wisps-writes-fic

[wisps-writes-fic]

Rules are Rules~Robby x Reader

Teaching Hours~Mel x Abbot (platonic sex tutoring prompt fill)

[wisps-writes-fic]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Prompt:

sex tutoring ! platonic

Mel wants to figure out what she likes and Jack Abbot has a reputation. Who better to learn from than the expert, right?

Optional: Langdon in the background losing his mind repeating "sex tutoring!?" to himself in an increasingly baffled tone of voice.

CW: Smut

~~~~~

Mel

“If you want to back out, it’s always an option.”

Mel took a breath to steady herself, sitting a little straighter when Abbot’s hands came to rest on her shoulders from behind. She was really, truly about to cross the line no professional should cross in the workplace. But after remaining celibate for so long—after hearing the other women around her when she started the night shift whispering about their own thoughts regarding what their attending would be like in bed—she couldn’t help but be curious.

She hadn’t asked him outright. But her tongue had slipped as it was prone to do. “Not much time to explore my own interests nowadays,” she’d grumbled one day they were alone in the staff lounge.

And Abbot, for whatever reason, had pushed. Not just warned her about burnout or joked about hermit life, but dug at her fleeting comment.

And it had led them here, he trying to decide how to approach a young woman who hadn’t been intimate with anyone since stepping up as her sisters caretaker, and she grappling with all the ways fucking her attending could go south.

She wasn’t worried about him telling their colleagues, of course. It was common knowledge he didn’t share his private life. Never boasted anything. He was respected because of his quiet confidence and competency in the workplace. That didn’t mean their plan was risk free, though.

“Mel,” he pressed softly.

“I’m fine. I can do this. I want to do this. It’s just been… a while.”

He withdrew, the warmth of his hands fading with each step he took coming around the sofa. “This is about discovering what you enjoy. We’ll go at the pace you need. Stop all together, if need be.” She nodded. “Any particular concerns? Things you’re uncomfortable with?”

“I don’t exactly…” She groaned. “I did establish the extent of my education ends with backseat fumbling, right?” Abbot chuckled. “And um, you should know…”

He took her hand, squeezing in encouragement. If there was one thing Mel managed to predict when it came to her attending, reserved as he may be, it was that he was not a selfish man. Going into this as a guide, he would likely try to focus on her completion. “I just—if it seems like—I’ve never actually orgasmed,” she finally blurted, feeling her face and neck heat.

His brows flicked up a moment. “And now you’re convinced there’s something wrong with you?” His lip quirked. “It may be difficult and take time, but I guarantee you’re more than capable. You just need a partner that knows how to get you there.” There was a promise in his eyes and Mel knew he’d taken her confession as a challenge. “Ready?” She nodded again. “Bedroom, we’ll have more space.”

“How much space do we need?” His lips quirked again and he pressed a hand to the small of her back, guiding her down the hall. The room was neat. Sparsely decorated with a four drawer dresser, a queen size bed with a simple quilt, and a single nightstand. About what she’d expect of a man like Abbot. Functional with little frill. 

He only gave her the time it took to turn down the bed to observe the space, reaching for her scrub and shirt hem when he returned. She reached back to unclasp her bra with a bit more hesitation, but still let him ease her down onto the bed. “Do you masturbate at home?”

“Sometimes. Not often.”

He gave a curt nod. “Show me.”

Mel flushed again, but did as she was told. He was trying to help, after all. She could listen. Fighting the self-consciousness, she slipped a hand beneath her waistband, starting to circle her clit. “Start here,” he corrected gently, circling her wrists to guide her back up her body, helping her trail her open fingers down her neck, over her breasts. “There could be a dozen reasons you and past partners couldn’t find the finish line. Neglecting more sensitive areas of your body. Elements you need may have been missing. Everyone’s slightly different. ”

“Elements?” she asked softly.

“Longer foreplay, focus on a particular stimulation.” He nudged one hand aside, pinching her nipple between two fingers and tugging. She groaned softly. He smirked. “Pain play can be a wonderful thing, with the right partner.”

“Abbot—”

“Jack,” he murmured. “Call me Jack outside of the hospital.”

“Jack. I think demonstration would benefit me more than observation at the moment.”

He gave her a true laugh then, but didn’t deny the request. “We’ll come back around to this lesson, then. Any of those fumbling boys go down on you?” he asked, starting to work her pants and underwear down her legs, shoes and socks discarded upon arrival.

“A brief effort was made.” He raised a brow. “He wasn’t enthusiastic, if that’s what your asking. Look, we’ve already established my lack of experience, will you stop asking—Shit.”

He didn’t even hesitate, sweeping his tongue through the slickness that had just begun to pool, shifting down the bed to throw her legs over his shoulders and better angle himself. She whimpered when his head tilted ever so slightly, nose bumping her clit. She just managed not to grind against his face, but she couldn’t help the descent of her hands, curling tight in his hair.

He groaned against her when her grip tightened, shifting his attention to her clit and pushing two fingers into her core. “Jack!” Mel yelped, pulling her hands away, slightly panicked. She trembled beneath him, shocked she’d finally found someone who could play her body so easily. Throw her into this state, hot and aching and desperate.

He eased up, mouth pulling away from her clit. “Relax, don’t fight your body. You’re allowed to enjoy this. Connection is a key part in this. You’re allowed to touch me, sweetheart.”

It was that assurance that settled her. And the name. Not condescending or infantilizing as most men made it. Not truly intimate either. Just an endearment from a mentor she trusted. And it served its purpose, because she had been letting their work dynamic into this. She had been hesitating to give in. And Jack could take care of her, if she let him.

Reading that on her, Jack relaxed too. “Good girl.” 

He was only gentle for a moment, working her back up embarrassingly fast, each stroke over her hips and thighs serving silent praise when she lifted her hips to meet him or let him hear the affect his mouth on her had—each sigh and whimper and whine he earned with his devotion to his task. “I think—”

“Don’t fight it, sweetheart.” His fingers curled, pressing deeper than ever. She came with a cry, nails grazing the back of his neck as she searched for that connection he encouraged. Jack growled against her, not letting up until she pushed him away, whining. “Still with me?” he asked when she managed to lift her head. “You did well.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Vulnerabilty is half the equation,” he explained, hands tracing her figure. Not to arouse, but to soothe. “Trusting someone takes strength. Which is why I think it’s time we take a step back.” Mel flinched. Of course she’d fucked up somewhere. “Hey. Don’t do that. We step back for tonight. I don’t want to push too far, too fast.” “If you’re done with this, you can say it to my face.” “That isn’t—” “Then I call the shots on when we stop. That was the deal when you offered to help me.” He drew back slightly, clearly surprised to see a little bite she didn’t let show at work. “I want to keep going.” Jack nodded and she straddled his lap, stripping his upper body and grinding down on the hardened length beneath her. His pants would be soaked through in moments, thanks to the building slick between her legs. He kept his grip loose around her hips, letting her set her own pace grinding through the fabric. “Alright, hold on.” She stood long enough to let him strip the rest of his clothing and lean back against the headboard. The full picture was impressive to say the least. Finally seeing the defined muscle great many of the staff suspected. The happy trail leading down to his impressive length. Jack Abbot was a silver fox in every sense of the word. Mel might not have the sort of crush on him her colleagues did, but she wasn’t blind. “You want to ride me?” he asked, opening a condom. “Come here then.” ~~~~~ Jack

Melissa King was a remarkable resident. Eager to learn, confident in her diagnoses and execution. It had very quickly made her his favorite of the new batch. He was shameless in stealing her from Robby’s day crew.

Attentive as he was with his people, he knew something was off with her. Cornered her when it would be least suspicious and slowly worked out the problem from there. Inserting himself as the solution was probably a mistake waiting to happen, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

The arrangement was strictly platonic, but he was finding great pleasure in this new area of mentorship all the same. “Fuck,” he hissed when she started to sink down his length. She whimpered, forehead pressed to his shoulder as she worked herself onto him inch by inch. “Good, Mel. How’s that feel?”

“Good. Really good. Full.”

He slowly worked to free her braid, running his fingers through the length of it. “Take your time, sweetheart.” Her grip on his shoulders tightened again and she circled her hips, lifted herself a few times to test the motion, slowly gaining confidence. It was an effort not to grab her waist and take control. It was her show to run. Her interests to discover. It wasn’t about him. Even as the feel of her clenching around him drove him that much closer to insanity. “Mel, honey, not as young as I used to be. If you don’t get a move on I’m not gonna last as long as you.” 

She froze above him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “I um—” 

Mel began blinking rapidly, flustered, and Jack was quick to press a hand to the small of her back. “You’re okay. Just give me a chance to maintain a bit of my dignity here, yeah?” She bobbed her head, still a bit uneasy. There was a silent request in her eyes. Permission, too, allowing Jack to adjust his grip around her waist and set a firm rhythm that would help the both of them.

“Can you keep on like that for me?” he asked softly, releasing her waist to trail his hands back up her torso and cup her breasts. She faltered slightly when he began thumbing her nipples.  “Eyes here, sweetheart. Almost there, aren’t you?”  “Yes. I’m close.” “Eyes,” he repeated the next time she tried to hide her face. “Jack.” “I know, honey.” Hold regained, he guided her through the last few strokes, keeping her locked tight against him when she finally came, his orgasm just behind. “Fuck, kid.” She giggled, clearly a little cock drunk. But damn it, but she was adorable that way. Jack left her long enough to dispose of the condom and get bottled waters from the fridge and a couple of rags to clean up. He didn’t push her to talk to him, just offered her the water and cleaned the worst of the mess. Sent her to use the bathroom before they both crawled into the bed. “You really don’t have to—” “I’m not sending you home like this, King. Get in the bed.” He was hesitant to touch her at first. The sexual aspect had been discussed. The extent of aftercare had not. But she didn’t seem bothered when he wrapped an arm around her from behind. “What are you thinking?” Her cheeks went a little pink. “That I still can’t believe I actually fucked my attending.” He chuckled. “Your secret’s safe with me, kid.”

[wisps-writes-fic]

7, 11 and 15 for the pitt ask game!!

7. Favorite overall scene

I'm a rabbot girly at heart so the 9:00 rooftop scene is probably my favorite, but also this show did such an amazing job giving everyone their unique quirks and flaws, so there was plenty of interaction on the floor I loved to. Honorable mention for the Walsh/Abbot dynamic in trauma.

11. What character dynamic you want to see more of?

Again, I'm always here for Rabbot content, but also Robby and Dana, especially with season 1 ending with her stance on continuing at PTMC so precarious. Super excited to see what changes that brings for Dana's character when we see her again.

15. Would you want to work day shift or night shift?

I'm a true night owl. Put me on night shift. I'll go and get me some black out curtains.

[wisps-writes-fic]

The Pitt Ask Game

I want people to send me questions about The Pitt, so here’s an ask game with general questions.

Who is your favorite character?

Who is your least favorite character?

Who is your favorite recurring or minor character (i.e., not in the main cast)?

Which episode is your favorite?

Which episode is your least favorite?

Which patient/case is your favorite?

What is your overall favorite scene?

Which scene was the one that had the most emotional impact for you?

Which scene is the funniest to you?

Which character dynamic is your favorite?

Which character dynamic do you want to see more of?

Which doctor would you want to handle your care if you were in the ER?

Which nurse would you want to handle your care if you were in the ER?

If you worked at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, which department would you work for?

Would you rather work day shift or night shift?

Which character do you want to see the most in season 2?

Do you have any have any favorite ships? Which ones?

Do you have any crackships or rarepairs? Which ones?

Which friendship is your favorite?

Tell me your thoughts on [insert character A] and [insert character B]!

What are some of your headcanons for [insert character]?

If you were working on a patient, which doctors or nurses would you want to work with?

You somehow found yourself in the Pitt. What is the most likely (silly) medical reason, and would it happen during the day or night shift?

What storyline do you most want to see in the next season?

After a shift, how would you decompress?

[wisps-writes-fic]

I realize this is meant to focus on day shift, barring Abbot, but honorable mention for the iced coffee dude who doesn't give a fuck. you're an icon.

The Pitt has every character I could ever wish for:

-Competent fatherly figure who is two minutes away from a mental break. Representation for guys who stare into mirrors while have ptsd episodes

-His relatively unhinged hyper competent friend who belongs on a battlefield probably .

-A third beautiful hyper competent doctor who keeps getting beat with hammers by the universe when she tries to smile.

-Efficient and hardworking single mom with beautiful blunt bangs. And threatens her deadbeat baby daddy

-the most beautiful princess Diana in the world who keeps getting reprimanded for being too good with patients. They literally said ohhhh pretty girl let’s hate on her

-mean cocky lesbian who threatens pedophiles. Only been there seven hours and already has an age gap toxic situationship yuri thing with another doctor. I live

-autistic queeny who’s actually proving to be the #1 communicator and caretaker in the whole hospital. Pure of soul and mind. Keeps following her resident around like a puppy dog

-said resident who only likes his little autistic intern. Has crazzzyyyy beef with the mean lesbian. Is also stealing pills from the hospital. Love his vibes

-child prodigy med student who is also on the verge of a breakdown. Intellectual prowess but has absolutely no game. Makes sense bc she’s 20. needs to yell at her mom

-worlds mousiest pathetic white boy with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen like actually. You know the bisexuals are going crazy over him

That’s family

[wisps-writes-fic]

You know those “I can make him better” and “I can make him worse” posts? I don’t think you can do either to Andrew Cody.

[wisps-writes-fic]

Summary: A series of drabbles for Pope Cody x OC/reader

🚩= Triggering elements

Addiction (wc 460) 🚩

Obsession

[wisps-writes-fic]

Ooo you're taking requests? I'd love a Pope x Reader/OC with a breeding kink. It's a little dark (but so is he lol) - but maybe with a dash of forced pregnancy/dub-con. He's poking holes in condoms and doing whatever he can to make it happen.

Hatosy: Why do we even like Pope?

Because it gives us fic material like this, Shawn.

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

AN: I love you so much for this ask, Anon. Reveal yourself so I can give you a big smooch. If you keep an eye on my profile I'm going to post another drabble hopefully in the next couple of days to slightly twist away from the prompt. You have inspired me.

CW: Non-consensual somnophilia, stealthing, forced pregnancy

~~~~~

She was the sweetest thing he’d laid eyes on. The one woman on the planet who could tempt and tease him. Drive him out of his mind with need. Andrew had fallen fast and fallen hard for Mara Thompson. She deserved better. Deserved so much better than he could be for her. But that wasn’t going to stop him from keeping her.

The thing was, above all else Andrew was driven by desire. He’d been raised not only to follow orders, but to take his due and then some, never asking forgiveness. What he wanted more than anything at this point in life was permanency. A life with his woman in every sense of the word. A family. 

Everything his bastard brother had and never once earned.

Mara, however, had grand plans. She was nearly a decade younger than him, free of the weight his past set upon his shoulders. Unburdened. Curious, if a bit introverted. She wanted experiences before settling down. Travel and culture and craft. All things he found charming and could humor, to an extent. But it didn’t change what he wanted—ached for when it came down to it.

He should have felt guilty, ignoring those wishes. Rushing the little life she wasn’t ready to commit to. But in the end, he still damaged each condom used. Still pushed into her bare on the nights she was drunk or bone tired and couldn’t stay conscious long enough to protest the lack of protection. Carved a place for himself, inch by inch, head reeling as she clenched around him in her sleep.

Some nights she would start to break through the fog of sleep or liquor. But it had yet to become a true problem when she was soothed with a touch of his hand and a few soft words. “Just me, baby. Need you to keep me warm awhile.” 

Back asleep by the time he started the slow rock of his hips. So sweet and trusting while he pushed into her, imagining how she’d look a few months down the road, belly starting to round. His spoiled girl would be pouting with each change in her body, begging his attention more with each trial of her term that passed.

Just the conjured image of having a son to build up or a daughter to give the world to was enough too have him spilling inside of her. And Andrew… well, he knew better than anyone how to cover up a scene.

Four months later she came to him, teary-eyed and holding a positive pregnancy test. “What do we do now? I’m not—”

“We’ll figure it out, Mara. You know I’ll always be here for you, right?” She nodded, curling into his lap. “We’ll figure it out.”

[wisps-writes-fic]

To the anon who just sent me that Pope ask, I adore you.

[wisps-writes-fic]

Hi, hello, totally anonymous stranger here! I think it would be really hot if you wrote a Robby/OC Praise Kink fic where Robby and OC are having sex and then Robby starts telling them how good and sexy they are and OC's brain is like 'NEW KINK UNLOCKED!'.

Read on Ao3 | Masterlist

Ship: Michael "Robby" Robinovitch x Fem OC

Summary: A series of drabbles for our hot attendings and their girl.

Drabble 5: Adalynn needs a chance to unwind, relinquishing control for a while.

AN: The scenes don't need to be read in any particular order and each will have an individual summary and warnings if necessary. OC will use the same name throughout the series for sake of simplicity but the drabbles won't align chronologically and small details may vary between scenes.

CW: Praise Kink, Smut

~~~

Adalynn was a strong, competent, independent woman who could handle herself just fine, thank you very much. But there was no denying the last several days had been draining. Physically, emotionally. Cracked open and raw as she was, it didn’t exactly come as a surprise when she folded so quickly.

“Let me take care of you, honey.”

Casual, innocent words. That innocence was turned on its head the moment Robby had her flipped down on the mattress, knees nearly touching her chest, the way he held her. If there was a point of contact to be made, Robby had it covered. Other than his mouth at the moment. 

He’d pulled back just enough to watch the place they were joined. Watch the way she stretched to accommodate every inch of his hardened length. Just shy of too much, every time.

Fully seated, he dropped his head, groaning against her neck when she clenched around his cock. “Fuck, you take me so well, honey. Look at you.” He rolled his hips witha slow purpose, hitting a spot that had her seeing stars already. “That’s it,” he cooed, the breadth of him forcing her thighs to spread a bit wider. “This is what my girl needed, hm? Stuffed full so she can’t sit and think about the hard things?”

He kept a solid rhythm, fingers lacing through hers to pin her wandering hands. “Relax, sweetheart.” Bit by bit, the tension—the self discipline—was fucked right out of her. “Just like that. My good girl.”

She whimpered beneath him, the gentle restraint and rolling praise a heady blend. Robby chuckled above her. “So damn sweet like this. When you stop thinking and listen.”

Fucking hell.

“Robby.” He was going to send her over the edge, talking like that. “Robby please.”

Smiling down at her, he ghosted his lips across her temple. “Come for me, sweet girl.”

[wisps-writes-fic]

all the interns gathering around the nurse station because Abbot’s spouse is here

she’s pretty, looks a few years younger but not that much younger, she’s a redhead and has freckles all over her nose and she seems so sweet, talking to Dana, who clearly knows her well

she drops off something for Abbot and then is on her way, saying goodbye to Dana and Robby, who hugs her and promises they’ll visit soon

they’ve only heard things about Abbot’s spouse, the occasional comment here and there about how they met in med school, how they’re also a doctor but not much else

one day she comes in looking for Jack, Mohan is the one who approaches her because Dana is busy, the woman chuckles when she’s called “Mrs. Abbot” says Jenna is just fine, no need for formalities

they make small talk after Samira says she’s a resident and Jenna asks how Robby and Jack are as mentors, listens intently to Samira, clearly genuinely interested

when Dana comes back she greets the woman and calls her “her favourite Abbot”

it’s the quiet lull of 2am when Samira runs into Abbot in the break room and as they make small talk she says how nice his wife is

Jack is like what the fuck?, because this is the first news he has about having a wife, he asks her to clarify, and Samira says she met Jenna, a little confused at Jacks sudden laugh

that’s my sister, and yeah okay, Samira may’ve fucked up and she needs to tell the others asap before they fuck up too

she apologizes, says how she assumed Jenna was his wife because they’d never met his wife and when Dana referred to her as Abbot they just guessed

Jack takes pity on her, says he actually has a husband and in hindsight it shouldn’t have been that surprising because Abbot had never used female pronouns to refer to his spouse, or talked about a woman, they all just assumed and now she feels kinda bad

he also, just for the sake of amusement, says they have actually met his husband because he works at the hospital

it turns into a witchhunt to see who can figure out faster who Abbot’s husband is

the nurses and anyone who knows Robby is his husband are strictly forbidden of giving any hints to the kids and it turns into a floor wide bet (it’s Mel who figures it out first)

[wisps-writes-fic]

Drabble Request Info

I'm taking drabble requests at the moment. If interested in shooting me a request, please keep the following in mind:

Ships I Write:

Abbot x OC/reader

Robby x OC/reader

Abbot x Robby x OC/reader

Shen x OC/reader

Rabbot

Pope Cody x OC/reader

Tropes/Kinks I Write:

Age Gap

BDSM

Breeding Kink

Cockwarming

CNC

Daddy Kink/DDLG

Incest

Dub-Con/Non-Con

Omegaverse

Orgasm Delay/Denial

Polyamory

Power Exchange

Praise Kink

Soulmates

*Note: Some of the tropes above I may only write for F/M fic. M/M drabbles will likely always be SFW.*

Tropes/Kinks I Don't Write:

Blood Play/Knife Play

Major Angst

Major Character Death

Watersports

Hope to hear from you soon!

[wisps-writes-fic]

sorry to spam y'all. Just reorganizing my pinned post a bit

[wisps-writes-fic]

Love Me Like You Need It~Robby x Abbot x OC

Chapter I | Chapter II

All of My Praise (Prequel) | Walk the Wire (Sequel)

[wisps-writes-fic]

Summary: A series of drabbles for our hot attendings and their girl.

Counting Freckles~Robby x OC (wc 207)

Sweet For Me~Abbot x OC x Robby (implied) (wc 124)

Hold Me Close~Robby x OC (wc 145)

Bubbly Bliss~Robby x OC (wc 252)

Fine Control~Robby x OC (wc 314)

[wisps-writes-fic]

All You Had to Do Was Stay~Robby x OC

Chapter I

Good & Right & Real~Abbot x OC

Chapter I

[wisps-writes-fic]

For meeeeeeeeee? Bestie you’re so sweet, I love it already 🥹

⎯⟢ Life Line ⟣⎯

⟪ ⟨ Ch 1: Fancy Meeting You Here ⟩ ⟫

A The Pitt Reader X Soulmate AU.

Multi-Chapter | Explicit | Dr. Robby x Fem!Reader | 2,110 words ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Summary: You had always wondered what it would be like to meet your soulmate...Yet, of all the scenarios you had dreamt up over the years, meeting your soulmate in the ER as your lifeblood poured out onto the floor was not one of them.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Tags: Age Gap (20+ years), Brief mentions of near-death experience/shooting trauma, Caretaking, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Soulmates

Read on AO3 | The Pitt Masterlist

[ Inspired by @i-mushi's wonderful Soulmate AU, Strings That Bind.

For my dear @wisps-writes-fic. Happy Birthday (yes, I know it's not your birthday but I finished early)! I tried so hard to make this a one-shot and failed miserably. So you're getting a multi-chapter fic. Everyone is very upset about this I'm sure. 😂

I would just like to apologize in advance to all medical professionals who read this. I am not a doctor or any kind of medical professional so my knowledge about medical and hospital procedure is limited. Please forgive me. ]

You had always wondered what it would be like to meet your soulmate. 

As a child you’d always assumed it would be like something out of a fairytale. Some dashing faceless person come to sweep you off your feet and battle the monsters under your bed. And later, when you’d grown into a teenager you had begun imagining more realistic—but still romantic—scenarios. A meet-cute in a coffee shop perhaps. Or reaching for the same book in the library. 

Yet, of all the scenarios you had dreamt up over the years, meeting your soulmate in the ER as your lifeblood poured out onto the floor was not one of them. 

“Oh,” you slur when you lock eyes with the man who upends your entire world.  “You’re taller than I thought you’d be…”

It is a feeling like no other. A reordering of the universe. A wild, giddy elation that is headier than drugs and more shocking than a punch to the gut. Like a piece has finally slotted into place in your chest and you can finally breathe normally for the first time in your life. 

He’s handsome, your soulmate. With wide brown eyes and hair that has just started to go gray around the edges. You wonder what he looks like when he smiles. He’s not smiling now though. In fact, he looks positively petrified. You reach out and touch his cheek, inadvertently smearing your blood across his skin—a subconscious sort of claiming if there ever was one. 

“Hey,” you say, a little delirious, as if scolding a toddler. “Turn that frown upside down.” 

And then the blood loss pulls you into its seductive embrace. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It feels as if it’s only moments later that you see him again, though he tells you it’s been hours. 

“You’re lucky to be alive,” he says softly, an agonized look on his face. He sits at your beside, elbows on his knees, hunched over as if the weight of the world were dragging him down. 

You nod at him, not so sure what to say now that blood loss and copious amounts of morphine are no longer loosening your tongue. 

“We nearly…” he trails off, his eyes haunted by some unseen vision. “…I…nearly lost you.” 

You can hear the terror in his voice. The sheer, unadulterated fear of losing his soulmate only moments after finding you. 

“I’m…glad you…didn’t…” you say, your throat scratchy and raw from from what you assume was a tube that had been shoved down there while you were unconscious. 

You move your fingers across the blanket until they brush against his. He stares at them for a beat. Two. Three. And then, slowly, curls his fingers around your own with a gentleness that breaks your heart. 

“So…” you rasp with an awkward smile. “What’s your name?”

Your question must catch him off guard because he suddenly barks out a laugh, and finally—finally!—you see that smile you were so hoping to see when you first met. Somehow, you think, he is even more handsome than before. 

“Michael,” he tells you, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Michael Robinavitch.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

You’re not really sure what the protocol for meeting your soulmate is. Are you together now? Should one of you ask the other on a date? Or was it like that one reality show you liked to pretend you didn’t watch where a couple were expected to marry after a week of knowing each other? 

Truthfully, you didn’t actually know all that much about soulmates. They were uncommon enough that you’d never actually met anyone who had one, and the movies made it seem like some fairytale where the couple was swept up into some epic love story where the realities of real life were glossed over entirely. 

Luckily for you, you had more than enough time to figure it out seeing as how you were essentially chained to your hospital bed these days. The one time you tried bringing up going home Michael had looked at you like you had lost your mind. 

“I spent two hours repairing your liver.”

You blink at him, uncomprehending. 

“…Oh…kay? So I’m fine now?”

You certainly don’t feel fine—in fact, you feel a bit like you’ve been hit by a truck—but you figure that little admission won’t help your case so you choose to leave that tidbit out of your argument. 

As if he can hear your thoughts, he shakes his head with a ‘can you believe this?’ look on his face. 

Wow. Rude. 

“You’re not going anywhere until I say so.” 

You realize with slowly dawning comprehension that your new soulmate has a bossy streak a mile wide. 

How charming. 

(Not.)

There are other things you learn about your soulmate in the following days. He likes Italian sandwiches (delicious). His favorite genre of music is dad rock (you prefer bubblegum pop, much to his dismay). But, most importantly, he is a wizened fifty-three to your paltry twenty-five. Perhaps the vast age gape should bother you—and, in some small ways, it does—but instead you find it oddly…comforting. 

It’s just…nice. Knowing that your soulmate is so grounded and knowledgable. That he has his shit together when you yourself still feel like you’re in that wobbly, awkward stage of life where you have no idea what you’re doing. You may feel like a teenager still playacting at being an adult sometimes but he is a real adult. You bet he even has a retirement portfolio. 

(What must that be like?)

On the flip side, you wonder what he must think of you. What does your mysterious, soft-spoken doctor think of having a soulmate just over half of his age? Do you seem naive to him? Childish? God, you hoped not. 

Eventually a week in, you try to suss the information out of him through careful—i.e. blunderingly obvious—questioning. 

“So,” you say nonchalantly as you watch him squint at your chart on the computer monitor. Technically he isn’t your doctor anymore as you’ve long since been moved upstairs into one of the surgical recovery wings…but that certainly hasn’t stopped him from visiting you every day before, during, and after his shifts to check up on you and critique your care team’s work. 

“Mm?” Michael grunts in acknowledgment, still distracted by whatever he’s reading. 

“What’s your type?”

You see the moment the question finally breaks through his focus because he frowns, eyes flicking to the side to stare at you through those black-framed glasses of his. 

(Have you always been attracted to men with glasses? Or is it just him? Much to think on.)

“My…type.” He doesn’t say it like a question, but like he’s parroting the phrase back to you to make sure that is indeed what you said. 

“Yeah. You know, like some guys like blondes, some like brunettes…” you trail off, urging him to pick up where you’ve left off because this isn’t going nearly how you’d expected. Most men loved talking about themselves. Especially about the kinds of women they were into. It was practically their favorite subject outside of sports and the Roman Empire. 

Or maybe that was just men your age…

What did older men talk about anyway? Stocks? Their aching backs? The AARP? 

Michael just stared at you, a furrow between his brows like he can’t quite figure you out, before turning back to the monitor. 

“Can’t say I have one.” 

Now you’re the one to frown. 

“Everyone has a type.” 

He shrugs. “Not me.” 

“Who was the last person you dated?” 

You can see his jaw working, like he’s fighting a smile—or a grimace. “Have you always been this chatty?”

“It’s not like I have a whole lot else to do in here,” you insist. “There’s only so much daytime TV and TikTok I can consume before I start wanting to grill all the nurses about the local gossip.” 

This is, in fact, true. You’ve probably learned more from the nurses about the inner workings of this hospital than even some of the doctors are privy to. 

“Oh?” He asks, amused. “And, pray tell, what have you learned?” 

“I can’t tell you that,” you say gravely. “I was sworn to secrecy. On pain of death.” 

“Death?” Yep, that’s definitely a smile. “That seems a little extreme. Do I have to fight the nurses?”

“No, because I would never give them up.”

“Good, because if it came down to me and the nurses…my money is on the nurses.” 

You nod sagely. “You’re so wise.”

“Years of experience,” he says, and then frowns—as if only just now realizing the age gap between you. 

Ah. So he hadn’t thought about it. Well, in fairness, he has been very busy lately. Poor thing. Taking pity on him, you reach over and pat his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry,” you tell him sagely, suddenly feeling much more calm about this now that you know he’s just as hopelessly in over his head as you are. “We’ll figure it out.” 

He stares at you, long and hard, before finally nodding—like he’s too afraid to voice whatever he’s feeling. 

And later, after he’s left for the night and you’re settling into a doze, you suddenly remember that he never actually answered your question. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Who are you?”

You blink awake to a strange new doctor scrolling through your chart on the monitor beside your bed. A doctor that is, distinctly, neither your usual doctor nor your soulmate. He looks around Michael’s age—middle-aged or close to it—with soft curling hair that is almost as much silver as it is brown. He turns to face you, seeming surprised to find you awake. 

“Doctor Abbot. I’m from downstairs. Robby asked me to check up on you.”

“Robby?” You ask groggily. While you’re grateful for the drugs that knock you out every night, you’re not so thrilled about how lethargic and fuzzy they make you feel every time you wake up. 

“Michael,” he corrects. “Your…well…you know.” 

Yes. You certainly do know. 

“Mm,” you say instead, as good an acknowledgment as any. “Is he busy or something?” 

“Surgery,” he explains simply before turning back to your chart. “It’s a complicated one so it might be a bit.”

“I see.”

You wonder then if this will be what the rest of your life will be like. Waiting around for your more important other half as he saves lives and is late to see you. But almost as soon as you think it you feel guilty. Of course whoever is being operated on takes precedence over you. You don’t get to monopolize the man just because you’re bored and have gotten greedy with his time. 

Ugh, you needed to get the hell out of this place. 

You eye Doctor Abbot then, wondering if he’ll be more open about your care than Michael is. 

“When do you think I’ll be able to go home?” 

His eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t say anything, just scrolls through your chart. 

“It says here they’ll likely discharge you in a week if you continue the way you have.” 

You make a face. “Ugh.”

“I didn’t realize I was such terrible company,” he says, lips quirking into small smile. 

“No offense, but I hate hospitals.” 

“This might surprise you, but most people do.” 

“I just…feel like I’ve been in this bed forever,” you complain, the floodgates finally bursting open after a week of your soulmate’s constant hovering. “I feel useless.”

You can feel tears of frustration beginning to well at the corners of your eyes, which only makes you more upset. You’ve been independent since nearly as long as you could remember. You’re not used to just sitting around. And yet all it had taken to derail your entire life was some dumb fucking idiot with a pile of guns who probably spent way too much time on 4chan or 8chan or whatever other creepy website weirdos like him hung out on. 

It just…it wasn’t fair. 

“Hey,” Doctor Abbot says softly, attention now turned fully to you. His eyes are brown, you realize. Just like your soulmate’s. “You’ll be home before you know it. You’ve been doing real well. Your chart says you’re healing on schedule. We’re only keeping you here a little longer because we need to make sure your liver will be alright once you’re on your own. Okay?” 

You sniff, feeling simultaneously pathetic and reassured. He squeezes your shoulder, a strange mirror to you comforting Michael only the day before.

“We’ll get you through this kid. Just let us help you.” 

You nod. 

“Okay.” 

Next Chapter | Life Line Masterlist

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