lover of lit

His phone alarm started blaring against the nightstand just as my thoughts began slipping into dangerous territory. Drew groaned beside me, blindly reaching toward his phone until he finally managed to silence it. Without opening his eyes, he immediately rolled onto his other side and pulled the comforter higher over his shoulders.

I rubbed my eyes before turning toward him. “Come on, baby. We need to get up.” I said quietly, placing a hand on his arm. He pulled the blanket completely over his head. “Give me five minutes,” he mumbled from underneath it.

A smirk tugged at my lips. I grabbed the comforter and yanked it off him in one quick motion. “Good morning, sleepyhead!” I exclaimed. Drew groaned dramatically, immediately covering his face with both hands. Even through his fingers, I could see the smile spreading across his face. “‘Mornin’.”

Before I could climb out of bed, his hand wrapped around my wrist. I let out a surprised laugh as he pulled me back toward him, my body falling against his chest. His arms wrapped lazily around my waist before he pressed a sleepy kiss against the top of my head.

“You excited?” I asked, lifting my head enough to look at him. Drew stared at the ceiling. “Hmmm…” He pretended to consider it. “Nope.” I laughed. “Not even a little?” Drew rubbed his eyes and let out an exhausted yawn. “Ask me when my vyvanse hits.” I sat up and groaned dramatically. “You’re the one who voluntarily applied there.” I said with a smirk. 

“Yeah, well.” He finally looked down at me. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” I narrowed my eyes. “You moved across the state because it seemed like a good idea?”

“Among other reasons.” His hand slid lazily along my back. “Very compelling reasons.” I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “You’re sooo nervous.” Drew shrugged. “I’m chilling.” “You’re absolutely not chilling.” Drew stared at me for another second before pulling me closer against his chest. “I’m going back to sleep.”

The rest of our morning moved considerably faster. We took turns getting ready in the bathroom, constantly reaching around one another for toothbrushes, deodorant, hair products, and everything else we’d somehow managed to scatter across the counter. While Drew showered, I stood in the kitchen whisking my matcha together and packing something small for breakfast. By the time he walked back into the room in his fresh navy scrubs I was halfway through doing my makeup at the kitchen counter.

I looked over at him. For some reason, seeing him in scrubs made everything suddenly feel real.“Look at you,” I smiled. Drew glanced down at himself. “What?” I watched him, still smiling. “Dr. Starkey.” I cooed. He rolled his eyes as he reached for the coffee he’d made. “Don’t start.” I laughed to myself, setting my highlighter back down on the vanity. “Is it sinking in yet?” He took a long sip of coffee instead of answering me. I grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

By the time we finally made it downstairs, Drew seemed slightly more awake and significantly more aware of what he was walking into. He drove while I sat beside him finishing my matcha, occasionally glancing over whenever I noticed his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. He was nervous. I knew all of his tells.

“You’re gonna be fine,” I said eventually. “I know.” He replied. I watched his fingers tapping on the steering wheel.  “You’re a good doctor. Everyone’s going to like you and you’re going to love themm… especially Trinity and Dennis.”

“I know.” I stared at him. “Do you want me to stop?” I asked. Drew didn’t even react. “Please.” I laughed, reaching across the center console and resting my hand on his thigh. Drew immediately placed his hand over mine.

As the hospital came into view ahead of us, however, the knot in my stomach returned. Drew was nervous because he was starting over. New hospital. New attendings. New residents. New city. I was nervous for an entirely different reason. Somewhere inside PTMC, Jack was starting his morning too. And in less than an hour, two parts of my life that had remained completely separate from one another were finally going to meet.

The emergency department already buzzed with its usual morning energy by the time Drew and I walked in through the ambulance bay entrance. Phones rang from every direction. Nurses hurried between rooms carrying medications and lab specimens. Stretchers rolled past us toward CT while the overhead speakers announced another incoming ambulance. Drew looked around, taking it all in.

“So…” he mumbled under his breath. “This is where all the shit goes down?” He asked. I smiled. “Pretty much.” His eyes wandered around the department, trying to take in everything at once. “…It’s bigger than I expected.” He said softly. “Give it an hour.” He looked over at me. “Why?” I smirked at him. “You won’t even notice how big it is.”

Before he could answer, Dana spotted us from across the nurses’ station. “There you two are!” she called, waving us over. Drew quickly brushed the remaining lint of his scrub top. “Nervous?” I asked. “A little.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “You’ll be fine.” “I know.” He looked over at me and smiled. “I’ve got you.” Drew watched me, smiling. “I know you do.”

Dana walked over, coffee in one hand and a clipboard tucked beneath the other arm. “Morning.” I smiled back at her “Morning!” Her attention shifted toward Drew, but before I could introduce them, he stepped forward and held out his hand.

“Dr. Drew Starkey,” he said with an easy smile. “You’re Dana, right?” Dana raised her eyebrows slightly as she shook his hand. “That’s me.” Drew smiled as they shook hands. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Dana immediately glanced in my direction. “Hopefully nothing that’ll get me fired.” I rolled my eyes. “Oh my God.”

Drew laughed, dropping his hand back to his side. “Nothing too bad.” Dana laughed. “Good answer.” Dana took another sip of her coffee before looking him over. “You ready?” He took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.” Dana smiled before gesturing for him to follow. “I’ll show you around before Robby starts throwing patients at you.”

I watched the two of them start walking through the department. Just as I was about to head back upstairs, someone appeared beside me. “…So.” I turned. Trinity. She crossed her arms, watching Drew as Dana pointed out different areas of the department.

“That’s him?” I laughed quietly. “That’s him.” She was quiet for a second. “…He’s taller than I expected.” I nudged her shoulder. “That’s your takeaway?” Trinity shrugged, watching him talk to Dana across the ED.  “I’m observing.” I rolled my eyes. She looked back at me. “I still think you’re a little crazy for moving as fast as you did with him.” I looked back at him. “I know.” I said softly. “No.” She pointed toward Drew. “You spent three years playing ping-pong with that man.”

“I know.”

“And then you came to Pittsburgh.”

“I know.”

“And then Jack happened.”

I looked down. “I know...” She sighed. “I’m trying really hard to be supportive…” she said quietly. “You are.” Trinity finally looked back at me.  “No…” A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I really am.” I looked back toward Drew. “So?” She watched him laugh at something Dana had said.

“…You look happier.” The comment caught me off guard. I looked over at her. She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s him, but you seem like you got that...” She trailed off for a moment, almost cringing at what she was about to say. “Got your sparkle back, I guess.” I couldn’t stop my own smile from growing. “…Yeah.” Trinity bumped my shoulder. “Thank god.”

She looked back toward Drew again. “I still reserve the right to threaten him if he acts up.” A laugh escaped me. “I’d expect nothing less.” I looked back at my watch and gasped. “Fuck, I gotta run.” I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “I’ll text you if I get a break today.” Trinity nodded, her arms still crossing over her body. I pressed the button to the elevator, the doors sliding open almost immediately. “And I’ll text you if there’s any tea between your boyfriend and your ex.” I looked back at her, mortified. I stepped back into the elevator, shaking my head. “And I’ll text Garcia that she needs to go to the emergency department ASAP!” I smirked back at her as the doors to the elevator closed.

By the time I saw Drew again, almost three hours had passed.

I had spent most of my morning upstairs, bouncing between rounds and checking on patients, but curiosity eventually got the best of me. I found myself back in the emergency department sometime before noon under the excuse of checking on one of my pediatric patients who had come through earlier that morning. At least, that was the excuse I gave myself. Truthfully, I wanted to see how Drew was doing.

I spotted him almost immediately. He was standing beside Robby at the nurses’ station, both of them staring at a CT scan pulled up on one of the computers. Drew had one hand resting against the counter while Robby pointed something out on the screen, speaking to him quietly. Whatever nerves Drew had been carrying with him that morning seemed to have disappeared completely. He looked comfortable. Almost annoyingly comfortable. I had spent the entire drive to work reassuring him that everyone would like him, and apparently, I’d been right.

His first few hours had been relatively forgiving by PTMC standards. He’d seen an older woman with abdominal pain, helped Dennis with a patient who’d dislocated his shoulder after falling off a ladder, and somehow ended up suturing a drunk college student’s eyebrow while the kid repeatedly tried to convince Drew that he was “totally fine to drive home.” He wasn’t. Drew had taken his keys.

By twelve-thirty, he’d already managed to make Dennis laugh hard enough that I heard it from halfway down the hall. Even Langdon seemed to like him, which I considered an accomplishment in itself. Robby, however, seemed particularly taken with him.

I watched from a distance as Drew pointed toward something on the CT. “What about that?” he asked. Robby leaned closer to the screen. “What about it?” Drew narrowed his eyes. “Right there.” Robby stayed quiet for a moment before a small smile appeared on his face. “…Good catch.” Drew shrugged casually. “Almost like I went to medical school.” Robby shook his head, but I could see him trying not to laugh. “Don’t get too cocky, Dr. Starkey.” I smiled to myself. Of course. Of fucking course Drew had somehow charmed Robby within three hours.

“You’re staring.”

I nearly jumped at the sound of Trinity’s voice beside me. “I am not.” She followed my gaze across the department. “You’ve been standing here smiling at him for like thirty seconds.” I rolled my eyes, looking towards the Pedes room. “I came down to check on a patient.” Trinity smirked, “Mhm.”

Trinity still hadn’t completely warmed up to the idea of Drew. When I’d first told her we were seeing each other again, she’d stared at me like I’d just announced I was voluntarily repeating the worst decision of my early twenties. She knew too much. several years of breaking up, getting back together, swearing we were done, and inevitably finding our way back to each other had given her more than enough reason to be skeptical. She’d supported me anyway. Mostly.

Her exact words had been, If you’re happy, I’m happy. But if he does some stupid shit again, I’m jumping him. So far, Drew had managed to remain un-jumped. And now Trinity was finally meeting the person she’d spent years hearing stories about.

“So…” I glanced over at her. “What do you think?” Trinity looked back over at me, crossing her arms. “I’ve known him for three hours.” I waited for her answer. “…And?” She shrugged at me as she stared at him across the ED. “And I’m observing.” I laughed. “You’re ridiculous.” She looked back over at me and smiled. “I’m protecting my investment.”

Before I could respond, Drew looked away from the computer and spotted us. His entire expression changed. A grin spread across his face as he excused himself from Robby and started walking toward us. “There she is.” He stopped beside me, briefly resting a hand against my lower back before looking toward Trinity. Then his eyebrows lifted.

“I’ve been so busy running around all morning that I haven’t introduced myself… You must be Trinity.” She stared at him. “…How do you know who I am?” Drew looked at me like the answer was obvious. “She never shuts up about you.” Trinity’s expression softened for approximately half a second before she caught herself. “Oh.”

Drew held his hand out toward her. “Drew.” Trinity looked down at his hand for a moment before shaking it. “Trinity.” Drew grinned as he shook Trinity’s hand. “I’ve heard good things.” he added before dropping her hand. “I’ve heard…” She glanced at me. “…things.” I immediately closed my eyes, looking down at my shoes. “Oh my God, Trinity.” I muttered. Drew laughed. “I’m sure it was all fair game.” Trinity smirked after he had made that comment, it almost seemed like he earned his first point with her.

Before Trinity could interrogate him any further, Langdon called Drew’s name from one of the rooms. He glanced over his shoulder. “Coming.” Then he looked back at me. “You staying down here?” I shrugged. “For a few more minutes… I need to catch Jesse up on the pedes case before I go back upstairs.” Drew nodded. “Cool.” His hand brushed briefly against mine before he headed toward Langdon.

Trinity waited until he was safely out of earshot. Then she looked at me. I raised my eyebrows. “…Well?” She pursed her lips. “He’s… okay, actually.” My smile immediately widened. “That’s huge coming from you.” Trinity rolled her eyes as she walked up to one of the computers. “I said I don’t hate him.” I watched her as she typed on the computer, still smiling. “Same thing.”

For the first time that morning, some of the anxiety I’d been carrying started to disappear. Drew was doing well. He liked everyone. Everyone seemed to like him. Maybe I’d spent the entire morning worrying over nothing. I should’ve known better. Because sometime around noon, Jack walked into the emergency department.

I didn’t see him at first. Robby did. He was standing beside Drew at the nurses’ station again, going over the plan for one of his patients when Robby glanced over Drew’s shoulder. “Abbot!”

Drew barely reacted to the name. I did. From several feet away, my attention immediately snapped toward them. Jack walked up to the station with a chart tucked beneath his arm, his attention still focused on whatever he’d been reading. “What’s up?” he asked. “Perfect timing.” Robby pushed away from the computer. “Have you met our new resident yet?” Jack finally looked up. And saw him. Drew.

For one brief second, Jack didn’t say anything. His expression barely changed. If I hadn’t spent months learning every microscopic shift in that man’s face, I probably wouldn’t have noticed anything at all. But I did. The slight pause. The way his eyes stayed on Drew for just a second too long. The almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw.

He knew. Of course he knew. I’d said Drew’s name around him before. I’d told him stories. Somewhere along the way, I had even shown him a picture. Jack knew exactly who was standing in front of him. Drew, meanwhile, didn’t have a fucking clue. Robby gestured between them.

“Dr. Jack Abbott... this is our new resident Dr. Drew Starkey.” Drew immediately held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.” Jack looked down at it. Only for a second. Then he took it. “Likewise.”

They shook hands. Completely normal. Completely professional. Drew smiled, “Robby’s been warning me about you.” Jack’s eyes flickered toward Robby. “Has he?” Jack asked. “Nothing terrible,” Drew added. “Yet,” Robby muttered. A faint smile pulled at Jack’s mouth. “Give it time.” Drew laughed. And that was it.

To anyone else watching, it was nothing. An attending meeting the newest resident. A handshake and a friendly exchange. Then everyone would move on with their day. But I stood several feet away, completely frozen. Because Drew had just shaken hands with the man I’d spent months trying to forget. And Jack had just met the man I’d spent years finding my way back to.

By the time Drew’s first shift finally came to an end, I was exhausted.

I had finished upstairs almost twenty minutes earlier, but instead of heading out to the parking garage, I made my way back down to the emergency department to wait for him. Drew was still sitting at one of the computers finishing his last few charts, occasionally stopping to ask Robby a question from across the nurses’ station. I leaned against the counter a few feet away, scrolling aimlessly through my phone.

“You waiting on him?”

My thumb stopped against the screen. I didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Still, I did. Jack stood on the opposite side of the counter, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He looked tired. His shift must’ve been ending too. For a second, neither of us said anything.

“Yeah,” I finally answered. “He’s almost done.” Jack nodded slowly. “Right.” The silence that followed was uncomfortable enough that I immediately looked back down at my phone.

It had been months since we’d spoken about anything that wasn’t a patient. Even now, standing only a few feet apart, it felt like there was some invisible line between us that neither of us was willing to cross. Jack adjusted the strap of his bag.

“How’ve you been?”

The question made me look up again. There was something almost ridiculous about hearing him ask it. Six months ago, he knew what time I woke up in the morning. He knew how I took my coffee, which side of the bed I slept on, what shampoo I kept in his shower. He could tell something was wrong with me before I even opened my mouth. Now he was asking how I’d been like we were old coworkers who hadn’t seen each other in a while.

“Good.”

My answer came out quicker than I intended. I think I just wanted the interaction to be done as soon as humanly possible. I also did not want to be seen talking to him anymore. “Good.” Jack mumbled. Another silence. I swallowed. “You?” I asked. Jack slowly nodded before answering. “Can’t complain.” I almost laughed. Of course. My fingers tightened slightly around my phone, trying not to look up at him, or god forbid make eye contact in that very moment.

“I heard you took some time off.” My expression shifted as my head shot up to meet his eyes. “Yeah. I did.” Jack watched me as I looked back down at my phone. “You okay?” There it was again. That stupid fucking question. I looked at him for a moment before nodding. “I’m better now.” Jack’s eyes stayed on mine. “I’m glad.”

Before I could respond, a familiar voice called from behind me. “Ready?” I turned. Drew was walking toward us, backpack thrown over one shoulder as he shoved his phone into the pocket of his scrub pants. “Yeah.” I smiled. “Finally.” Drew wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Robby was talking his ear off… I think he’s starting to like me.” Robby looked back at Drew from across the way, “I heard that,” Robby called from somewhere behind the nurses’ station. Drew laughed before finally noticing Jack standing across from me. “Hey, Dr. Abbot”

Jack’s entire demeanor shifted almost instantly. Not enough for Drew to notice. Enough for me to. “Dr. Starkey.” Drew looked between us before casually resting his hand against my back. “You heading out too?” Drew asked innocently. Jack nodded. “In a minute.” Drew smiled at him. “Nice.”

Drew looked exhausted, but there was still an unmistakable excitement behind his expression. “It was a good first day.” Jack nodded. “You did well.” Drew’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Thanks.” “I’m serious.” Jack adjusted his bag on his shoulder. “Good instincts. Just slow down a little.” Drew laughed under his breath. “Been hearing that my whole life.”

For the briefest second, Jack smiled. Then Drew’s hand slid from my back into mine. It was completely absentminded. Natural. He didn’t know there was any reason for it not to be. Jack’s eyes dropped toward our hands. Only for a second. Then they returned to Drew.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

Jack looked at me last. There was a pause. So small Drew probably didn’t even register it. “Goodnight.” I swallowed. “Goodnight, Jack.”

Then he walked away. I watched him disappear through the double doors before Drew gently tugged at my hand. “You good?” Drew asked. My attention snapped back toward him. “Yeah.” He studied me for half a second before accepting the answer. “Come on. I’m fucking starving.” I laughed quietly as he pulled me toward the elevators. But as we walked away, I found myself looking back toward the doors Jack had disappeared through. Just once.

By the time we got back to my apartment, whatever tension I had been carrying from the hospital had mostly worn off. Mostly.

Drew changed out of his scrubs almost immediately, throwing on an old band T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants while I started pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator. We had decided sometime during the drive home that neither of us had the energy to go anywhere for dinner, which resulted in Drew standing barefoot in my kitchen attempting to make spicy rigatoni pasta while I sat on the counter beside him with a glass of wine. For the better part of an hour, I listened to him debrief me on practically every detail of his first day.

"And then Ogilvie just leaves me in the room with this guy." I laughed, taking another sip of wine. "He didn't leave you, Drew." Drew shook his head, grabbing his beer from the counter. "He absolutely left me in there to fight for my life, baby.” My laughed again, "You're the doctor, not him." Drew took a swig of his beer before answering. "That's irrelevant." I watched him take a long sip of his beer before placing it back onto the counter. "Drew…"

"I'm serious." He pointed the wooden spoon at me. "The guy's shoulder is practically facing backward, he's screaming at me, and Ogilvie goes, 'You got it.' Then disappears on me." I shrugged, watching him walk back to the stove. "Sounds like Ogilvie." Drew grabbed some spices from the cabinet above his head. "Yeah… well, I figured it out." I laughed quietly to myself. "I'm very proud of you.", "You should be." I smiled as he turned his attention back toward the boiling pasta.

He'd been talking almost nonstop since we'd left the hospital. About Dana. About how terrifyingly efficient she was. About Trinity giving him what he described as an "interrogation disguised as a conversation." About Mel apparently having an incredibly specific way of organizing supplies that Drew had already managed to fuck up. Then there was Robby.

"I like Robby." I nearly choked on my wine. "Wait… what?" Drew shrugged. "Yeah. He's cool." My eyebrows lifted, and I stared at Drew in complete disbelief. "...Robby?" Drew looked back at me, confused. "Why do you keep saying his name like that?" I shrugged, picking up my wine glass. "I'm just… surprised. I don’t hear many people say that." Drew looked back at the stove before adding the ingredients into the pan below him. "He actually teaches." Drew stirred the pasta before glancing over his shoulder at me. "Doesn't make you feel like an idiot for asking questions." I smiled. "Yeah. I guess." Drew nodded. "And that other attending was cool too." I didn't think much of it at first. "Who? Al-Hashimi?” Drew shook his head. 

"Abbot."

My smile disappeared. It was subtle. At least, I hoped it was. "Oh." Drew didn't notice immediately. He reached over to lower the heat beneath the sauce. "Jack, right?" he asked absentmindedly. 

"Yeah."

"He seems cool."

I stared down at my wine. "Yeah." Drew watched the stove for a second before looking over at me. "I thought that he was kinda hard to read." A nervous laugh escaped me. "That's just how he is." Drew watched me as I tried to add to the conversation, then his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"You've worked with him before?" he asked. My stomach tightened. "Uh, yeah, a few times." It wasn't technically a lie. I thought to myself. It just wasn't remotely close to the truth. "Pedes gets pulled down there sometimes when kids come in," I added quickly. "Traumas and stuff." Drew nodded. "Makes sense." I reached for my wine again, suddenly very interested in the condensation running down the side of the glass.

"Why?" I asked.  "No reason." He shrugged. "You just sounded like you knew him." My eyes flickered toward him. "I mean... I know who he is." Drew studied me for another second before turning back toward the stove. "Robby seems to like him." I nodded, placing my wine glass back onto the counter. "Yeah, they've been close friends for years." Another thing I knew far too easily. I needed to find an out. I immediately slid off the counter.

"Do you want garlic bread?" I asked. Drew looked at me. "Hmm?" I lifted my arm in the air. "Garlic bread." Drew blinked. "Uhh, I mean... yeah." I nodded before quickly turning my back. "Okay." I opened the freezer before he could say anything else. Behind me, Drew laughed quietly. "That was abrupt." I turned my head back towards him. "What was?" Drew tried not to laugh. "The garlic bread." I stared into the freezer. "I'm just hungry."

"We're literally making pasta."

"And I want garlic bread." I muttered. 

"Okay." I could hear the amusement in his voice. "Jesus… we can have garlic bread."

Dinner eventually carried us into safer territory. Drew told me about one of the residents he'd met during orientation. I told him about the kid upstairs who had spent most of my afternoon refusing to take his antibiotics unless someone let him watch Bluey. Somewhere between our second glasses of wine and Drew nearly dropping an entire plate of pasta onto my kitchen floor, Jack disappeared from the conversation completely. But not from my mind. That bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

Hours later, Drew was already in bed when I finished washing my face. I stood in the bathroom staring at myself in the mirror, rubbing moisturizer into my skin while replaying the conversation from dinner.

You just sounded like you knew him.

My stomach twisted. I did know him. I knew Jack hated sleeping with the television on but would sometimes leave the police scanners on because it was some type of noise to fall asleep to. I knew exactly how much creamer he put in his coffee. I knew which cabinet he kept his pain medication in when his leg bothered him. I knew what his face looked like first thing in the morning and exactly how his voice changed when he was exhausted. And Drew thought I'd worked with him a few times.

I looked toward the bedroom. Drew was stretched across my bed, scrolling through Instagram Reels, completely oblivious as to what I was thinking about. I grabbed my phone from the bathroom counter.

me: are you awake santos: yeah  me: drew asked me about jack tonight santos: oh absolutely the fuck not

I covered my mouth to keep myself from laughing.

me: STOP santos: WHAT DID HE ASK me: literally nothing bad me: he was talking about his first day and said he liked him me: then asked if i knew him santos: so what exactly did you say 😐 me: that i've worked with him a few times santos: bruh

me: WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO SAY??? santos: IDK MAYBE NOT ACT LIKE YOU AND THAT MAN DIDN'T SPEND ALL OF FALL AND WINTER PLAYING HOUSE. HE WAS THE REASON WHY YOU WENT BACK TO PHILLY ON A MENTAL HEALTH LEAVE. LIKE. OMG. me: i wasn't going to tell him all of that in the middle of dinner santos: okay fair santos: but you know you're gonna have to tell him eventually right me: does he really need to know though santos: oh girl… me: what santos: nothing ❤️ me: trinity santos: go to bed ❤️

I rolled my eyes before locking my phone. When I walked back into the bedroom, Drew had finally put his phone down. He lifted the blanket as I approached, silently making room for me beside him.

"Who were you texting?" He asked. "Trinity." I mumbled as I slipped into bed with him. Drew smirked. "Talking shit about me already?" I shrugged, "Maybe." He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me against him. “Good. Tell her I said goodnight." I smiled despite myself. "I will." Drew kissed the back of my shoulder before settling into the pillow behind me.

Within minutes, his breathing began to slow. Mine didn't. Because Trinity was right. At some point, I was going to have to tell Drew. It was either going to have to come from me or through Princess and Perla, who, for some reason, figure out everyone’s business. I wasn’t going to let that happen to me. I also wasn't ready to figure out when. 

You'd been working night shift in the ED at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center for eight months now, and in that time, you'd developed what could only be described as a problem when it came to Dr. Abbot.

The problem was this: every time he stood close enough that you could smell his cologne your brain short-circuited. Every time he gave orders in that calm, authoritative voice, you wondered what else he could command you to do. And every time he rolled up his sleeves, forearms flexing as he worked, you had to remind yourself that fantasizing about an attending physician while elbow-deep in a trauma was probably not professional.

But God, the man made it difficult.

"You good?" Jack's voice cut through your thoughts, and you realized you'd been staring at him for a solid five seconds while holding a suture kit.

"Yeah. Fine." You handed it over, trying not to notice the way his fingers brushed yours.

His mouth quirked - just barely - like he knew exactly what you were thinking. "Uh-huh."

Lena, the charge nurse, gave you a look from across the bay. The kind of look that said I see you, and you're not subtle.

You were definitely not subtle.

___________________________________________________________

It was 3 AM when the ED finally quieted down. The post-bar-fight rush had cleared out, the last ambulance had been diverted to another hospital, and the waiting room had emptied to just one guy sleeping off a hangover in the corner.

You were in the break room, eyes half-closed, clutching a cup of coffee like it was the only thing tethering you to consciousness.

The door opened.

Jack.

Of course it was Jack.

He looked tired - the kind of tired that came with twelve hours on your feet, most of it spent saving lives - but he still moved with that easy confidence, the slight dip in his right shoulder, the hitch in his step more pronounced now. He'd been running between traumas all night.

"Rough shift," he said, heading for the coffee pot.

"Understatement."

He poured himself a cup, leaned against the counter, and looked at you. Really looked at you. The kind of look that made your stomach flip and heat pool low in your belly.

"You've been distracted tonight."

Your heart kicked up. "Have I?"

"Mmm." He took a sip of coffee, eyes never leaving yours. "You have. And I think I know why."

Oh, fuck.

"Do you." It wasn't a question. Your voice came out breathier than you intended.

Jack set his cup down, took two steps forward, and suddenly he was right there, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. Close enough that you could see the flecks of gray in his stubble, the faint scar along his jawline.

"You've been looking at me like you want something," he said, voice low and rough. "So here's your chance. Tell me I'm wrong."

You should've said something professional. Something about boundaries and workplace conduct.

Instead, you said, "You're not wrong."

The smile that spread across his face was slow, predatory, and absolutely devastating.

"Good girl."

And then his mouth was on yours.

The kiss was everything you'd imagined and nothing like you'd expected - commanding, thorough, the kind of kiss that made your knees weak and your brain go fuzzy. His hand cupped the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, and he angled your head exactly how he wanted it.

When he pulled back, you were breathing hard.

"Lock the door," he said.

You did.

When you turned back around, Jack was watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle with anticipation. He crooked a finger. "Come here."

You crossed the small room, and he caught you by the hips, pulling you flush against him. You could feel him - hard and thick against your stomach - and oh.

"Feel that?" His voice was a low rumble against your ear. "That's what you do to me. Every goddamn shift, watching you walk around in those scrubs, bending over, biting your lip when you're concentrating." His hand slid down, gripping your ass. "Drove me fucking crazy."

"Jack…"

"I'm going to fuck you," he said, matter-of-fact, like he was giving orders in a trauma bay. "But first, I'm going to make you come on my fingers. And you're going to be quiet, because we're still in a hospital, and I don't need Lena coming to investigate. Understand?"

You nodded, unable to form words.

"Use your words, sweetheart."

"Yes. I understand."

"Good." He kissed you again, slower this time, and his hand slid beneath the waistband of your scrub pants. "Spread your legs a little. That's it."

You did, and his fingers found you - already wet, already aching.

"Fuck," he muttered against your mouth. "You're soaked."

"Your fault," you managed.

He chuckled, low and dark. "Yeah. It is." His fingers circled your clit, slow and deliberate, and you gasped. "Easy. I've got you. Just feel it."

He worked you with the same focused precision he brought to everything else - attentive, controlled, reading every hitch in your breath and adjustment of your hips. When he slid two fingers inside you, your knees buckled.

"I've got you," he said again, his other arm banding around your waist, holding you steady. "You're doing so good. Just let go."

His thumb pressed against your clit while his fingers curled inside you, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids, and you bit down on your lip to keep from crying out.

"That's it. Right there, isn't it?" His voice was a low rasp in your ear. "Come on, sweetheart. Give it to me."

You came hard, shaking in his arms, and he talked you through it - "Good girl, just like that, fuck, you're gorgeous" - until you were boneless and panting against his chest.

"Okay?" he asked, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"More than okay."

"Good. Because we're not done." He withdrew his hand, and you watched, dazed, as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. "Jesus, you taste good."

Your brain was still offline, but your body was very much online and ready for round two.

Jack turned you around, guiding you to brace your hands against the counter. You heard the rustle of fabric, and then he was behind you, one hand on your hip, the other guiding himself to your entrance.

"Tell me if anything doesn't feel right," he said, and you felt the blunt pressure of him. "Breathe."

You did, and he pushed inside - slow, steady, giving you time to adjust. And God, he was big. Thick and long and filling you so completely you could barely think.

"Fuck," you gasped.

"You okay?" His hand tightened on your hip.

"Yes. Don't stop."

"Wasn't planning on it." He pulled back and thrust in again, deeper this time, and you had to bite your fist to keep quiet. "That's it. Take it. You're doing so fucking good."

He set a rhythm - deep, measured strokes that hit every nerve ending and made your toes curl. His hand slid up your spine, pressing between your shoulder blades, and the angle shifted just enough to make you see stars.

"Jack… fuck!"

"I know. I've got you." His voice was strained now, control fraying at the edges. "Touch yourself. Make yourself come on my cock."

You slid a hand between your legs, fingers finding your clit, and the dual sensation was almost too much.

"That's my girl," he groaned. "Fuck, you feel incredible. So tight. So perfect."

His rhythm faltered, thrusts becoming harder, less controlled, and you knew he was close. The thought sent you over the edge, orgasm crashing through you, and you barely managed to muffle your cry against your arm.

"Fuck!" Jack's hips stuttered, and he came with a low groan, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both breathing hard.

Then Jack carefully withdrew, and you heard him dealing with the condom (when had he put that on? You'd been too far gone to notice). His hands were gentle as he helped you straighten your scrubs, turning you around to face him.

"You good?" he asked, cupping your face.

"So good."

He kissed you, soft and sweet this time. "We should probably get back before someone notices we're both missing."

"Probably."

But neither of you moved.

Jack's mouth quirked into that almost-smile. "For the record? You were right."

"About what?"

"The big dick energy thing." His eyes glinted with amusement. "I heard you and Lena talking last week."

Your face went hot. "Oh my God."

"Don't be embarrassed." He kissed you again. "You weren't wrong."

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND, USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI OR USE AI TO TRANSLATE MY WORK. FUCK AI.

Something gnaws at the back of Brendon’s skull, like a metaphorical breeze that he can’t quite seem to shake, irking him into a constant state of annoyance.

He’s getting irritable again, that much is clear from all the whispers and glances his interns, residents and nurses have been giving him all week. Hell, even Robinavitch has been more curt than usual, not lingering to engage with him outside of the strictly medical. It’s not like they were buddies to begin with, but the two extra words they give each other at consults are definitely missing.

Brendon knows what it is, that itching under his skin, that weight to his heartbeat, that cold deep within his bones.

He has tried to ignore it before and it had worked for the majority of his life. Contact sports, exercise, hell, even the rigorousness of med school had done wonders to dull the ache into a barely there whisper in the back of his mind. The need had just become a want, a little tingle that he could pretend didn’t exist.

But he can’t ignore it anymore, not since his last partner.

The breakup had been mutual, her moving away to another city and him letting her go because what kind of selfish monster would be he if he didn’t. But ever since then, the gust had turned into a storm, roaring and unashamed to freeze everything in its path.

Brendon threw his entire focus on work, on the medicine, on routine, structure but none of it has been enough to fix the heaviness of his heart.

He groans as he finally settles into the plush cushion of his office chair, the leather just the right amount of cool after being left alone in the air conditioned room all morning.

Six hour surgery, practically in and out, right when he clocked in and just a little after lunch. He should be proud, should be feeling the weight of hunger and exhaustion and accomplishment. But instead all he can feel is the weight of…emptiness.

He knows it’ll end in heartache once more, just pure dissatisfaction, but he can’t seem to stop himself as he pulls out his phone and opens that stupid private app that Robinavitch had so kindly recommended.

No new matches.

Great.

He’s not looking for much, nothing that he would consider unreasonable. Sure, he’s probably gone through every single profile on it in the few months since his separation, meeting a few of the ones who matched for initial compatibility assessment coffees, but none of them had stuck. They all felt like a chore, like he was adding more to their lives than they were to his. He felt awful about it for a while, tried to rationalize it, convince himself that it’s his role to provide for them so what he wants doesn’t matter as much. But that only made the times they’d made it into the bedroom that much more exhausting. It felt like a performance, detached and devoid of all emotional connection.

Needless to say, Brendon Park remains alone and the ache is slowly eating away at him.

His pager goes off as he stares into the distance, his brain giving him whiplash as he snaps back into the unfortunate reality of where he is, who he is and just all he isn’t. He groans, audibly, taking advantage of the empty room, the silence, the lack of prying eyes, and eventually pushes himself back on his already aching feet.

The walk down to the ED is quick and sharp, all business and forward momentum. People part like water as he swims through the hustle and bustle of the hospital, only slowing down in the elevator before resuming his swiftness the second the stainless steel doors open.

He catches the tired eyes of the head nurse above her glasses, giving her a subdued and respectful nod of his head as she intercepts him. His eyebrow twitches in confusion as she falls into step beside him, practically herding him into central eight.

"What've you got?"

Dana sighs, seemingly over whatever drama this patient has put her through.

"Just a really bad sprain from what I can tell but she insisted."

That makes Park stop cold. Her lip quirks into a soft smirk, somehow understanding something before he could even catch up to it, a hint of mischief breaking through her exhaustion.

"Oh yeah," she grins. "Asked for you by name too."

He pushes past her then, curiosity killing the big mean shark or however the saying goes.

And to say that he's surprised would be an understatement, his predatory gaze going from cold and calculating to one of shock, wiped swiftly by a softness that no one has ever seen from him.

"Sugar plum?"

"Nutcracker man!" your voice is like a shot of whiskey in a cold winter's night. 

"What are you doing here?" Here at the hospital, here in Pittsburg, here, right in front of him, close enough to reach out and—

"Steven insisted I come over and ask for you by name," you huff, ever the indignant child. "I told him it was just a sprain but he got mad at me."

His lips instantly quirk into a full smile, completely ignoring the nurse in the room and Santos's bulging eyes.

"Cut your brother some slack, some habits die hard."

You roll your eyes. "Easy for you to say, your sisters are lovely."

That gets a chuckle out of him, easy and hearty, and he can practically see Santos almost falling out of her chair in shock.

"They're just as bad as you and you know it."

You smile brightly at that, innocent eyes with a devilish smirk that almost stops his heart.

“I don’t actually, I’m an angel.”

His lips instantly quirk into a full smile. Yeah right.

You chuckle softly at his reaction as he moves from the front of the bed towards you. Strong, confident hands hover over your elevated leg, as if trying to hold himself back from the temptation that is finally laying his hands on you, of confirming that you are real and not just another figment of his imagination.

He gets over himself quickly as Santos finally clears her throat, presenting the case before the room drowns in the downpour of your familiarity. He swallows thickly, willing his hands to just do their damn job, urging muscle memory to carry him through.

As Santos drones on, he can feel the searing fire of your stare, the way your breathing hitches ever so slightly as he picks up the ice pack over your purpling ankle, the way goosebumps emerge as he picks up your leg and gently conducts the same mobility, tenderness and pain examination that the intern in triage must’ve.

“…and that’s why I don’t babysit for anyone. Kids are a safety hazard.”

You chuckle lightheartedly. “It’s my own fault, I shouldn’t have trusted a three year old to tidy up. I should’ve looked where I was going.”

“You’re looking after Tyler?” The words escape him before he can think twice about it.

“Yeah, I’m living with them actually,” you murmur, shifting as he sets your foot back down on the pillow. “While I…” you trail off, a little embarrassed as you look around the room at the three other pairs of eyes still glued to your interaction with Park like he’s grown an extra head.

He stiffens, his light hand over your calf tightening ever so slightly as he clears his throat. “Well you’re right, it’s just a sprain but I’d still like to be sure so I’m going to order x-rays and we’ll go from there.”

You nod, watching him intently as he icily glares around the room, snapping everyone back into action. When the fishes have scattered and it's only the two of you in the room, he pulls back his teeth and settles on the stool Santos was just occupying.

“It’s really good to see you again,” you tell him, shyly playing with your necklace.

He’s smitten by the habit, one he knows well.

“Me too,” he keeps his voice steady and even. “Whatever happened to…”

He doesn’t mean to pry, but he simply can’t help it. He needs to know, his heart practically doing somersaults in his chest.

You sigh, ripping your gaze from his haunting blue eyes and making yourself as little as you can before speaking. “Broke up.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“And your masters program?”

That gets you to look back at him, a tame yet excited smile curling your lips, causing a prideful shiver to course through Brendon’s body.

“Graduated with honors last year,” you beam.

“Atta girl, I’m proud of you,” he pats your thigh without thinking about it, the contact comfortable and familiar. He catches the way your breathing hitches, doesn’t mention it, sliding his touch to rest on the bed instead.

“What about you?” You recover quickly. “Whatever happened with that woman from Steven’s birthday party?”

Oh right, you'd met her. He visibly cringes and you instantly feel bad.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be, it’s okay,” the panic in your voice makes him violently ill, quickly returning his touch to your thigh to soothe you. “Didn’t work out.”

“Oh…I’m sorry Brendon, she doesn’t know what she missed out on.”

Your compliment is genuine, he knows it, he feels it, and it instantly puts him at ease. He gives you a soft, sorrowful smile. 

“So what’s next?” He changes the subject, deflection always being easier to handle than truth.

You shrug. “Get x-rays done, prove to my brother that I’m fine and I shouldn’t have had to deal with medical bills, probably order takeout when I get discharged—”

Brendon chuckles, cutting off your rambling even if he doesn’t want to. “I meant with life, sugar plum.”

Your eyes widen in embarrassment, the panic that he’d seen in them earlier when he mentioned your ex returning tenfold.

It’s his turn to apologize, mouth instantly opening to try and fix it, when his pager goes off, cutting through the comfort you’d created for him instantly. Suddenly, the cold returns, the bright lights remind him of the headache, the loudness of the ED seep into his bones.

“Go,” you tell him. “Go be a hot, competent surgeon doctor man.”

He rolls his eyes, his eyes lingering on the sincerity of your voice. There had been a time when those words would’ve ended with your brother teasing the two of you relentlessly. But you never take it back. Even if the words don't mean anything more than the truth, Brendon could always count on you to remind him of the simple facts of life.

He is competent. He is a surgeon doctor man. He is hot. 

Wait—

Before he can wrap his head around the word, around the meaning behind it, he’s being pulled away, this time by a 911. He gives your thigh one last squeeze, not really aware he’s doing but the warmth of your skin lingers against his palm all the way back upstairs into OR 3 and it relaxes him.

Complications with one of Garcia’s surgeries keep him distracted for the next four hours, the comforting practice of being just another set of hands that has no thoughts or feelings or yearnings aside from the medicine in front of him doing wonders to clench his thirst.

It’s late when he finally settles back into his body. The ache, the hunger, the exhaustion hits him like a tidal wave. He knows it was coming but actually realizing just how much he’s neglected himself in the hustle of the day always leaves him feeling worse about himself.

He cleans up as much as he can, changing into civilian clothes before he returns to his office to gather his things and get the fuck out of the sterile building.

His phone glares at him from where it’s been left, neglected and alone, for the majority of the day. He doesn’t panic, though. There’s no one waiting for him on the other end of the annoying device anyway. He taps the screen, however, a stupid habit that he too has fallen victim to like the entire human population.

One text from his sister in their family group chat. One weather notification. Two missed calls and a few texts from your brother.

The short interaction rushes back to him instantly, his body blossoming with the promise of something warm once more. He picks up the small device, returning your brother’s call instantly.

“Hey brother,” Steven’s voice is cheerful, even if Brendon knows better.

“Hey, long time no call.”

Steven chuckles at that, the lingering guilt from both parties only partially alleviated.

“Yeah, who’s fault is that?”

“Definitely mine,” Brendon concedes with a chuckle. “To what do I owe all this attention then?”

“Just wanted to thank you for taking care of my sister today.”

Brendon can’t help the smile that spreads at the mention of you, at the reminder that you’re actually real to other people too.

“Of course, man, she’s family,” he lets the feelings settle deep in his chest, resting against his desk before continuing. “How’s she doing?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me, she’s still at the hospital.”

The feeling expands, twisting into one of rage and shame.

“It’s been hours.”

“I know…but she just told me they’re discharging her.”

Brendon sighs, silently damning the entire healthcare system.

“I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.”

“Thanks man,” Steven sighs in gratefulness. “Oh and bring a pizza over please.”

Brendon rolls his eyes at his friend’s lack of shame. “Of course. Still just cheese for Tyler?”

“You know it.”

With that, Brendon practically rushes back down to the ED, his hair fluffy from the sweat breaking apart his gel cast, the casual henley and dark wash denim combo making him unrecognizable to the staff as he walks through, giving Abbot a curt nod in acknowledgement before he enters the room you’d been in earlier.

Your eyes light up as you see him. “Hey stranger.”

“That’s doctor stranger to you.”

It makes you giggle and he’s certain his cheeks bloom pink at that.

“You taking me home?”

He nods once, walking over to the computer and scanning his ID so that he can take a final look at your chart. You gather your things slowly, watching how the man you’d seen a few hours ago has drastically transformed into the man you’ve known for the past seven years. 

You’d met Brendon at your high school graduation, your brother having come back home from college with his roommate for the summer. You’d spent the entire two months before you left for college yourself convinced that the two of them were together together, the way they brought out the best in each other endearing.

It was when you’d caught them both at the same house party your friends had dragged you to, his tongue practically down the girl that had been a bitch to you all throughout high school’s throat that you realized that you had been deadly wrong. Jealousy bubbled in your stomach, ugly and upsetting, so much so that you had given him the silent treatment for a whole day before he finally had enough of it.

Brendon Park wasn’t yours, not even platonically, and yet, he couldn’t help but become one of the closest people to you that summer. You told him, the truth somehow spilling out of you in a way that had never happened before. And he’d apologized. The fucker said sorry and promised to never do it again. Needless to say, you’d ignored your feelings until college flings and serious boyfriends buried them deep within you.

Seeing him now is…a lot. You’ve always cared for him, always respected his opinion, his council, his everything. He’s Brendon for fuck’s sake. Accomplished, loyal, respectful, chivalrous, perfect golden boy Brendon. Your bother’s best friend. And the secret subject of your unbridled desires.

“Anything interesting?” You ask, desperate to break yourself from your thoughts.

“No break, healthy fibula…” he drones on, clinical and sterile, his deep knowledge of bones endearing at this point. He turns to catch your teasing smile and his cheeks blush the most adorable red as he realizes he’s been info dumping on you. “Everything looks good.”

“Thank you Brendon.”

He turns back to the computer, logging on his final notes for your medical history in an attempt to stop looking like a damn fool in front of you. Your smiles mean nothing more than what they are—comfort and familiarity. You’re a ray of sunshine to everyone that happens to be standing in your direction. He’s not the exception, he’s simply a part of the rule.

His phone vibrates from the depth of his pocket. Probably another text from your brother asking him to hurry the fuck up, impatience a running trait in your family. He pulls out his phone, his eyes slowly drifting to the notification. A flurry of emotions run through him as the next few moments play out. 

At first, embarrassment when he notices it’s a notification from the app, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he hides it from view, who knows what you’d think about him if you only knew what it was.

Next, hope, dizzying and contagious as he reads the notification. One new profile found. The match strikes, an ember sparks. He’s almost giddy now, eager to get the evening over with so he can give the notification all of his attention.

And finally, he’s certain he’s going into cardiac arrest as he, because he’s a man and has the self-restraint of one, even if he prides himself on being everything but an eager motherfucker, taps on the notification and he’s instantly met with your beautiful face as the profile opens up.

Brendon can’t breathe anymore.

He manages a strangled excuse and darts into the private bathroom, his entire world both crumbling all around him with each exhale and being rebuilt into a utopia with every inhale. But it’s not enough, air is not enough anymore and he knows it. No, not when he knows.

There’s too much running through him that the only thing he can think of is how if he got this notification then you definitely did too. Panic and shame and every ugly emotion that reminds him just how wrong this is beats him up. Through trembling fingers he turns off the discoverability of his profile, praying to every god he’s ever learned about that you’ll never, ever get the full knowledge of just how deranged Brendon’s fears have convinced him he is.

Then comes the guilt. He should not know this about you. This is such a precious thing, vulnerable and honest, too honest, and he cannot help but feel like he’s betrayed your trust in some way. You’re Steven’s sister, curious and unapologetic, the girl who picked daisies and made flower crowns, the girl who spiked their ice tea with your dad’s whiskey, the girl who teased him relentlessly when he showed up with his first serious girlfriend to Christmas the first time your families met, the girl who baked him his favorite cake when he graduated from med school, the girl that tells him the truth and isn’t afraid to hurt him because you both have a mutual understanding that goes beyond acquaintances.

It’s because of this that the little ember nudges, whispering something much deadlier in his ear. Knowledge is power, so much so that the pull towards it becomes dizzying. What if you could be—

No.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

That is never going to happen.

No.

Nuh-uh.

He has half a mind to throw his phone in the trash and himself along with it. He can never allow himself to think of you that way, not again. He’s a heartbreaker, it’s what he’s always done. Overprotective, overbearing, possessive and cruel. He could never tie you down, could never ask you to fulfill those sick and twisted fantasies that he so desperately needs in order to feel whole.

No, he’ll damn himself to an eternity of solitude before he puts you in a position where you could actually be exactly what he’s looking for, because he knows that what he wants is not something that either of you can come back from, and he respects you too much to put you in a position where the relationship that you’re looking for can jeopardize the one you’ve got with your brother, with your family, with your friends and loved ones.

He will not do that to you. He will get his shit together, pretend he never saw what he saw, help you to his car, drive to Tony’s Pizzeria and get a half cheese, half pepperoni pizza, a huge homemade orange soda bottle for the four of you to share, spend an hour with your brother and nephew and then disappear from your life forever. It doesn’t matter that you’re here, it doesn't matter that you’re just as perfect as ever, treating him as if no time has passed, as if nothing has happened, as if his absence never happened.

He takes one last steadying breath, locking his phone, and stepping out onto the floor.

But then his eyes lock with yours and whatever plan he so masterfully concocted throws itself away in favor of this, that all encompassing feeling that blooms behind his heart and spreads all over his chest the second he comes into your spotlight.

It’s weirdly comfortable to be in Brendon’s car, the radio turned low yet steady, the confidence of his movements as he navigates night life traffic a little too sexy. The silence that lingers between the two of you isn’t uncomfortable, it’s simply…air.

You wince lightly as you settle further into the expensive leather, reveling in the comfort that is Brendon Park now being a big shot surgeon with doctor money. You chuckle at the thought, effectively breaking his constant stare forward, as if his only task right now is to drive as though he’s carrying precious cargo in his car.

He can’t help himself when he asks, “what’s so funny?”

You catch his softened gaze, a dopey smile still lingering. “You.”

The single word does something to him, constricting his heart until he forces himself to tear his eyes from yours as if they’ve hurt him.

“I knew you’d make it, you’ve always been determined,” you sigh. “I guess it’s just nice to see it for real now.”

He chuckles right back at you. “I could say the same thing to you.”

You scoff, self-deprecating. “Yeah right, I’m unemployed, living with my brother and his son because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with my life and person I thought I was going to spend it with broke up with me cause I was ‘too much work’.”

The car screeches to a halt in the middle of the road, causing you to jolt against the seatbelt across your chest.

“Absolutely not, sweetheart,” his voice cuts through the adrenaline pumping through your heart. “You will never speak about yourself in that way, do I make myself clear?”

It’s only after he says it that realization dawns on him like a bucket of ice water being poured over his body. He watches the way your body reacts to the authority in his voice, the way you shiver slightly, the way your expression drops into submission, pupils dilating, your legs rubbing together instinctively.

“I’m sorry Bren,” your voice is barely a whisper but he hears it nonetheless.

“It’s okay,” he settles back against his seat, hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. “I’m sorry you’re going through so much, but that’s no excuse to talk down on yourself. You’d rip me a new one if I did the same thing, wouldn’t you?”

That pulls a smile back on your face. “Oh I’d do much, much worse.”

“See? So why would I allow the same?”

You nod, biting down on your lower lip ever so slightly as he starts the car again, both your hearts beating a million times a minute. You liked that, his rough voice, the way he instantly cut through all the noise in your head, reminding you that you’re more than all the self-destructive thoughts.

Your brain turns off so slowly you’re unable to spot it. You can hear him call your name, ask you a question, but all you register is that delicious baritone to his voice, how it reverberates against your ribs and makes you feel safe. As if understanding exactly what’s going on, he sighs deeply, wrapping his big, surgeon hand over your thigh. You barely register as he starts the car again, the comforting rumbling of the vehicle beneath you slowly lulling you to sleep as your body comes down from that adrenaline spike. You stare at him through hooded eyes, the warmth from his hand as the only anchor keeping you tethered in the ocean of your feelings.

A twisted thought turns in your heart, making you sick. Panic bubbles. You jolt into awareness, abrasive and shocking, and you’re certain he can feel the spike in your pulse from the death grip he’s got on your leg. You did not just drop in front of Brendon Park.

“You okay?” He asks, because of course he does, he’s always been attentive and kind and respectful.

You nod, far too quickly, but you pretend like nothing’s wrong, retreating so far into yourself until you can believe like it isn’t. You feel like a stranger in your own body as he parks the car, comes around to get your crutches and open your door, as the two of you go inside and greet every single person working tonight, as you busy yourself helping to marry the ketchups while your order gets made.

You can feel him watching you intensely, even if the kid working the register is still talking his ear off about last night’s hockey game. He replies half-heartedly, pays with his black amex which you only slightly tease him about, and let him carry everything back to the car while you settle back in the front seat.

You don’t say another word to him, not as he drives up your brother’s driveway, as he stands beside you while you unlock the door, as Steven brings him into a warm hug and Tyler runs up to uncle Brendon like a rocket ship.

No, you’re cold and distant, detached from everything going on around it and it breaks Brendon’s heart a little. He can’t stop chastising himself, over and over again, watching as you nibble at your food, as your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, as you avoid eye contact with him profusely throughout his stay.

Eventually, it’s time for Tyler’s nighttime routine and since you’re currently incapacitated, doctor’s orders, Steven wrangles the three year old by himself, making Brendon promise to wait for him so they can drink a few beers and catch up after.

The second that Steven leaves the room, Brendon decides he’s had enough.

He finds you aggressively washing the dishes you used for dinner by hand, mind off somewhere far away from him, from this, from now.

“Sugar plum?” He sees your body tense instantly, a shiver running through it that makes him cringe internally. 

He takes a deep breath. You need him right now and he’s gotta be the bigger man and actually right his wrongs.

“Turn it off.”

You shiver again, legs rubbing together again, this time definitely intentional. You don’t dare face him, don’t dare breathe because if you do, you’re afraid it’ll choke out of you like a broken moan.

“Be a good girl and do as you’re told.”

That does you in. A clear command, fully open and honest, cutting through the noise in your head and letting you know you’re not crazy. Your shaky hand turns off the tab, the room falling back into an uneasy silence.

“I’m sorry if I startled you in the car,” he starts, voice even and apologetic. “It wasn’t my intention, I should’ve known better.”

Your brow scrunches in confusion but you don’t think much of it. Maybe you truly are that easy to read and your ex had been right, your disinterest in your “vanilla” relationship so evident in every action you took over the past three months that the only course of action was for him to cheat on you.

I can't give you what you need.

His words echo in your mind as a shaky sigh escapes your lips, your soapy hand coming up to slam over your mouth before he can hear the truth behind it, the rawness that he’s awakened. You’re not his responsibility, he should not have to deal with—

You don’t even know when it happens, all you do is feel his strong arms wrapping around you, turning your body so that you can hide your face against his chest as you can’t hold back the sobs anymore.

He shushes you gently, never crossing the platonic boundary your relationship has already established, and that only makes you that much more emotional. You don’t really remember how long you cry, all you know is that by the time the tears subside, there’s a wet patch right below his heart and his mouth flutters gentle praises in your ear, so close that his breathing makes you tickle.

You push him back slightly, getting your bearings straight enough to start feeling embarrassed that he just witnessed that.

“Hey, none of that,” he says, certain. “You’re okay, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

You avoid his piercing gaze as you wipe your face clean, one of the hands around your waist grabbing the hem of his shirt and wiping after your fingers.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you then, the absurdity of the moment not lost on you as a singular thought persists—Brendon Park would make an amazing dom.

“Thank you Bren.”

“Don’t mention it, kiddo.”

“Ew, rude,” you scrunch your nose in mock offense, finally looking up at him.

He almost folds, your puffy eyes, slightly red nose, the way you hold onto him like you trust him, like he’s safe…any weaker man would’ve folded instantly. And fuck it if he doesn’t want to be weak.

“What? City girl suddenly too good for a silly nickname?”

You roll your eyes, trying to pull back from his embrace fully now but he doesn’t let you.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me—”

Your breathing hitches, something shifts, your pupils dilate slightly.

Brendon clears his throat, letting you go then, aggressively shoving his hands inside his jean pockets. You blink up at him, the cloud slowly dissipating as you come back into your body. 

It’s beautiful. So raw and vulnerable he doesn’t even think about his movements, he only does them, holding out his arms so that you can hold yourself up on them, something steady and grounding. And to his pure delight, you do, your grip not tentative or shy but fully trusting in him.

After a long, drawn out minute, the house returns with full force, Steven joking after a giggling Tyler down the hall, the hum of the fridge behind him, the clock ticking in the other room. You hum, shifting your weight around uncomfortably.

“You should go to bed,” he tells you, a gentle command that has you instantly nodding, as if only because he’s said it you’re now aware of just how tired you are.

You nod, brain so fuzzy you don’t think it’ll be able to handle words right about now.

Brendon can’t help but smile, a barely there smirk that desperately wants to turn into more but he fears if it does then you’ll know everything.

“Want you to take a shower, elevate your foot and text me if you need anything else, alright?”

“Yes sir.”

His heart lurches. He knows you’re only saying it teasingly but still, the ache almost topples him over, throws him off balance. You pull away slowly, taking your warmth with you, returning his soul to the ice age it has cultivated. He stares at you go, body turned to stone until he hears Steven coming back down the hall towards him.

He snaps out of it then, putting on his best Brendon Park, college friend mask on and indulging the single parent in a much needed hour of beers and ranting. By the time he’s sat back in his car, he can’t seem to push himself to leave. He sits there, staring out into the dark street before him, head buzzing with thoughts and feelings that threaten to consume him.

And somehow, through all the noise, his phone dings.

You: In bed now. Feet elevated. Thank you so much for today, you didn’t have to be so kind but I’m glad that you were.

You: And also…thank you for…that too.

You added a picture, your foot, wrapped like the nurses had taught you, propped up on a mountain of pillows. The ember expands in his heart, ignites that desperate yearning again, and he’s finally able to get himself to drive away, but not before replying—

Brendon: My pleasure, sweetheart.

“Were you trying to hurt her?” Dana spoke up from the door. “I mean, what the hell, Jack? What did you think her reaction was gonna be to that?” 

“I know. I fucked up,” he shook his head. 

There were plenty of other things he could’ve said to you. 

I’m sorry, I just want to help you. I just want you to talk to me so I can help you get through this. 

About a dozen other things that had nothing to do with comparing you to your mother that you hated and wanted nothing to do with. He was just upset and couldn’t take being shut out any longer. 

“Hey,” your voice filled the room. You weren’t looking at him. You were looking at Robby. “Central 10’s looking for you. Something about being ready to sign the release form.” 

Robby clasped his hands together, nodding his head. “That’s great. I got to go, brother. Head on home. Figure things out.” 

“Get some sleep, sugar,” Dana offered you a reassuring smile. 

Couples go through this all the time, right? It’ll pass. You’d both said things you didn’t mean. Or at least you said things you didn’t mean. You still weren’t sure about what Jack said. 

You finally let yourself look at him. He looked torn between speaking or just leaving it be. He wanted to beg, to get you to take back what you said about it being over because he really didn’t know what you meant by it. 

Was the conversation over? Was the relationship over?

“I talked to Emery,” you finally spoke. “I’m gonna, uh, I think I’m gonna stay at her place tonight.” 

“Baby,” he let out a panicked breath. “You don’t–” 

“I think we just need some space right now,” you cut him off. “We’re both exhausted and upset. We can talk tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow turned into the next day and eventually Jack stopped expecting an exact date. You were avoiding him. You weren’t home when he got home and you weren’t back when he left. He knew you had been coming home at least. There was always a dirty pair of your scrubs added to the pile of laundry in the closet and that same pile was always washed and folded every Friday when he got home in the morning. 

You, on the other hand, had been keeping a strict schedule. Monday through Friday, work, therapy on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 10, Wednesday, you worked a double, every other Saturday would switch off between working and having a day off like always, Sundays you worked a double. Thursdays, you’d wash laundry and clean up the house during the evening since you got home from work early. 

All of that included not having to find out if Jack actually meant what he said that night. 

You’d gone to therapy four times since that night. You’d continued trying to get to a point where you were comfortable talking about what happened and how you felt with Jack. You just couldn’t get around to seeing why he didn’t understand it was so much different talking about it with a stranger who didn’t have to sleep next to you at night. It was easy telling everything to someone who you didn’t have to worry about losing if it got to be too much. 

It was the third session that you had decided to start figuring things out and getting ready to have that conversation. By the fourth, you were confident enough in your improvement to actually do it. 

You decided to do it on Friday. You called out of work that day and when Jack got home, he wasn’t trying to be quiet since you were usually gone already. You woke up when he entered the room, looking at him through groggy eyes. 

He wanted to engrave that image into his mind forever. He couldn’t remember the last time he was able to come home after a long shift to see you still in bed, waiting for him. 

“Sorry, I didn’t…you’re not usually here,” he whispered, checking his watch. “You’re going to be late.” 

You swallowed back the dryness in your throat before shaking your head. “I called out.” 

“Are you sick?” He took a cautious step forward before reaching out to press the back of his hand against your forehead. 

“No,” you waited until he had already touched you before answering. It had been so long. All you wanted was his hands on you. “I just…you probably want to sleep, but when you get up, can we talk?” 

Jack couldn’t help the pit that had begun forming in his stomach. Two weeks of radio silence and avoidance and you wanted to talk all of a sudden. You were going to end things. He was sure of it. You had spent these past two weeks getting all of your ducks in a row so it would be a clean break. 

“No, we can,” he cleared his throat. “We can talk now. I still– I want to eat before I go to sleep.” 

“I can make breakfast,” you tossed the blankets off your body. “You can go shower. I’ll start the food.” 

His last meal. That’s what this was. The last meal before you delivered the kill shot. He spent his entire shower spiraling. He was so distracted he had almost completely toppled off his shower seat. 

When he did eventually exit the shower, he could smell the food. Neither of you were really breakfast people. You only ate it because if you didn’t, you’d end up hungry around 10, when you were usually in surgery. He only ate it because he’d wake up hungry if he didn’t. 

He used his crutches to get to the kitchen. If he was about to be left, he at least wanted to be comfortable and limb free. 

You stood in front of the stove with your hair now back in a braid that had little pieces of hair sticking out. You had on one of his old, worn SWAT t-shirts he had been looking for. Of course you had it. You always took his shirts. 

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, because the odds weren’t looking good for him considering his actions the last time you had spoken, but this…this was just cruel. 

“Smells good,” he puled, closing his eyes at the desperate sound that escaped him. 

You looked over your shoulder with a confused look before offering a warm smile. “It’s just waffles and sausage,” you hummed, reaching for a plate in the cabinet. 

He got there first, placing a calloused hand on the small of your back and handing a glass plate to you before grabbing another for himself. “Yeah, but you made it.” 

Flattery will get you anywhere, right?

“Thank you,” you said softly, plating food for both of you. You carried both plates to the table since he was using his crutches and right now, you felt like you needed to make life easier for him since you spent the past two weeks icing him out. 

All the confidence you had built to get here had vanished and you were getting closer and closer to backing out with every passing second of silence.

But of course, Jack wouldn’t let you. 

“You wanted to talk about that night?” He shattered the awkward silence to fill it with awkward dialogue. 

You swallowed the large lump in your throat and nodded. “I think we should.” 

“I think we should too,” he nodded. He was waiting for you to drop the axe. He’d almost prefer it if you just did it rather than keep him waiting for the inevitable. 

“I’m scared to tell you everything,” you admitted in a meek voice. “I’m scared that you’re gonna let me unload it all on you, and you’re gonna realize that there’s just too much for you to handle. So, I just didn’t. And I know you think you–” 

“I do,” he interjected. “I do want to know. I want to know everything.” 

Did you really think that he would just abandon you because you had some baggage? 

“You say that now, but this is who I am, Jack,” you laughed sullenly. “I have shitty mommy issues, and now apparently I have shitty daddy issues that are affecting me to an extent that it gets in the middle of our relationship. You can’t seriously sit here and say that you’re not gonna get tired of hearing the same shit over and over again.” 

“Baby,” he sighed, holding a hand flat in the center of the table for you. You reached out slowly, allowing his big hands to engulf your own. “You think I can’t handle it?”

“I think…everyone has a breaking point,” you met his eyes. He’d never seen you like this before. You were so…closed off. You had built walls, or rather, you were showing the walls that had kept you safe this entire time. 

“I love you, Jack,” you continued. 

“I’m sensing a but,” he laughed dryly, running a hand over his scruff. 

“No but,” you shook your head. “I do love you. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone. I just think that maybe you need to rethink whether sticking with me through–whatever this is, is actually worth the trouble.” 

He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand hearing you speak about your feelings as if they were some burden that he needed to be sure he could handle in the long run. He fully planned on marrying you. He didn’t care if he’d have to spend eternity fixing whatever your family broke to do that. 

“Are you ending things?” He brushed his thumb over her palm, soft as ever. 

You didn’t answer for a minute. That’s what worried him the most. It wasn’t the way your hand had tensed under his touch, it wasn’t that your face held something he couldn’t read. You were someone who was always sure of their decisions. He hadn’t seen that woman in a long time though. 

“I think we should–it’s stupid,” you shook your head. 

“Nothing about you is stupid, baby,” he reassured. “Just say it. I can handle it.” 

“I’m not–” you took a deep breath. “I love you, Jack. I’m not ending things.” 

Well, that was one thing crossed off the list of worries. 

“I think maybe we should try…couples therapy,” you murmured. “God, it sounds so stupid. Like we’re some married couple already having issues.” 

“I think that’s a great idea,” he sat up straighter. “If that’ll make you feel comfortable, if it’ll help you share things with me, then we’ll do it. Whatever you need.” 

Your face softened at his words. Even after everything you had put him through, he was still worried about you and your feelings. 

“I want you to talk about how you’re feeling too,” you squeezed his hand idly. “I’ve been a shitty girlfriend for more than just these past two weeks. I know you have things you need to get off your chest.” 

Jack chuckled softly and nodded, bringing your hand to his lips over the table. 

“We’ll get to that at therapy,” he hummed against your skin, peppering a few more kisses against your hand.

thank you for reading! reblog are appreciated <3

that alone made jack’s shoulders tighten. while he was all for fun and teasing, he had always told you not to send him risky texts when he was at work. not simply because the lives of others sat on his hands; no, he could handle the weight of the world while making sure a person had the best chance to live. he was simply impatient, and if he got turned on while you weren’t there, he disliked the action of waiting.

if all goes to shit mid-shift, he would have to stay for much longer than intended to try and help the transition from night shift to morning shift, which meant spending more time away from you.

after a second of trying to think of what you could’ve possibly sent, he found himself opening the text, despite knowing it would just piss him off. once the picture loaded, the sight of your heavy tits spilling from under your shirt filled his screen, with your hand reaching down between your thighs.

jack felt his body heat up, warmth coming to his neck as he tightened his grip on his phone, jaw clenching tight as he stared at all the little details of the picture, noticing his sheets, your lack of panties, and the small smile curved on your glossy lips. with a frustrated breath, he typed back a quick response.

‘You know I don’t like it when you tease me at work.’

your reply came quick; you had learned early on that if you message him back fast enough, there’s a higher chance of maintaining a brief conversation another before he had to get back on the floor.

‘what are you going to do about it?’ your reply read.

an amused scoff left jack’s lips. who did you think you were? a brat, that’s for sure. of course you just wanted to irritate him; he could see right through you. jack knew you better than anyone else you knew, and he was no better, so your little bratty scheme was effectively working.

‘Just you wait until I come home.’

he typed back with a heavy breath, leaving his lips before shoving his phone back into his pocket, both hands moving towards the back of his neck as he laced his fingers together and rolled his shoulders before he spared a quick glance at the floor. trying to focus on his job while the mental image of you needily rubbing your clit remained in the back of his head felt like his own personal purgatory. he could imagine it vividly: you nuzzled against his pillow with your hand between your thighs, practically humping nothing to soothe the warm ache inside your belly.

bratty girl, eager for daddy, but painfully insolent.

you knew how to push jack’s buttons so well you could be considered an academic with the level of skill that goes into riling up your older boyfriend.

you only wished you could see him, with his jaw locked tight as he continued his work in the emergency room while the idea of you festered inside his brain. jack always looked so good when he was irritated; it only made you miss him more.

his bedroom was a constant reminder of him, from the prescriptions littered around his nightstand down to the yellowish-brown boots he wore when he volunteered for the pittsburgh swat team. with a soft sigh, you plopped down against the bed, curling up against his worn bed sheets before you moved to press your head against his pillow. the smell of his shampoo, sweat, and cologne occupied the air; you moaned to yourself. your delicate hand moved down your stomach before pressing between your thighs as you waited for jack.

already fantasizing about what he would do to you when he arrived back home.

“j—jack—!” you cried out, your tone high-pitched and desperate.

you lay on your side, his sheets rubbing against your sticky skin as the pad of his fingers worked vigorous circles against your sensitive clit, his touch making your body feel feverishly hot. jack lay behind you, his body warm against your back while his free arm lay beneath you, his free hand gripping your breast tight as he kept you pinned against him while he groped you.

his firm chest and soft belly pressed against your back as he nuzzled his face against the curve of your shoulder, his scruffy stubble rubbing against your soft skin as he glanced at your side profile. jack savored the sight of your pretty face while his fingers toyed with the sensitive ball of nerves between your thighs, feeling your body twitch and jolt against his, considering the proximity between you two.

his fingers were thick, his skin coated glossy with your slick, while your hips rolled against his hand desperately, from both the want you had for him and the desperate need you felt for more friction.

“you’re so wet, baby.”

jack cooed, squeezing your chest while applying more pressure against your nub, making your body jolt from the increased pressure applied to your poor clit. you let out a soft sound, barely a gasp, before a breathy moan left your glossy lips. “jack..” you whined; the sound of his name on your lips made his body feel hotter than it was.

“what’s wrong, baby? isn’t this what you wanted?” he taunted, watching you squirm as he continued to toy with your slick pussy, glossy from all of the attention it’s been receiving through the night.

your eyes were shining, sparkling under the dim yellow light of jack’s lamp, his curtains drawn to keep the sunlight out.

as you mewled, your hand moved to rest above his over your chest, fingers shaky as you tried—pathetically—to pull yourself together. the difference in hand sizes was painfully obvious at such a stark comparison. you babbled small words, mostly whimpers of his name, while he made more of a mess from your aching cunny.

jack knew you like the back of his hand; he knew how you bounced your leg when you sat still for too long, how you fiddled with your fingers if you wanted to ask him something but you were too shy, and how you bit your lip when you were deep in thought. he knows he knew you better than anyone, which meant that he knows exactly where to touch to make your brain feel fuzzy.

his hand remained firm, squeezing your chest, fingertips brushing against your hardened nipple to make you tense, before he pulled his other hand away from your cunt. the loss of touch earned an immediate sound of disapproval from you.

“w—what? — why did you stop?” you grumbled, squeezing his hand to accentuate your frustration.

“you really think you’re going to get off after not listening to me?”

jack rasped, the hand that left your clit moving to rest briefly on your stomach before he moved it towards the back of your knee, pushing your leg up to spread you open for him, his heavy dick sitting against your inner thigh as he shifted slightly from behind, angling his body to get better access to your drooling cunt. pushing his available knee up, he tugged you closer, moving his arm from beneath you to rest under the nape of your neck while his hand moved to tangle itself in your hair.

you kept yourself spread open for him as he threw his thick arm over your stomach.

“w—what?” you stammered, for a moment not understanding what he meant.

you were so turned on that it made your memories feel distant, and for a second you forgot how you had gotten yourself into this situation. the memory of your brattiness hours prior refreshed in your mind slowly, and before you could babble out an excuse for your behavior, a sharp spank hit your drooling cunny; the stinging pain that followed afterward made your body jolt.

“what?” jack repeated, drawling out his words mockingly.

“ow!” you yelped.

your thighs twitched; your first instinct was a meek attempt to close your legs to ease the lingering sting.

jack was quick to stop your motion, though. his strong hand caught the back of your knee, then forced your leg up as before.

“jack—!” you wanted to argue, telling him this wasn’t fair.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he mused. “i thought this was what you wanted?”

before you could think of a reply, another sharp spank was landed against your aching pussy, making you wince from the sting.

“please,” you whimpered; the words that had come to you just a second earlier were forgotten under the touch of his hand.

“please? for what?” he replied, uninterested in your whines. “what have i always told you?”

you frowned; he was scolding you, like he always did when you acted out of line. biting your tongue, you huffed, letting your silence be enough of an answer. you didn’t want to get scolded; you were a big girl, and despite wanting to act as if the resistance was because you wanted to seem independent, the true reality was that you wanted to egg jack on.

your little act of defiance didn’t impress the older man, which earned you another spank on your cunt, harsher than before. this time, your body acted faster, and as you cried out from the sting, your thighs slammed shut.

warmth came to your eyes as the sting made your nerves surge, jack tsked, his hand wrapping around your thigh once more before yanking your legs open.

“you asked for this, sweetheart,” he reminded, keeping his grip on the back of your thigh tight as you squirmed.

“m’sorry, daddy,” you said quickly, hoping to butter him up to lessen his tension.

daddy could be so mean sometimes.

“it’s too late for sorry now, baby.”

he crooned, moving his hand away from your leg, trusting you would keep yourself spread open for him, to wrap his fingers against his hardened dick, his hand working up and down his shaft in slow pumps.

his words earned a whimper from your lips.

he could be charming, clever, and pampering, but if jack wants to be mean—or if you push his buttons far enough—he can be really mean. while you loved getting out of your place by your daddy, you always seemed to forget how harsh he could really be.

feeling his dick press against your drooling cunt made your stomach flutter; his cock was big, almost too big. the first time he fucked you, he made you cum twice while he stretched you out, just to make sure your pretty little cunny was ready. the girth of his cock was almost unfair too, with pretty veins curling around his shaft that make your brain melt when they rub against your walls.

jack pressed himself against your back, making sure to keep you close as he peered over your shoulder to glance down between your spread thighs.

“what has daddy always told you?” he repeated, tone softer, though you knew better than to think he was going soft on you, the older rasp of his voice making you squirm.

finally deciding to stop misbehaving—mainly because you wanted to feel him inside you—you pouted, leaning your head back against his thick arm. you glanced to your side to look at him.

“you tell me not to tease you while you’re at work.”

your tone was muted, the words spilling behind your pouty lips, because you don’t like admitting when jack is right.

“and what did you do today?” he asked, clearly rhetorical.

“i teased you..” you answered begrudgingly.

“and what happens when pretty girls want to act like brats?” he continued, tone authoritative, as if he was teaching a kid a lesson, before leaning closer to press a kiss against the side of your neck.

“they have to be put in their place,” you replied softly.

“good job,” jack praised, voice rough despite his tauntingly soft tone, as you reveled in his praise—you let yourself believe maybe he would let your behavior tonight slide, settling to fuck you while babying you the way you liked. feeling jack slap his hardened length against your pussy, you felt a shiver go down your spine in anticipation.

those hopes of getting let off easy felt possible as jack brought the tip of his cock against your aching cunt, pushing your glistening folds apart before aligning himself carefully.

that hope came to a crashing stop as you felt jack’s thick, heavy cock slam deep inside you.

bratty girls don’t earn gentleness.

the sudden intrusion dragged out an involuntary cry from your lips. the force of his hips making your ass made your body jolt, his dick was girthy, pushing apart your warm, slick, walls to make room for him. as his cock settled inside you, the tip pressed against your spongy cervix, the fibrous organ warm and welcoming despite his force, your cunny has taken his cock too many times to count, by now your body was conditioned to take his length without much stress. though when you and jack first started having sex, he used to coax you gently, sliding in inch-by-inch while your eyes got glossy from the stretch.

a heavy groan left jack’s chest as he felt the firm grip of your walls around his girth, moving his arm to rest over your abdomen. jack caged you in against his chest before drawing his hips back and shoving himself inside.

his thrusts set the tone. his cock rubbed against your gummy walls as he pushed his hips back; you let out a breathy sigh before his length was shoved back inside you. jack’s dick hit your cervix again, and again, and again; his breathing became heavier, his eyes shutting tight, the creases of his crow's feet deepening at the motion.

you were putty in his hands; the idea of being silent was laughable as his cock battered your sensitive pussy.

the sounds that left your lips were a disarray of moans, pants, and cries of his name.

“ja—jack, m’so full!” you whined, lips parted in an ‘o’ shape while your body bounced with every sharp thrust of his hips. his cock made your brain numb; every ridge, every vein that pressed against your spongy walls made your toes curl.

at your cock drunken words, jack felt his stomach tighten hard, hearing you mewl such desperate lewdities turned him on more than he wanted to admit.

hearing his baby girl cry out because of him was one of the greatest pleasures he got when he fucked you.

“yeah?” he panted, his face pressing against the hollow of your shoulder, your skin sticky against his as he continued to slam his hips against your own.

“i thought you didn’t mind when daddy filled you up?”

he taunted, moving his arm from your stomach down to your slick clit, pressing his finger against your hardened bud to see you shudder. you nodded at his words, despite knowing he was actively making fun of you.

“that’s what i thought,” he crooned, sucking in a heavy breath as he continued to toy with your clit, your leg spread, making sure jack had access to your messy cunt as he fucked you.

your eyes felt warm as he continued to use you, your body shivering from the overstimulation that came from his attention. jack glanced over at you, shifting you so he could get a better look at your pretty face as your eyes glossed over with tears.

his lips curved. “what’s wrong, baby?”

you whined, your eyelashes clumping together from the wetness in your doe eyes. “it’s too m—much,” you babbled, words tumbling past your lips.

“too much?” he pressed. “poor baby, can’t handle daddy?”

you nodded, eyes glazed over as his cock battered your cunt, his tip knocking against your cervix over and over. “mmm,” you whine, too cock drunk to reply; you felt your mouth salivating while warm tears bordered your lash line.

jack’s hand moved from your overworked clit to your face, reaching over your body to turn your head to the side, making you face him properly. “use your words, baby; you know daddy likes well-spoken girls,” he cooed, voice soft despite the harsh shove of his hips. your tearful gaze met his, your eyebrows furrowed upward while your lips parted, trying to find the words to express yourself.

“you’re too big ‘n’ s’rough, my cunny can’t take it—!” you finally said, words slurring like a drunken sailor as he stared down at you expectantly.

fuck, you always sounded so pretty like this, practically incoherent from his cock.

“yes, you can. you can take daddy. you’ve done it before, haven’t you?” jack murmured, pressing a kiss against your tear-stricken cheek.

you whimpered, your walls tightening around his heavy dick at his softened words. while you loved when jack was mean, you couldn’t help but melt when he babied you while he shoved deep inside you. yours cunt tightened around jack hard, making the older man grit his teeth.

there was a knot in your belly you hadn’t noticed before, tight and warm, straining inside you with every push of jack’s hips against your ass.

gasping, your body tightened as a sudden push of his hips led to his cock pressing hard against that gummy little spot inside you that made you see stars. a long, drawn-out moan of his name left your lips as your back arched against his torso.

seeing this, jack let out a heavy breath, his grip on your body tightening to pull you closer as he continued to hit that spongy spot harder, harder, and harder, and before you could even try to mutter a warning about how close you were, that tight knot inside you snapped. your eyes shut, eyebrows pinching together as you cried out his name.

your already tight walls squeezed around jack’s heavy cock, the squeeze felt unforgiving as your hips rolled against him, your body instinctively twitching as you rode out your much-wanted orgasm.

locking his jaw, jack let out a grunt beneath you, pushing your hips forward to better his angle into your drooling cunt before working his cock past your tense walls.

“did i say you could come?” jack berated. “since when do brats get to come before daddy lets you?”

your eyes were half lidded, your body shaking from the aftermath of such a hard orgasm. your nerves were on overdrive, and your brain was foggy; the only reply you gave him was a shaky moan.

he moved his arm, the one he had under your head, to wrap around your delicate neck. putting you in a headlock as he continued to abuse your cunt.

his arm was heavy, his freckled skin brushing against your face as you rested your head against his forearm, your hands moving to pathetically grab at his muscular arm.

“is your head that empty?” he grunted. “can’t even speak, huh?”

you shook your head, a little whine leaving your lips as jack pumped himself inside you, your pussy milky from all the slick. the sight of you like that made jack’s body tense; you were so messy, so dumb over his cock, and seeing you like this—cock drunk and stupid made his body feel sensitive, his dick twitching inside your messy insides.

keeping your body molded against his own, jack chased his orgasm with more vigor than grace, his pace becoming less concentrated and more desperate with each pump of his hips.

with a choked groan, jack’s hips pressed against your ass, burying himself deep inside you as ropes of sticky cum left his twitching dick. his breathing shook as he rolled his hips against you slowly, savoring the feeling of his orgasm as he made sure to fill you up with every last drop of cum.

you moaned; the warmth that filled your belly made your stomach flutter with butterflies as your legs shook, jack’s arm loosened around you, and your hand found his, fingers intertwining as you felt warm in your belly.

jack let out a heavy breath, shuddering as he moved his hand to grip your thigh, keeping your legs spread as he finally slipped out of your cunt. finally he guided your thighs together before he pushed himself up by his elbow. his hand moved over your breast, guiding your body to lie on your back to see your glazed-over eyes.

“how are you feeling, baby?”

he softened, giving your chest a small squeeze before his hand pushed some of your hair out of your face.

you looked over at him, eyes half lidded and shimmering, before you nodded, still too drunk on his touch to think of a verbal response.

jack’s lips curved before he pressed his lips against your forehead, his kiss soft against your skin before he pressed his lips against your own. “you’re still a brat, y’know?” he mumbled against your lips, earning a soft noise from you before you reached up to rest your hand against his shoulder, squeezing the muscle before you kissed back.

“m’sorry,” you finally answered, words raspy after the cacophony of noises you made earlier.

jack pulled back, looking down at you knowingly. no matter how many times you whimpered apologies for your behavior, jack knew it wouldn’t last long. you were always finding ways to push his buttons, but he would be lying if he said he disliked it.

after all, jack would always love his bratty girl.

Daryl knew you. He knew you better than he knew himself. He didn’t have to worry about you, but he did have to worry about this mutt trying to piss on his lawn. 

You felt him before you saw him. He had that effect. You swung your head around to face him, that same bright smile filling your face that always did whenever you saw him. 

“I didn’t know you were back,” you spoke in that soft voice that was strictly reserved for him. Whoever that guy was, he was long forgotten. Only to you though. Daryl’s eyes had not once stopped drifting back and forth between you and that man. 

“Who’s this?” He questioned, finally stopping at your eyes. 

“Dan,” the slightly shorter, but just as stocky man held his hand out. 

“Dan,” Daryl repeated in a mocking tone. 

“Dar,” you whispered, pressing a reassuring hand on his forearm. “Dan was just telling me about how he knows a lot about agriculture. Said he studied it in college. He wants to help out with the farming here and Hilltop.” 

Daryl peered over at Dan before shrugging absentmindedly. “Yeah, we can send you to Hilltop.” 

Far, far away from you, he thought to himself. 

“I was actually thinking of taking a trip to Hilltop soon,” Dan smiled. Pearly whites despite being in a literal apocalypse. “Maybe you can join me? Just us two..” 

Daryl didn’t miss the look that was thrown his way. It almost made him sock Dan right then and there, but he knew you wouldn’t have that. 

“Oh, just us?” You looked between him and Daryl. “I don’t really go on trips without Daryl though. We work well together. There’s…order. You know?” 

Dan gave you a tight-lipped smile and nodded. 

“We actually have to get going,” you offered a polite smile. “You should talk to Laura. She kind of leads the whole agriculture thing around here. She’ll get you connected with Maggie.” 

Daryl looked back more than a few times as you led him along, satisfied, or almost satisfied. 

“How long did you stand there talking to him?” He slammed the front door harder than he meant to. 

“Maybe…thirty minutes?” You tapped your chin. “I don’t know. I started spacing after he started talking about inviting me to his house tonight.” 

That made him come to a complete stop at the steps. He whipped his head around to look at you with a very evident repulsed expression. 

“Kidding,” you laughed, toeing your boots off. “He’s annoying, not bold.” 

“S’not funny,” he sneered. “Why would you say that?” 

“Because you get so worked up, baby,” you exhaled and ran your hands over your thighs as you sat on one of the stools at the counter. “I don’t even know why.”

“He was–” he cut himself off, trying to find a reason to justify his own emotions. Everything he tried to come up with in his head sounded stupid out loud. “You were just standing there, lettin’ him smile and flirt with you.” 

“Oh, so you’re blaming me now?” You raised a brow and crossed your arms. 

“No–” 

“Because that sounds like what you’re doing,” you cut him off. “I didn’t ask him to come over there and start talking to me. In fact, I tried to walk away, but he stopped me. Is that my fault too?” 

“How’d he stop you?” He paused. “That asshole grab you?” 

You rolled your eyes and stood up. “You’re really annoying sometimes, you know that, right?” 

Daryl’s frown grew as you stepped around him and moved down the steps. He followed you down, watching as you undid your ponytail and ran your fingers through your hair. 

“Don’t come down here accusing me of anything else,” you murmured, plopping down on the end of the bed. “I’ve been out in the heat all day. The last thing I want to do is argue.” 

“Not arguin’,” he shook his head, caging you in between his legs. He was wrong to even think of taking his jealousy out on you. It wasn’t your fault you were so damn beautiful that everyone wanted a piece of you. “Don’t like other people even thinkin’ they got a chance with you.” 

“That’s also not my fault,” you swallowed softly, leaning your head to the side as he pressed slow, wet kisses down your jaw. 

“I know, baby,” he pushed his face into your neck. “Doesn’t make it any easier.” 

“That sounds an awful lot like a personal problem,” you pulled back, searching his face. “But you’re upset, aren’t you?” 

He hummed softly and nodded, tangling his fingers in your hair. 

“Can I make you feel better?” you followed his body with your eyes as he stood up straighter.

“Yeah, ‘course you can,” he growled, tightening his hand around your hair to force you to look up at him. 

You nudged him back softly, undoing his belt buckled and the button of his jeans before tugging them down and sinking to your knees in front of him. 

You’d never admit it outloud, but of course you enjoyed him getting jealous. You liked knowing that he got upset whenever someone tried getting at you. It just made him even more attractive. 

Call it toxic, call it crazy, but he was yours and you were his. It just worked that way. 

He met your eyes through your lashes, then moved down to your swollen lips that were wrapped around him, eyes fluttering shut every time you took him deeper. It was a sight and it was not helpful in keeping him from releasing right into the back of your throat. 

His body leaned forward slightly, pushing his length deeper as his hand cradled your face, thumbs brushing against the hollows of your cheeks. 

“Mm, fuck!” He pulled you off quickly, tossing his head back as he tried to catch his breath. “Fuck, baby. C’mere.” 

He pulled you up and into a sloppy kiss, his fingers digging into your sides. Yeah, there would probably be some bruises there later. 

You felt his hands work at the button of your jeans before sliding into your panties, his middle finger slipping between your folds and teasing your clit. Your body arched into his, your lips parting as a shaky, breathless moan escaped. 

“Dar, please–” you panted, nails leaving crescents in his shoulders as you held yourself up. You could feel your legs tensing as you got closer and closer to climax. 

“Lie down,” he groaned, unbuttoning his vest as you sat back. His eyes darted all over your skin as you pulled your worn out t-shirt over your head and tossed it somewhere in the room. His arms reached around you, undoing your black bra while he alternated sucking on the dip of your shoulder and jaw. 

He pushed you down so you were flat on the bed, slotting his leg between both of yours to open you up so he could get a good look. 

“Fuckin’ perfect, baby,” he exhaled, pushing his thumb between your folds and spreading them apart. 

You whined softly when the pad of his thumb brushed against your already sensitive bud and your hands lifted to reach for his face but his free hand grabbed them and pressed them above your head and against the mattress. 

“Ain’t you supposed to be making me feel better?” He hummed, lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder before pressing a soft kiss against your ankle. “Let me enjoy this.” 

“Shouldn’t you be making it up to me as well?” you grumbled, letting your fingers interlace with his above your head. “You hurt my feelings.” 

Daryl hummed softly, pressing a few more kisses against your ankle before taking himself in his hand and running the tip through your folds. His hand came up and his thumb pressed against your bottom lip, resulting in a huff from him when your lips wrapped around it without any need for directions. 

“‘Spose it can’t hurt no one,” he grunted, sliding just the tip in before pulling it out completely and repeating the motion a few more times while he watched you wriggle in anticipation. 

“Stop playing around. Please,” you used your free leg to wrap around his hip and force them forward, but it was no use. Daryl was enjoying every bit of this. 

Could Dan get you to act like this? Could he get you all worked up and begging for his cock like this? He didn’t think so. 

No, only he could see you like this. Only he could have you spread open like this. 

“You ready?” He rasped, sinking in slowly after your very eager nod of confirmation. His head fell forward as he bottomed out, his shoulders tensing and breath faltering. Your moaning combined with the way you were gripping him was damn near enough to make him come right there and then. 

“Oh, oh…” you shuddered, arms and legs wrapping tightly around him, wanting to have him as close as humanly possible. 

He started thrusting slowly at first, but it wasn’t long before he was snapping into you with every muscle fiber in his body. His grunts and groans, your moans and cries, and the sound of skin slapping was all that filled the room. 

You were squeezing him like a vice, your teeth sinking into his shoulder as you tried to stop your body spasming from pleasure. You could feel the tightness coiling in your lower stomach and from the way Daryl’s pace became unsteady and untimed, you could tell he was just as close. 

You were drowning in so much pleasure that you could practically see stars. 

“I’m so–fuck!” Your eyes squeezed shut as the coil burst. 

“S’all mine.” Daryl panted as you came around his cock, thrusting a few more times before sinking deep into you and letting himself go. You could feel him filling you up. A weird, but not completely unwelcome sensation. 

He laid on top of you for a while, all 170 pounds, give or take, of him keeping your body pressed against the mattress. Both of your bodies were slick with sweat, the sheen only making you look more and more beautiful in his eyes. 

“Yeah?” He lifted his head up slightly, letting his eyes land on your face. 

“What?” You mustered up a weak smile despite how exhausted you were. 

“S’all mine?” He repeated, palming the fat of your ass as he brought your leg up over his hip,

Your face softened and your smile grew a little. Then your hand pressed against his cheek, fingers swiping at the hair stuck to his forehead. 

“Yeah, baby. I’m all yours,” you whispered, kissing his cheek. “Always, okay?”

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