#dennis x reader

[dontcurbyourenthusiasm]

Play that Funky Music White Boy

(gif by @lousolversons)

SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL LIBRARY!!

Warnings: None (literally just a meet cute)

Author note: this is a silly little thing I wrote bc I think he deserves to have a meet cute and I love him. (Might turn it into a series) who said that??🤨

Pt. 2 here!

Believe it or not, that time during his first shift in the ED was not the only time his ringtone served to embarrass him.

Only a handful of shifts after that disaster of a day, he finally had a day off. It could not have come at a better time.

His original plan for the day was to sleep for as long as humanly possible, maybe lower his body temp and heart rate enough to be considered a kind of hibernation.

But of course, life had other plans and after a couple hours of tossing and turning fitfully he realized sleep was a lost cause. His body had gotten accustomed to the adrenaline rush of the ED even in the few short weeks and was buzzing even as his mind was screaming for rest.

Thats how he finds himself here, the public library with a book he's tried to read 5 times unsuccessfully. Being a med student meant that he hasn't had the time to read anything that wasn't related to school if his brain is able to read anything at all after hours of clinicals. But he bought this book years ago, back when he was younger and delusional; thinking he would be able to achieve enough work-life balance to read a book once in a while.

If he didn't read it now, he was almost certain he never would. Plus, thats what normal people did on their day off right? Read? Relax?

The library is largely silent. Even the kids were all in their designated Kid's Corner reading lowly to themselves. The only other noise is the periodical squeaking of the book cart, the very book cart he is trying NOT to look at. Everything is quiet and calm. Technically, it should be easy for him to whip through this short book that was only what? 170 pages? The only problem was the stupid book cart. Or not really the book cart itself, but who was PUSHING the book cart.

There you stood, eyes quickly flickering through the shelves, fingers fluttering as you looked for the perfect place for each book on your cart. A light blue linen button up draped over your front, the material was loose but light enough to hint at your figure underneath when the sun hit just right. The buttons stopped just at your clavicle, right at the suprasternal notch.

He'd never noticed the curve of someone's suprasternal notch before, even when treating chest injuries; there were more crucial organs in the chest to be concerned with. But now, it was all he could look at.

Like a creep. His internal monologue reminded him, making him snap his attention back to the same line he had been reading for the last 45 minutes.

Deep in the forest a call was sounding-

PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC WHITE BOY

PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC RIGHT

He jumps at the sudden blast of 80s funk, looking around panicked before he realizes its his own phone. Fumbling for his pocket, he hurriedly reaches to shut off the ringtone, just noticing the other eyes on him.

"Sorry, sorry" he apologizes around him in a hushed tone, so thrown by his second ringtone mishap that he doesn't hear the book cart squeak to a stop right next to him.

"I'm sorry but I have to remind you to silence your phone in the library"

His head whips over to find you looming over him, a sly smile on your face, despite your chastising words.

"I- I'm sorry, it's off now. Wont happen again" he says. He's hit with painfully embarrassing deja vu.

"I could spoil it for you ya know." He looks confused, until you nod to the book in his hand. "You've been reading the same page for half an hour now."

Shit. You noticed. "Uh... Sorry it's just hard to focus in here." Thats not entirely a lie.

"This is actually the quietest it's been in here for a really long time."

He doesn't quite know what to say to that, and he's left gaping looking for something else to say.

fuck say SOMETHING he thinks

Luckily you break the silence by leaning in. "Don't worry, this is the most interesting thing thats happened all shift" is all you say in a honeyed tone before rolling the squeaking cart away to the Young Adult isle.

He's stunned into silence, until a vigorous cough from an old man shakes him out of his head.

That was flirting right??

He was stunned but not stupid. That had to be something. Or was he projecting? Seeing something only what he wanted to see?

He thought back to all those times female classmates would talk about unwanted advances from men, all the acts of courtesy that were grossly misinterpreted and cringed.

He resigned himself to NOT approach you for the rest of his visit, something that set a melancholy tone for the rest of his book. Melancholy that had nothing to do with Thornton's death at the end of the page. Just as he was walking towards the exit, a voice calls to him from the side.

"How'd you like your book Funky Music?" It was you, standing behind the circulation desk, teasing smile on your face.

"Surprisingly alright. I'm just glad the dog wasn't the one to die" he replies, slightly surprised at how clear his voice sounded.

"If you liked that, I have some book recommendations for you," you motion to the pile of books in front of you. He approaches the desk carefully. "This one's slightly more sci-fi if you're into that." You start laying the books out in front of him. "This one is really sad. Like, really really sad. I barely got through it, but regardless, it's beautifully written."

You rattle on about the next few books you selected while he wonders when you had the time to pick them all out for him. As you talk, he tries to keep his gaze on the book covers in front of him, but every time his eyes meet yours he finds himself stuck.

There's subtle glimmer in your eyes, intensifying with each book. Your voice is almost melodic as you offer your own detailed synopsis of each one, brimming with excitement despite the relatively low volume.

"Did you wanna check any of them out?" Your eyes grow wide in questioning. He wonders how the library still has books on the shelves if this is how you're asking all of the patrons.

"Yes. Yea, sure" he clears his throat as he rasps out his answer.

"Great! Which one?" You beam.

Oh shit. What were they about again? He frantically looks back at the array of books in front of him racking his brain for any recollection of the summaries you gave.

His indecision must have shown on his face, because you quickly chime in.

"How's this, I'll pick one for you, and you can read another one when you come back?"

He just nods.

"Okay, I'll just need your library card"

He freezes. He didn't even have a library card. The only reason he came to this library was because he felt bad sitting in a coffee shop if he wasn't going to buy anything.

"If you don't have one we can make one for you right now if you want" you say casually as if you're reading his mind.

"That would be awesome" he blushes.

"Name?"

"Dennis Whitaker"

You repeat his name as your type it into the computer and he swears his name has never sounded sweeter.

"Phone number or email?"

After you're done filling out his info, you hand him a shiny new card and as your fingertips touch, he swears you let it linger for a fraction of a second longer than normal.

As he leaves the building, it takes every ounce of his strength not to take another look at you.

He hops on the bus, fiddling with the book when he notices a yellow post it stuck on the inside cover of his newly borrowed book.

xxx - xxx- xxxx Just in case you wanted to talk about something other than books, Funky Music :)

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

Thank you so much for reading!! I have a longer, juicier fic coming up so stay tuned for that MWAH (also this may be part 1 of a series soooooooo)

I also have some You x Whitaker meeting Santos headcanons!!

[charliedawn]

Cam you write the slashers helping you feel better on your period? I just got mine recently and it's more painful than usual

(Warning: Hum…There’s gonna be suggestive stuff. But I’ll draw a line so you’ll know where to stop.)

The helpful ones: Michael Myers/Norman Bates

Michael wouldn’t necessarily know what to do at first. But once you give him a list, he will be the first out of the door to give you everything you want and need. He would simply grab the best of everything and hope it will be enough. Also, he would buy you a lot of snacks. And the man is built like a bull so he would carry everything without breaking a sweat and cuddle with you until you feel better—no questions asked.

Norman would not even need a list. He would rush to the nearest pharmacy to buy the medicine you need to feel better. He would also already have all the supplies you need in his motel, in some special drawer. But he wouldn’t even hesitate if you needed some specific type of comfort food before jumping into his car and getting it right away. He would also cuddle with you and kiss your forehead…

The ‘help is on the way’ ones: Jason Voorhees/Brahms Heelshire

Jason would be dumbfounded. What is a period ? But he would hug you nonetheless and tell you that everything would be alright. He would also share his secret stash of ice cream with you and warn someone in the hospital so they may give him or tell him what you need to feel better. He would not know how to find everything on his own…

Brahms would be more aware of what it is since he used to watch his babysitters VERY closely. *cough cough* So he would bring you the products they used and lots of candy and chocolates…but he wouldn’t go out to buy you anything because he would be too scared of leaving you alone. So…someone else has to do that.

The ‘am gonna do something about it but because I gotta not because I wanna’: Dennis/Five

Dennis would be scared of the stains you would leave behind if he left you to fend for yourself. So he would go, take the products that Patricia tells him to buy and come home before throwing them into your room and locking the door behind him…He would also take regular showers and disinfect your room as often as possible. Also if he is feeling generous, might throw you snacks once in a while…

Five would just stare at you with that ‘are you kidding me?’ expression and just ask you why you didn’t think about buying all that before the red deadline. He would then mumble and grumble before taking your list and teleporting to begrudgingly buy them all in a hurry. He would then throw the money on the counter to return as quickly as possible and forget all about tampons or pads or whatever other stuff women need those days…

Here is the line:

———————————————————————

Pussy-Cleaning at your Service: Freddy/Bo Sinclair

Those two would take offense if you didn’t warn them. Actually, they would have that special week circled in red in their calendar with little hearts. Those two ? Down and dirty. What do you mean you wanna be left alone ? Their snouts are already seeking like a bloodhound’s. What do you mean it’s disgusting ?! Now don’t be silly and let that magic tongue do what it does best…They are already nose-deep before you even got the chance to say a word…All I can say is brace yourself and have a happy landing.

Bye-Bye team: Penny Team

…Blood ? What blood ? Nope. No blood. Because those two would devour you. And not in the good way I am afraid…In the sharks in water kinda way. In the ‘you gonna take a long nap’ kinda way. In the ‘you gonna float’ kinda way. All nurses in St Louis are forbidden to work during their red days for that very reason.

[bad268]

AITA? (Dennis Hauger X Leclerc! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Indycar

Requested: Nope (Your Pole Winner!) (Also I fucked up my schedule, so we’re posing this early lol)

Warnings: Family neglect (IT'S FICTION)

POV: Second Person (You/your/They/them)

W.C. 2952

Summary: Reddit, AITA for wanting to leave my family?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Arthur would never say that he was one to doom scroll, but given that it was the winter break, he had nothing else better to do. He ended up going down a rabbit hole of Am I The Asshole Reddit stories when he came across a story that kind of sounded familiar.

“AITA for wanting to leave my family and start new?” It read. Arthur knew this one would be juicy, so he watched on.

“Burner account because one of my brothers follows my actual Reddit, but I just need opinions. For context, I am the youngest in the family, and I have three older brothers (fake names): Alain (24), Guido (27), and Leo (36). They’re great, and I love them, don’t get me wrong, but Alain and Guido are always the centre of attention. I feel like I am just constantly in their shadow, and no one notices me.” 

Awe, Arthur thought, that’s sad. As an older brother, he thought of his younger sibling and how he used to feel overshadowed by Charles’ success. He knew how bad it felt to be ignored and would hate to find out if they felt overshadowed by his or Charles’ careers. He knew this video wouldn’t relate that much, but it still made him think.  

“So, Guido is a racing driver,” Okay, maybe Arthur could relate, “He’s doing good, and he’s making his team and country proud. Alain followed in his footsteps and is also racing. Alain’s in a different level, but technically, they’re in the same team, I think. I’m so proud of both of them because it’s not every day that you can make it at the levels they are at, but it feels like everything I do will never live up to their successes.”

Now, this was getting interesting.

“Growing up, everything, and I mean everything revolved around my brothers and their careers. I am not exaggerating when I say that every family gathering, holiday, family dinners, or even random conversations is somehow always about them or racing. I get it, we live in a place where it is hard not to talk about racing, but it just feels like a lot. I try to bring up my interests or anything else to talk about, but I’m always pushed aside. It’s like I’m just a background character in their lives and not their sibling.

“Leo has tried his best to include me, and he’s the only one who knows about my passions and is always cheering me on. But he has his own life to worry about. He started his own company and moved out a while ago. He also just got engaged recently, so he already has a lot going on. I also used to have my dad, who would make sure to include me, but he passed in 2017. That’s really when I felt the switch. It really just feels like I lost my support system, and I have no one to turn to.

“I do have my boyfriend, though, but my family doesn’t know about him. I met him through Alain because they used to be teammates, but now, he races in a different series than both of my brothers. He’s actually the one who told me to make this post. He thinks he might be biased because he just wants what’s best for me, so he’s all for me moving in with him. He said he could take care of me until I got settled, and a change in scenery could help.”

“The final straw came a few months ago. All that my family remembers is that Guido won his home race for the first time, and Alain won his first race within a couple of weeks of each other. I told them the week before Guido’s win that I got accepted into my dream university in a different country. It is a very selective school, and I had been applying for two years. My mum, Guido and Alain just smiled and went back to talking about the upcoming race. Not even a congratulations. I thought I would bring it up again after the race, but they were all too busy celebrating their achievements.” 

“The worst part was they wouldn’t let me go out to celebrate their wins with them because I am “too young” and they “don’t want to babysit me.” It broke my heart. Leo was the only one that cared, and he told me how proud he was. It felt good to hear that from him, but I really just wanted my mom and other brothers’ support on this, too. I spend all of my time cheering them on, but the one time I do something worth celebrating, it’s brushed aside. I can’t take it anymore.”

“This is why I come to you, Reddit. I want out of this or at least a break. I want to move away and be in low contact with my family at least for a little bit. I need to make a decision on my university anyway since it’s starting soon, and it’s not in the country I live in now. My boyfriend’s new apartment will be close to campus, so he said I could live with him until I found on campus accommodation or if we decide to just stay living together. He has to move there for work, so it just worked out that way. I know this sounds dramatic, but it’s exhausting feeling like I will never live up to my brothers’ success. I just want space from them to figure things out. So, am I the asshole for wanting to run away from my family because I feel overshadowed by my brothers?”

Arthur sighed, opening the comments, and the top two comments were pinned edits.

“Edit 1: to those asking about where my mum is on all of this, she doesn’t care. Some of you pointed out that she may not have heard me when I told her about my university acceptance, but she did. She said that she “didn’t even know I wanted to go to university” despite me having told her I wanted to go here since I was 10. She always just brushes what I say off or says I need to be more supportive of my brothers because “that’s what family does.” Well, I don’t feel supported, mum. She’s also tried to say that I am jealous of their success. I tried to tell her I felt unseen, and she literally said, “You just need to find your passions.” Well, mum, if you had listened to me at all, you would know what my passions are. It feels like unless I’m winning a world championship, I’m not worth her attention.”

Arthur felt a weird sense of deja vu at that sentence. He had a similar conversation with Dennis and Olli when they were all teammates in Prema F3. Arthur complained about how he felt like he was always compared to Charles, and unless he was winning, he wouldn’t get any good attention. Arthur thought this post was hitting scarily close to home.

“Edit 2: please stop saying my boyfriend is toxic. It’s not like we’ve been together for a few months. I’ve known him since early 2021, and we started dating in April 2022. He’s not a bad person, he just thought an outside perspective would be better. He also thinks it would be good to be independent from them for a while. I may not have explained that right. English isn’t my first language.”

Now, Arthur was even more confused. He scrolled on, and while he thought this person definitely wasn’t the asshole, most of the comments were siding against the original poster. They were saying that the family probably doesn’t realize the extent of their treatments, and it’s not their fault if op didn’t say anything. He was even more confused because the post literally said that they tried to tell their mum they felt unseen. Part of him wanted to defend this person, but that probably wouldn’t look good coming from his official account. Also, it’s not like the original poster would actually see the comments.

That’s why he decided to send it to a couple of his friends to see if he was the only one seeing it this way. He sent it to Clement, Olli, Oscar, Charles, and Dennis. 

Dennis was packing his apartment up and getting ready for his move to America when his phone dinged with a text message and paused his music. He decided this was a sign to take a break to check it. Imagine his surprise when he saw it was from Arthur, and it was linked to a TikTok voiceover video of your own Reddit post that he helped you write. Not wanting to give anything away, he asked Arthur for his opinion of it to which Arthur adamantly stood on the NTA side but felt like he was missing something.

"So you don’t think they are wrong to want to leave?” Dennis clarified. He wanted to make sure he knew where Arthur stood before alerting you.

“Absolutely not! You know how I almost left Ferrari because of the comparisons to Charles, so I feel where they come from. I get that some people need to separate themselves from the situation, but everyone else is saying they’re bad for turning against their family. Real family would understand and be supportive.”

Dennis let out a sigh of relief even though he knew Arthur would understand. Of all people, Arthur had to understand, but to hear it from the man himself was a relief. Dennis quickly sent a screenshot to you.

“Is this you saying I should tell them?” You responded back quickly, certainly quicker than Dennis was expecting. You were already on your phone, doom scrolling on your Reddit post and rethinking all of your life choices.

“I’m just pointing out that Arthur is on your side,” He chuckled as he sent out the reply just as you called him. “I was just texting you.”

“I want you there when I do it,” you said fast, just wanting to get it out and done with it. You started to get anxious the longer you didn't tell them, and the deadline to confirm your acceptance was quickly approaching. It was now or never. “I want to come clean about everything at once, and I need to confirm my acceptance by Friday.”

“When is the next family dinner?” He thought he had a few days to prepare, but when you responded with a time rather than a day, he knew he only had a few hours to prepare to meet your family. Not as Dennis, Arthur’s teammate. No, now it was Dennis, your boyfriend. No pressure.

You got to your mom’s house early for once. You gave her the heads up that you were bringing your boyfriend, and she was indifferent to the statement, merely sending a thumbs up, and that’s it. That gave you the confidence to go forward with your plan. You waited until Dennis showed up before getting out of your car, and when he did, you immediately walked over to greet him at his door.

“Are you ready?” Dennis said as he turned off his car and climbed out, taking your hands in his.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” You sighed, squeezing his hands tightly and taking a deep breath. “She knows, but I don’t think she cares. I haven’t told Arthur or Charles yet, either, but Enzo knows. He’s known for a while.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” He chuckled lightly as he pulled you in for a tight hug as he thought about the protective test he received from a random number, later discovering it to be Enzo, threatening him not to hurt you. Dennis thought it was funny, looking back on it, but there was still one thing plaguing his mind. “Do we want to tell them the entire plan about going to America, or are you just saying that you’re moving away to college?”

“Probably that I’m just going to college. If they care, I’ll tell them about the college, and they’ll be able to tell I’m not staying in Monaco,” You shrugged carelessly until you heard the shift of rocks as someone stopped walking.

“Wait, you’re not staying in Monaco? I thought you were attending the International University of Monaco…” Charles trailed off, and there stood Arthur right beside him with his jaw dropped. “I thought you wanted to stay here?”

“I’ve been here my entire life, and it’s not my dream school, Charles,” You explained quietly as Dennis put a hand on your shoulder, silently showing that he was supporting you. This gave you the confidence to meet Charles and Arthur’s gazes. What you saw almost made you cower back down, but you needed to stand your ground.

“And Dennis, what are you doing here?” Arthur finally spoke up, looking between the two of you. Both Charles and Arthur glared at him before everyone broke out into an argument. In the commotion, your mom and Enzo, who apparently arrived earlier than you, came out of the house. 

“Hey! Listen to me!” You shouted over everyone. Silence fell around the whole group, and you gestured for everyone to go into the house. The last thing you wanted was to subject people passing by to your family drama. You closed the front door as you took a deep breath, moving away from Dennis so that you could see everyone in front of you. “Charles and Arthur, you both travel for a living. All I’ve ever known is Monaco and France. I want to go out and be an individual, not Charles and Arthur Leclerc’s little sibling. I want to make my own name. I feel like none of you hear me, especially you, Maman.”

“We listen to you,” She tried to interject, but you weren’t having it.

“What’s my dream school, or what do I want to major in?” That simple question silenced everyone. You, Dennis, and Enzo looked around at Pascale, Charles, and Arthur, who all looked guilty. “You know Enzo, Charles, and Arthur’s passions, but what’s mine?”

“You haven't decided,” She responded after a beat, “The college or your study.”

“It’s (major),” You deadpanned, “It’s been (major) at the University of Notre Dame since I was 10 years old. I told you that I got accepted into the program in May.”

“No, you didn’t,” She retorted immediately before pausing as she remembered May, “Wait…”

“Yeah, I was overshadowed by Charles winning in Monaco a week later and Arthur winning in Imola like a month later. No one acknowledged my accomplishments, but you all celebrated theirs!” You progressively got louder as you bit back your tears. “I wasn’t even allowed to go out with you guys because you didn’t want to babysit me. I’m not a child anymore! I’m 21 years old! I want to be treated like one. I want to be treated like an individual, not your younger sibling. I’m tired of being overlooked!”

“We never want you to feel overlooked,” Charles finally said as he walked up to you and pulled you into his chest. No one said anything, but Arthur, Pascale, and Enzo joined the hug one by one. They finally realized their faults when they thought back to how they acted. They did overlook you sometimes, they did discount you in some situations, and they did baby you. They always thought they were protecting you, but now, they realize it did more harm than good. “We never meant for you to feel like you didn’t matter.”

“You did, and now that you know, I want you to know that I am attending the University of Notre Dame, and I will be moving there for the next school year,” You explained carefully as you all pulled out of the hug. “This is my dream, and I have supported you through all of yours, so I ask the same in return. I’ll have Dennis there with me,” You said with a smile as you looked over at him over Arthur’s shoulder. “He’s moving to compete in IndyNXT, and the plan is to stay with him until I get on-campus accommodations.”

“This sounds very familiar…” Arthur trailed off, looking between you and Dennis before a lightbulb went off in his head. “Did you post about this on Reddit?”

You froze as your eyes snapped toward Dennis. He promised no one close to you would see that post, yet one of the people it was about clearly knew about it.

“Oh my god, I knew it sounded too familiar!” Arthur’s jaw dropped before he lost all of the colour in his face. “Wait, I’m so sorry we made you ever feel less important or worthy. We love you, and we had no idea that you felt this way.”

“We’ll do better,” Charles nodded in agreement as he tightened his arm around your shoulder, “We have a lot to learn, but we’ll support you any way we can. We’ll also give you the space you need to become your own person.”

“But don’t think we won't surprise you in Indiana whenever he’s racing in the States,” Arthur cheered, slapping Charles on the shoulder. “Indiana is close to Florida, Texas, and Vegas, right?”

“No, not exactly,” You chuckled as you held out a hand for Dennis to join the family huddle, “He’ll be in IndyNXT, so maybe there will be some overlap.”

“We’ll show up to support both of you whenever, wherever you’re at,” Pascale said finally. Tears sprang into your eyes as you finally felt acknowledged by your family. You finally felt validated.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2025. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[teagballs]

how about dennis taking care of a sick reader? maybe the reader's got a cold or a migraine or a broken leg or something.

or vice versa! dennis would be truly insufferable if he were sick or had a migraine.

sick days

a/n: hihihi love this idea so much oh my god. i hope i did it justice 🤞 dennis would be the WORST

experimenting with a new layout AND doing imagines/headcanons today !! woo !! lmk how u guys feel abt it. reblogs appreciated greatly. love ya

word count and formatting: 758 words, imagine format, lowercase

fic under the cut

----------------------------♡----------------------------

when you're sick:

- dennis isn't entirely sure how to act when you tell him you're sick.

- as your boyfriend, he knows he should be concerned and doting and attentive. but as dennis reynolds? he doesn't want to get sick too, ew.

- you know him, you know he won't want to be infected by your disgusting horrible disease (a common cold), but you are bedridden and ask him to pick up a few things for you.

- and he can at least do that for you. he makes his way to your apartment, a plastic bag stocked with pills and soup in hand. but when he swings open the door, he crumbles, finding you curled up on your sofa.

- you tell him to go home and to not get sick but suddenly he's a nurse and he's tying back your hair and pushing the strands that stick to your sweat coated forehead out of your pretty face and cooing about how gross you look.

"you should've called me if you were this bad. this feels like neglect." he says as he turns off whatever stupid reality tv show you were dazedly watching and raises his cold, cold hand to your scalding forehead. you hum at the sensation. "you look like you're near death. did you eat? of course you didn't." he talks to himself, blocking out any protests you might have.

- he'd rummage through your cupboards until he'd find a suitable bowl to microwave the soup in. you'd watch in dazed amazement, still ensure if this was some sort of sickness inflicted hallucination.

- you knew he'd feed the goddamn broth to you if you didn't take the spoon from him.

- he rambles about how your sickness is a result of "not having enough vitamins in your system" and you "need to take care of yourself" and how tomorrow he'll bring down some of the supplements he has to fight the cold.

- you try to tell him that it is only a cold and it would disappear in a couple of days, but he only argues back about how he didn't want to get himself or anyone else infected.

- but truly, he hated to see you suffering. it broke his heart when he heard your nasal-ly tone or when you'd shiver from being too cold. and frankly, he'd do anything to ensure this never happened again. even if that meant force feeding you omega 3 supplements.

when he's sick:

- dennis being sick is hell. whiny, lazy, sniffling hell. he would be denying the fact he is sick - not wanting to appear weak, of course - while also begging for you to come help him.

- unlike when you're sick, he'd immediately call you complaining about how he'd caught something, how he felt like he was dying, and how he needed you to come nurse him back to health.

- used to his theatrics by now and also feeling a little guilty hearing his stuffy pathetic tone on the phone, you make your way to his apartment.

- mac had long evacuated the apartment. now that you were in the picture? his days of dealing with sick dennis were over, good luck to you.

"what the hell took so long?" dennis groaned from his bedroom. you walk in and gesture to your tote bag of supplies.

"i don't get sick, ever. i'm perfectly well," then after a moment of silence, "i think it's something like the flu or pneumonia," dennis coughs.

"i think you just have a cold baby," you say blankly. he tuts.

- he whines when you get up to leave. he whines at you to get stuff when you stay. he whines.

- in fact, all he has done is whine. he has made zero effort to get pills for his raging headache, possibly still in denial he was sick. so you grab him a small glass of water and set the painkillers in his lap.

- he would be so slow and dramatic. just staring at the glass before him.

"i'm not helping you drink the water, dennis," "no, i know, just give me a second."

- he eventually takes the tablets, groaning when the taste lingers on his tongue.

- he's even clingy when he's sick, not wanting you to leave again. he'll claim you have to stay over and watch him in case something horrible happens while he's sleeping.

- you make yourself comfortable by his side, stroking his leg over the duvet to lull his to sleep. you have to keep up the petting motion in one hand while the other scrolls on your phone as you wait for him to wake up and start yapping again.

[oopsnewaccount]

The One That Didn't Like You/Dennis Pt. 2

Summary: Smut. Lots of it. A lil fluff too;)

Warnings: SMUT.

...

Dennis grabbed your hand, raising it to his lips and giving it a soft kiss, before pulling you gently along to his room. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you followed him, and it was as you walked that you felt the air cool the spot in your underwear that was beginning to get embarrassingly wet.

Dennis closed the door behind you, turning to you and raising a shaky hand to adjust his glasses. He turned a single lamp on, the big one by the door. It illuminated the room in a soft yellow glow. You were both so high on racing thoughts, your heartbeats deafening. It was so much you were both frozen in place. Dennis eventually crossed his room to his bed, sitting on the edge and staring up at you with wide eyes and parted lips. You approached him slowly, grabbing his hands and bringing them to the bottom of your sweater. You pushed them up, urging him to take it off of you. He did, slowly pulling your sweater off and then just staring at the result. You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he took you in, his hands falling to your waist band and gently tugging your skirt and thong down your legs and to the floor. Dennis only stared at you as you stood naked before him, taking you all in. You began to get a big antsy, his lack of physical touch making you nervous.

“Do you… do you like this?” you whispered, embarrassed that you’d asked.

“I don’t know what to touch first,” Dennis admitted. “Sit on my lap? Please?”

You felt a gush of something wet between your legs at his request. “I might make a mess…”

Dennis clenched jaw. “I can deal with that,”

You laid your hands on his shoulders, the firmness of his body not helping the pool in your crotch. You brought your knees up to the bed beside his legs, hesitating to lower yourself onto his lap. Dennis grabbed your waist, squeezing gently and pushing you down to straddle him fully. You could feel his cock in his pants, rock hard and trapped under you. You couldn’t help rubbing over him slightly, reveling in his sharp intake of breath.

Dennis nuzzled his face into your neck, inhaling your scent. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, trailing down to your collar bone and then to the space between your breasts, and then slowly traveling to your right breast. He kissed your nipple before pulling it into his mouth, sucking gently and scraping his teeth on it. His hand moved to your other breast, massaging it. You moaned, squeezing his shoulders. Dennis released your nipple and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. He stood up, holding you tightly and you squeaked, giggling. Dennis turned around gently laying you down on the bed. His eyes roamed your body as he stood above you.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbled. He pulled off his shirt and pants and you chewed your bottom lip, scooting back on the bed. He was strong, not quite as built as the Beast, but so perfect. There was a sharp, perfect v line leading down to what was, in your opinion, the most delicious looking cock you’d ever seen. It was thick and curved slightly upwards, perfect for hitting your g spot. He was fucking perfect.

Dennis crawled up on the bed, settling between your legs. Your pussy was pressed against his lower stomach and you ground your hips against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you. Dennis removed his glasses, laying them on his bedside table, and then leaned down to kiss you. As he kissed you he let one of his hands slide down in between you, gently touching your pussy. He groaned into your mouth as he felt how wet you were, and from such a delicious noise you were no longer embarrassed.

“Do you still want this?” Dennis mumbled the words against your mouth.

You slid your hands down his torso, one feeling up his sides and the other grasping his cock. It was smooth and warm and very hard. “Please,” you whispered.

Dennis buried his face in your neck, shuffling a bit upwards and letting you guide his dick to your entrance. It was no feat to press himself into you, you were beyond wet, you were soaking. You moaned, he stretched you so nicely and felt somehow ever bigger inside you. When he had pushed himself all the way into you, his hips pressed tightly against yours, he let out a shaky ‘fuck'. You let yourself relax into the bed, your back arching into him as he laid himself over you. He began softly kissing your neck, slowly beginning to rock back and forth inside you. The feel of his curved dick sliding in and out and pressing against your g spot made you clamp down on him with a soft whimper.

“I’m sorry I never talked to you,” Dennis struggled to get the words out, grunting as he did. “I thought you were too good for me. I still do,”

You let out a loud moan from a particularly hard thrust, scratching lightly down his back. “I… I think you’re… s-so perfect,” you fumbled through the sentence, your eyes rolling back in your head at another hard thrust. Your words seemed to fuel Dennis, and all of his thrusts became harder. “Holy shit,” you squealed. The slow, sticky sweet depth and drag of his thrusts had become a violent, pounding pull and push of pleasure, your g spot going from being stroked to being hammered. Dennis’s body was tense and stiff as he hammered into you, his face the pinnacle of focus and drive.

“Dennis stop!” you pushed against his shoulders and he immediately stopped, pulling out completely.

“What did I do? Where did I hurt you?” Dennis looked you over frantically, searching for anywhere he could have hit or scratched.

“No no, I just…” you flushed. “I… I’m gonna make a mess,”

Dennis raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to squirt?”

“Yeah,”

Dennis didn’t give you any time to say anything else, he took his cock and plunged right back into you, reveling at the shout that left your lips. You flattened yourself into the pillows, your hands grabbing fitfully on his blankets. “Holy shit,” you cried. Warmth built in your stomach, tingles spreading throughout your body and tears welling in your eyes. This was gonna be a big mess.

It didn’t take much longer for your squirt to completely soak Dennis’s lower half, and if you were capable of forming words you would have apologized. Your body seized around him, wrapping your arms and legs tightly around him as you cried out in his ear. Dennis wasn’t done yet. He was still thrusting into you just as fast as he’d been before, but now he was in your ear, growling something incoherent.

“S-stay ins-side,” you whispered. Your body was still quaking, Dennis’s cock still rubbing against everything that felt so overwhelming. “I have the pill,”

Dennis grunted, his arms beginning to tighten around your body. His thrusts began to lose rhythm, definitely not strength, and his incoherent growls got more strained. Suddenly Dennis went rigid, tremors going through him and a long, low moan sent shivers down your spine as he came. His shaking turned into very slow, careful movements in you, and you felt something hot fill you up and trickle out.

“Fuck,” he stayed in you, partially because he was too tired to move and partially because he was afraid the moment would end when he did.

You weren’t complaining, you were completely limp in his arms but not willing to let him go yet. You started pressing wet kisses to his neck and shoulders, tasting his salty wet skin. You rubbed his back, his slick skin beginning to get a trail of goosebumps. His arms tightened around you.

“Don’t let me go,” you whispered. You couldn’t leg him go, you couldn’t never hold him and kiss him and fuck him and touch him again. “Please don’t,”

Dennis gripped you tighter, flopping over on his side, still inside you. He threaded a hand through your hair, massaging your scalp. “I want to keep you forever. If you’re sure you want me,”

“Yes.” You buried your face in his chest. “Yes.”

“Stay in here tonight,” still, Dennis’s rumbling voice sent shivers down your spine. Dennis reached around you, pulling his blanket around and over both of you.

“Just make sure Hedwig doesn’t get the light in the morning,”

Dennis scoffed. “I’m not giving up the light for quite a while. They’ll understand.”

[unfixablebabyyy]

oml it took me so so long to finish this bc i basically had to rewrite every other sentence to make it work it was a struggle from start to finish so imma just post it so i can move on and stop rereading it 4000 times 😭

love u all sm ty for all the support i've been getting ❤️ hope u like it- just more of dennis being cringey and insane bc that's how we like him

tw: cnc, manipulation??? idk i mean i feel like this man comes w his own warnings so reader discretion

18+ minors DNI

1:00 AM on a Saturday.

I can feel the smirk on my face slip as I realize that what I just said to you isn't exactly landing like I thought it would. You frown and grab for your keys as my alcohol-soaked brain scrambles to salvage this.

"Hold on," but it's too late, you're already halfway out the door and there's a loud bang and I'm alone in the bar. The panic is paralyzing- I know I should run after you, apologize, perform some romantic gesture to reassure you that I'm just another dumb guy who says stupid shit so you'll forgive me for whatever the hell that was. Instead I stand there like an idiot, ten seconds away from ripping my hair out. It's too quiet and I'm so overwhelmed and there's still beer in my bottle that splashes out as I hurl it at the wall and it explodes into glass shrapnel.

"FUCK!"

If I could crawl out of my skin I would. I really feel like I'm going to have a heart attack but I'm sure as hell not lucky enough to drop dead right now. Why the fuck did I say that? I act so fucking weird around you- anyone else and I would be able to keep it together but you make me so nervous and sick it's pathetic. I clench my fists as my vision tunnels and I think I might be hyperventilating so I try to take a deep breath. And then I try again. And again. And then I snatch a bottle of whisky off of the bar and pour a hefty shot and slam it back. And then I do it again. And again. And my head is swimming. The shot glass hits the wall, too. I groan and run my fingers through my hair and think about how cooked I am. I'm going to fuck this up. Maybe I already have.

After a few minutes and a few more shots, I pull out my phone with shaky hands. It rings twice before sending me to your voicemail. So I call again. /Pick up/. Voicemail. Four rings. Voicemail. One ring. Voicemail. Voicemail. What the fuck? I slam my phone down on the counter and pull out the pack of Reds Charlie thinks he's hidden beneath the bar. I tap the pack hard against my palm, flip open the lid, and yank out a cigarette. My fingers fumble for the lighter he usually keeps next to the pack, and when they finally close around it, I bring it to my face- cigarette already between my lips- and strike the wheel. I take a long, hard, angry pull that puffs out almost a millisecond later. Another hard pull that burns my throat and lungs. Another. I almost cough and I'm so light headed I have to lean on the bar. I take a deep breath, put the cigarette to my lips, slowly breathe in, and close my eyes. I let the smoke roll in my lungs for a moment before releasing it through my nose. And I begin to think as I smoke.

You're probably just being a bitch, but what if your phone is dead? What if you're driving home and your phone just died and you can't find parking close enough to your apartment so you have to park a block away? I check my watch. What if some creep sees you and decides to follow you home? What if he puts his hands all over what's mine? What if he takes you away from me? The world is a dangerous place for a dumb little bunny like you, and the way you look tonight is just asking for it.

I'm out the door, in my car, and down the street so fast I remember to lock the bar three blocks away, and by then I'm already pushing 50mph so I don't turn around. I hope I put out my cigarette. Just a few more blocks and I'm at your place. I fly through stop signs- honestly, I barely see them. It starts to rain and I huff as I flip on the windshield wipers because I know it's going to fuck up my hair. Phil Collins pleads for one more night on the stereo. I'm not sure how I'm going to fix this. I hate myself. I don't know what I'll do if you leave me. I almost imagine you with someone else again, but even the suggestion makes me ill. That can't happen.

My recklessness has earned me five minutes off of the regular time it takes to get to your place, and when I roll up, I see your car right out front. Thank god. I park next to it, blocking the lane, but it's so late, no one is out. I throw on my hazards and jump out onto the sidewalk, where I make it to your door in a few long strides. I ring the buzzer about 50 times, and despite seeing the light on in your window, you don't answer, so I call your name. Nothing. Fine. Be that way. I head back to the Range, slamming the door too hard when I climb in. I roll down all of the windows- despite worrying about the interior in this shitty weather- and turn the volume on the radio all the way up. I have to take a breath and remind myself not to be too obnoxious, you wouldn't like that. So I pick a Donna Lewis CD and skip to "I Love You Always Forever". Perfect. The music echoes awkwardly down the empty street, haunting and ethereal mixed with the patter of the rain. A few dark windows here and there are suddenly illuminated, but no one comes to look. Including you. A dog barks in the unit below you, someone shouts. A window flies open and a disembodied voice yells, "Turn that shit off!" Uh oh, your neighbors aren't too happy, better come down and stop me before I embarrass you.

As the song picks up, more lights come on, and I'm not about to throw rocks at your window like a teenager so I call, "Hey, uh, I don't mean to be an asshole but it's fucking freezing out here, sweetheart."

And that's when I see your beautiful face appear in the window, softly lit by the warmth of your lamp. You look like an angel. The window is thrown open and you lean out.

"Are you fucking crazy? Turn that down," maybe a little. Crazy about you.

"I'm- I fucked up," goddamnit I drank way too much. If I was twenty years younger it might be cute, but I'm not sure this looks so good at my age. I turn the music down and you roll your eyes.

"You're fucked up or you fucked up?" You raise an eyebrow and something's got my tongue.

"Yeah."

"And you drove here like a lunatic. In the rain." Yes! See how much I care?

"I was worried about you."

"Oh, jeez thanks," you're so cute when you're mad, arms crossed over your chest, all huffy and defiant. I really didn't think you had it in you to act like such a brat, but I have to say, I like the idea of a challenge.

"You're welcome," I know that's going to make you angrier, but I chase it with a smile and you look away because it gives you butterflies.

"Call a cab, Dennis," you spit back.

"I'll call you a cab if it'll get you cunts to shut the fuck up!" a neighbor cuts in from somewhere above you, and I can see your skin flush all the way from here.

You sigh, "... I'll buzz you in," you whisper-shout, and then you're gone. God I love the people of this city. I turn the car into an alley and shut off the engine and pray I don't get towed as I jog up the sidewalk. A few seconds later, the old metal gate at your front door buzzes with the loud, low hum of outdated technology and the lock pops out of place. It takes me less than a minute to race up the stairs and down the hall to your door. I don't even have to knock- when you hear me panting down the hall, you open up and I'm met with a warm burst of pleasant smelling air as I stand before you.

"Hey."

"Hey," you look me up and down and I'm beginning to worry that you're actually going to send me home.

"I'm not that drunk," I wish I sounded convincing.

"Uh-huh," you step aside and wave a hand, "Whatever, come in, just take your shoes off."

I do as I'm told and close the door behind me and you walk over to the couch so you don't see me flip the lock, just in case. I can't believe you let me into your apartment. Just like that. I've never been in here with your consent. It smells so overwhelmingly like you when you're here in it with me. It was warm before- all those times I broke in- I mean popped in- to do my research- but your presence in it makes it feel like home. I could die here.

"Ok, give me your keys," you hold out your palm as I come over to sit next to you and I pull them out of my jacket pocket and they're in your little hand. I wish I could kiss you. I know you don't want to kiss me right now, which is fair, but I don't care. I want to wrap my arms around you and pin you to the cushions and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you until you realize that you do want it- want me. You just look good enough to eat, so cute and comfortable in your domain. So vulnerable. I wish you would walk around my apartment in your panties. And you're definitely not wearing a bra under that...

"Is that my shirt?" It is. Without a doubt. You flush. The buttons are undone just above your cleavage and the skin there is rosy, too. And your nipples-

"Uh yeah, sorry. You can have it back, I'll wash it." Don't you dare. I scoot a little closer and take the bottom hem between my fingers, toying with the fabric.

"No, you look too cute in it," my heart jumps into my throat when you smile a little. "Look," it takes all of my restraint not to force you down and take your forgiveness, "Things got outta hand and..." I'm not good at this.

"Yeah... what the fuck was that?"

"I don't know, I-... I've just had a lot on my mind." I can tell you're not buying it.

"Right," you pull back a little and the shirt slips from my grasp.

I cringe.

"I'm- listen, I barely remember what I said but I whatever it was, I didn't mean it."

"Right," god you're stubborn. I have to do something to disarm you, so I scoot even closer and invade your space and now we're so close our thighs are touching.

"Why don't we start over?" I ask, reaching up to cup your cheek, but you hesitate.

"Depends," you push my chest gently, but I don't budge- I don't even drop my hand- I won't let you do that to us.

"On what?" I'll play, whatever you want princess.

"Are you gonna apologize?" Except that. Not fair.

"I just did," I smile, but you shake your head and my hand falls to your lap.

"No, for real," you try to scoot back, but I snake my arm behind your back to hold you in place. Fuck, I hate this game. I really really hate this game.

"Fine," so you'll feel better, "I'm sorry you misunderstood my words."

You just roll your eyes and I knew I wasn't getting off that easy but I had to try because did I mention how much I fucking hate this game?

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry..." you're really backing me into a corner here. The longer I pause the more impatient you seem to be getting so I just suck it up and the words come out, "that I acted so..." Stop looking at me like that, "Look, I don't usually do this."

"Do what?"

I gesture between us, "This."

You raise an eyebrow, and when I don't immediately elaborate, you move to stand, and I grab your arm a little too quickly and rough and for a tiny fraction of a millisecond I see fear flicker in your eyes so now I have to cave.

"Feelings. I don't- they don't exactly come easily to me. Can we just fucking start over please?" I feel so exposed. You grin.

"Fine," you concede, and I sigh because the relief is overwhelming. It's all the consent I need. It makes you gasp how hard and fast I grab you.

"Oh, thank god," I'm not sure if I say that out loud or not. Sorry, I've simply lost my patience. I use my body to tip you back onto the seat of the couch and climb on top of you, pinning you down like I've been wanting to all night. Your body feels so good in my hands. You giggle a little and try to squirm away because you think this is part of the game, which is for the best, I can't have you knowing how close I am to traumatizing you every time I touch you.

"You gonna let me make it up to you, baby girl?" I don't wait for an answer, too caught up in the feeling of your throat against my mouth. Not that it even matters. Even if you said no, it wouldn't stop me from duct taping you to this couch. I've been dying to use that tight cunt all night- in fact, this is the longest I've gone with anyone without sealing the deal- and you've given me all the consent I need to not completely ruin your faith in me. I have to admit, though, it's getting harder and harder to care. All this foreplay- all hands and mouths and light touches over our clothes for weeks has driven me to the edge and if I don't fuck you soon I might commit a felony.

You moan a little when I slip my hand up your shirt (my shirt) and grope your bare breasts, and when I tug on one of your nipples, you yelp and try to wiggle away, but I've got you. I slide my knee between your thighs and you grind against me like a good girl, panties already wet. You'll let me do anything to you- even when I make you cry, you still let me violate you. I don't know if that makes you stupid or a whore or the best thing that has ever happened to me.

You drape your arms around me and your fingers curl around the back of my shirt. The feeling of your nails raking against my skin as you pull my shirt off only adds to my desperation, and when I rip off your panties and shove two fingers into your little hole, you cry out from the pain, so I slap my hand over your mouth and for a moment I feel like I've gone too far, but then your eyelids flutter. I take a breath, try to steady myself, but you feel so good wrapped about my fingers. I want to be inside of you- all of you. I want to taste your breath and hear your thoughts and feel your heartbeat with mine.

I should be gentle- I did just make you mad enough to ghost me- but I can't help myself. I just want to tie you up and cum to the smell of your fear as I bruise your cervix. You whimper as I curl my fingers against your walls and drag them out of you. When I slide them back in slowly, you're practically gushing. I take my other hand off of your mouth and you let out a soft breath that makes me shove my thumb between your lips, hooking it and holding you by the cheek.

"I oughtta slap this pretty face raw for ignoring my calls," I coo and you clench around my fingers and I can't help but smirk a little because you're just so pathetic it's adorable. I lean down close, releasing your cheek to press the pad of my thumb against your tongue, "Whadda ya think, princess?" I purr nice and low, and you close your eyes and moan as you suck on my thumb which makes a cute little pop as it's pulled from your mouth, followed sharply by the crack of my hand against your face. Your eyes go wide- and I'll admit, I didn't mean to hit you so hard- but your cunt pulses as my fingers continue to move in and out of you.

Your cheek is bright red, and when I hit you again, your eyes begin to water and you let out a sob. It feels so good to be in control again. Your hips buck into the palm of my hand, forcing my fingers deeper and you sob again. Your chest is rising and falling like a trapped animal's, and I imagine the heart pumping inside is just as hot and soft and slippery as this pussy but I have to stop thinking like that so I lean down and kiss you hard. You shove your tongue into my mouth which was a mistake because I instinctively bite down hard enough to taste the sweet, metallic tang of your blood, but you don't pull away, you just moan into my mouth. I think I moan into yours, too, but I'm too busy coming down from the head rush of you bleeding against my teeth. It scares me how much I like hurting you. Something deep inside of me stirs. I try to ignore it.

Your fingers are tugging down on the waistband of my jeans and when I realize what you're doing, I sit up and use my free hand to finish taking them off, along with my boxers. The whole time, you're watching the fingers I have still pushed inside of you- three now- your lip between your teeth.

"You like that?" it takes your foggy little brain a moment to hear my words, and when it does, all you can do is look up at me and nod. You gasp as I pull my fingers out of you, but I have your attention again the moment I say, "Then taste."

I bring my hand up to your face and you open wide like a good little girl, taking my cunt-drenched fingers into your mouth. Your eyelashes flutter as you taste yourself. I push my fingers in further and further and further until your wiggling uncomfortably against the cushions, gagging on me. I take the opportunity to line myself up against your hole, and when you feel the head of my cock slowly begin to plug it, your eyes roll back and you moan against my fingers.

"Good girl," I whisper and grunt as I bottom out, my tip brushing your cervix. You feel so good wrapped around me it takes my breath away. You're so warm and soft and so so tight since I didn't give you any time to adjust. I take my fingers from your mouth and you suck in the sweet air I'd been depriving you of.

But your reprieve is short lived and the first few hard thrusts of my hips against yours have you gasping, face twisted in pain as I brutally fuck you. Your back arches up from the cushions, and I wrap my arm around your waist for more leverage as I pound into you. Your fingernails undoubtedly leave deep red lines on my skin as they rake across my back and down my arms and I shiver so hard I lose my pace. You wrap your legs around my waist and just as I'm bringing my hips back to meet yours, you grind into me and it makes my arms weak and I groan into your neck. You smell like your soap and alcohol and perfume and me. You haven't washed this shirt since you wore it home.

I slam my hips into you and you let out the sweetest sound- like a fawn caught in the jaws of a wolf. You're driving me crazy with how quickly you went from a raging cunt to this pitiful, wet little mess, all because I refused to let you behave like a brat. Because you're mine. Allowing me into your space, wearing my shirt, being so ready and willing to take me after I tore you apart. You pretend to be independent but the fact is you just want to be owned.

"I swear to god if you ever walk away from me again, I'll put a fucking leash on you," I hiss into your ear and you whine, "Say, 'Yes Daddy.'"

"Yes Daddy," there isn't even a hint of hesitation. You're so desperate to please me. You whimper as I graze my teeth along your neck and it's so pathetic I almost cum inside of you- I would if I didn't think it would get me into trouble. I'm not wearing a condom. I rut into you and I'm beginning to slip and I just can't get deep enough inside of you. It's throwing me into a sort of frenzy and I can't stop, even when you scrunch up that pretty little face and your breath hitches and you try to readjust. I'm so much stronger than you, and it's just so easy to pin you down and carve into you.

"Shhh, I know baby, I need it," the words tumble from my lips- fast and breathy- out of my control as my brain begins to melt and I feel my orgasm building in my base, "My sweet girl. I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you."

A tear squeezes out of your clenched eyes and rolls down your face and I can't stop myself from licking it off of your temple just to taste what's inside of you again. Your eyelids flutter and I can see your eyes rolled back in that pretty skull. I wish I could see your brain- know what you're thinking- live inside of you- control you.

You inhale sharply as your body tenses up and I swear I can feel your walls clench around me and suddenly you're so much wetter and I remember the taste of your blood in my mouth and- thank god- I pull out and cum against your asshole and you're sucking in air and your cheeks are so pink and I can barely breathe and when you open your eyes and look at me I feel dizzy because you're not scared or angry or hurt that it was the first time we had sex and I lost control... You're smiling at me.

You hum and tilt your head back as I stand from the couch, reach for my boxers that landed on the coffee table, and pull them on. You drape a leg over the side of the couch and I can't take my eyes off of the mess I've made between your thighs and I'm overcome by the urge to push it all inside of you- to bury my cum-covered fingers so deep into you that I knock you up anyway and then you can't leave me. Ever. A judge would make sure of that.

Instead, I make my way to your bathroom for a clean towel that I make warm with water from the faucet. I catch my reflection in the mirror as I wring out the towel and I hate the way I can see every single pore in the fluorescent light. I make a note to come back at some point when you're away to change the bulb.

[fanfics4all]

The Love He Knew

Request: Yes / No This is based off of @haileygarciasunshine prompt list that I found here!

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Dennis Cooper x Fem!Non-Binary!Parkinson!Male!Reader 

Word count: 984

Warnings: Talking of Jacob’s death

Y/N: Your Name 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee! 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

The loft was unusually quiet tonight. Callie and Mariana were out, Davia was probably at a bar, and the others had scattered to their own plans. It was rare to have the place to myself, but something felt… off. I had noticed Dennis slipping away more than usual today. The way his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes, the way he excused himself from conversations like they were too much. I had a sinking feeling I knew why. So when I saw his bedroom door cracked open, the light dim inside, I followed my instincts and pushed it open gently. 

“Dennis?” 

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, fingers tangled in his hair. His back rose and fell with uneven breaths, his shoulders tense like he was holding up the world. I stepped inside carefully, shutting the door behind me. 

“Hey.” I said softly, kneeling down in front of him. “Talk to me.” 

He didn’t look up. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” 

“I want to.” I told him firmly. “You don’t have to do this alone.” 

A humorless chuckle escaped him, but it sounded more like a broken exhale. 

“I already did it alone once, Y/N. I lost him. I let him down.” 

My heart clenched. I had seen Dennis in his dark moment before, but this- this deep well of grief and guilt- never stopped breaking my heart. 

I reached out carefully, brushing my fingers over his wrist. “Dennis, you didn’t-”

“Yes, I did.” He interrupted, finally looking at me. His eyes were red-rimmed, glassy with unshed tears. “If I had just been a better Father, if I had done something differently, maybe-” 

“Stop.” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Please, stop punishing yourself like this.” 

He let out a shaky breath, dropping his head into his hands again. 

“I don’t know how to stop, Y/N.” The vulnerability in his voice shattered me. I reached up, cupping his face gently, forcing him to meet my eyes. 

“Then let me help.” 

His brows furrowed. “How?” 

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “What can I do for you? Please, Dennis, I want to help.” 

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at me like he wasn’t sure how he had ever gotten lucky enough to have someone willing to stand in the storm with him. Then, slowly, he exhaled and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. 

“Just stay…” He whispered, his voice barely audible. 

I nodded, wrapping my arms around him as he let himself fall into me. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” And I meant it. 

The room was quiet except for Dennis’s slow, uneven breaths. We lay on his bed, tangled together in the soft glow of his bedside lamp. My fingers moved gently through his hair, feeling the way he relaxed under my touch, his body slowly unwinding from the weight of his grief. For a while, neither of us spoke. I didn’t push. I just stayed, giving him whatever comfort I could. But I knew there were words buried deep inside him, words he never let himself say out loud. After a few more moments of quiet, I hesitated before speaking. 

“Would it help to talk about him?” I asked softly. “About Jacob?” 

Dennis stiffened slightly, but he didn’t pull away. My fingers continued tracing slow, soothing patterns in his hair, grounding him in the moment. For a long time, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then, barely above a whisper, he said. 

“I don’t know…” 

I stayed silent, letting him decide. Then, after a beat, he exhaled shakily. 

“He was… everything.” Dennis murmured, his voice raw. 

“The best parts of me, the best parts of his Mom… he had this laugh, Y/N. God, it was the happiest sound. He used to giggle at the dumbest things. I’d make a face at him and he’d just lose it.” 

A small, broken smile flickered across his lips, but it didn’t last. His expression darkened, and he swallowed hard. 

“I should have been better. I should have been more for him. I wasn’t there enough- I let my work, my own issues, and my selfishness get in the way. And then he got sick, and it was too late to make up for it. Too late to be the Father he deserved.” His voice cracked on the last word, and my heart shattered right along with it. 

“Dennis…” I whispered, shifting closer. “You were his Father, and you loved him.” 

He shut his eyes tightly. “But did he know that?” His voice was barely a breath. 

“Did he know how much I loved him? Or did he die thinking I didn’t care enough?” I couldn’t take it. I cupped his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. 

“He knew, Dennis. There’s no way he didn’t Jacob had you. He had your love, your laughter, your presence- even if you don’t think it was enough, he did, and that’s what matters.” 

Dennis stared at me, his eyes glassy, his breath unsteady. 

“I just… I hope you’re right.” He finally whispered. 

“I know I am.” I told him, brushing my thumb over his cheek. 

“And I know you’re never going to stop carrying this pain, but I also know that Jacob wouldn’t want you to keep punishing yourself. He’d want you to remember the love, the happiness, him.” 

Dennis let out a long, shaky breath, and for the first time tonight, something in his eyes softened. The pain was still there, still deep and raw, but maybe it was a little lighter. He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist before closing his eyes. 

“Stay.” He murmured again. 

I curled closer, my fingers still running through his hair. 

“Always.” 

As the silence settled around us, I knew he believed me. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1

[thepencilnerd]

Feels Like Trouble

pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: You and Robby have been secretly dating for a while now. Most of the ER is clueless—except the five people who could probably write dissertations on your dynamic. Enter a frat boy med student with too much confidence and not enough self-awareness. Robby? Jealous. You? Oblivious. Everyone else? Watching the drama unfold like it's peak primetime television. warnings: cringe flirting, depiction of boundary-pushing behavior, mutual pining, protective!Robby genre: fluff, slow burn, banter, crack vibes, emotional constipation, robbie's love language is acts of service, strong!reader energy because women run the world word count: 6.3k a/n: robby in his protective, simmering, quietly feral era + men anticipating my needs without me having to ask is my roman empire. p.s. also check out my other Dr. Robby fics (Not Enough | And Through It All) if you're interested <3

It started at the nurses’ station.

You were finishing up notes from a back-to-back shift, hair a mess, sleeves rolled, running purely on caffeine and spite. You barely registered the med student who leaned in a little too close—Jackson, of course. Jackson, who everyone knew had barely scraped through med school with a transcript that looked like a cry for help and a reputation for quoting his frat days like gospel. Jackson, who thought calling women 'Doc' in a tone meant to charm was somehow endearing. So, yeah. Not a great dude, to say the absolute least.

"Hey, Dr. L/N," Jackson said with that ever-present grin, leaning just a little too close. "You, uh... ever take pity on exhausted interns and grab a drink after shift?"

You gave a polite smile. "I’m not really a spirits person, but thanks."

Jackson blinked. "Huh?"

"You said drink, right? I’m more of a coffee or tea girl. Caffeine over cocktails."

He opened his mouth like he was going to try again, but you were already turning back to your chart.

"Good luck today!" you said cheerfully, not noticing the groan from your colleagues. Just around the corner, Mateo muttered to Javadi, "That’s the fourth time this week. It’s painful, man."

Javadi sipped her carton of apple juice with focused precision, attention directed solely on your ability to brush off such obvious advances without it getting in the way of your work. "Seventh, actually. If you count the half-made attempt on Monday. She's bulletproof."

"Try Jackson-proof," Mateo scoffed.

Two beds down, King leaned over to Langdon with her gloved hands clasped and asked, "Why does Jackson keep hovering around Dr. L/N like a... rabid mosquito?"

Langdon just smiled knowingly, looking over to the nurses' station where the man of the hour sat. "Don’t worry. Robby'll take care of it. Eventually."

Unbeknownst to you, Robby had been watching the entire interaction—and every interaction before that. If any med student so much as breathed near you with less-than-pure intentions, he was up in arms, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

There was that time Whitaker nearly took your eye out when a patient came in with a nail embedded in his femur; the force of pulling it out snapped Whitaker’s elbow backward—only for Robby's hand to catch it mid-swing before it could clock you in the face. Or when Santos nearly sliced your finger open as you gently guided her through her first incision—Robby had materialized behind her in the span of a gasp, steadying her hands with a calm correction that masked sheer panic. Or when Javadi passed out for the second time during a gnarly pelvic realignment and collapsed straight into you, nearly giving you a concussion from her deadweight—Robby had been there then, too, catching you both with lightning reflexes and barely concealed fury.

At this point, the only person in the hospital who hadn’t triggered Robby’s internal security system was Mel. And that was only because she kept a respectful three-foot radius and shared snacks with you during breaks. The two of you had a quiet little tradition—inviting her out to try the new cat café when it opened downtown, or attending weekend adoption events together like it was a team-building exercise. Langdon once joked that she was the third wheel in the most wholesome slow-burn romcom he'd ever seen. Mel's only response was two blinks and a single nod of acknowledgement.

Everyone in the ER noticed your dynamic—the way you and Robby worked together like a well-oiled machine, never needing to speak aloud to know what the other needed. It was intuitive. Rhythmic. Like watching a dance you’d been rehearsing for years.

Still, only a handful of people actually knew about your relationship. Abbot, Collins, McKay, Dana, Langdon, and Mel.

Abbot had been Robby’s sounding board from the very beginning. Back when Robby was still pacing around the break room, torn between professionalism and the undeniable, slow-burning pull he felt toward you, it was Abbot who told him to get over himself and ask you out. Life was too short for regrets.

Collins, McKay, and Dana didn’t know officially—but they knew. The meaningful glances, the subtle handoffs of coffee, the shared silences that were too loaded to be casual. They never said a word because they lived for the soap-opera-worthy drama of it all.

Langdon and Mel were on the same wavelength. They hadn’t caught you red-handed, but their spidey senses were borderline clairvoyant. They never probed, never asked. Just watched it unfold like a plotline they already knew the ending to.

Besides them, the rest of the department remained blissfully unaware—except for the way Robby’s entire demeanor shifted over a year ago. A quiet warmth started to replace his usual stoicism. People credited it to the anonymous private donation made to the ER around the same time.

But the truth was, it had nothing to do with money.

It was you. 

You, of course, were oblivious to whatever other people thought or said—unless it had something to do with your patients. Robby sometimes joked that you were pathologically unbothered, something he made a mental note to ask you about, and he wasn’t wrong. The rumors from the nurses, the looks from the interns, the knowing smirks from Dana or Langdon? All of it flew over your head like air traffic.

Maybe you just didn’t see it. Didn’t see how Robby’s entire world seemed to tilt when you entered a room. How effortlessly the two of you moved in sync like second nature—side by side in trauma bays, tossing instruments, treatment plans, and glances back and forth like muscle memory. Everyone else could see it.

You were always focused on the next decision, the next step, the next person who needed your help. You didn’t think about what you needed until the shift was over—if ever. Your well-being came last, always.

But not to Robby. Never to Robby.

He noticed everything.

The slump in your shoulders. The faint crease in your forehead when a headache was starting to set in. He knew when you were on the verge of running on empty, when your patience was thinning, when you hadn’t eaten since sunrise. He never made a show of it. He just acted.

He didn’t wait for you to ask. He didn’t expect you to remember to need anything.

Because he already knew. He just... knew.

Your coffee, brewed and sweetened exactly how you liked it, would be waiting for you at the nurses’ station first thing in the morning. A second cup at lunch—always packed, always hot, even if you never had time to drink it. He’d drop it off like it was routine, like it was no big deal, because he knew the odds of you being pulled into another case mid-sip were astronomical.

Your favorite sandwich from the cafeteria, left quietly on your desk with a sticky note that said, “Eat this or I’m calling your mother.” You'd sooner pass out from hunger than remember to eat. He knew that. So he took the thinking out of it for you.

And after the longest days—those days where you'd made a thousand decisions, answered a hundred questions, led back-to-back codes—he’d cook dinner at his place. Quietly, without fanfare, and pieced together with the same kind of intention you gave your patients. He’d hand you a glass of water—because that was one other thing that you along with 80% of the population deprived yourself of—and steer you to the couch while he handled the rest. Just so you could turn your brain off.

You never asked, never had to, yet he always knew.

You’d just been snapped back to the present by the sound of an unwelcome familiar voice—again.

"Dr. L/N," he said, sidling up to you again with that same confident grin—clearly not deterred by every failed attempt before. "I’ve got a list of mocktails that might just change your mind. Pretty creative, right? I googled it during lunch. There’s this one with lychee and—"

You blinked at him slowly, like you were buffering.

"Jackson," you said, voice firmer this time, "I don’t even have time to finish a protein bar most days, let alone entertain another pitch for drinks. You’re taking time away from my patients, my patients. I sincerely hope you don’t treat them the same way—ignoring their boundaries and refusing to take no for an answer."

You didn’t say it harshly. Just plainly. Clearly and finite. Like a diagnosis that needed no follow-up.

Across the room, Robby pulled down his glasses as his lip quirked up into a slow, private smirk. Pride bloomed across his face so fast he had to duck his head behind a chart to hide it. He knew better than to coddle you. The mutual discomfort and stifled reactions from the staff were one thing. Watching you handle yourself like that? That was something else entirely.

From across the nurses’ station, the staff collectively cringed like someone had just dropped a post-op surgical tray. Santos and Mateo physically turned away to hide their budding laughter. Javadi buried her face in her sleeve, secondhand embarrassment blooming. Mohan took off at a brisk pace to see a patient. Whitaker closed his eyes and mouthed a silent prayer to the ceiling. Meanwhile, Dana, McKay, and Collins couldn’t look away if they tried, pressing down their grins and wishing they'd brought popcorn. Langdon sipped his coffee like it was a box-office premiere. King, ever diligent, kept her focus on irrigating her patient’s wound—Langdon would fill her in later with full commentary. Before you could continue—

"Dr. L/N," your savior called, tone light but cutting through the air like a scalpel—just loud enough to interrupt whatever nonsense Jackson was about to say next.

You turned and there he was.

Dr. Robby—your chaos compass, your caffeinated partner in crime, loyal boyfriend, favorite soon-to-be roommate, and at the moment, your very composed but unmistakably irritated attending—his expression perfectly calm to the untrained eye, but you could read the tension in every line of his face.

"Got a case," he said flatly. "Now. Come on."

You blinked, confused but relieved. "Okay."

You didn’t miss the way Jackson shrank a little at Robby’s tone, nor the way Langdon grinned over his coffee like he'd just won a bet. You caught up to him by the supply closet, where he all but dragged you inside and shut the door behind you.

"What's up?" you asked, eyebrow raised.

He stared at you, a little too intently, like he wasn’t sure whether to scold you or wrap you in bubble wrap. "Are you seriously asking me that after that guy just tried to chat you up in the middle of the ER like this is Grey’s Anatomy?"

You blinked, tilting your head. "Wait… was that flirting?"

Robby blinked back. "You’re joking."

You were. "I thought he just wanted to split an energy drink or something."

He huffed a quiet laugh, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders as his hands came up to ruffle his hair. "Jesus."

You poked his chest lightly. "You’re kind of cute when you’re flustered, you know that?"

His ears went red immediately. "I’m not flustered. I’m... professionally annoyed."

You blinked. "You’re jealous?"

"I’m not jealous," he said tightly. "I’m—concerned."

You grinned, stepping close. "Concerned is hot."

"He was twelve."

"He's definitely at least twenty-six."

Robby exhaled through his nose. "I’ve been very chill about this whole 'let’s not tell the hospital we’re dating' thing. But if I see him so much as come within two feet of you again, I’m submitting a formal notice that you are very much taken and a complaint with HR about his behavior. And if that doesn’t work—" he leaned in closer, voice dropping—"I’m dealing with him myself."

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a smirk. "What’s that going to look like—are you gonna slam your clipboard down and tag team him with Abbot? Because honestly, I wouldn’t hate that."

Your voice was teasing, but your cheeks were warm. Watching Robby get territorial from a respectful distance? Unexpectedly hot. And now, you couldn’t help but push his buttons to see how much more riled up he’d get.

He didn’t answer. Just leaned in slowly, deliberately, raising both of his arms to cage you in—palms flat against the wall on either side of your head. The move sent heat straight to your cheeks, blinking up at him as he leaned closer, so close his breath brushed your lips.

Then he kissed you—hard and fast and possessive, his hands sliding up into your hair, threading through it with the kind of reverence that made your knees go weak. You gasped softly into his mouth, one hand instinctively rising to cup his jaw, your fingers grazing the edge of his beard before curling into the softness of it. He leaned into your touch, like he’d been waiting for it all day.

Your other hand slid up into his hair, tugging gently at the strands at the nape of his neck, and you felt it—the way his pulse thrummed just beneath your fingertips, the way he shivered just slightly at your touch.

His thumbs caressed the line of your jaw, then drifted down to the curve of your neck, holding you like you might slip away if he wasn’t careful.

It was fire and softness, urgency wrapped in warmth. And you never wanted to stop.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. "Is that allowed in a supply closet?" you smirked. 

"If they didn’t want people kissing in here, they wouldn’t make it this conveniently located."

You smacked his arm, giggling.

"I’m serious," he added, voice softening but maintaining a firm undertone. "I don't share."

You looped your arms around his neck. "Good. I wasn’t offering."

He grinned, still close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "That thing you said back there—about boundaries, about respect." He paused, eyes scanning yours. "That was... incredible. Seriously. You handled it perfectly."

Your brows furrowed for a moment, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

"It was... commanding," he added a moment later, voice lower, more playful now. "Alluringly so."

You snorted. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah," he agreed, pulling you closer to pepper your face with kisses. "Ridiculously in love with a woman who knows exactly how to shut down frat boys without breaking stride, resuscitate half the ER, deliver excellent patient care, and still make rounds on time."

His hand slid down your back, warm and steady. "You’re the whole damn package, you know that? It’s genuinely unfair."

You chuckled, burying your face briefly in his shoulder.

Somewhere down the hall, Dana's voice rang echoed through the PA, summoning you for the consult. Robby groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"This is not over," he muttered.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, a smirk following soon after where your lips lingered. "Got any dinner plans?"

Robby raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Actually, yeah. I’ve got a date—with my incredibly beautiful, breathtaking, beyond intelligent, and painfully witty girlfriend."

You blinked at him, then laughed, delighted. "Wow. Sounds like a catch."

He leaned in and bumped his nose against yours, grinning. "She really is. And I think she’s about to say yes."

You didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled, so full of affection it made your cheeks ache. Then you nodded, brushing your thumb gently along his cheekbone.

"Yeah," you whispered, "she definitely is."

[booksandteaandtears]

That's your wife? sunshine version

Dr. Jack Abott x f!attending!wife!reader

summary: You started working as a pediatric surgeon at the PTMC about a year ago and people have not yet figured out that you and Jack are married because your personalities are very different

obviously a little inspired by dr. Doug Ross fighting with parents (does anyone else think dr. Robby is kinda like Mark Green?)

slightly angsty, but mostly fluff

mentions child abuse

reader gets hurt but not too badly

masterlist | thunder version

You'd always loved working with kids, working as a nanny during college and volunteering at different foster facilities. You had gone to med-school with the goal of becoming a pediatrician and after many years of internships and residency you had landed a job at UPMC Presbyterian. You'd had loved it there for years, but about a year and a half ago a position had opened at PTMC, with the chance to become Chief of pediatrics in a few years.

Initially you had wanted to turn it down. You had worked in the same hospital as Jack years ago as a resident, but had left when you kept being referred to as "Abbot's wife", instead of people seeing you as a doctor in your own right. Even though you'd kept your maiden name they seemed to link your medical abilities to your husband, and you hated it, so you'd always worked in a different hospital since then. You'd worked too hard on your career to be okay with being treated like that. Jack had been sad that you couldn't drive into work together anymore, but he respected your decision and fully supported your career.

Jack had convinced you to take the job at PTMC in the end, agreeing to keep your marriage secret except for a select few. None of the staff had questioned it so far and working at PTMC had been great. You loved the pediatrics team and the chances you had been given by performing new and exciting surgeries.

You especially loved being the on-call pedes surgeon every couple of shifts, consulting down in the Pitt. With PTMc being a level 1 trauna centre a lot of interesting cases were brought in every shift.

You knew everyone's name in the ER. They thought it was because you put in a lot of effort to get to know them, but you secretly knew because Jack would gossip about his staff with you. So not only did you know their names, but you knew that Javadi had a crush on Mateo, and Trinity had her eyes on Garcia. Sometimes you were the one delivering gossip to Jack, because you brought his nurses coffee and pastries which meant they told you everything.

Besides the treats, they liked you because you were always bright, happy and just incredibly good with children. You could calm down even the kids that McKay had trouble with. You had bright patches with dino's on your coat and had stickers for a ton of specific interests, ranging from cars to animals to TV-shows. You'd given Whitaker a sticker to soothe his feelings on more than one occasion and carried a special pack with some of Mel's favourites.

No one in the Pitt had even entertained the thought that you, with your bubbly personality and ever present smile, could be married to their very own anxious, demoralised and borderline suicidal attending.

You had spent that morning in surgery, fixing up a kid's lungs from a major pneumothorax after a consult in the Pitt. You'd been alerted that the child's father had arrived in the pedes' waiting room and that he had been asking for you.

You took a deep breath and turned the corner with Kiara right behind you. "Mr. Morgan?" You called out. A man raised his head at you and you nodded for him to follow you out of the waiting room.

"Your son's nursery brought him in this morning, he had a fever and was complaining of pain in his chest and back. We operated on a collapsed lung this morning. It was collapsed because of trauma, and it was so severe we could not treat it without surgery. We suspect someone kicked the boy in his ribs. I was called in for a consult by the doctors in the ER, and we found several old injuries during our assessment. Bruises and sprained ribs. Burns on his leg. It appears to us that the child has been hurt over a longer period of time."

You tried to control the anger in your voice. Your place was not to judge the man, but to help his son, but you were having trouble keeping yourself in line.

"This is Kiara, she is the social worker that is tied to the Emergency Department. She's been with your son since he was brought in. We want to have a conversation with you, and then child protection services and the police will be here to investigate further. There might be a reasonable explanation for all of this, but we are legally obligated to make a report and involve the police. Could you follow me into my office please?"

Mr. Morgan stood still in the hall. "You're saying you got the police involved?" His face grew red with anger. You raised an eyebrow, apparently the man was more worried about getting caught than trying to deny the accusation.

Kiara stepped in. "Yes, as the doctor explained, we have to report suspected cases of child abuse. I can talk with you about the next steps, so we can ensure this all goes smoothly for your son."

Mr. Morgan took a step towards you, his breath touching your cheek. He smelled of stale coffee. "You reported this to the police?" He asked again. You nodded, trying to step backwards to create distance. He grabbed your wrist to stop you. His voice grew louder. "I'll raise my boy however the hell I want to raise him. A nosy bitch like you has no say in it. Fucking whore of a doctor who thinks she's all that. Bet you've never raised kids of your own. Where is my son! I'm taking him home!" A bit of spit reached your face from the intensity of his outburst. Several people had poked their heads out of doors in the hallway, alarmed by the raised voice. You felt nervous by the way this was enfolding so you tried to deescalate the conversation once more. "Sir, the law in Pennsylvania states that I have to report you. If you've hurt your child, these are the consequences. There's nothing I can do about that. Your son is what we are worried about here, he's just had surgery because of his injuries. Let's try to talk and see what we ca-."

You felt the punch before you could have seen his fist flying at you. He was a big man and the force of it knocked you to the ground. Your hands flew up to your face, holding your nose. "Fuck." You groaned. You tried to inspect your nose, which, in hindsight, was a mistake, because you missed the foot that came flying into your ribs. A second kick landed soon after.

Kiara cried out next to you, calling for help. A group of nurses came flying in, grabbing mr. Morgan and pulling him off of you. You groaned and turned on your side, trying to breathe. Panic was taking over.

The chief attending came running up, assessing your nose and ribs with soft fingers. The touch grounded you and you tried to steady your breathing. You didn't say much, the pain in you body and the anger that was circling your mind keeping your throat closed.

"I need you to talk to me dear," she whispered. "Does this hurt?" You groaned. "Right, you need an x-ray so we can see what's going on. Let's get you down to the ER. Let's call 'em to let them know we're coming. Somebody get a gurney!"

You felt your heartbeat pick up as she mentioned the ER. Your fingers brushed her arm as she shouted orders. "No ER, please." You groaned at her. "I- I'm fine. Doesn't hurt that bad, I promise." You winced as you tried to put a smile on you face. "Try to convince someone else on that. I'm not keeping you out of the ER just so you can keep your husband in the dark." You groaned, again. "Don't call him. He'll worry. I'm fine." Your attending smiled at you. "Don't worry, I'll leave that to dr. Robinavitch. I would rather not be the one to tell you husband we let you get hurt while working."

Robby, Langdon and Whitaker were waiting in front of the elevator. They took over the gurney when the doors opened and rolled you into one of the rooms. Langdon tried very hard not to hurt you further and assessed your face carefully. You still winced when he brushed your left eye. "Sorry." He whispered at you. Robby was poking your ribs in the meantime. You turned you head towards him.

"Robby," You started, "You didn't call yet, did you?" He nodded and poked a particularly sore spot. "Let's asses first, I'll call him after." You whined at him. "Don't, Robby. He'll just be mad, I'll tell him when I get home." Robby looked at you sternly. "We'll talk about this later." You pouted at him and let Langdon inspect your face again. "Yes dad." You murmured. Langdon couldn't help a laugh escaping him.

Half an hour later you were working on convincing Robby not to call Jack. Your ribs were bruised and you had a massive black eye, but the CT's showed no breaks in you face or your ribs. It did hurt like hell though.

"I am a patient now, Robby, I do not give consent to cal my emergency contact and I am perfectly capable of making that decision right now." Robby nodded fiercely at you. "Yes, those are very pretty words, and very true, but the matter of the fact is that Jack will kill me when he finds out you are in his ER and I did not call him. My life's on the line here, not yours. It's bad enough that Gloria's coming down to investigate, I can not handle an angry Jack on top of that." You almost felt sorry for him.

"I just don't want him freaking out. I'll tell him when he comes in, then he can immediately see that I'm fine." Robby sighed at you. "That won't stop him from killing me and Dana." You grimaced back at him, pain pulsing through your bruises because of the movement. "He won't kill Dana, he'll hold you responsible."

Robby threw his hands in the air in surrender and was called away by an incoming trauma, leaving you alone.

You had planned to stay in the ER bed for another hour to make sure you had no concussion, but five minutes before you wanted to leave the curtain around your bed was ripped open.

"I was going to bring you a coffee upstairs and when I arrive one of the nurses tells me you've been knocked down by a parent and you're in the ER. And when I asked when it'd happened, they told me it was over two hours ago." Jack's face was angry. You opened your mouth to argue but where interrupted.

"So, let's see how you're doing" Langdon stepped in through the curtain and was shocked to see Jack standing there. "Dr. Abbot," Langdon called out, "What are you doing here so early? You shift doesn't start for an hour and a half. Is there a big trauma coming in?" Jack turned, still angry. "Where's Robby?" He demanded. "He's in curtain four, I think. He's been screaming to Gloria about hospital security for the past thirty minutes. But what are you doing here, do you need to discuss something with dr. Robby?" Jack grunted. "Bring him here." You winced at his tone. "Jack, come o-" Jack turned towards you. "Don't. Langdon go get Robby." Frank was confused. "He's in four with a patient. Why can't you just go to him? I've gotta check up on this patient." Jack turned fully towards him and Langdon could see the fury in Abbot's eyes. "Because my wife was brought into the ER this afternoon, and dr. Robinavitch did not contact me. That's why."

Langdon looked around the Pitt. "Your wife was brought in? When? I don't see an Abbot on the board? Where is she."

Jack pointed to you and you grew red.

Langdon opened his mouth but no sound came out. Whitaker kept looking from you to Jack.

"That is your wife?" Langdon gasped after a moment. "She's here all the time! How did you never tell us?" Jack shrugged and gently pushedsome hair out of your face. "Not like you ever asked." You leaned in to his touch. "You can hover around, but let Frank take a look at my face please." Jack's finger brushed your eyebrow. "I can do that. I don't want a resident working on my wife."

You took his fingers and pulled them down, kissing them softly. "Langdon can take care of it. Just sit tight and hold my hand. I'm fine Jack, I promise." You could see some of the worry leave your husband's face. "Sit down. We'll ask someone to cover your shift so you can take me home after. You can make me dinner and we'll hang out on the couch all evening, all right?" Jack resigned and took a seat next to you on the gurney, stroking your thigh with his free hand.

Langdon discharged you a couple minutes later and you managed to get Jack out of the Pitt without bumping into Robby. Jack was still mad that he had been blindsided, but he knew your injuries weren't bad. He'd promised you he'd be screaming at Robby tomorrow, but you were pretty sure you could get him to forgive his friend before then.

Tomorrow was going to be confronting enough, by then the entire hospital would know that the bubbly pediatrician and the grumpy ER physician were married.

Jack helped you into his car and leaned over you to fasten your seatbelt. "Jack," you told him when he was satisfied it was on tightly, "I'm not a kid, I can fasten my own seatbelt." Jack looked up into your eyes. "I know you're not. But you're my wife and I want to take care of you. You scared me darling. I was just going to take you a cup of coffee and I find you in my ER. That's something out of a nightmare. That elevator ride down was the longest of my life. I know you're going to be okay, but I was really terrified for a second there. So just bear with me while I treat you like you're made of glass, all right? It'll make me feel better about it." He walked around the car to get into the driver's seat.

You smiled at your husband. "So, did you abandon the cup of coffee in the pediatric ward or did you have the foresight that I would still want it." Jack fastened his own seatbelt and turned to you. "I did abandon your coffee. So I'm guessing our first stop on the way home is to get a new one?" You nodded at Jack. "You bet. Let's go, husband of mine!" He started the car and took another peek at you, glossing over your face to make sure you were all right. "I love you, my wife."

[carmenlikeme]

—would you still love me if i was a worm?

summary: I wanted to make the old smau content I did with my older blog so this is the first instance and the classic "would you still love me if I was a worm?"

characters: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch, Trinity Santos, Samira Mohan, Jack Abbot, Melissa King, Frank Langdon, Dennis Whitaker, Mateo Diaz.

a/n: it was so fun making this!! i'll definitely make a part two if you want to see more characters hehe, which one was your favorite? I'll make my post to open requests soon if you enjoy this! if you see any typo no u didn't, I wrote this without checking

© CARMENLIKEME 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, modify or claim as yours.

[anyarose011]

Born Too Late: "Death by a Thousand Cuts"

Pairing: DBF!Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader

Summary: Your stepfather (not your actual father, let's make that clear), helped you out and scored you a job as one of the Medical Trauma's social workers. Moving off of the night shift from your first week, you figured that you'd seen all the worst things you could. It doesn't help that, at the start of your first day shift, the man you had an...interesting few encounters with at a local cafe, is your supervisor...What's twelve hours in an ER with him?

Part 1 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Descriptions of Past Smut, Heavy Age Gap [Reader is in her mid-20s] Swearing, Past Parental Death, and Inevitable Medical Inaccuracies.

My Brain Randomly on a Sunday: "You know what? Fuck you guys! *Realistic DBF!Robby x Reader, with a sprinkle of Whitacre, King, and/or Santos x Reader (depending on what your poison is) and a 'Lost in your 20s' feel*". Lmao, yeah this idea just came to me out of the blue and I had to get it down. Now usually, I'm not a fan of the Dad's Best Friend Trope, but I think I've found a way to make it tasteful while also keeping some of the ✨drama✨. I've taken a huge inspiration from Shiva Baby, which also taps into a more realistic age gap relationship and feeling like the world is ending post-graduation (am I feeling this too? Idk). I'm also more personally experienced with the social/psychological aspect of the show, and wanted Kiara to have a partner because she was put through the wringer in the first season, so I decided to make reader a social worker. I hope I do this justice!

Word Count: 4.9k

“Fuck me!” Your roommate, Kimi, groaned into the toilet bowl seat beside you once she finished vomiting.

You rubbed her back as you continued to put on mascara. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s been twenty-four hours!” She groaned, staring up at you. “Do you think you could squeeze me in today at your job?”

“Go to Urgent Care if you keep puking.” You answered.

Kimi rested her head against the seam of your pants. It was six in the morning, and you had no idea how she had so much energy. “I thought you only worked nights.”

You weren’t a doctor, nor were you a nurse, but a secret third thing: A social worker. You graduated from your master’s program a year prior, taking a job at a senior center. To you, it was boring as shit, so you left several months later. Turns out, in this economy, job security was more important than job stimulation; and it wasn’t necessarily easy to find work with your degree.

So…someone had done a favor for you. That someone being your stepfather; the Night Shift Attending.

Everyone had known Jack Abbott was your stepfather by midnight on your first shift. There was some teasing by Ellis and Shen, but other than that, nothing. You wouldn’t call it ‘nepotism’. Jack was in the picture since you were fifteen, and you’d only called him ‘dad’ once.

It was when he found you tucked away in the corner at your mother’s funeral, unable to stand. He just held you there, not saying anything. One would’ve thought you’d grow closer to him after that; but you were twenty-two when your mother died, and he’d only been married to her for five years. You didn’t necessarily want to know him more.

Of course, then you let it slip one day that you were trying to find a job in social work, and he had to swoop in and save the day. Still, how could you complain?

You finished your makeup and helped Kimi stand. “I did last week. I’m doing the day now to see which one I like.”

She washed her hands. “Do mornings so we can talk more. Like,” she smirked as she dried her hands. “Why didn’t you come home last Saturday night?”

Laughing, you left the bathroom and walked into the kitchen, packing your lunch. She followed after you, leaning over the breakfast bar.

“Come on!” She begged. “I gave you a few days to play coy, now spill!”

You grinned from ear to ear. “I went home with a guy.”

“Fork found in kitchen. Who was it?!”

“The one from Big Dog.”

Her face dropped into disgust. “The old Jewish guy?”

You sneered. “A, his name’s Michael, and B, it’s weird that’s how you remember him.”

“Girl, how old is he?!” She laughed.

“Forty-five? I don’t know.” You did know: fifty-one, but you couldn’t say that.

Kimi tossed herself onto the sofa. “You’ve been talking to this guy for like a month, and you don’t know. Is he even that cute?”

Of course he was. His eyes were quite possibly the kindest ones you’d ever seen on a man, and he smiled at almost everything. Beauty standards be damned; you don’t give a shit if smiling “causes early wrinkles”.

After packing your lunch, you walked into the sitting room and sat on the floor, resting your back against the couch. “I think so.”

“You like rat-looking men.”

You shoved her. “Now stop it!”

“No, you do!” She relented. “You’ve always liked the ugly ones.”

“Kimi.”

“Sorry, the unconventionally attractive ones.”

If you had a death wish, you would say that she had no right to judge. You at least knew that Michael didn’t have a single baby mama, and you weren’t in an off again on-again relationship with him every few weeks. Besides, at least it was obvious that you could tell he showered; unlike her “true love”.

But, that was always Kimi. You weren’t best friends in undergrad, but got along enough to where, after going a few years of not talking after graduation, you reconnected, and she asked you to be her roommate. So, you had been living with her for seven months, and it wasn’t….so bad.

Well, unless her ex-boyfriend (that’s who Trent was at the time of this) would come over. Besides the fact he was open about getting two separate women pregnant (he had three daughters), he had a short fuse. You made one joke about his favorite movie being basic, and he threw a plastic cup in your direction.

That was the first time Kimi broke up with him; then took him back two weeks later.

“He’s sweet.” You settled upon defending Michael. “He’s ridiculously smart too and can hold a conversation.”

It was something out of a 2000s romcom how you met him. There you were at Big Dog Coffee one early morning a month ago when he quite literally bumped into you, spilling your coffee onto the floor. Thankfully, it didn’t get on you, and he attempted to joke about how you wouldn’t have to take off your shirt to check for burns.

It was awkward, that beat of silence where the realization of what he said settled in. Then, you laughed, and it wasn’t so strange anymore. You fell into effortless conversation that only lasted ten minutes before you both had to leave. You thought that’s where the story ended.

Then, he was there the next time you went, and you talked for hours. He was a doctor but didn’t say where; if anything, the two of you barely discussed work and that was fine with you. He wasn’t always there when you went to get coffee. You managed to get it out of him that there were times he’d see you in the window but wouldn’t go in, not wanting to make you think he was stalking you.

A man who went out of his way to not make you feel uncomfortable? Of course you were attracted to him.

“So,” Kimi teased. “tell me how sweet he was when he took you home.”

You giggled. “He kissed me.”

“And?”

“And kissed me,” you smiled at the memories. “and kissed me, and kissed me, and-.”

Kimi talked over you as you repeated yourself. “I mean, he’s probably ready for the grave so I get he can’t do a lot but-.”

“-And kissed me between my legs,” you snuck in. “and kissed me and-.”

“-Woah!” Kimi laughed. “Back up, how was it?”

You looked back at her, feeling yourself blushing. “His beard was soaking.”

She screamed, causing you to as well into fits of laughter. She shook you, hugging you from behind. “Okay, grandpa!”

“Stop!” You shoved her. “God, I feel weird now.”

“How long did he go?”

“Like…almost three times I think?”

“Three?! At his age?!”

“I mean, his back started hurting-.”

“-Oh my god!” She hollered. “Have you seen him since?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Well, you got his number, right?”

“No.”

“You’re the fucking worst!”

“It’s not like we’re gonna date!” You rationalized. “I like talking to him, but I don’t wanna be forty or fifty when my husband dies.”

“Who said he’d be your husband?”

“You know what I mean.”

She sighed. “Okay, what else did he do?”

You stood up after looking at the time. “I gotta go to my shift.”

“Come on!”

“I promise,” you slipped on your shoes. “I’ll recreate every position we did when I get home.”

But there were some things she didn’t get to know. Like how you and Michael were both nervous to the point of laughter, how he apologized profusely for not lasting long the first time, but you didn’t care; it was raw, and it was all real. You still wondered how that didn’t scare you.

“You better.” Kimi laid back down. “Have a good day.”

“Call if you need anything.” You took your keys and purse before leaving. It was a bit of a longer drive to the hospital from your apartment, but you didn’t mind driving. You’d grown up in Pittsburgh, so you could essentially drive downtown with your eyes closed.

It was strange arriving at the hospital in the morning when you were so used to leaving. You wondered if the time change would be the worst thing you’d deal with that day, but upon seeing your stepfather still there when you arrived, that was only the beginning.

“Hey kiddo.” He greeted, his bag over his shoulder as he walked outside.

You thinned your lips. “Dr. Abbott.”

“You ready?”

“You said day shifters are more type A.”

He snickered. “Yeah, you gonna be able to adjust?”

“I think so…” you bounced on the balls of your feet. “Uh, how was your shift?”

“Not bad.” he shrugged. “We had three patients come in from sex injuries.”

“Shit, that’s more than last week!”

He laughed. “Yeah, you wanna know the worst one?”

“Please no, it’s seven in the morning.”

“Alright.” He backed down. “So, you’re gonna stick close mainly with Kiara and sometimes Lupe if shit goes bad-.”

“-I know.” It’s as if he hadn’t already told you this. “‘The Attending’s Robby who means well but has a stick up his ass sometimes, so don’t take it personally.’ I got this.”

He smiled. “Yeah, you do.” His eyes then traveled to the direction of the parking lot, and he huffed. “Hey, we were just talking about you!”

You turned your gaze and felt your heart leap into your throat. There, approaching the two of you, with the same hair, same eyes, and same nose…was Michael.

Shit…

“All good things, I hope!” He yelled back, not making out your figure yet.

“I got your newest social worker here.” Jack introduced you, and once Robby got close enough, you saw recognition settling in his eyes.  It was only for a moment, forcing himself to remain smiling.

Robby looked at Abbott. “This is uh, this your daughter?”

“Stepdaughter.” Left your mouth before you could stop yourself.

Jack snorted. “I was gonna say I found you on the side of the road, but that’ll do.”

All Robby did was hum, nodding. “Well, I’ll make sure she stays out of trouble, even though that’s more Kiara’s job.”

“She’s a tough cookie.” He pat your shoulder. “I think she’ll make the day shift her bitch.”

“Jack.” You nudged him, clutching your purse.

“I’m sure she will.” Robby forced a laughed. “See you in twelve hours, brother.”

Oh, shut up. You thought, dreading the day ahead and turning your eyes to the ground.

Jack nodded, brushing by him to leave. “See you in twelve hours. And be nice to her!”

“I will!” Robby yelled back.

When it was just the two of you, that was when everything started settling into you like a parasite under your skin. The older guy you talked to for hours upon hours at a simple café, the same older guy you slept with just that last weekend…was technically your supervisor.

“Good morning.” He greeted as if he hadn’t acknowledged you until Abbott was gone.

You finally looked up at him. “Good morning.”

Then you walked through the hospital doors. Of course, he was on your tail.

“Alright, all on the table, did you know?” He asked.

You scoffed. “How the hell do you get ‘Robby’ from ‘Michael’?”

“Dr. Robinavitch.”

“Shit.” You shut your eyes. “And no, I didn’t know.”

He sighed as you both entered the stairwell. “Okay. Are you able to keep this…professional?”

“I’m so professional, I don’t even want to say another word about this even when we’re done with a shift.” You rolled your eyes.

“We have to talk about this sometime.”

“No, we don’t.” You stopped on the stairs, knowing no one else was around. “I’ve already agreed I never want to see you again outside of work because…well, obviously.”

“Yeah?” He rose his brows, then shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You walked back down. “Cool, cool, cool.”

It wasn’t, but you had to say that because you were going to have to spend twelve hours with a bunch of new people and him. When you arrived in the lobby, you were astounded just to see how many people there were. All ranging from kids with bloody noses, to a middle-aged woman clutching her stomach, and an old man holding a rag to his face.

“Welcome to the morning shift.” Robby said from beside you.

Pushing past disgruntled people in line to harass Lupe, you and Robby entered the ED, or, as your stepfather had called it: ‘The Pitt’.

Upon entering, a woman with cornrows approached you, smiling and saying your first name; thank God she had a hint not to say your last one. “I heard you were coming in today.”

“Are you Kiara?” You shook her hand, feeling warmth flow through you at the sight of a friendly face.

“Yes, you’ll be shadowing me today just to still get the hang of the day shift.” She explained. “Hope that’s okay?”

“No, it’s great!”

You hadn’t realized Robby left until Kiara was leading you into a room to speak with a woman who had failed an overdose suicide attempt. What a way to start the day.

Much like anyone, there were different versions of you. There was you when you were with family (yes, including Jack), there was you when you were with Kimi, and there was you when you were at work.

That was the one you could barely recognize yourself.

Still, you were pretty damn good at it. Almost like a chameleon, you could morph into whatever you or someone else needed you to be. Usually, it was the gentle and sweet girl anyone could talk to and share their deepest secrets with. While that part of you still existed on its own, it thrived while being a social worker.

Two hours later, after having only your second heart-to-heart with a patient that day, you ran into some familiar faces.

“Oh shit, Starshine!” Santos greeted as she looked away from the overhead monitor behind the front desk. You’d forgotten his name, but the boy beside her looked at you. He had bags under his eyes that you knew would never be covered even if he had all the concealer in the world. Yet, his own gaze was…kind.

You laughed as you approached them. “You gave me a nickname?”

“Well yeah,” she winked. “you made such an impression on me.”

That impression being the end of your third night shift, where you had drunk too much caffeine and, I shit you not, greeted most of the day shifters with: “Good morning, starshine!”

Trinity Santos and the Charles Dicken’s looking boy were your first victims.

You snorted. “I want to forget any of that happened.”

“I don’t.” She looked over at the boy. “Come on, Huckleberry, where’s your manners?”

He smiled shyly. “Sorry, how are you doing?”

“Don’t apologize.” You chuckled. “But I’m doing pretty good.”

“I thought you only worked night shifts?”

You shrugged. “I did last week. I’m trying out day ones; seeing what I like.”

“And?” Santos asked.

“I kinda like the vibe more here.”

“Just you wait.” She tisked, then turned on her heel and went to one of the rooms. That left you there with…Huckleberry.

“I’m sorry,” you smiled. “I actually don’t remember your name.”

He shook his head, mirroring your grin. “No, it’s good. Dennis Whitaker.”

You introduced yourself, but instead of using Jack’s surname you used your mother’s. “How long have you been here?”

“It’ll be three months on Friday.” He nodded.

“Wow, congrats. How’s it been?”

“I mean, the worst day was my first day.” He laughed humorlessly. “Everyday after that has been basically a cakewalk.”

“What happened your first day?”

He paused. “Pittfest.”

“Shit…” was all you could say.

“Yeah…” He pursed his lips.

“Hey,” a woman wearing a red sweatshirt said your name from behind you. “Kiara said you’re the new social worker. Could you come with me, please?”

“No problem.” You started following her, looking back at Whitaker. “See you later!”

You heard him utter a ‘see you later!’ behind you as you walked alongside the new woman.

“You’re usually on the night shift, I hear?” She asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She hummed, smiling. “None of that. Heather Collins. You’re probably getting overloaded with names.”

“I can keep up.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She turned down the hall, lowering her voice. “Okay, so we got this young girl who came in a few months back. We think she’s being trafficked, but she didn’t say anything the last time; now she is. We need you to talk with the woman who came in with her.”

“About?” You were on top of it.

“Literally anything.” She explained. “Her new baby, movies, herself, just somethingto keep her preoccupied for a few minutes’ tops.”

Just as you were about to say ‘Okay’, a man poked his head from behind the corner, calling your name.

“Are you busy?”

Motherfucker, you cursed in your head. Why?!

“Back off, Robinavitch.” Collins rolled her eyes, yet you heard humor in her voice. “I got her first.”

He smiled the same smile you saw him wear every time he talked to you at the café. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you, ladies.”

“Ladies?” She stretched the word, glancing at you. “Is he serious?”

You swallowed thickly. “I think he is.”

Collins sighed, holding her hand out almost to comedically present him. “This is Dr. Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch, I assume you’ve already met him.”

“Yeah.” you said without missing a beat. “He was talking with Dr. Abbott outside before my shift started.”

She put her hands on her hips, looking at you closely before smiling. “You’re Jack’s kid.”

 Luckily, you managed to bite your tongue before you could correct her with ‘step’. Unfortunately, Robby had his own words to say.

“Did you just steal her away to figure out if she was related to anyone,” he teased. “or do you actually need her?”

You and Collins mirrored each other’s somewhat disgusted faces as you looked at him. She responded first.

“Yeah, I actually need her. Do you need anything, Robby?”

“No, Heather, I’m good.” He shook his head, backing away. He looked at you. “If she’s ever hazing you, just tell me.”

You were quicker this time. “Everyone’s been telling me you do the hazing.”

Not exactly true; you just felt the need to say something sassy. Ultimately, that’ll probably kill you.

Still, while Robby rose his brows in shock, Collins snickered, grabbing your arm and leading your farther away. “Come one.”

When you both were outside the door and away from Robby, she composed herself. “Okay, that was funny, but maybe just in the future…tone it back a little?”

You nodded. “For sure. It won’t happen again.”

“No and he’s good about it.” She explained. “I know he can be a bit much sometimes, but…he’s good at what he does.”

Oh…oh they definitely fucked. You figured it out. …Shit…

And all you did was nod, then went in to distract the human trafficker. She was a bitch for sure, but your thousands of dollars in student debt paid off. You kept her busy for ten minutes, and two police officers showed up: one taking her into custody, and the other to process the victim.

Not even a minute after it was over, Robby found you to talk with two worried moms whose daughter had an asthma attack. Then after that, the most eventful thing was feeling a wetness between your legs.

No…not the good kind.

Rushing into the bathroom and into a stall, you yanked your pants and underwear down. There wasn’t enough blood to cause a scene, but regardless, you still started your period.

“Shit!” You hissed, as well as said every curse in the book.

“Are you okay?” A woman asked from the stall beside you, her voice somewhat deeper.

“Do you have a pad, or a tampon?” You asked, sitting on the toilet.

“Hold on, I got a pad in my locker.” She flushed the toilet then went to wash her hands.

You sighed. “Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it.” You heard the front door open and close. Soon after, she came back in and handed it to you under the stall.

You sighed happily. “You have saved at least one life today. I’m buying you lunch.”

“You really don’t-.”

“-Shut up, I do.” You opened the pad. “I can’t today, but some other time. Who are you?”

“Melissa King.”

You gave her your name, and then she left.

It somehow got busier the further you were into your shift. You had to skip lunch when a grandmother brought her grandson in after he fell climbing a tree and started going blind as she drove him to the ER. It was pure luck she herself didn’t go into cardiac arrest.

It was about three when you finally managed to slow down. You took your lunch out of the fridge in the breakroom and ate what you could. The moment you sat down was the moment Whitaker came into the room, breathing heavily as if he’d run a marathon.

“You good?” You asked.

He nodded. “Uh huh, yeah uh…I just…”

You stood up. “Can I take your hand?”

“Huh?” You repeated yourself, and all he did was nod. You helped him sit down in one of the chairs before getting a Styrofoam cup off the counter and filling it with tap water. Once you set that on the table, you sat beside him and opened the chocolate bar you brought.

“Go on.”

“No,” he shook his head, taking a drink of water. “I can’t, it’s your lunch-.”

“-And I doubt you had anything today.” You held the chocolate out to him.

He smiled shyly before taking a piece off the bar. “Thanks.”

You took a piece and popped it into your mouth. “So, you’re from Missouri?”

“Nebraska.” He corrected, eating more of the chocolate.

“Why’d Santos call you Huckleberry? That doesn’t make sense.”

He snickered. “Just assuming that all of the Midwest is the same I guess.”

“I mean,” you hummed. “all I really know about Nebraska is Ethel Cain and Children of the Corn.”

“No, but the movie wasn’t even filmed there.” He pointed out.

“What?”

“They didn’t film Children of the Corn in Nebraska; they did in Iowa.”

You furrowed your brow. “But…it takes place…in Nebraska.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” He laughed.

“So, what I’m hearing is that it doesn’t actually exist?”

 “Yeah, you’re right.” He played along. “In fact…I was never actually here.”

He slowly sank out of his seat and onto the floor, out of sight from you. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your chest, trying to smother it. It shouldn’t have been that funny, but aside from the delivery being impeccable, the case with the grandma really struck you so that’s why everything was now hilarious.

What wasn’t though, was the door opening, and seeing Robby being the reason it did.

“Hey Whitaker,” he stared right at him. “Mr. Lee’s asking for you.”

Whitaker stood up off the ground like a soldier as soon as Robby had looked at him. “Yeah, sorry. Thanks.”

Even when Whitaker left after thanking you, Robby stayed put, crossing his arms. “You doing alright?”

You nodded. “Yeah; it’s actually not that crazy.”

“We’re having a good day. You get along with everyone?”

Standard questions yet sprinkled with a tenseness you could see he held within himself. You pursed your lips, still meaning to remain professional.

“Yeah, really nice.”

“Should I ask a night shift resident if you distract them too?”

Okay, out of left field, but still, you were going to keep a cool head-.

“If I distract them?” You tilted your head.

“Just a question.”

“Yeah, and my answer is that he was freaking out so I just gave him some water and something to eat so he wouldn’t crash in the middle of the ER!” You scoffed.

He held his hands together, pointing them at you. “And thank you, but we never know when we need all hands-on deck. So, in the future, if you could keep it short-.”

“-He was in here for like two minutes.”

“The exact same amount of time it could take for someone to die.”

You surprised yourself and took a deep breath before responding; even though you could feel your blood boil beneath your skin.

“He’s a grown man; at least my age, but maybe a few years older. I think he can take care of himself, take accountability, and not blame some girl for it.”

Was the statement slightly targeted? Who’s to say?

Still, his eyes changed. Where they were once hardened with a mix of annoyance and passive-aggressive glee, they softened at the realization. He dropped your gaze and sighed.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, that was out of line.”

Shrugging, you stuck your hands in your pockets. “Bad day?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

He looked at you, and for the first time that day, you saw Michael; the idiot who ran into you but didn’t spill his coffee on your body and then made a stupid joke he probably made at work. For a moment, it was as if neither of you had known what you found out at 7am that day. That you were both in the worst positions imaginable, job and personal wise.

Then, he was gone and was back to Dr. Robby. “Kiara said she was looking for you. I heard about a gunshot victim coming in; teenager, so his parents are gonna love that.”

You nodded. “I bet.”

With that, you went to find Kiara. Sure enough, there was a teenager who’d been shot, and two worried parents. Still, despite the mom talking down to you, you and Kiara managed to calm their nerves. Luckily, an hour later, the teenager woke up and could talk to his parents.

“Good job,” Kiara squeezed your shoulder. “I know that was rough.”

You nodded. “Yeah, it was.”

“Do you need to talk?”

You shook your head. “No, but thanks. Do you?”

One can only talk to so many people about injured or even dying loved ones. This was actually your first shift where no one had died. It should’ve been a great day just with that alone. Still, you had no idea what the rest of it had in store, and it was already five.

What was two more hours?

Kiara smiled. “I’m doing alright. I’m gonna go make my rounds, you should too.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” You teased, and she left with a small skip in her step.

Sighing, you leaned against the front desk, looking up at the monitor. Someone lightly kicked your heel, and you turned to see who it was.

“Good evening, Starshine.” Santos bumped your shoulder with hers.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I gotta start calling you something.”

“How about ‘Goddess’?”

“‘Satan’ suits you more.”

The two of you giggled, and just as you were about to ask her how the rest of her day was, she said.

“Rumor has it, you and my roommate were really hitting it off in the break room.”

Your immediate reaction was to laugh, yet your heart still stammered. “Yeah, he’s nice.”

“Uh huh,” she bit her lip. “how nice?”

Side-eyeing her, you answered politely. “Not like you.”

She snickered. “I can be nice.”

“Sure, Jan.”

“Who?”

“Brady Bunch?”

Santos shook her head. “Never took you to have an old soul, Starshine.”

You heard two women whisper to each other as they sat behind the desk. Santos made a face before responding in Tagalog. The two women only shook their heads, giggling to each other. Santos slipped her arm through yours, leading you away.

“Don’t pay attention to them.” She said lightly. “Princess and Perlah just like to think they know and see everything around here.”

“I guarantee you, they don’t.” It left your lips before it left your mind. You’d gotten too comfortable, and now it was going to bite you in the ass.

Santos’ face dropped into a shocked smile as you stopped outside one of the rooms. “What?!”

Your chest felt like it was being constricted by a snake as your skin turned cold. Swallowing, you attempted to cover it all up. “It’s nothing, I’m just saying-.”

“-What do you know?” She lowered her voice, pulling you off more to the side hopefully away from others. “Oh my god, what did you do?”

“Santos-.”

“-No,” She grinned like the devil. “who’d you do?”

It should’ve been easy to brush it off; to act like she was crazy to assume that you had a big secret just from a stupid statement. Yet, the longer you were silent, the deeper the pit you dug yourself into.

“I promise, I’ll keep quiet.” Santos held her pinky up. “Pinky swear.”

You finally found your words. “That doesn’t mean shit.”

“We’re not doing the pussy version.” She clarified. “If I say anything, you break my finger.”

“Girl-.”

The doors to the ER opened wide and in came two paramedics wheeling a woman on a gurney. She was sitting up and alert thankfully, and you could get a clearer view of her face, and the sound of her voice.

“Where the fuck is that bitch?!” Kimi yelled. “The one who hit us, where is she?!”

As the paramedics tried to quiet her, you saw another familiar face rush to Kimi’s side. He had the same greasy hair and overall feel about him that you knew would never leave. It was almost embarrassing how surprised you were that she got back with him.

Still, it wasn’t simply seeing Trent that was the worst part of your day.

…What was two more hours?

[dontcurbyourenthusiasm]

Hashtag Worth it

(aka Play that Funky Music White Boy pt. 2)

(@lousolversons the gif god)

Warnings: None rlly, mentions of blood/vomit/pee, thats it! Just a whole lotta fluff (also not beta read so sorry for any errors!)

Description: Library books must be returned, and cute mousey haired boys must be kissed. It's the law of the land.

Word Count: 3.5k

---

Ever since Funky Music blasted through your place of work, you were unable to think of anything else. Every time those automatic doors whooshed open, your heartbeat would pick up as you prepared yourself for those puppy dog eyes and tousled brown hair. It had been weeks for Christ sake, but still you found yourself lingering by the Kid's Corner, long after you shelved the last children's book, just because it had a better view of the door.

You even started waking up earlier to do your hair before work. When you wore new earrings with a necklace to match, thats when your coworkers started to notice.

"Are you seeing someone?" Bess bluntly asks while in you were re-shelving by Philosophy and Psychology.

"Who would I be seeing Bess? I spend all my time here." You don't bother to stop shelving while answering with a beleaguered sigh.

Bess is not sold. "Then why are you getting all dressed up?" She pauses in thought. "Oh! Are you having a quarter life crisis?" She chirps in a sunny tone. Bess often got bored at work, the quiet of the library unnerving her more than anything. She also often, took out her boredom on you.

You try your hardest not to roll your eyes. "I had my quarter life crisis at 17 thank you very much," you reply, with the misplaced hope that she would drop the subject.

"Well, whats gotten into you lately? You're wearing jewelry, you keep checking your phone when I know your mom is the only person that texts you-"

"Thanks for that" you grumble.

"-so what is it? Do you have a new boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner? C'mon throw me a bone" she begs. "Nothing interesting ever happens in my life so I need you to do it for me."

Your mind flashes back to Dennis.

Mr. Funky Music.

Honestly, you wish you had something interesting to tell Bess. But you didn't. The situation couldn't be clearer. You pulled out your best flirty moves, recommended him books, AND gave him your phone number, but he never called you or bothered to come back. What bruised your ego even more, was that at the time, you could swear he was picking up what you were putting down.

At this point it seemed like he wouldn't ever come back; not even to return his book, which was now overdue by 2 days.

"I promise you Bess, I am completely, absolutely, utterly, PAINFULLY single-"

You're interrupted by the sheepish grin that has been haunting you for the past 3 weeks and 2 days.

Not that anyone was counting.

"I don't know if you remember me? I'm back for the other books you recommended," is all he says innocently, like he hasn't been stuck in the wrinkles of your brain.

"Hi" you blink blankly at him for a moment before finally registering his words. "Yes, right the books. I saved them in the back... do you wanna..." you motioned in the direction of the storage room.

"Sure," he answers before his gaze moves to a very amused Bess. "Hi I'm Dennis" he offers a hand.

She shakes his it, grinning like a hyena. "Bess," is all she says before slinking away.

As you make your way to the storage room, he starts by apologizing. "I'm really sorry it's overdue I didn't have time to come by and return it."

"Oh, it's no problem, we get overdue books all the time" You wave him off nonchalantly, like you haven't been refreshing his account on the desk computer everyday.

"I don't really get much time to read." The timid tenor of his voice gives you an edge of confidence.

"Oh yea? What are you so busy doing?" You tease.

"I'm a med student. Fourth year. It's when we do our rounds in actual hospitals."

Holy shit. Dennis Funky Music was actually Doctor Dennis Funky Music.

"What speciality are you thinking?" You ask, partly out of curiosity but mostly because the idea of him being a pediatrician made your ovaries want to explode.

"I'm in the ED right now."

ok thank god not a pediatrician. You were in no financial means to even THINK about having a child. But ED?

"Eating disorder? Erectile disfunction?" you raise a quizzical eyebrow.

"No! No, the Emergency Department" he hastily corrects, face flushing slightly.

Well shit. This adorably bug eyed barn mouse was actually an emergency doctor??

Picturing him running around, with a stethoscope around his neck and blood splattered on his scrubs made your palms sweat.

"Ah, so thats why you never called. Too busy saving lives" You reply, hinting casually to the unresolved matter of your little sticky note.

"I didn't know you wanted me to call" he says simply, his eyes wide.

Ugh you wanted to kiss that clueless little pout off his face

"I don't know about you, but I don't typically give out my number to people who I WOULDN'T want calling me."

"That's... true" he shrugs as if he's realizing that possibility for the first time.

You open the door to the storage and room and motion for him to follow. "This is where the magic happens."

It smelled of dust and old paper, probably because that's all that sat in there; old damaged books that needed to be thrown out, new books that still needed barcodes, or books in the return bin that needed to be sorted and re-shelved. On the floor next to the return bin was a small stack of books with a sticky note placed on top that read:

Dennis Whitaker (Funky Music)

He crouches down reaching for the books in the stack, opening them to read the inside cover. You settle next to him, sitting cross legged, back leaning against a nearby desk.

"I'll have you know, my recommendations have changed slightly, now that I know you're a doctor."

He pauses reading and peers at your curiously from the corner of his eye. "Oh? Why is that?"

"Some of the books in here are like, 700 pages. I doubt you have time for a book like that if you're running around saving people 12 hours a day."

"You're probably right," he concedes with a light chuckle, "But some of these look really good" he says eyes glued to the back covers.

You can't help the warm feeling that blooms in your chest.

This was what brought you to the library. And what kept you here. There was something so intimate about sharing a piece of literature. Especially if it was a book. It was like saying, 'here. I was immersed in a completely different world and I still thought of you.'

You don't realize that you're staring until he starts talking.

"So..." he starts fiddling with one of the books, picking at the barcode sticker. "You said something back there about being... painfully single?" He quotes you from earlier and you wrinkle your nose at the reminder.

Welp, he already heard it, why lie.

"Yep. Just me and a ficus." You admit.

"Well, I am... also single... as well" he trails off, his gaze nervously flickering to yours every few seconds.

Oh.

Your lips can't help but turn up into a cheesy smile.

"Dr. Whitaker. Are you asking me out?" You teasingly bump his shoulder with your own.

"Yea, if you're okay with it, obviously. And technically I'm not a doctor yet." he returns your gaze with a soft smile and it pinches your heart in an unfamiliar way.

"Well then, I'm off at three. Can you wait till three?" You check your phone.

You watch his light up at your response. "Yes. Yep, I can wait till three"

"Great!" You move to stand, sticking your hand out to help him up. His hands are slightly rough, probably from the vigorous washing and hand sanitizer, but his grip is gentle and sturdy. It made you wonder how many people he'd saved with these very hands. It also made you wonder if your hands ever fit together this well with anyone else.

When you usher him out and shut the storage room door behind you, your eyes catch Bess' from World Languages. She mouths 'nice' while holding her pointer and thumb in an 'ok' sign.

You roll your eyes and make your way to the circulation desk.

"I just need your library card," he slides it over on the counter before you finish your sentence, something resembling pride in his eye.

"I really liked the book." He says and you must've looked a bit confused because he immediately clarifies, "The one you first recommended me. The one with your number in it. I liked it for more than just your number, though the number was also nice"

FUCK he was cute when he talked. Did any man look good when he talked?

If any man had, you were positive you'd never seen it.

"It was one of my favourite short stories," you add. "It was a little different than Call of the Wild so I worried a bit, but looks like I worried for nothing." You smile as you check in the new book.

The Lamp at Noon.

It had been one of your favourites since you were forced to read it in high school, and something about him made you think he might like it too.

Before you knew it, you were quickly whisked back to work, as more children came in with books they wanted to renew, check out, and return. There was also a bin full of returned books that needed to be reorganized. While you worked, you were still able to sneak glimpses of Dennis, settled in a chair in the corner, nose deep in the new book you gave him.

"So, did you and Linguine do it in the storage room?" Bess' wolfish voice materializes from behind you.

"Ew. And what? Linguine?" You turn your head to convey your disgust and confusion directly.

"You know... from Ratatouille. The chef guy not the rat" her gazes fixes back on Dennis.

"Why would you-" You stop mid sentence.

Huh. Now that she mentioned it, you guess he did kind of look like that guy from Ratatouille.

His big round, down turned eyes that reminded you of a lost puppy, the slight skittishness, and his tousled brown hair, and even the soft tone of his voice.

"Ok ew don't do that," Bess makes a fake gagging noise. "Your lovesick look is disgusting."

"I am NOT lovesick. I barely know the guy." You punctuate the words, like you are trying to convince more than just Bess.

"Denial is a river in Egypt" she hums back at you. "Also," she adds casually, "you can head home early if you want. I'll re-shelve the rest in the bin today."

"Wait really?" it comes out a bit more eager than you expected.

"Yes, now go collect your boy before he melts into a puddle on the floor"

You don't even bother to correct her. You are already shrugging off your work vest and grabbing your bag by the storage room.

Bess' lip curls into a smile, muttering something that sounds like "fuckin' knew it" to herself.

You walk over to where he was, eyes still intently focused on the pages. He doesn't register you until you gently nudge his shoe with your own.

"Are you-" he checks the time on his phone. "Are you done already?"

"Bess let me get off early" you can't help but smile warmly. "Ready to go?"

"Yes" He shoots up to his feet.

Once standing your faces are much closer than either of you anticipated, but you don't move away. You see him his eyes widen in realization, immediately moving his gaze to the ceiling tiles.

He smells like soap and something else vaguely familiar. Kind of like when you walk into someone else's house at their 'home' smell reminds you of somewhere you've already been.

"You smell nice." Is all you say before starting towards the door. But just before you turn away, you can see his cheeks start to redden.

-

You opt to stop by the coffee shop a couple blocks from the library. You learned to love it after long shifts because of the reasonably priced coffee, bagels, and comfy cushioned booths (why all these swanky new coffee places decided to have rigid plastic chairs from hell, you had no idea).

As you both approached the menu, you could see his shoulders tense a little. After you give your order to the cashier you see him shake his head.

"You don't want anything?"

"I ate before I came here." Is all he says.

You don't reply and simply turn back to the counter to order two of each: the bagels and coffee.

"You really didn't ha-"

"I want to." you cut him off, and something in your tone kept him from arguing further. He shoots you a grateful smile. And that was the end of it.

After you are able to grab your food and settle down, you are quickly knee deep in work stories, as you both did little else and your jobs technically forced you to serve the public.

"I once had a kid throw up on me, and the kid's mom yelled at me like I was the one who made him eat three hotdogs and run around in circles."

"I might have you beat." An eyebrow quirks up at his words and you lean on your elbows, tilting towards him. "The first day of my ED rotation, I had to change my scrubs like 5 times. Twice because of blood, and another time because of an unsecured bottle of Mylanta, but the kicker was, I got urinated on while trying to subdue a patient."

"Okay you win" hands up in mock surrender. Hot dog kid was rough but at least you've never been pissed on. "That must've sucked"

He shrugs it off too casually in a manner even for a man who's job required him to be covered in bodily fluids. "It didn't end up being that bad. He was really nice about it. Just ended up being a guy struggling being off his meds without health insurance. That's actually how I learned about the street team." he pauses, smiling to himself softly before his smile transitions to a more mischievous one. "Plus, the same day, another intern dropped a scalpel INTO another doctor's foot so..."

All you could do was giggle at the joke and inspect the soft look in his eye.

He continued with a few of his stories from his time on the street team. The people he encountered, the glimpses of their lives he saw, and how it changed the way he worked back at the ED. The whole time you couldn't tear yourself away from his eyes. The gentle understanding and compassion was palpable; radiating off of him.

From working in a public library you also had your experiences with houseless people in the community. Many would come to use the washrooms, use wifi, print things, or even take a nap on the couches. Although you did your best to make sure the library was a comfortable place for them, you knew not everyone felt the same way.

You learned quickly from work that something that seemed as obvious as respecting someone's basic humanity wasn't guaranteed.

"So why the library?" He asks.

"I like books." you shrug and he looks at you intently like he knows theres more underneath. So you continue. Crack yourself open a touch. "I've always liked them. When written right, I feel the characters like they're real people, like they're my friends or something."

You knew how that sounded to other people; like you were a friendless recluse, obsessing over people that didn't exist; figments of your imagination. While that was true to some degree, you weren't a hermit. You had real life friends and a semi-operational social life, and you found these relationships incredibly fulfilling. But it didn't mean that the humanity of reading a book and experiencing someone's innermost thoughts and feelings was any less sacred.

"Human emotions are able to transcend time; I'm able to feel something someone wrote about 200 years ago. I feel like it's the closest thing we have to time travel."

He quirks his head in thought. "I guess... I guess I've never thought about it like that."

And you're left without anything to say because of that look on his face.

His eyes.

Even when he wasn't looking at you, you could almost see the gears turning in his brain, holding on to your every word. Now that he was looking at you, it felt like he was taking the time to absorb each and every word. Trying to absorb you.

It's an unfamiliar feeling; someone paying so much attention to you. Not to analyze you, or grade you, or lodge a complaint to the library board, but just to know you.

The realization made your heart pinch again. The same way it did back the first time, when his ringtone scared the shit out of him, and before, when he asked you out in the storage room. There's a split second where you don't know what to do with the feeling; you don't know where to put it. His sincerity sort of...

scared you.

Not in a bad way obviously, but in a way that was so clearly unfamiliar to you. People (least of all men) were rarely this attentive, or in tune with themselves or with you. His motives, his thoughts, his desires were all so clear. He was so transparent in a way that made you wanna do the same. It was something you didn't quite know you were signing up for when you ambushed with him while he was reading or when you put your number in his book.

But maybe you were ready for it.

"I really like you" is all you say, getting it out before you talk yourself out of it.

He looks a little surprised, but his face quickly softens into a smile.

"I like you too" he looks down at his drink for a moment. "... alot."

You take a quick scan of the cafe. Most of the patrons had left for the evening, leaving you two and an older couple as the sole patrons across the floor, all the way by the doors.

Without the pressure of extra eyes, you scooch into his side of the booth and slide a hand on top of his.

You feel his fingers tense up under your palm and there’s a flash of doubt in your mind before he curls your intertwined fingers into his palm.

That gives you the bravery to take one last look around the coffee shop before sneaking a quick peck to his right cheek. You can't help the giddy smile that curls on your lips as his cheeks turn red under the skin your lips just touched. His puppy dog eyes are wide and his lips are parted slightly in a way that is painfully kissable. You watch as his flush travels up his ears, and you're openly oogling him when he surprises you by asking:

"Can I kiss you?" His voice is a little hoarse, but his eyes are sincere and searching.

Completely unexpected (but not unwelcome) you're only able to nod, and his other hand, the one not curled under your own, reaches over to cup your cheek, fingertips just grazing your scalp.

You expected a peck; everything about him lead you to believe it would be.

But the firmness of his grip and the heat behind his lips catches you off guard for half a second. Your body catches up to him before your mind does, as you return the gentle pressure of his lips with your own. You can't help your tongue as it moves to lightly graze his lower lip. You feel his breath hitch before he returns the favour.

An abrupt cough rips the two of you apart.

"We're closing in 5 minutes" A very unimpressed teenager in the cafe uniform stares down at the two of you, mop in hand.

"Yep! Uh- right. Sorry, we'll be right out!" Dennis scrambles for your stuff, ushering you out of the booth while you are still a little dazed, pressing your lips together in effort to hold in a laugh.

Your laughter finally breaks when the door of the cafe shuts behind you both. He gazes down at you amused, chuckling alongside you.

"I can't believe you got me kicked out of my favourite coffee shop" you muse.

"Don't blame me, you started it" he raises his hands in mock surrender. You take a second to drink in his expression; eyes still slightly crinkled with remains of his laughter and his cheeks still slightly pink.

"Hashtag worth it."

"You did not just hashtag something in real life" he deadpans.

You quickly bring your lips to his in a quick peck, pulling away quickly.

Could someone be addicted to kissing?

"I did, big time" your tone is casual but a sly smile gives you away, as you walk toward the bus stop. There's a beat of silence before you hear his rapid footsteps catching up to you.

---

AFJGYODISIHUDYSGUEB thank you for reading, I really did love writing this, Whitaker deserves all the love in the world and I really love writing fluff. I already have ideas for a 3rd part, involving an introduction to the rest of the Pitt gang so if yall would be into that lemme know!!!! (also some smut next maybe...)

Here are some Whitaker x You meeting Santos headcanons!

[charliedawn]

Okay Charlie hear me out on something, and I’ve been thinking about this for a while, it’s not a request it’s more of an idea or thought. (It might be dark idk)

Let’s say the nurse went to a different sanitarium, and the patients she treated were horrible towards her, what do I mean? I mean like they were all a group. Each and every one of them broke her down and she just accepted it. They played around with her like a doll didn’t care about her, they used her for anything and she accepted it. It took a lot for her to leave all of that toxicity leaving mainly scars on her back. Once she came to St. Louis (if I spelled it wrong correct me)

Obviously, she thought the same thing would happen, until the slashers actually started to like her and treated her differently. Sometimes she’ll flinch thinking they’ll hurt her like the others did but will play it off, until maybe…idk pennywise or anyone else who has mind powers finally goes in her head to see what happened, or maybe one of them catch her with the scars on her back. like when she first arrived she was all stone cold until she slowly opened up a little more. She promised herself to never cry in front of people but them confronting her about it just made her emotional since she felt worthless and used at that time and knowing they care means a lot

Like I said just a thought I had and would see what you’d like about it.

The slashers knew that you had transferred from another mental hospital before coming to St Louis. They just didn’t know how bad it was until one day…The scars showed and some of the staff members started gossiping about it. Soon, all the patients knew of what had happened, and they decided to try and see the scars for themselves…Not expecting how bad they were.

Jason saw them when he asked you to give him a bath. You rolled up your sleeves and he noticed familiar marks on your body.

But, you weren’t the only one being exposed.

Jason normally never showed his scars to anyone but his mother. But once in the bath, you eyes traveled along his scars. There were ugly red angry scars. He was covered in them.

You didn’t say anything, he didn’t either.

You just kept washing his hair and he stared at the ceiling—barely giving you a few glances from time to time. He could see that the scars weren’t only on your arms. He could see they were going far beyond what he could see.

When you were about to leave, he surprised you by grabbing the hem of your shirt and looking at you with pleading eyes.

You knew what he was asking for. Your eyes stayed locked and even though he didn’t utter a word, you had learned to understand him without the need for him to speak.

You sighed before wordlessly raising your shaking hands to your collar as you started unbuttoning your shirt. As you went along, his eyes stayed glued on you—watching intently as each scar was revealed to him.

He was actually surprised to find that you had almost as many as him. But unlike him…His eyes lowered a little…You weren’t even a killer.

He wanted to speak. It was the first time he wished he could actually speak and find the words to make it all alright. But the moment he looked up, you were already gone…

Freddy Krueger :

"…You don’t need to hide them."

You stopped dead in your tracks before turning around to face Freddy with a slight frown of incomprehension.

"…What ?"

He tilted his head and for the first time, Freddy wasn’t smiling. He eyed your body up and down and leaned forward.

"You can try to cover them up all ya want, sweetheart. The scars ain’t gonna poof out of existence just cause ya want them gone. Believe me from experience. So, if ya wanna hear my advice ?" He crossed his arms over the table and laid his chin on them before looking straight at you. "…Be proud of them. Wear them like a fucking flag and make fuckers shake in their boots cause ya too damn badass for them to break ya."

You stayed silent as you kept looking at Freddy and you smiled—your eyes softening as you realised that Freddy was trying to make you feel better.

"Thanks, Freddy. You’re pretty badass too."

He huffed a laugh—but his eyes showed more than his smile as he replied.

"Yeah. Right. Be grateful you can hide the scars and don’t look like an overused chewing gum…" He grins. "Besides, haven’t ya heard ? Scars is the new sexy."

You laughed and shook your head.

"Right. Then you must be the god of sexy."

He smirked.

"Oh, honey…~Of course I am."

Brahms Heelshire :

You were playing dress up. Brahms had insisted you play with him and wanted to dress you up with some of the dresses Barry had made.

He waited for you to change, but he couldn’t help to take a sneak peek at you—an old habit from his days hidden in the walls of his old house.

But, he didn’t expect to see the subtle rivers of red scars running down your back. He stayed shocked for a few seconds and it gave you enough time to notice his reflection in the mirror.

You quickly turned around and he could see it in your face. You were upset.

"Brahms ! I said not to look ! Bad boy !"

In normal circumstances, that last part would have made him whimper and beg for your forgiveness. But, not this time. This time…Brahms seemed to realise that you had a past he knew nothing about and suffering he would probably never be able to understand.

He came in and hugged you tightly.

You were about to speak up when he beat you to it.

"You look really pretty…"

Your eyes widened at the compliment and you didn’t know what to say. You knew he was talking about the dress and how it looked on you—but you still started crying. You embraced him back and for once, Brahms was the one to comfort you as he held you in his arms and couldn’t seem to find any other way to reassure you but to keep complimenting you and hoping that if he said it enough, you would end up believing it…

Michael Myers :

Michael noticed the bandages around your wrists and the fact that you seemed to hide your body with sweaters and jackets…He knew.

Of course he knew.

But, he didn’t ask at the beginning because well…He didn’t care enough to ask. And then, he started to care. And that made him afraid. Because Michael Myers always kills the people he cares about. And he didn’t want to kill you.

But, he could see your suffering and the fact that nobody else seemed to understand or even notice your pain was driving him insane. Until, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He grabbed your wrist and as you were about to ask what was going on, he dragged you back to a room. Once you were alone, he wrapped his arms around your waist and whispered.

"Show…me."

You didn’t understand at first, not until he started pulling on your sweater and lift it just enough for his hands to touch the scars.

Your eyes widened in shock and fear as you tried to push him away.

"No, Michael ! No !"

But, he didn’t listen. He would see them. He would feel them. And he would heal them…Because that’s what you were doing for the slashers on a regular basis. And he would drop dead before letting you think he didn’t see you…

He laid his hands flat on your back as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"…I…care." He buried his face in your neck. "I care…"

You were so shocked about hearing him speak that you actually stopped struggling and started crying instead—finally hugging him back.

"I know, Michael. I know…"

Bo Sinclair :

"…Look at that. We got matchin’ friendship bracelets, darls’. If that ain’t a sign ? Then I dunno what is."

Bo noticed your wrists and the familiar binding scars. He had the same damn scars around his wrists. He knew what they meant. He knew torture and pain.

It was even worse when it came from people you thought cared about you. He thought for a long time that his ma and pa had a good reason to attach him and force feed him. He always thought they loved him…But it was only an illusion.

Your older patients…You surely cared for them—or you tried to. But, the scars were proof enough that this care was one-sided and that at the end, they had taken more from you than they had ever given you.

Bo stroked the scars on your wrists and offered you a sad smile.

"…They may not have loved you, nurse. But you can be sure that we’ll love ya bette’ for it," He looked up at you and "You’ll be a’right. I’ll make sure of it."

He grabbed your forearm and pressed his own scars against your own before pressing his forehead against yours.

"…We gonna be a’right. You and I. We gonna be a’right. I promise."

Your eyes filled with tears as you squeezed his forearm back.

"Yeah, Bo. We’re going to be alright."

Penny :

It was in your bedroom when Penny first saw them. He was hiding underneath your bed and was waiting to jump scare you when you started undressing and his eyes widened when he saw your damaged back.

He kept staring before you were asleep in bed and then, he slowly crept up your bed until his face was right above your sleeping face.

He started sniffing your scars and growled lowly when he realised where you had gotten them from. They had hurt you…

He then slowly opened his mouth to lick your back—trying to soothe the pain. Some of them even healed up a little as he tried to make them disappear. He didn’t like to see you hurt.

Not a lot of people knew of Penny’s healing abilities. Especially since he didn’t like to use it on just anybody. But for you ? He’d make an exception…

When you stirred in your sleep, he had no choice but to stop. But, he still raised his hand to slowly caress your face and giggled quietly.

"…Brave, nursy."

He whispered as you kept your eyes closed and Penny sighed before nuzzling your face.

"…They will pay. They will pay. I will devour their stupid souls and eat them whole. I’ll make them regret every hurting you, my little nurse…"

He then kissed your cheek.

Your eyes suddenly opened—but he was gone.

Pennywise :

Pennywise sat down next to you as you were having your break. He didn’t speak at first. You glanced at him curiously, but you didn’t try to break the silence.

You were starting to wonder if whether or not you should say something or leave when he finally spoke up.

"I saw many people with scars. Even Penny. I saw men, women and children try to hide their physical scars in fear or shame but…" Pennywise slowly removed one of his gloves and your eyes widened in shock when he actually laid his hand flat on yours. "…I don’t think so."

You stared at his hand on top of yours and were speechless for a second. Pennywise didn’t like to be touched. And the fact that he was now holding your hand was a real shock.

"Pennywise…You do not have to…" You tried to tell him.

He looked at you and smiled.

"It won’t bother me as much if I know it is for you…"

He tried to sound nonchalant, but his hand was shaking. He was forcing himself to stay still and make you feel better.

Finally, he retreated his hand, but the fact that he had actually succeeded in holding on as long as he did was a huge progress.

You smiled to yourself before looking at him.

"Thank you, Pennywise."

He smiled back.

"You’re welcome, sugar."

Dennis :

You were washing the dishes with Dennis when his eyes spotted the little red scars on your arms. You followed his gaze and sighed before lowering your sleeves a little. Dennis looked up at your annoyed expression and wordlessly finished washing the dishes with you.

As you were leaving to get to your office however, he grabbed your hand. You frowned and looked back at him and he opened his mouth. He was silent for a few seconds before finally telling you:

"…The Horde expected me to protect them, so I did…But nobody came to help me when I needed protecting. So, I know how it feels. And that if you ever need protection ? I am here. And I…understand."

As you weren’t reacting, he thought you might find his words inappropriate or odd. He sighed and released your hand.

"…Just wanted to let you know."

He then turned around to leave.

But, you caught his hand before he could walk away and Dennis was momentarily stunned before he looked back at you and his astonishment turned to worry when he saw that you were crying.

But, his eyes widened when he felt you squeeze his hand and you offered his a small smile.

"…Thank you, Dennis."

He looked back down at your hand holding his and gulped before squeezing it back with a small smile of his own.

"…You’re welcome."

Norman Bates :

"…Y/N…" His voice was weak. It was the first time Norman seemed so upset. He stared at your naked back and the angry red scars. They were so deep and some looked like the red feathers of imprinted wings.

He was speechless. When you tried to cover up, he stepped forward and held you closely—kissing the scars on your back gently.

"…I am so sorry, darling. I should have been here. I should have…" Norman felt so ashamed. He knew you from far before any of the slashers met you. But he had never really realised how bad it was.

"You couldn’t have. You didn’t know." You tried to reassure him, but he only held you tighter.

"I should have. Forgive me, my darling. Forgive me." He pleaded and his eyes filled with tears as he embraced you tightly and kept kissing your scars.

He wanted the pain to be gone.

Why hadn’t you said anything ? Why hadn’t you told him the truth ? Why hadn’t you given him the opportunity to avenge you ?

He felt anger bubbling in his chest.

…People were going to die tonight…

[bad268]

Hi there! Hope you’re having a good day/night, could I request a Dennis Hauger imagine where Dennis and the driver reader used to be in a relationship, they broke up but the reader gets into a crash and Dennis realizes he messed up and they end up back together?

What Could've Been (Dennis Hauger X Ex! ART! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Indycar

Requested: Clearly (man, do i love this)

Warnings: ART is toxic (FICTION), suicidal thoughts (mentions of purposely driving off the track/crashing)

POV: Second Person (You/your/They/them)

W.C. 1505

Summary: The reader has to break up with Dennis to keep their dreams alive, but what could've been if they stayed together?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Everyone in racing knew that it was hard to maintain a relationship. Add that your partner was in a rival team, and you’re screwed. 

That was how it was for you and Dennis. You grew up near each other, racing against each other and eventually starting a relationship. When you both got the chance to join Formula 3, both of you were ready for the step up. Dennis signed with Prema Racing, and you signed with Trident.

You were both head-to-head pretty much the entire campaign. The penultimate race in Zandvoort was horrible for you. Race 1 was average for you, but in Race 2, your teammate crashed into you, causing you to retire. Race 3 was better, but Dennis had won and basically sealed the championship. Honestly, no hard feelings. You felt so happy for him!

Then, you got pulled into a meeting with a potential team for Formula 2. Dennis already told you that he signed to stay with Prema in F2, and you had an offer to join ART.

They gave you the ultimatum. Either break up with the competition or find another team.

With your seat in F3 already filled and no other open spots in F2, you felt like you had no choice, as much as it hurt you to admit it. Despite knowing you wanted to be with Dennis for the rest of your life, you felt like you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. You dreamed of being in Formula 1, and you have already sacrificed so much to get where you are. 

Surely, Dennis would understand one year, just one season. Then, you would find a new team who wouldn’t blackmail you. 

Except you didn’t take into account them blackmailing you again and threatening to blacklist you from racing in any category if you didn’t sign again. 

They backed you into a corner, constantly monitored you, and you felt like you couldn’t talk to anyone. After three years of retreating into yourself, you were afraid to even look at people in fear that the team would retaliate.

All the while, Dennis had to sit on the sidelines and watch it all happen. He could see what the team was doing to you, but he couldn’t find tangible proof that they were holding something over your head. He tried to talk to you, but every time he got close, you would start shaking and frantically look around as if someone was going to jump out at you. Dennis learned to observe you from a distance.

When he got the opportunity to move to IndyNXT, he never got the chance to tell you himself. He tried, but you avoided him like the plague.

You noticed his absence at the last round. You didn’t know where he was, and you couldn’t help but focus on the fact that he wasn’t there. You couldn’t help yourself from thinking about Dennis and what could’ve been if you had never signed to ART as you went through turn 12 during what you assumed was your last qualifying session for F2. 

It was something you thought about for a long time, and you just couldn’t take it anymore. This experience made you rethink everything, and honestly, Formula 1 was not something you could see yourself in anymore. You weren’t even sure what you could see yourself in anymore. Your future seemed so blurry now.

In the three years you were in F2, you never felt worse. You felt so alone and isolated and tired, and honestly, you were done. As you went through the turns for your cooldown lap, you couldn’t help your mind drifting off.

What’s the point of this?

What if I hit the wall?

What if I just didn’t hit the break?

You felt yourself flying as you started your final qualifying lap, and you were going purple as you dropped your arm, going into turn 5. One of the longest straights on the calendar, and as you got closer to turn 6, you barely registered how your foot felt glued to the floor. By the time you snapped out of it, you were off the road and hurling toward the barrier. 

There was nothing you could do.

Dennis, along with everyone in attendance and on the streams, watched on, unable to do anything as your black and red car rammed straight into the tyre barrier. Dennis hadn’t gone to the States yet because he wanted one last chance to talk to you, but as soon as he recognized your racing number for the year going into the wall, he was sure he lost his chance.

Everyone stilled as the cameras cut from your car, and your engineers tried to get a response. However, your radio never came to life, and even in the middle of qualifying, you could hear a pin drop. Dennis happened to be right next to the fence where you crashed, standing helpless as your car went up in smoke. 

His feet weighed a thousand kilos. He couldn’t move. He watched helplessly from behind the chain fence as your car became engulfed in smoke. He couldn’t help you, and he was sure he was going to throw up. Why was no one helping you? Did no one else see the smoke? There’s no way you were able to breathe in that! Maybe his mind was making it up. Surely, there would have been more panic if it was real.

What if you were dying? What if you were already dead, and he was just standing here, not doing anything?

He snapped out of it when the crowd erupted in cheers as you pushed yourself out of the car. You struggled a bit before the marshals came over to assist. They got you out, and one of them led you away from the car. You only made it a couple of steps before your legs gave out, and you fell into the rocks.

Dennis ran over to the opening of the fence, waving over one of the marshals to let him in. Thankfully, one of the leads spotted him and let him through, handing him a marshal vest before he could run out to help you.

The other marshal who was trying to lift you up looked at him skeptically before backing up when Dennis kneeled in the rocks in front of you. His arms immediately went around your shoulders, and used one hand to open your visor. He lifted your head to meet his eyes, and your eyes were filled with tears and darting around, still trying to focus on something. Anything.

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you now,” Dennis said in a careful tone as he ran a hand across your shoulders and down your arms and back. “I’m not letting you go again. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t say anything, but your eyes finally stopped shifting around as they landed on Dennis. You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing came out except a choked sob as you threw yourself into Dennis’ arms wholeheartedly.

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” Dennis comforted before he saw that you were both being broadcasted on the screens.  Dennis decided to stand up with you in your arms to start walking to the medical tent. He set you down on the bed and helped you take your helmet off so the staff could assess you. He detached the straps from your helmet and set it to the side before gesturing to the Hans device. “I’m going to drop this off with your team. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t make me go back there, Dennis,” You pleaded, reaching to grab his hand, missing it and losing your balance monetarily. Dennis quickly stabilized you, running a hand down the side of your face. “Please.”

“I’m not letting you go near them ever again,” Dennis replied seriously, holding your head steady. “I’ll drag you to the States with me if I have to.”

“What if I have to go to the States anyway?” You teased lightly as you closed your eyes and leaned into his hand. “I may have decided to move to a different series.”

“Did you sign for Indy NXT?” Dennis gasped as the medical staff finally entered the room, ready for the inspection.

“With Andretti Global, yeah,” You smiled, peaking an eye open, “I just signed a couple of days ago. I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Well, it’s great to meet my teammate again,” Dennis joked lightly as he placed a gentle kiss on your nose. “We’ll figure everything out later. Right now, you need to get cleared, and I need to have a word with this team of yours.”

“Don’t do anything too bad,” You called after him as he started heading out the door, “I still need to race with them for the weekend.”

“Oh, I don’t think you're racing this weekend,” Dennis chuckled, “You almost fell over earlier. You definitely have a concussion, at least. But don’t worry, I’ll go easy on them. For now.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2025. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[criminalamnesia]

Hey man, idk if your goal was to make people cry with that Jack Abbot fic but if it was mission accomplished! *finger guns out of the room while sobbing*

10/10 fic would definitely recommend to anyone needing a satisfying story that ends with you crying

I honestly didn’t expect it to get so much love!!! im just obsessed with the Pitt rn and god that man… I need him….

anyways here’s part 2 to this!!

part 3 here!

jack doesn’t know what’s going on.

ellis came into the er with a gurney, screaming for robby, and then (if even possible) things in the ED got worse.

people scrambling, muffled sobs from nurses and doctors alike as they pass by whoever robby is currently working on. jack’s brows are furrowed, his eyes squinting to try and get a look across the room, but no dice. he starts to think maybe it’s jake— and fuck if it is.

“dr. abbot,” samira breathes beside him from where she’s hunched over their patient. another red, blood covering their torso— a gunshot wound through the upper chest. collapsed lung, struggling to breathe, struggling to live.

(like someone else across the room. but he doesn’t know that.)

“you’re good, mohan. keep going,” he says, voice even as he glances down at the resident’s work. she doesn’t need him here, really. she was one of the best residents on the floor— next to you, of course.

speaking of you— where were you? even if you’d been sleeping during dana’s slew of calls, he’d figure you’d have cracked an eye open by now. you always complained you tossed and turned at night (he had offered to remedy that in various ways.)

“done,” mohan exhales with a grin as jack’s fingers find the patients carotid, pressing for a pulse. it’s stronger than it was before mohan went to work.

“sound work,” he says, nodding down at her. her grin widens as she straightens up.

“great teacher.”

jack chuckles as he waves dr. walsh over. samira starts to walk away, but before he can even register what he’s doing, he’s got a light grip on her forearm. she glances over at him, obviously confused, head cocked to the side as chaos continues around them.

“check on robby, yeah? make sure that’s not jake he’s got.”

samira nods and leaves his grasp, weaving through gurneys and wheelchairs to reach the other attending.

“got one for me?” walsh has finally made her way over, her eyes assessing the stabilizing patient before her.

“yeah, this one’s good for upstairs,” he responds, eyes glancing once again to robby before santos starts yelling for an attending.

“better go see what she wants before she kills someone,” walsh says, smug grin adorning her lips as she grabs the gurney’s handles. “garcia says that one’s trouble.”

“yeah, yeah. don’t you have someone to cut into?”

“oh my god!”

even with all the clamor in the room, samira’s gasp cuts over the noise loud and clear. abbot’s head shoots up, watching as the resident’s hands fly over her mouth. dana hurries over, a hand landing on the young woman’s shoulder as she pulls her to the side.

“dr. abbot, we need you over at the yellows—” santos is saying as she catches her breath in front of him, her eyes flitting from the scene across the room and back to the attending beside her.

“abbot!” shen calls as he pushes a gurney through the bay doors “got another red!”

“are they dying, santos?” he asks, already starting towards shen.

“well, not actively—”

“get someone else.”

he hears her faint huff behind him, but it’s forgotten as soon as he gets his eyes on his next patient.

across the room, robby is sweating.

it’s awful, profuse, and he feels like he can’t catch his breath. there’s a ringing in his ears.

he’s never experienced drowning, but he imagines it feels a lot like this.

“c’mon,” he mutters, his eyes watching your face, searching for a sign that you were coming back.

your eyes were closed. your skin was pale from blood loss.

your heart had stopped beating.

“robby,” dana says, her voice as soft as it can be as she rests a hand on his shoulder.

“no,” he says, and he doesn’t need to say anything else. he’s tired. his body aches from the past twelve hours, but he can’t stop. this is you. he cannot stop.

somewhere in his brain, he realizes that this is not working. he’s been doing cpr since he lost your pulse, and it is not working. the tube shoved down your throat is helping you breathe. blood is still trickling from your gunshot wound.

your heart is still not beating.

this is not working.

samira is crying quietly behind him. princess has tears on her cheeks from where she stands beside your head, squeezing the bag attached to your intubation tube.

he can’t stop. one, two, three, four. one, two, three, four. up, down. up, down.

he presses down so hard he cracks your ribs. he cannot breathe. he can’t think. he can’t, he can’t—

“way past trauma protocol over there, brother.”

everything comes crashing down around him at the sound of jack’s voice carrying across the room.

he wants to laugh, because doesn’t jack know who he’s working on?

would he still be saying that if he was looking down at your pale face, your bloodstained skin?

robby ignores him. shakes his head as if shaking off the words. he can’t be done with this, he can’t give up on you. he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

“we use blood on the ones that are gonna make it.”

jack again. robby wants to scream and laugh and cry. he’s turning hysterical, he knows it. this fucking day.

adamson. jake. abbot. you.

he can’t catch a goddamn break and it’s all weighing on him, and he’s about to lose his best friend and his best student and—

a hand on his shoulder. a firm hold, squeezing his skin so hard it almost hurts.

“robby,” it’s dana again. “you gotta let her go.”

he can hear the crack in the steely charge nurse’s tone, and that’s what really breaks him.

“fuck,” he breathes, and tears are clouding his vision. “fuck.”

dana’s hands land on top of his still moving ones. the ones that are physically beating the heart that lies dormant in your chest. she digs her nails into his skin, and that breaks him from his trance, and he finally stops.

someone sobs nearby. he doesn’t look up to see who.

he announces time of death. marks it on the card tied to your wrist.

princess removes the bag from your tube. dana pulls a blanket over your body, tucking it over your head as carefully as she can.

without a word, she and robby wheel you toward the makeshift morgue. you do not deserve to join the other bodies in there. you do not deserve to die.

dana leaves the room before him, and as soon as the door shuts behind her, he sinks to the ground.

“shit,” he cries, shaking hands reaching up to cover his eyes before scrubbing over his face. his trauma gown is covered in blood— some of it yours— and he tears at the thing as he sobs.

“fuck, fuck,” he can’t breathe. adamson, you. langdon and his drugs. jack and his trust. everything, all of it, is overwhelming. a wave too big to jump over or swim under. a current so strong it’s pulling him out to sea before he even knows he’s in the water.

“dr. robby?”

he can’t. his eyes are clenched shut, his hands grasping the chain around his neck. he mutters a prayer his grandmother taught him when he was a kid.

“dr. robby,” the voice calls again, and robby recoils as a hand grazes his shoulder, his eyes shooting open as he pushes the offender away.

whitaker looks distraught, a frown forming on his lips as he stands over the older man.

“we need you out there,” the intern says, his words firm. “you gotta get up.”

and robby wants to smack the kid, but as he finally starts to take deep breaths again. whitaker holds out a hand. robby (after a moment of contemplation) takes it.

and then he promptly shoves whitaker away as soon as he’s on his feet.

the intern nods, and without another word, leaves the room.

robby takes a breath, then another. he reaches for the door handle, but stops just short of turning it. he turns, his eyes landing on your gurney and the sheet hiding your body.

“im sorry,” he says. it is such a guttural and profound feeling, this sadness that overtakes him as he says those words.

but the ED needs him.

so he steps back into the chaos.

[oopsnewaccount]

The One That Didn't Like You/Dennis Pt. 1

Summary: Dennis doesn't seem to like you... but you like him;) part 2 is smutty. Er. Smuttier.

Warning: sexual themes

...

Why couldn't you have fallen in love with Kyle from Food City? Or Jace from high-school band? Or Louis from Tinder? No, you had to catch feelings for the person least interested in you. Miss Patricia said that was wrong, she seemed to think he tolerated you more than he did. Jade and Barry shared the sentiment, albeit a bit more dramatically, they tried to tell you he was completely definitely in love with you. Kevin even argued that he must have some feelings for you. And Hedwig, well Hedwig kept asking if you could name your kids after him. You hadn't talked to many of the others about it, you weren't as close with them. However, even with people whose opinions you would usually trust without thought assuring you that Dennis did not find you disgusting, you were utterly unconvinced.

Dennis was a refined, intelligent, put together man. He probably preferred a woman more along the lines of those standards. You did not fit that image. Your dismissal of Dennis's alleged feelings were not solely based on your insecurities, however. As comfortable as you were with everyone from Patricia to even the Beast and all the personalities in between, you had never been able to create a connection between yourself and Dennis. It wasn't for lack of trying, you used to always try to talk to Dennis when he was around. He wasn't rude to you by any means, you could just tell that he was uncomfortable. He averted his eyes, answered quickly, and never initiated a conversation. At first you thought maybe you had an unevenly buttoned shirt, or a stain on your jeans, that maybe his OCD was the reason for his discomfort. However, no matter how you dressed or meticulously inspected yourself it was never enough.

You couldn't believe you had fallen for him in the first place. It wasn't as if you were in love when you first met him, though you couldn't lie, seeing his body language and expressions did make you fairly attracted to him. You had primarily only found him attractive for the longest time. Your infatuation didn't start until one night when you had stayed over at their place. You were up very late, sitting in the kitchen and sipping on a glass of water. Dennis had heard when you tripped over your own pajama pants and fell outside his door. You hadn't disclosed your reasoning for requesting to stay at their home, but it was clear something was bothering you. Dennis approached you slowly.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," you mumbled.

"You alright?" he asked. He stayed a good distance away from you, not quite willing to sit beside you or even stand beside you.

You rubbed your eyes, hoping he would think the redness was from your hand and not your tears. "Yeah, fine."

Dennis simply stared at you for a second before he turned around and left without a word. You almost burst into tears then, not sure what you had expected, but hoping for something more. It was a good thing you didn't though, because mere moments later he returned. You couldn't speak you were so shocked when he walked up behind you, placing a much too big for you sweater around your shoulders. The warmth you felt startled you, as you honestly hadn't even realized you were cold. Dennis smoothed the shoulders down over you, pressing out all the wrinkles. It was because of his OCD, but in that moment it just felt like a tender touch.

"It's my old one, you can have it. I know Kevin makes it pretty cold in here." He rumbled, his low voice sending more shivers down your spine.

You barely mumbled a thank you as he left, staring wide eyed at his retreating back.

It was sad that this was what turned the tables for you, but now anytime you saw him you felt a rush of emotions; nervousness, attraction, longing... honestly it was embarrassing. From that moment on you were sure every interaction was different, at least in your head. You thought he looked at you with a slightly difficult look in his eye, but it was probably nothing.

Part of you hoped he wouldn't be home tonight, but part of you hoped he would be. You had requested again to stay with them again tonight, and Jade had cleared it with you. As you wandered down the endless corridors to get to their home, you tried not to think too much about Dennis and just focus on the directions you'd memorized to get to them. Two rights and a left later and you stepped up to their main door, raising a fist to knock.

"Hold on a minute," you heard Jade stumble to the door, checking when you heard a thud and a curse. The door swung open and Jade froze, expression shifting from a welcoming smile to a rather coy one. "Well hello, foxy lady," she teased.

You flushed, pulling down your skirt. "Shut up," You stepped by her, hanging your purse on the coat rack. "thanks again for letting me stay over... again,"

Jade ignored you, striding over and spinning you around to face her. She bit her lip, giving you a once over. "Well if you're tryna catch his attention you're definitely on the right track,"

"I'm not, shut up!" You were lying. You definitely picked out a pleated black and yellow plaid skirt with an oversized black off the shoulder sweater for a reason - and the lack of bra was also for a reason. It wasn't too obvious, though. You weren't that brave.

Jade was, though. She reached out and gave your boob a squeeze, laughing when you squealed and swatted her away. "What's this for then?"

You tried to hide your smile. "I just felt like it."

"Well I'm impressed but I'm not the one you're trying to impress," Jade giggled. "Sit down, I'll start the movie."

You flopped onto the couch, pulling your skirt down over your thighs. It was pretty short...

You had a bad day. A really bad day. Your roommate was a bitch but she charged low rates. On days when she was particularly bad you stayed over with Kevin and the alters. In your heated rush to pack your bag and head out you had made a rash decision. You were mad at your roommate and your landlord and some asshole on the freeway and when you thought of him, Dennis too. So you were going to make it hard for him to ignore you. You knew he had a thing for pleated skirts and obviously braless girls, Barry had made fun of his fashion taste enough in the past. You were gonna piss everyone off today. However, as you walked down the corridors your anger cooled, and you had begun to realize what you were wearing, just as you were now, sitting on the couch.

You couldn't focus on the movie at all. You were too stressed that Dennis would take the light at some point tonight, or that Jade would convince him to. You didn't think she noticed your discomfort. By the end of the movie you had wiggled your skirt so low it was hanging lower on your hips, and Jade was almost asleep. She let out a yawn, stretching her arms above her head.

"It's late girl," she stood, rubbing her eyes. "I'm gonna head to sleep."

You breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully she'd go to sleep and nobody else would get the light, and if she didn't you'd get to bed fast anyway. "Okay, I'll go soon too."

"Gnight, Y/N." Jade mumbled, shuffling to her room.

You stayed there for a moment before finally getting up the energy to stand. You were tired too. You winced at your skirt's waistband cutting into your hips. You glanced around the corner, making sure there was no sign of Jade before you pulled up your skirt. Geez, it barely covered your ass. You hoped you hadn't flashed anyone on your way there...

You decided tonight you would grab yourself a glass of water first and then head to bed, so you grabbed your bag and made your way to the kitchen. You stood on your tippy toes and grabbed yourself a glass. You filled it with water and began to walk to your room, but, because you were ever a klutz, tripped over your own feet. Now thankfully you didn't fall, but you did definitely drop the entire glass on the floor. You cursed. The glass somehow didn't shatter, but did leave a rather large puddle and roll all the way under the table. You decided you would tackle the puddle first. You managed to soak most of it up with half a roll of paper towels pretty quickly, you just needed the glass. You knelt down, spotting it on the other side of the table. Shifting to your hands and knees you almost had to go completely under the table, but you did manage to grab it. Just as you grasped the glass, you heard a voice behind you.

"Fucking hell."

You knew that voice anywhere. You cringed inwardly, scooting out from under the table and trying your best not to look at Dennis, who was undoubtedly disgusted by the mess he knew you just made. "Sorry, I dropped my glass... I cleaned it up, and the glass didn't even break, see? I -"

You broke and looked up at him, but froze when you saw him. His expression was not one you had seen before. His fists were clenched and so was his jaw. His eyes were not on the damp floor or the unbroken glass, but on your skirt. You swallowed. Oh yeah, your skirt. You were just bent over in front of him. He had to be blind to not have seen all the way to your thong.

His chest heaved under his white night t shirt and you could tell his teeth were clenched as he spoke. "What... what are you doing?"

"I..." you swallowed, slowly standing up. "Cleaning up my mess..."

He wasn't satisfied with that answer. He just stared at you, his face and body so tense it looked like he was fighting something. You pulled down your skirt a little, and his eyes darted down to it.

"Why are you wearing that? You never dress like this,"

"You know what I dress like?" you cringed inwardly. That was not the conversation you should be having. You didn't know what conversation you should be having, but if wasn't that.

"Yes, I've been around you and seen what you wear. It isn't that."

You felt a little offended by his attitude towards you. Usually he was passive, but right now he was being so aggressive. "Why does it matter? Maybe I had a date or I just thought I looked good,"

His expression changed. "Why did you have a date?"

"I didn't," you admitted, half wishing you'd have lied. "But I could've,"

"With who?"

You blinked. "Nobody, I just said -"

"You said you could have. You could have had a date with who?"

This was a strange conversation. You could almost, almost see jealousy in Dennis's eyes. So you made a decision. If you were wrong this would be the most embarrassing moment in your life, but if you were right...

You stepped forward, pulling your skirt back up on your hips. You noted his lingering gaze. "Dennis, why does that matter? If I want a date I will go get one. I have nobody pining over me or waiting for me so I have no reason not to. So if I want to pull up my skirt and take off my bra and go find somebody who thinks I'm beautiful and wants to take me home I will. I have nothing stopping me, do I?"

You were at a standstill. You wouldn't speak until he spoke first. You felt triumphant, confident.

Then, Dennis turned to leave.

You watched in shock as he rounded the corner, all of your confidence draining. You were wrong. "Fuck you and fuck me," you mumbled. Tears welled in your eyes. "Asshole."

"What was that?"

You shook your head, grabbing your bag and stomping down the hallway with hi.. "I said fuck you and fuck me, you asshole."

"Why?"

You stopped, spinning to face him. "Because you can't be a normal person. You can't just reject me or tell me you're not interested, you just walk away. You walk away like your better than me and you are I guess but you don't have to be such a fucking dick about it!"

"Reject you?"

"Yes, reject me. What you think I dressed like your fantasy chick and stare at you all the time because I'm interested in somebody else?"

Dennis looked stunned. Completely and utterly stunned. You felt your heart beat slow. You were at another standstill, but this time he was cemented in place.

"You didn't know that?" you asked.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why me?"

You felt your heart melt as his voice broke. You thought it had been obvious. "Because... you're sweet, deep down. You're protective, you care so deeply for Kevin and the others, you're smart and eloquent ... I love your accent, you're so identifiable from the others, you're handsome and brave... because you're you, Dennis."

Dennis had tears welled in his eyes, and he looked like he was assessing you, searching for a reason to doubt you.

You decided to take another risk. You walked to him slowly, giving him enough time to back away if he needed. You stopped right in front of him, so close you could feel the heat coming off of his body. You moved incredibly slowly, giving him even more time to back away, but he still didn't. So you leaned in and wrapped your arms around his waist, laying your head on his chest. It took him a moment but to your surprise, he slowly wrapped his arms around you too. Your heart was beating so hard you were sure he could feel it, but you could feel his too. His body was firm and warm and you never wanted to let go. You felt his breath on your ear as he nuzzled into you.

"Is this a rejection hug?" you mumbled.

"No," Dennis's chest rumbled as he spoke.

You squeezed him lightly, gently starting to stroke his back. It took him a moment, but you felt Dennis's hand shakily, slowly lower. With one hand he played with the hem of your shirt, and with the other he gently rubbed the place your bra would be. You slid a hand under his shirt, letting it rest on his side and giving him permission to do the same.

His hand slid under slowly, just barely grazing your skin with his fingertips before he let himself lay his hand flat on your back. He shuddered as he felt up your bare back, imagining what was on the other side. You could feel his hesitation to touch you any further. Your body was screaming for him to touch you, but you were also scared of this being a one time thing. You loved him, this would be more than sex for you.

"Dennis?"

He retracted his hand, assuming he had crossed a line. "I'm sorry, I -"

"No no," you grabbed his larger hand, holding it as best you could in yours. "If you want to take me into your bedroom and screw me and then pretend it never happened I can't do that. I can't get you for a night and never have you again, I want so much more with you. So tell me now, please."

Dennis stared down at you as if you had three heads. "Nobody's ever looked at me like you do," he mumbled.

You flushed and looked away, focusing on his hand. He pulled it from your hand and instead engulfed yours with his. He gave it a squeeze. "Please don't ever stop," He said.

You couldn't keep the smile that spread across your face off. You brought his hand to your cheek, pressing against him and closing your eyes. He released your hand and held your face for a moment before he moved again, threading his hand through your hair and cupping the base of you head. He watched you closely for any sign you wanted him to stop. You made sure not to give him any. Slowly, he leaned in, stopping again just before your lips touched. You stood up on your toes and pressed your mouth on his, your whole body electrifying. You'd fantasized about this for so long, and it was everything you'd ever dreamed of. He was perfect, the hand on the back of your neck firm hut not painful, his other hand traveling down your side and under your shirt to squeeze your waist. You couldn't decide where to put your hands first. He was finally yours to hold and squeeze and just touch. Your right hand cupped his jaw, loving the feel of him moving in the kiss. Your other hand mimicked his, under his shirt and feeling up his back. You moaned into his mouth and he gripped your hair along with your neck, and you squeaked when he pulled you forwards. He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

"I... I want..." you couldn't get the words out, or you couldn't decide on them, you weren't even sure.

He understood. "You sure?"

"Yes."