Maekar never expected to marry again, never expected to love again. he tried to be a distant husband, a husband in name only. and yet you with your sweet smiles, kind eyes made it so hard for him to forget to be the stern man Westros knew him as, made it hard for him to forget that he didn't want to fall in love.
Maekar Targayren x Florent!reader
Word count: 3,661
CW: MDI 18 +, Arranged marriage, angst, bedding ceremony, smut. innocent and sweet reader, grump x sunshine. age gap. slow burn. by angst i mean a lot of angst like i cried writting some of this.
Masterlist | one | two | three | four | five
You had always been kind, had always been taught to find kindness in everything. To see the good in everyone. You were a sweet flower, as your mother would say, with none of the cunning of a fox, despite your house sigil. You were the perfect lady, kind, caring, beautiful and always doing what was expected of you. Even when it meant marrying the king's youngest son, becoming his second wife and mother to a large brood of children, the oldest of which was closer in age to you than your future husband.
You had looked on the brightside, as you always did, you thought of a man who might grow to love you, a man who perhaps would be like the fairy tales you read as a child, a man willing to go to war for you. You thought of his younger children; perhaps they would grow to love you as a motherly figure, not as a mother. You knew you could never replace her, but you hoped perhaps there would be great happiness in your life. Even if you were to be the notoriously hard and tough man they call “the anvil”.
You grew hopefully as you journeyed to the crownlands, thinking of the life you would live as a princess.
You had never met the man that would be your husband, nor any royal to be exact, you would meet him for the first time on your wedding day. But your parents hadn't met till their wedding, and now they were the picture of adoration. You were the youngest child of five, though the only girl, and you had spent your whole life watching your brothers fall in love, allowed to marry ladies of their choosing.
And yes, you were idealistic, but why wouldn’t you be? You have never had to worry about anything, never had to know a single second of sadness.
You were filled with a sense of nervous joy as you journeyed to the sept, dressed in a pure white gown, with pink accents throughout your gown, small pink flowers laced throughout your dress, and your veil a soft blush. On your shoulders sat your maiden cloak, the blue a tricking contrast against your dress, the fox of your house sat proud on your back as your father escorted you into the sept.
Prince Maekar stood tall as you walked through the sept, his gaze unmoving as you stood in the door, waiting for the orchestra to start the procession.
He was far more handsome than you had expected. Though his face was stern, his cheeks were marred with scars, but they did not take away from his looks. He was thickly built, his silver hair was cut shorter than you had expected, but his eyes were what drew you in. As you walked closer, your father's grip on your arm grew tighter. The closer he got to having to let you go, you noticed the lightness of his eyes, you couldn’t tell if they were blue or purple. Your gaze locked with his as you finally approached the altar, your father hesitantly letting go of your arm, placing a soft kiss on your brow.
Maekar's jaw ticked as you stood before him, his gaze assessing you as you greeted him with a soft smile. Your hands were joined with his as the septon began the ceremony, the roughness of his hands against the softness of your own.
The septon droned on as you memorised every inch of your new husband, taking in the sternness of his face, how he seemed permanently annoyed by everything around him, how his hands were holding on to yours but seemed to play with your fingers as the septon spoke, he was doing it mindlessly it seemed as he stopped the second you drew attention to it.
He spoke the vows quickly, his voice sharp and eager to get it over with. Your smile faltered.
He kissed you quickly, barely touching your lips before moving back, and the smile faded from your face.
The carriage ride to the red keep was silent, with him letting go of your arm as soon as you stepped inside. He sat opposite you, his eyes not once looking at you. You had tried to talk to him, but every response was a simple grunt. Your smile didn’t return to your face. You, a woman who had never stopped smiling her whole life, who had knights and lords falling at your feet to speak to you, and now your own lord husband didn’t even dare to look in your direction.
The rest of the night was much of the same, your husband didn’t once ask you to dance, didn’t utter a single word, at least to you. He spoke with his brother Baelor and his children. But not with you.
You loved to dance, never had you had a feast, let alone a wedding, where you didn’t dance the whole night. Instead, you sat and watched, drinking your wine glass until it was emptied and refilled over and over again. The only people you spoke to the whole night were Maekar's sons, Daeron and Aerion. Daeron, who seemed to delight in your drinking, had made you laugh a few times but had easily moved on to some of his drunkard friends. And Aerion, who leered at you and spoke something about being pumped full of dragons in no time, as he stared at the neckline of your dress. Your brothers and sister in laws circled the room and spoke kindly to you, but stayed no longer than a few minutes, as was appropriate, it seems.
The hours droned on slowly, and before you knew it, the bedding ceremony was called.
Maekar had merely grunted and stood up, his hand flexing slightly before he offered it to you, leading you out to the floor before the rabble of lords who had been eyeing you all night could get their hands on you.
You had participated in your fair share of bedding ceremonies, you knew what to expect, and yet as they pulled your clothes off you, leaving you entirely bare as you pushed your way into your marital chambers. Maekar sat on the bed waiting for you, wearing far more clothes than you.
You blushed, reaching to cover yourself as you felt Maeker’s gaze on you. He cleared his throat, standing from the bed, and pulling at the laces of the breeches he still wore.
“Husband,” you greeted, your smile returning, though feeling far more awkward than ever before.
“Wife,” he nodded, the first words he had said to you outside of your vows.
“What do we, um, what do we do now?” you asked, awkwardly, your hands covering you up.
“We consummate,” he grunted, pulling back the covers of the bed and getting in. He stared at you, waiting for you to move. You didn’t. “You do know what is to happen?” he asked, his voice a little awkward but not lacking any of its coldness.
“Of course I do, I just…” You trailed off, slowly moving towards the bed.
“What?” he asked harshly. You flinched back, halting your steps slightly.
“Nothing,” you mumbled as you finally approached the bed, settling in under the covers, grateful for the sheet to hide your body. You played with the covers, following the pattern with your fingers, waiting for Maekar to move.
He sighed as he looked at you, his hand reaching out to stop your movements. “Stop that,” he ordered. You nodded, stopping instantly. You felt the weight of reality settle into your shoulders, realising for the first time in your life that optimism didn't always lead to happiness.
Makear sighed before he crawled over to your side of the bed.
He didn’t kiss you, didn't hold you to him, nor did he whisper sweet nothings in your ears. The consummation was over before you knew it, and Maekar, as quickly as he arrived, left.
He didn’t look at you when he left, said no words, bid no farewells. He just left. Leaving you alone in a room that wasn’t your own, in a keep that wasn't your own. And a marital bed that you felt would never live up to the dreams you held in your heart.
You cried yourself to sleep that night.
It was such an oddity for you to cry or feel sadness. The last time you felt sad was when your cat died when you were ten. Never once had you felt sadness this great. Never once did you cry yourself to sleep, praying no one could hear your cries echoing across the hall.
You knew love and warmth grew with him, but you hadn’t expected there to be such coldness. You hadn’t expected there to be a wall of ice between you, a wall so thick it rivalled the wall in the north.
You began to question everything your parents had told you. Everything they had told you about your marriage night was a lie. What else would be?
You got little sleep that night before the maids came in at dawn and awoke you softly. Though strangers, they treated you softly, bathing you in a lavender-scented bath. They wash away the small trickles of blood between your thighs. Wash the tear stain marks off your face. And spoke in hushed tones as they prepared you for breakfast.
You were the first to arrive, settling at the end of the table, your gaze flickering across the room, noting all the tapestries and art that adorned the walls. The table was filled with fruits and berries, and pastries of all sorts filled the table.
You contemplated filling your plate before everyone else joined, you were hungry, having eaten little at the wedding feast.
But before you could reach for even a single grape, the door opened and in walked your husband. His step faltered when he saw you. His gaze took note of your pink gown and the soft smile that graced your features as he appeared.
Prepah's last night was a blip, maybe he was drunk or nervous. You may as well start today anew. Perhaps your sadness from last night was a one-time occurrence and would quickly be forgotten. “Husband,” you greeted, standing up as he walked towards you, taking a seat at the head of the table.
“Wife,” he greeted in turn. Grunting as he sat down, reaching to fill his plate.
“How did you sleep?” you asked, following his lead and filling your own.
“Fine,” he grunted, not looking at you. The door opened as you went to speak, his younger children running in with their Septa. They called for their father as they ran in, stopping short as they saw you. Aegon bowed, and Daella and Rhae both curtseyed. “My lady,” they greeted, before rushing to fit for a seat next to Maekar. Daella won, sitting closest to him and Rhae next to her. Aegon moved to sit next to you, sighing in defeat. And Aemon, who wandered in with a book in hand, moved to sit beside Aegon.
The children rambled on over breakfast, asking you all sorts of questions and answering each one you had for them. You smiled softly at their rambles, though your gaze turned to Maekar, hoping to see some softness, hoping to see that he wished to talk to you as much as his children did. Instead, he scowled the second your gaze met his.
He left the second he was done, not waiting for his elder children to walk in. He ruffled his daughter's hair as he walked by, bidding each of his children farewell. Only side-eyeing you as he left.
Perhaps last night wasn’t a blip after all.
He was fucked, totally and completely fucked. He was the second, he saw you walk into the sept in your pretty white gown covered in pink. The second he saw your smile, the second he touched you.
He didn't need another wife, he had six children, had loved before and had absolutely no need for a wife. And yet you appeared. His parents had wed him off and introduced you, a perfect flower from the reach. Eager to be plucked. So perfect and so entirely unlike him.
He didn’t want a wife and had hoped you would be easy to ignore. And yet as you spoke your pretty words to him, he realised you wouldn't be, he realised that you were as sweet and kind as his father had said. And yet you were stuck with him. He was cold, colder since Dyanna had died. You couldnt possible be happy with the arrangement. Happy with him as your husband. Perhaps you would be happy if you were a wife in name only. Then you would be happy, and not chained to him for the rest of his life, and miserable for it.
And yet you, with your smiles that could outshine the sun, seemed to make him melt.
You were too soft, too sweet, too happy. He had noticed it easily, you would hate him, resent him, and he wouldn’t blame you. Not when he never wanted to marry.
He would do his duty and nothing more, and yet last night, when he had done that, guilt ate at him. It was clear you wanted a sweet, loving husband, but he couldn't be that, wouldn't be that. And yet when you greeted him this morning, with gentle eyes and a nervous smile, he almost took back his desire to be a husband in name only. When he noticed his younger children adoring you, how easily you spoke with them, eager to know them. To know him.
Gods, it would have been easier had you been cold, had you been mean or ugly. But you were anything but. Beautiful, as happy as the sun, kind and caring, and always dressed in pink. And he hated all of it. Or atleast thats what he told himself.
He tried to be as distant and cold as he could be, and yet time and time again, he was drawn back to you. As time went by and you had all travelled to Summerhall, he had made sure you had your own chambers. Not once did he visit you. Not once did he seek you out.
And yet you were always there. In his library, his dining hall, and even with his children. You often found yourself in the garden at the same time as him, or standing there at the exact moment he decided to look out of it. Always there, always kind and soft. And he hated it. Hated how you drew him in, no matter what you did. Hated how he fucked his fist to you every night, your name and face on his lips.
You were kind and never had a bad word to say about anything or anyone. Everyone you had ever met would say you were the nicest person they had ever met. They would say that hate was something you were incapable of. And yet as time went by and the coldness between you and your husband seemed to grow, you began to feel the fires of hate breaking into your heart. Your husband was ever distant and running from you the second your paths crossed, offering only grunts in response to your kind words. Never once attending the endless lists of activities you invited him to, you were beginning to hate him.
You had lost hope of a happy marriage when the third month of it came with no touches, no words, no caresses or even acknowledgement. He did not try to welcome you, did not try to make you feel at home, or try to fill the loneliness that filled your heart.
You felt so alone and isolated. Sure, his children were kind, and as the months went by, they were happy to see you whenever you’d help with their lessons or entertain their day. But you had no one to speak to, you had no maids or ladies in waiting to chat to.
You had no one, and whereas before it was rare for you to cry or feel sadness. Now it was rare to feel joy. Every night, tears wet your pillow as the ache of loneliness filled your very soul.
Maekar didn’t notice, seeming to be annoyed with your presence in his home, to even think about your feelings. He avoided every room you frequented, left every meal before all his children left, as if the thought of being alone with you physically pained him.
The only time you smiled or laughed was with his younger children. And though you had learned to love them dearly, you were entirely unhappy in your marriage, if you could even call it a marriage. You were more of a reluctant occupant than a wife.
And yet a part of you still waited. A part of you hoped to wake up one day, with Maekar beside you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and declaring his love for you. It’s why you had continued to be kind, soft and always perking up when his gaze fell on you. You invited him to tea, tea that he never joined. Dinners alone, which he either avoided or conveniently brought at least one of his children along to.
You had formed a mindless routine. Every day, you said good morning and asked him how he slept. Whenever you got to breakfast before him, you would prepare his tea and pile the food onto his plate. Hoping that one day he would take notice and thank you instead of just grunting in acknowledgement. Every day you’d bring him his lunch in his solar, loitering to see if he needed anything. He never did. You would walk around the gardens, always stopping in front of the window to his solar, a book or paints in hand, as you spent hours either reading or painting. Spending at least a few hours every day with his children. Helping with their lessons and bringing them to see him every night before they went to bed. And when it was time for him to go to bed, you would dress in your night gown, prepare him a nightcap and see if he wanted you. He never did. Though you felt his gaze on you when he dismissed you, you saw the flexing of his hand as you walked out of his reach.
But he never acted on his gaze, his desire to touch. He never did anything. Other than grunt.
You did a million little things for him every day, replacing the flowers in his solar, placing a bookmark between the pages of the book he had placed upside down. And so many other things that he would never notice.
You wondered if he’d notice if you stopped. Stopped showing up to meals, stopped trailing after him, stopped waiting for his attention.
You doubted it, and knew deep down you couldn’t.
That's until it hit six months of marriage, six months of coldness. Of you talking to a wall of ice.
Six months of growing closer and closer to his children, with little Rhae, a girl who never knew her mother, a girl of only five, a girl who had called you mama in private and then made the mistake of calling you mama in front of Maekar.
He didn’t say anything at the time, he waited for them to go to bed and waited to escort you to your rooms. And waited until the doors closed behind him.
He leant against the door, his body shivering with rage. “How long has she been calling you that?” He asked, his tone dripping with anger. No fear? Mayhaps, you couldn’t place his tone, his feelings, “You want to replace my children’s mother? Is that it?”
You flinched back from the harshness of his tone, “what no, I-“
“Shut up and let me speak, woman!” He interrupted, turning to face you, “You are not their mother, you should have corrected Rhae the second she started calling you that!”
“I did, I promise, but she wanted to call me it anyway-“
“Well, you should have tried harder!” His voice bellowed, “You are not there, mother,” he slammed his hand against the wall.
Making your whole body flinch, backing away from him slowly as tears began to spill from your eyes.
“I know, but that doesn't stop them from wanting one,” you spoke softly. Daella slipped and called you mama once, and Eggs' hand was rarely not in yours. All three of them insist on you tucking them in every night, and little Aemon wrote to you every week.
He sighed deeply, his eyes finally turning to yours, noting how you had flinched from him, how you stood against your bed, your gaze not on him for the first time. “You're not their mother, you're just my wife!” he stopped breathing deeply, speaking just loud enough for you to hear, “not more, you can’t be more, you can't be here, you'll never be her,” you weretn sure he had intended on you hearing it, but you had anyway. And he noticed you had too late.
You turned your back to him, refusing to let him see you crumble, to see how badly his words had affected you. You waited for him to leave, but instead, you felt him walk closer. His hand hovering over your shoulder, “I didn't mean that-“ he said, reaching for you, only for you to flinch from his touch.
“Get out,” was all you said, your body wrapping into itself as you waited for him to leave. He hovered, waiting for something. Perhaps for the sweet, obedient wife you had been to show up. To accept his apology and his words. But you felt all of that slip away the second he said those words.
Born to be Y/N Stark with Wanda's powers but purple who is besties with Peter, builds Legos with him on the weekends and pulls pranks with Natasha while Clint hides in the vents. Goes to Stark galas and has HYDRA trauma, hugs Bucky because he needs it and is probably in some sort of weird forbidden relationship with Loki who's living in the Tower with no valid explanation, and keeps pop tarts on stock for Thor
Forced to work instead. Oh how I miss you Y/N Stark...
i miss you 2012 avengers. i miss you the avengers tower. i miss you irondad and spiderson. i miss you meme lord shuri and peter. i miss you loki lingering in the tower for no other reason than that he's the main love interest. i miss you poptart-eating thor. i miss you grumpy bucky barnes. i miss you old man, chronically offline steve rogers. i miss you clint in the vents. i miss you girls night with wanda and natasha. i miss you resurrected, shamelessly flirty pietro. i miss you clueless, socially inept vision. i miss you the rare bruce banner feature. i miss you sassy sam wilson. i miss you cheeky reader who always called fury by his first name. i miss you super nanny phil coulson. i miss you christmas avengers blurbs in the middle of the fanfiction written by an autistic 14 year old. i miss you 😔😔😔
Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+.
Lyonel Baratheon x Wife!Reader
Masterlist
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms Masterlist
General Synopsis: Lyonel is horrified to discover what conditions his new wife comes from, and you are just as horrified to learn that things are not practiced in the world as they are within your father's House. A good wife is obedient, by correcting hands if need be. That is the philosophy you have been raised on since birth. A lady obeys. A lady agrees. A lady endures. Lyonel does not want you to endure, but some habits are so much harder break. (slow burn)
Content Warnings: emotional abuse (parental), child abuse (punishment), psychological conditioning, trauma responses, arranged marriage, anxiety, mention of first time intercourse, slow burn, angst.
AN: This fic won the vote! I promise that this is not all doom and gloom, but the reader has a rough go of it at the beginning. Lyonel has my entire heart in this.
** = smut
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight**
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten**
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve**
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen**
Chapter Sixteen**
Chapter Seventeen**
akotsk x wife reader who acts like Posy Li (Bridgerton) part 2
For those who haven’t seen the show; Posy Li is described as warm, kind-hearted, bubbly, talkative, optimistic emotionally open and affectionate character, she is naïve but sincere 🩵
characters: Aerion, Daeron, Valarr Targaryen ( x Aegon v platonic) and Raymun Fossoway
Part 1 (w/ Duncan the tall, Baelor and Maekar Targaryen, Lyonel Baratheon)
Aerion
The hall is loud with music and courtly laughter, but Aerion hears only one thing…..your voice. He swears to himself it sounds brighter and more bubbly as you converse with some footman as if he were the honored guest of the feast.
From across the room he watches, idly twirling a dagger between his fingers. At first he appears cool, almost detached.
Until you laugh.
Not the awkward one you give when you don’t understand something. Nor the polite one you offer because you hate making people uncomfortable.
The real one.
The one with the snort that makes you bend forward and sends your jewelry jingling.
His grip tightens around the dagger.
Surely nothing that boy has said warrants that precious sound.
When he hears it for a second time, something sharp snaps inside him. The dagger sinks into the wooden table with a dull thud.
He starts to move towards you in long slow, strides. He doesn’t rush, he need to for the predator does not rush to it’s prey. As he stalks towards you,the crowd parts immediately without him having to say a word.
The footman notices him first his smile falters immediately.
You don’t notice at all, still mid-sentence.
“I do think it would be most lovely if each house had a unique flower. I introduced the idea to my father by law he only said ‘interesting,’ but I’m getting through to him.”
You gasp softly when you feel your husband’s chest press against your back, but immediately beam up at him.
“Oh! My love,” you say excitedly. “This is Jason. He’s a footman to Lord Br—”
“Why are you harassing my wife?”
Aerion’s voice cuts cleanly through yours. His tone is accusing, his eyes locked on the footman like a blade poised at a throat.
The poor male’s face goes pale.
“My prince, I mean no disrespect—”
You blissfuly unaware of the tension blurt out,
“Oh! You must see, my love, look at the hilt of his dagger!” you say eagerly. “Instead of a sigil, he placed his late mama’s garnet diadem, isn’t that precious?”
Aerion hums, his gaze never once shifting to where you point.
“I suppose,” he says coolly. “Though I do not think something so precious belongs in the hands of someone so… low.”
His eyes never leave the footman. The silence stretches heavy, suffocating and uncomfortable.
The male swallows understanding what Aerion wants without him having to speak it.
“My prince. My lady. I believe my master will be looking for me soon.”
He bows and quickly flees.
“Aww, well if you must! Bye-bye, Jason!” you call, waving enthusiastically.
Aerion yanks your hand down, pulling you flush against him. His hands grip your hips, the hold not soft enough to be mistaken for tenderness, but not rough enough to be called cruelty.
“What is your obsession with collecting strays, my precious ruby?”
You blink up at him. “Strays?”
“Knights. Stable boys. Maids. Squires. Bakers. The elderly. Actual mongrels.” He scoffs. “You have a remarkable habit of favoring… lesser beings.” His grip tightens slightly at your hip. “You are the wife of a prince, not some tavern girl scattering smiles to every man who looks your way in hopes of earning more copper.”
“Ah, tavern girls are so lovely,” you beam. “It’s impressive how they balance all those drinks. I once tried to—”
“That was not a compliment.”
Your mouth forms a small “o.”
“You waste your compliments,” he murmurs, voice low and edged. His hand comes up to your chin, forcing you to look at him. “It makes me wonder if the ones you give me are even meaningful… if you offer the same warmth to some lowly squire.
You hum thoughtfully, not taking the accusation to heart.
“Well,” you say sweetly, hands resting against his chest, “I like your sword best compared to any other.”
For a moment he stills, his back straightening, chin lifting.
“Mhm, what else.”
It is more command than question but you happily oblige with a grin.
“I think you have the best sword skills in all the Seven Kingdoms and across the Narrow Sea and I think you’re the most beautiful of them all anndddd” you pause for emphasis “I think there’s no dragon temper quite like yours.”
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes sharp, possessive, almost feral.
He pulls you impossibly closer, like a dragon curled tightly around his hoard, daring anyone foolish enough to reach.
“Good,” he murmurs. “See that you remember it.”
Daeron
It was one of those rare moments where Daeron was not drunk.
He was still drinking, of course, but in moderation.
The reason was certainly not that he had a meeting with his father (if anything, that would encourage more wine). Rather it was because he was with you. He did it, not because you scolded him ( you never would) but because he preferred to be clear headed in the moments he spent at your side. Even the foolish ones…..especially the foolish ones. He rather remember the sound of your laughter exactly as it was rather than through the pleasant haze of wine.
He lounges beneath a tree, one knee bent, a wineskin dangling loosely from his fingers as if he hasn’t a care in the world but ever so often gently swatting any bees away that came buzzing too close around you. You on the other hand are attempting to braid a crown of wildflowers.
Keyword attempting, there are far more snapped stems than intact ones scattered in your lap. He found it adorable how anytime one breaks, you gasp softly as if personally offended instead of cursing as most would.
“You know,” Daeron drawls, lazily turning his head toward you, “the flowers were thriving before you declared war on them.”
You gasp. “I did not kill them! They are still alive!”
He hums. “In spirit, perhaps.”
You huff and return to your work, tongue peeking out in concentration as you try again. The wreath collapses immediately, and you toss it onto the growing pile.
Daeron sighs loudly. “This is painful to witness.”
“Then don’t watch!” Your voice cracks slightly.
“I can’t,” he says solemnly. “It’s like watching Aegon attempt swordplay, concerned for everyone involved, but very entertained.”
Despite the insult, you let out a soft laugh.
He finally shifts, setting the wineskin aside and pushing himself upright. “Move over before you render this meadow extinct.”
He kneels closer to you, long fingers brushing yours as he gently takes the flowers from your hands. His touch is warm and soft mayhaps due to the lack of swordplay the young prince so adamantly avoids.
“Like this,” he says, softer now. “Twist the stems together first don’t strangle them.”
Your eyes widen in awe at how quickly and easily he works.
“Wow. You’re amazing!”
He falters, visibly flustered. He is not accustomed to praise, especially not for something so small.
“Well,” he clears his throat lightly, “you’d best inform the maesters at once. Daeron the Fierce Master of Floral Arts.”
You snort, the sound bright in the quiet field, and it pulls a laugh from him as well.
He finishes the wreath with easy grace and lifts it slightly, examining it with exaggerated scrutiny. “Passable,” he decides. “For something created under my supervision.”
He places the wreath in your lap.
“See? They respond better to patience and gentleness. Much like princes,” he quips.
Carefully you lift the crown and place it upon his head as if he were Aegon the Conqueror himself.
“There,” you say softly, eyes gleaming. “Much better.”
“Because of the flowers?” he asks, breath catching with a quiet laugh.
“Because of the prince wearing them,” you correct.
He blinks at you, momentarily stunned, his usual snarky remark dying on his tongue.
He stands quickly, hoping you don’t notice the faint pink tint rising to his cheeks.
“They’re my squire, I’ve taught you all that I know. Do try not to massacre any more flowers, or the Reach may take offense,” he says, brushing himself off to return to his shaded spot for a nap.
You laugh again and shove him back down.
Daeron lets himself fall dramatically into the grass, one arm thrown over his eyes. “Abused,” he declares. “After all I’ve done.”
But he’s smiling.
And when you settle beside him, still giggling, he tilts his head just enough so he can hear it better.
Raymun
Raymun had imagined meeting you at least a hundred times.
In most of those imaginings, he was taller, broader, silver-tongued and effortlessly charming. In some versions, Steffon had been shipped off to Essos on urgent business and never mentioned again.
In reality, Raymun nearly knocked his forehead against yours when he bowed, tripped over his own boot and stammered through every word as if he had only just learned the Common Tongue.
You had smiled at him anyway.
Which, frankly, was worse.
Because no one that warm and bright could possibly be meant for him.
So when he sees you again days later in the orchard, skirts gathered in your hands as you hurry toward him, pink and blue silk fluttering stark against the browns and greens of the trees he almost looks over his shoulder to check if you are running toward someone else.
“Good morrow, my lord!” you call breathlessly. “I was told you prefer the orchard to the training yard, which I think is rather wise, because apples smell far better than sweat.”
Raymun blinks.
He opens his mouth.
Nothing.
He had rehearsed clever greetings for the next time he saw you, but suddenly they vanish. All he manages, in a low, cracking voice, is:
“Yes.”
You beam at him anyway.
You clasp your hands behind your back and rock gently on your heels. “I’ve been wondering,” you begin earnestly, “do you think apple trees grow better if you speak kindly to them? I told that one over there that its branches are very elegant just in case it needed encouragement. I also informed another that its apples were the reddest in the orchard I thought mayhaps it might be proud and next season producers even more ones like it-“
You pause, glancing at him.
Raymun only stares and you mistake it for discomfort, in reality he’d been awestruck.
“Oh my,” you say quickly, smile faltering. “Am I speaking nonsense? My septa used to slap my wrist with her stick and tell me I needed to ‘get back on the ground with the others.’”
“N-no,” he says at once. “I think it’s great… you should continue encouraging the trees.”
Your smile returns instantly. “Good good- I should hate for them to feel discouraged.”
You wander farther into the orchard and stop before a tree whose basket at its base sits completely empty, while the others are nearly full.
“I think this one is shy,” you declare. “It hasn’t dropped a single apple yet, perhaps it requires praise from someone… familiar?” Your eyes lift to his hopeful and Inviting.
Raymun’s mouth falls open. He points at himself as if you’ve just requested he recite a poem in High Valyrian.
You nod eagerly.
Not wanting to disappoint you, he obeys.
Raymun, who has faced men twice his size in the training yard without flinching, who has taken a sound beating from his cousin and remained standing approaches the tree as though it might strike him down.
He clears his throat.
“Umm… hello tree ,” he says stiffly to the branches above, he opens his mouth then closes it again nothing comes to mind. “I am sorry my lady but I am not very good with words.”
“It is easy,” you insist, eyes shining. “Simply tell the truth as it is, and it will come out naturally.”
He looks at you for a heartbeat longer than necessary before turning back to the tree.
“Well umn the other trees have firm branches,” he begins slowly. “All the same shape, all dropping at the same time, all predictable….. then there’s you” he chuckles lightly “your branches bend in every direction, reaching wherever they please, dropping apples at random moments. Some might think that strange… but I think it means you are unique. You may not seem like the other pe— trees , but I think you are… better for it….perfect even.”
His voice softens near the end.
As if summoned by his confession, an apple loosens from a higher branch and drops thudding into the grass near his boot.
You laugh clapping delighted. “You see? It responds to you!”
He bends to retrieve it, brushing the grass from its skin hands it to you. Your fingers brush his as you accept it.
“I think it ought not be pressed,” he says quietly, cheeks slightly pink, eyes steady and certain. “Some things are better kept whole.” This time he does not hesitate nor stutter.
You cradle the apple to your chest as though he has handed you something far more precious.
“I shall treasure it,” you promise solemnly.
Valarr
The first alarm bell in his head rings when your maidservant informs him you are in the library after he inquired where you had disappeared to all the morrow.
You did not read, not often or for long periods of time.
He did not mean it as an insult, you enjoyed literature well enough, but you preferred stories spoken, acted, performed… or read aloud by him. That was his favorite, you sprawled across his lap while he read, your fingers tracing the embroidery of his doublet as his voice soft voice reads through the passage.
The second alarm is before he steps into the library through the large oak doors he hears whispering and shuffling and giggles where there should be silence. Once he enters the tips of his ears turn red when he finds you half beneath the great wooden table that is covered by blankets and tapestries, your skirts hiked up, ares high in the air.
Despite having had you in far more intimate positions, he still turns his head sharply aside, clearing his throat to get your attention.
“Valarr!” you say excitedly and move far too quickly.
Thunk
Your head collides with the underside of the table.
He is at your side in an instant
“Gods—” His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing your temples as he inspects you with frantic concentration. “Are you hurt?”
“I am fine,” you assure him sheepishly.
Only then does he properly take in the room.
The great table has been dragged from its place and is smothered in blankets and pillows. Chairs are draped in heavy cloth to widen the structure. Honorable books shipped from across Westeros and the Free Cities are now stacked as makeshift castle walls.
He exhales slowly through his nose.
“You will make my father scold you again.”
And by ‘scold’ he means Baelor will give you the gentlest tap upon the wrist. The heir adores you even though it has only been one moon since your marriage to his son, he treats you like the daughter he always wished for.
“Little egg was sad he could not go riding because of the rain,” you explain softly. “I thought this would make him feel better.”
As if summoned by name, a small head pops out from the opposite side of the blanket wall.
“I am her sworn knight!” declares Aegon brandishing a wooden sword. “You may not enter the queen’s fortress without the proper password! Hiyah!”
He smacks Valaar squarely on the thigh.
Valaar blinks down at him.
“Aegon,” he says carefully, “should you not be using this time for more scholarly pursuits? If I am not mistaken, you have yet to translate an entire passage in High Valyrian—“
Something catches his eye above.
A page ripped from one of the books, bearing a drawing of a bunny sleeping peacefully in a bright, colorful meadow has been pinned to the top of the fortress like a banner.
He knows exactly which book it came from.
He had read it to you only last night. He remembers the way you had risen onto your knees, pointing excitedly at the illustration and declaring that if you ever had your own house, your sigil would be a very cute animal.
He stares at it.
“My love…. You did not mutilate a perfectly good manuscript for this—”
Aegon frowns.
So do you.
And suddenly Valaar feels very much like the villain in this tale.
His shoulders soften immediately.
“But,” he amends gently, “I suppose it is not a crime for a prince and lady to have one day of rest….please ensure you place everything where you found it.
He turns to leave you two to your game, but you tug at his sleeve.
“We are missing a monster,” you say brightly. “Every brave knight needs one to save the fair maiden.”
His brows crease immediately knowing where this was going. “I am not playing a monster.”
“Pleaseeeee.”
“My sweet—”
“Please please pleaseeee” you beg as you shake him.
He should refuse.
He must refuse.
There are letters awaiting him before supper, matters of coin and other duties befitting an heir, none of which involve crawling beneath tables in a blanket fortress.
But you are looking at him like that.
The look you give when you want him to stay a little longer in bed , the look you give when you ask him to sneak you more biscuits because your mama forbid you from having more and that look always breaks him.
He sighs softly.
“Very well,” he relents. “But only if the queen grants the beast a true love’s kiss to turn him back human.”
“That is not how monsters work—” Aegon protests, only to be gently shoved aside by his eldest cousin, landing safely among the cushions.
“It is now,” he declare.
He reaches out brushing his thumb tenderly across your cheek before pressing a soft kiss.
For a man who faces the Small Council and tourneys with ferocity and stubborn resolve the same can not be said when it came to you.
Tag list: @dailythotdotcom @baddiesgetsaddies97 @foggyturtleknightangel (thank you guys for the request had sm fun making these!)
Unadulterated loathing: To feel intense hatred, disgust, or extreme aversion towards them, going far beyond mere dislike
Maekar x sister in law reader (platonic) ft Baelor
Summary: reader has Glinda personality from Wicked, surely that’ll go just well together with Maekar’s 🙂
A/n: this is just something funny and quick I put together not to be taking seriously just a crack fic
Maekar decides he dislikes you before he even meets you and for all good reason, he thinks. His brother had decided to personally ride out to your ancestral home to meet you months before the wedding, because of course Baelor would.
It was for one week.
One week you had known his brother
When he came back the letters began. Gods, the letters never seemed to end Maekar thought.
It made no sense to Maekar. What could you possibly have to say to a man you had known for only a week?
He made the mistake of asking. Baelor, who cherished each letter like a relic, had been more than happy to share.
Maekar regretted it instantly.
Good parchment wasted, trees felled, hours of men’s hard work to make the damned things—all because you wanted to inform Baelor that you saw a crow eating bread? Because you wished to learn the names of every man in the Kingsguard so you might give them gifts? Because you wanted to know their father, the king, favorite color so you could make him something personal?
It was… odd, No woman he had known was so eager to marry a man she hardly knew. Either you were extremely bubbly or extremely stupid but Maekar hated both.
When you finally arrived, you were draped in layers of soft, shimmering pink silk, the fabric so large it spilled around you like a blooming flower, threaded through were delicate jewels that caught the light with every movement. Maekar was certain they could spot you from Dorne.
He was already a judgmental man; meeting you only sharpened it:
He judged the way you needed four servants to assist you off the boat because the dress was so damned large.
He judged the way everything you owned from your trunks, tapestries and pillows that decorated your pinnace hells even the people who were serving you were all decorated in soft floral pinks
Baelor greeted you first, of course. The two of you exchanged soft, warm words effortlessly and bordering on flirtation.
Maekar pointedly did not look.
Then you turned to him and smiled.
“And you must be Prince Maekar” your voice is soft and gentle, almost calculated “I’ve heard so much about you in Baelor’s letters.”
“And I’ve heard too much about you in yours,” he muttered.
There was a flicker of disappointment radiating off of Baelor who’s right beside him.
Maekar huffs then straightened himself.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Y/N.”
He expected you to offer your hand so that he may place a simple kiss. Instead……you go in for a hug. Not a polite and quick embrace but a full, enthusiastic squeeze. Maekar froze completely. You pulled back still holding his arms.
“Oh, I’ve always wanted a brother,” you squeal , you pause for a moment eyes then began to gleam and a dramatic gasp slip pass your glossy lips. “May I call you my baby brother?”
“Absolutely no—”
Before he could finish, you hugged him again, tighter and longer. He stiffened, letting out a low, irritated sound something between a grumble and a hiss, like a feral alley cat being handled against its will.
“I assure you,” you said brightly, “I will be the most wonderful elder sister you could possibly imagine.” You don’t say but sing the last words out.
Behind him, Baelor was very clearly trying not to laugh. Maekar’s jaw tightened.
First, he did not like you.
Now?
He loathed you.
….
Baelor had mentioned in his letters that his youngest brother could be… difficult. Beneath that however he was good, and he meant a lot to him. So if course you make an effort, your thinking your kindness and generosity will soften the grouch.
That first night, Baelor insisted you dine together. You sat beside Maekar on purpose.
He noticed how close you leaned when you spoke, how your voice softened just for him. Patronizing and annoying he thought yet he didn’t move away.
“I think,” you whispered, “this room would benefit from flowers.”
“It would benefit from silence,” Maekar replied flatly, not looking at you as he cut into his meal.
You gasped softly, offended but not deterred.
“Maybe camellias,” you continued brightly. “My momsy places them everywhere, they smell so lovely and—”
“And,” he interrupted, finally glancing at you, “they do not speak while I am trying to enjoy my meal. A vast improvement in company.”
That one landed, you flinch clutching on your pearl necklace.
For the rest of the evening, you turned to Baelor. Maekar had to hold back a snicker.
…..
Maekar enjoyed hunts, they were calm, discreet and quiet (and a excuse to pretend the game he hit was someone who annoyed him that week)
You ruined that immediately. You were not quiet,
nor still, nor subtle. You arrived dressed in soft rose riding silks, trimmed in pale ribbons that caught against the wind like petals and adorned on your head is an excessively large straw hat with a long pink bow at the back. Perhaps they’ll catch a peacock today, mistaken you for one of them he thinks.
Baelor gently smiled as you tuck a bright pink flower in the pocket of his tunic, your hands smooths against his chest a moment too long as his hands find your hips pulling you closer. Maekar found it disgusting and distracting he blamed that for missing three shots.
You annoyingly noticed.
“Oh,” you walk over to him, tilting your head, “I thought everyone said you were the most skilled.”
“I am,” he replied sharply, readying the bow again.
“Mm,” you hummed. “Perhaps the game does not know that.”
Maekar glared.
“Would you like to try?” he challenged.
You brightened. “Yes, actually.”
He handed you the bow, expecting this to end quickly and badly.
You steadied yourself
Drew
Loosed
The arrow landed clean hitting the game.
A few claps rose from the others and Baelor smiled proud in the distance.
You turned back to him, pleased. “Oh good—we will be having dinner after all, I was beginning to worry.”
He snatched the bow back. “…Beginner’s luck.”
“Of course,” you agreed sweetly.
The moment you turned, he tried again—
and missed.
…..
Baelor was in the middle of a discussion with another lord in the small council room, when Maekar saw you approaching, bright and pink as ever. He already knew you would interrupt, and Baelor would indulge you.
“Baelor—” you called softly from the doorway, but he did not hear.
“No interruptions,” Maekar said immediately going to stand in front of you..
You frowned.
“It will be quick—”
“He is occupied.” He says refusing to let you through
You tried to step around him.
“Baelor—”
Maekar shifted, blocking your view from him even more.
You huffed, stomping your jeweled heel.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?” he asked, a smirk threatening.
Baelor finally looked up.
“…Maekar.” His voice was firm but not angry.
“What?”
“She is my wife.”
“And we are in a meeting.” The younger brother says annoyed
“It is fine,” Baelor said calmly. “We are discussing grain, not battle.”
Maekar scoffed and stepped aside. You smiled, sweet and victorious, stepping in.
“I just wanted to ask if you preferred honey or jam for your nameday cake.”
Maekar stared at you like you had personally insulted him. The next day, the council door was locked.
…
Maekar had a quiet place
a room overlooking the sea, carved stone arches allowing the cool sea breeze to drift through. It was his refuge. Away from court, away from people…. Away from you-
__
On his way there one evening he heard you before he saw you, and his pulse already racing.
When he stepped inside, he felt his head begin to reel.
Flowers
Cushions
Silks
Pink
Everything rearranged.
You sat at the center, your ladies in waiting sitting in a circle around you. You’re chatting away as they hung on every word.
“What is this?” he demanded.
You blinked up at him.
“Embroidery.” You casually respond raising your peice which was just your first initial in cursive.
“This is my space.”
“It is a public sitting room,” you corrected.
“Public does not mean you are allowed to alter it.”
“Well It was terribly dull, beige and cream are so last spring.”
Your ladies immediately nodded in agreement, acting like sheep and you are their shepherd.
“There are hundreds of other rooms in this castle.” He grits his teeth.
You drift toward the open arch, the sea breeze catching your long hair as you leaned back dramatically.
“Yes but nowhere else has a breeze quite like this.” You tossed your hair with theatrical flair. Your ladies watched in awe like it was a staged performance.
Maekar stared at you long, flat and unimpressed.
“…Get out.”
You gasped “After all this work?” You put on a pout he knows danm well works too well on his brother.”
“Out.”
“No” you fold your arms
His violet eyes locked with yours grabbing a pillow and tossing it out at sea
You let out a sound between a gasp and squeal
“That is from Lys!”
“ mhm well maybe it’ll wash up on shore” he says as he grabs another item his intent clear. “Out”
You turned, gathering your skirts with a dramatic huff and purposefully dramatically swinging your hair over your shoulder, it hitting him in the process .
“Come along,” you told your ladies, they turn their nose avoiding his gaze and follow you out one by one
….
The frustration for each other only built, days filled of sharp words, small battles, endless bickering…. a volcano ready to erupt.
____
Baelor sat in his study, rubbing his temple, when the door burst open.
“Send her back,” Maekar snapped. “I do not care how…..put her in a crate with the monkeys if you must.”
You burst in right after him. “Your brother has no appreciation for beauty!”
“And you have no respect for other people’s spaces” he snaps “infiltrating them with you and your insufferable cheerful colors.”
“Well pardon me everyone does not share the same fashion idea of dark, gloomy and mysterious!” You point at his clothes were he conveniently in draped in all black.
He swats the accusatory hand away.
You two then began to go back and forth talking about everything but at the same time nothing and both of you refusing to let the other win. Winning what exactly? Not even the gods knew
“Baelor!” You both say turning to him at the same time.
You hoping your husband will come to your defense
Maekar hoping his elder brother will come to his defense.
Baelor went quiet for a long moment. He was not angry, not upset nor annoyed….. just tired.
“Later,” he said slowly. “I will deal with this later. I need to get back to work, please see yourselves out.” He points to the door running his temple he didn’t even bother to look at either of you.
You noticed the exhaustion first. Maekar noticed it second. And for the first time you both stopped being angry at each other.
___
Later that evening, you find Maekar alone.
“I think we’re adding to his stress,” you say plainly.
He doesn’t deny it but won’t admit he’s part of the problem
Well you You are disruptive.”
“And you have the temperament of a feral cat.” You scoff turning to leave wondering why’d you even bother
“He loves you,” Maekar said suddenly.
You paused.
“…A great deal, he has been happier since you arrived.” He doesn’t look but you know he’s being honest
“He loves you too,” you said quietly. “He speaks of you often… it may be the only reason I have not tried to drown you.” You laughed lightly.
“Truce?” you offered.
Maekar considered for a moment
“Truce.”
You held out your hand he eyes it before shaking it, firm and brief. “With conditions,” he added.
You raised a brow.
“You will not redecorate rooms I use.”
“Fine, you will not speak over me.”
“…Fine.”
You smiled. “You will try to smile.”
He stared. “You will try silence,” he countered.
You grinned, genuine this time and not offended.
…..
The truce did not fix everything, of course it didn’t. You still argued, still bashed heads but it softened.
“You are doing it wrong,” Maekar said one afternoon.
“There is no wrong way to do puzzles,” you replied.
“There is and you are doing it incorrectly.”
“I have done many puzzles,” you huffed.
“Let me guess they are still in some room waiting to be finished…”
Baelor passed the doorway and has to do a double take. The two of you sat together, heads bent over the same table, still bickering but working side by side. You two didn’t notice him. He smiled quietly and kept walking.
akotsk x wife reader who acts like Posy Li (Bridgerton)
Characters: Duncan the tall, Baelor Targaryen, Lyonel baratheon, and Maekar Targaryen
For those who haven’t seen the show; Posy Li is described as warm, kind-hearted, bubbly, talkative, optimistic emotionally open and affectionate character, she is naïve but sincere 🩵
Duncan
Dunk is certain you are going to get yourself hurt one day at the flea bottom marketplace.
You wave at everyone in there, compliment a baker far too enthusiastically, stop to admire ribbons you absolutely do not need, and strike up a cheerful conversation with a stranger as if they’re an old friend, the possibility of them being dangerous never crossing your mind. Dunk loves the way you are, but it frightens him too. You are so bright, so openly kind, traits he believes are far too advanced for this cruel backwards world. He fears that with your sweet, trusting nature, someone will see it as weakness and try to take advantage of you.
Still, he does not wish to change you. He would never dull your spark. Instead, he chooses to protect it, to stand between you and anything sharp enough to wound you.
He trails behind you, mortified but intensely focused, his hand hovering near your waist, ready to pull you back against his broad chest if even the slightest danger arises. You skip along, blissfully unaware of how tense the man behind you is. Duncan knows Maekar would have his head before the morrow if he knew where his daughter and the knight sworn to protect her was. At the moment, Dunk hardly cares he would rather face the wrath of the dragon than see the she-dragon sad if he said no.
You don’t notice the danger at all. You’re still smiling, chatting about how you should get something for everyone, even Aerion.
“Princess, we should be getting back—”
“Just five more minutes,” you say brightly. “I want to look.”
“At what?” he asks, exhausted.
“Everything.”
You suddenly dart toward a stall of hand-crafted trinkets, picking up a doll with a frown. “Don’t you think this looks Aerion?” You giggle. “I should get it for him, he’d hate it, which makes it better.”
Dunk huffs despite himself. “I don’t think provoking your brother is wise.”
The owner of the stall leans a little too close, smiling in a way Dunk doesn’t like.
“You’ve got fine taste, my lady,” the man says smoothly. “Perhaps I could show you more we have in the back.”
Before you can respond, Dunk steps in, large and immovable, placing himself fully between you and the stranger.
“That won’t be necessary,” Dunk says sternly.
The man falters under his size alone. “I meant no harm.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Dunk mocks.
You peek around Dunk’s arm. “Oh! He was just being friendly.”
Dunk glances down at you, softening instantly. “Aye but we’re finished here.”
He guides you away with a firm hand at your lower back. You don’t protest, just loop your fingers through his.
“That shop owner was not being friendly was he?” you finally observe after a few moments after.
Dunk looks down at you, it always pained him when you were aware of how cruel some people could be. “Aye” he replied
“Well I am very lucky to have had you here with me.” You beam at him. You then go off to talk about whether horses have favorite apples, immediately discarding the situation like you simply just threw out trash.
Dunk thought you were wrong, he was the lucky one here, he has no problem protecting you for he made it his personal oath if the world insists on being cruel, he decided then he will simply have to be cruel back so you never have to be.
Baelor
The exhaustion shows in the slump of his shoulders.
In the way he has been staring at the same line of parchment for far too long.
In how he only half hears what Maekar is saying yet nods as though he understands every word.
The large doors open without a knock nor announcement.
Both princes glance up, but the first thing anyone sees is you peeking your head inside as though testing the weather before committing to it.
Baelor’s expression softens immediately, a small smile curves at his mouth, it is also a silent permission for you to come in.
You enter triumphantly, arms full of folded fabrics and trailing ribbons. They threaten to spill before you reach the table and deposit them in a dramatic heap.
Bright colors cascade across the dark wood, swallowing ledgers and maps whole.
Maekar exhales slowly through his nose but says nothing.
You smooth your hands over your skirts as if you have just completed grueling labor.
“Right,” you begin, clasping your hands together with great importance, “do you think Lord Celtigar would prefer warm or earthy tones for his chambers?”
You say it with the gravity of war strategy.
“I want the room to feel calm and welcoming,” you continue, . “I do like the earthy tones, but blues and greens might feel… seasick or mayhaps i can do bright colours….but now that may seem childish.” You speak as though you blurt out whatever new thought forms in you brain without thinking it through.
Maekar finally looks up.
“You interrupted a discussion of royal finances,” he says flatly, “for curtains.”
You glance at him, entirely unshaken. “This is an alliance matter. Colours affect morale, if he sleeps poorly, he will think poorly.”
Baelor does not hide his proud smile.
He leans back slightly, studying the fabrics as though you have presented battle plans.
“Anything will likely please him,” he says gently. “He was raised among stone and steel. Colour might surprise him in a good way.”
He considers for a moment longer.
“Earthy tones, perhaps. He often speaks fondly of hunting as a boy.”
Your entire face lights at once, ideas igniting behind your eyes.
“Yes—yes, that is perfect and if that’s the case we shall have a hunt in his honor!”
You spin toward the door, already halfway gone before.
“Beloved.”
You turn instantly. “Yes?”
Baelor gestures lightly toward the table.
You gasp softly, having entirely forgotten the heap you left behind. You hurry back, gathering the fabrics in a flurry.
“You should eat,” you say suddenly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You forget when you worry”
Maekar arches a brow.
Baelor only inclines his head solemnly. “I will my love, join me in the garden later and we can also discuss your ideas”
You smile feeling satisfied and silence returns.
Maekar watches his brother for a moment.
Baelor sits back down, but something in him has steadied. His shoulders do not sag quite so heavily now. His hand moves with clearer purpose as he resumes his work.
There is still a faint smile lingering at the corner of his mouth.
Maekar exhales once.
“Curtains,” he mutters.
Baelor’s eyes remain on the parchment.
“Curtains,” he says softly.
And continues writing.
Lyonel
Lyonel is halfway through shouting at one of his men to bring more barrels of wine for the evening feast when you appear.
“This is not enough, you half-wit,” he snaps, not yet looking at you. “Do you plan to have my guests licking the bottoms of empty casks? Move.”
The servants scatter.
He notices you then, though he doesn’t turn right away. Instead, one arm opens in silent invitation. You step into it without hesitation. His hand finds your hip, firm and possessive, drawing you against his side while he finishes glaring down the trembling steward.
“And if I see watered wine,” Lyonel adds coldly, “you’ll be drowned in it.”
Only when the man flees does Lyonel finally turn to you. The sharpness in his face softens instantly.
“What is it?” he asks, voice dropping into something far warmer. “Do you need new silks? More jewelry? More flowers for your garden?” His hands settle fully at your hips now, thumbs brushing over the fabric. He is already prepared to grant whatever you wish.
You place both palms against his chest and shake your head. “No. I want to play a game.”
He narrows his eyes at you purr leaving his lips. “Oh?”
“What scent am I wearing?”
He blinks. “What?”
“I’ve been experimenting and I think this is my favorite one.”
A slow grin pulls at his mouth. While other lords might dismiss such things from their lady wives, Lyonel never dismissed anything that mattered to you, no matter how “silly” or womanly it was.
He leans down, nosing into your hair like a great hunting hound. “Rosemary.”
You beam. “No.”
He shifts to your neck, fingers hooking gently into the neckline of your gown to bare your shoulder. His lips hover there before placing a slow kiss. “Honey.”
“No.”
He gasps in mock outrage. “Deception.”
You laugh. “False, you are simply bad at this.”
“I am excellent at this,” he protests, dragging you flush against him until your chest presses to his. “You are just a deceiving little minx.” His fingers sneak to your sides, tickling until you squirm.
“Do you give up, my lord?” you grin up at him.
“No,” he declares at once. “If I can not guess by smell I am sure I can by tasting you.” He lifts you suddenly, hands firm under your thighs, hauling you against him like you weigh nothing. You squeal, gripping his shoulders as your feet leave the ground.
“You have a party soon” you laugh but make no attempts to escape
He only shrugs they can do without their host for a few hours.
Maekar
Maekar hasn’t even turned the corner but he already knows you’re infront of his study when he hears a bright, unrestrained, entirely too enthusiastic voice for the early hour down the corridor.
You are standing far too close to one of his guards, peering up at the man’s helm with open fascination.
“Does it pinch your ears?” you ask, head tilted like a curious pup. “Because it looks like it would, my mama always said I have a rather large head… do you think it would pinch mine because of that?”
The guard looks as though he would prefer a battlefield.
Maekar steps into view.
“You are distracting my men.”
The guard immediately straightens, spine snapping rigid. He looks uncertain whether being caught indulging you by his prince is worse than answering your questions.
You turn, bright and unbothered. “I was merely checking on him.”
“He does not require checking,” Maekar replies flatly.
You glance back at the guard, then at Maekar. “You could at least ask if it pinches.”
“It does not pinch,” Maekar says, already moving past you toward his study. “And if it did, he would endure it.”
He pushes open the door
And stops
The heavy dark curtains have been drawn back, tied with absurdly cheerful yellow ribbons. Sunlight spills across the stone floors, chasing away the shadows he prefers. On the windowsill sits a small cluster of wildflowers in a simple vase,bright blues and yellows and whites standing in defiance of the room’s gray austerity.
A strip of soft blue fabric has been draped carefully over the back of his chair, clearly meant as a blanket.
His jaw tightens.
“What is this.”
You step in behind him. “I thought it was very gray in here,” you say cheerful . “Whenever you come inside, you always look… tense, I thought perhaps I might make it feel more homey.”
“This is not a sitting room,” he says, voice rough with restraint. “It is a study, the most important matters of the realm are handled here.”
He walks farther inside, gaze sweeping over the flowers,the fabric, the faint sweetness in the air that certainly was not there before.
“You cannot simply alter my privacy because you feel inclined to.”
You shrink at that.
Your fingers twist together and your shoulders fold inward. “I am sorry… I- I did not move anything important,” you say softly. “just moved books to dust lightly I swear it.”
It is subtle but he sees the change.
The way your voice lowers, the way you look at him as though you have disappointed him.
He had been prepared to lecture you about boundaries, order, and propriety but the sadness in your face unsettles him more than the flowers.
He steps to the window and lifts one of the blooms. The stem is slightly bent making it slightly uneven.
“You picked these yourself,” he says.
“Yes.”
“They will wilt.”
“I know.” Your voice is quiet now. “But they are pretty while they live.”
He studies the flower a moment longer, then sets it back down with measured care.
“Then you will see to replacing them,” he says at last. “If they are to remain.”
Your head lifts instantly, warmth returning to your expression like sunrise.
“Of course.”
He has to look away as if your smile was the very sun itself.
“I have work to attend to,” he adds. “I will see you at supper.”
You dip your head, smile lingering, and slip from the room closing the door gently behind you.
Maekar stands still for several long moments.
He glances toward the closed oak door, listening until your footsteps have fully faded down the corridor.
He takes the vase from the sill and carries it to his desk, setting it carefully within his line of sight, adjusting it so it no longer appears lopsided.
Then he sits back down and returns to his work as though nothing at all has changed.
summary: Duncan is in need of a lord to vouch for him.
words: 2.7k
cw: MDNI 18+ nonsexual nudity, canon typical violence, death, swearing, mentions of targcest, opposite of slow burn, eventual smut, reader has violet eyes, but other than that no physical description is used, not proofread, lmk if I missed any
a/n: during this I imagine Maekar being like wow I wish my daughter is here to gossip about this hedge knight and his daughter is like wow I wanted him to fuc—
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209 AC Ashford Meadow
Duncan could still feel the sleepy sense of happiness that consumed him before his eyelids had fallen heavy last night. He could feel the morning sun beginning to rise beaming down on his face, as a smile crossed his lips.
He had expected to still feel the weight of you against him, to find you still curled into his side like you had been every hour he woke during the night to check that you were still there. He let out a groan, stretching out his long limbs when he finally realized there was no one next to him.
His blue eyes shot open, as he immediately rose to a sitting position. The spot that you had been a mere hour ago was now unoccupied, and there would have been no trace of you except for your scent lingering in Dunk's nostrils and your mold still engraved into the banket. His hand reached down pressing into the material stilling feeling your warmth, meaning you hadn't have gone far.
He rose to his feet, clumsily, stumbling slightly as he tried to blink away the remainders of sleep. He was proven right, as he finally found you a short distance away in the river. Though he hadn't been expecting to find you, missing your clothes.
He froze in place as his eyes landed on your bare back, as you rose to your full height. Attempting to ring the water from your hair, but you still did not turn to face him. He could not help, but think this was wrong. He had not been meant to see you like this, and yet he could not find it himself to turn away.
"Can you bring me my dress, Dunk?" you finally called out breaking him from his crude thoughts.
He looked down at the ground finding the fading dark pink material. He leaned down picking it up slowly as he made his way down toward the bank. He stopped a safe distance away training his eyes up toward the sky as he extended his arm out holding your clothing to you.
Duncan could hear you laugh as you pulled the material from his hands, fingering brushing his sending a jolt of fire up his veins. He did not look down as you dressed. He felt you brush past him moving toward your cloak and shoes.
"You act like if you look at me you'll catch afire. You had no problem staring a moments ago," you pointed out, slipping your shoes back onto your feet.
Dunk shook his head, "That was improper. I should not have done that and I will not do it again. I am sorry," he apologized with a nod still not daring to look at you.
You laughed once more, and the man tried not to smile at the sound, "If I had a problem with it you wouldn't be still standing upright," you assured him, moving back toward the camp.
Then he could not fight it back anymore a boyish grin filling his features as he followed after you, "If you found me another sword or mace we could practice arms," you then proposed, trying to make it sound as casual as possible.
His eyes widened slightly, "You taught yourself to use a sword?" he questioned.
You had to walk faster in attempt to keep up with his long strides, and the man in a sense of awe of you was unaware of your struggle, "Uh…of sorts?" It was not a complete lie, you did not flat out say yes or no to his question. This answer was easier then explaining to the man you learned from a masters-of-arms.
Dunk stared at you, his grin widening by the minute the more he learned of you. "Are all ladies like you?" he asked, stopping to face you.
You smirked at him, reaching up to tap his shoulders, "No one is quite like me," you told him, before leaving him standing watching you leave once again.
You had your cloak pulled over your head, but no one had even glanced twice at you nor your brother. It was honestly a humorous thought that a Prince and Princess of the realm walked around them and no one even seemed to notice.
Duncan's search for a lord to vouch for him to this point had been futile, and was starting to turn slightly more pathetic as each learned turned him away, but you did not have the heart to tell him that just yet.
Your brother on the other hand seemed to have a different mindset, "Was he a shit knight?" Egg asked.
"He was not a shit knight," Dunk argued. You said nothing, much cast the man a glance not sure you beloved him, as he would partial to his old knight.
"Well, he can't have been a very good one if not one remembers him," Egg countered.
"Egg," you warned, through gritted teeth.
"Pick up your feet, come on!" the hedgeknight ordered, instead of acknowledging the remarks.
"This is undignified, ser."
"So, hie back to camp and leave me be, if it please you," Dunk said, getting tired of the boys snark.
"I would not leave you, ser, not while you must suffer your master dying over and over again. Though it does not seem like these lords are even listening to you," Egg argued.
Duncan scoffed,"Nothing I can do about that," he muttered.
You titled your head back and forth, "I can. I'll get a Lord to vouch for you," you suddenly called out.
The hedge knight shook his head immediately, "You're not trading your honor to save mine."
Your eyebrows immediately drew together in confusion until it clicked what he meant, "I did not mean I was going to whore myself. That would have been my next plan," you jested.
"How would you get a lord to vouch for me then?" he asked, his intrigue obviously peaked.
You shrugged, "I have friends," is all you vaguely replied.
"You are a knight of the realm, ser. You can say fuck their permission. Ride into the lists, call you Longthorn Tyrell, and turn his arsehole into a lance-hole!" Egg suddenly declared.
"Watch your mouth," you chided, but then nodded, "Though I do like that plan," a laugh escaping your lips, before you could stop it.
"That's enough now," Dunk said, shaking his head in disapproval.
"Why do you treat these loyal lapdogs like they're your betters?" the boy asked.
"They are your betters," the man argued.
"But they're not better than you. They're a bunch of cunts who want to suck the King's cock so he'll sing them praises," you added.
Duncan eyed the pair of you, "You both are too brazen for your own good," he told them, causing you both to role your eyes. "Ser Arlan was a great knight. Someone will remember him," he finished with, staying firm on his belief.
A loud horn than tore through the air, "Hey. Who's come?" Dunk asked a smaller man.
"Can't you see the banners, you giant cunt?"
Your eyes drifted up, and your mouth parted slightly as you recognized your own houses banners, "Perhaps I should go back, ser, check on camp. Make sure no thieves have been nosing about," Egg suggested.
Dunk thought about it, "Aye. I have an idea," the man said handing the reigns off to the young boy.
"Can I have your sword to run people off with? Or a mace?" he asked.
"You have a knife. That's enough. You'd best be here when I come back. Rob me, and I'll hunt you down, with dogs," the knight called moving away from you both.
"You don't have dogs," Egg countered, raising a brow.
"I'll get some," the knight assured him.
"Where?" the young boy asked, lifting his hand. Duncan let out a loud bark causing the boy to flinch.
"Dunk! Wait a moment!" you then called out, running after him. You reached forward, grabbing his arm and turning him toward you. He glanced down at you, waiting to see what you would say. "If you want a Lord's approval I can go get you one," you then told him.
The man did not understand your words, but how could he when he didn't know the full truth. He had no clue that you were ready to go approach your father and uncle weaving some story about the king knight that had given you and Aegon both a ride, and this in payment he wanted some coin and permission to enter the lists.
You wondered if he knew the full story if he would have accepted the help, but even with this thought you still did not give it to him, "No, it's alright I can do this. You go back with your brother," he told her.
You stared at him a moment, before reaching up to rest your hand on his shoulder, "If you do not get it. I will get it for you," you assured him, casting him a small smile before you turned back toward camp, unaware of his lingering gaze following after you.
You then walked beside Egg who had been patiently waiting for you as you began you journey back to camp, "We could go see him. I am sure I can convince him to still let you squire for him," you proposed, not saying who he was, as you knew he would instantly be aware of who you were talking about.
Egg scoffed, "He'd never let me squire for a hedge knight."
"He might if I tell him that hedge knight returned us and where Daeron is," you countered.
"You'd tell him where he is?" he asked.
"No. I'd tell him the other direction," you japed, with a shrug. Egg laughed, but his smile soon vanished with your next words, "He is going to be angrier the longer we stay hidden," you told him .
"I know. Just til the end of the tourney," he reminded, causing you to sigh, but you stayed nonetheless.
"Of course Baelor would vouch for you," you laughed, the man missing the way you talked about him as if you knew him personally. "Was Maekar there?" you then asked, ignoring the way Egg's eyes shot over to you, sending you a look in an attempt to silence you.
"He was. His children are missing, the Lord Ashford's daughter thinks they're dead," Dunk replied.
Your eyes widened, "Does he think that?" you questioned, worriedly, a pit filling in your belly at the thought of your father believing the three of you to be dead. You closed your eyes as you could remember him after loosing your mother.
Your frown deepened, but he was never given the chance to reply before the younger boy was attempting to change the course of the conversation, "We should go to the puppet show," Egg proposed.
He ignored his sisters glare as the knight cast him a nod of approval. The young boy ran out in front of him, moving toward the front to be able to see better.
You and Dunk stood toward the back, the man standing behind you and still being able to easily see over the top of your head. You both watched the show with a small smile. Your eyes gravitating toward your brother every so often and your chest warming at his clear excitement and amazement.
When the show finally ending you glanced back to look at Dunk, "That was reall good," you admitted, with a closed lip smile, your neck straining slightly due to the angle.
He grinned back down at you, wide, boyish, full of teeth that caused your heart to stir. He looked down at you, his eyebrow raising slightly as he noticed your eyes looked a different shade then. More purple then the dark blue he had originally thought.
Your voice then cut through pulling him from the thoughts, "She is really pretty," you said, nodding toward the performer.
She was gorgeous woman, dark skin, with a wide, warming grin. She was taller then most woman, but that did not take away from her beauty, but only added to it.
"Not as pretty as you," he admitted before he could stop himself.
Your smile widened, your teeth showing as you laughed slightly watching as Dunk began spluttering trying to save himself, "Well. I'm sure some think that," he cringed, realizing how bad that sounded, "I think that of course!"
"You think I'm pretty?" you asked, raising a brow.
He opened his mouth, "Yes," he then blurted out, before he could stop himself.
Egg approached them as the tent cleared out, having no clue about the previous encounter and what he had missed, "I want to ask her how she does the tricks," he told the pair.
You titled your head for a moment, "Alright," you suddenly said, causing him to let out an excited laugh.
The three of you waited, before finally approaching the woman at the end, "Hello there," Dunk called out, flicking a copper at her.
She caught it as he stepped forward handing her another, "And one for last night."
"That was great. How do you do the fire tricks?" the young boy asked. She reached into a case grabbing a handful of something throwing it at the burning candle, the flame to expand. "Is it pollen?" he now asked.
"Yeah, we collect it on the way," she told him, seeming impressed.
Her eyes then gravitated to you, and you smiled at her. She grinned back at you, before you brother continued, "I've never seen such giant puppets. Do you make them yourself?" Egg now asked.
"My uncle builds them, but I paint," she told him.
"You do a great job," you praised, causing her cheeks to heat up slightly at the compliment.
"Could you paint something for me? I have the coin to pay. I just..." he reached back taking the shield from his back showing it. "I need to paint something over the chalice."
"Well, what do you want?" she questioned.
You paused, trying to think of something that would be as fearsome as a dragon or as pretty as a flower, but came up short.
Duncan clearly hadn't been prepared for the question, "I don't actually know. I... Sorry you must think me a fool," the man said.
"All men are fools, and all men are knights," she quoted from the play that they had just watched.
"Anything would be better than this dreary color," you then suggested looking to the puppeteer.
"Yes, the gray is a bit drab," she agreed.
"Yeah, the field should be the color of sunset, 'cause the old man always liked sunsets and...," Duncan then trailed off. "
An elm tree. A big one. Like the one by the river with the brown trunk," Egg suddenly declared.
Dunk nodded in agreement, "An elm tree that would serve. But with a shooting star above. Could you do that?" She hummed in agreement. "Thank you I'm Ser Duncan the Tall," he introduced causing the woman to giggle slightly.
"I'm Tanselle. The boys use to call me Tanselle Too-Tall."
"You're not too tall. I mean your just right for..."
You turned, staring at the side of his face as you raised an unamused brow, as he unknowingly flirted with Tanselle. "Just right for what?" you asked.
Dunk spluttered between his embarrassing words and your sharp gaze boring into the side of his face. "Puppets," Egg answered saving him half embarrassment from Tanselle, but he was not sure he could save him from you nor that he wanted too.
"Give her the shield," you then instructed the large man.
He did as he was told handing it to her. You then reached into your pouch that you had kept hidden, stepping toward her discreetly giving the woman a golden dragon, "He'll pay the rest after it's done," you told her, with a grin. "It was nice meeting you! I hope to see you soon!" you then said, before turning to leave.
"Me as well!" Tanselle called out in agreement, as Egg and Dunk followed after you.
The large man scratched the back of his neck awkwardly looking toward you, "I did not mean—"
"Do not apologize to me. You are free to do as you please," you said with a shrug, but you did not look at him nor did your smile that he loved so much cross your face again.
summary: After ten years abroad, Y/N Wayne returns to Gotham—but the girl who comes back to Wayne Manor is not the same one who left. Quiet, distant, and avoiding everyone but Alfred, she seems like a stranger in her own home. As strange deaths begin appearing across Gotham, the Batfamily slowly realizes that whatever happened during those missing years may be far more dangerous than they imagined.
word count: 2k
tags: batfam x fem!reader , batfamily x slightly!neglected!reader
prev | next
Before Y/N lost her consciousness, she saw the owl mask looking at her again. And everything feels so familiar on what happened before…
10 Years ago
The first thing she noticed was the light. It was Bright, Artificial, and Painfully white. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open slowly adjusting to the light surrounding her. The air smelled sterile something that you could smell in the hospital. Cold metal pressed against her wrists. Her vision cleared enough to reveal the restraints holding her to a chair. A large glass wall stood in front of her.
Beyond it, several figures watched. Men in suits.Peopl in white coats who seems to be a scientist .And one man wearing a mask— An owl.
“Subject BAR8-YW is conscious.” A voice echoed through the room.
“Good.” Another voice answered calmly.
“Where am I?” Y/N’s pulse quickened.
No one answered.Then the masked figure stepped forward.
“You should feel honored. Only special people are chosen to participate here” His voice came through a speaker. Calm. Almost polite.
“Let me go.” Her stomach twisted.
“That will not be possible.” The man tilted his head slightly. Behind him, a massive screen flickered to life. A bold letter appeared across the display.
Project BAR8-Ars-G
“You are about to participate in something extraordinary.” The masked man folded his hands behind his back.
“What is this place?” Y/N’s pulse hammered in her ears.
The man did not answer her question.
Instead, he gestured toward the scientists.
“Begin the preliminary evaluation.”
A sharp mechanical sound echoed from the walls as several machines activated. Metal arms extended from the chair that restrained her in a stiff position. Thin wires brushed against the sides of her neck.
“Stop—!” Y/N’s breathing quickened.
A cold liquid surged through another needle sliding into her arm. The world tilted. Her vision swam. Then the room faded into darkness. All she can feel is a hot sensation inside her veins slowly moving in her body.
And somewhere far away, someone calmly recorded the results.
“Subject BAR8-YW responding to sedation.”
“Vitals stable.”
“Neural activity elevated.”
“Excellent.” The masked man watched quietly. A darkness slowly crept in her eyes that she couldn’t see properly who is talking and what’s happening to her. All she knew is that, this people want her to die so bad.
When she woke up, she thought that it was only a dream that those people who are wearing owl masks is just a part of her dream but when she woke up again she saw a sterile white ceiling and bright white lights. The moment her eyes roamed around she noticed the lack of things inside of the room except for the fact that there is another person inside the room.
“Who are you?” Y/N asked as she slowly sitting in her bed.
The white haired man turned around and looked at her. His eyes—no, his face have some similarities with her brother,damian. But the way he looked at her is much more different than damian. This person’s eyes is full of contempt, like he holds a grudge to her.
“Respawn” He shortly answered.
“Where are we? Why I am here?” Y/N hurriedly asked, as panic slowly crept in her.
“I don’t know. But the only thing I know is that, no one will survive here” Respawn answer while looking directly in her eyes. Next thing she knew is that she was being debrief on what and the purpose of this madness. But one thing that caught her attention is the woman standing in the middle of it. Something that makes her feel the familiarity in her.
Then all of the children are guided in a big building, which she learned to be an experiment chamber. The experiment chamber looked older than the rest of the facility.
The walls were concrete rather than steel.
The lighting was dim and clinical, casting long shadows beneath the machines that lined the room. Thick cables disappeared into the ceiling. Monitoring screens flickered quietly.
Everything felt cold.
Deliberately cold.
When suddenly she was taken away from the other children, and she was guided in one of those chamber. There the guards put her in a bed and was forced to sit. Y/N struggled against the restraints the moment they secured her to the chair.
Metal cuffs locked around her wrists. Her ankles. Her chest. A restraint even held her forehead against the backrest. There would be no escaping this one.
The scientists moved around the room with practiced efficiency. Preparing instruments.
Checking monitors.
Recording information.
None of them spoke to her. None of them even looked at her.
As if she wasn’t a person.
As if she were already a specimen.
Then the room went silent.
The scientists immediately straightened.
Some stepped aside.
Others lowered their heads slightly.
The reaction was subtle.
But noticeable.
Someone important had arrived.
Y/N heard footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Unhurried.
A figure entered through the far doorway.
Abatis
At first, all Y/N noticed was the mask.
It resembled a bird of prey.
Or perhaps a plague doctor’s mask.
She could never decide which.
The surface was blackened metal with gold accents running along the edges. The elongated beak-like shape cast a shadow over the upper half of the face, completely hiding the wearer’s identity.
Years later, Y/N would still remember that mask. Not because it was frightening. But because of how everyone else reacted to it. The scientists suddenly became quieter.
More careful.
As though they feared making a mistake.
The figure stopped beside one of the monitors.
Y/N couldn’t see their face.
Only their silhouette.
Tall.
Slender.
Not physically imposing.
Yet somehow commanding the entire room without speaking.
The body shape suggested a woman.
At least Y/N thought so.
The voice confirmed it moments later.
“Status?”
The word was calm.
Refined.
Almost elegant.
Nothing about it sounded cruel.
Which somehow made it worse.
A scientist immediately stepped forward.
“Subject BAR8-YW has survived all previous integration phases.”
The masked woman looked toward Y/N.
Y/N felt her stomach tighten.
She couldn’t see the woman’s eyes. Yet somehow she knew she was being examined. Studied. Measured.
Then she stepped closer. Y/N instinctively pulled against the restraints. The woman stopped directly beside the chair.
Close enough that Y/N could see tiny scratches etched into the gold detailing of the mask.
Signs of age.
Signs of repeated use.
For a brief moment, neither spoke.
Then the woman tilted her head slightly.
Observing.
Studying.
Y/N hated how interested she sounded when she finally spoke.
“Interesting.”
That single word made Y/N feel worse than any insult could have.
Because there was no emotion behind it.
No hatred.
No anger.
No sympathy.
Only curiosity.
The same curiosity someone might have toward a laboratory mouse.
The woman raised a gloved hand.
Not touching.
Simply hovering near Y/N’s face.
As though examining an object.
“Still conscious despite previous exposure.”
The scientist nodded eagerly.
“Yes.”
“Pain tolerance?”
“Above average.”
Another soft hum.
The woman looked pleased.
Not happy.
Satisfied.
Like a researcher whose experiment was progressing correctly.
Y/N wanted to scream at her.
Wanted to demand answers.
Wanted to know why she was here.
Why any of them were here.
Instead she managed:
“Who are you?”
The room fell silent.
Several scientists visibly froze.
The woman remained still.
Then unexpectedly—
She laughed.
Not loudly.
Not mockingly.
Just a small amused sound behind the mask.
As though Y/N had asked a particularly entertaining question.
“You know who am I more than my name, Y/N”
The response was immediate. Controlled. Final.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Y/N glared at her.
The woman merely looked back. Then her attention shifted toward the reinforced container resting beside the chair. The container holding the dark metal shards.
“Begin.”
Immediately the room moved again.
Scientists resumed their work.
Monitors activated.
Data collection began.
The woman stepped away from the chair.
Returning to observe from a distance.
Watching.
Always watching.
Years later, Y/N would forget many details about that day. The exact layout of the room. The faces of the scientists.
The number of machines.
The words written on the screens.
But she would never forget that woman.
The black-and-gold mask.
The calm voice.
The way she watched children suffer with the detached fascination of someone observing weather.
And even now, ten years later, when Y/N thought about her, she remembered only one thing with absolute certainty.
Out of everyone inside that facility—
The scientists.
The guards.
The Court.
The monsters hidden below.
That masked woman had frightened her the most. Abatis. Not because she seemed evil.
But because she seemed completely convinced that everything she was doing was right. The first thing Y/N noticed after waking from the experiment was the pain.
Not sharp.
Not sudden.
It was everywhere.
A deep ache buried inside her bones.
Every breath felt heavier than the last.
Every heartbeat seemed to echo through her entire body.
The experiment had left something behind. She couldn’t explain it. Only that her body no longer felt entirely her own. Then black.
The next thing she knew when she woke up is the feeling of something burning inside of her. Slowly destroying the inside of her. Then when her eyes looked across the room, Respawn sat against the wall, his arms resting on his knees.
He looked terrible.
Bruises.
Cuts.
Fresh stitches.
Yet the moment he noticed her moving, he stood.
“You awake?”
Y/N managed a weak nod.
Respawn looked relieved.
Only for a second.
Then the familiar guarded expression returned.
“You were unconscious for two days.”
Y/N stared.
“Two?”
Respawn nodded.
The silence that followed was broken by the sound they both dreaded most.
A siren.
Loud.
Violent.
Mechanical.
The lights inside the room immediately shifted from white to crimson.
Respawn cursed.
Y/N’s stomach dropped.
Both of them knew what it meant.
Another trial.
The guards came minutes later. This time there were more. Far more. Armed personnel. Scientists. Court members wearing owl masks. As if everyone wanted to witness what was about to happen. Y/N noticed something strange.
The remaining children were being gathered.
All of them. Not separated. Not assigned to different testing chambers.
Together.
That had never happened before. Not once.
And that terrified her more than anything. The arena looked like a ruined city.
Concrete towers.
Collapsed highways.
Abandoned buildings.
Twisted steel structures stretching into darkness.
Artificial rain poured from sprinklers hidden in the ceiling.
Creating a permanent storm.
Thunder boomed from concealed speakers.
The entire environment looked like Gotham after the end of the world. More than fifty children stood inside.
Or what remained of them.
Years of experimentation had changed everyone. Some had mechanical implants. Some bore horrific scars.
Others looked almost feral.
Every single one looked dangerous and desperate. Above them, observation decks stretched around the entire arena.
Hundreds of masked spectators watched from behind reinforced glass.
Scientists.
Investors.
Members of the Court.
Watching.
Waiting.
Enjoying the show.
Then the loudspeaker activated.
Abatis.
Even after all these years, Y/N remembered her voice perfectly. Calm.
Elegant.
Completely detached.
“Today marks the conclusion of Project BAR8.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
“The purpose of this trial is simple.”
The giant screens flickered.
Numbers appeared.
Subject counts.
Survival percentages.
Mortality rates.
Years of suffering reduced to statistics.
“You will fight until only the most viable candidates remain.”
A pause.
Then—
“Begin.”
Chaos erupted instantly.
There was no hesitation.
No countdown.
No warning.
One second there was silence.
The next there was violence.
A boy lunged forward with a sharpened piece of metal. Another tackled someone to the ground. Gunfire erupted from automated turrets hidden throughout the arena.
The trial had begun.
Y/N barely avoided the first attack. A blade passed close enough to cut several strands of her hair. Respawn immediately intercepted the attacker. The impact sounded like a car crash.
Both bodies slammed into a concrete wall.
The wall cracked.
The boy never got back up.
“Move!”
Respawn grabbed her arm.
Y/N ran.
Instinct took over.
Survival.
That was all this place had ever taught them.
Survive.
Or die.
The arena itself wanted them dead. Collapsed roads gave way beneath their feet. Buildings detonated without warning. Automated drones emerged from hidden compartments in the walls.
Shooting projectiles into the crowd.
Children screamed.
Blood painted the streets.
The number of survivors dropped rapidly.
Fifty became forty.
Forty became thirty.
Then twenty.
Hours seemed to pass.
Or perhaps only minutes.
Time no longer mattered.
Y/N and Respawn fought together. Like they always did. Back to back. Covering each other’s blind spots. Moving as if they’d done this their entire lives.
Maybe they had.
A modified subject charged toward them. The boy looked almost inhuman. Metal plating embedded into his skin. One arm replaced entirely with machinery.
Respawn met him head-on.
The impact shattered a nearby window. Y/N jumped in immediately. A pipe swung toward her face.
She ducked.
Countered.
The metal rod connected with the attacker’s knee. Something snapped and the boy screamed.
Respawn finished the fight.
The machine-enhanced subject crashed through a second-story railing. Falling into darkness below.
Neither sibling celebrated.
There wasn’t time.
Another enemy was already approaching.
Then another.
And another.
The further the trial continued, the worse Y/N felt.
Her vision blurred.
Her limbs felt heavier.
The experiment was affecting her.
Every movement hurt.
Every strike took more energy.
Respawn noticed immediately.
“You okay?”
A ridiculous question.
Neither of them was okay.
But Y/N nodded anyway.
“I’m fine.”
A lie.
Respawn knew it.
But they both kept fighting.
By the end, only six subjects remained.
The strongest.
The deadliest.
The survivors.
The arena had become a graveyard.
Bodies littered the ruined streets.
Broken weapons scattered everywhere.
The rain mixed with blood.
And still the Court watched.
Still they observed.
Still they took notes.
The final confrontation began near the center of the arena. A collapsed highway suspended above a massive pit. The remaining six met there.
Nobody spoke. They simply attacked. The fight was brutal, too brutal. Each of the children are desperate.
Every survivor understood the same truth. There would be no rescue. No freedom. No future. Only survival.
Y/N took a knife to her side. The blade slid between her ribs. Pain exploded through her body. She nearly fell. Respawn caught her before she could.Then immediately took a steel rod across the face.
Blood sprayed across the pavement. He retaliated instantly. Breaking the attacker’s jaw. The fight continued.
Relentless.
Merciless.
Unending.
One by one the others fell. Until only two remained.
Y/N.
Respawn.
And a massive older subject. One of the Court’s favorites. A monster created by years of experimentation. The final survivor lunged. Respawn intercepted him.
The impact shattered concrete beneath their feet. Both rolled across the broken highway. Trading blows.
Punches.
Kicks.
Knives.
Anything.
Everything.
Y/N tried helping.
The moment she moved, her injured side gave out.
She stumbled.
Too slow.
The survivor noticed.
He changed targets instantly.
Y/N barely saw him coming.
The metal pipe connected with her skull.
White exploded across her vision.
Then darkness.
Then pain.
So much pain.
She hit the ground hard.
Something cracked.
The world spun.
She couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t stand.
Couldn’t think.
“Y/N!”
Respawn’s voice sounded distant.
Panicked.
Terrified.
The survivor raised the pipe again.
Respawn moved.
Faster than Y/N had ever seen.
The fight ended seconds later.
A broken neck.
A lifeless body.
Silence.
The final opponent was dead.
They had survived.
Except they hadn’t.
Respawn collapsed almost immediately.
His regeneration had slowed.
Too many injuries.
Too much damage.
Blood covered his entire body.
Y/N wasn’t any better.
She could barely remain conscious.
The loudspeaker activated.
Abatis spoke.
For the first time, there was disappointment in her voice.
“Unfortunate.”
Y/N looked upward.
Everything blurred.
“The surviving subjects have exceeded projected combat performance.”
A pause.
Then:
“However, their injuries are catastrophic.”
Scientists began reviewing data.
Medical scans appeared on the screens.
Broken bones.
Internal bleeding.
Organ damage.
Neurological trauma.
The verdict came quickly.
Coldly.
Clinically.
“Neither subject is expected to survive.”
Respawn glared upward.
Even now.
Even dying.
He still looked ready to fight.
Abatis remained unmoved.
“Dispose of them.”
The floor beneath them suddenly opened. Y/N felt herself falling. Respawn grabbed her immediately. Pulling her closer despite his own injuries. Together they disappeared into the darkness beneath the facility.
Not a prison.
Not a laboratory.
Not a testing chamber.
Something older.
Much older.
A forgotten place hidden beneath the Court’s foundations. The place where failed experiments were thrown when they were no longer useful.
A place the scientists simply called..
The Basement.
And somewhere within that darkness, something ancient waited.The next thing she knew is that the room had not been a room at all. It had been a corridor.Cold concrete. Metal walls.
The air reeked of antiseptic, dampness, and something sharp beneath it—something chemical, something wrong. The lights overhead flickered in uneven intervals, casting broken strips of white across the floor. Every step echoed in the narrow passage, though Y/N was not walking on her own. Someone was dragging her. Consciousness and awareness seems to slowly fade away from her.
Her feet barely touched the ground at first. Her arms hurt from being held too tightly, and the world around her spun in fragments of bright ceiling light and dark corners. She could hear herself breathing too fast, too shallow, but even that sounded far away, as if it belonged to someone else.
Beside her, another child stumbled— A boy.
He was smaller than the men dragging them, but not by much. His white hair caught the light as his head jerked forward from the force of being shoved. His face was pale, his mouth set in a line so tight it looked like it might split from holding back the pain. He did not cry. That was the first thing she remembered about him. Not that he was brave. Not that he was strong. Only that he did not cry.
That had made her stare at him in confusion, even then. Because she had wanted to cry. She had wanted to scream. But every sound in her chest had turned into something locked behind her ribs. One of the men said something. The words were muffled by the pounding in her ears, but she remembered the tone—its too cold. As if they were not speaking to children at all. As if they were speaking about discarded equipment.
“Move them below.”
The door at the end of the corridor opened with a slow metallic groan. Beyond it was a staircase descending into darkness. The basement. Not a storage room. Not a laboratory but Something worse.
A place beneath the facility where the air turned colder and the walls sweated with old moisture. The kind of place no one had any intention of visiting unless they planned not to return. The men shoved them down the stairs.
The floor had been cold. That was the first sensation she could recall. Cold concrete pressed against her cheek, rough enough to scrape the skin when she tried to move. The air smelled of damp metal and something chemical that burned faintly in her nose. She didn’t know where she was at first.
Her mind floated somewhere between consciousness and darkness, unable to hold onto anything for long. Every breath hurt. Her chest rose shallowly, each inhale weak and uneven as if the air itself had grown too heavy to pull inside.
Something warm ran along the side of her face. Blood. She didn’t remember when she had started bleeding. Only that the taste of iron lingered faintly in the back of her throat. The room above her flickered in dim yellow light. A single bulb. Buzzing. Then dimming. Then buzzing again. For a while, she thought she was alone.
Until she heard the movement.
A faint scrape.
Not far from her.
Her eyes struggled to open wider. The world blurred and swayed. And through that haze she saw him.
Respawn.
He was lying several feet away, half on his side, half collapsed against the floor like his body had simply given up holding itself upright. His white hair caught the weak light above them. His breathing was rough. Uneven.
She could hear it from where she lay. He was hurt badly. That much was clear even through the fog in her mind. One of his arms trembled weakly as he tried to push himself forward. Just a little. Just enough. His fingers dragged across the concrete slowly, leaving faint streaks where blood touched the floor.
“…hey.” His voice sounded distant—Hoarse. Like every word scraped painfully against his throat.
Y/N tried to answer. Her lips parted slightly. But the only sound that came out was a weak breath. The effort made her vision spin again.
Respawn noticed immediately. He shifted again, forcing his body to move closer even though the movement clearly hurt him.
“…stay awake.” The words came out strained, more uneven. But there was urgency behind them. He dragged himself another inch forward. Then another.
Until his hand finally reached hers. His fingers brushed against the back of her hand first. Warm. Real. He closed his hand weakly around her fingers. The contact felt small. Fragile. But it was enough to anchor her.
For a moment, the darkness pulling at her mind slowed. Y/N tried to move her hand. It twitched weakly under his grip. Respawn exhaled softly when he felt it.
“Good.” His voice shook. She tried to look at him properly. Her eyes struggled to focus on his face. He looked worse up close. Bruises darkened his skin. Blood had dried along the edge of his jaw. His breathing sounded tight, like something inside his chest had been damaged. But he was still awake.
Still holding onto her, as if trying to comfort her. Above them, footsteps moved somewhere beyond the basement door. Respawn heard them. His hand tightened slightly around hers. Y/N couldn’t see the door clearly from where she lay. But she could hear the muffled voices through the ceiling.
“…not necessary.”
“…dispose of them.”
The words drifted faintly through the floor. Respawn’s fingers tightened again. Just a little. Y/N tried to speak. But her throat burned. But this time something came out. A broken whisper.
“…Respawn…”
The sound of his name barely reached him. But he heard it. His head turned immediately toward her.
“…I’m here.” The words came out softer now. Closer. He dragged himself forward again, ignoring the way his body shook with the effort. Their shoulders nearly touched now. Y/N could barely see him anymore. Her vision had started dimming at the edges, darkness creeping inward slowly. Her body felt colder. Her fingers trembled weakly in his grasp.
“…don’t…” Her voice broke halfway through the word.
The effort exhausted what little strength she had left. Her eyes filled with tears without her realizing it. They slid slowly across the concrete beneath her cheek.
“…don’t… leave…” The whisper barely existed. More breath than sound. But Respawn heard it. For a moment he didn’t speak. His head lowered slightly as if gathering what little strength he still had. When he finally spoke again, his voice had changed.
Quieter. But sharper. The way a blade sounds when drawn slowly from its sheath.
“…listen.” Respawn spoke again
Y/N could barely keep her eyes open now. Her tears continued to fall silently against the floor. She could feel his hand still holding hers. Still refusing to let go.
“…destroy…” His voice trembled faintly.
“…kill… them…” Another breath. A painful one.
“…all.” The words came slowly.
As if each one cost him something. Y/N blinked weakly. She did not understand. Her mind was slipping too far away. But she heard him. Even through the fog closing in around her. Then he said one more word. Quieter than the rest. Almost gentle.
“…sister.”
Her breath caught faintly. He finally recognized her as his sister. The word echoed somewhere deep inside her chest. But before she could respond—
Something moved above them. A door opening. Light spilling down the stairs. Footsteps descending. Respawn’s grip tightened around her hand one final time. Then suddenly—His hand left hers.
The warmth disappeared. Y/N tried to move. Tried to lift her head. But her body refused. All she could do was lie there.
“…brother,don’t leave…” Crying silently. The whisper broke apart halfway through his name. Her vision blurred completely now. She could hear shouting. A sudden movement. The sound of something striking metal.
Then a deafening crack of noise. The room shook violently. And the world went dark. When both of them lost consciousness, a pair of eyes suddenly looked at the two bodies infront of him. He smell an enticing scent from a girl, a scent of familiarity as if this happened before.
As he slowly walks towards the body, his hands which has a long fingernails hold the girl’s jaw and forced to open her mouth. A gush of unknown substances comes from his mouth that falls directly into the girls mouth. The body suddenly convulsed as her eyes dilated the more substance slowly filling the body. Then everything went stopped, the body suddenly woke up gasping and erratic.
She immediately looked around and saw a body near her. It was cold—it wasn’t supposed to be cold, but it is. The white haired of respawn was starting to looked red due to the pool of blood around them. Before she was able to touch him, everything suddenly distorted then the surrounding changes. She found herself in a forest, with only sounds of bird and insect along with the drops of rain could be heard.
She decided to run, she doesn’t know where but she just started running up until she finally got out of the forest. From then, she can saw a big manor in a distanced. It was the Wayne Manor, she is finally back in Gotham.
The moment she came knocking in the door, fully drenched but still look decent. Her wounds that she remembered have suddenly disappeared and it doesn’t look like she experienced hell. As the door opened, she came face to face with an old man—Alfred.
“Young Miss? I didn’t know you would arrive today, then i should have been picked you up in the airport” Alfred confusedly told her. And let her in, guiding her towards the reception room.
synopsisyou and Robby had been going steady for a few months now but when a betting board is made on who your mysterious male friend could be, Robby is not happy with the outcome.
warningslanguage, smutish- allusions to smut, jealous Robby, mention of shooting- GSW
author noterobby x reader but platonic frank x reader, can you tell santos is my favourite cause i include her in basically everything i write
Santos had had a day.
More traumas than she could deal with and a young girl who came in with bruises that suspiciously looked like abuse. She’d had just about enough when she realised she’d have to give another two hours to the place to get her charting done.
When she came home she knew Whitaker was at Amy’s and you should have been home. She watched you practically bolt out the place. Santos hoped it’d be a night of crappy food and shitty movies.
So when she ditched her keys at the kitchen counter and listened out the last thing she expected to hear was moaning.
“What the?” she called out for you.
Maybe you were having a self-care night. Charged up a vibrator and such.
Santos chuckled to herself as she made to tiptoe past your room.
There was the unmistakable sound of another.
“Oh fuck.”
Trinity paused.
You and her were close, she could admit that. You were maybe her only friend. So she knew you had been going through a dry patch. Because you were making it everyone's problem.
She listened in.
There was deep groaning from a man and your moans, the soft thudding of a bed against the wall. Trinity thanked the heavens again that the head of your bed was against Denis's wall and not hers.
“Deeper, harder,” she heard you moan.
“Oh, fuck me,” the guy groaned deep. She didn't recognise the voice. Did she?
Curious she tried to listen to the mans voice, wondering what she could tell. He must have been busy as little else was said other than groanings.
Where had you met this guy? Had this been happening longer than she knew? Is this why you hurried out?
Santos thought you weren't one of one night stands. Were you proving her wrong?
She snook into her room and knew she had to tell someone, at least Whitaker.
Robby collapsed next to you on your bed, catching his breath as you pulled the sheets up to cover your slightly sweaty bodies. The bed creaked under his weight as he moved around, getting himself comfortable.
Your bed was a small double, not really built for anyone more than one. Let alone Robby.
“You want some water or something?” you asked.
Robby chuckled, the bed creaking again as he turned on his side to face you. “Aren't I supposed to be asking you that?”
You lifted your shoulders, tucking your hands under your head to admire him. “Well you're the senior citizen with the... bad back?”
His brows lifted. “Oh that's how you want to play it.”
He grabbed your hip and pulled you close.
You were still trying to recover from the multiple orgasms Robby had ripped through your body as soon as you'd stepped through your apartment door. But that didn't stop his hands from crowding around your body, pulling you into him as all his hardness turned soft.
His lips found yours as easy as one found home, kissing you the way he knew you liked to be kissed. Head tilted to reach deeper, nose moving against your cheek.
There was a sudden shriek in your apartment.
You pushed Robby off, sitting up quick in bed.
“What?” he asked, far less alarmed then you as his arm fell around your waist.
“Trinity.”
Robby hummed. “Thought you said she was at Garcia's tonight?”
“I thought she was,” you uttered as if she was in the room.
The dating with Robby had started maybe three months ago when you'd had a disastrous date at the same bar Robby frequented with his buddy Duke. He'd seen the distress you were in with your date when he wouldn't stop talking about why sports people should actually get paid more than health care workers.
From there you had drinks with Robby.
From there he asked to see you again outside of work.
From there you ended up in his bed and he in yours on the occasions you had the place to yourself, which with two room mates didn't happen often.
You'd thought tonight was one of them.
“You should go,” you said, throwing the cover back to find your clothes in the dark.
“What?” Robby laughed, without moving. Instead he got himself comfortable, throwing an arm around the back of his head and tugging the covers down to his waist.
“Yes, do you want Trinity to know?”
“She doesn't sleep in your room though does she?”
Still, you tried to find some clothes.
The word around the PTMC was that Robby was a seven week itch kind of guy, the sort to never tie himself down. So though you'd been on dates with him and though he'd brought you flowers before and held your hands in bars and took you to a fancy dinner, he still fucked you like a guy that could move on the next day.
And you didn't want to scare him away with talk of serious dating. A bit of Robby was better than none of him.
You just didn't want your friends to judge you for that.
“Hey-hey-” Robby moved over on the bed, arm darting out to wrap around your waist and tug you back in.
You couldn't even protest before he was pulling you into him, hooking one of his large legs over yours and trapping you in. Your quilt was pulled up and his head rested next to yours.
At least when you and Robby were done with the sex you never kicked each other out of bed. But you did go into work separately.
“But-”
“-I'll be out of here first thing in the morning.”
With his arms around you and his calming breath you didn't think you could push him off you if you wanted to.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Robby kissed the blade of your shoulder and for the rest of the night that was how you were and when you woke in the morning with two hours to spare before your shift started, Robby was already gone.
“So who's the lucky guy?”
You chocked on your coffee, peering next to you at Trinity. “What?”
She smirked, leaning on the locker next to yours. “Oh come on, I heard you last night.”
The bitter taste of black coffee turned to ash in your stomach. She'd heard. Or worse, she'd been up to see Robby sneak out in the morning.
“What-what do you mean?” play it cool, you could totally starve of the humiliation. Maybe you could persuade her it was a dream, a nightmare, that she was sleepwalking and actually heard/saw/knew nothing.
“I heard you last night,” she said. “Quite the dicking down from what it sounded like.”
You felt the heat in your cheeks. “Oh my god.”
“Hey, I think its good, you deserve it,” said Santos as you hid yourself in your locker, taking great care in peeling off your jacket and finding your stethoscope inside. “So is it someone I know, or...”
She didn't know. You rejoiced silently before realising she still knew there was someone. “That is none of your business.”
“Oh come on, you know Garcia!”
“Because she works here.”
“Does he work here?”
“No!” you close the locker door, not as amused as Trinity was clearly finding this situation. “Please, he's just... a guy.”
She leaned in closer for the gossip. Few things got her as excited as gossip did. “A boyfriend guy or a sleep around guy?”
Wasn't that the golden question.
“Oh my god, you don't know.”
“Santos!” the call of her name should have saved you. Not when it was Robby calling for her as he stood between the two of you. “Pelvic exam in three.”
She groaned but gave a salute. “You got it boss,” she said to him before aiming a finger at you. “This isn't over.”
Santos had turned, leaving and you hardly waited anytime to turn back to the lockers and bash your head into them. Not enough to hurt but enough to erase the terrible fact that Santos had heard you.
Robby liked hearing you moan and you liked Robby so you always moaned loud.
And she'd caught enough of it.
Usually, you wished for Robby to be a bit louder in bed. You were glad he hadn't been.
The cold metal of the locker was replaced on what might have been your twentieth go at hitting yourself with the back of a rough hand.
“Everything okay?” asked Robby, coming to stand next to you, leaning on the lockers. His eyes creased with concern.
“She knows.”
His brows shot up, which didn't indicate a good reaction. “She knows?”
“Not about you, don't worry,” you said with a light scoff. “She knows that I had a good time with a guy last night, she doesn't know who.”
Robby nodded in consideration. “So we're in the clear?”
You screwed your eyes shut. You hadn't realised just how bad you wanted him to shrug it off, tell you he didn't care if Trinity knew, that of everyone in the ward knew, that he only cared about what it meant between the two of you. You only realised when he didn't give you that option.
He wanted to be sure he wasn't affiliated with it.
“Yeah, you're in the clear.”
You left Robby at the lockers before suspicions could grow. Nothing wrong with a resident talking to their attending and so far you and Robby had done a good job at not having any suspicion- not even from Dana.
The least you could do for the guy was keep it that way.
“You had a hot date last night?” Princess slid up to your side before you were even half way across the ward.
You groaned. “Santos told you already.”
“Why didn't you say anything?”
“Say anything about what?” Javadi's voice suddenly came from Doctor McKay's side. The older woman tried to act uninterested but her keen eyes were watching you from over the computer.
“She had a date around hers last night,” said Perhlah, coming up to your other side.
“And she won't tell us who it was,” added Princess.
Javadi's smile grew and her jaw hung open. “Who?”
You shook your head and stared at your shoes. “This is the worst day of my life.”
“Okay!” Robby's voiced boomed out. He clapped his hands, gaining everyone's attention. “We have patients, how about we go ask them some riveting questions?”
Mel frowned from somewhere in the crowd that had formed. “We should go ask them if they know who the guy is?”
She realised quickly that wasn't quite what he meant.
Perlah and Princess walked off together, quietly scheming. “Men just don't get it.”
You gulped down, smoothing your hand over your head and where the growing headache was forming. “Thanks.”
Robby said nothing but there was the brief feel of his hands on your shoulders as he squeezed before moving past you.
It was going on lunch, you'd just gotten a trauma through and up to the OR when you spotted bright post-it notes stuck up on the board in Ahmed's office. The betting board, his mini kingdom had been put back together.
Three titles.
Who?
How long?
Casual or dating?
“Oh my god!” your shriek echoed around the Pitt.
“What? What is it? What?” Robby was at your side in an instant, body almost slamming into you with how quick he slid next to you. He steadied himself, holding on.
“That!”
Ahmed had set up a betting board based on your love life.
The who column was spread with names and the name of those that had bet scribbled underneath. In the middle there was how long had it been going on for, some thought it was only a few weeks, others guessed up to six months.
The last column, wondering if it was a casual thing or serious was filled with almost every post it note saying 'casual'.
“Oh,” Robby chuckled.
“It's not funny,” you argued. “Has every body here bet?”
“Not me, I had no idea. Besides I think that's kind of cheating, right?”
“I see you've found my latest and greatest,” said Ahmed, approaching behind the two of you. “We got this up and running two hours ago, you want me to break it down for you?”
“Holy shit,” you uttered, scanning the board. It was a great and easy way to find out what everyone thought about you.
Robby nodded, leaning on the door next to you. “Holy shit.”
“How much money's in the pot?” you asked.
Ahmed grinned like he was just waiting for you to ask. “Five-hundred and five dollars!”
Robby chocked on a breath next to you as your jaw hung open.
Someone was gonna make money of your guys' sex lives and none of that was going to come to you.
“And I'm guessing I can't get in on it?” you asked.
“No," said Ahmed. “Unless, you know, you wanna tell me who it is and I'll split the money between us.”
“And who do you think it is?” asked Robby. He asked casually, still leaning on the doorframe like he couldn't care less. If he was a girl in a rom-com he might have even checked on his nails or twirled his hair. But you'd studied him close the last couple months, you'd worked all his emotions out into your own little Robby dictionary.
There was a hint of jealousy.
“Well, I've gone with the fan favourite,” he said, plucking off his post it note to show you. “Frank. Three months. And serious.”
“Langdon!” Robby announced.
Uh-oh.
“Yeah, man,” he said. “More than half these notes say it's him.”
On further reading you noticed it did. On yellows and pinks and greens Frank's name was written in quick scribbles or thought out curves.
Frank? Sure the two of you were close. You'd worked close together for a year- nearly two. You worked coordinated well in traumas and with patients you always knew what the other was thinking.
Since his divorce with you'd been helping him as much as you could. You had a friend who was a good lawyer and when he had a chance to see the kids you always covered.
You knew, of course, everything that had happened with the benzos.
You knew Robby still wasn't back to being best-buds with the guy.
You didn't know everyone thought you and Frank were together!
Donnie side stepped past you, coming in with his bets. “I got it, I got it-”
Robby snatched them from his hand, scoffing at whatever was written.
“Langdon. Two weeks and serious.”
“Et-tu, Donnie?” you asked.
“I got fifty in the pool, looking to get a new tv, you know.”
Robby stormed off.
Donnie watched. “He got a bet in?”
“Not yet, sorry, you don't mind?” asked Ahamed.
You scoffed. “Do I have a choice?”
You left them to it, finding Robby sitting at the nurses station at a computer. His jaw clenched and fingers worked furiously over the keypads. You evaluated the area before leaning in. “If you put a pool in we could split the money?”
“Should I put a bet in for Langdon?” He didn't look up to you as he slid on his glasses.
It angered you because he seemed annoyed at something he knew not to be true and because he slid on the glasses that made him even hotter than he already was.
“Is there something wrong, Robby?”
“No.”
“You seem-”
“- I'm not,” he snapped.
He was.
Robby wouldn't admit how much he let his emotions rule, especially anger. He used to be terrible for it but for a while he'd been better, lighter on his feet, patient. Since about.... well, since you started seeing each other.
“Hey.” Langdon joined your side.
You noticed a vein in Robby's neck twitch. “Hey.”
“You seen what everyone's saying?” asked Frank. “Apparently we're seeing each other?”
“Yeah,” you said, turning to him. “I had no idea.”
“You think I should buy a ring next?” he teased.
Robby slammed his hands on the counter, pushing himself up and storming off without so much as a glance.
Frank watched. “What's his problem?”
What was his problem? You'd love to know. “He had a bet on someone else,” you excused.
“Oh bummer,” said Frank. “You think he lost a lot of money?”
You didn't have time to come up with another lie as you spotted Santos and Whitaker walking by. Politely, you ditched Frank, promising you'd catch him for lunch.
“Did you start a betting system on my sex life?” you asked Trinity.
She smirked. “That wasn't me, I had nothing to do with that, seriously!”
“It's true,” said Denis. “But she was the first to put down a bet on Frank.”
You looked at her. You knew the history between her and Frank. Why would she want you to sleep with him? “You hate Frank?”
She shrugged. “So I guessed you were sleeping with him and didn't want to tell me because you know I don't like him.”
You shook your head. “I didn't want to tell you because it's none of your business.” You considered Whitaker. “Who'd you bet for?”
“I-I didn't, I-I wouldn't-”
“He bet on Nick from radiology.”
All of this from Robby sleeping with you in your apartment. Next time- if there was even gong to be a next time- you were doing it at his.
By the end of your shift anyone that hadn't placed a bet had.
Franks name had doubled and the pot was up to one thousand dollars (the highest bet in Pitt history). Frank found it funny, cracking jokes about it all day, throwing arms around you and dragging you onto cases saying 'couples that save lives together, stay together.'
Any other time you'd have laughed.
But when Robby was around every corner, glaring yet refusing to talk to you you couldn't find amusement in it.
The night had come and you were catching a break at the ambulance bay, sitting down on the curb. You were home in an hour, Denis had already gone to Amy's to deliver a lamb or something and Santos was supposed to be at Garcia's tonight.
But you highly doubted you'd have company.
“Hey,” Jack greeted, walking over to you in his midnight scrubs and bag slung over his shoulder. “How's my favourite day shift resident?”
You smiled a tired one at him. “How much money do you have in your wallet?”
Without a beat Jack fetched it and offered you what he had. Because that's the kind of guy Jack was.
“No, no,” you chuckled. “I don't need your cash. There's a betting pool on about who I'm sleeping with. I just- I was gonna ask you to not place a bet.”
Jack laughed, setting next to you on the curb, stretching out his prosthetic leg. “Would be a bit unfair seeing's as I'm best pals with the guy you're dating.”
“Not dating,” you corrected. “Probably not even seeing each other after today.”
Jack listened as you explained the distance, the glares, the snapping that returned to Robby. He didn't jump to defend his friend, he listened to you and took notes mentally. “The guys an emotional wreck. You know that. I know that.”
“But I thought he was doing better?”
“He was- is. Since he started dating you,” he said. “You ask me he's dealing with some emotions he doesn't know how to process. Jealousy. Greed. What's the other deadly sin?”
You rolled your eyes playfully. “Lust?”
“Yeah. That.”
“So I'm supposed to what? Let him be a dick all over again?”
“Oh fuck no,” said Jack firmly. “Put him in his place.”
Admittedly you didn't want to. You wanted to go back to being whatever it was you had with Robby. You wanted to hold hands and share beers in shitty bars at least an hour out of town so it was kept a secret. You wanted the brush of hands between the rush of patients and the discreet meetings at his or yours.
But how far were you willing to bend before you broke?
“So who's everyone putting bets on anyway?” Jack asked.
“Frank.”
Understanding of the situation hit him. “Ah.”
“Yeah. Ah.”
Suddenly the wail of an ambulance cut through the quiet.
The doors burst open, Robby, Santos, King, Jesse all pouring out.
“GSW to the chest, forty-two year old male, weak pulse, un-conscious on the ride over,” said Robby tugging on his gloves as you and Jack jumped up. He spared a glance at the two of you before the ambulance pulled up.
You jumped into it, wheeling the gurney ahead into trauma two. Everyone working around the man.
“Okay we move him on the count of three,” said Jack as you all got a hold of the patient. “One... two... three!”
He was heavier than some, not that it would effect your level of care but it made moving him just that but more difficult. There was a breath of air and struggle from Jack and Robby, the noises you had to drown out.
“Lets get an intubation tray going!” called Robby.
The two of you crossed each other, swapping sides.
“Can we talk later?” he uttered as he paused for only a second.
“Whatever, Robby.”
He sighed heavy.
The rest of you carried on gaging the extent of his injury.
“So do you want me out the apartment tonight so your man friend can come around?” asked Santos at your side.
“I want you out cause I'm annoyed at you.”
“Ouch.”
“Okay we need to turn him to see if it went through, on my say!” yelled Robby.
The team had thinned as orders had been barked, there were two of you on either side of him: Robby and Jack, and you and Santos.
Robby passed a nod. “Okay, roll!”
You and Trinity pulled while the men on the other side pushed but maybe Robby didn't have a good grip or maybe he hadn't expected him to be so heavy.
Robby grunted and groaned. “Ah, urg-”
“Not through,” Jack grunted.
You tried to lower him as slow as you could but it wasn't slow enough as Robby's hand got trapped under.
“Oh! Fuck me!”
You and Jack lifted the body quick and Robby released his hand.
Santos was frozen.
The whole room seemed to pause for a second.
“Oh my god!” Santos cheered, arms thrown wide. “Oh my god, oh my god!”
What was wrong with her?
It took you a second to realise, memory of last night coming to you.
Robby over you, thrusting careful.
Your body moved with his thrusts but you wrapped your legs around him, pushing his pelvis in till you felt the length of him deep. “Deeper, harder,” you'd begged.
Robby had groaned out loud, just the way you liked to hear him. “Oh! Fuck me!”
He'd uttered the words into you as he pressed his weight down, squashing you onto your squeaky bed. He'd wrapped his hands around your neck, squeezing just enough to have your walls fluttering around his cock.
Santos had been home longer than you'd thought.
Now, she was practically jumping up and down, smirking. “Oh my god!”
“Trinity can I talk to you outside please?”
“It's- you- and-” her arms were waving around.
“Outside, please, Trinity!”
Everyone was staring.
“Trinity, outside!” You guided her out and she let you, abandoning the trauma and ripping off her gown. You returned, finding Robby's gaze and Jack's amused grin as he tended to the patient. “Sorry, Doctor Robby, may I talk to Santos outside for a moment?”
Robby must have jumped to the same conclusion as you. “Er yes, yes! Of course, go!”
You rushed out, nudging Trinity into an empty exam room as she laughed. You closed the door and pulled the curtain over the glass.
“It's Doctor Robby!” she said at once. “It's Doctor Robby! You're sleeping with Doctor Robby!”
“Can you keep your voice down?”
Santos laughed again, a full belly laugh. “Oh my god, this whole time I thought it was Frank. Oh, I'm so happy.” She wiped at amused tears.
“Hey!”
“How long have you been sleeping with him?”
You shook your head, tugging off your own hospital gown. “It doesn't matter.”
Finally Trinity considered you. Her laughter died. “What-what do you mean?”
How could you explain that what she'd heard last night was over hardly twenty-four hours later.
The door pushed open and Robby stepped through, gown and gloves already gone.
“Is everything okay in here?” he asked, looking between the two of you.
“You and you?” Trinity confirmed, finger gesturing between the two of you.
Robby ran his hands through the back of his hair.
“I just can't believe it,” she said. “You guys are dating?”
Robby sighed out a “yes” at the same time you shook your head, “no”
Now, Robby looked at you.
Santos folded her arms over her chest, smirking and watching like the two of you were her favourite show. “Oh.”
Robby's hands fell to his hips as he looked at you. “What do you mean, no?”
“What do you mean, yes?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” he chuckled.
Your rubbed at your temples. “I'm so confused.”
“You're confused, I'm confused,” Robby scoffed.
“Wait- I'm confused,” said Santos. “You guys don't know if you're dating or not?”
Robby's eyes squeezed shut in frustration. “Doctor Santos, please. Go make yourself useful.”
Trinity didn't move. She looked at you, waiting for what you wanted. Because yes, Robby was her attending but you were her friend. When she was insecure about Garcia you were there telling her how much better she could do.
In the hospital Santos was guided under Robby.
At home, she was guided by friendship and care for you.
You gave her a nod and she dismissed herself.
You didn't know where to look, didn't know where to touch.
Outside the usual routine of the Pitt carried on.
Robby sighed, hands going into his fleece pocket. “You didn't know we were dating?”
No, you really didn't. “Was I supposed to? You never asked.”
He shook his head, looking down with a chuckle. He started to list things off, counting them off on his fingers. “Flowers, dinners, day trips, was that not enough?”
“But you never said!”
“I thought it was obvious!”
“Obvious to who?”
“To us!” His hands fell to your forearms.
“No to you maybe!”
“So the dinners... the flowers, you thought it was all just, just sex?” he asked.
You'd hoped it was more. You'd dreamt about it when his weight kept you down on his bed after you kissed and made love for hours. Love...
“I... yeah.”
How long had you thought him the bad guy? Were you the one that had been distant, pulling away?
You carried yourself away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed. You never realised how uncomfortable those things were.
Robby laughed to himself, standing for a moment longer. He checked that nobody was around through the curtain before he settled next to you. He shuffled, his bodies attention focused on you. He laid a hand on your knee, tilting his head to try to look at you. “I should have asked, properly.”
“It would've saved confusion,” you admitted.
Robby's hand came up, cradling your face and drawing your attention to him. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over your cheek.
You looked at him, finding nothing but warmth in his gaze. The only thing that had been there for three months. “But today, you... you could hardly look at me.”
He took in a deep breath. “I was...” his jaw ticked.
You smirked. “Jealous?”
His eyes flickered back to yours. “Nobody on that board thought I could be dating you.”
“Till about two seconds ago I didn't even know we were dating,” you joked.
Robby shook his head, wetting his lips. “We are.”
“You're not even going to ask me?”
“I don't need to,” he said. “We're dating, that okay with you?” His face inched closer.
“I don't know, I might have to ask Frank that one,” you teased.
Robby leant back, a dark look to him. The hand caressing you fell to your neck, keeping you looking at him. “You think that's funny?”
“Everyone else thinks so-”
He pulled you in by your neck and kissed you, hard, the imprint of his teeth felt through your lips.
You held onto him, kissing him with a new need. Kissing your boyfriend. Your hands wound around his head and you brought him down on top of you.
Robby climbed atop the bed that was not made for heavy make out sessions. He held the edge with one hand and the other fell down your body till it could crawl up your scrub top, un-tucking it and holding onto your hips.
He bit down on your lip and used the opening of your mouth to slide in his tongue.
“This is un-professional,” you said against his lips.
“I've been wanting to be un-professional for months.”
You were so lost in the feel of each other you didn't notice the curtain being yanked back until you heard.
“We got him stable,” said Jack, casually. “Oh and you've got an audience.”
You looked over Robby's shoulder as he looked back to see nosey nurses and night shifters along with half the day staff all looking at you.
You tapped his shoulder and though resigned to, Robby slowly climbed off you.
“Who put down Robby?” Ahmed called. “Did anyone bet Robby?”
The crowd that had watched you both suddenly rushed to the board, scanning the name.
Eventually you and Robby joined, waiting.
“Oh my god.”
“There he is, Robby, one vote!”
Robby's head perked in confusion.
“Who is it? Who?”
Ahmed collected the money and made his way through the people. To the one who had made a bet on Robby. “Doctor Robby, three months, and serious.”
He delivered the money- to everyone's shock- to Frank.
Your jaw hung open as Frank collected the money.
Everyone looked at him, silent.
You couldn't tell if next to you Robby was okay with it or angered.
Frank looked around at everyone. “C'mon, nobody else saw it? He's been happier for three months and can't take his eyes off her.”
Clealry, nobody had.
“I thought you didn't bet?” you asked him.
Frank shrugged, bashful. “Yeah well, couldn't help myself. Here-” Langdon held out the wad of cash to Robby's hand, practically forcing it in. “Take her somewhere nice.”
You wished you had a camera to capture Robby's shock.
“Okay folks! Show's over!” called out Dana. “Day shift let's pass on to night so we can get out of here to have some fun!” she winked your way.
Slowly the crowd dissipated, shaking their heads in disappointment.
Ahmed was already pulling off the notes and rubbing away at the board.
Robby waved the cash in front of you. “What do you say, you gonna let your boyfriend treat you tonight?”
synopsis Out of all the Pittlings you are Robby’s favourite and the others love to tease you about it, but what happens when they're right?
happy robby (A warning cause its so strange) fem reader SMUT MDNI, older guy, younger reader (not really stated the ages but its there) make out, language, oral (f! receiving), fingering, dom robby, penetration. you know I had to do it to them, Pitt fics on the way
Santos was practically giddy, standing at your side, Whitaker on the other as the three of you watched Dr Robinavitch- Dr Robby- talk with Dana at the other side of the room. “Off you go, peach.”
“Best out of three?” you proposed.
“No- go!” Trinity pushed at your back as you hung your head.
“It's not like he can fire you just from this,” said Whitaker. “Can he?”
Suddenly your pulse kicked up. Would he fire you? He was totally within his rights. This was the third time this week.
Santos rolled her eyes, leaning over to glare at Huckleberry. “Don't be a douche, of course he's not gonna fire her. She won't even get a warning. She'll get off lightly, she always does.”
“Hey!” you complained.
“It's true!”
You frowned. You didn't think so. When you made mistakes- which you did- they were met with the same firm reprimand, the same as anyone else. Except maybe Dr Robby moves on a little quicker with your mistakes than he does others.... but it was nothing to dwell on.
“Why am I even doing this?” you straightened up, looking to Whitaker. “You were on Merna duty!”
He paled (even more so then he already was) and stood as tall as he could, stuttering an excuse. “I-you- I turned my back for a second! How was I supposed to know she could get herself out of cuffs?”
“Well you should've known!”
“Yeah!” agreed Santos, really with any excuse to argue against him.
“Please don't make me tell him,” he begged, his wide eyes pulling at heart strings you really wished you didn't have.
“Yeah, we all know you're his favourite,” said Trinity.
It was a phrase that had been thrown around a fair amount. Either in a admiration about how much better he treated you then others or in disbelief of the biased he showed as the chief attending. At first it confused you but when they kept pushing you to be the one to tell Dr Robby things and taking the brunt for everyone's mistakes it started to annoy you.
“You know what- that's it!” you pushed yourself off the counter, allowing Santos and Whitaker to huddle together. “I'll tell him. I'll tell him I lost Merna and you will see that he doesn't treat me any different to how he treats the two of you!”
Santos scoffed. “Pssht. Yeah right.”
“Yeah, and then- and then-” you tried to think quick. What was in it for you? You get told off by your attending? It wasn't very appealing. You may as well get something out of it. “Then you owe me twenty dollars, each!”
Whitaker didn't seem to like those chances.
“Deal!” said Santos. “But when he doesn't fault you those forty dollars are coming our way.”
“Fine!”
Santos looked beyond your shoulder, brows raised. “No time like the present.”
You followed her gaze.
Dana had walked away from Robby, spotting the three of you. Her eyes narrowed, her fingers pointing out as if she knew you lot were up to something. Or she smelled a bet and wanted in on a chance to win some money. But with Dana back behind her post it left Robby free, head bowed over a chart.
You sucked in a deep breath, thinking of how you could put it. Break it slow. Tell him all at once. Say it with care or like it was nothing.
“Doctor Robby?”
He spared a quick glance, a soft up turn to his lips that tilted into his cheeks. “There she is! I was just coming to find you.”
Oh shit. He must have seen the vacant wheelchair that was practically always reserved for Merna.
“You were?”
“Yeah. Got a seventeen year old boy, screwdriver in the right knee, lodged between the soft tissues of the anterior, you want in?”
“Er yeah,” you couldn't even think of the trauma case, not till you had your wallet stuffed with forty dollars, your shower was leaking and would soon be out of it. You'd like to get it fixed so you could stop getting to the hospital early just to shower. “Can I talk to you first?”
Robby tilted his glasses down in a way that heated your body like it was a summers day in the ED. “This sounds serious?”
“No. Well- yes. Um... I don't know how to say this-”
“Are you hurt? Are you okay?” he asked, straightening.
“Yes, I'm fine. Um... we lost Merna!” you said, quickly. It was just ripping off a band aid.
Robby deflated down onto the bed that lingered in the corridor. It was there to catch him. “Oh god.”
You wondered why he seemed more upset then angry, before you realised your poor choice of words for a hospital. “Oh no! Sorry! She's alive! I think, sorry, poor choice of words. I meant she's lost. She- well, I turned my back for a second and she was gone. Got out off her restraints like some damn Houdini. But... yeah, um, I don't- I don't know where she is.”
Robby exhaled. “Oh, geez, you got me.” His face was red but his grin large like you had just shared a joke.
You dared to look back at Santos who made a cash grabbing move. You turned back to Robby. “I really didn't mean to, I'm so sorry, you must be angry.”
“Nah,” he shrugged. “You know Merna: she stays around till she gets bored, she makes her great escape and always winds her way back here. Ten bucks says she'll be back by the end of our shift.”
All you needed was a popped vein, a strain in the arm, to have him stand over you red in the face and not with humour.
“Oh no,” you chuckled, hiding the disappointment. “I'm not a betting person.”
He hummed, pushing himself up. He nudged you as he passed but his arm stayed close, lingering. “C'mon, we'll go see that kid.”
As he led you past Santos and Whitaker they waited for an answer.
You sighed. “The money's in my bag.”
“Daddy's favourite,” Santos coughed.
Dr Robby hesitated in his step. “You say something, Doctor Santos?”
“Nothing!” you said quickly, marching ahead. “Nothing, she said nothing!”
For the rest of the day Robby fluttered around your orbit. He kept you on the seventeen year old case, checking in every now and then by popping in his head and standing at the back, arms- large- folded over his chest.
If a trauma came in he called you over first. When he asked a question to the room (mumbling the 'this is a teaching hospital') his eyes found yours first then anyone else. You knew the answers half the time but kept eyes out on Santos who's mouth was frozen in the curl of a smirk.
All the while you thought about the charting you had to do and the shower you now couldn't get repaired.
“How's daddy's favourite Pittling?” Santos snuck up behind you as you charted.
“Please stop calling me that.”
“Why?”
“It's incredibly un-professional.”
“So's the way you oggle Doctor Robby.”
You mouth fell agape. “I do not oggle-” your voice carried across the ED and she spotted Perlah and Princess ready to lap up at any noise of gossip. You whispered. “I do not oggle Doctor Robby.”
“It's fine if you do,” she shrugged. “Sometimes I struggle to take my eyes off of Garcia.”
“Ew.”
“It's not ew,” said Santos.
It wasn't ew. You were happy for your friend even if you thought she deserved someone who could give her their whole heart. But you didn't want to think about Robby in the light Trinity thought of Garcia.
If you let the flood of want and admiration you felt for Robby into your head it might never leave. You were here to be a doctor, not to create a love with a man so emotionally unavailable you'd been warned off so many times.
“It's a tough job, it's natural to build that kind of connection.”
“Oh, are we still talking about this?” you huffed.
“It could be useful, this,” she said.
You finished up your chart, glancing at her as you turned off the computer. “What?”
“Having you as daddy's favourite.”
At that same moment Javadi joined the conversation, all wide eyed and eager to hear. “Why are we referring to Doctor Robby as daddy?”
Your head fell into your hands. “This isn't happening... this isn't happening...”
“Because she's daddy's favourite, poor peach just doesn't know how to handle that responsibility,” said Santos, seemingly finished with her own charts and heading off.
You held a finger up to Javadi before she could even start and finally she vanished too.
You were left at the computer, taking in a deep breath and taking the minute to assess the room. Patients waiting, doctors moving but there was no Robby. You thought, maybe it'd give you a chance to breath, to asses the situation. Did he really treat you differently? Was it so bad if he did? He was known to snap, be grumpy, if he wasn't like that with you maybe it wasn't such a bad thing?
But then... why didn't he snap and get grumpy at you?
“What are we looking for?”
“Jesus-”
Robby straightened up behind you, chuckling low at your startle.
You took a deep breath. “I was just um- er assessing.”
“Assessing?”
“Yeah?”
“Looking for someone?”
“What? No?”
“Has our screwdriver guy been discharged, we could really use the bed?” he asked.
Ah. You were behind. Not the first time. He'd told you several times not to fall into Dr Mohan's boots in taking your time with patients. This he could get mad at. “Not just yet, no, I can get right on that.”
There was no shake of his head, no tug at his hair or fingers through his beard. His hand only curled into a fist and he nodded.
“That would be great, find me if you need me.”
“Yes, Doctor Robinavitch.”
He'd started to walk away, moving onto the next case but he halted.
His hands had never gripped his stethoscope with such strength.
The last time you'd called him that was your first day and after that he was strictly Robby.
“What was that?” he asked.
“What was what?” you said as if you didn't know.
He peered at you and then pointed to himself. “Doctor Robby.”
“Yes?”
“Not Robinavitch.”
“Oh sorry- I was just.... trying something new.”
Robby slowly back tracked. “Don't.”
“You've got it bad,” laughed Dana with her low chuckle birthed by years of smoking in spite of warnings, mostly from him.
Robby was at her counter, standing in her castle looking over her empire. Outside the sun would set soon and the night shift would come to cross them off and he would go home to a quiet apartment, eat whatever food he could scrouge up (he'd at least try and throw one veg in there) go to sleep and do it all again tomorrow.
For now, as patients swapped out in beds, the ED was the only place he wanted to be.
“Got what?” he asked, tearing his eyes away from trauma two.
Dana joined his side, staring at him like he was a patient under examination. “Her.”
Robby didn't even have to follow the jerk of her head knowing she was looking through the glass he just was, at you, comforting the teen as you stitched him up.
He knew he shouldn't, knew it was borderline getting out of hand, as if it hadn't already. He knew there was probably a dozen HR rules against the rush of blood in his veins when he looked at you. He knew he was being the smallest bit biased when an interesting case came in and he wanted to give it to you first.
He'd been trying to quit it for months and it was like Dana's smoking. One of the only good things he has left in his life.
“Look at you, you're like a dog!” she chuckled.
“I am not.”
“I get it, she's good.”
He shook his head but his shoulders sagged under the relief of being seen. “She's a good doctor.”
“Pretty too.”
Robby grabbed the ipad of the side. Pretty, intelligent, gutsy. “I hadn't noticed.”
“Sure, and I'm mother Theresa!”
Robby planned to do a sweep of the rooms, check in with his residents, make sure triage was all handled. It didn't hurt that he was gonna check in on your first. He poked in his head. “How're the sutures coming along, Doctor?”
“Great,” you said without flinching at his voice unlike earlier. “Just finishing up now. Then it'll be crutches to minimise weight and we'll see you in three days to check the stitching.”
The boy smiled, his father standing over him just as grateful. As patients go, they'd been a pretty good pair. “Thank you.”
“She's the best,” said Robby with a proud smile. He caught your glance as you put the tools back and pulled off your gloves. There was amusement in your glance.
“One of the best,” you corrected.
“That's what I said?” Robby knew what he said, he wouldn't take it back.
You passed under his arm as he held the door open for you, shaking your head.
Like a dog- as Dana would put it- he followed.
“You took lunch?” he asked.
“Er no, haven't really found the time.”
Robby thought of chastising but knew if he was gonna do that he'd have to chastise half the other doctors and nurses. “Here-” he always carried a protein bar in his pocket, in case of emergency. This was that time.
You stared at it for a long moment. “Oh no, that's yours, I'm okay, really.”
“Take it, c'mon, can't have you passing out on me,” he practically shoved it into your hand and held it there. The only thing between palms touching was a bar. “I've had mine, you need it more than I do, you've been rushed off your feet all day.”
Your lips parted with an argument ready he was sure but instead you swallowed. “Thanks, Doctor Robby.”
Robinavitch. He remembered you calling him it earlier and he'd never been so worried he'd done something wrong since being in medical school.
“Yea, seems like you need it with the teasing Doctor Santos has been giving you also.”
You blushed.
Robby wasn't blind, far from it when it came to you. He recognised practically everything. He knew you and Santos were friends, starting residency together and all but he worried the teasing was too much. He saw the mumbling, the shakes of your head and the frowning, mainly of yours and the triumph of Santos.
“I know the two of you are friends, but if this teasing is ever too much,” he started, hoping you'd clarify.
“It's not, I promise, and-and it doesn't effect our workload.”
“I never said it did, I just wanted to check it was okay with you.”
You stuttered again, blushing. “It's just... harmless.”
“Harmless?”
“Girl stuff.”
“Girl stuff?”
He wondered what girl stuff usually entailed? He doubted working in a ED would give such trouble to menstruation cycles, surely as doctors that wouldn't be cause for teasing. Maybe it was an inside thing, or maybe, it was the other thing.
The boy thing.
“It is nothing to worry about, at all,” you assured him again, still holding the bar in your hands.
“Well if it ever is,” said Robby, his hands on your shoulders. His fingers started messaging the tension points before he could even get himself to stop. “You know where to find me.”
“That I do, Doctor Robby.”
You went home that night, tired, body heavy as it always was after a shift. You threw you scrubs in the wash, finished whatever takeaway was left in the fridge and then tried the shower.
It spurted cold water once and gave up on you.
So you resolved to doing the thing she didn't want to do.
The next day, getting in early to use the showers at work, taking time in the hot steam to let it wash away all the thoughts.
It didn't. If anything it caused them.
You wondered if Robby had ever had to use the showers then you thought about Robby naked in the steam, large hands lathering up and-
You slapped the temp to cold to wash away the sinful thoughts.
He was your boss!
You completely blamed Santos for calling him 'daddy.'
“Ah, I see-” called a familiar voice as you walked into work hour and a bit earlier than you were supposed to. “Wanted a piece of the night action.”
You smiled, throwing up your damp hair as you approached Dr Abbott. “You got me.”
“What're you doing here so early, kid?” he asked, kindly.
You were assured several times over that the night shift was crazy, whacky even but when you spoke to Jack you didn't see that. All you saw was his calming presence, his at ease voice and gentle touches. He was Robby's best friend- if he had one- and yet on the other side of the spectrum to him. Maybe that was why they worked best together. “My shower's bust at my place and the money I was going to use to fix it got taken in a bet. Thought I'd catch the early bird and just shower here.”
“A bet, huh? A bet I want to know about.”
“Probably not.”
Jack hummed. He always stared at you like that, quizzical and wondering. If he stared at you any longer you were sure you'd be spilling your guts.
“How's it been tonight?”
“Busy!” Doctor Chen called as he passed, sipping from his straw of ice coffee.
“Is that the same cup every time or does he replenish?” you ask Jack.
“Honestly, I'm not quite sure,” he said and pushed himself up from his chair. “C'mon, we may as well start the hand over.”
By the time Robby made his way through at seven in the morning the waiting room was already full, every seat taken and every corner filled with a person.
“Hey Doc!” Louie greeted as Robby made his way through. “How you doin today?”
“Oh, you know me, Louie. Always moving!”
He laughed, his full belly laugh. “Ain't that it, Doc.”
“You had your labs? What you in for today?” he asked, wondering how long he could delay entering the pitt.
“Just my gut, maybe it's finally giving up on me,” he said with the same bout of amusement he took just about everything else. “Your girl already got my tests done.”
He frowned, his coffee cup half way up his lips. His girl? Perhaps the reason the phrase was so alarming was because he knew who Louie was talking about at once. He bid Louie a simple 'see you later' and walked through the place, passing nods to everyone he passed.
He heard your laugh before he saw you, the melody guiding his way like he was Orpheus dying for the music. His grandmother had loved that story.
You were leant against the counter, laughing and smiling with Jack... that bastard.
Your creased eyes from smiling caught his. “Hey!”
Jack turned and sure enough, he was smirking. “There he is!”
“You're early,” he said to you.
Had you got in early to see Jack? He didn't know the two of you even knew each other well, only that Jack loved nothing more than to bring you up after a couple beers.
“Her showers bust,” said Jack like that explained everything. “Plus she wanted to see her favourite attending before her shift.”
You rolled your eyes with affection.
“Here I am,” said Robby.
He'd never been so angered so quick in the morning. What was Jack playing at? Well- he knew exactly what he was playing at. This was called jealousy and he felt it every time you and Langdon worked on a case together easily fitting around each other, or every time you and Whittaker had un-explained chemistry in a trauma.
Did he now have to worry about Jack?
“That you are,” you said, handing him an ipad with notes from the night and his body released its pent up breath. “Jack had kindly given me the run down from last night, I can work you through it?”
“That would be great.”
Robby moved around, putting his bag down under the counter, pulling off his fleece and counting how many stupid granola bars he had for the day while you went off somewhere.
Jack wondered over, hands clasped behind his back innocently. “My tool box's is in the van, I can leave it for you if you want.”
“And why would I want that?” Robby asked, rolling up his sleeves.
Jack nodded back to you. “Her shower's broke man. You know how to work a wrench, right?”
It was alarming how quick Robby understood what he was putting down.
Jack patted his back as he went by him. “Let me know if you guys need to come in late tomorrow, yeah?”
The morning rush is the only thing that stopped Robby from getting that far with you. After the morning rush and Dana's arrival the day continued busy on a random Wednesday in spring. There was a car crash involving an elderly family and a young man DUI. There was cops coming in and shouting and everything fun about working in the ED.
It wasn't until Robby stepped out in the afternoon to catch some breath he spotted you doing the same thing.
You spotted him first. “Hey, again.”
He nodded a greeting. “So, your showers out?”
You groaned at the mention. “Yeah, it's been hanging on for a while now. I just can't really afford to get it fixed right now.”
How wrong would it be to offer his help? Not wrong at all right? He was just extending a hand? Helping a friend...
“Showering in the hospital isn't like against some HR is it?” you panicked.
“No but it'd probably mean you get an extra hour of sleep instead of coming in here early every morning,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “If you want, I can take a look at it.”
The words felt so light from his mouth but he realised how badly he wanted you to say yes.
“Oh, I couldn't ask that of you-”
“You haven't,” he said, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I'm offering. Thirty minutes after work, tops.”
You looked around as if looking for a way to say no. “I- I don't have the money to pay you.”
He chuckled. “I'm not asking to be paid. Unless you have beer and it'll make you feel better?”
You smiled to yourself before looking up at him through your lashes. He was afraid if you had said no he'd have insisted. “It would and yes. Thanks, Robby.”
He nodded once to hide the rise of heat that always came with you. “Now, get back to work.”
You didn't realise that when Robby said after work, he meant after work. He didn't insist on going home first or change his mind that he couldn't do it. He grabbed his bag at the end of the day- and yours- and the two of you walked out together.
“Have fun with daddy,” Santos mumbled on your way out and your face lit up in heat.
You were just thankful Robby hadn't heard.
On the walk to yours, maybe fifteen minutes out if the people on the streets weren't annoying, you talked casually about things you already knew. The patients of the day, or Robby asking how long you'd been in Pittsburgh. You dared pry into his personal life about his grandparents and he answered though with short responses, responses none the less.
On the walk up to your apartment you thought about everything that you hadn't cleaned up. Scrubs were in the washing basket, maybe plates and cups from the morning. Hell even knew the last time you dusted the place.
You lingered at the door.
“What you hiding in there? A dead body?” he joked.
“It's probably just a bit messy, I don't really have time to clean.”
He didn't care, he said as much that his place was probably in the same state. Still, you pushed the door open slow and turned on the lights. You tried to picture it through his eyes and really it didn't seem to bad. Actually- aside from dirty dishes and clothes, un-touched.
“Nice place,” he said, lowering your bags on the floor and slowly peeling off his fleece.
“Thanks. Uh- the shower's just through here.”
It was an ensuite, only a one room apartment but you hadn't exactly thought that you'd have to take Dr Robby through your room to get there.
The door pushed open to a wardrobe overflowing considering you typically only wore scrubs. Your bed wasn't made, just your covers thrown over the sheets and-
“Ah-” you threw a cushion over the red panties that laid there, clean.
Robby held his hands up but there was the tilt of lips that betrayed his words. “I saw nothing.”
You led him to the bathroom, making sure there was nothing else a slip.
You watched as if you were watching him do an operation that you would be tested on as he tried the shower, recoiling at the cold spurt of water.
In the doorway you were frozen as Robby directed around your bathroom like it was his own. He didn't still at the things littered around, at the scrubs you hadn't picked up from the floor. It was a different kind of mesmerising. Here- in your place- you could watch the flex of his arms and the way he flattened himself on your floor to look at the pipes had you thinking things you really shouldn't have thought.
“Want me to grab you a beer?” It was about the only thing you knew you had in the fridge.
Robby grunted as he messed around with what went on under there. “That's be nice.”
In the kitchen you pulled out two beers but pressed the cold against your head.
You'd never been so flustered by him. Not in the ED, not when he defended anyone that needed it against erratic patients, not when he stretched out and his shirt rose up, exposing a dangerous part of him. But no, here, in your place that was when you decided you wanted him.
Needed him.
You blamed Santos completely.
“Okay-” only five minutes later he was making his way into your living room/ kitchen. “You need a new part, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do till then.”
You deflated, taking the beer away from your forehead. “Shit.”
“But I know a guy,” he said, taking one of the cans you offered.
You rose your brows. “You know a guy?”
“I can get the part for cheap, next to nothing by this weekend, I can install it then.”
“I can't ask you to do that-”
“Again, you're not asking,” he reminded you. The crack open of his beer sounded between the two of you and he took a gulp, gaze levelled on you.
This was the start of a bad prono, you knew.
“I don't want this to sound, like, dirty? But there must be something I can do.” You regretted the words as soon as you said them. He probably didn't seem anything wrong with it, so you'd exposed your gutter mind before he'd even suspected.
“There is something,” he said. Robby led his way through your apartment like you were back in the ED under his commanding presence.
You followed until you were standing next to your couch. “Yeah?”
“You could enlighten me on why Santos keeps calling me daddy to you?”
You swear, the world stopped spinning.
“Fuck- you heard that?”
He chuckled, sipping his beer with a cock-sure expression. “A couple times, yeah.”
Your own beer dropped onto the couch- un-opened. “My god- I am so sorry Doctor Robby, it's just a joke. She, well all of them- the interns- they like to think you have favourites between all of us. And cause you're like, the daddy of the Pitt. And-and it's just a joke that I'm your favourite and you know they-they see you as the 'daddy' of the Pitt, so to speak. It's-it's totally unprofessional and I can get her to stop. In fact, I will! That is-” he wasn't saying anything, were you rambling? “That is what I will do for you.”
He nodded slow and leant down to put his beer on your coffee table even slower. When he rose up you swore he was taller than before. Closer, too. “Would that be so bad?” he asked.
“What?”
“If I did have a favourite? If it is you?”
Perhaps this was the start of a great porno...
“Isn't that unprofessional?” you uttered as his head leant down. His breath was warm, the slightest trail of beer in his breath, calmed by a mint he'd took earlier.
“Haven't we crossed that boundary?”
“Have we?”
When his lips met yours it was softer than you'd dreamt of. It wasn't rough with the scratch of his beard, it was light like a warm summers breeze waking you from a sleep. It lingered like the sun on you but burnt just as much.
His hands that you'd always admired were large as they crept up, cupping your cheeks, taking most of your face and his thumbs danced under your jaw eliciting shivers down your spine and across.
It could've lasted seconds, it could've lasted minutes but he pulled away too soon, sucking in a breath.
He nodded as if to himself. “I think we have now-”
You grabbed his scrubs and brought him down, showing the desperation in the smash of lips. You were firm on his lips and he grew firm everywhere else. Your hands planted on his shoulders as you pushed yourself into him, one of his arms strong around you and curling you into him.
There was desperation in his lips then, emergency like this could never last. Like if you were to pull away you'd never be together again. So when he needed breath he parted hardly before kissing you again... and again... and again.
Your hands found themselves in his hair, messing up what he had as his hands sprawled around your back, fingers dragging up and down, dipping into skin and pulling and pushing.
You tilted back enough to catch some breath, your eyes closed in bliss and scared you'll find regret in his if you looked. “Are we- are we crossing a line?”
Robby chuckled low in his throat. “God, I hope so.”
Your laugh rattled around the apartment that was empty besides the cars outside and Robby's laboured breath.
“Hey, hey, look at me.” His hand cupped your cheek again, thumb running over your cheekbone till you opened his eyes. Gone was the temptation, replaced by the sort of serious look he gave to patients. “Is this okay with you?”
Boundaries? Crossed already. Want had hardly been sedated.
“Yes,” you uttered in the space left between you. Your hands fell down to his scrubs. “Is this... okay with you?”
To answer he leant down, slow, giving enough time for you to pull back or think again. You'd thought about this enough to know you needed it. His lips were soft again but his hands were quick in working under your scrub top and the one underneath.
When his hands met flush he groaned into your mouth, lips trailing down to your neck. He was bowed over you and your hands fought at his back, pulling up his own shirt till you could feel the rough of his back.
“I promise I-” you gasped as he nipped at the skin. “My shower really is broken.”
He muffled some sort of understanding as his hands gripped your hips, pushing down the pants just enough to tease the both of you.
“And I really did lose the money in a bet with Santos-”
“I'm sure,” he uttered, turning the both of you around. He didn't sound like he was listening but as you watched him slowly sink down onto your coach you knew why.
His eyes trailed down your body till they were eye level where your core hid.
“This still okay?” he asked, eyes stuck on where you pulsed for him.
You nodded. It was sinful watching him on your coach, hands cupping your thighs as he stared at your pussy like he was already filling it. “I don't think this'll ever stop being okay.”
“Good. Take your top off.”
It stole your breath away, the demand in his voice only heard at work now used to un-dress you. But it worked. Your hands were as steady as always as you brought off your scrubs and top.
You were efficient- you were sure that's something your colleagues would say about you- that's why you reached for your pants at once.
Robby's hands wrapped around your wrists, stopping you. He pushed them back, not harsh but with enough intent for you to know that was his job.
His fingers were rough as they dragged around the elastic and yanked.
There was another cocky smile as he tugged them all the way to your ankles. It was one of the biggest smiles you'd seen of his.
You were so distracted by it you didn't notice his finger sweeping into you until you felt the rush of pleasure and jolted in his hold.
“Doctor Robby-” it had slipped out, it was just natural.
His finger curled into your folds and lips kissed upon your nerves.
You gasped and arched closer into him.
His knees were spread, you were standing between his thighs as he had you pulled into him, finger slowly working you. It had slipped in easy enough but you didn't have much time to be embarrassed before he took your wetness and spread it over your lips. “You are my favourite,” he admitted low. He was focused as he curled two more fingers into you. His lips pressed on your stomach briefly.
“Ah-” you gasped, a hand cupping the back of his head, stroking over his hair. The other held his shoulder, bunching the scrubs.
“Lean into me- like that-”
You had no control over your body as it did. You were open for him, wanting for him.
Robby leaned closer and his tongue darted out, licking up the mess that was coming out of you and over your clit. He worked his fingers and tongue until you were gasping, trying to be quiet because you knew how thin the walls of your apartment were. Robby didn't.
He moved his fingers slow but hard in and out, drawing out your wetness.
You were close, so close when he took out his fingers and grabbed your ass, pushing you into his face as he buried himself there. For a moment all you felt was the tickle of his beard before the wet of his tongue took away any other feeling.
“Ah... hmm.... Doctor Robby-”
His hands pulled at the flesh of your ass as he leaned back, tilting his head up to reach further into your core.
You were almost climbing on the couch to be closer to him.
Your stomach coiled like a snake to strike-
Robby pulled back, out of breath before you reached your climax. You whined- you didn't know yourself to ever want enough to whine. "Lean back, lean back-" he said, voice hoarse as he stood up.
In your own apartment you didn't know where to lean back to until you understood.
He helped you lie back on the coffee table as he knelt in front of you and went back to your heat.
This was desperate. This was the all encompassing need that had been driving you crazy for months but it was in him.
By the move of his tongue and the grip he had on you, he'd wanted you to. Wants you.
“Robby! Doct-doctor Robby I'm gonna cum.”
“Mmh.” He nodded, his nose driving up and down your pussy as he kept your legs open.
He gripped your hips tight and groaned when you finished on his lips- on your coffee table!.
This was the sort of bliss you read about. Your chest was heaving, catching your breath as sweat stuck bits of your hair to your forehead.
By the time you composed yourself to push yourself up onto your elbows and look at him you saw him in his own bliss. His eyes were fluttering close, mouth agape and his hand was down his pants. You could see the tip of his cock.
Hard.
Large.
You surged up, surprising him as you wrapped your arms around him and kissed him, pushing your tongue into his mouth as he pulled you into his lap. Your wetness pooled at his cock, staining his scrubs.
“Awh- fuck-” he cursed between the moves of your mouth. He stretched out his legs, pushing back your coffee table with a screech.
You were grinding down on his lap maybe to eager, maybe to hard as his chest heaved and he lost his breath in you.
Your hands went under his scrubs and pulled off his shirt eagerly, pens in the pocket of his shirt scattering.
“Wait-” he gasped as you kissed him and kissed him, hands running down the softness of his stomach and dragging down the hairs that trailed.
“Please-”
“Honey-”
You pulled back enough to see his face. He wasn't as sweaty as you were but his face was hard as he stared at you, brushing your hair off your neck and for a moment he just ... stared. “What? Is it-is it too much?”
He smiled. “No, no it's not too much. You want to take care of me?”
You nodded.
“Okay.”
He helped you up to your feet, helped you stand out of your pants and kissed you. It was gentle and promising of a night full of this, of nights and days and a future.
His hands steadied you, keeping you against him as he pushed you back to your room.
You fell back, watching him as he un-did the ties of his pants and pushed them down.
Oh.
You were left, mouth watering on the edge of your bed as his cock sprung out, thicker than you'd have thought. Harder then you imagined. “Doctor Robby-”
His hand reached out to your neck as he bent over you. “You have to stop calling me that-” his kissed you, tongue working against yours in the warmth of your mouth. The both of you shuffled up the bed until you could feel the weight of his cock against your thigh.
“Wait-wait- I wanna-” you reached to brush his cock.
“Later-” he kissed you quick again.
You grumbled against his lips. “I-I don't have condoms. I'm on the pill, I'm clean-”
He nodded. “So responsible.”
Robby leaned back on his knees enough to see you. There was a thin sheen of restraint on his skin and as he pumped himself once- twice you marvelled at his body. The planes of it, the hairs. He was older than you by enough. His body wasn't rock solid but fuck was he the best thing you'd ever seen. “Tap out any time.”
You nodded, looking up at him as he looked at you. “I want it. I want you,.” you gulped. “In case I hadn't made that very clear..”
He rose a brow. “Well-.” slowly he descended toward you, an arm bracing himself on the side of your head. “Apparently I hadn't made it very clear that you-.”
Between one word and the next he pushed the head of his cock into you.
Your back arched and he groaned, head falling into your neck.
“-are my favourite thing in the world.”
You moaned out as he pushed inches of himself into you.
“Ah fuck- ah fuck- you just- just-” he mumbled to himself, body clenched.
“Robby please!” you begged, nails scratching at his shoulders.
“Jus gimme a sec.” His eyes darted down to his cock was slowly sinking into you. He controlled himself as he gave it inch by inch, the veins in his arms prominent as he controlled himself. “Fuck- oh I need you- I need you-”
With a smooth push he fell all the way into you, groaning out and taking your hand, entwining your fingers next to your head. He kissed you, stealing your breath and moans as he slowly worked in and out of you.
“I won't last long,” he warned you.
“I don't- I don't want you to.”
“Okay- okay- fuck-”
The composed man you worked with vanished as curses spilled from his lips as he went between kissing you and sucking at your collarbones to watching where he slid in and out of you.
He groaned where you moaned and as your body trembled he pushed himself up, the sound of skin slapping skin bouncing around your bed room walls.
“I'm gonna-”
“Wait!” he barked.
“Robby!”
“Jus-” he tested his body weight on you, moving at a brutal pace till his necklace was close enough for you to grab. You hooked a finger around the chain, bringing him in and locking your legs around him. “Ah fuck- fuck!” he moaned against you as he released inside and you let go, arching up into him.
His arm circled around you, holding you in.
The two of you stilled wrapped in each other, catching breath.
He ran his hand over your hair, pushing it back as his cock softened and he slipped it out.
“Shit-” he fell back on your bed, pulling the covers over the two of you. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” you said, catching your breath. “Yeah, okay.”
Robby nodded, opening his mouth to say something when he felt an itch at his back and moved around. His hand came out, revealing the bundle of red panties.
You grabbed them, throwing them behind him and out of sight as he chuckled. You fell back on your bed, hiding your face in your hands and knowing there was little point in hiding from him.
Robby still chuckled as he turned on his side to watch you, his chest still moving as he caught his breath.
You mirrored him, tucking a hand under your head. “You know I don't think I've ever seen you smile so much.”
“Don't tell anybody they'll all expect special treatment.” His hand reached your thigh, circling it gently. “That was okay?” Under the smiling and the want that subsided a little you could read the mask of insecurity.
You were at a loss for words by how good it was.
You leant over and kissed him slow, feeling his lips with every note of your brain and trace of your lips.
You pulled away when you remembered why he was here in the first place. “I still don't have a shower.”
Robby glanced over his shoulder like he'd also forgot it was there. “We'll just have to shower at mine then.”
synopsisyou were Robby's star pupil, his favourite person, but when he catches you and Jack in the middle of performing a high risk procedure you definitely shouldn't be doing he can't handle the jealousy. so really, is it your fault if your pushed into Jack Abbots bed, but can't stop thinking about Robby?
warningsjealous&possesive Robby x reader, Jack Abbot x reader, kinda Rabbot, Jack kinda wants Robby in this, language. smut MDNI. fingering, oral (f receiving) breast play, dirty talk, praise, Robby calls while Jack eats you out. handjob
authornotei'm so close to writing Rabbott fics, I need them both!
pitt masterlist. last robby fic! last jack fic!
“What the hell are you doing?”
If you weren't as skilled a resident as you were, as stony as you'd been made, the raise of voice and slam of a door would have stolen you from your attentive work. But it didn't. You didn't flinch. As your hands were all but inside a patient it was a good thing, too.
Jack tutted from over you, the heat of his breath hot on the back of your neck. “Robby...”
“I said- what are you doing?” he barked again, standing in the middle of the trauma room.
Nurses turned to look at him and then back to you and Jack, un-sure of which immovable force was greater.
You only focused on the woman in front of you. Bruises up her arms, blood on her cut-away clothes, tubes coming out of her and into her, monitors beeping with life signs fleeting.
“It's a hypotensive pelvic bleed,” you said through your face screwed in concentration.
“A REBOA? Are you serious, right now?”
“I'm here, supervising, brother,” said Jack, still caved over you like he could protect you from Robby's wrath.
“You're not her attending,” Robby argued.
“No but I'm an attending.”
You could hear Robby's sharp inhale of breath, picture the clock of his head in annoyance and the tight pinch of his eyes. You knew every small give away of his that he didn't know he had. The tightness of his muscles when angers, the way he clutches at his chest for his star of David when silently scared.
The tension in the room chocked you.
Jack was still at your side, a comfort, a gentle wave against the sharp rocks. “Keep going.”
Robby said your name, an edge to it you'd never heard before.
Looking past Jack you found Robbie. He stood blocking the door, gowned up already, arms over his chest. His brows were pulled in, eyes dark as they levelled on you. He was danger dressed as a man.
But in front of you there was Jack, nodding encouragingly.
“Keep going.”
Your hands moved to carry on in spite of Robby's sigh.
“Okay... good...” said Jack as you pushed in the needle. “Femoral artery, couple inches. All right, let's guide wire and introduce the sheath.”
You pushed and did what Jack said, careful under his guidance.
Robby watched all the while, walking slowly around. He knew how well you preened under praise and careful instruction, like a cat purring at an owners touch. Robby knew because it was always him, ever since you began as a med student to intern to resident he'd been there to build you up, crafting you into a perfect doctor.
His perfect doctor.
Apparently he didn't like to share.
“How much saline have you pushed?” asked Robby.
“Five CC'S,” said Jack, without entertaining his attitude.
“Your carotid is weak,” said Robby. “Is it even there?”
“Yes,” you said.
Jack caught your gaze behind your goggles, pleading silently. You hadn't worked with him as much as you had Robby, or Langdon or almost anyone in the day shift but he seemed to catch on to your needs at once. “You know what to do.”
With his words you proceeded.
“Push another three CC'S of saline in the balloon,” you ordered.
“Injecting.”
There was a moment of silence as the saline was passed through tubes into the woman.
“How we looking?” asked Robby.
“Radial is up, pressure's up too- BP hundred-and-ten,” said Donnie.
For the first time since Jack dragged you into the trauma to teach you a REBOA, you looked at the patients face. At the blankness of it, the blood splattered at her cheek. There was colour returning to her.
“Check the wound,” said Jack.
You did so, the wound at her pelvis are that had been gushing on arrival had stopped bleeding.
“Looks okay,” you said.
Jack's gloved hand squeezed your gowned shoulder, blood of the woman passing between the two of you. However, it was the physical contact that broke you from your trance, pulling you up taller. “Good job, you saved her life, another couple minutes she wouldn't have made it.”
“She's still not out the woods yet,” said Robby.
You looked back at him with enough time to catch an un-characteristic roll of his eyes.
“Surgery can take her now,” said Jesse from the phone.
“Oh, finally they're ready for us?” teased Jack as he moved around the gurney. “Now that they've missed all the fun.” He passed you a wink that sent butterflies in your stomach rolling around.
The team pulled off gowns and gloves, pulling the gurney out the room.
“Wait-” said Robby, arm out stopping you as you went to follow.
The doors shut behind the gurney before Jack could understand you were behind, trapped in a room with a bear of a man who was failing at concealing his anger.
You waited for him to begin. Whether it were to be a lecture or an approval that you saved a woman's life, you wanted it over and done. The adrenaline was coursing through your body in crashing waves of red. You'd crash if you didn't calm. “There was no time for anything else-”
“- save it-”
“- there was no time for me to come and get you-”
“- stop!”
You stepped back, hands balled at your sides.
It wasn't un-common for any member of staff at PTMC to have Robby Robinavitch yell and demand the stars and moons from a person. It was scary to have him yelling at you, his deemed shadow and golden girl.
Since day one everyone knew you held a special place in Robby's heart.
“I saved a patient's life,” you defended. Was that not the most important thing to be doing? Could you not be attending to at least two other patients while he stood- imposing- in front of you.
“Doing an extremely risky procedure that is only reserved for the senior residents which you are not,” he scoffed out.
“Doctor Abbot was at my side the whole time, he talked me through every step.”
Robby shook his head, chuckling and looking around the room as if to be anywhere but with you. “Abbot-”
“- he believed me capable,” you said. “Don't you think I'm capable?”
His teeth bit into his bottom lip as he turned away from you, stretching his hand to the back of his head and flattening the hair there. When he turned back to you he took a step closer, watching the toes of his shoes meet yours.
“Do you know why I'm angry?”
No, you really didn't.
You took in a deep breath, meeting his eyes that lowered to yours. “Because I performed a high risk procedure.”
“A high risk procedure without me,” he corrected. “You're on day, not night. I'm your attending, not Jack. You get me when you're doing something like that, you understand?”
There was little room for argument. Your body trembled, the mixture of blood on your gloves and the beating of your heart heard in your ears. The lights of trauma two were suddenly too bright; walls too sterile. You nodded.
Robby tsked. “Do you understand?”
Every word was punctured with anger.
You rose to all your height. “Yes, I understand.”
He didn't dismiss you, only jutted his head back as he dragged a hand over his beard.
Without a word, you dismissed yourself.
“I just don't get why he was so.... angry,” you admit quietly.
The lights of the bar were dimmed in a golden light, casting sun set gazes around the bar Jack had told you was a good place to get a drink. He'd led you to a small table by a window with the blinds pulled down, his hand- the one that had saved so many lives- splayed out on the small of your back.
Somewhere along the night Jack's chair had scraped around closer to you. So close with every inhale you could catch the musk on him and his arm was comfortably slung around the back of your chair.
There were two empty whiskey glasses of Jack's and you were still cradling your first, down to the dregs.
“It's Robby,” said Jack with a shrug of his shoulders, but it didn't stop the crease in his brows.
“But he's never been like that with me.”
Was it the fact you'd seemingly lost your favouritism bothering you? More than you cared to admit. More so the fact you didn't understand why he'd yelled.
Why the flare of anger had burned brighter with you saving a life than anyone else?
Why your body had trembled at the rise of his voice.
Jack's body tilted toward yours, head bowed low as he looked up at you through his lashes. “Oh, come on....”
You slurped the last from your straw and looked at him. “What?”
“You don't have to play dumb with me.”
Your own body gravitated towards him. “Play dumb? I'm not playing dumb, what are you talking about?”
Jack chuckled, shaking his head to himself. He sipped the last of his drink. “Robby's...” he trailed off.
“Robby's...”
Jack levelled his gaze to yours. “He likes you.”
The words sat frozen in your brain. You knew Robby must have had some soft spot for you, you knew he liked you. But the way Jack said it, a teasing lift to his voice and the serious gaze of his eyes suggested it was more than the competence of your skills as a doctor that had Robby's affection.
“He doesn't,” you chuckled.
“He does,” said Jack, nodding along with your words.
“How would you know?”
Jack's cheeks dusted a faint pink, the rain on the window behind you dropping like mini thunderstorms. “Believe me, I know.”
You waited for more clarification.
“You have no idea the kind of effect you have on old men like us.”
Like us. Jack didn't just speak for Robby but himself. The pink in his cheeks, the hand on your back earlier. The heat from him was all different now. A wanting.
“Old men?” you smirked.
Jack's eyes darted between your eyes and lips. “Yeah, old men.”
“You're not that old, are you?”
Jack tilts his head side to side.
You peer closer at him as if trying to find the lines of age in his face. “Younger than Robby though, right?”
Jack nods. “Younger than Robby, if that makes any difference.”
“Any difference to what?” you asked, stirring the straw against the ice in one hand, the other holding your chin.
“To you.”
Under the table Jack's fingers traced over your knee, gently, as if he was trying to go un-noticed. You felt it anyhow. Felt as his fingers gripped your knee when you pushed your leg against his.
He watched you, analysing.
“Well,” you began, pushing your leg to kick over the other under the table and moving his hand further up your leg, till his all too eager fingers were splayed over your thigh. “What kind of effect is that?”
Jack was always a serious man at work. Competent and well kept. You didn't expect him to be so well versed in 'playing games'. “I dunno if I can tell you.”
“No?”
Jack shook his head, eyes lingering over his lips and his head tilted to the side, watching you. “I could show you?”
There was lip gloss stain over the straw in your glass, you saw it catch Jack's eyes as he pushed away your empty glasses to provide more space on the table.
“See any time you look at us, it's like-like a tingling sensation,” he said. “Like when you know someone's got their eyes on you.”
His hand that had been riding higher at your thigh darted away, leaving a sudden tremble of everything cold through your body. Instead, he rested his elbow at the table and beckoned your hand to his. He didn't hold it, instead, spread your fingers out and put palm to palm in a tender touch.
“And then when you touch us, it gets worse,” he uttered, eyes stuck on where your palms met. Jack's hand moved around yours, playing with your fingers.
“Worse?” you ask.
“A good worse. Good shivers,” said Jack, pulling at a finger.
“I touch you enough for you to gather all that?”
Jack's dark gaze found yours again. He bit down on his bottom lip. “Not nearly enough as I'd like.”
The door of the bar opened and a gush of wind cooled the heat on your skin. But Jack's eyes were like a furnace that you were sitting too close to, burning yourself and delighting in it. When the door shut again with an un-oiled squeak, Jack reached over.
He plucked the necklace charm from against your chest, the brush of his knuckles against your chest. “Pretty necklace.”
“Thank you,” you said, voice shaky un-characteristically.
“You get it yourself?”
“No, it was a present.”
It was almost as if he didn't have to ask who had gifted it to you. Whose hands had brushed back your hair in the middle of a shift and clasped it around the back of your neck.
Or maybe he just didn't want to know.
Jack's apartment was everything that made him.
As you passed the kitchen and he peeled off his jacket, keeping his lips close enough to breathe you in, you could smell the coffee from the morning plastered to the walls.
When he pressed you up to the sofa to shove his hands down your pants and slide a finger into your wet pussy your fingers scratched at some blanket he had thrown over the back of it.
You caught a glimpse of pictures around the place, a frame of meddles too but his place came to you in flashes and glimpses through pleasure.
“I'm gonna show you,” he uttered against your mouth as another finger slipped into you, worked inside of you. They curled up, your body moving into him at the feeling. “Just how I want to touch you.”
The car ride over had been torture enough. He could hardly get himself inside the car, stealing himself away from you. But your lips had been at his neck at every stop sign and red light. Your hand had ghosted over his crotch and the hardening length of him. As occupied as you'd been in each other in the front seats of his car you'd been beeped at twice.
“Jack,” your voice whispered, lips dragging against his as he slowly worked his fingers in and out of you, pulling at the seams of your panties.
“I'm gonna show you just how Robby wants to touch you.”
You wish the name didn't have the effect it did. That the fury you felt at him for how he yelled didn't turn to a throb in your core when Jack said his name.
“You're touching me, Jack,” you said, breathless.
“Yeah... yeah,” he said. “You like that I'm touching you?”
You nodded as his fingers retracted, finding your clit and wetting the bud of nerves, circling it.
“Say it,” said Jack. “Say it.”
“Yes, I like it.”
Jack grinned into the curve of your neck as his fingers plunged back in, working you open and spreading your wetness of the black of your panties. “God, you're making such a mess for me baby, aren't you?”
He worked you open a little longer, mumbling encouragement with every moan and throw back of your head. 'So pretty, arg, you're so pretty baby.'
By the time your stomach was coiling tight like a snake ready to pounce Jack removed his hand from your pants and kissed you again. It was a hard kiss, his clean hand grasping your cheek and keeping you still as he forcefully worked his lips against yours, like it had only just clocked in his head it was you he had on his lips, it was you he was turning to putty in his hand. Like he wanted to forge you into his lips
“Not done yet,” said Jack, hands sliding down to your hips as he guides his nose up and down your neck, breathing you in. “I wanna make you moan on my tongue, like Robby wishes he could, yeah?”
Your body betrayed you, shivering again in anticipation.
Jack's hands stirred you by the hips, urging you to his room. He pushed the door open over your head, licking into your mouth.
“Please... don't mention Robby right now,” you said as Jack fell slowly to his knees in front of you.
His brows rose. He kept his eyes on you as he pulled down your pants, helping you step out of them. “No? You don't want me to mention Robby?” he asked.
You shook your head, looking away from him. You knew you'd soaked yourself through by the small touches and passionate kisses from Jack. But you didn't need to see the realisation hit when he realised Robby's name had as much effect on you as Jack's own touches.
“Eyes on me, keep your eyes on me,” said Jack.
With a tight squeeze, you looked at him, seeing the attending of the night shift get closer to your heat.
“See, I think, you like when I say his name, huh?” his nose nudged your clothed clit. “Robby.”
Jack licked a stripe up your pussy, gathering your want through the cloth.
You were left, mouth agape, to catch your breath. Your hands didn't know where to go till Jack peeled off his shirt and guided your hands to his shoulders, your nails digging into the freckled skin there.
Jack wet his tongue with his spit before he rubbed it along your panties again, kissing you there. “I think you're so wet for me, but you're wet for Robby too, huh?”
“Jus-just you, Jack,” you gasped.
He swept a finger into your panties and let the elastic snap back against your skin.
Your body jolted in its wake.
“Not just me, don't lie,” he said, darkly.
In the morning would you realise what you'd done? Jack wasn't your attending but an attending none the less and Robby's friend- brother- at that. Although you and Robby were nothing more than colleagues, it didn't feel right to have Jack licking up your want with his name on his tongue.
“Liars don't get to come, you know,” he said. “So, you get this wet when you think about me?”
“Y-Yes.”
You could feel Jack's smile against your thigh as he pressed a kiss there.
Jack hooked two fingers around the bands of your panties and slowly dragged them down. “Do you get this wet when you think about our Doctor Robby?”
“Yes. Yes I do,” you gasped, your body curling up in the relief of letting go.
Yes, you liked Robby's extra attention. You couldn't even be left angry at his chastising you when it sent a wave of need through you, settling in your core. When you'd been at the bar with Jack, touching him in ways you'd thought about touching your own attending, almost wishing he would storm through the door and see the two of you.
“Good girl.”
Quickly Jack tilted his head back and found purchase in your pussy.
His tongue laid flat against your core.
It didn't stay in one place long. It explored all around you, tasting you for the first time and mapping out delicate spots. He slipped between your folds like he was always supposed to be there, moaning into you.
Your nails dug into his shoulders. “Mmh, Jack!”
He licked you up, spreading the mess of your want around and cleaning it up. “Taking my tongue so well,” he said against you. He dragged his lips down your thigh, wet tongue dragging up and down.
Your legs trembled as Jack spread the lips of your pussy and buried himself in there again. He pressed his thumb onto your clit, your body lurching at the pressure.
“Oh fuck, J-Jack!”
“Pull my hair, pull my hair,” he said into you.
Your did so. Your hand fell into the short strands of his salt and pepper hair, twirling into the strands and tugging just enough to rip a groan from him.
Jack buried himself into your further, his nose nudging into you deeper and deeper till he was almost trying to be inside of you.
Every time your eyes fluttered shut Jack pulled back, easing up on his work of your pussy and easing the orgasm that was slowly building up.
“No, no- eyes on me, keep your eyes on me, baby,” he said.
You looked down to him. “Jack, I want- I want to come.”
“I know, I know you do baby,” he said, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit again. “You will, I promise, I promise.”
He eased himself up from his knees and helped off your shirt and peeled off your bra before he latched himself onto your breast.
Your back arched into him. His hands felt larger than ever as they curled around your waist and held you in. He groped at your breast, watching it jiggle as he moved before swirling his tongue around your nipple.
“Jack-”
“God, I wish Robby were here,” said Jack as he switched his attention to your other.
“Wh-what?” you didn't know if you'd heard him right.
Jack looked at your breasts instead of you, dedicating time to licking up each of them. “Wish Robby could see how good a girl you're being,” he muttered, almost to himself, like he wasn't talking to you. “How responsive you are. Would you like that? Would you like Robby to watch?”
You imagined it, closing your eyes.
Jack let you.
You pictured Robby sat on the bed, watching. Would he watch with his glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose? Would he keep his hands to himself or want to touch and play? You imagined how big he was, if he'd get hard watching.
If he'd touch. If he'd stand behind you while Jack kissed along your breasts. Would Robby dedicate enough time to the back of you?
“You want Robby?” asked Jack.
Anyone else eating you out or with hands on your chest wouldn't want another mans name on your lips.
Jack seemed to thrive on it.
“Yes,” you gasped.
Jack reached back up to you. “Yeah.... yeah...” his nose ghosted yours as he inched closer to kiss you.
In the slim lighting of his bed room you could see the shine of his lips from your arousal, the burn of red at his cheeks. There was a clink as he un-did his belt, throwing it behind him as he slowly pulled down his trousers.
First you saw the prosthetic of his leg before you trailed up, past the scars, to the heavy set of his cock. It flushed red at the tip, a leak of pre-cum running down. It stood tall onto the thin, greying hair down his sternum.
“Jack-” you reached for him, wrapping your hand around him.
“Ah- ahh fuck, baby,” he moaned as you slowly pumped him. “You feel so good. God, Robby doesn't know what he's missing.”
You tangled your tongue with his as you pumped, growing confident in every pump, in every leak of his cock, in ever groan of him into your mouth.
Would Robby guide you to holding Jack's man hood in your hand? Would his own hand wrap around your wrist and guide you up and down, muttering how good you were doing.
It was like you could hear him in your head.
'What a good girl doing what you're told, so responsive,' you imagined the heavy set of his tongue dragging over your pulse as you wrapped your arm around Jack's shoulders, smothering him in closer.
“I wish-” you said against his lips, making a mess out of you mouth as you squeezed his cock. “I wish Robby were here.”
“Yeah. Yeah, me too baby,” said Jack, slowly wrapping his fingers around your wrist and peeling back your hand. He pulled two of your fingers into his mouth, licking the taste of himself off and into the warmth of his mouth. “Next time.”
Jack eased you back on his bed, crawling over you.
You shuffled up, sitting up on his headboard. “Do you- do you want me to?”
Jack's brows pulled together as he brushed back your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “To what, baby?”
“To ride you? Would it be easier on your leg?”
Jack smiled, love sick. “That's very kind of you sweetheart. Next time, I'll let you ride me like I'm a damn horse,” he whispered as he slowly lowered you down. “Right now I want you to finish on my tongue. Then I'm gonna really fuck you like I've wanted to for so long.”
You watched with a bite to your lip as Jack rolled a condom over his cock before hovering over you.
He stirred the base of his cock against your pussy, rubbing the arousal of you over your slit.
“You want me to fuck you?”
“Yes, yes.”
Would Robby hold you against him, keep your legs spread for Jack? Or would Jack insist on Robby going first.
“Beg for it, baby.”
Before your words could leave your mouth the familiar buzz of your phone echoed between you.
Maybe anyone else would have ignored it, sent it to voicemail or let it ring. Except Jack- he moved down his bed, reaching for your pants and fishing out your phone. He smirked down at the contact before holding the phone out to you.
“Answer it.”
You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, looking at him. “Wh-what?”
“Answer him,” he said, grabbing your hand and putting the phone it in.
Robby.
You looked to Jack, having no time to ask if he was serious before he was descending on the bed again. His eyes were pointed, gaze locked on you.
You answered, holding the phone to your ear. “H-hey, Robby.”
“Hey. Is everything okay?”
Did he know you'd left the bar with Jack? Did he hear his name called from both your lips?
“Yeah, everything's okay.”
Jack smirked at you.
“I've been calling you all night, you didn't answer,” you could hear the slight accusation in his voice, the small anger you hadn't bowed and answered the phone when he called. He wasn't good at hiding it though maybe he thought he was.
“Sorry I-”
Jack slid two fingers inside of you at once and pumped them without warning.
You caught your breath in your throat. “- I was busy.”
“Busy?”
“Yeah,” you gasped.
Robby stirred down the line. “You okay?”
Jack was looming close enough to you, nodding for you to pull the phone back enough for him to hear.
“Yeah, it's just, cold in my apartment,” you lied.
Jack's brows rose, he mouthed the word, cold?
“Still haven't sorted that heating, huh?” Robby chuckled down the line. “You need someone to come sort that out for you.”
Jack withdrew his hand, dragging those two fingers from inside of you around you, before lowering himself back down. He spread you open, lying his tongue back in.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Want me to come take a look at it?” asked Robby.
“Not- not right now,” you pushed your phone back as Robby scoffed lightly. You sort Jack's attention, begging for the end of the torture he was inciting. His eyes were a haze of lust as he only watched you, shaking his head slowly to feel all around you.
His hand pushed your knee up to your chest, welcoming him in deeper.
“Are you still mad at me for earlier?”
“Y-yes!”
“You are?”
You'd forgot Robby down the line, forgot his question, could only feel the depth of Jack's tongue in you. You bit down on the bottom of your lip. “Yes! Yes! Yes, I am!”
“Okay- well, i'm sorry,” he said down the line. “You just have no idea what seeing you with Jack does to me.”
Jack moaned into you, sending vibrations through your body. His nose nudged against your clit, circling his tongue in you. Your mouth opened, a moan ripping through you that Jack managed to stifle quickly by slamming his hand over your mouth.
“- It's just, I think of you as one of mine,” Robby continued down the line, un-aware's to Jack tapping your phone on speaker and placing it next to you.
Jack dropped his mouth next to your ear, nipping at the lobe. “As mine,” he uttered.
“- seeing you with Jack, I can't stand it, you know I can't-”
Jack went back down to his work, two fingers working inside of you as he sucked in your clit. Your walls are like silk that his fingers thread through with ease, your mind blank with pleasure.
Your moans continued to be muffled by his mouth, he dared not move it.
“- you know I... you know I favour you over anybody else in that ER-”
Your hand reached out for your phone, sure you would come soon and needed to end the phone call.
Jack reached out for you. “Be nice, be nice.”
You picked up the phone and put it to your ear, Jack sucking diligently at your bundle of nerves. “Robby, I-”
“What is it? You sound like you're burning up? You need me?”
Yes, you needed him.
Jack curled his fingers up and you came with a loud gasp, ending the call abruptly as your world shattered in stars of want. Your back arched into Jack's mouth as he laid there open mouthed, taking what you could give him like a man dying of thirst.
Only when your breathing calmed and you could open your eyes to make sense of the world- and Jack's room- did Jack slowly move out his fingers, gently crawling up you body with kisses like butterflies.
You laughed when Jack reached your neck. “Oh god.”
“What?” he said, laughing along with you.
“I hung up on Robby.”
Jack fished for your phone, holding it between the two of you as he rubbed the head of his cock against the slick of your folds. “Then I guess we better call him back.”
synopsis you and Jack have always been two pees in a pod, working the ER together, on the field together, no wonder you started to search for those dark eyes and damning smirk. and you thought for a second, just for a second, he might be searching for you too, until you hear the man you're crushing on airing out everything he hates about you
warningstypical medical drama stuff, in-accurate medical terms. miscommunication. angst. insecure reader. language, jack says things he doesn't mean about reader. angry love confession in the rain. this is not proof-read
authornotei really really really loved this idea and tried so hard to do it justice, I hope you like anon. I tried to stay close to the SWAT idea but I'll be honest I know nothing about American army stuff (i'm british) so I sort of set it as much in the Pitt as I could. I also couldn't find ANYTHING for Jack's military background so I made up some SWAT guys
pitt masterlist. another Jack fic!
Just when you thought the rest of your day was going to be boring, Jack Abbot and his crew of SWAT pushed through the ambulance bay doors, yelling off stats, applying pressure where needed and clearing the way around them.
Which was a welcome change from trying to sell Robby your hypothetical first born child in exchange for a lunch break.
“Intubated neck wound, stats are going down. Got a room?” said Jack.
You were at the gurney in an instance, Robby joining the herd in the pushing of the bed. It took you less than a second to see through the bag in the neck and the blood and the uniform to recognise the one on the gurney. “Hiro? What happened?”
“Warehouse robbery gone wrong,” said Jack with almost absent of mind. He said the words and promptly seemed to realise who he was talking to and looked up- at you- again. “You're working today?”
“Oh no, I just hang around in hopes of seeing you in unfiorm.”
Next to you, Robby chuckled and beyond Jack you gave quick greeting to your laughing buddies, clad in SWAT uniform.
You were what could be called, a floater.
By all educational means you were a doctor and a damn good one too. You had every certificate you needed and all the flying colours you could get. You just didn't have a permanent job. You were a sub. You worked mainly at PTMC and on the field but had been known to go to the dark side, a.k.a, Presby.
“Okay, on my count,” you begin. “One, two, three-”
You helped lift him over to the bed.
“Did you intubate him?” you asked,
“Yeah, under active fire,” said Jack.
You looked at Jack. Sweat on his forehead, flecks of grey hair sticking to him and the shirt under his army vest hung lose. He was dishevelled in away romance characters presented on books covers. To lure you in. “You were shot?”
“Shot at.”
“You need to be looked at?”
“No. I'm fine.” His lips were pursed, focus on Hiro.
“Did you see the chords when you intubated?” asked Robby, floating around the two of you as Jack refused to leave Hiro's side and you stayed by Abbot. He'd seen it a dozen times before. A disaster where there was one, there was the other.
There was the occasions he'd hand over to Jack, go home, sleep and come back to find Jack had called in you. You who was always ready to go at the first buzz of your pager. Wherever it was, whatever you had to do. And Robby would look through the patients that night, check the board and understand they hadn't really needed your help all that much.
Jack had.
Now, Robby saw the way you looked at Jack and had seen the gap that existed between the two of you.
“Yeah, I did but it was hard to miss when I cleared them.”
Jack reached and you watched as he stretched, wincing at the pull in his shoulder.
“You should get that looked at,” you told him.
“I'm fine.”
“No, you're not.”
There was a small roll of the eyes as Jack's gaze rose to meet yours through his goggles. There was almost a tiny hint of a smirk- your favourite kind but it disappeared as soon as it appeared.
“Yeah, c'mon Abbot!” said Charlie, calling from the back of his room where he stood with Diaz, two of the SWAT officers you were most frequent with. “Let doc work you up.”
You chuckled low to yourself, trying to catch Jack's eyes to share the joke but he looked away, his jaw clenching.
So, he wasn't in the joking mood.
“Alright, fellas, out!” leaving the wounded's side you ushered them out in spite of their protests and their giddy, hopeful optimism that Officer Hiro would pull through. “We'll let you know any changes, out!”
You pulled on a gown and cleared a way over.
“Demanding,” said Robby.
“You should hear me in the bedroom,” you teased with a wink.
Over on the other side you caught a small click from Jack's tongue. A disapproval voiced loud enough for others to hear.
You grasped the ultrasound wand from the nurse, circling it around the wound at Hiro's neck while Jack pulled away the gauze he'd packed, carefully minding you. “Good lung sliding, no pneumo-”
The last gauze peeled away in a bloody mess and a rope of blood shot out directly at you for vengeance.
“Geez- woah!”
“Pumper!” you announced, clamping your hand over the wound.
The streak of red cut through the skin on your neck, your gown and the doctors coat you liked to wear just like they did in tv shows. You had a draw full of them at home for instances like that.
“Hey, hey,” Jack was at your side quick as you loomed over the body. “Move back, get yourself cleaned up.”
“I can handle a little blood, Abbot.”
“I know that but-”
“- this is a transected trachea now-”
There was little else time to worry about blood on your gown and coat when the intubation was pulled out, the hole in his throat open.
There was a lot people said about you, with words and looks alike but none of which passed you or bothered you. You knew some thought you abrash and loud, you were, you knew it true. On the field the teams you worked with always thought you as one of them, 'one of the guys' but damn it- you were a good doctor.
You ordered everything correctly, you took them and worked them without so much as a blink and Robby stood behind you approving of everything you did.
It was one of the reasons he always called you in.
“Well done, good breaths sounds, stats are up: in the nineties,” approved Robby.
Jack hummed, pulling off his gloves as you all backed away. “Not bad.”
Your carried your smirk with you and over to him. “Is that the great Jack Abbot stamp of approval?”
“You know I think you're good at you're job,” he said, plainly.
You did know that. You knew that Jack admired your skills. He was one of the only ones who'd seen your skills on the field when sometimes all you had left in your kit was the dregs from other procedures or in the hospital when everything was pristine. He'd worked closest to you, probably out of everyone in either one of your jobs.
But there was always something about Jack that kept him far away. He was always a man that was so calm, which in the the face of conflict wasn't a bad call. Yet, it was the quiet moments in between- the way his footfall would slow to match yours, or the glances he'd steal at you half way across the ward, or the extra snacks he'd pack that had you searching rooms for him, checking shifts to see if you'd be around him.
Then when you were, Jack pursed his lips, clenched his jaw, acted like he wanted to be anywhere else sometimes than at your side.
He was a complicated man. Annoyingly that's what added to your attraction- and everyone knew it.
Once the two of you told Officer Charlie and Diaz that Hiro was stable enough to be taken to surgery you followed after Jack.
“You sure you don't want me to look at that shoulder for you?”
“Hmm? Oh, no, it's fine,” he excused.
“Don't want the paperwork?”
“Something like that,” said Jack, still shifting around in pain as he tried to roll his shoulder out.
“Okay, okay, but get it looked at!” you called off, ready to shed your coat or at least try and rub off some of Hiro's blood.
There was a mutter from Jack before he went another way.
You looked back to him once, watching as he walked off with a small limp that probably wasn't detectable to anyone that didn't analyse him like you did. It was a brutal sort of thing, SWAT, and with Abbot's sleep schedule you knew it was only worse. Eight- maybe ten hour shifts for so little sleep to get thrown back into the fire- literally. You wondered how he did it.
And, why.
Jack flexed out his shoulder at the press of the q-tip to his back.
He meant it, the wound really wasn't that bad. It had grazed through his clothes and vest but still hit just enough to leave an angry welt and bruising. He was content to hide away and sort it himself if it weren't for the fact he couldn't reach.
Then Samira Mohan walked by and offered her help. He was already tired, annoyed that those punks had thought it a good idea to rob a warehouse in the middle of the day, already worried about Hiro and his recovery. Then- there was you, with your snarky comments while saving his life, not batting a lash at the blood that got splattered on you in the mean time and still having time to flirt with Robby.
And prancing around in this scrub pants that were surely just a bit too tight.
Jack was wound up, which was why he admitted surrender and allowed Mohan to clean out his wound.
“Why do you do this?” she'd asked.
Jack had folded his arms over his chest, suddenly very aware he was shirtless in front of her. “My therapist says I need a hobby. I suck at golf.”
She hummed. “Funny.”
“Thank you.”
He made conversation to be polite, asking about the fellowships he knew others were already applying for. Crus had been telling him about them and he knew Mohan was searching to.
They were chatting was all when Robby walked by, looking in to check.
He frowned when he saw Mohan and Abbot, pausing in his fly by with a hand in the door way.
Jack watched as Robby looked around again at the ward, undoubtedly searching for you.
“We're almost finished up here,” said Mohan.
Robby held up his hands. “I didn't say anything,” he said, leaning in the doorway. He passed Jack a nod. “You good?”
“Getting there, thanks to Doctor Mohan's capable hands.” Jack kept his eyes averted from Robby as if he'd done something wrong. He hadn't. He'd told you the wound didn't need looking at because he was going to handle it.
Robby looked at him the sort of way he looked at patients when he knew they were lying about their scale of pain. “Can you give us a second?”
Just as Jack was about to push himself up Samira moved behind him.
“Er, yeah, sure. No problem,” she said, pulling off her gloves and listing off post-care instructions from instinct. “Keep it clean and the dressing fresh.”
“Can do, Doctor Mohan. Thank you.”
Robby stepped out of the way for Mohan before walking in, staring at Jack with his hands in his pockets.
Jack found his shirt discarded on the floor and pulled it over him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Clearly,” said Jack.
“Are you avoiding her, now?”
Jack didn't need to ask who he was talking about and Robby didn't need to specify. “Course not.”
“Did she do something?”
“No.”
“So what was all that? Back in trauma?” asked Robby. His eyes were beady, waiting to pick up on any shift in Jack or anything that might betray him. But Robby wore his heart on his sleeve. He might think he doesn't or thinks he's good at hiding such emotions away but Jack and everyone else sees them anyhow.
Jack had his heart buried deep down. “I dunno, man,” he huffed, ignoring the burning sensation as he pulled his shirt back over him. “Maybe I just didn't feel like joking around when my buddy was bleeding out on the table.”
Robby shook his head, eyes creasing. “People bleed out all the time.”
Jacks lips pursed as he worked on tucking his shirt back into his pants. Anything to keep him occupied and averted from Robby’s knowing gaze.
“I haven’t seen you this worked up since you first met her,” he teased.
“Now I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abbot grumbled.
Robby chuckled low in his throat, leaning back on the wall comfortable like he was watching his favourite show. “When two consenting adults like each other very much-”
“I don’t,” said Jack, abrupt. “I don’t… like her.”
“Jack, c’mon-”
Jack turned to Robby. He considered his confusion. Sure, you were a great doctor and even better on the field. Something about the chaos seemed to focus you, bringing out your best self. You were funny, even at the worse times.
“She’s not it for me,” he said, trying to mean those words.
Your smile first thing in the morning didn’t warm him. The fact you knew his coffee order after only two days of working together didn’t make him feel special. You were incredibly intelligent. Beautiful.
Jack twisted and turned around his wedding band.
Robby watched, heaving a sigh. “Brother…”
Jack couldn’t keep you in his heart when his dead wife still held a place there. It wasn’t fair to you.
“She’s not it, Robby.”
“And why not?” He asked, pushing and prodding against his bag of lies like he knew he was carrying it.
“She’s different- we’re two different. You know with my- with my wife we worked. She wasn’t a doctor, she didn’t throw her life away on field missions. She wasn’t… she wasn’t ruthless, she was soft. Perfect for me.”
He pressed down against the metal band branding him.
“You’re not gonna give yourself a chance to be happy because she’s not like your wife?” Asked Robby.
Jack glanced back at him. “I know what works for me. I can’t be with someone as loud or… bash. She’s-she’s brutal, you know.”
Robby nodded but there was a furrow between his brows. “We all have our own ways of dealing with things.”
“Her way is drinking every weekend, out with the guys, there’s no healthy habits there,” argued Jack. Why he was arguing about you with Robby he didn’t know. Why he was defending himself with words that fell like led on his tongue he had no idea.
“Okay,” said Robby in a way that marked defeat.
But Jack didn’t believe what he was saying. He heard himself and frowned. “And I don’t even think she’s a person who could settle down. Hmm, I mean look at her job? She’s constantly in between them.”
“She’s a sub, that’s what she does-”
“- scared of commitment,” corrected Jack.
Robby scoffed out a laugh of disbelief. “Okay, you’re in a mood or something.” He pushed himself from the wall.
“No, I’m not,” he argued a little too quick and a little too harsh to be okay with what he was saying. “She’s a good person she’s just not my person. You know she-she doesn’t even like flowers, who doesn’t like flowers?”
“She’s more than a good person, Jack,” said Robby with an air of defeat about him. With one last look back to Jack he left, closing the door gently behind him.
In the seconds the door was open Jack sort a peek out. You were at the nurses desk, leaning over a tablet, the blue glow illuminating you. There was a troubled look to your face, scrunching your brows and marring your usual unflappable gaze. Jack almost wanted to see the chart himself and ask what was bothering you, but he knew you never told him, only ever let it be yourself that saw your problems.
Another thing he couldn’t stand. You’d never ask for help.
Even if, Jack couldn’t admit it out loud, he’d help without an invitation too.
You suppose you shouldn’t have been surprised, yet doctors ran on hope. Without hope trauma rooms became morgues and body’s became empty vessels. You’d built hope into your system, kept somewhere between your heart and stomach.
That’s why you felt it plummet.
She’s not it for me.
There was no intention to listen in on a conversation that clearly you weren’t supposed to know about. You'd just been passing by when you heard your name from Jacks mouth. That was enough to stop you in place. If your feet weren't frozen you would have moved, made yourself busy or call up to surgery to check on Hiro.
But as Jack went on your heart plummeted.
She's brutal.
It wasn't until you heard Robby defend you that you moved away, hiding with your back to the exam room and hunching over a tablet that held no chart.
You'd always assumed Jack was just harder to crack then some of the other SWAT guys. You could read most of them within days, know their moods from a glance. You'd never been able to read Jack and maybe it was because he didn't want to be known by you.
You thought seeing Hiro with a hole in his neck would be the worst thing of the day but you caught your reflection in the black screen of the tablet and resented the way things blurred around you.
She's not it for me.
“Hey-” Robby was behind you and you tucked your head into your chest. His hand squeezed your shoulder. “Central twelve when you have a chance.”
“You got it, boss.” Luckily your voice remained steady despite the waver in your throat.
Robby gave a nod and left you to it.
Had Jack had hatred for you since you knew him and just never said a word? Did you do something for him to harbour these feelings?
Besides from not being his wife.
The door closed again and on instinct you looked over your shoulder, catching Jack adjusting his belt. He looked up and found your gaze, offering you a pulled smile.
It was like every other smile he'd ever given you.
You'd been so blind with affection to not see it. What a fool.
You couldn't even pull your lips back up, you just walked away.
Weeks went by in flashes of sleepless nights and lonely days.
The sick and injured didn't wait for you to get over yourself, instead they helped.
You offered yourself like a lamb to the slaughter in Presby and even Westbridge. You pulled doubles, catching small naps in any empty exam room or on-call room you could find. You started to learn staff names when you'd never cared before.
A group of nurses at Westbridge even invited you out for drinks.
“Drinking every weekend, out with the guys, there's no healthy habits there” you remembered Jack's voice and declined their invitation.
When SWAT called you had an excuse. A plumber was coming around... you were re-modelling; suddenly your apartment was going through half a dozen makeovers and all your childhood friends were visiting.
“You know you're not a very good liar,” Diaz had said when he called you for a drink and you declined. That day you were taking your mom's dog to the vet (your mom was a cat person and in another state)
Your apartment became a cave and you became a shell of yourself, un-ironically listening to the high school musical soundtrack and crying.
And still you couldn't find it in yourself to be angry at Jack. Of course he wouldn't want you- he had a wife. And a memory of that wife to keep him walm. What could he do with you? If you weren't his type, you weren't his type. If it was just that maybe you could have moved on.
But he didn't like you as a person and that stung more.
You didn't know how long it had been since you were last at PTMC, only long enough that you started to scramble corridors in your mind and forget what some of the nurses sounded like.
“We have a mass casualty event,” said Robby on the phone one Sunday morning. His voice sounded different, but you supposed time played tricks on your memory. “School bus incident. You in?”
You were in pyjamas at home, some crappy tv on low. “I'll have to check, Presby might need me.”
Robby scoffed down the line. “Have they called yet?”
“Well, no-”
“Then get your ass over here.”
“Robby-”
“Please, please get your ass over here,” he said down the line, sighing heavily. “I.... I could really use another set of hands.”
Robby didn't say please. Ever. So how could you say no.
Within the hour you were dressed an,d thrown into the anarchy.
You got through the ambulance doors, was thrown a gown and got to work. You didn't even see Robby to let him know you were there, you just found Langdon and worked beside him.
“I need some help over here!” yelled out a paramedic.
At once you and Langdon were at her side, pushing along the gurney.
“Kid, fracted tib-fib, pupils mid range and sluggish- couldn't get a line we had to intubate.”
“Dana what's open?” called out Langdon.
“Room in trauma one!”
Mass casualty meant trauma rooms doubled up, pushed up against either wall. Mass casualty meant extra hands called in- like you. Still, when you pushed through the door and found Jack's eyes look up you spared half a second in apprehension.
“You're here,” was all he said.
You didn't know what to say. There was some snarky comment on the tip of your tongue as you settled the boy in the corner but you remembered you weren't supposed to be that person.
Jack didn't like that person.
“Yeah, in the flesh,” replied Frank instead.
“Chest trauma on the right!” you assessed. “We need an X-ray in here.”
“X-ray's backed up,” Jack called from where he hovered over another patient.
“Then get me an ultrasound!” you called out. “Push five migs of epi down the tube and hang a unit of O-neg on the rapid infuser.”
“BP'S eighty over fifty, pulse is at one-twelve!” called out Princess.
You felt someone bump in your shoulder and knew by inhale it was Jack. He was close at your side, pulling off and on another pair of gloves.
“What have you got?” he asked.
It wasn't instinct to move away from him. It was practised control that had you swapping sides with Frank, practically pushing him into Jack.
“Chest trauma to the right, he's tacky,” he explained quickly.
You pulled out your stethoscope, listening closely. “His breathing's stridor, I need a thoracotomy tray!”
“A thoracotomy?” asked Jack, voice oddly quiet in the trauma as if it was whispered just next to you. “You sure you can handle that?”
“I'm a good doctor, if I'm nothing else,” you bit out, swinging your stethoscope back around your neck. You weren't going to allow yourself to fall back into old habits, of questioning what Jack didn't like so much about you. You focused on the un-conscious boy under the mercy of your hands. You ordered the right tools, made the cut neat and precise, pushing more pain relief.
“Any tamponade?” asked Jack.
You checked the boys blood pressure. “No, pericardium's dry.”
“Okay, start an-”
“- start an internal massage-”
You and Jack said at the same time.
Frank seemed stuck in headlights before he reached through the incision in the boys chest and slowly started to work the heart.
“Pulse?”
“Barely.”
Jack frowned, looking over at your work. “Cross clamp the aorta, and push another mig of antropine.”
“I need suction!”
“Got anything for surgery?” asked a new voice, Doctor Walsh checking between the patients in the room.
“Oh no, we've brought the OR down to us,” said Jack.
Doctor Walsh rounded, catching the suction and the message of the heart. “Are you doing a thoracotomy right now?”
“Don't look at me,” said Jack, surrendering.
Before anyone could argue with you, question your capability you snapped out. “I know what I'm doing!”
Jack was silent, Frank smirked and Walsh rose a brow.
“Clamped,” said Princess.
“Someone push in another of antropine and get another unit of blood in,” you ordered.
There was a sudden buzzing as all eyes averted to the monitor.
“He's going into V-fib!”
You wiped your bloody and gloved hands down your gown. “Okay, I need internal panels!”
They were handed to you and Jack rushed to your side.
“You want me to-” he started but you already had the panels in hand and were ordering their charge.
“Charge to thirty! Clear!”
Like you were cupping the heart with your own hands you nudged the panels on either side and shocked. There were little miracles sometimes in the ED and with a bus full of school children you needed miracles.
“There! He's stable!” said Princess.
“We've got a girl coming in, needs stabalising and an ortho consult!” said Lena, throwing the door open. It seemed everyone had been called in.
“I'll take this guy, don't want you getting all the credit,” smirked Walsh as she and the team wheeled out the boy. She looked back at you, almost waiting for you to say more- some funny joke or flirtatious tease.
You only waved past her to get the young girl into the room.
Everyone in the room looked at you as you honed in on the next casualty, ignoring the pang in your heart at Jack's gaze.
When the girl for ortho came in you could only work on stabilising her before Park the Shark descended and took her up, assuring the bag was on ice. He gave you a less ten friendly look. Seemingly Jack wasn't the only one who couldn't stand you.
The hours ticked by in bodies of different kids, in shades of blood and traumas. By the time you got outside for some fresh air it was night and one lonely ambulance sat with you.
You were catching your breath when you heard the doors slide open and shut again. You imagined it was someone else wanting some peace and air, or a paramedic heading back out on the road.
“You were impressive in there,” said Jack, coming to stand next to you. There was a large enough gap that another body could have fit there.
“Thank you.”
He gave one short nod. “Robby call you in?”
“Yeah.”
“Same here,” he said, not that you'd asked. “You know, Hiro's doing well.”
You paled in the night. Lost in your own self-loathing you hadn't even asked about Hiro, or gone to see him. You'd heard he was okay when he dropped a message from the ICU but that was as far as it got. “Oh yeah, I know, I heard.”
“What, from the guys?”
You nodded, lips pursing as you crossed your arms over your chest in the light chill.
“You know they told me you haven't been around much,” said Abbot. “I've noticed it too. We all went to Larry's the other night, your invitation get lost?”
Was it a test? Was it a joke to him?
“No, I just didn't want to drink. Trying to cut down, it's not so healthy,” you said, kicking one foot in front of the other.
“One or two's not bad,” he said. “Couple of us are gonna grab a beer once this is all over. You joining us? Usual spot.”
She's brutal, you know.
You looked to him first. He was already looking at you, eyes creased like he was trying to see through you. It was real and earnest and making his words from weeks ago hurt even more.
“No thanks, Jack.” You almost reached to his shoulder but thought better of it.
Heading back in seemed the safer option.
Jack turned when you did. “Noody's seen you for weeks-”
“- I've been busy-”
“- except those nurses in Presby, they see you all the time apparently-”
“- they've been busy, they've called me in-”
“- I called you three times last week, you didn't answer-”
“- I didn't think you'd want me.” It was about the only honest thing you'd said in weeks. Your trainers squeaked on the ground just before the hospital, the automatic doors ready to welcome you back.
Jack was at your side, close enough you could see the lines of confusion in his face. “Why would you think that?”
You tried to think of a quick excuse but every word died prematurely in your throat. You chocked on them.
“Hey-hey-” Jacks hand fell to your back, soothing it in calming rubs.
You allowed yourself to bask in one circular motion of his hand and your back before you stepped away, backing up from the doors that slid shut again on instant.
“What’s going on?” Asked Jack, following in your steps.
“Nothing, nothing.”
Jack made a disgruntled noise. “C’mon, talk to me.”
He let you think about what to say, stewing in silence where your mind became alive with everything he’d said, with every terrible thing you’d already thought about yourself. You imagined every time you’d cracked a joke that was maybe too perverse. You tried to picture Jacks face but came out blank. Was it loathing? Contempt?
Your voice betrayed you with a shake as you spoke again. “I do like flowers.”
“Huh?”
You wiped at your eyes and turned to him. “I like flowers,” you said, stronger. “Nobody’s ever brought me flowers but I- I like them.”
For anyone else it would’ve took time to click. They’d have stood there, looking at you like you’d gone mad, spewing out words that out of context meant nothing.
But Jack was not just any other clueless guy. He was the guy who always packed left overs and left them in the fridge, he always cooked enough to make sure he’d have left overs. He was the sort that always checked in on pedes patients and made sure they had enough colourful bandages for them.
Jack knew what you were saying immediately. His jaw tensed. “I- I shouldn't have said that.”
“You said a lot of things,” you said, holding yourself tighter. “Sounded like you meant them.”
He gulped. “I didn't mean-”
“-what, for me to hear it?”
“No, I didn't mean for what I said to come out as- as bad,” he said.
“Well it didn't come out as shining praise either.” You turned from him, looking out to the building and lights. Somewhere n the distance a siren wailed.
“Robby- Robby was saying things, teasing, I just waned to shut him up.”
You chuckled with loathing. “No you didn't. It's okay, Jack, you don't have to like me, I just wish you didn't make it seem like you did.”
“Hey!” he said, coming to stand in front of you. He was without a scrub top and his t-shirt clad to his biceps, his muscles flexing as his jaw worked. “I do like you.”
You rolled your eyes. “No you don't.”
“I do-I do-” Jack grabbed the top of your arms, stopping you from walking away. His grip was tight, not enough to bruise but enough to beg you not to leave. “I do like you.”
“It doesn't matter.”
“It does, it does.” Jack crouched enough in his knees to get a look at your face that you kept trying to turn away from him.
“You know the worst thing is? It's that I know,” you uttered, voice quiet. You didn't trust yourself to shout- even if you really wanted to- in fear your voice cracked, humiliatingly.
Jack's eyes softened, his thumb drawing up and down in comfort. “Know what?”
“I know that I can be a lot. I go out with the guys, I drink, I make jokes when things get bad because what else am I supposed to do? Cry? Let the grief of the job swallow me up?”
“No. No, of course not,” he said, lips pulled down.
You hated that you still wanted to make him smile. “I could keep a job if I wanted to but I like meeting the people-”
“- I know, I know you do-”
“- and now I'm here defending myself to a guy who probably doesn't even want to hear it!” Trying to turn in Jack's hold was feeble, his grip was strong and he moved with you.
“You don't have to defend yourself, you have nothing to defend!”
“You know what the worst part is?”
Jack shook his head, waiting.
“It's the guy you liked and admired the most seeing everything you hate about yourself and hating you for it too.”
Jack flinched as of you'd slapped him. The chill in the air grew colder around you and all the light from the dim glow of the lamps shrunk away, leaving you and Jack in a self-made darkness. You felt his grip weaken and savoured the feel of him a moment longer.
It was only when you couldn't stomach it anymore that you retreated back into work.
Jack had fucked up.
There was no easy way of putting it. There was no clinical way of looking at it, no diagnosis to give other than he had fucked up.
He'd never heard himself speak and hated the sound of his own voice. Never caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror with tired eyes and a pale expression and loath to see the sight. When he looked at himself, all he saw was your own face heart-broken. When he heard himself talking he remembered everything he'd said.
He could have blamed it on the pain in his shoulder, the worry over Hiro, the lack of sleep he'd been struggling with for days but he had a therapist for all that. You didn't deserve that burden.
He was un-focused the following week in work. Patient satisfaction was at an all time low with him. He'd opened up to his SWAT buddies over a self-pitying pint and had been shunned.
“What's your problem?” Charlie had said, two beers deep and a haze over his eyes. “She's a fucking saint. She'd lay down her life for any one of us- what the fuck man?”
“She won't return my calls,” Jack told them. “Can you just... just call her?”
They'd refused, with good reason.
He'd tried texting his apology. He'd tried calling you in but he found from a contact at Westbridge you'd been covering nights while their attending was on holiday.
It was a brash decision to call in to PTMC and tell them he'd be late, he was running an errand. Nobody questioned him.
Westbridge was darker than the hospital he was used t, built up on top of each other but they were no less busy than himself. Patients were lined up in corridors and there was hardly a seat left in chairs when he walked through.
“Can I help you?” asked the nurse at reception, eyeing Jack and the bouquet of flowers he held.
He said he was looking for you.
“She's in a trauma right now, can I take a message?”
“Can you tell her Ja-Jack's here.” For a moment he debated lying, saying it was Robby wanting to see you, or maybe you didn't want to see Robby either. Deceit wasn't going to be his friend.
Jack waited and tried not to look around, tried not to let himself get caught in the heavy bustle of another hospital as he waited for you. He ignored the coughing from the waiting room that definitely sounded like it would require a chest CT.
There was a crash of doors and he caught sight of you rushing out, protective goggles over your eyes and bloodied gown clad to you.
“Jack, what is it? Are you okay?” your eyes were frantic, searching him.
Ah. Of course you'd think something had happened. When you hear someone's in the hospital it's very rarely to just say hi. “I realise I should've specified,” said Jack, rubbing the back of his knuckle against his brow. “I just- I wanted to see you. And give you these.”
Sensing this was a conversation she definitely wanted to be around for yet probably wouldn't be allowed to, the nurse at reception left the two of you to it and Jack sat the flowers down on the counter in-between you.
You eyed the shades of red roses, of yellow tulips, the violet of the iris and the pink of the peony.
“I didn't know what you liked so, I kind of got one of everything,” he said, sighing to himself. He should have got two of every flower the florist had on hand. “I didn't get Lilies, the lady at the shop said it's a show of death and sunflowers aren't in season, apparently.”
“They're very nice, thank you,” you said.
“They come with an I'm sorry:” said Jack. “I'm sorry.”
You wet your lips and pursed them, nodding slowly. “Okay.”
Jack looked down to his boots. “It's not, I know it's not, nothing I said is okay and I didn't mean it.”
You didn't say anything at that, only taking in a quivering breath.
He ignored the irritation in his prosthetic as he crouched to catch your gaze. Jack wasn't used to having to search for your gaze, usually he always found it already on him. He only realised how much he valued finding you in the middle of the storm when you wouldn't look at him.
“I didn't mean it,” he enunciated every word, begging you to hear them.
Your gaze studied around Westbridge, hoping for a distraction.
“I messed up, it's on me. It's not you.”
“The classic it's not you, it's me?” you dismissed.
Jack winced. It was cliché, damn him. “Yeah, I guess so.”
He watched as your fingers brushed over a flower petal, picking it off like plucking a string on a guitar. He felt his heart pound in his chest.
“Can I get back to work now?” you asked, gently.
What was he thinking? Turning up to where you were tying to do some good. Where you were doing good- it was what you did. Did he expect the flowers to fix everything? No. Only he could. But he'd grovel, he'd beg, he'd crawl after you for the rest of his miserable life and do it all while building you a rose garden.
He'd do all of that for one minute of your eyes on his.
“Just promise you'll come back. To the Pitt. Whole place is going to crap without you.” He tried to joke but it was a pathetic thing.
“Okay. Yeah.” Your shoulders lifted in in-difference.
“And don't ignore the guys. They're going out for drinks tomorrow night. I won't be there. They all pretty much think I'm a dick anyway.”
There was a glimpse of a smile.
Jack played on. “I'm a total, total dick, a jerk!”
An elderly lady being escorted by with a nurse and an IV trailing her paused and glanced his way.
“Sorry,” he uttered.
You hid your chuckled behind your mouth but he caught a second of it.
It was enough for now.
Your name was called down the corridor.
“He's in V-tach!” a nurse announced before disappearing again.
“Go,” said Jack, taking himself out of the equation. “Just, please. Don't be a stranger.”
Jack wasn't lying when he said the place was going to crap without you. How they managed on shifts without your charm to work fretting family and friends down, or your terrible singing in between exams he didn't know.
Walking through the ambulance doors for his shift there was already paramedics pushing an empty and slightly blood stained gurney back into their rig. There was a crowd of elderly patients in beds and gowns left at the side and phones were ringing, drilling into his eardrums.
“Where the hell is she?” barked Robby, spotting Jack and no you.
Jack dumped his bag at the counter. “What happened here?”
“Nursing home caught fire, now where is she? We're swamped her, I thought you were going to get her and bring her back?”
Jack grumbled, frowning at the counter. “She's busy at West.”
“West? God-” Robby groaned, looking around the place and cursing. “Listen, I don't care what you have to do to make it up to her, buy her a florist, give her a ring, get down on your knees, I don't fucking care- I need her here.”
“You think I don't?” Jack snapped.
Robby eyed him, hand clenched on the counter. “Tell her the truth-”
“-Robby-”
“-no, you tell her you didn't mean a damn thing you said. That you were scared loving someone that isn't your wife.”
Glass. Jack was made of glass. If Robby could see through him so clearly why couldn't you? Why couldn't you see the truth? That Jack liked you, liked you more than he'd liked anyone. That loving you meant leaving the life he lived with his wife behind, yet carrying a part of her with him always. He didn't want to do that to you. He didn't want to make you live with a ghost or carry his grief. There were days where it was too hard for him to handle.
Robby sighed. “You think she'd want you to be happy?”
A muscle in Jack's neck tensed as he went to nod but was held back by himself.
“Talk to her,” said Robby clamping him on the shoulder quickly before disappearing.
Hiding away wasn't going to solve anything. That's what Robby said to you in a desperate plea to get you back to helping him out with shifts.
Truth was you weren't hiding away... as much.
Drinks with the guys had been hours of them telling you Jack was wrong, after Jack had exposed himself to them, laying the situation on the table. As promised, he wasn't there but every conversation revolved around him so much so it felt like he was at your side. You defended Jack when they argued against him. You told them you knew you were loud at times, maybe you shouldn't joke around as much as you did.
They'd laughed, thinking it was a joke itself.
They told you not to change.
It was hard not to. Every time you heard yourself get loud or get a look from people at the other table your instinct was to shrink. When Diaz tripped on the curb out the bar you laughed instead of helping him and was left with your own guilt when you got home.
Un-learning habits was hard. Learning to live with them was harder.
You started with baby steps. A day shift here, a day shift there, by hand-offs you were always gone. Yet, in the staff lounge there sat a fresh bouquet of flowers every morning. As soon as they started to wilt another fresh bunch was placed over night.
Nothing was said. Nothing ever had to be.
“Shen's out, food poisoning,” said Robby over the phone another day. “You know I wouldn't ask if there was no otherway.”
Which was how you ended up working a night shift. The first in months.
Jack's eyes lit up as you walked in, it was impossible not to notice. The only eyes to rival his sparkle was Lena's when she saw you.
It was the sort of night that held your attention. That roped you in and demanded you listened. Not overly busy but not quiet enough to cause you and Jack to be held captive in the same room. Only seconds passed in hallways when he looked like he was going to say something before being called away, taunt in the neck and gripping his stethoscope for the life of him.
“Am I going to need surgery?” asked the young boy in five who you were examining. A nasty accident in his dad's garage ended up with a laceration to the foot.
“Not surgery but a couple stitches to bring the skin back together, and you're gonna have to stay off your feet for a while,” you said.
The boys eyes grew wide in joy. “So, no school?”
You chuckled as his mom pinched his shoulder playfully. “Well, I can't be the deciding factor on that, I'm afraid.”
You put in the orders for stitches.
“Is it gonna hurt?” asked the boy, shrinking back in his bed.
“We're gonna numb you up so you don't feel anything,” you assured. “Tell you what, I have a secret stash of candy that I only share with my favourite patients, how's that sound, you want something?”
The boy tried not to be too eager in his nodding but it took less than two second for him to grin.
You didn't expect anyone in the lounge when you went in search for candy usually lying around.
Jack was hunched over the table, pulling out the dying flowers and arranging fresh ones. He stopped when you walked in, the door closing gently behind you. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
“I was just... maintenance,” he mumbled.
You nodded along, a thick awkwardness engulfing the two of you. “Maintenance... yeah... sure...”
You moved around him, keeping a good distance around the space of him like he was a poisonous snake. The cabinet was high up, the tin an old sewing one where you hid your most precious protein bars and sugar packed candy.
“Here, I can-”
His body was sturdy against the back of you as he reached up for the tin. Few select people were allowed to know about its contents and Jack was on of the first ones you trusted. He raised his arm and you watched the freckles along his arm move and ripple. Upon inhale you took a deep breath of lingering cologne, mixed with the hearty sterile hand wash of the ED.
Jack's own head tilted down and your heard him inhale, deeply.
The tin fell into your hand.
Jack stared down. “Oh- er, there.”
“Thanks.”
It was about all the conversation you got with Jack your shift was over. The morning was just breaking through the clouds at six, bringing with it a down pour. You'd already punched out, handed off your patients to McKay and was left standing under the small awning of the ambulance bay, trying to out wait the rain.
It took ten minutes for Jack to follow you out.
“You heading out?” he asked, hands shoved in his pockets.
“Yeah. I'm just waiting for my uber.”
Jack frowned. “What happened to your car?”
“It's in the garage.”
“Well... I can give you a lift,” he suggested.
The rain hammered down harder above you, steady streams falling from the awning to at your feet. As discreet as possible you checked the location on you uber. Just around the corner. In the rain it had taken longer.
“No, it's okay, you don't have to.”
“I'd like to,” said Jack, stepping closer. “I'd like a chance to talk to you. To tell you everything that I meant by my words.”
You'd almost hoped you could carry on as you were: extremely avoidant.
“You don't have to, Jack.”
“I do- I do!” he insisted, hands out in front of him as if desperate to grasp you. He held himself back. “Please let me.”
Stomaching more of his words, whether it be excuses as to what he meant to say or just doubling down and insisting what he said was true. You didn't think you were strong enough for either.
Your phone buzzed in hand as a slick back black car pulled up, window rolling down and calling your name.
“No, wait-wait!” said Jack, holding a hand up to you with all the authority of an attending still on duty.
“Jack, what are you-” You were struck in place, watching him lean through the window, rain dampening his shirt as he un-folded a few bills and handed them to the driver.
“We don't need you know, sorry man,” Jack mumbled.
Your jaw hung open as you stepped out into the rain, bottom of your scrub pants dampening at once. “What?”
The driver tutted. “I still want me five star review!” He drove off quickly, splashing the two of you as he went.
“Oh- serious?” Jack gritted. “Now I wish I hadn't given him such a tip.”
The puddles of rain were seeping into your trainers as you walked off, out of the way of ambulances and cars, pulling your jacket tighter around you.
“Wait! Wait!” Jack called after you, boots slapping in the water. He all but jumped in front of you, stumbling lightly at the shift in his bad leg. “Wait.”
“I don't know what else you want to say to me, Jack?”
“Nothing I say can excuse what I said-”
“-so why try?”
“Because it's killing me being like this!” he snapped. The rain was pouring down, falling down his cheeks and nose. “It's killing me to look for your smile and not see it. It's killing me to hear a joke and you not laugh. Everything I said, it-it re-plays in my head and I'm sorry.”
“I know you are, Jack, I just need time!”
“I'll give you time,” he said. “I'll give you anything you need. But just let me say one thing. You owe me nothing, I'm begging you.”
To prove a point Jack crouched, starting to get down on his knees, hands already clenched together. To spare you the embarrassment and him the ache in his leg you tugged him back up.
He stared at you, breathless. He was as drenched as you, the both of your scrubs stuck to you.
“I haven't loved anyone since my wife,” said Jack. “I haven't tried, I didn't want to try. I was... not happy, but content to just carry on with her here-” he curled a fist at his chest. “And then you... and I couldn't not feel anything for you. I tried- I really tried.”
“Okay. You tried. I get it,” you mumbled.
“But I started to love you and I hated myself for it. It felt like I was betraying her by wanting someone else. By wanting you. And I did- I do want you. Every terrible joke you made, Jesus, I couldn't laugh in front of patients and their families. When you go out drinking with us and the guys in our team and you sing karaoke badly-”
“Excuse me?”
Jack winced. “I mean great, great karaoke.”
You chuckled.
“I can't take back the fact you're different from my wife, you are, but I don't think that's a bad thing- it's not. Because I still love you. I love that you're loud, I love that you draw attention to yourself as soon as you walk into a room, my attention is always on you anyway,” he smiled, sadly. It was the kind of smile a lover would give as they watched the love of their life leave them. “I shouldn't have made my grief your problem. I shouldn't have hated myself for feeling love again and I shouldn't have tried to convince myself hating you. I mean, that was just- just impossible.”
You looked down to your trainers, seeing the darkening colour where the water soaked in. “I've loved you for so long now, Jack.”
He waited, catching his breath, for more.
You looked up at him. “I'm sorry. About your wife. I can't imagine how hard it is for you. But I don't want to fall in love with a man who constantly advertises me next to his wife.”
Jack nodded, looking down.
The rain was probably helpful, hiding any tears you'd give away.
“I love you, separate to how I love my wife. And I loved her, I did. But I don't want to spend the rest of my life dead inside. Be on my death bed when I'm eighty looking back at all the times I should've kissed you.”
His words pulled at your heart, your feelings that you'd been burying deep inside clashing together inside of you.
“By the time you're eighty, I'll be like, in my sixties?” you said.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“And looking to settle down.”
Jack laughed, and you laughed and for a second that was almost enough. The rain had made the grey in his hair darker, almost making him look younger. “I'm not saying I won't fuck up, I probably will, I have a therapist for a reason.”
“Therapy is good,” you said.
Jack's eyes were lighting up slowly with every teasing comment you made. Something akin to hope flickered between the two of you. “But I will never draw comparison to you and my wife. I'll never make you feel like second choice. I'll never dump my grief onto you. If you just give me one chance, just one chance at making this right.”
As sorry's went... as love confessions went.
“I'm scared what it means to love you, Jack,” you said, slowly, feeling the words around your mouth.
“I know, I know,” Jack reached over, clumsily brushing back your damp hair from your cheeks. In spite of the rain, his skin was still soft and hot on you. “I am too.”
You searched his eyes before whispering. “Can I kiss you?”
He smirked a little. “No.”
Your heart dropped.
Jack's hands tilted your head back before you could tuck yourself away. “Can I kiss you?”
His lips were slick and wet from rain but no less sort after from you. He didn't push or prod for more, he just laid his lips against yours with enough pressure for you to know he was there. For you to always remember he was there.
You could have stayed like that for hours, practically standing on each others toes as your own hands came up to clutch his biceps, fingertips digging into his freckles.
You pulled away only when you needed to catch your breath.
Jack's lips chased yours, body tumbling into you slightly as his eyes took seconds to open like coming out from a dream.
You ran your hands up his shoulders. “I love you.”
He closed his eyes and soaked in the words.
“Will you let me?” you asked.
“Always,” he promised.
thank you to anon for requesting, and thank you to @oldbaddies and @mafercita101 who wanted to be tagged :)
synopsisrobby went away hoping to catch peace in his three months get away but he caught sight of something else instead. now he's coming back after watching you for months over a camera, desperate for the real thing but what you don't know won't hurt you, right? (7.5k words)
warningssmut MDNI, voyerism, phone sex, watching masturbation through cameras, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, praise kink, smell play if thats a thing, fingering, oral (f and m receiving) finger sucking, handjob, slight chocking? unprotected p in v
authornotesby popular demand a part two to camera on me baby! but it can also kind of be read as a standalone. on a side note, I hate the word 'panties' I don't know why. In britain i'm pretty sure we call them knickers but that also sounds way less sexy. and i know Noah said in an interview he doesn't have chest hair but Robby does, I don't make the rules. (gif credit to @emziess :)
pitt masterlist! part one 'camera on me baby'
It was Duke's fault, really. The reason why you found out about the camera's in the first place. Although the blame on Duke can be run back down to Robby again for asking his friend to help instal the damn things.
You'd got home after a typical gruelling day, dumping your bag at the kitchen counter and rolling out the tension in your shoulders. There wasn't even anything special about the day that made it feel so long. You'd all been so sure (well, almost everyone, you had not been sure) that the place could run without Robby, so much so many felt they needed to prove that fact.
The wrong blood was hooked up to a patient, realised in just a nick of time.
Two diagnosis were switched up so a poor old man thought he was dying a lot sooner than he was. Jack smoothed that one out.
And a man with heart palpations just couldn't leave his cat so had to bring him in and Gloria just had to come down at that same time.
So you were ready to crash when there was a knock on the door.
Something you learnt living in Robby's space was the lack of visitors he had. You'd bumped into Mrs Hathaway who lived two doors down and had a bad habit of smoking a pack a day and carried the smell with her and explained that Robby was away so you were looking after his one house plant and bringing in his male.
But Mrs Hathaway never came around.
You wondered if you'd been so tired you'd called yourself a take-away and forgot as you looked through the peep hole.
Long grey hair and stormy eyes looked back at you. A denim vest and tattoos standing out against the canvas of skin. Before you wouldn't have known the guy; would've debated crashing Robby's peace to ask who this guy was but now he was a frequent flyer at PTMC.
“Hey, Duke,” you greeted, holding the door open.
Duke grinned and went in for a hug. “Hey.”
He smelt like bike oil and leather but you patted his back. You didn't know if he was deep down an affectionate guy or if it was the diagnosis but every time he visited the hospital for check ups or meds for his pain who was asking for particular nurses and buying up their time with idle chatter.
Nobody seemed to mind.
“Robby's still not back,” you said, pulling away and following him into Robby's place.
“Oh yeah, I know, just needed to pick up some tools I left here,” he said.
You watched him move around, flicking on lights as he went that you hadn't had the chance to turn on yet. He moved around Robby's place like he knew every nook and cranny. Maybe he did. Slowly, you were learning Robby had a life outside of the Pitt.
“So, how's the bachelor pad treating you?” Duke called as he wondered around the space.
“It's nice, it's good,” you said, following behind a pace or two and just hoping the tools weren't in Robby's room. Then he might see your bag you'd slowly let spill out over the place and a coffee mug you'd left from this morning. He might see the rumpled sheets and thrown over cover and realise you were sleeping in your bosses bed and not the provided spare room.
The guest room bed hadn't been made and you'd been so tired coming back that you'd just crashed in his bed, for one night. You were going to clean the sheets but then his bed was so comfortable you struggled even getting up in the morning.
It felt like an embrace from him.
“The wi-fi playing up or anything?” he asked, searching through kitchen cupboards.
“No, it's been fine.”
“Been eating? Punk has a good kitchen.”
“Did Robby ask you to check on me, or something?” you asked, hoping Robby didn't think he'd made a mistake in asking you to house sit. His one plant was very well cared for and mail organised by what you think required his upmost attention first. You'd even kept a pile of junk mail just in case he was particular in the sort he got rid of.
“No,” Duke chuckled. “I just know I'll get bonus points if I check in on you.”
Before you could ask what he meant by that there was a triumphant cheer as he started to pull out so many tools and a tool box you wondered if he was robbing Robby.
“Did Robby tell you he has a parking spot reserved out front? Parking can be a bitch here.”
“Oh, I don't drive I catch the bus.”
“He tell you about the camera's.”
The sleep that had been invading your every sense ebbed away. “Cameras?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Around the place. Installed them a couple months back.”
Cameras. All around the place.
You searched high around in places you'd never thought to scrutinise before. There, looming like a bird of prey in the corner of the kitchen was what could be assumed a camera. It was just a black dot to you with the high ceilings but when you glanced over at the living area there was a better view of the camera sat in the corner, aimed right where you stood at the kitchen island.
Cameras. About the place. The place you'd been living for weeks.
You'd been sleeping in Robby's bed, you'd been flaunting around in your shirt and nothing else. You had Trinity around to eat pizza and drink wine in your bras. You'd looked through Robby's stuff, you'd-
You'd done un-speakable things to yourself in that bed.
Were they a security measure? Did the tapes end up anywhere? And if they did, could you find them and burn them.
“The camera's,” said Duke, standing with tool box full in hand. “He mentioned them right.”
No. Robby hadn't mentioned anything of the sort. Hadn't even let onto the fact you might want to be on your guard. He'd welcomed you into his place, told you to treat it like yours while he was gone.
“Oh, yeah, cameras. He-he told me about the camera's,” you lied, gulping down the truth.
What if you said no he hadn't and it was written all over your face that you were guilty of.... of something. What if Duke thought it was Robby's fault? He was probably just tired, or forgot they were even there.
“Yeah, took us ages to get up. We were no good at it, you know, old men and technology,” he said, heading toward the door already.
“Yeah, yeah... totally.”
“Okay, see ya soon, doc!”
“You too, Duke.” As distracted as you were, Duke let himself out. The door closed and you were left alone with the cameras.
Maybe they weren't working all the time. Maybe, since Robby knew it was just you and he could trust you he'd turned off the cameras. Maybe he really had just forgot they were there and no longer used them.
Maybe's chased you into Robby's ensuite, sat you down on the of the counter. You scanned the corners subtly in case you were being watched but found only clean tiles and sterile walls. Safe.
As for the rest of the place, you dreaded to think.
You had almost forgot all about the cameras again. The first night you slept stiff, still un-able to drag yourself from the comfort of Robby's bed but you found the camera, tucked away in a corner. You'd watched for a flashing light but found none, so did that not mean it was off?
You thought about texting Robby, asking him about the cameras but you looked back at the last texts. He'd sent you a picture of a lake he was at, said it was peaceful, said he was enjoying his time. You didn't want to freak him out or accuse him of anything.
You knew the kind of guy Robby was. If he remembered the cameras, he'd tell you.
Moving on from that catastrophe was easy when you worked in the ED. Disasters came in and managed your time. You'd thought about asking Jack when you saw him at hand off but smiled him off.
Days later you were forgetting all about it.
“I mean, I've heard some pretty crazy stories before but a carrot, up the butt,” Trinity chuckled down the phone.
“Is it bad it's not even the first I've seen,” you said. “I had someone with a cucumber up there once.”
Santos hummed on the other end of the phone. “I get it, longer, smoother.”
You had been chopping up a carrot to make a ragu and thought different of it, putting it aside and forging any vegetable that could be seen as phallic. “You're disgusting.”
“Say that to the patient with half a carrot stuck up there.”
A quick sear of pain made you jump as beads of blood found its way down to Robby's chopping board and the onion you'd been slicing.
“Oh shit-”
“What happened? Found Robby's Viagra?” she said down the other line.
“Hilarious,” you grit out. Without thinking you grabbed the tea towel and wrapped it around your hand, holding it up high. You cursed quietly again when you realised you'd just ruined one of his. “I just, er, dropped one of Robby's glasses, I gotta go, I'll call you back.”
You wedged your wrapped up hand into your chest and ended the call.
Being a doctor yourself you knew you could handle a cut, blood, a gash. Peeling it away and dabbing at the edges you found the wound, a clean cut, not too deep. Stitches, maybe.
If you kept it wrapped up you could just leave it till the morning for your shift-
Your phone rang again and you answered without looking. Most calls logged in your phone were Trinity anyway. “No, I have not seen a banana in a vagina.”
“Well hello to you too,” said a striking and familiar deep rumble of a voice.
“Robby. Hey, sorry I-I thought you were Santos.”
He chuckled but it was curt. “Exciting day in work?”
“Yeah-yeah, you could say that,” you put down your phone on speaker and re-wrapped your hand. “So what's up? What's with the call?”
“I just wanted to... check in, it's been a while.”
You squeezed your hand, trying to stop the bleeding. “Everything's fine. All fine. Place is still standing.”
“Yeah, yeah, that's good, that's good,” he said with hesitation. “How are you? Staying safe, no-no accidents around the place I hope. Sometimes that place is a death trap. Door can stick... and- and my knives can be... sharp.”
Suddenly you realised.
The camera's.
Robby hadn't called you while he'd been away. He'd text only oddly to see how things were or send pictures of where he was- that was a new development.
He'd texted you about the temp playing up in his shower after you made one too hot and had to lie bare on is bed with his fan on you.
He'd texted that he had extra blankets if you were cold when you were wrapped up in his dressing gown.
He knew about the camera's.
Robby had seen. Everything.
“Still there?” he asked.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry just- funny you should bring up the knives, I just had a little accident.”
“Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?”
You tried not to eye the camera's. “Just a small cut.”
“You wouldn't lie to me would you?” he asked, a dark tint to his voice.
You didn't know what worried you more. The fact he was watching you close enough to see and call you, or the fact the thought didn't creep you out as you supposed it should. “How would you feel if I bloodied one of your tea towels.”
“Relieved, as long as you get your cut looked at.”
“And if I got blood on a chopping board.”
“Chopping board- bit of wood, I can get some more wood up here.”
“And how is your trip?”
Robby chuckled. “Oh no, no, no you're not distracting me from this. Got to the ER.”
“It's not that deep.”
“It loo-”
For a moment you were both silent, knowing what he was going to say. It looks bad. You felt burning in the back of your skull as you felt the camera's around you like his own gaze when he was watching your procedures in the ED.
“Better safe than sorry,” he said with a clear of his throat.
“I'll be fine.”
“Yeah, well, I've already texted Jack letting him know you're on your way in so you don't want to disappoint him do you. Or me. Do you, huh?”
You hoped the camera's didn't pick up on the blush rising to your cheeks. “No, I do not, Doctor Robby.”
He hummed. “Good girl.”
Your breath caught in your throat and the sudden thump of pain in your hand moved somewhere lower. Was it normal to feel aroused by the idea of being watched, with a cut bloody hand and your boss down the line.
“I guess I better get going, I don't want to disappoint.”
“No you don't.”
“So, I should go.”
“You should.”
He did not hang up and neither did you. At least you had the excuse of doing it all one handed.
“Okay, bye then,” you said, biting down on your lip to hide your smile.
“Bye.”
“Speak soon?”
“Yeah, I'll call you.”
Finally you pulled the phone back and declined. You wondered if you could hide away in the bathroom but the camera...
How much time did he spend watching you? Did he just so happen to check in at the same time the knife sliced your palm? Was he watching and had been watching since he left?
Had he watched when you plunged your fingers into your own pussy, spreading your need around... and called his name?
What kind of person did it make you if you wanted him to see that?
You got your hand sorted, stropping into the ED like you were a petulant child. Jack had only laughed at you, all but waiting in a swivel stool and turning around like a James Bond villain just to say: “I've been expecting you.”
However, your hand did need stitches and as the slice was along your palm it made trauma procedures difficult. You were stuck ordering around Ogilvie which was about as fun as it sounded and charting.
There was only small reliefs.
Practically as soon as you got back to Robby's he was dropping you a text or calling you. Usually it was under the pretence of checking on your hand or that he was waiting on an important letter but you knew it wasn't that. He knew exactly when you were home, whether it was overtime or not.
The camera's became hard to ignore but you tried to. You didn't want to freak Robby out by telling him you know about them. You didn't want to scare him off from watching you. Shouldn't it have been the other way around? Shouldn't he know that what he was doing was wrong on so many levels? Borderline, stalker-ish.
Still, one night, one lonely night you were in his bed unable to sleep. You were too busy thinking about Robby and the cameras.
It was hard being single and lonely. You had your own devices but toys were back at yours (Trinity brought you them as a joke birthday present and it turned into an even bigger joke when you opened them up in front of Denis) and you didn't want to bring toys into Robby's room.
Porn videos could get you going. Maybe a smutty book.
But knowing the camera's were there made it all the more easier to slide your fingers in your panties and find your arousal pooling.
Maybe Robby wasn't watching. Maybe he could tell this was a private moment and he shouldn't have been watching. The thought had your fingers stilling over your clit, your mind racing ahead of you. Maybe he didn't look at the camera's... maybe this was you over thinking it all...
Your phone rang on the bedside table and you reached over to get it.
There was a flash of Robby's name so familiar to you know it was like your own phone background.
Your other hand was still down your panties when you answered.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” his voice was gruff, low in his throat like he'd just woken up. “What are you up to?”
So, he was watching.
You smirked to yourself, trying desperately not to look at the camera. “Whyyyy are you asking?”
You heard him shuffle around on the other end. “Dunno, was just bored. Was thinking about you.”
“Oh, really?” trying not to sound too delighted was not your specialty.
“Yeah... seem to be doing that a lot these days.”
“You must miss me, huh?”
“Yeah. I must,” he hummed. “You know, I think you'd like it up here. Heck, I actually think I could've used the company, too.”
You slid a finger through your entrance. You were wet before just thinking about him, his voice low and gruff, the way it fell when talking through a serious procedure made it so you were clenching with every rise and fall of his voice. “If I was there with you who'd look after your place?”
“Hmm, you make a good point,” he said, a small tick to his words. “Speaking of my place, which bed you sleeping in?”
You felt your cheeks tint red as you pushed in another finger, pushing in and out slowly. Did he want to hear you were in his bed, even though he could see that you were? You toyed with him a little. It seemed only fair. “Why? Didn't you say I could pick either?”
“I'm just curious. Tell me.”
You closed your eyes and inhaled the smell of him that still lingered around his bed, clouding the edges of your mind in desire. “Yours.”
He chuckled. “Mine, huh?”
“Yeah. It's got the ensuite. It's bigger. It's comfy,” you said. You moved your fingers around your clit, drawing small circles and stretching your legs wider. You had some decency, let it be known, you were under the covers with an old and tattered T-shirt but you were sure it wasn't hard to tell what you were getting up to under there.
“Comfy, you think so?”
“Yeah,” you said. “Smells like you too.”
A breath caught down the line. “Do you like that it smells like me?”
You nodded, growing wetter as your eyes closed. “I do. I can wash it before you get back so it doesn't smell like me.”
“No,” he said, an un-mistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down sat behind his words. “Don't wash them. Don't.”
You smirked to yourself, the circles you were drawing over your nerves growing lazy. “What are you doing, Robby?”
“Nothing,” he said, a teasing lift to his voice and a rustle of clothes. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” you said, sliding your fingers into yourself and out, spreading your arousal as your hole clenched around nothing. You shuffled, getting your shirt to ride higher, but not enough for him to tell.
“Are you doing nothing in my bed?”
“Do you want me to be?”
There was a small but shark intake of breath on the other end. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”
You pictured Robby spread out on a sofa in a log cabin somewhere far away. His legs would be spread wide, jeans and boxers pulled down till his cock, hard, was against his stomach. His laptop out at the coffee table, phone to his ear. You wondered if he took things slow? You'd always pictured him the hot and heavy type. His fist wrapped around his cock and pumping, tickling the dark hairs you imagined lived at the base of him.
Your hips jutted up as you pictured him. Hot and heavy. You imagined him next to you in his bed, his coarse hand tracing up your body, finger pinching your nipple.
“What have you been doing... at my place?” he asked, a sudden breathless tone to him. “In my bed.”
You bit back your lip. “Sleeping,” you teased.
Robby groaned, almost a growl. “What-what else?”
“Is there supposed to be something else?”
“Fuck, yes.”
Fuck yes. You pictured him spreading your legs, rubbing his mouth against you with the burn of his beard. Fuck yes. You imagined his cock heavy on your tongue, needy and groaning. Fuck yes. You pumped your fingers in and out and circled your clit imagining the plumpness of his fingers.
“Whatever- whatever you want me to be doing in your bed.” It was a dangerous sort of game you were playing, balancing over the line you weren't crossing with the cameras like it was a tightrope.
“Well... you know what a lonely, old man like me does in that bed, huh?” he said. “You wanna know?”
You nodded and without asking for words he started to tell you, because of course he didn't have to hear your confirmation to see you it.
“After long and hard days, just come home, put the tv on low, maybe some music... drink a beer,” he listed as you impatiently waited for him to get to the exciting parts. Still, his voice was enough to have your legs stretched open, your fingers working yourself open. “Sometimes it's tough to stop thinking about my pretty resident...”
“Hope you're not talking about Whitaker,” you joked.
“You know I'm not, baby,” said Robby with a shaky exhale. “You know I go home... get so hard thinking about you...”
You moaned out a gasp.
“You like me thinking about you?” he asked.
You thought of him spitting down on his cock, slowly rubbing it up and down. Or maybe he had pre-cum enough to lubricate it for him. “I do, I do.”
There was a puff of air on the other side. “You ever think about me?”
Your back arched off the bed as you curled your fingers inside of you. “Yes.”
“You ever think about me in that big lonely bed, my cock hard for you. God, can you picture me and my hands running all over you. Would start at the bottom. Would you be wet for me, babygirl?”
“Yes, Robby, yes, I am,” you gasped out.
There was a light chuckle.
“Oh, you are?” he said with a seethe. Was he teasing the tip of himself? squeezing and thinking about your hand there instead? “You thinking about me, baby?”
“You know I am.”
Robby laughed, the sort one laughed when they knew something you didn't. It was cruel. It was mean. But was it worse you knew and liked it? “Yeahhh, I know you are.”
You tilted your head into his pillow, shifting till you could breathe him in and careful not to drool. “Thinking about- about your tongue,” you said, rubbing your clit with hard pressure, trembling with need.
“My tongue, huh?” he said, a jangle of a belt. Was he pushing away his jeans and spreading his legs further? Were you framed on the counter, between his legs how he wanted you to be? “Are you thinking about my tongue in your needy pussy? Is it making you wet?”
“Yes, yes, Robby. I really want you.”
“Spread your legs for me.”
“They are.”
He grunted. “Wider.”
Almost irritated that he wasn't here, you pushed the cover down till you knew the camera could see all of you. Still clothed. Still clad. But Robby would be able to see your hand down your black panties and how far your legs fell open.
He pretended like he heard the covers move instead of saw it happen. “Fuck... yes, baby.”
“I wish you were here,” you said, eyes kept close to imagine him and to not give the camera a devilish wink. “Wish I- your cock-”
“What about my cock?” he asked, voice strained. “You want it? You want my cock? How'd you want it?”
You circled your fingers around you, jerking at every touch, desperate to come but even more desperate to keep it going. “Want to taste it. Lick it. I- I want to know what you taste like.”
Robby shuddered. It was like you could feel it through the phone and through you. “Shit, you-you can't say things like that, baby.”
“But really want it,” you moaned. “Always wanted it down my throat.”
“Oh fuck, always huh?”
“Always.”
“Well... you've been such a good girl looking after my place for me, haven't you?” he teased. Listening closely, you thought you could hear the sound of skin on skin, the slick squelch of it. His hand working himself, maybe he was even sweating with desire. “Sleeping in my bed, just like I wanted. Living in my space. Bathing in my shower. Maybe I should thank you...”
“Please, please Robby.”
“Ah, oh god,” he strained. “Would lay you out on my bed, clean up all your mess with my tongue. Think you'd have to suck on my fingers to stop all the moaning, I have neighbours, baby-”
You didn't care as you moaned out at that.
“- god I want to fuck you. Oh, I want to fuck you so bad.”
You put your phone on speaker, set it aside and worked your hand under your shirt to grope your breast, moving from one to the other.
“Keep playing with yourself, baby, keep playing with yourself,” he groaned.
“Robby, are you- are you close?” you asked. Every circle of your clit had you closer and closer to the edge, had your legs trembling and heart pounding. You could hear Robby mumbling to himself.
“Shit- god- you're always so beautiful. Spread out, god I can picture you. Your skin so smooth, pussy so sweet. Want to bury myself in there, yeah, fuck, baby-”
“Robby-”
“-Yes baby! I'm close- I'm close, I wont last.”
“Wanna hear you come,” you whined.
“You first,” he said. “Think of me there. Press you into my bed, have you on your stomach, press allll of me into you. Cock just- just buried inside you there. Could just watch your ass go, shit, get it red.... you know how. Oh my god baby, please come for me.”
You pressed down with circles on your clit and came around your fingers, whining, moaning and you heard Robby over the phone groaning, heard his small exclamations as he came around his hand.
“Oh baby, you did so good for me, so good,” he uttered as the both of you caught your breath.
You took your phone off speakerphone and placed it back to your ear. It was small but you felt closer to him with his voice deep down your ear.
“Now clean yourself up on my bed. When I come back, wanna smell yourself there with me.”
The Pitt swallowed you up the rest of the days that followed. As if it knew you had something to go home to, as if it knew you wanted to do nothing more than talk to Robby, think about Robby, dream about Robby, it kept you so busy with late nights and six am wake up calls you had little time to live in this new found lust.
Robby didn't push. You didn't speak about that night because you didn't have to. He still texted with regular check ups when you got home. Still send random pictures of lakes or trees but he knew the demands of work and he didn't prod.
“Have we got labs back on our guy in seven?” you asked Dana.
“Not yet, want me to chase them up?” she asked.
“Please. I'm already behind on discharging two patients,” you muttered to her as Al-Hishimi walked by, head held high as she over saw the place. “But all caught up on my charting!” you said loudly to assure her.
You got a nod back and that was enough for you.
“How's Robby?”
You looked back to Dana, lips pursed, brows raised in question. “What?”
“You heard from him? I guess you had, you stayin' in his place and all,” she said, looking at you through her glasses.
You checked down to your tablet and the patients in three and twelve you needed to discharge, hoping the glow of the screen wouldn't blow up your blush. “Er, yeah, he's doing good, I-I think. We don't talk... all the time.”
“Yeah?” Dana smirked.
You glanced back up at her, catching the knowing glint in her eyes. You looked back down. “Yeah.”
“Okay then.”
Dana moved around you from the counter, patting your hand lovingly before she stopped in her tracks. “Oh. Looks like I can ask him myself.”
“What?”
There were already crowding voices, people calling out his name and nurses going in for fist bumps and high fives. There were questions about what he was doing back earlier than he said, if he'd brought back any gifts. You even heard Garcia who was passing about that promised butchers knife.
Robby stood in the middle of the group like he was some celebrity but his eyes found yours over all of them.
“He returns!” cheered Dana, bringing her arms around him.
One of Robby's own arms snuck around her back. “And in one piece.”
She pulled away and slapped him in the chest. “Hey, don't joke about that.”
Slowly, with Dana's coaching everyone moved back, got back to their jobs and their life. And slowly, Robby sauntered over to you.
You tried to look busy. Tried to wet your mouth that had run dry at the sight of him. A hip bumped into yours as Santos- an all too giddy Santos- slid up next to you.
“Looks like we're back to being room-mates, roomie,” she teased with a grin.
“If I didn't know any better I'd say you'd missed me?”
Santos tried to brush it off but you saw the way she shifted her weight from foot to foot in discomfort. She usually only got so discomforted when emotions like love was involved. “Please. Just want to out-weigh Denis with gender again.”
You smelt Robby before you heard him. He said Santo's name, then yours.
Trinity welcomed him back before she left just as quick as she'd arrived.
Robby let on the counter next to you. He was in jeans and the same coat he'd left it, his bag slung on his back with a helmet dangling off the side. He wasn't working, but he'd came by anyway.
“You're back early,” you said, flicking between patient charts.
“Surprised?”
“Very,” you said, realising you weren't as confident as you'd been nights ago. “I can get my stuff out tonight.”
“I don't want you out,” he said, dropping his voice low. “You know why I came here early, don't go shy on me now.”
“I'm not going shy,” you said, though you were.
“Are you blushing?” he teased, the graze of his knuckle brushing your neck and sending tingels over your body.
“No.”
“You are.”
You batted him away and turned to consider him. “Why'd you come back early?”
Robby wet his lips, eyes casting over you. “Because I had something to come back for.”
You eyes averted to his hands, reverting back to thinking of the coarse skin and imagining him dragging his fingers over you. “I don't get off my shift for another two hours.”
“I can wait.”
Waited he did and the two of you barley made it past his front door before he was grasping you and kissing you. There was no hesitation in his hands or your lips. He gripped and squeezed your hips as the door slammed shut behind you. Robby didn't waste a second in pulling off his jacket and grabbing you again, as if scared you'd disappear in the wind.
He didn't even glance around his place. The only thing he was honed in on was you.
Your lips worked against his furiously, hands gripping his shoulders. “How was your trip?” you were breathless, pulling away to un-button his shirt.
Robby chased your lips, eyes closed, lips curling up into a drunken smile. “Fine.” He kissed you again, mint on his tongue. His hands were warm as they traced up your scrub top, un-tucking your vest from your pants.
His rough hands on your skin woke something else in you. A need you thought you'd made friends with but clearly didn't even know. He kneaded the skin at your hips, working hard to leave red marks.
“Dreamt about you,” he said, lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, nose nudging a path. “Every night.”
“Every night?” you gasped as he bit and licked up your neck.
“Mornings. Afternoons. All the time.”
Your smiled to yourself, pushing off his shirt. “It was supposed to be a relaxing break.”
“It wasn't.”
The two of you had stumbled to his room and pulled off clothes. The both of you knew the way well. By the time you'd pushed the door open Robby's belt was discarded as well as your shirt.
With firm hands Robby turned you around till you were facing the headboard, till his hips flushed against your ass and the rough denim of his jeans rubbed against your ass.
Your head lulled back onto his shoulder and he licked up your skin.
“This where you slept?” he muttered, nipping at your ear. “This where you touched yourself, thinking 'bout me?”
“Y-yes.”
You felt the scratch of his beard as he turned his head. You noticed, from the corner of his eyes that he looked up to the corner where the camera sat. He was delighting in this.
“Show me,” he demanded.
You wriggled against him, trying to turn and set yourself on the bed.
His hands gripped your hips. “No, show me here... now.”
All you could do was shuffle down your scrub pants and panties while Robby un-clasped your bra, messaging your breasts. You groaned at the feel of him working at you while you slid a finger over your folds.
“There we go, that's my girl,” he encouraged, chin resting on your shoulder and watching. “Another finger, another finger.”
You slid two in just as you had the other night, imagining his weight on you, his hands. You thought you were wet then but now your need spread down you.
Robby made out with the skin of your neck, stretching his arm out to hold yours that worked inside of you. “God, you're so beautiful. Could watch you like this all night.”
You whined, tilting your head back to give him more access. “Robby.” You thrust your ass back into his crotch and you could feel the hard outline of his cock.
“You come in this bed, huh?” he uttered.
“Y-yes.”
He hummed into your skin. “More than once I bet.”
“Yes, Robby!”
His hand snaked down to yours, helping move your fingers in and out of you. “God, you're so wet, so wet for me.”
Your hand flew up, grasping the back of his neck. “Robby, please... can I have your fingers inside of me?”
Robby smiled against you. “You asked so nicely. Such a good girl,” he said. His fingers wrapped around your wrist and brought out your fingers, leading your hand up to his mouth. “Bet you're not always though, huh?”
Two of his thick fingers pushed into your easily and he moaned.
“Fuck baby, you're warm... tight-”
You groaned at the feel of his fingers working inside of you and his tongue licking up the mess of your on his fingers. He brought your fingers into his mouth, groaning.
In moments you were withering, a moaning mess and grinding down on his hand while his tongue swirled around your fingers, sucking and nipping at your finger pads while his beard scraped your hand.
If those cameras kept a log somewhere, you were dying to see Robby. The feel of his hips rocking into you, him moaning around your fingers.
“Can you come on my fingers?” he asked, voice muffled by where he wouldn't release you in his mouth.
You shook your head in defiance. “I want- I want more.”
“You can have more, you can have more,” he said, finally taking your fingers from his mouth and licking up them. “But you have to come first.”
His thumb pressed down on your clit in small circles and your caved into his body, coming over his hand. Robby helped you ride against his hand.
Only when your body stopped moving and your chest calmed its heaving did Robby pull away from you.
He pushed you down on the bed, ass up and dropped to his knees, shoving his face between your folds.
You cried out at the feel of his tongue splitting your fold and soaking up your arousal and orgasm. His hands spread your thighs, pulling at the skin till you were spread, till his nose ran up and down. “Oh fuck, Robby!”
“Hold onto the sheets, baby,” he said, muffled inside of you.
There was little anything else for you to do. Your hands curled around the sheets, pulling. You thrust your ass up into his face but Robby welcomed it, chuckling into you. His beard scratched between your legs, deliciously.
He slurped once before pulling back, crowding over you till all of him was pressed against you. “Kiss me.”
And you did. You tasted yourself on his tongue, on his lips. He turned you down over onto your back and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into you till his weight was crushing you.
It could have been hours of breathing in each other, of licking into each others mouths, of sucking on each others bottom lips, of feeling each other up and mapping what made each other tingle and shake.
Robby stepped back and made a slow show of popping the button on his jeans and pushing them down slow with his boxers.
You crawled over the bed till you were at the edge, staring at his cock. There was dark hair over his chest, leading down to himself where he curved, hard up to his stomach.
Robby stared down at you, staring at him. “You want it? You want my cock?”
“Yeah... please...”
Robby stroked back your hair. “Did you think about my cock, in my bed?”
You looked up to him and smirked. “All the time.”
You took him into your mouth, slow and watched as Robby threw his head back. You could feel him tense before letting go, shoulders sagging, body melting as you slowly worked up and down his length, savouring the taste of him.
Robby kept on hand stroking back your hair tenderly but didn't push you down to his cock. He let you set the pace. “Oh my god,” he groaned as you licked the tip, circling it.
You learnt every tell of him. The tick of his jaw when you licked over him, the small pressure from his finger tips, his groans about how good you were doing that all went straight down to your core.
Whatever you'd imagined, this was better than any dream.
“Deeper... deeper.... there we go, baby, there we go... take me so good.”
You moaned around him and Robby chocked on a moan before pulling you off.
You knelt on the bed, hands running over the plumpness of his stomach. You peppered kisses along his chest as his hands pushed back your hair.
You glanced up at him, something wicked curling in your stomach as you saw him eye the camera again. “Robby...”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Were you ever gonna tell me about the cameras?”
He froze. You felt his heart pound under your hand, his eyes levelled on you. “You knew?”
“Duke told me.”
Robby scoffed, leaving you to figure Duke's visit did not capture Robby's attention over the camera's. “Duke.”
“He didn't mean to tell me... like you didn't.”
His breath stuttered, eyes peering at you like he was trying to read you. “I forgot.”
“Forgot?” your fingers curled around his cock.
He seethed in a breath. “You set the fire alarm off, fuck I saw you. Couldn't stop, but you knew didn't you?”
Your hand may have been wrapped around his cock but you didn't have the upper hand. He looked down at you with a knowing glint, his hand cupping your chin and forcing you to look up at him as you slowly stroked him.
“You got yourself off on it, put on a show for me,” he said, his fingers slowly stroking your chin. “Wanted this dirty old man to watch, didn't you?”
You swiped your thumb over the tip of his cock.
Robby seethed. “Yeah you did.”
A couple strokes later and Robby was moving away from you, leaving you to watch with wide eyes.
You watched as he pulled his phone out and set it in front of you before he climbed up on his bed behind you. Steadying himself on his arms he braced and slowly sank on top of you, the tip of himself rubbing between your folds.
The app.
The screen lit up with a HD video of you lying on the bed, Robby's body curving over you. You could see himself lowering himself into your folds.
“Fuck,” you moaned, eyeing the camera.
Robby kissed down your neck, bruises forming there. “You wanna watch yourself? You wanna watch yourself come on my cock, baby?”
You looked back at his phone. “Yes.”
“Dirty girl.”
Slowly, Robby pushed himself. He pushed in and pushed in and pushed in till he was groaning and his hips flushed yours. In the camera, you had become one.
“Ro-Robby,” you mewled.
His head comes down to your shoulder, kissing it gently as he looked down at the camera too. “Look at us, baby, look at us.”
Slowly Robby started to rock his hips, enough to set a tortuous pace.
“I watched you moan my name, while you pumped your fingers inside of you, you wanted me, didn't you?”
“Y-yes!”
Your body slowly moved with his thrusts, his arms tensing at your sides as he tried, desperately, to not give in. To not bite down on your shoulder and thrust harder. To not have his bedroom echoing with the thump of the bed and skin on skin.
“Please, please go harder,” you begged, reaching around to claw at his ass.
“Can't,” he grunted.
“Please!”
Robby's hand was firm around your neck as he leant over you. “I'll come baby, I'll come.” He thrust in deep, till you could feel the slap of his balls against your ass.
“Fuck!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he moaned, drawing the camera in closer. “You're so tight baby, taking it so well... just like I wanted you to.”
His thrusts grew faster, harder, his body plopping on yours leaving you a moaning mess. His hands couldn't settle, running over your hips, gripping and spreading the skin of your ass. He grunted and groaned and the two of you started to bounce on his bed.
“Tell me you liked me watching you,” he moaned.
“I- I liked you watching me come.”
“I heard you moan for me, in my bed.... breathing me in... you wanted me so bad.”
“Y-yes, Robby, so bad- so bad!”
Robby groaned and slid out of you, leaving you empty. He spared a minute to licking up the mess from the both of your arousal between your thighs before he turned you over, lying you flat and chucking his phone aside. He guided himself back into you and gripped your hips hard as he thrusted in.
He kept his lips close to you, brushing your lips against yours, taking your tongue as his.
“Thought of you every day,” he said, nose nudging yours. “I missed you so much.”
“I-I missed you too,” you moaned, holding his shoulders.
Your walls clamped around him.
“Arg, baby-baby-baby,” he babbled, lying his mouth flat open on yours, his tongue tasting yours and swapping spit.
A hand trailed between your bodies and ran over your clit.
“S'too-too much,” you cried.
“No it's not.”
“I can't, I can't,” you moaned, your walls tighter around him. “I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come-”
Robby bit down on the sweet spot around your ear and you released around him, back arching into him and leaving him moaning into your neck. “There we go, there we go- squeeze me, squeeze me!”
In one powerful thrust you felt his release shooting up your walls, painting you in him. His body sagged with stuttering thrusts as he spent himself.
Only once the both of you had calmed down did you catch your breath, sweaty skin on sweaty skin and lips swollen and red, bruises littering your neck.
Still inside of you, Robby reaches over and tilts your head back, the two of you grinning like love sick idiots.
“Smile for the camera, baby.”
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