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Note: English is not my first language and I know nothing about adopting animals from shelters! I wrote this in twenty minutes, apologies for any mistake!
Andrew was simply scouting for a job, when something caught his attention. Not an object, but a place.
A dog shelter.
He immediately stopped the car and walked in. The eldest Cody did not even realise what had happened until a soft female voice spoke.
"May I help you?"
Andrew looked up and found the prettiest girl he had ever seen, giving him the warmest smile.
"I'd like to get a dog" he blurted out, his tongue working faster than his brain.
It was not a lie, well, maybe just partially. Andrew had always loved dogs, but Smurf never let that happen. Once, him and Julia found a stray puppy in the middle of the road during a thunderstorm and they decided to bring it home. The puppy got closer particularly to Andrew, it seems like he was not scared of him and followed the male twin everywhere. A couple of days later, the dog was gone, and so were all the toys Andrew bought. The house went back to being empty, as if the puppy had never existed.
Julia never forgave Smurf for that, and neither did Andrew.
"Wonderful" the girl exclaimed clapping her hands "Were you looking for a guard dog or just a small friend to keep you company?"
Andrew shrugged, he did not even know he wanted a dog until the pretty girl walked in "Both, I guess".
The girl smiled and walked Andrew to show all the dogs they had in the shelter. In all honesty, Andrew was paying more attention to her than to the dogs. He could see from the way her eyes sparkled how much she loved them.
Cage after cage, Andrew started to realise it was just a terrible idea and needed to think fast of an excuse not to look bad in front of her. Maybe he could say he needed more time and come back another time? Maybe ask her out?
Just as he was about to open his mouth, his eyes fell on a dog in a secluded area. The poor baby had really sad eyes and was sitting in a corner.
"Oh, that's Stella. She's a beauty isn't she?" the girl said approaching the cage. The dog did not move, and Andrew immediately felt something in his chest.
"She's gorgeous. Is anyone interested in adopting her?" he asked kneeling down.
Stella felt curious and moved her nose closer to smell Andrew and her tail started to move, scratching the pavement.
"Well, unfortunately she is not up to adoption. She is on the euthanasia list. Her family abandoned her for being too aggressive and all these years nobody showed an interest in her so... That's the procedure. We have to make room for other dogs who have more chances to find a family".
Andrew listened in silence and Stella seemed to get more comfortable around him, to the point she even let the man pet her.
He saw himself in that story. Andrew, in fact, knew very well the feeling of people avoiding him because they are scared of him.
"But she seems to like you, and you do too".
Thirty minutes and a few signatures later, Andrew left the shelter with a dog by his side.
*
Stella was one the best things that had ever happened to him. No exaggeration.
The first days hadn't been easy for him not her, but they soon found a routine and a way to communicate. Sort of.
On the first night, he swore he would have never let the dog on the couch, nor the bed. Yet, Stella found his mattress much comfier and Andrew did not sleep that much anyway.
He thought all dog food was the same, but Stella seemed to love more those yummy biscuits in the shape of a bone.
Whatever Stella wants, Stella would get.
*
Andrew started to notice how much attention he had been getting ever since he adopted Stella. Positive attention. That was a first time for both.
People would smile at him, well mostly at Stella, kids and pretty girls would approach them asking if they could pet her and he even had small talks with a couple of old ladies.
He did not notice the effects his kindness towards his dog had on people. Andrew was extremely gentle with her, eyes never leaving her figure as she ran in the dog park. It broke his heart the first time in the dog area when she could not befriend the other dogs. Luckily enough, Stella blended in with the group and so did Andrew with the other owners. A lot of women sighed in admiration at how caring he was to his dog, calling her "sweet Angel" and telling them the story of how he adopted her.
But there were also downsides. Stella was in fact aggressive. Mostly to men. Mostly to Baz. Hence why Lena could never be around her (not that Andrew would have ever allowed anything bad to happen to her, and Stella seemed to like the young Blackwell).
So, he went back to the shelter to ask for help.
*
Luckily enough, the pretty girl was still there and looked happy to see them.
Andrew started training Stella three times a week, but he was always at the shelter. Apparently, they needed volunteers and he had enough money and free time to help. Plus, it was an excuse to spend time with his favourite girl(s).
Weeks passed and one day, the pretty girl came to him with a look of someone who needed a favour.
"There's another dog in the list..." she said looking down.
So Andrew left with a second dog and dropped him at Craig's as a temporary fix until he had a better place to stay.
*
One year after adopting Stella, Andrew still had his precious dog, a pretty girl he could call his, and a dog rescue center he built from scratch to save as many dogs as possible in Oceanside and surroundings.
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i love seeing those few people who like every single one of my posts (not just the fics, like, literally everything) because like wow you are checking my account EVERY DAY and are usually the first people to like my posts. i live for u guys
Being Sammy's young and pretty girlfriend who is climbing the corporate ladder with her big girl job.
She wakes up at dawn almost every day, sometimes to go to the gym, other times to finish some work or to catch a flight.
Pretty girl never leaves the house without giving a small kiss to Sammy, even when he is asleep and in those cases she always leaves a note so he knows where she is.
She has been hitting the gym consistently because she wants to fit in those pencil skirts and insist on wearing heels despite the blisters. She was to live the true Jessica Pearson experience and who can blame her? She feels so powerful clicking those vintage Dior heels.
Sammy, does not get that. He thinks she looks at least ten years older (almost his age!) and she is competent enough that does not need to "dress up".
Nevertheless, he can't deny that those heels and skirts make her irresistible and once or twice he might have been the reason for her tardiness at the office. She likes to point out that it happens more frequently, but Sammy would just shrug because, honestly, who is counting?
However, Sammy's favourite version of her is when she wears his clothes at home. His girl looks much more relaxed and her silly personality comes back. Unsurprisingly, even in this case he struggles to keep his hands to himself. And not that she's complaining, most of the time she does it on purpose just to see how long it takes him to press all his weight on her, whether on the mattress, in the shower or bended against the first free surface in sight.
Sometimes Sammy gets home so late he does not get to see much of her, but one night in particular he found her sleeping next to Nate in his small bed, wearing his old t-shirt, and he had to force himself not to sob at the sight.
Sammy who's got a pretty little wife at home doting on his every need. Can’t believe he got so lucky with you, grueling days on the force coming home to kisses pressed all over his face, hands soothing the ache in his taut muscles the moment he comes through the front door. A sigh of relief leaves his lips every time he opens the door, immediately hearing the soft patter of your feet echoing down the hall, a bright smile spread across your face as you come around the corner to greet him with a giddy ‘hi baby’. One of his t shirt’s always dangling off your frame, dragging up the soft curve of your ass when you lift your arms to wrap around his shoulders, his thick fingers gripping your waist as he kicks the door shut, walking you backwards as you spout off about your day, murmuring soft, “Yeah? Then what happened, baby?” as you play with his collar. His touch wandering down to knead the fat of your thighs and soft plush of your hips, “Look at you, hm? Body’s so perfect, so fuckin’ perfect,” while his hand comes down to smack your ass, fingers dimpling the skin as you yelp, shrill giggles leaving your lips as he topples you over onto the couch, hiking your leg over his hip, “Thinkin’ about you all day, you know. Such a sweet girl at home, should be a miracle I go to work at all with all this waiting for me.”
Having Sammy pretending to be your boyfriend to get a creepy guy at your job off your back <3
based off this ask! :)
You’d met Sammy at the police station, sitting in the lobby shaking after your car had been hijacked and robbed with you in it. He’d seen you in the waiting area and instantly sat beside you, placing a blanket over your shoulders softly and giving you some warm tea.
He sat with you for six whole hours while they asked you questions, and processed your case. When you were dismissed he walked you out to your car, giving you his personal number if you ever needed anyone to call if something happens, or even if you just want to talk. He sends you on your way with a pat to your window and a small sad smile.
You and him had kept in touch for the past few weeks, occasionally checking in on one another, asking what you did today, and even sending funny memes to each other on the rare occasion. You’d told him how you had gotten your new job at the local dentist office as a receptionist about two weeks ago, Sammy congratulated you, and that was the last time you two have talked, it’s been a couple days since then.
And as always, a man had to go and ruin things. You didn’t know him well, only that you two supposedly went to high school together and now just so happened to work at the same job. He was the new hire janitor. So that meant he stayed later than normal, to clean, and you stayed later than normal because you were usually finishing things up, scheduling last minute emergency appointments, or filing new addresses you hadn’t gotten to during work hours.
Lately, the guy had ‘coincidentally’ been finishing at the exact time as you. Following you out to your car, yapping about how good high school was. On this particular night, he’d followed you all the way until you were seated and ready to drive home, but he practically pushed himself through your window, asking you out.
In a panic you spit out something along the lines of ‘sorry, I have someone.’ He didn’t believe you, obviously, and got more and more pushy until you eventually just drove off. When you got home you were feeling anxious about the entire situation, and decided to call Sammy.
You were sitting on the edge of your bed, still in your work clothes, staring at the floor. The space in your car had felt so small tonight when he’d blocked the door, his shadow blocking out the streetlights.
You stared at your phone, it was past midnight. Calling a guy you’d met a few weeks ago during the worst night of your life felt like a massive burden, but Sammy’s parting words at the police station kept echoing in your head; “Call me. Anytime. Even if you just want to talk.”
You pressed dial.
It didn't even ring twice. "Yeah, it's Bryant," his voice came through, thick with sleep but instantly slipping into that deep, authoritative register. "Sammy?" your voice cracked, smaller than you meant it to be. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called so late." you shook your head softly at yourself.
There was a sudden, heavy rustle of blankets on his end, followed by the solid thud of his feet hitting the floorboards. The sleep disappeared from his voice, instantly replaced by concern. "Hey. Breathe. You’re fine. Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm home," you whispered, wrapping one arm around your middle. "It's just," you sigh softly, "that guy from high school I told you about? The one who works the late janitorial shift at the office."
You told him everything. You told him how the friendly high school chatter had turned into relentless lingering, how he always managed to finish his work exactly when you finished, and finally, how he’d trapped you in your own driver’s seat tonight, leaning in so close you could feel his breath on your face.
"I panicked and told him I had a boyfriend," you choked out, a hot tear finally slipping down your cheek, voice raspy with distress. "But he didn't believe me. He laughed and asked what his name was, and I couldn't, I couldn't think of a name, Sammy. I just drove off. He's going to be there tomorrow and he knows I was lying."
On the other end of the line, the silence was heavy, but when Sammy finally spoke, his voice was calm and steady, sure. "Tell him my name,". You blinked into the dark room. "What?"
"Tomorrow, when he asks, you tell him his name is Sammy. And you tell him I’m picking you up at five," he said, his voice soft for you, but an underlying of sternness. "I don't mind pretending at all. If he thinks you're single and lying, he’s going to keep pushing. But if he knows you're seeing someone, and that I'm keeping tabs on you, he'll back off without a fight. We don't need a scene. I'll just be right there when you walk out."
The idea of Sammy pretending to be your boyfriend made your stomach do a dizzying flip. You were younger, completely out of your depth, and his intense, protective gravity was suddenly pulling you in completely. "Sammy, you don't have to waste your time off doing that-"
"I'm not wasting anything," he cut you off, his voice softening just enough to let you hear the certainty behind it. "I’m right where I want to be with this. Don't lose sleep over him tonight. Go to bed, alright?" his comforting voice rang through your line.
The next afternoon at the office went by in a blur. The janitor passed the front desk twice before noon, giving you a slow, arrogant smirk that practically dared you to make up another excuse. But knowing Sammy was coming kept your posture straight.
By 4:55 PM, you grabbed your bag, said goodbye to the office manager, and pushed through the heavy glass exit doors. Sammy’s dark sedan was parked right by the curb in front of the steps, making you let out a soft sigh of relief. He was leaning against the passenger side door, looking good in his work clothes, a fitted button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, dark jeans, and his badge clipped to his belt, just visible beneath his jacket.
The second he saw you, the hard, scanning look in his eyes dissolved into a genuine smile. He started walking up the concrete steps toward you, his stride confident and relaxed.
Before you could step down to meet him, the glass door clicked open behind you. "Hey," the janitor’s voice called out, entirely too confident. "Hey, about last night, I think we got off on the wrong-" He stopped mid-sentence as Sammy stepped right into your personal space.
Without a single word Sammy slid a large, sure, solid, warm hand around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side. You can feel the heat of his body through your clothes, and the size of him completely shielded you from the other man. It felt incredibly intimate, but more than that, it felt safe, it felt natural.
Sammy didn't glare. He didn't raise his voice. He just looked at the janitor with a calm, heavy authority that instantly made the guy take a half-step back. "Is there a problem here?" Sammy asked softly. "Uh, no," the guy stammered, his eyes darting from Sammy’s face down to the heavy gold badge on his belt. "Just, talking to a coworker."
"Right. Well, my girlfriend is off the clock," Sammy said easily, tightening his grip on your waist just a fraction, pulling you even closer until your shoulder was pressed against his chest. The word girlfriend rolled off his tongue. "We're heading out to dinner. Have a good evening." Sammy gives a sharp nod to him.
The janitor swallowed hard, his face turning a pale shade of red. "Yeah. Yeah, man. My bad. Have a good one." He didn't even look at you as he spun on his heel and practically bolted back inside the building. As soon as the doors shut, the heavy tension in the air vanished. The parking lot was quiet, the sun dipping low.
Sammy looked down at you, his eyes instantly searching your face, full of a gentle concern. His hand didn't leave your waist, though. It stayed right there, warm and heavy, his thumb unconsciously brushing a small, soothing circle against your hip. "You okay?" he asked softly.
"Yeah," you breathed out, realizing your heart was hammering, but not from fear anymore. It was entirely from the proximity. "You're really good at the boyfriend thing." you let out an awkward chuckle. Sammy let out a low, rumbly chuckle, his eyes darkening just a fraction as he looked down at your lips before meeting your gaze again. The space between you suddenly felt incredibly small, the "pretend" boundaries you'd set over the phone completely fading away.
"Yeah, guess so huh?" he murmured, a small, genuine smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He guided you toward the passenger side of his car, opening the door for you. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."
As you slid into the seat, watching him walk around the hood of the car, a sudden wave of warmth washed over you. The fear from the night before was completely gone, replaced by a feeling that felt terrifyingly right.
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being bloated from your cycle & feeling shy in front of pope is so intimate. standing next to him as he sits at the foot of the bed, biting your lip anxiously. “i’m–i just don’t like the way i look… right now, andy.” hands clasped over the lil pouch of your tummy as you sway on your feet; irrational mortification that swallows you whole.
his strong brows furrow, and the deep lines on his face crinkle as he presses his lips together in an unhappy pout. eyes dragging across your face, a zig zag from nose to neck, collar to breasts, breasts to belly button. it doesn’t make sense to him. pope’s not the best at comforting, but he knows how to be objective.
a strong, calloused hand wounded by injury and crime reaches out to press against the small of your back, pushing you closer to him. your hands slide through his curls as he nuzzles into your tummy, feeling the warmth of your skin on his face. he could well up with tears from the coziness alone; domesticity is hard to come by in a person, and you constantly ooze it.
a kiss to your belly button has you tilting his head up as he whispers; voice low and sincere. “but i like you so much.”
Jack Abbot gifting his precious girl a dildo that is a perfect replica of his cock (it also got tiny little veins and all!) to use while one of them is away or during those weeks that their schedules don't align, just so she does not get unaccustomed to his size.
Jack noticed that she always needed some sort of preparation when they got intimate after days of abstinence and he would take some extra time to make sure she was, in fact, ready for him. Not that it was a problem for Dr.Abbot, he did like to torture her a bit and the whole matter was a stroke to his ego.
On several occasions, Jack found her with teary eyes as he was entering her heavenly gates and he always misunderstood her expression of pain and pleasure painted on her face. As much as he loved to see her desperate, he would never do anything to hurt her, intentionally or not. He just worries so much when it comes to her, hence why the present!
He did not think for once that the gift was a double-edged sword, not until he was at the hospital and received a video of her riding "him".
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