Summary: Daryl can't tell if he's jealous of you or Dog
A/N: this isn’t really my usual kind of imagine, but i wanted to try something a little different and see how it feels. i’ve been wanting to write for Daryl for a while, so this is me testing the waters a bit. the Joe and Steve imagines are still staying, don’t worry, i’m just letting myself branch out a little.
Daryl Dixon would never say it out loud, but it was starting to piss him off.
Not the walkers. Not the endless road. Not even the group and their constant noise. No, it was his own damn dog.
It had started small, the kind of thing he could almost ignore at first. Dog would trail after you during watches, sticking close like he’d quietly decided you needed guarding more than anyone else in camp. Daryl had brushed it off in the beginning, you had a habit of slipping the mutt scraps of jerky or whatever was left from dinner when you thought no one was looking. Dog had always been a sucker for anything edible, never one to turn down a handout.
But then it kept happening. Night after night.
Now Dog was stretched fully across your lap by the low fire, his head heavy on your thigh, eyes half-closed in pure contentment as your fingers worked slow, steady circles behind his ears. The dog looked stupidly relaxed, like he’d found a rare bit of heaven in a world that usually offered nothing but dirt, blood, and hard ground.
Daryl stood a few feet back from the flames, crossbow slung over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the dark tree line out of habit. He kept glancing over anyway, unable to help himself.
“Traitor,” he muttered under his breath.
You looked up from where you sat against the fallen log, a small smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. “You talking to him or me?”
“Dog,” Daryl answered, walking closer with that familiar loose stride. He dropped down across the fire from you, elbows resting on his knees as he settled in. “Definitely the dog this time.”
Dog flicked one ear at the sound of his voice but didn’t bother lifting his head. His tail gave one lazy thump against your leg, like he was too comfortable to do anything more.
You chuckled quietly, still stroking the dog’s side with slow, absent movements. “He’s got good taste. Warmth and company beat sleeping alone on the cold ground any night.”
“He’s got fur,” Daryl grumbled, pulling an arrow from his quiver just to have something to do with his hands. He checked the fletching even though it was perfectly fine. The fire crackled softly between you, pushing back the evening chill that had been settling in around the edges of camp. Somewhere out in the dark, a walker groaned once, low and distant. Nothing close enough to worry about tonight.
You shrugged lightly, glancing down at Dog with a fond look. “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like a little extra attention now and then. You gonna sit over there all night pretending you’re not feeling the cold too?”
Daryl eyed the narrow space beside you. Dog was hogging most of it, sprawled out like he owned the spot, but there was just enough room left. He hesitated for a second, jaw tight, then stood with a quiet sigh and moved around the fire. He lowered himself down next to you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours. Close enough to share some warmth, not so close that it felt forced or awkward.
Dog immediately shifted, stretching out lazily until half his weight rested against Daryl’s leg. The tail thumped again, slower this time, full of quiet satisfaction.
“Pushy bastard,” Daryl said, but his voice had lost most of its earlier edge. He let his hand rest on the dog’s back, fingers idly brushing through the thick fur. Not quite petting, just acknowledging the animal was there between you.
You leaned your head back against the rough bark of the fallen log, keeping your shoulder pressed comfortably to Daryl’s. “See? He’s happy now. Both of us here. Feels better than sitting alone on opposite sides of the fire, doesn’t it?”
Daryl grunted in response, staring into the dancing flames. The firelight played across his face, softening the usual hard lines around his eyes and mouth just a little. “Yeah. Suppose it does.” He paused, then added gruffly, “You’re good with him. Real patient. Most people lose interest in a dog like him pretty quick out here.”
You smiled a little, your fingers continuing their gentle path through Dog’s fur. “He’s not hard to like once you get used to him. Loyal. Quiet when it counts. Reminds me of someone else I know pretty well.”
Daryl bumped your shoulder with his own, the contact light and almost playful. “Shut up.”
But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he settled in a bit deeper, letting the comfortable quiet stretch between you for a while. The night felt calmer with the three of you like this, the steady crackle of burning wood, Dog’s even breathing, and the solid warmth of Daryl’s presence beside you. Small comforts like these were rare in a world that rarely handed them out willingly.
After a few minutes, you spoke again, keeping your voice low. “You know he still follows you every morning when you head out scouting. Looks for you first thing, every time. You’re still his favorite. I’m just… extra.”
Daryl glanced sideways at you, his expression guarded but with something warmer flickering underneath. “Didn’t ask for extra.”
“Too bad,” you teased lightly, the words carrying no real pressure. “You got it anyway.”
He snorted softly, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in that tiny, rare almost-smile he sometimes let slip. Dog sighed deeply between you, completely relaxed, like he knew exactly what he’d accomplished by nudging the two of you closer together without trying.
Daryl’s hand shifted slightly, brushing against yours where it rested on the dog’s side. Neither of you moved away. His rough fingers lingered there for a moment, tracing a slow, absent line across your knuckles before settling comfortably.
“Still a traitor,” he muttered, looking down at Dog with a hint of reluctant fondness.
“Yeah,” you whispered, leaning your head lightly against his shoulder. “But a good one. Gets us sitting like this instead of freezing separately in the dark.”
Daryl didn’t answer right away. He just stayed right there, letting you rest against him while the fire kept the worst of the chill at bay. The distant groans of walkers felt farther off than usual, almost easy to tune out. For a little while, the whole world narrowed down to this simple moment: the dog warm and heavy across both your laps, Daryl’s shoulder steady under your head, and the quiet understanding passing between you that didn’t need big words or declarations.
“Guess it ain’t so bad,” he said eventually, his voice low and rough around the edges.
You smiled against the fabric of his jacket, the expression small and content. “No. Not bad at all.”
The three of you stayed like that long into the night, sharing the small stretch of peace and warmth while the rest of the uncertain world waited just beyond the reach of the firelight.
first kiss with boyfriend!choso except he doesn’t know what a kiss is ᝰ.ᐟ fluff, fem!reader
“do you think it’d be weird if i kissed him?”
maki had looked at you like you had two heads when she asked, “why would that be weird? he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”
“well, yeah… but, isn’t the guy usually supposed to do it first?”
“choso wasn’t even a fully conscious being a year ago.” she scoffed, “your boyfriend is essentially one of those expanding pill toys we used to soak in the sink as kids. there’s nothing ‘usual’ about you two. I say go for it.”
you nibble the inside of your lip as you think back to the conversation you’d had with your friend just a few hours earlier. she was right, there is absolutely nothing normal about a jujutsu sorcerer and a death painting being in a relationship, so perhaps it isn’t fair to apply the same expectations you would a normal guy to choso. and though he was different from any guy you’d been with before, you could say with utmost certainty that no one has ever treated you as well as your sweet boy does, even if his methods were a little unconventional at times and he still referred to you as his ‘mate’ instead of his girlfriend. but that was just something you’d gotten used to.
the two of you are sat under a tree on a breezy day with your back against the bark and choso’s head tucked in your lap contently. he has his eyes closed but you can tell he’s not sleeping, just resting, his pretty lashes kissing his cheeks. chest rising and falling slowly. if anything, his relaxed stature should mirror onto you but it only makes you more nervous.
gently, you move to hold his face in your hands, thumbs dusting over his cheeks which makes him exhale a breath through his nose a little heavier in response. though no longer a stranger to your touch, it still makes his heart skip all the same. choso and affection had never crossed paths until he’d met you.
and slowly, you lower your face to his, eyes drawing to a close when you carefully slot your lips over his own. you remain there for a beat before you pull away to see a pair of alerted, intense eyes staring directly into yours.
“what did you just do?”
he’s so matter of fact. you still aren’t quite sure if you’re used to how much weight his voice has when he uses it. how it feels like he’s speaking into you instead of to you.
“um, I-“ you swallow, hard. “it was a kiss. i kissed you.”
you hadn’t really thought this through, you realize as your mouth runs dry. feels like it’s been filled with sand.
“why? what is a ‘kiss’?” he’d paused to taste the word, like he’d never spoken it before. because he hadn’t.
“it’s what you do when you like someone. when words aren’t enough to show it. you put your lips on theirs, and… move them.”
you were going to kill maki.
he nods, but he still seems to be thinking on it. “what does it mean?”
“it’s kind of hard to explain. but it’s supposed to be a good thing, you know… that couples do.” he shifts slightly, arms coming up to cross under his head instead. his knuckles brushing against the skin of your thighs, the feeling of his hands making you fidget a bit. they were almost hot.
“how’d it make you feel?” you ask.
“do it again.”
“what?”
he repeats himself, “do it again. you caught me off guard the first time.”
so you do as you’re told. once. just a peck, barely a second. then again, but this time, you stay long enough to feel his lips tentatively start to move against yours. to feel them press deeper into yours when his chin tilts upwards.
a breath is shared between the two of you, lips ghosting against each other’s before you pull away completely.
your heart is beating fast and you know he can sense it.
“so? now how do you feel?” it comes out really soft because you’re nervous and you truly can’t read him right now.
he looks… confused. curious? you don’t know, but there’s a harsh line between his brows while he mulls on his answer.
“warm. like my blood is about to burst through my veins any second now… like—“ his lips close, then part again, but it takes a few more seconds for words to escape and for the first time ever you hear choso trip over his words. “like the feeling you get when you’re getting ready to fight someone. but… different. more intense.”
“cho, it’s okay if you didn’t like—“
he doesn’t let you finish.
“give me more,” and he tacks it on for good measure because yuji’s told him he needs to work on his manners. “please.”
much appreciation for people who create ocs that are clearly derivative of The Character because even if the inspiration is clear, they had the self awareness that their headcanons had snowballed so far past character analysis into pure self indulgence that there was very little of source material left. and that’s beautiful. sometimes when you’re preoccupied playing touys it’s hard to take a step back and realize you’ve actually created something wonderful and new
Your best friend Choso accidentally sends you an nsfw video | 18 + minors do not engage
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A soft "ding!" reverberated through your quiet bedroom just past midnight, announcing a late night message from your best friend Choso; not unusual since the two of you texted each other like you'd die without constant contact. You stirred in bed, unlocking your phone to a new video in the age-long chat you and Cho used so frequently to send memes and talk shit.
But everything changed when you opened it. Labored breathing echoed from your phone's speakers as Choso appeared to prop his phone up on his desk. You couldn't see much of his face but you'd recognize the manga collection and intricate purple LED lights illuminating the background anywhere.
He leaned back in his gaming chair, the one you'd spent countless hours in kicking his ass at Mario Kart, and his caloused hand dipped into the waistband of his sweats–wait, what???
You paused the video, double checked the recipient name. It still read "Cho 👾💜", confirmation that you somehow weren't hallucinating.
Your finger hovered cautiously above your screen a moment, contemplating whether or not to keep watching, countless thoughts swirling around your head before you ultimately decided to hit play.
As soon as the video resumed, Choso's length sprung free from the confinement of his sweats and your jaw went slack. He's huge, information that never came up in your decade of friendship. And why would it? You only saw each other as friends, right?
That's what you thought to yourself as the video continued and his thumb smeared the precum that pulsed from his swollen pink tip. But then you heard your name on his lips, spoken like a dying man's wish while his chest heaved and his body shuddered.
You damn near dropped your phone , catching it mid air before repositioning it inches from your face like you needed to hear every breath and see every detail—every inch, every vein—to believe it was real.
The video still played, your best friend's ragged breaths and desperate moans spilling from your speakers as his hand stroked his veiny length. Choso appeared to lean down, his silver piercing sparkling as a glob of saliva slid off his adorned tongue and onto his tip, cascading down and pooling obscenely at his fist.
You should stop the video. Obviously he sent it on accident, right? But you were stunned. You couldn't look away if you wanted to, and honestly, you weren't sure that you did.
Especially not as his movements became sloppy, erratic, his moans turned to outright whimpers. "Please, oh fuck, oh my god," he was begging to cum, his tattooed arm flexing as his hips spasmed, desperately lifting with each wet stroke to fuck his own fist harder and faster.
With wide eyes and a confusing flutter in your stomach, you witnessed a side of him you never realized you wanted to see. You were mesmerized and hopelessly turned on, unable to tear your eyes from the screen.
You watched eagerly as one large hand grabbed onto the arm of his gaming chair, the other stroking sloppily, desperately, as your best friend chased his high with your name tumbling off his lips like it was an every day occurrence. Was it?
You found your breaths quickening in time with his as Choso's head leaned back, Adam's apple bobbing with each desperate gulp before white, sticky ropes of cum painted his chiseled abs. The video ended when Cho leaned forward enough to stop recording, but your eyes stayed locked on the frozen still of his slick painted body glinting in the purple-tinted light.
It was that salacious image that burned behind your eyelids when you tried (and failed) to fall asleep, thighs clenched and heart beating erratically while the sound of him moaning your name replayed in your mind like a forbidden lullaby.
You knew it was only a matter of time before he realized that he actually sent you that video, and the anticipation kept you up for hours. It wasn't until the sun began to peek over the horizon when sleep finally came for you.
.ೃ࿔*:･
a/n: I think there will be a part two for this one!!
Incredibly Specific Headcanon: Dr.Yehya Badr, despite his outward personality, drinks coffee that is less coffee and more so 'Milk and Sugar with Coffee Flavoring'.
Marc Spector, not that he'd ever admit it, prefers creamer but still dumps a half ton of sugar into it, and has them put some kind of chocolate in it. In a ridiculous amount.
Jake Lockley has the most 'Typical' coffee order, somewhere right in the middle of dark and light, and not too sweet but not too bitter. He does absolutely go to Dunkin and get an iced coffee with a donut stuck on it though he feels like he'd do that tbh.
The only one of these people who drinks straight black coffee as expected is Steven Grant, of all people.
TRINITY SANTOS X READER!!! reader is like this amazingly gorgeous, confidence, stunning girl who brings her elderly neighbour in because they fell, and shes by the nurses station and literally EVERYONE in the bay are just gobsmacked. And so cuz this is near nightshift rotation time, a couple of the male nurses and doctor try and yk talk to her and shes so unimpressed and turns them down and trin is just w dennis like "watch this" and goes up to her and is the only one who turns this absolute siren into like an utterly flustered mess and people are SHOOK.
this is just a cute little thing that came to me after i woke up from a nap lol hope you enjoy <3
dr. trinity santos x reader who keeps catching everyone's attention ✿ 471 words
summary: you bring your elderly neighbor to the ER after a fall, and none of the men in the ER seem to be able to leave you alone. luckily, trinity isn't a man.
cw: fem!reader, reader gets unwanted male attention
the pitt masterlist
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It’s almost painful to watch.
“Oh no, here goes another one.” Dennis lowers his gaze to pretend like he isn’t going to watch the entire interaction that’s about to play out in front of him.
Trinity snorts, leaning against the counter with her elbows propped, an entertained, gleeful look on her face like a toddler in a candy shop.
It’s a nurse again, the third nurse they’ve seen. The first one to approach you was an EMT, then a doctor from upstairs, and now three nurses in a row. The two already know how this is going to go before it even starts.
You stand there with a concerned, downtrodden expression on your face that seems to be just begging for someone to come up and comfort you. It catches another man’s attention (the fifth of them at this point), and they swoop in with an arm over your shoulder or a hand on yours. You give them a side glance, a half smile, and they seem to be encouraged despite the fact that you don’t seem the slightest bit comforted.
The nurse, predictably following the same pattern as the last four, gestures toward a quieter place to talk, to which you give a quick shake of your head, step out of his grasp, and use your fallen neighbor as an escape. The nurse stands there, red faced and rejected, before darting away.
Trinity and Dennis find themselves laughing harder than they should.
“That’s embarrassing.” Dennis says with a shake of his head, “I wouldn’t show my face again for the rest of the shift, at least.”
“It’s pathetic.” One corner of Trinity’s mouth is raised in a smirk. “They can’t even tell that she’s not interested.”
You look around again like you’re afraid another one might approach. When you feel like you’re safe for a moment, your hands raise to cover your face, and the two of them watch as your shoulders slowly begin to shake. They share a look, and Dennis only seems a little unsettled when Trinity’s smirk grows.
“Don’t worry,” She places her tablet down on the counter, reaching up to fix her hair. “I’ve got this.”
“No way.” Dennis’ doubt is only met with a shrug and a wink as Trinity pushes off the counter and makes her way toward you. You look up as she puts her hand on your shoulder, and instead of leaning away or tensing like you had with the men, you actually seem to relax. Disbelief swirls in his gut and his jaw drops when Trinity gestures toward the same quiet area as the nurse had, but unlike before, you nod and begin walking in the direction of her gesture.
Trinity turns back toward Dennis as she leans you away, giving him a finger gun and a look of absolute success.
IF POSSIBLE, COULD YOU WRITE A FRANK LANGDON POST?? I genuinely sympathise w him in season 2 bc he went through rehab and the trauma of being isolated and "abandoned" by his friends and left to think everyone thinks he's just an addict SO i need ernurse!reader x frank and robby is like not. happy. even tho he keeps fucking people in the er himself, he doesnt like langdon and thus hates that the sweetest, kindest nurse is dating him!!
i wasn't entirely sure if i was going to write for langdon or not but i saw this request and it sparked inspiration for me, so i guess i am writing for him. hope you enjoy <333 thanks for requesting, my love!
dr frank langdon x fem!nurse!reader who he stole from robby ✿ 1.7k words
summary: dr langdon stole robby's favorite nurse, you. and robby's pissed.
cw: fem!reader, jealous!robby (not romantically), mention of making out/sex but nothing explicitly described, divorced!langdon, this whole thing is in robby's pov
the pitt masterlist
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You’re a good nurse. A great one. Your talents and work ethic have never been a concern in the ED, not even once.
And Robby knows this. He knows everything that goes on in the ED, the performance of every single staff member like the back of his hand, including your own. You’re good, steady. You don’t call out, you don’t make mistakes, you don’t falter.
That’s why Robby is having such a hard time with this. With you.
You and Langdon.
Robby doesn’t trust Langdon. He did everything for Langdon. He covered for him, got him help, made sure the kid didn’t lose his goddamn license, and what does he get back?
Langdon steals his favorite nurse.
And, despite knowing every little detail of every event in his emergency department, Robby didn’t know. It’s just that, suddenly, his right hand is gone. And he’s not sure where you could’ve gone.
And then he sees Langdon, and next to Langdon, you.
At first, it’s betrayal like a hot iron. Blistering and burning through his whole body. Why would you leave him for Langdon? Of all of the doctors in the ED, the one Robby distrusts the most?
Langdon doesn’t know you. And you don’t know him. Or at least, not the way you know Robby. You know Robby’s next move before he even makes it.
Why Langdon?
It’s frustrating. The other nurses, rotating between cases instead of following him like you would have, don’t move fast enough. He has to repeat orders, speak louder, clearer. It takes extra effort and care that Robby doesn’t have, and the echo of you and Langdon laughing somehow reaches his ears all the way over in goddamn Trauma 2.
What’s worse is that Robby is sure he didn’t do anything to push you away. You smile at him, still greet him every day with a ‘good morning, Robby!’. He even confronted you one day, wanting to know why you were upset with him.
“Why would I be upset with you?” You’d asked in return with a furrowed brow. Then, immediately, another nurse brushed past you and told you that Dr. Langdon was looking for you. So, you’d given Robby a smile, and said, “Sorry, gotta go!” in a way he’s seen so many times but had never been at the receiving end of.
And then, you stay. Shift after shift, week after week, Robby still finds himself faltering when you aren’t there waiting for him first thing in the morning with a coffee and a summary from the night shift nurses.
Robby feels shitty when one morning he sees that Langdon brought you coffee. Should he have brought you coffee? He doesn’t even know your order. How does Langdon know your order?
He feels like a creep when he pulls the cup out of the trash later in the shift, when no one is watching, just to see what he’d brought you. Of course it was something full of sugar and caffeine. He snaps a picture of it before he tosses it back in the trash can, you know, just in case.
You laugh more, he notices one morning. Your face seems brighter, and there’s a pep in your step that was always there but is somehow more pronounced now. Robby doesn’t want to admit, and god knows he would never say it out loud, but you seem happier. He knows he can be a downer, but is it really that miserable to work with him?
He appreciated you, and he made sure you knew it, right?
Right?
Things all start to make sense when he walks in on the two of you making out in one of the supply closets, scrubs half off already when the door swings open. You both look like deer caught in headlights, all wide eyes and frantic apologies. Langdon steps in front of you, which Robby thinks is rich, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t speak at all, just closes the door, and moves along.
It takes everything in him not to run to HR. And truly, he would have, if it had been any other woman but you. But it was you, and no matter how many times Langdon managed to let him down and disappoint him, he would never get you involved or harm your career like that (even if he thinks you’re stupid too, if only for choosing Langdon).
But everything makes sense. Of course you’d want to be Langdon’s nurse if you’re fucking him. The two of you could coordinate schedules, just to make sure you have enough break time whenever you want.
It kind of makes him want to be sick.
He is a little disappointed in you, honestly. He expected better, more professionalism from you. But, even still, you’re a fucking good nurse.
So, he does what he can, pulls some strings, and convinces Dana to put you on nights.
And, evidently, Dana must tell you that it was Robby who decided on your schedule change, because the anger in your eyes when you approach him the next morning is one he didn’t even know you were capable of. You demand he follow you to the ambulance bay, and he does so with a nonchalance that he knows will make you mad. He can practically feel Langdon’s stare on the back of his head.
If looks could kill.
“What?” He asks with a sigh, though he knows exactly what. He’s just pushing at this point, seeing how far you’ll go for fucking Langdon.
“What’s your problem?” Your eyes are narrow, your body primed for a fight as you cross your arms in front of you. It’s chilly out here; there’s a slight breeze that blows your hair in your face, but you ignore it.
“My problem?” Robby asks with a scoff and a shake of his head. “What is your problem? You just up and vanish one day without a word, and suddenly you’re everywhere with Langdon?”
Your expression somehow hardens further, like stone under added pressure. “I’m a nurse.” Your voice has a slight hiss to it, “I go where I’m needed.”
“Yeah, right.” Robby’s practically chuckling now, fiddling with his hands in front of him, “I don’t fuck you, so I’m not the first choice?”
Hurt flashes over your face before anger, and he watches as your fists clench tighter where they’re tucked into your sides. “It’s not like that.”
“No?” Robby sticks his tongue against his cheek, fighting back another unnecessary curl of his lips. “That’s certainly what it looked like when you had your tits out in the supply closet.”
You fluster. So many new expressions Robby’s learned of yours since you moved away from him. How is it that he’s learning more about you now than when you spent all day by his side?
“It didn’t start like that.” You clarify, looking down at the ground in front of you, some of your anger fading into embarrassment. “It’s- That just… happened.”
Robby doesn’t really know what to say, your words just hanging in the air between you, sirens faintly heard in the distance. The two of you have been out here longer than you should, and he’s sure you’re both needed inside, but he doesn’t know when he’ll have another chance to talk to you.
“We should really-”
“Why did you go to Langdon, then?” His voice interrupts yours, and he slips his hands in his pockets the way he does when he’s pretending to be nonchalant but really he’s being vulnerable. “If it’s not… that, then what is it?”
You pause, lips pursed, like you aren’t sure what to say. But you take a breath, and seemingly convince yourself, because then you meet his eyes. “Langdon asked if I would watch him. He knows I wouldn’t let him slip, wouldn’t let him be… tempted, if I was there.”
Robby blinks. “He stole you so you could make sure he doesn’t relapse?”
You send him another glare, “He has a disease, Robby. And he’s gotten help for it! But he works in a building with a goddamn pharmacy and he’s never supposed to be tempted? That’s like asking an alcoholic to be a janitor for a bar.”
Robby knows you’re right. He knows because he’s done the same thing, looking out for Langdon. He’s the one who made sure Langdon didn’t get fired, that he got help and didn’t end up on the street. But even still…
“You can’t work with him if you’re in a relationship.” Robby points out with raised brows. “I’m not going to tell HR, but we both know that isn’t a good idea.”
Your shoulders slump and a resigned breath leaves you. “I know.” You run your fingers through your hair, “It’s not… we aren’t even in a relationship yet. We haven’t even-” You shake your head. “It’s new. And he just got divorced. And I- I knew I had feelings for him and I should’ve found another nurse, but I-”
“But you will now?” Robby asks, leaning one hip against the wall of the ambulance bay. The sirens are getting closer, and at this point he just figures he’ll take this patient when they arrive, regardless of the board. “Find a new nurse?”
You give a half-shrug. “I guess I have to.”
“Good.” Robby decides, tugging on his stethoscope where it rests around his neck. “Then you can come back to me, and I won’t talk to HR.”
“Robby-” You send him a hard look and he raises his hands.
“I’m kidding…” The ambulance pulls into the hospital parking lot and Robby looks back at you. “I mean it, though. Find Langdon a new nurse, and then come back to work with me.”
You roll your eyes, though a smile finds its way onto your face as you step back toward the hospital, “Never put me on nights again. And stop pissing me off. ”
dr. dennis whitaker x bombshell!nurse!reader who he thinks is making fun of him ✿ 1.5k words
summary: you keep giving dennis compliments, and he's sure you're making fun of him. the worst part is, your words don't exactly help with this little crush on you he's been trying to get rid of
cw: fem!nurse!reader, bombshell!reader, reader is described as being well put together with great hair and makeup, dennis is self-sabotaging, angst with a positive ending
the pitt masterlist
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Dennis knows better.
He really does. He’s seen how situations like this can get out of control, spiraling to the point of no return. HR visits, switched schedules, unnecessary drama that he doesn’t want to have swirling around his already overwhelming life in the ER.
But when he looks at you, it’s like suddenly he doesn’t care about any of that. His mind and heart decide that rules and boundaries can just get thrown out of the window.
You, with your perfectly styled hair and beautifully done makeup everyday, while the rest of them show up looking like they haven’t showered in a week. You, with the sweetest voice and the perfect laugh that has his knees feeling weak and his brain short-circuiting.
You, who, when meeting Dennis for the first time, said with a full chest and bright eyes, “Wow! You’re so pretty!”
Santos had laughed for days. She actually laughed in his face and called him ‘pretty-boy’ until she’d found something new to tease him about. And even then, the nickname seemed to stick and become an alternative for “huckleberry”, randomly mentioned and always transporting him back to the day he met you. He can still feel the way his entire body had tensed, the way his heart had threatened to stop beating in his chest.
He has a crush on you. A nurse, his coworker. The prettiest woman he’s ever seen in his life.
Its horrible.
And he knows better, that’s the thing! He’s told himself time and time and time again that he would never do that. He’s seen coworkers’ relationships get fucked up and fail miserably. He’s seen cases of unrequited love that end in HR meetings and night shift swaps. All his crush will do cause drama and chaos in a place that is already too full of drama and chaos.
And yet...
Dennis’ heart starts to pound wildly before he even fully registered that it’s you that is walking up to him. It’s like his body responds to you without him even meaning to, orbiting you like a planet to a sun every time you’re in his vicinity.
“Hi!” You greet happily, setting your tablet down and leaning against the counter as you look at him. Your smile is beautiful, and Dennis wishes he could sear the image of you into the backs of his eyelids.
“Hi.”
“Your hair looks nice today,” Dennis blinks at your words, his brain stumbling and struggling over every syllable that leaves your mouth. It’s like his entire capacity for thinking vanishes the moment you lay your eyes on him.
“What?”
Your laugh is like a sound from heaven, and your hand falls onto his arm as you lean into the motion. His skin burns where yours touches it. “I said your hair looks nice. Why do you look so shocked?”
Well, shit. He feels as a blush flourishes over the skin of his face and neck. He’d bet money even the tips of his ears are bright red. You pull your hand away from his arm to tuck some hair behind your ear and he has to swallow back a sound that threatens to escape him at the loss of your touch.
“I… I uh…” He shakes his head, no coherent thoughts able to form or produce themselves as words. “I washed it…”
You laugh again, even sweeter and more boisterous this time.
If Dennis wasn’t… himself, he’d been sure you were trying to flirt with him. Instead, he feels like maybe you’re joking and he just doesn’t get it.
“Oh, Dr. Whitaker…” Your laugh turn into a fit of giggles that seem to have a hard time going away. “You’re so cute.”
Oh, you definitely have to be fucking with him again. There’s no way you aren’t laughing at him, that he isn’t the butt of some joke.
You notice the moment his face falls. Yours does too, your smile slowly fading into a look of concern he’s really only ever seen directed at patients. It makes him feel exposed in a way that he hates, knowing you can read him so well, that he’s so obvious.
“What’s wrong?”
He wants to laugh. And cry. His stomach is in knots and he feels like he might puke. You’re making fun of him. Never once in his life has a girl like you given him attention, and there’s absolutely no way that you’re serious. The feeling gets under his skin, urgent and familiar.
“You can give it up now.” Your eyebrows furrow even further together at his words, and especially at the tone of them. “It’s not funny anymore, okay?”
“What are you talking about?” Your eyes dart quickly over different parts of his face, like you might somehow discover the answer there.
Dennis purses his lips, and lowers his voice and his gaze. “I really wish you’d stop making fun of me.”
Something shifts in your expression, your face a mosaic of all sorts of things he can’t possibly know. It settles on something between hurt and pity. “Dennis, what are you talking about?”
He hardly notices the use of his first name, his tongue digging into the inside of his cheek as his gaze bounces around nervously to make sure no one is close enough to hear the two of you. He’d pull you aside into the stairwell if it wouldn’t be absolutely devastating to his already bruised and battered ego. “You keep saying things like that. But it’s not funny. Not to me.”
“Why do you think I’m joking?” You lean away from him, voice lower than he’s ever heard it. You look… devastated, if he’s being honest with himself. “Do you think I’m making fun of you?”
“Aren’t you?” The words leave his lips faster and more broken than he would ever admit. You don’t respond. Instead, you grab his wrist, and you lead him to the stairwell, away from prying eyes and ears.
When you finally turn back to him, there’s a pain in your eyes that only makes him feel worse. “Do you really think I’m making fun of you?”
Dennis falters. Of course you’re making fun of him, you have to be. Because if you aren’t…
He can’t let his mind go down that route. He needs to squash this crush he has on you and any indication that you even find him tolerable would make his life a thousand times more difficult.
You speak up again before he can muster up any kind of answer. “Do you really think I’m that cruel?”
“You have to be.” The words aren’t purposeful, but he says them all the same. You blink, emotions swirling in your irises, and he stutters out another, “B-Because otherwise that… that means you mean it.”
“I do mean it.” Somehow, your words hit even harder than his, and the entire world stills, everything gone but you and him. You reach out for his hand and Dennis feels like he might keel over. “I really mean it, I’m sorry if you thought I was making fun of you.”
Dennis squeezes his eyes shut, his palm probably sweaty where it presses against your own. His stomach is in knots, his jaw clenches so hard he knows it’ll ache in the morning, but his heart feels lighter. Somehow, something about your admission makes him feel better despite it making the situation astronomically worse.
“I’m sorry…” Is what he manages to choke out. “I shouldn’t have- I know you aren’t mean, I just…” His voice trails off when he meets your gaze again. He wonders what he looks like: bloodshot, puffy eyes, bright red nose, messy hair. And you, beautiful, perfect you, softly tilt your head, eyes still shining despite everything as you blink slowly. It makes his throat dry and he can’t find any more words.
You seem to realize he isn’t going to finish, and purse your lips. Your fingers twiddle mindlessly together, hands clasped in front of you. “I mean it.” You finally say again, confidently reaching a hand up to push a piece of his hair back into place. “Your hair does look nice. And you are cute.”
Dennis thinks he might die. Like actually, truly might have a heart attack and die. “Th-Thanks.”
You brighten, and if he hadn’t just been personally subjected to the previous upset in your expression, he would have never known you’d been upset at all.
“I have some patients to check on.” Your hands gesture toward the stairwell door behind you, and Dennis gives you a dumbfounded nod. You turn to leave, but pause, steel your shoulders, and turn back to face him again.
“Dr. Whitaker?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you want to go out for dinner after your shift?”
I just realized I always thought of (MCU) Steven not only as a fictive, of Steven Grant (Tomb Busters), but of a factive of Randell Spector too.
Obviously it’s not a one on one replica, from the few bits we’ve seen and can speculate from we know Steven has evidently grow more away from that origin. (Which make senses)
But as I was saying, I can’t imagine him not representing Randell in anyway (I would point out the two-finned fish, but I don’t exactly trust Marc’s memories).
If Marc couldn’t protect Randell, he could protect Steven, as Steven was protecting him from being alone in that situation.
in honour of the birthday of our favourite pilot in the entire galaxy on this blessed day , here’s a list of poe-centric fanfics i came across recently that stuck with me .
i’m considerably new to the fandom so i might’ve missed out on some good ones .
if there are any more that i should check out , i just haven’t met you yet and i will soon .
might make this a yearly thing and add to the list .
i hope you enjoy them as much as i did . :)
mind the tags for each story .
let me know too if you’d like to be untagged from this .
//
yes . i am aware they are mostly smut , but ya’ll are just too good with the naughties !
ps : @rinskiroo also just shared a bunch of the classics on her tumblr if you so fancy :)
burnin’ up by @campingwiththecharmings
x f!reader | modern au | explicit | smut | wc : 3.7k
directions by @zinzinina
x f!reader | explicit | smut | wc : 8.1k
eight fingers crossed— by @moonknightly
x gn!reader | teen and up | angst | wc : 1.4k
flyboy trouble by @herfinaltransmission
x f!reader | explicit | smut | wc : 9.6k
hard by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
x amab!reader | explicit | smut | wc : 1.7k
maker only knows how i was torn asunder by @distracted-milkshake
x pilot!reader | mature | angst | wc : 2.7k
sit down on it by @ivystoryweaver
x f!reader | explicit | smut | wc : 1.5k
take the edge off by @youvebeenlivingfictional
x f!reader | modern au | explicit | smut | wc : 3.4k
also . a couple of oc and crossover recs that are too good to be left out .
an unfairly comfortable mattress by @mysticalmoonb3ams
x f!oc | mature | smut | wc : 3.5k
the last job by @reallyrallyauthor
older santiago x younger poe | explicit | smut | wc : 2.6k
//
this is the pairing that got me back into fanfic writing in recent years , so of course i have to give them airtime . most of them , if not all , are very old and only on ao3 , but these authors have quite an archive of damerey fics there .
if this is your jam , there’s practically a feast waiting to be devoured in your own sweet time .
crash bang by @rinskiroo
explicit | fluff , smut | wc : 5.3k
hidden thoughts of laughter by @virtieunbridled
teen and up | fluff | wc : 2.8k
life drawing , mondays and wednesdays , 8am - 10am by reylotrashcompactor (nexttosomething)
college au | teen and up | fluff | wc : 5.2k
on a wing and a prayer by @dracosollicitus
wwii au | teen and up | fluff , angst | wc : 56.6k
also : moonlight cocktail
one year later by @broedym
modern au | mature | angst , smut | wc : 1.6k
saints of st petersburg by @rosalindsghost
cold war au | explicit | smut | wc : 3.6k
so low down by @serceleste
mature | angst | wc : 1.2k
//
grateful to each and every one of you who has taken the time to write these stories and share them with the world . it’s been a pleasure and a privilege to have come across them — either a few months later , or like , almost 10 years later .
if you’re still in the fandom ( or in another ) and you’re still writing , i hope you keep writing that tooth-rottingly sweet or insanely smutty story that’s been stewing in your head , or that terribly sad or crazily fcked up one that you feel the world is not ready for . someone is . believe me .
