Little Denny following his daddy like a little shadow at hospital. Not realising he's regressed, until Robby softly points it out?
Robby pretended not to notice, but he could tell Dennis had been trailing him all day.
He was subtle about it at first, but eventually, even that shred of professional distance was thrown out the window.
Dennis was a highly capable doctor. Intelligent, proactive, quick on his feet, and always where he needed to be. Today, however, he was consistently where Robby was. Always a step behind, always at arm’s length. Close enough that Robby nearly bumped into him twice while rounding corners.
“Whitaker,” Robby said mildly. He kept his eyes on him as he absently rubbed sanitizer into his palms, the scent of disinfectant sharp in the air. “You planning on working today, or just hovering?”
Dennis blinked, his reaction time a little too slow. “Working,” he murmured. His voice lacked its usual conviction, instead sounding softer.
Robby pushed through the double doors of Trauma two. Dennis hesitated for a moment, lingering in the threshold like he was waiting for an invitation, before following him inside.
The ED was its usual brand of somewhat-controlled chaos. Stretchers rolling in, monitors beeping, Dana calling out over all the noise, directing the flow. A multi-car collision had just come through, which meant everyone was moving fast.
Dennis was holding his own. That was the thing. He wasn’t making mistakes. He was just quieter. More hesitant. And no matter where Robby went, Dennis seemed to drift right after him.
“Whitaker, you’re with Dr. King in Room four,” Robby directed amid a rush of chaos, knowing they were already stretched thin. Dennis faltered mid-step, blinking up at him. Robby knew him well enough to spot the flicker of betrayal in his eyes, far more dramatic than warranted.
“…Oh,” Dennis said, his shoulders dropping. God, he was already sulking. “Right. Yeah. Room four.”
He went. But ten minutes later, Robby turned around, and there he was again, fidgeting with the drawstring of his scrubs and looking up at Robby expectantly.
Robby raised an eyebrow. “Get lost on the way?”
Dennis shook his head quickly. “No. I just—I finished.”
“Hm.” Robby wasn’t even remotely convinced, but he didn't send him away again.
By mid-shift, it was impossible to ignore. Dennis was standing too close, shoulder brushing against Robby’s in narrow hallways, occupying his personal space even when the room was empty.
At one point, Robby felt a faint tug at the back of his hoodie. When he turned, he saw Dennis, his fingers curled loosely into the fabric. The boy froze, eyes widening as if his hand had moved on its own. He let go immediately, stepping back with a frantic apology dying on his lips. “Sorry—I…didn’t mean—”
Robby didn’t interrupt. He just watched him for a long moment, something softer settling behind his eyes. He thought he knew what this was now. Up close, it was easier to see. The tension in Dennis’s shoulders wasn’t the nervous, alert kind it usually was on shift. It was something more vulnerable. His hands hovered near his chest, fingers now twisting at his own scrubs.
Robby glanced around, suddenly aware of the crowded ED and the nosy, gossip-hungry coworkers surrounding them. He leaned closer, tilting his head down. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and quiet, meant only for Dennis.
Dennis cleared his throat, nodding a little too fast. “Yeah. Fine.”
Robby didn’t believe him for a second. Dennis had always been a terrible liar.
A moment of silence passed between them. The noise of the ER amplified. A patient complaining loudly down the hall, monitors chiming insistently around them, the constant shuffle of feet from room to room.
Dennis shifted his weight and, almost unconsciously, took a half-step closer. Robby’s expression softened.
“…Denny,” He said.
Dennis blinked. He didn’t seem surprised by the name itself, Robby used it often when they were home, but he seemed struck by the tone. It was the one Robby reserved for when he knew Dennis was feeling…small.
“…Yeah?” Dennis mumbled.
Robby leaned in slightly, keeping his voice steady and calm. “You feel a little off today?”
Dennis hesitated, his brow furrowing as he tried to grasp a thought that seemed to keep slipping away. “I—don’t know,” he admitted. “Just… tired, I think.”
Robby knew Dennis’s tired— and this wasn't it.
A stretcher rolled past, forcing them to move. Robby stepped aside to give it room, and Dennis followed immediately, close enough that their shoulders brushed again.
Robby reached out, deliberate but gentle, and rested a hand on Dennis’s upper arm. It was a comforting gesture, one that wasn’t too obvious to the public, but familiar enough to steady him.
“Hey,” he murmured. “Look at me.”
Dennis complied. There was an open uncertainty in his expression now, less guarded than usual.
“You’ve been sticking pretty close to me all day,” Robby noted, keeping his tone level and warm.
Dennis flushed, color climbing up his neck. “Sorry. I didn't—realize.”
Robby gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Do you feel…fuzzy?” He asked carefully, knowing Dennis would understand. It was an echo of his own words, one he’d used before to describe the feeling of slipping into little space.
Dennis went quiet. For a moment, he looked like he might argue, but then his gaze dropped and he shifted closer again without even noticing. “Maybe,” he whispered.
“You’re doing a good job, regardless.” Robby encouraged, squeezing his arm once before letting go. “No disasters yet. I’m impressed.”
That earned a tiny chuckle, some of the tension in Dennis’s shoulder easing. “Surprising,” he muttered.
The moment was broken by Princess, who approached while telling Robby he was needed in Trauma two. Robby gave her a nod, sensing the suspicious look she gave the two of them as she walked away.
“Think you can stay with me for the rest of the shift?” Robby asked, making it sound like a request for help rather than a supervision tactic. Dennis nodded right away. This time, when he stepped into his spot at Robby’s side, the anxious edge was gone, replaced by a quiet, determined focus.
They worked the next case together. A high-risk patient with blunt trauma. Dennis assisted quietly, and though Robby trusted his skills, he purposely assigned him the simpler tasks, in order to avoid piling on pressure when the boy was already in a vulnerable state.
Dennis did well, passing instruments when prompted and saying close enough to feel safe, while still giving Robby room to move freely.
Twenty minutes later, the patient was stable, and Dennis followed Robby back into the hall, looking radiant with quiet pride.
As the night shift staff began to arrive, charts were finalized and patients were transferred over. All the while, Robby finished the mountain of charting he’d accumulated, Dennis settled onto a stool at the workstation next to him, leaning his head against the counter, content just being his shadow.
When Robby was finally finished, he glanced over. “Alright. All done. Ready to go home?”
Dennis blinked slowly, like he’d just been pulled out of a daydream. “Home,” he said, a slow, soft smile spreading across his face.
They walked toward the ambulance bay where Robby’s bike was parked, their shadows stretching long under the security lights. The night air was a blessing, cool and refreshing compared to the cramped ED.
Robby grabbed their helmets, tossing the smaller one to Dennis without looking. Dennis caught it with a giggle, putting it on automatically. His helmet was smaller than Robby’s, custom-fitted and covered in farm animal stickers, matching the ones he’d also snuck onto the motorcycle’s fuel tank.
Dennis swung onto the back, right behind Robby. This time, there was no hesitation. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms securely around Robby’s waist and pressing his chest firmly against his back.
Robby’s hand reached down, squeezing Dennis’s forearm. “Comfortable?”
A muffled hum vibrated against his shoulder, followed by a soft, certain, “Yeah.”
The engine rumbled to life, a steady, grounding thrum beneath them. As they pulled out into city traffic, Dennis tucked his helmet into the crook of Robby’s shoulder. His grip was firm, not out of fear, but out of a simple, pure need for contact.
At a red light, the city hummed around them in a blur of nightlights and distant sirens.
“You fall asleep back there?” Robby called over his shoulder, an easy grin tugging at his lips.
Dennis let out a soft, breathy laugh. “No.”
“You sure?”
Dennis nodded, his helmet bumping Robby’s shoulder. “Just happy.”
Robby hummed. “…We’ll get you home soon, sweetheart.”
The light turned green, and they moved again. Dennis didn't budge, anchored by the certainty that he didn't have to be the doctor anymore. He could just be Robby’s.
it's not that dennis ever thought robby would neglect him while he was recovering from surgery- not at all in fact- it was more that dennis didn't expect the sheer levels that his boyfriend was going to go to to make sure that dennis was cared for and safe.
when dennis hesitantly asked robby if he would be able to take care of him after he had his top surgery, and robby had agreed instantly, dennis assumed this would mean that his boyfriend would make sure he had some food nearby to grab, put his medication on the table so he could reach it, and maybe cook him a meal or two if he was really struggling in the early days.
he certainly wasn't going to ask for much or inconvenience robby as much as he could help it- to dennis, sickness and recovery was something you had to do yourself because nobody else had time to care for the weak. that was the attitude he took towards himself as it had always been the way he was taught at the farm. he didn't deserve doting, what a waste of time that would be on someone like him.
the reality of how robby saw his request was worlds different. he'd already been planning on handling all the care and support dennis would need, since as an attending he had a bit more sway with scheduling shifts, as well as the fact he was dennis's fucking boyfriend. he didn't realise dennis thought he even had to ask, obviously he was going to be looking after the love of his life? to robby, he was gearing up to make sure dennis didn't try to so much as lift a finger.
robby took dennis to the hospital the day of his surgery, was there all through the pre-surgery admin, kissed him goodbye and told him how much he loved him as dennis was wheeled into the theatre. he was there when dennis woke up, holding his hand as he cried tears of joy with him. he argued his way into being able to stay overnight next to his boyfriend, even if dennis wasn't aware of much as the heavy painkillers sent him to sleep.
he transferred dennis home like he was made of glass and drove slower than he ever had in his life just to make sure there was zero chance of the car movement hurting him, and he set a still-drowsy dennis onto a prepared sofa-bed where his back would be supported and he'd be sat mostly upright to let him rest in comfort. when the younger man surfaced from his haze of the most of the drugs, he was still giddy with joy and cried in small bouts, the relief and the freedom and the happiness outweighing the pain and aches he currently had. robby was there through it all, kissing him gently on the head, holding up water for him to drink ("ah-ah, don't move your arms, denny, i can do this for you, don't pull the stitches."), and not leaving until it was late into the night and he needed to sleep.
when he'd wished dennis goodnight and said that he'd see him tomorrow, dennis smiled and assumed that he meant that he would see robby as he left the house for his shift the next day, and that he might put some food next to him or something. after all, the parts he needed genuine help with were all done, and there was no reason for robby to waste his time staying home- dennis didn't need that, he didn't deserve that. he was capable, even so soon after major surgery.
so when dennis, having slept deeply from another round of painkillers administered before bed, awoke to the feeling of someone knelt next to him stroking his hair gently and coaxing him awake with their voice, he thought it was still very early in the morning. he didn't expect to open his eyes to see robby gazing adoringly at him with a warm drink on the table, the older man dressed in plaid pyjama bottoms and a faded band t-shirt rather than his scrubs.
"hey, good morning mouse. how are you feeling today? are you in pain? would you like me to help you to the bathroom?"
"what time is it, robby?"
"it's just past ten, sweetheart. i've made you a drink and i'll make you some food once i know you're feeling alright, okay?"
dennis frowned and tried not to tense, the muscles all through his torso aching and weak. past ten? why on earth wasn't he at the hospital? he was going to get in trouble for being so late!
"but robby, your shift? you're late, gloria will be so angry, do they have another attending on today as well? is al-hashimi there at least?"
now it was robby's turn to frown. what on earth was his boyfriend talking about? why the hell would he have taken a shift less than 48 hours after dennis had had major surgery? he needed to be looked after!
"what? what do you mean, mouse? why would i have a shift today?"
"because you always work wednesday... you got me home safely yesterday, you don't need to waste your time here with me."
robby was horrified, quite frankly. dennis really thought that spending time taking care of him- because yes, dennis *did* need help, he couldn't even sit up unaided right now- was a waste? he felt an urge to take even more time off to dote on him, now thinking that two weeks might not be enough.
"dennis... you can't sit up right now. you need painkillers several times a day and you need food, and water, and comfort. you need help getting to the bathroom and you need someone here if something goes wrong. despite the fact it's medically necessary for someone to be here with you, i'd be the world's most disgustingly awful boyfriend ever if i left you here to hurt and starve and strain yourself. mouse, i love you. i love you and i want to take care of you- it's a privilege to me, especially now, in one of the most important moments of your life. do you understand?"
dennis felt his eyes burn and tears well up, blurring his vision. robby's hand came to rest on his cheek and wipe them away with his thumb, dennis leaning into the contact.
"do you mean it? i- i mean do you mean it's a privilege?"
"yes, mouse. you've waited for this moment for years, and god, look at you, you're so beautiful and even with the bandages you're so flat, and it means the world for me to be here and help you. i don't give a fuck about anything else right now. you're brave, and i'm proud, and i love you."
dennis started to cry then, though he tried to stifle it due to the ache in his core.
"i love you, robby."
robby leant forward where he was resting on his knees and kissed dennis on the forehead.
"i love you too, dennis. i've got two entire weeks off where i'm going to care for you, and pamper you, and dote on you- and nothing you say can stop me. your body is healing itself and i'm here to make sure you're okay while it does that."
dennis moved his hand a little to clutch at robby, trying to bend it at the elbow so it didn't hurt. the older man took his hand in his and smiled.
"you really took two weeks?"
"yeah, denny. i'll take more if you need. everyone at the ER just wants you to be safe and happy, they've got your back, you know? and that means here i am, doing the most important job. now- do you hurt? don't lie, i can see you wincing."
dennis blushed and looked down, only to smile when he saw the way the blanket across his body was smooth, no chest in sight. he tried not to cry again.
"uh... yeah, a bit. sorry."
robby stroked his hair.
"don't apologise. thank you for telling me. let me go and run you a glass of water and i'll be right back to help you take the pills."
robby disappeared off to the kitchen and dennis bit back more tears. how was he this lucky? he was flat, finally, finally, and it felt so right, and now his boyfriend was dedicated to making sure he didn't have to lift a finger? when the tears slipped out, they were ones of joy, just like when he'd first woken up from surgery. maybe it sounded odd, given the current pain, but these might end up being the best two weeks of his life- his first two of the rest of his life.
Hi I was wondering if you could do a Jack Abbot x reader story were the reader has pancreatitis I have that I know it not really common for young people but it would bring me comfort I understand if you don’t want to do it .. you are such a good writer
hi, thank you so much for trusting me with this 🥺 i’d really love to write it for you.
i’ll do my best to portray pancreatitis properly, but i’m sorry in advance if some parts aren’t fully medically accurate. i’ll still try to make it feel comforting and real.
Lovesick - Jack Abbot
Character: Jack Abbot x nurse!female reader
Summary: You start having strange “symptoms” every time you’re near Jack Abbot. But you refuse to call it a crush. Your friends push you into night shifts, forcing you closer to the one person you keep denying. Then you get actually sick… and he’s the one who takes care of you.
Words Count: 4,358
More Jack Abbot stories : 2nd Masterlist
In the halls of Pittsburgh’s busiest ER, you were known as "Dana 2.0." You were just as sharp and efficient as your mentor, though you had a colder, more clinical edge that kept people on their toes. Being compared to Dana wasn’t just a compliment; it was an honor you wore like a badge of courage.
Nursing had its brutal ups and downs. Between the mental toll and the constant threat of burnout, it was a heavy career. But every time you felt like snapping, you’d look at a patient and remember why you were there. That sense of duty was the only thing keeping you grounded.
Your sanctuary was your routine. You survived the chaos of the dayshift by dreaming of your bed—the soft blankets, the silence of the night, and the absolute peace of being asleep while the rest of the world struggled. Night was for resting. Day was for working.
Until Dr. Al Ashimi dropped the bomb.
Because the night charge nurse was taking a week off, she needed someone reliable to cover. You were her first choice.
"Dana," you groaned, leaning against the counter of the nurse’s station. "Please. Release me from this agony. Tell her I’m incompetent. Tell her I’m a liability."
Dana glanced at you over her reading glasses, her expression unbothered. "It’s just a week, kiddo. You’ll survive."
You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. "I... I thought we were soulmates. You’re breaking my heart, Dana. I’m wounded."
"You really took those acting classes seriously, didn't you?" Robby chimed in, not even looking up from his charting.
"I got three classes for free," you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him. "I’m not letting that talent go to waste."
Robby chuckled. "It isn’t that bad. You’ve worked nights before. It’s quiet."
"And that’s exactly why I know the day shift is better," you argued. Just then, a teenage boy in the waiting area suddenly doubled over and threw up right in the middle of the floor. You gestured toward the mess with a flat expression. "Even with the chaos and the vomit, at least I’m awake for it."
"You’re just mad because you won't have a life for a week," Princess teased, leaning against the supply cart. "It's not like you're going on many dates anyway, but still."
"Excuse me? Is today 'Attack Y/N' day? Because I didn’t get the memo. Oh, wait, I see what this is. You’re just terrified Al Ashimi is going to change her mind and pick you instead."
Princess looked up at the ceiling, pretending she didn't hear you. She quickly grabbed a stack of paper towels and a biohazard bag. "I think I hear duty calling. I need to go help Vomit Boy." She vanished before you could say another word.
Dana chuckled, finally setting her pen down. "Go home and get some sleep, kiddo. Look on the bright side: at least there won't be any traffic."
"If you say so," you muttered, "But if I start hallucinating from sleep deprivation, I’m blaming all of you."
*****
The night shift sat heavy in your chest, a familiar reluctance that never quite eased. The ER looked different after dark—dimmer and quieter, but not in a way that felt safe. It was just slower, like something was waiting in the shadows of the fluorescent lights.
The moment you stepped inside, Princess caught sight of you and grinned. "Enjoy the moon, babes. Call me if you meet a handsome werewolf."
You rolled your eyes, your boots clicking against the linoleum. "Go home."
Behind the counter, Shen glanced up from his coffee, his face illuminated by the glow of a monitor. "Welcome to the night shift."
"Happy to be here," you lied, setting your bag down beside the station.
"Liar," he said, without missing a beat.
You almost smiled, shaking your head as you adjusted your watch. You tried to settle into the unfamiliar rhythm of the ward, but the air felt charged. The sliding doors hissed open again just as you reached for a chart. You shifted to give the newcomer space, only to realize he had stopped right beside you.
"Didn’t expect to see you here."
You turned your head. Jack was standing close enough that you could catch the faint, sharp scent of antiseptic and dark coffee. He had clearly just arrived; his bag was still slung over his shoulder and his sleeves were already pushed up, as if he were halfway into a procedure before he’d even clocked in.
"Temporary," you said. "Just covering."
He nodded once, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "Unlucky."
"That obvious?"
"A little."
You let out a quiet breath, your shoulders dropping an inch. "I’ll survive."
His gaze lingered for half a second longer than necessary—an assessment, a silent weighing of variables—then he gave a small, sharp nod. "Good. We need people who do."
And just like that, he moved past you. He didn't look back; he was already part of the machine, focused on the floor. You didn't think about it again. There was no reason to.
The night settled into a stretched-out cadence. There were fewer patients and less noise, but it was never truly quiet. Residents drifted between cases like ghosts; Shen remained a permanent fixture at the counter, fueled by caffeine. You found your pace, realizing that the night shift wasn't easier; it was just more exposed.
Now, you were handling a drunk patient who got into a bar fight, his leg injured from stepping on broken glass—probably because he showed up in flip-flops.
"Hey… nurse…"
You ignored it at first.
"…Hey, I’m talking to you…"
You glanced over and immediately regretted it. The smell reached you before the sight did: stale beer and sweat. The man’s words were a slurred mess, a puzzle you didn't have the patience to decode. You stepped closer anyway, crouching by his leg when you saw the dark stain on his jeans.
"Hold still," you said, your voice clinical as you reached for your tray. "There’s glass in here."
"Hey," he grunted, leaning his weight toward you. "You hear me?"
You didn't answer. You focused on the wound, your hands steady as you began picking shards of a broken bottle from his skin. One by one. Clean, rhythmic movements.
“Think you’re too good to answer me, huh?” he slurred, voice rising, thick with alcohol. “Acting all high and mighty…”
He let out a rough laugh, shifting closer. “Bet you wouldn’t ignore me if I looked different…”
He kept talking, his voice bouncing off the tiled walls. You tuned it out, retreating into the work. Then, the air shifted. There was a movement, sudden and too close.
You lifted your head and saw his arm already swinging toward you. It was too fast. Your body locked up, that traitorous split-second of paralysis. Your eyes shut on instinct, shoulders tensing as you braced for the impact.
It never landed.
Instead of a blow, there was a sharp, muffled sound. You opened your eyes, your breath catching in your throat.
Jack was there.
He hadn't just stepped in; he had intercepted. With terrifying precision, his hand had caught the patient’s wrist mid-swing. It wasn't a struggle or a clumsy grab. It was a clean, absolute stop.
For a second, the patient looked merely confused, his momentum erased. He tried to jerk away, but he couldn't move. Jack’s grip tightened just enough to make the reality of the situation sink in.
"She’s treating you," Jack said.
His voice was quiet. He didn't yell. He wasn't angry. Somehow, that was worse.
The patient tried to pull back again, but Jack’s hand shifted—not a twist, not yet—just a subtle application of pressure that signaled exactly how easily he could break what he held.
"You’re going to sit still," Jack continued. His tone was calm, almost patient, like he was explaining a fundamental law of physics. "Or I’m going to make sure you don’t use this hand for the rest of the night."
A beat of heavy silence followed.
"Your choice."
Something in the way he said it, the absolute certainty that he wasn't bluffing, made the man go completely still. Silenced. Controlled.
Jack held him there for a second longer, ensuring the lesson had taken root, then released the wrist like it had never been worth the effort. He didn't look at the patient again. He looked at you.
For a second, you just stared.
Oh God.
Dr. Jack Abbot had stepped in like it was nothing.
Your heart slammed hard against your ribs, too fast, uneven, the kind of rhythm you were used to seeing on a monitor, not feeling in your own chest. Your hand came up instinctively, pressing against your sternum as if that might steady it, but it didn’t. Your breathing followed, shallow, quick, just slightly out of control.
He noticed.
Jack’s attention shifted to you almost immediately, sharp and focused in a way that made everything else feel secondary. “Shen,” he called without raising his voice, “get in here. Call security.” He didn’t wait for confirmation. He already knew it would be handled. By the time the words left his mouth, he was already moving toward you, dropping into a crouch in front of you like the situation had changed priorities.
His fingers closed gently but firmly around your wrist, checking your pulse, his thumb steady against your skin. You went still without meaning to, caught somewhere between awareness and something else you couldn’t quite name.
“Pulse is fast,” he murmured, mostly to himself, eyes flicking up to your face, assessing. “Breathing’s shallow… pupils are dilated.”
You blinked at him, a little disoriented by how close he was, by how quickly he had shifted from control to care like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Adrenaline, you told yourself. Acute stress response. You knew this. You’d seen it over and over again.
So why did it feel different when it was you?
“Are you hurt?” he asked, voice lower now, steady.
You shook your head. “No.”
“Dizzy?”
“A little.”
He nodded once, already processing. “Okay. Look at me.”
You did, almost automatically.
“It’s just adrenaline,” he said, calm, grounded, like he was guiding you through something routine. “You’re safe. Slow your breathing.”
You tried. In through your nose, out through your mouth. It didn’t settle immediately, but it helped enough that the sharp edge of it dulled.
“I’m right here,” he added, quieter.
That shouldn’t have meant anything.
It did.
“Thank you,” you managed, your voice not as steady as you wanted. “But I’m fine.”
He watched you for a second longer, like he was deciding whether to argue, then straightened, one hand slipping into his pocket. “I’ll take over here. Step outside. Get some air.”
You didn’t argue. You just nodded and pushed yourself up, walking out of the ER, the noise fading behind you as the cooler air hit your face. You inhaled deeply, slower this time, letting your shoulders drop as you tried to regulate yourself.
It should’ve passed quickly. Physiologically, it made sense. Stress response, elevated heart rate, rapid breathing. It should settle.
But it didn’t fully.
Something lingered.
And over the next few days, you started noticing it more. Not all at once, not dramatic enough to alarm you, just… there. Subtle at first. Every time you crossed paths with him, your pulse would pick up a little too fast. Your breathing would shift without permission. Heat would settle under your skin like a low-grade fever you couldn’t quite justify.
You told yourself it was leftover adrenaline. Fatigue. Adjustment to night shift.
Anything but what it actually was.
By the end of the week, you were ready to go back. Back to your routine, your quiet nights, your control. You were gathering your things at the station, half-focused on finally being done with this schedule, when his voice came from behind you.
“Heading back to days?”
You turned, a little too quickly. “Yeah. Finally.”
He nodded, like that was expected, his gaze lingering just briefly before shifting away again. For a moment, it felt like he was about to say something else, but instead he adjusted his stance, casual as ever.
“Gonna miss you.”
He said it like it didn’t weigh anything.
Like it was just a passing comment.
Then he walked off, already moving on to whatever was next, leaving you standing there, completely still, your thoughts blanking for a second too long while your body reacted first.
Your pulse spiked again, sharp and sudden, like your body had decided something before your mind could catch up. And this time… you couldn’t explain it away.
*******
Back on day shift, everything felt normal again. The noise, the pace, the constant movement—it grounded you in a way night shift never did. No strange spikes in your pulse, no sudden heat creeping up your skin, no unexplained shortness of breath. Just work. Predictable, exhausting work.
Which was exactly why, during a short break, you found yourself standing in front of Dana and Princess, explaining it anyway.
“It only happened at night,” you said, arms crossed, trying to keep your tone neutral. “Headache, elevated heart rate, a bit of a fever. But now it’s gone. So clearly, I’m just not built for night shift.”
Dana didn’t even look convinced. She leaned back slightly in her chair, arms folded, watching you over the rim of her glasses. “That’s called lovesick, dear.”
You blinked. “Hell no.”
“I agree with Dana,” Princess chimed in immediately, raising her hand like she was in class. “This is the first time you’ve had symptoms for an actual human being instead of your fictional men.”
You frowned. “You don’t mean that.”
Because that was ridiculous. You liked your fictional characters. The ones from your books, the ones who knew exactly what to say, who existed safely behind pages where everything made sense and nothing ever touched you back. That was different. That didn’t count.
“You said you wanted a boyfriend,” Dana continued, unbothered. “But every time you go out—Tinder, Raya, even the ones I introduce—you never make it past the second date.”
Princess nodded. “You literally said your feelings were dead.”
“And what did you tell us about when you’re around Jack?” Dana added, one brow lifting slightly. “Hm? Perhaps…?”
You stared at her for a second, then pointed at yourself. “Me? With Abbot?” You let out a short scoff, already turning away. “Nope. Nope.”
You didn’t wait for a response, stepping off to check on another patient like the conversation had already ended.
Behind you, Princess leaned slightly toward Dana. “Should we move her to night shift?”
Dana gave a small shrug. “It could happen.”
You ignored them.
You really did.
Right up until Robby’s voice cut through the station not long after.
“I need you on night shift again tomorrow.”
You froze mid-step.
Slowly, you turned your head. “What?”
“Short-staffed,” he said simply, already looking down at his chart. “Just for a bit.”
You exhaled sharply under your breath. "Here we go again."
**********
The night shift settled into something almost… enjoyable.
You moved easily with the team now, picking up where others left off and anticipating needs before they were even voiced. Shen trusted you without question, the residents didn't hesitate to call you in, and the pace felt just right. It wasn't suffocating like the day shift, but it wasn't empty either. It was just enough to keep you in constant, fluid motion.
And then there was Jack.
He didn’t hover, and he didn’t insert himself where he wasn’t needed, but somehow he was always there. Passing by. Standing just a little too close when you were both reviewing charts at the station. Dropping comments that sounded casual but never felt entirely hollow.
"Careful," he murmured once as you reached past him for a file. His hand moved reflexively, briefly steadying the edge of the folder before you could grab it. "You look like you’re about to start a fight with the paperwork."
You scoffed softly, trying to ignore the proximity. "It started it first."
That earned you a small, rare smirk.
And then, your body betrayed you. Your heartbeat kicked up, sudden and fast, heat creeping up to your ears like you’d been caught in a lie. You turned away quickly, pretending to focus on a monitor—anything to break the spell.
It kept happening. Every time he got a little too close. Every time his voice dropped just slightly when speaking to you. Every time that quiet, almost amused expression crossed his face, as if he knew something about you that you hadn't realized yet.
It was annoying. It was distracting. And if you were being honest, it was… kind of fun.
But there was another thing. The pain.
It came back in pieces. It started as a dull ache sitting high in your abdomen, easy enough to ignore during the rush of a trauma. Then it grew sharper on certain days, especially after you forced down a quick, greasy meal between cases. Once, the sensation stretched toward your back, making you pause mid-step before you straightened and kept going like nothing had happened.
You told yourself it wasn't serious. You were still working, still functioning, still sharp. If you could do the job, then it didn't count.
Until one shift, when you turned too quickly to grab a tray and the pain hit sharper than before. It was enough to make your breath hitch, a cold spike of clarity in your gut.
"Hey."
His voice came from right beside you. You straightened immediately, forcing your features into a mask of professional calm. "Yeah?"
Jack was already looking at you. This wasn't his casual gaze; he was focused. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"You just stopped."
You shrugged lightly, trying to brush it off. "Nothing. Just moved too fast."
His gaze didn’t leave yours. He was searching for the tell, the flinch you were trying so hard to hide. "You sure?"
"I’m fine."
There was a pause. It wasn't long, just enough for the weight of his scrutiny to settle over you. Then he nodded once, accepting the answer for the time being. "Alright."
But the way he looked at you for a second longer before stepping away said he wasn’t even remotely convinced.
******
The next morning, your phone buzzed before you were fully awake. It was Dana. You frowned at the screen, opening the message with one eye still half-closed.
You okay?
You stared at the text for a long moment before typing back. I’m fine. Just a little abdominal pain. Nothing serious.
The reply came almost instantly. Still there?
Yeah. On and off.
A long pause followed. You watched the typing bubbles appear and disappear. Then: If it keeps hurting, tell Jack, alright?
You blinked at the screen. Why him? Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, a hundred questions forming, but you just typed back a simple response. Okay.
You didn't think much of it after that. You really should have.
*******
That night, you walked into the ER again, and the familiar rhythm settled in almost immediately. The doors hissed open behind you not long after you'd checked the board.
"Back again."
You turned slightly as Jack stepped in. He was the same as always: calm, steady, acting as if the entire shift adjusted its orbit around him instead of the other way around.
"Looks like it," you said.
He gave a small nod, then glanced at you properly this time. "How are you doing?"
You didn't hesitate. "Fine."
It was too quick. Too easy. His eyes lingered on you for a brief second, weighing the word against the way you were standing, then he gave a quiet, thoughtful hum.
"Alright," he said.
But he didn't look like he believed a single word of it.
****
The shift carried on as it always did, steady and controlled, but the ache refused to leave this time. It stayed, anchor-heavy and persistent.
You were halfway through updating a chart when the pressure pressed in again. It was deeper now, not sharp enough to stop your heart, but strong enough to make you pause. Your hand came up instinctively, fingers pressing against your upper abdomen before you caught yourself and forced the limb back down to your side. You kept your posture straight and your expression neutral, pushing through the discomfort the way you always did.
Except this time, you weren't the only one paying attention.
"Hey."
You looked up. Jack was already watching you. His focus was sharper than it had been all night—not casual, not a passing glance, but a direct, diagnostic stare.
"You need to get that checked," he said.
You exhaled a short, dismissive breath and shook your head. "I’m fine."
His jaw shifted slightly, a tell-tale sign of rising impatience. "You’re not."
"I said I’m fine, Jack."
"Listen to me." His voice didn't rise, but the texture of it changed. It became firmer, colder, leaving absolutely no room for you to brush him off. "You need to be checked. Now."
You held his gaze for a second, the fires of an argument stoking in your chest, but there was something in the way he stood there—steady, unmoving, and entirely certain—that made you realize this wasn't optional.
You clicked your tongue softly under your breath. "Okay. Fine."
That was all he needed. He didn't waste time with a victory lap. He guided you toward a quieter corner of the unit, his movements efficient as he shifted entirely into clinical mode. "Sit," he commanded, pulling a chair toward you.
You sat.
His hand came to your wrist first. He checked your pulse with a steady thumb, his eyes briefly tracking the rhythm of your breathing. Then his attention moved, narrowing. "Point to where it hurts."
You pressed lightly just under your ribs. "Here."
"How long?"
"A few days."
"Worse after eating?"
"...Sometimes."
"Radiates to your back?"
You hesitated. That split second of silence was all the answer he required. His expression didn't change, but you saw the conclusion forming behind his eyes before he even spoke it. He pressed gently along your upper abdomen, and when his hand reached the spot just under your left rib, the pain flared with a white-hot intensity. A sharp intake of breath escaped you before you could stop it.
"There," he said quietly.
You frowned, trying to reclaim your dignity. "It’s really not that bad."
"It is," he replied, his voice level. He straightened slightly, already mentally writing the orders. "We’re running labs. Amylase, lipase. You’re not ignoring this."
You let out a frustrated sigh. "You’re overthinking it."
The results didn't take long. By the time he found you again, the shift was thinning out, and the heavy, blue quiet of the early morning had settled over the ER. He walked up to you holding a chart, his face unreadable.
"It’s pancreatitis," he said.
You stared at him, the word hitting you like a physical weight. "No."
"It is."
"That doesn’t make sense," you pushed back, shaking your head as if the movement could undo the diagnosis. "I’m working. I’m fine."
"You’re functioning," he corrected, his voice cutting through your denial. "That’s not the same thing."
You looked away, your jaw tightening. "It’s probably just a flare of—"
"It’s not." He stepped closer, his tone firmer now. "Your enzymes are elevated. Your symptoms match the labs perfectly. This isn’t something you brush off, and it isn't something you work through."
Silence stretched between you. You hated it. You hated that he was right, and you hated even more that you couldn’t argue your way out of the truth. He exhaled quietly, his tone softening just a fraction. "You’re done for tonight."
"I can finish the last two hours of my shift."
"No," he said simply. "You’re going to rest."
You opened your mouth to protest, but he didn't even let you start.
"We’ve got it covered," he added, anticipating your every objection. "You’re not helping anyone by pushing through this. You're just a liability to yourself."
You held his gaze, stubborn to the last, but the exhaustion was finally catching up. The ache under your ribs felt like a lead weight.
"...Fine," you muttered.
"Good."
"And I’m coming back tomorrow."
"No, you’re not."
You frowned, eyes snapping back to his. "Excuse me?"
"Take a few days," he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Rest. Fluids. Low-fat food. Let your body actually recover."
You let out a quiet, tired scoff. "You’re very bossy."
"And you’re a terrible patient," he replied, without missing a beat.
That, finally, shut you up.
******
You didn’t remember falling asleep. You just remembered the sheer weight of exhaustion pulling you under the moment you stumbled through your front door.
When you finally woke up, the world was too quiet. You lay there for a moment, disoriented by the daylight filtering through the curtains, until your phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a message from him.
Didn’t want to wake you. There’s food outside your door. Eat something light.
You blinked, still half-asleep, before dragging yourself out of bed. You walked to the door and cracked it open. A small bag sat neatly on the welcome mat.
You brought it inside and opened it slowly. It was soup. Simple, light, and clear—exactly what you would have recommended to any patient with the same labs. But as you looked closer, you realized it was your favorite.
You stared at the container for a second longer than necessary. A quiet, warm sensation settled in your chest, and for once, it had nothing to do with the pain under your ribs.
"...Ah, damn," you breathed out, almost under your breath, staring at the food in your hands a second longer than you should have.
You were in trouble now.
Because this?
This wasn’t something you could brush off anymore.
"Michael?" Dennis said as they sat next to each other on the couch, both separately scrolling on their phones. Except now, Dennis had his strategically pointed at Robby to film him without him realizing.
Hearing his full first name immediately put Robby on high alert. He side-eyed Dennis.
Dennis had to force his face to remain neutral. "I feel like you could have been nicer to me today," he said.
Oh, the look on poor Robby's face.
His big brown eyes got so sad so fast. He sounded so utterly devastated as he asked, "What?"
Dennis bit down on his cheek to keep himself from laughing. It was hard to keep the facade up, and he even had to turn his head away to hide his smile. "I just... I feel like you could've been nicer, is all."
"Baby, I'm sorry," Robby said in the gentlest voice. "What did I do? I was mean? I'm sorry, come here..."
Dennis obliged and climbed onto Robby's lap, and at this point, he couldn't help his giggles from escaping.
"I was stressed and I snapped at you earlier, didn't I?" Robby asked, rubbing Dennis' back and holding him close. "I'm sorry baby. I'm working on it, but I'm sorry I messed up. You don't deserve that."
Dennis couldn't hold it back anymore. He had to sit up and laugh, and that confused Robby so much.
Dennis explained the joke and Robby furrowed his brows.
"You little..." he grumbled, immediately going for the revenge tickles.
They both ended up laughing and snuggling on the couch, and after the camera cut, Dennis made sure to apologize and give Robby kisses all over his blushing face. Obviously, all was forgiven.
Then, Dennis had to try with Jack next.
The camera showed Jack standing in the kitchen stirring some milk into his coffee.
"Jack?" Dennis said, getting a vague grunt of acknowledgement before continuing, "I feel like you could've been nicer to me today."
Jack turned around and immediately clocked the camera. He smirked.
Smash cut to Dennis laying in bed, blanket pulled up over his bare chest as he wiped his messy hair off his sweaty forehead, still a little breathless.
Jack's voice could be heard from off-screen. "That nice enough for you?"
Dennis nods. "Yes, sir."
He edits the video together and posts it with the caption: my boyfriends have VERY different reactions to this trend. very happy with both of them >:3
The comments are flooded with about a thousand variations of "stop being greedy and save some dilfs for the rest of us." This boosts Dennis' ego for three months, honestly.
have this to tide you over until i can get the next smau part finished lol
AU where instead of being pissed at Tim for replacing him, Jason is actually over the moon that there’s another kid in the Wayne household vying for the spot of Batman’s sidekick. this is specifically because he knows that after spending all his time at the League of Assassins trying to keep this little fucking demon brat away from him so he can train in peace, now Tim will attract Damian’s anger and Jason can be left the fuck alone.
-at the league-
Jason, meditating: *sighs peacefully*
Jason:
Jason, eyes still closed: don’t you fucking dare, Damian.
Damian, standing three feet away poised to throw a rock at his head: oh sure, you can sense this but not keep yourself alive. pathetic. i will be a better Robin than you, mark my words.
Jason, has been through six months of this: give it a rest you infant
Damian: *throws the rock*
Jason: DAMIAN-
~
Ra’s: Jason, i have need for you on an international mission-
Ra’s:
Ra’s: why.
Jason, holding Damian away from him with one hand while Damian swipes at him with a katana: ASK HIM
Damian: I WILL BEAT MY PREDECESSOR IN COMBAT TO PROVE TO MY FATHER I AM WORTHY OF A PLACE AT HIS SIDE.
Jason: I ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT’S NOT HOW ROBIN WORKS-!
Damian: STOP DODGING MY BLADE
Ra’s:
Ra’s, walking out the room: i should never have let Talia adopt another heir.
~
Talia: was your latest mission hard on you, beloved? you are injured.
Jason, face scratched to hell: mission was fine, Damian just got the jump on me in my sleep last night.
Talia:
Jason: i was overtired and it took me longer than usual to kick him into the wall.
Talia, sighing: did you at least take him to the med room after defeating him?
Jason: by the scruff of his neck, yeah.
Talia: at least he is resilient.
Jason, bite marks on his arm: that’s one fucking word for him.
-once Jason gets to Gotham-
Tim: JASON?!
Jason, breaking into Titans Tower: you’re Robin now?
Tim: I- YES BUT I NEVER MEANT TO REPLACE-
Jason, leaning in: good. tag, you’re it.
Tim: ??!?
Damian shows up in Gotham and Jason turns to point him at Tim before going ‘MUSH’ and sprinting in the opposite direction.
You had met Syverson when he moved in with Jay, his best friend, after he was done with the military. Jay brought him to the bar, your friends and you would usually hang out. He was so handsome and immediately you had a crush on him. He was very much your type. Broad, muscular but with a layer of fat, not clearly defined muscles but clearly strong. They were functional muscles and you could only imagine how he could lift you up, carry you in his arms. Or easily lift the heavy things you had problems with. You dreamed about him coming up behind you taking the heavy things from you and easily carrying them to wherever you needed. And as a cherry on top he had a beard, giving him a rough, rugged look that made your heart flutter. Yet, what truly enticed you was how kind and caring he was, joking around even if it was on his own expense. He was cocky but not arrogant.
Yet, you had no idea how to go about your crush, no idea what kind of woman he would be interested in and if you fell into that category. You spent countless nights wondering, thinking about him. Your heart would beat faster and faster when you knew you would see him whenever your friends would go out in the evening. You were not in the habit to regularly go out but the fluttering in your stomach gave you enough energy not to miss one outing and the chance to see him.
Your best friend found this quite odd that you would willingly go to every gathering. And finally only a week after you had realized you like Syverson you told your best friend. You were never a person who was ashamed of your feelings. Not understanding the secrecy around having a crush.
Even though it would make you sad, very much so if he did not like you, you would be okay. At least you would know and could try and move on.
However, as much as you tried you struggled with making conversation with him. It was always difficult for you. You either talked too little or too much. You did not know what to say, when and how to say something and eventually the conversations would die down and you were just not interesting enough for people to stick around. This got even worse when you liked someone. Trying to think clearly ignoring how hard your heart was beating and often your sentences were disjointed. While at times when a topic would arise you had previously been fixated on or were currently interested in. You would info dump and even sometimes correct people when they said something not entirely true. This was the biggest reason you struggled with finding a partner. You were just out of your depth with social interactions. And no one had ever caught your attention as much as Syverson. All you wanted was to be wrapped up into his arms and make him laugh, enjoy the rumble in his chest and the amazing feeling it gave you when you would make someone laugh. Especially laughter of happiness, this was the greatest joy for you.
You would always smile at him. When you first saw him you could not help but let the biggest broadest smile take over your face. Squishing up your cheeks until it would look like your eyes were closed. Yet, during the time you would spend with your friends at a bar or at someone's house having a BBQ you would shyly smile at him whenever your eyes met. No idea how to strike up a conversation. You could hardly look him in the eyes. Whenever you have intense emotion it is hard for you to look people in the eyes. No matter bad or good emotions. Your heart would race so hard that it would hurt if you also had to look directly at the person's eyes. Which was a shame as Sy had such beautiful eyes. You tried making conversation with him. You voice soft and tentative trying to curb the anxiety you felt talking to him, hoping he liked you.
You could not see how soft his eyes were when he looked at you. The encouraging smile when he saw the nervousness whenever he talked to you. At first he thought you might be a bit scared of him but soon he realized that you had taken a liking to him. He had talked to his best friend, asking if he knew something you were interested in. So he could coax you out of your shell. It was a bit hard to hold up the conversations at times but he did not mind leading the way throughout the chats you two had. It was superficial at first and he caught on quickly that you struggled a little with social interaction. So when his best friend said he would ask his boyfriend, a guy from your friend group he saw you get along easily, Sy felt encouraged that next time you two saw each other he would have something to talk about with you. He wanted you to feel included in the group and now that Syverson was retired and was so kindly taken into the friend group he did everything to be a part of their little found family.
When his best friend's boyfriend was over at their place he gave him some pointers not only on you but other people in the group. Yet Sy especially listened to what he said about you. You liked cartoon drawings, had a high level of education and loved learning new things. You tried to learn different languages, loved books and storytelling. You were closed off at first until you got a basic understanding of a person. But once someone would get through your shell you would open up. As Syverson understood from what the boyfriend said, you were honest, kind, gentle but stood up for what you believed, fighting for your loved ones. Syverson thought long and hard about what the boyfriend had said about you. He remembered the way you made sure everyone was okay, that they had drinks and food. How you ran after your friend when she forgot her hat at the bar even though you would see each other tomorrow. Saying: "I did not want her to be cold or panic searching for her hat." It brought a smile to Syverson's face. The more he thought about you the more he wanted to get to know you.
He slowly and so gently fell in love with you. When you two talked and he brought up a book he knew you liked, Syverson fell full force for you. The way your eyes lit up, how you stumbled over your word because you were speaking so fast, how you would gesture with your hands and smile up at him in excitement.
However, you surprised him when your group of friends left the bar. You turned to him, a little nervous and asked him if he wanted to have coffee with you. "Just us two. I like you and would love to get to know you better. If that is okay with you." He had never been asked out, well so direct and honest. He liked that. You seemed so fearless while doing it. Letting him know what you want but making sure you would be okay if he refused. Normally Sy was the one asking out the woman and the caveman at him was annoyed you had beaten him to it. Yet the war tired man in him was relieved to have such directness. No dancing around, straight and simple.
Finally he smiled at you, "'course darlin'. Would love that." He pulled out his phone to give you his number. Although you two were in a group chat with all your friends he wanted the experience of giving you his number, making it feel more like a romantic start. You beamed up at him pulling out a piece of paper. His lips quirked at this. He knew you had your phone on you. But you looked so cute, with the piece of paper in your hands holding it out excitedly to him.
Giving him the piece of paper he saw you had written your phone number on it and your name. He took it happily. "Let me know when you wanna grab that coffee. I am free most of the time." You went on, still smiling up at him. "You got it sweetheart." He hesitated a bit. He thought of your honesty so he gave himself a push. Screw seeming too eager! Who cares anyway?
“How about tomorrow at 3pm.” He smiled down at you.
Your friends had walked a bit further away giving you two some space but couldn’t help but look at the two smiling at each other. You two are so cute, your best friend thought.
“We could go to the small cafe with the vintage furniture, the one couple streets down the road.” He pointed his thumb behind him. You nodded eagerly. He knew you loved that cafe.
“Of course, I love that cafe. They have the option to put vanilla sugar into the coffee!” You exclaimed excitedly. “Well then it’s decided. I can pick you up and we can park by O'malley's pub then walk downtown.” You nodded once more. “See you then.” You hugged him. Burying your face in his chest, he enclosed you in his arms, almost swallowing you whole. He could get used to this. You lifted your head looking up at him, with sparkling eyes. Taking your face in his hands he kissed your forehead. “See you then.” He whispered. Watching as you and your best friend walked down the road to your car.
Both of you went home that night with butterflies in your stomach and a smile on your face.
Ooh. Please please make more self-inserts. Not only is it fun you have no idea how much it can help you be kind to yourself. Have the hero of the franchise fall in love with you for what you think are your annoying quirks. Have the wisest man in that fictional world, tell others that your are the kindest and the smartest person he has ever met. Have the evil guy fall for you and revoke his evil ways cuz youre just that hot. Allow yourself to be loved by the fictional characters you look up to and in time you may also begin see how wonderful you really are.
Summary: Sherlock is determined to tell you everything, to introduce you to your new role in his coven. Yet all you want is a little normality... and to cling to your new maker.
Warnings: swearing, fluff,
A/N: another chapter! The next will most likely be the last one i just couldnt fit everything into this chapter comfortably.
Not beta read, let to typos roam!
You hummed quietly sitting in the center of the huge livingroom. The rest of the coven was scattered around you watching you like a little pack of overly protective guard dogs... wloves even, dogs were too domesticated to be compared to these lot. You chuckled into the small metal flask at the thought. Everyone seemed to be relaxed, almost as if they could take a deep sigh of relief now that you were now safe and fed.
You couldnt help find it odd, seeing them all slouched about the place. They were all completely at ease, no tall postures or crossed arms, not even the strange head tilting twitches they usualy did to listen to you. You knew that they were each aware of you, but not like normal. Normally you felt this oddness, not fear or anxiety but there was something that lingered, something primal that shadowed every interaction up untill now. It took a while of observing them to figure out what was missing. It was their little predatory ticks. The slight behaviours and body language they had before.
The way their eyes always locked onto you unblinkingly, the occasional deep inhales and tight muscles, the excessive throat clearing and swallowing. It was strange to realise all these things were now gone. They hadnt been a bother, you barely noticed them before. But you had noticed. And now you realised why, you were prey, they were a predator of your kind; unconsciously you knew that. It frightened you when you realised they were always uncomfortable around you to some extent. Scenting you, watching and stalking you unintentionally about the house. Clearing their throat and swallowing as if trying to rid themselves of your scent, or sooth their throat.
You dropped your gaze, you felt? Well you wasnt sure. Greatful to be alive? Sure. Frightened of the future and the way you clung to sherlock? Most definitely. You were perched next to him, legs on the sofa beside you with a huge plush pillow on your feet, leaning on sherlock. One hand was fisting his cuff tightly. Your fingers almost trembling under the pressure, knuckled curled into the soft cuff of his shirt, skimming his skin. This wasnt normal, your attachment was more then you could bare.
You needed him, in a way you had never needed anyone before. This was more then attraction, this was something deeper then feelings, deeper then flesh and bone. He was apart of you, he was etched into your very soul. You had feelings for him as a human, a huge crush on him for sure, youd never deny that. But now? No you felt as if you would truly die if he moved more then a few feet away from you, that if he were to pull your hand from his sleeve it would be physically painfull. He was everything to you.
"Come love drink, i promise no more after you finish this one" he muttered with a smile inclining his head, nodding the the final few dreges of 'juice'. His words were accompanied with his free hand moving across your forehead, tucking the hair from your face lighrly. You closed your eyes pressing into the gentle touch, almost purring like a kitten experiencing their first ever chin scratches. You quickly blinked and looked down embarrassed by your eagerness to have him touch you. Especially infront of the others.
Sherlock had moved everyone upstairs shortly after your first feed, leading you all into the sprawling home above once the sun had dipped below the horizon. Youd quickly donned one of his long shirts and a pair of boxers that almost reached to your knees. Youd been mortified after realiseing everyone in the coven had seen you half naked!
But Sherlock had been quick to sooth you and then ushered you upstairs before letting the others encourage you to feed more. Clark, August and Walter each took turns to refill the metal flask. As much as you wanted to be a perfect vampire and say you were adjusting to the diet already. You wasnt, it was thick and foul. But the others look of worry when you tried to refuse their offerings and insist you were fine had broken you down quickly, well that and a single pleading look from sherlock and Walters promise that this was the last refill for the night.
You grunted peering down your nose into the vile nutrients you now relied on. But quickly drank the last of it and handed the flask to sherlock whilst pulling faces at the lingering taste.
"Theres a good girl Hmm? My very brave girl your doing so much better then this stubborn lot" he uttered the praise and wrapped his arms around you pulling you into his chest nuzzling you sweetly, presseing sotf butterfly kisses on your cheeks. You sighed, moaned even.
"R-really? I thought i was weird.. not liking it and all" you whined tucking yourself into him, all but curling up in his lap. Not thar he minded. He let out a strange murring sound and then coiled himself around you dragging you to sit on his thighs and rested his chin on your head. You melted into him, breathing him in. You might have been embarrassed had you not been so utterly transfixed on sherlock. He was all you could see, all you wanted to see and feel.
"Nonsense, your being perfectly behaved, your taking this all so well. It makes me so proud, makes me love you all the more" he uttered into you his words were calm and full of warmth. You felt a tugging on your heart, a strange sensation yet a beautiful one.
"L-love?" You whined once more, feeling yourself get all choked up. This time your throat wasnt contracting under the weight of your new found thirst. But the raw emotions you felt, the feelings of love and reverance poured from him into you. Odd but fulfilling, you knew somehow he was ltting you feel him in the most intimate of ways. Even thought you didnt quite understand it, it was overwhelming and awe inspiring to have this tremendous warmth fill you.
"Absolutly. Of course I love you, if you only knew how much i love you, i have been drawn to you since we met." He spoke with a small laugh holding you even tighter for a moment squeezing you to himself reassuring you.
You knew you shouldnt feel so drawn to him. You had a crush yes but this? This deep bond you had with him had cemented within hours, the need felt more than just that of a fledgling and maker. Not that youd experienced it before but the media had been warning people about the bonds of makers and new born progeny's. That the makers can be over protective and the newly turned would be overly clingy and possessive of their makers and volitile.
You didnt feel that. You just felt achy? In your heart. You felt love and need and infatuated with sherlock. You wanted to be smothered by him in the sweetest of ways. And it seems he too felt the same pull. It made you happy.
"And now here you are, my perfect little fledgling, my child,companion, my heart, my very own eternal wife, i have turned you, and bound you to me in all ways a vampire can bind a mortal. Your bite on your thigh was more then just a lovers nip~" sherlock chuckled smoothing his hands over your form before ruffling your hair, which now seemed to have a glossy look to it, something you hoped was permanent.
"Wha- but you said? I mean it was for... you know freinds with benefits or something" you trailed off, tucking your chin into your chest trying not to look at the others who all chuckled to themselves finding your outburst quite amusing. Sherlock drew a long breath and hummed sweetly, clearly he was just as amused as his sons. But he was tryng not to show it. Jnstead he pinched your chin between his fingers and gently made you loom at him.
"As a human yes. But turning you? Having you wear my bite permanently as a vampire. Its much more significant. It means we are officially pair bonded; married by our kinds terms. You now carry my scent and all other vampires will know we are a mated couple" he explained calmly, tryjng to fend of the victorious grin that was growing across his face. Knowing something to be true and confirming out loud were two different things. And he couldnt help but be satisfied with himself and his achievment.
"Wait i? You married me with a bite; who the hell thinks bites are that important" you grunted shocked and if not a little exasperated by thaat extra little tid bit... not that you were disappointed, not in the slightest. Infact you had to bite your tongue befor you started askjng about wedding nights and vampire sex.
"Vampires naturally." Leon purred with a little chuckle, once again provingnhimself to be a smartass. You deadpanned and turned to him with a sarcastic grin.
"Of course how silly of me" you snipped back, somewhat enjoying the little sliver of normality that was leons attitude. Your hands still clutching to sherlock. Despite being comfortable enough to snip at leon you had the overwhelming need to still hold on to sherlock. He was safety your anchor in the midst of this storm or discovery and emotion.
Sherlock however didnt seem to take the same veiw and promptly coiled around you, dragging your chest to meet his and growled at the sarastic member of his brood.
"Leon, less of the sarcasm your mother may not correct you yet but i will boy. Now apologise" sherlock warned making leon freeze and stutter for a moment. You huffed and wriggled about to your shock you managed to make some space between you and sherlock and turned your head to face leon who looked downtrodden, hanging his head in shame.
"No. No dont... please i just want; just be your normal bitchy self. I could do with normality right now." You reassured him and almost pleaded with sherlock. It was true, right now you wanted normal, the usual everyday normality and to come to terms with everything else slowly at your own pace.
"Dont grumble sherlock, he's fine" you chided meekly as he rolled his eyes and grunted casting leon another warning look.
"You have to be firm my love or they will run rings around you and the coven will fall into anarchy"sherlock stated still flicking his gaze from you to leon who you could tell from here was frozen like a statue. You heaved a sigh before blinojng up at sherlock and tested the waters. They had called yoh their nest mother, sherlock was clearly the father and had said you were his wife now... they had given you the role so perhaps you should use it? Ease yourself into it now and negotiate for leon? Get him off the hot seat so to speak?
"You seem firm enough for the both of us... besides a little anarchy is a good thing~" you shrugged teasingly trying to diffuse the situation with a bit of humour.
"A good thing? God's help us" Sherlock chuckled shaking his head at you before pressing a kiss to your cheek making you squirm and giggle. Leon let out a sigh and relaxed in his seat. You melted into sherlock timidly winding your arms around him and holding him close. A part of you was nervous of being rejected and pushed away, even after all of the explanations.
Sherlock didnt pull away instead twisting you to sit across his lap and lean back, sinking into the sofa. You leant into him clutching at him closing your eyes just taking a few moments to relax. It was a few moments you needed. Quiet and calm.
"A-are you well... do you need anything mother? Ah fuck?! August what was that for?!" Clark uttered after a few moments, it was cute in a way. He seemed eager to please and concered about you. And you made to respond and tell him you were okay just trying to relax.
But instead of placating him, you were shocked seeing August slap the back of clarks head. You pulled your lips between your teeth trying desperately not you laugh at the little dispaly.
"Less of the mother for now jailbait, the woman just asked for some normality." Auaugst grinted nonchalantly, yet the smirk on his face showed just how much he had enjoyed slapping Clark. Who had turned to face him eyes alight with irritation.
"Jailbait? Really magnum?" He teased with a light growl cleary ready to have a spat with the older male.
"Well i was going to call you boy scout but a boy scout would last a bit longer in the woods alone before crying for his daddy to save him" august hummed and shrugged slapping his hands to his thighs trying to get another rise from clark.
"Hey the sun was riseing and i panicked its completely reasonable to call your maker for help!" Calrks offended snarl was accompanied with a dangersous sneer. He looked about ready to pounce August and have a scuffle.
"Pussy" August huffed shaking his head and looking away grinning to himself. Clearly august was much more of a trouble maker than youd ever realised.
You flinched as Clark jumped to his feet , shoulders tense and back dead straight. Sherlock held you toghter but didnt get a chance to scold the two pissy va,pires. No, sy got there first, in his own way.
"If i remember correctly, the first time a certain cia agent stayed out a little too late he was just as panicked when he called for his maker. And threw an all out fit about going swimming" sy uttered with a knowing smile and sent you a quick wink letting you know he had it covered. Sherlock visibly relaxed and released a breath.
"Didnt dad have to drag you to the bottom of the bay and walk you out to deeper water?" Walter added not willing to miss the opportunity. August grunted snapping his gaze from sy and then to walter embarrassment and then anger as clark burst out laughing.
"Kicking and screaming too" Leon added jumping in on the new game. You almost felt sorry for August as the others quickly turned the tables on him. But then again he had started it.
"You freaked out about getting wet?" Clark asked chuckling crossing his arms and flopped back into his seat with a smug smile.
"Fuck you its ptsd! i almost drowned as a mortal" August practically snarled fangs dropping and eyes glowin birght with his fury. It was clear the male wasnt used to having the tables turned on him. He liked to win at everythjng even little spats.
"Yeah we know, you bitched about it when dad pulled you out at sun down" leon drawled from his seat making the a chuckle ripple through the room. Even you gave a light giggle. august hiss, snapping his gaze to leon and lowered his head tenseing, almost coiling back readying to launch himself at the older man.
"Boys thats enough." Sherlock spoke quietly, a finality in his tone that stopped the brewing fight with a roll of his eyes and a half smile. He clearly enjoyed the dynamic and brotherly teasing between them. Sherlock tipped his face to yours and nuzzled into you softly.
"Im sorry about them. They are children at heart. But i hope their bickering wont annoy you too much?" He apologised sending the others a warning glance as they hovered watchingnyou both intently. They couldnt seem to get enough of watching you both together. But they quickly dispersed about the room. Some crossing the space to the kitchen busying themselves.
"I... no i mean they are... they are family, its sort of reassuring watching them act like siblings... family sound nice" sherlock froze and for a second you thought youd said something wrong. But when you peaked up at him he was shocked?
"Family? You see us as; you will consider it? Remain here as my wife. Stay and take your place in our nest? Become a family" his words were hopeful. You considered him for a moment and then nodded to him smiling shyly.
"I suppose its not a bad offer.. I have little choice.. I mean according to Vampire-our? Ways? im married... and have kids?...that are way older than me?" You uttered quietly spareing a glance at the others who were stil. Pretending not to eavesdrop on you both.
"I wouldnt mind haveing a family, being a mom and stuff..." you muttered softly, one hand moving to sherlocks own and squeezing it. Sherlpck tipped his head forward capturing your lips in a deep kiss. Yoh flinched at first not expecting the ferocity of his lips. He leant back, draging you with him, one arm curling around your waist plastering you to him. His other hand roamed across your ribs.
You moaned into him unable to resist him, the way he felt was just to much. He was addictive and perfect. Hings quickly began getting out of hand when you melted into him, his hand glided across your form teasing you. The pull beween you both was to powerful, sherlock couldnt stop. Hours ago he thought he would never get this. It was only when sy cleared his throat you had pulled away.
You looked around seeing the others smirking, castingnone another knowing looks and raising their brows. You whined spinning around covering your face with your hands and hiding in sherlock chest. He chuckled wrapping his arms around you holding you tightly.
"I want you to remember, that staying here is? Your not just my progenies den mother or my wife." Sherlock paused, having to take a few moments as he felt his throat tense, the air thick in his lungs heavy,threatening to drown him. He was choked up, he couldnt put his feeling s into words. There were no words that could truly convey his relief, elation, love and excitement
"You dont know it yet but you are the love of my afterlife. The reason i rise each night, my last thought as i sleep. And the first thought when i wake. You are my heart and i have waited a millenina to find you." Sherlock hummed rocking you slightly as he spoke enjoying this moment for as long as he could. It wasnt everyday he told his heart;his fated soul mate that she was just that. His love, mate, the woman hewas bonded to for eternity. That he would now know true everlasting love and relish the rest of his unnatural life beside the onewoman that is destined for him, and him alone.
"Your heart?" You shoo, your head trying to make sense of his words. Heart? Like actual heart? Like you were what he needed to surcpvive? Or was heart different. He said love of his afterlife? And wife? Perhaps it was all the same thing, vampires just had different terminologies?
"Yes. My heart my mate, my one, the one who can bring life into my immortality. I had an inclination. And now you have quelled my undying thirst, that in itself is proof" he finally explained, useing the more common lables for you to understand. He sometimes forgot heart wasnt a term typically used by mortal nowadays. Soul mates are more wodely understood.
"But...You just turned me on accident you said that yourself." You uttered quietly, still fearing to hope that these feelings you had for your once boss now maker were something more then just a fledgling. Could you really be his heart? The woman he had been waiting for. It almost seemed too perfect, too much like a happily ever after. A small part of you still doubted your feelings. The emotions and strong urge to be as close to him as humanly possible still felt like a trap almost? As if this was typical of a new vampire. Yet sherlock was being honest, he had to be telling the truth he seemed so shaken earlie, and now it was as if the world had spun on its axis and now revolved around you. You could see it, feel it even. at this very moment you meant more to him then anything else in the world. And it was the best feeling youd eve experienced.
"His eyes mother. Look" walter said slowly nodding to sherlock. You frowned leaning back at what you saw. The red hue was giving way to a crystal blue. The lighter colour seeping into the red in some places giving a purple tint to them. But you made out clear blue ppatches that seems as if they were growing there was even the faintest imperfect perfect spot of brown. You gasped moving a hand to cup his cheek and smiled. How hadn't you noticed this? His complexion was still pale, but a human pale, a peachy undertone and his eyes sparkled. Was this how he looked when he was human. He was stunning, more so now then before.
"Your eyes; oh my god what? Blue? They're going blue!" You stated still stareing at him in awe. Sherlock was quick to support you as you leaned further back in his lap trying to take his new appearance as a whole.
"Yes. They are. They have been changing slowly since i fed from you" He uttered grinning before gliding his hands from your back to your shoulders and down over your arms. He couldnt stop. Wouldnt stopp caressing you, he had to. Because every moment with you here in his arms felt like a dream, one of qhoch he could wake from any second.
You frowned slightly, trying to figure out how? Why? What had caused this unheard change. Vampires did not magically change back. Turning was permanent. It couldnt be undone so how had sherlock gaid these human like qualities. Sherlock smiled a fanged grin making you relax slightly seeing he was infact still a vampire.
"The human blood of our mates realease us of some constraints. Our eyes become human, our thirst lowers significantly, our hearts begin to beat once more, in a slow steady rythm" he anounced inching closer to you grasping your hand. With a quick pull you were touching his chest feeling the inhumanly slow thuding of hiis heart.
"For all intents and purposes You make my heart race poppet" he quipped earning a few chuckles from the others. You looked away from him with a shy smile. He was clearly more comfortable with you now you were one of his own kind. He wasnt so high strung. You dread to think how wound up he was all the time you were human, it must have been hard having a snack walking about the house.
"This can only happen after feeding on the human blood of our mates. You are my mate. My heart. And for the first time in two millenina i look human,. And i can withstand the sun light, i can walk in the daylight. You have given me that" sherlock uttered smileing widely, his human eyes welling qith the rich ruby of his tears. It was a haunting yet oddly touching sight. Youd never heard that vampires could cry. And like everything about them it was surprising, they cried tears of blood. A part of you found it disturbing, that his tears could very well be your own life blood. Yet the simple fact he was shedding them over you, that youd donesomthing that had touched him so deeply, youd given him something no other could have done. You couldnt help feel a swell of pride at that. And with time you hoped you cpuld give him more and more.
