#instead of a flight there and a flight back

[apatheticsunday]

Skittles-Flavored Fear

AKA "The Batfam rescue several Gotham-U students from Scarecrow's latest hostage situation. However, Dr. Jonathan Crane becomes obsessed when one student has a strange reaction to the Fear Toxin - extreme exhilaration and giddiness." Based on this prompt!!

Danny knows Ghosts feed on intense emotion to survive; he's never had to, never wanted to because it feels... parasitic. He never thought he'd be drugged with it. Sitting among his fellow students, tied up as the Straw Man or whatever monologues about his evil plans, Danny thought the worst thing that could happen would be hallucinating a dissection table. Maybe the GIW or his parents with gleaming googles and scalpels at the ready.

He doesn't even realize they're already being gassed until Danny takes a breath and tastes... skittles? Like, taffy, frosted cream, and melty-sweet syrup. The more he breathes it in, the more he feels strangely floaty. His head feels both heavy and light, stuffed with cotton, and he can barely even hear. (If he could hear, he'd probably would be horrified by his classmates screaming, writhing in terror all around him like a swarm of buzzing locusts.)

And then somebody - The Straw Man - is looming in front of him, grabbing Danny by the face, and curiously tilting his head. After a moment of contemplation, Straw Man rummages around in his satchel before Danny gets freaking hosed in the face with a concentrated dose of Fear Toxin. And then everything gets better worse. Danny feels euphoric. He's giggling, smiling, head so clouded from the high that he doesn't even notice even Dr. Crane drags him through the crowded lecture hall. Doesn't notice when two goons grab him by the arms and start to haul him toward the exit.

What he does notice is the Straw Man's body slamming into the wall. Several figures blur in shades of black, blue, green, and red as Danny squints to try and focus on at least one of them. Then, somebody - blue and black - is at his side. Danny kind of... slides down the hero's side, legs too wobbly to hold himself up, until the hero has to prop Danny into a half-laying-half-sitting position. Danny's still giggling, slurring something and his hand somehow finds the hero's face, patting it in thanks for the rescue.

It's only when the Big Bat comes over, fits an odd-shaped mask over Danny's face, that he stops smelling candy. Instead, he smells something putrid, almost like formaldehyde, sweat, and... unmentionable body fluids. Danny's head is throbbing like brain freeze and a pressure headache, nausea so intense he can taste it in the back of his throat and cramps in his stomach. One moment he's mumbling 'm gon' throw up and the next he's ripping the mask off his face. Turns to the side and... barfs on Batman. (If he were more coherent, he'd probably be mortified. Maybe even die again of embarrassment. Worse when Nightwing cackles uncontrollably from beside him. Ancients, he'd petted Nightwing!! On the freakin' face!!)

That's the last thing that Danny remembers. He wakes up in the hospital several hours later, several texts from Jazz, Sam, and Tucker saying they're taking the next flight to Gotham. Danny flops back into the hospital bed and groans. Groans louder when he remembers what happened in the lecture hall. At least there's probably a very small amount of people who can say they barfed on the Dark Knight of Gotham and got away with it, right?

(Cue Scarecrow constantly trying to kidnap Danny and the Batfam being put on Danny-watch to make sure he's safe. Maybe also trying to figure out why Danny reacts differently to Fear Toxin, but assume he's an undocumented meta with a unique biology. Danny absolutely thinks he's being stalked by Batman as revenge.)

[ziggy-scardust]

Gah. I was an engineer at SpaceX on Crew Dragon for a few years, before it launched, during which time everything I learned about real integration & test engineering was from our NASA counterparts. I am 100% serious. I was fresh out of school and instead of the job I interviewed for, I was doing certification & test engineering for life support systems and answerable directly to the folks at NASA who had contracted SpaceX for Crew Dragon. I should not have been doing that job at that age.

yeah, I walked in having drunk at least some of the kool-aid. And I got schooled by my NASA counterparts, mostly 20-30 years my senior, all Shuttle alumni, who knew too well what could go wrong and were deeply suspicious of SpaceX’s cavalier attitude. They were the ones who taught me how test engineering actually should work and with them, I developed qualification & acceptance test plans that made damn sure we weren’t going to kill any astronauts. And y’know what? We didn’t. (*knocks on wood*) Crew Dragon couldn’t have in-flight iterations like that. Even when Elon, who was less nuts at the time, suggested not doing an in-flight abort test before Demo 2 (first human launch), that idea got killed. NASA Commercial Crew really held our feet to the fire and made us do it right. (Plus, Crew Dragon was starved of resources for years in favor of Falcon Heavy - we never got budget for technician & machinist time - so we straight up couldn’t have afforded to blow up anything anyway).

So I know for a fact that SpaceX is capable of doing proper integration testing. Unfortunately, a lot of the people I worked with were basically just rocket-flavored versions of techbros, and it was very few of us pushing back on their kool-aid. Many of the ones I knew pushing back have now left.

Then the space tech arena got flooded with techbros and VC bros in the 2020-2022 timeframe when interest rates were low and Elon worship was at its peak and VCs were on a space investment hype cycle and handing out money to anyone who could hire a former SpaceX engineer and say “give us money! We’re gonna build 3D-printed rockets/mine asteroids/do earth observation that’s indistinguishable from a bunch of stuff already being done by the public sector”. And now? Now we’re reaping this “hardware engineering but make it sprint/scrum style” legacy in a way that is driving me straight up the bloody wall. Agreed with @tehnakki that you can kinda get away with some of that in LEO (especially with cubesats & the like) - but I’m still skeptical of this bc LEO is FLOODED with junk and everything that goes there adds to the burden.

See, I went from SpaceX to JPL. And we had ONE shot with Perseverance. ONE. And we had to launch and land the damn thing in the middle of a pandemic and I had to run multiple four-day-long operational readiness tests with dozens of flight ops engineers for the critical events and keep the testbed operational with 20-year-old irreplaceable hardware which was all we could afford because this mission was only ever funded to begin with because we had spare parts from Curiosity. And it worked. The first goddamn time.

Everyone hates integration & test engineers because we cost money and we know what we’re talking about and expose it when other people don’t. But we also tend to not blow up whole vehicle stacks.

the number of spacecraft failures recently has been absolutely insane and it all comes down to tech bros barging into the industry going "it's not that hard wtf is nasa so bad" and then completely skipping out on any testing

[kokii-omii]

🪽Flight Fest Race🪽

(synopsis)

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An event where Peyn and Pan have to go back home at the shaftlands in Feather-Fair City to participate in the annual Flight Fest Race

The race consists of five teams, Each team has five members and each member is placed within different areas that each have its own obstacles that they need to avoid in order to pass on parts of a staff to the next member, the final player has to assemble the staff as well as avoid their own obstacles in order to reach the finish line , players are not allowed to turn back or stop moving at all

it was originally Pan's brother Argos that was supposed to participate, and due to unfortunate timing, Argos got sick and is unable to partake in the Flight Fest

and with the teammates knowing they wouldn't be able to win without Argos they decide to drop out of the competition

and since the Nikos family sponsors the Flight Fest, they ask Pan to participate in his brother's place

so Pan tries to gather members for the Race and asks Peyn to help him look for people who would want to participate

Peyn asks his fellow Spelldrive members if they would want to participate in Feather-Fair City's celebration, after a lot of convincing (for mostly Leona) the spelldrive club agrees to participate in the race

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Peyn and Pan's race outfits

(the spelldrive club boys got different designs but in grey instead of blue and magenta)

[linoxpudding]

Off Limits - Seo Changbin

summary: he confesses his feelings to you but you hesitate given your age difference— and after weeks of hidden feelings and secret pining you start secretly dating, sharing soft, private moments away from the spotlight

pairing: seo changbin x noona!reader

genre: angst, comfort, fluff, forbidden romance trope

word count: 5297 words

a/n: this is based on this request, the reader is almost a decade older than him, this one's for the noonas <3

Masterlist

*images are taken from pinterest*

~°~

The job came with a thick NDA, multiple rounds of interviews, and a rule so ironclad it was printed at the top of every email: 

Interactions with artists must remain strictly professional — no exceptions.

It was rule number one to stay professional. Always.

“No texting, no hanging out after hours, no dating — especially that last one,” your supervisor had said during your final onboarding session.

Your age, your experience, your grounded maturity were what made you a perfect candidate. You were supposed to be the steady one. The invisible support staff who got things done and kept boundaries.

So when you signed the contract, you didn’t even flinch. Because really, what was there to worry about?

They were idols — loud, talented, charming and young. Nearly a decade younger than you in some cases. You thought this would be easy. You’d seen enough of the industry to be unaffected. You were mature and too smart to even consider crossing a line. That’s what they liked about you. That’s why they hired you.

So you smiled and promised, “Of course. I’m here to work.”

And for a while, that was true. You became a ghost in the background like a quiet machine that made things run smoothly. Flights, rehearsals, call sheets, wardrobe runs — you were everywhere and nowhere. 

The boys were all kind and respectful, just as polished offstage as they were onstage. Every interaction was warm but brief consisting of a polite bow, a quick thank you, a shared laugh during group meals before everyone snapped back into work mode.

You liked that. The routine. The mutual respect. No one crossed lines. You were part of every successful show, every last-minute disaster averted. You saw it all.

And unbeknownst to you, Changbin saw you.

He noticed how you always had everything ready before anyone asked. How you moved like clockwork, fixing problems before they became problems. How you never looked at him the way fans or even staff sometimes did — never starstruck, never flustered. Just… calm. Distant. Professional.

Maybe it was the distance that pulled him in.

He started slowly. Nothing obvious. Just enough to inch his way into your radar.

Lingering a little longer after rehearsals. Offering you his coffee instead of the manager. Throwing jokes your way when you passed by, pretending it wasn’t for your laugh. At first, you thought he was just friendly — he was like that with everyone.

He was always respectful, polite. Always smiling. He offered to carry heavy bags when he didn’t need to. 

But then he started saying things like, “You didn’t eat again, did you?” or “Don’t overwork yourself, noona. I can tell when you’re pushing too hard.”

And that’s when you started noticing him.

The way his voice dropped when he spoke directly to you. The way his smile softened when you were nearby. The way your heart started skipping the tiniest beat whenever he looked your way.

You told yourself it was nothing. It was just a silly little crush. A fleeting moment of warmth in an otherwise exhausting job. He was just… sweet, observant and thoughtful.

And way too young.

So you buried it under professionalism. For weeks, months — you reminded yourself of the rules every day. 

You kept your distance. Avoided lingering in his space. Laughed a little less. Held your clipboard a little tighter. Pretended it didn’t sting when he looked disappointed.

But Changbin wasn’t playing games. And he didn’t back down.

It was your name he said first when he walked into a room. Your opinion he asked when choosing outfits. Your face he sought out in the crowd after each show, eyes scanning until he found your small nod of approval.

You weren’t supposed to matter like that.

You tried to logic your way out of it. 

It’s just admiration. You’re older. He wouldn’t fall for you. Don’t be that staff member. Don’t ruin this.

But the feelings crept in anyway. And the more you pushed them down, the more impossible they became to ignore.

*****************

On the other hand, Changbin was suffering.

Every word you said, every laugh that passed your lips, made him spiral just a little more. He’d liked you since the first time you scolded him gently for not sleeping enough—voice stern, but hands fussing over him like he mattered. Like someone had to care.

He was used to being looked up to — respected, admired, even babied by fans and teammates. But around you? He forgot how to talk. Forgot how to be. He turned into a blushing, nervous, walking contradiction. All muscle and swagger in front of cameras, but a blushing, breathless boy when you glanced his way.

He forgot how to be cool. Forgot how to form full sentences. Once, he dropped his protein bar because your hand brushed his wrist while passing him a note.

So when you’d started avoiding him like the plague — subtly at first — like skipping out of rooms a few seconds earlier. Passing off tasks involving him to someone else. Rewriting schedules just to make sure your paths didn’t cross too much.

He noticed 

He wasn’t stupid, he noticed the way your laughter stopped when he entered the room. The way your tone shifted from warm to clipped. The way you never quite met his eyes anymore, as if you were afraid of what they might give away — or what they might see reflected in his.

And it hurt.

He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, only that every inch you put between the two of you felt like a punishment he hadn’t earned. He’d stay up wondering if he imagined it all, the tension, the glances, the comfort he felt around you.

It was like every time he thought he was getting closer, you slipped further out of reach.

But no. That couldn’t be right.

He felt it. It was real. It had to be. And if he didn’t say something soon, he was afraid his heart wouldn’t survive the back and forth.

He was done waiting. Done wondering.

Because you made him feel things he never expected to feel — not in a world built on cameras and contracts. And no rule in the world could change that.

*****************

The next day, the studio was buzzing with post-recording chaos. You were crouched in a corner of the studio, scribbling notes and finalizing the van routes for tomorrow’s shoot. The room was loud with movement — the members packing up, cords being wrapped, conversations overlapping.

You felt him before you saw him. That weight in the air. The way your body tensed out of instinct.

“Hey,” Changbin said, stepping close, voice low and hesitant. “How are you?”

You glanced up briefly. “Fine.”

He blinked. “Just fine?”

You nodded, eyes dropping back to your clipboard. “Tired. Hectic day.”

There was a pause. Not a heavy one, just long enough to notice.

“…Are you avoiding me?”

Your fingers froze over the page.

You forced a scoff. “What? No.”

But you didn’t look at him.

He took a small step closer. “You haven’t talked to me all week unless you had to.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You always made time—before.”

You looked up then, a little sharper than you meant to. “Changbin, don’t make this a thing.”

“It is a thing,” he said quietly, hurt threaded through his voice. “You won’t even meet my eyes anymore. I don’t know how to get through to you anymore.” 

Your throat tightened. “I’m just trying to keep things professional.”

“You didn’t seem to mind when we were laughing backstage last month. When you brought me snacks because you knew I skipped dinner. When you stayed behind during soundcheck just to fix my in-ear volume—”

“That was work,” you cut in.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “No, it wasn’t. Not all of it.”

Before you could answer — before you could run — a voice called across the room.

“Binnie!” 

Chan called him, he was holding up a clipboard. “Let’s go over this one last time.”

Changbin looked torn, still staring at you. His jaw clenched. His shoulders set.

But after a beat, he stepped back. “I’ll find you later.”

And then he walked away. You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, gathered your stuff and left the room. 

*****************

Later that night, the building was nearly empty. Your desk was dimly lit by the last tired glow of your monitor, the silence broken only by the hum of the vending machine down the hall and the scratch of your pen checking off final tasks.

You shut your laptop and slipped into your coat, bag already slung over your shoulder, ready to go home. Your mind was still replaying the conversation from earlier today, you let out a sigh. You were glad this day was over.

But when you opened your office door, you nearly collided with him.

Leaning against the wall outside your office, hoodie pulled up, hands in his pockets — like he’d been waiting.

You stopped. “Changbin…”

“I said I’d find you.”

His expression wasn’t playful or bold. It was tired. Like he’d been carrying something too heavy for too long.

You stepped out, pulling your coat tighter, already too tired for this.

“If this is about earlier—”

“It is,” he said firmly. “It’s about everything. You avoiding me. The way you shut me out. The way you keep pretending we’re nothing. That this is nothing. You think I haven’t noticed?”

You exhaled harshly. “Changbin, stop.”

“No. I’m done stopping.” His voice cracked slightly, but his stare didn’t waver. “I’m done pretending.”

You froze. “Changbin…”

“I like you. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t.”

You closed your eyes. “You’re not supposed to say that—”

“No. Just listen.”

He stepped forward, close enough for you to hear the catch in his breath.

“I’ve liked you for months. Every time you laugh, every time you scold me for skipping meals, every stupid thing I do just to get a smile out of you… it’s real for me.”

You shook your head, voice shaking. “Are you out of your mind?! You’re— you’re almost a decade younger than me.”

“So what?” he shot back, eyes flashing. “It’s not like we met when I was eighteen! I’m twenty-five, for god’s sake. Do you think I don’t know what I want?”

You gaped at him, stunned by the intensity in his voice.

“I know who I am. I know how I feel. And I know that every time you walk into a room and pretend we’re nothing, it fucking hurts.”

You shook your head and tried to walk past. “This isn’t the time.”

He moved to block you — not aggressively, just enough to make you look at him.

You clenched your jaw. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because this is real life, Changbin,” you snapped, louder than you meant to. “This isn’t a K-drama. There are rules. Boundaries. Consequences.”

He looked at you, eyes storm-dark. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I do!” you fired back. “I’m staff. You’re the artist. There’s a rule printed at the top of every goddamn company email — no dating the artists. It’s not just a suggestion, it’s my job on the line!”

The hallway rang with your voice, thick with frustration and guilt and the aching truth you’d been trying to suffocate for weeks.

He exhaled, stepping just a bit closer. His voice softened. “Look, I’m not asking you to throw your life away. I’m not asking you to risk your job or break every rule for me. I know how it works here. I read the rules. Every time I think about texting you, I remember the contract. But then I see you the next day and I wish I’d sent it anyway.”

“Do you know how fast they’d fire me if anyone found out I even thought about you like that?” you snapped. “They wouldn’t see you as the one who started it. They’d say I manipulated you. That I used my position to flirt with someone ten years younger than me? That I’m—”

“Stop,” he said. “You’re not some scandal waiting to happen. You’re the only person who treats me like I’m just me. Who sees past the stage lights and the cameras.”

Your chest ached.

He stepped forward, gaze steady. “If it ever came out—if the company found out—I wouldn’t let them touch you. I’d take the blame. I’d tell them it was me. Because it is, you’ve never once crossed the line. I was the one who fell for you. I was the one who waited—who hoped you'd notice.”

You blinked, stunned.

“I’d fight for you,” he said simply. “If it came down to it… I’d talk to them. I’d tell the truth. That you were the one who tried to do the right thing and I was the one who couldn’t stay away.”

He hesitated, then added softer, “But I’d be careful. We would. I’d never let it get that far. And I’d never let anyone hurt you—not the company, not the fans, not anyone.”

You closed your eyes. 

“Just three dates.” Changbin pleaded.

Your eyes snapped open and you looked at him.

“Three quiet, secret dates,” he said. “If after that you still think this is a mistake, I’ll walk away. I’ll act like it never happened. But if there’s even a part of you that feels what I feel… please, noona.”

Your breath hitched at the sound of it, the way he said noona, not playful, not flirty, but tender. Honest.

You wanted to say no. You should say no.

But instead, your voice betrayed you.

“…Three?”

He nodded. “Three.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, voice trembling.

He reached out then, slowly, like he was afraid you'd pull away. But you didn’t.

“I am too,” he said. “But maybe...we can be scared together?”

And when you gave the faintest nod, barely more than a breath, he smiled. Not triumphant but relieved.

“I’ll make them count.”

Then, like a gentleman who knew not to press, he turned and walked away, letting you breathe.

You leaned against the wall, pulse hammering in your ears.

Three dates. That’s all.

And yet it already felt like the start of something you’d never be able to undo.

*****************

The next day during the shoot, the atmosphere was buzzing with controlled chaos. Cameras rolled, lights blazed, and you were coordinating everything behind the scenes, clipboard in hand and eyes sharp.

Changbin was nearby, casually leaning against the equipment cart, watching you with a quiet intensity.

You barely noticed at first.

But then, as you passed him the schedule for the next segment, his fingers brushed lightly against yours — just a second longer than necessary. You felt your cheeks heat up instantly.

He gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile — the kind that said, I’m here. I see you.

Later, when you paused to sip your water, he appeared beside you, nodding at the bottle.

“Don’t forget to hydrate, ma'am,” he said softly, eyes twinkling.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I—Thanks.”

He gave a slight wink, then stepped back, disappearing into the crew like nothing had happened.

Throughout the day, you caught these little moments — a whispered comment just loud enough for you, a glance that lingered too long, a touch that was barely there.

And every time, you found yourself blushing, smiling when no one was looking.

You admired how careful he was — how he flirted like a secret code only you could decipher.

It made your heart race, and your mind spiral.

How did he get so good at this without anyone noticing?

*****************

The day after the shoot, the boys were officially off schedule for a week. A rare golden pocket of free time, and the dorm had erupted into lazy chaos — gaming, loud music, snacks on every surface, and Seungmin walking around with a face mask like he was in his own world.

Changbin should’ve felt relaxed.

He didn’t.

His mind was spinning through three separate date plans, backup options in case you bailed, and whether or not his hallway confession had been too much.

He was in the kitchen, pouring himself some water, when Hyunjin leaned over the counter with a smug little smile.

“So…” Hyunjin started, dragging out the vowel, “Noona, huh?”

Changbin froze.

“What about Y/N?” he asked, too fast. Too defensive.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t say which noona. You just told on yourself.”

Felix suddenly burst out laughing from across the room. “OH MY GOD you confessed?!”

“No one confessed,” Changbin muttered, face already pink.

“You sure?” Minho teased, biting into his apple with a smirk, “’Cause why are you so pink?

“I’m just… naturally this color.” Changbin muttered quickly.

Chan popped his head in, grinning wide. “Dwaekki alert! Look at you, blushing like a dweakki!”

“Shut up!” Changbin yelped, running from the room, hands over his face like it might hide the glow.

“You’re not slick, hyung. I see how you look at her like a love sick puppy.” Seungmin chimed in as he passed by.

“It’s not like that.”

Jisung popped his head out from the blanket pile on the couch. “So when are you asking her out?”

“I’m not—”

“Not what? Dating her? Yet?” Jeongin grinned. “You know we’ve been taking bets, right?”

Changbin groaned and shoved his face into his hands.

He wanted to tell them so badly. That you said yes. That he got three whole dates. That he was already planning the third one like a man about to propose.

But he also knew — if it didn’t work out, if the risk was too much for you to keep taking — he couldn’t stomach the thought of them looking at you differently.

So he just muttered, “It’s not what you think,” and grabbed a protein bar like it might protect him from further interrogation.

Chan’s grin widened. “Are you keeping something from us?”

“No!” Changbin defended quickly.

The others burst into laughter.

“You’re so busted!” Jeongin chuckled.

Felix chuckled, “Bro, you can’t hide it. Your face says it all.”

Changbin wanted the floor to swallow him up, the teasing didn’t stop.

“Oh my god, he’s BLUSHING,” Chan laughed. “Binnie, you okay? You need us to buy flowers or plan the proposal?”

“Do not involve yourselves,” Changbin grumbled.

“Too late,” Minho smirked. “We’re emotionally invested now. If you mess it up, we get joint custody of her.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Changbin shot back, surprisingly serious.

They all paused. And just like that, every single one of them knew. He wasn’t just crushing.

He meant it.

And while they still spent the rest of the night teasing him mercilessly, no one crossed the line. Not once.

Because behind all the jokes, they respected you. And they knew Changbin — when he loved, it was for real.

*****************

It was officially time for your first date, you were a nervous wreck. You planned to meet outside a nondescript café at a weird hour on a Tuesday — no other staff in sight, no fans, no eyes. He told you to wear something comfortable and warm. And while it sounded simple enough, somehow it had turned into a full-blown crisis in your apartment.

Your bed was a battlefield of sweaters, jeans, jackets, and outfits you hadn’t even remembered owning until today. You’d tried on six different combinations. Then went back to the first. Then tried again with a different scarf.

You weren’t dressing for a red carpet. You weren’t even dressing for work.

But something about this date made your stomach do flips.

You stared at yourself in the mirror.

Comfy and warm.

Okay. Simple sweater. Long coat. Jeans. Boots. Casual. Cute. Chill. Nothing that screamed “I spent forty-five minutes spiraling in front of a mirror and had an internal breakdown over knitwear.”

You grabbed your bag, took one last deep breath, and whispered to your reflection, “It’s just three dates. Be cool.”

Your heart whispered back  yet again: But what if it’s more?

You ignored it and headed out the door to meet the man who made you want to risk all your carefully drawn lines.

When you arrived at the meeting spot — a quiet, tucked-away café on a side street near the Han River — Changbin was already there, hood pulled low, scarf around his face, and holding two takeout cups.

The minute he spotted you, he straightened.

And beamed.

“Hi,” he said, voice soft and low.

You smiled shyly. “Hi.”

He handed you a cup. “Green tea. I wasn’t sure if you already had caffeine today.”

The fact that he remembered your sensitivity to coffee after 4 p.m.? Noted.

“Thanks,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He nodded toward the street. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

You walked side by side for a while, shoulders brushing occasionally, silence soft and easy between you. He led you through a small park, then down a narrow path that opened up to a quiet stretch of the river — far from the couples and cyclists, hidden from the usual crowds.

A small blanket was already spread out on the grass.

“Wait—did you come here before to set this up?” you asked, blinking at the small pile of homemade sandwiches, some of your favourite snacks and hand warmers. 

He looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “I, uh... maybe.”

You laughed. “That’s... really sweet.”

“I wanted it to feel normal,” he said, glancing at you. “Like something we could just do. Without the noise.”

You sat down beside him, and for a while, you both just watched the river. Quiet. Present. The sky was turning cotton-candy pink, and the city lights were slowly blinking awake.

He passed you a sandwich. “I made it myself.”

You took a bite, then blinked.

It was unevenly cut, slightly messy, and had... a very generous amount of black pepper.

You coughed lightly and looked at him, amused. “Did you season this with, like... your whole heart and half the pepper grinder?”

Changbin winced. “Too much?”

You nodded slowly, chewing. “A little but it's okay.”

He looked horrified. “I swear it didn’t taste like that when I tested it—wait, does that mean you like it enough to keep eating it?”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop chewing.

He grinned, victorious.

Then he took a bite of his own sandwich and immediately froze.

His eyes went wide. He blinked. Once. Twice.

And then he exploded.

“NOONA—DON’T EAT THAT!” he gasped, as he fumbled for your sandwich like it was a bomb about to go off. “I SWEAR I DIDN’T MEAN TO MURDER YOU WITH PEPPER.”

You just blinked at him mid-chew, caught between laughing and choking. “It’s not that—”

“It’s a disaster!” he cried, waving his arms like a food safety officer. “I was measuring with my heart. My heart, noona. That was a mistake.”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore laughter burst out of you so hard you nearly dropped the sandwich.

“Oh my god, sit down, drama queen,” you wheezed. “It’s edible.”

“Barely,” he pouted, dramatically collapsing onto the blanket beside you. “I wanted to impress you, not ruin your taste buds.”

You took another bite, calmly. “Honestly, ten out of ten for effort. Negative two for spice control.”

He groaned. “I’m never cooking again.”

You both looked at each other and started laughing, and that laughter dissolved the last bits of awkwardness that had been clinging to your nerves all day.

Still, despite the extra pepper, it was perfect not because it was flawless, but because he’d made it himself. And you noticed he’d remembered all your favorite snacks too. The granola bar you always nibbled between call times. The exact brand of spicy chips you hoarded in the back of the van. Even your weird obsession with almond biscuits.

He didn’t just remember. He noticed. And your heart did somersaults.

You talked for hours. About everything except work. Childhood stories. Favorite scents. Regrets you never said out loud before. The whole time, he didn’t touch you. Didn’t rush, he just listened like no one ever had. Like every word was something he wanted to carry home and keep.

When he dropped you off at your apartment building, he didn’t even lean in. Just gave you the softest look and whispered, “Sleep well, noona.”

And even as he walked away…you couldn’t stop smiling.

*****************

He booked a private room at a planetarium for your second date.

You’d barely finished processing the word when he texted you the location. A literal planetarium. 

He said it was “research for a concept video,” and you rolled your eyes, but didn’t question it.

Because the minute you stepped inside the dim, dome-shaped room — all the chaos and rules and pretending melted away.

It was quiet. Soft galaxies shimmered across the ceiling, light dancing in slow spirals above your heads. The air was cool, still, and scented faintly with the citrusy cologne he always wore — the one you noticed but never mentioned.

Just the two of you. No titles. No cameras. No reminders that this wasn’t allowed.

He brought a small bag, and from it, he pulled out a tiny Bluetooth speaker.

“Trust me,” he said, already smirking at your raised eyebrow.

Then he hit play, it was one of his unreleased demos. A soft, emotional verse you’d never heard, it was a confession in lyrics.

You didn’t ask who it was about. He didn’t say. You didn’t need to.

You sat side by side in the dark, arms brushing, knees bumping. And when the artificial stars tilted above you, your head fell naturally onto his shoulder.

He didn’t move.

Just let out the softest breath like he’d been waiting for that moment longer than he’d ever admit.

Your heart was racing so loud you were convinced he could hear it over his own vocals.

When the song ended, neither of you spoke. You sat in the gentle dark, breathing the same quiet air, your pulse drumming against borrowed gravity.

Later, on the walk out to your separate cars, the night air felt colder than usual. Changbin walked slowly, like dragging his feet might delay the inevitable end.

Then he said in a low voice, “I wish I could take you on dates like this in the daylight.”

You stopped walking.

Your chest ached, because God, you wished that too. You wanted sunlight and loud laughter and crowded cafés. You wanted his hand in yours where people could see.

But you turned toward him, eyes gentle, voice soft.

“But I liked it,” you said. “Just us.”

He looked at you and something flickered in his eyes. Wonder. Relief. Maybe even love.

And he whispered, “Me too.”

*****************

It was raining softly the night of your third date.

The kind of drizzle that misted your coat and made the city glow golden. The air smelled like wet pavement and steamed dumplings from street vendors, and everything felt a little softer. A little quieter.

Perfect for staying in.

Changbin had offered his place — “We can watch something dumb and be comfy. No pressure. Just pajamas, movies and snacks.”

And after everything, after the stars and the quiet laughter and the way his voice cracked just a little when he said goodbye last time...you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

Luckily for you both, Hyunjin was out of town visiting his parents that weekend. Meaning there will be no awkward interruptions, no sudden bangs on the door, and no suspicious smirking from the world’s most dramatic roommate.

Just you and Changbin.

The apartment was cozy and clean in the way only someone who anxiously vacuumed before you arrived could manage.

You kicked your shoes off and padded in with fuzzy socks, arms full of snacks you insisted on bringing.

Changbin took one look at the grocery bag and teased, “You’re trying to bribe me with bbq chips, aren’t you?”

You grinned. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.”

He was wearing a hoodie so soft-looking it should’ve been illegal. His hair was slightly tousled like he hadn’t finished drying it. And when he took your coat, his fingers brushed yours and stayed a moment longer than they needed to.

You settled into the couch together with a mountain of pillows, blankets, and a massive bowl of popcorn you both agreed was too salty but too late to fix.

The movie — some old cheesy rom-com from the early 2000s — was barely playing before you felt his arm stretch across the back of the couch.

You glanced sideways.

He wasn’t looking at you, not directly. But the corner of his mouth twitched, like he was trying to look chill.

You smirked and leaned your head back against his arm.

He shifted slightly closer and you took the chance to rest your head against his chest, your legs curled under you, and one of his hands gently brushing your arm in slow, absentminded motions.

It was quiet. Not the kind of silence that needed to be filled. The kind that felt like a heartbeat.

Halfway through the movie, he murmured, “You comfy enough?”

You nodded, nose slightly buried in his hoodie. “Mhm.”

His voice dropped a little. “Me too.”

As the credits rolled and the room dipped into low lamp light and leftover snack crumbs, he nudged you slightly, voice soft near your ear.

“So…” he said. “What’s the verdict?”

You blinked up at him, heart stuttering.

He smiled, nervous. “The three dates. Was it enough to convince you?”

You stretched slightly, still half-curled in his arms. Then, very casually, you said, “Hm. I think we should keep doing it.”

He stared at you for a few seconds.

Then he exploded.

“YAH—” he shouted, practically shaking you. “NOONA DON’T DO THAT TO ME, I ALMOST DIED—”

You shrieked, laughing, swatting his chest. “What?!”

“I thought you were gonna say no!” he groaned, flopping back dramatically against the cushions.

“You’re so dramatic,” you teased, burying your face into his hoodie.

He hugged you tighter. “You like that about me.”

You tilted your face upward slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. He was already looking at you. And everything that had been playful and teasing just a moment ago just stilled.

His smile softened, lips parting just barely as if to say something, but he hesitated.

You could feel the shift in the air. The way his thumb started brushing lightly against your arm. The way his breath slowed. The way your heart sped up.

“Can I…” his voice dropped, almost unsure.

Then steadier, with quiet conviction, he asked, “Can I please kiss you?”

Your breath hitched. You hadn’t expected the question to feel so heavy, so intimate.

You didn’t answer right away.

You just looked at him — the warmth in his eyes, the nervous hope swimming beneath the surface, the way he held you like you were something fragile and precious.

So instead of words, you leaned in.

He met you halfway.

And when his lips touched yours, it wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t overwhelming or rushed. It was gentle and soft, like everything finally made sense.

The kiss melted into the quiet warmth between you, his hand cupping your cheek, your fingers curling into the hem of his hoodie. 

When you pulled back, the world stayed still.

You looked at him, breath caught, cheeks warm, and whispered, “That was dangerous.”

Changbin pressed his forehead to yours, smiling, voice low and steady now. “But so worth the risk.”

You sighed, smiling. Maybe it wouldn’t always be easy. But if you were careful and you had him by your side. 

Then it was worth it. All of it.

----------------

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[docrobinavitch]

tracing back lucky stars

dr. robby x f!attending!reader masterlist content: 18+ mdni, sexually explicit content, infidelity, swearing, angst, usual medical canon events (not much tho), mention of alcoholic parent, other mentions of death, grief, age gap (less than ten year gap) words: 15.4K synopsis: this fic spans over a decade and follows our reader from first meeting robby in a chance interaction in florida as a resident all the way to 2024. all events take place prior to season one. this is inspired by when harry met sally, as requested from one of my beloved anons. lots of will they won't they, robby being oblivious to his own feelings for like ten goddamn years, i guess slow burn ish??? a/n: hi my friends, can't explain just how much fun i had writing this so huuuuuge thank you to the anon that requested it!! i really hope you love it. they will live in my brain space for quite a while i think. title is taken from song lucky stars by haim. as always thank u for being here!! <3 syd

2013 

As you stood at that rental car counter, you decided you hated the south. You hated the way southerners pretended to be nice, but really probably hated your guts. The way they smiled at you and crooned with their syrupy sweet voices that bless your heart, they thought you were a little soft in the head. Everyone always loved to say northerners were assholes, but to you they were just honest. You had infinitely more respect for the guy from Philly who flipped you off in traffic and screamed out his window that you drove like a ninety seven year old lady with glaucoma than the man in front of you who was giving his best Aw Shucks expression as he told you he would not rent his last car to you.

“Ma’am, as I’ve already explained to you, I cannot rent you that car, it’s a manual.”

“And as I’ve already explained to you, Martin, I know how to drive a stick.”

“If that’s true,” He said slowly, “Then why did you select ‘automatic’ for preferred transmission type on the rental form?”

You sighed and let your hands rise and fall loudly with a smack onto the counter, “Because the year is two thousand and thirteen and I assumed that there would be an automatic car available.”

You were running very low on patience after the morning you’d had. After spending the weekend at an emergency medicine conference, you had gotten up at four in the morning to make an early flight back to Pittsburgh. But lovely, beautiful Panama City, Florida had fucked you over from the moment you woke up this morning. 

The hot water in your hotel room had been out and you’d been forced to take an icy shower. You spilt orange juice all over the outfit you planned to wear to the airport and so were forced to instead wear denim shorts that rode just an inch too high. The iced coffee you had made yourself behind schedule to buy before getting to the airport was knocked from your hand by an inattentive cyclist. And you had broken the heel on one of your cowboy boots on your way into the airport. So you hobbled up to bag check only to find out that your flight was cancelled and could not be rescheduled until tomorrow.

You couldn’t wait until tomorrow. You were an R3 and you had a double shift tomorrow and you needed this flight to get back to Pittsburgh at a reasonable hour so you could get whatever sleep possible before reporting for shift. So you really, really needed this fucking car if you had any hope at all of both getting some sleep and making your shift.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m just not comfortable renting you the vehicle. Now, I really need to take care of the next customer–”

“Oh, Jesus, fuck, I’m trying to give you money for a service!” You pushed your credit card and license across the counter, “Please just rent me the car so I can go home!”

“Excuse me,” The voice behind you was rough and warm, and oddly familiar. It took you less than thirty seconds to place him. 

You had listened to him speak at the conference for an hour about how to deliver bad news to patients with the right amount of empathy. You remembered specifically how soothing you had found his voice and found it unsurprising that he would seem so good at delivering bad news. He could probably tell you he had stolen your identity and all money from your bank account and you would thank him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I overheard you’re also heading to Pittsburgh?” He said to you and then turned to your newly minted nemesis, Martin, “I can drive stick, I could drive us both.”

Well, smooth voice or not, he could get fucked if he thought he was going to steal your rental.

“Excuse me,” You said, turning to the doctor who was way taller in person than you remembered him being on stage, “But you’re not taking my rental.”

“Ma’am, as I’ve said, it’s not your rental.”

“Martin,” You said, your voice high and strained as you whipped your head back towards him, “Could you mind your own goddamn business, please?”

“I— Sorry—“ Doctor Soothing Voice interjected again, “I just, I heard you were going to Pittsburgh and it’s the last rental—“

“So you thought you’d steal it from me?”

He laughed and scratched the back of his head, “No, I thought we could split it.”

Ordinarily, you may have been more polite. You had really enjoyed his talk. But you were very angry and your ankle was throbbing from when you had broken your heel. You wanted a peaceful drive by yourself.

“I don’t share cars with strange men, that’s how you end up on Dateline.”

He nodded, “Yeah, fair enough. What if we grab a coffee first?” He turned to Martin and slid a fifty dollar bill across the counter, “You’ll hold the car for us?”

You watched as Martin pocketed the fifty, nodding politely at Doctor Soothing Voice and you glared at him, upper lip beginning to turn up in disgust. You could already be on the road by now if it wasn’t for this sexist pig who thought women couldn’t drive stick.

“If you keep staring at him like that,” Doctor Soothing Voice whispered from over your shoulder, “You might actually end up on Dateline when they find his body.”

Accepting defeat, you sighed. Grabbing your bags, you began walking away from the counter.

“Have a beautiful day, ma’am.” Martin said as you walked by. 

You gave a short laugh and started to turn back around, “Oh, you son of a—“

“Nope.” Doctor Soothing Voice gently took your shoulders and turned you back in the direction of the door, “Just keep walking.”

Once outside in the oppressive humidity, you shook his hands off you, “You know, I could have handled that myself.”

He nodded, smiling, “I have no doubts on that front.” He gestured down to your heel-less boot, “What happened to your boot, you get in a brawl with a condescending horse?”

You snorted, “A doctor and funny. Though, I guess unsurprising since you work in an ER. If anyone’s gonna be funny it’s emergency medicine doctors. How else do we cope with the horrors?” He frowned at you in silent question, “Oh. Sorry. I should have said, I was at the conference, I saw your talk. Though your name is slipping my mind at the moment.”

He raised his eyebrows and you saw the way his eyes traveled down your legs and back up again, “You were… Here for the conference?”

“What, so, because I wore cowboy boots and booty shorts to the airport you think they’re gonna take my medical license away?”

He laughed, “You’re right, I apologize. Of course you can still practice medicine in booty shorts.” He held out a hand for you to shake, “I’m Michael. Robinavitch. You could also just call me Robby, if you want, that’s what I go by in the ER.”

You shook his hand and gave him your name, “I’m an R3, I work at UPMC Presbyterian.”

“Huh, what are the odds?” He ran a hand through his hair, “So you knew who I was and still refuse to get in a car with me?”

You started rolling your suitcase towards the Dunkin’ across the street, hobbling as you went, “Just because you’re a good doctor doesn’t mean you’re not also a deviant. People are layered and nuanced. And sick.”

His mouth was twitching towards a smirk again as he followed after you. Something about you was very intriguing to him. “Nuanced like how you’re an R3 wearing booty shorts and cowboy boots to the airport?”

“Yes, exactly.” You looked both ways at the crosswalk in front of the Dunkin’ before stepping into traffic, “Besides, I need an iced coffee if I’m about to endure fifteen plus hours in a car with a stranger.”

Robby continues to watch you from behind, eternally amused by your uneven gate, “Don’t you have other shoes?”

“Yes, well, I’ve hardly had the time to dig into my suitcase to find them now, have I?” You turned and walked backwards so you could look at him, “Do you criticize all your residents like this?”

He frowned, “That wasn’t a critique, you just look uncomfortable. Do you get this defensive with all your attendings?”

You turned away from him and he watched your shoulders heave with a sigh, “No. Believe it or not, I’m not normally like this. Must be something about you that gets under my skin.”

“Well,” He smirked and held the Dunkin’ door open for you, “You have about fifteen hours to figure out what it is.”

***

“When was the last time you drove stick?” Robby was holding the keys up just out of your reach. You knew he was trying to see if you would jump for them, but you would not be humiliated. You crossed your arms and glared at him instead.

In the last half hour you had changed your shoes and drank half your iced coffee while Robby filled out the rest of the paperwork for the car.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, more than ten years ago?”

He scoffed, “Okay, you’re definitely not driving then.”

“What, like you drive a stick super often?”

“Yes, actually, the car I own at home is a manual.”

You laughed, “Oh, okay. You’re one of those guys?”

He blinked at you, still smirking, “What does that mean? One of those guys?”

You walked around to the passenger side door, opening it, and standing on the step so you could look over the roof at him, “You know, one of those guys who only drives a manual and thinks they’re better than you for it. And like, probably owns a fucking motorcycle or something that he works on in his garage with his own two hands and talks about like it’s his child.”

You watched with glee as his face reddened, “Oh my God, you do have a motorcycle, don’t you? And a leather jacket?”

“Get in the car,” He said, still blushing as he opened the driver’s side door.

Very pleased with yourself, you ducked into the car.

***

“How’d you learn to drive stick?” He asked once they were on the road.

You were eating a donut with your feet propped up on the dash, the window open and blowing in your hair, “My dad taught me.”

He nodded, “Are the two of you close?”

“No,” You said, mouth full of donut, and then swallowed, “He was an alcoholic.”

“Oh,” Robby said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Oh, he’s not dead, he’s just dead to me.” You turned to him and smirked as he was blushing again, “It’s okay, I haven’t spoken to him in almost ten years. I’ve moved on.”

He nodded and cleared his throat, “Sounds like that must’ve been… difficult.”

Your smile widened at his attempt to comfort you. Commiserate, even, “We are strangers in a car for fifteen hours together. We don’t have to do all this.”

He shrugged and turned to look at you briefly while stopped at a red light, “Isn’t this sorta the whole point of being alive though? Getting to know strangers?”

He had very intense, very warm, brown eyes. The kind of eyes that seemed to look right through you on first glance, that made you itch to break his stare. For just a moment, your smile slipped, and you tore your gaze from his to look out the windshield, “The light’s green.”

After a few moments of silence, you cleared your throat, “Seems like now’s a good time to mention that I am engaged, by the way. So if you were thinking about falling in love with me in the next fifteen hours, don’t.”

You heard him chuckle next to you, “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it. You’re not my type.”

You choked on your iced coffee and turned to look at him, “Excuse me?”

“What?” He laughed, “Are you shocked that the booty shorts didn’t work on me or something?”

You felt your face flush and you turned away from him, “No, I just… men don’t have a type.”

He scoffed, “What are you talking about?”

“Men will fuck any woman who shows even a little bit of interest in them. It’s why they’re incapable of being just friends with women.”

He raised his eyebrows, “You don’t think men and women can be just friends?”

“I don’t think straight men and straight women can be just friends because the man will always be secretly thinking about fucking her.” Robby was shaking his head, “What, you disagree?”

He laughed, “Yeah, of course. I promise I am not thinking about fucking you even a little bit.”

You smirked, “Okay. Well, I guess we can be friends then. At least until you prove me right.”

“Won’t happen.” 

You grinned, “Friends forever, then.”

He laughed, “Yeah, sure. Friends forever.”

***

The sun was beginning to set when Robby pulled back on the highway after stopping for Wendy’s, french fry hanging from his mouth.

“I could drive, you know, for a little while.”

“S’okay,” Robby said, food in his mouth, “I like the driving. Prefer it, actually.”

You nodded, “Yeah, that tracks with the whole thing you got going on.”

He laughed and gave you a quick glance, “You are such a know-it-all, you know? Anyone ever told you that? What thing do I have going on?”

You tossed a chicken nugget in your mouth before answering, “I’m not a know-it-all, I'm just really good at reading people.” You swallowed, “You have control issues.”

He ran a hand over his face, slightly shaking his head, “And how did you arrive at this conclusion?”

You shrugged, “It’s just sorta written all over you. The way you stepped in at the rental counter, the way you insist on driving, even in your talk at the conference you told a story when you were a resident where you ended up stealing a patient from another, more senior resident because you thought you knew best.”

He scoffed, “Yes, but I was right.”

“That time. I’m sure you’ve done that before and been wrong.” He’s quiet and when you look over at him, his jaw is clenched. Oh. You’ve pissed him off. “I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. We all have quirks—“

“Like you being an insufferable know-it-all?” He said sharply.

You went quiet. You weren’t offended, exactly, moreso caught off guard that you had triggered him so easily when it hadn’t been your intention. 

“Sorry,” He said after a moment, sighing, “That was unnecessary.”

You nodded, “Let’s take a break from talking for a while.” You leaned forward to start fiddling with the radio before sitting back and humming along.

Robby drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, but for the most part, the two of you sat in companionable silence for roughly a half hour.

Until Robby cleared his throat, “I’m sorry for snapping at you, I know I have control issues. Guess it was frustrating hearing it from someone who doesn’t even really know me.”

You shrugged, “It’s okay. For what it’s worth I have been told I’m an insufferable know-it-all.”

He smirked, “And does your fiancé love that about you?”

You snorted, “No. There’s nothing a man hates more than a woman who thinks she knows more than him.”

The comment struck him as a little too honest. And he thought, perhaps, there was a note of hurt in your voice.

“How long have you been together?” He asked mildly.

You sighed and he saw you examine the ring on your finger out of the corner of his eye, “We dated for three years and got engaged about six months ago.”

He nodded, “You have a date in mind for the wedding?”

You became uncharacteristically quiet and he worried he had pushed too hard, but then, “No, um, we still can’t agree on a venue. And then we just decided maybe it would make more sense to wait until I finished my residency.”

“Oh,” He said, “Well, yeah, that seems reasonable.”

You cleared your throat, “What about you, Robby, you have anyone at home?”

It was not lost on him that you had redirected the conversation away from yourself, but that was fine. It wasn’t his business anyway.

“No,” He said, “No, it’s just been me for a while now.”

You nodded, “How’s that going for ya?”

He smirked, “No one to make a victim of with my control issues, so it’s alright.”

You smiled and then yawned, “Could you talk for a while?”

He huffed a laugh through his nose, “About what?”

“Anything. Medical procedures. Hell, give me your talk again.” You yawned a second time, “Anyone ever told you you have a very calming voice?”

“Oh, so my talk put you to sleep?”

“No,” You settled back into the car seat, pulling the lever to recline it slightly and resting your head against the door, “Your talk was very good, actually. You just have a nice voice. It’s how I recognized you earlier. But now, yes, I would like you to put me to sleep if you don’t mind. I have a double tomorrow.”

Robby smirked and looked at you out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes were already closed, head leaned against the window, arms crossed across your chest.

“Alright,” He said eventually, “If you insist.”

***

It took only about twenty minutes of him talking, redoing the talk he had done the day before, before he noticed you had drifted off. When he could safely get a look at you, he saw your mouth slightly agape and you were snoring softly. It shocked him how endearing he found it, how oddly comforting it was to drive with someone dozing off in the passenger seat.

You had entered your address into the GPS a couple of hours ago and with the street lights illuminating the inside of the car, he pulled up outside your apartment building.

He hated to wake you, you really did look so peaceful, the street lights giving your face an artificial glow. 

He stared at you a beat too long before he reached a hand to your knee and gave it a light squeeze, “Hey, you’re home.”

You stirred, what sounded almost like a mewl crawled out your throat as you came to and Robby fought a smile. “Home?” You asked sleepily.

“Yes,” He leaned away from you, allowing you to wake fully, “You fell asleep.”

You blinked the sleep from your eyes and looked around, “Well,” You dragged your arm at the corner of your mouth, wiping away the drool that had collected there, “I think it’s safe to say you’re no deviant, Michael Robinavitch. Thank you for getting me home safely.”

He smirked and got out of the car to help you with your suitcase, “Anytime.”

Having all your things, you looked from your apartment building back to Robby, “So, we’re still friends?” You asked, smirking, calling everything back to your earlier conversation.

A slow smile made its way across his face. The answer was yes, but he was beginning to wonder if he had more than fifteen hours with you if the answer would eventually be no.

“Yes,” Was all he said, though. You were engaged. Someone else’s. “Friends forever, like I said.”

Your smile widened and you laughed, “Good, excellent. Maybe I’ll see you around then, Dr. Robby.”

He nodded, hands stuffed in his pockets, “I hope so.”

And then he watched, leaning against the car, as you made your way towards the apartment building. You didn’t look back at him. He waited until you were safely inside before climbing back into the car and pulling off the curb.

***

2018

Normally, you could only be found at a local bookstore, but every one you had checked as of late was missing the one book you wanted. So that was how you ended up at Barnes & Noble that day. You were crouched in front of the shelf, looking intently at the spines to locate the title you were looking for and so didn’t notice that someone was now standing next to you.

Successfully locating the novel, you pulled it from its shelf and rose to standing, beginning to read the blurb on the back cover.

Which was how you found yourself face to face with Michael Robinavitch after not seeing him for five years.

“Oh,” You said, “Hi.”

Quickly, you realized it was more than likely he had completely forgotten about you. It had been five years since you had shared that rental car up to Pittsburgh and you hadn’t seen him since. He hadn’t changed all that much, though his beard was a bit more unruly than you remembered.

But then, his face lit up in recognition, “Hi,” He said, seemingly shocked, but pleased to run into you, “I almost didn’t recognize you, your hair… it’s… different.”

You smirked, “Oh, you hate it.”

“No,” He said quickly, “No, I actually think it suits you more than the long hair.”

You smiled, “Nice save. Just as charming as I remembered.”

He shook his head, a flush working its way up his neck, “You still at Presby?”

“Yes,” You nodded, “I’m an attending now, though.”

“Good, that’s good,” You noted the way his eyes fell to your left hand and you knew what he was looking for, “Did you get married, then? You said you were waiting to finish your residency.”

It was shocking to you that he remembered you had said that. At the same time, it sent an ache through you to think about that relationship.

“I did get married,” You said slowly, looking down at your empty ring finger, “We got divorced about a year ago.”

“Oh,” He sighed, “I’m… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay.” Instinctively, you placed a hand on his forearm, meant for reassurance. But his eyes stared down at your hand, and self consciously, you pulled away, “We probably shouldn’t have gotten married in the first place,” You shrugged, “Besides, relationships will probably always be doomed for me. Emergency medicine doctors suck at marriage.”

He barked a short laugh and shook his head, “You can’t think like that.”

“Hey, I’m just going by the empirical data,” You tilted your head to the side and narrowed your eyes at him, “Are you… in a relationship? I didn’t see a ring.”

He gave you a lopsided grin, “I’m actually here with my girlfriend, Janey and her son, Jake. Wandered off by myself while they were looking for a book for him for school.”

Oh, it pissed you off the way your stomach sank. He had always said you weren’t his type anyway. He was probably actually telling the truth. It figured the only honest man you’d ever met wouldn’t be into you.

Granted, you didn’t really know Robby, only the version of him that lived in your head from that fifteen hour car ride that you revisited every so often. More so since your divorce finalized. But it was just loneliness, you assured yourself. You had created a version of him in your head that didn’t exist. The man you occasionally pined after was not in front of you, just someone who looked like him.

“That’s lovely, Robby. I’m happy for you.”

He laughed, “You just said ER doctors can’t keep a relationship.”

You shook your head, “Stupid and self deprecating. It’s just a coping mechanism. I’m sure you’re really great at it. Being a boyfriend.”

He scoffed and scratched the back of his head, “I don’t know about that, but I’m trying.” He nodded to the book in your hand, “What’s that?”

You flipped it in your hand so he could see the cover, My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Otessa Moshfegh. 

“Uh, just a book I heard about online,” You shrugged.

“What’s it about?”

You shrugged again, smirking, “A woman who is so sick of everything she gets her psychiatrist to prescribe her enough pills to sleep through a whole year.”

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you. You had worked with many an ER physician in your career and while in med school. You knew what it looked like when someone was assessing you for injury.

“Should I be concerned?” He asked. His tone was casual, but his posture was anything but.

Your grin widened, “You should always be concerned about me.” You joked, but his frown deepened, “I’m fine, Robby. It’s just a book.”

It wasn’t totally true. You had sought the book out because you suspected you would relate to the protagonist. Maybe too much. But he was a stranger. He didn’t need to hear about your suicidal ideations.

“You still drive stick?” You asked, anxious to move the conversation away from yourself.

He laughed and shook his head, “No, I finally have an automatic like the rest of the population.”

You laughed, “Oh, no. Bummer. You’re just like the rest of us peasants now. Do you at least still have the motorcycle?”

“Sold it a couple years ago.”

You winced, “Man, you’ve really let yourself go.”

He laughed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. You didn’t want to leave, but you felt the longer you stood here talking to him, it threatened to disprove the belief that he could not be as lovely as you made him out to be in your head.

“So,” You said finally and held your fist out to him, “Still friends?”

He gave you a lopsided grin and pressed his fist to yours, “Friends forever,” He repeated the words from five years ago and for a moment it felt as if no time had passed at all, “Like I said. Though I hope to see you again sooner than five years from now.”

“Yeah,” You said, “Me too.” 

***

2023 

Robby had zero desire to meet the new attending Gloria had hired. Whoever it was, they had been hired behind his back and with no warning to him until they were three days out from when they were supposed to start. If Gloria had hired someone behind his back, it had to mean that whoever it was was in her pocket. Or at the very least, Gloria thought that person was in her pocket. And that was enough for him to stay far away from whoever it was.

But what he hadn’t been expecting when Gloria came downstairs, new attending by her side as she gave a tour, was you.

He stopped short and stared dumbly as you and Gloria approached him. Unfortunately for him, he was unable to stop the stupid smile that spread across his face at the sight of you. 

“Dr. Robinavitch.” You said, once you were close enough. Your smile was wide enough to mirror his, “It’s good to see you again.”

He laughed, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You two know each other?” Gloria frowned, looking back and forth between you two.

“Sort of.” You said, “We met at a conference ten years ago.”

Sort of was an accurate way to describe whatever this repeated crossing of paths seemed to be between the two of you. 

“Oh.” Gloria seemed less than pleased at this revelation, “Lovely. Well, I’ll leave you in more capable hands then. Come find me if you need anything.” And then she was gone.

Robby shook his head at you, “I’ll ask again, what the hell are you doing here? Presby get too small for you?”

“Uh,” You shrugged, “I just… really needed a change.”

He smirked, “And… knowing I was here probably made it more enticing?”

You laughed, “You caught me. Thought it was finally time we became actual friends.”

Robby could not explain how pleased he was that you were here. It was stupid that he cared. He hadn’t seen you in five years. And before that brief exchange, he hadn’t seen you for five years before that. So really, he hadn’t seen you in ten years. And yet, he was traipsing you around, introducing you to everyone, laughing a little too loudly at your jokes, like he was a fucking teenager.

Until he was walking you home at the end of the day. Until you mentioned Dean.

“That’s great,” He said when you said it, that you were seeing someone, “So you think you’ve broken the ER doctor curse, then?”

You shrugged, smirking, “Probably not. But I really like him. It feels good, right now.”

“Good,” He said, “You deserve that.” 

And he meant it. You had looked so sad the last time he’d seen you. And even before that, the first time you met, you had struck him as something of a wounded animal. Defending itself with jokes and pessimism. You deserved to be truly happy.

“And what about Janey, how is she?”

He sighed, “Um, we broke up shortly after the last time I saw you. It seems the curse of the ER doctors is still with me. But I still get to see Jake, her son, so I feel really lucky about that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s probably for the best,” He rubbed a hand over the back of his head, “I’ve been a fucking wreck since covid anyway.”

You nodded, “Yeah. It’s been a rough couple of years.” The silence stretched between the two of you. Neither of you brave enough to break it with the horrors you experienced during the pandemic.

Finally, you cleared your throat, “Did you lose anyone?” You asked quietly.

He swallowed thickly, then nodded, “Our Chief of Emergency Medicine, Dr. Adamson. My mentor.”

He heard your sharp intake of breath next to him, “I heard about that. I didn’t realize you were close. I’m so sorry, Michael.”

Something about you using his first name undid him just a little and he had to focus very hard on his shoes and his steps to keep the emotion at bay.

“What about you?” He asked instead, “Who did you lose?”

Because you had to have lost someone. Almost everyone had. Especially if you worked in a hospital.

You sighed deeply, “Our charge nurse, Liz. She was like a mother to me. She’d been charge since I was a resident.”

“Is that why you left Presby?”

“I watched a lot of people I loved and deeply respected burn out and hospital admin did nothing about it. I know too many nurses and doctors both that decided to retire early or completely change careers.” You shrugged, “I don’t know. It felt like I was watching my entire department crash and burn.”

He shook his head, “It’s so fucked.”

“That we’re here and they’re not?” Finally, he met your gaze. Your eyes were warm and impossibly open as you looked at him. If he looked closely enough, he could see his own grief mirrored back at him. He gave you a slight nod. 

“Yeah,” You sighed and looked up at the moon, “It is fucked.”

After a few minutes of walking in comfortable silence, you stopped in front of an apartment complex, “Well, this is me. Thank you for walking me home, though it was completely unnecessary.”

Robby shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, “Let me feel useful, will you?”

You laughed, “Alright. See you tomorrow, then, Dr. Robby.”

He watched you go inside and as he walked away from the building he found himself thinking that he wished you’d call him Michael again.

***

It went like that for weeks. Robby walked you home after every shift, though you insisted it was unnecessary. You talked about everything and nothing. The shift, the hard patients, the ones you lost. To books and music and film. To childhood stories and first loves. It was finally starting to feel like you knew each other, rather than just a projection of each other ten years ago that lived in your respective brains.

But it wasn’t long before he noticed the way you seemed to be shrinking every time he saw you. Your smile just a little less genuine, the spark in your eyes dimmed ever so slightly. And he was too afraid to ask you why.

Instead, Robby started showing up outside your building in the mornings, an iced coffee in hand for you.

A few weeks of watching the two of you walk into the ER together, all smiles and laughs, and Abbot couldn’t keep his mouth shut anymore.

“So,” He said as him and Robby were walking through the ER for handoffs, “You gonna tell me about your girlfriend or am I gonna have to torture it out of you?”

Robby gave him a quizzical look, “What are you on about? I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, okay, so you’re just buying iced coffees every morning for anyone these days?”

Robby laughed, “Are you accusing me of being a harlot because I occasionally buy my colleague a coffee?”

“So she’s not your girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Okay. But you’re sleeping with her?”

Robby huffed and shook his head, “No. We’re just friends.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at Robby, “Friends who… Occasionally sleep together?”

“Okay,” Robby sighed, “We’re done with this conversation.”

Robby walked away and Jack scoffed, turning to Dana, “I’m not crazy, right? They’re definitely sleeping together.”

Dana rolled her eyes, “No, actually. She has a boyfriend.”

“Right,” Jack said emphatically, “And the boyfriend is Robby.”

Dana cracked a smirk, “No, you idiot. She’s seeing someone outside the hospital.”

Jack’s eyes widened, “You’re not kidding? With the way they look at each other?” Dana just continued smiling at him, “Alright, well, no one should be surprised if Robby walks in here one day with a black eye.”

“Who’s punching Robby?” You asked, approaching the hub, “What’d he do now? Is it Mohan? Because, I gotta tell ya, I’d pay to see that.”

Jack laughed, “Not Samira, your bo—“

Dana smacked Jack lightly in the stomach, cutting him off, “You eat anything today, kid? You look peaked.”

You frowned, “I just got here. Are you saying I look like shit?”

“There’s donuts in the lounge, sweetheart.”

“Well,” You pushed yourself off the hub, unable to turn down a donut, regardless of Dana’s implications, “Yeah, okay.” And disappeared towards the lounge.

Dana turned back to Jack, who was rubbing his stomach dramatically as if he’d actually been injured, “Could you not cause trouble on my shift? Go home.”

“Fine, fine,” Jack backed away, headed to the lockers, “But you know I’m right.”

Dana watched Robby as he tracked you with his eyes into the staff lounge, “Man, could you at least try to be less obvious?” She said under her breath, shaking her head.

***

The shift hadn’t been so terrible. You hadn’t lost anyone today and had only gotten yelled at by one patient, and she had been high out of her mind so you didn’t really count it. Still, you were in your head. Or, on your phone. Dean had been MIA for a couple of days now and you were supposed to meet him at his place after your shift, but he hadn’t answered any of your texts or calls.

He had been distant lately. This wasn’t the first time he had disappeared for days on end only to show up later and act like it wasn’t a big deal. You were growing tired of it, of the games. You were forty years old now, you thought once you were this old the men would quit playing games. I mean, fuck, he had you, so what was the vanishing act about? What was he trying to prove?

Grabbing your things from your locker and placing your headphones over your ears, you pressed play on your music and began the walk back to your apartment. You turned the music up loud enough to drown out the thoughts that tornado’d around in your head.

Loud enough that you didn’t hear the man who came up behind you and squeezed your shoulder.

You screamed and jumped back– Only to see it was Robby standing there, hands up as he backed away from you, concern all over his face.

“Fuck,” You swore and bent over your knees, trying to catch your breath after tearing off your headphones.

“Sorry,” Robby said softly, “Sorry, I thought you heard me, I’d been calling after you for a while.”

You straightened, “It’s okay.”

“You, um,” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, “You left without me. You usually wait.”

“Oh–I–Sorry–I–” You sighed, frustrated with your stammering, “I’ve been in my head all day, I just…” You sighed, “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Hey,” He lowered his head to force you to meet his eyes, a gentle smile on his face, “It’s okay. What’s going on with you?”

You hesitated and then looked away from him, starting to walk again. He fell into step beside you, patiently waiting.

“Would it be weird to talk about my dating life with you?”

He shook his head, “No. Why would it be weird?”

Right, because he wasn’t attracted to you even a little bit. As he was always so quick to remind you. 

You liked being friends with Robby, but working in the same ER you could no longer deny that you found him very sexy. Especially when he caught a rare diagnosis. Or he very calmly and gently explained a procedure to a resident while alarms were beeping around them and nurses were shouting out vitals.

Even just watching the way he rubbed hand sanitizer into his hands between patients had you imagining his hands in… very inappropriate situations.

And all the while you had to remember that he was not, and would never be, into you like that. And also, you had a boyfriend. A very sexy boyfriend in his own right, though my God, could he answer the fucking phone?

“No reason,” You sighed, “I don’t know, um, Dean’s just been a bit distant lately. He hasn’t answered my calls or texts in a couple of days and we’re supposed to meet up today.”

He nodded, “And you’re thinking…?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. He’ll probably break up with me soon. Or just ghost me. That’s what they usually do.”

He frowned, “This happens to you often?”

You smirked, “I know. Hard to believe with how charming and likable I am that I can’t keep a man.”

Robby didn’t laugh, though, just kept walking and silently staring ahead. 

You let the silence stretch and fold between you, Robby clearly holding something back, but refusing to acknowledge it.

“You got something to say?” You said, more casually than you felt.

Robby clenched his jaw and let another few moments of silence pass, “No.”

You gave a short laugh, “Okay.” You said, stretching out the word, “I mean, you can say it, whatever it is. We’re all friends here.”

He shook his head, “I just wonder why you keep choosing men who clearly don’t respect you or even like you very much.”

His words stunned you to a stop. He kept walking for a few steps before realizing you stopped and he turned back to face you.

At the look of surprise, and even hurt on your face, he sighed, “Look, I… I didn’t mean that to come out so harsh, I just don’t understand it. I mean, it was clear even ten years ago from what you said about your ex husband that he didn’t give you what you needed. And now you’re with this loser who can’t even be bothered to answer a text.” He ran a hand over his face, “You could probably have any guy you wanted in all of Pittsburgh, but instead you seem to purposely pick men that disappoint you.”

You scoffed and started walking again, “Okay, so it’s my fault that men treat me like shit?”

“Really?” He fell into step beside you again, “That’s what you’re gonna take from what I said?”

“How else am I supposed to take that?”

He scoffed and shook his head, “I just wish you’d see that you deserve better.”

You laughed and slowed to a stop, “Robby, I’m fucking forty years old. I’m divorced. I’m obsessed with my work. I’m an insufferable know-it-all, as you know. I’m not easy to love. I don’t exactly have men breaking down my door to be with me, alright? Dean is… Not perfect. But he’s all I have.” He stared at you with a look you couldn’t quite place, “What?”

He shook his head and looked down at his feet, “Nothing. Nothing. I’m sorry for what I said… It’s not my business.”

You bit your lip, fighting with the tears that seemed to threaten to overflow. And maybe Robby would think that the tears were just because he crossed a line, but it was more than that. There was something so fucking hurtful about this wonderful man in front of you, who had been so clear that he did not want you, making a whole speech about how you deserved better. Had he not ever once considered that good, decent men just did not love you and never had? Going all the way back to your father who would have done anything for a bottle of scotch but couldn’t remember to pick you up from school?

“Hey,” He said gently, stepping closer to you when he noticed your watery eyes, “I’m sorry, okay?”

He dropped his backpack to the ground and pulled you into his arms, “I’m sorry,” He repeated into your hair, arms tightening around you and anchoring you to his chest. He smelt of clean laundry and fresh pine deodorant. You closed your eyes and for a moment, allowed yourself to be comforted. To imagine what it would be like to be loved by someone like him.

Just for a moment.

***

You sat at your kitchen table, leg bouncing, fingernail gnawed between your teeth as you stared at your phone. It was nearly 9PM and still nothing from Dean.

This was ridiculous. You felt like a teenager waiting by the phone all night. You were just going to show up at his apartment, as planned. Maybe his phone was broken. Maybe a family emergency had come up.

But your earlier conversation with Robby was still playing in the back of your mind. Maybe you should just swear off men for good. Get a cat and dedicate yourself entirely to work.

Sighing, you stood and grabbed your car keys from the hook by the door.

***

You had knocked on his apartment door about ten minutes ago, giving up after a couple of tries. You leaned against the wall beside his door, trying yet again to call him, but it was sent to voicemail. You swore as you hung up, and as you did, the elevator at the end of the hall dinged and you heard the doors sliding open.

A feminine laugh floated down the hallway and you ignored it, still looking at your phone, until the laugh was replaced by silence. No walking. No voices.

You looked up and saw Dean, arms wrapped around a blonde that was easily at least a decade younger than you, probably more, mouth gaped open as he stared at you, “What’re you doing here?” He asked eventually.

What were you doing here? Chasing after a man that didn’t want you, just like Robby said. The tears that burned your eyes were not tears of sadness, but anger and humiliation. You sighed and pushed yourself off the wall, “Don’t call me. I’ll drop off your things next week.”

“Baby–”

“Oh, and just a word of warning,” You turned to the blonde, “He’s terrible at eating pussy.” You said, voice full of venom. 

And then you ducked into the stairwell.

***

You had made it back to your apartment building and after turning the ignition off in your car, had begun uncontrollably sobbing, head resting against the steering wheel.

When the crying began to slow to just hiccups, you took out your phone and dialed Robby.

He answered on the second ring, because he was reliable. Unlike any of the men you’d ever been with.

“Hey,” You sniffled, “You were right about Dean. He doesn’t like me… or respect me.”

You heard him breathe for a moment in the silence as he processed what you had said, “Are you crying?” He asked finally.

You laughed and wiped your nose on your sleeve, “Yeah, I know, it’s fucking pathetic. It’s just so fucking typical that he would cheat on me with some hot blonde in her twenties and just, like, think I would never find out! He didn’t even try to hide it. Knew we had plans tonight, and– Or, I don’t know, maybe the plans were so insignificant to him he really forgot. I guess on top of being really goddamn annoying I’m also extremely forgettable.” You lightly banged your forehead against the steering wheel.

“You’re not annoying or forgettable.” He said gently, almost sweetly.

“You’re just saying that because I’m crying and you have to be nice to me.”

You thought you heard a quiet laugh, “I remembered you after two brief encounters ten years ago. Thought about you quite often after both run ins, in fact. I would say that makes you pretty memorable.”

Robby was many things, but you knew him to always, always be honest. And so his words sprung new tears from your eyes. What were you going to do when some perfect woman inevitably fell in love with him and he wouldn’t answer calls like these late at night? When you were spiraling and a fucking mess?

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t dispute the fact that I’m annoying.”

Another short laugh, “You are passionate and assertive and intuitive and very funny. None of which I find annoying.”

Your chest felt warm at his praise, “You said I was an insufferable know-it-all the first time we met.”

He sighed, “I was stupid then. Besides, I didn’t know then that you used your teasing as a shield to keep the attention off yourself.” 

His revelation shocked you into silence and for a moment you just sat there, listening to his breathing. It was scary to be known and your instinct was to lash out, but you instead counted your breaths.

“Are you home?” He asked finally.

“I’m in my car, parked outside my complex.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

You frowned, “What? What do you mean?”

“I started walking over when I heard you crying. Sorry, is that not okay? Should I turn around?”

“No,” You said quickly, too quickly, and you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, “No, I mean, you should come. I would… I would like it if you were here.”

“Okay,” He said softly, “I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Okay.” You murmured and waited until the line cut out before you lowered the phone from your ear.

True to his word, Robby strolled into the parking lot just a few minutes later. When he saw you get out of your car and lock it behind you, he quickened his pace until he was in front of you, pulling you into his arms. Much like he had earlier that same day.

And again, you allowed yourself to be coddled. Allowed it when he kept an arm around your shoulders as he led you into your apartment building. Ignored the flutter in your stomach when he pressed a kiss to your hair and told you you deserved better.

A couple of hours later, you’re on the couch, both pleasantly tipsy from the bottle of wine you had opened and the tears had long since dried. Your feet were in his lap and while the two of you talked, his hand had been unconsciously running up and down your leg.

He hadn’t seemed to notice, but you had. 

“Did you say anything to him? When you left?”

You shrugged, “I told him I’d drop off his things.” Then you laughed, “I might have said something sort of awful to the girl though.”

He smirked, “What’d you say?”

You hesitated only a moment, flush building up your neck as you stared at the wine glass in your hand, “I told her that he was terrible at eating pussy.”

There’s a second of silence and then Robby bursts out laughing, “Is it true?”

You chuckled, still looking down at your wine glass, for some reason unable to look at him when talking about this, “Yes. He never made me come.”

Robby’s laughter died out and the hand on your leg stilled, “Never? Not even once?” You shook your head slowly, “How long were you dating?”

“About six months.”

Robby let out a low whistle, “Fuck.”

You nodded, “You’d be shocked the number of grown men who are clueless when it comes to knowing their way around…” You trailed off and cleared your throat, “Anyway, most men are pretty bad at it, in my experience, if they even like it.”

He exhaled heavily through his nose, “I just think maybe you have terrible taste in men.”

This again. You rolled your eyes, “As I said, the pickings are slim. Beggars can’t be choosers. Who would you have me sleep with, hm?”

When you looked up at him he was looking at you intensely. If you didn’t know any better, you would say hungrily. But just as soon as you were starting to wonder what it was he was thinking, the expression was gone and he stood from the couch, tossing your legs to the side.

“I should probably get going. It’s getting late.”

You tried not to seem too disappointed, “Right. Of course.”

You stood and led him to the door, “Thank you for coming,” You said as you opened the door, “You really didn’t have to.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

You smiled and nodded, “That’s what friends are for, right?” You said, self deprecatingly. You hadn’t meant for it to sound sarcastic, but you knew he must have heard it anyway.

He nodded and looked anywhere but at you. He was acting very strange. “Right, yeah. Friends.” 

You frowned, “Michael,” You said finally and his eyes snapped to yours, “Did I… Did I do something to upset you?”

He shook his head and then his eyes fell to your mouth, “No,” He said, gaze never straying from your lips, “I’m just tired.” He insisted.

“Okay,” You said slowly. He was drunk. Whatever was going on in his head right now meant nothing. Maybe he was staring at your mouth or maybe you had something in your teeth.

“Still friends?” You asked softly.

That joke. That stupid fucking decade old joke, still a shared line between the two of you, coiling ever tighter as time went on. And now it was fraying.

His eyes met yours and this time there was no mistaking the hunger in his gaze. You had mere moments to process the fact that Robby was looking at you with raw, unadulterated desire before his hands had grabbed your face and his mouth crashed into yours.

You gasped in surprise, but he was undeterred, his mouth hurriedly exploring yours as he moved you out of the threshold of the door and kicked it shut behind him. Beneath your initial shock, your body reacted. Robby was a man you had pined for on and off for more than a decade, and he was kissing you like you were a fresh stream and he hadn’t had water for so long that he couldn’t remember what it even tasted like. It took little more for the arousal to begin pooling in your stomach, for the ache between your legs to grow and expand.

But then, he licked into your mouth at the same time he lightly pushed you down on the couch and you could feel the way you dripped into your panties.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” He said breathlessly as he crawled over you.

You could only shake your head, watching him above you like this. You were so full of want, you leaned up to kiss him again–

But he pulled back.

“I need to hear you say it.” He said, his voice husky.

You swallowed, “Don’t stop.” You breathed.

It was enough. His mouth latched back onto yours, tongue making dizzying strokes against your own, and you were embarrassed when a whine escaped you. You tried pulling him by the shirt, needing him closer. At the same time, you wiggled your hips down until you felt yourself press against the knee he had slotted between your legs, seeking pressure and friction for your throbbing center.

But Robby pulled away, “I don’t think so.” He said, “Think I want to show you how a real man eats a meal.”

Were you dreaming? You felt like you were dreaming. Because there was no fucking way Michael Robinavitch was towering over you, obvious erection growing in his pants as he tugged your ankle to bring you to the edge of the couch. There was no goddamn way he was lowering himself to his knees in front of you, eyes never leaving yours.

But he was. And he tugged your shorts down over your knees. When you went to wiggle out of your panties, he stopped you, “Not yet.”

Slowly, he kissed and sucked his way from the side of your knee, up your inner thigh, until you were impatiently wriggling beneath his mouth. He said nothing, only wrapped an arm around one of your thighs to still you.

Finally, he turned his attention to your clothed pussy, running a finger down the damp spot at your center and sighing when your back arched.

“You’re so easy to rile,” He murmured, “It’s a mystery he couldn’t make you finish. It’ll probably only take me a couple minutes. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

The pet name went straight to your head, blood pounding in your ears. Your only response was a breathy sigh as he began delicately kissing you over your underwear. He began to apply a bit more pressure and you could feel his hot breath through the flimsy fabric.

When you felt his tongue, still over that fucking fabric, you moaned loudly, frustrated, “Michael.”

You felt the smug fucker smile against you before his fingers slipped under the cloth at your hips, pulling down. You lifted your hips eagerly to allow him to pull them off you.

Mercifully, he didn’t tease you any longer, his mouth was back on you immediately. If you were eager, he was desperate now, shoving his tongue deep in you and lapping up your juices. His hands held your thighs down so firmly when you squirmed, you thought he’d probably leave bruises.

He moved his mouth up to your swollen clit, humming against it as he pushed a finger inside you. You were so tight around his fingers, getting wetter and tighter as you approached your climax. With every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his finger, you felt yourself lose a little more control.

When he added a finger you thought maybe your brain was so overwhelmed with the pleasure it had forgotten to trigger your lungs to breathe. But a moment later, he sucked on your clit just hard enough to send you toppling over the edge and you were gasping for air. 

When he felt your orgasm rip through you, he released your hips, finally allowing you to grind against his mouth. He moaned at the taste of you while you tugged him by the hair closer to you, impossibly closer.

When it was over, he pulled away from you, rising up to kiss your mouth, the taste of you still on his tongue. He kissed his way up your jawline to your ear.

“How was that?” He murmured against the shell of your ear.

You were still seeing stars from the intensity of your orgasm, “How do you think?” You gasped.

You felt him laugh against your neck and then his body pulled away from yours. You mourned the loss immediately, but clenched your fists at your sides to stop yourself from reaching for him.

“Could I use your bathroom to clean up?” He asked.

You frowned and looked to his pants, still clearly tented from his erection, “It’s at the end of the hall, but let me—“

When you reached out to palm him over his pants, he jerked away. Rejection coursed through your veins and instantly, you knew you were flushed with embarrassment. 

“It’s okay,” He said and smiled at you, but it seemed strained, “I just wanted to make you feel good. I’ll be right back.”

He turned and walked towards the bathroom without waiting for your reply. 

You were still half naked on the couch, feeling confused and hurt as the high of your orgasm left you. What kind of guy made you come like that on the first try and then didn’t want you to touch his cock? What sort of fucked up point had he been trying to make?

***

Robby splashed water on his face, washing the remnants of you from his mouth and beard, and then looked at himself in the mirror.

Oh, you’ve done it now, man. He thought, You’ve absolutely fucked it.

He’d ruined everything. One brief lapse of self control and their entire friendship was now set to implode. 

But you had looked so goddamn sad on that couch and when he heard that loser not only had cheated on you, but couldn’t even make you come, it had flipped some primal, animalistic switch in his brain.

Until all he could think about was you coming undone under his mouth while you moaned his name. 

Still friends? You had asked at the door and he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t say the practiced words and finish the damn joke like he always did. Friends didn’t wonder what the other’s pussy tasted like or what they sounded like when they came.

What was an orgasm between friends? Maybe he could still salvage it. Maybe they could just pretend it never happened. 

He wasn’t prepared to lose you, not when you had just showed up at PTMC after he had spent years thinking about you. Wondering how you were doing. If you were still here or if you had moved away. If someone was finally loving you how you deserved.

The two of you were drunk. It hadn’t meant anything. You would regret it in the morning and he would graciously act like he didn’t know what you were talking about. He’d give you a few days of space and then he’d show up again with an iced coffee and walk you to the hospital. And everything would go back to normal.

It had to. He wouldn’t accept anything else.

***

Robby had left in a rush that night after he came out of the bathroom, giving you a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead as he did.

You were left feeling confused and hurt, that he had rushed out like that after the way he kissed you and touched you. Tasted you like you were a fine wine to be savored. Then turned around and acted like nothing happened. Like he had just done you a favor.

Your thumb hovered over his contact on your phone for a couple days after. You both had four days in a row off of work, a rare blessing. You typed and deleted many texts. And then there was a knock at your door.

Fuck, was he here? Maybe to apologize, to explain why he ran out like that. He was scared, he wanted you, he was in love with you. You felt like a lovesick teen for hoping. 

More likely, he would say it was a mistake and it wouldn’t happen again. And you would accept it even if it broke your heart because you had no other choice. You could either have this much of him or none at all.

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t Robby standing in the hallway with flowers and coffee. 

It was—

“Dean?”

***

Robby was pacing outside your apartment building with your iced coffee in hand. It had been four days since he last saw you. Four days of replaying that night in his head, getting off to the thought of how you felt and tasted. The way you sounded so desperate for him when you moaned his name.

But that was behind him now, he could forget about it if it meant keeping your friendship.

He froze when he heard your building door open and turned to look— It was you. 

You hadn’t noticed him yet, staring at your phone and headphones over your ears. He watched as your lips parted slightly in concentration, tongue darting out to wet them.

He swallowed and averted his eyes. It turned out it wouldn’t be so easy to pretend like nothing had happened. 

He’d keep trying though.

Finally, you looked up and you gave him a confused look as you pushed your headphones off, “Hi,” You said slowly.

He smiled and held out your coffee. Still frowning, you took it, “What are you doing here?” You asked softly as the two of you began the walk to the hospital.

“What do you mean?” He asked, staring ahead. He could feel your eyes burning holes into the side of his face, but he kept his focus ahead of him. It was all easier if he just didn’t look at you. “We do this every morning.”

“Right…” You said slowly and then scoffed when he didn���t say anything further, “Okay. Fine.”

“What do you mean, fine?”

“I mean if you want to act like everything’s fine, like you didn’t get me off on my couch a few nights ago, then okay. I’ll do the same.”

He inhaled deeply through his nose and kept looking ahead, “Okay. Great.” He could hear the irritation in your voice, but he ignored it, “How was the rest of your time off?”

He could feel you staring at him again, and then he thought he noticed you shake your head in his peripheral.

“It was fine.” You said finally, then you cleared your throat, “Actually, Dean showed up with flowers a couple of days ago. Said it was a mistake and begged me to take him back.”

Robby gave a short laugh, “Would’ve paid to see the look on his face when you told him to fuck off.”

You didn’t laugh with him. Didn’t say anything at all, in fact, and he felt his stomach twist with dread, “You did tell him to fuck off, didn’t you?” He asked quietly.

Still, you said nothing. Finally, he turned to look at you, but you were staring intently ahead. The tips of your ears red with what he assumed was embarrassment. Perhaps shame.

He scoffed, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“The last thing I need right now is you on your high horse–”

“Do you have no goddamn self respect, is that it?” He spat, voice rising, “You chase after men who hate you because you hate yourself?”

You stopped walking then, your whole face flushed with either anger or embarrassment, maybe both. 

“You have no fucking right to talk about the men I’ve been with when you behaved just like all the rest the other night!”

“Me?” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “What are you even talking about?”

“You fucking ran out of my apartment, leaving me half fucked, and acted like it was no big deal. Don’t call. Don’t text. Then you show up at my apartment with a fucking coffee like nothing happened! Like it meant nothing!” Tears of frustration pricked your eyes, “At least with Dean I know what I’m getting, with you… it’s… it’s hot and cold and I never know what the fuck you’re thinking or what you want–”

“I want to be friends.” He said quickly, “I want to be your friend, I want you to be happy.”

You nodded and looked up towards the trees, willing the tears back into your eyes, “Right. Friends. Friends don’t lead each other on.” You said, lip curled, and then you continued your walk to the hospital.

He stared after you, stunned, and then jogged to catch up to you, “I told you from the beginning you weren’t my type–”

You were drowning. It would have been kinder for him to have tied a weight to your foot and shoved you in the river.

You turned and placed your empty hand on his chest and shoved, “Fuck. You.” He was much larger than you and you had a coffee in your other hand so he remained sturdy, though he fell back a step. Tears were streaming down your cheeks now, “We’re not fucking friends. We’re not anything.” You shoved the iced coffee back into his hand, “Just leave me alone, okay?”

Robby stared after you as you stormed off, jaw clenched and melted iced coffee in his hand.

***

Jack and Dana watched as you stormed into the ER, face red and splotchy. Your cheeks shined with tears under the fluorescent glow of the lights above. Robby strode in only moments later, a melted iced coffee in his hand that he tossed in the trash by the entrance as he walked over to the hub.

You were rushing around after stopping at the lockers, draping a stethoscope around your neck as you ambled right into Robby’s path, causing the both of you to stop short to avoid a collision. Jack and Dana watched as the two of you stared each other down for a few seconds, tension palpable, before you stormed off again. Robby stared after you for a moment before running a hand down his face.

Jack and Dana exchanged a look before Jack stepped to Robby and clapped a hand on his back, “Hey man, why don’t we get some air?”

Robby sighed, “I just got here, Jack.”

“And yet you already look like you’ve been through the ringer, so humor me.” He said and steered the other man by the shoulders to the stairs.

Once on the roof, Robby leaned over the railing and Jack joined him, his eyes roving over Robby, “What happened?”

Robby sighed, “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, man, what’s going on with you and Y/N? You ran after her at the end of the last shift. Now you walk in separately and if looks could kill, my friend, you’d be six feet under right now.”

He shrugged, “I fucked up. Crossed a line I shouldn’t have. I hurt her without meaning to. Now she wants nothing to do with me.” He looked at Jack and smirked, “That’s it.”

“So what’re you gonna do about it?” Jack asked, turning his attention back to the Pittsburgh skyline.

He laughed, “Nothing. She told me to leave her alone, so that's what I’ll do.”

Jack shook his head, “I don’t buy it.” Robby looked at him incredulously. “The two of you have been drawn to each other like magnets over the last, what, ten years? And you’re just gonna let her walk away?”

Robby smirked, “I already told you, it’s not like that with her. We’re just friends.”

“What line did you cross, then, huh?” Robby didn’t answer, jaw clenched as he avoided Jack’s stare, “I’ve seen the way you look at her, man,” Jack shook his head, “It’s not friendly.”

Robby was terrified that Jack may be right. That all this time he had been convincing himself you were just a friend, he had been falling for you instead. He knew the way the staff talked, not just Jack. Again and again, he dismissed them as rumors, a bit of lightness to keep everyone’s head above water. But what if there had been truth to it?

He had been so scared of losing your friendship he didn’t stop to think that the reason he was so scared was because maybe he cared for you more than just as a friend.

And if that was true, he had wasted so much time and energy fighting against it only to lose the war anyway.

Robby rubbed at his beard and shook his head, “Well, it really doesn’t matter because I fucked it, so.” He pushed himself off the railing and started walking towards the door that led back to the Pitt, “I should get back down there. Go home.”

Alone on the roof, Jack heaved a sigh, “I should really be getting paid extra for these free therapy sessions.” He murmured to himself before he walked back to the door.

***

For weeks, Robby tortured himself by reliving your last conversation in his head. The realization that you were hurting and he was the reason, it made him feel sick at times. In addition to that, after his conversation with Jack on the roof, he realized too late that he was in love with you. He thought about telling you many times, but it was so clear you wanted nothing to do with him, he thought it would probably just hurt you more.

The one time he had followed you out of the ER at the end of the shift intent on finally telling you, he had walked out to see your arms twined around Dean’s neck, your mouth smiling into his. His stomach had twisted and he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. It was wrong, it felt all wrong seeing you wrapped around him like that. He knew he had fucked up his chance with you, but it hurt worse that his fuck up had pushed you back into Dean’s arms.

 He did his best to stay out of your way, but it was difficult. Since you were an attending yourself, he didn’t need to be involved in all of your cases, but there were times when you begrudgingly asked for a consult. Or a really rough trauma came in and it was all hands on deck.

It was uncomfortable for everyone on those cases. The unresolved tension between you two acted like a whirlpool, extending out and dragging unwilling participants to the center. You would bicker over treatment plans or silently glare at each other over patients.

Once, when he had walked in to you performing a thoracostomy with a warm water lavage, he thought he might fire you from how frustrated he was.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Hypothermic drowning victim, troponin levels suggested there was a cardiac event, I’m clearing the clots and rewarming with warm saline.” You said calmly without looking up from the patient.

“Did you consult cardio?”

“There wasn’t time.”

“You could have at least fucking called me.”

You looked up at that, and then back down, “He’s back to sinus and at normal temp.” You said and began to deglove, “I’m not going to apologize for saving a patient.”

He followed after you as you walked back to central, “You and I both know you’re supposed to call in your chief attending for approval whenever you want to do some crazy procedure that is outside the standard of care–”

“It wasn’t outside of the standard–”

“You’re not a fucking cardio attending,” He said, louder than he meant to. Others turned to stare at the two of you, “Look,” He said, lowering his voice, “You can hate me all you like, but we have to work together when we’re here. And that means,” You had rolled your eyes here and he had to move his head to force eye contact with you, “That you consult me before you do anything that is considered outside the norm. Got it?”

You sighed, “Loud and clear, boss. Can I go now?”

He stared at you a moment longer and his eyes fell to your mouth. He hadn’t meant to stare, to recall the way your mouth felt against his or how soft and pliant your lower lip was when he pulled at it with his teeth, but that’s what he found himself doing.

And you noticed. He watched as your frown deepened and you turned, walking away before he could say anything else.

“Fuck,” He murmured to himself and laced his hands behind his neck. 

“You okay, Cap?” Dana asked as Robby trudged over to the hub, leaning over on his forearms.

“Just peachy.” He sighed.

“You coming out tonight? It’s Princess’s birthday. Everyone’s going to Monterey’s.”

“Everyone?”

Dana smirked knowingly, “Yes, I heard she’ll be there too.”

He shook his head slowly, “Then, no. I will not be going.”

She sighed, “The two of you cannot keep going like this. If for no other reason than it’s starting to affect your work. Time to put your big boy pants on and face… whatever the fuck is going on with you.”

“What do you want me to do, huh? She wants nothing to do with me. Should I lock us in a room together and force her to talk to me?”

Dana shrugged, “Maybe, if you think that’ll work.” Robby shook his head and looked away, “Come out tonight.” Dana said, “There’s nothing a drink or two can’t fix.”

***

It was 8:30 when you walked into Monterey's, having gone home to change. You hated going out in scrubs, it felt wrong somehow.

You spotted Robby almost immediately where he stood near Dana, but pretended you hadn’t noticed him as you headed to the bar. 

It didn’t seem to matter though, because he was next to you two minutes later as you waited for the bartender to return with your drink.

“Could we talk?” He asked.

Your eyes flitted up to his and you found yourself momentarily distracted by how beautiful he was. The freckles, the crinkles at his eyes. You had had to work very hard not to notice the last few weeks. 

You turned back to the bar, “I’m waiting for my drink.”

“I can wait.” He said immediately.

You drummed your fingers against the bar top, “If this is about earlier–”

“It’s not about work.”

You swallowed, “Well, what, then?”

He didn’t say anything, eyes following the bartender as he made your drink. Once the drink was in your hand, he began walking, gesturing for you to follow as he led you outside.

It was quiet out here. The Sun just barely peeking over the skyline, a faint orange glow illuminating everything. You felt claustrophobic as he led you down an alley on the side of the building. It had felt like forever since the last time you’d been alone together.

He came to a stop and turned to you, clearing his throat, “How are you?” He asked softly.

You sighed, “Robby, I don’t–This is unnecessary–”

“Look, I know I fucked up. I think about it every day. But I can’t–”

“So you regret it then? What we did?” Your voice broke as you said it. There were so many layers to how hurt you still felt after everything with Robby. It was difficult to untangle most of the time, so you had just buried it. But standing here with him so close, you could feel it all clawing to the surface, demanding your attention.

“No.” He said firmly, “No, I don’t. I regret the way I handled it.”

You took a sip of your drink and looked away from him, “I see. So you just wish you had maybe let me down easier, then? Is that it?”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “This isn’t coming out right. I’m so fucking bad at this.”

You scoffed, “I’m just gonna go back inside, okay? We’re good, I promise, I will make sure to consult you–”

“I love you.” He blurted out, and you froze. “I’m in love with you. I’ve probably loved you a little bit from the moment I met you.”

For a second you just stared at him, the only sound was the sound of each other’s breathing. 

Then, your eyes watered and you inhaled a shaky breath, “Don’t do this.” It came out breathless, a desperate plea, “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” He reached out, grabbing your free hand to keep you from running.

You were shaking your head, turning to leave, then turning back when his hand tightened around yours, “You’re just lonely, you don’t want me.”

He tugged you by the hand until you were just inches from him, “I do,” He said nodding, “I love you. And I can say it as many times as you need me to to believe it.”

You swallowed, “You said just a few weeks ago that I wasn’t your type and you’ve been saying it for ten years.”

He shook his head, eyes roving over your face until they settled on your mouth, “We were both there the night I kissed you. Do you really believe that?”

Not really, no. You could still feel the urgency of his tongue in your mouth. You could still hear his reverent sighs at the sight of you naked. Still, he had pushed you away, left you alone and rejected.

Your chin wobbled, “Michael.”

His name came out in a broken plea. You weren’t sure what exactly you were begging for. For him not to mean it or for him to mean it. 

He laced his free hand through the hair at the back of your neck, “Don’t be scared, okay? I’ve got you this time. I promise. I was stupid, I was so afraid of losing you as a friend I ignored the way I really felt.”

You rested your forehead against his, closing your eyes. You wanted to believe him, but you were afraid, too. Afraid he’d change his mind, like all the rest. Leave you more broken than when he found you. 

“I love you,” He whispered and pulled back to kiss your forehead, “I love you,” He repeated, pressing a kiss to your cheek. And he went on like that, kissing your face all over as he repeated those three words and you felt like your chest was being cracked open. If he reached in to pull your heart out, to hold it, still beating in his hand, you’d probably let him take it. You’d let him do anything he wanted if you could just stay in this moment.

Until you couldn’t take it anymore and you caught his mouth with yours. He pushed you into the brick wall behind you, careful to place his hand between your head and the hard stone. The single act of tenderness had tears springing to your eyes again and you felt so fucking pathetic that you kissed him harder, desperate to drown out the feeling.

He moaned when you pulled gently at his lip with your teeth and the sound had the muscles coiling low in your belly, heat accumulating with every new taste and touch and sound.

Mouth still on yours, he frantically unbuttoned your jeans and shoved his hand down between your legs. You whimpered when he dipped a finger just barely into your entrance, his sigh in your ear sounded like relief. Like he had been dying to touch you like this for weeks and weeks, and finally he was saved.

When he pushed his finger fully inside you, you cried out and he covered your mouth with his own to stifle it.

“Robby,” You sighed as he stroked your walls, thumb coming up to rub dizzying circles around your clit, “We… We shouldn’t… I haven’t—I’m still with De—“

“I know you were not about to say another man’s name when I'm knuckle deep inside you, right, sweetheart? You wouldn’t do that, would you?” He added a finger and you would’ve folded if it weren’t for his body pressed to yours, keeping you steady, “You feel so fucking good wrapped around my fingers like this. You gonna come nice and quiet in my hand so no one hears you?”

God, no one else had this effect on you. No one else could talk to you like this, make you soft and malleable like warm putty. It drove you insane. He drove you to the fucking brink and you knew you would still come back and beg for more. He made you insatiable.

When you didn’t immediately answer him, his hand stilled and you whined, shimmying your hips against his hand.

“You can be quiet, can’t you?” He dragged his teeth down the column of your throat, sending chills down your spine.

“Yes.” You sighed, “Whatever you want.”

You felt his smirk against your skin and his fingers started stroking you again. You had to stifle the moans that fought to climb up your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to climax.

“There you go,” He said, pressing tender kisses to the side of your face, “So close, I can feel you. Be a good girl and come for me, yeah?”

His praise sent shockwaves through your body and to quiet yourself and prevent yourself from crying out, you bit down on his shoulder.

“Did so good for me,” He murmured, pulling his hand out and re-buttoning your jeans for you as you fought the daze of your orgasm. He kissed your head and grabbed your hand, “Come on, follow me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my place.”

“Oh— What about Princess?”

“She’ll forgive us once the rumors spread about why we left together.”

You fought the smirk on your face, “Dean is expecting me later—“

Robby turned to look at you, “Fuck Dean, alright? Let him wait up for you and wonder where you are for once. It’s more than that jackass deserves.” He started tugging you by the hand again and you found you didn’t want to argue.

You knew it was wrong, to punish Dean the way he had hurt you, but in truth, you didn’t think he’d care much when you didn’t turn up tonight. You wouldn’t tell Robby this for fear he’d show up at Dean’s apartment intent on fist fighting him, but you knew he’d continued cheating on you the last few weeks. 

It didn’t hurt as much as it had the first time you found out. Probably because you had been hung up on Robby. 

You’d break it off with Dean tomorrow. Right now, you just wanted to let Robby have his way with you.

***

Finally seeing Robby naked for the first time felt as close to a religious experience as you thought you would ever experience. In his bed, you were kissing every freckle, every scar, every tattoo you could reach while your hand was between his legs, stroking his erection.

He looked wrecked and love drunk as you worked him. Your lower lip caught between your teeth as you learned what touches had him moaning, which had him gasping for air, and which had his eyes rolling all the way back in his head. 

It wasn’t long before he tore your hand off him and pinned it above your head, pushing his tip teasingly to your dripping core, “That’s enough of that, I think.” He said, broken voice betraying just how close to the edge you had brought him.

Quickly, you watched as he ripped open a condom and pulled it onto himself. Wasting no time, he gripped your hips and dragged you underneath him before pushing himself inside you. The stretch had you gasping, but he bent his forehead to yours, kissed you through it as he pushed into you. Every thrust was slow and achingly tender. His eyes rarely left yours, only to occasionally bury his face into your neck.

Anytime you suggested a different position, he shot you down, “No, no,” He’d repeat, your legs locked around his hips, “Just like this,” He’d pant, “Want you underneath me just like this.”

When he finished, you muffled his moans with your mouth, thrusting your hips up into his when the intensity of his orgasm had him unable to keep moving through the aftershocks.

Afterwards, you stared up at the ceiling fan, your head resting on his chest.

“I love you, by the way.” You murmured when you could feel yourself drifting into sleep, “Don’t know if I ever said.”

He kissed your hair and dusted his fingers over your shoulder, “You didn’t have to.”

***

2024

It was cool and cloudy in San Diego that morning. You fiddled with the ring on your finger as you stood backstage at the annual American Academy of Emergency Medicine conference. 

Michael stood behind you, hands rubbing reassuring circles into your shoulders, “You’re gonna do so good, baby. Nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried, I could do this talk in my sleep,” You smirked, “I’m just thinking about the first time I saw you here, when you did your talk.”

He laughed behind you, “Well, it wasn’t here.”

“You know what I mean.” You said and covered one of his hands with yours.

“Yeah,” He said, “If I had known my future wife was in the audience I would’ve picked a better shirt.”

Your grin spread across your face as you looked down at the engagement ring on your finger, “And I probably wouldn’t have worn booty shorts to the airport, but hindsight is 20/20.”

He hummed and then your name was being announced, a brief intro given, and then Michael kissed you quickly before gently pushing you towards the stage.

Later, in your hotel room, the both of you were drunk and sprawled out on the bed. Your head rested on his stomach and he had an arm draped across your chest.

He picked up your left hand and inspected it, “I love seeing this on your finger. Probably should’ve proposed the first time I brought you home.”

You smirked, but there was a nagging thought in the back of your head. One that had been there since he got down on one knee.

“What’s wrong?” Robby asked, even drunk he was ever perceptive of your mood changes.

“Nothing.” You said quickly, “Everything’s perfect.”

He let a moment of silence pass, twisting the ring on your finger between his thumb and forefinger, “You know you can tell me anything, right? Nothing’s too scary or too much.”

You did know, but it didn’t stop your brain from convincing you otherwise. Eventually you swallowed and lifted yourself onto your knees so you could turn to face him.

“Do you ever think about the rate of divorce among emergency medicine doctors?”

He frowned, “Not particularly, no. But I gather you do?”

“I just—“ You sighed, “I love you, obviously, so much. But I—I wonder sometimes if… If getting married just invites the possibility of breaking this. And… And what we have is really good and I don’t—“

“Hey,” He sat up, “Slow down.” He paused, “How long have you been thinking about this?”

You sighed, “I don’t know, since you proposed, probably?”

He raised his eyebrows, “Right, okay.”

You deflated, “You’re mad.”

He shook his head, “Not mad. I just wish you would’ve told me sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” You could feel your abandonment fears dusting themselves off in your head. You had never felt as secure as you had with Robby. You had felt loved and safe from day one. Your fears that he would leave again, he proved over and over were unfounded. No one had ever shown up for you like this. And that made the prospect of losing him even scarier.

“Tell me more about it.” He said, “Your fears.”

You sighed, “I—It’s okay, we don’t have to. I want to marry you, I do.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” He said gently and wrapped his arms around you so he could pull you to his chest, “But we should still talk it through.”

You swallowed, “If the rate of divorce for ER doctors is so high, does the rate double when it’s two ER doctors instead of just one?”

He’s quiet a moment as he mulled it over, “You ever think that maybe an ER doctor marrying another ER doctor lowers the rate of divorce, rather than increasing it?”

“How do you figure that?”

“Both people understand the crazy schedule and the difficulties of the job. And if you’re like us and work in the same ER, you see each other day in and day out, even with that crazy schedule. Being colleagues probably increases healthy communication and conflict resolution outside the ER.”

Already, you felt soothed, “I didn’t think about it like that.”

“Well I have even more compelling evidence for you.”

You smirked, “What’s that?”

“None of those ER doctors that got divorced were married to me.”

You laughed and turned in his arms so you could kiss him, “I love you.” 

After a moment, you pulled away from him slightly, gears turning in your head, “How long of a drive is it to Las Vegas?”

Robby stared at you blankly until his brain began to catch up, “You’re serious?” He asked, his voice breathless.

You nodded, “I want to be your wife. Right now.”

His laugh was high and unbelieving as he ran a hand through his hair, “What about our friends and family—?”

“We can have a real wedding. Maybe a year from now, we do the whole thing right, renew our vows. But I don’t want to wait that long to be yours.”

He smiled, “You’re already mine.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Not legally. Besides, don’t you think there’s something really romantic about getting married in secret, just the two of us?”

After a moment of searching your face, probably trying to make sure this wasn’t some sort of mental break, he nodded, “Okay.” He laughed and shook his head, “Let’s get married.”

***

“The only car we have left is a manual.” The woman running the rental counter had bleached waves and thick black eyeliner. She chewed gum as she spoke, “Can either of you drive a manual?”

“Sorry,” Robby said, grin already spreading across his face as he squeezed your hand, “There’s no automatics left, is that… Did I hear you correctly? Only a manual?”

The woman narrowed her eyes at Robby. To her, he probably seemed insane, “Look, can you drive a manual or not?”

He looked back at you, then, smiling and shaking his head, “Yeah, we can both drive stick.”

The two of you had walked out of the rental store, giggling and swinging your hands between each other like children. 

It was a five hour drive, so you bought donuts and coffees. Once in the car, you propped your feet up on the dash and stared over at Robby, who was reacquainting himself with a manual.

“You sure you remember how to drive stick?” You asked, mouth half full of donut.

He glared over at you, but couldn’t resist breaking into a smile anyway, “It’s like riding a bike.”

Placing his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, he started the car and began backing out of the parking lot. As he peeled out and fiddled with the radio, you rolled the windows down and were surprised when tears pricked your eyes when you looked back over at him.

You thought about all the heartbreak and lonely nights the last eleven years. The times you thought you’d be alone forever, or worse, stuck in a relationship with someone who didn’t want you. You mulled over all the nights you had allowed yourself to dream about that doctor you met in Florida. A fifteen hour drive that seemed to have rearranged all the planets and constellations of your life. 

He had been your north star over the last decade, always seeming to guide you back to where you were supposed to be. Which was here. In this car. Windows down as you sang along to the radio. His hand held yours as it rested on top of the gear shift. Taking you to your wedding. Taking you home.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Bob Floyd X Reader: Speedy Landing

a/n: Can’t stop thinking about Bob coming in his pants from desperation and being embarrassed. So yeah, that’s what this is, porn with no plot.

Warnings: smut, premature ejaculation, Bob being Bob, no use of y/n

Word count: 659

You couldn’t blame him—it wasn’t his fault. You were so beautiful, and so very desperate for him. It was impossible for him not to be just as desperate for you.

He was lying on the couch, you on top of him. Both of you were fully clothed and fully consumed by your lip-lock. He hadn’t even managed to get his uniform off before you jumped on him. The flight suit always seemed to put you in a good mood.

In between filthy kisses, you pulled back to whisper against his lips.

“Missed you.”

“I was only gone for a week,” he said with a soft laugh.

You pulled him into another messy kiss, nipping at his lip before answering.

“A week without you is a long time. Far too long.”

Bob’s brows furrowed as you moved to lick at his neck, soft whines escaping his lips.

You didn’t even realize you were doing it—not really. The way your hips moved—slow, unconscious little rocks against the growing bulge beneath you. Like your body knew what it wanted before your mind could catch up. And he let you, because how the hell could he not? He was already so hard it hurt.

It was remarkable how quickly you could get him needy for you.

The truth was, he’d missed you too. Every night he thought of you—of your warm body beside him. They weren’t even dirty thoughts, just thoughts of missing you.

He hadn’t even realized how touch-starved he was until now—until your body was pressing against him like this, warm and eager and so heartbreakingly close. Bob’s hands gripped your waist, fingers digging in, but not to stop you. Never to stop you. Just to hold on, desperately clawing at you as you continued to move against him.

God, how he loved you.

How you smelled. How you felt. How his name slipped from your lips in a breathless sigh.

He could barely breathe. You didn’t let him escape your mouth, trying to consume him entirely with only a feral kiss.

He buried his face in your neck, breathing hard, biting down on a groan as you kept moving against him, grinding in just the right way without even trying. You let soft pants into his ears, mouth moving over his neck. You were kissing him like you couldn’t get enough, like you needed him, and it was all too much—your mouth, your weight on him, the friction, the heat.

It was like a switch flipped in his head—like suddenly he’d been able to see through the foggy haze of lust. His eyes widened in realization, hands grabbing onto you with more desperation.

“Honey, please,” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “You have to stop. I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”

But it was already too late. His hips bucked up in their own accord. He tensed beneath you with a choked, broken sound as he came in his pants like a fucking teenager.

You didn’t even realize what had happened at first—not until you felt it. A sudden warmth seeping through the front of his flight suit, pressing hot and sticky against your inner thigh. You froze mid-motion, blinking down at him in surprise.

Bob’s face crumpled, equal parts overwhelmed and mortified.

“Fuck—I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to. You were just—Jesus, I tried to hold on—”

But you weren’t upset. Not even close.

“You came in your pants,” you whispered, almost in awe.

He groaned, covering his face with one hand.

“God, I know. Don’t—don’t say it like that.”

But you didn’t move off of him. Instead, you pressed your thighs tighter around his hips, just enough to feel the sticky warmth again. You looked at him—red-cheeked, hair mussed, lips still wet from your kisses—and you felt your core clench with the sheer heat of it. Your hips rolled forward, slow and deliberate, and he shuddered beneath you.

“That,” you said, voice low and reverent, “was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

[luminalunii97]

I'm back after 4 days of almost no internet connection. The islamic republic first impulse during any crisis is to limit iranians access to internet, since they are afraid people are going to organize a riot against them. This is what happens when you make an enemy of your own people. For the past 4 decades, the regime of iran has oppressed and brutalized our people to the point that during war they feel the necessity to put anti riot forces in every main square around the city and disrupt people's connections and flow of information to prevent people from taking the opportunity to overthrow them. In case you don't know how much I hate the IR regime, I'm almost ok with this war because it means they suffer!

I live in tehran but my family and I were away from the city for a few days to wait out the worst of it. But I'm back now. Many people left last week but are coming back in small numbers. You can't really leave your house, job and life for too long after all, not in this economy. Israel airforce is still targeting different sites all over iran. Mostly military bases and ammunition storages. They've also targeted governmental facilities, in tehran especially. It's all very concerning since these bases and institutions are mostly inside city perimiters and the neighboring houses get affected. Iran is also hitting israel but unlike the Israeli government, they don't even pretend that they care about civilian casualties!

To be fully honest here, most people in iran are torn between fear of war and celebration of regime loss. That very first night when israel killed some of the high rank IRGC commanders, most tehrani residents woke up with fear, felt sad that innocent neighbors were killed but happy that those prominent faces were hit. Salami, IRGC commander in chief, and Hajizadeh, commander of aerospace force, were directly responsible for striking the Iran-Ukrain flight 752 around 6 years ago, killing 176 innocent people, but instead of taking accountability they cracked down on the aggrieved families to keep them quite. Tehranchi was the rector of Islamic Azad University branches in tehran and a few years ago when 10 students died in a bus accident inside the university campus due to neglect, he said "accident happens!"

These people have been responsible for all the murders and violent crackdown during woman,life,freedom uprising and 2020 protests and more. Imagine the glee people felt at their deaths. When Israel hit the IRIB building (islamic republic broadcasting), my friend called me to give me "the good news". Iran's regime television is so full of lies and vile bs that people congratulate each other every time their broadcasting building gets hit.

As I said, amidst war, the IR regime is focused on people's movements. They are arresting people left and right for doing so much as tweeting "Khamenei is incompetent!" They have already executed two opposing civilians as israeli spies. They really want us to believe that two regular citizens who shit tweeted the government a few times somehow had access to regime's confidential military information and sold them to israel! While isreal has stated repeatedly that they have spies among high ranking IRGC officials which makes more sense.

Last but not least, USA involvement is very scary to a lot of us. We know our regime is no match to US military power and right now the US president is an unpredictable mad man, considering khamenei is also crazy, god knows what happens if direct war escalate between iran and USA. The three nuclear sites US already hit didn't cause a chemical leak thankfully, iran was smart enough to evacuate them. But there's a nuclear facility in Bushehr with working nuclear reactors that produce electricity. It would cause a humanitarian crisis if bombed, not just inside iran, but in the region. So we're praying mad men in power won't bomb it.

We all know that Netanyahu and Trump are no philanthropists, but they've been singing iranian's praises and making promises of freedom and better future from the start of the war. Rumors are that they are backing Reza Pahlavi, son of overthrown king of iran, to replace the current regime. I'm not a monarchist and I don't like to replace one dictatorship with reinstallation of an overthrown one, to go from russian unofficial colony to USA milking cow (because that's what US is after, oil and other resources benefits). Pahlavi certainly have some fans in iran, specially among the upper class families. I don't think that's ideal and I'm not happy foreign governments are meddling in iran inner affairs once again but I have to admit that I'd take anything over the islamic republic. Even though Trump saying "make iran great again" makes my skin crawl (we all saw what maga did to USA), I'm not heartbroken over the possibility of overthrowing the current regime.

I think I've said everything I wanted to say. I wasn't around for days and wanted to drop a quick update before going back to tapping up the windows in case of blast nearby.

[algrimthestrong]

Aednan's friends had chosen an especially inconvenient moment to appear, just when Mal had been about to admit that he was glad for his decision to accept Aednan's invitation, and though the elven prince had missed out on one of his favourite games, he was glad, for once, to be able to leave his peers to their own nocturnal amusements. He had a far greater prize on his arm and was in no mood to share.

"I am sorry about Alador. He does not like mortals very much," Aednan explained, silently cursing the fact that Mal's first enounter with Alfheim's residents had been such a rude one. The last thing he wanted was for Mal to not feel welcome. To his relief, Mal did not immediately demand that he take him back to his cottage, which was a good sign. He let go of Mal's shoulder to reach for his hand instead, gently intertwining their fingers as they walked. Alador had been right about one thing, though. Mal was special, and though the red-haired elf was his friend and playmate Aednan did not owe him an explanation, especially when he was still trying to figure out his own attraction to this most unusual mortal in all of Midgard.

"It's a game that we enjoy very much," the prince anwered Mal's question, happy to shift the conversation to a more pleasant subject. "One of us plays the role of prey, whom the others have to try to catch. Getting captured is inevitable, but it's the prey's skill and ingenuity that determines how long the game will last. The one who succeeds in catching the prey gets to pluck their flower." He let out a rapturous sigh. "It's always such an intense and exciting experience." His mouth curved upward in anticipation, eager to see what kind of reaction his revelation would elicit from the other man. Aednan thought it likely that Mal would have been exposed to such pastimes during his time beyond the veil, if not in deed then at least in word or tale. It was rare to come across one of the folk who did not enjoy the thrill of the hunt, after all.

As much as he wanted to linger in the gardens for a little longer and see if he could persuade Mal into letting himself be stolen away to one of the pretty little gazebos dotting the area, Aednan did not want to risk another disturbance by someone who might feel compelled to comment on the prince's choice of companion. They turned onto a side path bordered by opulent clusters of hydrangeas in blue and lilac that eventually led to a flight of stone steps, a shortcut that would take them to a side entrance into the palace. Aednan looked forward to taking Mal into the city and dressing him in the finest attire that gold could buy, but tonight his priority was to charm him out of his clothes. "We'll make our grand entrance tomorrow," the elf promised with a flirtatious smile. "Tonight, I'd like to keep you all to myself, my sweet one."

The beauty of the rose garden alone was dizzying, the heady scent of its large, blousy blooms permeating the evening air as they nodded gently in the breeze. Mal could only imagine just how lovely the rest of it would be as Aednan described it all with such bright, beaming pride, though it was indeed a shame that a week alone would not suffice to see every inch of the gardens that unfurled themselves around the elven palace; the prince’s suggestions would simply have to suffice in the meantime, a soft breath of laughter slipping free as he closed the distance between them and threw his arms around him, gathering the florist into his embrace. “As am I.” Mal admitted, figuring relenting just a little wouldn’t hurt matters. “I think I would have been quite foolish to refu—“

Mal’s gaze was instantly drawn to the gaggle of elves that came spilling out from between the meticulously trimmed topiary hedges, train of thought swiftly abandoned in the wake of their arrival. Every face was impossibly beautiful, albeit flushed with the exertion of their chase, ears long and knife-sharp, bodies willowy and elegant. Had he been unaccustomed to that fae etherealness, the very sight of them would have been enough to make the human florist feel clumsy and underdressed — even their stares bothered him very little when Mal had been accustomed to being ogled back in Faerie — though he didn’t miss the especially sharp assessment he received from one imperious red-headed elf in the group either. Alador, apparently.

If not for Aednan’s swift intervention the smaller man would have had something to say about his disbelieving question himself. What’s so special about this one. The cheek of it!

Supposing he could at least get some satisfaction in knowing that Aednan had chosen him over his peers (and his usual playmates, it seemed) Mal let the prince steer him away, but not before casting a fleeting glance over his shoulder at the bewildered troupe left in their wake. Most of them seemed vaguely amused, but it was hard not to be rankled by the look from Alador that followed them as they left the gardens behind. “That would be nice.” He mused, trying not to let a that eager-eyed elven curiosity get to him, no matter how it chafed to feel like some sort of novelty. “What was that flower chase, all your friends mentioned? A game?”

[itoshiabi]

Stain

Summary: You, a clumsy tourist, spill coffee on a stranger—only to learn he's Sae Itoshi. What starts as an accident, leaves behind more than a stain… something neither of you can wash off.

The café is quiet — just the way he likes it.

Sae Itoshi sits at a window booth, scrolling through match footage with one hand and sipping tea with the other. No one has bothered him yet.

That changes in less than ten seconds.

"Oh my god—!"

A crash. A splash of heat.

He flinches, just barely, as coffee spills across his chest, soaking the front of his crisp, white shirt. His brows knit together the moment it hits — not in pain, but in the immediate, simmering annoyance of someone whose day just got very complicated.

You're in front of him, horrified. Tourist. Definitely. The English is a dead giveaway.

"Shit, I didn't see you and I tripped!!!! I am so—oh god—lo siento, I mean—wait, ¿está mojado tu… camisa?"

You're fumbling napkins from the counter and trying to pat the stain off his chest before he can even speak.

He grabs your wrist — not harshly, but firmly enough to stop you.

"Don't," he says flatly, in English.

You freeze.

Your heart is hammering. His voice is sharp, smooth, and cold — and his eyes? Piercing. Pale teal and unreadable.

'I—I was just trying to clean it—"

"You're making it worse."

You pull your hand back like you touched something electric. "I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there. I was just walking, and I tripped, and—"

Sae looks you over for half a second. There's a splatter of your own drink on your sleeve. Passport poking out of your tote. Sweat at your brow. Your Spanish? Atrocious.

He already knows you have no idea who he is.

Good.

He lets out a quiet exhale and picks up a napkin himself, dabbing once at the soaked fabric.

"Is it ruined?" you ask hesitantly.

He doesn't answer right away.

You shift awkwardly, then blurt out, "How much was it?"

He finally looks at you again, mildly surprised by how direct the question was. He narrows his eyes slightly.

"You want to know how much the shirt costs?"

"I should pay you back, right?" you say, already fishing your credit card from your wallet. "So, just—name it."

A pause. Then-

"€580."

You go still.

Your jaw tugs open slightly. You blink. Then you press your lips together like you're trying very hard to stay composed.

"Right," you say. "Okay. That's… more than my flight here. But sure. Cool. Normal."

Your hand trembles slightly as you hold the card up.

He doesn't take it.

You glance at him. "What, you think I'm joking? I said I'd pay. I'm not a scammer."

He stares at you, that same distant expression on his face — but there's something else now, something subtle. Something intrigued.

"I don't need your money."

"You sure? Pretty sure I just committed fashion manslaughter."

"You think that shirt is fashion?"

You blink. "It was...... white? And expensive?"

Sae huffs once. Barely a laugh. More like air.

You sigh. "Listen, man, I really didn't mean to ruin your mood. Or your… shirt budget."

He doesn't respond. Instead, he shifts slightly in his seat and says, "Sit down."

You blink. "What?"

"You're still standing. It's annoying."

"You're serious?"

He just stares.

You hesitantly sit across from him, trying not to touch anything else. You expect the silence to be suffocating — but strangely, it isn't. He sips what's left of his tea like nothing happened.

Then your eyes catch something over his shoulder.

A man with a camera phone. Snapping a picture. And another.

Of him.

Of you with him.

You stiffen. "Hey… someone's taking pictures."

"I know," he says, not even turning.

You blink. "You know?"

"They usually do."

That gives you pause.

"Are you famous or something?"

Sae finally looks at you again, impassive. Then shrugs once. "Something like that."

You squint. "Wait. Are you in politics?"

He actually chokes on his tea a little.

You sit back, suspicious. "Or a Spanish pop star?"

"I'm not Spanish."

"Then what the hell are you?"

He stares at you, long and hard. You feel like you should shrink under that gaze — but strangely, you don't.

Finally, he says:

"I'm a footballer."

"Oh."

You blink again.

"So, like. For a club or something?"

He doesn't answer. His jaw twitches. You figure you've probably insulted his job.

You rub your forehead, flustered. "Okay, so you're mysterious and intimidating and apparently worth photographing. Great. I'm gonna be on someone's blog titled 'Foreigner girl ruins local athlete's entire fit.'"

"I'm not local either."

''…Are you just trying to be difficult now?"

He doesn't reply. You groan softly and lean back.

And yet… he still hasn't told you to leave.

Outside, Madrid wakes up slowly.

Inside, he watches you like a puzzle that he wasn't expecting to want to solve.

You, the first person in a long time who didn't flinch when he got cold.

Didn't pretend to like him just for his name.

Just a tourist.

Clumsy. Honest.

Annoying — but real.

He glances at his ruined shirt again, then back to you.

"You owe me a coffee," he says.

You blink.

"Wait. Seriously?"

"I didn't stutter.'

You huff. "Fine. One coffee. But I get to pick the table this time."

"Anywhere without you holding a drink is fine."

"Rude."

Sae doesn't smile.

But he also doesn't look away.

[breezyblossoms]

Authors Note: trying something new! Let me know what y’all think! 🫶🏼

Pre-Relationship Headcanons

• Xaden barely looks at you during your first few months at Basgiath, convinced you’re just another naïve rider with no idea what it means to carry the weight of war.

• You challenge him during sparring one day; not out of arrogance, but out of necessity. That’s the moment he starts to see you.

• After that, he watches you more closely than he means to, though his expression never softens.

• Xaden pretends not to care, but he always ends up positioned between you and danger on missions. You don’t know it’s intentional; he always makes it look like coincidence.

• He trains with you longer than the others, pushing you harder than most, because he’s seen how good you are, and he needs you to survive.

• The first time Ridoc flirts with you, Xaden glares so sharply that Ridoc mutters something about “dragon-sized possessiveness” under his breath and backs off.

• But Xaden never voices his jealousy. Instead, he tightens his grip on his blade during sparring and takes it out on dummies later.

• You leave a glove behind after training. Xaden picks it up, stares at it for a moment, and instead of tossing it aside… he keeps it.

• He tells himself he’s holding it until he sees you again. That turns into days.

• One night, you’re both on late patrol. When your hands brush accidentally, you both freeze. He doesn’t pull away. Neither do you.

• His voice, normally cold and clipped, sounds softer when he murmurs, “Don’t get yourself killed, Y/N.”

⸻

During Relationship Headcanons

• Xaden is fiercely private about your relationship; he doesn’t parade it, doesn’t need anyone to know. But the way he looks at you could start a war.

• You know the difference between Wingleader Xaden and your Xaden; the one who unbuckles your armor with reverence, not rush.

• Sgaeyl senses his feelings for you before he does. She watches him watch you, unimpressed. Eventually, she relays a blunt, “You’re pathetic” kind of message.

• He growls at her. You catch the tail end of the conversation and just know she’s taunting him about you.

• He never sleeps deeply. But when you’re next to him, his guard lowers just enough. His arm stays wrapped around you even in sleep, grounding him.

• You once woke up to him brushing a strand of hair from your face with a look of heartbreak and awe like he’s convinced he’ll lose you one day.

• Fights with Xaden are rare, but volcanic. He shuts down emotionally when scared; usually when you put yourself in danger.

• “Don’t you dare make me watch you die,” he snarls after one mission, voice cracking. You realize it’s not anger. It’s fear.

• He kisses your lips with hunger. But your forehead? That’s reserved for when he’s overwhelmed with emotion.

• After a close call, after a shared secret, after a silent moment beneath the stars; that’s when his lips press to your forehead like a vow.

• He never tells you not to fight. Never demands you sit missions out. But you know by the way he lingers before every flight that if something happened to you, it would unmake him.

• “Come back to me,” he says lowly every time. And you always do.

• Before he even admits he’s in love, his shadows behave differently around you; curling protectively near your feet, brushing your fingertips like they know.

• When you’re alone, they often curl around the both of you, cocooning you in a space only you and Xaden belong in.

[revelboo]

Happy belated birthday! This ask was one of the broken ones Tumblr won’t let me answer directly, so I had to screenshot it. I dug out my comics before work. Need to hunt for the other miniseries after work. CW: blood, gore (not heavily detailed)

Flight of the Crows

Deadlock x Reader

• Head pounding to the rhythm of your heartbeat, you don’t want to move when everything hurts and your mouth tastes like old pennies. You think of the time you’d wrecked your old Altima, swerving to miss a deer in the road and hitting a tree instead. Ears ringing, you open your eyes and that’s not actually any better, staring at a desert. What happened? Are you hungover? And you suddenly remember the sirens, the gate going wrong. The volunteers getting pulled through and the reinforced safety glass caving with a suddenness that had been shocking. You weren’t even supposed to be there for the test, you’d slipped in behind one of the scientists to watch, piggybacking on his access card.

• “No retreat!” Leading the charge, denta bared, the rest of his assault team falls in behind him. Ambushing the Autobots below. This world like the last one, a nowhere speck of dirt that isn’t worth dying for. But every world the Autobots can claim and get a foothold on is a threat. He’d rather raze this world to ash than see the enemy thrive here and get established. Losing himself in the heat and chaos of battle, every Autobot that falls feels almost like penance. Paying in energon for their crimes. For failing Cybertron, letting the corruption fester while the ones in power, the ones who could put an end to it looked away. Ignoring as the poor and weak suffered. Starved.

• Trying to push upright, you gasp and press your hand against your thigh. Staring at the blood soaking your pants and remembering getting pulled through the broken viewing window, the sickening crunch of someone a lot less lucky hitting one of the reinforced rebars and getting bent backwards by the pull of the gate, the violence so sudden, he hasn’t even screamed. Shuddering, you retch in the sand, a part of you just wanting to lay down. Instead making yourself sit up and begin to tear at your shirt, tearing bandages from it and stripping out of your pants. Relieved that the gash isn’t as bad as you’d thought it would be even if it’s freely bleeding. Tying your leg above the gash because you think that’s what you’re supposed to do, but you really have no idea, you bandage the cut as best you can and wonder where you are. And when you are.

• Stalking forward in no real hurry as the last one crawls, dragging himself painfully along, Deadlock places a ped on his back. Wonders if the bot even realizes his lower body is gone or if his processor shut down his pain receptors to keep him from going into stasis. “Where are the others? What are you doing here?” Knows he’s supposed to question any survivors. Get intel. But staring at the gold edging the bot’s plating, he hates him. Never seen him before, but he knows the type. This bot hasn’t known actual hardship before today most likely. Doesn’t understand what it’s like to starve for energon. To do anything to survive, to be so broken he wants to just lay down and never get back up. And he hates him for that, for having everything he didn’t. Cycling the power up on his weapon, he presses the muzzle against the back of the bot’s helm. “Where are the others? What are you doing here?”

• Limping along in the heat, you don’t know if you’re heading toward safety or away from it. Hurting and so tired. Head lifting as you round a corner and see a metal monster kneeling with a ped on a second monster. Hear the weapon in his big hand hum and you’re deafened when the pinned robot’s head just disappears and you’re splattered with something pink and luminous. Your shocked eyes meeting cruel, red optics as you’re noticed, because you must have cried out. Run. Staggering back a step, you want to. Want to run, but your stomach roils sickeningly again, vision graying at the edges and the monster frowns, lip curling as he snarls at you and you black out, legs going out from under you.

[kitcat-italica]

@crowleysgirl56 re: your tags of comparing it the F15:

Aziraphale's love for Crowley—and Crowley's love for Aziraphale—have never changed or wavered. The problem is, they have polar opposite ideas of how to best love and keep each other safe.

Aziraphale wants to keep them safe within the system, whether that means denying he knows Crowley in public, keeping holy water away from him, or going back to Heaven to 'make a difference'. He thinks the best chance of survival is to cooperate, to buy them time or to change things so they *can* be safe in the open one day.

Crowley wants to keep them safe by rejecting the system entirely. He wants to separate from Hell on 'his own (lonely) side', he wants the Arrangement with Aziraphale, he wants holy water to use against Hell in case they're discovered (openly declaring for his love), he wants to run away from Earth entirely to be with Aziraphale. He thinks the best chance of survival is to fight or flee, because they're safest when they're *together*.

Crowley says My Side is lonely. Aziraphale understands that it's not just lonely; it's dangerous. Too dangerous to allow his friend to stay out there for too long. If Crowley went to Heaven with him, he wouldn't be free, but at least in a Heaven run by Aziraphale, he would be *safe*.

It sucks, because they're reverting to primal survival mechanisms, reacting on instinct, instead of putting their heads together and rationally working through the problem with healthy communication. Aziraphale's go-to strategies are fawn and a bit of denial/freeze, and Crowley's methods are flight and then if all else fails, fight. They're reacting, not responding. Because that's what happens when you're in a life-or-death situation, you go into survival mode and you *can't* respond rationally.

Anyway I hope in S3, the Second Coming blows up Satan and the Metatron, all the angels and demons unionize, and Aziraphale and Crowley retire to their cottage and are safe to love each other openly at last. Maybe they'll have one single healthy open conversation about their feelings at that point, one can only hope :)

Because I love you❤️

[queenmuzz]

Emmrook Collab!

I recently did a collaboration with the immensely talented @toonybrin

Choosing the Heart over the Head

Read it HERE on Ao3 as well!

"How much further?" Emmrich wheezed out as he and Neve darted from one Docktown alleyway to another, attempting to stay out of sight of the main roads.

"There should be a Shadow Dragon's safe house not far…" Neve said through gritted teeth, having barely any strength to spare. After that Venatori ambush that they barely triumphed over, their flight from the plaza, terrified that reinforcements were on their way, her energy was focused on only one thing.

Survival.

Well, not just that. There was the limp figure that they carried between them, supporting their arms with their shoulders. Rook had taken a nasty blow to the head near the end of the fight, and had gotten knocked out.

Emmrich shuddered at the memory, of them laying there, vulnerable as the Venatori soldier was about to finish them off, of how despite his exhaustion, the pain at his side, he'd found an untapped well of limitless energy which he used to blast the Venatori to ash, (alongside several of his companions, two carts, and an unfortunate rat. He mourned the rat's demise the most)

But now that limitless well of energy somehow had drained dry, as his limbs trembled. He felt an intrusive pain at his side, similar to a runner's cramp, but he refused to stop. They needed to get Rook to safety, he needed the space and time to administer treatment.

Neve, for all her tenacity, could go no further, as she guided them both into a shaded alcove. "Here…" she said between gasps "This will be the next safest spot. I'll go ahead, and get help. You…" another breath as she helped him lay the limp form of Rook onto the pavement, "take care of them while I'm gone."

"You'll be alright?"

"Yes, I'm not in any condition to carry them anymore, but the safe house will undoubtedly have people willing to help."

He nodded. Rook needed medical attention, the sooner the better. If that meant he had to do it here, in this cramped, but secluded alleyway, so be it.

The familiar tap tap tap of her metal leg faded into the distance as he looked Rook over. A nasty gash on the left side of their forehead oozed blood, with a ghastly bruise beginning to form on the edges. While it looked bad, Rook's pulse and breathing seemed normal and steady. That didn't rule out a concussion though, so he gingerly placed their head upon his lap, brushed their hair out of the way, and with a padded cloth, he began to apply pressure to stop the bleeding as the healing magic flowed from his hand and into the wound.

Idly he mused. In any other situation, this position, their head in my lap would be quite tender. He quickly shoved that thought deep down. This is not the time for romantic notions, Volkarin! They're seriously injured and you're lost in frivolous daydreams that will never come to be.

Rook groaned, and to his immense relief, their eyes opened. Their eyes were probably the most beautiful thing he had seen in his recent memory. Only because they indicated that Rook was conscious, of course. They looked around in confusion, taking in what must have been unfamiliar buildings, before blinking and focusing on his own.

"Emmrich…?"

Rook attempted to sit up, but he gently forced them back down.

"Rook, you hit your head in battle, and Neve has gone to get help. You mustn't move, in order to keep the bleeding to the minimum."

"Did we win?"

Emmrich decided to be as truthful as possible. "Yes, by our fingerbones, to use a Nevarran saying. Now… hold still." He let another pulse of healing energy emanate from his hand.

"Am I dead?"

The very idea of Rook dying revolted him, and he attempted to remain steady. "No, you are very much alive."

"Ah," Rook smiled through the pain, "I assumed that the Maker had smiled upon me, and decided instead of being brought to His bosom, I was brought to yours. A fitting reward."

Emmrich tried not to let the remark affect him. A mere minute after waking up, Rook was already flirting with him. No doubt a result of their head injury. They are not in their right mind. Hopefully it is only temporary.

(Why did he hope that the flirting was NOT temporary?)

"Rook…" was all he could say, in a semi-disapproving tone as he pushed more healing energy into the wound, and using whatever spare magic he had to seep into their body, checking for broken bones, sprains, cuts and bruises. To his relief, there was nothing major, save for the head injury.

"Let me enjoy the fantasy, please. Sure, maybe the circumstances aren't what I was hoping for, but this is a great position to be in."

Emmrich decided to humour them. "I can't possibly have been the first person you've said that to."

"Probably not, but you're the first person that I really meant it to."

His heart stopped in his chest for a brief moment, almost as if in preparation for his impending Lichdom. They have a concussion, his mind told him, with clinical cold logic, do not read anything that is not there.

He grabbed a vial of lyrium off his belt, bit off the cork and after spitting it out, chugged the contents, ignoring the gritty chalky texture that stuck between his teeth, preparing to cast a major spell.

"I apologize in advance, but this may sting a bit." He pushed his replenished energy into a blooming green spell, and watched as bruises faded and skin slowly stitched together. He couldn't help but wince at the hiss of pain that escaped their lips.

"I'm dreadfully sorry," he repeated with regret, as he watched their beautiful eyes clench shut as they attempted to remain still, "I'm afraid that fully mending this wound is beyond my skill. You may have a scar on your forehead for quite some time after this." The healing slowed, as the edges of the split skin met, leaving a splotch of blood covering a pale line in their forehead. Rook began to relax, their eyes opening slowly, their muscles losing their tension, and that damnable smile returning to their face.

"Well, whatever it is, I hope it won't affect my dashing good looks."

"Nonsense, my dear," he said as he wiped up the last of the wet blood, knowing that the dried flakes that remained were easily remedied by a nice hot bath, "there is nothing in this world that could diminish your beauty."

Rook's eyes widened in shock at what he said, a second before he realized what had just spilled out of his mouth. Said mouth went dry and he felt numb as he mentally kicked himself for such a stupid statement, no matter how true it may be.

"I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me!"

"Emmrich…"

"This is hardly the time or place to engage in such thoughtless banter!"

"Emmrich…"

"And you're in no such state to be subjected to the ramblings of an old-"

"Emmrich!"

Rook's raised voice brought him out of a dark cloud of regret. They raised one hand to place on his shoulder. "Well, I didn't expect you to be such a smooth talker in both the library AND the battlefield!" There was no anger, no disgust. Just a smile.

"Rook…" he attempted to reason with them, trying to explain that he meant it, that flirtatious banter, no matter how shallow (despite that he wanted it to be deeper), had its time and place, and while he was healing them? Definitely not the place.

Their hand drifted down his shoulder and onto his chest, causing his heart rate to spike by the mere pressure. "You don't have to hide yourself from me…" they spoke with a soft voice as their fingers danced down his chest… down… down…

And then stopped.

He at first thanked the Maker for bestowing Rook SOME restraint, as had their hand gone any lower, it would have reached his groin, and he could not guarantee he could restrain his self control.

Their eyes hardened in confusion, as they pulled their hand back. For a brief moment there was a sharp, metallic scent in the air as they examined their fingertips.

To Emmrich's horror, they were covered in fresh blood. Had he missed another injury? Was Rook bleeding out while he was too distracted by their eyes, their touch, and their words?

"Emmrich, you're hurt!"

"Nonsense, I'm perfectly fine. Only a runner's cramp."

"Last time I checked, " Rook  pressed their hand into his side, sending a sharp stab of pain, "Runner's cramps don't bleed."

Only then did he take his eyes off of them, and look down. His robe, once emerald green with gold thread, was now dark red, with the gold turning into copper. Rook was right, this was no mere cramp. His fingers went numb, out of shock, or blood loss, he wasn't quite sure.

There was a sudden movement, as Rook sat up unexpectedly, all mirth and flirtation gone from their eyes.

"Lay down Emmrich." Their voice had changed. Gone was the lackadaisical jokey tone, now replaced with cold hard efficiency. Gone was the Rook he shoved his feelings down for, replaced with the one that stood defiantly against a would-be goddess at Weisshaupt, one whose spirit could lead armies that he'd follow into Death itself. The transformation was sudden and as they guided him down onto his back, he mused that perhaps he had judged them wrong. That lighthearted flirting was not due to head trauma…

Rook examined the wound intensely, their eyebrows furrowing, before pulling out their knife. "Okay, I'm really sorry I gotta do this, but it's either this or spending minutes unbuckling and unbuttoning this contraption you call a robe. Those are minutes I can't afford to waste." A pause as they looked up at him, worry and regret evident on their face. "Also…. this might hurt."

He had no time to react, or object as they slipped the knife under the flap of his robe, and with a quick and clean movement, slit the cloth and leather away, peeling the fabric away with the finesse as he did when conducting an autopsy. They murmured another apology as he yelped in pain. He risked a glance down at his abdomen.

It was both ghastly, a long stretch of bleeding flesh, no doubt acquired while he had been full of adrenaline protecting the unconscious Rook, and a relief, as it seemed to be no deeper than the upper layer of muscle, avoiding organs. What Rook's reaction was, he could not say, as they snatched the unused bandages that lay there and began wrapping him up, putting pressure on it, in an attempt to stem the bleeding. He had half expected them to make a quip about seeing his exposed torso, and found himself disappointed that they hadn't… before realizing what he had just thought and immediately attributed to himself going into shock. Surely that's why he had that ridiculous thought popped into his mind for no apparent reason.

"You don't need to worry about me. It's…." a traitorous hiss of pain escaped his lips, "It's nothing… Merely a flesh wound."

Rook gave him a quick glance that clearly showed that they didn't believe a single word he said, but continued to bind the wound. "Emmrich, sometimes I worry about you."

"Hmmm?"

"For all your smarts, you can be very dumb."

He was too shocked at the statement to even grimace as they tightened the bandage. "What do you mean by that?"

"For a guy who is terrified of dying, you certainly put yourself in situations where death is a likely occurrence."

"Well, you stated you required an expert on the Fade, and knowing the consequences of the Gods triumphing, how could I say no?" He sat up with some difficulty, as his side felt stiff with all the bandages, but the bleeding didn't seem to seep through the layers, which was good.

"You could just stay in the Lighthouse, with Manfred and all your books. Free to study your favourite subject, and more importantly, safe." Why did that last word hit harder than any flirtatious banter they'd ever initiated?

"I wouldn't say that. The Fade may have been my primary interest, true. But recently, I've found something much more fascinating…" he didn't - he couldn't finish the sentence, terrified that yet again he had overstepped his bounds.

Rook's face was soft and gentle, no sign of offense taken, nor even their usual smirk. Just a smile, and a sparkle to their eyes.

"Like I said, Emmrich… you are very good at what you do, both in the library, and the battlefield. That's what scares me…" Their voice lowered to almost a whisper, as if they were revealing their deepest fear, "I don't know what I would do if I'd lost you…" Their face was close to him, close enough for him to feel their breath tickle his mustache. A small part of his mind rationalized that they were talking about his knowledge, and his proficiency with the Fade, but it was clearly being drowned out by a louder voice that said that if he leaned forward, he could kiss them. An even louder part told him that Rook WANTED him to kiss them. He drew closer… closer… closed his eyes and…

The sound of multiple footsteps running towards them was heard, punctuated by the rhythmic metallic tap tap tap of a prosthetic leg, indicating that their allies had arrived. He suddenly pulled away, common sense taking back control of his mind and body.

"Neve!" Rook's smile was wide, a bit too wide, as if they were forcing the expression. "Absolutely PERFECT timing!"

Neve either out of relief, or out of exhaustion, didn't seem to notice that Rook seemed less than pleased to see her and the fellow Shadow Dragons, two of them carrying a makeshift stretcher.

"I was worried! You weren't responding to anything, I thought that perhaps…"

"Nonsense Neve! I was under the very expert care of the Professor! I could not be safer in any other hands!" he hoped that Neve didn't see the heat rising to his cheeks at the compliment. "But…" they placed an arm on his shoulder, "He does have the bad habit of putting his patient's well being before his own." Their other hand (very) gently was placed on his side, and instead of wincing in pain, he felt an inner warmth.

Most likely an infection was kicking in. He'd have to see to that as soon as they got to safety. After making sure Rook was completely healed, of course.

Neve gave them a hand, and with a grunt, Rook stood up, waving away the stretcher-bearers. "I'm fine… really! Although," they turned back to face him, their hand outstretched to help him up, "if you're feeling any less than 100 percent, I'm sure they would be more than happy to carry you to our destination." There was something in that voice, an undertone of pleading that hadn't been there before. Bah, he was reading too much into the situation. Rook always looked out for their team members, why would he think he was being treated any differently?

"I'm perfectly fine!" He responded a bit too eagerly, as he got up a bit too quickly, and was a bit too slow to hide the grimace of pain on his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing the pain in his side to subside, before opening them and finding Rook a bit too close to his face.

"Remember what I said? Just before Neve arrived?" Their voice was hushed, as if to keep their conversation to themselves. "I mean it." They looked serious, no hint of a joke or a smile on their face.

His mouth went dry as he tried to process what they were talking about. His heart beat rapidly (no doubt in response to the aforementioned infection), but he couldn't move his legs as he looked into those beautiful eyes of theirs.

There was an awkward cough from one of the Shadow Dragons as Neve crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Are we interrupting something?"

Instantly, Rook's demeanor changed back into their usual jokey self. "Oh nothing! Just some chit chat! Nothing you need to worry about! Shall we be off?" The stretcher bearers, relieved that they didn't have to carry a comatose body back to the safe house nodded as they led the way, followed by Neve, with Rook and Emmrich walking side by side.

"I may need to use your staff as support, just in case I get a bit light-headed," Rook stated as they sidled up beside him, much closer than he had expected, although he did notice they took the side opposite of his wound, as if not to hurt him. He could not help but notice that they had just so happened to place their hand on the staff, directly on top of his, so that their fingers touched, and if he wished it, could intertwine.

But of course, he didn't… Rook was most likely still feeling the aftereffects of their head injury, and he ought not to look too closely into what they said and did.

Still, he thought as they made their way through the dock town alleys … It was quite odd that their demeanor seemed to change only when they were talking to him.

[curlyberrrry]

✨️POPPY PLAYTIME OC✨️

A revamp of my design w extras ;3

~Maeve Crawford~

💿Maeve was one of many interns at the Playtime Co. factory, however, she had an advantage as she was the niece of the Head of Playcare : Stella Greyber, who helped her get her foot in.

💿Had a walkman for music, wing tattoos on her back, a necklace with a tooth that belonged to her deceased cat Pixel.

💿Several months later, another employee with the name of Maeve discovered the BBI and had to be disposed of.

💿Unfortunately, a mix-up occurred, leading to Ms. Crawford being taken instead, and Dr. Sawyer wasn't aware of the mistake until it was too late, nor was he aware that the subject was related to one of the higher ups.

💿Leith Pierre eventually was notified of the situation and instructed everyone to keep it on the down low, even sweeping it under the rug from Stella, who was none the wiser.

💿As for the other Maeve, let's just say she was involved in the feather noodle's diet....

~Flicker~

🪶Experiment 1317 is incredibly docile unless provoked, only attacking in self-defense.

🪶She does possess the ability of flight, but does this rarely, her sharp wing talons allowing her to scale walls and cling onto uneven surfaces.

🪶She also possesses fire capabilities, although limited, short but rapid blasts, around 3 at a time before she has to recharge them (had an operation done as her previous fire power was deemed too unsafe by Leith)

🪶Can be found anywhere in the factory, except the lower levels, is terrified of the Doctor and the Prototype, having survived an encounter with the latter before.

🪶Her toy is based on weighted plushies for anxiety, her main purpose being to offer comfort and therapy to kids as her docile nature was favoured considerably. Her feathers have another function : they glow in the dark, similiar to ceiling stars often found in young bedrooms.

🪶The toy has a sister called Flint (which I'll be drawing soon ;3)

Would love to answer questions ye have !

Request box is always open ✨️

[fan-a-saurus-rex]

Hii could I request something smutty (as much as ur comfortable writing) with the prompts 4 (sneaking out) and 13 (family vacation) with Joaquin? Thank you <3

Hope you enjoy what I wrote!

——————————————————————————

Sneaking Away

Plot: Sam and Sarah have planned a family vacation and Sam invites you and Torres to tag along. As the days go by the tension between you and Torres becomes too much and you sneak off to be alone.

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader

Requested: Yes (make a request here)

Warnings: smut (oral [female receiving], unprotected sex w/ no pulling out [wrap it before you tap it friends!] ), swearing, a cute ending that’ll make you swoon!

Masterlist

You were surprised when Sam invited you to go on vacation with him, Sarah, and his nephews.

His excuse was that it was a family vacation and were considered family. Joaquin l, Isaiah and Bucky were going as well so you didn’t feel so guilty about “crashing” Sam’s trip with his sister and nephews.

Everyone had packed up and caught a flight to a resort in Cancun, Mexico. You would all be staying at the fanciest resort you’d ever seen. Everyone had a hotel room of their own on the same floor.

Your days were spent on the beach swimming in the water, soaking up the sun, and playing games with Sam’s nephews.

It was the fifth day of vacation when the vibes started to change.

You had been standing in the shallow tide collecting seashells when Joaquin snuck up behind you and picked you up, spinning you around.

You squealed until he put you back down in the sand.

“What was that for?” You asked giggling

“You looked lonely, thought I’d give you a hug” he said smiling at you, his dimples coming out.

The two of you had been low-key flirting the whole time you were here, and the tension between you was becoming harder to avoid. You’d find yourself wishing him sweet dreams before bed, then wishing you’d asked him to stay in your room that night. You’d catch him touching your knee or your thigh under the table at dinner.

You were afraid someone would take notice. You figured they hadn’t, and if they did they didn’t say anything.

You were about to say something flirty back to him when one of Sarah’s sons ran over excitedly “Auntie {y/n}! Look! We found a humongous shell for you” the excited pre-teen said handing you a beautiful twisted shell.

“Thanks buddy, it’s beautiful!” You said giving him a side hug before he ran back off to go body boarding with his brother and Bucky.

“Sam’s family has really gotten attached to you” Joaquin said smiling.

You couldn’t help but smile back “yeah, they’re great. Even if Sam doesn’t let me go on ‘dangerous’ missions with you guys”

“He just doesn’t want anything to happen to you. Neither do I” he said rubbing your shoulder softly.

You blushed “you do know I could kick both your asses and not break a sweat, right?”

He chuckled “yeah, yeah, ex widow. I know. You worked for Nick Fury and beat the crap out of the Spider-Man once”

You smirked “exactly” you said nudging him in the shoulder. You wanted so badly to get your hands on those biceps of his but you didn’t want to feel him up in front of everyone.

Suddenly you felt his hand on the small of your back. He lifted the hem of your shirt to draw shapes on your soft skin. You wiggled in your seat a bit, hoping nobody noticed.

Instead you decided to go for a swim instead, before heading back to your beach chair to read.

* * * * *

Later that night everyone ate dinner on the patio of one of the resort’s restaurants. After a few Hours the boys had become restless just sitting at the table so Sam suggested a family activity. The resort held movie nights on the beach each evening. Everyone would set up their beach chairs or their beach towels out on the sand and a movie would be played on a projector. Tonight they were showing classic Disney Movies like The Lion King and Aladdin.

You all went back up to your rooms to change into some more comfortable clothes then met back down at the beach where everyone else was gathering for the movie.

You laid your towel down, Joaquin settling down next to you. You smiled. Halfway through the movie you felt him scoot closer to you, your shoulders touching. You thought about laying your head down on his shoulder, but thought better of it.

“What are you doing?” You whispered to him with a slight smile.

“Nothing” he said, placing a soft, sneaky kiss to your cheek.

You blushed “stop, someone is gonna see” you said giggling softly.

He smirked a bit and let his hand fall back to the sand behind you. You took a deep breath and put your attention back on the movie, but minutes later his hand went back to caressing the skin on the small of your back. You tried to ignore him and nearly succeeded until he started nuzzling your neck, right under your ear.

“Torres?” You asked

“Hmm?”

“Why?” You asked, making sure nobody was watching you two.

“I’m feeling affectionate” he whispered on your ear.

“We’ll stop, someone is gonna see” you said, getting annoyed, but also not wanting him to stop.

“We could always sneak off” he whispered, before nibbling your ear.

You inhaled quickly “please?”

“Come on” he said getting up and reaching down to help you up.

“Everything okay?” You heard Sam ask.

“Yeah, {y/n} isn’t feeling well from the heat. I’m gonna help her get ready for bed and watch a movie in the room” Joaquin said

Sam nodded.

“Hope you feel better babes” Sarah said.

You nodded and walked with Joaquin back to the hotel.

* * * * *

You barely made it out of the elevator and to your room before Torres had his mouth on yours. You unlocked your door with the card and dragged him inside shutting the door behind you, only to have your back pressed up against it as Joaquin kissed you deeper.

“Finally alone” he breathed against your lips.

You smirked “you’ve been driving me crazy all week”

His lips crash against yours again and you kiss him hungrily before he pulls away “you’ve been teasing me in those bikinis”

“Oh yeah? Cause seeing you shirtless has been a total tease too” you say with a smirk as you push him off you and towards the bed.

“You like it when I don’t wear a shirt?” He asks smirking as you push him onto the bed, straddling his lap.

“Mhm” you say, pulling his t-shirt off before kissing him again, your hands roaming his bare chest.

He pulls away long enough to pull off your tank top, revealing your unpadded lace bra.

You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him again, your tongue teasing his bottom lip. You hear a groan escape his mouth as your tongue wrestles with his, it gives you a shiver up your spine.

He tugged at the elastic on your cotton shorts and you move to let him tug them off. You pull off his basketball shorts before resuming your spot in his lap.

He kisses your neck with open mouth kisses and it drives you insane. You grind your hips against his and he starts to suck a sensitive spot on your neck.

“Mmm, Torres” you moans softly, leaning your head to the side to give him more access. Your hands reach up and run through his dark curls.

He kisses along your throat to the other side of your neck. You squeak a bit when he bites your shoulder as he kisses down your collarbone and in between your breasts before removing your bra. He looks up at you before taking one of your perked nipples in his mouth and sucking on the tender skin.

You let out another soft moan as you grind on him, craving friction, but loving the extra tension building up as he worships your body.

He releases your nipple with a pop before taking the other one on his mouth, this time sucking harder so it’ll leave a mark. He leaves several hickeys on your breasts before flipping you over, laying you down on the bed. He kissed down your chest and stomach to the elastic of your panties. He looked up at you, asking permission to take them off. You nod, your breath getting deeper with anticipation.

He pulls them off and tosses them to the side. He kisses down your hips to your inner thighs, nipping at the skin. You could feel his hot breath at your throbbing center before he licked a strip from your entrance to your clit.

“Oh!” You moan out as he started sucking on your sensitive bud. You arched your back and whined a bit when he stoped, but moaned out when his tongue entered you. “Fuck, Torres!”

He groaned against you as his tongue darted in and out slowly, driving you absolutely insane. You had no idea he was that good with his mouth and you weren’t disappointed.

Your moans got louder as you got closer and closer to your climax, but just before you could hit your high he pulled away, smirking.

“Fuck….Joaquin….why?” You groaned, annoyed that hadn’t let you finish.

“Not yet babygirl” he said moving up and kissing your lips again as he rubbed your sensitive bud.

You moaned against his lips “Torres….I want you so bad”

“Be patient babygirl” he whispers, fondling your breasts in his large hands as he kisses your jawline

Your breathing got deeper and you bucked your hips against his to get any kind of friction to relieve the ache.

“I’ve been patient all week Joaquin, I want you now!” You groan, almost growling.

He smirks “so needy, it’s hot as hell” he says pulling off his boxers, his extremely hard member springing out. If you hadn’t been so horny you would have sucked him off, but you wanted him in you so badly.

He lined up to your entrance and teased you with the tip. You were soaked and couldn’t wait for him to slide all the way in.

He continued to tease. Pushing in slowly, inch by inch, as he watched the desperate look on your face as you whimpered beneath him. He wasn’t doing it to be mean, he just liked watching how desperate you were for him.

He pulled out, causing a frustrated groan from you, then pushed all the way in, in one deep thrust.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned.

“Mm, so tight for me baby girl, damn” he groaned as he started to thrust slowly.

You could feel every inch of him, and he could feel every inch of you. It made you feel dizzy in the best way.

You ran your hands up and down his back as you lost yourself in the feeling of him. Eventually he picked up the pace and started thrusting deeper, hitting that spot that drove you crazy. “Oh fuck…Joaquin” you moaned out. “Don’t stop” you begged.

“I won’t babygirl, love making you feel like this” he groaned, hitting deep within you with every thrust.

Eventually he started to go faster, still bottoming out inside you.

“Shit….faster!” You moaned. He complied and started to go faster, feeling your fingers rake up and down his back gave him goosebumps.

You were both hanging on the edge of your climaxes, but the tension of inching there slowly only made it feel more intimate between you two. You’d waited long enough to for this private time together, you were going to make the best of it and make it last as long as you could.

You could feel the tell-tale signs that your climax was coming in quick. “Oh god, I’m so close!” You moaned as you felt his free hand turn your face to look at him.

“Look at me babygirl, I wanna see your pretty face when you cum” he cooed at you as he went faster, sending you over the edge.

“Fuck! Torres!” You moaned out loudly as your walls clenched around him and you released hard.

“Mm, baby I’m so close, want me to pull out?” He groaned as you felt him swell inside you.

“No, fill me up” you moaned.

Seconds later you could feel him releasing inside you, his loud moans sending chills down your spine “oh shit baby!”

He rode out both of your highs before collapsing next you to.

Once you caught your breath a little, you rolled over onto his chest, kissing him softly. He kissed back. These kisses were different than before, soft, sweet, and filled with affection.

You hummed and smiled softly.

“How do you feel baby?” He asked, smiling softly.

“Amazing” you cooed. “That was worth the wait”

He smiled as you lay on his chest, tracing patterns on your back. “So worth it” he whispered before kissing your forehead. “Let’s go get cleaned up” he said smiling.

You nodded and got up, following him into the bathroom, where there was a jacuzzi tub. He started to fill it with warm water. He put in some lavender scented bubbles, then helped you in, sliding in behind you.

You smiled and leaned into his chest, leaning your head on his shoulder as he helped you wash up. “Mmm, you’re perfect Torres” you said softly as you kissed his jawline.

“Not as perfect as you” he said kissing your cheek.

After you both relaxed in the warm bubbles for a while he helped you get out and dry off. You both got dressed again and laid down in bed, putting an old movie on the TV.

You didn’t really watch it, you were too distracted by each other. He had started playing with your hair and you found yourself pulling him for more kisses. Just sweet kisses, ones that gave you butterflies.

“Are you gonna stay with me tonight?” You asked

“Do you want me to stay tonight?” He asked, rubbing your cheek softly with his thumb.

“I’d like you to stay forever actually” you said smiling at him as you ran your hand up his chest.

He smiled and kissed you softly before leaning his forehead against yours. “Then I’ll stay” he said, cradling your face in his hands. “Tonight wasn’t about getting you into bed, well…it was, but it wasn’t just about that. I wanted to be close to you. Close in any way that I could get you. I’ve been slowly falling in love with you since we met. I just didn’t know how to tell you” he said

You smiled and kissed him softly one more time “me too” you whispered “and now I’m in so deep I don’t think I could ever let you go”

He smiled “go on a date with me? A real date. Tomorrow night after dinner with the family?”

You smiled “I’d love to”

He kissed you softly, probably for the hundredth time tonight, before pulling you back into his chest. You snuggled into him, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck.

At some point in the night you both dozed off, only to wake up to each the next morning. You hoped it would be like that every morning from now on.

[riflebrass]

The feds baited him into sawing down a couple shotguns illegally. Rather than arresting him for it they tried to blackmail him into being an informant. The only reason they went ahead and arrested him was he not only refused to be a snitch but he got the word out that they were blackmailing people to be snitches. After his arrest he was released as he wasn't a flight risk. The court date got pushed back a day. His lawyer fucked up and told him it had gotten pushed back a whole month. The judge had the power to grand him leniency under the circumstances but instead went ahead and declared him a fugitive thus getting the US marshals involved. The marshals spent over a year spying on him. They trespassed onto his property for some more spying and got the dog's attention so they shot the dog without identifying themselves.

Randy's son Sammy sees some stranger in camo shoot his dog so he shoots at the stranger. The strangers shoot back killing Sammy as he ran away.

A family friend named Kevin Harris who was with Sammy shot and killed the unidentified stranger. He ended up getting shot in return. As they ran away Randy's wife held the door open and she got shot in the head.

After over a week someone finally realized they had no real line of communication with Weaver and no real way to try and talk him down. Someone finally just walks up, knocks on the door, and has a conversation.

Harris was dying so they made arrangements for him to go to the hospital. He was charged with killing a federal agent. Finally Randy surrendered and was taken into custody. At one point the feds were so desperate for a conviction they tried to slap his daughters with criminal charges but that got thrown out.

Harris was acquitted for killing a federal agent because they hadn't identified themselves and it turns out "strangers shooting at you" is a pretty darn good reason to shoot back in self defense.

Randy on the other hand was acquitted of the original sawed off shotgun charges because the court determined that was entrapment. Ironically the only charge they got to stick was that bullshit failure to appear. They really killed two people and ruined his life over that because they wouldn't cut a guy some slack for not getting the right court date from his lawyer.