There's a humming in the restless summer air
And we're slipping off the course that we prepared
But in all chaos, there is calculation
Dropping glasses just to hear them break
You've been drinking like the world was gonna end (it didn't)
Took a shiner from the fist of your best friend (go figure)
It's clear that someone's gotta go
We mean it, but I promise we're not mean.
And the cry goes out (oh)
They lose their minds for us
And how it plays out (oh)
Now we're in the ring, and we're coming for blood.
warnings. smut, oral, munch!dani, slight degradation, praise kink, bratty!reader, overstimulation, 7thmember!au, mami kink, vulgar language, fluff near the end.
synopsis. your girlfriend, daniela, is always playing fortnite. one night, you teasingly suggest adding a twist to her normal gameplay.
words. 4.6k
letters. okay, first and foremost, this isn't my original idea!!! i was scrolling on my dashboard a week or so ago and came across a sturniolo fic (dk if it was matt or chris?) that had this prompt/idea, and grabbed inspiration from that !! i don't know the original writer off the top of my head—as i saw the fic a little while ago—so please inform me if you know <3
you'd always been aware of daniela's love for fortnite—and a little resentful of it.
it wasn't that you hated the video game in general. no, your minimal feelings of hatred toward the game are rooted in daniela not spending as much time with you at night. which, if you were being honest, would sound like a silly reason to hate the game if you were to say it out loud.
but you hardly ever saw her crawl into bed beside you every night—sleep always pulling you under in less than thirty minutes into watching her play at her desk, the low light of her monitor almost comforting now that you'd fallen asleep with it so many nights in a row.
albeit, it didn't make much sense. daniela always whined about how tired she was on the ride back from rehearsal, muttering under her breath about how she'd immediately crash the second she stepped into your shared dorm.
and as much as you wished that were true, it never happened.
you're not mad at her. rather, you're a little annoyed. annoyed because she never really made the effort to ask if you were alright, or if you wanted to play with her—not that you ever really wanted to because you were so exhausted, but the effort still would've counted!
it all just gets a little boring at times.
like now. you're lying under the covers, narrowed eyes flitting across the tiny sliver of the monitor that isn't blocked by daniela's curls. her headset is snug on her head, mic pressed close to her lips. she mutters curses every now and then, yells at the screen at unexpected moments and wakes you just as you're about to nod off.
so, after the umpteenth scream that passes by her lips and out into the room, you make the reluctant decision to just sit and watch the girl play.
it's almost midnight when you get bored, eyelids heavy with restlessness and something else. you sigh softly, hoping to catch your girlfriend's attention. when she doesn't even flinch, you push the covers off of your body, crawling toward the edge of the bed and hopping off the mattress.
fuzzy socks drag silently along the hardwood floors of the room as you make your way to daniela's desk, arms wrapping around her shoulders the moment you can reach. your nose nuzzles into the crook of her neck, inhaling tiredly.
the latina takes one hand off of her controller, fingers coming up to push one of her headphone's off of her ear.
“thought you went to sleep,” she murmurs, voice almost a whisper.
you laugh. quiet. “can't.”
she hums, eyes flicking back to the screen, grasping the controller with both hands again. “mmh, why's that?”
“...really?” you mumble, pulling away from her neck to really look at her.
your eyes drag over her side profile, jawline sharp and soft in the most perfect way, lips plump and faintly glossy, soft stray curls falling over her cheeks and framing her face. her eyes are illuminated by the light from her monitor, the hazel color of her irises highlighted.
she glances at you for a split second, cocking a brow in slight confusion.
“you've been screaming the whole night,” you grumble, tapping her shoulder. “m'surprised the others haven't already broken down our door with complaints.”
daniela just smiles. “they're used to it by now.”
you roll your eyes, resting your chin on her clothed shoulder, a t-shirt—that's one-hundred percent from your side of the closet—hanging loosely on her frame. her eyes stay glued to the screen, fingers moving carefully on the controller as she kills a player, celebrating with a quiet hiss.
“you gonna stay clingin’ to my shoulder the rest of the night or what?” she teases, teeth catching her lower lip moments later.
you don't answer, pupils flicking all around her face. the smooth expanse of her neck. clear. unmarked. your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek. conflicted. aroused. nowhere near tired anymore. you don't think she'd end the game if you pressed a few kisses to her neck. she'd be too focused to even notice.
still, you try anyway. lips soft on her skin.
she jolts. subtle. barely there.
“what are you doin’ now?” daniela purrs, trying to bite back a smile. she fails.
you're silent again, watching her like a predator examines it's prey. waiting for the perfect moment to pull her under your spell.
her fingers stutter on the joysticks, pulse pounding louder in her ears now. “...cariño.”
you pull away, and the ticklish sensation leaves almost as quick as it came, relieving daniela for a moment. a moment that's spent far too long in silence to be called normal. innocent. because you have something under your sleeve. an idea.
something that would make the video game exciting for both of you.
“y'know,” you murmur, trailing a finger up the soft skin of her arm lazily. “you could make this more fun.”
she doesn't look back—just lets out a short hum, already breaking. “what, you gonna hop on and run duos with me?” she teases, though her voice shakes. slightly. noticeably.
you snort. “hm, not quite.”
“...spit it out then, babe,” she whispers.
a beat of silence passes by.
then two.
on the third, your lips brush the shell of her ear, breath warm on her flushed skin. she shivers under the sensation, eyes drifting off screen for a second before she sets her focus back on the game.
“strip fortnite,” you breathe.
that gets her attention quickly. she freezes, hands limp around the controller that's now resting in her lap, headset slightly askew. then she glances over her shoulder, lips curling up into a grin. throat bobbing when she swallows a little too hard. “oh?”
her gaze flicks down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, already blown with lust. “and what are the rules?”
“you get a kill, i take something off. but, if you die…” you pause, letting the tension ring out in the air. “you lose something.”
daniela blinks, eyebrows raised, eyes slightly widened—then she gives you the cockiest smirk you've ever seen, her nerves from earlier erased. “you sure you wanna play this with me?” she murmurs, adjusting her headset to rest around her neck. “you're gonna be naked before i even hit top thirty.”
you roll your eyes with a scoff, stepping backward. the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, forcing you to sit. “try me, dani.”
she loads up a new match before even finishing the last one—as much as it hurts her to lose the eight kills she already had—and quickly lands at seaport city, already aggressive and competitive as hell. she's not playing it safe tonight.
not when this is on the line.
less than three minutes into the first game, she catches someone by surprise—gets a headset from behind and nearly jumps up from her chair, head snapping around toward you.
“c'mon,” she exclaimed, voice strained in an effort to contain her excitement.
you grin, hands trailing low. the latina's eyes follow your every move—but when your fingers pinch at the edge of your sock, she sighs in disappointment, the sound loud and exaggerated.
“you didn't specify what you wanted me to take off, angel,” you tease, tossing the small piece of fabric to the side.
she shakes her head, turning back to the monitor. “you wouldn't have listened anyway."
a small giggle sounds from your throat, and daniela just grips her controller tighter, jaw set, eyes locked on the screen, determined.
her second kill doesn't follow as quick as you think. it takes a few minutes into the round of daniela wandering around the map and organizing her layout, scanning the map, and searching for other players. then, the second you take your eyes off the screen, muffled shots reach your ears.
“two down,” she announces, glancing over her shoulder. “hoodie. take it off.”
you smile, stretching slowly. deliberate. letting the hoodie slide up and over your head, revealing just a tank top underneath, nipples creating a visible print in the thin fabric.
the latina lets her eyes roam—just for a second—and then forces herself to face forward once again.
third kill—she snipes someone from inside of a bush, smirk widening. another down. and now she's getting cocky. “shorts now, hermosa.”
but you? you tug down your last sock instead, giggling the whole time.
her brows furrow. “what the hell?”
you pout, feigning innocence. “what? it's a piece of clothing. i don't have to take off my shorts just because you tell me.”
she narrows her eyes. “you literally said—” then, with a defeated sigh, she spins back around. “you're gonna be the death of me.”
there's less than fifty people in the game now, and daniela's kills are much lower than they usually are—but that's just because the stakes are so high right now, and you can practically feel the nerves radiating off of her.
her nervousness quickly serves to betray her as she walks straight into an ambush. some kid with a juice wrld skin guns her down with an smg before she can even build.
“fuck me.”
you laugh. “off.”
she just huffs, sets her controller down on the desk. “what do you want?”
biting your lip, you hum. “your shirt.”
you don't miss the flicker of hesitation in her eyes—along with the swirl of lust—before she's moving, tugging the loose fabric over her head, jaw clenched. tosses it to the floor. she's topless now, her bare back pressing against the cool leather of her desk chair, all tensed and flushed and pissed in the hottest way possible.
she's not wearing a bra, which grants you the view of her chest. soft. bare. so empty without your marks to decorate her skin.
“not so cocky now, are you?” you tease.
daniela just shakes her head and spins back to face the desk with a huffed laugh.
the next game loads, and she's even more feral than the last. lands at the same spot. doesn't even wait to get a decent gun before she's off, searching for kills desperately.
she shoots at the first player she sees, kills them, and doesn't even say anything—just nods over at you with a shit-eating grin. you roll your eyes playfully and slowly slip off your tank top, eyes locked on daniela the whole time. your own chest is bare now. exposed to your girlfriend's hungry eyes. she doesn't even hide the way her gaze drags down your body.
the latina lands one more kill in that round, leaving you to take off your last piece of clothing.
your panties.
she watches in the reflection of her second monitor as you slide your thumb beneath the waistband of the lace. real slow. the fabric peels down your thighs, thin strings of your arousal catching the light of daniela's monitor, and then you shimmy them off with a very unnecessary arch of your back, hair cascading over your bare shoulder.
and you hear it.
the small, broken little sound she makes.
her controller drops into her lap.
you smirk. soft. too sweet to be considered innocent—because nothing about any of this is anywhere near that territory anymore.
“you're staring, avanzini,” you whisper.
she doesn't respond at first—just exhales, heavy, shallow, already wrecked. then she swallows. hard.
“game's over.”
you hum, cocking a brow. “really?”
she bites her lip, holding back a growl.
“you're naked,” she comments, voice low. dangerous. “you lost, and i won.”
silence overcomes the room.
then—
“so come get your trophy,” you purr.
and she does.
immediately.
she tosses the controller to the side, jumps out of her chair so fast she nearly trips over her own feet—and suddenly she's pinning you to the mattress, mouth crashing onto yours, hot and desperate and overflowing with need. her hands find your waist, your hips, sliding down to your thighs like she needs to touch everywhere at once to convince herself you're real.
“fuck,” she whispers against your lips, flipping your positions and pulling you into her lap. “you knew what you were doing when you suggested this stupid game.”
you giggle under your breath, arms wrapped around her bare shoulders, hips rolling slowly into her lap just to tease. “well, you're the one who never pays attention to me at night… needed to get it somehow.”
she bites your lip before you can say anything else—not hard, just enough to make you gasp—then kisses down your neck, breath shaky, lips hot. she sucks bruises into your neck like she's claiming you, hands sliding around and grabbing the backs of your thighs as she pulls you impossibly closer. chest to chest. skin on skin. nothing else between you now.
“you could've told me,” she growls, voice rougher as she bites at your collarbone. “but you just wanted to nag me, didn't you? thought it was cute?”
you nod without thinking, clit brushing perfectly against the fabric of her sweatpants, eyes wide and fake-innocent. “mhm.”
she flips you again—fast. your back hits the sheets, and she hovers over you, cheeks flushed and heart on fire. her curls are messy now, falling over her shoulders, lips red, and her eyes are hungry. “yeah?” she breathes, warmth fanning along your lips. “then you'll take your punishment like a good girl, hm?”
and oh—you will.
the latina doesn't even give you time to breathe, doesn't give herself time to overthink. because in a split second, her mouth is everywhere—your neck, your chest, your stomach—hand gripping your hips, nails digging into your skin harsh enough to bruise. she drags her lips down your body like she's trying to memorize every inch, leaving faint prints from her lip gloss. her tongue traces along the inside of your thigh, kissing slowly just to wreck you.
“you look so pretty, mi amor,” she purrs, voice soft, almost sweet now. “all warm n’ so ready for me.”
you whimper brokenly, hips jerking upward the second she blows onto your dripping cunt. a low, eager giggle spills from between her lips, and it only serves to make you even more desperate.
“baby,” you whine, breathless.
she doesn't tease for much longer. she couldn't even if she tried. she's too worked up. you feel her sink between your thighs, one arm hooking beneath your knee, the other still holding your hips in place. the first stroke of her tongue is hot and deep and needy.
you moan—loud. back arching. hands fisting the sheets harshly.
and she just groans in satisfaction, hips grinding mindlessly into the mattress like she needs the friction, like just the mere taste of you already has her falling apart.
her tongue delves between your folds hungrily, the tip of the muscle prodding at your leaking entrance and causing a string of strained moans to escape from the back of your throat. your hands find her hair quickly, tugging at the soft curls as your back arches further off the bed. every moan from you only makes her more feral, until she's got both arms wrapped around your thighs and she's devouring you.
“dani—” you gasp, head thrown back, body trembling uncontrollably.
“mmh?” she hums against you—the vibrations going straight to your pussy—then sucks gently, stimulating your clit teasingly until your legs are clenching around her head.
“you're—oh my god, you're so—”
you don't finish the sentence. you're unable to with the way daniela sucks so eagerly at your puffy bundle of nerves, the feeling both overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time—because she wants to keep you teetering on the edge of euphoria until you physically can't take it anymore.
she teases your clit for a while—until she sees the way your hips start bucking harder and she realizes you want more. you need more. and she lives to please. so, she flattens her tongue right on your cunt and shakes her head back and forth gently, eyes rolling back at the taste of your sweet arousal.
“so sweet,” she murmurs, the words muffled as she continues with her ministrations, tongue sliding deep into your entrance unexpectedly.
your grip on her hair only tightens when her tongue enters you, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you cry out.
“fuckfuckfuck,” you whimper, breath shallow and unsteady. “mami—dani, fuck, i'm close—”
she doesn't hear—or, that's what it seems like, because she doesn't stop. doesn't even slow down. and part of you believes that she did hear you, she was just too determined to pull you over the edge of ecstasy.
her eyes flutter open, landing on the blissed out expression on your face—brows furrowed, eyes shut, lips parted. she smiles in satisfaction, pressing kitten-licks to your clit slower than before, the sensation a clear contrast to how roughly she was taking you just a few moments ago.
“danii—!” you whine out, choking on a particularly loud moan, hips rolling in needy motions into her tongue. hazel eyes drag over your shaking figure, filled with lust and admiration and things she couldn't describe even if she tried, mind too fogged up with the taste of you.
your thighs flex around daniela's head, cunt clenching uselessly, practically begging for her to dip her tongue in again. and she does just that, answering your prayers with a slow, languid flick of her tongue, sliding deep between your gummy walls. when her nose bumps against your clit in time with the way she thrusts her tongue, you squeak out a moan that's in a higher pitch than any of the prior noises—one that's definitely heard from the other rooms in the house.
“already gettin’ so loud,” she slurs into the mess of your arousal, staring up at you through her lashes. “you wanted my attention that bad?”
“mhmm—so bad,” you babble, eyelids reluctantly fluttering open to meet her intimidating gaze. your own eyes are glossed over in pleasure, while daniela's are full of desire.
a chuckle sounds from her throat, the vibrations from the muffled noise spilling directly into your twitching pussy. your knuckles bleed white with how tight you grasp the bedsheets, the small of your back aching lightly with how deep you're arching. daniela lets her eyes fall shut again, lapping at the wetness that leaks from your entrance, focusing on your pleasure and your pleasure alone.
you don't notice when one of her hands slip away from your thigh, moving lower and landing right beside your core. with a sly smirk, she slowly runs the tip of her index and middle fingers through your folds, collecting the build-up of your sweetness. a groan erupts from the back of her throat at the slick feeling of your lips, fingers almost flicking away with how slippery your cunt is.
then, with careful precision, she slips the two of her digits deep into your cunt, the action slow and deep, replacing the warm muscle of her tongue. the tips of her fingers reach deep, brushing against spots that she knows make you crazy.
“o-oh, fuck—you're s-so—!” you moan, the words nearly incoherent with how whiny your tone of voice is. daniela coos softly into your pussy, voice inaudible as she sucks on your clit.
your chest rises and falls in an uneven pattern, a thin sheen of sweat forming all along the expanse of your bare body, the room getting warmer with each second that the latina's between your thighs. she curls her fingers, gentle fingertips brushing the soft, spongy spot that has you screaming.
“mami, m'gonna cum—please, p-ple—” you're cut off by your own moans, the sound breathy and needy, only pushing daniela deeper into the mission of making you fall apart. her fingers thrust deeper, harder. her tongue flattens over your clit and presses gentle kisses to the bud every other second.
“s'that right?” she purrs, nails digging deeper into the plush skin of your thigh, holding you open for her. you nod desperately, head pressing deeper into the pillows as you try to hold it, remembering only one thing:
don't cum without permission.
daniela wasn't exactly strict on the rule, it was just something she had said once in the heat of the moment. but still, it stuck with you—and you always wanted to please her, always wanted to be her good girl. tonight, however, you weren't sure if you'd be able to abide by that “rule.” you were too far gone, basking in the intense feeling of her tongue and fingers on your most sensitive parts.
but just as you're about to let go, she says it.
“cum for me,” she grants, and you do. hard.
stars flash behind your eyelids the second you let go, your entire body stilling with the intensity of your orgasm. it hits you like a truck, wrecking your entire body. your lips part wider in a silent cry, legs twitching around daniela's head as you cum, pussy fluttering around her lengthy fingers. her pace doesn't stop, and neither does the harsh sucks on your clit. not even when you come down from the immense pleasure.
the sensation in your core soon becomes overwhelming—and you think, for just a moment, that she's still going because she wants to clean you. but when she doesn't stop, your breaths start coming in short, sharp gasps. your hands come down to weakly push at her head, trying—and failing—to stop her from continuing.
“wait—baby, nonono!” you whine loudly, legs clamping tight around her head. you try to squirm away, but she just pulls you back in, tongue burying deep into your entrance alongside her fingers.
tears prick in your eyes. “too ‘uch, mami,” you cry, voice broken and hoarse with how loud you'd been tonight. she still doesn't listen, just lightly caresses the side of your thigh with her thumb.
“jus’ one more,” she says eventually, pulling her head up slightly from between your legs. and that's when you take the chance to look at her—really look at her. you notice the wetness spreading along her lips, a mixture of her spit and your cum dribbling slowly down her chin. drops of the liquid collect on her chest and parts of her cheeks, illuminated lightly by the monitor that's still on in the corner of the room.
she grins. dazed. “you're so pretty like this. all spread out—such a good girl,” she praises with a particularly harsh thrust of her fingers, the squelching sound obscene as it echoes in your ears and rings out in the room.
you're almost embarrassed now.
almost surprised, even, at how none of the girls—especially manon or sophia—haven't already come knocking at the door. but you know all too well what tomorrow will bring. probably a long lecture from sophia followed up by complaints from the other girls about how they'd gotten no sleep. but it wasn't entirely your fault, it was daniela's for paying more attention to a dumb video game instead of her very real, very loving, very horny girlfriend.
still, you let daniela eat you out like a starved woman—tongue lapping in sloppy licks into your twitching cunt, fingers getting even messier with uncontrolled thrusts. you don't really care, all you do care about right now is being daniela's good girl and cumming when she says so.
“you're close,” she observes through a moan, eyes fixed on the way your walls clench wildly around her digits. “come on, mi vida, let go.”
you're unable to provide her with an answer—a choked moan taking the place of your words instead, your entire body trembling with how much harder your second orgasm hits you. this time, daniela slows her motions, fingers pumping in a little deeper than before, dragging out your orgasm as long as she could. her tongue collects everything she can, moaning gently into your core at the taste.
“lo hiciste muy bien, cariño,” she coos, lips trailing soft kisses up the expanse of your stomach, dragging up your body until she reaches your own lips. she presses a deeper kiss on to your mouth, full of love and care.
a hum is all you can reply with, eyes fluttering shut, arms wrapping sleepily around her body and pulling her closer, bare skin flush against bare skin. you exhale deeply, spent, and daniela just smirks.
“y'know soph is gonna be on our ass tomorrow morning,” you mumble.
she shrugs. “can't be that bad.”
──────
“...avanzini llorente,”
“wha—hey, what i'd do this time?”
your eyelids flutter open slowly, the stern tone of sophia's voice floating through the hallway and spilling into your and daniela's bedroom through the crack left in the door.
a sigh. “you cannot do that again. like—ever.”
you blink, still bleary, push the sheets away from your body and look over at the window, curtains still drawn. even through the blackout fabric, you can tell that the sun's just started to rise, and as you look to your side, nobody's there. the sheets are warm beneath you, but as you reach over, the empty side is cold. faint echoes of voices continue in the halls.
shuffling off the bed, you snag daniela's shirt from the back of her desk chair, pull it over your head, and pad down the hall.
“it wasn't just loud,” sophia scolds, her tone firm and clipped. “it was obnoxiously loud. like i was in a movie theater. i had dialogue.”
daniela groans. “okay, but—”
“no,” sophia cuts her off. firm. final. then she continues, “lara literally texted me ‘are they filming a reboot of X in there.’”
“that i did,” lara says, deadpan.
you round the corner into the kitchen not long after, hair a mess, legs still weak, trying to blink the sleep out of your system.
daniela's standing there in her sweatpants and a tank top, looking like a kid who just got caught stealing from the cookie jar. the moment her eyes land on you, she perks up, a soft smile playing on her lips.
“hey,” she says softly, almost hopefully. “you're awake.”
sophia doesn't even turn around. “don't say hi to her. you need to focus.”
the latina frowns. “hey, wait—what about her? she was the one moaning like a—”
the filipina slams her mug down. “yeah, and remind me again who was the one that created that problem in the first place?”
and then, if it couldn't get any worse, megan comes in from down the hall, hair tousled, hoodie thrown on lazily, expression tired and mad at the same time. “i'm not even fully awake yet and i know far too much about your sex lives,” she grumbles, though there's a ghost of a teasing smirk on her lips.
she brushes past daniela to get a mug from the cabinet. “we have rehearsal today—you do know that, right?”
right on cue, manon follows—wrapped up in a blanket like she was too comfortable to leave bed without it.
“you two are way too freaked out to be living in a house full of people.”
meanwhile, you're still leaning against the wall, trying not to laugh as your eyes dart between the five girls. when you see the look on your girlfriend's face, you almost break.
her jaw is on the floor. offended. “okay, okay—pause. why am i the only one being attacked right now?!”
lara yawns. “because you sounded like you were in one of those wattpad fanfictions.”
megan chimes in, “and you were the one calling y/n ‘mi amor’ every five seconds.”
“you said ‘good girl’ three times. three,” manon adds, punctuating her words with pointing out three fingers.
you choke on a laugh.
and that's when daniela turns to you, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, betrayed. “are you seriously laughing right now?” she scoffs.
“i mean… you did say all those things.”
“i hate all of you.”
letters. AYYYYY first katseye fic !!!! do we fw this 🙂↕️🙂↕️
Summary: Ever since your ex-wife left you because you became "too much" you've kept everyone at a distance so why is this R2 you're keeping things casual with getting under your skin?
Summary — emery is one to get shaken up often until she sees a patient who looks like you.
Warnings— I didn’t edit this, blood, mentions of death hospital settings surgeries and greys anatomy type shit
Word count 3.k
Requested — YES
The first time Dr.Walsh saw the patient’s face, her stomach dropped so violently she almost missed the diagnosis entirely.
“Thirty-two-year-old female,” the paramedic rattled off while they rushed beside the stretcher. “MVC. Driver-side impact. Hypotensive en route, possible splenic rupture—”
Emery barely heard him because the woman on the gurney looked exactly like you. Not remotely similar. She had the same soft mouth. Same nose. Same eyelashes resting against pale cheeks. Even the same little crease between the brows you got when you were annoyed at her.
For one impossible, horrifying second, Emery thought someone had dragged you into her ER and that made her heart stop.
“Dr.Walsh?” Nurse Ramirez says sharply, snapping Emery out of her trance blinking hard and shaking her head as the trauma bay comes back into focus.
‘It’s not you’ she thought and repeated it in her mind like a mantra but even though that wasn’t you it was still close enough to make her chest hurt.
“Pressure’s tanking” someone called out getting away at the patient’s clothes to get them out of the way.
Emery stepped forward taking over “we need to do a FAST ultrasound to see if there’s any internal bleeding.”
“What happens if there’s any internal bleeding?” One of the surgical residents asks.” As they wheel the ultrasound machine over to the side of the patient’s bed?”
Emery turned on the machine and squirted gel onto Jane Doe's stomach and used the wand “well if there’s internal bleeding then we need to prep for surgery and the OR for surgery” she explains checking the computer looking for any signs of bleeding.
The second the image appeared on the screen, Emery’s expression changed. Dark fluid bloomed across the ultrasound like spilled ink.
“There,” she said quietly, jaw tightening. “Positive FAST. She’s bleeding into her abdomen.”
The resident beside her went pale. “How bad?”
“Bad enough that if we stand here talking about it, she dies.” Emery handed the probe off sharply. “Page trauma surgery. Prep OR two now. Massive transfusion protocol.”
Nurses rushed around the room, someone hanging blood while another pushed meds. The cardiac monitor screamed with every drop in the woman’s pressure, the frantic beeping drilling straight into Emery’s skull.
“Looks like we’re scrubbing in.” Emery says taking her gloves off, tossing them into the trash can and following the patient to the OR and all she could see was you, not the Jane Doe.
You laughing in her kitchen while stealing fries off her plate. You half asleep in one of her sweatshirts. You rolling your eyes whenever she came home after a thirty-hour shift and insisted she was “fine.”
It made her sick.
“Pressure’s seventy over forty,” Ramirez called.
“Starting another unit.”
“Move,” Emery ordered, already pushing the stretcher toward the elevator herself. “Come on, stay with me.”
The patient didn’t respond. Her face stayed limp and pale beneath the fluorescent lights and Emery hated how much it looked like you were unconscious.
By the time they burst into the OR, Emery’s hands were already regloved. One of the attendings looked over. “Walsh, you’ve been on shift for twelve hours already. I can take this.”
“I’m fine.”
It came out too fast and too dismissive because she wasn’t fine. The attending paused but didn’t argue when Emery stepped up to the table. Because this was what she did. She saved people. She cut them open and fixed what the world had broken.
Except two hours later, the monitor flatlined.
The sound hollowed the room out.
“No pulse.”
“Start compressions.”
Blood coated Emery’s gloves to the wrists as she searched desperately through the cavity, trying to clamp the bleeding vessel she couldn’t seem to control.
“Come on,” she muttered under her breath. “Come on…”
Another round of epi.
Another rhythm check.
Nothing.
The trauma surgeon across from her looked at the clock first.
Emery already knew.
She could feel it.
“Time of death, 3:17 AM.”
Silence.
The words hit her like a physical blow. For a second, nobody moved. Then the room shifted into practiced aftermath machines shutting off, instruments counted, nurses speaking softly but Emery just stared at the woman’s face.
The surgical mask suddenly felt too tight against Emery’s face. Everyone else moved first. The scrub nurse began quietly covering the body. Someone shut off the monitor, finally silencing the flatline that still echoed inside Emery’s skull. The residents drifted toward cleanup, subdued in the way doctors became after losing someone young.
Emery didn’t move because all she could see was you.
This woman had your face.
And now she was dead.
“Walsh.”
The trauma attending’s voice came carefully this time.
Emery blinked once.
“You okay?”
No she wasn’t okay. She wasn’t even close to being okay , but she nodded automatically anyway because that was what doctors did. They compartmentalized. Buried it. Moved onto the next patient.
“I’m fine,” she said again, quieter this time.
The attending looked unconvinced but didn’t push. “Go take ten.”
Emery stripped off her gloves with more force than necessary. Blood smeared across the stainless steel edge of the table before she tossed them away.
Her hands were shaking but none of the other attending’s said anything. She stepped out of the OR and the hallway lights hit her like a freight train.
A nurse rushed past with labs. Someone laughed down the corridor. A monitor alarmed from another room. Life continued around her like someone hadn’t just died under her hands but that was the thing with hospital’s everything must go on.
Emery made her way to the locker room she needed to hear your voice
Emery made her way to the locker room because she needed to hear your voice.
Needed it in the same way people needed oxygen.
The second the door shut behind her, the silence crashed over her all at once. The adrenaline that had kept her moving through surgery drained from her body so fast it made her dizzy.
Her hands were still shaking.
She stared at them for a second like they belonged to someone else.
Those same hands had cracked open a chest thirty minutes ago. Had tried to save a woman who looked so much like you it made her feel haunted.
And they’d failed.
Emery braced both palms against the metal lockers and lowered her head.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
Her phone was already in her hand before she consciously decided to grab it. She opened your contact immediately.
A photo of you smiled back at her.
You were sitting on the kitchen counter in one of her hoodies, grinning at whoever had taken the picture probably her. There was flour on your cheek from the disastrous attempt the two of you had made at baking cookies after one of her overnight shifts.
Emery felt her throat tighten painfully.
“Come on,” she whispered to herself.
She hit the call button The phone rang four times before it went straight to voicemail and her stomach dropped.
“Hey, you’ve reached Y/N. I’m probably asleep or ignoring my phone again—”
Emery hung up before the message finished. You probably were asleep. That was all. It was almost four in the morning. Normal people slept at four in the morning.
But the unease in her chest only got worse.
She texted you immediately.
baby call me when you wake up
A second later:
please
Emery stared at the screen.
Nothing.
The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly. Somewhere down the hallway a trauma pager went off again followed by hurried footsteps.
Usually those sounds grounded her.
Tonight they just made her feel sick.
The image of that woman’s face kept flashing behind her eyes.
Dead on the table.
Looking like you.
Her phone remained silent.
“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face.
You were fine.
You had to be fine.
Maybe your phone died. Maybe you fell asleep on the couch again with one of your comfort movies playing too loud.
A knock sounded against the locker room door bringing her back to the present.
“Walsh?”
Ramirez poked her head inside carefully.
Emery straightened automatically, shoving every emotion back down where it belonged.
“What?”
“There’s coffee in the lounge.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Ramirez studied her for a moment. “Nobody said anything about food.”
Emery exhaled sharply through her nose.
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve said that four times in the last hour.”
“Because I am.”
It wasn’t convincing Not with the dark circles under her eyes or the blood still smeared faintly near the cuff of her scrub top.
Ramirez leaned against the doorway. “That patient got to you.”
“No,” Emery answered too quickly.
The nurse raised an eyebrow.
Emery looked away first.
“She looked like someone,” she admitted quietly.
Ramirez’s expression softened immediately. “Y/N?” Pop
Emery didn’t answer she didn't need to because Ramirez has been on the job long enough to know the signs.
“Oh.”
The silence stretched between them. Neither of them knew what to say. The only saving grace was Emery’s phone buzzing violently in her hand. Both of them looked down instantly. Relief hit so fast Emery almost felt weak.
“See?” Ramirez said gently. “Probably just—”
But the second Emery looked at the screen, every ounce of relief vanished.
Unknown Number.
Her stomach twisted.
She answered immediately. “Hello?”
Static crackled through the speaker followed by chaos in the background.
“Is this Dr. Emery Walsh?”
Every muscle in her body locked.
“Yes.”
“This is Pittsburgh EMS. We have your number listed as emergency contact for Y/N Y/L/N.”
The world stopped. Ramirez’s face changed instantly at whatever she saw in Emery’s expression.
“What happened?” Emery demanded.
Her voice no longer sounded like hers.
“Motor vehicle collision occurred approximately ten minutes ago,” the paramedic said quickly. “She was found unconscious at the scene and—”
“No.”
The word tore itself out of her.
No.
Not you.
Not after tonight.
“We’re en route to County General now—”
“I’m already here,” Emery snapped.
The paramedic paused briefly. “She’s critical, Doctor.”
Emery’s knees nearly buckled
Around her, the hospital suddenly felt too suffocating. The exact same words from earlier echoed through her skull.
Driver-side impact.
Hypotensive.
Possible internal bleeding.
Like something cruel had decided to repeat itself.
“ETA two minutes,” the paramedic continued. “Possible abdominal hemorrhage and chest trauma. BP is unstable.”
Emery was already moving before the call ended.
Locker room door slamming open.
Ramirez immediately followed behind her. “Emery—”
“That’s my girlfriend.”
The words cracked apart on the way out.
It stopped Ramirez cold for half a second because Dr. Emery Walsh never sounded afraid. The Emery she knew was cocky and confident but this Emery looked terrified.
They burst into the ER just as the ambulance bay doors flew open.
“Move!”
The stretcher came barreling through the doors surrounded by paramedics and there you were.Blood in your hair. Skin pale beneath the trauma room lights and Motionless.
Emery physically stumbled when she saw you. For one horrible second she couldn’t breathe. Because suddenly the dead woman from earlier was gone and this was real.
This was not some Jane Doe who looks like you.
“Y/N,” she whispered.
Nobody heard her over the noise.
“BP dropping!”
“She was cardiac arrested once in transport!”
“Possible splenic rupture!”
The words hit Emery like punches to the ribs Like the universe had decided to torture her personally.
“Dr. Walsh?” one of the residents asked nervously.
Emery snapped back to life instantly.
“Trauma one. NOW.”
The team moved.
You didn’t.
Your head rolled weakly with the movement of the stretcher and Emery reached for you automatically, blood immediately smearing across her hands.
You were cold.
“Baby,” she breathed shakily, brushing damp hair away from your face. “Hey, look at me.”
Nothing.
The monitor screamed again.
“Pressure’s crashing!”
Fear unlike anything Emery had ever experienced ripped through her chest.
Not this. Please not this. she thought
“Get blood ready,” she barked. “Call OR two. Move!”
Someone hesitated.
Hospital policy.
No treating family.
No operating on people you loved.
Emery looked at them with tears already gathering in her eyes and something in her expression made the entire room go silent.
“She is dying,” Emery said.
Not Dr. Walsh.
Not the brilliant trauma surgeon everybody feared and respected.
Just Emery.
Just a woman watching the love of her life bleed out in front of her.
“Somebody help me save her.”
Your fingers twitched weakly against the sheets. It was tiny and barely noticeable but Emery caught it immediately.
“There you are,” she whispered desperately, gripping your hand. “Stay with me, sweetheart. Stay with me.”
Your eyelashes fluttered faintly and a broken sound left your throat.
Thank God.
Emery bent forward until her forehead rested shakily against yours for half a second despite the chaos exploding around her.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered, voice breaking completely. “I’ve got you, baby. I swear to God, I’ve got you.”
“Walsh, you know that you can’t operate on a loved one right?” Dr.Espinoza the head of surgery (bare with me I can’t remember who is head of surgery in the Pitt) says softly.
Emery sniffles and nods her head “I know I know” she admits looking back at the doctor.
“She’ll be in good hands so why don’t you clock out and we’ll let you know when she’s out of surgery.” Dr.Espinoza says as you begin to get wheeled up into the OR.
Emery’s entire body moved on instinct.
“No.”
It came out harsher than she intended, cracking apart under the weight of panic clawing up her throat. She followed the stretcher automatically as they pushed you toward the elevators.
“I’m going with her.”
“Emery—” Dr. Espinoza started carefully.
“I said I’m going with her.”
The doors to the elevator opened with a sharp ding and the surgical team rolled you inside. Emery walked in beside the stretcher before anyone could stop her. Ramirez squeezed in behind her at the last second, probably because she knew Emery was one bad sentence away from completely unraveling.
The elevator doors shut. Silence.Or at least silence compared to the chaos downstairs. Your hand looked so small wrapped in oxygen tubing and dried blood. Emery reached for it anyway. Your skin was freezing.
“Baby,” she whispered shakily, thumb brushing weakly over your knuckles. “Hey. Stay with me.”
Your eyelids fluttered faintly again.
Not fully conscious.
Not really there.
But enough that Emery saw the tiny movement and nearly broke apart from relief.
“There she is,” Ramirez murmured quietly from the corner.
Emery swallowed hard.
Your lips parted around a strained little breath and Emery leaned closer immediately, desperate enough to hear anything.
“…Em…”
The sound barely existed.
But it destroyed her.
“Oh God.”
Her eyes burned instantly.
“I’m right here,” she said quickly, voice trembling now. “I’m right here, sweetheart. Don’t try to talk, okay? Just breathe for me.”
Your face pinched faintly like you were trying to focus on her voice through the pain.
Then the monitor shrieked.
“Pressure’s dropping again,” one of the nurses warned.
Emery’s head snapped up immediately. “How much?”
“Sixty systolic.”
“Shit.”
The elevator couldn’t move fast enough.
Every second felt stolen.
Emery looked back down at you and suddenly all she could see was every ordinary moment she might lose.
You stealing her hoodies.
You dancing barefoot in the kitchen at two in the morning.
You asleep against her chest after she came home from impossible shifts.
The way you always mumbled, “you’re late,” even when you were half unconscious.
All of it threatened to disappear in one terrible night.
The elevator doors finally opened onto the surgical floor.
“Move!”
The team rushed forward again.
OR staff shoved open double doors while another nurse rattled off your vitals to anesthesia. Emery stayed glued to your side until the bright lights of the operating room hit her square in the face.
And then she stopped because this was it. The line. The one line she couldn’t cross.
Dr. Espinoza turned toward her gently. “Emery.”
Her chest heaved once.
You looked so pale on that table.
Too still.
Too much like the woman from earlier.
Except this time Emery loved you.
This time it was your blood covering her hands.
“She needs surgery now,” the attending surgeon said firmly while scrubbing in. “We’re losing time.”
Emery nodded automatically but her feet wouldn’t move.
You made another weak sound somewhere beneath the oxygen mask.
Her composure shattered completely.
She crossed the room in two steps and grabbed your hand again before they could wheel you fully beneath the surgical lights.
“Hey,” she whispered frantically. “Hey, look at me.”
Your eyes opened barely a sliver.
Confused.
Glassy with pain.
But they found hers.
And Emery almost collapsed from the sheer relief of it.
“There you are,” she breathed.
A tear slipped down before she could stop it.
You looked terrified.
That hurt worse than anything.
“Em…” you slurred weakly.
“I know, baby. I know.”
Your fingers twitched against hers, trying to hold on. Emery bent down fast, pressing a trembling kiss against your forehead despite the blood and the noise and the people moving around you.
“I love you,” she whispered fiercely. “You hear me? I love you so much.”
Your lashes fluttered again.
Then your eyes started slipping shut.
“No, no, no— stay awake for me.”
“Emery.” Dr. Espinoza’s voice was firmer now.
She looked up.
The entire OR had gone quiet around them.
Because every person in that room could see it.
The terror in Emery’s face.
The way her hand shook holding yours.
The way she looked less like a surgeon and more like someone standing on the edge of losing everything.
“You need to let us work,” Dr. Espinoza said softly.
Emery’s breathing turned uneven.
For the first time in years, she felt completely helpless. Ramirez stepped closer carefully. “I’ll stay with her,” she promised quietly.
Emery looked back at you one last time. Your heartbeat stuttered across the monitor. Her thumb brushed across your cheek gently, wiping away a streak of blood near your temple.
“Please,” she whispered so quietly nobody else could hear it. “Please don’t leave me.”
Then she finally let go.
And the second they pulled your stretcher away from her, Emery felt like someone had ripped her heart directly out of her chest.
One hour passed.
Then two.
Emery stayed exactly where she was outside the OR.
Someone brought her coffee at some point. It went cold untouched beside her chair.
Residents and nurses drifted quietly around the surgical floor, speaking in hushed voices whenever they looked her way. Nobody had ever seen Emery Walsh like this before.
Not cold.
Not composed.
Not untouchable.
Just terrified.
Every time the OR doors moved, her head snapped up instantly.
Every single time.
At one point Ramirez tried to convince her to change out of her bloodstained scrubs.
Emery looked down at them blankly like she hadn’t even noticed.
Your blood.
Still on her hands.
Still on her clothes.
She couldn’t bring herself to take them off.
At 6:12 AM, the doors finally opened again.
Everyone in the hallway seemed to freeze simultaneously.
Dr. Espinoza stepped out first, removing his surgical cap slowly.
Emery was on her feet before he even spoke.
The expression on his face nearly stopped her heart.
No no no—
“She’s alive.”
The breath Emery let out sounded almost painful.
Espinoza held up a hand quickly before she collapsed from relief completely.
“She’s critical,” he continued carefully. “Massive blood loss. We repaired the splenic rupture and controlled the liver bleed, but the next twenty-four hours are going to matter.”
scene : daniela wants to touch something 'tangible' to buss a nut in. Though you're her best friend she wants you.
content warning : tit sucking , jerking off , g!p daniela , Daniela being a pervert , riding , pet names , creampie , fem reader , dirty talk , kissing , hickeys.
author's note : so hey guys 😋 . m.list
Daniela groaned her head dropping back onto her pillows as her tv played some random porn video that she clicked on - the first one that showed up on the website. "F-fuck" she pumped her shaft over and over again the pre-cum dripping from her tip all the way down to her "blue balls.
She but down on the bottom of her lip, "It hurts so m'funkin bad.." her gaze drifted from the tv screen to the photo of you and her on her wall. Her dick twitched at the thought of her bending you over —
"no m'huggfuck." she hummed, "she's my best friend." but her hand didn't stop stroking her length. It got faster, her breathing got heavier and she closed her eyes.
— you were on her bed. Completely bent over as she shoved her whole shaft into you, though she stated that shed put
"only the tip in it pretty" she thought of how'd you moan, whimper, whine her name and ask her to give you her 'babies'.
"s-shit yn." her grip became tighter as she went around the tip of her length. "..oh gosh.. yn.. I'm so m'hard tor you right now." She whined, "wish i could just shove this huge cock into those plumb limps of yours." She kept murmuring to herself, completely clueless of your presence at her door.
You stood there shocked, your mouth dropped - she was moaning your name. Not just moaning, she was clearly imagining herself fucking your mouth and pussy. Though you watched in awe as the wet sounds from her hand moving was clearly drawing your attention away from the clear porn video playing on the tv.
You stood silent your own heat becoming wet from the sight. You considered stepping in or making your presence known or even letting her know you were standing at the door or in the same room as her.
Though as soon as you stepped in an item from her dresser dropped, you froze - daniela's movement slowed as she opened her eyes. You froze standing still as you guys eyes locked together.
Her hazel eyes meeting your brown ones.
However, she didn't stop as her hand continued moving over the tip. "oh fuck." she squeezed her length from the base.
"Are you gonna just stand there and watch me jerk my shit off or are you gonna come here and lemme burry my dick into your pretty pink hole.."
You froze at the vulgar language — "what?"
Daniela sighed— clearly enjoying your reaction, "your basically drooling over my cock pretty, do wanna ride it.?" You nodded subconsciously, biting down on your bottom lips.
"C'mon pretty, my dick don't bite, but my teeth do." Daniela smirked, looking at your tits as you walked over to her bed.
“Are those my joggers..?” She nodded towards the grey sweatpants that you were wearing, it was her you technically ‘borrowed’ it from her this morning when she was at work.
You nodded, “I borrowed them this morning— when you left..” you crawled over to her sitting on your knees between her legs on her bed. “..is that okay..?” you asked tilting your head to the side.
But Daniela was too distracted by your boobs as you talked, she was looking at your nipples that looked to be begging to be freed. You poked her shoulder, “my eyes are up here daniela.”
She looked up to you, smirking, “oh i know pretty — but, i don’t care if you wear my clothes.. your boobs are just so..” she sat up and reached out, her thumb rubbing over your nipple. Your breath hitched.
“Arms up pretty..” you followed arms up in the air as Daniela took off your white tank top. Her mouth came agar, “fuck..” you noticed her dick twitched at your boobs, like she was aching for you.
She cupped your right and left boob. “Just perfect for my hands pretty.. — you fit right into my palms..” she shifted her weigh, patting her lap.
You sat in her lap your clothed heat against her naked heat. “Lemme just taste you..” her mouth lowered to your boobs as your head leaned back whimpering.
She sucked like there was something to get out of your boob. Her tongue traced lines all across your nipple taking in the sweetness of your skin. She sucked on your chest her mouth moving to your neck then back down. Leaving a trail of hickeys across your body.
She then pulled away looking up at you.
“Imma fill you up with my fucking babies yea?” She nodded as you guys locked eyes, you nodded in sync. “..yeah..”
She tugged at the sweatpants, you shimmied to take it off and watched as daniela maundered underneath you so that you could fit her inside you. Her thumb grazed your heat, “oh fuck..you already that soaked for me pretty?”
You nodded, she smacked your ass causing you to whine in response. You giggled as she pulled your panties to the side, she grabbed the base of your cock rubbing it up and down your slick sticky folds. “So gushy fuck...”
You whined, “just.. put it in already..” becoming impossibly pathetically impatient by the moment.
She teased your entrance once more, “woah, i gotta savour this moment pretty.. unless you want me to full this pussy up seven times a week, twenty four hours a day for me..” you didn’t even think about what she said but you nodded anyways, at this point you just wanted daniela deep inside you.
She pushed in owning a moan / groan from the both of you. “S-shit.. ooh you tight as fuck ma.. damn.. just be gripping my shit like.. fuck..” her hands reached your waist as she guided you on how to ride her.
You took her all in and you moved back and forth, wet sounds echoing in her room. “ahh..dani..” she continued to guide you as your hands search for her baggy tee shirt gripping the tee. You looked down letting yourself go.
“Thats it baby, work for that cream pie.. m’fuck..” you felt her thrust into you, your pace quickened — chasing that feeling. “Dani.. dani.. m’close..” you leaned into her hold as she thrusted into you.
“Whose pussy does this belong to?” Daniela asked into your ear, her grip on your waist getting tighter and the skin slapping getting louder.
“Y-yours dani.. all m’yours..” you clenched harder, sucking her straight back in.
She whined, “oh I’m so fucking close, lemme nut in ya, yeah?” Your brain was so foggy you couldn’t recognise what she was asking so you. “I promise ah i’ll buy u.. hmpf’uckk..” she continued to pound into you, “..a plan B..”
You hid your face in her neck shock disagreeing with her rambling. “Mhm..no..i can’t..” but you gripped on daniela’s shirt, you were clenching hard on her cock.
“i wanna cum in you pretty..” she continued to thust into you hitting your cervix completely. “..imma give you mghh my baby.. bring us closer together yea..”
She pulled you in close, “yeah fuck c-cumin ma.. s-shit.. yn.” she thrusted straight up and into you, you clenched down so hard you could feel that one big vein on the aide of her cock.
Your legs shook, moaning into her neck. “hungg daniela..” she thrusted into you letting you ride out your orgasm, “oh gosh.. you really fit me perfectly in that pussy of yours..”
You went limp on her, you head rested in her shoulder. She pulled out causing all the cum to slowly drip out of your hole and onto Daniela’s abdomen. She smirked.
i love ur works so much!!!! can i req emery and f!reader calling themselves work wives so ppl at the pitt thought they r just joking around but they r really together and jack would absolutely be in denial knowing their relationship. thank u 🫶🫶🫶
The wives
summary: emery and you are self-proclaimed work wives. and everyone else around gets in on the joke. except for your brother who is annoyed to the core, because he knows there is more to it.
content warning: elder brother!abbott, wifey!walsh, them being annoying, age gap implied, f!reader (she/her), medical inaccuracies, swearing
word count: 1,1k
author's note: thank you anon for your kind words and for the idea!!
if you have any pitt scenarios (sfw) in your mind that you would like to see in writing, please, let me know:>
It all started with a silly tease.
One day you walked up to the Hub, searching for a certain surgeon to rely some case related information about patient's family.
But she was seemingly nowhere to be found though she was just here. You asked, "Where is Walsh?"
"Miss your work wife already?" Ellis teased, leaning on the Hub’s counter, looking away from the patient's board.
Stopping his charting mid-sentence and glancing up, Jack grumbled with a frown, "Work wife?"
"Work wife?" you raised your eyebrow at smirking Parker, your tone so much different from your brother's.
You loved the sound of the nickname—how easy it rolled off your tongue, how natural and fitting it felt—and the half-joking implication that ensued. At that point the things between you and Walsh were getting more and more serious—you both took a day off next week to move all your stuff into her apartment and were already planning a shared vacation in a month. Though you both were very private about your relationship—no one knew of it except for Abbott—some colleagues had their suspicions, Ellis included. Parker saw right through your nonchalant 'it's just for kicks and giggles' bullshit.
So it stuck.
Shen picked it up immediately. Then the rest of the night shift. Then as you switched to the day shift for half a month the joke found it's way there as well.
Emery didn't mind the nickname. Although upon hearing it for the first time that same evening when you were telling her what Ellis called you, she chuckled, but deep down she actually found it endearing—especially so because you were so content about it which made her heart flatter—so of course she ran with it. But what ultimately sold it for her was watching your elder brother Abbott physically cringe when someone addressed you as the wives.
His annoyance was an undeniable and incessant source of pure joy for both of you.
"Walshy, we have a problem," you said, reaching her on the speaker phone from the trauma room. The patient was stabilized and sedated and now the surgical consult was necessary to decide upon further treatment.
"What's up, wifey?" picking up on the lack of urgency in your voice, Walsh indulged in a flirty tease. Then—knowing damn well that Abbott was in the room—she proceeded to ask, "The old man being cranky pants again?"
"I'm right here, Walsh," Jack said deadpan, arms still crossed over his chest.
"Good," was her answer, completely nonchalant, "I can repeat myself if you didn't hear me the first time," then she raised her voice, it was laced with mock concern and politness, "Can do it louder if necessary."
Jack just huffed, still too annoyed by the fact that she called you a 'wife' for a proper retort, and went straight to patient related questions.
The other day he lost you in-between your double shift and asked if anyone had seen you.
"She mumbled something that had words 'nap' and 'wife'," Shen informed him absent-mindedly, not looking up from the computer.
"So she’s napping in Gen Surg," Ellis concluded, taking a sip of her energy drink.
Jack put his hands on his hips, making sure to take a deep breath and count in his head before speaking, exasperated, his eyebrows knitted, "Why are you encouraging their marriage bit?"
"They call themselves that," Lena shrugged while sorting out her desk, putting all the pens in place.
"Why don’t you?" Shen raised an eyebrow at the attending, nonchalant as always, sipping his coffee with an orange straw, "You homophobic all of a sudden?"
Jack shook his head, simply stating, "No."
Ellis tilted her head, teasing, "You sound like it."
"The gay part is not the problem," Abbott explained with a sigh, "the Walsh part is."
Everyone exchanged amused glances, as Jack sat down with one more old man sigh, musing, "We have so many amazing women in this hospital, why she had to pick the meanest of them all?"
And some other time he walked into the trauma room, you already there, assessing a patient with Shen and Ellis. Taking in the injury and the stats, Abbott called, "Princess, please, get the general surgery consult down here."
Princess smiled, nodding at you, "Doc has already called Walsh the wife. Should be down in a minute."
Jack nodded in reply, gritting his teeth and taking a deep breath in, keeping a calm demeanor. However, all his stoic façade went to shit once a very smug looking Emery Walsh strolled into his Trauma room, saying a little too gleefully, "Hello, my lovely wife! What do we have today?"
Somewhere about a year later you sang, approaching the Hub, "Has anyone seen my wife?"
Jack who stood next to it didn't look up from a patient's chart. Fulfilling the younger sibling duties, you leaned your shoulder onto his shoulder, making him lose his balance a bit.
"Walsh just left," Lena shook her head.
Abbott lightly shoved you back, grumbling, "Do you have to put it in my face like that?"
"Breath, brother," you teased.
"I am so reporting you two to the HR," he squinted his eyes at you.
"A snitch?!" you raised your eyebrows at him, bringing a hand to your heart, mock offended, "Not acceptable in this family"
"Cry about it," he retorted with a huff, looking down at you. You knew he wasn’t actually annoyed because the corners of his mouth were twitching up.
"Good thing I’m marrying into a different one," you winked at him as you pulled out a chain on which a ring hung — an engagement one Abbott had no doubts.
"You two sure are committed," Shen nodded, appreciating what he assumed was pure theatrics. Parker however broke into the most shit-eating grin you'd ever seen and gave you a thumbs-up.
Before totally shocked Abbott could utter a single word, Lena called your name.
"Your wife called, sweety," she explained with a soft and understanding smile, "Asks you to email her the test results for Mr. Took-a-nasty-fall-from-a-ladder."
You shrugged, smiling at still baffled Jack and flopping down in the nearest chair, "Sorry, conjugal duty awaits."
"Spare me the details," he teased out of habit, his mind still processing that you were engaged now.
And unfortunately the nickname was to stay whether he liked it or not.
As you typed away, Jack sighed and got on his phone, ordering your favourite cake and flowers to your home address and then going down a rabbit hole of picking out a perfect wedding gift for his precious little sister and her menace of a wife until the next trauma pulled him away from it. But he would definitely get back to it later, because annoying as you were—you were still loved dearly by him—irritating nickname or not.
summary જ⁀➴ you go to your wife's mechanic shop when your car breaks down, and of course, she has to show off you and her amazing mechanic skills
warnings/tags જ⁀➴ fluff, dealer!dani au, f!reader, established relationship, suggestive jokes, not proofread
substance masterlist
a silly little dealer!dani drabble for the people
the line rings only once before you hear the click of it being picked up.
"yes, my lovely wife?"
you roll your eyes but there's a little smile on your face at her words. "are you at the shop?" you ask, leaning against your car.
"yeah, why?" daniela replies.
you hesitate for a second before responding. "would you kill me if i said the charger won't start suddenly?"
"what do you mean?" daniela questions. "where are you? are you at home?"
"no," you answer. "i'm at the gas station near val's school. i stopped to get gas and now it won't turn on."
"i'm on my way," she says instantly.
"what? dani, i–"
"that gas station is so sketchy, baby. i tell you this all the time."
you hear the familiar sounds of a car door opening and closing, and you realize she's seriously leaving her shop and picking you up. "i know," you murmur. "i didn't think it was just going to stop working." you kick a pebble on the ground.
"i know. it's old anyways," daniela says. "it's probably just the battery, and i can hopefully jump it and bring it back to the shop and replace it. just sit in the car until i get there. i'll be there in ten minutes."
"you're so overprotective," you sigh playfully. "but okay."
"i'm not overprotective, i just care."
your heart skips a beat. "yeah, okay. just hurry up."
"yes ma'am."
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
you're sitting in the car with the windows down when you hear a car approach next to you, the engine rumbling as it stops beside you.
"i heard you called for a sexy mechanic?"
looking over, you see daniela sitting in that same old red mustang and that same cocky grin on her face. you roll your eyes, but a smile forms on your face.
"i did," you reply, watching her get out of the car and walk up to your window.
"well, it's your lucky day." she leans against the door, arms crossed over the window. "how ya doin', mamí?" she steals a quick kiss and smiles.
"much better now that my sexy mechanic is here," you say, smiling back at her.
daniela's smile grows bigger. "i'm sure," she teases. "so tell me what happened. is it starting now?"
"no." you shake your head. "i turned it off to put gas in it and when i got back in and tried starting it, it wasn't turning on."
"mm." daniela hums and nods, tapping her fingers on the door. "mkay. it's hopefully just the battery. why don't ya get out f'me?" she pats the door and steps back, walking back to her car and opening the trunk.
you get out of the car, standing between the two cars as daniela walks back with jumper cables. she opens the hood of her car and attaches the cables, then going to the other car and popping the hood open to connect the cables. she gets in the charger and tries starting the engine, hearing it quietly start to rumble before completely starting.
"alright!" daniela calls from inside the car, peeking her head out the window. "i'll drive this one back to the shop, can you drive the mustang back for me?"
you nod, "yeah, i can do that."
"awesome." daniela smiles.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
pulling up to the familiar mechanic shop, you see a few cars parked outside and only one inside being worked on. you park next to one of the other cars and get out as daniela pulls the charger into the second available spot for repairs.
you hear a sharp whistle from inside the shop.
"well, what do we have here?"
you turn your head to see a younger male – probably early twenties if not twenty-one.
"you need some help with somethin' mama?" he asks, wiping his hands on the towel on his belt loop.
your eyes widen subtly when you realize he's talking to you. "oh, no." you shake your head. "i'm uh–"
"bailey!" daniela's voice echoes from inside the shop she's walking out of. "go help the next customer and stop flirting with my wife, will ya?"
the boy's eyes go comically wide, and he starts stuttering over himself, glancing between you two. "w-wife? i-i'm so sorry boss, i-i didn't–i j-just thought–"
"yeah, yeah. just get out of here." daniela waves her hand, telling him to leave.
he quickly scurries off back into the shop, and you can't help but let out a small giggle.
"he's so dense," daniela grumbles under her breath.
"don't be mean, baby." you go to kiss her cheek but she swiftly moves her head so you hit her lips instead.
her hand grabs your waist and pulls you closer, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. you can't stop the little noise that leaves the back of your throat, and daniela smiles into the kiss at your reaction. pulling away, she flashes her dimple smile at you.
"wanna watch me work on the car?" she asks, fingers grazing under your shirt.
"if you can keep it in your pants, yes." you laugh lightly.
"bet." she grins.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
forty-five minutes later, and you're still sitting in the only chair in the mechanic shop, a little shitty fold-out one that can barely support you without creaking or wobbling. daniela is working on the car in front of you, music filling the garage space when she wasn't talking (flirting) to you.
"hey boss, i'm gonna–who's this?" a man in his late twenties approaches you two.
daniela peeks around the hood of the car to see him. "oh! garrett! this is my wife, yn." she gestures to you.
"howdy, ma'am," he says to you, tipping his hat slightly.
"oh, don't call me ma'am please." you shake your head, smiling.
daniela continues for you. "she doesn't like getting called ma'am. makes her feel old."
"sorry." he smiles sheepishly.
"you're alright, she's just giving you a hard time," you tell him.
"oh, i know that by now," he replies, laughing lightly.
"hey! i can demote you!" daniela exclaims from behind the hood.
"and put bailey as agm? okay!" he laughs fully now. "i'm heading out now." he looks at you again. "it was nice to meet you. glad to finally put a face to a name."
you smile. "likewise."
he walks away into the little office, and daniela shuts the hood of the car.
"alright mi amor, you are all set," she tells you, handing you the keys.
you stand from the chair and take the keys, proceeding to then wrap your arms around her neck.
"thank you, baby." you kiss her cheek. "what time will you be home?"
"i dunno, it might be a late night," she sighs, hands landing on your waist.
"really?" you pout.
"i know."
"y'know val is going over to grace's after school," you start, whispering in that seductive voice that makes daniela's knees tremble. "and i just bought a new set, in the color you like."
"fuck," daniela breathes out. "i'll be out by 4."
"good." you press a quick kiss on her lips, smiling at her. "i'll be waiting." you finish, unwrapping your hands from her neck and opening the car door.
daniela stands there watching you turn on the car and waves while you drive away. she doesn't even realize bailey is standing next to her until he speaks.
"um, boss?" his voice sounds nervous. "you got um-a-um." he just points down to his crotch.
daniela glances down and her eyes go wide, cupping her crotch with her hands. "help the next customer. i'll be back in five."
and they were roommates ★ g!p daniela avanzini x 7thmember!fem!reader
dani is the perfect roommate. until the house falls asleep and you put on those damn shorts.
word count: 1.9k
warnings: SMUT - literally just porn without plot, read at your own risk
a/n: this is NOT a comeback. i am just a slut for manon and daniela rn so maybe i'll write some stuff for them then fall of the face of the earth again.
also disclaimer i'm not a katseye fan and lowkey know nothing about them so i'll probably write them super ooc. i've just seen pics of them and i'm drooling uncontrollably so here you go!
you knew damn well you should not be doing this. you told her that so many times, but she never seemed to listen.
"dani, we can't," you whine, but your roommate is already shoving the covers off your body and climbing into your bed.
"c'mon, it's not like anyone has to know," she says with that familiar honeyed lilt. she always makes it seem like it's not that serious, like what's happening between you—what's been happening—won't get you basically killed by your bandmates and label. you're pretty sure fucking your bandmate was number one on the list of things for an idol not to do.
she kneels on your mattress beside you. a hand roams slowly from your knee, up your bare thigh, like she's savoring how you feel.
"you know what these shorts do to me, mami. i can't control myself."
she meant your itty bitty sleep shorts with the pink hearts all over. daniela knew them well. almost every night you'd emerge from the bathroom connected to your shared room in a tank top and those damn shorts. she'd watch you walk around her bed to your own, her gaze shamelessly lingering on your ass when you turned your back to her and climbed into bed.
they hugged you just right and were so short that your ass cheeks basically fell out of them with every step. there was a tent in dani's boxers just watching you obliviously walk across the room. it was even worse when she could see your hard nipples through thin cotton of your top. then you'd crawl into your bed, basically on hands and knees, showing dani everything she couldn't have. until one night she decided, fuck it.
"please, please, please," dani begged that first time, hand palming her hard cock over her boxers. "it hurts so bad. need you to help me, baby."
you agreed that time, mainly because she looked so undeniably hot hovering over you, bottom lip between her teeth and clothed cock brushing against your thigh. you could feel your panties growing wetter by the second.
you naively assumed it would be a one time thing, something you could just brush under the rug and forget afterwards. but after the first time, your roommate seemed to exploit your weaknesses and sweet talk her way into your bed almost every night. tonight was no exception.
"if we keep doing this, they're gonna catch us eventually," you say, though you do nothing to stop her as her hand snakes to the underside of your thigh.
"yeah, maybe," she says absentmindedly, like she's not really listening. instead her hand sneaks up to your ass, squeezing your flesh through your thin shorts. "but not tonight. flip, amor."
she gives your ass a little push like she's helping, but you flip from your back to your stomach all on your own because, no matter your protests, you're still putty in daniela's hands.
"jesus," she groans, both hands immediately moving to grip your ass. her thumbs press into flesh that's hanging out of your shorts, while the rest of her nails claw into the fabric. she gives it a firm squeeze, one that nearly forces a sound from your lips. "you can't look like this and expect me not to do anything about it."
you prop yourself on your elbows, looking over your shoulder at your bandmate. she moves to straddle you while staring down at your body like you're an expensive cut of meat. that look in her eyes is all too familiar.
you're about to say something else, another warning probably, but then daniela rolls her hips forward, grinding her cock against your ass. the words evaporate from your lips. dani, noticing your forced silence and ever so greedy, repeats the motion. she thrusts her hips forward a little harder this time and, even through her boxers, you can feel her cock slip between your cheeks a little. it only makes your shorts ride higher on your ass.
"dani," you whine, letting your forehead fall into the pillow. you're not sure if it's a plea for her to stop or keep going.
"you look so pretty in these, mami," dani says, her thumb tracing one of the hearts on your shorts. she stares for a moment, attempting to memorize the sight before her. "but i'm gonna have to take them off now."
that's all the warning you get before her hands drag up your ass and into the waistband of your shorts. she pulls them smoothly down to your knees, revealing nothing but bare skin.
"no panties again? you were waiting for me to do this, weren't you?" she says, like this isn't a nightly occurrence. you can hear the smile in her voice.
her hands grab your hips and pull your ass up and back so you're on your elbows and knees. a weird mix of fear and arousal settles in your gut. the last thing you want is one of the girls walking in and finding you at dani's mercy like this. at the same time, the only thing you want is for dani to break your back.
you don't have time to consider your dilemma. in the next second, dani is thrusting her cock so deep inside you, you nearly collapse.
"fuckkkk," you moan, your entire body shoved forward by the force of dani behind you. you hadn't even heard her slide her boxers off, so she catches you off guard.
"god, you take me so well," dani groans, bottoming out in one stroke. she holds your hips there, balls deep inside of you. "you tell me to stop but this pussy says otherwise."
she pulls slowly out all the way, then thrusts back in just as hard, pulling your hips back onto her cock so you feel it a little deeper.
"just begging to be ruined, huh?"
"dani," you whine, back arching deliciously for her. your head's up now, chin resting on the pillow, but your eyes are squeezed shut. no matter how many times she has you like this, you never get used to how much she stretches you out.
"shh, shh. don't want anyone to hear, right?"
she knew this was wrong and she knew the two of you couldn't afford to be caught. still, that wasn't enough to stop her from starting a punishing rhythm.
it was like a game to her: how hard could she go without making too much noise? because if she thrusted her hips a little too hard, the sound of skin slapping and the headboard hitting the wall would nearly give you both away. or if she grinded into you a little too well, your mouth would fall open in a porn star moan that might be heard in the hallway.
you tried so hard to be good by biting your tongue and clutching the pillowcase for dear life. still, moans and whimpers slipped from your lips when she reached that spot inside you no one else had touched before.
dani was also a problem. aside from all the dirty words that rolled off her tongue when she was pounding into you, she had a bad habit of groaning a little too loud whenever she felt your walls clench around her.
"feels too good. can't stop," she'd say right before a strangled noise erupted from her throat and she dumped her load in you.
she wasn't there yet. since the very first time, when she came almost instantly, she'd learned how to hold out longer. you however, hadn't seemed to get any less whiny the more she fucked you. dani loved that about you.
a broken moan escapes your lips when she pulls your hips back particularly hard. dani smiles at that, but not for long. two seconds later, you both hear footsteps in the hallway and dani's hips stutter mid thrust.
"shit," dani whispers and you can hear a rare edge of panic to her voice.
that's never happened before. usually dani only pounces on you when she's confident everyone else is asleep. maybe she got too caried away this time.
for a moment, you think she'll pull out and cut her losses. but you should know dani better than that. instead she completes the stroke and bottoms out inside you. another involuntary sound is about to spill from your lips, but dani's hand reaches around you and clamps hard over your mouth. you can feel her fingers digging into your cheeks, holding your jaw in place.
"we're just gonna have to be extra quiet, m'kay?" she says, voice calm and collected again, like getting caught isn't a possibility and she's trying to convince you of that.
she lets you nod a little into her hand before resuming her disgustingly fast pace. she's rutting into you like an animal, meanwhile you can still hear the soft thumping of feet on the hardwood floors outside your room.
your heart is racing just thinking about what your bandmates might be able to hear outside, especially knowing damn well that dani hasn't locked the door. you could push her off if you really wanted and save yourself from the embarrassment and consequences.
but louder than those thoughts is the feeling of her cock filling you up perfectly. it's messing with your head and your ability to make good decisions and consider that maybe being fucked by your bandmate isn't worth the inevitable fallout. so you just take it.
with her hand gripping your jaw, you can barely make a sound and even when you do, it's muffled by her palm. her other hand is still on your hip, keeping your ass bouncing back on her cock.
"good girl, so good f'me," she whispers. you involuntarily clench around her at the praise and dani has to bite her lip to not make a sound. "so fucking good. i can't stop fucking this pretty pussy."
you whine into dani's hand. your wetness is practically dripping down your thighs with every word she says. there's no way you wouldn't let her fuck you when she looks and sounds like that.
there's another creak of floorboards outside the room, but at this point, you both couldn't care less.
"fuck, m'close. you want me to fill you, mami?" she asks like you even have a choice.
"please," you whimper into her hand, barely loud enough to reach daniela's ears. the sound of your voice is enough to send daniela spiraling over the edge.
"oh my fuck," she groans, maybe a little too loudly as her hips still all the way inside of you. her body tenses up and her grip on your hip and face grows impossibly stronger, enough to make your jaw ache. you soon feel her warmth spreading inside you, coating your walls.
"jesus," she mumbles once she's fully unloaded inside of you. she folds over you, still inside you and throbbing, and presses a kiss between your shoulder blades, just above the neckline of your tank top. she finally drops her hand from your mouth and lets you catch your breath. "i needed that. needed you."
her hand rubs up your side below the cotton of your tank top like a silent thank you. it's a thank you for letting her have you like this, with your bandmates right outside the door. it's a thank you for all the times she's had you before, despite knowing how much trouble it could cause you.
you think it might also be a thank you for all the times to come. because, you should know by now, this won't be the last time daniela takes advantage of her sweet, willing roommate.
