Hucklerobby could never happen in cannon simply because if Trinity Santos even got an inkling of an older man in a position of power trying something with one of her friends, she’d materialize behind Robby with a fucking gun
| synopsis - since you switched from day shift to night, parker’s had her eye on you, especially because of how you almost make a point to to keep to yourself. of course, everyone opens up after a few drinks at a shift party
| warnings - mdni, nsfw, porn with a bit too much plot and yapping, reader is a lil freak, flirting, mentions and use of alcohol, kissing, public sex, clothed sex, fingering, kinda age gap? like barely, use of “kiddo” “princess” “pretty girl”, dirty talk
| a/n - not proofread!! also, i know absolutely nothing about medical anything, so please forgive me for any inaccuracies in this !!
smut below the cut!
she didn’t mean to get so hung up on you. parker - ellis if you’re a coworker - had her eye on you when you first transferred from day shift to night. for most, it’s the other way around, so she was intrigued by the fresh new nurse already headstrong on sticking to the night shift. no explanation either, no matter who asked, you just said it was personal preference.
parker isn’t one to get up in your business, but she’s definitely curious about you. you’re kind, good with patients, but damn you’ve got some set boundaries. no one can get a word out of you about what made you, barely even past a grad student, switch to what is widely considered the more grueling night shift.
it doesn’t help that you aren’t the most social, just a bit more casual than professional. so you don’t open up, you don’t really bother putting yourself out there, how the hell is parker meant to figure anything out about you?
all seems hopeless until the stars practically align. a few of the folks on night shift get a common day off, and instead of staying home and sleeping like most would, a boot has the great idea for y’all to go out for drinks, treat yourselves for the hard work you’ve put in the past few months. it’s a shock that once you’re asked to go with, you actually agree.
true be told, it isn’t exactly how you’d wanna spend your day off, but it’s only a few hours, and once you’re out on the spot in front of a new set of coworkers, you don’t wanna come off as rude for not going with.
it’s an odd way to first integrate socially in with your new shift mates, being tossed into a loud, packed to the brim club of drunken people bumping shoulders. but you’ve come too far to leave now.
the start of the night trails on slow, the group perched at the bar nursing your first few shots to ease you into the evening. gradually, conversations branch off, some staying to drink, others leaving to go socialize away from all the alcohol. yet, the idea of being alone in this mess would be much worse than suffering through small talk.
confining yourself to the far corner of the bar, where things calm down to less sparse of area, you nurse your drink. you find some kind of comfort in the whirl of a night in settling just down the bar from parker, your senior resident. you’d much rather sit where you can both think and keep an eye on a familiar face than risk getting overwhelmed in the midst of it all.
of course, seeing you sitting all by your lonesome just doesn’t work for parker. she’s kept a watchful eye on you and now seems like the perfect time to ask; you’re drunk, alone, and probably a bit more loose-lipped. really, is it taking advantage of someone if it’s only of their honesty and for a brief moment?
slowly making her way over to you parker weaves through groups of people. you don’t even notice her until you feel a light tap on your shoulder, assuming it’s some random drunkard trying to pick at you.
“you aren’t the first person to say i don’t fit the room,” you puff, expecting another comment on your person. glancing back to put a face to the assumed annoyance, only to be met with - “ellis- er, parker?” your face falls in horror, thinking only a light scold will get you reported for misconduct.
maybe it’s the light, that has to be it or else parker’s looking at you with the smuggest smile possible. “yeesh kid, jumpy aren’t ya?” hearing her tease you might actually be the most mortifying thing that’s happened to you. “not normally, no- i didn’t hear you, i-it’s so loud, yknow?”
instead of berating you, or even roughly teasing you, she chuckles. pearly whites peeking out from behind her lips. “don’t worry, i get it, i shouldn’t be scaring little lambs like you anyways,” she mutters the last half to herself, halfway into her glass.
“well, how you doin’ over here? you seem… quieter than normal.” even as drunk as you managed to get, you notice the way her eyes turned you over. “‘m fine, just… not used to this many people.” parker nods, nudging your shoulder with the back of her hand, her touching lingering a bit too longer. “its alright, just stick by and you’ll be okay.”
even though it’s the bar minimum of reassurance, her coming up to check on you hidden in the cramped club, noise built into the floors eases the blur of action in front of you. “yknow, i been meaning to ask,” she starts, pulling you out of your little drunken sense of awe, “what made you switch to night shift?”
you knew the questions been going around the department, swirling whispers making people talk, but to be outright asked is something else. “oh, um… it worked better for me,” but even as you say it, you know it sounds like an excuse. and telling by the look on her face, so does parker. “that right, you just can’t play nice with others?”
it’s not meant to be an accusation, but it sure does feel like it, feeling your heart skip half a beat. “well- no, i didn’t have any beef with them, yknow? just couldn’t really uh… there was um… disagreements,” you awkwardly chuckle, trying to smooth out her suspicions. “disagreements?” she scoffs, her suspicious gaze prompting a drunken mumbling for a response. “not like, screaming matches- i-i dont think it was best for me to be around most of em.”
by the look on her eyes, you can tell she’s still curious. letting out a sigh, parker takes a half step closer, her gaze holding yours. “look,” parker hums, getting close enough that even with others bumping shoulders with you, she’s close enough to feel like it’s only you two, “i’ve had my own fair shares of grudges with attendings, residents and everyone in between. i promise you, it can’t be that bad.”
looking between her and the ruckus around you, what does it matter if one person knows what really happened? “i slept with a senior resident.”
after a moment of staring, parker starts chuckling, eyeing you like you grew a second head. “really?” she laughs. “i- yeah, i mean it was just a fling, a-and then hr almost got involved and it was just best to switch,” you hurriedly explain, only to find she has the same expression.
her teasing expression breaks once she sees how much this is actually troubling you. “kid,” she concedes, “it happens a lot. people move around and get around. but if you’re really that strung up about it, let’s get you a drink.”
patting your shoulder, she pulls you towards the bar, the both of you getting press up to the bar top in the very corner. “whaddya you drink?” staring at the bottles of liquor lining the walls for a good second, you shrug. “um, i’ll have whatever you do.”
“i can make that happen,” she hums, patting you shoulder and calling over the bartender and soon, two green tea shots are slid across the bar top right in front of you. “so,” she starts, watching you hold the shot glass close, “you do that often?”
you may have expected the question and thought it isn’t out of reason to think she’d ask, but you were expecting a bit more conversation before she digs into your personal life. “not exactly,” you mumble, glancing up at her only to back off a second later, “it was just… me and one of doctors, her and i… we almost got in trouble with hr, so… thought it’d just be better to call it off.”
“wow.”
you’re caught off guard once parker still to full on giggle at you. “hey, you said you wouldn’t judge.” you feel a bit more upset than you probably should, but you were the one to trust her, as she is your senior now, but- “kid, i ain’t teasing. it’s just- the lil’ lamb got with another resident so often you almost got caught? if it weren’t so dumb, i’d be jealous.”
she slides her shot glass up to your with a soft clink, smiling while she downs the shot. only out of courtesy do you drink yours, already feeling loopy enough. “jealous, you?” you mumble, having no mind to filter your mind, wanting to know just why she’d be envious of you sleeping around.
“oh cmon, you know it’s a bit more than curiosity that keeps me interested in you.” she says with a smirk so proud it’s nearly a sneer. “yeah?” you scoff, glancing up at her with a daring glint and leaning into the wall to try and seem tough. “and you’re already playing with me. thought you’d be a bit less eager here.”
she’s smug as always, taking a step closer and leaning over you, shattering any act you tried to play. “you’re not dumb, and i don’t stick around newer girls this long unless im interested.” her hand goes up and her thumb traces the outline of your lips. “you’re… i can’t get in trouble, ellis.”
she chuckles, her hand sliding down to rest on the nape of your neck, her thumb under your jaw and tilting your chin up. “the only thing that’s gonna get you in trouble, is that name.”
tucked into the back corner of the bar, out of eye from even the bartender, you let parker get closer than your bad idea was.
“maybe… maybe in the bathroom?” you whisper, still concerned on getting the both of you in the least amount of trouble. but parker is so much more confident in this than you’d think, her free hand gripping your hip and pinning it to the wall. “we’ll be fine here, don’t you worry.”
to calm your bubbling nerves, she presses a light kiss to your temple, careful to ease you into her. “parker,” you whine, though it’s more of a plea once she has you in her arms, warm and fuzzy. or that’s the alcohol. who cares, it still feels good.
“it’s okay,” she reassures you, leaning over to shield your body with her own, “you just gotta stay quiet, kiddo.” tilting your head up to meet hers, parker holds you close, your foreheads pressed together. “can you do that for me?” with a racing heart and speeding mind, your brain skips past anything you might regret and nod.
“good.”
her lips meet yours in a slow, tantalizing flow. you kiss back the second you feel her, your hands grabbing her by the shirt, bunching the fabric up and pulling her closer. parker’s lips part open, nipping at your bottom lip and holding your jaw tighter when you whine.
“you said you’d be quiet,” she scolds in tone that manages to not make you feel stupid. “i’m trying-“ “shhh.” parker reaches down, her hand trailing from your hip down the front of your shorts, not even bothering to unbutton them.
she waits until she hears you whine to do anything. dipping her fingers underneath the waist band of your panties, sliding a finger between your wet folds, feeling over the ridges of your pussy; it all comes so naturally to parker while she finger- fucks in some random little bar.
letting your head fall forward on her shoulder, shuddering into her neck. “parker- i… you’re being mean.”
parker chuckles, shaking her head while she holds you close, “oh yeah?” her fingertips graze the rim of your entrance, teasing while she gets a feel of just how wet you really are.
“sorry, princess,” she whispers, but you aren’t sure if it’s for teasing, or for how easy she’s made it for herself to slide a digit in. with a slow drag, her finger curls inside of you, feeling just how tight you are.
“ah shit,” parker whispers under her breath, a smile growing once she kisses your cheek, just close enough to mutter, “that feel good?”
you nod into parker’s shoulder, whining into her jacket, “yeah,” you start in a mumble, “m-more.” your voice breaks into a plea at the sound of your own need.
you can barely finish your sentence before another two of her fingers sink inside your spongy walls. “there ya go, take me, pretty girl,” she puffs into your ear, her free hand holding the bottom of your thigh.
with so much going on, your pussy filled to the brim, dripping down her wrist, pushed against the wall and spread open where anyone can see, all you can manage to do in your haze is grab and hope parker doesn’t let go.
“parker, please- shit, y-you’re so deep!” you cry, your leg tightening in place and your stomach clenching. you know that if anyone even looked over, they’d see and hear the lewd scene among the bustling club.
you can feel the grin on her lips as they press into your neck when she whispers; “yeah, that’s juust right, isn’t it? you’re already close, aren’t ya.”
her voice rolls over you, warm and safe, lulling you in as you nearly go limp in her arms. you try to say something, anything, but she’s just too good at this.
your mouth falls open a near-silent, whiny cry.
her grip on you tightens.
and right as you’re shuddering, clenching around her fingers and soaking through layers of clothing-
thud.
“watch it.” “s-sorry!” you’re stuttering out an apology, your shoulder clipped by someone walking before you can even finish cumming, panting as your voice breaks into an embarrassing staccato.
it takes a second, but once the both of you catch your breath, parker is chuckling, not moving quite yet. she rubs your back and hugs you close, chuckling about the ruined moment. once it sets in, the whining, begging, lusting, so does the burning embarrassment.
“god,” you puff into her neck, “i need another shot.”
toji’s size is the first thing you notice, and the last thing you forget. he’s all hard lines and dense muscle, towering over you so completely that he has to duck through doorways. standing close to him feels like standing in the shadow of a mountain, and the first time his hand, big enough to wrap around your entire thigh, settled on your waist, you felt a jolt of pure, primal awareness straight to your core.
the contrast is what drives him wild. he loves using his size to make you feel small, but safe. he’ll come up behind you while you’re cooking, his chest pressing against your back, and just reach over your head to grab a spice jar you were stretching for. he won’t say a word, just hums, his breath stirring your hair, and the sheer ease of it, the way he handles you and the world around you without effort, makes your knees weak.
there’s a filthy thrill in the way he can manhandle you without even trying. one hand is all it takes to pin both of your wrists above your head against the mattress. his thighs are so thick and powerful they can keep your legs spread wide open with just the weight of one thrown over yours. he’ll look down at you, trapped and utterly at his mercy under his bulk, and the smirk he gives is pure sin. "where you think you’re goin’, sweetheart? ain’t no escape from me."
he’s obsessed with the visual. his big, calloused hands spanning your entire waist, his fingers almost touching when he holds you. the way your delicate jewelry looks wrapped around his thick wrist after he’s taken it off you. he loves holding your tiny ankles in one hand, spreading you open so he can see everything, watching himself disappear inside you, your small body struggling to take all of him. "fuck, look at that," he’ll grunt, voice dark with lust, "look how you stretch for me. made for this, ain’tcha?"
but for all his roughness, he has a surprisingly soft spot for cuddling. after he’s wrecked you, thoroughly and completely, the beast settles. he’ll pull your limp, boneless body against his chest, your back to his front, and he’ll envelop you entirely. one massive arm is a heavy, comforting weight around your waist, his big hand splayed possessively over your stomach. you feel tiny, but not fragile—protected. cherished. like a secret he keeps locked safe against his heart.
he finds ways to use his size for comfort, too. on the couch, he’ll slouch down and just tuck you into his side, your head fitting perfectly under his arm, your legs thrown over his massive thighs. he’ll use one hand to scroll on his phone, the other absently tracing patterns on your hip, and the sheer warmth and solidity of him is better than any blanket. he likes feeling you use him as your personal pillow, your heater, your fortress.
he whispers the filthiest things in that low, gravelly voice of his, things that should be degrading but just make you burn for him. "gonna fold you up like a little pretzel, keep you just like this," or "my pretty little thing, takin’ all this dick so good." but then, in the same breath, after he’s made you come apart, he’ll nuzzle his face into your hair, his voice going soft and sleep-slurred. "my good girl. my perfect, tiny girl. s’all mine."
and in the morning, when he’s still half-asleep, that’s when he’s softest. he’ll curl his big body around yours, seeking your warmth, and bury his face in your neck. his arms will hold you so tight it’s almost constricting, but it’s just his way of making sure you’re still there. you’ll feel him press a sleepy, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, a silent, possessive claim, and you’ll know that for all his terrifying size and strength, he’s the one who’s utterly wrapped around your little finger.
I remember the first time I saw it. Tried to find words to describe it… but I couldn’t. Nothing had prepared me; no books, no teachers, not even my parents. I heard a thousand stories but none could describe this place. It must be witnessed to be understood. And yet… I’ve seen it, and understand it even less than before I first cast eyes on this place. Some call it the American Desert, others, the Great Plains. But those phrases were invented by professors at universities surrounded by the illusion of order and the fantasy of right and wrong. To know it, you must walk it. Bleed into its dirt. Drown in its rivers. Then its name becomes clear… It is hell, and there are demons everywhere. But if this is hell, and I’m in it… then I must be a demon too. And I’m already dead.
I had abandoned every memory of Tennessee, as though I was born on this journey. But I wasn’t… We were leaving a place and seeking another. And the journey was the necessary, miserable road between the two. Somehow I felt immune to the dangers of this place. As if the land and I had struck a deal. I could pass unharmed so long as I loved it. And I did. I loved everything about it. But crossing the Brazos taught me there was no deal. No matter how much we love it, the land will never love us back.
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