thinking about emily prentiss getting caught staring at your chest mid-conversation :: 3.4k
â â 18+ . mdni . emily prentiss is down bad . chest staring . boobs . hard nipples . wet pussy mentions . dirty talk . praise kink . âgood girlâ . mouth on boobs . nipple sucking . clothed grinding . thigh pressure . soft possessiveness . teasing . sapphic smut . consent included .
navigation :: ko-fi - for my fave @kenna-prentiss
and the thing is, sheâs usually so damn good at hiding herself. emily can sit across from murderers, liars, politicians, and grieving families without giving away more than she wants to.
she knows how to keep her face smooth, how to make her voice even, how to make her eyes stay exactly where theyâre supposed to. that control follows her home too, wrapped around her like a second skin, elegant and infuriating and almost impossible to crack.
except tonight, sheâs standing in your kitchen with a glass of wine in one hand, pretending to listen to you talk, and failing worse with every second that passes. because your shirt is thin, soft, clinging over the full curve of your boobs just enough to make her attention keep slipping lower, and emily prentiss, for once, looks like sheâs losing a fight with herself.
you donât catch it immediately, mostly because sheâs still doing all the right things at first. she nods when you pause, hums softly like sheâs following every word, even tilts her head in that thoughtful way she does when she wants you to know you have her full attention. but then her gaze drops.
itâs quick the first time, just a flicker, barely anything, the kind of glance she could probably deny if she really wanted to. then it happens again, slower, her eyes lingering near your chest before lifting back to your face like nothing happened.
by the third time, she isnât as subtle as she thinks she is, and thereâs something almost delicious about watching someone so composed get ruined by the shape of your boobs beneath fabric.
your shirt doesnât hide enough, not really. it stretches softly across your chest, the fabric resting over the swell of your boobs and shifting whenever you breathe. youâre not sure whether itâs the cold kitchen air or emilyâs attention that makes your nipples tighten, but either way, the reaction is obvious enough that her eyes catch on it instantly.
she sees the little peaks pressing against your shirt. she sees the way your chest rises a little harder when you notice her looking. she sees the way your body gives you away before you can decide whether you want to tease her for it.
and the longer she stares, the more aware you become of every inch of yourself, your boobs feeling warm and sensitive beneath the thin fabric, your pussy already starting to feel wet between your thighs.
you stop mid-sentence, letting the silence settle between you with purpose, and emily only realizes something is wrong when your voice cuts off completely. her eyes snap back up too fast, sharp and guilty despite the calm expression she tries to arrange over her face.
âwhat?â she asks, and it would almost be convincing if her voice didnât come out lower than before, rougher at the edges, like she had been thinking about something entirely different from what you were saying.
you raise an eyebrow, staring at her while she holds your gaze with the stubbornness of a woman who refuses to confess without being cornered. the pause stretches.
her thumb strokes once along the stem of her wine glass, a tiny little tell that makes heat curl low in your stomach. then you ask, âwere you even listening to me?â
emilyâs mouth curves into that smooth, dangerous smile, the one she uses when she knows sheâs been caught but hasnât decided whether she wants to admit it yet.
âof course i was,â she says, far too easily. you stare at her. she stares back. then, like her body betrays her before her pride can stop it, her gaze drops again, dragging right back to your chest for one brief, shameless second.
when she looks up this time, thereâs no saving it, and the faintest flush rises across her cheekbones. you laugh, quiet and disbelieving, and emily exhales through her nose like sheâs irritated with herself more than with you.
âdonât start,â she says, but thereâs no bite in it, no real warning, just that low velvet tone that makes your thighs press together.
âyouâre staring,â you say, and the words come out softer than you meant them to. emily sets her wine glass down with a quiet click, slow and deliberate, like sheâs making a choice. âi know,â she says. not defensive. not embarrassed. just honest enough to make your breath catch.
the simple admission changes the air between you completely, taking the conversation from playful to charged so fast it leaves you warm all over. she doesnât move toward you yet, which somehow makes it worse. she just stands there, eyes darker now, letting herself look at you openly, and the weight of her attention feels almost physical, like her hands are already on your skin.
you step closer because you canât help yourself, because thereâs something addictive about watching emilyâs composure fray in real time. her gaze dips again, slower now that the pretense is gone, and her lips part just slightly when your chest rises with your breath.
she notices everything. the way your boobs shift beneath your shirt, soft and full enough to pull her attention down again. the way your nipples are hard now, straining against the fabric like your body is begging for her mouth before you even say a word.
the way your thighs press together because your pussy feels slick already, warm and wet and aching from nothing more than being watched by her.
âyou wore that on purpose,â she says quietly, and it sounds less like an accusation than a confession of weakness. you tell her you didnât, but your voice is already thinner than it should be, already giving too much away. emilyâs smile turns knowing, almost cruel in how soft it is.
âmaybe not consciously,â she says, and her eyes drop again, taking in the way the shirt clings to the rounded weight of your boobs. her attention makes your skin prickle.
it makes your nipples tighten further, your stomach flutter, your pussy throb with that slow, needy pulse of arousal. the dampness between your thighs is impossible to ignore now, your underwear clinging wetly against you every time you shift.
her hand lifts slowly, giving you every chance to pull away even though both of you know you wonât. she touches your waist first, fingertips light through your shirt, dragging up your side in a patient line that makes your stomach tighten.
sheâs watching your face now, because emily likes proof. she likes seeing the way your lips part, the way your breath catches, the way your eyes flutter when her thumb brushes just beneath the curve of your boob.
the contact is barely anything, just the edge of a touch, but it makes your whole body feel too warm. your boobs feel heavy and sensitive under her attention, your nipples aching for more pressure, and your pussy gives another wet little pulse like it knows exactly where this is going.
âemily,â you warn, but it comes out more like a plea. she hums, innocent and unbearable, letting her thumb skim a little higher until sheâs brushing over you through the thin fabric.
the pressure makes your breath hitch, especially when her thumb grazes the hardened peak of your nipple. your body reacts instantly, your back arching just enough to press more of your chest into her hand.
emily sees it. of course she sees it. her eyes darken like the sight of you getting needy from one touch is almost enough to ruin her by itself.
âwhat?â she asks, like she didnât just spend an entire conversation staring at you. you open your mouth to answer, but she kisses you before you can say a damn thing.
at first, itâs controlled, warm, almost teasing, her lips moving against yours with the kind of patience that makes you ache. then your fingers curl into the front of her blouse, pulling her closer, and something in her restraint gives.
the kiss turns deeper fast, her body pressing yours back against the counter until the edge digs into your lower back. her hands slide to your waist, then up, slow and deliberate, as if sheâs giving herself permission inch by inch. when she finally cups your chest over your shirt, her palm warm and firm around your boob, you gasp against her mouth.
the sound does something to her. you feel it in the way she groans softly, in the way her fingers tighten, in the way her kiss gets rougher for one messy second before she reins herself in again. her hand fits over you like sheâs been thinking about it for ages, squeezing gently at first, then with more confidence when your body melts into the touch.
your boob feels soft and full in her palm, your nipple hard against the fabric, every slow press of her fingers sending sparks down your stomach. your pussy feels wetter by the second, slick gathering between your folds, warm enough that you can feel it soaking into your underwear.
âi was trying to be respectful,â she says against your lips. you laugh breathlessly, tilting your head back as her mouth drags to your jaw. âyou failed.â
âmiserably,â she says, and then she kisses down your neck like she wants to prove it. her mouth is hot and slow, lips dragging over your pulse, teeth grazing just enough to make your hips push forward without thinking.
one hand stays on your chest, kneading through the fabric, while the other settles at your lower back and pulls you closer until thereâs barely any space left between you.
sheâs still composed in pieces, still careful, still attentive, but thereâs hunger underneath it now, dark and obvious and impossible to ignore. every touch feels deliberate, like sheâs been thinking about your boobs under her hands for longer than she wants to admit.
when her thumb rubs over your nipple through your shirt, your knees nearly weaken, and emilyâs mouth curves against your skin.
âthat sensitive?â she asks, voice low enough to make you shiver. you try to answer, but she does it again, firmer this time, rolling your nipple beneath her thumb until a soft, broken sound slips out of you.
the pleasure goes straight between your thighs, making your pussy clench around nothing. you can feel how wet you are now, how slick and swollen everything feels, how badly your body wants more pressure.
emily pulls back just enough to look at you, and the expression on her face is devastating. smug, affectionate, starving. like she wants to tease you for falling apart so quickly and kiss you for it at the same time.
âyou have no idea how distracting you are,â she says, her eyes dropping again, shameless now. âstanding there, talking to me like iâm supposed to focus, wearing this little thing like iâm not only human.â heat rushes through you so fast it leaves you dizzy.
you tell her she should have said something, but the words barely survive the way sheâs touching you. emilyâs fingers hook under the hem of your shirt, slow enough to make anticipation crawl over your skin.
âi was trying to behave,â she says, and thereâs a smile in her voice now. âclearly, that was a mistake.â then she lifts your shirt, waiting just long enough for your nod before pulling it up and off you completely.
the fabric drops somewhere near your feet, forgotten immediately, because emily is staring again. only this time thereâs nothing between her eyes and your bare skin, nothing to soften the way her composure cracks wide open.
your boobs are exposed to her completely now, warm and soft, rising with your uneven breaths. your nipples are hard from the cool air and from the way sheâs looking at you, tight little peaks that make her eyes go darker the longer she stares.
the silence that follows feels filthy in itself. emily looks at your chest like sheâs been handed something sacred and obscene, her eyes moving over the fullness of you slowly, taking in the curve, the softness, the way your body is already reacting for her.
her hands settle on you carefully at first, palms sliding over your ribs before she cups both of your boobs with a reverence that makes your throat tighten. then her thumbs brush over your nipples, and the soft moan that leaves you makes her inhale sharply.
your boobs feel almost too sensitive beneath her hands, heavy and warm and aching as she squeezes them with slow, possessive pressure. she watches the way they fit in her palms, the way your nipples stiffen under her thumbs, the way your whole body arches when she touches you just right.
âpretty,â she says, almost under her breath. then, rougher, like the word isnât enough, âfuck, youâre so pretty.â and before you can even process the way her voice has changed, she lowers her mouth to you.
the first touch of her lips against your boob is slow enough to be cruel. she kisses around your nipple first, soft open-mouthed presses that leave damp warmth behind, while her hand kneads the other boob with steady, possessive pressure.
you can feel how badly she wants to rush, how much effort it takes for her to take her time, and somehow that makes it worse. when her tongue finally flicks over your nipple, your back arches off the counter, and emily makes a quiet sound like sheâs pleased with herself.
she does it again, dragging her tongue over the sensitive peak before closing her lips around it. the suction is gentle at first, teasing, but when your fingers slide into her hair and pull, she groans against you and sucks harder.
your whole body reacts to her mouth. heat pools between your legs, slick and insistent, every slow pull of her lips sending another pulse of want through you.
your pussy feels soaked now, wet enough that your underwear clings uncomfortably to you, every shift making the damp fabric rub against your swollen clit. emily knows exactly what sheâs doing, and worse, sheâs paying attention to every single reaction. when you gasp,
she repeats the motion. when your hips twitch, her hand tightens at your waist. when your fingers tug at her hair, she looks up at you with your nipple still in her mouth, eyes dark and smug and completely ruinous.
the eye contact makes you throb. it makes you feel exposed in the best way, like she can tell exactly how wet youâre getting without needing to touch you there yet. your boobs rise and fall beneath her mouth, one wet from her tongue, the other held firmly in her hand while she rolls your nipple between her fingers.
you feel warm everywhere, flushed and sensitive, your pussy pulsing with every drag of her mouth. thereâs a slick ache between your thighs now, needy and impossible to ignore, and the worst part is that emily can tell.
she can tell from your breathing. from the way your thighs keep squeezing together. from the way your hips keep shifting like your body is trying to find friction all on its own.
âthis is why i wasnât listening,â she says against your skin, lips brushing damply over your boob as she speaks. âyou were talking, and all i could think about was this.â her hand slides down your stomach as she says it, fingers spreading over the soft, warm skin there before dipping lower.
she doesnât rush, because emily is a menace when she knows you want something. she kisses across your chest, giving the other boob the same slow attention, tongue circling before she sucks your nipple into her mouth.
your thighs press together, desperate for friction, and she notices immediately. of course she notices. emily prentiss notices everything.
her hand slips between your thighs over your clothes, pressing just enough to make your breath break. âthere it is,â she whispers, like sheâs found the answer to a question she already knew. your hips roll into her touch, needy and automatic, and she smiles against your chest before kissing lower, then back up again.
she keeps one hand on your boob while the other rubs slow, firm pressure between your legs, not enough to give you what you need, just enough to make you ache for more. itâs maddening. itâs perfect.
youâre hot everywhere, trembling against the counter while emily takes you apart with her mouth, her hands, and that steady, devastating focus she usually saves for interrogations.
âyouâre soaked, arenât you?â she asks softly, and the way she says it makes your stomach flip. not mocking exactly, but pleased. deeply pleased. your pussy throbs at the words, wet and swollen beneath your underwear, and you hate that she can feel how hard you react through the layers between her hand and your body.
you try to glare at her, but it falls apart the second she presses her palm against you again, firmer this time. âall because i got caught staring?â she continues, her voice warm with amusement. âor because you wanted me to?â you say her name, half warning and half surrender, and emilyâs smile turns downright wicked.
she kisses your nipple once more, slow and open-mouthed, then lifts her head to look at you properly. âtell me to stop,â she says, and the softness of it hits just as hard as the hunger.
because beneath all the teasing, beneath the dark eyes and the greedy hands, sheâs still emily. still careful with you. still waiting for you to choose her back.
you shake your head, already breathless, already ruined enough that pride feels pointless. âdonât stop.â emilyâs expression changes at that, something hot and tender flickering across her face before she kisses you again.
this time, thereâs no pretending either of you are going back to the conversation. she kisses you like sheâs done being patient, mouth deep and hungry while her hands move over you with more confidence. she palms your chest, thumbs circling your nipples until youâre making soft, helpless noises into her mouth.
every sound seems to pull her further under, making her touch rougher, her breathing heavier, her body press harder against yours. she slips one thigh between yours and lets you grind against her, just once, just enough to make you shudder.
the pressure against your soaked pussy makes you gasp into her mouth, your wet underwear dragging over your clit in a way that sends a sharp pulse of pleasure through you.
âgood girl,â she whispers against your mouth, and the praise goes straight through you. she feels the way you react, feels the tiny jerk of your hips, and her smile is slow and knowing. âoh,â she says softly. âyou liked that.â
you donât answer, because answering would mean admitting how badly those two words affected you, and emily already knows anyway. she kisses down your throat again, her mouth returning to your chest like she canât stay away from it now that sheâs allowed to touch. her tongue traces over your nipple before she sucks it back into her mouth, her hand sliding lower to keep pressure between your legs.
the combination makes you dizzy. your boobs feel swollen and sensitive under her mouth and hands, your nipples slick from her tongue, your skin hot everywhere she touches.
your pussy feels even wetter now, slick spreading messily into your underwear, your clit aching from the pressure of her thigh and the teasing rub of her palm. every time you grind down, the damp fabric drags against you, and every time you make a sound, emilyâs mouth gets greedier.
your fingers tighten in her hair, your head tipping back, your body trapped between the counter and the warm, relentless weight of her attention. emily looks completely gone now, composed mask finally cracked, replaced by something hungry and intimate and almost reverent.
and the worst part is, she still manages to sound controlled when she leans in close, lips brushing your ear. ânext time you want my attention,â she whispers, her hand squeezing your boob again while her thigh presses between yours, âjust wear this.â
your laugh breaks into a moan when she moves against you, slow and deliberate. âor donât,â she adds, voice dipping darker. âi seem to get distracted either way.â
then she kisses you again, messy and deep, stealing the smart response right out of your mouth. and this time, when her eyes drop to your chest, you donât call her out. you just pull her closer, soaked and trembling, and let her stare.
dana evans is your neighbour 18+, age gap, dry humping, pussy eating <3
you'd never lived in an apartment that held 'get to know your neighbours' night. strange concept, you were perfectly fine knowing just one other person in the building, not by name but politely smiling whilst you gathered your mail. you had enough friends, not a lot, but enough and work was tiring so if you could avoid small talk in the corridor then you were happy to.
then fliers appeared on the lobby notice board.
people have too much time on their hands, you exhaled as you read, also wondering how much buy in this would actually get. your night would be spent the same as any other single woman in their late 20s, finish work, take-out and real housewives, NOT mingling in the hall with strangers.
unfortunately for you, there was a lot of buy in. crowds of people flooded the communal space, all cradling beer bottles and plastic cups like it was some kind of frat party. you had no intention of staying, of chatting or getting involved in any measure but fighting your way through the stairwell, unnoticed with a bag of ramen, proved quite difficult.
"hey! you're 64b right? i'm 68, just above you" a sweet bubbly girl beamed at you, intercepting your path. she was most likely the organiser of this event, like she'd made it her mission to get to first name basis of every single resident in the building.
"oh, yeah. hi.." you weren't rude, you were tired. and you didn't need this adult-friend-making-speed-dating shit. "nice to meet you, i'm just gonna-" trying to slip past.
"you HAVE to meet your neighbours" she ignored your attempt to politely excuse yourself, ushering you back into the crowd of people so close to your front door.
the introductions were tedious, she pointed out the couple to your left, the old man directly beneath you. you stood half smiling, giving your name out and trying to find any morsel of energy to even give a shit. you just wanted to go inside, eat your ramen and go the fuck to sleep. but the conversation left no gaps for your escape, not that you didn't try. you knew politeness would be your downfall one day.
thenâ
"think you're all keeping this nice gal from her dinner" a petite blonde in grey-blue scrubs broke up the circle you were standing in, eyeing your ramen as she pulled a key from her bag. "and stacey, keep it down out here yeah? need some shut eye" she walked to the door opposite yours, turning the key and giving you a subtle wink as she let herself in.
"sure dana, don't worry we'll keep it-" the girl, whom you now know as stacey, called out as the door slammed "-down"
you smiled, finally finding your own queue to leave.
she found her way into your mind that night, the blonde in scrubs. you weren't sure how you hadn't noticed her before, being in such close proximity and all. not when collecting mail or leaving for work, maybe your schedules were polar to each other but you knew you'd have remembered her. and that wink, nice lady.
âËàż
after your brief encounter, you found yourself looking out for your neighbour a little more. she clearly kept to herself which just made you more curious. the scrubs suggested some kind of doctor or nurse, the one bed apartment told you she probably lived alone and you hadn't stopped thinking about her no nonsense approach to stacey. she was quite a bit older than you, you could tell that from her voice - a little deep, accent thick.
the day she walked past you she smelt like cigarette smoke and rich perfume, her ears were double pierced and she chewed gum with an open mouth.
the next time you caught her was brief. early morning, pre-7am, in the same clothes as last time. you were taking advantage of the mild air, heading out for a quick run before work and she was clearly starting her day.
you exchanged 'mornings' and then she was gone.
âËàż
summer brought a heat wave and unfortunately for your building, a strain on the air con.
it was early evening when you heard raised voices in the hall. you stepped closer to your front door, slick sheen across your chest from the growing heat inside your apartment, listening to the other side.
"no you need to come and fix this fuckin thing now. not tomorrow, now. it's 100° in here for christ sake"
you only heard one voice, like she was on the phone.
"jesus-" then silence.
you opened your door to see her stood in a tank and lounge pants, hair stuck to the back of her neck with the rest pulled into a claw clip.
she turned to face you at the sound of the door click, holding up her phone "building manager, piece of shit"
you laughed under your breath. "your AC out too?"
she nodded, shaking her head down at the phone with a raised brow, then shoving it into her pocket.
"spent my day off sucking on ice and trying not to pass the fuck out" her smile travelled from her eyes to her lips, skin creasing at the edges. she looked at you for a second, titling her head slightly. "we haven't met"
you opened your door more, stepping out into the hall. "we kinda did" you meant that first day she saved you from the crowd.
"mm not properly, doll" she folded her arms, face softening "i'm dana"
you told her your name and she smiled, like it fit you. "you new here? not really seen you around much" you asked her, curious to find any detail, big or small.
"i work a lot and never really been one for stairwell small talk"
"oh yeah, of course- sorry i just-"
"not you kid, the ole neighbourhood watch crew and their building parties" she clearly had the same view of 'meet your neighbour' as you did. your shoulders relaxed. after a second, "you want some ice tea? just made a jug" she gestured her hand towards her apartment.
"won't say no to that" you mumbled, smiling.
her apartment was nice, it mirrored yours just the opposite. you were right to assume she lived alone, there was just one of everything. no manly shoes in the entrance or photos of anyone other than what you assumed were her grown children.
she dabbed her forehead with the back of her hand as you both sipped and made the small talk you claimed to hate.
"so you a doctor or something?" you asked.
"close. nurse. down at pittsburgh general, have been for 32 years"
that confirmed the age gap you already knew was there. it shocked you, how she'd been in a job longer than you were alive and you didn't have to say it for her to know you were thinking it.
"let me guess, you were still in diapers when i was in college?"
"close. i was born about 5 years after you graduated i think" you didn't know why you said it, feeling rude after it came out but she just laughed, shaking her head as she sipped her tea.
"jesus. even my tattoos are older than you"
you weren't sure why you felt that in your stomach. you huffed a laugh to try conceal it, hoping to pass off the spreading flush on your neck as the stifling heat.
then her phone rang, you could vaguely hear the building manager say he couldn't come til tomorrow. she was an animated woman, hands flying around, voice raised. you wouldn't want to get on her bad side, you thought. you finished the last sip of your tea, setting the empty glass down and mouthing thank you before excusing yourself while she dealt with the dick on the other end of the line.
âËàż
you started seeing more of dana. passing in the hall, starting your day, taking out the trash. your conversations became longer and more than just greetings. sometimes you'd forget you were going to work and spend 15 minutes in the hall just chatting.
you got to know her more. she worked day shifts, had 3 daughters, she liked white wine (you saw her bringing a bottle home one night) and she loved her job.
she got to know you more too. where you went to college, how you were allergic to cats and loved to read on the door step when the sun was out.
your grocery hauls were complete opposites. hers were that of an adult with fruit and veg, bottled water, essentials. she made a joke at how your bags clinked like you were hiding the entire liquor store in there and she asked if you knew pop tarts were not a substantial breakfast.
since then, she'd be at your door a couple of times a week with filled tupperware. sometimes it was a full meal, other times fruit salads and home baked biscuits. you returned the favour by bringing a jug of margaritas to her doorstep on a saturday night.
"jesus h christ, did you blend these at all?" dana half laughed, almost choking on your lethal dose of tequila and lime.
you sat on giant cushions in the open window of the fire escape in dana's apartment, the half filled jug between you.
"it's saturday night. we're getting lit"
she rolled her eyes at your lingo.
"it's saturday night and you're getting drunk with your elderly neighbour" she corrected.
"it's my community service, helping out a senior citizen-" she swatted you, spilling some cocktail on your lap as your head fell back in laughter.
"fucker"
"i'm kidding you know" you said after a second. "you're literally like my closest friend right now"
you weren't sure if you were supposed to feel like this about friends. or what it even was you were feeling. you just knew you liked her company, perhaps more than you should. you liked getting to know her, wanting to know everything about her. you knew that you liked women but obviously, you assumed she didn't.
dana sparked up a cigarette, inhaling deeply as the smoke curled above the pair of you. she handed you the tab, exhaling and you took it between two fingers. your gaze didn't break from one another.
"quite fond of you too, doll" that smile again, the one that narrowed her eyes and showed the top of her teeth. fuck.
âËàż
it'd been a few months since you first met dana and your friendship had grown into something you both treasured dearly.
you'd end up at one another's place at least once a week. the nights when she wasn't too tired from her shift or you hadn't been pulled away by your other friends. you'd much rather spend your time with her, not that you'd admit it.
it was all nice and neighbourly. knocking on each others door with take-out or a bottle of wine. somewhere along the line you'd swapped numbers. that was originally for the purpose of dana taking in your parcels when you weren't home, keeping each other updated for anything in the building but it soon became a text chain between friends.
use the back entrance, stacey's on the rampage
got some of your mail, let me know when you're home and i'll come drop it
hey, is your power out?
don't suppose you fancy a glass of vino đ·
one evening you'd managed to get yourself roped into going to the bar with some work friends. the cocktails fell down your throat far too easily and by 9pm you were more than tipsy.
you weren't quiet coming home. stumbling up the stairwell, talking to yourself, an oop when you missed the top step, dropping your purse. a door next to you clicked open.
"someone's had a good night" dana picked up your purse and you beamed up at her, pulling yourself up by the hand rail.
"daaaaana, hey"
"you smell like a brewery" she laughed, lightly holding onto your upper arm to guide you to your front door.
"just had a few drinkypoos" you hiccuped. "you wanna come in for one?" your words weren't slurrred but it was no secret you were drunk.
"i think you've had enough" she pulled your key from your hands as you struggled with the lock, turning the key in one smooth movement for you to enter.
you walked through your apartment to the sofa, falling onto it as dana dropped your purse next to you, headed to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.
she returned and you couldnt help but notice the glow on her face, the softness in her eyes. you took the glass and just held it. "drink" she urged, stern but not unkind.
sipping from the glass, you held her gaze. there was something between you, something that felt different in that moment. her finger came up to tip the glass further, pouring more liquid down your throat, until she was content you'd had enough.
"good girl" she took the glass away from you and despite your thirst being quenched, your mouth suddenly felt dry.
she saw you swallow thickly. her lips parted slightly. the skirt you were wearing had ridden up to your thighs with how you were sat.
"now get some rest"
you were still sat in the same position when you heard your front door click behind her. what you didn't see was dana stood in the hall for a second, breathless like she'd just ran the length of your apartment. you didn't know she thought about turning round, coming back in. not knowing what she'd say but considering it all the same. she pondered for a moment, one hand on her hip, the other tousled in her hair.
"fuck" she thought about how you'd looked at her just moments ago. how you reacted. her chest tightened, unknown feelings creeping their way into her conscience.
she didn't turn round. she fought the urge, heading into her own apartment.
you managed to sober up relatively quickly. downing more water, a couple advil and a luke warm shower to cool the heat between your legs. good girl, it replayed in your mind over and over as the stream poured onto your skin. what the fuck? your neighbour, your friend, a woman almost twice your age, a woman who you had no confirmation had any interest in women whatsoever, a woman you couldn't have.
it was hard to get dana out of your mind as you lay in bed, not that you really tried. the room was dark with the exception of a bedside lamp, quiet. it was then you decided to pick up your phone.
you: you awake?
you didn't expect her to be with the time. but then the bubble appeared.
dana: yeah, everything ok?
you hesitated for a second.
you: just wanted to say thank you for earlier
you: not sure i'd have made into my apartment without you
that's not really what you wanted to say.
dana: just doing my community service, helping out the drunk and disorderly...
you laughed at her using your own words against you.
dana: assume you're feeling better?
you: much
you: followed the nurses orders with water and two advil
it felt a little loaded to send but you did anyway. then the bubble appeared and disappeared enough times to cause you panic. you almost sent another message, something flat and obviously platonic, maybe even just a 'anyway, good night' to kill the conversation.
thenâ
dana: good girl
you didn't even know you were clenching your thighs til you felt the flutter between them.
in 64a, dana's mouth went dry as she pressed send. it was a lot for her, being bold like this. she didn't know what she was doing or what her intentions were but for once in her life, she ran with it. ran with the knot in her stomach, the throbbing sensation between her legs.
she waited for you. nervous at your reply. hoping she wasn't mistaken by this, whatever the fuck this was.
you: dana
fuck it.
you: can you come back over here
this could go one of two ways, the way you want or the way in which you've read this so incredibly wrong.
it was the longest five minutes of your life, between sending that message and hearing the knock on your door.
when you opened it, she was facing away. turning when she heard you. you could see her breathing heavy, the rise and fall of her chest. you stepped back slightly and she stepped in. then it was just the two of you, stood silent in your hall. your oversized tee had wet patches on the back from your damp hair, you saw dana's eyes glance once over you, suddenly aware you're naked on the bottom half beside underwear.
she was in similar loungewear you saw her in one of the first times. she wore a gold cross on her neck, something you'd noticed before but not really paid attention to.
"i-" you started. she stopped you.
"i don't know what i'm doing" her eyes wide, voice low. "this isn't- i've never-"
you extended your hand to hold hers.
"dana-"
"i don't know why i feel like this" there was an undertone of panic and vulnerability. "about you"
you could feel your heart in your ears, in your chest, in your stomach.
"i'm twice your age, i shouldn't feel like this about you" she spoke quietly, as if being loud would make something real.
"but you do"
a moment. your thumb brushed over her hand.
"i do"
before you could stop yourself, your lips were on hers. she stilled for a second, and then she let herself feel. she kissed you back, hands tentatively finding the base of your neck as yours found her waist.
then it got messy and heated and the two of you were stumbling from the hall to your bedroom one door down.
she was panting into your mouth as you led her backwards, calves hitting the bed.
"fuck dana, wanted this f'so long" you breathed between her lips. "tell me you want this"
dana moaned, it slipped out before she could stop it, pulling back from you. "want this. please"
you were soaked. you had been since you were full of booze and she'd touched your arm in the hall. but now her tongue was in your mouth and your hands were slipping under the hem of her tank, feeling skin you'd never felt.
"can i?" you tugged at the material and she nodded. she was naked under that, her hands came up on instinct to cover her bare tits, you replaced them with your own, pulling away slowly.
"wanna see you" she let you, your mouth watered at the sight. they were incredible, nipples hard from your fingertips ghosting over the skin. she exhaled deeply, breath hitching when your lips skimmed the flesh of her neck.
your fingers trailed from her chest, grazing skin down her sternum to the waistband of her trousers. you felt her move against you the closer you got. you flattened your palm against her stomach, sliding it beneath the elastic and finding her without panties, hot and needy, her bare cunt dripping and begging for you.
dipping your index and middle finger through her wetness, dana whimpered, mouth parting.
"mmm, fuck-"
you swiped your fingers a couple of times, spreading her wetness and then you pulled away. fingers glistening in the dim light. the noise she made when you sucked her off your middle finger made your pussy twitch.
"taste so good dana" you kissed her, light and loving. "so fucking good"
you pushed her softly onto the bed, standing above her as you pulled your t shirt over your head, leaving you almost equal in your clothing. her eyes wandered all over you and you watched her take it in. when you pulled her trousers down her legs, you couldn't believe the sight. her laid back, naked and yours.
when you crawled onto the bed, she moved herself back on her elbows to make space for you. you nudged her legs open by the knees, they fell apart with ease and she shuddered at the cool air against her bare cunt.
she was nervous. not because she was inexperienced - this may be her first time with a woman but she was no stranger to sex. in fact dana would have always considered herself a sexual person, in touch with her own desires however it'd been so long. so long since her divorce, since she'd slept beside someone, felt that kind of intimacy. then seeing your body and youth almost intimidated her. but the way you looked at her soon seemed to negate all of that.
when you were between her legs, lowering yourself to become face to face with the slick mess, she felt sexy. and wanted. you wanted her.
"oh my god- mmph" the first swipe of your tongue had her head thrown back. she lay flat on the bed as you worked her up, holding both thighs steady, licking up to her swollen clit.
you moaned into her, nails digging into skin as she started to roll her hips against your face. god it was hot. she whimpered and moaned and muttered your name over and over. "oh fuck, yes- there, that's-" her own cry cut her off as you curled two fingers deep. they slipped in with ease, her own arousal and your saliva dripping from your fingers as you pumped in and out.
you came up for air, resting your cheek on the inner of her thigh as you started fucking her, hard. the noises were obscene, slick and squelching with every move.
"doing so good baby oh my god i wish you could see what i can" you kissed her thigh, she moaned your name. "so fucking good"
"fuck you're gonna make- make me cum" her accent sounded thicker as she moaned, unbelievably sexy. you could tell she was close the way her cunt started to clench around your fingers. "don't stop"
like hell you would. hands squeezing her thigh, you worked your hand hard inside her and brought your lips to suck softly on her clit. the dual sensation had dana's back arching from the bed, handed fisted in the sheets and her toes curled against your back.
"yes yes yes ye-" with one final fuck of your fingers and pop of your tongue, she fell silent and rigid. then a looooong groan drew from the back of her throat, hoarse and deep. you worked her through it, until she was breathless and shaking, lifting your head up away from her.
"m gonna need a minute, doll"
you smiled. she was glowing, sweaty and messy. hair had fallen into her face, cheeks rosy and chest flushed.
"that was so fucking good dana" you kissed up her body, bringing your leg to straddle one of hers. your mouth landed between her tits, softly sucking the skin there, her hand found your back, stroking lazily across your shoulder blade.
"you're telling me" she laughed under her breath, still trying to regain some composure.
you were so turned on. seeing her cum like that, how bad she wanted you and you her. you hadn't even noticed your hips rolling against her thigh.
she had.
her hands snaked down your back, finding your ass. she squeezed over your panties, smirking at the wetness she could feel against her leg.
"did that turn you on huh?" she tensed her leg a little, giving you more to work against. "seein me cum like that?"
"shit" you moved harder against her, voice all whiny and strained.
"you wanted this for a while didn't you" her hands helped you, digging into your ass, pulling you into her. "wanted me, naked and wet for you"
you'd drenched your panties by now, dripping onto her skin. the wet material slick against your pussy felt so fucking good, your movements became more erratic, chasing your pleasure, needing to cum so bad. and her words only made it worse.
"good girl, just like that, gonna cum for me?"
fuck. there she goes praising you like that, knowing what it does, knowing that's what got you both here in the first place.
"fuck dana 'm gonna- mmm"
you fucked her leg whilst whining her name, brows knit, eyes screwed shut untilâ
"look at me. look at me when you cum baby"
your mouth fell open and everything building in the pit of your stomach grew hot and tight. you came all over her leg, a flood of wetness drenching you both, a guttural cry unleashed.
it shocked you both. how hard you came undone just from that. when you fell on the bed next to her, you both lay in silence, just the sound of hot breath and quiet traffic outside.
"stay tonight?" you managed, eventually.
when you turned your head, hopeful she'd agree, dana met your gaze with a glint in her eye.
"if you'll have me"
you kissed her. you didn't stop kissing her for a while.
contains: youngerdom!reader, sub!dana, eye rolling, dana's nicknames for reader, kitchen counter sex, oral sex, fingers in mouth.
description: annoying Dana although out her 12 hour shift is the only way you get to taste her tonight.
a/n: sorry for the long wait. i was swamped
wc: 1.4k
âHey, boss. can I go out for a smoke?â you slide across the counter of the nursesâ station, wriggling your eyebrows at Dana whoâs eyeing you through her glasses.
She let out a breath, not finding your tactics amusing. âYou were just out for one, werenât ya?â
You gave her a shrug and looked down as you pick at your cuticles, as well as to suppress the laughter that threatened to escape your throat.
âWhat can I say? Being an R3 is tough.â
âYouâll fry off your lungs before you even finish your residency, kid.â
You rolled your eyes at the nickname, a groan following soon after. âQuit calling me that. Iâm not one of your nasty children.â
Danaâs lips quirked into a smirk at your reaction, her head shaking when your face scrunched into a scowl. âYet youâre here acting like one.â
Your head snapped up at her comeback, mouth hung open as if you just heard the most painful insult.
âAnd thatâs why iâm going out for a smoke.â
âYou better watch it, doctor. Being stubborn wonât get ya anywhere.â Dana scolded, her voice now turning serious and has that cold edge that you love.
You didnât turn around to respond, instead you waved a hand at her before sliding through the exit.
It wasnât long before the both of you arrived at your shared houseâDanaâs house, to be exact. Her kids moved out and you moved in, although they pay the two of you visits from time to time.
The car ride was silent, you were focused on the road while Dana was looking out the windowâbut you can tell that she wanted nothing to do with you.
Youâve been getting on her nerves all day. Running your mouth to the med students around her, going out for a smoke after every patient, and joining Santos on her bitchiness spree.
She wasnât having any of it. It was on purpose though. You always knew how to get her worked up, and even though this âmethodâ of yours is dangerous because you canât really predict Danaâs reactionâitâs surprisingly effective.
When you stepped inside the house, Dana walked ahead and entered the kitchen to cook whatever she could find for the both of you.
You were left behind, dropping your keys to the bowl on top of the drawer at the entrance, hanging your jacket to the clothing rack, and taking off your shoes before following suite.
Dana was already frying eggs and bacon on the barely heated pan and you slowly creeped up behind her, hands snaking around her waist.
You could tell that she was taken aback by how quickly she got tensed, but she eventually relaxed into your touchâa relieved sigh escaping her mouth that she didnât even hear.
âYou mad at me?â you mumbled against her silver hair, your thumbs sliding up and down her sides.
Dana shook her head, hand resting on your wrist as she craned her head to face you. âYou were getting on my nerves. But, thatâs your purpose in my life huh?â she chuckled, head shaking.
âYou know iâm only trying to make your life shine brighter.â you whispered and pressed a kiss behind her ear that sent a shiver down Danaâs spine.
âBecause I love you..â you trailed off, the same way your lips trailed kisses from her jaw down to her neckâwhere you left tiny bruises on her pulse point that made her whimper.
âAnd I want you to feel good. So, so good.â
Danaâs back slightly arched when your hands went under her shirt, you pulled down her bra and fumbled with her now hardened nipplesâher bottom lip getting caught between her teeth as her wetness pooled between her legs.
âFuck..â she whispered and leaned further into your touch.
Your right hand fumbled with the stove to turn it off and you swung Dana around, making her face you and her flushed face.
Her eyes looked up hungrily into yours, orbs travelling from your lips and back into your eyes.
Dana didnât say anything, instead she pulled you into a kissâher tongue immediately slipping inside your mouth that you eagerly took in. You sucked gently on the muscle, your hands coming down to squeeze her ass that made her tiptoe.
The kiss you shared became sloppy and it wasnât long before Dana was sat on the counter with you standing between her legsâyour hands squeezing her bare tits as you discarded her shirt and bra moments ago.
You pulled away from the kiss, your mouth moving to her collarbone then to her chest before you took one of her nipples in your mouth.
Danaâs eyes closed, her hands springing to clutch your hair as you sucked hungrily on her breast.
You alternated between her right and left tit, hand massaging one as you sucked the other.
âWanna taste you.â you whispered and slowly got down on your knees as you looked up at Danaâs lazy eyes, your hands tugging at the waistband of her sweats that made her lift her hips.
You took them off, slowly sliding them down her legs that made Dana bite down on her lip as the soft material tickled her skin.
Once they were off, you spread her legs widerâmouth watering at the sight of her sopping wet cunt just waiting eagerly for your tongue.
Danaâs hand went behind your head, as if pushing you towards her heat.
You chuckled and pulled her hand down. âEager, huh?â you teased, earning an eye roll from the woman.
âA pictureâll make it last longer.â
âI canât taste a picture, sweetheart.â you grinned and leaned froward to lick a bold stripe up her slit, her back arching at the sudden sensation.
You sucked on her clit, your thumb teasing her entranceâfinger going in and out just slightly to make her pussy twitch and clench hungrily around nothing.
She whined, a rare sound that you could ever hear from Dana, and that pushed you over to the edge.
You made out with her pussy, tongue licking her hole while your thumb pressed tightly on her swollen clit.
You eventually pulled your tongue out, and before Dana could even protestâyou replaced it with your fingers, her walls so slick that you easily slid a third finger in.
Danaâs eyes rolled, her mouth hanging open as various curses escaped her throat. Her hips buckled forward, her hole swallowing the entirety of your fingersâ lengths that made a delirious sound echo in the kitchen.
âYou feeling good, baby?â you smiled against her clit, eyes looking up to find Danaâs face scrunched up with her hands fumbling with her tits.
âF-fuck.. yes.â she slurred, making you grin and twist your fingers to rub her clit with your thumb.
Dana practically screamed at the added pleasure, her chest starting to heave when a familiar knot started forming in her stomach.
Her hands grasped at everything, your fingers sliding in and out of her at a deliberate pace that made sloppy sounds from how wet she is.
You took notice of the way Danaâs thighs flexed and how her moans started getting louder, your mouth replacing your thumbâs place on her clitâtongue flicking over the sensitive nub as you helped Dana cum.
âFucking c-christ.. iâm cumming.â she trembled, eyes shutting tightly.
Danaâs hands flew up to your head as she pressed it forward, her breathing getting heavy as you ate her out and fucked her most sensitive spot with your fingers.
It didnât take long before Danaâs cum started coating your fingers, her legs trembling harshly as she came hard on your fingers.
You grinned at the sight of your fingers drenched in her cum, and you slowed down your paceâonly wanting to help her come down from her high.
Danaâs brows furrowed and she whined before pushing your hand away.
And you did, knowing that she was starting to get overstimulated.
You slowly pulled your fingers out, seeing moe of Danaâs cum gush out of her pussy.
âCame hard, didnât you?â you teased, earning a flick to the forehead from Dana.
You got up from your knees and stared intensely into her eyes as you slipped your cum-coated fingers inside your mouth, tongue licking your digits clean before releasing them with a pop.
âYou rascal.â Dana grinned and pulled you down for a kiss, her tongue entering your mouth once more as you shared her cum on your tongue.
She catches you staring and you drop your head. She chucks the shirt on the bed while moving carefully over to you, situating herself in front of you. You move your hands up to hold the back of her thighs, gently pulling her forward. Your lips brush against her toned stomach, breath fanning out against her skin. Yolandaâs hands fall to your cheeks and she leans down, lips hovering over yours. She kisses you softly almost like sheâs nervous. Itâs different from last time, a heated clash of tongues and teeth.
Once you reciprocate sheâs much less hesitant, hands gripping the back of your neck as her tongue brushes your bottom lip. âLay downâ she mumbles between kisses and you do. Shuffling back onto the bed and leaning back onto your pillows. Yolanda places her legs either side of your waist, leaning down and resuming the kiss. You let her get into a rhythm, allowing her to feel as if sheâs in control. Your hands settle firmly on her hips before you suddenly flip the two of your over, pulling a yelp from the woman.
You smile down at her before attacking her lips. Her hands snake down your body until they reach your pants, slender fingers fumbling with the drawstring.
âStopâ.
You grab Yolandaâs hands and pin them above her head in a swift motion. Your knee slotting in between her thighs. She gasps and her eyes widen in shock, maybe offence. How dare you attempt to top Yolanda Garcia. âLet me take care of youâ you murmur against her cheek. You donât miss the huff that leaves her parted lips when you kiss down to her neck, tongue darting out to taste her skin.
She noticeably relaxes under you, the hands above her head going limp as she gives in. âGood girlâ you coo, more to tease her than anything but Yolanda shivers, arching into your touch. You fight a low chuckle against her pulse. âNever knew you were one for praiseâ you hum. Yolanda just rolls her eyes and attempts to move her hands. You keep them there unflinching. All those months in the gym have paid off you think to yourself.
You lean back, face hovering over hers. She tilts her jaw up to kiss you, letting out an honest to god whine when you lean back just before your lips touch. The sound makes your head spin. âWhat do you want?â
âSeriously? Fuck youâ Yolanda grumbles, writhing slightly. You ignore her antics. âYou want me to kiss you?â you ask softly. She stops and looks at you, nodding her head once. You quickly comply because as much as you like teasing her, you still want her so, so very badly.
Her lips are soft and warm against yours. Sheâs experienced, the way she moves her lips in sync with yours. Youâre quick to slip your tongue into her mouth, pulling a low moan from the woman. The sound goes straight to your core.
one minute you're drunk at a conference with dana, the next you're fucking yourselves next to eachotherâ
somehow you and dana drew the short straw and you're miles from home representing ptmc at a conference. robby said it'd be good for you to go, they're talking about the field you're interested in, there'd be some good talks and people to meet. your ears perked up when he said free bar and you can expense anything else back. dana doesn't know how she ended up there but robby trusts her, she's been to these things before and she's your good friend, you're glad it's her.
conferences are messy. everyone's all professional and polite during the day then the free bar opens and it's like animals in a zoo. the two of you are no exception, you've made short work of the cocktail menu, both agreeing to at least make the most of the weekend away.
the two of you are more than tipsy when you stumble from the elevator to your room. yes, singular room. robby said he booked you one each but the nice lady at the desk insisted it was just a double with two queens. neither of you cared to argue. you were glad of it that night, when you're laid in bed, ceiling contorting in front of your eyes as you taste the sweetness of vodka cranberry on your tongue.
it got a little heated downstairs, sat next to each other on your own table in the corner, laughing about the speeches of the day, gossiping, drinking, hands on thighs. there was a minute you looked at dana and thought she was thinking the same as you, that maybe she was just as wet as you, thinking about fucking you so hard you saw stars. but you shook that out of your mind, remembering she's the nearly 60 year old straight married charge nurse. didn't stop you from having fun though, you flirted, both harmlessly and shamelessly. fixing the strap on her dress, fingertips lingering. her eyes would drop to your lips for just a split second, enough time to make your cunt throb but too quick for it to mean anything. then you'd both practically fallen into the room, dana was a good woman - washing her make up off, brushing her teeth, 'encouraging' you to do the same although it almost felt like being told by your mom.
she came out of the bathroom later in silk short pyjamas. sat on the edge of her bed and for a second you thought she was giving you a look, daring you to do something. you put it down to the booze and told her night. when the lamp goes off, the rooms spinning. you're focusing on a specific spot on the ceiling just to try ground yourself. it's worse when you close your eyes, so you don't. you lay awake for what feels like hours and dana assumes you're asleep, it's been ages since you said goodnight and you've been so still.
then you hear the rustling of covers, not loud, just small movements, shifting under them. you turn but you can only see shadows in the rooms darkness, the outline of dana in her bed. and then you hear it, soft whimpers and heavy breath, you stay still. she doesn't stop, you hear fingers swipe through wetness and you know exactly what she's doing. you're picturing it. her laid there, only a couple of feet away, legs spread under the sheets as she strokes herself, finger tips dancing under those silk shorts. mmm, you hear it, low and quiet from the back of her throat, dana evans is touching herself next to you.
you've got more willpower than you gave yourself credit for, you've been horny all night, seeing her in her little black dress, the flirting-not-flirting, the alcohol. you thought she probably just needed to get off, waiting til you're asleep so you won't hear but then your name slips from her lips, all breathy and deep. you're rigid. she's thinking about you. fucking herself and thinking about you. oh fuck, oh- you can't tell if she's doing this for you or she's just getting carried away in how good it feels. either way you can't help your fingers trailing down your stomach, inching closing to the wet mess between your own legs. then dana gasps and you can tell she's got two fingers inside herself, you can hear her wetness, it's dripping with every pump of her fingers and you can't hold out much longer, curling two of your own into your sodden cunt. you gasp and hear her slow her motions for a second, like she's heard you. god you hope she doesn't stop, doesn't climb under the covers and pretend none of this ever happened.
but then you hear her drive into herself hard, followed by a moan. this one's not quiet and concealed, she's not hiding it any more. you feel it in your clit, her moaning, her wet pussy, your fingers move faster and you echo her pleasure, biting down on your lip and fisting the sheet with your free hand. fuck- dana, that clearly does something to her, the noise that ripples from her throat could make you cum there and then. you turn, seeing her shadow arching off the bed, she's out of the covers, hand working ferociously between her legs. and she's turned to you, you start fucking yourself with urgency, three fingers driving deep, hips jerking. she's watching you, she can only make out your shape, your movements but she's panting, hot and heavy. then she's whispering fuck i'm coming, i'm coming, i'm- silence, a strangled cry, you curl your fingers deep, rubbing your clit in tight circles and you're coming with her, crying into the dark.
then you both still. just the noise of catching breath and the air con fills the room. it's a few minutes of that, of coming down from your high but also wondering what the fuck just happened. then the covers rustle and dana gets up. she walks over to the side of your bed, face half lit with the crack of moonlight filtering in. you prop yourself up on your elbows to look at her, seeing the sheen of sweat glistening on her chest, the cross she never takes off. we can't tell anyone, you hear me? you nod, you'd keep any secret she asked you to. then you feel the bed dip as she kneels onto it, crawling up to you. fuck, maybe you could get used to these conferences.
Yolanda Garcia x fem!reader
: ÌÌâ 1/? (probably around 10)
Summary: Yolanda Garcia has two favourite hobbies:
saving lives and annoying the hell out of CT. Unfortunately for one radiology tech, sheâs become the primary target.
Between impossible trauma scans, late-night arguments, and hospital staff placing bets on whether theyâll kiss or kill each other first, their rivalry slowly turns into something far more dangerous: attachment.
CW: angst, eventual fluff, eventual smut (explicit sexual content), slow burn, cocky!y, flustered!r
thank you to my darling @onlyhargitay :P
There are exactly three things I hate about night shift.
One: the fluorescent lighting that makes everyone look halfway embalmed.
Two: the coffee.
Three: Dr. Yolanda Garcia.
The coffee at least tries to keep me alive.
âCT!â a voice barks from down the hallway.
Never mind. Four things.
I donât even look up from my monitor. âUse my government name if youâre gonna yell at me.â
A trauma team parts around her like startled fish, nurses peeling away with practiced instinct. Yolanda Garcia moves through the emergency department like a controlled explosion. Dark curls pinned back, scrub top tucked, stethoscope slung around the back of her neck, draping over her collarbones.
Her eyes lock onto me immediately.
Damn. Unfortunately pretty tonight.
âWe need a head, c-spine, chest, abdomen and pelvis,â she says.
I glance at the clock. 7:43 PM. 11 hours down, 1 to go.. round up to 3 now..
âCute. I need eight hours of sleep and a raise.â
âNo jokes tonight, sweetheart.â
I sit back in my chair slowly. âSweetheart?â I echo. âThatâs new. Usually you call me useless before we hit pet names.â
Behind her, one of the residents physically turns around to hide a grin.
Garcia notices.
âOut,â she snaps without looking away from me.
The resident vanishes instantly.
God, sheâs terrifying. Itâs honestly kind of inspiring.
I finally stand, stretching my back with a groan. âWhatâs the story?â
âTwenty-six-year-old male. MVC. Possible internal bleeding. Hypotensive in the field.â She tosses a chart onto my desk. âAnd before you ask, yes, heâs stable enough for CT.â
âYou say that every time like Iâm the one trying to kill your patients.â
âYou drive them through a giant radiation donut for fun.â
âItâs a beautiful machine,â I say defensively, patting the scanner beside me. âHer name is Penny.â
Garcia stares at me.
âYou named the CT scanner.â
âYou named your trauma pager.â
âThatâs different.â
âNo, it isnât.â
âIt absolutely is.â
I grin. âYou called it Dolores.â
âThat information was obtained illegally.â
The corner of her mouth twitches.
Tiny. Barely there.
But I catch it anyway, and for one microscopic second, victory tastes better than caffeine.
Then she ruins it by shoving past me toward the trauma bay doors.
âMove, tech.â
âThere she is,â I mutter.
The patient arrives thirty seconds later in a cyclone of blood, paramedics, and adrenaline. The whole department snaps into motion instantly. Someone calls for more fluids. A monitor starts screaming. Shoes squeak against tile in sharp, frantic bursts.
And Garcia?
Garcia becomes something else entirely.
Focused.
Precise.
Every joke gets vacuum-sealed out of the room the second she steps beside the gurney.
âOn my count,â she orders. âOne, two, three.â
The transfer is smooth. Efficient. She keeps one hand against the patientâs shoulder while barking orders with the other, voice clipped and calm in that terrifying way trauma surgeons master. Like panic simply doesnât apply to them.
I wheel the scanner into position.
âCan you hold still for me?â I ask the patient gently.
He groans something unintelligible.
âClose enough.â
Garcia glances over at me while pulling gloves tighter. âTry not to flirt with this one.â
I scoff. âYouâre jealous because patients like me more.â
âPatients like anesthesia more too. Doesnât make it a personality trait.â
One of the nurses audibly chokes trying not to laugh.
Traitor.
The scan starts.
For a few minutes, the room settles into familiar rhythm. Machine hum. Monitor beeps. Instructions exchanged in shorthand. I watch the images populate screen by screen while Garcia stands behind me, close enough that I can feel heat radiating off her shoulder.
She always does this.
Claims sheâs âreviewing in real time.â
Really, I think she just likes hovering over me like an angry gargoyle.
âSplenic bleed,â I murmur.
âI see it.â
âRude. I was having a moment.â
âYou have too many moments.â
Her arm brushes mine as she leans closer to the monitor.
It shouldnât matter.
It absolutely should not matter.
But my brain short-circuits like cheap hospital wiring.
Because Yolanda Garcia smells like antiseptic and smoke and something warm underneath it all. Cedar maybe. Or coffee that actually tastes good. Her shoulder presses against mine for less than a second before she straightens again, already issuing orders toward the nurses outside.
And somehow Iâm still standing there like an idiot thinking about it.
Humiliating.
The patient gets rushed to OR five minutes later.
The second the doors slam shut behind the gurney, the department exhales collectively.
I lean back against the counter. âYou know,â I call after her, âone day youâre gonna thank me for saving your ass.â
Garcia stops halfway down the hall.
Slowly turns.
The look she gives me could probably crack concrete.
âMy ass,â she says carefully, âhas a medical degree.â
I grin. âAnd yet you still need my pretty little scanner.â
The nearby nurses immediately go silent.
One actually whispers, âJesus Christ.â
Garcia walks back toward me with the kind of energy usually associated with apex predators.
She stops directly in front of me.
Too close.
Definitely too close.
âYou,â she says quietly, âare the single most irritating person in this hospital.â
My pulse betrays me spectacularly.
I fold my arms. âAnd yet you keep visiting.â
For one suspended second, neither of us moves.
The emergency department buzzes around us in blurred motion. Phones ringing. Stretchers rolling past. Somewhere down the hall, someone swears loudly in Spanish.
But Garcia just stares at me.
Dark eyes sharp enough to cut skin.
Then:
âYou forgot to remove your lead apron.â
I blink.
âWhat?â
She reaches forward before I can react and unclips it from around my waist in one smooth motion.
Her fingers brush my hip accidentally.
Or maybe not accidentally.
Static floods straight through my bloodstream.
Garcia freezes too.
Barely noticeable.
But enough.
Then she steps back immediately, tossing the apron against my chest.
âTry to survive the shift, CT.â
And just like that, she walks away.
I stare after her for a solid five seconds.
Then ten.
Then one of the nurses appears beside me with the expression of someone witnessing a live electrical fire.
âYou two are absolutely insane,â she says.
I keep staring down the hallway.
âYeah,â I murmur.
Somewhere near OR, Yolanda Garcia shouts at someone loud enough for the entire floor to hear.
Haiiii!! So happy to have many writers finally write for women in the pitt đ„șđ„ș TYSM FOR YALL SERVICES (LONG LIVE WLW WRITERS)
Moving on, i would like to request a kind of angsty/smut, hurt/no comfort with yolanda garcia x reader/yolanda garcia x trinity santos,,,
IM SO SORRY TRINITY BUT I HAVE BEEN THINKING OF THIS SCENARIO STARTING FROM THAT ONE SCENE WHERE YOLANDA SAID "I made other plans" so,,, basically reader is a senior resident in trauma surgery (same department as yoyo âĄ) and even though yolanda and trinity have this "casual thing" going on, yolanda keeps on flirting with reader and reader entertains it and one day where yolanda is with reader (for teaching purposes) in a case where trinity is also there she saw how yolanda flirted with reader and ofc shes jealous and she confronts yolanda about it,,, on the 4th of july shift, where yolanda said to trinity that she made other plansâ that plan turned out to be with reader (ofc they fuck obvs đđ) !! Ik theyre fucking messy and reader is evil for that but shes hot so đđ. Trinity finds out about it and yada yada . . . I lwky dont have any idea for the ending so feel free to end it the way you want :DDD
TYSM AND I HOPE THIS IS NOT TOO MUCH đ„čđ„čđ„č
FOURTH OF JULY
contains: smut, angry sex, reader x yolanda garcia, hurt!trinity santos, slight angst, hints at reader and yolanda's fondness for rough sex, use of Y/L/N.
description: attempting to confront Yolanda Garcia about her situation with Dr. Santos ends up with you getting a reminder of your place.
a/n: i went a bit off script because im juggling 3 fics at once. hopefully this scratched ur itch tho. thank u for the request!
wc: 3.3k
"If you wanna have sex and eat ramen in bed, i'm your girl. But if you wanna talk about this Langdon shit, again. Get a therapist." Yolanda said in a dismissive tone, leaving no room for Trinity to argue. She gave the resident a final look before turning on her heels, head shaking as she turned to a corner and stepped into the elevator.
Trinity was left beside the staircase, tongue poking at her cheek as Yolanda's words rang in her ears. "Get a therapist." she whispered into the air, chuckling humourlessly as she repeated Yolanda's words. "Happy fourth of the fucking july, I guess." she sighed and walked away to get swallowed once again by the ED's never-ending chaos, carrying the weight of Yolanda's words.
Yolanda stepped out of the elevator with a hardened face, guilt and annoyance fighting inside her head. She respected Langdon as a great doctor and a person. They were friends for much longer than she knew Trinity. And she admits that ever since the resident ratted him out, she's felt the need to put a much larger distance between them.
She knew it was wrong to blame Trinity for Langdon's stealing and potentially putting his patients in danger. But she can't help it. Each time they were fucking in bed, she gets reminded of her spite for Langdon. In her eyes, she ratted him out because of her own arrogance. She got him kicked out of the ED because she couldn't handle someone being slightly better than her. She's always torn.
Yolanda's jaw tightened at the thought, but was interrupted when someone bumped her shoulder. Her brows furrowed as she turned, ready to snarl at whoever decided to annoy her even more than she already isâbut she only relaxed when she saw you smirking up at her.
"Don't crack a tooth now, yoyo." you chuckled and ran a finger under her chin.
That sent a shiver down Yolanda's spine, her lashes fluttering at the contact. Her throat wobbled as she swallowed, cheeks hollowing when she bit the insides.
She shook the feeling off and rolled her eyes, voice slightly wavering as she replied, "Shut up. My enamel is stronger than yours, coffee addict."
You laughed at the comment, head hanging down low at your usual banter with your fellow surgeon. "I doubt that. Tea is acidic too." Yolanda smiled and raised a brow at your remark, "Not more acidic than the shit you swish in your mouth."
"Whatever, Garcia. Go save lives." you rolled your eyes and walked ahead of her, Yolanda's eyes following you until you disappeared from her sight when you walked into the break room.
She sighed, a smile forming on her face as your conversation replayed in her head. She could feel her heart start to beat a little faster each time she pictured you smiling, heat crawling up to her neck.
But the smile was soon replaced with a frown when her pager rang. She groaned and fished it out of the pocket of her scrubs, fingers pressing harshly against the buttons.
Robby's voice echoed from the other line, "Yolanda, need you down here. Bring someone else with you."
Her yes momentarily closed, the thought of being back in the ER and possibly bumping into Trinity made a lump form in her throat once more.
"Be there soon." was all she said before she hung up, a hand coming up to press on her forehead. She looked up and walked towards the direction of the room that you're in, that familiar feeling in her stomach coming back as she got closer.
She knocked and opened the door, seeing you pour coffee in a paper cup. You looked so concentrated as the cup started to fill, Yolanda letting out a laugh that made you look up at her standing by the door.
"Yes, Dr. Garcia?" you raised a brow, a teasing smile visible on your face.
The corner of her mouth quirked and she slowly walked inside the room with her mouth slightly pursed, making you laugh at the usual aggravated look on her face. You returned the coffee pot to its original position and faced the surgeon completely as she placed her hands on your waist, pressing you against the counter.
"Robby needs us downstairs." she breathed, head lowering to rest on your shoulder. You smiled and wrapped your hands around her body, her perfume filling up your nose. "Why do you look so thrilled then?" you teased and she groaned, because she was far from thrilled.
"I don't know. I'm just tired, I guess." she muttered and pulled back to look at you. You searched her eyes, heart warming up at the familiar spark in them.
Yolanda sensed it and pulled away completely, leaving you feeling empty at the lost of contact. "Let's go." she chuckled and walked out of the break room.
You nodded to yourself and took a quick glance at your coffee before sighing and following Yolanda out of the room.
The both of you walked with precision and that unwavering confidence that could crumble anyone who gets in your way.
Yolanda's eyes were sharp, and yours were sharper. You walked in sync that it almost felt uncanny to everyone in the department.
By the time you entered the elevator, Yolanda was already wearing that professional look on her face. The one that leaves no room for small and personal talks. The one that gets the job done and doesn't let anyone get in her way.
The doors opened and she stepped out first, you following closely behind. You entered a trauma room, your eyes finding Robby, a blonde, and a girl with striking green eyes looking up at Yolanda. Your left brow quirked, noticing that familiar look in her emerald orbs.
You knew it well. Because that's the look you give to Yolanda when you were alone with her. The same look that she gives you when it's just the two of you and everything feels peaceful.
Interesting.
"Dr. Santos and Dr. King, this is Dr. Y/L/N. Trauma surgery fellow." her voice rang in the room as she introduced you, the blonde looking up and flashing you a warm smile.
"I'm Dr. King." she introduced, while the brunetteâDr. Santosâonly gave you a nod. You felt intrigued by the atmosphere in the room, the tension between Yolanda and Santos stronger than the antiseptic smell lingering in the air.
"What do we have here?" Yolanda looked around the room before her eyes landed on Trinity. "Dr. Santos." she quirked her brow, making the resident clear her throat. "Helmeted motorcycle acrobat. 8-foot-fall standing on top of five riders. Primary survey normal, E-FAST negative." she replied quickly and with precision, making Yolanda flash her an impressed smile.
"Look at that, another motorcycle incident." she smiled sarcastically at Robby who only gave her a forced grin. "Hello, Sir. I'm Dr. Garcia and this is Dr. Y/L/N, we're from surgery." she introduced and snapped her gloves on.
"You ride too, Doctor?" the patient turned to Robby who hesitantly nodded. "Yeah. A '69 Bonneville. Rescued it from a motor graveyard, a buddy of mine brought it back to life." he sighed, arms crossed on his chest.
"You ride it often?" he asked once more to which Robby replied, "Yeah, I do to work everyday." Perlah, who had just gotten off the phone, stepped in and tapped the attending's shoulder. "Don't encourage him. CT's ready for Brandon." she looked up at Yolanda.
"As soon as we take a look at his knee." you and Santos said at the same time, making everyone freeze and exchange glances. Your brows twitched upward and cleared your throat.
"Do it, Dr. Santos." you pointed with your hand. Trinity only stared at you before flickering her gaze towards Yolanda. The surgeon sensed her hesitation with the way she was looking up at Yolanda like a lost puppy on the side of the road.
"Go on, Trinity." she encouraged, earning a nod from the resident. You watched the interaction between the two, your jaw clenching at the way Yolanda's head tilted ever so slightly as she watches Trinity. There was a smile on her face that you thought only you get to see.
"How's it look?" Brandon asked, worry dripping from his voice. Santos exhaled through her nose as she examined his knee. "Through the deep fascia. Could be an open joint, you're gonna need a lot of stitches."
"We'll do a saline load after CT. Bring him up." You stepped in and went to the corner to take off your gloves, Robby's eyes following your movements.
You stopped with the glove halfway through your left hand when you heard Yolanda's voice praising Santos. "Great job, Trinity."
The smile was evident in her voice. And that tone, that soft tone that you've heard so many times was dripping from her mouth like honey. You could only shut your eyes tightly at the interaction, not daring to look over your shoulder.
You stepped out first before everyone else from the trauma room and walked towards the hand sanitizer station, your hand brushing under the machine. Yolanda and the others followed soon after, making you turn with an unreadable expression on your face.
"Oh, hey. You coming over tonight? Huckleberry's going to play house again at the farm this weekend." Trinity approached Yolanda as the patient wheeled past them and towards the elevator. Your jaw tightened at the question, your hands forming into fists at your sidesânails digging hard in your palms.
Yolanda eyed you through her peripheral vision as if she were choosing the words that she was going to say. "I think I may need to do a rain check." she smiled sheepishly at the resident, Yolanda earning a nod from her.
"Yeah. Cool." Trinity shot her a smile back and shoved her hands in the pockets of her scrubs. "I'll catch you later, yeah?" Yolanda put her hand on her shoulder, thumb brushing over the fabric of her shirt before she dropped her arm to her side.
You watched as Trinity's face reddened at the contact, your nails only digging harder into your palms and you think you might be drawing blood from the sting that you felt.
But you weren't sure if the sting that you felt came from your palms, or from the tightness of your chest.
You turned your back against them and walked towards the elevator, your steps and movement calculatedâthat confidence never faltering although you felt your world crumble.
Yolanda noticed you almost immediately, a crease forming on her forehead. Trinity noticed the look that she gave you, her bottom lip getting caught in her teeth. She let out a defeated sigh and walked away from Yolanda, just like you did.
The surgeon turned back to watch Santos' retreating form and shut her eyes tightly. She took a step forward in Trinity's direction, took a step back, and followed you instead.
By the time you walked inside the elevator and your finger pressed the button that made the doors closed, Yolanda was already sliding through the large gapâher eyes studying yours.
"You good?" she asked. And you swore you pictured lashing out on her at the annoyance evident in her voice. "Yep. Never better." you smiled sarcastically and frowned.
Yolanda sighed and ran a hand down her face. "Alright. Quit acting childish and tell me what's going on." she pressed and angled her body so she could get a better look at you.
You did the same, posture much stronger than hers. "Great job, Trinity." you repeated her praise for the resident a while ago, eyes rolling when the words left your mouth.
Yolanda scoffed, an amused expression plastered on her face. "Are you serious? You're acting like this because I told a resident that she was good at her job?"
"Unbelievable." she shook her and turned her head to face the walls of the elevator.
Your brow quirked at her reaction, a humourless laugh following right after. "Get the fuck out of here, Garcia. You know it's more than that."
Yolanda shot you a look when you addressed her by her last name, jaw hardening at the mocking look on your face.
The doors opened and you felt somewhat relieved that you got to escape that claustrophobic feeling you were having inside the tiny room with the surgeon.
You quickly stepped out and headed straight towards the break room, your coffee from earlier still lingering on your mind. Yolanda followed suite, hand catching your arm that stopped you in your tracks.
"Stop fucking running away from me." she hissed, teeth pressed tightly against each other. You pulled your hand away with much force than you intended, Yolanda stumbling forward that made some people look in your way.
"No. Fuck no, we're not doing this." she shook her head and pulled you towards the changing room. Yolanda slammed the door shut, her free hand fumbling to turn the lock. Once she succeeded, she immediately pressed you against the one of the lockersâmaking you wince when the metal hit your back.
"You wanna act up? Do it right now." she breathed against your neck, tongue slipping out to lick a bold stripe against your skin. You bit your lip to suppress a moan, your knees buckling at the sensation.
Yolanda looked up and let out a mocking laugh, "Cat got your tongue, doctor?" she vexed and gripped your chin, forcing you to look into her eyes. And you did, your round eyes stared deeply into Yolanda's that made her curse under her breath.
"You always look like you want me to ruin you." she grinned, her knee pressing hard between your thighs. You snuck in a breath, a whimper escaping when she rubbed her knee against your crotch.
"What if I do?" you pressed and took her hand under your shirt. Yolanda squeezed your breast tightly, a low groan rumbling from her throat when your nipple hardened against her palm.
"You make me go crazy." she whined and crashed her lips against yours, tongue poking at your teeth that made you open your mouth.
You started sucking her tongue while her hands roamed around your body and fumbled with the hem of your shirt. She pulled away to slide your shirt off of your body, the seams of your bra almost ripping at how eager she was to get it off your tits.
"You're that hungry?" you laughed and you earnt a glare from the woman. "Fuck yeah, I am." she rolled her eyes and took a nipple inside her mouth. Your back arched at the warmth of her mouth, your panties getting even more soaked at the sounds her mouth made.
She bit down on the sensitive bud, making you let out a cry. Your hand flew up in an attempt to muffle your moans, but Yolanda caught before it could even touch your mouth. "Let me hear you, baby." she breathed against your tits.
You attempted to speak, but was cut off when her hand slipped inside your pantsâher fingers sliding up your slit that made you whimper in Yolanda's ear.
"Good girl." she drawled and leaned down to suck at the sensitive spot on your neck. "Love hearing your pretty sounds." Yolanda whispered, her finger circling your clit.
"Fuck, Yolanda.." you whined, hands gripping her shoulders tightly. She smirked against your skin and teased your hole with her fingers. "You sound so pretty when you're being good for me."
"Are you my good girl?" she pulled back and gave you a mocking pout. And when she didn't get an answer, Yolanda shoved her fingers inside your holeâa loud cry echoing inside the room. "Are you?" she repeated, her fingers curling against your slippery walls.
"Y-yes! I'm your good girl, please, please.." you looked up at her, eyes starting to water from her teasing. Yolanda's mouth quirked up at your messed up state, her fingers going deeper inside your pussy.
"Please what?" she teased and locked her gaze with yours as she took your breast in her mouth.
She sucked on the nub and let go of it with a pop, her tongue following to lick up at your reddened tits.
"Please fuck me, Yolanda." you breathed and grinded on her fingers. "I'll be good, please.." Yolanda clenched her jaw tightly at the sight of you looking so desperate, her own wetness soaking her panties. Her mouth found yours again as she slipped her fingers in and out of your hole, her tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as you moaned into hers.
She curled her fingers against your spot, your hands flying up to scratch at Yolanda's neckâearning a moan from the woman. She pulled away to trail open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, her fingers never stopping their relentless pace at fucking your already sopping pussy. "F-fuck.. o-oh god, Yolanda. So good, you're s-so good." you praised, making her suck harder at your sensitive skin.
That familiar knot started forming in your stomach and you pulled Yolanda's face up to taste her mouth once more. She recognised it immediatelyâshe knew that you were close.
So she started aiming for your most sensitive spot, a high-pitched yell erupting from you as you twitched from the overstimulating sensation that she was giving you. "C-cumming.. i'm cumming." you whimpered into her mouth, your hands gripping tightly at her waist as you trembled and came hard on her hands.
You pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva forming between your lips before your head dropped against Yolanda's shoulderâyour body still shaking as she helped you ride out your high.
Yolanda slowly pulled her fingers out of your pussy and moved to circle your clit, making you whine and pull her hand away.
She laughed at your reaction and retrieved her hand from your pants, her fingers coming up to her mouth to taste your wetness.
You heard a pop when she licked her fingers dry and you pulled your head up to kiss her again, tasting yourself on her tongue.
"Taste good?" Yolanda teased and wiped the saliva from the corner of your mouth with her finger.
You rolled your eyes and shoved her playfully. "Shut up. My panties are ruined." you groaned as you looked down at your soaked pants.
"I have extras. Get one from my locker." she laughed and pressed a kiss on your forehead.
Yolanda was about to speak when her pager rang, her irritation bubbling up once more as she answered. "What?" she snapped at the person on the other line.
"Who pissed in your cereal?" Trinity laughed from the other line, the sound of her voice making Yolanda's expression harden.
You noticed the shift in her mood and brought a hand up to caress her cheek, which she leaned into. "What is it, Dr. Santos?" she emphasized her name and spared you a glance, but you only playfully rolled your eyes.
Trinity contemplated on the other line, her tongue poking at her cheek as she cleared her throat.
"You still need a rain check for later? I thought we were going to watch the fireworks together." she finally said and leaned against the nuses' station's counter.
Yolanda pressed a hand against her forehead at the sudden reminder of her earlier conversation with the resident. She looked at you once more and let out a sigh. "I made other plans." she muttered, eyes locked with yours before she pressed the button to hang up.
You smirked at her, head shaking in amusement. "Other plans, huh? Should I be offended?" you teased and Yolanda only groaned.
"What did you want me to say? Oh no sorry, i'm about to fuck my coworker on the fourth of july."
summary: when you almost lose a patient in surgery, you start to spiral. luckily, yolanda is there to bring you back down to earth.
word count: 1.2k
tags: only the slightest hint of suicidal ideation; hurt/comfort; cardiothoracic surgeon reader; medical inaccuracies; potentially ooc yolanda (but then again we barely know her)
based on this request from @melliumn
You stilled as you watched your patientâs heart pump, your entire focus on the aortic valve. After five beats, then another ten, when you were sure the sutures were holding, you let out a breath you hadnât realized you were holding.
You had done it. Miraculously, somehow, you had saved this manâs life.
Your throat was tight, and you felt a familiar stinging behind your eyes, the wave of adrenaline from your decision crashing down.
âDavis can close.â You cleared your throat as you gave your resident an assuring look. âI need to get some air,â you muttered, already stepping away from the table.
Ripping your bloody gown from your body and peeling the suffocating gloves off your hands, you quickly exited the OR. You hadnât noticed your friendâs watchful gaze following you from the gallery.
As you stepped out into the hallway, you took a deep breath, the cool, sterile air filling your tired lungs. You tried your best to inhale again, but finding oxygen was becoming increasingly harder.
âHey, hey.â Emeryâs voice echoed in the empty hallway. âWhatâs wrong?â
âIâŠH-heâŠâ you stuttered, unable to form a comprehensible sentence. You werenât sure you even understood what you were feeling.
âOkay, you need to breathe.â She placed her hands firmly on your shoulders and took a deep breath herself, silently ordering you to mirror her action.
You took a shaky breath and slowly matched Emeryâs rhythm. Tears began to pool in your eyes, and you blinked them away.
âI almost killed him,â you whispered, more to yourself than to the other woman, as realization dawned on you.
âAlmost being the key word,â Emery emphasized. âYou saved his life.â
You met your friendâs piercing gaze and offered a weak smile. âThanks, Em.â
She eyed you, worry still knitted in her brows.
âI just need some air.â
Emery nodded, knowing where youâd be headed. âOkay,â she said slowly. âPage me if you need anything.â
You thanked her again before dragging your feet towards the stairs. As you climbed the eight floors to the roof, the burn in your thighs grounding your thoughts, you couldnât stop replaying the procedure in your head. Pushing open the heavy door, you were immediately met with the crisp air of the fall evening. You welcomed the cool breeze as it left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. The smell of wet cement made it easier to breathe, and you started to calm down.
Passing by the main HVAC unit, you made your way over to the edge, frowning when you saw a familiar figure already leaning against the railing.
âYouâre in my spot,â you snarked, though you lacked your usual bite as you nudged her elbow off.
âJust keeping it warm for you.â Yolanda turned to you with a teasing smirk, but there was an underlying concern in her eyes.
You snorted and stuffed your hands in the pockets of your scrub pants as you looked out onto the Pittsburgh skyline. Yolanda frowned when you didnât reply with one of your quips. That, along with the forlorn expression painting your features, deepened her worry.
When Emery had told her what happened, only giving the bare bone details and that you were heading towards the roof, Yolanda knew the surgery must have really shaken you. But standing with you now, she could tell this was more than just the typical adrenaline crash.
âI heard you saved a life,â she said, hoping to at least get you talking.
You knew Emery had snitched, and you rolled your eyes fondly. âKeeping tabs on me?â
âAlways,â Yolanda replied easily before tilting her head, trying to catch your eye. âSo, if surgery went well, wanna tell me why weâre about to freeze our asses off out here?â
âNo one forced you out here,â you snapped, your frustration bubbling over, but Yolanda wasnât fazed. She simply waited, knowing if given enough time to think, youâd eventually start talking. And she was right.
As you looked down on the city, the cars and people so far away they looked like ants, your thoughts started to come together.
âYou ever think about how much power we have?â
Yolanda paused for a moment, unsure of whether you expected her to answer. âSometimes,â she answered cautiously, suddenly very aware you were standing on the roof of the hospital, so close to the edge, nearly twenty stories up.
âI hold peopleâs lives in my hands every single day.â Your voice was barely above a whisper. âI make decisions every second that determine whether someone lives or dies. I mean, who deserves the right to have that kind of power?â
âOkay, seriously,â Yolanda said your name with such force that if you didnât know her any better, youâd have thought she was angry. âWhatâs going on?â
âI almost missed it today.â You kept staring straight ahead of you, barely acknowledging that sheâd even said anything. âI almost missed a bleed in the aorta. The fucking aorta of all places.â
Yolandaâs eyes widened at the rare curse coming from your lips, a sound she decidedly did not like, nor was she fond of the self-deprecation dripping from your words.
âI mean, I did a fucking Ross procedure, successfully,â you continued, your knuckles whitening as you gripped the railing, âand I missed a bleed.â
âBut you didnât miss it,â Yolanda interjected resolutely but to no avail.
âI had a manâs heart at my fingertips, and I nearly made a mistake,â you pushed on. âWhat the fuck is wrong with me?â
âThere is nothing wrongââ she tried again, but you kept going.
âWhat kind of surgeon am I?â You finally turned to meet Yolandaâs gaze, the redness and defeat brimming your eyes breaking her heart. âI donât know if I can do this anymore.â
She said your name again, this time gravely. âYou are the best cardiothââ
âThat man couldâve died because Iââ you choked on your words. âI think Iâm dââ
Your downward spiral was interrupted by a soft lips on yours. You froze for a moment before you realized Yolanda was kissing you. Your body finally caught up with your mind, and you kissed back.
âWhat was that for?â You asked breathlessly when she pulled away.
âYou were spiraling.â Yolanda used the pad of her thumb to smooth the creases between your eyebrows.
âThere are other ways to interrupt somebody,â you teased, your hand falling atop her forearm that was resting on the railing. You reveled in the way her skin warmed your cool fingertips. She always did run hot.
âWhat? You donât like my methods?â
âNow, I didnât say that.â You smiled softly as you leaned in for another kiss, which Yolanda gladly reciprocated.
âYou are a brilliant surgeon. Itâs one of the things I like about you,â she murmured, resting her forehead against yours. She met your eyes with a fierce stare, and you felt your chest tighten from the sincerity of it. âI admire you more as a person.â
Her words enveloped you like a salve, and you felt grounded in yourself again.
âThank you,â you mumbled, closing your eyes as you absorbed her calming presence.
CW: intense emotional confrontation/arguments, relationship conflict and reconciliation, guilt, crying, references to past financial distress, smut (explicit sexual content), scissoring/tribbing, soft dom!Yolanda, partially-resolved ending
WC: 4.2k
Part V
Terms and Conditions Masterlist
A/N: My tags are doing weird things so Iâm sorry to anyone I missed out whose tag didnât work!
ââââââââ Null and Void ââââââââ
By the time the bus crosses the Birmingham Bridge, your hands are shaking so badly that you nearly rip the stack of papers just to stop them from slipping out of your grasp.
PAID IN FULL
ZERO BALANCE
The words have been burned into the back of your eyelids for the last forty minutes.
Every pothole that the bus hits causes another wave of fury to wash over you.
Outside the window, Pittsburgh is wet underneath an overcast sky. Rows of brick buildings are streaked with rainwater, pedestrians with umbrellas hurrying along sidewalks trying to get out of what looks to be the start of a nasty storm. Normally you like the city, you like this specific bus ride across town, but today it feels like itâs taking too long.
Your knee bounces violently the entire ride.
Once, the older woman sitting across from you gives you a wary look before shuffling her purse closer to her side.
You donât even blame her, you know how you look from the outside. Youâre pissed and you look it. Youâre not hurt, not emotional, furious. The kind of anger that causes steam to come out of ears in cartoons.
Because how fucking dare she?
You spent ages trying to stitch yourself back together after she ended things, after she broke them. Weeks of dragging yourself through the mud of shifts with aching ribs and an empty bank account and the humiliation of almost reaching your goals, almost having everything you ever wanted, just for her to throw you away like you were trash. Lying trash. And now this? Now you find out sheâs been quietly dropping hundreds of thousands of dollars into your life like some guilty millionaire playing god from a distance?
The mortgage paperwork crinkles in your fist, the paper giving way to your angry fingers.
She doesnât get to do this, she doesnât get to walk away from you and still control things in your life. She doesnât get to decide what happens to you after making it clear she didnât want to be involved with you anymore.
The bus finally lurches to your stop and you shoulder-check someone in your effort to get off as quickly as possible.Â
Cold air and rain slaps you in the face immediately. You hope itâll cool you down enough to stop you from committing a felony in the lobby of Yolandaâs building (it doesnât).
Eight months. Eight months of Yolanda insisting on rules and boundaries and professionalism and emotional distance, only to - only to pull some shit like this the second she loses control of the situation.
You shove through the revolving doors hard enough that one of them swings too fast behind you and hits you right on the butt. And for one awful moment, looking at the inside of the lobby feels so familiar that it actually hurts you. You used to come here at least three nights a week, sometimes more.
Richard is inside tonight instead of standing outside the doorway. Not a huge surprise with the rain. âThere she is,â he says as he pushes his glasses up his nose. âHavenât seen you in a while.â
You stare at him for a second, still breathing hard from anger and the slight uphill walk from the bus stop.
His forehead crinkles in confusion. âEverything okay?â
âNo.â Your hands tighten instinctively, nearly crushing the paperwork. âIs she home?â
Richard hesitates just long enough to catch the look on your face. Because apparently you currently look like someone about to either start crying or kill a person, and even you arenât sure which is more likely.
ââŠlong day?â he offers cautiously.
You laugh, and it sounds unhinged even to your own ears. âSomething like that.â
His hand reaches for the security desk phone. âWant me to call upstairs for you?â
âNo,â you say quickly. âNo, Iâm not giving her the chance to avoid me.â
Understanding dawns across Richardâs face. Not understanding-understanding, obviously, he has no idea what actually happened between you and Ms. Garcia. But thereâs enough pieces of the puzzle to understand that this is relationship business. Ugly relationship business.
ââŠright,â he says.Â
You can pretty much see him debating in his head whether or not itâs a terrible idea to let you upstairs without calling the police. But then he sighs, his shoulders slumping just a little as he makes a decision he knows could get him in trouble. âShe got home maybe an hour ago.â
âThanks,â you mutter tightly.Â
Richard gives you one last look of uncertainty as you stalk off toward the elevators.
The ride up feels endless, and catching yourself in the reflection in the mirrored walls looks strikingly different from the last time you took this elevator. Your hair is wet from the rain, sticking to your forehead and your face and your neck. Your jaw is clenched so tight that you can practically see the vein in your forehead about to burst from stress. You barely recognize yourself.
When you step off the elevator on Yolandaâs floor, for just a moment, another memory flashes before your eyes uninvited: Yolanda half-asleep and barefoot, opening the same door youâre staring at right now, late at night in soft gray sweatpants and that stupid white loose button-down that doesnât even count as leisurewear. And she smiles at you, soft and unguarded in a way you were rarely ever allowed to see her.
Your heart pounds uncomfortably in your chest and you crush the feelings that memory brings with it immediately.
No, absolutely not.
You did not ride a Pittsburgh city bus across town in the rain to get sentimental. You came here furious, to demand answers. You came here because Yolanda Garcia does not get to buy her way out of guilt and call it kindness.
Your hand tightens into a fist and then you pound on her door hard enough to rattle the frame.
The door opens almost immediately, and standing there is Yolanda in lounge pants and a black long-sleeve shirt, hair damp like sheâs just gotten out of the shower, and for a split second, her whole face seems to soften at the sight of you. Like sheâs relieved.
But then she sees your expression and the relaxed expression disappears immediately. âWhat happened?â
You shove past her before she can say another word. âAre you fucking kidding me right now?â
Yolanda stumbles sideways in surprise as you storm into her home. The familiar smell of her coffee hits you immediately, rushing your senses like an old memory, and it only makes you angrier.
Behind you, the door clicks shut.
You whirl around to face her. âWhat the hell is wrong with you?â you demand.
Yolanda inches back in surprise, caught off guard by the sheer force of your anger. âExcuse me?â
âOh, donât do that,â you snap. âDo not stand there acting confused.â You hurl the stack of papers onto her kitchen island hard enough that one of them slides across the marble and off the countertop, coming to rest at her feet.
Her eyes follow the falling paper, catching on the PAID stamp across the bottom. And in her face, you see it: the tiniest hint of guilt. She bends down to retrieve it, and as she straightens, her expression smooths out in a way youâve seen a thousand times before. âYou took a bus across the city to scream at me?â
âYou paid off my fucking mortgage!â
Yolanda folds her arms across her chest defensively. âYou were drowning.â
âThatâs none of your business anymore!â Your volume increases, loud enough that if you donât stop, you know sheâll have angry neighbors.
âYou were going to lose the house.â
âAnd?â
âAnd?â she repeats incredulously.
âYes, âand,ââ your voice continues to rise. âYou made it very clear you wanted out, Yolanda! You donât get to walk away from me and then still try to insert yourself when you feel guilty about it!â
âI do not feel guilty.â The lie is both instant and obvious.
You stare at her, then laugh once, mockingly. âWow, thatâs bullshit.â
Yolandaâs lips purse. âYou think I did that because I pity you?â
âWhat else am I supposed to think?â you shoot back at her. âYou ended things because my life was - because I was too messy for you, remember?â
âThat is not why I ended things.â
âReally? Because from where Iâm standing, it looked like you took one look at my situation and ran for your life.â
Yolandaâs eyes flash with anger that rivals your own now. âThat is untrue and unfair.â
âUnfair?â You point violently toward the paperwork spread out across the island. âYou paid off my fucking hospital bills.â
âYou couldnât afford them!â
âThat doesnât mean you get to swoop in and fix everything!â
âSomebody fucking had to!â
The apartment goes dead silent, even your own breathing stops. Yolanda freezes too, like she didnât mean for that to come out.
Your stomach twists, and you laugh harshly, bitter and without humor. âThere it is.â
Yolanda shakes her head, exasperated. âThat isnât what I meant.â
âNo, I think it is.â Your voice thins, your anger fraying around the edges, though the knot doesnât unwind. âYou think I canât handle myself, is that it?â
âYou are twisting my words to make me seem like the villain.â
âAnd youâre acting like you can buy your way out of your feelings!â Both hands fly to either side of your head, holding your temples. âYou hurt me, Yolanda!  And the worst part is that I still donât even hate you for it now.â
âYou donât?â You miss the uncharacteristically soft tone of her voice, too busy word-vomiting to hear her.
âI tried so hard to hate you,â you rant, beginning to pace her kitchen. âBut I had to keep all of my anger to myself because of that stupid contract, I couldnât talk to anyone about it! Do you know how alone Iâve felt? I blocked your number twice, and then unblocked it again just in case, I even paid some Etsy witch forty dollars to put bad energy into your life -â
âYou what?âÂ
â- and somehow youâre still in my head all of the time!â
Yolandaâs mind seems to blank at the silly revelation. âIs that why I keep losing patients..?â
Your brain doesnât skip over that one. âI killed people?!â
âYou paid someone to curse me.â
âThatâs not the point,â you argue, pointing at her before she can say another word. âDo not derail me right now.â
But Yolanda is still staring at you in disbelief. âOh my god.â
âStop focusing on the witch!â
âIâm trying, but youâre making it hard!â
âYou donât get to swoop in and save me anymore.â Your voice drops to a whisper, the flame that was your anger fizzling out. âYou canât reject me and then still treat me like I belong to you.â
âYou do not belong to me.â
âYouâre acting like I do!â you insist, your tone almost pleading. âI didnât as you for this.â You gesture toward the papers.
âI know you didnât!â Yolanda suddenly yells, the force startling both of you. âJesus Christ, I know you didnât ask!â
The kitchen falls silent again.
Yolanda drags a hand over her hair, her control over even herself wavering in a way youâve never seen from her before. âThatâs the problem,â she says. âYou never ask for anything.â
You stare at her. âAre you serious? The problem is that Iâm not greedy enough for you?â
She begins to pace now, too, as if your roles have swapped. âDo you know what it was like when I found out?â she demands. âLearning that you werenât spending any of what I gave you on yourself? Realizing that you were probably rationing groceries while sleeping in my bed?â
Shame courses through you, hot like fire. âDonât.â
âNo, because apparently nobody in your life loves you enough to say it to you!â she snaps. âYou act like needing help is some kind of failure.â
You scoff. âThatâs rich, coming from you.â
âI ended things because I thought I was taking advantage of someone who was desperate.â
âYou werenât taking advantage of me!â
âWell how the hell was I supposed to know that? You never told me!â Yolanda laughs bitterly. âDo you know what Iâve been doing over the last couple of months?â
âApparently committing white-collar financial crimes, how did you even get the information to pay these bills?â
âObsessing over you,â she shoots back, ignoring your question. The dam cracks, and despite her visible annoyance over her own confession, she keeps going. âI try to sleep and I wonder if youâre cold because your heatâs been shut off. Iâm at work wondering if youâre ignoring your ribs hurting because you canât afford another hospital bill.â Her voice roughens. âI pick up a stranger in a bar,â she hisses, âand say your fucking name with her mouth between my legs.â
Your breath catches in your throat and you try not to look hurt at the humiliation.
Yolandaâs eyes are sharp as they lock onto yours. âDo you understand how humiliating that is?â She circles the island toward you slowly. âThis isnât guilt,â she spits. âIf it were just guilt, it wouldâve gone away already.â
Your heartbeat is hammering in your neck as she approaches. âYolanda -â
âAnd the worst part is, you still wonât ask me for anything,â she cuts you off. âYou would rather drown than need someone else, and you say Iâm emotionally stunted.â
âThat is not true.â You glare at her as she reaches you.
âThen ask me for something.â
You blink rapidly. âWhat?â
âAsk me for something,â Yolanda repeats. The intensity of her stare nearly has you withering. A few months ago, it would have. âAnything you want, anything at all. Just ask.â
Your throat is suddenly tight and dry with the weight of her demand, because the implication of what sheâs saying is impossible to misunderstand.
Ask for me.
âI canât,â you whisper as your eyes begin to burn. âYou canât ask that of me.â
Sheâs so close that youâre almost nose-to-nose, and you donât miss the confusion that flickers across her face. âWhy not?â
You huff and look away, like a wounded animal. âBecause you donât get to put me through all of this and then make demands.â
Yolandaâs breath is not on your face as she sighs through her nose. âIâm standing here, telling you that I will give you anything you ask of me.â
âAfter you left.â
You can see on her face how deeply your words register with her in the way that her expression hardens: the softness of her mouth pulls down into a frown, the way that her eyebrows draw together.Â
âWhat am I supposed to do, Yolanda?â Your voice shakes so badly with the thread of unshed tears that youâre forced to whisper. âBeg you to stay this time? How would I even know you mean it?â
Yolanda stands there unresponsive for a moment, her eyes trained on you as she considers her words carefully before deciding to say them: âLet me prove it to you.â
Silence follows because you donât know what to say, and she uses that to continue.
âI know I canât undo what I did,â she says. âI canât take it back. But I am telling you right now that I havenât been able to stop thinking about you since.â Her eyes search your own. âBut I need youâŠI need you to ask.â
You take a shaky breath, searching her face for any insincerity, anything that she could use against you, any trace of the woman you spent eight months with.
When you donât find it, you let the breath out.
âYolanda,â you start, completely unsure of how to even ask. âPlease -â
Thatâs it. Surrender. The trust you offer her blindly, without being sure she wonât hurt you again.
Yolanda doesnât let you finish whatever you were going to say next. Both of her hands fly to your jaw, tilting your head at the exact right angle to kiss you. You make a sound against her mouth and it tastes like relief, disappearing into her like sheâs been waiting too long to hear it.
Her lips are warm against your own, and insistent as they guide your mouth open so she can slip her tongue inside your mouth. You clutch at her shirt where it bunches around her waist, refusing to let go even as she pulls you blindly toward the hallway that leads to her bedroom.
You canât open your eyes once you reach the bedroom, worried that once you do, the spell will be broken and youâll feel the hurt once more.
Her hands slide down your body, mapping your skin like sheâs memorizing you anew until she reaches the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off your body. Cool air hits your skin for only a second before her hands replace it, still hot from her shower, sliding up your ribs to cup your breasts.
You gasp into her mouth. She groans in response, her thumbs brushing over your nipples until they harden under her touch.
âSo fucking perfect,â she mumbles, breaking away from your mouth so she can trail her lips down your throat and over your collarbones. âMissed this so much, missed you.â
Clothes come off in a stumbling haze, both yours and hers. Her shirt hits the floor, then your pants, and by the time you actually reach the bed, youâre both naked. The sight of her body stops you in your tracks, her skin glowing in the low light thatâs barely tricking in from the nearly-set sun, her curls still slightly damp but not dripping but a stray droplet here and there, which trails between her breasts without a thought of what it does to you. Sheâs beautiful. She always has been, but your memory of her these last few months pales in comparison.
Yolanda doesnât give you time to overthink this. She guides you down onto your back on the mattress, crawling over you until her hair tickles your cheek. The heat of her body sinks into yours as she lays flush against you, your breasts brushing and her hips settling between your thighs.Â
You whine at the contact. Reaching blindly toward the nightstand next to her bed, youâre surprised when her hand catches your wrist, stopping you.
âNot tonight,â she mumbles against the skin at the valley of your breasts. âNeed to feel you against me.âÂ
She sits up and hooks one of your legs over her hip, rolling you slightly to align your bodies until your slick heat meets her own. The first glide of her folds against your own pulls a moan from your throat, head tilting back against her pillow. Sheâs soaked, burning hot, and the feeling of her wet skin against your clit makes your back arch.
Yolanda sets a slow, grinding rhythm, one hand braced beside your head while the other grips your thigh, holding your legs open for her. Each roll of her hips into your own sends sparks up your spine and you lift your hips to meet her, to match her rhythm. You can feel everything: her wetness coating you, the way her clit rubs against your own when she gets the angle just right.
âLook at me,â she demands, softly and without malice.
You do, your eyes opening as you lift up onto your elbows. Her dark eyes are locked on your own, curls falling against her face like a halo, her lips parted as she visibly pants.Â
Thereâs no emotional wall this time, and how could there be? Not once in the entire time you spent together was she ever skin-to-skin with you like this, like it was a vulnerability she couldnât afford.Â
You rock up to meet her, desperately chasing the friction that stokes the fire in your belly. Your hands roam her back, pulling her down against you, forcing her back to bow to keep up the slide of her slick against yours. Your nails lightly scratch against her skin and she growls - like, actually growls - at the feeling, and it only fuels her to grind down harder against you.
âFuck - Yolanda -â You bury your face in her neck, mouth latching onto the pulse point in her neck so hard you know itâll leave a mark. And you revel in the way she doesnât pull you away, the way she wouldâve in the past, with a stern warning to ânot leave marks where anyone could see.â Just the thought that sheâs allowing you to mark her has the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core.
âIâve got you,â she rasps, shifting her angle so her clit drags over yours just right with every thrust. âLet go, baby, Iâm not going anywhere.â
The newness of his feeling, of her truly here, skin to skin, open and vulnerable and heart cracked open, is the final straw that sends you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your thighs shaking around her as you cry out against her neck.Â
Yolanda follows seconds later, her own hips stuttering and a low and guttural moan vibrating through her chest as she grinds through her own release. Her slick heat pulses against you, and you have no idea if itâs your own slick or hers that coats both of your thighs.
You stay locked together afterwards, trembling and breathing hard. Yolanda collapses on top of you, tucking her face into the crook of your neck, legs tangled between yours. Your fingertips stroke over her back in slow passes, soothing the rapid thud of her heart against your own.
After a long minute, she moves, sliding just enough off you to grab at the water bottle on the nightstand, offering it to you first. Knowing how thirsty you always are right after sex. When she catches your eyebrow quirking up, she shrugs. âOld habits die hard.â
You take it, sipping the water while coherent thoughts come racing back in. But it isnât until youâve handed the water back to Yolanda and sheâs getting her fill that you actually speak.
âYolanda,â you say quietly.
The tone of your voice has her pausing, capping the bottle so she can look at you.
You swallow hard. âI donât know what this is now.â
She finishes screwing the lid on. âWhat do you want it to be?â
Youâre surprised at the question, which feels more like an offer. âI - I canât -â You canât finish the thought, but you donât have to. She knows.
I canât ask for this.
Yolanda takes a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling while she does so, like sheâs centering herself. âI canât promise that Iâm going to do this perfectly,â she says softly. âOr that Iâm going to be exactly what you need right away.â
Right away.
Your eyes lift at the same time she looks down at you. She holds your gaze like sheâs forcing herself not to look away. And she probably is.
âBut I am here,â she goes on. âAnd Iâm trying. And IâŠIâm not leaving you again just because I donât know how to do it right yet.â
Yet.
You sit up to meet her, to be at the same level. To avoid her looking down at you, both metaphorically and literally. âI donât know if I can do this again,â you admit. âI donât know if I could survive it.â
Yolanda sets the water bottle on the bedside table again, and then settles back next to you on the bed. âI meant what I said,â she says. âI want to prove it. I justâŠdonât know exactly how to do that yet.â
A long silence settles after that, one you donât break with continuing a discussion that wonât be solved tonight.Â
The only surefire thing you know right now is that this is not how you expected this to go, but youâd be lying if you said the weight on your chest thatâs been following you since that day in the hospital, the dark cloud thatâs been following you ever since, isnât lifting just a little.
Because Yolanda is here, accepting you for you, and not what you can offer her, or what she can offer you. And you know that there will be a bigger conversation, about privacy, and about what this means for you two and what the future holds. But right now, as you both lay back down in her massive mattress, pressed up against each other in a way that the available space doesnât require, it feels like everything is going to be okay.
For once, itâll be okay.Â
ââââââââ Null and Void ââââââââ
Keep an out for Part VII: Epilogue
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ââââââââ Null and Void ââââââââ
summary: when dana doesnât come over after her shift like she promised, you find yourself back at the pitt to bring her home
word count: 1.6k
tags: fluff; stubborn but also soft dana; takes place post tender love and care
part of the BALANCE universe
You were going absolutely stir-crazy.
After you got attacked by a patient, Robby insisted you took two weeks off, sending you home with only rest and relaxation as your treatment plan, and a couple bottles of acetaminophen.
In any other circumstance, you would have been thrilled about fourteen uninterrupted days away from the hospital. But when all you could do was lie around, stare at the ceiling, and maybe go on the occasional walk, you never missed the ED more. It didnât help that mostâif not allâof your immediate social circle was also your co-workers. You really should have heeded your therapistâs advice about better work-life balance.
Without your girlfriend or either of your roommates around, the apartment was too quiet for your liking, even though you knew thatâs exactly what your brain needed. Checking the clock, you internally groaned when you saw there was still three hours until Danaâs shift was over and sheâd be here. The charge nurse had miraculously managed to get both Saturday and Sunday off. She had texted you earlier, telling you she would be at your place after work with food and that sheâd be spending the entire weekend doting on you, whether you liked it or not.
Despite the eye-roll emoji, and red heart, you had replied with, you hadnât been able to stop the silly grin from appearing across your face when you read her message.
Closing your eyes, you listened to faint sound of distant traffic and the melodious chirping of the cicadas. You werenât sure how much time had passed, but one minute you were just resting your eyes and the next you were awoken by the soft click of the apartment door opening.
The living room was enveloped in complete darkness, the summer sun long gone, and you realized you must have dozed off for a couple hours. Sitting up slightly against the arm of the couch, you could hear the hushed talking of your roommates as they lazily dropped their stuff off their shoulders.
When Trinity flicked the lamp on, she finally noticed you.
âJesus fuck,â she gasped. âYou scared me.â
âSorry,â you said with a yawn before greeting Dennis with a soft smile, which he returned as he made his way into the kitchen. When you realized it was just them two, you frowned and turned back to Trinity. âDanaâs not with you?â
You glanced down at your phone, your frown deepening when you saw it was nearly 11 pm and there were no texts from your girlfriend.
âShe was still at the hospital when we left,â Trinity answered as she plopped down on the other end of the couch. âWas she supposed to come over?â
You nodded. âSheâs spending the weekend.â
âDidnât she just work a double?â Dennis entered the living room, handing Trinity a slice of cold pizza, which she wordlessly accepted.
âJesus Christ,â you muttered under your breath. Pushing yourself off the couch, you paid no mind to the blanket that fell off your lap and to the floor.
âWhere are you going?â Trinity asked in between bites as she saw you grab your car keys.
âApparently, I have to go drag that woman out of that hospital.â
âUm, I donât think youâre supposed to be driving,â Dennis interjected, narrowing his eyes.
âWell, unless one of you wants to chauffer meâŠâ You gave them both an expectant look and watched as they exchanged a silent conversation.
âBe a gentleman, Huckleberry,â Trinity quipped, nudging his knee with her foot.
âOkay, fine,â he relented.
You threw him your keys, which he clumsily caught, and smiled tiredly. âThanks, Den.â
The car ride was quiet, neither of you particularly thrilled to be making the commute back to the hospital at nearly midnight on a Friday. As Dennis pulled up to the side of the ambulance bay, you unbuckled.
âIâll only be a few minutes. You can just stay here,â you said. âDonât want you getting roped into the night shift.â
Dennis, still in his scrubs, agreed with the latter and nodded. âGood luck,â he joked, and you rolled your eyes.
âIâm not the one who needs luck,â you retorted before shutting the door.
As you entered the hospital, sliding doors hissing behind you, the familiar antiseptic smell and bright fluorescent lights flooded your senses. You were both comforted and unnerved by the overwhelming chaos of the emergency department.
âYouâre not supposed to be here,â Lena scolded when she spotted you from the nursesâ station.
âDonât worry.â You wore an easy smile as you approached her. âIâm not here to work. Robby made sure of that.â
âYouâre also banned from the night shift,â Abbotâs gruff voice interrupted as he exited one of the central bays.
âI see Iâve been missed,â you joked with mock offense, earning a chuckle from the nurse and an amused smirk from the attending. âIâm just here to pick up the workaholic. Either of you know where I can find her?â
By now, your relationship was no secret, not that it ever really was before, but now, it was officialâGloria and HR official. So when you said you were here to pick someone up, both Jack and Lena didnât need to ask who, the apt workaholic description also narrowed down the suspects.
As if on cue, your girlfriendâs Yinzer accent rang out. âWhat the hell are you doing here?â
Her mind still locked in nurse mode, she quickly strode over to you, checking you for any visible signs of pain. âAre you okay? What happened? Did you tear your stitches?â
When you said nothing, Dana finally met your gaze. She stilled, and her eyes widened slightly.
Your disapproving expression cleared the frenzy from her mind, and she glanced down at her watch, the numbers causing her to wince.
âShit,â she muttered, realizing it was her who was in trouble.
ââShitâ is right.â You raised a brow, practically doing your best impression of her. âYou said youâd be home three hours ago.â
Dana did her best to fight the corners of her mouth from tugging up when she heard the word âhomeâ.
âIâm sorry, hon,â she said, barely noticing you slip the iPad from her grasp. âThere was a patient I couldnât leave, and then I got wrapped up in it all. You know how it goes.â
Her words were falling onto deaf ears, as you were scanning the chart sheâd had pulled up. Not even addressing your girlfriendâs apology, you turned to Lena, who was trying, and failing, to hide her amusement.
âSouth 16 needs an IV. 0.45,â you said, handing the other charge nurse the tablet.
âThanks, doc.â Lena shot you a wink before looking at her counterpart. âEnjoy your weekend off.â
Though it sounded more like an order than a pleasant suggestion, and Dana scoffed.
âWell, would you look at that?â You grinned widely, sarcasm shining through. âNo more work for you to do.â
âIââ Dana tried to protest, but Jack intervened.
âCome on, Evans. Youâre gonna make the poor girl tear her stitches.â He could see the frustration radiating off of you, a feeling he knew all too well. How many times had he been the one to have to push Robby and Dana out the door at the end of their shifts?
âFine,â she relented finally, her shoulders sagging. âLet me grab my stuff.â
âNo.â You slightly stepped to the side to block her path as you unclipped her badge from her collar with practiced ease. âI will grab your stuff. You go out to the car.â
âDonât tell me you drove here with a concussion?â She gave you an incredulous look, and you rolled your eyes.
âIâm a doctor, babe,â you retorted. âOf course not. Whitaker should be parked right outside.â
âGreat,â Dana mumbled as she made her way towards the ambulance bay. âMy own personal babysitters.â
âSomebody has to drag you home,â you sang after her, laughing when she fondly flipped you off over her shoulder.
Once she was finally out of the hospital, and out of earshot, Lena looked back up from her screen and stared at you for a moment.
Feeling her eyes practically boring into you, you raised a brow. âWhat?â
âNothing.â She shrugged with a faux innocence. âYou have her wrapped around your little pinky, donât you?â
You chuckled, a smirk growing on your lips. âYou should see what I can do without a concussion.â
Lena laughed as she stood up and rounded the station. âYouâre good for her,â she said, sobering, and put a hand on your bicep.
Your smirk softened into a smile. âThanks, Lena.â
She nodded, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. âNow get outta here before she kills your poor roommate.â
Snickering, you wished her a good night and made your way to the locker room. You quickly grabbed your Danaâs bag along with her spare clothes you knew need washing before making a beeline back outside to the car.
âYouâre driving?â You drew your brows together as you got into the passenger seat, leaning to put her stuff on the floor behind her.
âWhitaker here looked half asleep.â Dana nodded her head back towards a sheepish looking Dennis, who did in fact look one blink away from passing out.
As she started pulling out of the hospitalâs lot, you reached over to put your hand on her thigh. âStop at Bettyâs on the way?â
You could hear the older woman grumble something you couldnât quite make out, but you could probably guess it was some form of protest.
âWhenâs the last time you ate?â you asked knowingly. When Dana didnât respond, you knew you had won.
âFine,â she said, her eyes still on the road. âBettyâs and then home?â
âAnd then home,â you confirmed with a squeeze to her thigh.
Dana dropped her hand from the steering wheel to fall atop yours and interlaced your fingers. Bringing your hand up to her mouth, she pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, mumbling softly against your skin.
dana who you can lean on through it all,hard shifts,bad breakups,family problems. sheâs an ear to listen,a body to hug,a hand to hold. dana who never judges you,just gives you that sly smile and her truthful opinion,sometimes a laugh,that laugh that tells you that everythingâs gonna be alright. dana who you can turn your brain off around,even just for a minute as she runs her hand up and down your back subconsciously as you walk together. dana who lets her hand trail a little lower each time but thatâs okay because sheâs just trying to comfort you. dana who slaps your ass playfully with a clipboard when she tells you to get a move on but sheâs just making sure youâre taking time management serious. dana who playfully grabs you by your ponytail and ignores your little whimpers and yelps.dana who grills you on who youâre dating with a furrowed brow.dana who you eat out in a storage room because sheâs just trying to teach you everything you need to know before you set off into the big bad world.sheâs just the best mentor you could ever ask for!!!
