#Angst

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

you know a fic is good when it has this

[bebx]

love this for me right now

[2bitz-star]

Inspired by this post lol

[kyri45]

I didn’t realize you were the person who did the fanfiction tag drinks.

ahah yeah that's meeee!!

They are all available as stickers on my RedBubble shop!

Also I did Part 2!

[theonewiththefanfics]

An Itch You Can't Scratch (one-shot)

Synopsis: After taking a bad fall, Y/N gets rushed to the ED of Pittsburg Trauma Medical Hospital only to come face to face with a man she had a one-night stand with, and who ghosted her that same morning without a word - Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch. As if her bad day couldn't get any worse than it was...

Pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x fem!Reader (age-gap relationship (Reader is 26, Robby is implied 46-48))

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Warnings: descriptions of wounds (open breaks), puke, swearing, etc., SMUT

Word count: 13,319 (yeah, this sort of started out like a cute little chaotic story and became... this. I might make more parts to these two, people like it enough, because I already have some ideas, and ideas for other stories too also, let's please pretend like Robby didn't have the worst shift of his life and everyone is happy and alive :) )

Please don't copy my work or repost it onto other platforms. all of the characters belong to HBO Max.

In all honesty, Y/N thought Sara was overreacting. There was no need to be hauled to the ER on a Monday morning, at seven AM. So, what if she’d slipped in the shower? So, what if she’d hit her head against the towel rack? So, what if she’d sprained her ankle? Y/N could just pop a couple of Tylenol and be on her merry way, but no.

            When Sara had heard the thud and the subsequent crash of shampoo and conditioner bottles, she’d rushed inside the bathroom only to find Y/N sprawled out in all her naked glory. She cursed the stupid bathroom latch their landlord refused to change.

After Sara had had her fill of laughter, she helped Y/N stand, get somewhat dressed (a loose cotton shirt and some shorts), and helped her hobble down the stairs of their apartment, her leg in a make-shift splint of dishtowels and left-over wood paneling from an IKEA dresser.

            A groan of protest escaped her as Sara parked in the hospital parking lot and rushed to the passenger door, opening it for Y/N and helping her get out.

            “You are worse than my mother,” she huffed as she leaned her weight onto her good leg. “I am completely fine.”

            Sara sighed, and Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing what was coming. “My love,” she said. “My other half. The Yin to my Yang, the milk to my matcha. My partner in crime for whom I would kill and/or dispose of a body. I can quite literally see the fucking bone sticking out of your lower leg.”

            “It’s a sprain,” Y/N gritted through clenched teeth.

            “It’s an open fucking break and the fact that you refused to have an ambulance called, boggles my fucking mind, yet here we are.”

            To that, Y/N had nothing to say, but still, she thought Sara was being way too overdramatic. And honestly, if she kept mentioning the real situation of her sprain, making her remember the sound of the snap, how it had been the worst sound she’d ever heard, and Y/N had spent more than twenty years listening to her brother singing in the shower, before she moved to Pittsburg for her job, she would put Sara in a hospital bed herself. And then they could be the ED besties.

            But the worst was the pain that came when Sara reminded Y/N of why she had to go to the hospital.

            It had been a miracle no neighbor had called the cops or the EMTs themselves, though it didn’t necessarily comfort Y/N either. If she could scream bloody murder like that and nobody batted an eye, it didn’t say anything good about the complex they lived in.

            One look down had confirmed Y/N’s worst fears – she had, in fact, broken her leg. Not only that, it was an open break where part of her bone was sticking right out of the meat of her calf. For the first few moments, she’d been in such a shock, that the only thought running through her head was – I look like a poor man’s version of a Disney turkey leg. Then she’d started screaming. And that had made her puke.

            Right then and there, still lying half out of the shower, half on the floor, she’d emptied her stomach. There hadn’t been much in it, just the cup of water she’d drank when she’d awoken, but still. At least Y/N had been in the bathroom when it had happened. Tiles were easier to clean up than carpet, and she already felt bad enough Sara would have to wash the floor.

            But now, as some form of punishment, no doubt, Sara was helping Y/N hobble towards the emergency department of Pittsburg Trauma Medical Hospital, when a sad-looking man noticed them and rushed inside, grabbing a wheelchair, and getting by Y/N’s side in a matter of a second.

            “Here, sit down.” The man, Dennis Whitaker he introduced himself, took hold of her other bicep and moved the wheelchair behind her.

            “I’m fine,” she groaned. “I’m not an invalid. I can make it inside on my own. Besides, that wheelchair could be used for someone that actually needs it.”

            “You actually need it.” Sara levelled a gaze at her. “And I will make you a fucking invalid because I will clock you so hard in the head, you will have a concussion, if you don’t have one from the fall.”

             For a tense second, Y/N stood (or wobbled) her ground, Y/E/C eyes locked onto Sara’s hazel ones which were slowly narrowing with each passing moment until she cursed and said, “Alright fine.” Together Whitaker and Sara lowered the injured woman into the wheelchair. “God, I hate your mom-stares.”

            “It’s the only way to get you to do anything in terms of taking care of yourself.”

            “It’s not!” Y/N protested. “I’ll have you know, I made myself an omelet yesterday for breakfast. Veggies and all.”

            “Yeah, after I berated you that a stale Coke from three days ago, isn’t actual breakfast.” Sara walked side by side as Whitaker pushed the wheelchair into the madhouse that was the emergency department.

            It was fascinating to observe the situation as an outsider – nurses and doctors were like level-headed owls, their heads swiveling this way and that way, as they assessed the patients and their statuses, while the residents and patients themselves, not all, but quite a bunch, were like headless chickens, rushing around and trying to prioritize afflictions or become a priority to the doctors.

            Codes were called left and right, people moved from one side to the other, snapping on gloves and donning protective gear, and in the center of it all, was the command post – the nurse’s station which Whitaker had wheeled her to.

            “Dana, is there a room available?” he addressed a slim, blonde woman, probably the one in charge.

            “Room six is available, what’s the, oh,” she stopped mid-sentence as she noticed Y/N and the bone sticking out of her leg.

            “I don’t mind waiting,” she gave her a sheepish smile. “There’s probably loads of people before me. Besides, it’s just a sprain.”

            “Well, that’s probably one of the worst sprains I’ve ever seen,” Dana deadpanned as she motioned with her head towards someone behind them.

            Y/N shrugged. “Well, I am just special like that.”

            “Yeah, maybe in the head,” Sara grumbled as she gave the charge nurse all the necessary info for the moment. “Speaking of which – she also hit her head when she went down with her… sprain.”

            Dana’s lips quirked up as she hummed and tapped something on her iPad, weaving around the table, leaving Whitaker to follow her like a lost puppy as they moved to the room Y/N was now assigned to. “We’ll schedule you a CT ASAP.”

            Y/N turned her head to look at her best friend. “Given how this little trip was your idea, you’re paying off my medical debt.”

            “Just let these nice doctors and nurses take care of you.” Sara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Because quite honestly, I’m not too into the idea of searching for a new roommate. Do you know how many creeps I’d have to go through? And what if the one normal one I find has a fatal flaw?”

            “Such as?”

            “I dunno. What if they hate musicals?”

            “Oh, the tragedy.” Y/N pressed a hand against her chest as they wheeled her inside the room.

            There was another presence there, a young doctor, probably late twenties or early thirties. A cute little dimple on his chin, dark hair, and blue eyes. Reminded her a bit of the guy from Air Bud, if she squinted a bit.

            “My name’s Dr. Langdon,” he introduced himself, giving Y/N a reassuring smile. “And this is Dennis Whitaker, our fourth-year medical student. Would it be alright, if he and another one of our residents observed the situation today? This is a teaching hospital, but it is well within your rights to refuse.”

            She shook her head. “Observe away. Not much I can hide.”

            “Alright, thank you.” He ventured out for a quick second only to come back with a young woman who introduced herself as Dr. Mel King, a second-year resident. “Okay,” Dr. Langdon said. “Let’s get you onto the bed and see what we’re working with.”

            The three medical professionals surrounded her and helped Y/N move from the wheelchair on the paper-covered bed, without jostling her leg too much, but it was enough.

            So far, she’d been able to take her mind off the pain by distracting herself – she bickered with Sara, recited the script of The Hunger Games movie in her head while fantasising about a blond Josh Hutcherson, because Peeta was just elite like that. She’d even gone so far as to go over the division table, but now, as more attention was being placed on the broken leg, it started to hurt more and more. It was like Y/N mind-over-mattered an itching spot left by a mosquito by chanting “It’s not itchy” over and over in her head, but the second she stopped, the itching came back in full force.

            “So,” Dr. Dimple, she nicknamed him in her head, started. “What happened?”

            Y/N sighed, looking at the ceiling. “Can I just give you the not-humiliating version and say I’m a klutz?”

            He gave her a charming smile as a nurse prepped an IV line. “Unfortunately, we need to know beyond “clumsy”. The environment where this accident happened is important.”

"It could introduce pathogens into the wound," Mel, as Dr. King had requested to be called, said.

            Y/N chewed on her bottom lip before muttering, “I slipped in the shower and sprained my leg. And then got assaulted by some shampoo and conditioner bottles… and then I threw up.”

            “And don’t forget the head!” Sara said from the door where she still stood, observing the work happening.

            Y/N threw her a knowing smirk. “Never do. And I haven’t had any complaints yet.”

            “The throwing up could indicate a concussion,” Whitaker said. “Dana’s already scheduled a CT. And in terms of the leg, you actually have an open fra-,”

            Y/N took hold of Whitaker’s bicep like he’d done so for her when he’d helped wheel her inside the emergency department. “Please listen to me when I say this – unless you want me to hurl all over you, and trust me, I can aim, the only thing I have, is a sprain. Got it?”

            He gulped and nodded, stepping away from Y/N like a man who’d gotten sprayed by too many fluids in one day and didn’t want to be anywhere near the danger zone. “Loud and clear Miss Sprained-Ankle-Woman.”

            “Good.” The nausea that’d started creeping up her belly subsided. “Because I can deal with you people having to do things, but if I have to actually listen to any of it, or think about it, I will be sick.”

            “We can give you some anti-nausea medication for that,” Dr. Dimple soothed. “But first, we’ll get you a CT, and then we’ll have a surgery room prepped for you because you need to get this reset as quickly as possible. You will probably have some metal plates and screws to hold the uh… sprain together, and then a cast for about six to eight weeks.”

            “Great,” Y/N grumbled. “This is just fucking great. This is exactly how I wanted to spend my vacation, before, oh… oh, absolutely not.” Y/N’s eyes widened to a comically large size as she looked past her room and into the waiting area. “Sara, you need to get me out of here right the fuck now.”

            “Hey, woah, what is going on?” Dr. Langdon rushed to where Y/N was trying to get the IV line out. “Please don't do that, you'll only hurt yourself more.”

            “Y/N, what’s going on?” Sara’s brows were pulled tight in a frown, as she tried to help Dr. King get the oxygen monitor back onto her finger. “You need surgery, for fuck’s sake.”

            “It’s him,” she hissed, not taking her gaze away from where it’d locked on. “And I don’t want to spend a second anywhere near the dick.”

            “Who?” Sara swiveled her head to look beyond the glass separating them from the chaos beyond. ���Who’s the dick?”

            “Him.”

            And then four pairs of eyes locked onto the man standing and talking with the charge nurse at The Hub, Y/N was glaring at.

            “Do – do you two know each other?” Dr. Dimple asked.  “Do you feel unsafe with him around?”

            “Yeah, you could say we know one another,” she scowled and crossed her arms as Mel managed to finally reattach the oxygen monitor, all of their attention onto her. “That’s the dude I hooked up with two weeks ago, and completely ghosted me that same morning.”

            Every single head snapped to look back at Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, who’d also finally noticed Y/N was at his workplace, as a patient no less. His eyebrows were right up to his hairline, brown eyes wide with disbelief and mouth agape as she glowered at the older man.

            It was quite a surreal moment – all of these capable doctors and residents and nurses, stunned by the information so bad, that they almost seemed to forget Y/N was there. She wondered what was going through their heads, as this seemed like it wasn’t a regular occurrence. Which stung even more – if Michael had been a fuckboy, she could take it, but it didn’t seem so. So, what was wrong with Y/N that had made him run away after the night they’d spent together?

            When they’d met at the bar, he had told her he was an emergency department attending. The big boss of his little duckling residents, dutifully running the hospital department with the help of the nurses.

Why, when Sara had finally managed to get Y/N inside the car, it hadn’t occurred to her, he would work in this particular hospital. Just why?

Y/N couldn’t say. Maybe she’d hoped he worked the night shifts. Maybe she’d hoped, he worked somewhere else, or even out of town, but, of course, for whatever sins she’d committed, karma couldn’t do her a solid one.

            Sara gasped, rushing by her side as Y/N watched Michael flounder and try and decide what to do – whether to interfere and face the music or run away from the hospital. He apparently chose the latter as he twisted on his heel and high-tailed it to the other end of the department, leaving a cackling Dana behind.

            “That’s him?” Sara strained her neck. “That’s the hot doctor?”

            Y/N scoffed. “The one and only. Couldn’t even leave a fucking note or something. Like I can take a hint a one-night-stand is a one-night-stand, alright? But don’t just fucking bolt out of the door like your ass is on fire before the other party wakes up. Fucking dickhead.”

            “Well, maybe it wasn’t as fun of a night for him, as you thought, and he didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Sara raised a brow.

            “Oh, trust me,” Y/N smirked. “It was a very fun night for him. I would know. I was there, and you can’t fake the kind of shaking. Four hours will do that to a guy,” she winked and touched the tips of her pointer finger and thumb in an A-Okay sign.

            “Yeah,” it was Dr. Dimple smiling at her, the grin on his face almost wolfish in nature. “Yeah, you are absolutely my new favorite person in the world.”

            However, whatever he wanted to say or ask, was cut short when Dana returned to inform that her CT slot was coming up, and so Y/N was wheeled away, not daring to look at Michael as they passed one another in the hallway.

            As the results came back for a minor concussion, the anesthesiologist informed, that they recommended a spinal for the surgery, while the team prepper, but Y/N shot it down immediately.

            “Absolutely not. Look, I know it’s not safe to go to sleep after a concussion, but I will not be listening to the sounds of some bone-carpenter crunching on my leg. Put me under,” she gave him her most pathetic look. “Please.”

            The specialist still tried to argue, but he couldn’t do it much longer, as Y/N needed surgery as soon as possible, so after five minutes of strongly recommending the spinal, he relented and in half an hour, Y/N had managed to get hers – she was out like a light, without a sound in her ears.

            It was the best sleep she’d ever had in her life. Like floating on a cloud, surrounded by doves and angels singing her lullabies. She never wanted to wake up, but something was rousing her out of the blissful state.

            A large warm hand around her palm, thumb rubbing the top of it, was soothing her senses. It was like hot chocolate after being out in the sow. Or sitting by a fireplace with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

            “Good afternoon, Miss Sprained-Ankle,” a low, rumbly voice greeted Y/N as she floated back into consciousness. Her eyes locked onto two gentle, brown ones, and despite the medication, she knew she wasn’t hallucinating him.

            Michael’s face was beard-covered like it had been when they’d met. He still had the same worry lines on his forehead and the crow’s feet around his eyes. Y/N had said she liked those the best.

            “It shows you’ve smiled and laughed despite everything else,” she’d informed him over the rim of her Pornstar Martini.

            She couldn’t truly imagine just how draining his line of work was, both physically and mentally, but the laugh lines she could see hiding under the beard, harmonizing with those around his eyes, was a feature Y/N had noticed first.

            “So,” she slurred her tongue a swollen mass of sandpaper in her mouth, and Michael noticed that, holding a cup of water against her lips until she’d had her fill. “Do I have to keep breaking bones to wake up with you next to me?”

            “I hope not.” With gentleness Y/N knew he possessed, yet didn’t expect, he brushed away a droplet that’d slipped past her mouth, and onto her cheek. “I hope this is the only time I ever have to see you in such a state.”

            “Can’t promise that,” she shook her head. “I do have a reputation to uphold.”

            “Yeah?” amusement was evident on his weary face. “And what kind of reputation is that?”

            “When I was in first grade, on the first day of school, I broke my arm. And then like a few months later, I smashed my face against a radiator and split my lip open. Still have a scar,” she pointed right below her right nostril where a sliver of lighter skin was. “And then, but that was like third grade or something, I smashed my head against a metal railing and split my head open. I could even push my fingers inside and scrape my -,”

            “Okay, I understand,” Michael interrupted her and pulled the hand that was tapping against the hairline on her forehead. “You are an ED connoisseur, but please, don’t make this a habit.”

            “Damn, straight I am.” Y/N gave a confident nod, but before Michael could ask anything else, she said, “You know what I don’t get? Like why did my leg bone hurt while sticking out of my body, but my teeth that are sticking out right now, don’t?” She clacked them for emphasis. “They’re outside bones.”

            A soft smile bloomed on Michael’s face as he brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. She could feel someone had put her hair in a protective style and had to wonder if it had been the man beside her. But that wouldn’t make any sense. Why would he care like that for her?

            “For one,” he muttered. “You broke your fibula – the smaller bone in your lower leg, and in doing so, hurt the surrounding things like muscles and skin. That is one reason why you felt such pain. And two – if you broke a tooth, it would hurt too. Your cavities hurt, don’t they?”

            “Mmm,” a self-satisfied smile bloomed on Y/N’s face. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a cavity.”

            “That’s good. Dentists aren’t cheap.” As a response she just clacked her teeth again, making Michael laugh. “How are you feeling? Any pain? Nausea?”

            “Nope, I am A-Okay. Honestly, that was like the best sleep of my life. Well…” Y/N pouted, taking her gaze away from Michael’s. “That night when I fell asleep with you is also up in the Top 5, but then I woke up and… you know… you weren’t there.”

            She was obviously delirious from the medication being pumped through her veins, but much like when Y/N was drunk, she was a throw-up-remember-everything kind of a girl, instead of a black-out-drunk. Besides, it wasn’t like she could run anywhere. Quite literally.

            Michael sighed, dragging a hand down his face, visibly cringing at her words. “About that… I – yeah, I think the only thing I can say is I’m sorry. For, you know, ghosting, as you youngsters say.”

            “ ‘S alright.” Y/N shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, as if the second she’d seen him, she hadn’t been ready to bolt. “I’m over it.”

            “No, no it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have done that. Because that night was… great. It was amazing, actually. And everything leading up to the uh, you… you know, the...” he cleared his throat, and a smirk pulled up on Y/N’s lips.

            “The sex? Come on, you can say it in your big old man age. It’s just three letters.”

            “Jesus Christ.” Michael rubbed his neck as a slight pink shade crawled up his neck, which made Y/N let out a chuckle at how uncomfortable he looked talking about this. Maybe it was time to let this go, for his sake and her own sanity.

            “Look, if it makes you feel any better,” Y/N shifted to the edge of the mattress and patted the side of her bed, so he could sit down. After asking if she was sure, he did take the offered space. “I – I’ve been treating you a bit unfairly with this. I think my ego was a bit crushed after waking up and not having you there, but, umm… you’re off the hook. Besides, I think I’m in your debt with all of this. Your team is amazing.”

            “They’re pretty great, aren’t they?” he mumbled, one of his hands having moved to toy with the wristband the hospital had assigned to Y/N. “But still, how I reacted then, and even earlier in the morning… it wasn’t right. I mean, I’m pushing fifty for fuck’s sake. That’s not what someone my age does.”

            “So what?” she raised a brow. “The issue is you think you’re a cradle-robber? Because you’re no more that than I am a grave robber. I’m twenty-six, Michael,” she turned her palm up hoping he’d accept it and slide his hand in hers. After a moment of hesitancy, he did, and Y/N squeezed it in reassurance. “I mean, if you think you’re doing something bad, by having slept with someone two decades younger than you, I’ll have you know, according to regency times, as a woman who’ll be turning twenty-seven this year, I’m pretty much a decrepit old spinster.”

            Michael let out a soft laugh as his fingers trailed the lines on Y/N’s palm. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Me? I’m your probably dad’s age.”

            “And looking hotter than ever, if you ask me.”

            “Yeah? You think so?” He asked as Y/N hummed in affirmation. “Well then, for a decrepit old spinster, you are beautiful. And acting with much more grace than I deserved or deserve.”

            Something in the way he said those last few words made her heart squeeze. “Michael… of course you deserve grace.”

            “You’re being far too good to me… you’re far too good for me…”

            Y/N’s brows furrowed at that. Slowly, she attempted to rise in a sitting position, but she didn’t get far before Michael had his arms around her waist, like they’d been two weeks ago, pushing a pillow to stabilize the small of her back. Once he was sure she was comfortable, he opened an apple juice box and handed it to her.

            “To get your sugar up.”

            But she just stared at him, only reaching for the little carton after he’d resumed his previous sitting position. “Is that what this is about?” she asked. “Some insecurity you think I deserve better than you? Because I can decide those things for myself. I am an adult. With a fully-developed frontal lobe, mind you.”

            He took in a deep breath, held it for a second, then released it, and Y/N watched that whatever kind of decision he’d come to, had released a certain tension that’d been accumulating in his body. “Kind of, I guess. But mostly…” he swallowed, then nodded to himself, eyes trained on her wristband. “Mostly I got scared.”

            “Of what?” Y/N tilted her head. “I mean, I know my morning breath probably isn’t that attractive, and the smeared makeup made me look like a coked-out raccoon, but -,”

            “No,” Michael shook his head, chuckling. His cheeks were reddish at her words, but as he lifted his eyes to hers, there was a grateful look to them. Like he was thankful she wasn’t making fun of him even in his ripe old age. “You,” he stumbled over his words a bit, “when I saw you there, sleeping by my side like you belonged… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful than that. And that’s when I thought to myself – if I worked up the courage, could there be more mornings like that? Could I make you breakfast and coffee one day? Maybe I’d get the privilege of falling asleep next to you as we watch movies at night. And that scared me.”

            “The possible future?”

            “Wanting that possible future, because that feeling, the one that started to grow right here,” he tapped the center of his chest. “I couldn’t think straight. So, I had to go.”

            “I mean,” Y/N swallowed hard. “That is a lot to imagine after only a few hours together.”

            “Does that… creep you out? ‘Cause it’s totally understandable if it does. I mean Jesus, I’m old… and you’re so young.”

            “No, it doesn’t.” And she meant it when she said it. “I find it actually quite endearing, but you can stop being so hung-up on the age difference. If you think there might be some daddy issues on my side, I can assure you – there’s none. I quite like my dad, and I definitely don’t see you as such a figure. Not after the things you did to me. ‘Cause, quite honestly, sex with you was probably the best dicking-down I’ve had in a year.”

            If Michael had been drinking anything, Y/N was sure he would have choked with how he sputtered at her words. “Well, uh, yeah, I uh… I’m glad you… enjoyed it.”

            “I did. And I know you enjoyed it too,” her smile was nothing short of wicked.

            “Yeah, and apparently now the rest of the residents and nurses and doctors know it too?” Michael raised his brows at her.

            It took Y/N a while to realize he was talking about when she’d gotten admitted and spilt the beans on their night together, implying their copious amount of copulation. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, but I’d like to think your reputation has now gone sky-high between the female nurses and doctors. Maybe the guys and theys as well. But I do apologize for talking about your private life while at your work. In my defense, until that very moment, I didn’t know you worked here. And well, I was pissed.”

            “You and your mouth will get you in trouble one day,” Michael pointed at her.

            “Yeah? Would you like to put something in it, to shut me up? Last time, you really liked it when I -,”

            “Okay, trouble, that’s enough.” Even though his words had a finality to them, humor glowed on his features. He seemed relaxed. Content even, as he took the now empty apple juice box Y/N had been sipping on this whole time.

            “You on a break?” She started scooting down the bed once more, and Michael instantly helped her get situated.

            “Want to get rid of me so quickly?”

            “No. It’s just you’re spending an awfully long time with me. Don’t you have other patients to check in on? I don’t want you to waste your time if you need to get to someone else. Or maybe grab a bite to eat? I’m fairly sure doctors don’t know how to have a good work-life balance, despite continuously recommending it to us, mere mortals.”

            “Time with you isn’t a waste.”

            Oh.

            Oh, how badly did Y/N want to rip off the little wires connecting her to the heart monitor, because had Michael not turned the sound off, she was sure the whole hospital would be hearing it go nuts at his words, the squiggling beat of it a treat for only Michael this time, because when he noticed it, a smirk bloomed on his mouth. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to, not when he murmured, twining their fingers together, “I want to kiss you so bad.”

            “I definitely won’t be opposed to that.” Y/N’s answer might have come way too quickly, but she was beyond feeling embarrassed about wanting him. “You have permission to kiss away. For as long as possible. All day, every day, whenever you want to.”

            “Well, thank you for that,” Michael chuckled, cupping her cheek, and she leaned into the touch. “But… not right now. Let me take you out on a proper date. Let me do this right.”

            “Oh my God, seriously?” Y/N whined throwing her head back. “You’re gonna make me wait? Especially after that whole speech and whatnot? You are a cruel, cruel man Dr. Michael Robinavitch.”

            Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he leaned to hover over Y/N, a golden necklace slipping from the inside of his shirt and dangling before her. She wanted to pull it between her teeth like she’d done so during their one night together. It took every dwindling ounce of willpower not to.

            “Maybe, I just want you aching. And yearning. You were the one who said men don’t yearn enough nowadays. But I have. For you, for two whole god-damned weeks. Now it’s your turn.”

            It was pathetic how Y/N wanted to cry and whimper. “But I didn’t even do anything! You were the one that ran out! Why am I being punished for your actions?”

            “Do you – do you not want to go on a date with me?”

            “I do, but I’d rather you rail me as soon as possible.”

            “Well, for one,” Michael tried to continue on as if Y/N’s words hadn’t made heat creep up his face, but he could only do so much. He was a human, after all. “You’re not allowed any strenuous activities until you’ve got a clean bill of health. And two, all teasing aside, I want to do this properly. I want to do right by you this time.”

            “Why would you?” she exasperated. “I wasn’t complaining when you didn’t do it right by me, and I’m certainly not going to if you suddenly decide to stop being chivalrous. Maybe even right here. We could recreate some scene from Grey’s Anatomy?” Y/N wiggled her brows at him, eliciting a deep rumble of a chuckle.

            “Grey’s is just a malpractice lawsuit after a malpractice lawsuit, and I, unlike the characters there, don’t want my medical license to be revoked. Until you get discharged, I’m one of your doctors.”

            “My hot doctor, you mean.”

            The sigh that left Michael was not weary or a worn-out kind of noise. Rather it was a resigned I-guess-this-is-my-life-now kind of a sigh, especially combined with the endearing look on his face, it made Y/N feel warm all over.

            Slowly, as they talked a bit more, her eyes began to droop, exhaustion from the morning, from the surgery and the subsequent consequences settling in once more. “Will you stay?” she asked as Michael brushed a knuckle along her jaw. “Just until I fall asleep?”

            “Of course,” Michael took her hand in his, sitting down by her side again, as he pressed a kiss to her wrist. “And I… I wish I could promise I’ll be here when you wake up, but I, -”

            “I know,” Y/N interrupted him with a soft and understating smile. “By that point, you’ll probably be off saving lives. It’s why I’m not asking you to.”

            “I’ll try though.” He promised.

            “Okay.”

            And with her hand still in Michael’s, Y/N drifted off once again without even realizing it was pitch-black outside, and Michael hadn’t been wearing his shift scrubs. He should have long been home resting, and yet, he hadn’t been able to leave her. Not like he did before.

            By the time she awoke early the next morning, Y/N was clearheaded, and yet all her thoughts mulled over the conversation she’d had with Michael the previous night. Would he go back on his word? Had he only talked with her like that because she was high on pain meds, and maybe thought she wouldn’t remember their discussions?

            She knew he hadn’t promised to be there when she awoke, so Y/N didn’t hold it against him, but she couldn’t deny the sting. But that was immediately soothed by the hoodie that’d been laid over the back of a chair.

            His hoodie.

            A promise he would at least have a reason to come back and check in on her. It was Dana, the charge nurse, peeking her head inside that pulled Y/N back into the present. “How are we feeling today? Ready to be discharged? Dr. Langdon will be with you shortly for a follow-up.”

            The woman in the hospital bed groaned. “Can’t I just stay here? Like you people – you are normal. Sara will be a mother hen on crack. I am willing to brave hospital food, as long as I don’t have to go home to all that fussing. She’s probably already bullied our landlord into installing a lift or something.”

            “She cares for you,” it was Dr. Langdon piping in, as he entered her room, pulling on a pair of gloves and nodding to Dana in thanks. “You’re pretty lucky to have a friend like her.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Y/N sighed as Dr. Langdon looked over her leg, asked some questions about pain levels and talked her through the post-op care. “But in my defense, she has a tendency to overreact.”

            “I’d say you have a tendency to underreact, but that’s just my professional opinion.”

            She rolled her eyes as Dr. Langdon finished his assessment and handed off her chart to Dana, so they could start the discharge process. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.”

            “In any case, I do think the whole ED is in debt to Sara.”

            To that she raised a brow.

            “Well, had she not made you come in, I don’t know if Dr. Robby would have had a chance of seeing you again. Because, if I have to be honest, we’ve all been scratching our heads the past couple of weeks trying to figure out why he’s been in such a mood. Now we know why.”

            “You two shit-talking me?” Michael’s soft tone interrupted the conversation, as he crossed his arms and leaned against the entryway. “How are you feeling?”

            She tried and failed to hide the heat creeping up her veins. Even if Y/N had succeeded, that damned monitor, the sound no doubt having been turned back on by Michael before he left, to make sure if anything went awry at night, someone was there for her, betrayed her anyway. God, she wanted to punch the smile off both the men's faces.

            “Fine.” She turned her head to look at the wall, as a nurse stepped in and removed the IV catheter and wrapped her hand in gauze. “Not looking forward to the itching that will appear, in what? Three days?”

            “No scratching,” Dr. Dimple pointed at her with a pen. “You could injure yourself and cause a serious infection. No rulers, no knitting needles, no crochet needles, no twigs or branches, no nothing.”

            “But what about -,”

            “No nothing,” he emphasized. “Or I will have to recommend Dr. Robby make a house call on you. Though that isn’t much of a threat for you two, is it?”

            “Okay, Frank? Scram. Now. There’re patients that need checking on. I can take care of Y/N.”

            “Yeah, I bet you can,” Dr. Langdon let out a laugh but was out of the room before either she or Michael could say anything.

            The only thing Y/N was happy about, was that the comment had made not only her flustered, but Michael as well, as he shifted on his feet and rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous tick. In the end, he gave her a smile that said “Sorry about him” and padded over to where he’d left his hoodie.

            And that only made her even more flustered, because seeing a man like him, so level-headed and sure, get visibly nervous over her, did things to Y/N. Which made her want to do things to Michael, but then Dana returned, two crutches in hand, Whitaker wheeling a wheelchair once more, and all passion slipped away.

            “Right, thanks.” She eyed the crutches like they were cow-eating pythons. “I fucking hate my life.”

            Low, warm laughter filtered through the room as Dana helped Y/N get redressed and situated her in the wheelchair, crutches placed over her knees as she was rolled to the nurse’s station.

            “I uh, took the liberty of calling Sara for you,” Michael said as he leaned against the table. When Y/N raised a brow in question, he elaborated, “She’s in your emergency contacts. Should be here in fifteen or so.”

            “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

            “I know,” he smiled. “But I wanted to.”

            And there it was again, that warmth that blossomed in her chest, only this time she let it spread, let it wrap around her heart and wash away that bitterness, that’d been there since the morning Y/N had woken up cold and alone.

            It hadn’t been just the sex, though that night Michael had given her some of the most earth-shattering orgasms she’d ever had (thankfully, Sara had been away with her girlfriend, so she didn’t have to suffer through the teasing).

            It was the conversations leading up to it, the sense of ease Y/N felt around Michael. He was witty and sarcastic, his humor dry, but not at the expense of others while being engaging and thought-provoking at the same time. What had sealed the deal for her though was when he actually engaged in the debate, she presented him – if he had to kiss a fish-spider hybrid, what would he choose – fish head, spider body or fish body, spider head?

            He’d made her laugh so hard she cried, and when Y/N had deemed it was time to call an Uber and go home, she’d taken the risk and asked if he wanted to come to her place. And after a few moments where she wanted the earth to open and swallow her whole, he’d nodded.

            Together they waited for the cab, standing side by side, yet not touching. He’d opened the car door for her, before slipping in himself.

            The tension could be cut with a knife, and afterwards, Y/N had given the driver five stars for enduring it, while the whole way, one of Michael’s palms had slowly moved to rest against her thigh, and she’d had to clench them together because if she didn’t, there would be a noticeable wet spot underneath.

            After an agonizing half an hour's drive, they finally got to her place. Michael held the door open for her, and insisted on paying for the Uber, no matter how much Y/N protested.

            Every step towards the apartment she was renting on the fourth floor of the complex, was agony. As she fumbled for her keys, Michael’s fingers were slowly skimming the side of her dress where the zipper rested.

            Y/N’s whole body was a live-wire, and she wondered how in the world had the lock not melted from the heat, as it slid in place and she unlocked the door, the motion now forever having a sexual connotation, for in that moment Michael was the key that would unlock her desires.

            Together, they stepped beyond the threshold, and yet still, he never once removed his touch from her body. From that damned little black number. She’d only worn it because she’d been set up on a blind date. They were supposed to meet up at the bar for a drink before going to a play, but as it turns out, even guys who like theatre can ghost.

            When Y/N realized the situation, she wanted to go home, as her date was the one who had the tickets, pull this thing off and drink the already opened bottle of wine that was in the fridge, but she could have at least one good cocktail before that.

            That’s when Dr. Robby, or as he’d asked her to call him by his first name, Michael, slid into the seat next to her. They didn’t talk for the first five minutes, not until she’d been scrolling through Instagram and some post had caught her eye. Something about green tea enemas and glowing skin, and the man beside had released a heavy-duty sigh, accompanied by “fucking Dr. Google.”

            It’s when slowly but surely, they’d struck up a conversation, which had now resulted in Y/N having Michael towering over her, his beard scratching against the crook of her neck where he’d placed his chin.

            When his hands wove and settled against her stomach, any sort of resolve she’d had, snapped. Instantly, she turned, weaving her arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to hers in a bruising kind of kiss. The kind that left you breathless and dizzy and wanting more.

            She felt an insatiable thrill rush down her spine as Michael responded with just as much vigor, the pads of his fingers digging deep into her hips and pulling her to be flush against his chest, so much so, that Y/N could feel his own desire growing in his groin.

            “I’ve never hated clothes more than I do right now,” she giggled as Michael grappled with the door handle and pushed it close without disconnecting from one another.

            “Then let’s get them off, shall we?”

            The way he dragged the side zipper open, was almost reverent, worshipping even. Like he wanted to prolong the build-up between them, and Y/N couldn’t lie – she was loving it, even if she was losing her mind. So many times, when she’d had hook-ups, guys tended to just get her naked as fast as possible, which was fine. She was down for it, but there was something indescribable about how Michael reveled in feeling her slowly start to tremble, in how he kissed up and down her neck, while his fingers took their sweet time. It drove her insane with want, in an amount she’d never felt before.

            His pointer finger dragged its way up Y/N’s bicep, making goosebumps erupt all over before he slowly slid a strap down. Then the other, until the dress was pooling around her waist, and still, where usually she’d be helping the guy shimmy herself out of the dress, Michael didn’t rush. He simply allowed his hands to explore her body, skimming along her ribs and up to the black lacy number she’d worn, then right back down.

            “You counting if I have all my ribs in place, Dr. Robby?” Y/N let out a shaky breath, trying to alleviate the gathered tension, for she was just about to combust, but all she got was a soft smile as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her neck where her pulse was visibly thrumming.

            “I don’t have much time in my day to stop and admire art. So please, indulge me. And art, which I’m allowed to touch, should be revered even more so.”

            Her eyes may or may not have rolled to the back of her head at his words, and he hadn’t even gotten his head between her legs yet. Yeah, Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, the attending of a trauma centre, would be the death of her.

Name of the deceased - Y/N Y/L/N. Date of death - 4th of April, 2025. Cause of death – self-combustion. Reason for self-combustion – a sexy as fuck doctor.

            Quite honestly, if that was how she was going to go, so be it.

            Finally, though, after what felt like ages, her dress was shed, leaving her only in her underwear and strappy high-heels she’d worn.

            “If there is one thing I hate, it’s not having a photographic memory,” Michael grumbled as his hands skimmed along the waistband of her panties. “But trust me when I say this, I will be picturing this moment for decades to come.”

            “You are more than welcome to have a look at what’s hiding underneath,” Y/N said. Or that is what she would have said, had she not simply whimpered in response. Not very sexy of her, but the feeling of his chest rumbling with a laugh, totally made up for it.

            She gathered enough of her bearings to step out of the fabric around her feet and move them along to her room. Never did his eyes leave her, never did his gaze waver or wander as they faced one another, her queen-sized bed behind her.

            “You are awfully overdressed,” Y/N mumbled, allowing herself the luxury of running her palms along the still-covered planed of his chest. His breathing was steady, but to feel the erratic thumping of his heart excited her beyond measure. It meant all that composure was just an act, and she was thrilled she’d be the one to crack it.

            She was just about to move her fingers to the buttons of his shirt when Michael slid down to his knees. If his hands hadn’t been resting against her thighs, she was sure she would’ve buckled and crashed. And Michael, damn the man to hell and back, knew it, if only by the smirk that stretched his face as he unlaced the strappy heels she had on and helped her stand on her feet.

            Y/N covered her face and groaned, throwing her head back. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Torturing me?”

            “Torturing you?” A kiss against her navel. “The only person being tortured tonight has been me. At the bar. In the car. Even now, you’re driving me crazy. So, if this is torture, simply consider it payback.”

            With the gentlest of touches, only a doctor could manage, Michael skimmed over Y/N’s stretchmarks, scars and blemishes – pieces of herself she didn’t particularly like, but the way he touched her… it was like he was mapping out the carve-marks of a Michelangelo statue. She was Venus and those – the history of her life.

            By the time he got back up to her mouth, she was a trembling mess, her nails digging into the muscles of his back, as finally, to her relief, he allowed her to rid him of the shirt.

            Much like he’d done to her, Y/N allowed herself the pleasure of exploring his body, mapping out the ridges and slopes of his chest and abdomen, before moving around to his back, and once they made their way to the small of it, she dug her nails against the skin there. The groan she was rewarded with, was sweeter than the cocktail he’d bought her.

            “Is it okay, if I touch you here?” Michael’s fingers slipped along the tops of her breasts before they moved to her back where they toyed with the clasp of the garment.

            “More than,” Y/N’s words were a breathless whisper by that point, and her inhale stuttered in her chest as she deftly snapped it open.

            It was clear he had experience, and not just because he was two decades her senior, but probably also because he’d done so in the trauma center, he worked at. For a brief, stupid second, she wondered how he could still find such acts pleasurable when he’d no doubt had to have done it during horrendous emergencies, yet all that was wiped away when Michael lowered his head and his teeth grazed a nipple.

            Her sharp gasp echoed around them, and Y/N weaved her fingers through his hair, pushing his face closer, as he lavished at her chest. The next day, she was sure, there would be bruises and love bites blooming like flowers across her chest and sternum, not to mention the delicious beard burn.

            Y/N moaned as he pulled the peak into his mouth, but when an uninhibited thought entered, it made her throw it back in a deep groan.

            “That feel good?”

            “So fucking good, but also, so yeah, I,” she stammered trying to get her brain to cooperate and create a coherent sentence. “Okay, so I just imagined you in glasses, and this got like ten times hotter.”

            “Glasses?” Michael chuckled, pulling slightly back and looking up at her. “That’s what does it for you?”

            “Correction – you in glasses. Though you right now are so doing it for me too. But that image just… yeah… kinda glad you don’t have any on. I’d probably be a pile of ash by this point.”

            “Now that would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” He said, slowly moving to her other breast, but not neglecting the one he’d already loved on, by cupping it in his large palm. “I mean, I’m just getting started.”

            Yeah, Y/N was dead and done for.

            As he continued licking at her chest, the hand that’d been fondling one of them, slid down her front and tentatively brushed against her clothed core. It was a single knuckle right against where her clit was, but it was enough for her to jolt in his grasp. Michael just steadied her and held tighter around her waist.  

            Once he deemed Y/N’s breasts worshipped enough, he trailed back up between them and covered her mouth with his, yet the knuckle, that damned fucking knuckle, still slid against her pussy. He could no doubt feel how wet she was, the material, though there wasn’t much of it anyway, soaked through so bad, her thighs were already sticky.

            “Michael please,” Y/N was now openly begging. She was way beyond feeling embarrassed for such a move when in the span of half an hour, he’d reduced her to liquid fire. No one had ever made her feel this wanted. This needed. And she desperately wanted and needed him too.

            “Tell me what you want,” he murmured, as he pushed his thumbs beyond the waistband of her panties and started to lower them down. The cool air hit her exposed core, and Y/N released a breathless moan. “You gotta tell me what you want and don’t want. I’m not gonna go any further until you do.”

            “I want you to touch me.”

            “I am touching you.”

            She could feel him smirk as his hands took hold of the globes of her ass and squeezed.

            “No, I want you to touch me there,” Y/N whined and tried to chase his mouth with hers, but Michael pulled back, shaking his head.

            “Gotta be more specific than that, sweetheart.”

            She debated on pulling away completely, on not giving him what he wanted either, but she was pathetic for this man. So, instead, she took one of his hands and guided it from where it rested against her ass, towards the front, sighing in relief as he let her do so. With her fingers guiding his, they slid to rest between her legs as Michael slowly, ever so exploratory, found her clit. She pressed her hand harder against his, so he could match the pressure on her core, and when he did so, overwhelming pleasure flooded her veins.

            “There,” Y/N breathed. “I want you to touch me there. And then,” she moved his hand deeper, by the wrist, until she could feel the pads of his fingers nudging against her entrance. “I want you to put three of your fingers inside me, while you suck on my clit, until I’m a crying mess.”

            As Y/N lifted her head back to look at him, there was absolutely no sign of the warm brown irises that’d looked at her so gently at the bar. Sure, it was dark in the apartment, yet even in bright daylight, she’d bet all her student loans, only two black abysses would be staring back at her, especially with how fast his chest was rising and falling.

            “And then?”

            God, had his voice dropped even lower? How did he manage to make it so gravelly, yet smooth as the darkest, most succulent chocolate?

            “And then…” Her fingers trembled as she moved her hands to the front of his pants, undoing the buckle and flipping open the button, lowering the zipper as she went. All the while, Michael applied steady pressure on her clit, circling the bundle of nerves just enough to drive her towards the edge, but not enough for release to come. “And uhm, then…” She pushed his pants down as far as they would go, letting them bunch around his knees.

            It took barely a moment for him to step out of them completely, kicking them to some forgotten corner of her room, leaving him in only his boxers. Somewhere along the way he’d lost the shoes and socks, but Y/N wasn’t about to go and hunt for them. Not with how he still circled her clit with those experienced appendages.

            “Yes?” He raised a brow and pressed harder against her clit, making her pull in a sharp breath.

            “And then,” Y/N trailed a teasing finger along the band of his boxers, for once delighting in how his abdomen muscles went taut, and his obviously hard dick twitched inside the confines. “And then I want you to fuck me. However, you want to. As long as by the end of it, neither of us know up from down and left from right.”

            When she cupped him over the clothes he still had left on, it seemed like it snapped something in Michael, some taut, already fragile wire, that’d begun fraying ever since she’d invited him back to her place. Because this time when he kissed Y/N, it was a hungry kiss. A man starved being served the most lavish meal of all.

            She was on the mattress in a matter of seconds, body covered by his towering frame. They molded perfectly together, Y/N thought. When she rolled her hips up to get at least some form of friction, he responded in kind, clearly searching to satiate his own desire.

            Michael’s hands slid from her shoulders down the length of her arms before intertwining their fingers and bringing them up and over Y/N’s head, not once disconnecting from the kiss.

            “You keep them there,” he instructed, breathing the words into her mouth. “And when I’m done with my appetizer, we’ll move on to the first of the main courses.”

            “Appetizer?” Y/N squeaked out. A good hook-up in her books was at least two orgasms, usually only having one. But calling eating her out an appetizer, and then having a numbered list of courses, was something else completely.

            Michael’s only response was that same damned smirk she’d learned could only mean torture, as he made his way between her legs, and without wasting another second, diving in between them.

            The first lick of his tongue was a broad, all-encompassing one. And Y/N could only hope her neighbors had some good noise-cancelling headphones at the ready.

            His forearms had settled against her hips and palms splayed themselves over her stomach to push her down against the bed, as she tried to chase his mouth.

            And what a mouth it was.

            Who knew the soft-spoken trauma doctor she’d met on a random Friday night at a bar while waiting for a date that never came, would be the creation of the Devil himself?

            But when he pushed two thick fingers inside, shortly followed by a third, just like Y/N had asked, all thoughts flew out of the window. The way he curled them in an attempt at finding that spot that made her gasp and choke on air, the way he scissored them, stretching her, preparing her for the first course he had in mind, was diabolical.

            Her first orgasm came unexpectedly. She could feel it like a wave – pushing and pulling – but she hadn’t expected the moment it crested and shattered against the rocks, swift and sharp, coming without a warning, all due to the teasing that’d happened before, no doubt.

            Michael rode it out with Y/N, until her hips stopped grinding against his mouth, and he could gently remove his fingers from her pussy.

            He placed a soft kiss against the inside of her thigh, the skin raw and tender from his beard, that now glistened with her juices.

            “ ‘M sorry,” Y/N mumbled, an arm thrown over her eyes as she came down from her high and tears streamed down to her temples, just like she’d requested.

            “Whatever for?”

            “Didn’t warn you I was coming.”

            As the aftershocks receded, and she removed her arm, she found Michael looking up at her completely puzzled. “And why would I need a warning? I could tell, you know.” He rose to hover over her. “The way you were clenching. Fucking proud of it too.”

            “No, I mean,” she huffed, trailing a hand down his chest. “Sometimes guys don’t want to… you know… have that in their mouth. They’d rather finish a girl off with their fingers and not have to… taste it.”

            Now that was one way to kill a mood, but Y/N had already opened her big mouth and the words were out.

            “And why wouldn’t I want to taste it, hmm?” Michael tilted his head at her, as his hands drifted up and down her sides, over her breasts and clavicles, to skim along her neck and finally settle on the pillow beside her head. “Why wouldn’t I want that, when it’s the end goal? You got your tears,” he kissed the corners of her eyes where the salt still lingered. “And I got my wine.”

            Her gaze drifted to the beard, the one she would be feeling for days to come, as she went about her life. The one that was glistening with the remnants of her orgasm even in the dark, and Y/N wondered, what it would be like to sit atop it. To have him pull her down by the waist as she claimed his mouth for her throne. They were such salacious thoughts, for a moment, embarrassment flushed through her, but come on! After such an eating out, Y/N was allowed to fantasize.

            “And by the end of this, if you let me,” Michael mumbled, a golden chain dangling in between them. Quickly she snatched it between her teeth and pulled, making him come closer. “I’d like to do so at least once more.”

            “You are absolutely welcome to it. Morning, noon and night.”

            But at that moment, Y/N had no intentions of allowing him to go for another round, as when he leaned down for a kiss, she lifted a leg over his hip and twisted, throwing Michael off his balance and onto his back, with her now on top.

            “But right now… you had your starter.” She gave him a wicked grin. “And I’ve yet to still have mine.”

            “Fuck me,” was all he managed to groan out as he threaded a hand through his hair, head pressed tight against her silk-covered pillows while Y/N rid him of his boxers.

            His length sprang free, thick and aching. It slapped against his abdomen and her hand curled around it immediately to give him some sort of relief, precum dripping from the tip. Or maybe, she intended to do quite the opposite.

            He’d taken his sweet fucking time riling her up. She could take hers. But it was the way he let out the smallest of “please”, the way his eyes locked onto hers, practically begging to put him out of his misery, that did her in. She’d tease him come morning. For now, she was way too aroused herself to deprive her body of his any longer.

            Y/N gathered a bit of saliva in her mouth and let it drip down onto his length, before dragging her tongue along the vein at the base of it, her lips wrapping around the tip as she made her way up and giving it a gentle, yet firm, suck.

            Michael’s hips jolted, and a hand grasped onto her head. He didn’t push it down or pull her hair in any way, more so it seemed he needed something solid to hold onto as she pulled his length into her mouth, until it hit the back of her throat, making both of them choke.

            “You don’t need to do that,” Michael started, ready to pull Y/N away if it became too much for her, but she stayed there, relaxing her muscles bit by bit, until he was so deep down her throat, her nose brushed against the hairs of his pelvis.

            “Fucking. Hell.” Those were the only two words he managed to express before Y/N trailed her mouth up and started to really suck him off. After that, it was just grunts and groans, his hand tightening and then unclenching in her hair, but never pressing, never pushing her to take more than she wanted to. Michael was completely immersed with her pace, and ready to take whatever she gave him.

            That sort of power could make anyone lightheaded, and when Y/N started to feel him twitch in her mouth, she pulled completely off.

            Instantly, his eyes snapped open, head rising to look at how she climbed his body and settled her knees around his hips, pressing her core down against his length. She was just about ready to let it slide inside when Michael’s hands closed around her waist and stopped her.

            “Condom,” he breathed out, chest rising and falling rapidly, probably the only word he could manage, which was great, because at least one of them still had some thinking skills left.

            “Shit. Fuck. Right, yeah.”

            Leaning over to her nightstand, Y/N half-fell over the bed to open the lowest drawer. In between her panties and vibrator, was a little foil packet which she fished out. She was glad of Michael’s unwavering hold, because the way she was precariously dangling over the edge, could end badly and with a stupidly gotten concussion.

            When she was back to straddling him, opening the packet and rolling the condom on his length, their eyes met.

            Michael rubbed his thumb in a circle on her hip. “We can always stop if you don’t want to go any further.”

            “I’m not a quitter,” Y/N scoffed, yet it didn’t elicit the smile she was aiming for, as he rose into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around her, hers resting onto his shoulders.

            “And this isn’t some race or competition. You can revoke consent anytime you want. And so can I.”

            “I know that,” Y/N nodded, her gaze softening at his words. He could easily create a power imbalance between them. With double the decades of age and experience on her, Michael could be pushing at her limits, trying to twist things into teaching her how to properly please a guy and so on, yet throughout all of it, his focus had been zeroed in on her wants and needs. She shifted a bit in her lap at the thought that she hadn’t checked in with him. “Do you want to stop?”

            “No.” His voice was soft but sure, and then, after a moment of him searching her eyes, the smile she’d hoped for, formed on his face. “But uh, and that is obviously if you are alright with it, I wouldn’t be opposed to adding your… friend… to our activities sometime later.”

            “My friend?” Y/N tilted her head in confusion. “Oh…” A furious heat exploded through her body, and not because of the fact Michael’s cock was slowly rubbing against her clit, the head nudging just right for pleasure to zing through her.

            He’d obviously noticed her vibrator, though the bright purple shade would be hard to miss. “You’re not turned off by it?”

            “Why would I be? You’re a woman who has needs. And if that’s how you take care of them, it’s completely fine. I mean, as long as you’re being hygienic and safe about it. Besides,” Michael breathed against her neck, as his hand slid between their bodies and he grasped himself, lining the tip up with Y/N’s entrance. “Real men see them as tools to use to their advantage, not competition. And well, not to stroke my own ego,” he smirked, “but I don’t think I have any competition here.”

            Y/N wanted to call him out for that statement, but he wasn’t lying. Not with the way his length stretched her out as he pushed inside. The fingering beforehand was incomparable to the feel of Michael sliding inside at a slow and agonizing pace, but one she desperately needed and welcomed.

            He was thick and veiny, all ridges and girth, and so, so perfect for her.

            It took a minute for him to be fully sheathed, and a minute more for Y/N to adjust, her forehead pressed against his, while he rubbed his hands up and down her back while she settled.

            This wasn’t fucking. This was sex. This was intimate, and it was something she hadn’t known she’d wanted from a partner. Usually, it was fast and hard, leaving both her and the guy she was with, panting against the sheets. Satisfied in the sense that both (hopefully) had had orgasms, but something was always missing. Now, Y/N knew it was this – time.

            Time spent exploring one another, time spent learning and teaching, and time spent simply enjoying each other’s bodies.

            “You good?” Michael muttered, shifting ever so slightly and making the tip catch a spot inside of her, Y/N had only reached with her purple “friend”.

            “Yeah,” she nodded. “You?”

            “Yeah.” Michael kissed her. Whether as an affirmation of his words or simply because he could, she didn’t know. But neither did she care. He was the best kisser she’d had the opportunity to enjoy, so she’d take it.

            While they kissed, Michael started moving. At first, it was slow rolls of hips, figuring out what movements made both of their breaths hitch and hearts pound, but it wasn’t long before Michael was on his back, knees bent as Y/N bounced up and down, his thumb pressed against her clit the whole time.

            Her second orgasm of the night was a more controlled approach. She could feel the coil tightening in her abdomen, and when Michael started lifting his hips up to meet hers, Y/N listed forward, balancing herself against his chest.

            “You gonna come?” he breathed against her ear as she pressed her chest against his, Michael’s hands wrapping along the small of her back and holding onto it, so he could fuck up into her pussy. “I can feel you clenching around me. Fuck, you feel good.”

            “Michael,” Y/N moaned his name. Not Dr. Robby or Robby how he’d explained the people in his life called him, but the name he’d asked her to call him. His real name.

            One snap, two, three. That was all it took for heat to explode. The only grounding thing in the world was his scent – some form of cheap cologne, antiseptic and sweat, but she knew she still had a long way before she came down, with how he was drilling up inside of her, chasing his own release.

            It elicited another, albeit smaller orgasm, but the most pleasure she got was when she realized he’d come with her as his palms grabbed onto her ass and pulled her sharply down, her name a sweet grunt on his lips against her ear.

            Yeah. Y/N needed to go out with more doctors. At least they knew where to find the clit and not neglect it once they had.

            He brought a hand up to her face and pulled her by the cheek to meet his mouth, a satisfied sigh leaving her as he did so.          

            “That was the best one yet,” Y/N mumbled against his lips.

            “And the night’s still young.”

            They went three more rounds after that (because she only had three more condoms, and she’d rather use them on one man who knew how to make her come three more times, than three men, who would have trouble getting one out of her).

            Michael was also a man of his word, as he had her vibrator join in on the fun. Y/N had her ass up in the air while he railed her from behind, an arm wrapped around her middle, pressing the toy to her clit, the vibrations sending pleasure unlike any other through her.

            His front was flush to her back, beard having left delicious burns down her spine, as he’d kissed her there, before eating her out once more in between the rounds and pushing his again-hard cock inside.

            That was the final orgasm she could manage, and it seemed Michael knew it. It was the kind that not only made her legs, but her whole body shake, leaving Y/N a trembling mess against the sheets, while he soothed her through the aftershocks.

            “You with me, sweetheart?” he mumbled against her temple as he gathered her in his arms and laid them side by side.

            “Jus’ give me a momen’,” Y/N slurred while Michael brushed a finger from her cheek to her jaw and back. “I think I’m a medical fucking miracle with how you just fucked my brains out, and yet, I can still function. Barely though.”

            Michael’s chuckle reverberated through her body, as after she’d recovered slightly, he gathered her up and moved them to where she instructed the bathroom was, to make sure she peed and didn’t get a UTI. If these had been normal circumstances, she would have never let a guy see her peeing, but quite honestly, Y/N wasn’t sure she’d be able to get back from the toilet seat on her own.

            “You’re more than welcome to have a shower if you want. Of course, only if you’re down with smelling like peaches or passion fruit.” Y/N nudged her chin towards the shower gels lining the floor, one hers, the other Sara’s.

            “I wouldn’t be opposed to, but only if you join me.”

            She hissed, biting her lip. “I don’t have any condoms left. Besides, from what I’ve heard and read, shower sex can be quite precarious. I’m surprised that you as a trauma doctor would risk such a thing.”

            “I’m not asking to have sex,” Michale laughed and helped her stand on her still wobbly legs after she flushed. “I’m asking for you to shower with me. Nothing more, nothing less.”

            And that’s what they actually did. They simply had a shower. Michael washed her back and she washed his, along with his hair. When she did so, the blissful look on his face, the way he allowed himself to melt against her touch, sent a new kind of thrill through her. But it also made her wonder – when was the last time he allowed someone to take care of him?

            By the time they got out from under the water, it was close to four in the morning, so they dried themselves down and went to bed. Y/N’s down duvet was a warm and fluffy cloud around them. Sure, she could have asked him to leave, but why would she, when he seemed so content to be there? Whether anything came from it once they awoke, didn’t matter. If he didn’t want to leave at that moment, Y/N would be the last person to push him to.

            She drifted off almost instantly, warm and safe in Michael’s hold, but when the real morning came and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, body sore and satiated, she was met with a cold spot next to her.

            There was no fucking sign on Michael, and judging by how she’d been tucked in, he’d left a while back.

            Her dress and underwear had been neatly laid out on the chair in her room, heels tucked beneath it. As she ventured into the apartment, there were absolutely no signs of him, except for a cup of tea on the kitchenette. She knew it’d been made for her – it was filled to the brim, but much like the sheets, it was also already cold.

            Sourness settled in her mouth as she poured the liquid down the drain. Not even a single fucking note. It was like they’d never even met.

            Y/N hadn’t expected him to leave his phone number, God forbid, his address, what with how he’d laughed when she’d told him she was twenty-six, and he’d responded that he could be her father with that age gap. She knew she was some kind of spur-of-the-moment mistake he’d made. A weakness in his judgement, but fucking hell, she at least deserved an “it was great meeting you, wish you all the best,” note. Especially because he knew the only reason she’d gone to the bar was because she’d been ghosted by a date.

            And now – now Michael was also a ghost, an unscratchable, unreachable itch under her skin she couldn’t get to.

            That was the real reason Y/N’d felt so bitter for the past two weeks. If he’d been a bad lay, or maybe she’d been the bad party, she would understand the one-and-done-dump, but something about falling asleep while being wrapped up in one another, and then just leaving without so much as a goodbye, was crueler than if he’d left while she was still coming down from her release.

            Now though, as she watched him while they waited at the nurse’s station, she noted how his fingers twitched by his side. She wondered whether he wanted to touch her as badly as she wanted to touch him, but then horrible reality kicked in – there wouldn’t be any sort of touching for a while.

            She was stuck with her leg in a cast, and a scheduled check-up with Dr. Langdon in a week to take it off and remove the stitches, before it would get swaddled again for a month or more.

            Y/N cursed the day she’d met Dr. Michael Robinavitch, for he’d released a monster of carnal urges, she didn’t even really know resided in her. And he was the only one who knew how to properly tame it because even in his scrubs and hoodie, surrounded by the smell of antiseptic and all sorts of bodily fluids she didn’t want to think about, all she wanted to do was grab him by the neck and get him to some supply closet to have her way with him like they were actually in Grey’s Anatomy.

            “Michael, I,” Y/N started but got cut off by Sara waltzing into the emergency department.

            “How’s my pirate doing?” She threw her arms around her shoulders and squeezed. “They assign you a parrot yet?”

             “I don’t have a fucking peg-leg.” Y/N rolled her eyes as she signed a final form. With that, Sara took the wheelchair handles, gave Dana a salute and wheeled her out of the hospital, making Y/N crane her neck back and shout a final thank you to the nurse.

            She was just about to ask Sara to slow down as she needed to talk to Michael, when she felt his presence moving with them, silent, steady and strong, his hands taking hold of the crutches as the automatic doors opened.

            He followed them out and once they got to Sara’s car, helped Y/N settle in the front seat.

            “You good?” He tucked a strand behind her ear.

            “Yeah.” She gave him a genuine smile, and her heart pounded in her chest as his eyes trailed to trace her lips. “I am. Thank you. For taking care of me in there.”

            “Honestly, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the only time I’d like to see you back here is for your check-ups.”

            Y/N nodded, suppressing a smile. “Duly noted. No shower karaoke for me.”

            “I’m serious. You have an appointment with Frank in a week, but other than that, please take care of yourself, alright?”

            “You don’t have to worry about that.” She nudged her head towards Sara who was wrangling the crutches inside the boot of the car. “Mother hen is on the job.”

            “Good.” Michael nodded and before Y/N could properly prepare herself, he’d leaned down, cupping her jaw in his hands and kissed her.

            Her brain short-circuited at that, but when his tongue probed against the seal of her lips, she had to start wondering if she’d actually died when she’d hit her head in the shower. It didn’t take more than that though for her to open up, for her arms to brush against his scrubs and weave into the salt-and-pepper hair.

            By the time Michael pulled back, both their lips were kiss-swollen.

            “Let me take you out on a date.”

            Y/N let out a breathless laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “What happened to the doctor-patient thing?”

            Michael only smirked. “You’ve been discharged. You’re no longer a patient of mine.”

            “Okay, but even so – what would we do? My leg’s in a cast, and I can barely hobble around with the crutches.”

            “I can carry you. I don’t mind.”

            “And throw out your back, old man?”

            “Hey, I’m not that old!” Michael protested, and when he noted the smile on her mouth, he pressed his against it once more.

            “How about this,” Y/N proposed, “when you’re done with your shift, you could come over to my place, and -,”

            “Our place,” Sara butted in, sliding into the driver’s seat. “So, whatever you have in mind – no hanky-panky with me next door.”

            If Y/N rolled her eyes any harder they would get stuck in the back of her head, but she returned her attention to the awaiting attendant. “And we order some take-out. We watch a movie and then just… go to sleep?”

            “It might be very late by the time I’m off.”

            When she raised her hand and cupped his rugged cheek, it took him no time at all to lean into her touch. “I can wait.” She pecked his lips. “I’m in no rush.” She could only hope he understood the double meaning behind what she meant with it.

            Later that night as Y/N sat by the TV, the glow of the screen illuminating her face, she fell asleep with her head against Michael’s chest.

            And when she awoke, her sheets were warm with the remnants of his body, even if he wasn't there anymore.

            She was alone, yes, but atop the pillow rested a note:

            Shift started at 8. Sorry, I can’t be there to wake up with you.             I’ll be home by 9.

            It was almost impossible to wipe the smile off her face for the rest of the day.

Even as the itching under the cast started.

-----

Tags: are open :) if you wish to be tagged in further fics, please drop a comment under the fic or message me or leave me an ask :)

A/N: I have arisen

if you wish to know how this man makes me feel, please listen to Slutty by The Scarlet Opera.

I am FERAL.

P.S. I hope you enjoyed it :) feedback/constructive criticism is always appreciated :)

[batboysanonymous]

Shadowkissed

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel’s shadows have always been an extension of his soul, but none more than the one that refuses to leave your side, even when he’s away. It watches, protects, and lingers in the darkness, whispering promises of the mate who would burn the world to keep you safe.

The first time you noticed it, you had woken in the middle of the night, the dim moonlight casting long, jagged shadows along the walls of your bedroom in the House of Wind. You had reached for Azriel’s side of the bed, only to find it empty and cold. Gone on a mission, as he so often was.

But you weren’t alone.

A whisper of darkness slithered along the edge of the mattress, coiling in the space between you and the emptiness he had left behind. Not touching, not pressing—but there. Watching.

Your breath caught, but not in fear.

Because you knew it. Knew the way it moved, the way it pulsed and trembled like it was breathing. Like it was alive.

Like it belonged to him.

Azriel’s shadow. His favorite one, or so you teased him. And it never left you.

You lifted a hand, letting your fingers brush the air near it. It stilled, almost as if leaning into the phantom touch.

It wasn’t enough.

Azriel was gone. And though he’d promised to return soon, though he had murmured against your lips that he’d be back before you even had the chance to miss him, you had. Gods, you had.

But this shadow…

It stayed. It curled around the bedpost at night, keeping silent vigil over your restless dreams. It hovered at your back in the training ring, tensing whenever Cassian’s strikes got too close, or when another male lingered in your proximity for too long.

It coiled tighter, closer, when you walked through Velaris at night. A soft, slithering promise that if anything, anyone, dared to so much as breathe the wrong way in your direction, they would not live long enough to regret it.

And you had never felt safer.

"You know," Cassian said one evening, perched lazily on the balcony railing, "you might be the first person in history to be shadow-kissed."

You scoffed, tossing a grape at him. "I am not shadow-kissed."

Cassian caught it in his mouth, grinning. "Tell that to the one wrapped around your ankle right now."

You glanced down, and sure enough, a tendril of darkness was coiled there, looping loosely around your skin in a way that felt less like protection and more like possession. Like it needed the contact.

Like it needed you.

Heat licked up your spine.

Cassian smirked, watching the way your expression shifted, how your fingers clenched slightly in the fabric of your dress. He exhaled dramatically, shaking his head. "Gods, he’s so far gone for you, it’s painful to watch."

Your stomach flipped. "He doesn’t even know."

Cassian snorted. "Doesn’t know? You think Azriel doesn’t notice where his shadows go? Pa-lease. That male probably feels every damn movement it makes."

You opened your mouth, ready to argue, but a familiar shift in the wind had your pulse stuttering.

The scent of cedar and cold night air curled around you before you even saw him.

Azriel landed with a predator’s grace, his wings rustling softly as they folded behind him. His gaze, sharp as a blade, golden as molten amber, went straight to you. Then to the shadow coiled at your feet.

Something flickered in his expression.

A quiet storm.

Cassian, ever the instigator, let out a low whistle. "Told you," he muttered, before clapping Azriel on the back and striding inside, leaving the two of you alone beneath the stars.

Silence stretched. Taut. Heavy.

Azriel was still watching. Unmoving.

And then, voice like rough velvet, he murmured, “It won’t leave you alone.”

It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed. "I don’t mind."

His jaw tightened. "It should listen better."

A tremor rolled through the shadow, as if in protest. You glanced at it, then back at him, searching his face for the truth beneath his words. "You told it to stay, didn’t you?"

Azriel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He said nothing.

Didn’t need to.

The truth was in the way his hands flexed at his sides, like he was restraining himself. It was in the way his wings tensed, the way his breathing was just a little too controlled.

You took a step forward. His shadow curled tighter around your ankle.

"You knew it was with me," you murmured, "this whole time."

A slow, shallow exhale. "Yes."

Your heart pounded.

"You told it to protect me."

"Yes."

Another step. "Why?"

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

His wings flared just slightly, his control slipping. His shadows twined around his fingers like they, too, were struggling to hold him back.

"You know why," he rasped.

Say it.

The words hung between you, unsaid.

Azriel stared at you like he was already bracing for impact. Like he was preparing for rejection, for the inevitable unraveling of whatever fragile thing had built itself between you.

You reached for him. He stiffened, but didn’t pull away.

Foolish, foolish male.

Your fingers traced the ridges of his scarred knuckles, the calloused tips of fingers that had done unspeakable things. And yet—he trembled beneath your touch like he had never been touched before.

Like you were something sacred.

You lifted his hand. Pressed it to your chest, just above your racing heart. "Say it."

His throat worked around the words. His shadows curled around you like they could say it for him.

But then, barely a whisper, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it—

"You’re mine."

Your breath hitched.

A shuddering exhale left him, his control finally, blessedly breaking. His other hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His thumb brushed over your cheek, soft. Reverent.

"I will always protect you."

Your lips parted, your hands sliding up the hard planes of his chest, over the rapid thrumming of his own heart.

"You already do," you whispered.

He made a sound, half relief, half something darker, and then his mouth was on yours.

And gods.

It was devastating.

Azriel kissed like a male who had spent centuries wanting and never having. He kissed like he was dying and you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth.

His hands mapped the length of your spine, pulling you against him, until there was nothing—nothing—but him. His warmth, his shadows, the soft, quiet tremor of his breath as he whispered your name like a prayer against your lips.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and he let out a sound that was almost a growl.

"Az," you murmured, tilting your head back, baring your throat to him. An offering.

His lips traced the sensitive skin there, his breath warm, unsteady. "You’re mine," he said again, this time with certainty, with possession. "And I'm yours."

And gods help anyone who ever dared to threaten what was his.

Because Azriel’s shadows had always been an extension of himself. But none more than the one that had never left you. The one that had sworn, just as he had, to keep you safe.

Forever.

Taglist: @willowpains, @masbt1218, @antonia002, @bookishcait, @fuckingsimp4azriel, @fanficscuziranout, @buttermilktea11, @lilah-asteria, @lreadsstuff,  @flintthegoodboyo, @saltedcoffeescotch,  @okaytrashpanda, @mariaxliliana, @kksbookstuff, @marina468, @tele86, @raccoonworld

Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

[m1sa22aman3]

When there isn’t 20 new fics for me to read after refreshing the tag (I just finished reading everything and have absolutely no patience)

[sparkleshakes]

I’M TIRED OF SMUT, I WANT TOOTH ACHING FLUFF AND HEART SHATTERING ANGST.

[multifandom-carnage]

Truer words have never been spoken.

you read stuff on wattpad for shit and giggles where most of the fics there are reader-inserted ones written in 1st person pov where y/n is a barely legal white girl with blonde hair and blue “orbs” who’s so smol and fragile that she’s dependent entirely on this morally questionable guy who’s killing people for a living but for some reason happens to have a soft spot for her.

you read real actual literature on archive of our own where it’s two middle aged men, who are each other’s sworn enemies, with tragic past, trauma and strong homoerotic tension. and while they’ve made each other bleed, killed each other’s friends and loved ones out of jealousy / possessiveness, lied and betrayed and manipulated, the rawness, depth, complexity and slow burn will keep you up all night, haunt you during your day and possibly change your life forever. and also the sex isn’t just smut. the sex is poetry that puts Shakespeare to shame

[bebx]

“We hope this email finds you well” babe, the only emails I hope find me well are the ones from Archive of Our Own

[sangunary]

YANDERE BATFAM x NEGLECTED READER

-Hush now crybaby.

SYPNOSIS: When your family only cherish you after your death.

Warning: Child neglect, bullying,violence, gore, death.

\\ Part 1 // \\ Part 2 //

You were the blood daughter but not the same as how Damian was, you were from a simple one night stand your father had... A mistake.

Ever since your mother left you behind with your suppose Father your life took an unpleasant turn.

Your life with your father was supposed to be colourful and exciting afterall you've been watching the other kids playing with their Fathers in the park. You remembered how envious you were back than, how everybody have a sibling to talk about, but for you? It wasn't that much of a talk on your end and you felt boring.

It broke your little heart when you realised that... Family really suck.

If it wasn't true than you wouldn't be standing alone on the stage while everyone else have their father's by their side.

It was supposed to be a father daughter day.

You inform him yourself even picking out a new dress for the special occasion with Alfred but your Father wasn't even near sight.

You were holding back your tears, gripping onto the end of your new dress looking at the ground.

Each time your heart pounds against your ribcage you could feel the agonizing pain that sent shock throughout your whole body.

The tears in your eyes were filling, dangerously close to bursting out. Yet you tried your best to not spill even a drop of tear.

Everybody called you a crybaby, but you weren't a crybaby just- it's hard to understand why you even cry ay times.

It wasn't your fault your poor heart couldn't handle their harsh word... It's not your fault your heart is fragile, it just needed some love and maybe a tint of understanding to fix it.

"Im sorry kid, I can't bring you to the park on Tuesday, me and little wing made an arrangement that we would go to the museum" Dick words ring inside your ears.

"But you said- you promised me that you'd bring me to the park... last sunday, I ask first" You replied, your hand's wrap around the little bear that you were going to give to your older brother... To thank him for bringing you to the park.

You couldn't help but feel a terrific ache inside your heart.

It wasn't fair, Damian asked today and you already asked last Sunday! And Dick and Damian already went to the museum together last monday...

"Im sorry but... Damian you know how he is, he's just cold and opportunities like this never come often, you have to understand. You're a big girl" Dick reminded you.

You couldn't help but let out a little huff. Damian that Damian this when was it ever about you. Even on your birthday Dick always brought present for him!

You remembered how Dick gave you a silly bunny doll abit chewed on, said it was his dog old/favourite doll... While Damain received a literal book signed by the very author on your birthday!

"You... promised first!" You spit back.

You were on the verge of crying spilling it all out. You grip onto your doll as you looked at the ground a drop of tear fall from your eyes and land on the marble floor.

And that's when you heard the disappointed sigh from your older brother.

The floor was clean enough to the point you could see your own pathetic face... Face red and eyes watery... You look ugly.

"Kid look... See this is why I choose Damian, you're too... spoiled, you can't just cry to get what you want. If you don't change this behaviour I won't go out with you"

"I-"

"No 'I', you're extremely spoiled and Damian isn't. This is why I don't want to go out with you, Damian is somewhat more shameful than you"

You swallowed your Saliva, staring into the marble. Tears began to rain as you couldn't stop them from spilling, you wipe your tears with your hands which wasn't helping.

You sniff and hiccup not daring to even look at Dick.

It was very clear who the favourite was from the beginning. Even if you were to get stab Damian would be the first they check on for any scar or scrab.

Every night you would weep inside your room or bathroom, grabbing onto anything and wrapping it around you to envision the warmth of comfort.

"Jason?" you called out. You only called out because you were on the verge of crying and you could smell the cigarette and you knew only Jason smoke.

"Jay?" you called out again, walking towards the balcony, you're in desperate need of comfort now. It was your birthday yet nobody remembered even Alfred forgot it.

It was terrible, the only thing you asked for was a little family dinner together having fun not everyone forgetting your own existence.

"Ja-"

"I heard you the first time"

Your hand's were twiddling with eachother, showing a clear sing you were somewhat anxious.

"Could you hug me? Please"

You cried out looking up at the older male.

You could never forget to say please cause last time it didn't end up well for you. They called you mannerless and even insulted your mother! You couldn't quite understand what Damian was speaking but he called a shame saying you ruin the perfect blood! to your face! Infront of everybody... Just because you forgot to say something!

"You're too old for one"

"I don't mind, just once please... it's my-"

"not everything have to be about you, princess"

Your smile flattered into a frown, when Jason first started calling you princess you were excited and extremely happy thinking he saw you as an amazing princess... Turns out that he only see you as a spoiled little girl... You heard it yourself.

"Just- it's my birthday and I thought a hug would be a very nice gift"

You spoke bravely again, maybe if you were persistent he might give up and hug you?

"...I don't want to hug you or acknowledge you, I don't want to hurt your little feelings but, do not indulged yourself with me. Is that clear?"

"Yeah... sorry"

Without a word you left the room, walking towards yours... Jason was compared to other's very good to you: he usually ignored your presence which was alright.

Before your reached your room you had to walk pass tim's and he was home but locked up again doing whatever he wished.

You could hear him mutter something from outside and you had a very nice idea.

After abit you knock on his door, your hand's wrap around a cup of coffee which you made yourself!

You knocked again. Nothing happened.

You knock thrice... Not even a sound.

Just than you decided to invite yourself in, afterall everyone in the family can definitely do that. You've never seen them knock to enter Tim's room.

"Tim?" you called out poking inside you check if he was there. Cause last time when you enter his room he went out the window, you found it funny.

The room was dark and the only source of light being the computer in which he was so absorb into.

Without thinking you went inside not forgetting to close the door.

"I made you coffee!" you announced to him.

"Thanks"

"...What are you doing" you asked hoping to atleast have a little conversation with him...

"Adult stuff" Tim was very vague.

"Can I se-"

"Im busy, put the coffee on the table and leave"

"Alright..."

You did as he asked and went towards the door and before you could even leave you watch as Tim throw the whole mug into the bin.

He definitely knew you were still in the room afterall he was smart he should know that. But, you didn't even speak up just suck it up and leave the room.

And as soon as you close the door, from the coner of your eyes you saw Damian. Looking at you directly.

Damian was bold and said lot's of bad stuff to you, as a result you spent half your day's avoiding him and as usual you tried avoiding him but... he stopped you.

"Where have you been?" His tone was surprisingly calm.

"Urm... I- was ugh..." You didn't know what to say? Told him that you were avoiding him and getting grounded or just yourself more of a victim than ever.

"You can't speak now?"

"I... sorry"

"Happy Birthday"

You couldn't even contain your shock face. Damian remembered your birthday? That's odd but very nice.

"Thank you!"

You couldn't help it, Damian of all people remembered your very existence... You felt important and that's all you need.

"There's a gift for you... Inside your room."

"Thanks! Im so... I thank you so much! I'll go check it!"

Before he could speak you ran towards your room all your tears gone now and you were filled with joy and excitement.

The moment you open the door to your room your heart dropped.

"..."

Your room was in ruined... Your heart dropped as you walk inside, your bed was wrecked your clothes were gone... most importantly the only picture of your mother was gone.

"What did you do?!"

You turned back, Damian was leaning against the door frame with that cocky grin on his face.

"Im helping you grow out your crybaby phase."

"What...?"

"See, crying again. Is that your only talent to cry until you get attention? Pathetic"

Without thinking you launched at him, it turn into a brutal fight but with Damian skill you were no match. He wasn't not going to pity you and you knew.

It took atleast two family members to seperate you two and stop the fight.

Jason was holding you by the hair but he wasn't pulling on it just silently threating you.

Everybody else were checking on Damian completely ignoring the fact that Damian punch you so hard your nose was bleeding.

And ever since that day everybody in the family saw you as the troublesome kid and whenever anything bad happened it was always your fault.

Not to mention how they even take a step further in ignoring you.

Every family movie night you would sit alone while everyone else sit in this big couch cuddling and giggling together. Even during Tag they completely forgot about you... Saying you were too old to play tag with them which made no sense...

Alfred was suddenly busy whenever you needed him and sometimes you had to walk home during a cyclone/rain because Alfred was busy.

Bruce become more strick and because of that your friends at school didn't even want to talk to you. Saying that as much as they wanted to be friends it to them it seems as you were ghosting them. You tried explaining even crying and begging humiliating yourself further... They never even dare to looked at you.

Everyday kept getting worse and you didn't even know what you did wrong.

You finally snapped out your thoughts and looked around... The same stage and same faces just- Bruce was still not present.

Salty tears stream down your face as you couldn't hold it in anymore. Everybody just stared at you and before your teacher could even ask you aside you ran.

You didn't know where or what your destiny was, your leg just moved on their own.

And before you knew it something hard hit you and your light were cut short.

From that day you found out you died, unfortunately you didn't went straight to haven and instead forced to stay on Earth.

You watched as your family finally acknowledged you. Always visiting your grave and even crying when nobody were around.

You felt happy, they finnally loved you!

But all it took was your life for them to realise their fault.

This Suck So MUCH.

[the-overanalyst]

it's always so fascinating and heartbreaking when a character in a story is simultaneously idolized and abused. a chosen prophet destined for martyrdom. a child prodigy forced to grow up too fast. a powerful warrior raised as nothing but a weapon. there's just something so uniquely messed up about singing someone's praises whilst destroying them.

[rhodi-rwn]

So glad that my breakbee angst comic from two years ago is still emotionally torturing people to this day

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Meant To Be (2)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> The day you disappeared from the world.

Disclaimer: This is part two/prequel to Meant To Be. Angst, Fluff, Bucky and Reader having feelings for each other, platonic!Howard Stark, mentions of death, swearing, mourning. Not Proof Read.

You pounded your fist on the front door only to be greeted by Mr Jarvis. 

“Ms Y/l/n.”

“Sorry, Mr Jarvis. I didn’t think you’d be awake yet. Is he here?”

“Still in bed, Ms.”

Jarvis just opened the door wider for you to step inside. “I was just about to take him his morning breakfast.”

“I’m afraid it will have to be on the go this morning, Mr Jarvis.”

“Yes, Ms.”

As you had done for as long as you could remember since meeting Howard Stark, you headed towards his bedroom in order to pull him from his bed. 

“Alright, Stark. Get up.”

Howard just groaned from under the covers. It sounded like he said “Five more minutes,”. 

“Nope. Not this morning. The Colonel has been on my ass all week about you and I’ll be damned,” you pulled the heavy covers from his body. “If I let my ass get reprimanded because of your ass. So, get up.”

Howard groaned again. 

“Mr Jarvis!” You called out behind you. “You wouldn’t happen to have an ice cold pitcher of water by any chance.”

“Why, yes. In fact, I’m just readying Mr Stark one now.”

That got Howard up out of bed. He practically sprang to the other side. “No. You’re not doing that again.”

“Get up when I tell you and I’ll never do it again.”

“I’m up. Are you happy now, sweet cheeks?”

You deadpanned him before throwing the clean washcloth that lay on his bedside table. Howard was known for washing his face first thing before he got out of bed. According to him, it kept him looking “young and attractive,”. 

“Get cleaned up. I’ll be outside.”

Giving Howard a ride into work, you were both greeted with almost all the SSR members hustling around the place. 

“Is something going on today that I’m not aware of?”

“It’s testing day,” Howard told you as he lay his briefcase over the chair in front of him. 

Meanwhile, you were hanging your coat up on the coat rack, taking the space in around you as Howard walked away. But you couldn’t stand comprehending the super soldier in the corner, blushing as Peggy accidentally touched his hand, or the boys everyone knew had lied on their enlistment form but still allowed it anyway, or the ego-centric scientist washing a hand over one of the girl’s asses, for too long. 

Within minutes of you entering the building, Bucky had found you. 

“How long do you think it’ll take today?”

You jumped a little, holding onto your coat on the rack a little tighter. “Jesus- Do you always have to sneak up on me?”

“It’s not my fault you don’t hear me.”

“That’s because you walk as if you’ve got a secret to hide.” Letting go of your coat, you picked your files up from the main desk, Bucky hot on your heels. 

“Not true. Well, maybe a little. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Well, looking at it now…” You and Bucky paused side by side. 

You found that, often when standing together, there was barely an inch of room between you and Bucky. Which, although you were managing to handle, was doing no good for the crush you realised you had slowly developed over the last couple of months. 

He’d just sat there across the desk, looking tired and all kinds of handsome. You’d seen him sitting like that a hundred times or more, but for some reason that night was when your stomach decided to erupt with butterflies. 

But, you were handling it. 

You thought you already had it handled until three days ago when Peggy cornered you in the ladies bathroom. Josie, one of the secretaries, had sauntered her way over looking all perfect and pretty. She’d touched his arm, leaning in close to him. He’s smiled at her and, despite seeing him smile at plenty of girls like that, even recently. For the first time, you’d been jealous. 

It was an ugly emotion and you didn’t like yourself very much for feeling it. Bucky- James. He was your friend. One of your best friends. Someone you could talk to about anything. There wasn’t a single part of you willing to risk that. 

“I’d say we’re a few months away from something actually happening.”

Bucky scoffed. “He’ll ask her out. He just needs a little coaching, that's all.”

“Coaching?” You laughed. “From who? You?”

Bucky seemed a little offended. “I’ve had plenty of successful dates.”

You tried to not let that sting as much as it did. 

“He just needs some confidence.”

You chuckled. “Okay, Romeo. But I know I’m right. And here.”

You pushed a file into his chest. 

“What’s this?” 

You tried to ignore the feeling that erupted inside of you when his hand brushed yours. 

“Your paperwork. I saw you sneak it into my pile last night.”

You continued on walking, Bucky walking a little further behind you.

“You know, if I knew the army contained this much paperwork, I would have had second thoughts.”

You just threw a smile over your shoulder to him, watching as he sat at his desk. 

Steve’s desk was joined onto his, meanwhile, directly diagonal to Bucky was your desk. In front of you was Peggy’s desk. So, although Peggy and Steve would have to turn a little to look at each other, you and Bucky had a direct eyeline to one another. 

Something else that didn’t help the crush you were harbouring on him. 

There was just something…handsome about the way he looked when he was concentrating. In his own little world, flipping and writing between pages. And for a moment, you’d wonder if that is what it would have been like if you’d gone to school together. 

You’d been with him to plenty of museums and tech conventions. You’d seen the true side of Bucky. One that was rarely seen. His nerdy wonder and enjoyment. 

It was barely two hours before Bucky stood and walked over to your desk. He had tried thirty minutes ago but the Colonel had walked by his desk, stopping in front of him since he’d caught him staring at you across the room. 

The Colonel had just hummed, however, before muttering something to himself. 

“Just as bad as the others.”

Bucky had wondered what the Colonel meant, until he followed his next eyeline over to the map desk where Steve was standing with Peggy. 

Then he moved on. 

Bucky knocked on your desk twice to get your attention. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I was wondering if you’d want to come with me on Saturday.”

“Aren’t we working on Saturday?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. We’re both off. There’s a new exhibit being put on at the museum and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

Bucky had attended plenty of museum and tech conventions alone. But his favourite ones were the ones where you’d attend with him. He got to be closer to you. He’d hear you talk about whatever thing you’d been waiting to talk to him about. He got to hear your laugh and by the end of the night, he got to hold your hand. 

You smiled. “You need me to run the ladies off again?”

Bucky chuckled. “Maybe. Just so long as you stay.”

You looked up at him. This man. 

“Okay.”

Bucky smiled. “Pick you up at four?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

That was when a small alarm sounded and Bucky responded to it. 

“I better go,” he said before running off. But then he came back. “Make sure Peggy doesn’t touch my desk.”

You nodded. “I promise.”

Bucky smiled. “See you soon, doll.”

You smiled, watching him jog down the hall and towards the control room. Meanwhile, Howard appeared around the corner. 

“Y/n?”

You knew that look on his face. He needed your help.

“What have you done?”

Standing up, you left your things at your desk and followed him through the building and towards the basement. 

“I haven’t done anything. Well, not yet.”

You sighed. “Show me.”

Entering the room, it was just yourself, Howard and two of his researchers. “The chemical equation is wrong.”

“Don’t you know how to fix it?”

“It doesn’t need to be fixed.”

You looked at him as you examined his machinery. “I understand you’re incredibly smart, Howard. But you’re not making any sense.”

Howard sighed. “The last time I used it, it worked. My math is never wrong.”

“Then change it.”

“I can’t. Any higher and it won’t just melt the machinery, it’ll melt human skin.”

You grimaced at the thought. “You know, if you boys let women do more of the talking, there is a higher chance that war wouldn’t be taking place.”

“Well, right now there’s a war going on in here. Can you…can you help?”

You took a look at his blackboard. 

“It’s not your math.”

“I know that.”

You shrugged. “Have you tested a model of this size before?”

“That’s what today is for.”

“Uh, Mr Stark?” One of the researchers popped their heads up. “I think I might have found our problem.”

You watched as Howard walked over towards the control panel that had been recently forced open. 

“Well- what is that? Oh, jesus. Is that a bolt? What’s it doing-”

As Howard pulled it out, everyone heard a big clunk!

“Is the building still standing?” You asked after a few minutes of silence. 

Howard looked around at the walls and along the floor. Nothing had cracked the concrete. As far as he was aware; the building was still standing. 

“Yep. Must be one of the inner mechanisms. Hand me that crowbar?”

You spun around until you saw the workstation and picked up the rusting metal crowbar. 

“Military issue. Not the prettiest thing in the world, but she gets the job done.” Howard explained as he began to yank one of the side panels off. 

“We figure, if we can make this thing industrial size, we’ll be able to fit it on top of a tank. That way, if it fits on one, it can melt one.” Howard continued to talk as he lay on the floor and practically got inside of the machine itself. 

You crouched down on the floor, peering inside. There had to be at least thirty main electrical wires, feeding some kind of blue and green substance into tubes. 

“You become more peculiar the longer I know you, Howard.”

From his space on the floor, he looked at you and smiled. “Thanks. Pass me that thing, will you, toots?”

Rolling your eyes, you moved behind you and reached for the socket wrench that had been laying on the floor. You handed it to him before standing up and looking around the rest of the machine. 

“Do I even wanna know when you came up with this idea?”

“Uhh.”

Howard was stalling. Usually when he stalled it was because he had been in another tryst with a woman who was most definitely off limits. 

“Alright,” you chuckled. 

Howard sighed. “You know what, you’re always on at me about my…friends.”

“That’s what you’re calling them now? Not production assistants?”

“What about you and Bucky, huh? I see the way you two look at each other. You’re really gonna tell me nothing is going on there.”

“We’re just friends, Howard.”

“Friends, my ass.” Howard lifted himself from the ground to peek out of his hiding place to look at you. You were standing with one heel across the other, a hand on your hip, staring down at him like you were his mother scolding him for doing something wrong in school…again. 

“You and I are friends. No matter how many times I try to make it something else.” He muttered that last part to himself but you heard it anyway and chuckled. 

Howard was a flirt. A shameless flirt. It just so happened that, before Peggy, you were one of the first to let the flirting comments fall. 

Howard disappeared back under the machine for a moment. 

“You and Bucky, however, are not.”

“Howard-”

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“Going to a museum.”

“With?” Howard pressed. 

“Bucky.” 

Finally, Howard stood from the ground and looked at you across the console desk. 

“It’s not what you think.”

Howard just smiled. “You and Barnes are going on, yet another, date. You like him. I know, because every time you look at him, you get the same goofy look in your eyes that Mr Jarvis does when he looks at his wife.”

You tried to hide your embarrassment, but it only seemed to come out as annoyance against Howard. 

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do. And, I also know,” Howard was moving around the console towards you. “That Bucky has deep feelings for you.” 

Howard was standing in front of you. He didn’t have to raise his voice anymore. 

“He likes you, Y/n. And we’re at war. I don’t like thinking like that, but there’s no escaping the truth. We’re at war and a lot more people are gonna be losing their loved ones. Maybe it’s about time you took a chance with yours.”

You just stared at Howard. He had a point. 

“He’d be lucky to have you.”

You took a breath before turning away. “I thought we were down here to start testing, not discuss my…that.”

Howard smiled. “You know I’m right,” he practically sang as he walked away, wielding his wrench like a conductor. 

Ten minutes later, everything was seemingly ready. 

As one of the other researchers left to go and get the Colonel, Howard started the controls up so everything would be ready by the time people arrived. 

Only, as Howard started flicking buttons, you stood up. 

“Howard.”

Something was beginning to shake in the room. 

“Is it meant to be doing that?”

“No…”

Howard moved around the panels to take a look at the dials. Everything seemed normal. 

Then it started to shake even more. 

It was almost like your washing machine had been set onto a fast spin, but this time you were inside of the rattling machine. 

“Howard!”

“I’m on it.”

“What can I do?”

Howard didn’t answer you, but it didn’t matter. Because within seconds, the arm of the machine started going haywire and as Howard yelled at everyone to get down, you felt the wind get knocked out of you. 

As Howard finally shut down the machine from the inside, tearing at one of the wires, the building stopped shaking and the Colonel, along with Peggy, ran inside. 

“Stark! What the hell is going on?!” The Colonel yelled. 

“I wish I could tell you.” Howard stood, his legs still shaking from the movement in the floor. “Something must have come loose.”

“What the hell is that?” 

Peggy pointed and everyone looked at what it was. A smattering of blue dust and what could only be described as a bullet exit wound, cracking into the concrete wall. 

More people joined, running inside asking questions but fell silent when they saw the damage. 

Cracks along the walls, machinery and different liquids on the floor, and a large crack in place of where you had been standing. 

“Y/n? Where’s Y/n?”

“Stark! Where is my Agent?!”

“I…I don’t…” Howard was in shock. 

Peggy sprang into action. Maybe you hadn’t been hit. Maybe you’d taken cover or not been in the room at all. People started following her orders to find you. 

“Stark, where is my agent?” The Colonel asked as he approached him. “Now, she better not be dead or else I’ll have your neck for this.”

Howard shook his head. “You need a body to be dead.”

They both knew that to be true, but considering the fight they were having with Red Skull and a Super Soldier, it was quite plausible to have a death without a body. 

Meanwhile, down one of the hallways, Peggy ran into both Bucky and Steve. 

“Hey, what the hell was that shaking-”

“Have you seen Y/n?”

“I thought she was with Howard.”

Peggy shook her head. “Something went wrong.”

“What went wrong?”

“We, uh, we don’t know yet. But I just…”

As Steve took Peggy by the shoulder, Bucky made a run for it down to Howard’s lab. He saw the Colonel sat with Howard, but his commander quickly stood up and walked over to him. 

“Barnes-”

“Where is she? What happened to her?”

“We’re still trying to figure that one out.”

In the days that followed, Bucky didn’t know his head from his feet. He’d just spoken to you that morning. You were meant to be meeting him for dinner that evening. He was meant to be taking you out that Saturday. 

Nobody could bring themselves to clear away your desk. It was just how you’d left it. Open files, half finished paperwork, scrap pieces of paper with ideas and things written down. 

But when the Colonel got word someone was coming in to replace you, he went to one person. 

“Son?”

It was after hours and Bucky was yet to leave his desk. Mostly, his eyes had been focused on your desk, where you should have been sitting, scolding him for staying too late because it meant you had to stay late. Then he’d tell you, you didn’t have to stay, to which you tell him you wouldn’t let him work alone. 

Bucky looked up and saw the empty box in his arms. 

“Someone needs to clean out her desk and I think it should be you. They’ve got a replacement coming tomorrow.”

Bucky swallowed down his fear; accepting you were gone for good. And he took the box. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss, son.” The Colonel held his shoulder as he stood up. “I know she meant a lot to you. You meant a lot to her, too.”

The Colonel had seen the red, tearful eyes of Bucky for the last few days. The dejected look each time he looked up and found your desk empty, the bow of his head as he’d hide his face every time someone said your name. 

It had taken both the Colonel and Steve to pull him from Howard’s throat. 

And now he was left to clear out your desk. 

And for a while, he managed to keep his emotions in check. Sweeping away your files, adding them to his pile to finish for you. Clipping all your notes together, cleaning away the ink stains of your fingerprints by the edge of your desk. 

Then taking the pictures from your desk, seeing your smiling face, placing them inside the box. 

Then he found a key. 

Bucky had pulled out your chair and sat down before opening up the locked drawer of your desk. That’s when all control over his emotions left him. 

Inside, along with some more of your personal belongings, was a notepad. Each date had been crossed off, as had the things listed under it. Except for the one that you had started at the beginning of the week. 

It was all the things you wanted to talk to him about; at dinner, walking home, and on Saturday. You made a list so you wouldn’t forget or accidently leave anything out. 

And for a second, he smiled. 

Then he cried. 

You’d never get to talk to him about these things. He’d never hear your voice again. He’d never see you smile or roll your eyes or scoff or hear you yell at him. He’d never hear you laugh again.

It was hours before he left your desk and went home, keeping your box of things under his bed in case you came back. Howard was adamant that you would. The blast wasn’t strong enough to kill, but it was strong enough to melt. But, he hadn’t made it to melt human skin. 

So you shouldn’t have died. 

You couldn’t be dead. 

You had to be alive…somehow. 

And that was the thought, for as much as he wanted to kill Howard, Bucky kept with him. 

That you were still out there, somewhere, and that you’d come home. 

But the longer time went on, the harder that idea was to accept. 

People started to mourn in their own ways. Mr Jarvis and his wife set out your favourite flowers on their dinner table on your birthday. The same flowers Howard started growing in his garden a week after you had disappeared. The Colonel had sent Peggy to make sure the gravestone issued for you was just right. Nothing too fancy; after all, there was still hope you’d come back. Steve, along with the other Howling Commandos, raised a toast in your honour. 

But when the day came that Bucky fell from the train…

Only one thing made him smile. And that was that he’d get to see you again. 

[nineteenninety-six]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Devastation

Pairing: Michael Robinavitch x Daughter!Reader

AN: Be cautious of ooc-ness and whatever medical inaccuraces are in there.

WC: 5K

TW: Death, mass shooting, blood, gun violence, ep 12/13, etc

Synopsis: The tragedgy at Pittfest brings brings a victim that devastates Dr Robby

"Hey, look who's in the house!" 

You grin as Langdon jumps up from his seat, greeting you with a hug before moving to dap up and hug Jake who trailed in behind you, which catches Dana's attention as she quickly pulls away from what she was doing to greet the both of you.

It had been a while since you had visited the hospital, more focused on studying to get into your top choice of school but today was Pittfest and you were here to collect the tickets after your father dropped out at the last minute, picking up today's shift.

The hug she pulls you into is the usual warm, comforting one she normally provides and you melt into it slightly before pulling away as she greets Jake the same way.

"Baby Robby and Jake the Snake! It's eleven a.m, aren't you supposed to be in school?" Dana exclaims.

"Our moms let us ditch for Pittfest." Jake explains.

"How are your mamas?"

"Oh, she's restoring some house in Squirrel Hill, so, you know, she's pretty busy."

"My mom's good too, she's out of town currently—work trip so I've been staying around dad's"

Langdon pipes up, "That's cool. You, uh... you looking for Robby?"

"Yeah, he's got our festival passes." Jake explains.

"Oh, you going together?" Langdon asks

"We were supposed to, but, you know, I decided to go with a friend."

You laugh at Jake burying the lede, "'Friend'...sure"

"What's her name?" 

"...Leah."

"Okay. Okay."

"Okay, okay. Don't hold out on us. We need details. Where'd you meet? How long have you been together?"

Langdon and Dana tease Jake.

"We met at junior lifeguards this summer. And we've been dating for two months. Yeah, she's pretty great."

"That's sweet. I'm happy for you, kiddo. I'm gonna go find Robby, let him know you're here." Dana smiles at Jake before taking off but you are quick to join her, following as she searched for your father.

Your parents divorced when you were two years old. Your parents loved each other, they really did but your father carried, not just his, but all of his colleagues troubles heavily within himself and didn't let them go. He was the listening ear and the comforting shoulder of his fellow doctors, nurses and even patients and that is who he was, a kind caring man who, more often than not, put others before himself and that was what caused the downfall of the relationship. Your father was a great man who shouldered too much and rarely opened up. 

You were born in the midst of his residency and though your parents were separated by the time he completed it, your mother also moved when he went to Pittsburgh, not wanting to separate you from your father. Years after that, he met and dated Janie and took her son Jake under his wing, forming a close bond with his not quite stepson.

You became easy friends with Jake as soon as you met him. You were close in age but Robby had feared you would be jealous as he tried to split what little free time he had between you, and fostering a relationship with Janie and Jake. He already had guilt about pulling you and your mother away from the friends and family you had in New Orleans, bringing you all the way to Pittsburgh and now he had a new relationship. Robby truly feared what he would have done if you hadn't got along but as soon as the two of you met, you had gotten along like a house on fire. Nowadays, you and Jake considered each other siblings, it didn't matter that you weren't even blood related as far as you were concerned, the two of you were brother and sister.

Which led you to this very moment, visiting the hospital to pick up the Pittfest tickets after your father dropped out last minute, leaving Jake to invite his new girlfriend, which you had no problem with but you were looking forward to spending time as a family.

"I'm surprised to see you here honestly, your father says your head is constantly stuck in your books these days" Dana interrogated you as you walked through the ED, looking for your father.

"It is. Which is why he tried so hard to convince me to come with him and Jake today, so you can imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning to see a text from dad, telling me he won't be able to come since he covered the shift last minute." You complain.

Dana's voice softens," You know what day it is today."

You nod, your tone softening, "I know. It's part of the reason why I agreed to go, to ya'know keep him away from the hospital and keep him distracted but... you know now dad is. This place is his second home and basically another child."

Dana pats your arm comfortingly just as you spy your father talking to Dr Collins. Dana calls his name, his head whipping towards the both of you as you walk up to them, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

"Look who came wandering in!" Dana gestures towards you.

"Hey kid!" Your father pulls you into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead, squeezing you once before pulling back. "How are ya?"

You roll your eyes fondly, "I'm doing fine dad."

Your eyes flicker towards the other doctor and greet her with a kind smile, "Hi Dr Collins"

Heather Collins doesn't have an opportunity to respond as Robby asks a question about a patient of his. Then his attention is caught by something else and suddenly he's walking away to tackle a problem as you yell to him that you'II be at the nurses station before he disappears. You wave goodbye at the two women before returning back to the nurses station where your brother waits.

When you return you find Langdon spinning in a chair, trying to match Jake's record from a few years ago.

"43, 44, 45...Whoa! 46, 47." Jake laughs as he counts

"Ugh!"

"You're not gonna beat my record!"

 "Ohh. How the hell did you stay on for 80?" Langdon looks like he's on the urge of throwing up.

"It helps if you don't have much going on up there" You tease as you walk by, tapping Jake's head."

Jake huffs and pushes you away before turning back to Langdon, "I'm 17, and I'm more fit than you." 

Everybody's attention gets caught by a patient being rolled past them, the topic of conversation changing.

"That kid looks our age." Jake murmurs

Langdon nods, "Yeah, he is."

"What happened to him?"

 "Stressed-out 18-year-old took some pills off the internet to help him sleep. They were laced with fentanyl."

 "Is he gonna make it?" You quietly ask.

 "Mm." Langdon shakes his head no before he turns to you, "Your dad is always talking about how hard you're studying to get into college and I'm sure he's told you a million times but don't go buying drugs off the internet."

You rapidly nod, "I know, I know."

You nibbled on the snack Jake had gotten for you from the waiting room vending machines as you waited for your father to come back from the most recent crisis in the ED that demanded his presence. It didn't bother you, in fact you loved to watch the ED operate in all of its wild, unpredictable chaos, it only solidified your desire to become a doctor. 

"Glad you stuck around." Robby says as he approaches the nurses station after talking with Langdon.

"It's not like we had a choice, did we?"

"No, not really." Robby laughs.

"So how's your day going?"

"Uh, it's going."

"Cool, cool, cool."

"Why do you ask?" Robby does a double take of Jake, catching on almost immediately that something was up.

"Guy can't ask?"

"You never ask me about my work. What gives?" 

"Mom wanted me to ask because she just wants to make sure that you're doing okay." 

Your father turns to you after Jake's admission, "Is your mom curious as well?"

You shake your head, laughing as you joke, "You know mom doesn't care about you."

Your father managed to end on friendly amicable terms with all of his ex partners and you weren't the sole reason why your parents stayed in contact. Despite breaking up, they did genuinely get along with each other, always making sure the other was taken care of.

Your father huffs disbelievingly at your words before he returns his attention back to Jake, "That's very sweet of her. I'm doing fine." 

Robby diggs out the tickets and passes them to Jake, "Thank you for these again." 

"You can thank me by finally introducing me to your girlfriend." 

"Not today but soon."

You and Jake get ready to leave the hospital, moving to step away from the nurses station.

 "Have fun. Hey, I know it goes without saying, but please be safe." Your dad tells the both of you.

"We will." You respond in unison.

"Seriously. Don't take anything from anyone. I've already seen two fentanyl overdoses today. It's not even noon."

"We promise." 

"Okay." 

"Basketball Sunday?" Robby and Jake hug each other. 

"Yep, wouldn't miss it. Hey, before you go, before you go." Your father pauses as he digs into his pocket for his wallet,

"Please don't hand me a cоndоm." 

"What?!" You interrupt.

"Cоndоm? I was gonna give you extra cash." Robby freezes, cash in hand. "Wait, are you having sеx?"

"Thank you!" Jake quickly grabs the money that's offered before speeding away.

Your dad pulls out more money and offers it to you, which you accept with a grateful smile, stuffing it in your pocket, "Thanks."

"Listen," Your father pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on your head, "I know you wanted me to come with you guys and I'm sorry-"

"It's fine" You interrupt, burrowing more into the hug, "I understand."

"I'll make it up to you- you were talking about a graduation trip to California?"

You perked up at that, peering up at him, "You'll come?"

"Of course," Robby grins, "You should get going before Jake disappears."

You jingle your car keys in your hand, "He's not going to get far, I'm the one who drove us here."

"Alright," Your father pulls you into another tight hug, kissing the top of your head before pulling away, "I'll see you later. I love you."

You wave at him as you walk away, "I love you too."

You giggled as you danced around to the music that played from the stage with Leah. Twirling each other around and jumping around as Jake recorded you. You had all just gotten off a facetime call with your father where Leah briefly met him before you returned to enjoying your time at the festival.

You were so caught up in enjoying yourself you didn't hear the first pops that echoed throughout the field, it wasn't until more rang out and people realised what was happening and then panic set in as everybody rushed to safety, running every which way causing people to get separated and others to get crushed as fear and the fight for survival inhabited everyone.

You grabbed Jake's hand, who in turn grabbed Leah before you ran for safety, hiding behind a food stall as you tried to think about your next steps. 

You tried to ignore the screams surrounding you but with your heart racing and fear turning your legs into jello, you were having very little success. A squeeze to your hand brought you back to reality as you stared at the petrified faces of Jake and Leah as they looked at you for guidance.

"O-okay, w-we just uh-" You stumbled over your words, your mind was a mess as you tried to think clearly, "T-there's only o-one ex-exit but we s-stick together o-okay?"

At Jake and Leah's scared nod, you close your eyes and steady your breathing, you gather your thoughts and try to bury the fear until you are in the clear and safe. With one last steading breath, you open your eyes and nod back at Jake and Leah.

"We have no idea where the shooter is so we're just going to have to run, we don't know if he's on the field so just head for the exit. Look ahead, not at the ground or at others and we're going to hold onto each other as tight as we can, we're escaping this together."

Jake and Leah agree and you join hands before you peer over the edge of the stall, looking at your surroundings but it was such a manic panic out there you couldn't really tell what was happening. People were running in every direction, people were dead and injured on the floor, people were getting crushed by the stampede or suffering the effects of drug overdose, it was all blurring together. You tried to see if you could tell which direction the bullet shots were coming from but they echoed and you couldn't pinpoint its direction.

"Follow me and run okay?" 

Together you stand up and run. You speed towards the exit as you try your hardest to ignore the screams and cries around you and focus on your brother's hand in yours and the exit in the distance.

A shot rings out and Jake stumbles and falls to the ground. A gasp and cry escapes you as you crouch down next to him, your hands frantically running over his body, fearing that he had been shot in a critical place.

"It's just my leg! I'm fine, I'm fine!" Jake's words are a comfort in the chaos and you help him up with the help of Leah and together you shoulder his weight as you stumble towards the exit, Jake's adrenaline helping.

One Step. Two Steps. Three Steps.

Pfft.

One Step. Two—

Your legs collapse beneath you and your body careens to the floor, landing with a muffled thump. 

Warmth bleeds beneath you as you lay face down in the grass, your mind is fuzzy as a hand on your shoulder pulls you onto your back so you're gazing up at the rapidly darkening sky.

A sudden pressure on your chest brings you back to reality as you gasp in pain, a sudden overwhelming, painful and burning pain washing over you and lingering on your chest.

The last thing you see are Jake and Leah's petrified expressions as they hover over you before your eyes flutter shut.

"She was talking when we first got in the truck…" Robby paused as he heard Jake's voice, "There... There was so much blood. I tried to stop it."

 "Jake!" Robby rushed over to the pickup truck, pulling himself up onto the bed.

"Robby!" Jake stumbles over your name, "—got shot! It's really bad!"

Robby freezes in his movements when he sees you unconscious in Jake's lap, Dr Ellis taking over putting pressure on your wound from Leah.

 There's a ringing in his ears as all Robby can focus on at that moment is your face. You look peaceful almost, undisturbed by the chaos surrounding you but the blood staining you, brings him back to reality.

"I've been putting pressure on the wound the whole time." Jake's voice is filled with panic.

Robby swallows terror that creeps up his throat, "Yeah, that's good. That's good. Are you shot?"

"I don't... maybe my leg. Most of this is her blood." Jake becomes closer to tears with every moment.

After helping Jake and Leah down from the bed of the truck, they pull your body onto a bed before rushing into the ED.

"Jake, you can't stay with her." Robby told him from the other side of your bed as you pushed through the ED.

"I have to." Jake protests.

"There's no room, and we need to work on your sister right now, and you need to get your leg checked, so please go sit down." Robby begged the teenager, "Get you and Leah checked out."

"Please come tell me how she's doing, okay? Please?" 

"I will."

 "Jake?" Langdon calls out, seeing the boy. "Is your sister with you?"

"I-I'm okay. She's with Robby."

Meanwhile, your father was in one-hundred percent doctor mode, he couldn't be a petrified father at this moment because as soon as Jack realised it was you on that bed, Robby would be pushed away and he needed to save you.

The nurses cut your clothes and lanyard off, giving them better access to your wound. Your father used a laryngoscope to place a breathing tube down your throat as Dana arrived, her steps pausing momentarily as she realised what was happening. 

"Can't feel carotid." 

"Start compressions. Swap out with me." Robby instructed someone nearby.

"I need an IO. Hang a unit of O-neg." 

Dr Mohan arrives, "Got the IO." 

"Robby…" Dana murmurs, "You can't—"

"Just-just let me try" Robby's words were rushed.

"You need help over there?" Langdon calls out, worried.

"No, we're good." 

"That's Baby Robby." Langdon tells Dr Mckay

"Oh, shit." McKay gasps

"Baby Robby as in…?" Javadi asks.

"Yeah…It's Robby's daughter."

"1,400 of blood out the chest. First unit's in." The nurse said as she continued compressions.

"Squeeze in a second unit fast, and then we'll do another pulse check." Robby demands.

"She's needs a second line?" Dana questions Robby

"For FFP and platelets."

"You sure, Robby?" 

Everybody knows that Robby is fighting a losing battle here but Dana attempts to get through to him gently as Jack Abbot throws them a curious stare.

"Sophie, get the plasma. I'm gonna take over compressions. And swap."

"Two units packed cells in. FFP still going?" Dana pants as squeezes the bag.

"Almost there. Okay, holding compressions." Robby steps back, hands shaking as he prays the next words out of their mouths are that they have a pulse.

"Can't feel carotid." Sophie says, and Robby turns to Dana, hoping for something, anything.

"No femoral." Dana shakes her head.

 Robby takes a stuttered breath before he climbs back up to his previous position, "Resuming compressions." 

Jack finally moves to a patient nearby and swears underneath his breath when he sees who Robby is working on, his heart sinks as he realises what was happening. He hasn't known you as long as some of the others but he has known you for a solid chunk of your life. When he first arrived in Pittsburgh and initially worked on the day shift, you were the one to convince him to come to Robby's yearly barbeque, making him pinky promise about attending. You had always affectionately called him 'Uncle Jack' and frequently texted him during his night shifts when you were pulling an all-nighter studying despite his disapproval. 

"Brother…" Jack placed a hand on Robby's shoulder, "You can't be doing this-let me"

"No!" Robby frantically shook his head, not wanting to stop for even a moment.

Jack and Dana caught each other's eyes and realised that being gentle was not going to work with Robby right now.

"What's your next move, boss?" Jack returned back to his original patient.

"Platelets, another unit. And then we can transfuse her with her own blood from the Pleur-evac to get ahead." Robby tells Jack before he turns to Dana, "Hang the cell saver."

 "Squeeze all this in?" 

"No. Three-way stopcock on a 60-cc syringe. I'll push-pull."

"Okay."

"Not exactly in our mass casualty game plan."

Robby ignores Jack's words, focussing on doing compressions on your lifeless body.

"Third unit's in. Okay, pulse check." 

"I think I'm feeling a femoral." There was a glimmer of hope in Dana's voice.

"I got a carotid!" Robby's voice cracks slightly, overwhelmed with the possibility, "Emery, I got a chest case, needs to go to the OR."

"I saw you doing CPR on this girl." The surgeon says as she rounds the bed.

"Two liters out of the left chest. Got a pulse back after three packed cells. 600 out of the cell saver, 2 of FFP."

"I'm not feeling it." Emery shakes her head, unable to feel your pulse.

"Check the carotid." Robby is desperate.

"Nothing. Sorry." With that Emery walks away.

"Resume compressions."

"No, no, we should take her up. She just had a pulse." Robby chases after the surgeon.

"Not now. We need a pulse to go to the OR. Call me if anything changes."

 Robby walks back to Dana, "Do we have any more whole blood from the donors?"

"Think so." Dana nods

"Okay, get another unit that's got platelets and plasma. It'll help her clot."

 "Got it."

Jack speaks up again, "Four units. Blood is for the ones we can save."

"She is right on the edge. One more can make the difference and I have to help her. I have to."

"How much blood you pushing off the cell saver?" Dana asks.

"Every last drop." 

Dana turns to Jack as he finishes with his patient, shaking her head, she was begging him to step in now. You were dead, she knew that, Jack knew that and so were the nurses assisting them but Robby was still in denial.

"How many units so far?" Jack asks as he slides in next to Robby.

Robby takes in a deep breath before he answers, "Four, plus the cell saver."

"Last one?"

"I don't know." Robby shakes his head, his voice warbling as the tears threaten to escape, "Dana, why don't we try a little TXA? 1,000 milligrams of TXA might help her clot."

"Got it."

Jack sighs, his hand resting on Robby's arm, silently pleading him to accept what happened as he gave Robby the realistic facts, "Bullet tore through her heart. Anyone else with a wound like this is pronounced dead in the field. You can't keep up with the blood loss. If she was our only patient, we'd do a thoracotomy, maybe ECMO. But even then, I doubt we'd get her back. We're gonna lose ten other patients if you put all your efforts into saving her."

"S-she's my d-d-aughter" Robby gasped, reality slowly sinking in, "She can't leave me."

"Got the TXA."

"Okay, push it fast, and we'll do another pulse check. And then can you get me a vascular Doppler too, please?" Robby had to force the words out, tears falling from his eyes.

"Four units of packed cells, two of FFP, 1,000 of TXA... and 1,200 auto-transfused." Robby scribbled on your wrist chart that was smeared with blood but his hands were trembling so much that it was incomprehensible. 

"Did you check this?" Robby took the Doppler that Dana was holding out. 

"Not yet."

Robby squirted the gel on his wrist before putting the doppler on it, nodding when it picked up his pulse, "Okay, it's working. Hold compressions."

Robby held his breath as he held the doppler to your neck, wishing and praying so deeply that his daughter was not taken from him. He moved it around slightly, desperately for the slightest pulse that would allow you to go up to OR but only silence greeted him.

Dana watched him, blinking away the tears that had threatened to spill since you first arrived in the ED.

Robby let out a shuttered breath as he pulled back, shaking his head as he cried, "O-okay we're done here."

"We stopped at 19:47" Dana wrote your TOD on your wrist chart and Robby struggled to pull his gaze away.

 Robby wanted to lock himself away in a room where he could cry until he was empty, where he could scream until his throat was raw and collapse to the ground but the ED needed him.

"Move her to Pedes?" Robby nodded as he kept his gaze straight ahead, he could no longer look at you. 

"You want me to go with you to talk to Jake?" Dana gently offered.

 "No, no, thanks, I got it." Robby declined, "W-what about um-...her mom?"

"She's on her way but she's coming from Philadelphia, so it'll be a while."

Robby absentmindedly nodded as he wandered off into an empty bathroom, locking it behind him and there he finally crashed onto his knees, heart wrenching cries escaping him as he wept for you. He cried until he choked, his nonstop tears making it hard to breathe. 

Robby didn't want to go back out there, he didn't want to tell Jake that you had died, he didn't want to go out there to help other people when he couldn't even save you. He didn't want nurses or med students, or residents, or fellow doctors calling for his help, he just wanted you back.

A knock on the door brings him to his feet as he stumbles to unlock it and open it. Dana is on the other side, sympathy strong on her face as she looks at him.

"Jake is asking for you." Dana informs him.

Robby nods and reaches up to wipe the tears from his face but then he realised he was still wearing your blood stained gloves and gown, which he quickly ripped off, throwing it into the nearest sanitary bin, the sight of the blood making him sick.

"I'll find him, thank you Dana" Robby gives her one last nod before he disappears looking for his not-quite stepston.

Hours had passed and the ED had returned to somewhat normality after the shooting. There was a somber weight that laid on the shoulders of everyone there from what they all witnessed and treated for but no one dared to mention the elephant in the room, which was Robby. 

Robby was blaming himself and Jack to remind him that even if they had the entire trauma team working with you, with an injury like yours, chances of survival were low. 

The doctor had disappeared to the viewing room after Janie picked up Jake and Leah to take them home, the woman breaking into tears after being told what had happened. Jack had also sent the morning shift home, reminding them they've been there all day.

Hurried footsteps into the ED had caught Jack's attention from where he was finishing up files to the entrance where your mother rushed in, panic clear on her face.

"Jack!" Your mother cried as he rushed towards him and he met her half way, supporting her body as it crashed into him.

"W-where are they? I can't get in contact with either of them!"

Jack harshly swallows before he takes her arm in a supportive grip, guiding her towards the elevators, "C'mon I'll take you to them."

"Is she in the ICU or the OR?" Your mother asks as they step into the elevator, "That's probably why I couldn't get ahold of her right? And ha- knowing Robby, he's probably right by her side,"

Jack stays silent as the elevator rises past the ICU and surgery floors, bringing a hand up to his mouth when your mother realised what floor they were going to. Your mother had spent as much time as you did in this hospital, it was the usual drop-off place where you'd go from one parent to the other and she was well aware of what departments were on what floors.

Your mother paused as she stepped out of the elevator, the viewing room, right around the corner and her voice was a mere whisper as she spoke to Jack, "How bad was it?"

Jack hesitated before he spoke knowing he shouldn't be telling her any of it, "...She was gone before she got here…no matter what, the chances weren't in her favour."

"...And Robby?"

"He tried so hard. He refused to give up."

Your mother mutely nodded before she slowly made her way to the viewing room where Robby still waited outside.

"Robby?" Your mother whispered but it rang loudly through the corridor and Robby shot to his feet, making his way over to her. 

Your parents fall into each other's arms, crying as they mourn their daughter.

Jack sends them a pitiful glance before he leaves them alone, returning to the ED.

"I'm sorry—Oh fuck, I'm so sorry" Robby sobbed, "I tried so hard. I did, you have to believe me, please-please"

Your mother could only sob, curling around Robby as she sought for something to ground her.

They cried until there were no tears left and Robby helped her up, guiding her towards the chairs but your mom stopped just outside of the door.

"Can-can we see her?" She hesitantly asked.

Robby silently nodded, taking your moms hand before they opened the door and stepped in. Your mothers hand trembles in Robby's hand as he gently reaches over to pull the sheet away from your face.

Your mother shudders, briefly looking away to press her face to Robby's shoulder to center herself, she pulls away to rummage through her purse before she pulls out a travel pack of wet wipes.

"Can I?" 

Robby nods, reaching to take a wipe she offers him and together they begin to wipe your face clean of the blood that had matted onto your face and hairline. Your mother murmured words of love, pressing kisses on your face as she cleaned it and Robby watched as she did so but he couldn't do the same, the guilt festered in him.

First, it was guilt of not saving you. For taking the shift and not being by your side when the shooting happened.

Then it was for not accepting you had passed earlier. Deep in denial, he pushed and pushed until he had cracked your ribs, putting your body through more trauma just for his benefit.

"I'm sorry," Robby whimpered, "I should have been there with her. I could have helped her…it should have been me."

"What would you have done, hm?" Your mother asked, "You have no idea who the shooter was or where he was coming from and with what medical supplies? You saved many lives today…be proud of that."

"But not the most important person of them all" Robby gasped.

"Jack told me the probability of everything," Your mother pulls Robby into a hug, "Our baby girl was just unlucky. There was nothing that you or Jack or anyone could have done."

"I'm sorry…" Robby sobbed.

"I know," Your mother squeezed Robby, "I am too."