Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Requests are welcome! Just a reminder it will take time for me to get to your requests since I have a very busy schedule, but you can ask for a oneshot if you want to:)

For x reader:

- Neutral! (I will do my best to keep these neutral because I wish for all to read and see themselves in the story)

- Sometimes fem!

- Rarely masc! (cause I suck at it)

Genre's to Request:

- Fluff

- Angst

- Found Family

- Friendship

- Anything else you can think of

These oneshots are intended for everyone to enjoy. 18+ content will most likely not be a part of this series of oneshots merely because I want it to be loved by everyone. I hope you all have fun reading, Loves!

~J.J.

Chapter Text

"(Y/n), tell me what you have?"

Detective Murdoch's voice captured the young doctor's attention, causing them to jolt, startled by his sudden appearance, and (y/n) huffed, lips pursing as they looked down at their bloodied arms since they had just been elbow-deep in the dead man's chest cavity. 

"You have got to stop sneaking up on me like that, Detective, you might end up giving me a heart attack and I will be on one of these tables."

(Y/n) grumbled, their heart thumping against their sternum as they produced the dead man's heart from his chest cavity, and Murdoch's brow shot to his hairline, a nervous chuckle slipping past his lips and he apologized for startling them.

"My apologies, Doctor. But, please, do not joke about ending up on a morgue table. I do not wish to see that, at least not for a long time."

The Doctor snorted, turning to face the man, but they were surprised to see George with Murdoch, though they should not have been since the constable had been working alongside the Detective for a while, and the doctor shook their head while presenting the healthy-looking heart to both men and they began explaining their findings.

"Well, we thoughts this man had a heart attack, which is perfectly explainable, especially since he seems to be in his late seventies. But, upon closer inspection of his heart, it appears that it gave out so to say."

"It gave out?"

Murdoch questioned the doctor, raising an eyebrow as he assessed the muscle held in (y/n)'s bloodied hands, and they nodded in agreement to his inquiry.

"Yes, it seems so. I did a further analysis of his blood and discovered a high dosage of amphetamines in his system, but he was quite healthy for his age."

(Y/n) continued while dropping the useless heart into a bucket at their feet, then wiped the blood coating their hands on their apron, though that seemed to be fruitless when the copper liquid already had begun to dry and crust on their skin. As (y/n) made their way to the sink, Constable Crabtree followed their movements, his heart speeding up inside his chest as he admired the young doctor, but he knew he couldn't confess at this time, especially since they were both working.

"So, do you believe that he was poisoned?"

George piped out before Murdoch could, while the doctor washed their hands and forearms, their attention drawn to the dark haired man, and they smiled gently in his direction, making George's breath hitch in his lungs, taken with their beauty.

"Yes, Constable, I am certain. If you look between his third and fourth toes, there is a puncture wound in his skin. It was likely a wound created by a syringe and there is no signs of a struggle. If my assumptions are correct, our victim here was asleep when it happened."

"Thank you, Doctor. Let me know if you discover anything new."

"Of course, Detective."

(Y/n) replied while wiping their hands on a dry towel, watching as the detective made his way out of the morgue, but when they turned around, the doctor came face to face with Constable Crabtree.

"Oh, Constable, is there something you need? Are you not going with the detective?"

The doctor tilted their head curiously, a strand of their hair falling onto their forehead, and it took all of George's willpower not to step forward and reach out to brush it away. The constable cleared his throat a couple of times, his cheeks feeling warm as he attempted to find the words to say, but they seemed to fail him when George locked his eyes with the beautiful (e/c) of the doctor's eyes and he stumbled over his words and fidgeted with his hat nervously.

"Well, I ... Doctor--"

"Yes, George?"

(Y/n) whispered in anticipation as they took a tentative step towards the man, wondering what he wanted to say to them, but George awkwardly avoided eye contact, shuffling from foot to foot, and he finally replied, asking,

"Would you like to attend my book signing? It would be great to have a friend with me ... To, y'know, ease my nerves."

George cringed at the question he asked the doctor, feeling foolish for not actually asking the doctor out on a date, but he was terrified of the rejection he would possibly face if they did not reciprocated his affections.

Disappointment washed over (y/n) at George's question, though they did not show it on their face, but they had hoped the constable would ask them out on a date, even though they were unsure of whether or not he fancied them.

"Of course I would, George! I loved your novel. I have actually read your book three times front to back! I loved the twist of romance you added between the protagonist and his best friend. Your writing captures their story as if you yourself have experienced what they went through."

(Y/n) gushed about George's book, making him feel even shyer than before, but he couldn't admit that he modeled the love story after his and the doctor's friendship, hoping to manifest that same relationship in real life.

"Oh, I don't think it's that good, Doctor (L/n)."

George bashfully replied, his cheeks flushing as he shrugged, his hazel-brown eyes casting towards his feet, attempting to avoid his friend's gaze, but (y/n) was not having it, and they stepped even closer to the constable and reached out a hand to tilt his chin up.

"Do not sell yourself short, George. You are an amazing writer and you should be proud of yourself."

The gentle touch to his chin caused George's eyes to widen in shock, the feel of (y/n)'s warm skin against his own produced so many hidden emotions that the constable had to force himself not to pull the doctor towards himself and kiss them as if he needed them to breathe, and the dark haired man nodded in understanding.

"Alright, Doctor, I understand. So, I will pick you up outside of the morgue at 6 o'clock sharp, okay?"

"I shall be waiting, Constable."

The doctor stated, slowly removing their hand from the man's chin, and George grinned, lifting his hat to his head to place it there and he secured the strap before bidding the doctor farewell.

****

By the end of the day, Murdoch and George were able to catch the killer and put him behind bars, and, as (Y/n) was wheeling the last body into the freezer for it to be picked up by the family for the funeral, the sound of soft footsteps caught the Doctor's attention and (y/n) spun on their heels after closing the freezer door and came face to face with George.

"Hello, George. Give me one moment to gather my things and then we can go to your book signing."

(Y/n) enthusiastically spoke, smiling at the constable as they strode towards their desk to gather their coat and hat, and as the doctor placed their hat on their head and slipped into their coat, George smiled and offered his elbow to them to take.

"Oh, George, you do not have to do that."

"Of course I do, (Y/n). I invited you out, it is the gentlemanly thing to do."

"George--"

"Ah, ah, nope. Take my arm, Doctor, please."

(Y/n) huffed at the man's stubbornness, rolling their eyes as they slipped their arm into the crook of George's elbow, and they allowed the constable to guide them out of the morgue. Once the two were out in the chilly air, George finally placed his own hat atop his head, and the two of them began to walk along the sidewalk, with George leading the way.

"Doctor?"

"Yes, George?"

The doctor answered the constable's questioning tone, the feeling of being so close to the constable causing their heart to beat rapidly against their sternum, but the doctor wasn't scared. No, they were once again anticipating the constable asking them out on a proper date after taking notice of his actions and subtle affections for the last couple of weeks, and they directed their attention to the man next to them and the doctor locked their gaze with George's own gaze.

The emotions (y/n) saw in the constable's beautiful eyes caused their breath to hitch in their lungs, heat rising to their cheeks as they observed how the man was studying their features, and George open and closed his mouth a couple of times, as if he were attempting to find the right words to say, before he finally gathered the courage to say what he truly wanted.

"I have to confess something, Doctor."

"And what is that, George?'

"Well, I--Um, I don't have a book signing tonight. It is tomorrow actually."

George averted his gaze from the Doctor's face, his face flushing in embarrassment, and he stopped leading the way to fully face his friend and he fidgeted with the cuff of his coat sleeve, ashamed of his confession while he waited for (y/n) to become upset with him.

"You don't have a book signing? Then why did you ask me to accompany you if it wasn't until tomorrow, George?"

"I--I was too embarrassed to ask you to enjoy the evening with me as just the two of us. I was scared that you would say no."

George confessed, his eyes still downcast to the bricks under his boots, and (y/n) furrowed their brow in confusion for a few moments before realization hit them, and with a gentle hand, the doctor cradled the constable's face in their palm and guided him to look into their eyes.

"Did you--Did you want to enjoy an evening together alone?"

(Y/n) wasn't sure if that was what George wanted to say since it wasn't necessarily a courtship because they did not know if the constable was interested in them that way, but at the shy nod the man gave, (y/n) confirmed to themself that George was interested in them romantically. The doctor caressed the man's cheek in a reassuring manner, keeping their eyes fixed on his, and (y/n) smiled sweetly, saying,

"I would love to do that with you. If you haven't noticed, I have fancied you for quite some time. Though, I was not sure if you harbored similar feelings towards me."

The doctor timidly replied, their words making George's eyes light up and a smile to spread across his face, and before he did anything else, leaned into their touch and he whispered, asking,

"May I touch you?"

"Yes, George, you may."

With their permission, George was swift to pull the doctor into an excited embrace, spinning the two of them around, causing the doctor to gasp and laugh along with the man, and once he was done, George held the doctor close, and he reached up to brush that pesky strand of hair from (y/n)'s forehead and he pressed his own forehead against theirs. The constable's and doctor's breathing become synced as they stared into each other's eyes, George's hand--that had moved the doctor's hair out of their face--was now cupping (y/n)'s face, his thumb rubbing along their jawline softly, and he whispered one final question, hope shining in his eyes.

"May I kiss you, Doctor?"

Before they even answered the inquiry, (y/n) tilted their head, bringing their lips to George's and the doctor planted a soft, tender kiss to the constable's lips, catching him off guard for a second. A hum escaped George's mouth, muffled by (y/n)'s lips as he reciprocated the kiss, and in the middle of Toronto, beneath the stars, a doctor and a constable poured all of the love they shared for one another into that kiss.

And George knew that he had found who he wished to be with for the rest of his short and simple life.

While the doctor knew exactly why they waited so long for "the one" because he had been by their side all this time.

Chapter Text

Soft music fills the morgue as I clean up the mess I made throughout the day.

Wiping down my table with a sterilized rag and washing my hands after, I made sure all of my tools were safely tucked away in their rightful places, and I tossed the dirtied rag into a bin to be dealt with in the morning before heading towards my desk to gather my things to finally head out for the evening. I hummed to the music still playing from the record player while slipping on my coat due to the chilly weather Toronto was starting to succumb to, then I scooped up my hat, placing it on my head, and once I grabbed my satchel, I strode towards the record player to cut the music. 

Silence filled the morgue after I had done so, then I pulled my keys from my coat pocket while making my way for the exit, and then I locked up the morgue when I closed the door behind me. Stuffing my keys in my pocket, I spun around on my heels, shivering in the cold while tugging my coat closer to my body in hopes of staying warm, and I turned left down the sidewalk, heading in the direction of my apartment.

Darkness surrounded me as I made my way through town, the sounds of horse hooves and an occasional motor vehicle filling the air, and I flicked my gaze up to stare up into the night sky, stars twinkling back at me and I smiled gently. Before I could get too distracted, I picked up the pace, shoes clacking against the stone pathway, and even though I thought I would be safe, especially since I would be passing Station House 4 on my way home, someone thought it to be a good idea to start following me.

As I proceeded down my usual path, my ears picked up the faint sound of another pair of shoes hitting the stone, echoing around me as I realized the noise was slowly becoming louder, most likely because the person was making their way closer to me, and--at first--I attempted to reassure myself that the person must live in the same direction as me, but as precaution, I sped up and chose to head towards Station House 4, just to be sure I wasn't going crazy.

My heart thumped rapidly against my sternum when the mystery person sped up their movements as well, the smack of their soles reverberating even more around me, and I do my best not to make any sudden actions nor do I turn around, afraid that if I do, the perpetrator will do something irrational before I can arrive at the station house and nab a constable. Steadying my breathing, I carry on with my journey, gaining on Station House 4, but my excitement is short-lived when I am unexpectedly grabbed, and I shout in shock.

"Mmm, look what I've caught! Such a pretty little thing you are."

The man snarls in my ear as he whirls me around, slamming my back into a brick wall, causing me to cry out in pain, and my eyes widen and I gag at the smell of his breath. The disgusting stench of alcohol fills my nostrils, but I steel myself, determined to stand my ground, and I struggle in the man's tight grip, but he's strong, much too strong for me to easily escape.

"Let me go! I have done nothing to you!"

I raise my voice, hoping it would carry far enough to capture someone else's attention, but the man slaps me before shoving me harder into the brick wall, and presses his body up against mine and my cheek burns from the smack. Fear surges through me as the drunk man rubs up against me, my fight or flight kicking in, but even though I do my best to push at his chest, the way he has me immobilized does not allow me to gather enough strength to push him off of me.

"Oh, Sweetheart, but you have. You're walking all alone through these streets, unaccompanied, which screams that you are asking for it. If you weren't, then someone would have escorted you home."

He slurs in my ear, his free hand roaming over my clothed body, insistent on discovering a way to slide beneath them, and I cannot stop the whimper from tumbling from my lips as I avert my gaze and tilt my head to avoid smelling his breath, but that was a mistake and the man chuckles darkly, saying,

"What beautiful skin you have, Sweetheart."

His murmured words make me sob, fighting even harder in the man's iron hold, but then I notice something glinting in the light of the lamp hanging above us, and when I focus on it, a scream of terror bubbles up in my lungs when I realize that he has a knife.

"Don't scream, or I'll cut you, Darling."

He threatens, bringing the blade up to my throat, the sharp edge gliding against my skin, and I release a whimpering sob, feeling gross as the man feels me through my shirt and vest. The blade digs harder into my skin, causing me to wince when it stings, but I don't say anything, trying to think of a plan when I catch sight of George and William exiting Station House 4 and after taking a deep breath, I risk it all and bellow out their names.

"GEORGE! WILLIAM, HELP ME!"

As their names leave my lips, the knife nicks my throat, but I am unsure if I even grab their attention because my captor hits me once again, this time in the side, which causes me to gasp for air, and he growls in my ear once more, calling me names and laughing cruelly.

"You little slut! Calling for your gentlemen, Sweetheart? Too bad they won't get to you in time."

He slurred and before I can react, excruciating pain curls up from my abdomen and my vision blurs while I slide down the brick wall once the man had pushed away from me, rushing from the scene to escape. The distant sound of a whistle fills my ears as agony rolls through me, tears rolling down my cheeks and I look down at the knife still lodged in my stomach. Blood seeps through my shirt and vest, pooling in my hands while I attempt to remember my training about wounds such as my own, but my consciousness was fading in and out.

"(Y/n)!"

"Doctor (L/n)!"

Voices call out my name, but I cannot keep my eyes open due to blood loss, and all I can think is that I'll die here without saying goodbye to George or William, or anyone else for that matter.

"We aren't sure if they are going to make it, Detective. Doctor (L/n)'s injuries were severe and they lost a lot of blood ..."

"You have to do something, Sir!"

"Constable, calm down--"

"No! I will not calm down! You can't just give up!"

"George, the Doctors here are doing everything they can for (Y/n). We have to trust them."

Three distinct, male voices were talking as I awoke, but for some reason, I couldn't move at the moment. My limbs felt like lead as I lay on what I assume is a bed, beneath a scratchy sheet, and I recognized two of the men being George and William.

"We are truly doing our best with (Y/n). Internally, they are healing and externally their wound is doing well, but for some reason, the Doctor cannot awake. Trauma does strange things to the body Constable, the Doctor might just need more time."

"More time? They've been out for three days--"

I groan in annoyance at that, but the noise must have been audible because George cut himself off, and silence falls over the room. That prompts me to attempt at opening my eyes and when I am finally able to peel them open, harsh light blinds me and I grunt once more in displeasure.

"(Y/n)?"

"Doctor?"

"Ugh, what? You three are loud."

I complain while adjusting to the light, my vision becoming clearer and I take in my surroundings, noticing that I am in a hospital bed. Bandages are secured neatly around my abdomen along with an IV that most likely was providing me fluids and medication for the pain, and I smile weakly at both men. Relief washes over William's and George's faces, rushing to my side since they were actually quite a good distance from me, and George takes my hand in his, happiness and worry mingling in his gaze.

"Would you give us a moment, Doctor?"

William dismisses the Doctor that probably was attending to my needs while I was asleep, the older man's reaction one of shock, but he nods in agreement and leaves the three of us in my room. I awkwardly smile at my friends, wincing in pain and moving to rest my free hand on my stomach, and I mutter, saying,

"You both look like you've been through hell."

"Please be serious, Doctor. You were stabbed only three days ago and you are already making jokes ..."

Murdoch grumbles in a scolding tone, which causes me to laugh, though I stop immediately when discomfort takes hold, and George squeezes my hand, rubbing his thumb along the back of it, while softly following with his own concerns.

"You need to be careful, (Y/n). The Detective is correct and you shouldn't be joking about this right now."

"Ah, I'm sorry, you two. I was just trying to lighten the mood."

William and George both snort, but the light-hearted moment disappears swiftly, and I instinctively tighten my hand on George's and William pats my hair as if I were a child, attempting to soothe me. For a few long minutes, we sit in silence, but curiosity gets the best of me, and I inhale slowly and ask,

"So, what happened after I passed out from blood loss? I don't remember anything after being stabbed."

My question instantly draws both men's attention to me, hesitation in their gazes, but then William makes himself comfortable in the chair next to my bed, and begins to talk about the events after the initial attack.

"George and I were just leaving for the night, when we heard you scream. At first, neither of us realized that it was you, but that didn't stop us from making our way towards you and your attacker ..."

"But then you shouted our names, (Y/n). The Detective and I both knew something was wrong, but before we could get to you, he had already hurt you and ran off."

George continued, his gentle touch easing my fear and anxiety, and I nodded, showing that I was listening to them. William then took a deep breath, rubbing his hands together before proceeding with the recounts of that night.

"You were already fading when we got to you and you weren't responsive, but we had another constable call for an ambulance while Inspector Brackenreid sent a few more after your attacker."

"They caught him thankfully, but while you were on your way here to the hospital, you nearly died, (Y/n). The Detective and I stayed with you as much as we could while the Doctors did their best to save your life and they were able to stop the bleeding ..."

"We were so worried about losing you, (Y/n), but by some miracle of God, you lived through the surgery and George and I have been taking turns keeping watch over you."

William finished up their story, his hand reaching out to give my shoulder a squeeze, and George gripped my hand tighter and I sighed happily, smiling lazily as I scooched to sit up a little in my bed. My actions caused both men to freak out, but I chuckle, brushing them both off before saying,

"I am okay, Boys, really. I have my two knights in shining armor to keep me safe and protected. And I thank you both for saving me."

I thanked my friends, bashful about the whole thing since I hadn't realized how grateful I was for them, and I cautiously took one of their hands in one of my own and I bowed my head in thanks, looking them both in the eyes as best I could, hoping to show my gratitude by just these simple gestures.

"Anything for you, Doctor. Anything."

Both William and George replied, smiling back at me, and the three of us sighed contently but sadly, since we knew that they will have to leave soon in order for the Doctors to keep an eye on me and make sure I am healed enough to finally go home.

Chapter Text

Entering Station House 4 this morning--unbeknownst to myself at the time--would be the day that changes my life forever ...

Being the only female officer here had its perks, but also it's downfalls. Even though I work in this station house and get paid to do so, my official title is actually just a glorified assistant, due to the problems and treatment I would receive if my position was recognized, and it is a disappointment, though I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Inspector Brackenreid is all for having me on the force, but since he unfortunately does not have much say or authority on how I am viewed by others, there was only so much he could do, and I had to settle for the title that I was given.

Regardless of Canada still seemingly wishing to be stuck in the past, I never allowed that to deter me from doing what I loved, and that was helping people and putting criminals behind bars.

On top of all of these amazing opportunities, the best part about working in Station House 4 is the fact that my best friend happens to be the second detective on duty here, and I find my life becoming more exciting as my career progresses.

Llewellyn Watts and I have been friends since we were children, possibly even longer than that, considering our parents were friends, and I have never been more in tune with someone than I am with him. Watts and I have done a considerable amount of things together, including doing our own investigation on the disappearance of his sister many years ago, and a significant number of people have said that they have never seen us apart and wonder if he is actually courting me.

Bear in mind that it is a total lie because we both live in completely different apartments and also have hobbies that to not include the other, but I get what people are saying ...

It would be a dream come true if the two of us could be together significantly more often due to how much I admire my friend and the feelings I harbor for him, though I am quite certain Llewellyn does not view me the same way as I do him, but a girl can dream, right?

"(L/n), where's your head at! I need you in my office now."

The Inspector tore me out of my stupor as I snapped my head towards him, noticing he had his hands on his hips and was giving me a look that screamed this situation was urgent and needing addressing promptly, and I nod my head in understanding while scrambling to follow my superior to his office. 

When we both entered, the man closed the door behind us while sighing, and he runs a hand through his red hair before grabbing the bottle of scotch he usually kept stashed away. As the Inspector poured himself a drink, I titled my curiously while crossing my arms over my chest, and I asked him what is going on.

"What is going on, Inspector? I just got here and you're demanding me to come to your office. This must be extremely important if you are asking to talk to me behind closed doors."

"You are correct, Miss (Y/n). I have a case for you!"

"You do?"

"Well, for you and the fine Detective."

"You have a case for both me and Murdoch? I think the Detective would do just fine--"

"No, no, not Murdoch, Officer. You will be working with Detective Watts today."

The man cut me off, baring his teeth after taking a good swig of his scotch, and with the glass still in his hand, Brackenreid gestured to something behind me and I spin around to discover Llewellyn was standing there, leaning against the doorframe while inspecting a random trinket the Inspector had sitting on the table next to him.

"Ah, yes, (Y/n), the Inspector wants us to work together on this case because we "work well together", as everyone states."

"Oh! What does this case entail, Inspector?"

I questioned the older man, avoiding making eye contact with the Detective, giving my full attention to the redhead, and Brackenreid grins while tossing back the rest of his scotch, and he says,

"You and the Detective with be staking out a potential suspect in the Lenderman's case ... Y'know, the one where we found--"

"A dead guy buried beneath the concrete of the Lenderman Warehouse? Yeah, I know that case. So you believe we have a lead and you would like Llewellyn and I to keep watch on your suspect?"

As I spoke, I could feel Llewellyn's eyes on me, his intense gaze making me want to shuffle awkwardly where I stand, but I force myself to stand still as I proceeded with my conversation with the Inspector.

"Exactly! You two are the best for the job and two brains are better than one! You two need to gather some supplies since you will be doing an overnight stakeout, (L/n). And please make sure the Detective stays out of trouble."

Brackenreid subtly teased me, giving me a wink which caused me to blush, but I regain my bearings and snatch the file from the man's extended hand before turning on my heels, scanning the file as I do so, and I gasp and halt my movements when I nearly run straight into Llewellyn.

"Oh, sorry, Detective!"

I apologized to my friend, blushing as I look up from the case file to lock eyes with Llewellyn's, awkwardly shuffling backwards to give the man room, and he flashed me that dorky, breathtaking smile of his and replied, saying,

"No, worries, (Y/n). Let us get on with this case. No dilly-dallying!"

Llewellyn teased me subtly, causing me to roll my eyes and laugh softly, then the Detective offered me his elbow--ever the gentleman--and I gratefully slip my arm through his and my friend guides me out of the Inspector's office. As we strode through Station House 4, Llewellyn and I discussed the key points of the case, the man now even closer to me than before even though we were already arm-in-arm, and I held out the file to make sure he could see it, while we headed out of the station to inevitably make our way to our suspects house and gather as much dirt on him as possible.

****

Before Llewellyn and I set up camp outside of Mister Braxton's--our suspect--house, the Detective offered to buy me dinner, which I accepted a little too quickly and enthusiastically, but I played it off as being hungry and not eating lunch, and that ended up causing my friend to be concerned and Llewellyn scolded me for not taking care of myself.

His kindness made my head spin and my heart to skip a beat, though I kept calm because I knew the Detective did not view me the same way I did him, and we made small talk as we ate side-by-side, watching Braxton's house for any signs of suspicious activity.

"You know, Llew, this is nice."

I spoke softly while munching on the pretzel he purchased for me, humming contently as the dough practically melted in my mouth, but I kept my eyes trained on Braxton's house, not wanting to look the man in the eyes.

"Yeah? What's nice about sittin' in an old dingy house across from a potential murderer, (N/n)?"

I snort at Llewellyn's sarcastic response, giggling as I cover my mouth in order to not spit my food out, unaware of my friend staring at me until I finally looked over in his direction, and my brow furrowed as our eyes meet.

"I ... Well, it's nice that we get to do things together. Like old times."

I shyly confess, since it had been a while since we had a case together or done anything together without someone else with us, and I smile gently, quickly taking another bite of my pretzel to keep myself from saying anything else. Llewellyn's eyes linger on me for a while, but then we both turn back to watch the suspects house, focusing on the windows and making note of any movement from inside.

****

As the night wore on, I became bored, tapping my left foot rapidly, the bouncing of my leg shaking the seat I was sitting in, and suddenly, a hand plants itself on my thigh overtop of my pants and my breath hitched in my throat and my gaze snapped up to my friend who was staring at me intently, one eyebrow raised in what looked to be annoyance.

"(N/n), are you alright?"

"Oh, uh, sorry Llew. I'm antsy. I've got pent up energy that needs to be released but we have to keep watch still."

I nervously responded, blushing furiously when I notice that Llewellyn still has not removed his hand from my thigh, and I squirm a bit, unsure of how to feel about this situation. Llewellyn keeps his grip firm on my leg, not moving his hand up or down, and I flick my eyes to where his fingers dig into the fabric of my pants, avoiding his gaze while attempting to get my antsy behavior under control.

"You have been acting quite strange lately, (N/n). Are you sure that you are okay? I do not mean to make you uncomfortable."

Llewellyn murmurs sweetly, shuffling closer to me, which prompts a shudder to roll down my spine at how quickly the space between us diminished, and I gnaw on the inside of my cheek and shrug, which causes my friend to groan in irritation.

Before I can say anything, the man's free hand grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him, and I gasp in shock, taken aback by the boldness of Llewellyn's actions and my wide eyes stare up at him through the dim light of the lamp the barely illuminates the room.

"Stop being dismissive, (Y/n). You're my best friend and that means I want to know what may be bothering you. Especially if it involves me."

The man demands of me, his tone gentle but firm, the warmth of his hand on my chin making my heart race, and my breath catches in my lungs as we stare at each other. I am speechless from how forward the Detective was being, my breathing now picking up as the sensation of Llewellyn's skin on mine causes heat to rush through me, and I finally find my voice when his hand squeezed my thigh urgently, and I whispered, saying,

"You don't bother me, Llew. Um, quite the opposite actually."

"I don't?"

"No, I ... Ugh, I like you. A lot."

"I like you too, (N/n). You're my best friend."

"Oh good lord, Llewellyn. I like like you, Dummy! I'm in love with you!"

I shout in exasperation, one hand gripping his vest and the other pressing to the back of his hand that still rests on my face, and I shake him gently, hoping that he understands what I am saying. For several long moments, Llewellyn is silent, his eyes wide in shock as he processed what I had just confessed, and for a split second, I think he is rejecting me. 

I squirm again in an attempt to dislodge his hands from my body, but my movements seem to jerk the man out of his stupor, and unexpectedly, his hand on my face slips to cup the back of my neck and the one on my leg moves to my hip, then I squeak in surprise when he drags me towards him and pulls me straight into his lap. My arms instinctively wrap around Llewellyn's shoulders as the man holds me close, my legs on either side of him, and I inhale sharply at the sensation of his lips softly brushing against mine.

"I have been waiting so long for you to say that, Darling. I'm sorry for making you wait."

Llewellyn mutters quietly, his thumb rubbing my cheek as he connects his forehead with mine, and we now share the same air, his hot breath washing over my lips and I desperately want him to kiss me right now.

"That's alright, Llew. Why don't you make it up to me and kiss me like you mean it."

I teased him, smirking playfully as I bump my nose into his, making the man chuckle, and he closes the distance between our mouths and kisses me sweetly. I hum into the kiss, allowing Llewellyn to take the lead, and I follow his lips as his hand tightens on my hip and his fingers grasp the back of my neck while he eagerly devours my mouth.

My eyes close as I let the moment consume me, my left hand now holding the side of his face, feeling the scratchiness of his stubble under my palm, and I kiss the man back more fervently, tilting my head to deepen the intimate gesture. Llewellyn groans into my mouth, tugging me even closer so that our chests squished together, and he slots our pelvises against one another as if to make sure there was no space between us or that I would disappear.

Llewellyn prods his togue along my lips, pleading for access to my mouth, and I eagerly let him in and the Detective explores my mouth, mapping it out like he wanted to memorize every nook and cranny. My lungs begin screaming for air, a whine escaping me while I pull at the back of his vest, and Llewellyn reluctantly breaks the kiss and we are both panting for air, staring at each other with love and adoration.

My lips are swollen and throbbing from Llewellyn's roughness, my cheeks warm from the heat that had built between us, and Llewellyn looked no better, with a ruffled collar and hazy eyes to match. We hold each other still, my hand on his face caressing his cheek and jawline, and both of the Detective's arm now wrap completely around my waist, keeping me in his lap and we smile lazily at each other.

"Wow, that was ..."

"Amazing?"

I whispered stupidly, making the man snort, and I giggle as he kissed my lips chastely, saying,

"I was gonna say that it was the best kiss I have ever had, but amazing sums that up pretty well." Llewellyn replied, while squeezing his arms around me in reassurance, and my cheeks heat back up again in embarrassment.

"Well, I'm glad you liked it."

"More than liked, Darling. I want even more already and I don't think anyone else could ever compare to you, (N/n)."

Llewellyn confessed, making my heart swell with pride, and he doesn't allow me to speak and merely yanks me back into another breathtaking kiss, consuming my mouth and ruining me for anyone else since I do not think I would want to kiss anyone else again.

Chapter Text

It had been nearly three days since anyone had seen Doctor (L/n).

The whole of Station House 4 knew the doctor was hard working, but it was concerning to notice how little anyone had seen of the medical professional within the last couple of days.

Inspector Brackenreid is not opposed to--from his friends and those he works with--hard work, but after not seeing the doctor within nearly 48 hours, he was becoming increasingly restless and worried, wondering why (y/n) had not been taking care of themselves.

As the man sat at his desk, attempting to finish up a report of a case Detective Murdoch had solved, the inspector's attention continued to wander off, wondering if the doctor had eaten or slept, his dad instincts kicking in at the horrible scenarios playing in his mind on repeat, and with a loud grumble, the redhead threw his pen down, then stood up, nearly knocking his chair over, and he finally determined that it was time to pay the doctor a visit.

"Oh, Sir, are you leaving for the day?" George questioned Thomas, pausing in the doorway of the inspector's office.

Brackenreid snapped his head up to look up at the constable, his hat already on his head while he tugged on his coat, and the inspector scoffed, saying,

"No, constable. I am heading down to the morgue," Thomas buttoned up his coat, adjusting the collar as George furrowed his brow and tilted his head in confusion.

"The morgue? Is something wrong?" George's eyes widened as he inquired about why the inspector was going to the morgue, and Brackenreid chortled in amusement.

"You could say that. Doctor (L/n) has been M.I.A. for the last forty-eight hours and I believe it is high time I march my ass down there to figure out why. Please let Murdoch know I will be gone for a little while and make sure nothing is out of place when I get back, ya hear me?" Brackenreid replied, commanding the young constable to hold down the fort, to which George nods frantically, knowing that if the inspector is going down to the morgue without a case or bodies, then he must be serious about his concern for the doctor.

"Yes, Sir! Nothing will be out of place, Inspector!" George promised.

With that said, Thomas gives the young man a curt nod, then in a flurry--that could only be described as determination and pure spite--the inspector exits his office, and stomps out of the station house to make his way to the morgue.

On his way to see the doctor, Thomas picked up a two slices of pizza from a vendor, along with a bottle of water since he knew that when one emersed themselves into their job, they would normally forgo hydrating and refueling, so he chose to be the one to feed the doctor as well as make them drink water.

Munching on the chips he had purchased for himself, the inspector mulled over what he was going to say to the doctor, his facial expressions contorting with each new scenario, and he was sure that if anyone on the street was paying attention to him, they would believe he was ridiculous or insane. Not that he cared, though.

"Alright, Thomas, don't be a pansy now. You are their friend and you are concerned for their health. (Y/n) will understand,"  the inspector muttered to himself once he paused at the entrance of the morgue, and before he could back out, the man inhaled sharply and burst through the door.

Music filled the morgue, so loud Thomas thought his eardrums would bleed, but he pushed forward, not ready to give up so easily.

"Doctor! ... Doctor (L/n)!!"

The redhead shouted loudly for the doctor, his voice dampened by the record player blasting that heinous music, but the inspector understood the new music these days were catering to the young ones instead of the elders.

Searching for the medical professional, Brackenreid squinted as if he were wading through fog, and he caught sight of them slouched over their desk, scribbling away on a sheet of paper, a glass of scotch next to their head, and the man huffed, marching his way over to the record player first, and Thomas swiftly lifted the arms, silencing the music as the record scratched to a stop.

"Hey! I was listening to tha!--Oh, inspector, what are you ... doing here?" Doctor (L/n) began but cut themselves off as they realize who had interrupted their music, yawning as they ask why he was in the morgue, and Thomas rolled his eyes in exasperation.

The inspector strode towards the doctor without saying anything, placing the pizza in front of them as well as the water bottle, and he snatched the glass of scotch off the desk, causing the doctor to whine in protest.

"Ah, ah, ah, no. You will eat and hydrate before i let you anywhere near alcohol, Doctor," Inspector Brackenreid scolded the (h/c), narrowing his eyes at them in the most dad-fashioned way, the sight making the doctor balk as they stare up at the man, their notes abandoned.

"Wh-What?"

"You heard me, (L/n). I want you to eat all that I have given you and drink this whole bottle of water," Thomas commanded once again.

"Inspector, I am fine. You did not have to come all the way down here to give me food which you most definitely had to pay for. I don't want you to waste your hard-earned money on me."

Thomas let out a hardy laugh, shaking his head in disbelief before allowing a serious expression to take over his features, and the man raised an eyebrow at the doctor, pursing his lips while crossing his arms over his chest and he says,

"I am not going to let Station House 4's golden child go hungry nor am I going to allow you to neglect your health, (y/n). You need to take better care of yourself,"

(Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes widen at the inspector's response, taken aback by his clear, fatherly tone, speechless now that they let his words settle in their ears, and the doctor sighs deeply and heavily, dropping their head like a disciplined child, hands lifting up to rub at their face roughly.

"You aren't my father, Sir. Why do you care so much?"

"Because I just do. And would your father do this for you?" Thomas stated.

"No, he probably wouldn't, Inspector," (y/n) sighed.

"Okay, so someone has to do it. Which means me. Now, eat. After that, you're gonna go home and get some rest,"

At those words, the doctor threw their hands up in exasperation, rolling their eyes at the inspector, but Thomas simply tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the physician to begin consuming their food, and without another complaint, (y/n) did as they were told.

Taking the first slice of pizza in hand, the doctor brings it to their lips, opening their mouth to bite down on the cheesy food, and they let out a satisfied moan of relief once the taste of the pizza coated their tongue.

Pleased with their obedience, Brackenreid set out to tidy up the morgue, something his wife would be proud of, though he kept an eye on (y/n) to make sure they were eating, and once he made the place look somewhat presentable, he ambled his way back to the doctor, happy to see both pieces of pizza were consumed and the physician was now guzzling the water he had provided them with.

"Thank you for the food, Dad. Could I please get to work now? I have several more files to sort and two more cadavers to prep for the families to come pick up by the end of the week, Inspector."

"No, you cannot, Kiddo. You have been working yourself to the bone with barely any sleep, (y/n). You have to take time for yourself to recover, Doctor,"

"But, these--"

"(Y/n), your work will still be here in the morning, exactly where you've left it. Please call it a night and go home." Thomas said firmly, his brow furrowed in concern and his tone demanding.

Inspector Brackenreid was correct. (Y/n) knew that and seeing the effort the man had put in to taking care of them made a wave of contentment wash over them, and after taking one last look at their messy desk, the doctor huffed, saying,

"Okay, okay, you're right, Sir. My work will be here tomorrow morning. I guess it wouldn't hurt to go home and sleep,"

Brackenreid grinned widely at the physician caving to his request, his hand reaching out to pat them on the shoulder before ruffling their hair as if they were his kid, and (y/n) batted the man's hand away, annoyed that he had messed up their hair.

"Good! And I don't want to see you in here any earlier than nine in the morning, understood?"

"Nine in the morning?!"

"Yes, Doctor, you need to be well-rested. I will drag your arse back to your apartment if I see you here any earlier than that, got it?"

"Alright, Dad, I understand. Goodness," (Y/n) muttered, getting up from their desk to grab their coat and hat, making sure they have their keys.

Once the two of them are ready, Brackenreid walks out with the doctor, waiting for them to shut the lights off and lock the door, and when they have, the man smiles at the young physician and offers to take them home.

"Thank you again, Inspector. I appreciate you coming to kick me out of the morgue or I probably would have stayed overnight to be honest."

"I know, (y/n). I know you well enough that you are dedicated to your work and you need a lil' nudge when it is needed," Thomas replied kindly.

As the two strolled down the street, Thomas made sure to walk on the outside of sidewalk, knowing drivers could be unpredictable. (Y/n) was definitely grateful, glad to get out of the stuffy morgue, and they were ready to change into comfy sleepwear and crawl under the covers of their bed to sleep as long as physically possible.

And all of this happened because a stubborn inspector decided to be their dad and force them to go home, though (y/n) wouldn't have it any other way.