g5nesis

19 // g5nesis on ao3 :3 // hucklerobby/abbot truther // dennis whitaker enthusiast <3 // angst lover

[g5nesis]

i like the idea of dennis being absolutely USELESS with technology. imagine him with his brand new iphone starting at it like it grew eyes. the only reason he was able to get it was because trinity added him to her phone plan and got him an upgrade because his shitty little phone before was not cutting it. it had tape holding the back together, the screen was cracked to all hell, and the chances it would turn on when he wanted it were about 50/50.

so now he’s dealing with an extremely modern phone with no idea how to really use it. he has the basic apps, like messaging and calls and safari, and maybe a game or two but doesn’t like playing much now due to ads overriding his experience. dennis doesn’t even decorate it, it has the cheapest case he could find and the pre installed wallpapers.

the mistakes he’s made are outstanding. he’s texted the wrong person before (naturally), typed out and sent his google searches to messaging chats, accidentally renamed the wifi instead of putting in the password (actually he renamed it the password, so that was a fun one for trinity to fix), has factory reset it once, added a new place on the map instead of looking for it (trinity was baffled he managed that), amongst other things. he’s also so grandpa coded with using his index finger to navigate his phone, and when trinity calls him old he will retort back that it gives him a better grip on his phone and more precision with clicking things (which he desperately needs).

now imagine jack and robby. they’re not exactly pros or anything, but know how to work around a phone just fine. in fact, maybe a little better than average with their years of experience of learning new technology coming out over the years. they think it’s incredibly endearing whenever whitaker accidentally sends them a random picture, blurry with only half his face in frame. it’s not even purposeful, he had no idea he even took or sent anything at all.

whenever the two older men ask dennis to search something up, dennis ends up with a completely different result. and the two of them have to team up to help dennis avoid clicking scammy pop ups and to avoid spam calls and messages.

(one time he called them panicking because he got a message of an outstanding toll debt.

“dennis, baby, you don’t even have a car.”

“well then how did they get my number!”)

it’s incredibly sweet to the older pair, and if anything it makes them feel useful in a way they haven’t before.

(an added plus is that dennis enjoys the same old man phone games they do :3 )

[g5nesis]

clocking into work genuinely has me feeling like dennis whitaker on his first day

[g5nesis]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/82111216

shamelessly plugging my hucklerobby angsty fic :3

summary:

The steady headache that pulsed behind Dennis’ eyes was a clear indicator of the type of day he was going to have.

He knows his feelings for his attending go deeper than admiration but that’s his secret to keep. He won’t let anyone else have it, not even Robby.

or

Sometimes Dennis can still taste the sourness in the back of his throat after leaving a sermon. And now these words seemed to haunt him the most. He would hear them be played back to him in this horrifying twist of guilt and shame.

But God doesn’t respond to sinners, not ones like him.

[g5nesis]

vampire!dennis’ fangs are absolutely aching. he battles the desperate need to puncture into…into anything. it hurts and it burns. dennis needs to bite down and take and take. it’s been over two weeks. he knows the longer he goes without, the sweeter the reward will be. but he’s starting to feel too restless, like fireworks are buzzing under his skin. akin to the feeling of blood rushing through limbs, though it’s been decades since he’s felt that. right now he’s not sure how much longer he can go without a feed.

dennis can hear the blood coursing through everyone’s veins. his senses heightening, begging him to do anything. to bite and to take and to drink. the hunger is revealing itself, rearing its ugly head with two sharp teeth. the fluorescent overhead lights is burning holes through him. he’s perpetually cold, but right now there’s this searing burn overtaking his insides. it’s hard to think straight when he feels like he’s on fire.

he barely works through the smell of blood in the air, resisting his fangs from making an appearance. he can feel them poking through and it’s only a matter of time before they slip right out.

dennis knows robby is taunting him. he knows he’s dangling this precious little relief over his head, he knows it’s a game. everytime robby looks at him, the attending tilts his head–and to everyone else it looks normal–but to dennis and dennis only, he is baring his neck. a simple gesture to many but to the poor and hungry vampire it’s a siren call. a beautiful melody trying to lure him to warm water deep below.

“hey dennis? let’s talk over here for a moment.” robby says and gestures with his neck, letting the skin pull taut.

dennis nods and swallows around the thick saliva in his throat. he’s so fucking thirsty.

“you seem…restless. antsy. any reason in particular?” robby asks with a sickeningly sweet smile. his eyes betraying the sweet nature of the question. robby knows the game, and he knows he’s winning.

“i’m not” dennis stutters out. he’s focusing on the repetitive up and down motion of robby’s adam apple as he talks, the salty sweat coating the breakable skin. he knows how easy it is to go for his jugular. and dennis is fast, robby wouldn’t even know what hit him.

but he can’t lose, not when he’s this close. he knows that robby needs this almost just as much as him.

robby smoothes dennis’ shoulders with his hands, pausing and letting his thumbs rest right on dennis throat. there’s no pulse, no bump bump bump flourishing under his thumb. but he can feel the shakiness overtaking the poor boy. he almost feels sorry for him. “lying is a sin whitaker.” he caresses the cold velvety soft pale skin. “i can see badly you need it, it’s written all over your face.”

and he does. dennis needs it bad. there’s electricity everywhere crawling underneath the surface and he feels that he might combust right then and there. but there’s something so satisfying to delaying the gratification, to press on the bruise, to pick the scab. there’s something so beautiful in relinquishing the control, to put down the act, and to let robby hold it all in his hands.

“i don’t, sir. i’ve got it under control.”

“you keep leaning close to every neck. you’re lucky no one has caught on.” robby says and dennis feels his non beating heart stop. “it’s okay, it’s okay,” robby soothes, “soon. you can wait a little longer right?”

and dennis, the ever loving obedient boy, nods feverishly.

“good boy.”

the praise is the only thing that gets him through the rest of his shift. he is good. and he won’t, can’t, let robby down. so he braves on, puts on his metaphorical armor and squares his shoulder to prepare for the blows. he powers right through every urge. he doesn’t lean into any exposed neck, doesn’t linger where blood smells, he doesn’t listen to his vampire instincts.

it’s the longest he’s gone without blood since being with robby. he’s been spoiled, according to the attending, and needed to learn how to control himself. but dennis doesn’t know how to explain just how good it feels to-

“come on dennis,” the blond man feels the heavy weight of hands set on his shoulder and steer him. “let’s go home.”

dennis can feel the anticipation, the excitement brewing in his stomach. he feels like a loaded gun, like an animal in a hot car. dennis stays silent during the drive home, letting robby’s rhythmic squeeze of his thigh lull him into a calm trance. he’s clenching and unclenching his hands, digging his nails into his skin the same way he would his fangs. he tries not to think about that comparison.

when they reach home, dennis is quick to unbuckle and enter while robby is taking his time. the man has no reason to rush, but he can’t deny how this little game has been making him feel.

in truth, robby is just as desperate. he’s longing for dennis’ sharp fangs to pierce his soft neck. but he can’t let the other man know just how wrapped around his finger he is.

when the both of them are inside their mouths slot together like a compass needle pointing north. they’re clawing at each other so desperately, feeding the desire. the only sound in the house is the messy kiss and their clothes dropping. robby thought he would have a bit more self control but he couldn’t hold it back once he entered that door. it was driving him insane all day seeing whitaker all pent up and desperate like a dog. all hot and bothered.

dennis can’t help the whimpers that escape him, the soft mantra of please please please. he needs it so bad he feels his fangs threatening to escape. he’s pressing into robby and holding him as if he can melt away. dennis doesn’t know for how long he begs until he finally hears the permission.

“yes baby. yes please. please baby feed. take what you need.” robby says, and dennis feels the green light inside of him burst open.

his fangs unsheathe, ripping through his gums. robby bares his neck in surrender though he holds all the reigns. he licks the warm skin, tongue peaking out and pressing down. dennis inches forward and ghosts his mouth over the exposed flesh, letting his fangs run against the skin. time slows down right now, the hunger is there but not at the forefront of his mind. he wants to savor the moment and drag it out. he runs his sharp fangs over the the skin, letting it catch.

and finally, dennis lets the soft flesh give way under the force of his bite. a burst of flavor immediately hits him. the burning in his skin now replaced by the buzzing euphoria. he feels the world fade out in waves, replaced by the rush of blood entering him. dennis can’t stay away, he sucks on the tender skin like it’s the last time he ever will. he’s dizzy with it and grinding up against robby as he gets his fill. he’s whimpering so softly, almost like a wounded animal. it feels like it’s been eons since he’s had the pleasure of feeding from robby. his deliciously sweet and metallic blood so fulfilling, so enriching.

dennis feels closer to heaven than the day he died and turned.

he can’t help himself, suckling on his partners skin like he will milk him dry. he only pulls away when he feels robby start to sway, dizzy unlike pleasure and more so blood loss.

robby brings the pad of his thumb to press against the exposed sharp edge of dennis’ fang, the stray blood drop staining his finger.

“fuck. i should let you go without more often.”

[g5nesis]

imagine dennis, before his emergency medicine rotation and is still staying on the 8th floor, hearing almost every night the opening and closing of the door leading to the roof. other nights he hears the voices as they make their way up or down. sometimes the steps are silent, other times the steps are heavy and frantic. one night he braves the journey and peaks his head out to catch a glimpse of who are the mystery employees who go to the roof before or after their shifts.

also imagine his horrifying realization that the same doctor who would go almost every night without fail to that rooftop is dr robby.

the same robby who he helped after a panic attack, the same robby who’s going on a sabbatical, the same robby who was on the verge of breaking down his whole last shift before leaving, the same robby who offered up his place like it was nothing, the same robby who said to him “if i don’t come back”.

only then would dennis realize just how deep robby’s wound runs.

[g5nesis]

trinity once, baffled by one of dennis’ odd habits, asked him unseriously “what, were you raised in a fucking barn or something?”

dennis, genuinely confused, “uhh sorta? sure?”

and trinity is just double baffled. doesn’t ever ask that again, but now knows that’s a reason for dennis’ oddities.

[g5nesis]

hc where dennis never really had friends growing up. he was always the black sheep at home and in school. he was always smaller and quieter than the rest. dennis tried to make up for it, always volunteered to do hard labor around the farm thinking he could win his fathers approval.

but nothing ever changed how his father saw him. his brothers would take advantage of his eagerness to prove himself. either delegating the worst tasks to him or purposefully sending him off just to not have to deal with him. or locking him out of the house for the night.

when dennis realizes this, he starts making himself small. he tries to not call attention to himself. didn’t make a fuzz if his parents forget him at home when they went out. didn’t make a fuzz when his brothers left him at the school instead of all coming home together in their fathers truck, leaving him to find his way back by himself.

(one time they made him walk back in the middle of a rainstorm, it took him almost double the usual time to get home. and all he was greeted with was a complaint about tracking mud and water into the house.)

so when dennis moves in with trinity, he’s on edge. trinity holds the power to rip the rug from underneath him. he makes himself useful, and scarce. dennis makes trinity breakfast, but doesn’t eat any himself. he exclusively showers with cold water to leave enough hot water for her. he doesn’t hang out in the shared spaces, feeling like he’s invading. he never unpacks either, leaving his pitiful bag next to the bed.

and whenever trinity makes a jab at him, he never fights back. he takes it, quietly, and sees if there’s anything he can change. dennis doesn’t see anything wrong with it either, it reminds him of his brothers. all the roughhousing and verbal jabs. he doesn’t know any better, and doesn’t think he would deserve it.

one night while dennis is doing dishes he drops a plate. it shatters before he’s able to fully catch it and it slices into his palm. tears spring in his eyes, all he can think about is how mad trinity will be. he tries to clean up quickly when he hears familiar footsteps approaching.

“dennis?! are you-” trinity starts.

“i’m sorry. im so sorry. i didn’t mean to, it slipped. please i’m so sorry i won’t do it again i promise. i’ll pay for it-i can pay double. i’ll make up for it. please i’m so sorry i didnt mean it.” dennis cries out, piling some of the broken shards of ceramic onto his hands, uncaring of the tiny cuts they leave in their wake.

when trinity goes up to him he flinches back, he knows trinity would never. but it doesn’t stop his brain from trying to protect him like when he was a child.

she stops in her tracks and lifts up her hands, feeling way out of her element. “dennis, it’s okay. it was a mistake, they happen. just–just leave the pieces there okay? you’re hurting yourself.” trinity says and then gets up to find a broom.

“n-no it’s okay, really. it’s fine. and plus i deserve it. i shouldn’t have dropped it.”

trinity stares at him, broom in hand. “no.”

“what?”

“don’t you ever fucking say that about yourself, do you hear me? don’t ever say that you deserve to be hurt, much less over a simple mistake. it’s a plate dennis, we can get another plate anywhere. what i’m…worried about…is you. i don’t want to hear any bullshit like that coming out of you again.” she says as she bends forwards to sweep the shards into the dustpan. trinity leaves it on the floor as she then proceeds to grab dennis and haul him to her bathroom.

she turns on the faucet and guides his hands under the water, and gets the first aid kit tucked away under the sink.

as she starts dressing the cuts on his hands she starts, “i don’t know who made you believe that a simple mistake should be paid for in pain, but i do hope you know they’re out of their mind.”

trinity then adds quietly, “and i hope whoever caused you to flinch like that is fucking dead.”

dennis stills. “trin-”

“you think i haven’t noticed? that you live here like a ghost haunting it? you refuse to hang out in the living room, you haven’t unpacked your shit, and i hope you know im not dumb enough to believe that you ‘ate before i did’ whenever you make breakfast. i was hoping you would settle down and not think that i would kick you out at the drop of a hat but it seems you need a remainder.” trinity says, finishing up the bandages.

“i let you move in because i wanted to. you don’t owe me shit, not even rent. all i ask is to not make a mess or whatever. that doesn’t mean to act like it might be your last day living here. i…dennis i want you here. you’re my friend and-”

dennis gapes, “i’m your friend?”

“yes you idiot what did you think?”

“i don’t know!, that you were my friend but not that i was yours? i felt like a leech”

trinity levels him with a cold stare. “that’s genuinely the dumbest thing i’ve heard in my life and i’ve had to work shifts with shitheads who can’t tell left from right and essentially shoot up caffeine to function.”

“you’re my friend dennis. you listen to me when i rant about garcia. you make me breakfast, you help clean, you help me at work. you let me force you to watch my favorite shitty movies. we are a package deal alright?”

dennis feels a smile tug at his lips. “alright.”

“perfect, now who do i have to kill?” dennis can’t help the laugh that escapes him, and trinity joins in on it too.

“okay now no more lovey dovey shit. i’ve got a reputation to uphold and you have got a bag to unpack.”

[g5nesis]

pt. 1 if you haven’t read it

pt. 2,

the next morning greets dennis with a pounding headache. for a split second he forgets what happened the previous night and thinks he’s woken up in a random house and in a random bed, which wouldn’t be impossible considering his latest track record. right when he’s about to get up to hastily leave before any guy could realize, it all hits him. the stranger at the bar, robby, his house, his hands untying his shoes, his hands in his hair, his name on his lips-

suddenly he feels very sick very fast.

dennis is thankful to whatever is listening that the door he opened was to a bathroom and not a walk in closet because he immediately dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and expelled all the contents of his stomach. he’s feeling absolutely miserable, embarrassed, and most of all exposed. his stomach is cramping, his throat is burning, and all he wants is to forget this ever happened and go back to the apartment.

suddenly he feels a gentle hand rub up and down his back as he’s crouched down and draped over the toilet.

“it’s alright, just get it all out.” robby says as he continues rubbing circles on dennis’ back. uncaring of the fact that the other man is actively throwing up.

dennis wants to reply but another bout of nausea shuts him right up. it’s only once he feels his stomach uncomfortably empty that he can finally lean back and sit down against the floor. he brings the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, not really caring that it gross. dennis feels the older man step away for a second and come back with a cup of water and ibuprofen. he’s incredibly grateful for it as he chugs the water and the pill to chase away the lingering taste of bile in his mouth.

“i’m sorry.” is all dennis can think to say right now. there’s much more he wants to say, but doesn’t know where to start. but he brings his hand to rub at his chest, his heart, as if he could localize the pain. his cheeks turn painfully red, humiliation running rampant in his veins like fire coursing them. it burns.

robby gently hums. “what for? throwing up? you’re probably hungover as fuck right now dennis. i don’t mind. at least you made it to the bathroom.” he huffs, but there’s not much humor behind it. he’s clearly dancing around the issue at hand. the real reason why dennis was hungover in his bathroom, the real reason why dennis was here at all.

“i don’t know.” the younger man replies, closing his eyes against the fluorescent bathroom light. with his eyes closed he can almost pretend this is all a bad dream. for a moment he’s just in his own bathroom back at the apartment with trinity. coming home from another hookup, just another way to hurt himself, alone in the bathroom feeling sorry for himself and angry he’s doing this at all.

robby doesn’t reply but maneuvers dennis to his feet and guides him out to the living room. in the morning light dennis can actually appreciate the place. it’s nicely decorated but there’s not really anything behind it all. robbys got all the right things but it doesn’t feel like the real thing.

“i ordered something to eat. i know you’re probably not hungry but you need something greasy and something in your stomach.” robby says as he deposits a miserable looking whitaker on his couch, leaving to the kitchen and coming back with two plates of a hearty breakfast.

the tv is on and playing an old action movie dennis doesn’t know the name of but has seen some clips quite a few times. it’s nothing but a waiting game now, so dennis settles back into the couch. he gets lost in the movie and plays around his food like a child. he’s barely listening but it’s enough to distract him from whatever mess his head would be brewing otherwise. it reminds him of coming home late with trinity and her putting on a random movie to watch together to decompress, they would talk sometimes but other times they’d sit in silence and-

‘oh god’ dennis thinks, “trinity.”

“what?” robby calls out next to him, dennis unaware of when the man had even sat beside him on the couch.

“i- trinity. i need to call her. she’s probably wondering where i am-” he starts, whipping his head around and patting his pockets to check for his phone.

robby digs into his own pocket and pulls out the phone, extending the hand towards dennis. “don’t worry, i messaged her. i saw she was blowing up your phone and i called her with mine.”

dennis stills. he wonders what exactly robby told her, and if trinity spilled anything to him about his…habits lately. for a moment he feels like a child being caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. the shame coiling in his stomach while his parents’ disappointed dagger eyes stared right through him.

“you should call her. she likely wants to hear from you herself.” robby adds as dennis reaches out for the device.

dennis can’t help himself, “did she tell you anything?” he blurts out.

“tell me what?”

“so she didn’t.” dennis feels himself minutely relax.

“oh no, she did.” and suddenly there’s no ground beneath dennis. no solid ground to plant his feet on, to hold on to. nothing to tether him. “she had a lot to say, we…we had a lot to say.” robby finishes.

there’s not really much dennis can do but ride out the waves, will himself to not fight the tide. if the truth is out there—or a truth, whatever it might be—it’s already done. it means he’s already lost the battle, no chance to wear his armor. he’s used up all of his resilience for what, kept it to himself for nothing. dennis feels the dagger dig inside him, it twists. he’s swallowing around glass.

“oh.” dennis replies lamely, his mouth forming around words he doesn’t dare say out loud. he doesn’t know what they are, but in his head they take shape inwards. they take ground, grow roots, and dig deep. they push out sharp fangs and pierce right through. they take over like a cancer, and he’s powerless against the swelling storm in his heavy head.

robby turns his body towards the younger man. “she had…concerns. i did too.” he starts, “i started noticing something that was…upsetting. you became quieter, unsure in a way that reminded me of when you first started your rotation here with me. it didn’t seem like you were really there and i mean- it never affected your work but, you weren’t you.” robby sniffs and looks down.

“i overhead trinity calling you for not coming home, for not calling or texting. i saw the bruises, the marks, but i didn’t want to dig into something that wasn’t my business.” the older man sighs. “but it became my business last night when i saw you and that guy. that disgusting-” robby cuts himself off and licks his teeth. “he could’ve really hurt you dennis. he was stone cold sober and you…you were gone. it was your face, your body, but your mind was somewhere else entirely and that was terrifying.”

truthfully, dennis wants to cry. but he desperately wants some form of control back. he wants to shout, wants to twist and contort his body like a child throwing a tantrum. he wants to call attention to anything else than the truth that’s sitting between them. dennis wants to fight back, spew out ugly truths about the other, shift the light to someone else. but he won’t. he can’t. unless-

he scoffs. “as if you care.” and now his sharp teeth have reared their ugly little heads. his brain is misfiring, he’s sad and humiliated but it comes out all wrong and angry. he wants to twist his wires, connect them where they should. but there’s this chill hardening the liquid metals in his blood, springing him up and he’s starting to build the walls around him.

robby gapes, “what? you think i don’t care?” he says. hurt at the mere thought of uncaring.

dennis can’t stop the huff that escapes him (nor the tears pooling in his eyes like shining pearls), “i’m just a student to you. i’m nothing. so yeah, why would you?” he spits out, aiming for venom but it lands like how it truly is. it’s all insecure and small, no matter how loudly he said it. the wall cracked, letting that darkness spill through. he’s just that to robby, just a student. nothing more, and maybe everything less. but he wants more, he wants it all.

“dennis…” robby starts, helplessly staring at him with his round sad brown eyes.

“you don’t want me. how could you?” his tears fall like accident tire marks on a road, the desperate braking against the inevitable. and finally, his faucet stops pouring. it’s all out, all his cards are laid on the table. it’s not as scary as he thought, but the worst is only yet to come. he’s already imagining the disgust clouding the older man’s eyes. the coiling back of his body, the fear of contagion. he can hear the words he will say, the ones that kick him out and shut him down. he’s lucky if they would only be in the context of the home, and not his job.

robby’s own tears mar his face. “dennis, how could i not?” he whispers. his hands open up in front of him, like a show of hands. as if he’s telling dennis that he’s safe and won’t be hurt. telling him that it’s the truth.

and dennis wants to believe him. but he’s saying it as if it’s easy. as if there’s nothing difficult about wanting him.

“i was scared, you know? that first day i met you. there was something reeling me in, to you, and i was powerless. i couldn’t keep away. and then in pedes you- you reached out to me in a way barely anyone can. you saw a different side to me i rarely show even to myself, and you didn’t run. instead you gave me your hand.” robby extends his hand towards the younger man, like a lighthouse to a rocking ship in the middle of a storm. guiding him where exactly to go.

“let me be there, this time, for you.” robby finishes.

their hands clasp together, fingers slotting together like puzzle pieces they didn’t know each other were missing. like wires clicking into their slots. dennis’ anger dissipates like droplets of water on a burning stones. everything comes rushing back to him, and he feels himself falling towards to robby.

robby holds him, wrapping his arms around him not like he’s fragile, but something worth protecting.

he wordlessly cries into robby. sobs pouring out of him like concrete spilling out, shedding the weight he’s been carrying like his personal cross to bear. robby soothes him gently, lets dennis push out every shard of glass of hurt that was digging into his skin and making a home out of him.

it feels like hours pass when dennis finally looks up. the light is spilling in, painting in light robby’s silhouette. dennis feels his stearing wheel heart settle, finding home.

their lips crash into each other like the gravitational formation of tidal waves. everything falls into place.

[g5nesis]

sad dennis coming home after a rough shift, completely non verbal at this point. he toes his shoes off while swallowing around the knot of tears he carries in his throat. he immediately finds robby like a moth to a flame, finding the older man laying on the couch. wordlessly he lays himself flat over robby and lets out the biggest sigh ever, nuzzling into the warm body of his partner. dennis feels himself relaxing by the second, everything feels so far away the moment he’s around robby. robby then gently cards his fingers through the mousy blond curls and presses a gentle kiss to them. he doesn’t ask about dennis’ day, he doesn’t have to, he already knows. instead he lets his partner soak up all the comfort that he needs. the next few hours are spent dennis stuck on robby. wherever the older man goes, dennis follows. robby pretends to be annoyed endearingly, but he very much loves it when dennis acts like a little barnacle (and will call him as such, lovingly). robby doesn’t wish for dennis’ bad days, but he loves the fact he can relieve whatever has troubled dennis.

[g5nesis]

autistic dennis is so dear to me. i am him and he is i.

- cannot for the LIFE of him hide his baffled/shocked facial expression. everyone will know

- genuinely misses so many jokes it’s painful for others to witness

- trinity had to give him explicit permission to use ANYTHING in the apartment. she was getting sick of him asking to use anything. (ie “can i get something from the fridge?” “can i eat this?” “can i watch tv?” , “oh my god yes dennis do whatever you want im not your mom”)

- basically eats the same thing everyday. and then randomly switches up to something else for a while when trinity already bulk bought the previous food. (it’s a cycle, or circle because he will go back)

- always stimming and fidgeting with his hands, ALWAYS. trinity desperately wants him to get a fidget toys, and he does have them, but bringing it to work is a whole ordeal and he doesn’t want to ruin or lose it (or worse, have people ask for it) so hand stimming it is

- the bright white overhead light at the hospital gives him headaches and overstimulates him by the end of his shift, when he gets home he will lay in the dark for hours in his room

- hates taking pills bc of the feeling of it going down his throat. he’s convinced it stays stuck there. HAS to eat a little something to make sure it’s down and GONE

- didn’t understand trinity’s mean demeanor. he was either clueless to a lot of small jabs or took them personally. when trinity finally showed her soft side dennis realized she was just joking with him in the way she knew how to. he tries to reciprocate but everything falls flat, trinity has to teach him how to be “mean” back. (he’s def said something a little too mean without realizing and apologized profusely once he did)

- is BLUNT but simultaneously a people pleaser…somehow

- tucks in his scrub shirt bc he read somewhere that’s how it’s supposed to be safer so it doesn’t get caught, and he is not a rule breaker (it doesn’t really matter anymore but he follows despite seemingly being the only one who does. he also hates the elastic leaving marks on his skin and the shirt helps stop that)

- is a crier. any emotion makes him cry. especially when he’s overwhelmed and overstimulated

- tries not to cry in front of others tho, he was constantly labeled a cry baby as a child. nobody ever understood his needs as a kids

- chronic resting sad face. constantly asked if he’s okay. (he is? he doesn’t know why people ask all the time)

- has comfort clothes for around the house he cycles through. has 4 shirts and pants he uses all the time and rarely mixes up the shirts with dif pants

- will find the weirdest most specific way to describe things (ie “it tastes…stinky.” “dennis something cannot taste stinky. that’s a smell.” “no i swear!”)

- very rarely does he successfully enter group conversations, it’s always awkward but it doesn’t stop him from trying to fit in

[michael-subinavitch]

suranjana 🌱 on Instagram: "tried a new rendering style idk if i really like it #hucklerobby #thepitt #fanart #yuri"

1,176 likes, 18 comments - coffee1science on May 20, 2026: "tried a new rendering style idk if i really like it #hucklerobby #thepitt #fana

Not mine - please like, comment, and follow the artist on Instagram!

[g5nesis]

GENDERBENT HUCKLEROBBY SUPREMACY

[puppiegracie]

once again thinking about somno hucklerobby. dennis just gets so sleepy when they're home, curled up in robby's soft sheets. the sight is adorable and— even though it makes him a little ashamed, seeing dennis all pliant and warm, lips slack, makes robby twitch and swell in his sweats. robby can't get hard as often as he'd like, and he can't just let his boner go to waste... right?

it's just so easy to nudge the boy's thighs apart, his hole still loose and warm from being fingerfucked to tears earlier, and press his dick oh-so-slowly inside. nestle up deeep, cock stuffing den's puffy little cunt, groaning soft at the silky wet walls squeezing around his dick.

robby stays still for a moment while dennis snuffles and whines weakly in his sleep, squirming a bit, probably dreaming. the heat of his cunt is near unbearable, and robby can't help but start to slowly thrust, carefully drawing out and pushing back in.

robby manages to keep it slow and steady enough not to wake poor dennis until he nears the end, losing his self-control as he starts to pound harshly into den's fluttering hole, panting and muffling his groans as he stuffs his boy full of cum, a burst of heat in den's tummy.

dennis whining daddy.. wh— haah— mmh, wh..? all weak and raspy with sleep, spine arching and whimpers gasping out of him as robby slides a hand down to jerk off his swollen tdick, biting back a noise as dennis squeezes tight around his softening, oversensitive cock.

shh, shh, little mouse, daddy's so sorry for waking you. you're alright, you're okay... daddy just needed some relief, sweetheart. you don't mind daddy using your perfect little puppyparts, huh? noo, I know you don't... fuck, there you go, cum all over me, baby. goood puppy. <3

[g5nesis]

cw/tw: unhealthy coping mechanisms, allusions to s/a

something something yearning for robby drunk dennis…something something unhealthy coping mechanisms

which means getting shitfaced drunk in random bars and hooking up with random older guys because he just needs someone to want him. it doesn’t have to be love, and it won’t be. but being wanted will shut out that tall malignant creature with rows of teeth that slinks along the darkest and softest bruised parts of his brain.

he desperately needs to play this game of pretend for one night (or how many it’ll take), let those stranger hands hold him together by his strings lest he will fall apart like they’ve been cut off.

he can’t seem to get it right, no full cure. no reprieve. each morning’s walk of shame leaves him feeling emptier than before. going to work afterwards is a sisyphean effort, trying to pull his strings back into place and not letting anyone see the bruises he carries like a branding.

trinity is pissed at him. it’s this weird mixture of concern and anger and frustration because why can’t he see how he’s killing himself? all the danger he’s throwing himself at? all the pain? but all her words spill out accusatorially and dennis can’t help but curl up and protect the tender parts he fosters inside of him like a child. he will deny and deny and say he’s got it under control and that he’s fine, he’s just relieving stress and god forbid he liked sex.

(he’s not sure he does. because that isnt what this is about. but but but…)

one day he’s drunk out of his mind, folding over himself. the guy he was talking to is paying the tab when he spots robby at his peripheral. ‘oh…i’ve lost it now’ dennis thinks. he lets himself be lead by the older stranger, the tight grip on his arms will definitely bruise. just adding to the already growing collection of paintings his museum body displays.

the cold slows his body, but wakes up his mind a bit. he knows what he’s doing is wrong so terribly wrong but he can’t help himself. he doesn’t care if he dies, he also doesn’t care if he really means it or not (it’s the first time he’s had someone waiting for him at home). but it’s too late now, he’s got some twisted version of relief manhandling him to car.

“hey! stop!” a voice calls out to the one sober and one out of his mind intoxicated pair.

dennis tries to crane his neck back before being shoved forwards “just get in boy” the older stranger says roughly as he opens his passenger door. but before dennis can get in, another hand shoots out to grab him.

“let him the fuck go.” the new voice from earlier snarls.

the stranger huffs, “i got to him first man, leave him be he’s fine.”

dennis get wrenched away from the stranger and looks up to find himself staring at his boss’s face. robby robby robby

“he can barely fucking walk straight, you’re lucky i’m not gonna call the cops you piece of shit and that this is all i’m doing.” he gently folds whitaker into his warm side, supporting him with his arms. “let’s go whitaker.” he says softly to him before pulling him out of the situation.

when they’re a bit of ways away from that older guy, dennis finally finds his voice. “it’s…it’s fine dr robby, really.”

“fine?! fine whitaker?! you’re!…you can’t even stand by yourself dennis! what do you mean it’s fine?!” robby raises his voice. “he could’ve…that man…he could’ve-”

dennis cuts in, “so? so what? i’ve got it handled dr robby-”

robby pinches the bridge of his own nose, “you were going to get into his damn car whitaker can’t you see that? lord knows what would’ve happened to you next!”

“i don’t care! i don’t care dr robby. i wanted it!”

dennis felt robby freeze in place, the hands around him tightening. “i-whitaker…”

“i’m a grown man…i can…do whatever it doesn’t matter. doesn’t matter what happens to me.” dennis’ face twists into something he cannot place.

“doesn’t matter?” robby parots back, looking into the night sky with shining eyes. he huffs, feeling the burning in his nose and ears, his eyes filling up. “doesn’t matter…?”

robby stays quiet but he leads whitaker to his own car. they don’t say anything as he helps buckle dennis in, his drunk hands uncooperative. they also don’t say anything as robby hops into the drivers seat and turns it on and blasts the heat. the drive is quiet, dennis spends one half of it staring at robby’s face and the other staring at his own two hands.

“i didn’t…didn’t mean that.” dennis starts gently when they stopped in front of, what he assumed was, robby’s place.

robby tightened his hands over the steering wheel, clenching his jaw. “you did. you did, whitaker. that’s the worst part.” he brings a hand to scrub down his face, stopping at his beard. robby got out of the car and went to dennis car door and opened it.

dennis took a breath, “no i-”

robby cut in, “you didn’t see your face when you said it. i know…i know what i saw. don’t lie. not to me, not about this.” unable to look at the younger man’s big round blue eyes.

dennis freezes, he doesn’t know what robby could’ve seen on his face. doesn’t know what ugly truth was playing out on his face while his mouth was spilling out the words. he also doesn’t want to think about what it means for robby to be able to read him so easily. to tell what is really going on, to see right through him. what else can’t he hide from the older man? what else does he know?

“come on, i don’t want you to be alone tonight.” he says as he unbuckles whitaker and maneuvers him out. robby takes dennis inside and leads him to the living room to sit down, leaving and coming back with a glass of water he places on the center table.

dennis feels his eyes pool with unshed tears. “i’m sorry dr robby.” he whispers brokenly as he’s sat down on the couch, robby crouching in front of him and unlacing his boots. “i don’t…i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i can’t stop.”

“i got you now.” robby sniffs back his own tears. “there’s nothing wrong with you, nothing at all dennis.” he squeezes dennis ankle in sets of three i love you i love you i love you

dennis dennis dennis repeats in his head like a broken record.

“go to sleep, we will talk in the morning.” robby says as he helps dennis lay down in the guest bedroom, allowing his hand to brush back dennis’ mousy curls on his forehead. he walks out and leaves the door ajar, the soft lighting spilling through.

dennis knows he’s fucked tomorrow. he’s gonna get an earful from both trinity and dr robby. but for now he’s safe, just for now.

pt 2 soon? 👀

pt 2!! is out <3

[puppydogwhitaker]

Jack mentioning semi casually to Robby that nights have been extra stressful lately and without thinking Robby asks if he wants to borrow his stress ball. Jack doesn't understand but says sure because he imagines, you know, an actual stress ball. And then Dennis is scheduled on nights for 2 weeks, looking so incredibly grabbable

this is hilarious. robby justifying his sexual harassment by saying it’s not because he’s attracted to dennis, it’s purely because of stress relief, is just so good.

jack was looking over the schedule for the next two weeks, squinting through the reading glasses he really resented wearing in public. “robby, what’s this?”

“what’s what?” robby didn’t even look away from a chart he was finishing.

sliding over the tablet he’d pulled up the schedule on, jack pointed to a specific line. “why’s whitaker on nights? i thought he was your guy.” he could’ve made a joke about robby acting like the sun shined out the kid’s ass, but he resisted.

robby simply answered, “you said nights were stressful recently.”

“is this the stress ball you were talking about?” his tone was incredulous, bordering on judgemental.

robby smirked and went back to typing. “you’ll get it come monday.”

and jack did get it. dennis showed up with his head down, big eyes darting like a prey animal. he tucked in his scrubs for whatever reason, which made the fabric billow and hug in all the right places. then the kid got to working and jack want to latch onto him like a predator.

dennis moved fast. scurried might’ve been the right word. it was the sort of thing jack appreciated as a manager, but was distracting personally. he just wanted dennis to slow down and stick by his side.

jack lasted maybe three hours before he used robby’s stress ball, and dennis submitted to the treatment so pliantly. most other interns would’ve found it odd. shen and ellis, even years ago, would’ve shrugged him off, maybe even reported him to HR. not dennis, though. he just went where jack put him, respecting he hand squeezing the back of his neck the way a trained dog respected a leash.

robby was, regretfully, right. having dennis on nights did help with the stress. jack would have to parse it out later if it was just the extra body or it it was dennis himself.

edit: there’s a continuation

[alexisneverokay]

thinking about robby who's like. incredibly well regarded in the medical community for his work both in and out of the ER, and so he's invited to speak at a lot of conferences. they're pretty formal affairs, suits and ties and the lot, as well as the ability to bring a plus one along.

he used to not bring anyone, not interested in bringing a friend since others at the conference would speculate over if they were together or not, but now? he brings dennis. at first dennis is apprehensive- what will people think of him and robby? he's not dumb, he knows their age gap raises eyebrows, and he doesn't want robby's colleagues (and the wider us medical field) to think that he'd only got his residency by sleeping with the boss.

robby understood his concerns, very aware that there will absolutely be eyes on him too (though when it came to rich doctors, it wasn't all that rare to see them with a much younger partner on their arm), but he reassures dennis. he's not ashamed of their relationship- in fact, he wants to show dennis off, show everyone how beautiful he is. he's not afraid of people talking, judgemental as they may possibly be. he wants to love dennis loudly, as long as dennis wants that too.

dennis gets quite mushy about the whole declaration robby gives him really- being wanted is still quite new. he gives robby one condition. don't tell people that he's also in medicine, and don't tell them he technically works under robby. dennis refuses to have nepotism rumours flying, not when he worked so hard to study medicine at all.

robby takes him very seriously. he would never jeopardise dennis's career in any way. they agree that when people ask, dennis is a theology graduate- it's not untrue, and it's something dennis can answer polite small talk about if necessary.

neither of them are prepared for just how much everyone *loves* dennis. robby's fucking smitten already, besotted with how fucking good dennis looks dressed up fancy, and it feels like he's the one clutching onto dennis as a plus one, rather than the other way around.

although there was initially some sideways glances at the pair, everyone who got so much as a word in with the pretty curly blonde came away gushing. robinavitch's boy... so sweet, so happy to talk, so enthusiastic and kind and smart, though not in medicine (little did they know).

it gets to the stage where people are coming over to them just to meet dennis, because word has got around so quickly that the renowned bachelor, grumpy and sad, has had a new lease of life poured into him thanks to this dennis. the only side eyes that happen now are ones that pass between people who never knew dr robinavitch could look so happy or could blush and smile the way he did when listening to his boy.

robby enjoys the conference more than he has in fifteen years, and promises to bring dennis along to the next one as per his colleagues requests. as they're finally leaving in the early hours, ever so slightly flushed and tipsy, one man robbys age comes up to him and slaps him on the shoulder good naturedly.

"great speech today, robinavitch, great to meet your partner too. don't let that one slip through your fingers, hey? put a ring on him before the next one!"

robby turns into a tomato, red and stuttering. dennis can't hear anything over the pounding in his chest. an illusion to marriage? robby marrying him? and his colleagues approving after *one* night? oh blimey. their sex that night is soft and pure and really fucking good. both of them cry tears of pleasure and ignore the ironing their crumpled suits will need. in the afterglow, robby researches jewellers.

and, as per the other doctors words? by the time the next conference rolls around, dennis has a shiny rock the size of everest planted on his finger, and a soon to be hyphenated last name. robby can take advice sometimes.

[g5nesis]

late at night, dennis curls and uncurls his fist over robby’s chest while the older man sleeps. the repetitive motion of open close open close soothes a little fire inside of him. he feels the coarse hair entwine between his fingers. he wonders how hard he would have to pull to rip robby along his seams.

other times he lays his palm flat against his partners skin, feeling his star of david dig into the center. he remembers being young and digging his nails into the soft part of his palm, the bones and tendons giving way to something tender he harbors inside. he thinks of nails–actual nails.

he thinks of jesus on the cross, he thinks back to that house in nebraska. it wasn’t all that small, but every wall was closing in on him like a cage. dennis remembers feeling as if he would never be able to leave, trapped in the endless stretch of corridors while he’s knocking picture frames down as proof of life in his wake of attempting to find a way out.

it wasn’t easy, he accumulated more debt than ever and lost so much more than he could’ve ever imagined. some days the only real thing he had to his name was his face, nothing else belonged to him in any way that mattered. he had nothing at all, and felt like nothing too. dennis would swear people saw through him and not at him. he knew one touch would fall straight through.

but then he felt solid under the weight of robby’s steady hand. suddenly every piece he lost along his way was melting back together, different than before (he will never be the same) but in a way that made him feel alive. dennis longed for that heavy hand that burned his edges back together, the hand that builds him up.

back in nebraska he would pray beside his bed late at night when his family was all asleep. he figured god might have less prayers to answer to if everyone else was sleeping, it would make his own that much louder. but maybe it wasn’t all that loud, just constant and overbearing. it was never enough, the starry night was empty, certainly no flames in a bush. dennis never felt that weight bearing voice carry through the back of a biting wind. he never felt the ground beneath him give way to anyone else.

(but in his dreams he would imagine himself taller to reach that endless sky, hoping for one touch or one sign)

dennis got what he wanted, in the end. it just wasn’t what he imagined. that’s what makes it special.

now he lays with the closest thing to salvation he could ever imagine. who’s god to a warm trusting lover sharing your bed? who’s god to flesh and bone with a soul to mirror your own? who’s god to a soft quiet sin, with no shame and no restraint? it’s just quiet. it’s all just quiet in dennis’ head. there’s no performance here, no crowd, and no guilt. just the two of them. two hearts beating as once in the quiet of the night. no need for prayers, everything has been answered.

(religious trauma 🤝 dennis whitaker)

((more religious trauma fic on my ao3, same user))

[logicallyserial]

i put whitaker in situations i am deeply jealous of