writing-mlm

[writing-mlm]

chat how do I even respond

the jackie pronoun thing was bc jackie was written as a boy in the first draft and I missed a couple changes 😭

[writing-mlm]

Something angsty with Abbot

They had something going on in the army (they didn't label it) and it was pretty serious,robby knew about (they were an inseparable trio) and thought they would last forever

Until something happend and the reader didn't leave with them and continued to advace in ranks

They (all 3) meet again in the pitt to find out reader got married and had a child (the reason for the hospital visit ) and treats abbot and robby as just friends like nothing is wrong

You can continue it how you like cause this is getting long

The wounds of our parents (that I refuse to carry over)

Summary: You couldn’t be strong enough for yourself, but you’d be damned if you let your daughter feel the way you did. Pairing: Jack Abbot x Male reader Word Count: 3.4k Tags/warning: reader is married to a woman, sort of implied religious trauma, homophobia, medical talk, sick child, I headcanon Jack was in the Marines, italics is a flashback, wounds physical and emotional, not terribly angsty but still hurt/comfort imo A/n: I changed the prompt a little bc I don’t think Robby was in the military, also. while editing I learned its Abbot not Abbott...

Stolen kisses and secret glances, if that’s how Jack could remember his time in the Marines, he would’ve been a happy man. He’s reminded of you every day, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. 

He remembers you when he ties his laces in the quick way you taught him, he remembers you when the sun warms his face, he remembers you when the silence of his apartment is so loud against his ears he can't think. He can’t breathe and— fuck he can’t even see anything. Then his phone lights up, a call. 

It reminds him of you again. You would sneak out from your barracks to meet him, a flashlight placed on the floor so you could at least see him a little. It was never much, but it was always enough. 

“My arms are killing me,” You grumble, climbing into his bed. He welcomes you, arms outstretched and a lopsided grin. It’s well past any normal guest time in the barracks, but neither of you cared. 

“No one told you to carry everyone’s bags up the hill,” He laughs as you drop into his open embrace. Immediately, he starts massaging your arms, loving the way you relax instantly. Your head drops onto his chest, sure you’re about to be lulled into a nice sleep.

“I was being nice,” You murmur. “And I was showing off,” 

“For who?” He teases. Cracking an eye open, you laugh into his shirt. Leaning forward, you kiss the underside of his jaw. 

“You,” 

His hands trail up from his neck, settling on his ears as he tries to fill the silence. His phone rings again, and he pulls himself from the memory before answering it. It’s Robby. It’s never you. 

—

Abbot’s driving into work, annoyed that he’d accidentally taken the long route, and now he’s fighting the morning traffic. It’s one of those rare occasions when he was needed for the morning shift. And he couldn’t say no. He’s about ten minutes out, waiting at a red light, when the next song starts up. The guitar strings start, and he inhales slowly, his eyes closing. 

The squad was inside of a tent, passing the time until there was something to do. Thankfully, someone had brought along a speaker, and everyone was taking turns playing music. It eventually turned into a lip-syncing competition and you were up. 

It didn’t take long before the song could start up, two of the guys laugh as they know the song, while Jack leans back. You step into the middle of the tent, using a water bottle as a microphone. You rock with the beat, each guitar string pluck is a new rock. 

“I used to think that I wasn’t fine enough, and I used to think that I wasn’t wild enough. But I won’t waste my time tryna figure out why you playing games, what’s this all about?” Everyone catches as your eyes drift to Jack’s. You continue, fake singing your heart out until you look at Jack again. 

“Oh, love! Never knew what I was missing. But I knew once we start kissin’ I found… love!” Your eyes meet, and you point at him before desperately clutching your chest. 

“Abbot’s blushin’!” One of the men laughs, smacking his arm. Jack shakes his head but doesn’t look away from you, still lip-singing. 

A car honks and he opens his eyes, the light is now green. Another honk. Smacking the wheel, he pushes forward, trying to push the memories backwards. 

It was never a relationship, at least in concrete boyfriend-boyfriend terms. But it was. It fucking was. You’d both said I love you, you both had imagined lives together, you were each other's person, and you were his and he was yours. 

And then Abbot got discharged, and you didn’t. You stayed in the Marines, something had scared you. He knows it. He knows it in his bones. He knows it like he knows the human body. 

“Hey, brother!” Robby gives Abbot a high five as he walks into the ED. Abbot blinked, his body moving on autopilot, he hadn’t realized he was at work already. “Thank you so much,” He’s almost desperate, the ED is more packed than usual. Apparently, an entire school grade had come down with random spouts of dizziness, weird vision, and vomiting. 

“Where am I needed?” He asks, glancing around the room. There are a lot of parents talking outside the on-call rooms with doctors. 

“Uh, room eleven.” Abbot nods and gets himself ready, grabbing Mohan on his way to the room. Mohan has the kids' chart and tells him the basics while he nods, still looking around. She has to leave, though— everyone has one patient. There’s not enough doctors to double up today. 

He glances at the patient's chart and stops for a small laugh, pushing into the on-call room. Jackie Maria (L/n). 

“Is your full name Jack or Jackson?” You asked, it’s the first thing you’d ever said to him. First day at boot camp and that’s what his barrack roommates says to him.

“Jack,” He responds and you nod, carefully setting your bag on your bed. 

“That’s crazy, cause I’ve always wanted to name my kid Jackie. What do you think, would he get bullied?” Jack laughs, shaking his head. He’d never been bullied for the name, and he relays as much to you. “That’s good to know.” Your smile reaches your eyes and you scan him up and down. Your heart flutters a bit and you force yourself to look away. 

You stare at him, your hand in a woman's— your wife’s hand while holding your daughter's head. Jackie. Your daughter, Jackie. She’s clutching a bucket that already has bile inside of it. She’s about twelve. Abbot checks the chart and licks the inside of his mouth. Thirteen. 

You’re in civvies, which checks out because you always hated the uniform. Hated the attention it brought when you were off base. He looks down at your wedding band, it’s simple, a thin silver ring nestled on your finger. It’s old and worn, Abbot guesses it’s older than ten years old. You preferred gold, or at least a darker silver than that. And you always wanted something a little different than the basic silver band. 

For a moment, you relax and smile. It’s the first time you’ve seen him since he left the Marines. The first time in fourteen years that you’ve honestly felt at peace. Well, mostly. Jackie throws up again and you move to rub her back. 

“I’m Doctor Abbot,” He stiffly says, closing the door behind him. He needs to be professional, there’s a sick child he needs to attend to. 

“I’m glad it’s you,” You admit, your voice is more mature than the last time he heard it. There’s a bigger bass to it and he just knows if Jackie was in Little League your voice was drowning out the crowds. He wonders if his voice would’ve done the same. 

“He usually doesn’t like doctors,” Your wife says, a little confused, and Jack nods. He knows this. He’s known this long before she was ever in the picture. 

“Jack,” You whimper, clutching his hand as you hold your bleeding leg. “It’s too high for a tourniquet.” There’s a shudder to your voice that he doesn’t like, a sort of finality that puts his stomach through the ringer. Which is odd, considering you’re on an active battlefield and something explodes in the background. 

“I got you, sweetheart,” He grunts, pulling you into a more covered area. “This is gonna hurt but do you trust me?”

“Hmm,” You nod, eyes closed tight and lips tucked into your mouth. “With my fuckin’ life, baby.”

“We were in the Marines together,” You softly explain and she hums. She’s not delighted to hear that, but she doesn’t show any outward distaste in it either. There’s some history behind that, he has a sneaking suspicion he knows what it’s about. 

“Can you give me a rundown of your symptoms, Jackie?” Abbot asks while putting on a pair of gloves on. Jackie just groans, looking for relief and finds it in you. You smile, rubbing her sweat-soaked forehead. 

“She texted me, she was in science class and was feeling lightheaded. You know diabetes runs in my family so I assumed she was starting to show signs. I told her to eat some of the snacks and drink something. She said it didn’t help. Then she said she was having trouble breathing but she felt better after class. I knew she was having a test, so I assumed it was anxiety.” You hurriedly explain, recounting her day. “And then she had lunch, she called me. She was throwing up and seeing spots. Apparently, other kids were, too.” 

“Were these kids in your science class?” 

“Some,” Jackie croaks. Abbot nods, considering most students have a similar experience, it’s probably something in the science room. 

“I want to have your blood sent in for a tox screen. It could possibly be something in the classroom. It’s sounding a bit like the flu, maybe someone was sick and spread it around the school and then maybe some food poisoning. Did you eat the school lunch?” Jackie nods but she looks at you for support. 

“It’s pizza Friday. She loves it,” You add, watching as Jackie throws up again. “Once you’re done, sit up, bud. Dr. Abbot needs you to be steady.” 

“The mess hall is serving us the good food,” You whisper, staring down at your lobster, mac and cheese, and the good mashed potatoes. “We’re getting shipped off, ain’t we?” 

“Sure are,” Jack laughs. The two of you sit side by side, not even a millimeter of space between the two of you. You drop your head, ready to succumb to your inevitable fate. 

“I would’ve preferred pizza as my final meal.”

Abbot finishes drawing Jackie’s blood and leaves the room for a moment. You watch as the doors close and sigh, knowing what’s about to come and just continue to rub the top of your daughter's head. 

“You never mentioned an Abbot before,” Your wife carefully says, messing with her nails. 

“No, Katy. I didn’t.” You agree. “I also never mentioned Tasso, or Navarro, or Dukarea. Or half of my squad before.” 

“You haven’t,” She stresses. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Looking at her, you lace your fingers together before letting your hands hang between your legs. She shrugs and looks at the door. 

“Your mother did.” She said after a beat had passed. 

“Don't bring her up,” You glare over at her. “Not now, Katy.” 

“She said something about an Abbot who was tempting—“ She doesn’t get to finish before you stop her. 

“Jackie is sick. We are not going to talk about whatever she told you, Katherine.” She pauses but eventually nods. You look at Jackie as she looks between the two of you, you hate being tense around him. You hate having fights around her, or even being slightly angry around her. It’s not a part of you that you want her to experience. 

“I’m going for a smoke,” She pushes herself from the wall as the door opens again and Abbot walks inside. 

“Okay,” You reply, not sparing her a glance. She leaves using the opposite doors, snatching her purse from the chair with an exaggerated huff. 

“I’ve sent your blood for testing. We should know within an hour,” Abbot explains and you nod, looking between him and Jackie. Your stomach twists as you imagine that this was your family. The three of you. 

“Is there something she can have for the pain?” You ask, looking between the two of them. “She’s not good with pain and I know this is a ten for her.” Weakly, Jackie nods. 

“Alright, I’m going to give you an ibuprofen. It’ll help with the nausea and the pain. If, after an hour, you’re still in pain, I’ll switch it up. Does that sound good?”

“Mhmm,” Jackie winces and then starts gagging. You help her sit up, wincing as she throws up again. 

“What if she can’t keep the pill down?” You ask, looking up at him with worry clearly written all over your face. His chest tightens, and he inhales, looking between you and Jackie. As much as he’d hate to admit it, his mind runs blank for a moment. 

“An IV drip is always an option.” Abbot explains once he composes himself. “Would you be okay with that, Jackie?” Your daughter nods and Abbot nods in response. “We’ll get that started as soon as possible.”

“Would you be a step-dad?” Robby whispers, pulling Jack to the side. They’re about to do a shift change and this is how Robby is planning on spending their small overlap together. 

“Depends,” Jack responds, crossing his arms. “Is the kid bad? Is there an affair that causes the step-parent-ness?”

“No, and no,” Robby squints. “I didn’t— I wouldn’t help someone cheat. But this woman I’m seeing has a son, we haven’t met but she wants us to. I wanted your opinion,” Jack nods, imagining himself as a step-parent. It’s hard because he keeps placing his partner as you and not some random person. 

“Yeah,” He nods. “See if you can handle that dynamic. Every step family is different,” In turn, Robby nods before leaving in a rush. Apparently soon meant tonight. 

“Has there been an update with the others?” You ask. “Jackie’s friend, Charlie. She’s here too,” 

“I can certainly ask, what’s her last name?” Turning to Jackie, she inhales. It’s shaky and it looks like it hurts her but she still tries. 

“Hunt.” She replies. 

“Charlie Hunt, got it.” He leaves again and it’s just the two of you now. 

“It’s not drugs, right?” You whisper, looking up from the door. Jackie feverishly shakes her head and you nod, trusting her. Looking back at the door, you inhale. 

A part of you hates that out of all the places you could’ve settled after the Marines, you picked the one place Jack lived and then out of all of the hospitals, this is the one your son is being treated at. But another, bigger, part of yourself loves that. Loves that you’re still connected to him after all these years. It’s like a sign. 

The door opens and you see Abbot return with Charlie. Her parents are not there yet, their jobs are hard to leave from what you remember. 

“How you feeling, Char?” You ask, a small smile on your face. 

“Not horrible, Mr. (L/n),” She replies, looking at you before her eyes lock on Jackie. “How’s Jackie?”

“Could be better,” Jackie croaks and Charlie takes the seat you’d been in. She has a small oxygen mask around her neck but it doesn’t seem like she needs it anymore. 

“I’m going to go for a walk,” You tell them to which they nod. Looking Abbot up and down, he calmly follows you into the hallway. 

“A wife,” He whispers. “How long?”

“Um,” Scratching your eyebrow, you shrug. “About fourteen years. Are you… have you gotten married?” For a moment, you look at his hand. Barren, no tan lines to indicate a ring either. 

“No.” He confirms what you already know. “Are you happy?” The pause that follows the silence is all he needs to know. Although he could’ve guessed that already, he’s seen happily married people but you and Katy? That wasn’t a happy marriage. 

“I always said you’d make a great doctor,” 

“You did,” He nods, a breathless chuckle passing by his lips. “I always said you’d be a girl dad.”

“Light of my life,” You smile. “She had a small interest in medicine, which is crazy cause she’s—“ You pause, stopping yourself. Katy walks back in from her smoke break and you blink. “She gets woozy at the sight of blood.” You finish. 

“Has anyone seen Charlie Hunt?”  A doctor calls, standing in front of an empty on-call room. “I have her lab work,”

“She’s in here, Robby!” Abbot calls. “Is (L/n)’s also done?”

“Uh,” He checks his tablet. “Yes- yup,” 

“Alright, let’s go!” That special request to speed up Jackie’s tox screen worked. Which is a first. The four of you head back to the on-call room and Katy enters without knocking. 

“What the fuck?” She shouts and you see Charlie stand up to her full height. Jackie looks between the two of you, shocked, and her heart monitor is beeping faster. She looks at you, and you know, you just know what Katy saw. “Did you know?” She spins to you, finger pointing. But you don’t see her, you don’t hear her. 

You hear the rapid beeping, you see your daughter's fear, and it’s like you’re her. It’s like you’re your father and Katy is your mother and you’re about to repeat a cycle you could never break. 

“Breathe,” Jack forces you out of the rec room and into the dark outside. The party continues inside but you can feel yourself dying. Your life is in the hands of the letter dropped off earlier in the week that you’d refused to open. “What’s wrong?” Your free hand touches the dewy grass as you sit. 

“Sweetheart,” His hand covers yours, blocking the letter from your vision. 

“Someone told my parents,” You manage out. “My mom she’s asking about why her church is whispering about her ‘faggot’ son. They know us-- they know you.” 

“I thought they knew?” 

“No,” Holding both of his hands, you kiss them softly, grounding yourself. “I never told them. That's why I left.”

You never understood why your parents were such a big part of your life, why you let their hate infect you so much. That your fear wasn’t strong enough to stop you from going to the Marines, but it was for telling your parents no. But it’s not stronger than your love for Jackie. 

“Get out,” You tell Katy. 

“Let’s see what your mother has to say about this.” She hums, digging into her purse for her phone. She’s used that line so many times and so many times you’ve given in at the expense of your peace and sanity. 

“Let’s see what Vincent has to say,” She pauses at the door, her eyes filled with pure hatred. She says fine, along with some colorful words and you sigh, joining the now crying Jackie’s side. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” Doctor Robby takes Charlie back to her room while Abbot stands there, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“I didn’t— I’m sorry,” Her cries turn to gagging and you sit her up, letting her vomit into the bowl. 

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry for not doing better,” Holding her tight, you shudder, wishing so desperately you’d been your father all those years ago. “Let’s focus on your health first, honey. And then everything else after.” 

“Alright, your tox screen does show levels of carbon monoxide and it is showing signs of food poisoning,” He turns the screen and points to an assortment of letters and numbers that only he understands. 

“Good news is-“ He turns the screen back to him. “It looks like you won’t have any long-term side effects and the nausea should lessen with time. For now, I’m going to start your IV drip and give you an oxygen mask. That’s to help your body filter out the carbon monoxide faster.” She nods, holding your hand tightly. He gently puts the oxygen mask over her and you watch as she takes a deep breath in. 

He nods to the door and you stand up. Jackie reaches for your hand, shaking her hand but you reassure her that you’ll just be outside the door. She lets go and you meet Abbot in the hallway. 

“We have social workers available,” He starts. “If you or Jackie want to talk to someone.”

“I’m definitely getting a therapist for us,” You huff a laugh. “I know divorces can be rough on kids.”

“Divorce?” He asks. 

“That’s who Vincent is. He’s my friend and a divorce lawyer. I can’t let her grow up the way I did,” 

“That’s good,” He smiles an honest smile. 

“I don’t know if you’d be up to it again, but, could I get your number?” You carefully ask. “I know Pittsburgh has that year waiting period but,” You laugh, looking away from him. “It’s been fourteen years and I’ve missed you like a motherfucker.”

[writing-mlm]

This isn't even a request I just wanna say you're actually so underrated. Finding people who write male reader(poc and trans male reader at that!) especially ones as gifted as you are is super rare 🙏🏿 just wanted to say thanks bro.

Tysm writing for poc was one of the main reasons I started this blog especially within the fandom spaces I was in at the time which is why, by default, the readers I write are typically implied to be non-white. It typically leans towards afro-latino if I’m being honest and I don’t realize it half the time 😭

[writing-mlm]

langdon anon here (from did they bet on this) that was soo perfect ty 🫶 looove that u had autistic!reader especially

So glad you liked itttt

little secret, most of the time autism just sorta leaks into the reader 🤫 it’s usually subtle tho

[writing-mlm]

saw u write for the pitt,,, anything w/ frank langdon i beg hes too pretty

Did they bet on this

Summary: Dr. Langdon and Dr. (L/n)’s favorite residents are oddly familiar, but that couldn’t mean anything. Right? Pairing: Frank Langdon x Male Reader Word count: 3.5k Tags/Warning: post-Pittfest, minor mentions of Frank’s addition, canon level medical discussions, implied autistic!reader, reader wears glasses, father/daughter jokes about Langdon/Santos and reader/Mel, corny jokes, ‘I need him’ jokes A/n: I’m surprised i’ve gotten tame Pitt request, would’ve thought people wanted abbott/robby eiffel tower LOLLL

Dr. Frank Langdon has two secrets, although the first secret certainly has sub-sections. 

Secret one. 

He wasn’t on medical leave or at some administrative level following him being extremely rude to Santos, like the others suspect. He was in rehab. And now he gets pulled to the side not to get consults but for random urine testing. And he’s stopped going out for drinks, not because he’s more aware of his liver but because it happens to fall on his N.A. meetings.

Secret two. 

He’s been divorced for a while now. Long before his issue with drugs had come to light and he was sent to rehab. It’s been, officially, three months, but it’s been a year and three months. Pittsburgh has a mandatory one-year separation law, and he spent that year trying to win his wife back. But… it clearly didn’t work. He sees his kids every other weekend, the judge said he should consider himself lucky. Between his hectic hours and the recorded drug abuse, he was going to lose his rights altogether. 

But he’s clean now. He’s been clean since the day after PittFest. Each of his random tests comes back negative. He doesn’t even take Tylenol or ibuprofen anymore. 

Okay, he lied a bit back there. 

It’s not two secrets, it’s three. 

Secret three. 

He’s bisexual. And he has a crush on his fellow resident— although that resident has finished his final year while Frank was in rehab and is now in a flexible fellowship. Two days in the OR followed by two days in the Pitt. That is totally not the point. 

“Hey, Don,” You call, slapping his shoulder on your way to the locker room. He flinches, his jaw tightening at the sudden contact before he relaxes. It’s just you. Just the man he had been thinking about. “Missed me?”

“Like I miss high school,” He gives a sarcastic smile, and you huff a laugh, pushing into the locker room. His eyes shift to the floor, there are two patients so far— one is waiting to have their tox screens, and another is being treated for a 30/70 burn. Neither of which he wants to handle. “McKay, any new patients?” Langdon asks, holding onto the counter and stretching, his head down to ease the tension in his body. 

“Not yet,” She shakes her head, pulling her lips into her mouth. She grabs the clipboard and flips through it. “About to call in Emily Cotton, bitten by her chihuahua. Want that?” Something good, that’s all he wants. 

“No, give it to Mohan.” 

“Alright.” 

“I think Dr. Langdon has it,” Robby steps into his line of view, arms crossed. He doesn’t look at Langdon, his eyes only on McKay. “Don’t you, Langdon?” 

“Yes,” He grits, ever so slightly shaking his head. “Yup, send her to me. I’ll be in 5,” McKay looks between the two of them but nods, sending Mateo to call Ms. Cotton into the ED. You’re leaving the locker room as Langdon walks by, rubbing the back of his neck with both hands, and his ears are a little red. 

“You alright?” You whisper, changing directions and following him into the room. 

“I’m fine,” He lies, lips pressed into a thin line. “Can you turn the light all the way on?” Someone had dimmed them earlier, something about a patient seeing white spots in their vision. Not exactly great for inspecting small dog-inflicted wounds. 

“Yup,” Stepping back, you flick the lights on and look Langdon over. He's upset, he usually is when Robby assigns him a case. They are always cases that Robby hates, boring— mundane cases that come and go a million times a day in the ED. “Anything else?”

“Uh, no.” He shakes his head as he turns to you. “Unless you want to take over?” Crossing your arms, you rock back and forth before shaking your head. 

“My favorite resident could use the experience,” You tease. 

“Excuse me?” He laughs, standing up from the small rolling stool. He crosses the room over to you, and you raise your eyebrows. “We were residents together.”

“That’s how the cookie crumbles,” You drag out. “God, that was corny.” Pinching your nose, you close your eyes and try to take back the past five seconds. 

“It was,” He agrees through a small laugh. “Your age is showing, Chip.” He whispers, trying desperately not to let his eyes wander. To not falter and give in to the urge to be closer to you. Closer than normal for a pair of colleagues— friends. 

“We’re the same age,” The door opens, and the professionalism slips onto the two of you. 

“Emily Cotton?” Langdon asks, and she nods, looking back at Whitaker, who’d walked to the room. “Have a seat, please. I’m Doctor Langdon, and I’ll be your doctor today.” Nodding, you leave the room without a word, softly closing the door behind you. 

“Anything for me?” You ask Dana, ever thankful that she hadn’t actually quit. She did take a needed vacation, though. It cleared her head and allowed her the space to reflect on the job. 

“We just got a call; a teenage girl accidentally shot herself in the stomach. They’re about two minutes out.” She relays, and you have to stop yourself from showing if you are excited or annoyed. 

“Alright, I’ll need Dr. King, Collins, Perlah, and Silva.”

“Wait, no!” Langdon calls, his head peering out of the room. “King is mine.” His eyes dart between you and his favorite resident. 

“Too bad, Don,” You call. “Take your twin, Santos.” Santos looks up from her current patient, someone who’s about to leave. Meanwhile, Langdon drops his head, his free fist balling for a second. He reaches out to you, but you ignore him. 

“Ha-ha, gimmie King,” With two fingers, he motions for Mel to head to him. She looks between the two of you, and you give her an apologetic look. 

“Don, Donnie, Ding-dong— you can go one hour without Mel. Scrub in, Dr. King. You can go back to Dr. Langdon after this surgery.” Pointing to the operating room, she gives four strong nods and rushes past with her head down. 

“You’re cruel,” He says before you can walk by. “Santos,” He whispers, looking at her over your shoulder. She quickly looks away before they can make eye contact. 

“You guys are the same person, just she’s younger and a woman.” You whisper back, your head close to his ear. “And it’s for like five minutes. You got this,” 

If Langdon is allowed to be honest, he didn’t hear a single word you’d said. He just blindly nods, watching as you pull away from him to help get the room prepped. He takes one last look out, watching as the girl is wheeled into the ED before he resigns himself to his task.

“Dr. Santos, come on!” 

— 

For reasons you will not divulge to anyone other than people you do not work with, Santos is your unofficial mentee. Robby has Mohan and Whitaker, Langdon has Mel, McKay has Javadi, and so on. It’s just how things had naturally clicked into place after the first couple of days of them working at PTMC. 

There’s usually some teachable moment with the manatees to their mentors. Whitaker allows Robby to relax, Mel shows Langdon his way isn’t always the right way- that he can be wrong, and Santos helps you in other ways. 

“He did mention you,” She spills as soon as the two of you enter a room. You’re waiting on a patient, not using an empty room to gossip. That would be ridiculous and unprofessional. “Three times.”

“Was it good?” You squint. “Was it about me taking Mel?”

“Once,” She nods. “The first time. The second time he said you should've called him into the OR, and the third time he asked me about my opinion of you.”

“And what did you say?” You squint harder, leaning back on the wall. She shrugs, putting her hands into her pockets. 

“You’re cool, you buy me lunch sometimes— I didn’t mention that you use me to get information on him when you’re gone.” The door opens, and Princess hands you the new patient's chart. The conversation is effectively over as you introduce yourself and Santos to the patient with…

“And how did you put a tube of Christmas ornaments up your rectum?” You ask, and Santos makes a face behind his back. The man grumbles as he tries to find a comfortable position, refusing to take a seat. 

“I fell on it,” He answers quite stiffly. “My wife wanted me to take them down, and when I was climbing down the attic ladder, I slipped.” Raising your eyebrow, he looks away and down at the bedsheet. It’s going to be one of those, then. 

“Alright, Mr. Franco. I’m going to ask you to take your bottoms off and then put your feet into the holders while we step out. Okay? The blanket is for your privacy.” He grunts a nod and you close the curtain as Santos wastes no time walking out of the room. 

“How did he look when he mentioned me?” You whisper, your back pressed to the door, while she has to mentally prepare herself for her first object removal. 

“He looked how he normally does, I guess,” She shrugs. “Do we need a local anesthetic?”

“Maybe,” Scratching your forehead, you think about what you’re going to need. You’ve done enough removals during your time as a doctor that you’re basically a pro at this. She lists the items and goes to retrieve them while you work on finding Langdon for a quick moment. 

“Wanna switch?” You ask, holding him by the crook of his elbow. He looks at you, eyebrows raised. “I take your child with a broken ankle, and you take my rectum removal.” The offer is horrible, you know that and, more importantly, he knows that. 

“You’re funny,” He laughs. “Good luck, Chip.” He pats your shoulder and enters his room. Groaning, you go back to your room and knock on the door. 

—

You need him. You need him carnally. You need him biblically. You need him in ways that are sacrilegious. You need to jump Frank Langdon’s bones. 

Splashing your face with water, you try to compose yourself. You just finished up another emergency surgery— a woman fell from her fifth-story window, her femur was completely out of the skin, her elbow was twisted in gnarly ways, the works. It was the usual crew in the operating room, plus you and Langdon. 

It was technically his; he had called dibs on surgery while you were finishing up with the ornaments guy, and he asked you to join. He just had this look on this stupid face, and you couldn’t say no. Not that you ever could to him. 

But— and HIPAA forgive you— but the way he looked, stitching that woman back up was… something. You won’t say what, in fear of coming off as too crass. But it was life-changing. Pants were changed and not just because they got blood on them. 

“You okay?” The man of the hour asks, pushing into the bathroom. 

“Yeah,” You breathe out, having drowned yourself for a little there. “Totally, ‘m fine.” He’s not totally convinced, every doctor in the Pitt knows that when there’s water splashed on a face, something is definitely not fine. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking you up and down. He licks his lips, just a little so that his tongue pokes out from between them as his eyes trail up your body. 

“Just a little in my head,” His eyes land on your face by the time you look at him. 

“King has these grounding exercises,” He starts and you smile, looking down at the wet sink. 

“I know, we go over them together sometimes.” He stops, making an oh face. 

“So, you and Dr. King are…close?” He asks, rocking back and forth on his feet. “You talk often?” Shaking your head as you grab some tissue, you press your back against the marble countertop. 

“We talk in passing, usually when we need a break. We both decompress on the same staircase, funnily enough.” There’s a small laugh in your tone and Langdon nods. 

“Yeah, she-she mentioned you that a couple of times.” Before you could respond, there were two sharp bangs on the door. Robby. 

“Langdon, your patient is coding. (L/n) your patient's parents are here.” He huffs and leaves in a hurry while you make the short walk to room 13 longer than it needed to be. The parents are completely disagreeing with the treatment of their daughter. The mother is for the treatment, while the father thinks the vaccines and medications are going to lead to autism or gayness in the future. 

“Fucking Qanon’s man,” You grumble before plastering a pleasant look on your face as you enter the room. 

—

“Oh, I get it,” Abbott whispers as he, Dana, and Robby lean against the workstations. They have a clear view of two of the on-call rooms. One with Langdon and King, and the other with you and Santos. 

“Get what?” Robby looks up, his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He follows Abbott's line of view and rolls his eyes. “Oh, those four. Yeah,”

“Surprised it took you this long,” Dana snickers, flipping through some paperwork. “Like father, like daughter,” She looks up, catching how you and Mel both make the same head motion as the patient says something undoubtedly stupid. And then, at the same time, Langdon and Santos look away to give an exasperated look. 

“It’s freaky,” Abbott leans forward, his chin on his fist. “Do they know?”

“Not a damn clue,” Robby responds. They watch for a little while, and there’s one breakthrough with each of your patients. You and Langdon nod and leave the room. You and Mel walk out first, fixing your glasses out of stress rather than necessity, and then Langdon and Santos walk out, both of them slapping the top of the doorframe. 

“Freaky as fuck,” Abbott has to hold back a laugh. “Oh my god, like father, like daughter.” He agrees. 

“I’m telling ya,” Robby shakes his head, waving at the four of you as you walk by. “They didn’t even do it on purpose.” He adds in a hushed tone. 

“It’s like they don’t know it’s legal yet,” Mohan comments as she walks up behind the group. They turn to her, and she holds her hands up before walking away. 

Langdon parks himself at a separate workstation, watching as you do the same with Santos across the floor. 

“They’re doing this on purpose,” Abbott shakes his head. “There’s no way.”

“Switch to the morning shift,” Robby offers. “You’ll see,” 

“It’s entertaining,” Dana agrees before she smirks. “Want in on the betting pool?”

“There’s a betting pool?” His eyes seem to sparkle with glee and mischief at the idea. 

“I already lost,” Robby leans back in his seat, running his hands down his face. “I gave them six months. It’s been two and a half years.” 

“I predicted a drunk confession,” Dana frowns. That can’t happen anymore, considering Langdon can’t touch any drug or alcohol until he’s off his probation. 

“I think King is going to tell (Y/n) or Santos is going to slip up and tell Langdon.”

“That’s already a bet, believe it or not,” Abbott claps his hands together as if that was proving his point. 

“Alright, guys, I’m off! See you!” You call, and their head snaps to the locker room entrance. As you’re walking out, you’re relief is right behind you, ready to start their shift. 

“Right, night shift time,” Langdon mutters, pushing off from the workstation. “Wait for me?” He’s not begging— he doesn’t beg, but he is gently asking as another relief enters the ED. 

“Sure,” You nod, messing with the straps of your bag. He thanks you and rushes to gather his stuff as Abbott quietly sighs. There goes his entertainment for the night. He wonders if he could get access to the parking lot cameras. 

“Okay,” You inhale the cold air as the two of you head towards the employee parking lot. “Don’t laugh—“

“I won’t,” He promises without hesitation.

“One of my patients made a joke that I didn’t understand. It was something like; Doctors always have band-aids. They’re wonderful.” He’s heard that one a handful of times and shakes his head, glancing up at the sky. 

“Wound-erfurl,” He corrects with a small smile while you squint. 

“Oh,” You groan as it clicks. “Wound. Fuck, I should’ve gotten that.” For a moment, just a singular moment, Langdon watches as you hide your smile behind your hand. You look almost annoyed with yourself, but you’re mostly embarrassed that you hadn’t gotten the joke. And had this been anyone else (save Mel, Robby, Abbott, Dana, or Gloria) he would’ve made fun of them in some way. 

“It’s a hard one,” He agrees through a simple shrug. 

—

“What do you see in him?” Santos asks as she hangs onto her stethoscope, watching as Langdon gets blood sprayed on his face. Rogue vein, apparently. 

“He’s pretty,” You grin. She scoffs and looks away, turning towards the TV, hoping there would be a case soon enough. There are a million people waiting, so why doesn’t she have a patient already?

“You’re not supposed to be down here,” Robby notes as he walks past you. He’s checking someone’s chart and he hasn’t looked up once, how he knew you were there is beyond yourself. 

“I’m on my lunch break,” You reply, holding up the empty apple juice carton as proof. Although he’s still not looking at you and you’re not looking at him. You’re watching as Langdon leaves the on-call room, his face has a clear expression of disgust on it. 

“I’ll get some new scrubs,” The offer makes his shoulders relax, and he looks at you, his expression softening. 

“Thank you,” While he heads to the bathroom, you head to the scrub exchange before remembering. Exchange. Walking into the bathroom, Langdon looks up from the sink, bloody water dripping from his face. 

“I need your old scrubs first,” You tell him and he grunts, he’d also forgotten that small detail. 

“Fuck, right, yeah.” He nods and scrubs his hands before grabbing the collar of his scrubs. He pulls it off in one motion, the grey short-sleeved shirt rising a little with the motion. Against your better judgment and perhaps morals, your eyes can’t help but wander to the exposed skin. Feeling like a Victorian child because you’ve never seen Langdon showing that much skin. 

‘That’ being below the naval, but above the V line. Barely three inches of skin and it’s like your brain shuts off. He neatly folds the blood-stained shirt and then looks at you, his thumbs under his waistbands. 

“You don’t mind?” He asks, to which you shake your head. 

“We’re doctors,” You mutter as he lowers his pants. “I’ve seen worse than a man in his boxers.” You continue. 

“Worse!” He shouts a laugh. “I-I like to think I look good in them, thank you very much.” He kicks the scrubs off and you look at him through the mirror. He’s looking at you already and you remember he’d been talking. 

“You do,” You reach to take the folded scrubs. “Your wife sure is lucky.” Cringing, you head out of the bathroom and to the scrub exchange. You know his employee ID and he knows yours, the two of you have worked nearly every patient together and run to get the others scrubs over a hundred times before. 

“You look strange,” Santos squints as you type in his PIN. Huffing, you shake your head before looking at her. 

“I don’t want to even think about it, Santos. Do you have any patients waiting?” 

“Uh, yes. Room nine. Twenty-one year twenty-one-year-old man with signs of testicular t. He also has mild asthma, and the caregiver is adamant that the man is faking.” Blinking, you nod and start your way back to the bathroom. 

“Alright, good luck with that one.. Start working on him, get McKay if you need an extra pair of eyes while you wait.” She nods and heads to the on-call room. 

“I’m back!” You call, pushing the bathroom door open with your shoulder. 

“I’m divorced.” Langdon says as soon as you do. You blink, handing him the fresh pair of scrubs. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” God, you have horrible timing today. 

“Don’t be,” He shakes his head before scratching his eyebrow. “I didn’t mean to blurt that out and thanks, for the scrubs.” 

“Anytime. Do you need anything else?” Checking your watch you have five minutes left on your break. 

“No, nope. I’m good.” You start to turn around when he calls your name. Pausing, you look at him and he presses his closed fist to his mouth. “Do you have plans after this?” He strains out and you smile, shaking your head. 

“I’m free unless I get called into an emergency surgery. I'm not reading this wrong, right?” You trail off, looking between his eyes. 

“Oh, I’m asking you on a date,” He nods and you promptly nod back. 

“Dr. Langdon, your patient is requesting an enema!” Whitaker says as he peers into the bathroom. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

“Scrub contamination,” You shake your head, slowly looking at Whitaker. “Good luck with your enema, Frank.”

[writing-mlm]

Langdon angst

Trigger warning

Male reader is a teacher and is caught in a chooting where he saves his students but gets hurt bad and doesn't survive

Langdon was going to propose and he was talking the whole chift about it

Hey guys, no hate to you anon but I didn’t think I would say this sentence but I will not/cannot, in good faith, write a school shooting fic. Especially considering that there is a genuine epidemic on school shootings. Case in point, there was one 8 hours ago in El Cajon.

School shootings are very real, very scary, and something that every single student, every single teacher, every single parent and school staff worries about. I cannot bring myself to write about that.

Again, hate or anything to you but yeah. I would definitely do a heavy angst prompt just not a school shooting.

[writing-mlm]

i am head over heels for the way that you write.

thank you omggg i get worried i make fics too flowery

[writing-mlm]

DR ROBBY FLUFF W A SWAGGY TBOY READER ,,, PLs ?! (im not sure if ur down w tboy but just straight up male reader is also good too!!! ))

Six more weeks

Summary: You’re set to work again but a certain bee issue adds to your medical leave— according to Dr Robby. You have a different opinion. Pairing: Dr. Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Transmale!Reader Word Count: 2.2k Warnings/Tags: medical terms that I probably got wrong, reader gets hurt but not majorly, s1 spoilers, sexual talks, old man yaoi, I wrote this in one night, not explicitly said to be trans but reader is coming off of medical leave after having top surgery A/N: trans!readers are always welcome, fork found in kitchen fr

You hate bees, you hate the way they buzz around, and how your skin gets prickly when they’re around. There’s just something about bees that you can’t bring yourself to like— but it’s still save the motherfucking bees. 

It’s nearly the last day of your medical leave, you still haven’t been cleared by your doctor to lift items above your head or carry anything heavy… but you don’t know any cruelty free Pittsburg Bee removers and Google said it was safe to remove them if you found the queen and moved her to a different spot. Preferably off of the parking lot's ceiling. 

You ought to be ashamed of yourself, after criticizing Google disciples at work just to become one, as you prop up a step stool so you could reach the panel the bees had made into their hive. Leave it to the experts, that’s your motto, and yet, the irony wasn’t beyond you as you crashed down and fell on your arm. 

Your neighbors, two elderly women on their morning walk, happen to walk by at the same time as the crash. Hearing the unmistakable sound of your shoulder dislocating, followed by the painful sound of skull meeting concrete, they rush to call 911. You know the older one, Gale, is no stranger to their number. It’s the reason why she loves having you as her neighbor, you’re a built-in hospital. 

With minimal pushback, you’re put in the back of the ambulance thirty minutes later. 

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center isn’t your first option for a hospital to take care of you, but the EMT is worried you’ve gotten a concussion or fractured some bone, so you’re sent there. You know better than to argue with them and let yourself get wheeled inside. 

Closing your eyes as you pass by the sliding doors, you can already see the nurses snickering at the sight of you. 

“Male, thirty-seven, fell off of a ladder and dislocated his shoulder and hit his head. He was bleeding, but it stopped,” The EMT says as you’re greeted by Collin’s and some new kids. This is one hell of a first impression. 

“If you wanted to come back to work so soon, you could’ve just called.” Langdon muses as he joins Collin’s side, he’s not missing the chance to mess with you, and you’re so going to give him horrible shifts once this is over. 

“Shut up,” You whine, swatting his hand away. “You’re gonna get a negative patient review.” He replies with a dry laugh.

“Hopefully, I’ll get a good one?” Smiling, you turn your head to look at Robby as he walks over, putting a pair of gloves on. 

“Oh, baby, you’ll get all five stars. Wouldn’t recommend you to anyone else though,” You wink and he shakes his head, helping the residents park the gurney. “Imma need you all to myself.”

“Ignore them,” Collins warns the residents as she’s walking away. “He’s going to flirt Robby’s head off before you can take his blood.”

“And I really don’t need my blood drawn,” You tell them. “Minor fall, glenohumeral joint dislocation— posterior dislocation at that. I scratched my head on the concrete, disinfected it in the ambulance, and it hardly touched my dermis. I’m not—“

“So, this is Doctor (Y/n) (L/n),” Robby cuts you off with a pointed look as he touches your shoulder. You wince and jerk away, eyeing him. “He’s another attending that you’ll follow. You were supposed to meet him tomorrow, but I guess this is fine too. This is Whitaker MS4, Santos R2, and Javadi MS3.” Each one of them waves as their names are said.

“Nice to meet you guys,” You grin at them. “I’ll just pop my shoulder into place and see you guys tomorrow. Open up a bed, the Pitt is already crowded.” Sitting up, you’re pushed back down, and Robby has Whitaker put a cuff on your good arm. 

“Don’t let Gloria hear you say that,” He sings before turning to the resident and interns. “He’s a prime example of why doctors are our worst patients. Start the questioning and then head up to get CT, I bumped you to next in line. I’ll be back to help you put the shoulder back in place. Do not let him do it himself,” He pushes the door open and walks a step out before looking back inside. “And someone needs to keep an eye on him. He’s sneaky,”

“You’re acting like I’m a criminal!” You shout after him. Dropping your head back down to the pillow, you watch Javadi as she stumbles over the required questions. “Ugh, you guys are adorable. Giving me palpitations— not literally,” You quickly say when Whitaker goes to note that in your chart. 

—

“Who do you think is the top?” Santos grins as she and Whitaker watch Robby head back into your room for the third time in an hour. She’s helping him with his nail after it got flattened by one of the elderly patients. 

“The what?” He blinks over from the TV, showing the patients to her. She groans as she grabs a needle. 

“Y’know, the top? The one who puts it in the other,” She whispers and gives him a look when she’s still confused. “With Dr. Robby and Dr. (L/n)?” 

“Oh,” He looks over at your room and inhales. “I uh… should we be discussing this about our bosses?” He whispers, eyes darting around the room as if someone was going to talk up to them and fire them. That would be humiliating, though. Fired on day one. 

“You’re so boring, Huckleberry,” She stabs his nail with enough force to scare him, but not enough that she would go past the nail bed. “I think it’s Dr. (L/n),”

“Really?” McKay props her elbows up on the counter, startling the two of them. “I always thought it was Robby. You should’ve seen them when (L/n) had to leave for his surgery. He was a wreck.” Santos chuckles and shakes her head, looking back at the room. The curtain is still open, so they can see Robby laughing as you continue to flirt with him. He pushes your head before turning around, catching their eyes almost immediately. The three quickly turn around, sharing startled glances. 

“Busted,” Princess giggles into her coffee cup. 

—

“Mhmm, and were you cleared to be lifting your arms that high?” Robby asks as he has you sit forward. Your shirt is off, and his fingers are gently finding the bone and the socket. You mess with your borrowed pajamas, he’s yet to comment on, holding back the urge to shrug. 

“I took my professional opinion and cleared myself,” You offer up. Robby takes a step back to give you a disapproving look, and you chuckle. Looking at Mel, you see her eyes keep dipping towards your scars. They’re freshly healed, so they look a little raw. Not to mention, these bright lights are not working wonders on you. 

“And why don’t we do that, Dr. King?” He steps back, placing one of his hands on your shoulder and the other on your back. She goes to answer, but you shake your head, letting her know it was a rhetorical question.

“You can’t, I ca— mother fucker!” You shout as he pushes your arm back into place. He chuckles as you glare up at him. “I’m gonna need a kiss to make it feel better.” Pursing your lips, you gasp as he pushes your face away. 

“That’s highly inappropriate, you’re my patient.” He shakes his head before looking at the embarrassed Mel. “Why don’t you check to see if Langdon needs help?” She nods and quickly leaves, gently shutting the door behind her. Robby looks down at you and quickly leans down. 

With your good arm, you hold his face and trace his beard as he kisses you. It’s a short one, he’s still at work, and it’s nearly that time when there’s a small rush of nursing home patients getting sent in. 

“And I trust that you do know the proper care for your shoulder?” He asks as he pulls away, slowly opening his eyes. They flicker between your lips and your eyes as you nod, still chasing his lips. 

“No strenuous activity, no exercises like pull-ups, rows, or arm raises, no lifting heavy objects— basically what I've been doing for the past six weeks already.”

“Yup,” He nods, removing his gloves. “Now add another six weeks because you didn’t want to call a professional.” Carefully, he helps you put your arm into a navy blue sling. 

“I am a professional,” Leaning up, you move your legs off of the bed. “Have I ever told you that you look hot with those glasses?”

“You’re a medical professional, not a beekeeper. And stay seated. We’re still waiting on your CTs.” He pushes you down. “And you have.”

“So, I should wait in the waiting area?” You offer, pointing your thumb behind you. 

“You kidding me?” He laughs, crossing his arms. “You’ll just leave, no, your ass is staying parked in that bed—“

“It could be parked on your—“

“Dr. Robby?” Mohan enters the room before you can finish. “Oh, hello, Dr. (L/n),” She smiles. Of course, she heard you were here, but it hadn’t clicked that Robby is breaking his rule of keeping his talks with patients to a minimum for you. 

“Hi, Dr. Mohan. Tell Robby I should be free to go,” 

“I…uh…” Her eyes quickly dart to Robby, who shakes his head, his arms still crossed. “You’re needed, Otis is crashing.” He leaves, and you whistle as he walks away. 

“Love watching you leave!” You call, smiling as the chorus of laughter fills the area. 

“He should file a complaint against you,” Langdon laughs as he walks past your room. 

“You’re gonna be on bedpan duty when I get back, Langdon!” You shout, and he groans while the others laugh again.

—

“Alright, you’re cleared to go,” Robby explains, pulling up a seat next to you. “Fill out your discharge paperwork and go home.” Taking the clipboard and pen, you make it a point to pretend it’s a strenuous task with exaggerated groans and dropping your arm to the side. 

“If only there was a sexy, amazing, wonderful doctor who could help me fill out my discharge paperwork.” You sigh, dramatically turning your head away from him. Hearing him inhale, you flip over and watch as he leans in closer and holds the clipboard for you. 

“You’re ridiculous,” He mutters, looking over at you. Glancing at him, you lean in for a quick kiss on his beard before finishing up. He checks over the paperwork before nodding. Silently, he is thankful that you’re here. It’s been a… not so great shift. 

“I’m the most serious doctor here, just ask Abbott.” Standing up, you grab your shirt and then look at him. “Doc, I need help putting my shirt on.” He laughs and stands up, grabbing the fabric from your hands, and turns you to face him. “I think you’re right, I gotta me extra careful,” 

“I’m always right,” He nods, slipping your bad arm into your shirt before putting the rest of it on you. Turning around, he taps your butt to hurry you along. 

“Squeeze it next time, Mich. Imma leave through the ambulance bay,”

“I’ll see you out,” He offers, and you nod, the two of you walking in tandem. 

“Hope you’re better at security,” Dana tells the security guard as she’s having a smoke break. 

“Hey, now you’re just being mean,” 

“You realize that this is the second person to accuse you of that today,” Robby tells her. “You starting to see a pattern?”

“No. But I am starting to see why Gloria’s unhappy with your patient-satisfaction scores.” Sitting on the edge of the plants, you watch the two of them as they talk. You’ve been acutely aware that things have been going on throughout the day, but you notice the black eye on her and realize she’s gotten punched. You’d assumed she got spit on, maybe peed, but, yeah, you’d need a smoke break too. 

Their phones start buzzing at the same time— never a good sign, so you lean forward. 

“Code triage. Multiple GSWs. There’s an active shooter at Pittfest.” Dana relays. 

“Jake and his girlfriend are there,” 

Standing up, they head back inside with Robby telling you to go home. Once they’re inside, you follow and grab ahold of Donnie. She helps you change into your scrubs, and you grab a stethoscope and wash your hands before heading back to the main area.  

“Except the worst,” He tells McKay as you head back out. He looks over the group before his eyes land on you. “No, absolutely not, go home.” He demands. 

“No, we’re already understaffed.” Shaking your head, he sharply inhales. “I won’t lift my arm, and I’ll keep to stable patients.”

“Fine—fine,” Shaking his head, Robby explains protocol before he pulls you to the side. 

“Baby, I’m fine.” You quickly say. 

“Your shoulder was just dislocated. Your pain meds are about to wear off. This isn’t the place for you to be.” 

“Langdon is gone, Collin’s is gone. I’m taking at least five patients off of everyone’s hands. That’s leaving room for more urgent people. I am staying,” Grabbing your face, he inhales before kissing your forehead. “Thank you, Michael.”

“I want you on Primary Triage and then non-critical.”

“Okay, I can do that.” You nod. 

“I know you can. Let’s go.”

[writing-mlm]

Omg totally forgot about this but happy 1k 🥳

[writing-mlm]

One Last Chance [1]

Summary: After being pushed to the backseat of Dick's life time and time again, you stop trying until your dad invites him to your graduation party and Dick explains what happened. Pairing: Dick Grayson x Black!Male!Reader Word Count: 6.1k Tags/Warnings: this is a part 1, Minor spoilers for Black Lightning s1, reader is a Pierce, ftm reader, nurse reader, Dick is hopeless, i know very little about nursing degrees/jobs, I was watching The Pitt while writing this so it leaked in, sugar daddy jokes, talks of reader getting assaulted (punched), reader is black and has microlocs A/n: hiii guys it’s been almost a month take this <3

Dick Grayson was nearly perfect in every single way. 

You were eight years old when you met that stupid kid with his stupidly cool backflips. You must’ve talked his ear off the first time you met, asking him to do trick after trick, and he was curious about your boxing. And so, thus began the years of Dick teaching you his gymnastics skills and you teaching him boxing. It became apparent to everyone who saw the two of you that the two of you were as thick as thieves.

And you were. For a while.

You spent every weekend in Gotham, hanging around the manor and being kids outside of being Robin and Lightning Bug. Bruce and namely Alfred adored you, you kept Dick bright and happy. Even if the two of you broke several chandeliers in the process. 

So it was only natural when you both grew up that things didn’t really change. Middle school had its awkward phases, the small period where things got odd when you came out, but nothing was wrong. At least until he was introduced to Barbara Gordon. You’d go over on the weekends, but he wouldn’t be home, only to sleep and shower. The third week that happened, you simply stopped going, and truth be told, you don’t think he noticed. 

It was no surprise when they started dating soon after. 

And that was his issue. 

There was always someone else with Dick Grayson. 

You’d lost your best friend for a girl he’d just met. The same girl who he’d date and then dump, a cycle repeating until they got tired of the back and forth when Dick was fifteen. And suddenly, he remembered you. Remember how he treated you. 

He was at your door, apologizing with gifts and snacks. Promises that he’d never lose sight of your friendship again. And you believed him. You missed your best friend.

When he asked you to move with him, join the Teen Titans, you were hesitant. Your life was in Freeland, and you were a month from graduating from high school at fourteen. But Dick was more than willing to wait that month, leaving a room at the tower for you. 

And then, a week before you left for California, Kory crashed down on Earth. Suddenly, your phone was radio silent. Your mother says it was a sign from God, telling you to focus on your school work and keeping up your grades. Now that you could commit to fully in-person classes instead of the hybrid that you assumed you’d do, you were on track to graduate at the normal pace. 

Meanwhile, the same pattern was happening with Dick. For the sake of your mind and peace, you called him twice. And it only rang once both times before he declined the call. 

You tried not to care, telling yourself that you saw it coming. 

Soon they broke up too. And just like last time, he was back at your door, letting himself inside your house. You never did move the spare key from behind the chair. He once again came with a box of treats. Your favorite foods and drinks. But he added a bouquet of flowers. 

Dick was smart, he knew your family was out. Parents divorced, your sisters and dad were at school while you were home due to your semester break. You didn’t have their stares and small noises of disappointment when you let him back in. 

This time, you were hesitant. You didn’t want to jump the gun, to let yourself accept him back into your life, only to be disappointed again. An arm's length distance was good enough for you until you saw actual change. 

And there was. For a while. 

And then came Wally. They’d actually been friends for a while, a part of his first Titans group, but now they were dating. At that point, you stopped trying. You stopped caring. Dick was someone who prioritized his relationships over a nearly decade long friendship and it was up to you if you wanted him in your life. Ultimately, you didn’t. He was no longer a friend, he was another hero whom you had known since you were a child. 

Nineteen and graduating from college (with a bachelor’s degree in science of nursing, a phlebotomy certification, and an associate's for nursing) was something your parents praised you for. For you, they were signs that you had taken everything to focus on something else. To ignore the burning desire to return to the streets of Freeland as Lightning Bug (although that didn’t last long), to forget the ache that Dick thought you were a back burner friend. Someone not even worth an occasional text. You’d started college while you were still in high school, and work consumed your every waking hour to the point where you couldn’t recall time for yourself outside of forced vacations. 

It all led to this, though. The youngest in your family to graduate from college. So, it was really an exciting time for you. 

They’d invited all of your friends and their colleagues to your graduation party, which, of course, included Dick. 

“How does dad know Bruce Wayne?” Jennifer asks, hiding the fact that she’s talking by sipping her soda. 

“Grants,” Anissa shrugs, watching the man and his son greet your father. Dick was not invited but he also wasn't not invited. Open invitation sort of thing. You were more upset that Alfred didn’t come.

“He’s fine.” Jennifer grins, and you roll your eyes. Who she was talking about, you didn’t want to know. All you knew was that you wanted some of those damn snacks on the table. Oh, cupcakes. 

“Let’s sit, my feet hurt,” She groans and drags you away from the snack table to the family table. 

“I wasn’t done, you ass,” You groan, dragging Anissa with you. She’d been trying to watch the Waynes as they looked around and nearly tripped when you started tugging her along. 

“And my feet hurt!” She whines as she plops down in her seat. “Did I bring spare shoes?” She asks, leaning down to unbuckle the straps of her heels. 

“It’s in the car,” You sigh, getting up. “I’ll go and get it.” With a thank you, you slip out of the venue and look for the car. There are so many cars in the lot, and you’ve been there for so many hours, you’ve all but forgotten where your dad had parked. 

“Skipping your own party?” Dick asks as he joins you. Glancing back at him, you shake your head. 

“My sister wants her shoes,” You explain and head towards a general direction. 

“So you’re not avoiding me?” Following you, Dick manages to walk in stride with you. He’s wearing those fancy loafers with the small heel and stepping loud enough that you hear him. And you’re aware he’s doing it on purpose, Dick knows how to be silent in any type of shoe. 

“Eh,” You shrug, spinning around when you don’t find the family car. It’s definitely one of these rows, you remember that lamp post with the missing turtle poster. Hopefully, they find Mrs Wheelbarrow.

He follows you still, but he keeps a distance of two steps so he could watch you. 

He knows he’s been a… well a dick. But he swears he has a valid reason for the things he’s done; every time he gets into a relationship or even likes someone else, it hurts him to be around you. It makes him feel wrong, as if he’s wronging you in some way. So, in his head, it’s better to just lessen the time he spends with you, pushing the guilt down enough for him to savor the time he spends with his relationships. 

Because he knows deep down that it’s never going to last long. Deep down, Dick knows that no one will ever compare to you and he knows that you deserve better than him. Someone who meets you halfway or makes the distance, not someone who makes you fly across the country every weekend. Someone who… isn’t him. 

He frowns as you walk faster, his steps falling slower until he sucks it up and catches up to you again. This is better than no contact. What’s that thing about kids? Angry kids yearn for a reaction, even if it’s a negative one, because it’s better than being ignored. Something along those lines. 

“You grew,” He puts on a smile as he catches up with you. 

“That’s generally what metahuman puberty does,” You hum when you spot your family car. 

Shit, you didn’t even have the car keys.

“I’ll go and get your dad,” He offers, and you stare at him. He’s grown considerably. He’s grown into an acrobat's build, you suppose being Nightwing means more tricks and flips than it did with being Robin. Not to mention his hair that’s grown into a mullet. 

“I like your hair,” You admit without knowing it. He smiles and grabs some strands, looking down at them. 

“I like yours,” He says, his eyes trailing down the microlocs you’ve been growing out since you were five. When they trail back up, he swallows and tucks his hair behind his ear out of habit. “Do you want me to get the car keys?” He asks again, his voice hardly above a whisper. 

“Oh,” You blink. “Yes, thank you.” He nods and leaves while you watch, your eyes slowly trailing down to his pants. Damn, those squats really do help him. 

When he returns with the keys, he’s smiling and waving them around, and you’re sitting on the hood of your car, barely aware of the light rain as it hits you. 

“I’ve missed you,” He says as you grab the keys from his hand. For a second, his hand holds yours, begging you not to go before he catches himself and relaxes his grip. Rolling your eyes, you unlock the car. 

“You seem more interested in… who is this month? Kory?” Reaching for the bag in the back seat, you slide inside and Dick follows without thinking. 

“(Y/n),” He says as the door closes, and you look back at him, eyebrows raised. “I’ve been real shitty, I know. And you’ve given me more than enough chances, but…” He sighs and thinks about something for a second. “But I swear this time will be different— if… if you let me.” He adds, his eyes darting between yours. They’re so different from what he remembers. 

“Dick,” Grabbing Jennifer’s shoes, you turn to him. “I don’t know what type of friends you have, but I don’t have time for someone who does the shit you did,” He’s not a child and you aren’t going to spell anything out for him, he knows what he’s done. He surely knows how it made you feel, the look on his face makes as much clear. 

“I know, I know!” He rushes out, desperately keeping you close to him. “Just one more chance. I promise, I promise you that I’ll be different.”

“Why would I believe you?” You huff and exit the car through the other side. He panics, throwing the door open on his side when he does possibly the dumbest thing he’s ever done before. 

“Because I love you! I always have!” He nearly shouts as he chases after you. Stopping in the middle of the lot, you look at him with a frown as he’s waiting for you in front of the car. His eyes dart between yours as his chest rises and falls, nervously waiting for your response. 

Stupid wasn’t one of the things you’d call Dick but in that moment, the was the only thing that was popping up with you pictured him. Stupid enough to understand he was in love with someone and pushing them away to date other people. Stupid enough to think that those simple words would have you on your knees, welcoming him back and saying you love him back. 

Namely, because you didn’t love him. You hardly even liked him as a friend. He was the ghost of an old friendship whose memories had been worn down and morphed into ones of sadness. Missing a friendship you can never get back. 

“I don’t believe that,” You tell him, and slowly look towards the venue. Your mother and father are at one of the windows, sneakily talking to each other with small laughs and knowing glances.  “I know love makes you do stupid shit, but what you did is beyond stupid if you do love me.”

“How can I prove it?” He calls out as you start to walk away. Stopping, you look at him and think about it. 

“Show me,” You shrug, and he nods. “Be willing to put the work in and stop running away.”

“I can do that,” He nods again, a genuine smile growing on his face. “I can do that.” He repeats. 

“Prove it.”

—

The next morning, as you’re having breakfast with your family, your mother included because you all but begged to have them both there, you’re all talking about idle chatter when you get a notification. 

“No phones,” They both remind you as you check it. Anissa snickers, even divorced, they’re still in sync. 

“One sec,” You mutter, eyes squinting at the email banner. “It’s from my financial aid.” Reading the email, you sit back in your seat and cover your smile with your hand. “My tuition loans were paid.” You announce, unable to hide a chuckle as you announce what had been oh so important, you broke the breakfast rule. 

“Paid?” Your father echoes. The cost of tuition was insane for your nursing school, and you had to take out a loan for all of the years you went, but the email said they’re processing the entirety of what you had taken out. Basically, the three hundred thousand you’d taken out was paid by someone. “Who paid for it?” He asks, looking at your mother, but she shakes her head. 

“Is this some new scam?” Jennifer asks, and you roll your eyes. As if you’d fall for some scam.  

“Let me call someone real quick.” They nod and beg with their expressions for you not to leave the table, and you don’t. Making the call as you chew on your pancakes, you realize you need more syrup. 

“Hey,” Dick answers almost immediately. 

“Was that you?” You ask the second he stops speaking, pouring more syrup onto the pancakes. 

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” The way he says it makes you roll your eyes. “If you’re asking if the man from your dreams was me— definitely.” 

“The payment,” Pushing the conversation back in the right direction, Dick makes a oh yeah noise. 

“It went through already? I thought those took a while to go through.” He admits. “I paid it the second you left me in the parking lot.” He says that as if it’s nothing, as if he’s admitting to paying for your coffee in the morning and not your entire tuition loans. Lord Almighty, to be the son of a billionaire. 

“Thank you,” You smile despite yourself. “It’s creepy how you got my information, but considering it’s you, I’m not surprised.”

“Anytime,” He says. “Oh, and be home today. There should be some stuff coming in for you.” More stuff— he has to be taking this money from his father. He’s not even employed! 

“What— Dick?” But he ends the call, and you stare at the phone, blinking.

“Richard paid it?” Your mother asks, and you slowly nod, setting your phone back down on the table. “Why did he pay it?” She asks, and you let out an awkward chuckle. 

“Who’s Richard?” Jennifer asks. Clearing his throat, your father looks at you, and you look at your mother. 

“Bruce Wayne’s son,” He answers, voice tight because he didn’t want to be the one to say it. 

“Oh, so you got a sugar daddy,” Jennifer snorts, and your face drops as everyone stares at her. “What? I’m not wrong— wait, is that why they were at your party?”

“Eat your damn food,” You grumble and your parents don’t tell you to watch your language. 

—

Monetary gifts did nothing to sway you, especially ones that come from the son of one of the richest men alive. So far, Dick has been doing his best for the past four or so weeks. His best gift thus far had been the tuition; how could it not be? 

Then came the flowers, arranged with colors he knew you liked. You’d gotten three of those so far, always timed so when they should start wilting, you could replace them. The mix of those you’d gotten various stuffed animals, a weighted blanket far too big for your bed, a personalized bonnet that had stitching of your favorite animal, compression socks, three pairs of shoes, legos, and a brand new, not even on the market yet, laptop. 

You admittedly love the Legos he picked out. 

But you think the absolute best thing he’s done thus far is when he joined you for your nightly patrol. It’s been years since you’ve done this with someone, filling the gaps of your night with music and helping people walk home in the dead of night. 

You’d just started, picking up your suit from Gambi’s, and started from the heart of Freeland with one ear connected to Gambi and the other open to hear around you. Wednesdays are usually quiet. The 100 collect their taxes every Wednesday, so groups go to their base and stay there for the entire night. 

But tonight you needed the company. 

“Hey, Buggy,” He says as you look over the block. There’s no one there, all the stores are closed, and the streets are empty, so you should probably move along. “What’s wrong?” He places a hand on your shoulder and tilts his head closer to yours. It probably didn’t take a genius to tell something was wrong with you but Dick would attest it to the fact that he knew you. 

Well, he used to, but he’s sure your mannerisms haven’t changed that much. He knows you the same way he knows the theme song to Barney. It hurts a little, the memories of you are so distant— but he’s working on it. He is, really. 

“Tough week,” You inhale before shaking your head. “Dad and the girls got pulled over, Anissa got arrested for going to a protest, and something is wrong with Jen. And I’m not sure what to do with myself.”

“Pulled over?” He makes a face because Jefferson wouldn’t even go one mile over the limit and, if Dick has the room to say this, is a bit of a neat freak when it comes to driving. Especially with his kids in the car. 

“Profiling. The cops were looking for a black man, Dad's black. Yada yada. They only stopped because they realized he was a pillar of the community or something. I wasn’t there, there was a thing happening with the 100 across the city.” 

“Did he get their names?” He asks, crossing his arms. “I can talk to B and—“

“Nightwing,” You stop him. “I appreciate the effort, but can’t exactly get rid of all of Freeland’s racist or corrupt cops. That would leave maybe three left,” Laughing, you inhale and look over the city again. It’s quiet, not the unsettling type of quiet that overtakes the city, but a nice one. The air feels nice and calm. “Besides, Black Lightning had it.”

“Corny,” He grins, knocking his fist against your shoulder. “But your dad mentioned you’re gonna be working at Freelands Hospital, right?” 

“Yeah,” It’s not breaking news that your dad had told Dick this; you know they’ve been in contact since Dick’s been in Freeland. You think he’s using Dick to keep tabs on you during your patrols. “I got accepted last week, the pay is good and the hours are, too. Nurses work around forty hours a week, and hopefully, I get the ten-hour shifts.” 

“Hopefully I’m one of your patients,” He winks, to which you loosely groan and jump off of the roof. 

“You just had to ruin it!”

—

Here’s to day one, first day of many! Luv U Nurse (Y/n)!!!

Dickie

The note is attached to a metal bottle of still-hot coffee and a breakfast sandwich. Along with a pair of Nightwing Crocs and Lightning Bug socks. You’re surprised that you’re surprised Dick had managed to sneak inside while you were showering and leave that in your room without anyone noticing. 

“The patients check in here. You will eyeball them, make sure they’re not dying. If not, they’re moved to a triage room for vitals and a quick chair exam where you and a resident can order labs and X-rays, all that fun stuff,” The doctor explains as you and three other new nurses follow her. The waiting room is packed, all the chairs are taken, and some people have decided that sitting on the fake plant pot is better than standing. 

And you can’t exactly blame them. 

You’ve been at hospitals before, obviously, but you haven’t worked at one- let alone Bowman before. And yet, word has spread fast because the charge nurse tells you to call your mother because she’s needed and isn’t answering her pager. Rather than, y’know, calling her down using the proper channels. 

You’re embarrassed as you do so, but things move along quickly as three people come into the ER. You’re given the boring work, along with one of the first-year residents, Dennis. Watching as the others work on the patient. 

The rest of the day continues, and you’ve decided you need to decompress. After getting yelled at for doing your job, getting piss thrown at you because you had to break the news that the woman’s husband had given her crabs, and then a child throwing up on you all within an hour, you were going to scream. 

Tossing the dirty scrubs into the washing bin, you start back to the triage area when you catch something in the corner of your eye and inhale. 

Once again, stupid isn't a word you’d use to describe Dick. But boy was he making it hard not to. You’re aware that as a nurse, your life is going to be different, and you won’t be able to patrol as often as you would like to. 

Your mother clearly loves that. 

Dick, however, has decided that since Bruce now also has Batgirl, Oracle, and Batwoman, who’s apparently his cousin, that he and the newest Robin could help you out a little bit. Only issue is that the new Robin is maybe twelve. He looks younger, though. 

And they’re currently sitting in an open room, in the dark. Hiding from the nurses and doctors that walk by. 

“See, so I don’t want a child helping you take down violent crime rings,” You whisper yell at Dick after closing the door and flicking the light on. You see that Jason is tucked under his arm, with a bullet graze on his left arm. “Because they tend to shoot people!” Jason, to his credit, is taking the bullet graze like a champ. He hardly flinches as you disinfect it and give him three stitches. You don’t think you should be impressed by that, actually. It’s quite concerning. 

“It’s safer than Gotham,” Dick smiles. “Right, bud?”

“Right,” Jason nods, watching as you wrap a gauze around his arm. “Can I get a burger?” Before you can reply, your pager beeps, and you groan, checking it over. 

“I have to go, stay out of sight, please,” You huff, removing the blue latex gloves before shoving them in Dick’s chest. “And put that boy in a bed— a real, apartment bed. It’s late, and he’s already stunted as it is.” Looking Jason up and down, you find it hard to believe he’s twelve. But he just smiles and watches as you leave the room. 

“No wonder you can’t keep a relationship,” Jason taunts as soon as the door clicks shut. “You suck.” Dick glares down at him, hands on his hips before he flicks the wound and Jason yelps, holding his arm. The lights flicker as a warning and Dick smiles at them before helping Jason sneak out of the window again. 

“I’m so telling B,”

“And I’m so not getting you a burger.”

You fully walk away, heading towards where you’re being paged, and head to your charge nurse. On the way, you see another one of the residents with a wicked grin and another looking a little dejected. Although that’s just how he’s always looked. 

“Crash fucking fainted again,” Trinity grins and you high five her. 

“That’s fifty dollars, Dennis.” You point at him, and he sighs, looking between the two of you. He pulls out his wallet, and you snicker with Trinity before she straightens up. 

“We’re not splitting it, Nepotism.” 

—

God hadn’t graced you with amazing ten-hour or even eight-hour shifts like you had preferred. You’d been given the maximum twelve-hour shifts and worked back-to-back days. You swore you were going to forget how your family looked, had it not been for the fact that you can only work forty hours a week before it’s considered overtime. 

But it’s day one of your days off, and you’re intending on catching up on your beauty sleep before you have to patrol for the night. With new bedsheets, freshly washed body and a nice smelling candle that Dick had gotten you still lingering in the room, you curl into your bed and start to fall asleep. 

At least until Jennifer barges into your room with Anissa quickly following behind, scolding Jenn for throwing the door open. You don’t move despite being awake. Hopefully, she’s just there to steal some of your clothes and not to bother you as you catch up on your much-needed sleep. But, no, they weren’t. 

“There was a delivery for you.” Jennifer throws herself onto your back, and you groan, aimlessly slapping behind you in hopes of hitting her. It doesn’t work. Instead, she applies more pressure while talking. “With a note. What does it say, Anissa?” Anissa huffs, but she clearly is also enjoying the drama because she’s holding back a laugh as she reads it. 

“Heard this was your favorite spot, order your usual—“ She pauses, looking at you with a smile. “Three hearts, filled in, and a smiley face with a tongue out. Also, know your sisters are home, hopefully they like the things I got them, too. Do you think they like me? Do they know about me? And the scratched out is- do you like me? Anyway, enjoy lunch, Buggy! From Dickie! With another heart, not filled in.” She hands you the note, and you quickly take it, tucking it under a notebook on your nightstand. 

“Things between you two getting… warmer?” Jenn asks, folding one leg under the other while opening the bag. “I mean, with all the shit he’s gotten you I hope you’re giving him a little something something,” Anissa raises her eyebrows as she sits next to you. 

“Jennifer, what the fuck?” You smack the side of her head and she laughs an apology. “And no, we aren’t fucking. We’re friends, he’s just a gift giver.”

“The note said, ‘do you like me?’. And don’t act like I didn’t see you two during the party. What happened?” Grabbing your food, you shrug. You’ve never told them about your friendships within the hero world. They don’t know half of your friends, they don’t know why you left every weekend, or why you and your dad had little trips so often. They just assumed it was because you’d come out at such a young age that he was helping you. 

Because they swear that after those weekend trips, you’d come back more boyish. Jennifer used to joke that your dad was slowly swapping you out for a clone. 

“Yeah,” Jennifer agrees, nose scrunched as she recounts that day. “You two definitely have history.”

“We did— we do,” Standing from your bed, you move to a small bookshelf and pull out a photo album. Flipping through it, you see the old digital of your time as a young hero before finding a normal picture. You’re at Wayne manor, hanging out with Dick and Ace while Bruce and your dad are in the background, watching with their arms crossed. It’s that dad stance Bruce swears he doesn’t have. 

Handing it to them, you flop next to Anissa. 

“That’s where I went every weekend. Spent a lot of my free time in Gotham,”

“Why?” Jennifer hands the photo over to Anissa. “I thought you and dad were going fishing or something. Playing catch or whatever,” Licking your lips, you try to think of something. You can’t tell them because your dad was worried about your developing powers, and Gambi had recommended asking Bruce for his opinion. 

“It’s complicated,”

“You wanna know something complicated?” Jennifer snaps her fingers, she’d just remembered something. Something real important, by the way her eyes gleamed. “Dad's Black Lightning!”

“What?” You look between the two of them. Anissa’s head tilts as she takes in your reaction, meanwhile Jenn has no clue. 

“And I mean, me and Anissa have powers too! She holds her breath and gets stronger and invincible— which is kinda lame, if you ask me. I have electric powers like dad, though!” She smiles, her fingers sparking. 

“Does dad know?” Your voice is soft as you ask, bordering on disbelief and happiness. 

“Yeah, he was really cagey about it, though. You’re taking this really well, mom didn’t. Right?” Jenn laughs as she pushes Anissa. But Anissa doesn’t listen, she doesn’t react to Jenn. She’s still watching you, watching your reactions. 

“You’re Lightning Bug,” She finally breathes, her head hanging a little low. “I don’t know why we didn’t piece it together sooner.”

“You’re who?” Jennifer’s eyes bug and you shut yours. Resigning yourself with a nod. “Oh my god— It was so obvious!” She laughs, and you look between them. They’re mostly smiling, they’re not upset. 

They’re not upset. 

“I wanted to tell you guys, I did. Really. But heroes are always like ‘don’t tell your loved ones, cause it’ll put them in danger’ and every time I tried, I just kept getting a picture that you two were dead.” You rush out. “I’ve had my powers since I was a kid, um, they’re like dads but stronger. I’m pretty sure me and Jen have the same ones, they look similar.” Inhaling, you have to remind yourself not to go that long without breathing again. 

“So, you can teach me?” Her eyes twinkle with hope before they dim. “‘Cause dad isn’t. He’s still on the whole, you’re my babygirl, I can't see you hurt thing.” You laugh heartily because you remember that conversation with him. 

“He told me the same thing, but then I was in the bath and nearly killed myself ‘cause I sneezed and sparked the water. Had no choice but to help me after that.” Messing with the straw of your drink, you push your shoulders back. “I’ll be an excellent teacher. On my days off,” 

—

Jenn paces in front of you while you hold a tissue to your still-bleeding nose. She’s ranting about the girl who punched you, apparently, they have issues in school, and she swears if you’d just let her go, she would’ve dealt with her. But you’d rather not have to write an incident report on how you got punched by a sixteen-year-old girl and your sister punched her back during your first month. 

But you listen to her rambling and raving while Dr. Robby checks over your nose, just to make sure nothing is fractured. He assures you that you’re fine, it’ll bruise a little, and your nose will be sore for around a week, but that’s the extent of it. 

Once he walks away, Jennifer takes the seat next to yours and continues. Her leg bounces as she tells you exactly what she would’ve done and how stupid you were to hold her back. You gently remind her that she would’ve been arrested for assault, just as the girl will be once the officers arrive. 

Speaking of which, you can hear their radios crackling as they enter the ED. Looking up, you raise an eyebrow as Dick makes a B-line for you. He ignores the charge nurse and the attending— even the security guard holding the girl in his office tries to find you. His eyes seem almost frantic until they land on you, where he exhales and drops to his knees. 

“You okay, (Y/n)?” He whispers, gently moving the tissue to check the damage. He winces when you do, using his free hand to gently squeeze your leg. 

“I’m fine— why are you here and in a uniform?” You ask, looking away as he shines a flashlight up your nose. 

“No deviation— she’s not a good punch, eh?” He grins, putting the small flashlight back. “And I joined the Freeland police department! Passed my test and the academy with flying colors. Thinking about becoming a detective, whaddya think?” He rests his hands on his legs as he stares up at you, his hair flopping to the side with the movement. 

“You’re ridiculous,”

“And you’re bleeding,” His hand reaches down to pat your knee twice before he stands to his full height. You stare up at him as he scans over the room, his partner is in the guard's office getting the girl's side of the story. 

“So, what happened?” He looks down at you, hands on his hips. “For my official statement.” He adds. 

“Jennifer was giving me my lunch, I asked her to bring it up because I was being called to assist with a patient. I returned, and Jenn was arguing with a different patient. I noticed it was going to get physical and intervened. I must’ve been a second too late because she was already punching.” As dutiful as he can, Dick nods as he writes it down. “Mike separated the girl into the office and I stayed here with Jenn.” 

“Alright, and just some follow-up questions, standard procedure,” He reassures with a grin, and you hum. “Do you want to press chargers, are you free tonight, and have you received proper medical attention?” He intentionally speeds over the second question, and you hear Jennifer laugh from where she’s also being questioned. It’s not only her; you can hear the residents and even the charge nurse giggling. 

“No and yes.” You reply, leaning back in your chair. 

“What time?” He asks, wiping some more blood from your nose with his thumb. 

“My bad,” You hold your hand over your heart. “No, no, and yes.”

“You wound me, Buggy. I’m wounded.” He frowns, clutching his chest. And then he grins. “Maybe you should check me over, in a room where there are no others.”

Rolling your eyes, you watch as he excuses himself and meets up with his partner again. He positions himself so that he still has a clear line of view of you, his eyes constantly shifting between his partner and you while you toss out the bloody tissue before attending to someone who needs to be checked over. 

Maybe Dick isn’t so bad. He has been trying. Aside from the gifts, which have been abundant, he's there for each of your patrols, and once he was invited over for dinner. You think Jennifer got into your dads head that you’ll accept Dick’s numerous proposals and he wanted to give Dick the talk before that happens. But you’re not always present with him. Things have been hectic on your side of the fence, between your sisters discovering their powers, Black Lightning coming back, work, and everything with Tobias, Khalil, and the 100; you felt like you were always busy. 

A couple of times, you’d almost texted or called him, just to get an escape. Maybe take a ride out of the city or just talk in your room. Or his place. He’s since sent Jason back to Gotham because he told Bruce it was a small vacation, not an almost kidnapping. Bruce wasn’t happy when he heard whispers of Dick’s plans to have Jason’s school records transferred over.

It’s been nice having Dick back as a constant in your life. It’s been nearly three months now, and it’s the longest duration of consistent contact you’ve had with him since Barbara came into his life. 

You glance at him one last time, and when your eyes catch, you hold up nine fingers. He grins, nodding once before giving his full attention to his partner.

[writing-mlm]

adding The Pitt to the list that I’ll write for

edit; noticed some women liking this i write mxm or mxnb only 🫂

[writing-mlm]

Your username is literally writing-mlm but still someone asks for f? what the 😭😭

A very bold ask I must say

dude i woke up to that being the first notification i saw of the day and just kinda sat there

but literally every mlm writer i follow has gotten a similar request so that means i’ve made it fr

[writing-mlm]

Hey! Would you ever do anymore iron fist x reader, but maybe female? If that’s okay! :) (smut;))

Hi, no, I only write male or nonbinary works 🫶🏽

[writing-mlm]

Hello,

I hope you’re all doing well. 🌿

I need your help to share my family's story and raise awareness about our struggle. Every voice counts, and your support means the world. 🙏

💬 Please reblog my pinned post or, if you're able, consider donating just $5—it could be life-changing for those facing unimaginable hardship.

Your kindness and solidarity make a real difference. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍✨

@abedmajeed

💛

[writing-mlm]

Hello, wonderful souls! 🤍🌍

I hope you're doing well. 🌿

Could you help me amplify my family's story and bring awareness to our struggle? 🙏🏻

💬 Please reblog my pinned post or consider donating just $5—your support could truly make a difference in saving lives amidst war and hardship.

Your kindness and voice matter more than you know. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍🌿

🕊️ @mosabsdr | Every share counts. 💫

💛

[writing-mlm]

Hey i saw you wanted some pjo asks so i got one for you! How about percy getting abandoned on a island and he's like upset because he thinks he's on calypso's island but he was very wrong instead he's on calypso's demi god son island! Now the son is like the embodiment of innocence, he knows nothing of the out9world because very much like his mother he can't leave his island and percy is the only person to come on the island and for the both of them it's like love at first sight and they start spending time together and eventually it ends in smut >:3

/nm but i don’t write for pjo characters i love the books and show but i just can’t view them romantically 😭 esp percy like him away from annabeth is such an wild concept i literally can’t imagine them not together

the ask for request was specifically for crossovers, like a son of hades x bruce wayne, son of apollo x spencer reid, son of athena x peter parker

again not mad no shade just a quick clarification

[writing-mlm]

Made my own Damian Wayne Robin minecraft skin i’m literally goated

please don’t let my irls stumble across this GOD