Cucumber could find at least one thing wrong with them. Eventually someone tags him in the comments or makes a post asking about them. He replies with something like "I'm the one who designed those. do you really think I would go out like that without them meeting my expectations?" but with more scathing remarks and saying he's not like the others who are fine with cosplay inadequacy.

That spurs many people to go look back through all of this cosplayer's previous cosplays, not just the ones from PIDW, and collectively think "oh wow, he's so pretty." It's a total shock through the entirety of the PIDW forums and fandom. They all thought Peerless Cucumber was some ugly dude behind a computer screen. They're a mix of feeling bad about themselves because when Peerless Cucumber tore them a new one in the forums they comforted themselves with thinking "You're just like us! Just some dude reading trashy novels! Nothing special! You're just mean cause you have nothing going for you!" and also the Peerless Cucumber fanclub growing because he is just that pretty and going feral over it.

His gender comes into question because a good number of people are convinced he's actually a girl. When he catches wind of that he responds with "Of course I'm a guy you idiots!! WTF!? Have you gone blind after reading all of Airplane's stupid writing!?" He's giving gender envy to a lot of people.

Some people are still unconvinced that the cosplayer is actually Peerless Cucumber because how can someone that pretty be Peerless Cucumber? They think he's just trolling everyone or something.

In the newest arcs of PIDW some very pretty ladies with cutting words and biting insults and criticisms are introduced. The ladies all have very high expectations of what their spouse should be like and have turned away every man seeking their hand in marriage. Of course when Luo Binghe enters the scene he meets all their expectations and requirements and sweeps them off their feet. A lot of readers who are keeping up on the Peerless Cucumber cosplay saga make the connection. Shen Yuan does not, and tears the new wives apart about how mean they were to Binghe at first, and then about how weak and pathetic they are, and then their clinginess, and so on. With every new day, Peerless Cucumber's criticisms are rectified as the arc continues, but he always finds something new wrong with the women. The other readers have varied reactions to this development. Some think that Peerless Cucumber should just shut it and let the Great God Airplane do his thing. Some of the people who Know about the cosplay saga and made the connection just want this time of Airplane making Peerless Cucumber into one of Binghe's wives to be over because this is a stallion novel. They don't want to read about Bingge seducing fem fantasy Peerless Cucumber. Just give them the normal women back. Other readers who Know are excited for the eventual sex scenes. Shen Yuan is just happy that his critiques are finally being taken into account, hoping that maybe at this rate Binghe will get an actually good wife and not just another useless beauty to throw into the harem garden.

Eventually Shen Yuan starts criticizing even the current to-be-wife's name, and so Airplane goes on and asks "Well what would you name her then if you've got so many ideas?" and generally just trying to bait him. It works, and Shen Yuan give a very beautiful name actually that fits her character and background. It is revealed in the next chapters that the name they've known her by so far isn't her real name and her actual name is the one Peerless Cucumber came up with.

The seemingly endless amount of chapters continues and the pretty but scathing wives get added to the harem and the story goes on. However, those wives get brought back out to go on adventures with Binghe and are otherwise reoccurring characters in the story. If one was paying close attention and looking for it, they would notice that the wife makes an appearance after Peerless Cucumber makes a particularly harsh comment or scathing criticism. People take to trying to bait Peerless Cucumber into doing it so they get more of those wives and especially the one he named which is becoming a fan favorite. Fanart gets made of her and people tease Peerless Cucumber about it. He critics all the fanart with his known ruthlessness about canon accuracy.

Some people have dropped it cause they don't want to see Peerless Cucumber get wifified any more, some people get even more invested because of that. A good number of people still don't think Peerless Cucumber is the cosplayer.

It comes to a head with an upcoming con in a few months. Airplane has a panel there. People are also asking if Peerless Cucumber will be going in cosplay. He says he's thinking about it and has some ideas on what character to go as, but is still deciding. Of course people instantly hone in on that and tell him he should go as the wife he practically made. He says no at first, but then Airplane comes on and says he'd really like to see him do that cosplay. Shen Yuan decides to take that opportunity. You see they have met, briefly, in the past at cons, but Airplane always finds a way to bail when Shen Yuan really starts laying into the critiques. Shen Yuan wasn't in cosplay those times and he had a face mask on so he wasn't recognized that way but no one could mistake Peerless Cucumber's reviews. Airplane also doesn't do cons very often, choosing to focus on writing the story instead.

And so, the following conversation occurs in the forum:

Peerless Cucumber: I will if you stop running away from me at cons.

RandomUsernameI'mTooLazyToComeUpWith: oh shit, oh great god airplane do it! do it!

RandomUsernameI'mTooLazyToComeUpWith2: yeah i gotta se this fuck itll be so hot

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky: you got a deal. you wear that cosplay and you can say whatever you want for however long you want. it'll even be in character.

RandomUsernameI'mTooLazyToComeUpWith: oh hell yeah!!! whooo!!!

Peerless Cucumber: You better mean that because I will bring printouts with notes and highlighted sections.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky: bring whatevr you want so long as you wear that cosplay.

With that, the PIDW fandom holds even more excitement for the upcoming con because not only with the Great God Airplane be there they'll also get a peerless beauty of a cosplayer in a sexy outfit. The wife in question's outfit isn't the most revealing of the wives because Peerless Cucumber always critiques the practicality of that, but it's still the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way so there is some skin showing.

The con rolls around and the PIDW fans are on the lookout for someone dressed as That Wife. For the first couple days, Shen Yuan makes rounds to booths, not in cosplay, getting merch and volumes as he goes because he has a lot of things to say to Airplane and wants to get the bulk of his shopping done first so they have time and he doesn't hold up the line of people to see Airplane.

On the last day of the con is when he dons his cosplay of That Wife and get his character-accurate bag with the printouts and evidence of Airplane's failing as an author in it. He still makes stops at other booths on his way to the official PIDW one. He gets stopped to take photos and gets compliments on his cosplay. Eventually the PIDW fans find him go even crazier about it. Some say things like "I can't believe it's really you!" and word gets around the PIDW fans that Peerless Cucumber is here and he is in That cosplay and he does look fucking hot. Shen Yuan stays in character of the icy beauty as he interacts with the fans which only fans the flames. Before he even makes it to Airplane's booth he gets swarmed with PIDW fans, some are mean to him and want to knock him off his high-horse, but they get a verbal smackdown from Shen Yuan (still in character) and shoved aside by his own fans who start calling out their online handles asking for Shen Yuan's honest thoughts about them. And he does so either tearing them apart with words, saying they honestly didn't leave enough of an impression for him to even know, and in very rare instances offer some praise.

Shen Yuan finally makes it to the PIDW booth Airplane is at later than he wanted, but he makes it there with an entourage wanting to see the showdown. There are also guys hanging around the booth who have been waiting for this. When Airplane finally sees Shen Yuan in his cosplay, he thinks "Fuck. He's even hotter in person." and is more than happy to listen to all of Shen Yuan's complaints and looking at the highlighted parts of his novel and citations showing how historically inaccurate that is and the discrepancies within his own body of fiction.

Shen Yuan is still going and isn't even close to being done when they announce that the venue is closing and asking for everyone to start making their way out. Shen Yuan glares up at the intercom, still wanting to continue his triad.

"Well, I did say you could keep going however long you wanted so long as you wear that cosplay. I didn't say it had to be at the con," Airplane says, and Shen Yuan looks at him with considering eyes.

"Hmm. That is true, and I still have a lot to go through..."

They end up going to a restaurant for dinner (Shen Yuan's treat), and Shen Yuan continues all through the meal. When he still has more to say when the restaurant says that it's closing, he gets the most expensive suite at the most high-end hotel in the area with his richboy money because that's the only room left with the con going on. Shen Yuan figures that after spending so much time with Airplane today (along with reading so much of his writing) he has a pretty good grasp on the guy and doubts he's gonna get murdered by him so gets the hotel room. Airplane is in awe at all the fancy shit and money that Shen Yuan spends like it's nothing.

They stay in the main living room of the suite where there are couches. Shen Yuan lays his printouts out on the table, and even pulls up webpages on the rooms tv. There are pjs among other items reserved for the high-end rooms. Airplane ends up changing into the pjs and marvels over them being silk. Shen Yuan ditched his shoes and some smaller parts of his cosplay, but keeps the bulk of it on due to the agreement. Despite the dinner, Airplane also snacks on the room's food while Shen Yuan continues his verbal assault.

At one point, though, Airplane interrupts Shen Yuan, clutching his arm, looking at him with tears in his eyes. "Bro... Cucumber-bro... You... You're like an actual angel, dude. I died and this is heaven."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Shen Yuan asks, annoyed at the interruption, he was just about to connect another point.

"The food. This room. The silk pjs. Bro. This is heaven."

"No it's not. And stop crying!"

"Bro..."

Shen Yuan ends up patting his back for awhile while Airplane cries on his shoulder. His hand migrates up to Airplane's head and pats his fluffy head of hair that is actually really soft (Airplane took a shower and made sure his hair looked good since he knows how scathing Shen Yuan is and hot he was gonna look in the cosplay).

They eventually start drinking a some of the alcohol in the suite's fridge, but don't get too drunk. Nothing really happens, but they do end up sleeping in the same bed and cuddling in it because they fell asleep while Shen Yuan was still criticizing him.

The next morning Shen Yuan finally can't take the cosplay and makeup anymore and takes a shower while Airplane sleeps in. Airplane wakes to the sight of Shen Yuan in a hotel bathrobe, finishing drying his hair with his glasses on(he'd been wearing contacts and only switched to his glasses late into the night), and the sunlight from the window shining on him.

"Oh, fuck," Airplane says, staring at him.

"What?" Shen Yuan asks, not sure why Airplane is staring. He's not doing anything weird! He's just drying his hair! There's nothing wrong with wanting a shower after being in that getup for so long! He's just a normal dude right now! What's with that blank stare!?

"It's not just the makeup..." Airplane mumbles and face-plants back onto the bed with a groan. Shen Yuan is left confused, but eventually throws a room service menu on the bed asking what he wants for breakfast.

Before his shower, Shen Yuan had called home and asked his family's butler to bring him a change of clothes because he doesn't want to put all of his cosplay back on. This is why, after breakfast, Airplane sees Shen Yuan dressed in another well-tailored outfit, this time much more modern and male, made up of pale greens and creams looking like he just walked off a fashion runway.

"Brooooo... How do people like you exist?"

They end up exchanging some contact info because even though Shen Yuan talked until they fell asleep, he still has more to say. Airplane does agree to listen and says Shen Yuan only has to be in cosplay for the really harsh stuff.

Clips fans had recorded of Shen Yuan's triad at Airplane at the con get circled around and the PIDW fandom is on fire with it. People are going crazy over it. Shen Yuan's Peerless Cucumber inbox gets flooded with people requesting different cosplays along with sexual jokes and comments. The next chapter of PIDW has a dedication at the top to Peerless Cucumber and thanks. The next arc in the story is about Luo Binghe getting stranded in a place where fighting is outlawed, without any money, strict societal structures, and needing to recover from a battle. The love interest who helps Luo Binghe in his time of need is the daughter of a very wealthy family who starts off as cool and astute that can give a verbal lashing better than anyone is slowly revealed to have a soft spot for Luo Binghe in his weakened state. She takes care of him and even takes to giving him gentle pats on his head. When Binghe ends up getting into a physical fight with one of the villains of the arc, she comes to his defense against the society's court vouching for his good character. They place him in her custody due to her family's good name and she sets him up in a lavish living space with anything he could possibly need. When they find out that the love interest has a younger sister only a few years younger and not just two older brothers, the fans think she's gonna get haremed as well, but, surprisingly, the little sister doesn't join the harem with her elder sister. Peerless Cucumber praises the decision to leave the little sister be, happy that Luo Binghe is finally showing discernment of who to let into the harem.

After a couple more arcs, Airplane posts a notice that says he'll be slowing the pace of updates as he starts planning out the arcs leading up to the end of the story and hopes his fans understand. While the updates do lessen in frequency, the word count of each chapter does not and the quality improves, plot holes being filled and storylines being flushed out.

Within a well-furnished and kept apartment in the city is where Airplane works on all of this having moved there on Shen Yuan's dime when Shen Yuan learned the reason for the atrocious writing was that he was trying to make money to live and had to pander to his readers. The fridge stocked and living space confirmed, Airplane is now able to actually write quality verse the quantity. He even has a brutally honest beta reader who seems to spend more time here than at his family's estate.

While Shen Yuan never says it, Airplane is pretty sure they're dating, even if they aren't that physical with each other other than Shen Yuan running a hand through his hair while he reads, leaning against each other, holding hands when their out "so they don't get separated in the crowd"(there is no crowd Cucumber-bro), a hug when meeting and leaving each other, and the occasional cuddle session when Airplane is having a Time of it or Shen Yuan is dealing with medical issues or Shen Yuan spends the night and they a share the bed. He feels this suspicion is confirmed when Shen Yuan introduces him to his parents and they ask Airplane to take care of their son. So Airplane takes to hugging Shen Yuan more and despite a little grumbling about clinginess, doesn’t stop him and will even pat his head or arm or shoulder or even hug back.

Once PIDW is completed after a harrowing four years, Airplane takes a break to plan out his next story then shocks everyone by writing a fantasy novel featuring two men as the main couple. The writing itself is so different from PIDW with well thought out storylines, character backstories, and complex characters and settings. It gets in the top five on the website it's posted on and Airplane even gets a contract with a publisher. Shen Yuan couldn't be prouder of him.

Shen Yuan still cosplays. He even commissions outfits to be made of Airplane's not yet published characters so Airplane can see how they look irl and Shen Yuan can prove a point that something is not realistic.

They also have a deal that if Shen Yuan is gonna give some especially scathing constructive criticism that Shen Yuan has to wear a cosplay of Airplane's choosing and stay in character for it. It's a good thing that characters that aren't afraid to give a good verbal beatdown are becoming a common occurrence in Airplane's novels.

[sincerelybubbles]

could you write something where the reader is listening to reid going off on his tangents and when he gets insecure, just straight up saying. "no, go on. i like the sound of your voice." ? ty! 🤍

Don't shut up // no warnings as far as i can tell? lmk if not <3 pure fluff!! ty for the request <333

"They usually called her the Limping Lady but there's really no way to tell how many pseudonyms she used," Spencer is saying, dragging his hand through your hair where you lay on his lap, His other hand is busy grasping at the air while he talks.

"Because of the prosthetic leg?" You ask, urging him to continue talking. You're nearly asleep, eyes heavy and chest loose with the comfort of his proximity.

"Yeah. She actually nicknamed it 'Cuthbert' when she got the wooden prosthetic. It's actually pretty interesting - people have been using prosthetics for a really long time. We don't know exactly when people started using them in modern medicine, but the first evidence we can find of them dates all the way back to ancient Egypt where they found a prosthetic toe."

The documentary Spencer put on over an hour ago about World War II has long since been paused, Netflix's blinking "Are you still watching?" hovering uselessly on his laptop screen. He paused it ages ago to discuss the inaccuracies about Hitler's past, then Italy's involvement in France and the parallels between the almost French famine and the Irish famine, leading him to Virginia Hall.

All in all, you're in heaven. He's been stroking your hair, blunt nails scratching every so often, voice rumbling through his chest and stomach where your ear presses against. He's talking calmly, even, if not slightly rushed, like he can't wait for even a breath to keep telling you about everything he knows.

"I just want you to know all of the things I know, too, you know?" He told you once when you urged him to slow down. He's learned to take his time with you, eventually, realizing that you're not waiting for your opportunity to jump in. You don't spend your time with Spencer figuring out when it'll be your turn to talk next; instead, you lull in the comfortable space of listening while knowing he'll return the favor the moment you have something to say.

"Sorry, are you trying to sleep? I can shut up and turn the movie back on," Spencer says suddenly, hand stilling in your hair.

You open your eyes slightly to find him looking down at you, lip caught between his teeth, a hesitant look in his eyes.

Spencer doesn't often get insecure like this around you - you've spent plenty of time convincing him that there's no need - but moments like this still happen. You suppose it's a natural product of constant teasing and bullying through childhood.

"I don't mean to ramble," he mutters when he catches your eye.

"No," you say, interrupting him and reaching up to brush your fingers across his cheekbone and up to his eyebrows. "No, Spence, I literally love the sound of your voice. Please, keep going."

You watch him melt, afraid for a moment that his liquid brown eyes will start to water. You make a concerned noise, about to sit up and comfort him further, when his hand moves to press down on your collarbones. He holds you in place as he looks at you for a second, heated gaze causing you to feel warm. Slowly, he bends to press a kiss on each of your eyelids, right below your eyebrows. He rests his lips on the bones there for a few moments before moving to the next.

"I love you," he murmurs, the truth of the statement oozing out too sincerely to ignore.

He doesn't give you a moment to breathe before diving right back into his explanation of how ancient prosthetics were integrated into modern medicine, hand resuming its path in your hair and voice slowly bringing you to a calm half-nap.

[kilojulietsierra]

Baby, It's Alright - Chapter Two

(Dr. Robby x Fem!Reader)

A little later than I promised but here it is!

Summary: Reader gets a sort of second date with Robby that sort of doesn't go the way she planned. It sort of goes better...

TW: all my content is considered 18+, age gap, car accident but everyone is fine, medical inaccuracies, DIY medicine = kids don't try this at home, sort of slow burn sorry, quiet flirting, male friendship, includes Dr Jack Abbot x nurse wife!OFC, Jack and Sam are INVESTED, Reader is nervous and twitterpated, Robby is falling and he's working through that ok!

This is a part of my "Save Me From Myself" series, if you feel so inclined you can check that out! Love you all for the love!

Read Chapter One here if you missed it!

~~~~~

Sam had invited you out for coffee after your shift and once you had found a table she asked the question you had been expecting for a week. "So, how are you feeling about your sexy, older, ER doc crush now?"

"Do you have to say it that way?" You supposed you should be grateful she'd let you go this long without bringing it up. It had given you time to think.

"Yes," She smiled, "I'm honestly having fun torturing you both. Stop avoiding the question."

You thought for a minute while you picked at your muffin, "Is it weird?" You were aware it was a vague yet somehow loaded question.

Sam still smiled, a little softer, as she reached up to let her bun down, "I don't think I can answer that for you." She paused to take a sip of her coffee and then continued. "What I can tell you is that when I first got to spend some time with Jack, we didn't know anything about each other, but, we sat and ate together and I knew that I could sit at a shitty picnic table and eat shitty pizza with him anywhere in the world and be perfectly happy."

You thought about what she had said, thought about dinner and the chat you had with Robby after.

Across rhe table from you Sam chuckled, "You realize you don't even have to say it right? It's written all over your face."

~~~~~

Robby blinked, snapped out of his thoughts, as his earbuds read out, "Incoming call from: Sam Abbot"

"Good morning Mrs. Abbot."

"Good morning Dr. Robinavitch. You on your way to work?"

"Mhmm, you've got three blocks."

She got right to the point, "If I told you Y/N was interested in seeing you again, what would you say?"

Robby scoffed, "I'd ask what you're bribing her with."

"Robby I swear to God, do you like her or not?"

"I don't know that it's that easy Sam."

"Because you're making it complicated."

"It is what I do best."

"You should have seen her face this morning when I brought you up." When that doesn't get a response out of him she continues, "I knew it! You big chicken, just admit you would like to see her again."

"I don't know Sam."

Something in his tone sobers Sam up a little bit, "Ok, I'm not bullying you,"

"You sure?" He interrupted, only half teasing.

"Shut up. Look, she liked meeting you at the house the other night and I think she really likes you. So, I won't beat you up about it, but will you at least promise me you'll think about it? You might be pleasantly surprised."

Robby was quiet for most of the next block, "Ok, I will think about it. I am thinking about it."

Sam's smile was evident in her voice, "Ok, good. I'm glad. Have a good day at work, okay."

Robby couldn't help but smile with her, "I will, I'll make sure Jack leaves on time."

~~~~

As soon as Robby got inside the the ED Dana met him at the counter, "So, haven't seen you, how'd dinner go with the VA cutie go?"

Robby glared at Jack as he gathered up his stuff. Jack just glared right back.

"Oh please," Dana scoffed, "Don't look at him, he's like trying to get gossip out of a KGB agent."

Robby throws another glance at Jack who just shrugs and slaps him on the back on his way out. When he turns back to Dana he sighs, "Ok, what did Sam tell you?"

"Nothing much, just talked to her quick the other day and she said they had you two over for dinner and that Y/N had a good time."

Suddenly, he was already exhausted and he had only just got to work, "Is there anyway for me avoid this conversation?" The look she gives him says it all. "Dinner was... fine, actually no dinner was good. She is everything Sam said she was and more."

Dana softened, "But?"

He sighs and scratches at his beard as he leans his elbows on the counter, "She's so young."

With an arched brow, "Robby, she's a grown woman, and from what I hear she's a grown woman that likes what she sees."

~~~~~

Robby heard the access door open, but he didn't turn. DIdn't need to.

"At least you're on this side of the rail this time."

Robby scoffed, "Look who's talking."

Jack nodded, "Came to tell you to go home." He stepped up to the rail and leaned his forearms over the top. "What're you doin' up here anyway?"

His colleague didn't answer right away, but Jack waited him out. "Needed some quiet, time to think about some things."

"Would one of those things happen to be a pretty, little nurse over at the VA?"

"That's your shtick brother." Robby gave him a side eye.

Jack shook his head with a chuckle, "Well that wasn't a no." He turned his head and gave Robby a look, "C'mon, tell me what's up. You got," He turned his wrist over, "Five minute before my shift starts."

"You a counselor now?" Robby scoffed.

"Four minutes, 50 seconds."

"Fuck me, you really want to talk about this?"

"Not especially, but we're gonna." He stood up and turned around to lean back against the rail, "And I really only have it in me to say this once, so listen."

Robby grumbled, but did not interrupt.

"I know the age thing is messing with you, but I think you're makin' a bigger deal out of it than it needs to be. You know, Sam fell for a... a 29 year old soldier with a six pack and God complex. Now, she's married to a 46 year old doctor with fucking grey hair, frown lines, PTSD and a shitty schedule. She still loves me, and yeah shut up, God knows why sometimes. But look brother, she's the only thing that keeps me above ground on the really bad days."

After a deep breath Robby shook his head, "Still different. She wouldn't be getting any of the good years, and Jesus I feel old just thinking about it." He laughed at himself.

Jack laughed a little, at Robby as much as at himself, "I mean, you're older than me." He takes the jab because he can't help himself, "But, for what it's worth, sometimes yeah, you're goin' to feel old as fuck, but most the time the age difference thing isn't even a factor." He paused and turned back around, hands gripped the railing as he leaned into it. "Then there's sometimes man where she's goin' make you feel twenty years old again, ten feet tall and fucking bulletproof." He chuckled, "Plus, look at it this way, now you got twenty, thirty years experience to put behind it."

"Oh fuck off." Jack laughed again, "C'mon, times up, otherwise I'm goin' to bill you." He pushed back from the railing.

"Sam, she's your once in a lifetime man." Robby's voice sounded tight. "Doesn't happen every day."

Stopped two steps away Jack turned back, hands in his pockets, and nodded, "You ever think Y/N might be yours?"

~~~~~~

When Sam had texted you last week that Robby was interested in seeing you again your initial reaction had been panic. Dinner at Jack and Sam's had been fun, easy even. Then you stopped and thought about going on a real, actual date, just you and Robby.

For whatever reason, the thought scared you, like maybe you weren't quite ready for that just yet. You wanted to see him again, you knew that for sure, but you couldn't help but feel like that first night had been less of a date and more of a dinner with friends.

Sam had teased you, a little, "Not that we mind, but you are going to have to take the training wheels off at some point."

She had agreed though and that was how you found yourself in Sam's SUV on your way to lunch. Jack driving and Robby up front with him, Sam next to you currently leaned over the center console typing in the restaraunt address into the GPS screen.

"Would you please, sit your ass back down?" Jack chided his wife with a smile. "I know where we're going."

You stifled a laugh as Sam caught your gaze and rolled her eyes as she settled back into her seat and buckled her seat belt. "So bossy."

From where you sat you could see the look they gave each other in the rearview mirror. You also saw the moment, halfway through an intersection, when Jacks eyes jumped the left.

"Mother fuck..." He didn't even get out the rest of the word before the car that had blown through the stoplight slammed into the SUV.

Tires squealed and you could hear the creak and crunch of metal on metal over the ringing in your ears as the airbags deployed.

~~~~~

"Sam, baby you okay?"

"Yeah! I'm fine."

"Y/N, you okay?"

Everything was fuzzy, your ears still rang and this time it was Robby calling back to you, "Y/N, hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm, I'm okay."

As your vision cleared you heard a repeated pop and hiss, pop and hiss. Jack had pulled out his knife and was popping the airbags on the driver side of the SUV. You flinched when your door opened, but a warm hand grabbed your wrist and squeezed.

"Hey," Robby spoke calmly, "Cover your eyes for me." Another pop and hiss and the side curtain airbag between you and him deflated. "There we go. Hey, look at me. Anything hurt?" When you didn't answer right away he ducked his head to catch your eye, "Does anything hurt?" His eyes scanned you head to toe and he gave you a little nod when you told him nothing hurt. "Ok, good watch my finger for me. Perfect." His hands moved to take each of yours, "Squeeze for me. Good. Move your feet?" He gave a smile and a nod, "Ok, you're ok, c'mon. I got you."

"Robby!" Jacks voice carried from the other side of the SUV, "I got three over here. Driver's unresponsive!"

Robby helped you out and away from the Tahoe where it had come to rest in corner of the intersection.

"Sam, grab a kit!"

You watched Robby disappear around the SUV and you could hear Sam behind you. When you turn she had a phone pressed to her ear as she opened the back hatch.

"Intersection of South Highland and Liberty. MVC in the southound lane, three vehicles involved." She drug a backpack out of the back, "We are going to need EMS, yes ma'am. Yes ma'am. Expect multiple injuries. My name is Samantha Abbot. Yes ma'am."

Head still fuzzy you watched as she jogged towards the car that had hit you, the whole front end completely mangled. After a second your instinct kicked in and you followed after her.

Jack didn't even look over his shoulder as Sam came up behind him, "Driver is unresponsive to pain, pupils are pinned. Grab me the narcan."

You took Sam's lead and went to Robby to see what you could do to help. He looked up at you briefly, "Check her in the back. If shes's ok get her over to the sidewalk. Then come back, grab me one of the kits out of the Tahoe on your way. Should be a backpack, probably camo or black."

Grateful for the direction you did as he said and came back with a black backpack moments later. "Got it."

"Ok perfect." He glanced at the bag, "That big front pocket should be some 4x4 gauze, grab me that and then can you hold C-spine for me?"

You crawled in the backseat and supported the passengers head and neck from behind.

"Jack, you got a collar?" Robby called out across the car. "Looks like the passenger went head versus windshield."

Sam came jogging back, "Other car is fine, minor lacs and bag burn, a little spooked. I can hear EMS. What you need?"

"Grab the collar out of the pelican case, give it to Robby." Jack caught the driver by the shoulders as he sat bolt up right with a gasp. "Welcome back. What did you take?" When he got no answer he made a fist and rubbed it over his sternum, "Focus buddy. You were in a car accident, do you remember what happened? Can you tell me what you took?"

The cops get there first and apparently one of them recognized Jack and Robby, "Don't you guys ever take a day off?"

Robby scoffed, "This was supposed to be my day off."

"Just can't help it." Jack laughed as EMTs arrived and made their way over, "Overdose here, came around with three of narcan, this is the driver. Robby has the worst, looks like he's banged up pretty good, no seat belt. Backseat passenger, and passengers in the third car they're all minor lacs, contusions, abrasians."

"What about the Tahoe?" Jack grimmaced, "That's us, we're all good, just clipped the front quarter panel when they ran the light."

A cop looked around, "RP?"

Jack pointed to Sam, "My wife, Samantha, called it in on my phone."

"Looks like you need checked out too man." The cop pointed at a gash on Jacks arm from the broken glass, but he just waved it off.

Another set of EMTs ushered you out of the backseat so they could get to the passenger. One of them taking over holding traction and you moved to the side. Out of the way. You couldn't help but think, through the pounding headache, that this was not how this afternoon was supposed to go.

~~~~~

After you had talked to one of the cops, told them the little bit you could, you headed back towards the Tahoe to grab your purse. The cops said the vehicles would all be towed.

When you get back to the SUV you find Sam and Jack at the back, the hatch open and Jack sitting in the back. His left foot is braced on the bumper, his arm rested over his knee while his wife sutured the small gash on his forearm.

"Good, make sure to finish it with a..."

Sam froze and her eyes snapped up to Jacks with a scowl.

"Habit, sorry, just habit." He gave her a smile and his right thumb stroked over her hip where he had his right hand resting while she worked on him.

When an EMT comes back with Robby he took one look at the couple and groaned, "Dude, seriously?"

Jack glanced up at the kid in uniform, "Go get the form."

"SIr, that needs seen by a doctor."

You caught Robby's chuckle from where he sood just behind you.

"I am a doctor," Jack kept his tone flat, "I've seen it. She'll do a better job than wherever you would take me anyway. Go get the form."

Brow furrowed you turn to Robby, "He's really not going to go to the hospital?"

He gave you a little grin, "Have you ever seen and ER doctor actually go to the hospital?" He laughs, "If he can't do it himself, she does it. Nothing new."

Not that you doubt your boss, she's a bad ass nurse, but, "She's not a doctor, what if it was something serious that she's never done before?"

"He talks her through it." He gives you a wink that makes you forget about the accident for a second. "I'm still not convicned she hasn't removed his appendix just to see if she could." He lightened the mood a little bit and then his eyes softened as they settled on your face. "How's your head feel now?"

Robby reached up and brushed a thumb around the edge of the abrasion on your forehead. The burn from the side curtain airbags. Your eyes closed of their own accord at his gentle touch, "Hurts."

His thumb moved low to trace under the apple of your cheek where the skin was also raw and tender, "Adrenaline is starting to wear off."

Jack spoke up, his eyes trained on the knot his wife tied in his suture. "Take her home. We'll have to wait for the wrecker."

Robby gave you a nod and a soft smile, "Let's grab your stuff."

~~~~~

Later, while they're watching the wrecker drag her Tahoe with it's mangled front end onto the flatbed, Jack wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulders and gave her a squeeze, "Sorry about your car baby." He dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

Sam sighed deep, and rested her head on his shoulder, "Just glad it wasn't worse." She turned to look him up and down, "Sure you're ok?" Focusing on the tiny laceration on his temple she'd glued, the dressing on his forearm and the way his bad shoulder dipped just a little lower than the other.

"I'm fine." He looked her in the eye and gave her a nod, "Glad it was me not you."

She rolled her eyes, "Don't do that." Sam smiled carefully, and then chuckled a bit. "Here," She held up the dog tags she'd pulled off the rearview mirror, "Want these? Old times sake?"

Jack cracked a smile and took his old dog tags from her, a reminder from a lifetime ago. "I've got a set already." He gave her a wink as he bounced the tags and chain in his palm a couple times, thinking fondly about the old set of hers always hanging in his truck. "Here." He smiled wider as he slipped the chain around her neck, moved her hair out of the way and then tugged on the collar of her shirt so he could drop the tags inside.

Sam's eyes never left his and she smirked, "You think you're cute don't you?"

He pursed his lips with a shrug, "Married me didn't you?"

She let him kiss her on the forehead as she hummed skeptically.

"C'mon," He whispered against her brow and gave her one more kiss, "We'll go get somethin' to eat, guess we'll Uber to the house then we can take the truck to go pick up all our shit."

She ducked out from under his arm and gave him a look, "I'm sorry, we can go get something to eat?"

"Yeah," He gave her a blank look, playing at not understanding why she questioned it, "I'm fucking starving."

"You're hungry? You sent Robby and Y/N home." When he continued to stare she elaborated, "To presumably take it easy, because they were just in a car accident, but we're going to just go to lunch?"

Jack shrugged, "Eh, let Robby take her home, play a little doctor. Do 'em both some good."

Sam's eyes went wide, "Oh my God! You give me shit, but you do want them to get together!" She gave him a calculated shove and shook her head at him.

He kept up the straight face and tugged her back to him, "Not what I said."

~~~~~~

Robby was in your apartment.

You weren't sure what possessed you, where you had found the guts to invite him inside, but the way he had been looking at you made you think that maybe he had wanted you to.

As soon as he was across the threshold of your tiny apartment he pointed to your loveseat, "Go sit down." You did as he said and watched as he washed his hands in your sink and then ran a handful of paper towels under cold water. "Okay if I clean this up a little bit?" He asked as he gently pressed the damp towels to your brow and cheek.

Even though the towels were cool you felt your whole body flush when he touched you. Just barely touches you, as he guides your hand up to hold them in place. "Robby, you don't have to, really."

"Michael, and that's not what I asked." He gave you an easy little grin, trying to pry the cooperation out of you. When you finally give him the nod he had been waiting for that smile gets a fraction bigger. "It's not too bad. Where's your first aid kit? I'll clean it up and put a little dressing on to help it heal faster."

Next thing you knew Michael was sitting on the ottoman in front of you cleaning up and dressing the area where the airbags had irritated your skin. You didn't know what kind of doctor he was on shift, but the way he carefully held you steady with one hand and treated the burns with the other, his touch confident yet gentle, those deep brown eyes focused on the task, you could certainly imagine.

Occasionally though those eyes would flick to yours, and the way he sat with his legs bracketing yours you were close enough to see there was something hiding in those eyes. Just as much as there was something hiding in his careful touch.

You didn't mean to whisper when you spoke up, but you couldn't risk disturbing the moment. "Sorry this afternoon didn't quite turn out the way I had hoped."

He gave you a little smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, "You weren't the one that ODed and ran the red light."

"I know," You watched his hands as he packed up your first aid kit. "But still, I was looking forward to it."

The way he looked at you looked like that might have surprised him. That you had been looking forward to seeing him. The look passed quickly, like he had hidden it away, and then he looked at his watch. "Could still do a late lunch. If you feel up to it."

~~~~~~

Michael had offered to take you out to eat, to make up for the date that you had missed out on, but you had panicked. You didn't like the idea of him leaving your apartment now that you'd seen him move through it. As silly as it sounded, you worried that you wouldn't get him back again if you let him leave now. "Would you be okay if we order something and just ate here?"

For a brief moment he hesitated and appeared to have an array of emotions spin through him before he settled on a nod, "What sounds good?" He had already pulled up the DoorDash app on his phone.

You agree on something and he orders it. The restaraunt is close by so it shouldn't be long. You glance around your tiny, effeciency apartment. Coursework is scattered all over you kitchen table and you suddenly realize your mistake.

Behind you Robby must see you hesitate, "If I had to guess I'd say that table doesn't get used to eat much?"

"Basically never." You admit, embarrassed.

His gaze shifts over the menagarie of books and pens, markers, reports and studies littered with multi-colored sticky notes. He smiles, "Going for your Masters right?"

"Yeah. A decision I regret almost daily." You laughed at your own self-inflicted torture and than catch the look he gives you. A clear invitation to explain yourself. "I was never good at the whole school thing. I'm smart don't get me wrong, but the classes, the lectures, homework, I've always hated it."

"So, why are you doing it?"

"I want to teach, and no the irony is not lost on me."

"Really?"

"That hard to believe?"

"No." He shakes his head, not backpedaling or second guessing his answer just a simple no. "Wouldn't think someone so young would be going that route is all."

This was not a new sentiment. "I love being a nurse, always have, and it's always been what I wanted to do."

"But..." He tilted his head to one side and waited patiently.

You chewed on your lip and thought for a moment, "Take today for example. Sam is an amazing nurse and I've learned so much from her already, but I always get the feeling that she craves the chaos of it. That's why shes where she is. You can watch her work and she thrives in situations like that. Running an ER is exactly where she belongs. Me, I can do the work and yes I do love it, but I've never had that level of desire for it. I don't need it like she does. I've always been more drawn to... cultivating the love for this in others." You pause not meaning to ramble, "I fumbled a little today, until I saw you and Jack and her dive in headfirst and, like right now, I just think that I'm meant more to help others build that foundation, that confidence and competency to go out there and find where they belong in all this. I might not ever be the nurse that can take charge and own the floor when everything is falling apart, but I love the idea that I could help send hundreds or maybe even thousands of nurses into the system that could."

Robby, Michael, just stares at you for a long time.

Your heart suddenly pounds in your ears, "Sorry, I kind of just word vomited all over you." You laugh to try and dispel the awkwardness.

He just shakes his head, "Don't apologize. I think that's incredible." The look he gives you feels like it could stop your heart. Or maybe shock it back into rythym.

A knock at the door ends it there, for now.

"Foods here."

~~~~~

He moves to answer your door like he's done it a dozen times before. Maybe it's just because you haven't moved a muscle from where you were standing when you heard the word 'incredible'. "So, If you don't eat at the table?" He waits patiently for you to answer.

You fidget a little before youdo "This is so embarrassing, but honestly, I usually just eat over the sink, or sometimes i'll sit on the floor and use the ottoman for a table."

The thought hits him without warning, 'I'm too old for this', but then he takes that extra beat to really think about it. He thought about what Jack had said, that sometimes she might make him feel old as fuck, but sometimes...

So, he takes the takeout into your tiny living room and set's it on the oversized footstool.

You give him a little look as he settles down on the floor next to you and leans back against the front of the loveseat. "Do you want me to grab the Icy Hot now or wait until you try to get up?"

Robby laughs, he couldn't help himself, because yes he feels old as fuck, but he likes that you can poke at him, push him, say things that make his cheeks heat up. A part of him can't help but think about what he would do if this was real, if this wasn't just an attempt to salvage a sort of first date that went off the rails. If you were his.

Because if you were his and you'd teased him like that he would want to forget about the takeout and make sure you were both a little sore when you got up off the floor.

~~~~~

After you eat you have to force yourself to tell him you have school work, because you would sit on the floor with him the rest of the night if you could. What Sam had said about shitty pizza and picnic tables flashed through your mind and you smiled.

At the door you ask, "Would you be willing to try lunch again sometime, or dinner? With real furniture."

Michael gives you that crinkly eyed smile and shoves his hands in his pockets, "I'm not opposed to the floor, but I might make you pay for the chiropractor next time."

Your heart was a jackhammer in your chest when he reached up to ghost a finger over the dressing he'd put over the abrasions on your cheek and face.

"Do something for me?" He words are soft, not teasing anymore.

Anything. You have to choke the word down with a nod.

His touch lingers, "Come by tomorrow, so I can see you. Take a look at this." He traced the edge of a bandage, "My shift starts at seven."

~~~~~~

You had never been so nervous to walk into a hospital before in your life as you were when you entered the PTMC Emergency department like Michael had requested. You join the line to wait, but one of the registrars makes eye contact with you and waves you up.

You apologize to everyone that you passed in the line and gave her your name at the window, "I'm supposed to see Dr. Robinavitch." She smiled, "Yes, yes, he told me to keep an eye out for you. All the way to your right, I'll buzz you in."

You nearly run into Jack as you step through the fire doors into the ED. You flinch a little, startled, but you don't think Jack Abbot has been startled by anything in his life.

He does look a little curious though. "Hey, long time no see." He had a long sleeve shirt on under his scrub top, you assumed to cover the bandage and the cut on his arm. The small cut at his temple has a bruise around it now. "What're you doing here? Everything okay?" He ducked his head to look at you, clearly concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine, fine. Just following doctors orders." You pointed to where Michael stood by the main nurses station.

Jacks eyebrows jump as he nods and adjusts his backpack, then he meets Robby's gaze across the way. They exchange a look you can't read and then Jack turned back to you. "Ok then. Take it easy ok? I'll see you around."

You don't see the smirk on his face as he continued to the door, but Robby does.

You also don't see him immediately pull his phone out of his pocket as he pushes through the door with his shoulder, but Robby does.

"Good morning." You try for bright and cheery and not sick to your stomach with nerves.

Michael smiles, skips over the pleasantries, "How are you feeling?" He reached for your temple while his eyes asked if it was ok.

You nodded, "Little headache this morning, nothing bad. How about you?"

"Oh, I'm just fine." He carefully pulls back the tape holding the dressing down and does a quick exam. "This looks ok. Want me to dress it again?"

Selfishly you nodded, "If you don't mind. Since you made me drive all the way down here."

He gave you a look as he guided you back behind the nurses station and into one of the chairs. "Wait right here, I'll be back."

Just as soft and competent as before he cleaned and treated the burns from the airbag, this time only putting a dressing over the one on your forehead.

He had just finished up when a nurse in grey scrubs came around the corner, "We run out of rooms and hallways already?"

Michael chuckled, "Just a quick check up. Dana this is Y/N, Y/N this is Dana."

Dana's smile doubles as she looks from you to him and then back. "Oh my God, yes! It's so good to meet you." She pulled you into a hug you were not expecting, "Sammy's told me all about you."

You try not to flush, but you can see Michael's cheeks go just a little pink so you know at least you're not alone.

~~~~~

You were barely out the door when Robby's phone goes off and he gets a text from Sam.

'Doctors orders huh? Winky face, winky face. What's you next weekend off? I'll see if I can get you two a Saturday night for your next follow up.'

Robby drops his head and groans as he spins his phone around and around in his fingers.

Dana pops up next to him again, "What's that face for?"

He looks her in the eye, "One of these days, I'm going to push Jack off the roof."

~~~~~

By the time you left Robby's department you were all fixed up again, had his number in your phone and felt like your head was about to spin right off. When your phone vibrated, still in your hand, you nearly dropped it.

A text from Michael Robinavitch, 'If you're free Saturday after next, how would you feel about dinner? Real restaraunt, real furniture."

Your heart raced as you checked your email, silently praying Sam had sent out the schedule for next month, and there it was, a free Saturday night. Nearly shaking you texted him back, 'What if I liked sitting on the floor with you?' You bit your lip and waited.

"Compromise for the couch after dinner?'

~~~~

Chapter Three

[luvrrszn]

dog tags and love letters

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY x FEM!READER

summary how he meets the sweet girl he now calls home

warnings fluff heh...inaccuracies

a/n self-indulgent and probably inaccurate. i got a new laptop heh. it's sky blue. it's beautiful. heh.

masterlist

ghost is the kind of guy who doesn't dwell on the past or plan too far in the future. because both are uncertain, and both can be gone in an instant. he moves through life with a soldier's mindset—one step at a time, one day at a time, one mission at a time.

survival isn't about looking too far ahead, it's about making it through the next op, the next fight, the next breath.

he’s disciplined, calculated, but there’s an underlying detachment to it all. he knows better than to get too comfortable, to expect stability. attachments make things complicated. plans make things dangerous. so he takes things as they come, keeps moving forward, and doesn’t stop to think about what’s next until it’s right in front of him.

but everything as he knows it changes when he meets you.

—

you're like a breath of fresh air.

the first time ghost sees you is from across the bar at a pub. you're nursing a bottle of beer, deep in thought, and you don't even notice the giant staring at you through his skull balaclava.

johnny gets to you first, striking up a conversation with ease while ghost watches from afar. through his heavy scottish accent, he points out everyone in the bar. price, gaz, johnny, ghost?

johnny drags you over to ghost as you giggle, "what kind of name is that? ghost?"

the withering glare ghost sends in your direction is enough to send others skittering away. but you don't back down. you glare back at him, remarking to johnny, "careful, johnny. people are going to think your scary guard dog bites."

johnny barks out a laugh, clapping ghost on the shoulder like he’s just been let in on the best joke of the night. "oh, i like her."

ghost, on the other hand, does not react. he simply shifts his weight, regarding you with an unreadable expression. his eyes flicker over you—assessing, calculating, deciding if you're worth his time.

"depends," he finally rumbles, voice low and gravelly. "y'planning on sticking y'hand in my mouth?"

johnny wheezes, smacking the table, while you tilt your head, amused. "so you do bite?"

ghost doesn't answer, but something about the way his gaze lingers tells you he’s not used to people who don’t flinch away from him. who don’t try to appease him or impress him.

you take a sip of your beer, unfazed. "good to know."

johnny grins, watching the silent exchange like he's just won a bet. "bloody hell, i think you've just become his new favourite."

you roll your eyes. "i'm honoured."

ghost shakes his head slightly, but you don’t miss the way his shoulders loosen just a fraction. and when you get up to grab another beer, you swear you feel his eyes on you the entire way to the bar.

—

it happens slowly. subtly. almost without either of you realizing.

he starts asking you to call him simon instead. "t'you, 'm always simon, darling. never ghost."

at first, it's just coincidence. running into each other at the pub when 141 is back from a mission. simon doesn’t talk much, but he listens. he watches. you learn that under all that intimidation, there’s a man who notices the smallest details—how you like your drinks, when you get quiet because you're thinking too hard, the way your fingers drum against the bar when you're restless.

then, it’s convenience. he starts walking you home when the night runs late, always a few steps behind, silent but steady. one time, you try to wave him off, saying you're fine on your own. he just stares at you and says, "i know. humor me." you let him.

it turns into habit. him waiting for you after work. him pulling out a chair for you at the bar. him handing you his jacket when it's cold because, "you're shivering, stop bein' stubborn."

you complain, but you wear it anyway.

and then it’s something more.

you find yourself on edge every time he's away on a mission. you worry about him constantly. you check your phone every night, hoping that he's texted you that he's back.

—

one day, you're sitting on a bar stool at your kitchen island, back facing the main door. you're typing away on your computer, finishing up an email for work when you feel the air in the room shift.

like someone is there.

and you're terrified.

but when you turn around, that's when you see him.

the man who's basically a giant hunk of muscle.

simon.

he had let himself in using the spare key you'd given him ages ago. he didn't even bother going home first.

he came straight to you.

he drops his bag on the floor and doesn't even have time to shed his tactical gear before you're barreling into him at full speed. you leap into his arms, your legs wrapped around his body.

your arms are wrapped around his neck as you bury your face in his shoulder. he has one arm wrapped around your back and uses the other to pull off his balaclava.

"missed you, si," you mumble into his shoulder, "was so worried about you."

"nothin' to worry bout, sweet girl. am home now, aren't i?" he chuckles, warm breath blowing against your ear.

his usage of the word "home" doesn't go unnoticed by you.

that's when you realise—falling for him, it's a slow, quiet thing. but it's inevitable.

simon doesn't say much, but he never has to. the way he holds you—like he's afraid to let go—says enough. his fingers dig into your back, his breath is a little shaky when he exhales, and you know. you just know.

but neither of you say anything about it. not yet.

instead, he lets you fuss over him. you make him sit while you heat up leftovers, filling his plate like he hasn’t eaten in days. he doesn’t argue. just watches you with those sharp eyes, tracking every movement.

later, when you’re both on the couch—him in his usual spot, you curled up beside him, your head against his chest—you hear it.

his heartbeat. steady. grounding.

suddenly, he pauses the movie and lifts you onto his lap such that you're facing me.

"pet, i have somethin' to say. hear me out, okay?" he sounds unsure. and you're nervous. simon is never unsure.

"yeah, yeah. what's up si? you're kinda scaring me."

"no, love, it's nothing bad, i promise." he lets out a nervous chuckle and takes your small hand into those bear paws of his.

"somewhere along the way," he starts, voice hoarse, "i realised i stopped going through the motions of each mission. i stopped doing what i just had to do. i wasn't thinking about the missions anymore, not like i used to. i was just trying to finish as quickly as i could so i could get home to you."

your heart stutters in your chest, like you're unsure if you've heard him right. you let out a shaky breath, "si..."

and you see his face fall. no, no, no. he must've thought you were rejecting him. and after he'd been vulnerable with you, something he never was around anyone at all.

his expression hardens, as he begins, "forget it, it was stupid—"

you cut him off by pressing your lips onto his.

at first, the kiss is gentle. like simon is terrified you'll crumble if he even moves an inch. but then it grows hungry. you've both been waiting for this moment for so long.

it's hungry, messy, a mess of tongue and teeth.

when you finally break apart, panting, you both stay there for a moment, forehead to forehead, trying to catch your breath. the world feels like it’s stopped, and it’s just you two, finally in sync after everything that’s been unsaid. his hands are on your back, pulling you closer, like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll slip away.

you lean back just slightly to look at him, your eyes searching his, still trying to make sense of the overwhelming rush of emotions.

"you’re not stupid, si," you say softly, your voice shaky but firm. "i’ve been waiting for this too. for you. i just... didn’t know how to say it."

his thumb traces your cheek, wiping away the stray tear you hadn’t even noticed had fallen. "you’ve always had this way of... making me feel like maybe i could be more than jus' a soldier, y'know?"

you smile, a tear escaping despite yourself. "you already are, simon. to me, you’re everything."

he smiles back, but it’s different now. it’s not guarded or hardened. it’s raw, and real. and it’s all for you.

"guess ’m not going anywhere either," he murmurs, pulling you back into him, pressing his lips to your temple.

and this time, you know—without a doubt—that no matter the missions, no matter the distance, this is where you both belong.

[leyavo]

My heart will go on

No idea if this has been done before…(probably medical inaccuracies)

When Soap died, that's when the guys found his donor card in his wallet. His heart going to you, an injured medic that was on the list for ages.

The doctors did warn you that certain aspects of your personality might change, something to do with the transfer of cellular memory. You're more alert, thought's drifting to a dirty underlying tone, not that you were a prude before.

Some nights you dream of faces, strangers you've never met. It's not till you come across Kyle do you feel an ache in your chest. Warmth spreading as he greets you, palm pressed to the wound on his arm. There’s something oddly familiar in the way he carries himself as if you can predict what he’s going to do or say.

Kyle's the first one to notice similar traits in you that remind him of Johnny, the quick witted replies that should be followed with a Scottish accent not yours. He knows that Johnny's organs were donated, heard about the successful heart transplant, but didn't know the exact details. It's not till he sees the framed picture on your desk, you with Johnny's family that he knows for sure it's you. That and the scar on your chest, sometimes he can see it when you undo the top two buttons of your shirt. You’ve even got his golden cross clasped around your neck.

Simon hears from Kyle and he's the next one to request a checkup, not that he needed one when his wound was healing nicely as you said.

“You one of them too, L.T?” You ask, brows furrowed as if you didn’t mean to say it like that, like it just naturally rolled off your tongue instead of lieutenant. Just like Johnny did. Simon hasn’t heard it for a good couple years now.

You don’t mind Johnny’s team mates dropping by, little by little you start to understand the heart beating in your chest. Thankful of the person that gave you a better life and grieving with his friends.

John's the most curious, visiting whenever he has a scratch claiming he doesn't want it to get infected. Find's out you get migraines ever since the transplant and he can't stop thinking about how Soap died.

[Masterlist]

[enderlovez]

can you write Spencer Reid and his secret girlfriend that's a nurse/doctor, when the team comes back from a mission and reid is injured they all go to the hospital and they see them two flirting and figure it out

(sorry idk how to phrase it)

also can you tag me when it's out?

Kiss It Better

Spencer Reid x Nurse Reader

WORD COUNT: 1000+

Summary: Spencer gets injured on a case. Imagine his team's surprise when they come to see him and find his nurse flirting with him.

Content Warning: hospitals, Spencer got hurt on a case, probably a whole lot of medical inaccuracies, stitches and needles

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Spencer sits on the edge of the hospital bed, his button-up shirt and cardigan draped over the back of a chair, leaving his undershirt rolled up past his elbow. His thighs are parted so you can stand between them, cleaning the small gash on his arm, your gloved fingers brushing over his skin with the gentlest touch.

"You know," you begin, your tone lightly teasing, "for someone with your IQ, you're really bad at stay out of trouble."

Spencer chuckles softly, though his ears turn a shade of pink. "It's not exactly something I plan for," he defends quietly, good arm wrapped loosely around your waist. "Besides, statistically, my injury rate is relatively low for the kind of work I do."

You glance up at him, a brow raised. "Spencer, you've been here three times in the last two months. At this rate, I should really just set up a reserved bed for you."

"Maybe I just like the company," he quips, and now it's your turn to blush slightly.

"Flirting isn't gonna get you out of a lecture about taking better care of yourself," you reply, tying off the final stitch and cutting the rest of the thread off. "There we are. Good as new."

Spencer watches as you peel off your gloves and toss them into the bin. Everything you do seems to catch him off guard, even after months of... well, whatever this thing between you two has become.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he murmurs.

You laugh lightly, shaking your head. "I just stitched up a cut. Pretty sure that doesn't qualify as amazing."

"To me, it does," he counters, his gaze soft as he watches you walk around the room. "You're brilliant and kind and—"

"—And wondering why you're still sitting here," you cut him off with a grin, moving back to your previous spot between his thighs and holding the back of your hand to his forehead. "Don't you have a team to get back to?"

As if on cue, the door swings open, and a group of people spills into the room, their voices a mix of concern and exhaustion.

"Reid, how's—" a man with a shaved head starts, but immediately stops again, his eyes narrowing slightly as they dart between the two of you.

The room grown awkwardly silent as they take in the scene: you standing between Spencer's legs—closer than any medical professional should be with their patients, his unbandaged arm hung loosely around your waist.

"Oh," says a woman with dark hair and a wicked smirk. "This is interesting."

Spencer shifts uncomfortable but doesn't quite move away. "Guys, this is—uh—this is Doctor L/N. She was just... patching me up."

"Patching you up, huh?" the man from before drawls, a teasing lilt in his voice, his grin widening. "Looks like a little more than that to me."

You straighten and take a step back, trying to maintain your professional demeanor despite the heat crawling up your neck. "Doctor Reid is in good shape now. He'll need to keep the stitches dry for a few days, but the cut wasn't too deep."

The blonde woman in the back raises an eyebrow, clearly biting back a smile. "Thank you, Doctor L/N," she says politely before her attention shifts to Spencer. "Though I have to admit, considering his arm got cut open, this is the first time we've seen him quite so... comfortable."

Spencer groans, his head falling slightly forward. "Can we not do this here? Please?"

"Oh, we're doing this," the dark-haired woman says, crossing her arms. "How long has this been going on?"

"Emily," Spencer pleads, his voice laced with something somewhere in-between exasperation and resignation.

You glance between then, suddenly feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. "I'll just—uh—leave you all to it," you say quickly, stepping toward the door.

Spencer's hand shoots out, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment. "Wait—"

But you shake your head with a small, reassuring smile. "It seems you've got enough explaining to do without me making it harder."

As you slip out and shut the door, you hear the inevitable teasing start.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

The hallways is surprisingly quiet compared to the chaos inside, and you take a moment to collect yourself. You've grown used to Spencer's shy smiles and occasional compliments, but seeing him surrounded by his team—people who clearly adore him and who are incredibly perceptive—feels like stepping into a spotlight you hadn't anticipated.

You're about to head back to the nurses' station when the door opens again, and Spencer emerges, wearing all his clothes and his cheeks still faintly red.

"They're never going to let this go," he says, running a hand through his hair.

You bite back a laugh. "I can see why. You should've warned me they'd be so observant."

"I was trying to keep things simple," he admits, stepping closer, "but apparently, we weren't as subtle as I thought."

"Subtle?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. "You were practically glowing in there, Spencer! You were quite literally holding onto me."

He grins sheepishly. "I can't help it. You make me happy. I like being close to you."

Your heart does a little flip at his words, but you roll your eyes for his benefit. "Well, now that they know, I'm sure the rest of your team will, so I guess our secret's out."

"They'll adjust to the idea," he says lightly. "And for what it's worth, I don't mind them knowing. I'm proud to be with you."

You smile, reaching out to brush your fingertips against his. "I'm proud to be with you, too. Even if it means getting interrogated by the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

Spencer laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "They'll get over it. Probably."

"Probably?" you echo, laughing with him as you start walking back to the nurses' station.

He shrugs, his hand brushing against yours as he keeps pace. "I think Morgan might take longer. But that's okay. I'm not in any hurry."

@priv-rose

[bennetsbonnet]

In that post about Joe Wright avoiding bonnets in p&p 2005 for being “too clichéd” (wtf), you said “and the disdain he clearly has for said author which manifests in various ways”. Could you elaborate on that? (asking only out of interest, not disagreement)

Absolutely (the post anon refers to) it's always a pleasure! Though I will say before starting, I'm not bashing 2005 for the sake of it and no one is "wrong" for enjoying it. For me, it's not about fan wars/arguing about which adaptation is best... I just really care about Pride and Prejudice as a novel and I get frustrated when the beautiful, timeless story is distorted!

My main problem with the 2005 adaptation is how much it misrepresents the characters and changes the speech from the snappy, witty dialogue that Jane Austen wrote into something entirely different. Not only do I believe that it does not need updating for C21st audiences (though it might sound a little strange to the modern ear at first,you quickly get used to it) but that dialogue is what really stood out to me and charmed me when I first read it and I don't care for it being rewritten into either something that is either worse than what is found in the novel, or entirely changes the characterisation.

The one that particularly irks me is Darcy's 'bewitched me body and soul' dialogue as, to me, book!Darcy's confession to Elizabeth of when he fell in love with her:

'I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.'

is so beautiful and romantic. Why change that? Additionally, this man is not awkward, he can make romantic speeches, he doesn't need to trip over telling her he loves her. And I've previously discussed here why I think Darcy saying he is bewitched by Elizabeth is out of character.

There are many such cases in the film, but that is amongst the worst to me, perhaps only alongside Darcy's first proposal and how much Lady Catherine's visit and confrontation was watered down (and why did it take place in the middle of the night???).

I suppose he didn't write the script so perhaps I cannot blame him entirely for that... but it goes beyond dialogue, to how the actors were directed and the contempt shown for the period it was set in, which is bizarre when making a period drama.

I think it's quite apparent that JW desperately wanted to make Pride and Prejudice into a Brontësque romance with sweeping landscapes and dramatic weather. I suppose you can argue he did that successfully, but it came entirely at the expense of it being the story that Jane Austen wrote. There are lighthearted, humorous moments too but very few of them feature dialogue actually written by Austen ('what excellent boiled potatoes' springs to mind).

He misunderstood and consequently misrepresented Elizabeth and Darcy's dynamic to the point that they are hardly recognisable to the characters Jane Austen created. 2005!Darcy is so painfully shy and pathetic, that when contrasted with such an impertinent and sarcastic Elizabeth, it just seems like she's bullying a smol bean who struggles in social situations. You cannot emphasise Elizabeth's sassiness while making Darcy such a pathetic specimen, it just doesn't work. She isn't the witty, charming character from the novel anymore.

The period inaccuracy is absolutely baffling in ways beyond costumes, beyond the lack of bonnets and that one scene where one of the sisters is having her corset tied so tightly. For me, the worst offences are:

The bleachers at the Meryton assembly. Not only wildly historically inaccurate but makes Elizabeth look like a gossip and an eavesdropper, rather than an innocent party insulted by a rich snob.

The pig running through Longbourn and generally everything about Longbourn itself. The Bennets are not on the same level of wealth as Darcy and Bingley but they are not some poor farmers, with a scruffy house. Elizabeth is very much of the same class as Darcy.

Chatsworth is absolutely, definitively NOT Pemberley. It is explicitly mentioned in the text as featuring in their tour of the Peaks so consequently it CANNOT be Pemberley. It's far too grand an estate for an untitled gentleman. Darcy is rich but Chatsworth is another level.

I care about this because the landscaping is not at all correct as it's very artificial, whereas Pemberley is renowned for its natural beauty. It might not seem like much but it really is a huge part of why Elizabeth fell for him!

Another reason Chatsworth shouldn't have been used is because Elizabeth seeing a portrait of Darcy and looking into his eyes rather than a bust with holes is crucial, as I explained here.

This is all disappointing but I do feel like I could get over it if the characterisation was adequate. Unfortunately, I barely recognise any of them.

Mr Bennet is not a cute fatherly figure. Him not accompanying them to the Meryton assembly is a plot point to underscore his bone idleness. Yes, his relationship with Elizabeth is very sweet and he loves her a lot... but that does not a good father make!

The total character assassination of Mr Bingley... who is not a clueless himbo. As if Jane Bennet would ever fall for a man like that, or Jane Austen would ever write a character like that (except to be the object of ridiculue).

I do not know in what universe Charlotte Lucas, the pragmatic voice of reason would say 'we are all fools in love.' And the 'I'm 27 years old' monologue is just not something I can ever picture her saying... she wasn't a frightened, timid little creature whatsoever.

Wickham isn't bad enough. What he did to Georgiana is blink and you'll miss it, and when he returns with Lydia, Elizabeth glares at him a bit and that's it? The elopement is also resolved very quickly, there is no real tension with it.

The key story beats are butchered too. Especially the letter, not just in how short it is but in the way Darcy hands it to Elizabeth. I think I remember reading something about how JW couldn't imagine how Darcy would be in the room with her, so he just made it like a dream sequence... aka he put his own creative desires over what's in the novel, when Darcy seeking Elizabeth out to hand it to her is very important. Not least, because it shows the length he's prepared to go to in order to set the record straight as it was breaking social convention for a man to write a letter like that to a woman he wasn't related to or engaged to.

That quote, among others, just shows he had a desire to do things differently and it seems to be because he thinks he can do it 'better.' It's bizarre because why bother adapting a classic which is anchored to its time when you blatantly have disdain for it? It's like doing a war film without army uniforms and guns.

Everything I've read from him, he just seems like a smug film bro that believes that he got it 'right' and people had been Missing The Point the entire until he came along. No, you weren't onto anything new. There are certain things, like bonnets, that tend to be in period dramas. And Jane Austen is very literal with her meanings, for the most part. There isn't a new way to interpret her works.

For a film entitled Pride and Prejudice there isn't a great deal of pride or prejudice... it's really just a poor shy boi, who stands there and fidgets with his gloves while not saying anything, and his girlboss, who uses towels that have been getting wet on the line outside to dry herself after coming in from a rainstorm.