#badges in live reels

[chicorysaints]

cheeseburger! (raucous applause)

[mercvry-glow]

all that gleams (18+)

parings. jack abbot x nurse!reader

summary. everyone seems to be hitting on you tonight, and your husband doesn't seem to appreciate all of the attention you're getting.

warnings. this is 18+ so mdni, unprotected sex, p in v sex, rough/jealousy sex, half plot/half porn, sex in the work place, hospital setting, age gap (jack late 40s, reader late 20s to early 30s), reader gets hit on by men who are not jack, non-consensual touching (patient grabs reader), reader has hair, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. where the fuck do I even begin? uhhhh- so many people asked for a sequel to all that glitters and I never thought I'd actually do it but here we are! I absolutely live for their dynamic, and they're softcore rich which is truly the dream. I'm actually really proud of this, especially bc this is my second time writing any form of smut! as always any and all feedback is appreciated and please enjoy!

wc. 4700+

all that glitters

There wasn’t a person in your life who hadn’t told you getting married so young was a mistake. A newly minted nurse with a shiny new degree, a big diamond ring, and a big house in the nicest part of town—people loved to talk. And they did, especially behind your back.

“Too fast,” they said

“Too young.”

 “She doesn’t know what she’s getting into.”

But they didn’t know Jack.

He’d been your constant through it all. Through the twelve-hour shifts, the night terrors you both had but didn’t always talk about, the tangled mess of silky bed sheets and plain coffee mornings. He never missed a beat, not with you. He always made sure the front door was locked, that you didn’t forget to eat, that you never had to face a bad day completely alone.

Jack Abbot was your storm and shelter all at once.

Still, some days it felt like you were speaking two different languages. You’d grown up with champagne brunches, sorority sisters, and an Ivy League education on Daddy’s dime. Jack grew up fast though—boots on the ground, blood on his hands, and scars no one could see unless he let them. 

His world had edges, and darkness only he could understand. 

Yours had comfy throw pillows and a walk-in closet.

Falling for each other had been a whirlwind, but staying in love… that took work. 

Especially now.

Lately, every conversation felt like walking on eggshells. He was short with you. Distant. And maybe you were a little more sensitive than usual—he always said you felt deeply, cared too much. Maybe you did miss the way he used to look at you, touch you, talk to you like you were the only person in the room.

Now? Now he was somewhere else—lost in his head, behind some wall you couldn’t climb no matter how hard you tried.

And you still tried.

 You showed up to work, same time as him, hair curled, and lip gloss on as usual. Your scrubs were still fitted just right, your badge reel sparkled, and your sneakers matched your pastel compression socks of the day. You were tired, overworked, and emotionally frayed—but damn it, you still tried, for yourself, for him, and most certainly for your patients .

He didn’t even say “Hi,” when you checked in.

Just a curt nod, eyes already scanning a trauma sheet.

Fine. You had a job to do anyway.

The ER was chaotic, as usual. You floated between rooms, upbeat as always, soft-voiced with your patients, making the new interns laugh with your sparkly pens and habit of humming softly under your breath.

That’s when he showed up.

Leo, tall, handsome in a sun-kissed, ex-lifeguard in the Baywatch kind of way, and new. The latest temp nurse from another hospital, and definitely not shy.

“You always this put-together at 7 p.m.?” he said, grinning as he helped you restock the IV cart.

You glanced up from your clipboard, smiling just enough. “Only when there’s new employees to impress.”

He laughed, nudging your elbow. “Well, consider me thoroughly impressed.”

Across the hall, you didn’t see Jack. But he was seeing everything.

You caught a flash of movement in your peripheral vision—him, leaning against the med station, pretending to read a chart. The way his jaw clenched was less than subtle. So was the way he suddenly had something urgent to discuss with Dr. Reese, right behind where you were standing.

You didn’t react. Just went back to scanning meds, asking Leo if he needed help finding anything on his first night. You were being polite. Friendly. Maybe a little intentionally oblivious—but only because it felt good to be noticed by anyone today.

Jack didn’t say a word.

But every time you turned around, he was there. Close. Watching.

He didn’t like it. You could feel it.

And for the first time in weeks, you felt something that wasn’t just disappointment.

You felt giddy.

You weren’t trying to make him jealous.

But if he was suddenly remembering the woman he married? The one who lit up a room? The one who still wore t-shirts to bed and nothing else, even when he acted like he didn’t care?

Good.

Let him remember.

The next few hours passed in a blur of motion and monitors—IVs, trauma alerts, vitals to chart and families to console. You stayed busy, focused, but not so focused you didn’t notice the way Jack kept drifting into your orbit.

Not close enough to talk.

Just… there.

Lingering near the nurse’s station when you laughed at something Leo said. Answering the trauma bay calls himself when you usually did first. A silent presence, watching without watching, always just a little too close not to be intentional.

There had been so much to do between learning about coworkers drama, taking care of patients, and dealing with incoming traumas that you’d been on your feet for almost seven hours straight before getting any sort of break.

Still not having found the right time to touch the overnight oats in your lunchbox.

Typical.

You finally ducked into the break room around 2:30 a.m., practically vibrating from a bit too much caffeine and sheer stubbornness. Your sneakers squeaked on the tile as you opened your lunch tote, pulling out your jar with a satisfied “Aha”. You gave it a little shake and popped the lid, the faint scent of almond butter and cinnamon curling into the air.

Leo was already in there, lounging in the corner with a Coke Zero and half a sandwich he didn’t seem particularly interested in eating.

“That looks suspiciously healthy,” he said, eyeing your jar like it confused him.

You grinned. “It’s delicious. Cinnamon, chia seeds, oat milk, with a little bit of honey and almond butter. You should try it sometime—maybe it will lower your blood pressure.”

Leo let out a low whistle. “Oof. She’s cute and judgmental.”

You wiggled your spoon at him. “I’m not judgmental. I’m just stating a fact,”

“Same difference,”

You laughed, shaking your head as you settled on the couch. Your big water tumbler clinked softly on the table as you set it down. Leo glanced at it.

“Okay, real talk. How many cups do you own?”

“Oh at least ten,” you said proudly. “And yes, they all match my scrubs and socks.”

He chuckled. “Of course they do.”

You were in the middle of telling him about your latest homemade electrolyte concoction—something with sea salt, lemon, and maple syrup—when the door creaked open.

Jack stepped inside, silent as ever. No one noticed at first, but you felt him before you saw him. That familiar pull.

You looked up and smiled, just a little.

He didn’t smile back.

He walked to the cabinet, pulled out a pod of instant coffee, and started making the world’s saddest cup of caffeine.

“You good?” you asked, casually, spoon still dangling from your mouth.

Jack shrugged. “Fine.”

Leo gave him a nod. “Rough night, man?”

“Same as every night,” Jack said coolly.

There was a pause.

You went back to your oats.

Leo leaned over slightly, stage-whispering, “Is it true you color-code your vitamins?”

You lit up. “Oh my god, yes! You have to! It’s so satisfying.”

Jack let out a breath—not quite a sigh. Not quite anything.

Just something.

Leo turned to him. “She’s kind of a fairy, huh? Healthy, pretty, and scary organized.”

Jack didn’t answer. Just stirred his coffee with the kind of force that made the spoon clink too loudly against the mug.

“I mean, who even makes time for meal prep on night shift?” Leo kept going, still playful, still oblivious. “She comes in glowing while I’m running on vending machine Pop-Tarts and anxiety.”

You grinned again. “You say that like Pop-Tarts are bad.”

Jack finally looked up. Right at you.

“I liked you better when you were sneaking granola bars from my locker.”

Your breath caught a little—not because it was mean. But because it sounded like a memory.

You raised a brow. “You never let me finish the boxes.”

Jack’s gaze didn’t move.

“Maybe I liked the distraction.”

The room went quiet again.

Leo cleared his throat and stood. “Okay, I’m gonna grab another Coke. You two want anything?”

“No,” Jack said, a little too quickly.

You shook your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

When Leo left, the silence stretched.

You scooped another spoonful of oats, pretending not to feel the weight of Jack’s stare.

“You didn’t answer my text,” he said finally.

You blinked. “Which one?”

“The one about locking the side door this morning.”

“Oh.” You smiled faintly. “Sorry, I was halfway through meal prepping for us and my mom called... You know how she gets.”

Jack nodded, jaw tight. “You’re supposed to text me back.”

You raised a brow again, but this time softer. “Jack. It was about a door.”

“It was about you being safe.”

That landed somewhere in your chest.

You didn’t say anything for a second. Just set your spoon down and leaned back into the couch.

“I was fine,” you said gently. “I promise.”

Jack didn’t reply. But he reached for your cup, unscrewed the lid, and took a sip (not using the straw) like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You stared. “That has lemon in it.”

He grimaced. “Tastes like a scented candle.”

You laughed.

He didn’t.

But the corners of his mouth twitched—just a little.

He set your water with a quiet thud, the lid clicking into place like it was holding something back for him, too.

You tilted your head, watching him in that way you always did when you were trying to read what was going on behind those stormy, hazel eyes. “You're drinking lemon water,” you said, voice lilting. “Should I be worried?”

Jack didn’t look at you. “I was thirsty.”

You smiled. “And yet the entire fridge full of bottled water didn’t do it for you?”

He shrugged.

“Grumpy,” you said under your breath, just loud enough.

His eyes finally flicked to yours. “I’m not grumpy.”

“You kind of are.”

“I’m tired.”

“You always say that when you’re being grumpy.”

Jack gave you a slow look—flat, dry, and just a little amused. “You finished?”

“Not even close,” you said sweetly, your elbow propped on the arm of the couch. “You’re cranky, you’re overcaffeinated, and you get weirdly possessive whenever someone’s nice to me.”

That got his attention.

“I’m not possessive,” he said.

You smirked. “Jack, you nearly snapped Leo’s neck when he said I had good handwriting.”

“That’s not what he said, and you know that.”

You blinked, then laughed. “Okay, fine. ‘Prettiest charting I’ve ever seen,’ and he winked. So what?”

Jack’s jaw tightened—just slightly.

You stood, stretching your arms overhead in a way that made your scrub top ride up just a little. His eyes tracked the motion like muscle memory.

You stepped closer, toes nearly brushing his boots. “I like that you care about this,” you said, softer now. “It’s kind of hot, actually.”

He looked at you—really looked at you—for the first time all night.

“You drive me crazy, kid.” he muttered.

You beamed. “So you are jealous.”

Jack sighed through his nose, the tension melting from his shoulders like an exhale he’d been holding in too long. His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering a second too long.

“I know you’re mine,” he said quietly. “I just… sometimes I forget the rest of the world doesn’t always know it.”

Your chest tightened. Not in a painful way. In a finally, you’re here with me again kind of way.

You reached for his hand and squeezed. “Well, they do. But if you ever forget again, I’ll tattoo your name on my ass”

That earned you a snort—low and surprised.

“I’m serious,” you teased, squeezing his fingers. “Right across my cheeks. Property of Jack Abbot. Think it’d go with my Bikinis when I start tanning again?”

His lips twitched. “You’re insane.”

“Mm. And you’re stuck with me.”

“I know,” he murmured, voice quieter now, as he dipped down for a soft kiss,  “Wouldn’t change it.”

And there it was.

The part of him no one else got to see—the softness under all that armor he put up. The way he looked at you like you were the only thing in this chaotic, blood-slicked hospital worth holding onto.

Before you could say anything else, the overhead crackled to life:

“Trauma en route. ETA four minutes. MVA, two patients. GSW secondary.”

Jack’s head lifted, all instinct now. You were already moving toward the door when his hand caught yours.

He didn’t pull, didn’t squeeze—just held.

“Be careful,” he said.

You leaned in again, kissing his cheek, quick and certain. “Always.”

Then the moment passed, and the hallway swallowed you both—he leading, you following, hearts synced in the rhythm of the ER. But his hand brushed yours again as you walked.

The trauma had come in hard and fast—twisted metal, broken glass, and enough blood to soak through your shoes. Jack had been in the thick of it, barking orders, steady hands moving like muscle memory while you worked across from him, suctioning, suturing, stabilizing. For a while, there was no room for anything else. No talking. No teasing. Just the two of you, back in sync, locked in the rhythm you knew so well. It was easy to forget the cracks when the adrenaline kicked in.

But by 4:15 a.m., the ER had slowed to a lull.

The kind that was never quiet, but at least breathable.

You’d just finished helping a resident clean up trauma one when they wheeled in another patient—mid-40s, minor head lac, walking wounded and very, very drunk.

You smiled politely, grabbing a suture kit.

“Alright, sir. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Can you sit still for me?”

He gave you a once-over that made your skin crawl. “Sure thing, sweetheart. For you, I’ll be real good.”

You kept it professional. “Thank you.”

But the longer you worked, the bolder he got.

“You married?” he slurred.

You didn’t answer.

“Bet your husband’s not half as pretty as you.”

You offered a tight smile. “Try to stay still. This part stings a little.”

He didn’t even flinch. “You ever date older guys? I got a boat, you know.”

You glanced around the bay, but the resident was long gone, charting somewhere out of earshot.

“I’m flattered, really, but I already have a boat,” you said lightly, finishing the last stitch. “And you’re gonna feel real silly about this in the morning.”

He grinned, crooked and gross. “Not if you give me your number.”

And then he reached out—his hands brushing your hips in a way that was not accidental.

You stepped back instantly, heart thudding.

“That’s enough sir,” you said sharply, your voice still steady, still calm—but colder now. “I’m going to step out for a minute, since I’ve finished. Someone else will check on you soon.”

You didn’t wait for a reply.

You slipped into the furthest supply closet you could easily find and leaned against the shelves, chest rising and falling like you’d just run a sprint. Your hands were shaking—more with anger than fear—but still. It clung to your skin.

The door creaked open a minute later.

“Hey.”

Jack.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, gaze scanning your face. “One of the other nurses said he got grabby.”

You looked up at him, throat tight. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t answer that right away. Just moved closer and touched your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he needed to ground himself.

“You sure?” he asked, quieter now.

You nodded. “Just… gross. Not the first, won’t be the last.”

His jaw flexed. “It shouldn’t be happening at all.”

You leaned into his hand. “It’s okay. I handled it.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle it.”

You looked up at him. “Jack—”

He stepped closer, and suddenly his body was pressed against yours, warm and solid and steady. His hands found your waist, rough fingers curling around your hips.

“I should be the only one touching you,” he said, voice low.

“We’ll get written up…”

“I don’t care.”

But Jack wasn’t hearing logic right now. He was standing there like he could still smell every guy you had met tonight on you, like the air hadn’t cleared yet.

“Hey.” You placed your hands on his chest, grounding him. “We don’t have to do this here…”

His hands squeezed your waist. “You’re mine.”

“I know.”

“You don’t flirt like that with anyone else, right?”

You blinked, caught off-guard. “Flirt like what?”

“Like you did with that prick.”

You frowned a abit. “I was being nice. He asked if I wanted  something from the vending machine- he asked you too and you looked at him like he offered me lingerie.”

Jack didn’t budge. His grip didn’t loosen.

You tried again. Softer this time.

“I steal your clothes. I come home to you. I wear the ring you bought me, and I’m your wife. I chose you.”

His eyes searched yours—tired, and heavy, with a mix of something else.

You rose on your toes, placing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “I’m yours, Jack.”

And then his arms were around you fully, pulling you in like he needed to feel your heartbeat to believe it. Your heart thudded in your chest, a beat behind your breath. You looked at him, eyes narrowed, lips parted.

You didn’t hear him lock the door.

You felt it.

That soft, decisive click behind you—like a promise.

“Did you just lock the door?”

Jack’s answer was a look—slow, hot, and so heavy it pinned you in place. He stepped with the kind of precision that said this wasn’t spontaneous. No, he’d decided the second he saw you walk into the closet room, cheeks flushed, lip gloss smudged, tensions high. 

The second all these guys started paying attention to you tonight. 

Jack hadn’t liked that.

He tried to be quiet about it, like always. Quiet the way a storm is—only right before it breaks.

He stopped just barely inches from you, hand coming up to trace a line along your jaw. His fingers were thick, rough, warm, familiar. His touch didn’t ask permission. It remembered.

“You keep smiling like that,” he said low, his voice a gravel-coated whisper, “and I’ll have to fuck the memory of it out of you.”

Your breath caught—somewhere between outrage and arousal. “Jack—”

But you didn’t get the rest out.

He kissed you.

Not sweet. Not careful.

Claiming.

His hands tangled in your hair, dragging you into him like it was instinct, like your mouth had always belonged to his. You melted into him, your body curving against his like you were built for this—built for him. His hips pressed forward, pinning you to the wall of the storage closet, and your head thudded back softly against the cool plaster as his lips slid down to your throat, sucking, biting just enough to make you gasp.

“Locked the door for a reason,” he murmured, tongue flicking against the skin where your pulse fluttered. “Tired of pretending I didn’t want you every second we’re here.”

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping his shirt like lifelines. “You’re sooo jealous.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, dark eyes devouring. “Damn right I’m jealous.”

His hand slid under your scrub top, skimming up your ribs, palm flat, hot and possessive. “You’re mine—I can’t fucking stand it when they look at you like you’re not.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” you whispered, breathless, lips grazing his.

His answer was a growl.

Jack spun you, quick and controlled, pressing you front-first against the shelves. Supplies rattled, somewhere above you—gloves, gauze, sterile wraps—but it was the sound of his breath at your neck that made your knees threaten to buckle.

His hands roamed—under your shirt to your tits, over the waistband of your scrub pants, every inch of bare skin he found earning a new kind of heat.

“You wanna be flirted with?” he whispered, voice dragging down your spine. “Fine. But I get to remind you who makes you cum”

You gasped as his mouth met the base of your neck, teeth grazing, tongue following. “Jack…”

“You knew,” he said again, almost reverent now. 

And god help you, you did.

Because you’d walked in here to take a second, needing this—needing him. Not just his hands or his mouth or the way he made you come apart so effortlessly, but this claiming. This reminder. That under all the stress, the silence, the long nights and missed moments—the fire still burned. Hot. Unrelenting.

His fingers slipped lower, teasing the waist of your scrub pants, and you pressed back against him without thinking, needing more, needing everything.

“You’re mine,” he murmured again, lips brushing your shoulder, low and slow. “Say it.”

You turned your head just enough to whisper, “I’m yours, Jack. Always.”

And that was all it took.

He kept you facing the shelves, a hand coming down to your hips to steady you as he continued to feel you up with the other. “Yeah? You gonna be my good girl, sweetheart?” 

The whimper you let out was pathetic. A low pitched sound that came from the back of your throat, as Jack started to flood your senses. He gave your ass a quick, hard, smack. Hand going back to rub over the spot, as it snapped you out of your daze. “I asked you a question, baby.” 

You nodded, desperately. Already whoozy from the assault on your sense that your husband brought on. “Mhm! Jack-”

He shushed you, gently pushing down your scrub pants, “Gotta make this quick and quiet, or they’ll all know what a bad girl you’ve been.” 

Reaching back, you straightend up leaning into his burning touch, wanting him closer than he already was. You could feel how hard he was beneath his cargos, half chubbed as he ground his hips into your panty-clad ass. 

You would’ve felt embarressed if this hadn’t felt so right. 

Clothes barely off, lazily grinding against your husband in a closet like you’re back in some college frat house at UPenn. 

Jack doesn’t waste anymore time though, hastily shoving your panties down, rough fingers making quick work of finding your swollen clit. The tight circles he does against you, make you feel dizzy—legs already beginning to shake, as if you haven’t been working for ten hours already. 

Your moans are muffled by your arm as you lean further into the shelves, but press your hips back toward Jack. Your resolve slowly slipping, as he dips a finger in your wet heat. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” he groans out softly, continuing as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. 

Then he just pulls away.

Not entirely, still so close that you’ve basically become one. It’s enough for you to whine at the loss of contact, pushing back into him hoping he’ll start again. 

“Why’d you stop?” Jack can practically hear the pout in your voice. The breathy little lilt of displeasure showing in your tone. 

“Sorry, baby. We only have time for one thing, and I’d much rather make you cum on my cock.” He kisses the back of your neck, gentle and loving as ever as he reaches down to free himself from his scrub pants. 

He’s aching, he’s so hard. 

He takes a few deep breaths before haphazrdly stroking himself. Fisting his cock in his meaty hand, already slick after playing with your wet little cunt. 

Jack wasn’t going to make love to you. 

He was going to fuck you like you needed it. 

Lining himself up, Jack pushed in with a solid thrust of his sturdy hips. You just about collapsed into the shelves, already feeling so full of Jack as he started a steady rhythm. It was overwhelming, one of his hands tight against your hips as he used it to guide you into his thrusts, the other snaked over your mouth to muffle your breathy moans because the hallway was just beyond the locked closet door.

“Shit- you’re so fucking tight, baby.” you cleched against him as he drove himself further into you, trying to angle himself to hit the spot that would have you seeing stars in no time. 

Your walls hugged him tight, leaving him a mess as he watched himself slip in and out of you in a trance like state. 

“Fuck Jack-” you start mewling, hips pushing and grinding to meet his thrusts. “Ah- ah, you’re so deep.” 

He mumbles something incoherent against your shoulder, both of his hands moving to your hips and ass to get more leverage to fuck you nice and hard. 

You can tell you’re making a mess of yourself, panties clearly ruined with how you’re leaking down your thighs and his cock. Each thrust is a new shockwave of pleasure you don’t expect, but Jack doesn’t let up and you don’t want him to. 

“Too m-much,” his cock throbs, hard and heavy inside you as he stills for just a second. 

“Yeah? It’s too much for you, Sweetheart?” It’s almost mocking as he draws it out into longer deeper strokes—the ones that make it hard to breathe, the air escaping your lungs faster than you can take the chance to gasp for air. 

“You’re just so big,” you whimper out, trying to keep yourself from collapsing back against him as your legs start to feel like jello. 

Jack gives you a light scoff, “Good thing you’re being a good girl, and takin’ me so well, huh?” He keeps the pace steady, if not a bit quicker. Switching up the tempo to keep you on your toes and eager for him. 

“Mhm!” You can feel your orgasm building, that all too familiar pressure in your lower tummy bubbling over. “Fuck- fuck I’m gonna cum-”

It’s like a switch flips in his brain, kicking him into high gear as he spins you around to face him. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close as he lifts one of your legs around his waist. 

“Yeah, pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?” He asks you through a sloppy kiss, one that smears what’s left of your lip gloss. 

You feel like you’re about to implode, too tense and too loose all at once. Your hands find purchase on his clothed chest and the curls at the base of his neck, as he continues his loving assault on your body and senses. Jack is everywhere, and you’d never want it to be different. 

He watches as you finally let go, shivering your way through your orgasm as you cum on his thick cock. Your breath catches as he kisses you slowly, working his cock in and out of your gushing pussy still chasing his own release. 

“Fuck- you ruin me baby,” He groans into your kiss swollen lips, giving you a few more sloppy thrusts before burying himself as deep as possible. His own breathing shallow as he spills his load deep into your cunt, right where it belongs. 

Blinking slowly, you return to your body. Jack looks down at you, capturing your lips in one last sweet kiss as he gently pulls out of you. Your body shudders at the now empty feeling, “You with me, Baby?”

His thumbs stroke your cheeks, gentle and loving as you just stare at him a little dazed. You manage a soft hum, and he begins the process of putting you back together for the public. 

You cringed a bit as he helped you pull the pants of your scrubs back up, at least they were dark… right? You’d change into your backups as soon as you found the courge to leave the storage room. Then there was your hair which Jack lovingly braided as quickly as he could, before fixing himself the best he could

“Everyone’s totally gonna know… Ugh…”  you leaned your head against his chest, sighing at the thought of John or Ellis questioning where you two were for the past 15 minutes. 

“You look fine, besides who cares?” He questioned, “Do you know how many times I’ve heard the same story from other departments,” 

“Yeah but this is us,” you gave him a deadpan expression, as he reached behind you so that he could grab your stethoscope and badge reel from one of the many shelves behind you. 

He gave you a nonchalant shrug, and one last kiss on the forehead. “You ready to go get ‘em tiger?”

“You’re so dead whe we get home, it’s not even funny Jack Abbot!” 

“We still have about two more hours, so I think I’m safe, Princess.” 

mercvry-glow 2025

[ofstarsandvibranium]

A Sprinkle of Love

Fandom: The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Robby x F!Reader

Summary: You love to cook meals for your friends and coworkers, but then you start cooking meals for Dr. Robby and everyone becomes suspicious you two are an item.

The Pitt Masterlist

You love to cook. That was your form of relaxation when you weren't working in the pediatric department. Making food for others was also your love language. It shows that you care about someone a lot. So when you started making meals for Dr. Robby, people started to raise their brows at that.

Whenever someone asked you about it, you'd shrug, "We're friends. I like to cook for my friends." Which is true. Every so often you'd come to work with a container of food for a colleague because they'd been having a rough time or an entire tray of baked goods to boost up morale in he department.

Everyone knew you had a way around the kitchen, but for Dr. Robby to be on the receiving end, it seemed odd.

______________________________

"I don't think I've ever seen them interact at work except for when she hands him food." Mateo murmurs to Princess.

Princess looks around and then leans in, "I heard from some other nurses in Pedes that they were caught in a supply closet together."

Mateo's eyes widen, "No way!"

"Ssshhh!"

"Princess, what poor soul is the target of your gossiping today?" Dr. Robby asks as he approaches the center hub of the emergency department.

"No one, sir," Princess gives an unconvincing smile and Dr. Robby tilts his head down looking over his glasses and hums.

"Your UberEats is here, Robby," Mateo snickers with a smirk as he nods in your direction.

You'd just gotten off the elevator with a brown paper bag in hand, "Afternoon everyone!" You wave at your fellow healthcare works. A Disney badge reel hands from your scrub stop and your sparkly stethoscope hands around your neck.

Robby straightens up and removes his glasses, "How may we help you today, Nurse Y/N?"

"Well, first, wanted to let you know that the little girl you sent up to us is doing well. She just woke up. She's coherent, drowsy, but she's awake and well."

"Thanks for the update."

"Of course, I also brought some goodies for everyone. I made my own version of a snack mix so there's small bags for everyone."

"Sweet!" Mateo cries out, grabbing the bag from you, ready to dig into your homemade treats.

Dr. Robby chuckles and leans against the counter, "You sure you wanna continue being a nurse? Think you'd make a hell of a living in a restaurant or bakeshop."

You smile brightly at him, "Thanks! And no, cooking and baking are my hobbies. I don't know how I'd feel if I turned it into a career. Besides, I like the work that I do here."

"Maybe I should hire you as my private chef," he states lowly.

You chuckle, "I basically already am! Maybe I should start charging you for my services," you giggle and Dr. Robby joins you.

Perlah happens to be walking by and she immediately makes a knowing face at Mateo and Princess. She murmurs to the two, "Are sure they're not-"

"Not sure, but it definitely looks like it," Mateo responds.

"If anything, maybe they're sleeping with each other," Princess says before stuffing her mouth with some of the snack mix you made.

The three continue to snack and gossip when your laughter brings their attention back to you and Dr. Robby. They watch as you grip his arm and laugh while he smiles at you.

"You three are seeing what I'm seeing, right?" Dr. Collins mumbles to the nurses.

"We're starting a bet, want in?" Mateo asks.

"What's the bet?"

"What the status of their relationship is. I think they're just sleeping with each other," Princess says.

"Mateo and I think they're dating."

Dr. Collins observes you and Dr. Robby for a moment and then says, "I think they've been in a relationship for the past three months but have been keeping it quiet."

The three nurses widen their eyes, "You really think so?"

"No, but I'll put twenty bucks in the pot for it."

"Alright, we'll get this thing running!" Mateo exclaims but not too loudly.

Throughout the shift, they rallied in other nurses, doctors, and even the residents in on the bet.

They didn't put it on the board, but Princess put everyone's bets in the notes app on her phone.

There have been a few times during the shift that they thought they'd be caught by Robby, but, luckily, he remained oblivious.

Or so they think.

During his lunch, Robby disappears, which is noticed by everyone and gets them all talking.

"They're so doing it in a supply closet right now."

"Or he might be grabbing lunch somewhere else?"

"He could be having lunch with Y/N upstairs."

"We should send someone to check."

__________________________

Robby takes some pasta from your container already finished his, "Wanna know something funny?"

"What's up?"

"My employees have a bet regarding our relationship."

You snicker, "I'm surprised it took them this long."

"You're not helping, coming by and bringing me food all the time."

You roll your eyes, "Well I'm sorry! I find out my fiancé refuses to eat while he's at work so I want to make sure he's fed!"

"I'm gonna tell 'em. Don't want them meddling more than they have recently."

You shrug, "Up to you. Everyone on my floor already knows so,"

He shakes his head with a chuckle. He then leans in and pecks your lips, "I'm gonna head back," he murmurs and then takes another forkful of your food.

"Michael, just finish it!" You say with a cackle.

"Nope! I'm done! Love you."

"Love you," you wave him off as he exits the the breakroom.

________________________

"Engaged?!"

Collins looks at Dana, "Did you know about this?"

The older woman nods, "Yup, which is why I refused to take part in the bet."

"Who else knows?" Langdon asks, crossing his arms over his chest, with furrowed brows.

"Her entire floor. So, who won the bet?"

Princess scrolls through her phone, "No one."

Robby holds out his hand, "Pay up then."

Everyone groans as they pull their bets out of their pockets and placing them in the attending doctor's hands. He immediately slips the cash into his pocket, "Thanks everyone. You'll be paying for my dinner with my fiancée tonight."

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which this is the before of how the rest of our lives came to be

The job offer came in the middle of a thunderstorm.

You were sitting cross-legged on your apartment floor, your camera bag half-zipped and a box of leftover takeout balanced on your lap. The email lit up your phone like a beacon:

“Official Photographer – UConn Women’s Basketball”

You stared at it, reread it three times, then blinked slowly as realization hit. It was a season-long contract. Full-time. Steady.

And a complete godsend.

By the end of the week, you were on campus, badge clipped to your jacket, nervous and clutching your DSLR like a lifeline.

You weren’t a stranger to sports photography, but UConn was different. Bigger. Brighter. More intense. More… watched.

Especially with a superstar like Paige Bueckers on the team.

You’d seen her in highlight reels, on magazine covers. She had a presence, even from a distance. But meeting her in person?

That was something else.

The gym buzzed with activity as the team stretched across the hardwood, sneakers squeaking and basketballs thudding against polished floors. You weaved between benches and chairs, raising your camera, finding angles.

And then she ran through your frame — tall, blonde, a wide grin on her face as she crashed into a layup line and completely ruined your perfect shot.

“Seriously?” you muttered, dropping your camera with an exasperated huff.

The blonde jogged over with a sheepish smile. “My bad! Totally didn’t see you there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m wearing a neon orange vest.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, not even pretending to be innocent. “Definitely saw you and still ran through anyway.”

You laughed, despite yourself. “So you’re just causing chaos on purpose?”

“Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.” She extended her hand. “Paige.”

You shook it. “I know.”

Something passed between you — something warm, unspoken.

“I’m Y/N,” you added.

She grinned. “Welcome to the team.”

You decided to go out with your friends one night to celebrate your new job and one thing led to another, you wake up in a random dorm, naked under the sheets.

The nausea started subtly. A twist in your gut here, a weird aversion to coffee there. You thought it was stress. Or nerves. Maybe both.

Until one night, after a long day of shooting edits, you came home, sat down on your couch… and couldn’t stop crying.

No reason. Just waves of emotion crashing over you like a flood.

You chalked it up to burnout.

Until you missed your period.

Twice.

Panic settled into your bones like a chill. A drugstore pregnancy test confirmed what you already feared — two pink lines, bright and clear.

You were pregnant.

And completely, utterly alone.

You didn’t tell anyone. Not yet.

You threw yourself into work instead. Shooting every practice, every media day. Keeping your head down. Ignoring the fatigue, the nausea, the way your jeans started fitting just a little tighter.

But it caught up to you.

It was during a particularly brutal practice. You crouched near the sideline, camera in hand, already feeling queasy. The sound of sneakers and whistles surrounded you in a haze.

Then everything tilted. Your stomach churned.

You barely made it to a trash can before vomiting.

Everything stopped. Voices faded. And then a gentle hand settled on your back.

“Hey. Hey, you okay?”

You looked up, flushed and humiliated, only to see Paige crouched beside you, concern etched into every line of her face.

“I—yeah. I’m fine. Probably just something I ate.”

She didn’t move. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You were. You hated that she could see that.

“Come on,” she murmured, slipping an arm under yours. “Let’s get you to the bench.”

You let her help you sit, and she knelt in front of you, bottle of water in hand.

“Want me to call someone?” she asked.

You shook your head quickly. “No. Please, don’t. I’m okay.”

She watched you for a long moment before sighing. “Alright. But I’m staying here. Just in case.”

She sat beside you for the rest of practice. Quiet. Steady. A warm presence.

You didn’t realize how much you needed that.

A few weeks later, you’re sitting on your bed, unable to fall asleep. You called the hospital two days ago to schedule an ultrasound and now you’re nervous, scared and alone.

Well… not really alone. Paige has somewhat been a constant in your life since you got sick that one time during practice.

So, you called her in the middle of the night, knowing she was most likely asleep, but two rings later, the phone picks up.

“Hello?” A sleepy voice answers.

You hesitate. “Hey, Paige.”

“Y/N?” Paige its up from her bed, a bit more awake now. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Uh, well, remember when you told me that I could call you up for anything?”

“Yeah, of course. You good ma?”

“Can you come over?”

“Already on my way.”

Ten minutes later, you hear a knock on your door. Opening it to reveal a tired looking Paige in pajama pants, hoodie, and glasses.

“You doing okay?” she asks, stepping into your apartment and settling herself on your couch.

“Not really.” 

She could tell you were nervous so she gestures for you to sit next to her.

“What’s wrong?”

You can’t bring yourself to say it, so you take the stick out of your jacket pocket and silently hand it to her. 

“Is this…” you mindlessly nod, tears forming in your eyes.

“I didn’t know who else to call.”

She instantly brings you into her arms, making your break down.

“It’s alright mama. I got you. I always got you.”

The day of your appointment, Paige picked you up bright and early. The car was filled with comfortable silence from the two of you, music playing low in the background.

“You nervous?” she asked as you sat in the waiting room.

“Terrified,” you admitted.

She didn’t say anything. Just reached over and took your hand.

When the screen lit up in the dark exam room, and the faint flicker of a heartbeat appeared, something inside you cracked wide open.

You looked over to find Paige staring at the monitor with wide eyes, her lips parted, something reverent on her face.

“You’re not alone in this,” she whispered.

You didn’t let go of her hand the rest of the day.

After that, she barely left your side.

Weeks turned into months.

Paige started walking you home when you were too tired to drive. She kept saltines in her bag just in case. If you were working late in the photo lab, she’d show up with food..

Pregnancy cravings were no joke.

One night at 11:46 PM, you texted her. You: “I NEED pickles and a Frosty. If I don’t have them, I might cry.”

Fourteen minutes later, your door buzzed.

She stood there in pajama pants and a hoodie, holding a Wendy’s bag in one hand and a jar of pickles in the other.

“You’re insane,” you told her, laughing through your tears.

She winked. “No, I’m just really invested in this whole co-pilot role.”

You ate together on the couch, TV playing some old rom-com neither of you paid attention to.

As you entered your second trimester, your body grew heavier, slower. Everything ached.

Paige never complained.

She adjusted her class schedule to walk you home. Slept over more often. Always on the couch, though… until the night you fell asleep with your head on her shoulder, and neither of you moved.

That was the night it shifted.

It wasn’t said. Just… understood.

The space between you? It was gone.

She became your person — quietly, without fanfare.

One evening, you found her sitting in the nursery, folding onesies and humming.

She looked up. “You’re not scared, are you?”

You sat beside her. “Terrified.”

She reached for your hand. “Me too. But we’re doing this together.”

The UConn team threw you the most wonderfully chaotic baby shower imaginable.

There were balloons in every corner, streamers tangled in door frames, and a massive cake that read “Welcome, Mini Huskie!” Nika brought five tubs of different ice creams like it was a taste-test competition. Azzi cried during her speech, her voice cracking halfway through as she tried to talk about how loved this baby already was.

But the biggest moment of the day was still to come.

A week earlier, after the ultrasound appointment, you and Paige had been handed an envelope with the gender inside. Instead of opening it yourselves, Paige had smiled at you, then turned to Azzi and handed it over.

“Don’t open it yet,” Paige warned with a playful but serious look. “You get to plan something. Just make it special.”

Azzi grinned like she’d just been handed the keys to a kingdom.

And now, at the shower—turned gender reveal—everyone gathered around in the backyard as Azzi stood next to a giant balloon, a pin in her hand and a knowing glint in her eyes.

“You ready?” she asked, looking at both you and Paige.

You clutched Paige’s hand tighter, your heart racing. She gave your hand a squeeze back, her thumb gently stroking over your knuckles.

“Go for it,” you breathed.

Azzi popped the balloon—and a shower of pink confetti exploded into the air.

You froze. So did Paige.

Then you both looked at each other at the same time.

“A girl,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

Paige blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold it together, but her smile was wide and trembling. She reached out and wrapped both arms around you, burying her face into the side of your neck.

“A daughter,” she whispered. “We’re having a daughter.”

Your eyes welled up, and you couldn’t even pretend to hold back the tears. Around you, the team was cheering, confetti still drifting down, but it all faded into the background. All you could feel was Paige’s arms, her breath against your skin, the quiet way she held you like everything in her world had just found its place.

And later, when the chaos had mellowed and it was time for toasts, Paige stood up and the room quieted immediately.

“I know she isn’t biologically mine,” she said gently. “And I wasn’t there at the very beginning. But I’ve been here—and I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart clenched.

“She’s ours,” Paige continued, eyes finding yours. “She belongs to Y/N, but she’s mine too. I’ll be there for every sleepless night, every first step, every scraped knee and birthday candle.”

You cried.

And when Paige leaned in and kissed your cheek, you held onto her like letting go might somehow break the spell.

The next weekend, your living room was a maze of cardboard boxes, rogue screws, and one very determined Paige Bueckers sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding a tiny Allen wrench like it was a weapon of war.

“This can’t be legal,” she muttered, eyeing the thick instruction manual like it had personally offended her. “There’s... forty-seven steps. Who designs a crib with forty-seven steps?”

You watched from the couch, hand resting over your bump, trying not to laugh too hard because it made your back hurt. Paige had her hair tied back in a little bun and was wearing an old UConn hoodie already stained with sweat and smudged wood glue. One of the side panels was leaning awkwardly against the wall, while the rest of the crib parts looked like they’d been laid out by someone with no grasp of logic or gravity.

“Need help?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, lifting a board and promptly dropping one of the screws under the couch. “I’ve got this. I’m not just a basketball player. I am a builder of dreams.”

You snorted. “You’re not even a builder of IKEA furniture.”

“That’s rude,” she muttered. “And also fair.”

You smiled as you watched her work. It was clumsy, awkward, and completely endearing. She squinted at the pieces, sometimes holding two up together and whispering, “Are you guys soulmates or just coworkers?” At one point she called Nika for backup, but hung up after two minutes when Nika started laughing too hard to give any actual advice.

Eventually, Paige managed to attach three pieces together in what might have been the base of the crib. She sat back with a proud little grin, wiping sweat from her forehead and breathing like she’d just played four quarters and an overtime.

“Look at that,” she said. “Our baby’s gonna sleep right here.”

She leaned forward then, pressing her palm against the growing curve of your belly. Her voice dropped to a quiet murmur.

“You hear that, little one? I’m building this with my own two hands. Well... mostly. Your mom’s laughing at me, but she knows I’m trying.”

You felt it immediately—how soft her voice had gotten, how her eyes never left your belly as she spoke again.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” Paige whispered. “You’re not even here yet, and I already love you so much. I hope you like basketball. But if not, that’s cool too. We’ll figure it out together.”

She smiled, then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your belly.

Your throat tightened. Completely out of nowhere, the emotion hit you like a wave. Tears welled up as you stared at her—this girl who had stumbled her way into your life and your heart, and now, somehow, was falling just as in love with your daughter as you were.

“You okay?” she asked, noticing your face.

You nodded, barely able to speak. “Yeah. Just... you’re gonna be such a good mom.”

Paige blinked, like she was trying not to cry now. She crawled over to you, cradling your face in both hands before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“We’re gonna be good moms,” she said. “All three of us—we’re already a team.”

It was late. The moon hung low outside your apartment window. Your swollen ankles were propped on a pillow. Paige was sitting on the floor, organizing diapers by size.

She looked up suddenly.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

You blinked.

“Wait—no. I know I’m in love with you. I don’t know when it happened,” she continued. “Somewhere between the first ultrasound and the Frosty at midnight. But I am. And I don’t want to pretend I’m not.”

Your breath caught.

You moved to sit up, heart racing.

“And I know it’s messy,” she added. “That this isn’t the way people usually fall in love. But I’m not people. I’m me. And you’re you. And I love you.”

You smiled softly, eyes welling.

“I love you too, Paige.”

She blinked. “Yeah?”

You nodded.

She stood, crossed to the couch, and cupped your face gently.

And when she kissed you, everything fell into place.

You didn’t think labor would start while watching The Princess Diaries.

But, as Julie Andrews was mid-speech about Genovia, a sharp pain gripped your abdomen, and your half-eaten bowl of popcorn slipped from your lap to the floor.

“Paige…” you whispered.

She was already up from the couch, rushing to your side, eyes wide. “What? What’s wrong?”

You grabbed her hand. “I think… I think it’s time.”

The calm, collected version of Paige you’d grown to love completely dissolved into a whirlwind of nervous scrambling — tripping over her own shoes, grabbing the hospital bag and phone, calling the Uber and trying to put your slippers on at the same time.

But the entire ride, she held your hand. Her thumb ran over your knuckles in a rhythm as steady as her breathing — not for herself, but for you.

And even through the pain, even through the panic, you felt safe.

It had been nearly fourteen hours of labor. Pain, sweat, tears, and a depth of exhaustion you didn’t know a body could feel. But when the final push came and you heard that first cry — that sweet, powerful cry — everything else faded to silence.

Your chest heaved. Your hands shook. Your heart was somewhere between your ribs and the ceiling.

Then they laid her on your chest.

Small. Warm. Red-cheeked and crying.

You stared at her, stunned by how something so little could take up every corner of your soul at once.

And beside you, Paige was crying just as hard — her hand clutching yours, her forehead pressed to your temple as she whispered, “You did it. You did so good, baby. She’s here. She’s really here.”

You looked down at the perfect little face pressed against your skin. The tiny lashes. The way her mouth curled like she was trying to figure the world out already.

“She’s… she’s everything,” you breathed.

“She’s ours,” Paige whispered, brushing a kiss across your temple.

The nurse came by to clean and weigh her, and even for the minute she was gone from your arms, it felt like a piece of your chest went with her. Paige didn’t take her eyes off the bassinet, standing at your side, hand still wrapped around yours.

When she was swaddled and returned to you, Paige sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out with the gentlest touch.

Her finger brushed your daughter's cheek.

“I still can’t believe she’s real.”

“She feels like a dream,” you whispered.

There was a long pause, the kind that settled deep into the air around you. Paige’s eyes didn’t move from your daughter.

“So, I’ve been thinking… Emma.”

You turned your head to her.

“Emma?” you repeated.

She smiled, slow and sure. “Yeah. Emma Bueckers.”

Your heart caught in your throat.

Your gaze dropped to the baby again. Emma. It fit her. Strong, soft, quietly powerful.

“She looks like an Emma,” you murmured, then smiled. “Emma Bueckers. Yeah… I like that.”

Paige reached up to push your hair from your face, thumb gently brushing along your cheekbone. 

Her voice came even softer this time, “Hopefully… that could be your name too. One day?”

You blinked, heart skipping as you looked up at her.

She was serious.

The warmth in her eyes, the soft curve of her mouth, the way her fingers lingered just below your jaw — it was all there, raw and open.

“What are you saying, Paige?”

She exhaled, then let out the smallest laugh — nervous, but full of love. “I’m saying… I want this forever. You. Her. All of it. I want to be the one who holds you at the end of every day. The one who changes diapers with you, and buys too many matching baby socks, and brings you snacks during every late-night feeding.”

You let out a breathy laugh, heart thudding.

“I know we didn’t plan this,” she continued, eyes shining. “But this feels like the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I’ve known since that night I built the crib — when you were sitting on the floor with one hand on your belly and a screwdriver in the other, trying to take over building for me — that I was already yours.”

You stared at her for a long moment. This woman who had gone from your friend to your safe place. The one who carried you through every bout of morning sickness, who whispered to your belly every night, who held you like you were something precious.

Now she was holding your baby, and asking to hold your heart, too.

Tears welled in your eyes. “I want that too. I want all of it. You, me, Emma… forever.”

Paige leaned in and kissed you, soft and slow and full of everything that words couldn’t say.

“I don’t have a ring yet,” she whispered against your lips. “I want to do it right. But I couldn’t leave that room without telling you. Without… hoping.”

“You didn’t need a ring,” you whispered. “You already gave me everything.”

Emma stirred in your arms, letting out the tiniest sigh — like she could sense the weight of the moment.

You both looked down at her, your foreheads touching.

“So… Emma Bueckers,” you said softly. “And maybe soon… we’ll all have the same name.”

Paige’s smile broke open with emotion, tears falling freely now. “God, I love you.”

You kissed her again, arms curled around your daughter, and for a moment the entire world fit into one small hospital room.

Azzi was the first to show up.

She brought a huge pink balloon bouquet and teared up the second she saw the baby in your arms.

“Okay, I didn’t think I’d cry this fast,” she sniffled, laughing through the tears. “She’s… she’s beautiful.”

“She’s perfect,” Paige whispered proudly, standing behind you with her hands on your shoulders.

Nika barged in ten minutes later with a camera and matching mother-daughter socks. “This baby’s gonna be dripped out before she even walks!”

Aubrey came with homemade muffins. Geno brought a stuffed Husky and gave you both a rare but heartfelt hug.

And in the quiet lull between visitors, Paige reached into the bassinet and gently scooped Emma into her arms. You watched her cradle her like she’d done it for years, her voice soft.

“You’ve got so many people who love you, little one,” she whispered. “But I’m your number one. Always.”

You smiled through the haze of sleep deprivation and aching muscles.

“You mean we’re her number ones.”

Paige grinned. “Right. Sorry. She’s got two MVPs.”

Then she kissed Emma’s tiny forehead, and softly murmured, “Can’t wait to marry your mom someday.”

“You’ve got a good team here,” Geno said softly, patting Paige on the back and giving your shoulder a squeeze. “And now you’ve got one more.”

But it was Azzi who lingered after the others had left. She rocked Emma slowly, humming to her in the late afternoon light filtering through the window.

You exchanged a glance with Paige, and without speaking, you both knew it was the right moment.

“Azzi,” you said gently.

She looked up.

“We want you to be her godmother,” Paige said, voice a little thick.

Azzi blinked, visibly stunned. “Wait—me?”

“Of course,” you nodded. “You’ve always been family.”

Azzi’s eyes welled up again. “I’d be honored.”

Emma cooed softly in her arms.

“Guess that’s a yes from her too,” Paige smiled.

It was a strange thing — leaving the hospital.

You expected a bigger moment, maybe. Something cinematic. But in reality, it was a flurry of paperwork, soft murmurs from nurses, and Paige fumbling with the car seat like it was made of quantum physics. She finally got Emma clicked in, though not without wiping her eyes first.

“I just… can’t believe they’re letting us take her home,” she whispered as she looked at your daughter. “Like… we’re trusted with this tiny person?”

You laughed softly from the passenger seat. “Paige, you built an entire crib from scratch and kept me upright through eight months of pregnancy. I think we’re good.”

She reached over to squeeze your hand, eyes warm. “I still don’t believe this is real.”

The apartment looked the same. It smelled faintly of the lavender candle Paige had insisted on lighting before heading to the hospital. But something had shifted. Everything felt quieter. More fragile. More sacred.

Emma’s first night home was soft and slow.

You held her against your chest as Paige fussed with the temperature of the room, checking the baby monitor for the fifth time.

“She’s not even in the crib yet,” you teased, watching her.

“Doesn’t matter,” Paige muttered. “I just want everything perfect.”

“You already are.”

She turned and gave you the softest look. “You’re tired. You sleep. I’ll stay up with her.”

And she did.

You woke up hours later and found Paige asleep in the rocking chair, Emma on her chest, both of them out cold. The moonlight spilling through the window made the whole scene glow.

You didn’t say anything. Just leaned against the doorframe and let the image burn into your memory.

The first bath happened days later, and it was… chaotic.

Paige read the instructions on the baby bath three times. You were in charge of the temperature, towel, and Emma’s post-bath outfit, which Paige insisted be the “bunny one with the ears.”

Emma screamed the whole time.

“She hates this,” Paige said in a mild panic, cradling your slippery, red-faced daughter like she was made of glass.

“She doesn’t hate it,” you laughed. “She just doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“But her face—!”

“She’s fine. You’re doing great.”

Paige looked up at you, wet curls falling into her eyes. “I’ve played in front of thousands of people. Won important games. But nothing has ever been this stressful.”

“Welcome to parenthood,” you said, grinning.

Later, Emma finally calmed down in Paige’s arms, wrapped in her bunny towel, little fists curled against her chest. You both sat on the couch in silence, breathing her in.

“I never thought this would be my life,” Paige whispered, brushing her thumb along Emma’s cheek. “And I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Nights became a rhythm.

2 a.m. was Emma’s favorite time to wake.

You’d hear the soft cries before your eyes were even open, and somehow Paige was always up before you, already halfway to the bassinet.

She’d come back with the baby cradled against her chest, humming under her breath. Sometimes she’d hand her to you, sometimes she’d just sit on the bed, legs crossed, whispering sweet nothings to Emma’s tiny face.

“You don’t even flinch anymore,” you said one night as she handed Emma over for her feeding.

“I think I just listen for her even in my dreams,” Paige replied, settling beside you. “She’s in my bones now.”

You looked at her over your daughter’s head, completely and utterly in awe.

“God, I love you,” you whispered.

She smiled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I’m gonna marry you, you know.”

“You already said that.”

“I meant it.”

Two weeks in, Paige started making notes.

They were small things — scribbled phrases in a notebook she kept beside the couch. You caught glimpses sometimes when you walked by: ring ideas, favorite moments, speech draft?

You never asked. She never said. But you knew.

She was planning.

One afternoon, as Emma napped in the bassinet and sunlight pooled across the living room rug, Paige curled up beside you on the couch. You had your head on her shoulder, her arm around your waist, her other hand resting lightly on your thigh.

“I think she’s going to have your smile,” you whispered.

Paige hummed. “I think she already has your attitude.”

You chuckled softly. “We’re doomed.”

“She’s perfect.”

A pause.

“You both are.”

You turned your head, brushing your nose against her jaw.

“You okay?”

She nodded, eyes glassy. “Yeah. I just… I’ve never had something so good before. So real. It’s terrifying.”

You reached for her hand. “It’s not going anywhere.”

“I know.” She paused, then leaned in and pressed her lips to your temple. “And I’m not wasting any time pretending I don’t want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

The day that everything was going to change for the better started with a video call.

Paige was bouncing Emma in one arm, pacing the living room in worn sweats and a messy bun, while your soft humming filtered in from the kitchen. She had that look in her eyes — distant, thoughtful — like her brain was running miles faster than her feet.

She’d been thinking about it for days.

Then she opened her contacts and hit Azzi’s name.

It rang once. Twice.

“Yo,” Azzi’s voice came through, grinning immediately when she saw Emma. “There’s my goddaughter! Look at her chubby cheeks — hey, mama!”

Emma blinked sleepily at the screen, half-interested, half-dozing.

Paige smiled, kissed the top of her head, and shifted to cradle her against her chest. “She just ate. She’s in a milk coma.”

Azzi laughed. “What’s up? You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

“I haven’t,” Paige admitted. “But that’s not why I called.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Everything okay?”

Paige hesitated. Then exhaled and moved to sit on the edge of the couch. Emma stayed snuggled to her chest, her tiny hand gripping Paige’s shirt.

“I need your help with something.”

Azzi raised a brow. “Basketball-related?”

“No. Bigger.”

Azzi sat up straighter. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m gonna propose.”

Azzi blinked. “To—wait, to—to her?”

Paige just smiled.

A slow, soft grin spread across Azzi’s face, full of warmth and surprise. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious,” Paige whispered. “I’m in love with her. I’ve been in love with her. She gave me this family. I’ve never felt more like myself than I do when I’m with her. When I’m with them.”

Azzi let out a breath, visibly moved. “Paige, that’s… God. That’s everything.”

“I want it to be perfect,” Paige said, her voice quiet. “I want her to know — without a doubt — that this isn’t just something I fell into. That I chose her. I chose Emma. And I’ll choose them both for the rest of my life.”

Azzi was quiet for a beat.

“Okay, well now I’m crying at eight a.m., thanks.”

Paige laughed. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s beautiful,” Azzi said, swiping under her eyes. “She’s gonna say yes. You know that, right?”

“I think so.”

Azzi gave her a look. “Paige.”

“I hope so.”

“She looks at you like you hung the moon.”

Paige smiled down at Emma. “I think Emma’s got her wrapped around her finger more than I do.”

“Both of you do.”

There was a long pause. Azzi leaned forward on her screen.

“Alright. So what’s the vibe? Big romantic gesture? Quiet and intimate? Flash mob with the team dressed as roses?”

Paige snorted. “Absolutely not that last one.”

“Fine, party pooper.”

“I want something that feels like us.” Paige looked up again. “You’ve known me longer than anyone. Help me think.”

Azzi grinned. “Okay. What’s your shortlist?”

“I’ve got… a few ideas.”

She pulled out her phone and opened a note she’d been working on secretly. Azzi watched as Paige scrolled.

Recreate the night we built the crib — but actually finish it this time, then propose in the nursery.

Take her back to UConn, rent the gym, propose where we first met.

Picnic at the lake by our place. Emma in a little onesie. Paige gives her the ring to hand over.

Quiet night at home. Candlelight. Just us. Nothing else needed.

Azzi read the list quietly.

“They’re all good,” she said. “But number three? That one’s got me.”

Paige looked up. “You think so?”

“You’ve always been your softest when you’re with her and Emma outside. When it’s just you two in your bubble. I’ve seen it.” Azzi smiled. “And can you imagine the look on her face when Emma toddles over with the ring box? She’ll melt.”

Paige sighed, smiling like she could already see it.

“She’s gonna lose it.”

“She’s gonna sob, and then say yes, and then probably tackle you,” Azzi said. “And I’m gonna cry again, even if it’s on FaceTime.”

“You'll be the first to know,” Paige promised.

Azzi laughed. “Damn right I will.”

Later that night, Paige lay beside you in bed, watching as you fed Emma under the soft glow of the nightlight. Your robe was slipping off one shoulder, your hair a little messy, and your smile was so full of love it made her heart ache.

“You okay?” you asked gently.

Paige reached over, brushing a thumb against your wrist.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You tilted your head. “What brought that on?”

She leaned in, kissed your shoulder, and whispered, “You’ll see.”

It took Paige weeks to find the right ring.

Azzi had come through with the jeweler recommendation — a Black-owned custom shop in Dallas that specialized in timeless, understated pieces. Paige didn’t want flash. She didn’t want anything over-the-top. She wanted you.

Simple. Elegant. Something that would glint under sunlight when you held Emma. Something that would feel like her heart had been shaped into metal and slipped onto your finger.

It was a gold band, warm and soft, with a single diamond in the center and two tiny emeralds on either side — one for you, one for Emma.

When she picked it up, she couldn’t stop staring at it. The box sat in her hoodie pocket every day after that. Just… waiting.

At the time of the big day, Paige woke up early.

The light in the bedroom was pale, barely brushing the sheets. You were still asleep, hair fanned across the pillow, lips parted softly. Emma was in the bassinet nearby, snuggled up with her favorite plush bunny.

Paige slipped out of bed like it was a sacred act, careful not to wake either of you. She kissed both foreheads on her way out of the room and tiptoed to the nursery.

That’s where the onesie was hidden.

It was custom, of course. She’d had it made after talking to Azzi. Cream-colored cotton, soft as clouds, with little gold script across the front.

Paige changed Emma into it slowly, whispering to her the whole time. “You ready to help me do something big, baby girl? You’re gonna be part of something so special today.”

Emma giggled, like she understood. Paige pressed her forehead to her daughter’s and exhaled.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

It was the same lake you’d picnicked at when Emma was just a few weeks old — the one where you’d laid in Paige’s lap, watching the ripples move across the water while she fed you strawberries and rubbed your back.

This time, Paige set up early.

A soft checkered blanket. A woven basket full of your favorites — pastries from your favorite coffee spot, the baby’s bottles, little pink tulips tucked into a mason jar. A speaker sat tucked into the grass, set to a playlist Paige had made for this exact moment.

It was perfect.

Then Paige sent you a text.

hey baby. bring emma and come meet me by the lake? we’re having breakfast together. dress comfy <3

You read it in the kitchen, sipping your tea, and smiled. “She’s up to something,” you mumbled.

Emma blinked up at you from her stroller.

You didn’t realize until you pushed her toward the lake, walking down the grassy hill and saw Paige standing near the edge of the blanket, heart in her throat — that something was different.

Paige took Emma from the stroller, holding her in a way so she’s facing you. That’s when you saw the onesie.

“Marry Mama?”

You stopped mid-step.

And then your eyes lifted to Paige.

She was smiling, but her lips were trembling. Her hands were already reaching for the small velvet box in her pocket. “Surprise,” she said softly.

You stared at Emma. Then back at Paige. “Oh my God.”

Paige stepped forward slowly. “I wanted to do this right. I wanted you to remember this moment for the rest of your life. Because I will.”

You blinked fast, tears rushing up before you could stop them.

“I know this hasn’t been a typical love story. I know we weren’t expecting any of this — but you,” she said, voice catching, “you gave me everything I never knew I needed.”

You covered your mouth, breath shaky.

“You let me love you through all of it — through the fear and the unknown, through swollen feet and late-night cravings and sleep-deprived chaos — and every single day I’ve spent with you, I’ve only wanted one thing... more.”

She dropped to one knee, Em laying against her chest, holding the ring box open in her shaking hands.

“I want to be your wife. I want to be Emma’s mom forever. I want to spend every boring Tuesday and messy Sunday morning beside you. I want all of it. You. Her. Us.”

You sobbed, stepping forward, completely overwhelmed.

“Will you marry me?”

You nodded before you could even speak.

Then you dropped to your knees in front of her and cupped her face between your hands, laughing through the tears.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, yes, yes. God, Paige, of course I’ll marry you.”

She kissed you before she even got the ring on.

It was messy and salty and perfect. Emma babbled at you both, kicking her feet in her little onesie like she’d planned it herself.

When Paige finally slipped the ring onto your finger, your hands were still trembling. “It’s so beautiful,” you whispered, staring at it.

“So are you,” she said, voice full of awe.

That night, back home, you lay on the couch with your head in Paige’s lap, Emma asleep on your chest, and the ring glinting in the soft golden light of the TV.

“You know,” you whispered, “I think Emma might be magic.”

Paige smiled. “She made a lot of things possible.”

You turned your hand, admiring the ring again. “Did Azzi help you plan this?”

“She’s the one who made me realize how sure I was.”

“I’m glad she did.”

Paige leaned down and kissed your temple.

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

“You already feel like home.”

[megalony]

You've Earned It

It's been a while, but here is a new Jim Street imagine, requested by a lovely mutual. I hope you will all like this one.

I'm trying to get a few more Swat ideas in motion at the moment.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713

Swat Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is on maternity leave, but she pops into Swat to visit the team. But when a situation breaks out and they go on lock down, (Y/n)'s water breaks.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A strange smirk danced across (Y/n)'s face when she took the visitor's badge she was handed and clipped it onto her waist. It wasn't often that (Y/n) had to wear this kind of badge when she came into Swat headquarters like this. It almost made her feel like an outsider.

She didn't feel like part of Swat when she was demoted to being a visitor, but then again, (Y/n) could understand that it was for security. They had to log people in and out, no matter who they were, when they came to visit. Just in case there was a security risk or they had a fire and had to evacuate so they knew everyone was out safely.

Her bag tapped against her side and she tightened her hand around the leather handle so her bag stopped trying to slide down her shoulder.

Her shoes clicked against the tiled floor and her eyes scanned around as she slowly headed towards the gym that she hadn't used in quite a few months.

A tender look crossed her face and she briefly tilted her head down when her eyes caught on a familiar figure approaching her.

"Who let you back in the building?" Hondo's deep voice was followed by a laugh that made (Y/n)'s smile change back into a smirk and when she lifted her head, she saw he was aiming right for her. His arms stretched out to reel her in for a hug.

It had been a while since (Y/n) had seen Hondo, granted they had messaged a bit over the last few weeks, but that was different to seeing him in person. Especially when she used to see him every other day for almost twelve or fifteen hours at a time when they worked together.

But it had all changed since (Y/n) got pregnant.

She was one of the few women in Swat and that meant the contracts had to be updated to allow maternity leave to be introduced. (Y/n) had been on amended duties, restricted to living in the base and not allowed to attend any of the raids or calls they went out on. She was their eyes and ears, living in the computer room. Until she had to take early maternity leave.

"Haven't you missed me?" (Y/n) countered, folding her arms over her chest when they finally parted.

She watched Hondo lean on his back foot and place his hands on his hips as he grinned and looked around the gym.

"You know we have, it's not the same here without you. Deak, look who dropped by."

Deacon looked like he had been aiming to walk in a different direction, but the moment his eyes locked on (Y/n), a grin spread across his face and he switched to jog over to them instead. (Y/n) loved the way he looped an arm around her shoulders and reeled her into his side like he hadn't seen her in months rather than a matter of weeks.

"Hey! What're you doing here, how are you?"

"I'm good, got a bit lonely so thought I'd come and brighten the place up for a while."

Everyone had been more understanding than (Y/n) first thought when she and Jim told them that they were expecting their first baby. (Y/n) thought it would change things too much. She was worried that when they got someone to take her spot out in the field while she helped in the computer room, that it would become permanent. (Y/n) worked hard to get her place on the team and she didn't want to lose that because she wanted to have a family.

But the team had been so encouraging and warm and understanding, if anything it seemed to bring them closer together.

And when (Y/n) had to go to hospital last month, the team had been understanding then too. Hondo got Jim's shifts covered so he could be with (Y/n) for a week. She had started to have contractions and they thought she was having the baby early, but the doctors had managed to stop them and get everything back under control.

That meant (Y/n) had to go on early leave so she wouldn't be too stressed or overwhelmed and go into early labour.

But Jim was still working, and (Y/n) didn't like being home alone without him like this. She wanted to be with people, with her family, and she thought it might be good to come here and see the team for a little while.

"Let's go get a drink, I think Street's in the kitchen."

(Y/n) nodded and let them steer her towards the kitchen. Somehow, it felt strange to be back here when she knew she still had months left on leave where she would hardly be visiting at all. Swat was a busy place, visiting was allowed and encouraged but it wasn't always possible with how busy their teams got. (Y/n) knew that better than anybody.

But she also knew that once their baby was born, Jim would want to bring them here to show them off to everyone at least once.

When they headed into the kitchen, (Y/n) slumped her bag down onto the counter so she dind't have to keep lugging it around with her.

Her eyes set on Jim immediately and it made a smile pull at her lips when she looked at him. He had his back to them, one hip cocked out at the side and his head at an angle while he poured himself and Chris a drink.

Heading over to them, (Y/n) kept her steps light and the moment she was close enough, she bound her arms around Jim's waist making him shudder. His body pressed into the counter like he was expecting someone to try and tackle him to the ground. But he soon recognised who was binding themselves to him. Not that many people would come up and hug him, especially at work.

If it was Chris hugging him it was usually because something was wrong or one of them needed comfort. And if it was Luca he slung an arm around Jim's neck and reeled him in for a sideways bear hug. So the only logical person who would be hugging him so fondly and tightly like this would be his wife.

He felt (Y/n)'s face pressing into his back between his shoulder blades and his lips curved into a smile when her hands pressed down into his chest and he could feel her bump moulding up against his lower back near his hips.

"Hey baby, what're you doing here?" He slid a cup across to Chris before he reached his hand down to give (Y/n)'s hand a squeeze.

He stayed pressed up into the counter, sipping on his drink for a moment before (Y/n) finally relented and took a few steps back so he could turn around in her arms. He left his cup on the counter and slung his arm around the back of her shoulders and the other around her waist.

The signature grin lit up Jim's face and he tilted his head down so he could steal a kiss from her lips. She wasn't on shift like he was, (Y/n) was clearly here on a passing visit which meant there were no rules against showing any PDA. None of the team cared if Jim wrapped himself around his wife or if he kissed her, they wouldn't say anything.

"I got lonely." It wasn't fun being home alone when her partner and all their friends were here at work. (Y/n) felt like she was missing out on something. She didn't like being on her own.

She could feel Jim smiling against her skin when he peppered a few kisses along her cheek and down her neck. He knew she would be restless at home, he was surprised she hadn't turned up here before now.

When she turned around, (Y/n) leaned her head back on Jim's shoulder and her back into his chest just a little, not wanting to use him as a leaning post but it was very tempting. She felt his right arm loop around her waist, hand settling on her stomach while he reached over and grabbed his coffee. Both of them watching as Hondo and Deacon set about getting some drinks from the fridge.

"So, what have I missed?" (Y/n) kindly shook her head when Deacon offered one of the juice bottles out to her.

She wasn't thirsty. She didn't feel great today, one of the reasons she had stopped by. She was feeling restless and her headache had been blinding her all morning. Being around the team felt like something that would keep her occupied and take her mind off how uncomfortable she was beginning to feel.

"As if Street hasn't already been keeping you updated." Deacon tilted his head to one side with raised brows that dared them to say he was wrong.

They weren't stupid. They knew Jim would go home and tell (Y/n) all the strange, crazy and hard calls she was missing while she was off work. She wanted to be kept in the loop and like she was still part of the team while she was off.

"Alright, what have I missed today?" She countered while she switched her weight from one leg to the other to see if it would help with the pain in her lower back. It didn't do much.

"Today? Nothing."

A conversation began to flow through the kitchen while (Y/n) started to drum her fingertips on the counter beside her. She didn't feel great. She tried to focus on the feeling of Jim's fingers twitching against her stomach like he always did whenever he was near her.

Her features softened and she leaned further back into Jim when she felt him murmur "You good?" against the shell of her ear.

She managed a nod and hummed back as she pressed her lips against the tip of his jaw.

"Well, how about we-" Whatever Hondo was about to say got abruptly cut off when one of the warning tones started blaring out through the speakers. That wasn't one of their drills, and they didn't have any emergency drills or fire alarm testings scheduled for today.

All of them tilted their heads back as if a reason or explanation would flash across the air above their heads along with the sirens. That wasn't a fire drill. It wasn't an evacuation drill and it wasn't a training exercise.

It was the emergency alarm.

(Y/n) felt both Jim's hands move down to hold her hips as his chest stiffened and pressed up into her back while she gripped the counter tighter. All eyes fell on Hondo who quickly pointed to the kitchen.

"Let's find out what's going on."

All of them followed him from the kitchen, briskly walking down the hall until their eyes locked on Commander Hicks approaching the gym from the stairs. Luca was already near the boxing ring along with Rocker and his team. A light shone in Luca's eyes when he glanced over at (Y/n) who he hadn't known was here. He nodded his chin and smiled briefly at her before their attention went back to Hicks.

"Commander, what's happening?" Hondo's hands fell to his hips as they all gathered around, usure why some people wre rushing upstairs or down the back corridor towards the car park.

"A suspect in our custody was just about to be transported from base. We don't know how, but someone found out he was here, started shooting before the car got out of base."

That didn't sound good. (Y/n) had come in on a day that had gone from boring to chaotic in less than ten minutes.

"Rocker, I want your team outside, get that prisoner back inside and those shooters under control. Everyone else stay inside, this place is on lock down. They knew he was here somehow."

They all knew what that meant. Either someone had seen the suspect arrested and knew where he was being taken, or someone on the inside had alerted others that he was here. Either solution wasn't great but they had to get this situation under control. It wasn't safe for anyone to be going out in this mess unless they really had to.

They couldn't try and evacuate the prisoner from here and transport him if the shooters were still observing from outside. And that meant no one else could leave either in case they became targets.

Rocker darted off to assemble his team and come up with a plan while the rest of them shared confused and rather worried looks. Were they just meant to stay inside and observe? Make sure everyone here was okay and keep the situation under control? Could they not do anything else to help?

Except (Y/n), of course. She wasn't technically meant to be here, she was a visitor and as such she couldn't do anything to help the team. Not that she could do much anyway except for go and try to help in the computer room.

"I take it I'm staying too?" (Y/n) tried to smile and her head tilted at an angle when she caught the commander's eye.

He seemed to do a double take, as if he had either not noticed her presence or forgot she was here ni a visiting capacity rather than a work ethic.

"Oh… yeah, sorry (Y/n). For the time being you're stuck here with us."

She nodded while she felt Jim's hands on her hips and his lips and nose meshing against the back of her head. It wouldn't be safe for (Y/n) to try and make a quick exit back home, not with a shooter somewhere outside. Until everyone else could leave safely, (Y/n)'s best bet was to stay here with her team.

It would make her day interesting rather than going home and sitting on her own feeling bored.

Although (Y/n) did feel like she wanted to sit down, the ache in her lower back was steadily getting more and more uncomfortable. And her stomach felt unusually heavy.

"Let's go get a plan in motion and check any available security cameras."

(Y/n) felt Jim squeeze her hips in a silent request for her to follow along with them. There was no point (Y/n) sitting around and waiting when she could still try and help them. They were all going to be working from within the base right now, (Y/n) could easily tag along even if it was just to observe and stop herself from getting bored.

The pair of them followed along with the rest of the team towards the computer room and (Y/n) prayed the air con would be on in there. She was starting to burn up in here.

When they all blundered through into the computer room, (Y/n) moved over to one side so she would be out the way. She didn't want to be in the middle of the room, not when she wasn't going to have a lot of input and she wasn't technically working either. Nor did she want too many eyes on her when she didn't feel well.

It might be worth her while to go and sit in the kitchen for a while and grab a drink after all.

"Alright?" Jim whispered into the top of her head before he moved to stand beside her.

His arms folded over his chest and he cocked one knee forward while he watched Luca move over to grab an IPad which he connected to the big screen at the back of the room. He was loading up a map so they could work out what to do and where they could put Rocker's team so they would be hidden away in blindspots to give them some advantages.

Hunching forward, (Y/n) laid her arms on the table in front of her and sank her teeth down into her lip. Leaning forward like this made her feel a bit better, but she still felt like she should leave the room.

Her eyes danced around the room, seeing the commander and Hondo trying to come up with a game plan while Deacon helped Luca find some more maps.

She could barely focus or register what anyone was saying, she just felt like blending into the walls and disappearing. It wasn't like anyone was asking for her help anyway, (Y/n) and about five other Swat members were just crammed into the room, silent but observing.

When Jim waltzed over to the screen and started pointing out advantage points and security cameras on the streets, (Y/n) took that as her moment to try and disappear unknowingly.

She pushed up off the counter and carefully tried weaving past the desk, towards the other side of the room. She could go down the back corridor and get to the kitchen. If anyone noticed her going, they would know where she was aiming for.

Her left hand dragged up and down the back of her neck as she stuck close to the wall in case she needed some help with balance and to try and blend in.

She kept glancing her eyes around the room as if she was checking if anyone noticed her trying to make a slow disappearance. She locked eyes with Deacon who looked her up and down and rose a brow, asking a silent question to check she was alright and where she was going.

But he quickly thrust the tablet in his hand down on the desk in favour of reaching out for (Y/n) when she stumbled.

"Woah, you okay?" His voice was quiet, trying in vain not to catch any attention, but when he noticed where (Y/n) was looking, he followed her line of sight.

He had one hand on her back and the other on her arm while (Y/n) held onto his forearm with both hands to steady herself. Her eyes were cast down on the floor and Deacon felt the shudder that passed through her, and when he looked down, he realised what the problem was.

Her waters had broken.

"Uh Street, we have a situation." He gently squeezed (Y/n)'s arm while he looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with Jim. Although Deacon's statement had caught the attention of everyone who stopped what they were talking about to try and see what was going on.

"What? Oh, oh shit." Jim's wide brown eyes deepened and his lips parted but no more words filtered past his lips when he weaved round the table and looked over at his wife.

His hands found her waist and her hand, taking over from Deacon who took a step back once he knew (Y/n) was alright and not about to topple over.

Her head leaned back on Jim's shoulder as a petrified, apologetic expression flooded her face. She hadn't meant for this to happen. If (Y/n) knew the discomfort she had been feeling was because she was going to go into labour she wouldn't of come down to the base to see them. Not if she knew it would end with her waters breaking here, right when they were in the middle of a situation.

But then again, if she had stayed at home, she wouldn't of had Jim here with her from the start. And who knows what time he would of gotten to her after this whole situation was sorted out.

"Deak, what's up?"

"My water broke… I- I'm sorry," (Y/n) darted her eyes down before she looked up at Hondo as if she were about to burst into tears.

A round of "Oh Hell," and "Damn, that changes the plans," chorused through the air while (Y/n) squeezed Jim's hand and leaned back into him a little. She felt his hand slither round from her back to cup the side of her stomach while he leaned his chest down into her back.

His eyes darted around the room, gaging the expressions of the team whilst also waiting for someone to tell him what they were planning to do. If this place was on lockdown, Jim couldn't exactly walk out those doors and get his wife in the car to take her to the hospital.

"How long are we on lockdown?"

"Until the situation outside is contained." The look in Hicks's eyes was wavering, despite his calm, if cold, expression. He understood. He knew this was a serious situation for (Y/n) and Jim and he knew they would want to get out of here and get home and to the hospital as soon as possible.

"What do we do then?" Luca leaned on the desk and looked up at Hicks before glancing over at the couple opposite him. This wasn't an ideal situation, they would have to work something out.

"I need to take her to home-"

"Street, you'll both have to stay here. We can't risk you going out there without that shooter contained. Staying inside is the best bet right now, I'm sorry."

"Then I hope one of you is a midwife." Jim's snappy response caught everyone off guard and no one had a response for that, not even Hicks.

They didn't know how long it was going to take for them to contain the shooter and get their suspect evacuated from here and transported into custody. They didn't know what was going to happen within the base right now and how long lockdown was going to take. Hopefully it wouldn't take long, but Hicks wasn't going to take any risks.

He wasn't allowing anyone to leave the base until they knew for certain that everything was under control. (Y/n) was here as a visitor and that meant her safety was their concern. He wouldn't let her get hurt while she was here under their protection as a visitor and member of the public, not to mention they were all like one big family here.

"Can I sit down?" (Y/n) looked up behind her at Jim who was about to usher her with him to grab a chair when Hicks waved his hand out at them.

"Come on, you can both wait in my office until we can get you safely out of here."

That was a solution, for the time being. But it wasn't a long term solution and (Y/n) prayed they could go home soon. They needed to get ready, to get their maternity bag and the car seat and everything they needed from home. And they had to go get booked into the maternity ward at the hospital when the contractions got close.

They couldn't stay here for long, (Y/n) was in labour and the baby wasn't going to wait forever.

***

(Y/n) closed her eyes and buried her face in the arm of the sofa, smothering a groan. Her back was starting to ache and twinge from how she was sat hunched over, but she didn't know what to do with herself anymore. The contractions were getting worse and they were still at headquarters.

It didn't feel right to be sitting here in Hicks's office, but it was the best place to be right now. It was shut off from the rest of Swat, private and gave them room to move about or sit down, depending on what (Y/n) felt like doing.

She took as many deep breaths as she could manage, but it felt like her lungs were on fire. They were burning like she was breathing in smoke and she could feel her lungs inflating and deflating which was something (Y/n) never normally took notice of. And it was horrid.

"We're down to less than five minutes apart now." Chris looked down at her phone before she looked over at Jim who was sat on the sofa next to his wife.

He had one hand on (Y/n)'s back and the other clutching his knee like he was Bruce Banner doing his best not to turn into the Hulk. He looked over at one of his closest friends who had been timing the contractions for them. Chris was sat on the desk chair she had wheeled over towards the sofa. Her knees spread apart, elbows on her thighs and her phone now being tossed from one hand to the other to distract herself.

They both knew what this meant. If they didn't leave soon, there wouldn't be time to get (Y/n) to the hospital.

"I'll go find Hicks-"

"Don't you go anywhere!" (Y/n) clutched her hand around Jim's wrist before he had chance to lean away from her, let alone try and get up from the sofa.

She wasn't having him disappear around the base, she wasn't having Jim leave her alone for a second, not for anything. Their baby was coming and he had to stay with her, (Y/n) wasn't doing any of this alone.

"I'll go-" Chris didn't have chance to offer before there was a knock at the door and Hondo, Deacon and Luca filed into the room.

All three of them looked around like they weren't sure what they were expecting to find, but Jim's stern expression wasn't on their list. He looked livid. They had been stuck here for hours and time was dwindling away along with their chances of getting (Y/n) safely to a hospital to have this baby.

"Can we go now?" The determination in Jim's voice was like nothing any of them had ever heard before and the way he raised one brow made them all feel like school children about to be told off.

"The man in custody still hasn't been transported yet and Rocker's team haven't found all of the suspects. We can escort you outta here as soon as they've been found."

"By then it's gonna be too late. This is fucking Swat, we have to do something!"

Jim tightened his hand around (Y/n)'s while he slammed his other hand down on his thigh. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to be at home when (Y/n)'s water broke. She was supposed to be safe. Jim was supposed to drive her to the hospital and be there with her when she had the baby, not be here at work under lockdown.

Since the moment he met (Y/n), Jim wanted things to be different. He wanted their relationship to be like how he always dreamed. The opposite of his parent's marriage. He wanted to have kids with her and give his kids a stable upbringing and a loving home. He wanted (Y/n) and their baby to have a safe birth, not something unconventional like this.

"Ooh," (Y/n) closed her eyes and smushed her face into the arm rest again while she tugged on Jim's hand. "T-this baby's coming. Someone's g… gonna have to help me!"

The desperation in (Y/n)'s voice was coupled with tears soaking into the sofa as she groaned in agony. If they wouldn't take her to hospital, then one of them was going to have to do something. She couldn't have this baby by herself and her body was telling her it was time.

A look seemed to pass between them all before Deacon rolled his eyes at the team and crouched down in front of (Y/n).

"Would you be okay with me helping you? I'm not exactly trained, but I've been through this four times already." Deacon rested his hand on (Y/n)'s knee as he waited patiently for her to talk to him.

He was by no means qualified as a midwife and he wasn't an expert on labour and giving birth, but he had four kids. Deacon had been there for every birth and he had seen them all play out. He cut the cords with each child as well so he had some expertise in this area. He would help until they could get some medics down here.

(Y/n) twisted her head so her cheek was meshed into the sofa and she nodded with a pleading look in her eyes. She didn't care who helped her, she would let any of the team coach her through this if they knew what to do. She just needed help.

She went back to clutching Jim's hand and she held it to her chest while she sat up properly and sank back into the sofa. Her head fell onto Jim's shoulder when he shuffled up so he was sat beside her with his left arm around the back of her shoulders. His lips attached to the side of her head while Deacon crouched in front of them to see if (Y/n) was dilated or not.

This was definitely going to change the dynamics when (Y/n) eventually came back to work. The team weren't supposed to be here or be involved in the birth of their baby.

"Okay, this baby is coming now. Luca, we're gonna need towels, hot water, blankets and a medic bag from inventory."

"I'm on it." Luca was out the door in a flash to go and grab what they needed, fist-bumping the air at the thought of having a kid be born at Swat. This was going to be a first.

"Alright… I think you can start pushing whenever you're ready."

She didn't want to. She didn't want to be doing this here. As much as (Y/n) loved the team who were now her family, having one of them delivering her baby felt a little too close for comfort. She was changing the boundaries. Giving Deacon a scarred image burned into his mind for life.

She briefly looked up when she noticed movement. It was Hondo, moving towards the desk at the other side of the room so it didn't look like he was being a spectator. He knew it wasn't nice for (Y/n) to be doing this here and he didn't want to observe or make her feel uncomfortable.

He reached out for the phone on the desk so he could send a call through to the Commander and let him know what was happening. And to tell him they would have to send out for an ambulance.

"I'm scared," (Y/n) could barely find her voice and when she did, her breathing hitched and her voice came out higher than usual but at half the volume. She was barely talking above a whisper.

"You don't have to be scared, I'm right here, we're all here." Jim pressed a kiss to her cheek and squeezed her into his chest. They were going to look after her, she was with some of the safest people in the country. It would be okay.

He looked behind Deacon who was looking around the room for anything he might have to use if they got desperate, and looked over towards Chris. As if they were sharing the same thought, Chris scooted the desk chair around until she was beside the sofa.

When she held her hand out in front of (Y/n), a panicked smile formed on (Y/n)'s lips and she took her friend's hand. Having Chris on one side, and Jim attached to her other side made (Y/n) feel protected and safe.

And she heard Chris whisper a quiet but encouraging "You got this." which made her feel a little better.

"Alright alright I think I got everything we need to have the first kid born in Swat."

Luca sounded like a cheerleader pumping them up for a big game rather than a team member trying to help a friend have a baby. But his excitement was somehow soothing and made a smile light up Jim's face, despite the panic he was feeling surging through his body right now.

Deacon was rather impressed that Luca remembered everything and managed to carry it all up here.

He set down a pile of towels beside the sofa, two blankets, one of which he handed out to Jim so it could be draped over (Y/n)'s lap for modesty. He dumped the medic bag from his shoulder and a bowl of warm water next to Deacon.

(Y/n) tried to push back into the sofa and brace her feet properly on the floor so she wasn't at risk of sliding down into Deacon's lap. The last thing she wanted was to end up hurting him or landing on the floor. And she watched through blurry eyes as he washed his hands thoroughly, found some gloves in the medic bag and got a towel on his lap.

They were really doing this here. In the Commander's office.

"Okay, I think you're crowning."

(Y/n) felt a little better when Jim leaned his chin on her shoulder and she coiled their entwined hands closer to merge their hands against her chest.

This wasn't the way either of them dreamt about having their first child together, but it was comforting to have the team around them. (Y/n) couldn't of done this alone at home or amongst strangers if the team hadn't of been here at the right time.

She tried to smile when she felt Jim attaching his lips to her neck and she leaned to the right to press her side more into his embrace to try and keep herself relaxed as much as possible.

"Okay (Y/n), I need you to do big pushes, let's have this kid." Deacon pushed up on his knees and moved his hands to (Y/n)'s thighs, seeing the familiar sight of a head being born.

"You're doing so well," Jim murmured against her neck as he darted his eyes around the office he hadn't spent more than a minute in at a time.

It was strange to be sat, almost relaxing, in the Commander's office. This was somewhere the whole squad usually felt uncomfortable, where they would come to if they had a problem or if they thought they were going to get reprimanded for something. This wasn't somewhere they would sit and chat and definitely not somewhere (Y/n) imagined she would be having her baby.

The next time she came to Commander Hicks's office in the future, this was going to be the memory that always came to mind.

"I can't believe I'm actually here for this." Chris gave (Y/n)'s hand a tight squeeze and the grin on her face made (Y/n)'s heart skip.

They had already told Chris that she was Godmother to their baby, there was no question about it. Not when she was Jim's best friend and she had always been there for the couple, it was only fitting that she would be their child's auntie and Godmother.

But Chris didn't think she would get the honour of witnessing her godchild's birth. She was expecting to be the first person to receive the phone call to say the baby was born, but this was even better.

(Y/n) pulled her knees up a little higher and leaned forward, feeling grateful when Jim leaned with her. He was like a backboard keeping her up straight and letting her lean her weight onto him so she didn't have to think or bother with holding herself upright.

"And the head's out, take a breath. Then little pushes, okay? You're doing great (Y/n)."

(Y/n) tried to nod and it was a relief to see that Deacon didn't look at all phased or panicked. He looked as calm as if he were leading them on a callout or giving them orders around base. This seemed to be a natural occurrence for Deacon.

Just a little more effort, and she would have a baby in her arms. All the pain would be worth it when she saw their baby and watched them be placed into Jim's arms. All his life since he was ten years old, all Jim ever wanted was a family. He'd grown up for the first decade of his life with bickering, fighting parents and a sense of fear and dread towards his father. After he went into foster care, he felt a gratitude towards his mum that he could never repay, she made him believe she had saved his life and gave him guilt.

All he wanted in the system was to be let out and live with a loving family, he wanted something to call his own.

Now, Jim had that. He was about to have a family of his own that would love him unconditionally and be his and his alone. He would have (Y/n) and a child to shower with love.

"(Y/n), you're doing great, but I need you to keep pushing as swiftly as you can for me, okay?"

(Y/n) opened her eyes and tried to blink back into focus after being lost in her thoughts, but she shuddered when she realised Deacon didn't look as calm as he had done a few moments ago. She tugged on Jim's hand, pulling his arm across her chest while her head tilted to one side and she scrutinised the look on Deacon's face.

His mouth was set into a thin, straight line and his jaw was locked tight like he was trying to keep some secrets at bay. His brows furrowed like his concentration had amplified ten times and he was moving the towel in his arms a bit higher to reach for the baby.

"W-what's wrong?"

A frown pulled on Jim's face in place of a smile and he tightened his left arm around (Y/n)'s waist while his other hand was confiscated and still held into her chest. He let her lean more into his chest while he looked down at Deacon and silently shook his head to imply that he didn't know what was wrong, but he needed to know. Now.

"The cord's around the neck." Deacon diverted his eyes up to look at Jim before he shifted his attention right back to the baby he was delivering.

He didn't want to panic (Y/n) in case she stopped pushing or it slowed down her momentum if she began to panic. But he knew she heard him when her legs tensed and she tried to lean forward like she wanted to see for herself if it was true.

He couldn't risk moving the cord now when there wasn't enough of the umbilical cord exposed and Deacon couldn't pull on the cord when the baby and placenta weren't delivered yet. He could cause a lot of damage trying to move the cord right now, he had to wait.

"Deak…"

"It's okay, as long as you keep pushing we can easily sort this. Trust me, okay?" When (Y/n) nodded, Deacon looked up at Chris. "I'm gonna need an extra set of hands."

Chris squeezed (Y/n)'s hand tightly before she let go and slid off the desk chair so she was crouched down on her knees beside Deacon. She hated the way (Y/n) shook and her arm seemed to stretch out, following her friend because she needed that support. She needed to hold someone's hand.

But they were both surprised when Luca held a firm hand out in front of (Y/n) as he crouched beside the sofa in Chris's place. He didn't mind offering some comfort, and (Y/n) could squeeze or even break his hand if she needed to. They were all here to help her through this.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and leaned forward as much as she could until she felt Jim's arm tightening around her waist like he thought she was about to fall onto the floor. He kept tight hold around her and leaned his chest into her side, moulding around her like a safety blanket as she cried out and started to shake from how badly she was trying to push.

She could feel her feet fidgeting against the floor, anxious to try and push up or move or slide against the floor. She wanted to move, to do anything to relieve the tension and get this over with.

Her breaths came out in small pants and she screamed just as Deacon shifted his arms up and wrapped the towel around the newborn.

"There we go, you've done it."

When she felt Jim's chin settle on her shoulder so he could peer down, (Y/n) tried to look up at him, but he wasn't smiling. His brows were furrowed and he was watching Deacon closely like a hawk with dark eyes and a firmly set jaw.

Jim's stomach tensed and his nose crinkled when he watched Deacon place the small bundle into Chris's waiting arms so he could slide his finger in between the newborn's neck and the blushing pink cord. He gave a small tug and pulled the cord up, unravelling it from the baby's neck as carefully but swiftly as he cold.

They didn't know how long the cord had been like that or if it had been tight or loose. It could of happened during labour, it could have been like that before her water broke, they didn't know.

"Alright, there we go little one." Deacon pressed his fingers to the newborn's lips, checking the airways weren't blocked before he started to rub his fingers over their chest to stimulate the lungs into working. They needed the baby to breathe; everyone on the team seemed to be holding their breaths in nervous anticipation.

The moment a small cry flooded through the air, (Y/n) felt like she was going to faint and she started to gasp for breath. She felt Jim's wet lips smothering the side of her head and she leaned into the touch, giving a small tug on his hand as she grinned and closed her eyes.

"It's a boy." A smile finally flooded Deacon's lips as he found a few things in the medical kit to use as clamps so he could cut the cord.

He could see Chris was almost at the point of shaking as she stared down at the little boy in her arms who was now her Godson. It wasn't often that Deacon had seen Chris cry, much less happy tears like this but the sight as was lovely as it was surprisingly.

She didn't seem like she was very willing to let the newborn go, but she begrudgingly pushed up on her knees and leaned forward so she could place the little boy into (Y/n)'s trembling arms.

(Y/n) could feel a mixture of her and Jim's tears running down her face when he smothered his lips against her cheek. They had a little boy. They'd had their baby. He was here, and he had been delivered by their team.

Jim realised he was starting to get the shakes when his right hand let go of (Y/n)'s and he cupped his hand around the back of their boy's head. He looked oddly small, curled up into (Y/n)'s chest like that, but the way he started to smack and part his lips made a laugh tumble past Jim's lips.

"He's a handsome little guy," Luca ran his hand up and down (Y/n)'s shoulder for a few moments while he sneaked a glance at the bundle in her arms.

(Y/n) traced her thumb over the back of her boy's head before she looked up at Jim and moved her arms towards him. She could see the light sparkling in his eyes at the prospect of holding his boy, his first baby. And tears were freely falling down his face when he unravelled his arm from around her waist so he could take their boy into his own arms.

It was a comforting weight to feel in his arms and leaning against his chest and it somehow made Jim feel like his whole life until this point had been hollow. This is what he had been missing. (Y/n) and their boy had been what Jim had been searching for all this time, and now he'd found them.

"Look at this little guy," Hondo grinned and leaned over the sofa while he patted his hand down on Jim's back. "The first person to be born at Swat, and the first Swat member to ever have a baby here at headquarters."

"The only person, born at Swat." (Y/n) corrected while she let herself slump back into the sofa and succumb to the adrenaline that was making her tremble all over again. "I'm n-not doing this again with you all, sorry."

As much as (Y/n) loved the team and was thankful to them for what they had done, she didn't want to repeat this experience. Any other children she and Jim had would either be born at home or preferably at the hospital, not here at Swat. (Y/n) would be the one and only person to have her baby born here, and be the only Swat member to give birth here as she wasn't repeating this again and she knew Chris wasn't likely to give birth here either.

A round of laughs filled the air and the team leaned over to try and get a better look at the newborn. But when (Y/n) looked down at Deacon, something softened in her eyes.

He stripped the gloves from his hands and washed his hands and arms in the warm water bowl beside him. His expression was slightly dazed, but he didn't look as exasperated or shocked as the rest of them, and he was the one who had just delivered a baby today.

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and gently nudged her elbow into Jim's arm before she glanced her eyes from him down to Deacon. A silent exchange happened between them like they were sending secret messages to one another. But they were on the same wavelength, Jim knew exactly what (Y/n) was silently trying to ask and he nodded.

She gently nudged her trembling knee into Deacon's arm to gain his attention. "Thank you." She was never going to be able to thank him enough for what he had just done for them, but they knew a way to share their gratitude.

"You're very welcome," Deacon suddenly looked tired, like the energy had dwindled out of him with all the excitement flooding the room. As if it was finally settling in and dawning on him what he had just experienced.

"Didn't think you'd get to deliver your Godchild, did you?"

The question was so calm, so normal and said almost in passing that Deacon laughed and nodded, about to make a remark before the words actually settled in his mind. Once they registered, his brows furrowed and his head snapped up to look from (Y/n) to Jim like he didn't quite believe them.

Everyone knew Chris was Godmother, but the couple hadn't made up their minds on who would be Godfather. Deacon had just sealed that choice for them.

"Wh- me, really?"

Jim lifted his arms a bit higher so he could cuddle his baby boy closer to his chest and he kissed his temple delicately. And when he looked over at Deacon, his lips formed a proud smile.

"You've earned it."

[wreckastowx3]

The New Girl in Town

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Original Female Character

Words: 1300k +

Summary: Jack and Original Female Character meet and work their first night shift together

Warnings/ Tags: age gap (takes place before season 1 so jack is around 47 and Dionne is about 27), fluff , some medical jargon (apologies in advance for any inaccuracies)

Other series parts:

Take Me With You

gif via: @ho-ii

Dr. Abbot and Dr. Robby exchanged their usual pleasantries before getting down to business and discussing the pertinent patient information before shift change.

“Oh and Dr. Davis the new fellow is starting on nights today. I think you’ll like her.” Robby looked away from the board giving his full attention to the night shift attending.

“I’ll like her…?” Jack questioned

“You two will work well together. She’s smart, quick-witted. And speak of the devil…”

Jack followed Robby’s gaze towards the elevators. Jack’s first impression of her appearance was that she was almost too cheery for the gloom of the Emergency Department. She wore a hot pink underscrub shirt carefully matched to the scrunchie in hair and shoes on her feet. She had what seemed like 100 small tiny braids pulled back into a ponytail. Every accessory she paired with her standard issue black scrubs was color coordinated including the metal drinking cup she held in her right hand and her badge reel.

She seemed to feel Jack eyeing her up and down. Not quite sizing her up and not ogling her; just observing. Studying. One of the many things from his military training that never parted with him. She met his eyes and offered him a gentle grin.

“Dionne, have you met Dr. Abbot yet?” Robby said, trying to break the ice, noticing them staring at each other.

“No I don’t think I have. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too” he said with what could perhaps be interpreted as a smile. He wasn’t rude, just not particularly personable. He made no effort in hiding his disinterest at making small talk. Nevertheless the Mona-Lisa like smile never left the young doctor’s face. Jack stood slightly leaning his weight against the nurses station; arms crossed and gaze fixed ahead.

“I’ve been looking forward to today. I really prefer the night shift. No offense Dr. Robby you guys were great” Dionne said with a slight chuckle

“None taken”

“I’m gonna go put my stuff away” she smiled once more and made her way to the staff lockers. There was a lightness and bounciness to how she walked uncommon for ED staff much less a doctor.

More of the night shift began to trickle in as the hour crawled closer to 7. Dr. Ellis and Dr. Shen were early as usual. They soon made their way to the newbie and began getting to know each other.

The small group that had formed had exchanged pleasantries and began asking each other's backgrounds and other small talk. Through the whole interaction Dr. Abbot’s eyes were fixed on Dionne. Small things he was making a mental note of. Her posture was impeccable but less rigid than a soldier. Perhaps she was a ballerina or some sort of dancer in the past. A gentle smile was her resting face, warm and approachable but not inauthentic. Jack wasn’t sure why he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She, for some strange reason, intrigued him. He rarely was interested in learning the intricacies of his colleagues personal lives except what was relevant to their jobs. Such as prior training or education. But there was something about her that piqued his interest.

In addition to the fact that she looked like a doctor Barbie doll. The words ‘Doctor Barbie’ made him let out a low chuckle. Even several feet away she heard it. She briefly cut her eyes at him and raised her eyebrow.

Sharp ears. His observation was confirmed when she pivoted to face Dr. Robinavitch, hearing him approaching.

“Goodnight Dr. Robby” she said sweetly

“Goodnight. Good luck with Grumpy,” he looked towards Dr. Abbot who was still staring at Dionne from the other side of the nurses station, “if he gives you too much trouble we’ll be happy to have you back on days”

“I’ll be fine” she laughed

It was a quiet night in the emergency department, much to the chagrin of the staff. More patients made the 12 hour shift move faster. Sure there were patients but it was routine. Someone who tripped in the dark,the Saturday night drunks, parents with their feverish and cranky children. Nothing out of the ordinary. None of them would ever verbalize it, but they sort’ve despised this kind of calm. This stillness. What drew them to the ED was the action, the noise, the chaos. In a way the relationship between them and their patients was symbiotic.

Dr. Abbot especially. His therapist was right in noting that the night shift served as a form of escapism for him. The constant whir and beeping of machinery, the first responders rushing in patients, the codes announced via intercom. The busyness that kept his mind occupied.

“Lucky you, you’re getting a quiet first night.” John said leaning against the Hub desk

“John!” Parker said sternly

“What?” he shrugged before taking a long sip of his iced coffee that was more or less just room temperature water with a hint of coffee at that hour.

Not even a minute later Nurse Lena announced an incoming patient

“The patient is hyponatremic with a sodium of 125. Dr. Shen?” Dr. Abbot asked

“Start a line of 3% saline”

“Too high” Dionne interjected more as a reflex than meaning to correct Dr. Shen. Technically as a Fellow she had every right to do so considering he was still a Senior Resident. But she wasn’t one to pull rank. Especially not on her first night shift or in front of the attending.

“Elaborate” Dr. Abbot said, eyes boring into her.

“Normal sodium is 135 - 145 if we administer 3% saline we risk bringing the patient’s sodium up too fast. Too quick of a correction presents the risk of central pontine myelinolysis, or cpm. Rare but possible and potentially fatal.”

“Good catch” he nodded with a small grin.

Dionne updated the patient’s chart typing a mile a minute. The rapid clicking caught Dr. Abbot's attention and he made his way over.

“Yes Dr. Abbot” She said eyes still glued to the screen in front of her.

Because of the breakneck speed her fingers were moving he wasn’t expecting the words on the screen to be accurate. Let alone as detailed as she was making her notes. No details were spared, he was impressed.

“How fast can you type?” he asked. His arm was resting on the desk and he was leaning slightly over her shoulder. She didn’t seem to notice as she continued working.

She only stopped, for a split second, to answer his question, “60 words per minute on a good day.” she smiled full of pride.

“Nice” he grinned before leaving her to her work.

Finally having a free moment to eat Dionne shimmied her lunchbox out of the fridge and began eating the jar of chia seed pudding she packed.

“Is everything you own pink?” Jack teased. He was eyeing the pink lunchbox, containers, and stethoscope around her neck.

“If it comes in pink, why would I buy it in another color?” she replied putting on a valley girl accent.

The pair laughed for a moment before eating their respective snacks. Jack opted for a protein bar that, based on looks alone, couldn't possibly taste good.

Moments after Dionne repacked her bag and placed it back in the fridge Nurse Lena was in the doorway of the staff lounge

“Dr. Abbott we need you in Trauma One”

“Coming. Barbie you’re with me on this one” he didn’t mean for the nickname to slip out but Dionne didn't seem to mind

“Sir, yes sir” she replied following right behind Jack

Dionne stretched and let out a yawn, happy her 12 hour shift was finally over. She made her way to the elevator, stopping to say bye to Jack and Michael.

“She survived the night” Dr. Robby said laughing

“That she did,” Dionne agreed, speaking in third person. “Bye Dr. Robby. See you later Dr. Abbot” saying both of their names in a sing-song voice and practically skipping to the elevator.

He’d never admit it but he was somewhat impatiently awaiting his turn to work by her side again.

[fligniuz]

I’ve always had the thought in the back of my mind, but after you gave the sneak peek of the lil teacher x teacher story, it had me thinking about Dr. Mangione, but as in Luigi Mangione, MD and you, also a MD, with a bit of rivalry in the beginning 🤪

because let’s be real. Without doubt, he’d be a doctor that’s definitely easily on the eyes, but he’d be well respected by his colleagues and other healthcare providers at his hospital, until then you’re taking a temporary assignment at the same place and you learn that he’s not the best to work with and everyone loves him—except you. Thinking about him in some scrubs and a white coat— PHEW

ughhh this is so hot i love a little enemies to lovers

could see him being a pediatrician tbh!! all the patients in the children’s wing adore him and call him “dr. luigi” because mangione is too much for most of them to pronounce

maybe the kids don’t take as well to you and that’s where the rivalry starts…like you would hate him because they are ALWAYS talking about him. it’s all about dr. luigi, dr. luigi, dr. luigi when you’re in the children’s wing. he would be so SMUG about his reputation too. you just can’t stand the way he wears his stethoscope or how he stands with his hands clasped in front of him all serious and humble like “oooooh look at me i’m dr. luigi and i’m so hip and good at my job and everybody in this hospital agrees”. he has a little breloom keychain on his badge reel that his patients like playing with and you make fun of him for it in your head all the time like haha NERD! but you can’t even judge him for being nerdy because…well…he looks like THAT…of course everybody loves him!

he’d start to grow on you when you actually see him in action though !!! maybe you both get assigned to an intake who’s seriously ill and in severe pain. when you first walk in the kid looks completely miserable, all pale and clammy and long-faced, and you decide to just let luigi do the talking since he’s best at it—and you get to watch first hand how dr. luigi does his magic. him and this kid click INSTANTLY. he’s cracking jokes and he actually gets the patient to giggle, something their parents even perk up at. he offers them all kinds of little treats like ice cream or coloring books. he stays in the room when the nurse has to take vitals or run some kind of test so that the kid doesn’t feel alone or unaware of what’s happening, because he’s talking them through each step. it’s the most empathetic and lively you’ve ever seen him. he makes every effort to really understand what’s going on with his patient and to make them as comfortable as he possibly can, even with their current predicament. it’s a beautiful thing to watch as his patient slowly cracks their shell and emerges from their pain, feeling better and better the more he tends to them

so as you’re working with the parents to get them discharged a few days later, you start to realize that maybe this dr. luigi guy isn’t that bad…but he’ll have to cure cancer before you ever admit it to him :P

[captainsophiestark]

The Arena Club

Peggy Carter x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Requested by @trekkingaroundasgard! Hope you like it Nicola! 💗

Fandom: Marvel

Day Seven Prompt: "Follow me if you want to live!"

Summary: The life of a reporter can get a little dangerous, especially when going after powerful, deeply corrupt men like those in the Arena Club. Thankfully, Peggy Carter's around to help in a pinch.

Word Count: 1,943

Category: Fluff, Action?

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

The evidence presented in this article is just the beginning. Tireless detective work has uncovered much, much more, which we hope to verify and expose to the public as soon as-

I broke off typing abruptly, my attention snapping up from the typewriter in front of me. A thud had just come from somewhere else in the office, and I knew for a fact I was the only one here.

I'd decided to stay late to make sure this story got finished in time to go out tomorrow morning, and I'd been words away from finishing it up. I'd been investigating a conspiracy with deep roots in LA for a long time now, and I finally had the evidence put together to expose them, once and for all. Unfortunately, having a bunch of knowledge about a shady secret society had made me jumpy as hell for the past week at least.

I waited, listening for anything else out of the ordinary. When I didn't hear anything after a few long moments, I took a deep breath and returned my attention to my typewriter.

Almost at the exact same time, the door to the room came flying open. I snapped my head up and shot out of my seat, reeling backwards as three armed men flooded the office. My heart almost stopped in my chest when I felt someone take my hand from behind, and I whirled around to see a beautiful brunette woman staring at me.

"Come with me if you want to live!" she said, pulling me away from my typewriter and the armed men all at once. My brain froze, but it was clearly unsafe to stay here, so I followed her. Even through the shock, I knew she was a better option than the guys with guns.

I followed the woman through the back hallways of my office building, the sounds of crashing and gunshots echoing behind us. My heart raced, but she seemed calm as could be as we ducked around one corner and through another door.

We wound our way through the building and gradually down the stairs, the woman me never once pausing to check directions or look back at me. Finally, we made it out a door on the first floor into the back alley and she dropped my hand. I was surprised to find that I was a little disappointed.

"Get in!" she called, pulling open the driver's side door of the car. I hesitated. She'd definitely helped me out of a tight spot upstairs, but getting into a car with a stranger was a whole different situation.

Apparently, she noticed my hesitation. She stopped halfway through climbing into the car and came back to me.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?" She reached into her jacket and pulled out a badge, which she held up for me to read. "Agent Peggy Carter. I'm with the SSR. We've been chasing the same group you've been investigating for quite some time now. We can protect you from them and their men in the building, but we have to go right now."

I just blinked at her for a moment, until a shout from somewhere inside the building finally snapped me out of it.

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I'm coming. Thank you."

She nodded and gave me a smile, then started the car as I climbed in the passenger seat. We pulled away just as the men from before came busting into the alley behind us.

We turned a corner onto the main street before they managed to take a shot at us. I slumped back into my seat with a sigh.

"You alright?"

I turned more fully to face Agent Peggy Carter behind the driver seat. She kept her eyes on the road, speeding through the LA traffic as fast as she could. I sighed.

"I... I don't know. Nothing that's happened in the past ten minutes has felt real. Those guys were really going to kill me, weren't they?"

This time, Peggy spared a second to glance in my direction. She looked sympathetic, which was all the confirmation I needed.

"They were, yes. They're the enforcers for the group your story's about. The Arena Club. We've been dealing with their members for quite a while now."

"Is that why you were there tonight? You knew they were coming after me?"

Peggy hesitated. "Not... exactly. I was more there to scope out the situation, see whether you'd uncovered anything we hadn't yet. I saw the enforcers on my way up to your office, and realized I might need to take a more active involvement."

I huffed a laugh that was mostly an adrenaline release.

"Well. I guess that was lucky."

Peggy shot me a grin. "Yes. I suppose it was."

I shook my head, a small smile spreading to my own face despite myself. Probably the shock just hadn't worn off yet. But something about Peggy's energy was just contagious.

She continued to weave through traffic for a while, apparently working to put distance between us and anyone who might be following us. At last, we pulled up outside a building and Peggy put the car in park. I glanced out my window, then frowned when I saw the window decal for a talent agency.

"Don't worry," she said, opening her door. "It's a front for the SSR. You'll be safe here."

I nodded, following her out of the car and into the darkened building. After our mad-dash through my office, I was a little jumpy, but Peggy quickly led me to the back rooms and through a literal secret doorway into the heart of the SSR.

I trailed behind her, head on a swivel as we walked into a well-lit office building. A few people milled around despite the late hour. Apparently the work never really stopped here.

I followed Peggy into a bigger room filled with desks. Only one other person was there, and he looked up the moment we entered. His brow furrowed as soon as he saw me.

"Peggy? What happened?" he asked. She came to a stop just in front of him, and I followed her lead. "I thought you were just going to scout the place out."

Peggy sighed and put her hands on her hips as she answered.

"That was the plan, but they attacked at almost the same time I arrived. So, now we're here."

The guy sighed, looking absolutely exhausted. He closed his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and nodded as he opened them again.

"Okay. I'll get some guys on the scene to collect evidence."

"I'll take care of our guest."

They nodded to each other, then Peggy turned to me with a smile.

"Right this way."

I followed her, still feeling a little out of it. Armed men had burst into my office less than twenty minutes ago, but my brain just wouldn't let me process it. Every time I tried, it shut me down.

Peggy seemed to notice something in my expression when she led me into a smaller room with a couch and a table. She gave me a soft smile as she motioned for me to take a seat on the couch.

"You look like you could use some tea," she said. I shook my head as I sank down on the edge of the couch. I looked around, the nerves coursing through my body despite my brain still not having totally processed the reasons for them.

"I think I'm okay, thanks."

"Please," she said, pausing to look me in the eyes. It stilled me for a moment, grounding me and giving me room to take a breath. "I promise, a warm cup of tea will help. It's a big one for us Brits. We swear by it."

I huffed, the ghost of a smile finding its way onto my face.

"Well... okay then."

She gave me another reassuring smile, then started making a cup at the kitchenette taking up the opposite wall. We must've commandeered the break room.

"So... what happens now?" I asked. "I mean, my story was supposed to break tomorrow morning-"

"We're most likely going to have to delay it slightly, but you should still be able to put it out at some point soon," she said, returning to me with two cups of tea in hand. She held out mine, and I sipped at it. She was right; it helped.

Peggy sat down opposite me on the couch with her own cup of tea, giving me a soft smile. I barely knew her, but somehow, she managed to put me more at ease.

"We have almost everything we need to put the Arena Club and their lackeys away for good," she continued. "But we have a few holes in our evidence. I was hoping you might be able to help us fill those holes."

I nodded slowly, mostly in thought. I wasn't sure what I might've found that the SSR hadn't, but if those men had come after me, maybe I was a better investigator than I realized.

"Listen." Peggy set down her tea on the coffee table, turning on the couch to face me more fully. "I know this has been... quite an evening for you. And whether or not you agree to help us, we'll make sure you're safe. But you've clearly put as much work as we have into exposing this conspiracy and trying to take down men with power who think they're untouchable. If you're up for it... I'd be happy to help you continue that work."

I took a shaky breath, then set my tea down on the table, too. Then, I straightened and met Peggy's eyes again, my spine straight despite the lingering shaking in my hands.

"I'm in. I want to help. I've spent a long time trying to take these people down by exposing them to the public, but if I can help you get them off the streets and out of power, too? Even better."

Peggy grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

My heart raced as she leaned forward, but then she stood.

"I'm going to go get our case files. We can go through them together tonight, and you can tell us about anything you've found that we haven't. Then, in the morning, you and I can go and gather your evidence and bring it here. Assuming, that is, that you have backups? I doubt anything incriminating in your office is still there."

Now it was my turn for a grin. "Of course I have backups. This isn't my first time exposing some government corruption."

"Perfect. Then I'll be rigth back."

She moved past me towards the door, and maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from the day, but I reached out and took her hand to stop her before I could overthink it. She stopped and turned back to me with a raised eyebrow, but didn't pull her hand away.

"I just wanted to say... thank you. For saving me. And for letting me be involved in the investigation, and everything. I appreciate it. And... I'm looking forward to working with you."

Peggy smiled, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Happy to have you aboard."

We shared a look, then Peggy squeezed my hand and gently let it go. She carried on out of the office, and I watched her go with a smile. I picked up my mug of tea again and settled back against the couch.

Tonight had been absolutely wild, and I knew for sure I hadn't totally processed it yet. And clearly, things were only going to get crazier, since I apparently needed SSR protection for the forseeable future. But still. I couldn't help being a little excited about getting to work closely with Agent Peggy Carter.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[stevesbestgirl]

Phases of the Moon - Part 1

Steven Grant x f!Reader, eventual Marc Spector x f!Reader

2796 words

Warnings: poor imitations of British speaking habits, not much else in part one, maybe a few curses but I’m not sure

A/N: This was my attempt to write a slow-burn. It’s long, self-indulgent, and obscenely fluffy. Reader is specified as American, but mostly so I can avoid pretending I know anything about living in the UK. Steven and Marc are aware of each other and trying to find balance in their relationship in this fic, but keep in mind that I am not a system and am not an expert. All of my information about their relationship comes from the Moon Knight show and I use that as my reference point. 

*Bold type is spoken by Marc when Steven is fronting.*

Masterlist

“Go talk to her.”

“Well I can’t, can I?” Steven sent a furtive glance at you, toying absently with your phone while you examined the glyphs inside a display.

“Why can’t you?”

“She’s got earphones in.”

Marc scoffed in the glass of one of the display cases, “Always an excuse.”

“I can’t just interrupt her, that’d be rude!”

“Not if she’s interested.”

Steven’s reply was cut short as a pair of boys came rushing around the corner, laughing and shoving each other- Steven wouldn’t have placed them at older than twelve. He watched helplessly as one firm push sent the smaller of the two reeling into your backside. Completely oblivious to their noise, you went sprawling, headphones disconnecting as your phone hit the ground and was sent skittering across the polished floor, coming to rest at Steven’s feet.

Inhibitions gone, Steven scooped your phone up and rushed over, offering a hand to help you up, “Are you okay?” You nodded, feeling a little embarrassed. “You lot,” he called out, locating the pair sidling off behind a diorama, “C’mere.” 

They looked like they were considering bolting, but the smaller of them located Steven’s badge and took a reluctant step forward. By the time they stood in front of you, they were looking rather cowed, like puppies who’d been caught gnawing a slipper. 

“Shape up, you hear? You could’ve really hurt someone.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Now listen, down that corridor there, there’s a bunch of old weapons; spears, cudgels, daggers, the like. How about you go give it a look?” You watched him speak to the two boys; his enthusiasm seemed very genuine, not the fake kind adults often used with children.

The taller boy hesitated before leaving, “What’s a cudgel?”

Steven smiled a little, “Why don’t you go on and find out?” Then the two rushed in the direction he’d indicated and he called after them, “Slowly, hm?”

Once they were out of sight, you finally spoke, “Are you sure that was a good idea? Sending them in there with a bunch of weapons?” You couldn’t help but smile as he unconsciously smoothed his dark, nearly sleep-tousled curls back from his face.

His intent had been to chuckle, but it came out as more of an empty puff of air, “They’re all under glass- should be alright.” He added, “Maybe I’ll pop in to check on them, just in case.” Nervous now, he looked down at his hands, still holding your phone, “Oh, there you are.” Your expression fell and only then did he notice the spiderweb of cracks in the bottom corner where it had hit the floor, “Oh no.”

You shook your head, accepting the phone and dropping it to your side, like putting it out of sight would make him forget, “It’s alright. Just a screen protector. I’ll get a new one eventually.”

“Sorry about that, love,” he insisted, his earnest gaze finally meeting yours just in time for your face to go warm. You’d thought you’d been ready to hear the term of endearment used so casually when you came to England, but apparently not.

“It’s alright,” you rushed to speak. “Definitely not your fault. Thanks for helping me-” you glanced at his name tag, “-Steven.”

“No problem- it is my job after all,” he cracked a halfhearted smile.

“You were great with those kids too.”

Rosy warmth tinged his cheeks and his gaze shifted away, “Thanks.” A small pause, “Your accent- you’re American?”

You nodded, “Needed a change of scenery, so I’m staying with some family for a while. Just got in yesterday, actually.”

His gaze eagerly lifted to yours again, but flicked away over your shoulder and he went slightly pale. Glancing back, you saw a stocky woman with dirty blonde hair gesturing impatiently at him.

Returning his gaze to you, he looked a bit panicked, “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go. I- ah-” He tripped over his words and almost tripped almost his feet as well, veering around you and backing away toward the woman beckoning him over. 

You raised your hand in an uncertain farewell as he stammered his way backwards, gesturing faintly over his shoulder with his thumb in a faint attempt at an explanation. Once he was within range, the woman seemed to be lighting into him a bit, though his gaze hadn’t yet left you. It wasn’t until she snapped her fingers that he looked at her. 

Not wanting to spy, you turned away, checking your phone for the time. When Steven glanced your way again, he only caught your retreating form disappearing out the entrance. For once, Donna’s criticisms didn’t affect him since he was already kicking himself for not asking you out. Or getting your phone number. Or even your name. He’d blown it. 

*

The following day, you had a bit more time to explore the museum, so you returned. And you noted with dismay, when the cabbie called you “love”, you didn’t so much as blink, let alone blush. Maybe it had been a one-off thing. Now you would be immune. 

Walking in and spotting the woman from before at the front desk, you plucked up a bit of courage and approached. Her name tag read “Donna” and she prompted with visible disinterest, as though she were reading off a script, “Welcome. Is there something I can direct you to?”

Deciding to push forward, you said, “Actually, I was just in here yesterday. I ran into a bit of trouble with a couple of young boys and one of your tour guides helped me. I wanted to let you know that Steven was very polite and just lovely with those kids-”

“Stevie? He isn’t a tour guide,” Donna interrupted, wrinkling her nose. “In his dreams, maybe.”

“But he does work here?”

“Yeah, he’s the gift shoppist.” She was still being very flippant; it was clear that she’d barely had interest in this conversation to begin with and now that it was about Steven, it had dwindled to none. 

“Right. Thank you.” You forced a smile and nodded before heading off in the direction of the gift shop.

The counter was empty when you first walked into the room, sending a tiny shoot of disappointment into your chest. You wanted to thank him, since it didn’t appear that you could score him any points with his boss.

You wondered for a moment if you should come back later, but then a shaggy, brown mop of hair sprung up from behind the counter, triumphantly brandishing what appeared to be a large, amber-colored marble with a bone inside it, “Got ya, you little bugger.”

His gaze fell on you and he tucked the marble behind his back, like it was something to hide, “You- you came back.”

You reached into your bag, pulling out the brochure you’d picked up yesterday, “I was only passing through yesterday.” You unfolded the brochure and showed him the notes you’d taken on the map, detailing where you wanted to go first and which exhibits had caught your eye, “I like to plan a little bit.”

He followed the line you traced with your finger intently, raising his gaze to your face when you pulled away, “That’s a good way to go about it. The tour is pretty good too.” Steven’s heart skipped as your lips pulled into a slight frown; had he said something wrong? 

“Speaking of the tour, I tried to put in a good word for you with your boss- as thanks, for yesterday- she doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“Oh, yes. Donna and I have got a bit of a rocky history.” He added quickly, “Not a history, mind you. More like a boss/employee history. I’ve got a bit of a bad track record with my punctuality, actually,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, I think you’d make a lovely tour guide, for what it’s worth.”  

There was another one of those long pauses; you were about to offer a meek “Thanks again,” and cut your losses when he spoke up, “If you like, I’m on a break in ten minutes. I could show you around.”

You’d insisted to yourself that this wasn’t why you came back here, but you found yourself nodding, a faint smile on your lips, “I’d like that.”

Steven seemed even more surprised than you were, nodding quickly, “Great- that’s- great.” He nodded again, “I can meet you in the ‘King’s Tomb’ exhibit.” He pointed, “Right over there-” He checked his watch, “-in nine minutes.”

Your smile widened, “See you in nine minutes then.” You moved off in the direction he’d indicated, the temptation to look back gnawing at you. 

“Wait!” he called after you. You turned back, “I haven’t got your name.”

“You haven’t needed it, have you?” 

Now you were teasing and you knew it. But you could feel his eyes on you as you disappeared around the corner and you smiled to yourself. So much for doing your own thing. The whole reason for coming to London was to get away from men- although you supposed it was more one man than men in general. But something about Steven just caught your eye.

So you waited out the impossibly long eight minutes remaining until Steven walked in, looking in a bit of a rush. You watched him scan the exhibit, almost like he’d expected you to have left by now.

You raised a hand, “Steven.” He positively lit up at the sight of you, relief visible in the heavy exhale he released- like he'd been holding his breath. 

You met him in the center of the room, clasping your hands behind your back in anticipation. Steven still had the remnants of a grin on his face, though he mirrored your posture, a bit of enthusiasm escaping as he bounced on the balls of his feet, just once, “What do you want to see?”

“You’re my tour guide, you tell me,” you teased. 

Almost instantly, his face flushed, “Well, I wasn’t sure if there were specific displays you wanted to look at or certain subjects you were interested in, you know? Since I've only got fifteen minutes on my break.” 

“Well, I’m interested in everything, but since we only have fifteen minutes; how about you show me the way you’d start your tour if you were a guide?” His cheeks darkened further and you had to bite the inside of your cheek not to smile again. But he surprised you, recovering quickly and placing his hand on your arm. He steered you over to one of the displays and you glanced at him, “The Ennead?”

The Ennead,” he corrected your pronunciation. “The Egyptian Gods.” He wheeled around so his back was to the exhibit, his gaze meeting yours with ease. “Everything about Egypt comes back to the gods one way or another, so to understand Egypt, you have to understand them.”

He walked you through the exhibit, one god or goddess at a time, his hands moving animatedly as he talked. And he was good at it, in a different way than you’d expect. He had such a wealth of knowledge- you felt comfortable asking questions because you expected him to have the answers. And he answered many of your questions before you could even ask them; his explanations were pretty comprehensive. 

It was all strangely charming, actually. His enthusiasm was so genuine, it was as though he invited you inside it with him. It was a nice place to be- like sharing a secret. It was also putting you in dangerous territory; a magnetic field that would be hard to pull yourself from.

Once you were about halfway through the eleven, you tentatively raised your hand. Steven faltered slightly, giving you the chance to speak up, “Two things- I just want to check the time, I’d hate for you to be-”

“Late-” he checked his watch faster than you could pull out your phone.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him back toward the gift shop, “Well, come on then, I don’t want you getting into trouble!”

Steven’s long strides quickly outpaced you; you had to hurry to keep up, a laugh at the ridiculousness of it slipping out. Steven glanced back- nearly shouldering a display case. Right before impact, his back straightened a bit, like he sensed it coming, and he just twisted out of the way. It was so smooth you wouldn’t have noticed the deft movement if you hadn’t been anticipating the collision.

By the time you skidded to a halt in front of the gift shop counter, you were full-on giggling; you couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so hard over almost nothing. “Sorry about that,” Steven offered meekly.

You took a breath and collected yourself a bit, though you still felt the warmth of the laughter in your cheeks, “Don’t be- it was fun.”

“What was the other thing?” he asked, shuffling back behind the counter.

“Hm?”

“You said there were two things, the time and what else?”

“Oh! Well that exhibit was called the ‘King’s Tomb,’ right? Why are the gods in that one?”

He leaned on the counter, some of his timid demeanor vanishing, “Well, the pharaohs were considered to be gods by their people. So they put them in a room together. And since the mummies are what brings in the crowds, they get the-” he clicked his tongue, framing a little marquee with his fingers, “-title spot.”

“I suppose you know quite a lot about those too?”

He gave a chagrined smile, “Did I go on a bit much then?”

You shook your head, “Not at all- I wasn’t teasing. I wish we’d had time to do the whole exhibit.”

“I’d wager with me giving it, that tour would take all week,” he joked, feeling like he’d done too much talking during your time together.

You shrugged, “I’m on vacation.” Smiling, you added, “Or holiday, you’d probably call it.”

He smiled weakly at the joke, seeming to be working out what you’d meant. He scanned your face, as though nervous he was misreading you, but you just smiled at him. “I’m scheduled again on Thursday, I could- if you like, I mean- I could show you some more. Of the exhibit. Obviously. If you want.” 

You were here for freedom. You’d come all the way to another country so you could do what you wanted, when you wanted, no strings attached. But, you reasoned, this wasn’t dating. This was an exclusive tour, on Steven’s break. It wasn’t like he was taking you out to dinner.

You were bargaining; whittling away your rules to nothing because they no longer suited your purposes. You knew that. And you also knew that you only did so because Steven was, very clearly, a large string. A large string with lovely, brown, puppy eyes and enough passion for Egypt to make a pharaoh blush. But you nodded anyway, “I’d love to come back. Same time?”

He seemed stunned by your acceptance, but he nodded rapidly to overcompensate for the moment of hesitation, “Yeah. My break is at three.”

You smirked, “How many minutes from now?”

He stared at you for a moment- you almost wondered if he was trying to do the math, but then he flushed and gave a weak chuckle, “Right, I’ll work on that one.”

You pulled out the brochure you’d picked up yesterday and a pen from your bag, “Since I won’t be needing this anymore-” You scribbled down your name and number and slid the brochure across the table, “Text me when you figure it out.” No strings, you reminded yourself.

He gave another hurried nod, “Okay, I will, I-” 

You got a sense of deja vu as Steven glanced over your shoulder and paled in nearly the exact same way he had yesterday. “Is it Donna?” You quickly scanned the counter, grabbing a stuffed hippopotamus, “Because I’d like to purchase this.” You deliberately moved it across the counter where Donna would be able to see and pulled out your wallet.

Now Steven looked back to you, “You don’t have to do that. Most of this stuff if junk-”

“I want to. This one is kind of cute.” You held out the money, “And you’ll tell me all about it next time?”

He nodded, a small smile returning to his face, “Yeah, I will.” He handed back your change and the plush, speaking up so Donna could hear, “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

You smiled, “Same to you.”

You left the other way so Donna wouldn’t see your face, hoping she wasn’t descending on Steven for being late from his break. You held the little hippo plushie to your chest and thought ahead to Thursday.

[cyberrose2001]

Christmas Letter Commission for @moon-trash1507 ! Apologies for the wait, I love the look of this one. Decided on romantic! Also, peep the secret message at the end hehe

Commissioners message under the cut

"Hi Drift! It's been a while since we last spoke. A lot has happened recently. I thought i give you a bit of an update on whats going on. My health is getting questionable again. I have surgery coming up to remove my gallbladder. It's put me in the ER a few times. The nurses in the ER keep giving me shit. Saying I basically live at work. That even in my time off that I'm still there. Gypsy has made sure I'm ok through all of it. She's a good cat. I'm crafting again. Keeping my mind busy. I learned how to make my own badge reels for work! I'm made a funny one recently. Patients seem get a kick out of it. How have you been? Are you doing okay? I know life is constantly go go go. Make sure to take care of yourself. Its important. I would know, lol. I just wanted to reach out and give you an update and see how you are. I always wonder how you're doing. Thank you for your time! I appreciate you! (Can be romantic or platonic)"

cute asf kitty btw, both of you deserve all the drift cuddles

also i'm so sorry you have to go through that, it must be so hard for you, but i hope this makes things a little bit more bareable 🤍

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Am I lost in the vastness of these stars? (will you take my hand and guide me home?)

Day 2 of Thank You, Haikyuu - event masterlist here

pairing: sawamura daichi x reader (gn) x sugawara koushi

length: 7.8k

genre: wild west au !! fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: there's some talk about murder and a single slightly graphic crime scene but nothing too intense at all, lots of miscommunication and heartache in this one, but happy ending I promise as always, also wounds inflicted from broken glass at one point, it's all p tame but just a heads up

a/n: I feel like I'm running a marathon rn I feel like I'm sprinting but this one's niiiice to pls enjoy <3

tags: @love-and-lore @melodramaticmatter

It's a town you've never been in, in a saloon you've never heard of, with three counts of robbery on your tail, when fate finally catches up to you. You're not really paying attention to who the bartender is when you swing open the doors, shoving past the closed sign hanging on them and stumbling in. Maybe if you'd been slower, you would've taken note of the distinct silver shine in his hair before you grabbed him and turned him to face you, a gun to his ribs in preparation.

But when he sees you, dropping the mug he was drying and letting it shatter on the floor, it's Sugawara Koushi's face that stares at you. He's older now, of course, the boyish softness in his features having given way to deeper, sharper edges. But it's still Koushi, eyes kind and gentle even as they widen at the sight of you - at the sight of the gun you have pressed against his side.

You holster it when you catch up to yourself, though, letting go of him and stumbling back.

"Koushi," you begin desperately, but the sound of horse hooves hammering against the ground outside has you grabbing onto his shoulders again. "I need you to help me out of here," you rush out, voice wavering. "I need you to lie to the sheriff - you live here, you have to know him. I heard he's caught wind of where I am and I can't-"

"I can't," he begins, but you barrel on.

"Please Koushi, I know I - I know we're not anything anymore but there was once a time, right? Where you would help me? Where you would take my hand?"

But Koushi reaches out to grab you by the shoulders, shaking you into silence as he says your name. You catch, out of the corner of your eye, the gleaming silver band on his ring finger.

"I'm… married to the sheriff. I can't do that," he says slowly, like the words hurt as they come up. And they do, you're sure - they do to you, at least. Koushi's married, moved on from you and Daichi enough to marry someone else, so unknown to you now that that's enough for him to turn his back on you, to forsake you to whatever fate his spouse will give you.

You're standing there frozen, reeling from Koushi's words, when the doors swing open behind you and you hear the jingle of spurs. You step away from him, letting his hands slide off your shoulders and fall, useless, to his sides, as the click of boots walking across the wooden floor rings through your ears. You know the sounds of the law catching up to you when you hear them.

But then the sheriff speaks and it's Daichi's voice you hear. He asks Koushi who he's got there, his voice ringing through the empty space. Koushi just stares at him, anguish painted across his features as Daichi steps further forward and frowns, his hand on his gun cautiously. 

You turn slowly, stiffly, rotating on your heel to look at the sheriff - at the face of your old lover staring back at you, older and broader, his badge strapped to his hip and his wedding band shining on his finger.

All these years that you thought the three of you had gone your separate ways, turns out it was just you who was left behind. It's enough to make your breath catch - the betrayal of it all. The shock and guilt that flashes across Daichi's face, at least, mirrors what's hammering through your heart. Fortunately, however, you've always been a quicker draw than him. 

You tell yourself that you can't really be hurt by the two of them ducking when you draw your gun - that you're a wanted criminal, that you're no longer in the company of love or trust. Perhaps it's fortunate, you think as you shoot through the window next to Daichi's head, causing him to flatten himself to the ground long enough for you to make a run for it and go through the opening, rolling over the broken glass on the windowsill and out into the street.

Stealing the sheriff's horse as your getaway ride isn't strictly necessary, but a way out is a way out and you're not sure you owe Daichi any kind of courtesy these days.

Koushi, as he stands by the broken window, looks at the trail of blood that's drying on the loose shards from when you rolled over it. Outside, Daichi stares at the place where his horse used to be, scowling with his arms crossed.

"Someone needs to find them," Koushi says, making Daichi spin around to look at him. "They'll bleed out at this rate."

"Someone needs to find them because they're a criminal," Daichi answers shortly. Koushi sighs and crosses his arms, mirroring his husband.

"You can't go alone," Koushi points out. "It's not safe. Not… well, today was a little too close. If they catch you off guard again, they might not miss a second time." Daichi frowns and walks towards Koushi, standing on the opposite side of the window to look at him properly.

"Do you really think this was a missed shot?" he asks quietly, eyeing the blood on the windowsill.

"I think that, with the crimes that they're running from, it wouldn't be a surprise," Koushi answers, but his voice is halting and low. Daichi reaches through the open window to take Koushi's hand, thumbing over his wedding band as he turns over the day's events in his head, knowing that neither of them will say what they know is true.

You're not the person you used to be. You're dangerous, you're wanted, and it's the sheriff's responsibility to take you down.

"Come with me, then," Daichi says abruptly, making Koushi stare at him.

"What?"

"Come with me. I can't… I don't want to do this alone." Koushi sighs at his husband's words, looking past him and out towards the town that they now call home, the one that they built, just the two of them, in your absence. 

"I guess it should be the three of us," he responds quietly, something heavy weighing in his heart. It feels a lot like guilt, and when he turns and sees the wanted poster on the wall of his saloon with your name on it, he can't help but wonder how it all went so wrong.

Perhaps it's a coincidence that all three of you are reeling from the same question, racking your memories to find the moment when it all began to fall apart. You think of it, of course, as you weave through towns and backroads, further and further from the strange saloon that held your past - and the future that you could never have. It's late in the evening when you make your decision, your legs aching from days of running away and your thighs chaffed from your stolen horse. It's that evening, as you lay on the hard, cold ground three hours outside the nearest town, that you feel the loneliness in a way that you hadn't thought was possible.

Yes, the three of you walking away from one another had left you staggering, alone and directionless in the wide open sands of the desert. Yes, being on your own for all these years, running and running and running had taken its toll, loneliness creeping in with the setting sun every night to wrap around you and squeeze.

But somehow, when you'd thought that all three of you were alone, it hadn't been so bad. Somehow, it had been simpler to convince yourself that it was fine, that there was really no such thing as home for people like you.

But now, staring up at the stars, their lights winking in and out across the night sky, there is nothing but you and the vastness, the open desert and the open sky and your closed-off heart. Now, knowing that the two of them are wrapped around each other, sharing a life that they couldn't bear to share with you - that is a loneliness that is unbearable, an agony of longing that tugs at your soul.

So, your decision is made. No more hopping towns, no more slipping just barely out of reach. The next train will have a ticket with your name on it and you'll get as far away from it all as you possibly can. 

Unfortunately for you, Daichi and Koushi know you a bit too well, the two of them being able to trail after you with more accuracy than anyone else ever has. They weave through the same back roads and small towns, trailing after your footsteps as if they're still intertwined with you in some way - as if they can feel the tugs of your heart leading them to you, still. 

It doesn't take much, then, for them to find the clerk who sold you the ticket, and it's only a mild scramble for the two of them to kick their horses into action, stumbling onto the train as it pulls out from the station. Mild, of course, is a relative term, which Koushi considers as Daichi loads their horses in while he gives the conductor their tickets. He's not sure what Daichi would've done if he'd lost you, if he'd been forced to stand on the platform and let you slip away, getting smaller and smaller against the endless horizon as you vanish from their grip.

Daichi swears up and down that it's a professional desperation, that he swore to protect the law and punish those who deviate from it and this is nothing more. He promises to catch you and throw you into jail, himself, content to let you rot in a cell until this version of you that exists now dies alongside the part of you that's already buried - the part of you that loved them and was loved back. Daichi swears that all of that is dead and gone, buried under the endless sand and the heat of the desert. Koushi, as he looks at the wild pain in his husband's eyes, isn't so sure. As he feels his own heart constricting, his soul pushing against him, he knows that it isn't true for himself, at least.

"Are we sure we're on the right train?" Koushi asks quietly as Daichi slams another cabin door shut, scowling as he shoves his badge back onto his belt. The endless rows of doors loom ahead of them as they continue the process of flashing the sheriff's badge and asking if anyone's seen a wanted criminal wandering around the train. 

"We are," Daichi answers stubbornly, making Koushi frown. He follows after him nonetheless as he continues his search. He's sure you're here. You have to be. 

And as you watch through the crack of the door leading to the next train car, you curse Daichi's determination - his desperation to find you. They've backed you into a corner, methodically moving through the cars towards the back of the train, pushing you further and further until you run out of places to hide.

As you slip into the luggage compartment that marks the final car, you think that perhaps it really is all catching up to you - perhaps there really does come a day when you just can't run anymore. But you slide the large side door open, anyway, gripping onto the frame as the wind rips in through the doorway, knocking a stack of suitcases over and causing you to teeter on the ledge. 

Surely, no one would survive a jump like this, out of the side of a moving train and into the vast nothing of the open desert, endless miles away from the nearest town. But surely it's worth it, you think, to not have to face them, to not have to look the ones you love in the eye and watch them cease to recognize you. Surely, it's -

But it is, you realize suddenly as a strong pair of hands haul you off the edge and into the car, finally time to stop fleeing. You think, for just a moment, that if Daichi hadn't caught you and pulled you back, you would've kept blindingly running until it killed you. Just like he said it would every time you fought about it. Just like be promised on the day the three of you split up - the day they moved on without you. 

"What the hell is wrong with you," Koushi spits angrily as Daichi uses a strong hand on your shoulder to sit you down on someone's suitcase, the leather creaking underneath your weight as the sheriff swiftly cuffs your hands behind your back. "Do you have any idea how stupid that was? You could've died. Are you so lost that you really have to -"

"Koushi," Daichi says his name gently, a quiet request for his husband to stop his tirade as Daichi pulls a trunk over to sit opposite you, leaning his forearms onto his knees so that he can look at you properly. You stare at him, your eyes locked with his and you think, somewhere unimportant in the back of your mind, that this is the first time you've really faced him. It's the first time you've really faced either of them. 

"You're under arrest," Daichi says firmly. Standing next to him, Koushi crosses his arms and presses his lips together, something akin to anguish flitting across his face. "I understand that you've always had a knack for getting into trouble, but this just going too far."

"Daichi, come on -" you begin, the disapproving tone in his voice making you shift, your wrists straining against the metal cuffs.

"No, I mean it. How could you? How could you become this thing?" Daichi's words have you pausing, your brows furrowing together. Bank robbery's not great, sure, but he's acting like you've killed someone.

"It's just - it's not that bad," you begin, but Koushi pales as Daichi's face hardens. He slams his hand onto the suitcase that he's sitting on and looks at you like he can't stand you.

"Three counts of murder and that's how you act?" Now that's enough to make you freeze.

"I… I beg your pardon?" You say slowly, your eyes wide. "Three counts of… robbery. I robbed three banks." Something in the back of your head screams at you for confessing to a crime like that, but the idea that they think you've been murdering people is enough to have you stumbling.

Daichi scoffs and scowls and Koushi sighs in a heartbroken sort of way.

"It's too late to lie," he says quietly, but you shake your head desperately.

"I haven't killed anyone," your voice catches with distress. "I would never - I don't know how you would think -" But Daichi's reaching into his pocket to pull out a series of wanted posters, crumpled and smudged from his travels, and slamming them against your chest with an open palm. It knocks the air out of you, your babbling cut off by the force of it as he pulls his hand back and lets the papers float down to the floor so that you can stare at them.

"These are… Wakatoshi's crimes," you say slowly, staring at the information scrawled onto the posters. "I remember these murders - and you have to remember Wakatoshi's gang. This wasn't me."

"So, you're being framed by one of the most infamous criminal gangs alive," Daichi says dryly, his arms crossed. You open your mouth to respond, but any defence you have dies on your lips as you stare at the two of them, your eyes flicking between them. Two hard gazes trained on you, two people who once thought the world of you, scowling down at you as if you're nothing more than the sand crushed beneath their boots.

"You won't believe me," you say weakly, your voice wavering in a way that makes Daichi flinch and Koushi look away. You know that, if you could see his face, you'd be able to see the tears gathering in his eyes. You wonder when they stopped knowing you the way that you know them, when they became strangers to your love.

You think that might be worse than being framed for murder. You're not sure what to do with it, with the way the walls close in on you and the way your breath shortens in your chest. But then there's a scream from somewhere in another car - something loud and shrill that has Daichi jerking to a stand and reaching for his gun. There are shouts following it, a jumble of yelling voices that ricochet off the walls and into the luggage compartment with the three of you. You can hear it well enough to understand what's just happened. There's been a murder on the train, the killer spotted and running away.

The two of them look down at you with wide eyes and you slouch where you sit, clicking your tongue in annoyance.

"Well, see, now that couldn't possibly have been me," you say dryly. Daichi just glares at you, grabbing you by the shoulders so that he can haul you to your feet and drag you with him and Koushi towards the commotion, tugging on your cuffed hands as you stumble when the train begins to lurch to an emergency stop. As he steps into the car in question, he nudges you towards Koushi, who wraps a hand around your cuffs to keep you pulled close to him.

"Aw, come on, where do you think I'm gonna run away to?" You sigh. Koushi frowns at you.

"I think you'd fling yourself out of that window if you had half a chance," he says flatly. You can't really defend yourself against that because, as you eye the cabin window, you think it might be true. You'd have to get past Daichi, though, who's currently leaning over a very dead body that's splayed over a seat while he speaks to the hysterical passengers that apparently saw the crime.

It was a stabbing, they explain - as if the splatters of blood and puncture wounds riddling the body weren't evidence enough. A woman, weeping into a handkerchief, goes on to say that the killer disappeared towards the engine after the crime, most likely using the train's slowing momentum to flee the scene. 

"These stab wounds match the other murders," Daichi murmurs.

"Yea, but these are sloppy - it's like someone didn't know what they were doing," you chime in. When Koushi and Daichi look at you pointedly, you go to hold your hands up in innocence, your wrists catching on the cuffs as you end up just tugging Koushi closer to you. "I didn't do it," you say indignantly. "I'm just saying."

Sawanura pointedly ignores your comment as he straightens, brushing imaginary dust off of his knees as he looks to Koushi, jerking his head to have him follow him out of the compartment and back towards the caboose.

"I have to go after him," he says firmly. "If I start now, I might be able to catch up with him. I need you to stay here and take care of this - don't let anyone interfere with the body, don't let anyone leave. Can you do that, love?" 

"Of course," Koushi answers quickly, pulling you along as Daichi slides the door of the next car open, horses lined up and tied in their stalls. "But - how will you catch up with him?"

"I have to try," is Daichi's only response, firm and resolute in the way that he always is as he unties his horse, leading it out of its stall. 

"Daichi," you say quickly. He looks at you, something painful and longing clouding his eyes for a moment before he goes back to tacking up his horse. You step towards him as you realize that Koushi's no longer holding onto your handcuffs. "I have my horse here, too. You'll have a better chance of catching the killer with a second pair of hands."

"You're still under arrest," Daichi says bluntly. You reach out to wrap a hand around his bicep, stopping him from moving away from you. He stares, first at your hand, then at the unlocked cuffs in the fist of your other hand, then finally at your face.

"How did you do that?"

"I promise to tell you when we get back?" You offer. A hand taps on your shoulder and you turn to see Koushi holding the reigns of your horse, having gotten everything ready for you while you and his husband were bickering. Daichi just sighs in that long-suffering way of his and you take it as an affirmative, smiling at Koushi and taking the reigns from him. 

Just as you reach for them, though, Koushi grabs you by the front of your shirt, pulling you to him so that he can slam your lips together and kiss you hard. By the time you part, Daichi's already on his horse, looking mildly amused at the way you pant and blush.

"Promise you'll come back to me," Koushi says gently, a command whispered against your lips. In that moment, you think he could've asked you to pluck the moon from the sky for him and you would've said yes. "Promise that I won't lose my star again," he whispers, and it's all you can do not to fall to your knees for him.

Koushi watches, after that, as you and Daichi ride off into the endless desert, dust plumes rising and sun beating down. He tries to think of a time when you've ever broken a promise to him and comes up short. Then, in a way that makes him sort of nauseous, he wonders why he didn't just make you promise not to leave them in the first place. 

It's much to Daichi's relief, in the end, that you were right - two experienced riders who are calm and focused have a distinct advantage over a criminal who's panicked and fleeing for his freedom. It's when you catch up to him, though, that his relief vanishes, stamped out by dread when you pull your gun, cocking it and aiming it for the man's back.

But Daichi's just opened his mouth to call out to you when you fire, grazing the killer's shoulder enough to knock him off balance, sending him tumbling off of his horse in a flash of panic. He curls up in a ball and covers his head with his arms as the horse kicks and stamps, sides heaving and eyes rolling before it bolts. You dash after it on your own horse, trusting that Daichi will handle the arrest.

And he… trusts you to come back. The two of you make a good team, he realizes abruptly, a fact that slams into him enough to make him stagger when he dismounts his horse. He wonders, in a swaying, painful sort of way, if you always had.

"Did you think I was going to shoot him?" Your voice, as the two of you ride slowly back to the train, the killer tied up on his horse with Daichi holding the lead tightly in his hand, jerks him out of his spiralling thoughts.

"You did shoot him," he says bluntly.

"But did you think I was going to kill him?" You press. Daichi stares straight ahead, at the long, dusty horizon and the stars that blink over it as the sun dips below the earth, beginning to bathe the two of you in darkness.

"I think it's hard to believe that you got lucky twice." You look at him and frown at that, racking your memories with him to try to figure out what he could mean when it finally hits you.

"Twice? Daichi, I… I wasn't trying to shoot you. I was aiming for the window," you say, and you don't really try to hide the hurt that bleeds into your voice.

"How was I supposed to know?" He snaps, bristling defensively. You recognize it for what it is - pain and regret swirling together into a nauseating mirage of the past. But your own pain still burns in your throat as you look at him.

"Because I'm not a killer," you say simply.

"I know that now," is his only response. Your hands tighten on your reigns, your knuckles paling at the force as you listen to the killer sniffle quietly on his horse. He's young, young enough for Daichi to realize that he didn't get into this life alone… he's young enough to remind him of you, of the first time he caught you stealing from saloon cash registers when the three of you were kids.

The boy had claimed that his name was Goshiki and that he was trying to get in good with Wakatoshi - they all were, apparently, him and the others who were responsible for the four total murders. It was confession enough to render you innocent. It was proof enough for Daichi to feel sick with regret and shame. 

"Have you ever thought about working in law enforcement?" He blurts out, and you whip around to look at him like he's gone mad.

"You're… joking, right? Was that a joke?" You say hesitantly, your eyes scanning over his body as if you'll find some source of blood loss that would explain his insanity.

"You're smart," he says instead of answering, shrugging. "You're quick, you're capable, you're… good. You're good, and I shouldn't have ever thought differently."

"I don't blame you for believing it," you say quietly, but he turns to look at you, his eyes soft and remorseful.

"You should," he says gently. You choose not to fight him on that - not to find another reason to burn a bridge and run away. Instead, you tip your head back to stare past the brim of your stetson at the vast darkness of the night sky, the sun having fallen over the horizon enough to bring any last traces of light with it.

"It's a bit too late now," you say finally, voice so soft that Daichi doesn't think he would've heard it if he wasn't so attuned to you. 

"Is it?" He asks. You look at him like he should already know the answer, your lips pressed together into a thin line.

"If I stop now, it'll all catch up with me. That's the thing with running… once you start, you can never give it up." Daichi stares at you when you say that, a faint memory of yelling those same words at you many years ago wafting up to the front of his mind. If you notice the guilt that tightens his chest, you don't comment on it. You just smile up at the stars, at the only company you've had for all these long years, and sigh. "Well, you always were a bit better at looking ahead than me."

"I was wrong," Daichi says quickly, and you hum in interest. "I can pardon you. I can -  I can give you a chance."

"What good is a chance for someone who always does the same thing?" You sigh, reaching to stretch your arms above your head as if Daichi isn't trembling with the stress of it all, gripping onto the resign of his horse next to you.

"It's good - you're good. Take the chance," he offers desperately. You look at him finally, staring long and hard as the sand dunes roll endlessly behind him. 

"What would Koushi think of it?" You ask quietly. He laughs at that, his shoulders sagging a bit.

"I'm not the one who kissed you like that when we left," he points out. You grumble and turn away, hoping you can tilt your head enough that he doesn't notice the heat in your face at the memory. But the stars blink back at you and the horizon stretches on and on and on into the unknown, and you have to ask the question that's been burning the back of your tongue.

"And what happens when I get bored again?" You say. "What happens the next time I get restless, wanting for something that the two of you can't give me?" Daichi just shrugs, though, remarkably unconcerned.

"My work always brings me out of town. Koushi hates it - I spend months away sometimes, helping folks in the neighbouring towns who need it. It'd be nice to have a deputy to be able to do that for me."

"Really," you say suspiciously. "It all works out - just like that?"

"Yea," he says easily. "Just like that. Maybe… maybe it always was a little easier than we thought it'd be."

It shouldn't be surprising, you think as you and Daichi make it back to the train, that Koushi's done such an excellent job of keeping everything together. It's what he does, you recall - it's what he is. The pillar, the steady guiding hand, the shoulder to lean on. 

The train passengers, while still anxious and restless, are quiet and settled in their compartments when the two of you arrive, Daichi trusting you with the horses while he hauls Goshiki off to the car that serves as the crime scene.

After giving the conductor the go-ahead to continue the journey, Koushi's quick to follow after him, already standing in front of the criminal and scowling when you join them. Daichi's keeping Goshiki's hands cuffed behind his back, sitting beside him with his arms crossed as he keeps an eye on the killer while Koushi interrogates him - he's just getting to asking why you of all people were framed for the murders when you slide through the open door of the car, closing it gently behind you.

"I doubt you'll get anything from him," you say as you stand next to Koushi, crossing your arms and looking down at the sniffling boy and the way he presses his lips firmly together. "Wakatoshi doesn't treat traitors kindly."

"How do you know so much about Wakatoshi?" Daichi asks, yanking Goshiki's cuffs when the boy starts to shift, bracing his legs. The train begins to sway gently as it picks up its previous pace and you look down at the criminal carefully as you grin.

"I stole from him," you say simply. Goshiki, to your delight, doesn't look particularly surprised, choosing instead to glare up at you. With the way he shakes and the blotchy red of his tear-stained face, though, he looks a bit like a wet kitten trying to hiss for the first time.

"What?" Koushi whirls around to face you.

"The bank robberies - they weren't random." Koushi throws you a disapproving look at the boasting edge of your voice. "Wakatoshi has new little nobodies like him open accounts at banks and keep his blood money there. It means that it can't be traced back to him and he doesn't have to worry about the security of his own profits." Daichi blinks up at you as he listens, a hard look on his face as Goshiki shrinks under your words.

"So, the murders were… payback?" He questions. You shrug.

"Maybe," you say, your gaze trained on the boy in Daichi's grasp. "He might be getting sloppy. I wonder if he even killed them himself."

"He would never," Goshiki all but shouts as the three of you turn to stare at him. "Wakatoshi doesn't get his hands dirty like that, it's what he has -" He seems to realize his mistake too late, his eyes widening in panic as he stammers. "I - I didn't mean that. I didn't say anything. I -"

"Well, what's done is done." Daichi claps a hand onto Goshiki's shoulder, the boy flinching under the pressure of it as he lets his head hang. 

"Wakatoshi will have his head even for that," you say quietly.

"You shouldn't have taunted him then," Koushi quips, an annoyed sort of look on his face. 

"It's nothing we didn't already know," you respond lowly. "Wakatoshi's been using others to do his dirty work for years. But he keeps his people close… if we want to get to them, we need names." You stare at Goshiki hard as you speak, your foot propped up on the seat next to where he's sitting so that you can lean on a forearm as you look at him closely.

"We?" Says Koushi coyly. Your foot slips and you stumble to stand normally again, looking between him and Daichi.

"I said you."

"I think you said we," Daichi points out. You cross your arms and scowl at him.

"A day ago you thought I killed people for a living."

"Daichi's wrong all the time," Koushi points out. "It doesn't mean much." Daichi makes an indignant, defensive sort of noise, but the way he frowns and pouts makes him look anything other than genuinely angry. Koushi smiles gently, just for a moment, before turning to where you're standing and shifting your weight from side to side. He reaches to brush sandy residue off of your stetson and smooth down your windswept clothes, actions that have your face heating as you turn your eyes away from him.

"Come on, love…" he says gently, and when you look desperately to Daichi, the sheriff just laughs and shrugs. "You gonna let me call you Deputy? Hm? You gonna come home with us?" You just sigh and tip your head back, staring at the dark, steel ceiling of the train car, low and curving like the endless sky that it covers. You stare and you let yourself think, just for a fleeting moment, about what it must be like to have a home to come back to.

Koushi reaches to hold your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head back down to look at him. You groan and squeeze your eyes shut as you lean away, spinning on your heel to slouch into the seat opposite Daichi and Goshiki. When your back hits the fabric, though, and you wince, the two of them narrow their eyes at you.

"How are the stitches?" Koushi asks stiffly, like he's biting his tongue to keep from chastising you. You just arch a brow in confusion.

"What stitches?"

"The ones I'm sure you got when you had your back looked at," he continues. You stare at him for a moment before letting your eyes flicker to Daichi, but he's mirroring his husband's disapproving frown.

"When you rolled over a pile of broken glass," the sheriff points out helpfully. You make a sound of understanding and purse your lips in mock indignation.

"Oh, you mean when I tried to shoot you," you quip. Daichi's face turns apologetic, but the effect is hindered by Koushi sitting down next to you and tugging at the layers of your clothing.

"Can I help you with something?" Your voice climbs in pitch as Koushi pulls your arm out of your jacket and moves on to tugging up the hem of your shirt.

"I'm checking on your stitches. Have you been cleaning the dressing regularly?" He asks easily - insistently.

"There are no stitches to check on -" Clearly the wrong choice of words. Koushi pauses his movements, leaning to look at you suspiciously. 

"What kind of doctor wouldn't give you stitches for cuts like that?" He asks flatly. You squirm in your seat, looking to Daichi for help, but he just glares stubbornly in response.

"The kind that doesn't exist?" Your voice is slow, wavering as you hesitate. Koushi scoffs. "I'm a wanted criminal, Koushi, I can't just go to a doctor, can I?"

"They swear an oath to help all people, you know," he chastises as he stands, stomping across the compartment to where Daichi's already rifling through his bag. When he pulls out a first aid kit, Koushi snatches it from him, coming back to you with it in his hand like he's brandishing some kind of weapon.

"Yes, but they don't swear an oath not to have you arrested after they - ow, Koushi -" But you have a distinct suspicion that your partner's stop listening to you when he successfully rolls the back of your shirt up, hissing at the sight.

"How bad is it?" Swamura says softly, looking at you with a gentleness that has you shifting where you sit, your shoulders tightening.

"It'll be better once I'm done with it," Koushi responds quietly, concentration thickening his voice as he works on cleaning the wounds as the antiseptic burns you. He shushes you softly at your sharp inhale, distracting himself just enough to press a kiss to your shoulder as he wipes away dried blood.

There's an intimacy of it all that has you reeling, has you staring out the window towards the dunes of sand that pass in a blur, the endlessly sweeping winds tumbling by. When you were younger, you'd dreamed of sights like this - sights of an open road leading on and on and away. But now that you have it, there's a longing in you that still won't quit, a need that's tugged at your heart for all of these long, lonely years.

It's a need that slows now, you realize haltingly - a yearning that paces itself amidst the thick haze of worry that pours from Daichi and the gentle touch of Koushi's hands brushing against your spine. You notice the safety of it all with a hint of panic, whipping your head around to face forward and being met with Koushi's hand resting firmly on the back of your neck, his low voice chastising you gently for moving so much while he bandages your back. And so, it becomes inescapable - the care that wraps around you. 

"Maybe it was stupid of us," you say slowly, letting your eyes fall to the compartment floor.

"Hm?" Koushi murmurs. 

"For us all to go our separate ways the way that we did," you clarify. Daichi smiles in a quiet, remorseful sort of way.

"We did waste a lot of time, didn't we?" You look up at him as he speaks, at the softness in his voice and the age in his eyes. He shifts where he sits, his hand tightening on Goshiki's handcuffs as his eyes flicker to the empty seat next to you. You wonder if the distance pains him the way that it's pained you for all of these years, if even the few feet that separate you now feel as vast as the desert outside.

"I don't think so," Koushi's gentle voice breaks the intensity of the longing gazes you and Daichi had been shooting at each other - much to the embarrassed relief of Goshiki, who sits and squirms and pulls at his cuffs. "Don't we always have to find ourselves before we find each other? Hm? There's a lot of places to get lost out here." You tilt your head back to face the window at Koushi's words, at the horizon that stretches on beyond what you can see.

"You two didn't really leave, though," you murmur. "It was just me who got lost out there." Koushi, having smoothed your shirt back down and helped you gently back into your jacket, brushes a hand over the back of your head gently. Daichi clears his throat and jerks his head towards Goshiki, leading Koushi to get up and switch places with him without another word needing to be said. 

It stings, watching the two of them move in such a rhythm, years of love and belonging making themselves known. But then Daichi sits next to you and pulls you against him, one arm wrapping around you gently while the other cups the back of your head and tucks your face under his chin.

"We would never leave you like that, my star," he murmurs gently, rocking you back and forth in that firm way of his. You try to pull away from him, try to plant your hands on his chest and push him away, but Daichi's gotten strong in the years since you've known him, broad and firm and immovable.

"But you did -"

"We didn't. We left - we give up when you give up, we walk away when you disappear," he says firmly as you give up your struggle, letting yourself sag against him with a weary, dejected sigh.

"It was a coincidence, love," Koushi adds as he looks on, pained by the stress in your eyes and the distance between you. "We stumbled onto each other in a town that we were both trying to be strangers in. We just… found each other. We find each other." 

You look at Koushi as he speaks, feeling Daichi's hand trace up and down your arm while he hums his agreement. You wonder, sort of distantly, what made you go to that town when you did - what made you choose that road, that saloon, that memory to drag back up from the dead.

"Is this really all coincidence?" You ask quietly. Koushi grins, a soft, loving sort of thing that has you looking away.

"Maybe it isn't," he offers shyly. "Maybe we were always going to find one another out here in the middle of nowhere." You scoff at his words, a vain attempt to distract from the tears blurring your vision as you stare out the window, refusing to be where you are now. Daichi places a knowing kiss to the back of your hand and tucks you further into his chest, away from the outside world and the endlessness of it. 

"We have a long way to go still," he says quietly, a welcome distraction that you thank him for by squeezing his hand gently and intertwining your fingers with his. "We should rest… and take turns watching him." Goshiki shrinks under the attention, but Koushi just laughs.

"And when we get to the end of the line?" He asks. Daichi just settles further into the cushioned seat.

"We'll buy some new tickets and catch a train home… all four of us," he declares. You eye Goshiki hesitantly, watching the way he tugs on his cuffs and lets his eyes flit around restlessly.

"And what will you do with him then?" You ask quietly. Daichi sucks his teeth in a moment of pretend thoughtfulness just to see the boy squirm.

"I think anyone like him deserves a second chance… you never know, if he's willing to turn on Wakatoshi and spill some secrets… well, things could start really looking up for him."

"You should be careful who you give second chances to," you quip quietly as you watch the boy's eyes light up. "There's no limit to how many times someone can turn their back on you."

"No, there isn't," Daichi says thoughtfully, smoothing a hand over your back carefully. "But I have a good feeling about it this time around."

Koushi thinks, rather sullenly, that three months is far too long for any deputy sheriff to be away - that when you finally return home he'll make you and his husband swear to never send you away like that again. He's polishing glasses, muttering under his breath about the audacity of it all when the saloon doors swing open and the familiar jingle of spurs reaches his ears.

He's a bit surprised, honestly, that you manage to catch the glass he all but throws in his haste to slam into you, hugging you tightly enough to have you stumbling back.

"Aw, did you miss me?" You ask coyly. Koushi untangles himself from you and sniffs indignantly, snatching the glass from your hands and moving back behind the bar to put it away.

"No," he says flatly.

"Hmm, I think you did." Koushi shoots you a scathing look and you grin, sliding onto a stool at the bar and watching as he pours you a drink without having to ask. You prop your chin in your hand and watch as he wipes down the counter.

"I hope you did," you say quietly, a bit of the teasing melting from your voice. He looks up at you then, blinking in a startled sort of way before softening, throwing the rag he'd been using somewhere behind the bad and coming to stand in front of you and lean over the wooden top towards you. You lean in, too, a response that feels innate as you close your eyes. 

But instead of his lips against yours, you feel your stetson being plucked from your head and when you look at him, Koushi's got it placed haphazardly on his own head. You scoff, turning away for a moment in the desperate hope that he won't notice the heat spreading through your cheeks, but his laugh tells you that you've been found out.

"What do you think, am I a real cowboy now?" He taunts, and you run a hand through your hair as you stare, flustered more than you care to admit. 

"I think you're a real fuckin tease, that's what," you quip back, but the way he tips his head back and laughs makes the embarrassment of it all worth it. "This is stealing. I could arrest you for this, you know." Koushi just bats his eyes and sticks his wrists out towards you, pouting.

"Aw, wouldn't you?" he says coyly.

That's how Daichi finds the two of you, of course - you groaning hopelessly and burying your head in your hands while Koushi adjusts your hat on his head. The sheriff laughs at the sight, rolling his eyes fondly as he pats you on the back consolingly and slides onto the stool next to you. 

You lift your head enough to look up at him, at the shining mirth in his eyes and the way he opens his mouth to join in on the teasing. Intent on stopping that, though, you reach up to pluck his own stetson from his head, placing it on yours instead. That is, of course, enough to have him snap his mouth shut and blush profusely, looking away from you in a vain attempt to save face. 

Koushi leans over the bar to press a kiss to his heated cheek and then to your grinning one, murmuring something sweet in your ear about how he really is happy to have you back. Something in you flutters a bit as he looks at you intently and you realize that he's not just talking about having his deputy sheriff back in town.

"Well, I'm glad someone is," you sigh dramatically, leaning against Daichi's broad, solid shoulder. That seems to draw him out of his embarrassment enough to wrap an arm around your shoulders, the thumb and forefinger of his other hand tilting your head gently up so that he can plant a kiss on your lips. 

"It's good to have you home, my star," he says softly. A gentle sort of sentiment. You smile against his lips, a tension leaving you that you hadn't really realized you'd been carrying.

"Yea," you sigh. "It's good to be home."

[peyton-warren]

Inside the Shadow

Characters: Walter Marshall (Night Hunter), Reader, Inconsequential copier Word count: 2783 Reader Gender: Any Type: One-shot fluffy drabble Beta: @ellethespaceunicorn Warning: None really, but to be safe under 18 DNI, ass wiggling, startling Reader, staring Walter

Summary: Walter surprises Reader in the office copier room.

Author Note: This fic is brought to you by the song “Motor Running” by the Jompson Brothers and my poor coworker who caught me making copies to that song. Banner by me.

Masterlist

You danced your way down the hallway at the precinct.  You had your noise canceling headphones on as you headed towards your floor’s copy machine, your favorite song to move to playing in your ears.  You were here late, catching up on paperwork.  You honestly liked it when you were the only one here.  You got more done this way than all the other hours of the day together when everyone else was here too.  

Ok so admittedly there were people on the main floor of the precinct.  This was a police station after all and the only one for over a 50+ mile radius.  But your floor is locked to anyone who doesn't have access linked to their key badge.  

It was going on towards 10pm and you were finally seeing the light at the end of your tunnel.  You were printing off a few pages of notes to file in the final case file before you were gonna head home for the night.    And as your pages printed, you wiggled more to the music in your ears as you pondered what food place was going to be open on your way home.  You had a feeling your options were going to be the gas station, IHOP or McDonalds.  You sigh at this but it wasn't a shock, having lived in this small ass town as long as you had. With a final butt wiggle, you spin on your heel back towards the copy machine that surely must be done spitting out your notes by now.  

As you do, you are startled nearly out of your skin by the hulking dark figure in the doorway.  You jump and squeak before recognizing the sweater clad Detective Marshall.  Reeling, you rip your head phones off your head as you realize his eyes are still trained on the spot where your ass had been mere moments ago, making you realize you just gave him a bit of a show.  With his head still tilted down and unmoving at being caught looking, his eyes shift to yours.  You feel your cheeks blush in time with pink appearing on his.  

“What??” you snap trying to hide your embarrassment.

“What?” Walter replies, just as snippy.  

“What?” you echo again. 

Realizing you both sound ridiculous, you grab your printouts from the copier and move toward the door.  But Walter is still in the way.  You purse lips and cross your arms, tucking your notes under one arm and your headphones under the other as you glare at the handsomest man in the building, on the force, and in the town really.  And the most unattainable one too.   

You huff your frustration at his lack of availability more than his lack of movement, but it seems to snap him out of his daze.  He takes a step back into the hallway and sweeps his arm with the file folder through the air in a mock bow.  You give him a responding curtsy before scooting out of the room.  You slap the head phones back on and wiggle your way back down the hall to your office, ignoring the hot stare back on your ass. 

[mercvry-glow]

All that glitters

parings. jack abbot x nurse!reader

summary. jack isn't a materialistic man, and you try your best not to be spoiled—but when your man gets flirted with, maybe it's time to flaunt the rings?

warnings. typical pitt setting, hospital drama, age gap bc i make the rules in this house (Jack late 40s, reader late 20s early 30s), secret marriage trope but the don't really try very hard to hide it, jack gets flirted with, sassy jack, reader that has hair long enough to be in a ponytail, other pitt characters, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. love love love jack and younger reader who he loves to spoil—i'll make them my mark sloan/lexie grey dream. sorta follows the stereotype of nurses getting married young with a big phat rock on their finger and reader is living her best life fr, today she's giving health icon realness! like always feedback is very much appreciated and i love all of you!

wc. 1500+

all that gleams (18+)

There were very few perks to working night shift in the ER, but your coworkers were definitely one of them. The vibe was calmer, looser. You could play music low, crack jokes in between traumas, and snack on protein bars and green juice in peace without an intern hovering at your elbow asking if this was the “bad kind of blood.”

 More importantly though? You didn’t have to deal with as many junior staff mispronouncing meds or asking you if “NPO” was a hospital in another state.

Not that you were that far off from their age. You were only a few years ahead of most of them, and honestly? You didn’t always look like someone who belonged in the ER. You were the compression jacket-wearing, Pilates-going, smoothie-before-shift, electrolyte-during kind of nurse. Hair always in a claw clip, nails always clean and glossy, scrubs perfectly tailored and paired with a cute fleece half-zip. Your badge reel had glitter. Your tumbler was filled with ice water. You had a favorite lip balm and two glosses.

And somehow, you were married to Jack Abbot.

Not that most people at PTMC knew that.

Jack—hardass, sarcasm-laced, gruff-charm Abbot—wasn't exactly wearing a “taken” sign on his back. And you weren’t shouting it from the rooftops either. You both liked the privacy, liked having something all to yourselves in a place where everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business.

Still, the diamond on your finger didn’t exactly scream subtle. It was flashy. Big, clear, and set in a gold band that sparkled aggressively under the hospital’s harsh fluorescents. People noticed it. You’d caught more than one resident blinking at it mid-sentence.

Jack noticed it too, especially when you wandered over to where he stood, leaning casually against the wall near the trauma bay—arms crossed, mouth in a flat line, giving you that look he always did when you showed up a little too put together for the ER at 2 a.m.

You sipped your icy water and tapped your fingers against your cup. “Slow night.”

He didn’t even glance at you. “You trying to get us all booked?”

“Oh come on, I didn’t say the actual Q-word.”

“You said ‘slow night,’ which is the Q-word’s passive-aggressive cousin. We’re totally fucked now, hope you’re happy.”

You smiled sweetly, resting an elbow on the nearby table. “I brought chia pudding for later. Want one?”

He side-eyed you. “I don’t even know what the hell that is.”

“It’s gut healthy, Jack. There’s fruit in it too,”

“I don’t trust anything that you find on TikTok.”

You giggled, which only made him more suspicious. Jack’s gaze dipped to your hand as you fiddled with the straw in your drink, the ring practically glowing.

“You’re really wearing that thing tonight?”

You blinked innocently. “What, this old thing?”

He snorted. “You know it’s blinding under these lights, right? Someone’s gonna seize just from the glare.”

“Well then I’m technically doing my job,” you said, smiling. “Keeping you on your toes.”

“You’re gonna give the interns a complex. They think you’re single, you know.”

Your eyes widend in fake horror. “You don’t think I’m flirting with anyone, do you? Frank gets really chatty before he leaves for the night,”

He raised an eyebrow. “With how much you like to bug me, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“That’s rich coming from you, you like to hover too.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

Jack tilted his head. “Okay. A little. I’m just makin’ sure my girl’s all good.”

You gave him a light shove and took another sip of your water, just in time to hear the trauma pager start going off. 

MVC. ETA six minutes.

Jack stood up straighter like someone flipped a switch, already reaching for gloves. You grabbed your own pair from your pocket, gently removing your ring and placing it onto the accompanying chain around your neck. It’s something you and Jack had agreed to when it came to your wedding rings, minimal gore around them—”up or off” he liked to call it. He had his own of course, though most of the time he just kept his ring on the necklace while at work. 

You started bouncing lightly on your toes to get the blood flowing, not having had any action in the time since you had arrived. 

“Try not to trip over your own sparkle out there,” he muttered.

You gave him your sweetest smile. “You love it.”

He looked at you for a beat longer than he needed to. “Unfortunately.”

Unfortunately, your ass—he picked that ring out himself.

As the trauma team assembled, you took your place beside him, the two of you syncing without needing to speak. He passed you a gown without asking. You tied the back of his before he even turned around.

If anyone noticed how in step you were, they didn’t say anything.

 Jack’s hand brushed against yours as you moved into the trauma bay, just long enough for you to know he saw you. Always did.

After your first success of the night, the adrenaline had faded from the area like mist burning off in Pitsburgh morning light. You were perched back at the nurses' station, sipping from your oversized pink tumbler once again and tapping notes into the EMR system, your high ponytail somehow still intact after the trauma call. You’d already changed into your backup hoodie, the pale blue one that matched your compression socks. 

A little style, a little lip gloss, and a whole lot of not here for nonsense.

Things had quieted enough for Jack to finally emerge from the trauma bay, only for him to be flagged almost immediately by a patient coming in from the waiting room. She was maybe late twenties, long hair, fresh manicure, a barely-there scrape above her brow. Her chart said “fall on concrete.” Her strappy heels said, fall caused by attention-seeking behavior.

You glanced up briefly, watching Jack walk her to a curtained bay. She was smiling too much. Laughing too loud. He was wearing that look—the one he got when he knew a situation would be annoying and had already mentally detached from it.

“I swear,” the patient was saying, voice high and sweet, “every time I wear these I end up in trouble. Guess that teaches me for wanting to be cute on a Wednesday night.”

Jack didn’t even blink. “Sounds like unfortunate planning.”

You tried not to smirk, eyes drifting back to your screen, but your ears stayed tuned.

Inside the curtain bay, the flirting only ramped up.

“You’ve got great hands,” she continued. “Like, really strong—Are you a surgeon or something?”

“Or something,” he muttered, clearly already regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

A moment later, you stood, casually collecting a folder from the rack. You strolled over, your walk unbothered, the slight shimmer of your clear gloss catching in the overhead light. You didn’t need to announce anything. You just stepped in like you belonged there—because in reality you didn’t.

“Oh—sorry, just grabbing this,” you said lightly, nodding toward the folder tucked on the side cart.

Jack’s eyes flicked to you briefly, then away. But that flicker said a lot. You were his safety net, his distraction, his gentle way out.

The patient looked between you and Jack, then caught sight of his chain. His ring where it should be—resting loosely around his neck, the soft shine of the gold band catching the overhead lights like a quiet announcement.

She blinked. “Oh... You’re married?”

Jack didn’t miss a beat. “I am.”

You turned just slightly, giving a small, polite smile. “He’s got great hands, right? They open all my jars and everything." shifting your own necklaces ever so slightly to show off your own ring.

The patient made a noncommittal noise. You gave Jack a subtle tap on the arm—nothing big, nothing dramatic—and slipped out without another word.

Back at the nurses’ station, Dr. Shen had just walked up, sipping his Dunkin’ coffee and looking comfortable as ever. He glanced at you, then at Jack still behind the curtain.

“New patient?” He asked.

“Minor trauma,” you replied, eyes still on your chart. “Potential for eye strain, though. A lot of eyelash batting happening in there.”

Shen raised one brow. “You jealous?”

You gave a soft laugh, sliding your tumbler closer. “Nope. Just observational.”

Jack appeared a second later, walking past with his usual quiet swagger and that look of can everyone please just not say something dumb, but paused near Shen.

“Patient’s stable. Probably fine to discharge with wound care instructions and a lesson on appropriate footwear.”

Shen nodded. “Noted.”

As Jack passed you, he muttered, “You know that folder wasn’t yours, right?”

You didn’t look up. “You’re welcome.”

He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice. “You’re ridiculous.”

You smiled, too sweet. “She was hitting on you.”

“I noticed.”

“She said you have surgeon hands.”

“I noticed.”

You leaned into him just enough for your perfume to tickle his nose. “You do, you know. Big, capable. Very sexy.”

“Don’t weaponize nice compliments.”

You grinned and rested your cheek on his arm for a beat. “You’re just mad you’re the one getting teased.”

He shook his head with a sigh, then mumbled under his breath, “Married a menace in $98 leggings, and I’m the one being told off.”

And you didn’t even argue—because you absolutely are… and you did buy the leggings in two colors.

mercvry-glow 2025

[wisecura]

The wind and the leaf

Sanemi x Tsuguko-f!reader

summary: You are the Tsuguko to Sanemi, the formidable Wind Hashira famed for his abrasive and harsh demeanor. Yet, your cool and calm presence in his live has him reeling. He just cant figure you out.

an: man i just gotta thing for mean dudes with bad personalities. not sure the direction for this fic, but I want it short and sweet.

warning: this story may contain yandere-esque features. The later chapters may be unsuitable for all readers. Proceed with this in mind....I mean...the dude literally stabbed a lil girl to prove a point so...

p.2

swoosh swoosh

Sanemi Shinazugawa, the infamous Wind Hashira, was a force to be reckoned with.

Adorned with battle scars like badges of honor, he exuded a raw intensity that sent tremors through the hearts of many demons. Fiery and aggressive, his bloodlust towards those grotesque creatures simmered just beneath the surface.

He was the embodiment of a warrior consumed by his purpose.

And then there was you.

His Tsuguko.

You were a stark contrast to Sanemi's volatile nature.

Serene and calm, moving through life with an ethereal grace. Soft where he was hard. Smooth where he was rough. Kind where he was brash. The most beautiful person he's ever seen, flowing with grace and poise. Dedicated, hardworking, and oh so admirable. It hadn't been a difficult decision to take you on as his student. If he were to fault you on anything though...

Emotions were not your strong suit.

He could watch you tear down demon after demon for hours, but you'd never seem to crack in your stoic facade. You eyes were lifeless and damn near indifferent. Could he even call it a facade now if it was the face you'd kept since the day he met you?

Perhaps it was your unwavering focus on perfecting your swordsmanship that left little room for the complexities of the heart. Or maybe, just maybe, you were simply too good at hiding those thoughts and feelings. Whatever it was, it irritated the hell out of Sanemi.

You had been in each other's company for a little over a year now and had yet to engage in any real conversation. Let alone betray even a flicker of emotion towards him.

He could spar with you till you were worn to the bone, yet you barely said a word. He'd rather you complain even a little bit. It was as if you were an enigma wrapped in a riddle, baffling the very core of Sanemi's being. How could a person be so...cold. Yet so warm.

He could barely stand it.

Then it happened. One fateful, fucking day, that changed his whole perception of you and himself. Sanemi's eyes fell upon you, engaged in a conversation with Rengoku, his fellow flame Hashira.

He struggled to make sense of it. Impossible to explain it, really, but it was as if a sword pierced straight through his chest. Jealousy, a sensation he was scarcely familiar with, gnawed at his insides, stoking a surprising fire of resentment towards the two of you. And he working tirelessly, his mind running circles, to come up with the root behind this feeling.

It wasn't that you were just talking to the Flame Hashira, it was the slight smile you shared with him—a rarity you had never bestowed upon Sanemi himself.

Sanemi's little bird mind resorted to the only explanation it could comprehend: irritation. Irritation at your lack of dedication to her swordsmanship. That had to be it. The feeling must have been a byproduct of his strict training regime, a testament to his commitment to the Demon Slayer Corps.

And he working tirelessly to come up with the reasoning behind this feeling.

It wasn't that you were merely talking to the Flame Hashira, but the fact that you were slightly smiling at him. Frustrated and unable to understand his own reactions, Sanemi’s little bird mind resorted to the only rationale his mind could accept: irritation.

Irritation, he convinced himself, at your lack of dedication towards your swordsmanship.

That had to be it.

The feeling must have been a byproduct of his strict training regime, a testament to his commitment to the Demon Slayer Corps. He couldn't fathom anything else.

You just didn't take this seriously enough.

And shame on you to be slacking on your training, spending your limited time with someone else. You weren’t Rengoku’s Tsuguko—you were his. So why didn’t you act like it, huh?

But surely Rengoku was only stopping by for a minute. Just to drop something off, right? This nasty irritation would definitely go away soon.

Yet,

As the days passed, Sanemi found himself growing more and more vexed. Rengoku’s visits became almost a daily occurrence. It grated on him, seeing you constantly engaged in light conversation with the Flame Hashira, seemingly neglecting the rigorous training schedule he had laid out for you.

Did Rengoku have nothing better to do than to distract you? He was a damn Hashira, after all. Surely, he had more pressing responsibilities than to idle away his time chatting.

This constant interactions between you two wasn't just a thorn in his side. It was becoming an unbearable aggravation, challenging his patience and his command as your mentor. He had said anything yet, but he was so tempted.

It was as if a shadow settled over his estate, darkening his mood constantly. Initially, he hadn't minded the Flame Hashira, but now he couldn't stand him. He could go as far as to say he hated him.

Yet, he remained steadfast in his silence, unable to voice his concerns to you. After all, how could he begin to explain something he himself couldn't fathom?

But that didn’t stop him from expressing his unspoken words through his actions. Your training sessions grew more rigorous. Then again, they should have been intensifying already—how were you supposed to grow if he didn’t push you?

But now, his training took on a meaner edge, driven more by his swirling emotions than by the usual disciplined approach.

It only grew worse when he realized you might actually be growing attached to the Flame Hashira.

Your interactions, though always subtle and calm, began to reveal a depth of affection that bothered Sanemi deeply. You never openly showed preference or attachment, keeping your emotions concealed beneath a tranquil surface.

But, it started with small smiles, and now, you were inquiring about Rengoku’s brother and his garden. You seemed to know intimate details about the Flame Hashira, details that were trivial yet so fucking telling.

Did you really not see the issue with having Rengoku visit so often at his manor? To Sanemi, these were not mere friendly exchanges, rather, they were breaches in the exclusivity he felt over your mentorship and training.

The situation gnawed at him, the silent question burning in his mind: Why did Rengoku, of all people, need to be so involved in your life?Each encounter, each shared smile between you and the Flame Hashira, seemed like a small betrayal to Sanemi.

His frustration grew with each passing interaction. Why couldn't he be the one to elicit a reaction? You never smiled at him the way you did with Rengoku. You never engaged him in light conversation or inquired about his likes and dislikes. Why was it always Rengoku who managed to coax those rare glimpses of emotion from your otherwise impassive demeanor? Was it the Flame Hashira’s charismatic charm or perhaps something deeper, something more that drew you to him?

He was supposed to be your mentor, the one you looked up to and sought guidance from, yet here he was, feeling sidelined in his own estate. The complexity of these emotions was so unfamiliar to Sanemi, a man more accustomed to straightforward battles and clear enemies. How could he fight this unseen foe that seemed to be stealing away your attention and, possibly, your affection respect?

Lost in his own sea of turmoil, Sanemi wrestled with feelings that defied his comprehension. He had spent his life honing his instincts as a demon slayer, yet when it came to matters of the heart, he was as clueless as a beginner. It was a battle he never expected to face, and it threatened to consume him whole. Why were you causing him to feel this way?

why.

Why?

WHY?

WHY.

In the midst of your training sessions with him, Sanemi found himself studying you intently.

Your stoic facade remained as unyielding as ever, but he couldn’t shake the flutter in his stomach every time you fixed him with your gaze. His heart rate would pick up just that much more and he would have to look away. What were you thinking, staring at him like that?

His training as a Hashira had taught him how to mask his emotions—after all, a rapid heartbeat was normal in the heat of battle. But how long could he keep the flush from his face hidden? He desperately wanted to see a different expression on yours, something that broke through that serene exterior.

If you noticed his discomposure, you never mentioned it. It was as if you were oblivious to the turmoil you stirred within him, or perhaps, you were simply choosing to ignore it.

Sanemi found it increasingly difficult to find common ground, to find the right words that could foster a meaningful conversation between you. Each attempt felt more strained than the last, widening the chasm he felt in your interactions.

Driven by a mix of desperation and determination, he decided to shift his approach.

If words would not bridge the gap, maybe actions would speak the volume he needed. He began to observe you more closely, paying attention to the small details—the way you organized your training gear, the slight pause before executing a particular move, or your preferences for certain foods during breaks.

He quietly started to take care of smaller tasks for you, adjusting your gear before training, ensuring there were extra rations of your favorite snacks available, and subtly modifying training routines to include elements you showed interest in.

Each act was a silent plea for your recognition, a hope that these small gestures would catch your eye and perhaps elicit a response, any response, that might indicate you saw him as more than just your mentor.

After training sessions, Sanemi would discreetly place new hair accessories or small trinkets beside your belongings—items he had thoughtfully selected from the local shops. Each one was chosen not only for their aesthetic appeal but also for their subtle reflections of himself: a pristine white hair clip, or a patterned haori that mimicked his own.

Yet, nothing seemed to elicit much of a response from you other than a polite "thank you." Your calm acknowledgment, devoid of the warmth or interest he hoped for, was starting to drive him seriously mad. It felt like banging his head against a wall, trying to reach you, to see a flicker of something more beneath your composed exterior.

However, you did eat the snacks he brought you, and to his surprise—and his tinged ears—you wore the items he had picked out for you. Each day you adorned yourself with these, you became a walking symbol of him.

A constant reminder of who you shared most of your time with. Who you staying with.

He couldn't figure it out. Couldn't figure you out.

p.2

come home

[thedeluluverse]

Annyeong my darling @starfire21! Here is your request! Sorry it took longer than I quoted, hope it was worth the wait! Let me know of anyyyyy feedback ok? Enjoy :) <3333

Author’s Note: Big thanks to @starfire21 for this request as it beckons in a new era of not just BTS fics! I hope y’all enjoy and feel free to send me requests anytime 😊Also, I got a tad bit carried away so if it's too long, sorry! hehe

Summary: Being together for 2 years, there is no limit to how well you know each other. So why do you still try to hide?

Pairing:  softDom!Minho x subbyJYPstaffF!reader.

Rating: 18+

Genre: idol!au, angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, coworker romance

Word Count: 3,861

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI.  swearing, angst in a couple parts, fingering (f. receiving), breast play, dirty talk, pet names, overstimulation, clit play, praise kink, neck kissing, guilt, crying, cockwarming, mom and dad issues, reader highkey hates her dad and wants to unalive him so there's talk of that too.

It's been 2 hours, and you are still reeling. Despite living in Korea for about 6 years at this point, your parents still manage to get under your skin. A notification pops up on your phone that your boyfriend, none other than Lee Minho of Stray Kids, has gone live. A small smile appears, knowing that he helps comfort you even through a screen and wondering if he can sense your need for his presence. Probably not, but it's a nice thought!

Once the live is through, you give a sigh of contentment, quickly replaced by the familiar sinking feeling that comes with the trauma you can't seem to shake. You are on the verge of sobbing when your phone screen lights up, showing that your boyfriend is trying to Facetime you. Taking a few deep breaths and smiling, you accept the call and are greeted by an "Annyeong jagiya! Did you see the live?". Nodding your head, you reply, "I did, and you look so handsome today, babe!".

Despite you doing your best to smile enough to not worry him, he can tell that the smile far from reaches your eyes. His tone changes to stern as his eyes bore into your soul; thank goodness there's a screen separating y'all! "Tell me." He demands; you try to laugh it off. "Tell you what? That I love you; you know I do, Min!". He isn't laughing, "Don't play this game with me, angel, I can tell something is wrong. Please, I'm here for you, always.".

At his sincere words and concern for your well-being, the dam is broken, and you start bawling, unable to communicate for about 3 minutes. He understands and doesn't bother you; he just looks at you pitifully, upset that he knows there is nothing he can do to help right now. Once your breathing has regulated, you say, "Okay, well, buckle up, my love, because today was a doozy…" he nods to show that he is ready and you are free to start whenever.

After a sip of water, you begin, "First off, my dad, who I haven't talked to in about 7 years, texted me out of the blue asking what I've been up to, and he misses me (bullshit, you mutter under your breath). So this fucker asks if we can meet up for lunch or something soon. I told him that I was not in the States anymore. He said that my mom was bragging about me and accidentally let it slip that I live in Korea now, so that's no issue since he has wanted to take a trip anyway. “

“I told him to stay out of my goddamn life since that is what he is best at, and he lost his chances to reconcile with me a decade ago. Then he dared to get angry with me and say he deserves to see me because ' he's my father.' I told him he was just a sperm donor and he had no right to me, especially since I changed my last name once I moved out. He didn't like that and said that I was just like my mom, a bitch, and that was it. Now most times, I don't like being compared to my mom, but in cases like these, it's a badge of honor, lol.”.

As you take a breath, Minho stares off from his phone for a moment to process all of that. Now, that situation would be intense to hear about for anyone. Still, it's an entirely different playing field for your fiercely protective boyfriend who knows about your trauma. "I'm gonna kill him." He states, still looking off into the distance.

You damn near spit out your water at the suddenness of this statement, then reply with, "I mean, go for it, have fun even, but make sure I'm there. I want to see his pathetic life leave his blank stare as I deal the final blow." His eyes widen, knowing that your talk of wanting to kill your dad was serious all these years; his only response is to nod, "Anything you want, Princess.".

Blushing at the pet name and feeling a bit better, having vented some of the day away, you say, "You are already fuming; I can just finish up the story later. It's okay. I will see you, la-" "You'll see me as soon as you are done telling me what happened today. Yes, I am pissed at your dad on multiple levels. Still, I care about you even more. So what else happened, honey?". You close your eyes, and with your voice slightly cracking, you say, "My mom. She happened. So she Facetimed me earlier, like 10 minutes after the ordeal with 'dad'.

  She just wanted to check up on me, but I was snippier than usual because I don't like surprises like that and wouldn't have agreed to call just then. I told her that she needs to not just randomly Facetime me because next time, depending on what kind of day I'm having, I may not be in the mood to pick up. She didn't like that at all and tried to play the guilt card of not seeing me in forever despite her knowing I’ve been super busy lately. I told her that wasn’t fair, and we texted enough for her to know that my life has been hectic, so she needs to not try to make me feel guilty for my success."

“So then,” you continue, “she happens to spot that the sink has dishes, trash needs to be taken out, etc., etc., and huffs. I ask what's wrong, and she proceeds to say that, well, despite success looks like you can't handle it all if you can't maintain a clean living space and that after this long, she thought that I would’ve figured out a routine that works for me by now.

  She even had the audacity to say, 'Ah yes, your work is soooo taxing being around gorgeous people all day, you poor thing.' That set me off; I told her that my job is taxing because I want to ensure I am doing my best, so they do not have to worry as much. I have had no energy to do anything when I come home lately besides shower, eat, and talk to Min for a little while before I pass out. The final straw was when she said, ', Oh, so you have time for your boyfriend but not for your mom; I see how it is.' And just ended the call."

  He stares into space again and says, "Wait…what the actual fuck??!! She knows you have abandonment issues and how your energy levels can be, and she dares to pull that…. I'm so sorry, love, for everything." You sniffle, trying to ward off more tears and answer, "It isn't your fault, though; none of this is, which is why I wasn't going to bother you with it or bring down your day. Especially after a live because I know you get a mixed bag of comments with those; I feel extra bad now. I'm sorry; I'm selfish and shouldn't have word-vomited on you. Oh fuck, am I like my dad? I'm really gonna run into traffic now," you half-joke.

"AISH. Y/N-AAAA!! I've told you that you never need to hide anything from me, okay? I am here for you. I would’ve hated it if you kept all of this to yourself until you deemed that I was ready to hear it. Lovingly shut the hell up about that 'like your dad/being selfish' shit. I could tell you weren't okay and asked you to share why. Yanno, I love you and know you have struggled mainly alone for too long."

" Your dad would've just started unloading about his day without even thinking to ask how I was before, so stop. No running into traffic jokes either, alright? You really wanna do that to me and the kids?". The corner of your mouth twitches into a slight smile as you say, ", Okay, you maybe have good points; I'm sorry. And I wouldn't do that to you and those fuzzy little cuties in a million years!"

He smirks, "Good, and stop saying sorry. You did nothing wrong, okay?"; you nod in response, granting you a flying kiss through the screen. "Do you have any plans today y/n?" "Nope MinMin, I'm free the rest of the day; why?" "You'll see, just be ready in 15 minutes, dress comfy. I'll see you soon; gonna hang up now, saranghae jagiya!" "Saranghae jagi, I'll see you soon!". The call ends, and you put on your favorite pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie you had stolen from him on your third date paired with your trusty boots, and you are ready to go!

15 minutes later, your boyfriend is pulled into your driveway and leans against the car waiting for you, not wanting to rush you but letting you know he is there. The second you step past your door, he runs up to you and captures you in the most comforting hug that might've ever existed.

This causes you to cry more, and his only response is to softly rub your back, occasionally pecking your temple and forehead with kisses and soothingly whispering, "There there, y/n, I'm here. It's going to be okay, that's it. Let it out.". After about 9 minutes, he wipes away the tears for you, kisses their faint trails, and leads you hand in hand to his car. As he starts driving, you have no idea what he has planned, and frankly, it couldn't matter less; you are feeling better just being in his company.

Putting the car in park, he turns to you and asks, "You ready?" "for what?" you reply. He emerges from the vehicle and opens your door for you, holding your hand as you walk into the building, saying, "Just trust me.". As soon as you walk in, you are taken aback at how nice this place looks but are too entranced in the calming scents of rain and vanilla to put too much thought into it. He notices you just taking everything in and places a gentle hand on the small of your back to catch your attention, "Let's get this started, shall we? Don't worry, I pulled a few strings, and we have the place to ourselves.".

Returning to reality, you look at him with wide eyes, "Wait….did you rent out a whole ass spa just because my parents were jerks??? This is too much; I'll be okay, I swear!". He calmly places a finger over your lips, looking into your eyes. "Nothing is too much for my baby girl, you need to wind down anyway, and I just had an excuse to pull something like this off. Now… go enjoy my love."

You blush at the effort and care he put into this, all for you, and nod, walking to the back. First, you get the best massage of your life, not counting the ones that Min has given you; of course, once it is done, the masseuse leaves so that you can retie your robe and move on to the next room. Nearly falling asleep from how jelly-like your muscles feel, you don't notice that you aren't alone until you feel a hand gripping your ass cheek.

You bolt up and whip your head around only to find your cheeky partner showcasing the cat smirk that you so adore until he moves closer to you and bends down, placing soft kisses on your shoulders, neck, and all over your face until you are both giggling. "Now, on to the next room." He commands while taking hold of your neck with his strong, veiny hands that impress you more and more every day.

Helping you into the next room as you are still a bit wobbly, Min starts feeling like this was definitely a good idea since it has been ages since he has seen your features this relaxed. Once you sit in the massage chair, he plants a kiss on the top of your hand and then leaves you to enjoy phase 2. Phase 2 includes a full mani-pedi as well as a customized facial treatment due to him knowing that you have sensitive skin. He even asked the staff to provide extra cucumber slices to snack on if smelling them on your face kickstarted your craving.

Throughout the mani-pedi, you receive heavenly hand and foot massages, and you start to wonder if this is all a dream due to how perfect everything has been. As you wait a few moments for them to ensure the next room is ready, your sneaky boyfriend whispers into your ear, "Enjoying yourself pretty?" as your eyes are closed, leaning back in relaxation.

  Your eyes fly open, mainly from the realization that those 3 words created body-wide goosebumps. Hovering over you, he shakes his head and gently lowers your lids, "Keep relaxing, pet. Let master take care of you, yeah?". Biting your lip, you nod slightly while fighting a moan; at this green light, he starts a trail of kisses from your collarbone down to your sternum.

Your breathing becomes more uneven by the second as he takes one tit into his mouth, swirling and flicking his tongue around your hardened bud and occasionally sucking on it as if his life depended on it. He can tell that you are needy from his actions and stops right before the staff returns to lead you into the next room. Not before he leaves little love bites all over your cleavage, though.

Phase 3 is a special treatment that he personally requested. Now, the spa staff is well aware of your heat sensitivity, and you were fine temperature-wise until Min's little sneaky stunts left you panting with flushed cheeks. Well, it seems he anticipated this because he arranged a cooling stone treatment for you in the next room. They spend about a half hour moving stones of all sizes all along your body and double as many times over your pressure points to ensure you don't get overheated.

In the end, you are instructed to lie face down once again as they leave an even pattern of chilling stones all down your back as well as on the nape of your neck. In the midst of cooling bliss, you feel a familiar set of lips kissing up your calves all the way to the back of your thighs. Goosebumps appear again, and you can feel the desire pooling in your stomach along with the increasing wetness between the lips of your pussy.

He barely has to apply pressure to your inner thighs for you to spread your legs for him even wider. Leaning over your back, he nibbles your earlobe and coyly says, "Damn baby, you really are my subby little kitten, aren't you? All it takes is a few kisses and teasing touches, and you are dripping onto this table for me. I'm not complaining; I've just come to taste my handiwork.".

  Before you can object for fear that you'll be walked in on, his tongue is deep in your throbbing cunt, licking broad stripes along your lips. Feeling you adjust slightly in an attempt to grind against his face, he firmly holds down your legs, saying, "C'mon, my needy little babydoll, you gotta stay still so daddy can take care of you. Unless you want them to see that their handiwork has shifted and be privy to your true nature." You groan as if to say, "That's not fair," but you aren't complaining after all…

You finish for the third time, not 5 minutes before the staff walks in with a robe, ready to remove the stones from your back, ignoring the smell of sex as they were paid to do. Sitting on the end of the table, waiting to see what will happen next, Minho saunters in and extends his hand towards you while slightly bowing. Furrowing your brows, you ask, "Um, my dear boyfriend, it's a little difficult for me to walk. Could you tell me where we are going?".

Ignoring your question, he states, "You feel a little chilly."; you huff and reply, "Well, thank you, great compass, that helped a ton. For your information, I am, actually. The stones set me back to neutral, but then, all of that release burned a lot of calories, and now I'm resetting." "I thought as much. Well, welcome to the last stage of Min's 'If I can't kill those who hurt you, I'm gonna try my hardest to kill your unhappiness and soothe your soul for eternity' tour!".

Trying to disguise the tears in your eyes from being seen, you tease, "Damn, that's a mouthful, love…" He just grins and cocks an eyebrow replying, "Yeah, well, so are you, and I'm not complaining."; this makes you blush and scan the area, hoping nobody heard him.

He leads you into a private hot tub/sauna room with the temperature of everything set just warm enough to help you feel normal but cool enough that you won't pass out. You don't waste any time changing into a bathing suit and letting your body succumb to the sensation of the jets and the melting effect that the water is having over every inch of you. Eyes closed and head back, you still have trouble believing all this is real. Ten minutes later, you feel the water rise higher on your body, and it isn't long before you know the culprit is your Min joining you.

Looking to the right of you, where he is sitting, you pull yourself over his lap and start kissing along his neck, all the way behind his ear, and finally over to his lips for a steamy makeout sesh that leaves you both breathless and has him asking, "Well Princess what was that for? I am certainly not mad about it, but I figured you'd be too relaxed to be this bold right now."

It's your turn to smirk as you rub your clothed core against his growing bulge, then whisper against his ear, "See, the thing is…I was relaxed, then you made me all needy, so you have to fix it now, mister." "Oh, do I?" he teases as he slips two fingers inside of your soaked cunt easily, which elicits a very loud “fuck Minho” from your lips. He curls his fingers inside of you, occasionally toying with your sensitive bud while kissing you passionately until you have cum all over his hand 5 times.

He lets you stay collapsed against him for a solid 10 minutes before saying, "Let's go, my adorable little raisin.". Pouting, you lift your head up, meeting his eyes and saying, "But baaabe, I feel too weak to dry off, get dressed, and go all the way to the car…” He chuckles, tucking your hair behind your ear and placing a soft kiss to the tip of your cute nose before explaining, “I planned for this situation as well my love, just trust me yeah?” he says touching his forehead to yours as you nod.

He gets out first, quickly drying off, pulling on a pair of boxers, and heading back to you. He lifts you bridal style with ease out of the hot tub and places you on possibly the best bed you have ever laid on. As he joins you underneath the covers, you curl up against him with your nose on his neck and his chin on top of your head; "Jagi, did you invent a cooling cloud for me to sleep on?" you ask, half out of consciousness.

He gives a deep chuckle in amusement at how tiny you are right now, places a kiss on top of your head, and traces his fingers up and down your spine as he answers, "I'm not thaaat powerful jagiya, but that was precious."

Pressing yourself closer to his chest in embarrassment while giggling, you retort playfully whiny, "Don't make fun of meee. Just tell me what magic is underneath us right now, and can we take it home?". He smiles ear to ear, just as smitten with you as the day he met you, and replies, "Well, I thought you might get overheated, so I asked if they could set up the extra room as a nap area with silk sheets for cooling reasons. Sadly, they didn't have any, but thankfully, they did have this other fabric called habotai. It is much like silk but a bit cheaper and slightly more cooling. If you like it this much,  we can send a set home with us."

Barely raising your head, just enough for him to see your eyes, you ask, "Wait, really??" with the wonderment of a child who just got told they can take home the toy they've been eyeing in the store for the past 20 minutes. Kissing your forehead, he nods and can feel fatigue overtake his body; right before he drifts into dreamland, though, your sweet voice permeates the air.

Pressing a palm against his firm chest to let him know you're awake, barely above a whisper, you say, "Um…I don't want to be greedy, but I have a question….if that's alright. I know you've done so much already." He glances down at you and cups your cheek with his palm, "What is it, my star?" you feel your cheeks flush as you ask, "Well, see, the thing is, I was thinking, or rather wondering if you could just…be inside of me? If that's silly, I get it, just, I dunno, I want to feel as close as I can to you. You're so healing you have no idea…".

Before you finish your sentence, he is gently filling you up with his cock and softly presses his lips against yours right as you finish speaking. "I doubt you could ever make a silly request or be greedy where I am concerned, sweetheart. You could want to hula hoop with Saturn's rings, and I'd find a way to grant your wish, my love." Giving a contented sigh, you nod, and you both drift off to the most peaceful sleep either of you have experienced in a long while.

  Even though you felt like absolute trash earlier today, here you are, feeling like the most valuable piece of treasure. All thanks to your fantastic boyfriend who sees you as a goddess and would move mountains if it meant you were at peace. The reason is, to him, you are the rarest gem that he had the fortune of stumbling across in life, and he spends every day trying to think of ways to show you just how special you are to him and in general.

After that day, you both vow to always let each other know what is going on so that neither of you faces hardships alone; from now to eternity, you will be each other’s soul soothers, and you couldn't feel more thankful to have this man by your side now and forever.

THE END

[cynicalone94]

Wes hasn’t seen his biological father since he was fifteen years old. As far as he’s concerned Sean Mitchell is the only dad that he needs.

Paul Martin isn’t so sure about that.

Chapter 21 is now up!

Read on AO3 here or below the cut.

He’s running.

It’s a familiar run, ending in the plaza with a final push to the top of the stairs.

But today someone is chasing him.

He hasn’t been chased in a long time.

He’d graduated the police academy – and later Quantico – and been given a badge that made him the chaser.

But not today.

He picks up his pace, driving harder toward the top of the stairs.

What’s usually a fun challenge to round out his run, pushing himself to the max and leaving it all on the track, is agonizing.

He needs to run faster, needs to get out of the open and evade whoever is after him.

But he can feel himself slowing down.

Feel a sharp, stabbing pain in his stomach that somehow overpowers the pain piercing through his chest with each breath.

He’s breathing hard, he has to be at this pace, but it’s his stomach that’s stealing his speed.

He reaches the top of the stairs to find himself facing a door.

A familiar door.

It’s the apartment where he’d been living when he and Ella had started dating.

The door swings open and his ex-girlfriend smiles at him.

“Did you forget your key, silly?” She teases. “Come on in, your dad is here.”

Good.

His dad will help him, will make this pain go away.

He steps into the apartment to see Paul sitting on the couch with a beer in hand.

“Hey buddy!” He says grinning. “Long time no see. Your girl here tells me you’re getting promoted to GS-14. That’s good, right? I’ve got a way we can make some money together.”

“Wh-what is he doing here?” He asks, stumbling backward and reaching for his phone.

His head spins, the room spinning with it and he drops to his knees as white hot pain rips through his stomach.

He needs to call the police.

Paul shouldn’t be here.

“He’s your dad.” Ella says, looking at him like he’s an idiot. “Why wouldn’t he be here.”

“Not my dad.” He mumbles, shaking his head.

“He’s the only dad you have left.” Ella says. “Didn’t you hear?”

Hear… what?

The room spins again and he’s sitting in a hospital waiting room, clutching Tito to his chest.

His stomach is spinning and it feels like he might puke but he can’t leave this spot.

Has to be here when they come back with news.

Has to know if his dad is going to be okay.

“What are you doing here?”

He looks up to see Leyla standing over him.

“What?” He asks.

“It’s your fault he’s here. You’re fault he was hurt.” She snaps. “You’ve got no right to be here.”

What?

“He can be here.”

He swivels to see Grant standing by the doors he’s been watching.

“Who gives a shit if he hangs around the waiting room all day?” His godfather adds and his jaw drops. “Sean’s awake. Asking for you, Leyla.”

What about him?

“Told me to tell you to scram, brat.” He adds, turning back to Wes with a scowl. “Said he never should have taken you in. Cause you’re nothing but trouble.”

“Nothing but trash.” He mutters as he turns away.

“Don’t deserve this.”

Leyla rips Tito from Wes’s arms and follows after him, slamming the door in Wes’s face.

He sinks to his knees.

He wants his dad.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’m right here.”

He doesn’t move away from Paul’s heavy hand on his neck at first.

What does it matter.

“I’ll take you back.” Paul says. “We can be a family again. You, me and Harmony.”

He reels away then.

“No, no, no, no, no!” He mutters. “Not my dad. Yer not my dad. I wan’ my dad.”

Paul is making another recording, talking about a time that a younger Wes had been drugged while undercover.

His son hadn’t been dating anyone at the time but he’d managed to sweet talk the receptionist working the front desk on weekends.

The city was always busier on the weekends which meant fewer officers coming in and out.

If they did come back to the precinct with a perp, they rarely had the time to chat so the poor girl was lonely.

Easy prey for Paul’s charm.

Easily wooed with Paul’s sad story of being Wes’s estranged dad who wasn’t sure his son was ready to reconnect.

She’d told him details from the calls his son responded to, even letting him listen to the radio if his son was on shift when he dropped by.

And when Narcotics had borrowed a handful of officers from patrol to stake out some bars, she’d told him how Wes had stumbled into something bigger.

How he’d been backed into having a drink with a crime boss that had turned out to be laced with roofies.

Thankfully, the teams outside had noticed in time and rushed Wes out before anything too terrible could happen.

Drugging a police officer had also gotten them enough to move on the crime boss.

But Wes had had a bad reaction to the roofies and had ended up in the Emergency Room.

Had spent days throwing up before his body had found some equilibrium.

He’s in the middle of telling Sean why the whole fiasco was his fault, that this next series of tapes in all the danger he’d put Wes in by coercing him into becoming a cop, when Wes starts mumbling in his sleep.

“N, n, n.” He mutters. “No’ m’d’d. Yer no’ m’d’d. wan’ m’d’d.”

“Bud?” He says, rubbing a hand over his shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy, he’s not here. You’re safe now. I’m here, dad’s here. Not that monster.”

Wes’s eyes don’t open.

“Kiddo?” He says. “Hey, I need you to wake up, okay? Just open your eyes. It’s just me. It’s gonna be okay.”

But there’s no response, no change in Wes’s restless muttering.

Paul grits his teeth and lifts his son’s shirt, grimacing at the bruises that have come to the surface.

His entire torso is a kaleidoscope of blacks and blues but the spot right below his ribs on his right side where Doc Idiot had identified rigidity is the worst.

And it looks a hell of a lot worse now than it had the day before.

“Damn it, Wes.” He snaps, shaking him roughly. “Wake up, you little shit.”

Wes’s head just flops weakly about before coming to a rest facing away from him.

“Wan’ m’d’d.”

“I am your fucking dad, damn it.” He growls.

“‘Er no’m’d’d. W’nm’d’d.”