REQUESTS: OPEN Mercury, they/them, 21 Please see my pinned post for my information :) You can also find me on Archive of Our Own as mercury_retrogay Have a wonderful day!
Fandom I Write For: The Pitt, Project Hail Mary, Top Gun and Top Gun: Maverick, Percy Jackson & related media (PJO, HOO, etc), and maybe more (one day)
*Italicized are the main fandoms and strikethrough are currently inactive
AO3 link
Important Note: The ONLY places I post are here as mercury-retrogay and on Archive of Our Own as mercury_retrogay so if you see my work posted under any other name without notice from me, it is STOLEN, so please reach out to me and let me know.
Who I write for:
All x readers can be gender neutral, female or male (please state which in the ask or I shall default to a random one lol)
The Pitt:
Any character x reader (including romantic, platonic, queerplatonic, and familial) with preference for…
Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, Jack Abbot, Dennis Whitaker, Trinity Santos, Samira Mohan, Victoria Javadi, and Cassie McKay
Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Jack Abbot (Rabbot)
Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Dennis Whitaker (Hucklerobby)
Jack Abbot x Dennis Whitaker (Huckleabbot)
Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Jack Abbot x Dennis Whitaker (Hucklerabbot)
Jack Abbot x Samira Mohan (Mohabbot)
Project Hail Mary
To be determined…
Top Gun and Too Gun: Maverick:
To be determined...
Masterlist:
The Pitt:
Jack Abbot x reader
…for I am the Lord who heals you (Father! Jack & child! reader)
Dennis Whitaker x reader
Study Buddies & Second Chances (Dennis x model! fem! reader)
What about the pitt × heavily alt!reader? Thinking either punk or goth and pierced, tattooed and funky hair colours. How would they react, what do they think about readers appearance, ect. Idm what characters! Do which ones you would like to include 🙏
The Pitt x Alt! GN! Reader
Including: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, Dennis Whitaker, Trinity Santos, Samira Mohan, and Victoria Javadi
Word count: 1.4k
Warnings: None really? Talks of getting tattoos or a bit on the history behind punk/alt looks, but all super vague. Maybe a bit suggestive for Santos?
Notes: Thank you for the request ahhh!!! I went with more of a vague “alt” description to allow flexibility in how the people want to imagine their fashion, etc, but did try to keep the more generalized look and punk/alt political views included (cause punk is more than an aesthetic and I'll fight anyone who disagrees-). I am pushing my evil leftist agenda here, folks! Hope you enjoy! It’s headcanons, so we have more characters :) This was also barely edited whoops-
Michael “Robby” Robinavitch:
Robby wasn’t exactly punk back in the day, but he definitely ran with similar crowds.
He attended a variety of protests in his youth, and after he became a doctor, he’d make a point to go and bring first aid supplies in case of emergency.
Needless to say, his issues with the government and capitalist systems go beyond Gloria and the hospital.
He thinks the look is cool as hell!
People like to act like alt styles are new and for teenagers or college students only. Robby calls bullshit.
He’ll come with you to tattoo appointments, and you’ve gone with him to a few of his as well.
He’s busy. Really busy. He still makes time to fuss over tattoo aftercare, as if you would somehow forget everything since the last session you had.
He is not good at dyeing hair, though he can hand you things if you need? He’s mostly there for emotional support.
No one is saying anything bad about your style around this man, I promise you.
He’s really into the DIY factor of alt styles!
He’s also too busy to ever get particularly “talented” at DIY beyond natural skill, but he likes to watch you work and marvel at the end product.
He’s good at grunt work, though. Give him something that needs to be sewn, and he’ll happily work away while a documentary plays on the TV.
Robby may not be young anymore, but he’s shockingly in tune with the alt movement. Not only is he educated, but he's into it and fully supportive.
Dennis Whitaker:
He’s overwhelmed.
Look, Whitaker has been out of Broken Bow long enough to really open his eyes to reality. That there’s a large variety of people who have different looks, opinions, feelings, experiences, etc.
So you’re not the first alt person he’s even met, obviously.
You are, however, very attractive, in his opinion, and having someone who looks like you return his feelings? Yeah. That's… a lot.
It takes him a minute to realize he won't offend you if he is confused, but afterwards, he asks questions. A lot of questions.
Ends up getting really into alt history, about the origins and meanings behind the different looks.
He texted you once to ask how prominent lace code was in Pittsburgh when someone at the ER was a total asshole to Dr. Robby, and they just so happened to have black Doc Martins and red laces.
He wants to help with everything.
He’s aware his past has left him behind in certain life experiences, and in his effort to catch up, he flies right past others.
You taught him how to dye hair properly, though he really didn't need much teaching. He’s attentive and only needs to be told once, researches beforehand, and is desperate not to mess up.
The results make him shockingly good at it despite his inexperience.
He goes bright red when you tell anyone that he dyed it for you.
Cashier: “I like your hair!” You: “Oh, thanks! My boyfriend did it.” And he’s fighting for his life beside you-
Traces your tattoos lazily, almost trance-like, during quiet moments.
He’s not trying to start anything, honest! They’re just,,, so fascinating.
Whitaker is more into the person than the look, but since how you present yourself is important to you, he is incredibly invested and willing to do whatever it takes to make you feel seen and appreciated.
Trinity Santos:
I just know she would love an alt partner, okay-
Santos wears more alt-leaning fashion herself on occasion, though she readily admits she’s “not on your level.”
She enjoys thrifting and will happily look for clothing for hours with you, though she has a bad habit of trying to find the most ridiculous things in the store and attempting to convince you to buy them.
You both have some absurd graphic t-shirts as a result.
Isn’t quite as skilled with DIY. She has all the right skills, but she tends to lack patience- either that or she just likes to see you covered in paint as you decorate a new jacket or pair of pants.
Would ask you to step on her-
Whoa, who said that? Cause they’re definitely right!
Anyhow-
Admires your tattoos. She wants to know the story behind them, if there are any, and invites you to come with her when she decides to get her own.
Her love for your artistic expression goes beyond staring though, worry not!
She is incredibly interested in following the ink with her mouth at any given opportunity.
If you want to go to a salon to get your hair done, she’d understand, but there's something about the two of you in a poorly ventilated washroom, attempting to do a complex hair dye pattern.
Music playing, leftover takeout still on the living room table, and her taking it way too seriously until you make eye contact in the mirror and start giggling.
She tried to kiss you and got dye on her forehead- thankfully, you noticed and removed it fast enough that it didn’t stain, but it did set you two off into hysterical laughter again.
You do dark blue highlights for her once. They’re really only noticeable in the sun. She adores them and how they made her think of you every time she sees them.
Santos is INTO the alt look okay do not test her-
Samira Mohan:
Mohan is pretty invested in social justice movements.
The research she put into those topics has allowed her to learn a lot about other communities, including alt groups.
Despite that, admittedly, she is still a bit confused, but she's got the spirit!
She’s a pleaser- she wants to know everything. She wants to help with whatever she can. She wants to be the perfect partner all the time (this can be an issue at times, but you're both working on it-)
At first, she didn’t think the heavily alt look would be something he was into?
Needless to say, she changed her mind.
She has a Thing for feeling a lip or tongue piercing against her, but anyhow-
She always buys dye for herself when you get yours, claiming she wants to dye her hair at some point.
She has yet to do so. Over 5 boxes are waiting in the bathroom cabinet for her.
Technically, she gets scary dog privileges from you. In reality, Mohan would destroy anyone who bothered the two of you. She just doesn’t look scary to others until you’re holding her back.
So good at DIY!
She likes to embroider and will help you wth your own projects.
You sneak tiny pieces on her pant cuffs or sweaters, small stars or bats. Easily hidden and unremarkable to anyone but Mohan, who now suddenly wants to cry.
Overall? Such a sweet and supportive girl, truly.
Victoria Javadi:
Javadi is fairly involved in the internet nowadays.
She’s seen a lot of styles and looks and can admire the time and effort that go into them.
TikTok has quite a few alt creators, so she’s definitely… appreciated the look before.
Though she never realized how much energy actually goes into the aesthetic, nor that it went beyond fashion.
Admittedly, she has some bias at first.
Her family can be intense, and she was pretty sheltered growing up. All of this seems so new to her, despite her age.
You will NOT be meeting any of her parents for… a while, needless to say.
Give her a bit of time to push past initial assumptions and watch some YouTube videos, and she's golden.
Adores the fashion side of it. She’ll ask for advice and your opinion all the time, even if the look she's going for isn’t alt.
She’s startled when she goes with you to a tattoo appointment, and you don't seem to even notice getting needles stabbed into your skin (despite the amount of tattoos you already have). That definitely hurts, right?
She gets concerned about how often you dye your hair and can get a bit finicky about hair health, trying to lure you into hair masks by applying them herself and gently scratching at your scalp.
She made you a charm bracelet as a gift, trying to match what you already wear, and gets flustered whenever you actually wear it.
Javadi doesn’t quite understand all the intricacies, but she adores you and is willing to learn.
something so fucking funny about robby lecturing whitaker on professional boundaries and in the same conversation asking him to consider moving into his house
bartender younger girlfriend, who gets brought in during Jack’s shift with a broken nose
Bar Fight
Pairing: Jack Abbott x Bartender!Girlfriend!Reader
Warnings/tags: protective!Jack, Hurt/Comfort, established relationship, age gap, physical assault (non-graphic), mentions of blood and bruising, medical setting, brief description of injury (broken nose)
Summary: A rough night leads Y/N to the ER, and Jack’s only priority is making sure she’s okay.
Requests are open | Masterlist
[...]
Jack Abbott wasn’t supposed to be on shift that long. He’d promised himself it would be a short one, just enough to help with the overflow, check on a couple trauma consults, and go home at a decent hour.
But like most promises in a trauma hospital, that one didn’t last.
He was just finishing up suturing a deep forearm laceration from a kitchen accident when Dr. Shen appeared in the doorway of the bay, his expression unreadable, which was never a good sign.
“Jack” Shen said. “You need to come to Bay 3. Now.”
Jack didn’t look up from his stitches right away. “Can it wait? I’m almost—”
“It’s Y/N” Shen said quietly. “She just walked in. Looks like a broken nose. Possibly more.”
Jack froze.
His hands were steady, but the world around him blurred for a second. He didn’t even register the nurse beside him offering to finish up the sutures. He set the needle driver down carefully, turned on his heel, and was gone without another word.
The walk through the ER felt like it took forever and no time at all. The second he rounded the corner into Bay 3, his chest tightened so hard it knocked the air from his lungs.
She was sitting on the edge of a gurney, shoulders tense, one hand pressing a bloodied towel to her face. She wore her usual bartending clothes, and her apron still hung half tied around her waist. Her lower lip was split, and blood streaked her cheek where it had run from her nose.
But she was upright. Conscious. Breathing.
“Jack” she breathed when she saw him.
He crossed the room in three steps, his hands already reaching for her but stopping short, hovering just in front of her face like he was afraid to hurt her.
“What happened?” he asked, voice low and tight.
“A guy at the bar didn’t like being cut off. Got grabby. I shoved him, and he hit me.” Her voice was slightly nasal from the swelling. “Security dragged him out. I’m fine, really”
“You’re not fine” Jack said. His eyes scanned every inch of her face, then flicked to her arms, her torso, looking for more injuries. “He hit you? With what? His hand? An object?”
“Just his fist. Straight to the nose. Guess he got lucky.”
He inhaled sharply, jaw clenched. “Lucky” he echoed. “Right.”
He turned to the nurse. “She’s with me. I’ll handle this.”
Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but the nurse nodded and stepped back, shooting her a knowing look before slipping out behind the curtain.
Jack finally touched her, gently cupping her cheek, brushing a smear of dried blood away with his thumb. His fingers trembled ever so slightly.
“You should’ve called me.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt your shift—”
“I don’t give a damn about my shift when you walk in bleeding” he said. “You could’ve passed out on the way here. What if you were concussed? What if he’d done worse?”
“I’m okay,” she said softly, leaning into his touch despite the ache.
“You’re bleeding,” he said again, like he didn’t believe it even now. “Come on. Let’s take a closer look.”
He helped her down gently and guided her to a nearby trauma room a little more private, quieter. Once inside, he sat her on the gurney and clicked on the overhead lamp, his eyes still dark with concern.
She let him work in silence as he palpated around her nose and cheekbones with skilled fingers.
“Definitely broken” he said after a moment. “Clean break, though. No eye socket involvement. You’re lucky.”
“I keep hearing that tonight” she muttered.
Jack didn’t smile. “I’m not joking.”
He grabbed supplies and paused when he turned back to her.
“Can I?” he asked, lifting the syringe gently.
She nodded. “Go for it. You’ve already seen me cry over Disney movies. I can’t embarrass myself any further.”
Jack let out a breath, a faint smile ghosting across his lips, and injected the anesthetic with careful precision. He watched her the whole time, not just the injection site, but her face, her breathing, any sign that she was flinching or hiding pain.
“Jack” she murmured when he stepped back. “You don’t have to baby me.”
“Yes, I do” he said simply. “Because you’re mine. And someone hurt you.”
The softness of his voice made her chest ache in a completely different way.
He splinted her nose with steady hands, but when he was done, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he sat on the gurney beside her, his hand sliding gently into hers.
“You could’ve been seriously hurt.”
“I’ve had worse bar fights.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“I know” she whispered. “But I handled it. I’m okay now.”
Jack looked at her like she had no idea what her own face looked like. “You’re bleeding. Bruised. Shaken up. That’s not okay in my book.”
She reached up with her free hand and tugged at his sleeve. “But you’re here now.”
He exhaled slowly and leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, mindful of the splint.
“I don’t care how many hours I’ve worked. If anything like this happens again, you call me first. Understood?”
She nodded. “Yes, Dr. Abbot.”
“That’s not fair” he said, finally letting a smile creep into his voice. “You’re not allowed to flirt while wearing a bandage I applied.”
She snorted, then winced. “Ow. Okay, laughing hurts. New rule: no jokes.”
Jack kissed the top of her head gently.
They sat in silence for a few more moments, his fingers laced with hers, the chaos of the ER muffled behind the curtain.
Eventually, Jack glanced down at her and asked, “Want to come home with me tonight?”
She looked up at him through tired eyes. “I thought you were on call.”
“My shift is almost over”
Y/N smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. “Only if you let me eat ice cream for dinner.”
“Done.”
“And let me control the TV.”
He hesitated. “Even if you choose reality dating shows?”
She looked up at him, smug. “Especially then.”
He groaned. “Fine. But only because you got punched in the face.”
She leaned into him, warm and safe. “You’re a very romantic trauma doctor, you know that?”
He kissed her temple again. “Only for you.”
[...]
Back at his apartment, Jack cleaned the last of the blood from her face, his touch impossibly soft while she put on the last episode of a reality show he didn’t know the name
"You’re gonna have a hell of a shiner tomorrow" he muttered, tracing the bruise.
Y/N shrugged. "Worth it. Dude’s banned for life."
Jack’s expression darkened. "He’s lucky that’s all that happened."
She studied him. The tension in his shoulders, the storm in his eyes, and sighed. "Jack."
"What?"
"You’re doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"That thing. Where you look like you’re five seconds away from hunting someone down."
He didn’t deny it.
Y/N cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. "I’m fine. I Promise."
Jack exhaled sharply, leaning into her touch. "...I hate seeing you hurt."
"I know." She smiled. "But you fixed me up pretty good, Doc."
He huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Damn right I did."
“...I love you, you know.”
“I know,” he said, brushing his thumb across her temple. “And I love you too.”
And when she curled into his side that night. Safe, warm, his. Jack swore to himself that no one would ever lay a hand on her again.
This is some good shit- we love yearning when they’re already in the relationship, the protectiveness, the concern and care, ughhh well done i would give you a high five if i could (the highest of praise i assure you)
trinity santos is a study in fandom misogyny because they gave her all the characteristics fandoms usually salivate for in men, being gruff, quippy and misunderstood with a tragic backstory but a heart of gold beneath it all. they put all this into her AND let her be a lesbian. she's everything you could ever want in a character but she's not a man so half the fandom either hates her or constantly mischaracterizes her as petty, callous and aggressive while doing mental gymnastics to baby the male characters around her
Something something the implications behind Chekhov's gun being seemingly pointed at Robby this season, who is showing strong signs he’s suicidal, and Abbot, who we met last season on the edge of the roof, was reintroduced this time with a bullet graze-
this season of the pitt feels less like a chekovs gun on the wall and more like robby on a unicycle juggling 12 loaded pistols in the background of every scene
I feel like Robby would get jealous way more often (he’s insecure and we all know it okay-) but when Jack gets jealous it’s a bigger deal.
Cause Robby gets touchier, maybe a bit mean towards the person involved, as if trying to prove a point, but ultimately will let it go in the end (especially if Jack gives him some motivation to-).
But Jack? Jack gets possessive. He doesn’t like it, hates how immature it feels. But after losing so many people, over and over again, after nearly losing Robby to himself?
He goes quieter than usual. Sometimes it’s so subtle Robby misses the signs, right up until Jack finds a way to lure him off alone somewhere, pushes him against a wall and drops to his knees
Robby goes easily, of course. He doesn’t like seeing Jack upset, always eager to help. And, well, he was easy for Jack, anyhow
If they bother to show back up at all, it’s glaringly obvious what just happened. Their lips are swollen, Jack’s hair is messier, and Robby’s eyes almost look like he’d been crying (he had been, embarrassingly enough, as well as begging- Jack always pushed him further when he was in this state and Robby could never find it within himself to want him to stop).
It’s not a display to warn anyone off, really, though if it makes the point clearer, Jack wouldn’t complain. It’s more of a side effect of the sudden, suffocating urge to have Robby, in that moment. Better said, to have Robby gasp out reminders that he belongs to Jack, always, he promised, please please-
They’ve always had a claim over each other that no one else could reach, but if Robby’s jealousy demanded he show that fact to other people, then Jack’s behaviour was to prove it to himself.
I fear the AO3 curse has hit me and I’m now suddenly moving continents-
Fics will be slightly slower for this month, but I hope to do a few asks and I’ve drafted a part 2 of “for I am the Lord who heals you”, the father!Jack Abbot & child!reader
Look I love the “character acts protective over the reader who is upset and/or hurt” troupe as much as the next person (aka everyone else who grew up feeling undervalued and unsafe in their environment), BUT-
I do love it, maybe even more, when the character doesn’t seem they would be overly protective.
Like Jack Abbot? Of course he’d fuck someone up if they went too far. We all have eyes.
But consider Samira Mohan for example. Highly emphatic, often considered a people pleaser. And she’s glaring at someone, fingers twitching as if imagining a scalpel in them, because they just can’t take a damn hint, pushing too far and making you uncomfortable-
If people think that girl is intense about patient satisfaction, imagine her with someone she loves being unhappy. She is relentless. And she’s not quick to violence, but if she gets pushed that far? They definitely have it coming.
third eye opened with ur post about mohan getting very protective seeing her partner hurt. i love how u contrasted her unexpected defensiveness with abbot who is a kinda given protector. def made me think many mohabbot x reader thoughts that i would love to see u expand if you’re up to it! maybe r deals with a scary situation at work and before abbot can even begin to step in, samira is on that. leaving it very vague bc im sure whatever ideas you could conjure up would do more justice than i could lmao
Mohanabbot x fem! reader (Samira Mohan x Jack Abbot x fem! reader)
Summary: You get the rare chance to work with both of your partners on the same shift. Things go wrong, and then very right.
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings: 18+ CONTENT - minors DNI, talks of past smut, hints that smut occurs after the fic, violence towards reader, discussion of potential death from health issues, threats of violence or actions that could lead to death, probably medical malpractice but leave me alone, Mohan is badass I love her, probably not enough editing, idk it's not as intense as it sounds i think-
Notes: This... got away from me. I legit loved the prompt thank you for letting me talk more about this idea!!! I hope it lived up to your hopes and dreams! I did not edit this as much as I would have liked to so hopeful it's decent lol
Whenever you got the opportunity to work with both of your lovers, it was either going to be a good day or the absolute worst, with very little room for middle ground.
Jack Abbot worked the night shift. He enjoyed the simplicity of it, how the number of patients slowed, but the desperation seemed to surge. Most people would rather wait till morning to visit the ER unless they were on their deathbed. Those who did come in didn’t care if he was polite; they just wanted him to save their life. It was more familiar to the lives he had led before.
Samira Mohan could not be more different in that regard. She lived for the brief moments of connection, where, between all the pain and fear, she could provide a piece of herself to soothe them. In exchange, something warm would trickle into her chest, cradled safely between her ribs. The day shift gave her the chance to form those bonds.
Once, Jack had quietly asked Samira how she had so much of herself left after all this time to keep giving more away. He didn’t seem to understand why you both had looked so sad. That night, you slept curled up on top of him with Samira tucked into his side.
You switched between shifts on occasion, mostly filling in when the night shift needed you. Nursing was never easy; that didn’t change based on the time of day. It was about learning to live with your own wounds and trying to do enough to lessen the pain in the world. Call it God or karma or wishful thinking, humans will care for others and hope someone cares for them.
It was a result of that care that you met Samira, and shortly after, Jack. It was that ability to care that connected you all, allowed something as extraordinary as love to become familiar and safe.
The different schedules made things difficult, but you always managed. There were shifts where, only by happenstance, you all worked together. There were also shifts where you all worked together very intentionally, though urgent requests for extra staffing were rarely a cause for celebration.
Today, you got lucky. It was a coincidence that Samira was scheduled to pull a double before somehow managing to get three days off afterwards, and you had been placed on night shift for the last few weeks.
Jack seemed pleased, all dry humour and quiet support, nudging you both to stop and eat during the slower moments. You’d caught him placing a kiss on Samira’s forehead earlier as she leaned her weight against him.
Samira, on the other hand, was tired, though it was unlikely that anyone other than you and Jack could tell. The night was dragging on, slow enough that Shen had managed to finish his drink and attempt (and technically succeed) in smuggling Uber Eats in before 4 am. Finally, it was 6:30, with only half an hour left until the day shift would take over. You could go home, eat some leftovers (God bless Samira Mohan and her inability to control portion sizes when cooking- there were always extras), and pass out in a pile on the bed.
Maybe that’s why she responded the way she did. Maybe it was the quiet chaos of nightshift, infecting her throughout the night. Maybe it was because when Samira Mohan loved, she loved so intensely it burned. And tonight, it burned more than her.
A man, Joseph White, mid-40s, presented with chest pain, a rapid heart rate, and shortness of breath. Samira was on her towards the man’s room with his results.
You were already in his room, attempting to explain that yes, Dr. Mohan had placed a rush order on his results, she would be back soon, and you appreciated his patience. That, for his own safety, you could not give him more pain medication before his results came back.
Across the Pitt, leaning against the nurses' desk, Jack stared openly at the scene. He’d learnt early on that neither of you appreciated him trying to play hero if it wasn’t needed, though the message had yet to fully stick. It was a bit conflicting to scold a guy the whole way home and then drop to your knees the moment the door shut behind you, after all.
She was less than one step away from entering the room when it happened. Mr. White’s hand lashed out suddenly, gripping your wrist harshly. His mouth opened to speak- more demands, perhaps, or insults. You never found out, as Samira’s voice rang out cleanly.
She didn’t yell. She didn’t need to. The ER hushed.
“Approximately a hundred thousand people in America die from pulmonary embolisms every year.”
His grip loosened, allowing you to slip away, cradling your wrist with your other hand. You stepped back, angling your body slightly behind Samira. Across the Pitt, Jack was already moving towards you both, face dangerously blank.
Mr. White sputtered, “Excuse me?” as if Samira had asked him to go jump off the hospital roof. If Jack got to the bastard first, he was considering trying to personally assist the man in doing just that.
“They’re actually fairly common. Completely curable if caught early. But if you fail to get treatment in time, it will kill you. 1 in 4 people die before even knowing what is happening. They just drop dead. In their homes, on the streets, at work or the store.” She stared down at him, then cocked her head to the side. You’d never seen her look so calm, yet simultaneously furious. It should have been contradictory. And yet. “I’m grateful you came in today and allowed us to run tests. Now we can treat you.”
The room was still. Jack had reached you, now, but said nothing, simply tucking his arm around you and shifting you closer. Familiar warmth seeped through your scrubs and into your side.
“Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center has a zero tolerance policy for violence and harassment. Those who break that policy can be refused treatment. The next nearest hospital is half an hour away, more with morning traffic.” Samira paused, then. She looked away from him for the first time to scan across your body, pausing where you still held your wrist. “As your doctor, I’d highly suggest we begin treatment now. It could save your life. But if you touch my nurse again, I will have you thrown out of here before you can open your mouth and start begging.”
Jack’s fingers twitch against your waist in perfect time with the breath hitching in your lungs. That shouldn’t be hot, right? You snuck a glance up at Jack’s face, and- Ah. At least you weren’t alone in your thoughts, even if he still looked rather murderous. Both expressions looked good on him. You forced yourself to focus back on the current situation.
“What will it be? Can we begin treatment, Mr. White?” You’d never seen Samira speak so long to a patient without smiling.
He was pale and sweating, though whether it was from pain, genuine fear, or some combination of the two was unclear. He nodded shakily.
Finally, Samira smiled. It was cold. “Great. A doctor from the day shift will be in momentarily to start your medication.”
With that, she spun on her heel and left the room. The three of you ducked into an empty room and slid the curtain shut. You’d barely made it inside when Samira’s lips were on yours, insistent and frantic. Her hands reached out and gripped your scrubs, almost lifting you off your feet. After a few moments, a shaky gasp escaped her. Then she pulled back. You slumped backwards into Jack, who held you easily.
“That fucking bastard-” You should be upset, right? Angry or scared. Definitely not turned on. Some wires must be crossed, somewhere. “I can’t believe he’d- god, I should’ve kicked him out regardless, how dare he-”
She caressed your wrist, hands gentle despite the harsh words. It would bruise, likely, but it was far from the worst you'd seen at the ER. It wasn’t even the worst you’d personally received. Jack shifted, his hands sliding around your waist and clutching you closer to himself.
“Samira,” You reached out with your other hand, holding her face in your hands, forcing her to look you in the eye. “It’s okay.”
Her whole body jerked in response, face twisted. “That was not okay,” Her voice lowered, as if her words alone could will it to become truth.
“Okay, okay, but I’m okay,” You tangled your fingers with hers while she continued to check your wrist, halting her movements. “I just want to go home.”
Jack’s voice rumbled out behind you, so close you could feel the vibration of his chest. “You two go meet me in the car. I’ll get Parker and Shen to handle shift change for me and be out soon.”
Usually, you’d both argue. Changeover was important. It could kill people if done incorrectly. But with the adrenaline still pumping and the shift practically over, it was easier than usual to let it go and trust the team had it handled.
By the time Jack made it out of the hospital, Samira had you in her lap in the backseat, and any of the leftover fatigue vanished. Jack slid into the driver's seat and turned to check on you both before cursing and starting the car with unusually shaky hands.
None of you would ever hear the end of it if you fucked in the parking garage, and car sex was not easy with 3 people. Behind him, a breathy whine rang out, followed by a coo from Samira as she clutched you closer.
What about a Dennis x reader, Dennis for a bit listing all the nicknames he’s had and reader actually likes “huckleberry” saying they could be the “strawberry shortcake to his huckleberry pie” and actually explaining who Strawberry Shortcake is and the characters.
Dennis Whitaker x reader
Summary: When you see something wrong in the world, it's your moral responsibility to try and fix it. This also applies to Dennis and children tv shows, somehow.
Warnings: None really, unless fluff counts- some mentions of Dennis having a shitty childhood
Notes: Thank you for the request!!! This is SUPER short but I wasn't quite sure where to go with it. I decided to do mostly headcanons for the ~vibes~, hope you like it! My Strawberry Shortcake knowledge is rather lacking but I do own the Unofficial Cookbook, so there's that.
It started out as a joke.
Trinity was working a double, presumably cursing Dennis' name as he laid on the couch, more so watching you than watching the movie.
He knew she was annoyed to be working overtime (even if she offered to take it so he wouldn't have to, claiming it would spare the laundry staff from more scrubs-) because she had sent him 10 messages within the last minute, contemplating if she could get away punching a patient
The answer was determined to be "probably not"
It was a slow night at the Pitt, and not the good kind
He'd asked you to read out the texts for him, throwing you his phone as he left to grab more popcorn
Somehow, that was the first time you came across the nickname Huckleberry
"Why Huckleberry?"
"I mean, I didn't choose it! It's like, a farm joke? That's what most of her nicknames are about."
That lead to a long conversation about the nicknames he's gotten, from childhood to present
"Awww, they called you bug? That's so cute!"
"I mean, it was mostly because, and I quote, 'I bugged them so much', so-"
"Oh. Well. What the fuck."
The list got longer when he went to med school, with the classic additions of farm boy or deceased Victorian child (though maybe that last one didn't count-)
The Pitt added even more, including the title of Scrubs, unfortunately
And of course, Huckleberry, which has so far outlasted all of the others
"I mean, it's kinda sweet? It doesn't have to be a bad thing, you could be the Huckleberry Pie to my Strawberry Shortcake."
"I genuinely have no idea what you just said to me."
The gasp you let out would be concerning under any other circumstances
But it was hard to complain when the you draped yourself across him dramatically, declaring your horror for his "horrible childhood"
As if the lack of kid shows was the thing that crossed the line, not anything else that occurred when he was younger-
It only got worse what he failed to recognize over half of the shows and movies you named
A list was drafted up of required media that he HAD to watch
That was how Trinity found the two of you the next afternoon, after she finally crawled out of bed
You both were curled up under a blanket on the couch watching How To Train Your Dragon
"I thought you guys were going out?"
"There was an emergency. Dennis has never seen any kids good movies, ever."
"And this is what you started with?"
"I- yes? Obviously?"
"Good choice. I'm going back to sleep. We're doing Coraline later."
Look I love the “character acts protective over the reader who is upset and/or hurt” troupe as much as the next person (aka everyone else who grew up feeling undervalued and unsafe in their environment), BUT-
I do love it, maybe even more, when the character doesn’t seem they would be overly protective.
Like Jack Abbot? Of course he’d fuck someone up if they went too far. We all have eyes.
But consider Samira Mohan for example. Highly emphatic, often considered a people pleaser. And she’s glaring at someone, fingers twitching as if imagining a scalpel in them, because they just can’t take a damn hint, pushing too far and making you uncomfortable-
If people think that girl is intense about patient satisfaction, imagine her with someone she loves being unhappy. She is relentless. And she’s not quick to violence, but if she gets pushed that far? They definitely have it coming.
can i ask what a QPR is you have it in like the section of what you write for
This alone tells me how much time I spend on tumblr lol cause I genuinely did not think to add the longer name-
It’s for queerplatonic relationships. The are more common for people on the aromantic spectrum but anyone can have one. There’s a few definitions but the simplest way I can describe it is a relationship that is not romantic in nature but still considered different or more “elevated” than a typical friendship. Sometimes this includes a sexual relationship, other times the relationship will live together, get married or raise children together. It’s a deeper emotional connection or intimacy levels than a friendship. It’s also a spectrum for people, based on the comfort/needs of those involved, and every queerplatonic relationship can look different, since the “queer” term is more about a lack of conforming to traditional relationship norms or expectations.
Imma update my writing section with the longer name though, thank you for pointing this out!
