28 / Basically treading this Blog as my own little Library about my favourite fictional Men 📚☀️ 18+ ONLY! English is not my first language, so please be kind 🩷
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summary: once dating life is off the table, you still desperately want a child with someone. you decide to turn to your friend for help.
content: friends to lovers, probably medical inaccuracies, pet names, fluff, praise, comfort, no use of y/n, night shift and a little of day shift
word count: 5k
author’s note: just got out of a relationship with a very insecure/emotionally unstable man so i’m posting this draft as a come back post! i know it’s shitty, don’t hate me!!
offer
“and why not you?” you proposed to jack, making him almost spill his beer out of his mouth.
“me?” he repeated to make sure he didn’t hallucinate what he just heard.
you were looking through profiles of sperm donors the hospital gave you, so you invited your friend to help you choose the father of your future child. it felt like it was too important to do it alone.
“i really thought i’d be okay with a stranger, but i can’t do it. what if he’s a horrible person and gives the genes to my kid?”
he chuckled at the crazy scenario before thinking about what you just said. “i’m not sure that i’m up for it, honestly.”
“okay, but can you think about it? we get along really well, and you’d have some sort of legacy.”
“i’ll think about it, but if we do that, i have a condition.”
you furrowed your brows, intrigued to learn what it was.
“i want to be a dad, not a sperm bank.”
“so we would coparent?”
“yes, we could share custody,” he suggested, being a little too obvious about the fact that he’d like it.
you paused for a moment before continuing. “i have an oil change to do on my car monday. you’ll give me a ride to work, and we’ll talk about it.”
he nodded in agreement to your plan. he’d think about if he really wanted a child with someone who wasn’t his deceased wife, and you’d think about if you wanted to coparent.
──୨୧──
jack and you met when you transferred to ptmc after moving to pittsburgh. it was closer to your family, and you needed their support after a long relationship that disgusted you from the dating life forever.
there was a spot for a nighttime attending in pediatrics that waited for you. you felt honored to be chosen, and you took your job very seriously.
one night, you got called to the emergency department. you hated going there in person. it was lacking the colors of your floor, and it looked way too crowded.
however, you had to put your feelings aside and focus on the child who needed urgent help. he thankfully got stabilized after intense minutes of work on him.
you were always feeling down when you had to perform those big surgeries on tiny humans who didn’t ask for any of that. it was probably noticeable because dr abbot came your way to praise your skills. he was wondering who you were.
“are you new?”
“yes, i just moved back here after a long time away. everything changed so much.”
“i know some nice bars if you need a friend to visit the new spots with,” he proposed with a smile. one of his fingers had a wedding band that encouraged you to believe he didn’t mean more than what he said.
“i’d love that,” you accepted, returning the grin he gave you.
since then, jack and you have become good friends. you invited him over when you had a bad shift, and he did the same.
──୨୧──
it was 6 p.m., and instead of finishing your day of work like most people, you were just starting it.
you received a text from your friend, informing you that he’ll arrive soon. you decided to go breath the air of spring and come outside directly. you needed to find a way to distract yourself and calm your stress. you haven't really talked to him since this last conversation about having his kids.
he parked his car in front of you, and you got in. instead of an awkward moment, he directly started talking like he had rehearsed this moment.
“i thought about it a lot, and i want you to carry our child. i always wanted to have kids, and my life feels pretty empty right now; i could use the space with a little one. if you’re still up for it, of course.”
“yes, i looked into it. we would need a lawyer and a lot of conversations about how we organize our coparenting, but i could work. you’re a great friend, and you’d make an even better father.”
“you’ll be a good mother too. i’ll talk to the hospital’s attorney to get a recommendation for a good lawyer.”
“okay, we’ll have to put in the contract that i want the nursery at my place during the first months.”
“your place is it,” he happily agreed.
reveal
you really wanted it to work on the first try, especially knowing that jack insisted on paying for the whole thing.
you tracked your menstrual cycle very closely and got inseminated with his sperm. he was there for every single appointment with professionals. no matter how tired he was, he’d come to support you.
you officially finished the whole process, and you had to take a test. you went to jack’s place to do it after work.
“okay, it says i need to wait two minutes before looking at it,” you said, reading the instructions to make sure you weren’t missing any step.
“so we wait.”
“i’m really scared it won’t work,” you admitted to him in a small voice.
“worst case scenario, we just do it another time. don’t sweat about it. everything will be okay.”
you flinched when the alarm on your phone announced the end of the wait. you turned the test to reveal two lines.
jack immediately hugged you tightly.
you cried tears of joy. you weren’t in a relationship, but you felt like you were supported enough to go through it all.
first trimester
jack didn’t tell anyone about your plan. the only person who knew was robby. he found the plan admirable. maybe that he would’ve loved to have children in another life.
your breast were so sore all the time that you had a hard time wearing a bra. that’s when dana became the second person in the emergency department to know.
“first trimester?” she asked while looking at the paperwork she needed to complete.
“how did you know?”
“enlarged breasts and practically no bump. i had the same with my first, but the second gave me a bump as soon as i got pregnant," she began, remembering the cherished moment. “who’s the lucky guy?”
“it’s jack. we did this thing called iui. we want to coparent together.”
she looked quite surprised at the news but quickly transformed her open mouth into a grin. “well, i’m glad if it works out!”
“what do you mean by that?”
“pregnancy is a long and intimate process. i’m just saying that feelings could get tangled in there.”
“they won't; dating is out of the window for both of us. i’m not putting myself through that ever again.”
“do what your heart feels like, sweetheart,” she smiled, quietly returning to her paperwork.
you nodded and tried to find jack. he called you to know if you could take someone in pediatrics, but something came up, and he hung up before having the chance to present the case.
he was always coming with you to the doctor appointments you planned every week and checked on you over texts once in a while. other than that, he let you space. it’s not like you were dating or anything.
“hey, you came down? i could’ve called you back.”
“well, you weren’t, so i came,” you dryly replied. “sorry, i’ve been told i’m on edge.”
“it’s common; don’t worry about it,” he immediately reassured before logging on to a computer.
it was a 9-year-old girl, with severe asthma exacerbation. they gave her oxygen, albuterol, and prednisone to stabilize her enough, but she’d need to stay in peds one to three days for monitoring, treatments, and iv meds.
while you read, a nurse opened a tupperware with her lunch, and you got nauseous with the strong smell.
“yeah, we’ll take her,” you mumbled while urgently going to the nearest bathroom.
second trimester
the second trimester came with some perks. you could finally discover the gender of the baby, and your nausea stopped.
every single ultrasound was filled with excitement at the possibility of knowing if it was a girl or a boy.
“i hope it’ll show for this one. some can tell at 18 weeks, and i’m at 20. it’s not fair!” you complained while you rested a hand on your bump that started showing.
“the baby wasn’t positioned well,” he reminded you with one arm on the steering wheel as he drove to the hospital.
the ob-gyn greeted you with a smile. you were a little nervous, so jack couldn’t stop touching you. he had his hands on your nearest shoulder while you lay on the chair with your shirt up. they went to your forearm and your hands too when the doctor took a little too much time talking about how normal it is to not know the gender yet.
“today is the day!” the ob-gyn announced with a smile on her face.
jack looked at the screen with furrowed brows. your face lit up when you saw it. “it’s a girl!” you exclaimed with joy.
he hugged you tightly while peppering kisses on the top of your head.
“we’re having a girl,” he whispered to you with the biggest grin he could physically make.
you left the department together and went to the peds to see your coworkers and friends to tell them the good news. the father of your baby girl stayed behind with a smile plastered on his face. for the biggest flirt of the hospital, jack wasn’t looking at your coworkers much. he mostly looked at you while the girls of your department jumped in excitement.
“oh my god, she will be so cute!” one said while two others were touching your belly.
“i know!” you responded and reached out for jack’s hand to get him closer. “i’m really hungry, so we will go, but thank you for being here.”
they all agreed to let you go and you went to the pitt in the elevator.
“i need a cheeseburger,” you thought out loud with a hand rubbing your belly.
“i’ll get it for you. do you want to go to a restaurant?”
“yes, but i want to go see dana and robby first.”
“don’t overwork yourself, mama. do you feel like seeing them?”
“yes, i want to. we’re having a little girl!”
as the doors of the elevator opened, you both noticed that the er was almost empty.
“what happened?” you asked in surprise at the rare sight.
“i have no idea; it’s either a good or a bad sign.”
dana saw the two of you and yelled at robby to come. the two men dapped up while the nurse leaned on the wall.
“so… do you have good news?”
“we’re having a baby girl!” you happily cheered.
“that’s amazing!” robby said before looking at his friend, who only had you and the baby in his vision.
jack concluded the conversation quickly to get you the cheeseburger you were craving.
he stopped at a fast food place you liked, and you let out a yawn. “can you go in the drive-through? i’m tired.”
“no problemo!” he answered like it was the last of his worries.
he ordered what you wanted and parked in the parking lot for the two of you to eat comfortably.
“so, how is the second trimester treating you?” he wondered after swallowing a bite of burger.
“i’m living my best life. the bump is cute, i don’t get nauseous anymore, and i get horny all of the time.”
he froze at the last part but gathered himself in no time. “well, it’s a common symptom…”
“makes you understand why it’s a thing you do as a couple. i literally cried myself to sleep last night because of how lonely i felt.”
“you feel lonely?”
“yeah, my feelings are all over the place. that’s an annoying part.”
“they’re heightened, not different,” he said before taking fries from his meal. “call me if you need someone. i’m always there, you know?”
third trimester
the final weeks before giving birth were the worst. you were feeling enormous, you were exhausted all the time, and everything was hurting.
jack tried to be more present by texting more, but he was afraid of being overbearing. he never imagined having his first child with someone he wasn’t dating. there was no textbook on how to behave with a friend who was also carrying the daughter he had dearly wanted.
from time to time, he’d come to your place after a shift to help you out with anything you needed.
tonight, he could feel you weren’t feeling well at the hospital, so he invited himself to your place by pretending that he had more decorations to do in the nursery.
you accepted, too exhausted to refuse free labor from him. you could take a nice shower while he prepares a good meal like he usually does.
you got out of the steamy bathroom in your pastel pajama set to eat, but jack’s gaze lowered on your breast. you immediately knew what it meant, and you whined.
“i’ll get you another shirt.”
he headed off right away while you whined. he continued talking from your bedroom as he looked through your drawer to find something new for you. “the hot shower might have stimulated the fluid to leak. is there blood?” he asked with a new pajama shirt in hand.
you stretched out your top’s collar to check the milk leaking out. “nothing bloody, doctor,” you announced before taking the shirt he held. “you know you’ll have to bring some clothes over so you can stay with me when she’s a newborn.”
he nodded, and you simply turned around to change. it’s been a long day; he probably saw many naked women in his life, and you were very close to crashing out over all the discomfort your body was experiencing. once you were completely topless, you felt his gaze piercing through you. even if you focused on the task at hand, it made you feel good in a way to be looked at like this when you felt like a whale.
you looked behind to confirm what you thought. his eyes were on your back.
“why are you staring?” you asked with your new pajama shirt on.
“i can’t look at the woman carrying my baby? harsh, mama,” he teased while fidgeting with his ring.
“you weren’t looking; you were staring. it’s different.”
“you have a nice back,” he finally admitted before placing his hands behind him and straightening his back slightly.
you probably shouldn’t have noticed that, but you saw him assume the same position he just made when he was ordering risky procedures in the er. it was a pose that gave him a certain confidence, maybe.
“shut up, i feel like i’m a whale,” you corrected, showing your swollen hands.
“you’re not; you're beautiful, okay?”
you paused at the compliment. it was known that jack was a flirt. you should’ve joked it off with a quick remark, but you were too stunned to think of one. that’s when you realized that you didn’t need one. he wasn’t trying to make you laugh or even flirt. he just told you because he felt like it.
“can you stay the night?” you blurted out like a teenage girl with a crush.
he answered in a heartbeat. “yes, of course.”
you nodded and went into the kitchen to wash the dishes. whatever could help you escape this awful tension building between the two of you was worth it. however, he placed himself beside you with a towel to help you dry.
you gave him a wet glass, and your fingers almost touched. it’s not like you never touched him; you always did. this time just felt different. maybe it had been different for a while, actually, but you truly felt it at this instant.
his touch got you distracted, or perhaps he was the one who was because a plate fell and broke on the floor as you gave it to him.
he didn’t flinch, too used to the constant, sudden movements and noises of the emergency department. he was calm and unfazed.
“we’re down to three plates,” he stated with a small smirk before picking you up like you weighed nothing and dropping you outside of the kitchen. “i’ll pick it up- fuck, are you okay?”
you suddenly started to cry like a baby. he was so perfect and fatherly. it was so dumb to sob over that when so many women had to deal with the opposite.
you mumbled something he couldn’t really understand, so he just hugged you and rocked you gently to calm you down. “okay, shhh… take deep breaths for me.”
you did so, and he accompanied you by breathing slowly. after the third time, the only traces of your outburst were the tears on your cheeks and your clogged nose.
“i’m too emotional,” you joked off, wiping your tears with your hands at the same time.
“be kind to yourself. you’re going through so much. do you know how tough you are? you’re growing a human inside of you,” he noticed you looking down while he praised you, so it fueled him to continue. “you’re doing all of this alone, and i’m pretending to be useful by doing stupid chores and attending appointments. you’re the real superwoman here. i’m so proud of everything you’re doing.”
“don’t make me cry more!”
he chuckled and kissed your forehead. you leaned into his touch with your heavy eyelids closing for a moment too long.
it was no surprise that you went to bed while he cleaned up. he usually slept on the couch when he was at your house, but tonight he wanted to be with you.
he knocked on your door, unsure if you were sleeping. after all, insomnia was a common symptom during pregnancy.
“come in,” you mumbled with your eyes wide open in the dark.
“hey… i just wanted to know if you were fine. how’s your sleep?”
“bad. i can’t sleep at all.”
“do you know santos in the ed? she forced me to listen to sleepmaxxing content when she learned i was a swat physician in my free time.”
“she’s on the night shift?”
he shook his head. “no, you probably haven’t worked with her, but the point is that i know some tricks to make you fall asleep.”
he put on some white noise on your phone, closed the blackout curtains to let no light in, and adjusted the thermostat to a colder setting.
“is there something about not being alone in bed in sleepmaxxing?”
“could be; i didn’t watch all of the videos she sent,” he replied while approaching your bed. “would you like it if i joined?”
“yes.”
he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his prosthetic before getting in and enveloping you in his arms.
you whined and mumbled something about him needing to be closer to you.
“don’t know if you noticed, but there's a baby between us.”
you rolled your eyes, which made him smile, and turned around so he could be closer to your whole backside in a spooning position.
he couldn’t notice the blush rising on your face, and you couldn’t notice his.
labor
you insisted on continuing to work through your third trimester. you felt useless at home anyway.
you got called in the emergency department again. once you came in, jack rushed to you.
“why are you here?” he asked, positioning himself in front of you to block your way.
“i got called in.”
“i called your department, not you. it’s too dangerous for you to come down here when we’re too busy.”
“don’t tell me what to do!”
“i will because one of my nurses got physically assaulted ttoday, and i’m not letting that happen again. especially not to you.”
“i’m already here; can you just give me the case?” you sighed with a hand rubbing your belly.
“it’s john’s case. he’s in trauma 2.”
you walked there, but you felt followed, so you turned around. “jack, i’m a big girl.”
“john probably needs my help; i should assist.”
you walked in and smiled at the other attending. “hi, mama,” shen greeted you when he saw you. “…and dada… you guys joined us when we stabilized him!”
“great, i’ll have to walk the stairs again. call me when he can be admitted in peds.”
jack took your shoulders from behind you to keep you in place. “take the elevator,” he ordered, leaving no room for discussion.
shen put his hands up. “okay! i’m going to leave the couple’s fight.”
“we’re not a couple!” you both yelled at him, projecting your anger onto the poor guy.
some nurses looked in your direction, but you ignored them.
“we’re like siblings,” you corrected, which earned you a disappointed look from jack.
what was he disappointed about?
john looked at your belly before raising his eyes back at you. “totally not incestuous. maybe consider some other labels,” he recommended before heading out of the room.
“oh, we didn’t do it-” you tried to say before he could leave butt got cut off by some contractions.
the two attendings locked eyes with each other as they noticed it.
“fuck, are you in labor?” jack asked while touching your belly.
“no, it’s braxton-hicks contractions. i had that for my whole third trimester.”
“really sounds like something you should’ve told me.”
“oh, did you want to know in detail my constipation issues too, while we’re at it?” you asked in a passive-aggressive tone before that john gave you an office chair for you to sit on.
“yeah, i could’ve helped, actually,” he replied, a little on edge at the attitude you’ve been giving him for days since you shared a bed.
“ok, well, it’s done now. i need to go pee.”
you made your way between the two men and went to the bathroom.
as you sat on the toilet, you had another light contraction before feeling liquid leak out of you.
it wasn’t the moment. you weren’t ready. it was too early for that. you wiped and washed your hands before going to see jack.
he was still in trauma 2, but the patient who was stabilized some minutes ago had doctors all around him.
“what’s happening?” you asked as you walked in.
“8-year-old male, bike vs car, was stable, now hypotensive, tachycardic, worsening abdominal distention, dropping gcs. we started fluids, and blood is coming,” shen explained to you quickly. “he’s in decompensated shock. keep transfusing and call the or. he’ll be clear to go.”
jack looked at nazely, who nodded and called the other department.
you weren’t focused at all because another contraction just hit you. you sat down on the chair john previously gave you. nobody cared; they were all up on the little boy.
“how much is in?” shen asked a nurse.
“first unit just started.”
“good, activate massive transfusion. get plasma and platelets ready,” you ordered, breathing slowly to avoid looking too pained.
no one looked back, way too concentrated on the patient. you looked at the clock on the wall to calculate your contractions. they were becoming way too close, but it wasn’t the moment at all.
lena opened the glass door and announced that the or was open. at this brief loss of focus, jack’s eyes drifted to you.
“fuck…”
john’s eyes widened at the sight. he quickly assigned an intern to stay with the kid upstairs before going in your direction.
“my water broke in the bathroom. my contractions are less than four minutes apart,” you blurted out, stressing the two men even more.
your contraction ended for a small moment, giving you enough attention span to listen to what jack had to say.
“okay, we need to deliver the baby now," dr abbot announced while shen came back with a wheelchair.
“i can’t have the baby now. it’s too early,” you complained as jack pushed your wheelchair to a room.
“active labor, where is she going, lena?” shen yelled to the charge nurse.
“north 5, i’m calling the ob.”
you lay in the bed, and nurses and doctors filled the room while john took charge. “emergency delivery. get me a delivery kit, a warm blanket, and someone to call for neonatal support.”
a nurse quickly undressed you and checked your vagina’s opening. “she’s crowning.”
john gently pushed jack to go to your side and support you. “okay, mama, i’ll deliver your baby.”
“no, not you,” you cried out, too exhausted to care about his feelings. “i want a woman doctor.”
“ellis, you’re up. i’ll be supervising.”
“jack, i need you,” you whined, taking his hand and holding it hard, earning a small groan from him even if he didn’t want to complain.
“okay, mama, the head is showing. when you feel a contraction, you push,” parker instructed, placing your legs in a better position.
john took a look. “control the head and check for cord.”
when you felt the contraction, you gently pushed to avoid any tears from your vagina.
“okay, don’t push too much,” jack cooed, keeping a hand on the top of your hair.
“i know, fucking dumbass!” you screamed while the whole team tried to keep a straight face at their boss getting harshly humbled.
“head’s out, no cord. we’re pushing on to the next contraction.”
you were sobbing between the contractions. “i didn’t want it to happen like that!”
“i know, but you’re doing great,” jack reassured, standing close.
“you’re so useless! you’re just standing there!”
“you’re right…”
“fuck you, i hate you!” you screamed out when another contraction came in.
“and i love you. can you push for me?”
“no, you can’t say that now. you can’t!”
“i’m here for you; squeeze my hand as hard as you can and give me another push.”
you pushed once more, and the baby came out. they dried her and did a quick check. jack gently removed your bra and lifted your shirt for them to place the baby on your skin. nurses covered her in blankets as she started sucking for milk.
“time of birth is 6:12 a.m.," shen stated after looking at his watch.
“you did amazing; i’m so proud of you,” jack whispered while smiling.
postpartum
abbot had never cared for you as much as in this stage. he insisted that you stay in bed while he did all the annoying things you didn’t want to do.
“jack, i can go,” you mumbled when the baby started to cry in the middle of the night.
“i got it; just continue sleeping,” he reassured from the hallway.
you felt so bad. he was sleeping on the couch, changing diapers, and barely getting any sleep.
“okay, but come here after.”
he accepted, and once he was in the nursery, he almost immediately stopped the noises the newborn made. you worked with kids all the time, yet you couldn’t make your own child stop crying like he could.
it sometimes made you jealous to see how quickly he could calm her, as if you knew her less than he did.
jack stopped at the door of your bedroom. he didn’t want to intrude on your space, especially when your relationship was so unclear.
“do you mind sleeping with me? i feel bad that you sleep on the couch.”
“your couch is fine. don’t worry about me; i’m a grown-up. how are you feeling, mama?”
“if i wasn’t feeling well, i would’ve told you before. please, take care of yourself instead and sleep in a proper bed.”
he offered you a lazy and tired smile before sitting on the edge of the bed. he removed his prosthetic and lay down so you could cover him with your warm blanket.
“you should probably use crutches during the night. you’d avoid putting on and removing your fake leg.”
“nah, i’m a new dad, not a grandpa,” he joked, letting go a small chuckle from you.
he turned to you, and that’s when you saw the full exhaustion on him. “sleep tight, okay?”
“yeah, you too…”
──୨୧──
the early morning was visible through the window when you opened your eyes. the baby was crying again. you tried to get up, but you felt two large arms around you. he was spooning you in a tight embrace, as if he were scared to let you go.
“jack…” you muttered to wake him as gently as possible.
“go back to sleep. i want to stay with you,” he whispered with his eyes still closed.
“the baby’s crying…”
“she always is… give it five minutes. i want to sleep more with you,” he admitted, wrapping his arms tighter around your chest.
if you weren’t fully awake before, you were now.
“jack what did you say?” you asked, already getting tired of the sounds your baby makes and sitting up on the bed.
he finally opened his eyelids and rubbed them in a fast motion to talk to you in a decided tone.
“go feed her, but i don’t want us to sleep in this bed as exhausted parents anymore.”
“what?” you asked with your mouth open in shock.
you mentally slapped yourself. did he have to spell it out for you to understand? he couldn’t be more straightforward, yet you had no idea how to answer or even take that.
“i want to go on a date with you or anything that will make us more than friends in your eyes. i know you don’t want it, but just give me a chance. i want to give it a try.”
his eyes were begging you to accept. he really wanted you to agree to this. anything you’d want to take from him to finally upgrade the friend status he’s been stuck with for years. it was all he ever desired before, but now he wanted something more.
he needed his daughter to believe in soulmates and in love. he wanted her to smile when she saw both of her parents at her recitals or be embarrassed when they kissed too long.
you must’ve thought the same because you nodded. “okay, let’s give it a shot… let’s go on a date.”
pairing: strawberry shortcake x jack abbot. first part.
summary: after matching with your attending on tinder, you now have to spend an entire shift trying to avoid him. everything is going (almost) well until you get trapped in an elevator with him.
tags: fluff, joy is part of the night shift, langdon kinda too, er setting, workplace romance, age gap, coworkers to lovers, protective jack abbot, she falls first, he falls harder.
authors note: this is short and silly I KNOW. i just wanted to portray abbot the way I perceive him after that scene (in the gif). ALSO thank you so much for the reblogs and for asking to be added to the tag list. i never thought that was possible!! don't forget to reblog if you enjoyed it, please. 🙏🏻
@melissa66orion @rathatosy
The doors to the ER slid open once again, but this time you wished you could've stayed home.
You'd barely slept. Four hours at most, and ever since you woke up, you hadn't been able to think about anything except the mistake you made with your attending. You wondered if he'd slept well, probably he was sitting at home right now drinking coffee like nothing happened.
And here you were.
Technically your shift didn't start for another two hours, but the anxiety had dragged you back into the pitt anyway, which was funny because ten minutes ago you were seriously considering giving up and starting a new life somewhere in Alaska.
Your stomach twisted again just thinking about having to see him today.
Everything seemed calmer than usual, which honestly felt suspicious. You didn't even want to think too hard about it before you jinxed it. At this point you were convinced you personally carried bad luck around with you.
You nervously adjusted the sleeves of your oversized pink hoodie while scanning the station looking for the girls, and Whitaker.
It wasn't difficult to find Trinity. She was sitting beside Whitaker, aggressively stabbing at the computer keyboard before dramatically letting her head fall onto it. She quickly lifted her head again when Dennis touched her shoulder and pointed toward you with his head.
The second she saw you, her eyebrows pulled together in confusion.
"Why are you here?"
Not even a hello.
"What room is free?" You asked immediately.
"Okay… not even a coffee first?" Whitaker joked.
"This is serious."
Something in your expression must've looked genuinely unstable because Whitaker's smile disappeared almost instantly.
Both of them stood up immediately and started walking through the hallway looking for an empty room. Luckily you nearly ran straight into Victoria on the way there. She gave you a confused look but smiled anyway, though the second she noticed Trinity and Whitaker walking in front of you like bodyguards, she silently followed behind.
The moment they found an empty trauma room, they closed the door behind you. The silence didn't last long, but all you could hear was your own heartbeat while trying to figure out how to even begin explaining what happened.
"Are you dating Abbot?" Whitaker asked slowly, crossing his arms.
You stared at him with a deeply what the fuck expression before dramatically looking between all three of them and pacing once across the room. "This MUST stay here."
"Sure." Trinity answered casually.
"I mean it." You took a deep breath, trying to find the exact words. "I matched with Abbot on Tinder." You said it quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear.
None of them spoke. Whitaker's jaw dropped slightly, Trinity closed her eyes like she was physically trying to process the information, while Victoria made a noise so high pitched it sounded almost dangerous.
"No you didn't." Santos whispered.
"YES I DID." A nervous laugh escaped you the second you heard yourself say it out loud. "It was an accident tho."
"Oh my GOD." Javadi grabbed your shoulders violently. "OH MY GOD."
Meanwhile Trinity was still staring at you suspiciously. "How is that an accident?"
"My phone slipped." You admitted embarrassed, rubbing your forehead while remembering the exact moment it happened.
"Wait, hold on." Santos started pacing too now. "So you swiped right and the match appeared immediately?"
"...Yes?"
Trinity slowly nodded while Javadi continued looking excited like she was personally watching the greatest romantic comedy of her life unfold in front of her. Meanwhile all you wanted was for somebody to tell you how you were supposed to continue existing after this.
"That wasn't even all of it... He texted me immediately after." You pulled your phone out and handed it to them.
Santos grabbed it instantly, holding it where all three of them could see the screen at once. While she scrolled through the messages, the only thing you could focus on were their reactions.
"No, because this is actually insane." Trinity finally said while handing the phone back.
You buried your face into your hands, already regretting everything that happened this morning.
Because it was insane.
Even though he'd always taken care of you, you'd never let yourself believe it could mean something else. That was exactly why having a crush on him always felt stupid and childish. Sure, he made your shifts better. Sure, your stomach flipped every time he looked at you too long. But it had always stayed harmless inside your own head.
Jack Abbot was supposed to stay safely inside your brain as your painfully attractive work crush. He was not supposed to flirt back, he was definitely not supposed to remember your favorite snacks, ask if you'd slept, or look at you like you personally softened something inside him every single shift.
"Why are we acting like this is a funeral?" Javadi asked, smiling. "He likes you. That's a good thing."
Her smile slowly disappeared when she noticed you still looked seconds away from cardiac arrest.
Honestly, you still couldn't process any of it correctly, and now you knew it was only a matter of hours before you had to see him again.
"Oh my god." You suddenly stopped pacing. "What if I say I feel sick and then pretend to faint, and you say you're coming with me so we can both clock out early?"
"That would be... amazing." Trinity admitted. "But no."
You genuinely considered throwing yourself through the nearest window. Or maybe walking outside and waiting in the ambulance bay long enough for somebody to accidentally hit you. But before you could answer, or even move, you heard Whitaker quietly go "Oh" then Dana saying hello to someone outside.
You could've died right there because the second you turned around, you saw Jack Abbot walking toward the nurses station. Coffee in one hand and backpack hanging from his shoulder, looking unfairly attractive for somebody who hadn't even finished his twelve hours of rest.
Maybe he was feeling the same way you were.
And almost like he sensed it, his eyes lifted immediately toward the trauma room. Toward you.
You were still wearing the bright pink hoodie that was impossible to miss but out of everything happening around him, you still couldn't believe the very first thing he noticed was you.
Abbot's expression shifted slightly with confusion when he noticed all four of you suspiciously crowded inside the trauma room. One eyebrow lifted with visible amusement before the corner of his mouth pulled into a small grin. It was subtle but you knew him well enough to know he wasn't stupid.
Your eyes followed him automatically as he got closer, and suddenly you completely forgot how breathing worked. Once he passed by the room, he lightly tapped two fingers against the trauma room window in greeting without even slowing down. Then he kept walking toward the lockers like absolutely nothing had happened.
The second he disappeared down the hallway, Victoria's mouth dropped open.
"This is the worst day of my life." You whispered weakly, still staring at the hallway where Abbot had disappeared.
"And your shift hasn't even started yet." Trinity replied while walking out of the room.
Not helping at all.
This was it now. There was no avoiding it anymore.
If luck was somehow still slightly on your side (which you seriously doubted) maybe this was just the calm before the storm. Maybe suddenly the ER would completely explode with emergencies and you'd spend the next twelve hours separated on opposite sides of the hospital. Maybe you'd get stuck in triage all shift and never have to leave it. But the second you clocked in, it felt like Jack Abbot was suddenly everywhere.
Every hallway, the bay, even somehow leaving the bathroom exactly when you were walking past it.
Maybe this had always happened and you'd just never noticed before. But now that you knew there was tension between you, real tension and not platonic, everything felt different. Worse.
And to make it even more unbearable, he clearly enjoyed it.
Every chance he got, he somehow ended up beside you. Like he was curious to see how nervous he could make you before you completely short circuited.
The first time happened barely twenty minutes later. You were restocking supplies into the tiny cabinet in triage, trying desperately to think about literally anything except him, when someone suddenly stepped beside you.
"You came in early."
The second you heard his voice, your entire body jumped, making a few gauze packets fall straight onto the floor. God, are you serious?
You crouched immediately to grab them while he casually leaned against the litter beside you, coffee still in hand, looking entirely too relaxed for somebody currently ruining your nervous system.
His eyes never left you. That was the problem with Jack Abbot, he looked at people too confidently, like he already knew exactly what effect he had on them and unfortunately for you, he was right.
You could feel his gaze following every movement while you picked up the gauze, and something about seeing him standing over you like that made heat crawl embarrassingly fast up your neck, making you quickly shook your head, trying to physically force the thoughts away before they got worse.
You didn't exactly have experience with this kind of thing. Honestly, you barely had experience with men at all. Most of your past attempts at flirting usually ended with you avoiding eye contact until the other person gave up and none of those guys had ever looked like that. None of them had been older either, which somehow made this whole thing feel even more dangerous.
"Are you okay?" He asked before taking another slow sip of coffee.
"Mhm."
"You sure, Shortcake?" One of his eyebrows lifted slightly.
Your head snapped toward him instantly at the nickname, and that little grin on his face widened just enough for you to realize that he knew exactly what he was doing. You stood up quickly nearly smashing your head directly into the metal shelf hanging from the wall but before you could hit it, Abbot's hand moved instantly above your head, stopping you from colliding with the sharp edge.
The gesture was small, almost automatic. Which somehow made it worse. He'd always been like that, like protecting you came naturally to him.
"Careful." He said softly.
Your eyes lifted toward him for half a second too long and the moment they met his, something in his expression shifted almost invisibly. Like he was watching every single nervous reaction cross your face in real time.
"Oh my god." You whispered under your breath before immediately escaping the room and leaving him standing there alone.
Within the next two hours, the entire ER somehow realized something was deeply wrong with you.
You dropped your pens constantly. Forgot to give the patients their stickers. Nearly handed someone the wrong chart. At some point you stress ate every single candy left in your pocket without even noticing.
"You dropped the blood pressure cuff three times." Shen whispered while walking beside you. "Is everything okay?"
"I'm just tired."
"Abbot said you came in early."
You stopped walking so abruptly Shen almost bumped into you. "I need to quit."
"You need a psychiatric."
Ellis suddenly appeared beside both of you like she'd materialized out of thin air. "What's wrong with the boss today?" She asked casually.
Shen shrugged, clearly not understanding what she meant, while you immediately kept walking before either of them could continue the conversation.
It was weird. Because it genuinely felt like something had suddenly snapped into place overnight. Like you'd become painfully aware of the invisible string that had apparently always existed between you and Jack Abbot.
And the worst part? Now that you knew it, you couldn't stop noticing it. Especially because he clearly wasn't helping.
If anything, he kept finding excuses to stay close to you. Whenever he handed you the tablet, his fingers brushed yours briefly before pulling away. Whenever he squeezed past you in crowded hallways, his hand would settle lightly against your back for just a second longer than necessary, guiding you forward while acting completely casual about it.
And every single time you looked at him, he was already looking at you first.
The hours dragged by painfully slow, each one bringing you closer to finally going home and sleep for ten consecutive years.
At least you were doing a decent job avoiding him until around five in the morning. That was when Lena sent both of you upstairs to pediatrics to deal with some transfer issue.
The second you heard your name attached to his, a long exhausted sigh escaped your body before you could stop it.
Jack appeared beside you a moment later, adjusting the stethoscope. Of course he looked good doing that too.
The two of you walked toward the elevators together in silence. Oddly enough, it wasn't awkward. Maybe both of you were too exhausted at this point to put actual energy into whatever this thing was becoming. Still, even without looking directly at him, you could feel him behind you constantly.
The elevator dinged open.
Jack stepped aside slightly and gestured for you to enter first with one lazy movement of his hand, just enough to make your stomach flip embarrassingly fast.
You stepped inside while he followed right behind you a second later, and the moment the elevator doors slid shut, your heart immediately started beating harder.
Suddenly you were very aware of the situation you were currently trapped in.
Small elevator. Jack Abbot standing directly beside you.
You focused aggressively on the glowing floor numbers above the doors instead of the man next to you, trying to force your brain to think about literally anything else.
The silence stretched for a few seconds. From the corner of your eye, you saw him open his mouth once like he was about to say something before stopping himself.
"Why are you avoiding me?" He finally asked, turning his head toward you.
"I'm not."
"You are." You could hear the grin in his voice before you even looked at him.
"I'm just tired."
"You can't even look at me." He said with a quiet laugh. Which unfortunately was true. "Did I do something wrong?"
"I did something wrong."
"You did?" He asked confused.
"You're my attending."
"Is that so?" He said, tilting his head. "I swiped right first, so..."
The elevator suddenly felt ten degrees hotter. You stared even harder at the floor numbers, silently begging for the doors to open already.
Jack leaned casually against the elevator wall beside you, arms crossed loosely now. Meanwhile you were one bad heartbeat away from passing out.
"Don't blame yourself." He said softly.
And against your better judgment, you finally looked at him properly. Huge mistake. Because he was already watching you with that same warm, entertained expression from earlier. Like he could practically see how flustered you were becoming and didn't mind it one bit. Maybe even liked it and somehow that made your entire face burn hotter.
You weren't used to this. You weren't used to men who flirted this confidently. While Jack Abbot looked at you like he already knew exactly what would happen if he got any closer.
The elevator suddenly jerked violently, both of you stumbled slightly before everything stopped completely. The lights flickered once and then the elevator went still.
Jack slowly looked up toward the ceiling and your stomach dropped instantly.
For a second, neither of you moved.
The soft hum of the emergency lights filled the elevator while your own heartbeat pounded so loudly you were convinced he could hear it too.
Nope. Absolutely not. You refused to get trapped inside a tiny elevator with Jack looking like that.
"This is actually my personal hell." You whispered, staring at the closed doors.
"You're being dramatic." A quiet laugh left him.
"I'm trapped in a metal box with my attending after accidentally matching with him on Tinder. I think I'm reacting appropriately."
That made him smile properly this time. You hated how much that worked on you.
He pushed himself off the elevator wall and reached toward the emergency panel, pressing the call button.
"Maintenance will reset it in a minute." He said casually.
Of course he sounded relaxed. Meanwhile you felt like your nervous system was slowly shutting down.
You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, trying to ignore how small the elevator suddenly felt. Or how good he smelled standing this close. Your eyes squeezed shut for a second and, for some reason, your brain immediately thought about that Trisha Paytas picture where she's choking herself.
That was literally you at that moment.
"You okay, Shortcake?" He asked again, quieter this time.
Jack was already looking at you again, like he was trying to read every reaction on your face until he finally got the truth out of you.
"Please stop calling me that."
"Why?" One side of his mouth lifted slightly. "You like it."
"I do not like it."
"Are you sure?" His voice dropped softer. "Every time I say it, I see something in your eyes."
You looked away immediately before he noticed the effect he was having on you.
Unfortunately for you, he definitely noticed.
His laugh slipped out again, low and tired and way too attractive for five in the morning.
Jack stepped a little closer then. Not enough to make you uncomfortable, but enough for your entire body to immediately become aware of it.
"You know." He said lightly. "Langdon told me you love it when I call you that."
"He told you that?" Your eyes snapped toward him in horror.
That cocky expression appeared again instantly, and the corner of his mouth twitched when he realized he got exactly the reaction he wanted from you.
You genuinely wanted the elevator to crush you alive.
He looked way too pleased with himself now, arms crossed too while watching you completely unravel in front of him. And the worst part was that your nervousness seemed genuinely cute to him. He clearly wasn't used to girls reacting like this around him. Most women probably flirted back confidently, meanwhile you could barely maintain basic eye contact.
"I hate you." You muttered weakly.
"No you don't."
The confidence in his voice should've annoyed you. Instead it made heat spread through places it absolutely shouldn't.
The elevator stayed silent around both of you for another moment. Neither of you looked away this time.
Your brain kept screaming at you to say something normal. Something professional. Anything.
But then his eyes dropped to your mouth. And the second you realized you were looking at his lips too, the tension inside the elevator shifted so hard it almost felt physical.
Jack's expression softened slightly, like he was thinking about it too now. About how close he was standing and the fact that there was nobody else around.
Your stomach twisted nervously when his gaze slowly lifted back to yours again, like he was silently trying to figure out if you wanted this as much as he did.
And for one horrible second, you genuinely thought he was about to kiss you.
Both of you breathing heavier now, like the air inside the elevator had suddenly disappeared. Your pulse was probably completely tachycardic at this point, which honestly felt embarrassing considering all he was doing was looking at you.
Then he took another small step closer.
Your breath caught instantly.
With his head tilted slightly down now, he searched for your eyes again before his gaze dropped back to your lips for half a second. And without even realizing it, you nervously licked your own lips.
The effect that had on him was immediate.
You stopped hearing everything around you for a moment. There was only him. Until the elevator doors suddenly slammed open with a loud mechanical ding.
Both of you pulled apart slowly, almost reluctantly, like it took actual effort to force distance back between you.
Joy and Shen stood outside the elevator staring at both of you in confusion.
"Oh, okay." Joy said slowly.
You immediately walked out so fast it almost counted as fleeing. Meanwhile behind you, Jack cleared his throat once before casually following after you like absolutely nothing had happened at all.
Sleep had been hard to come by the last few weeks with you working overtime at your office job. As a ‘thank you’ your boss had given you an extra day off to add onto this weekend.
Your husband Brendon had also been working odd hours this week. He was on call so if he was needed at 2 a.m.? He was gone.
Tonight he was covering for Garcia so it was just you alone in bed.
You were just on the cusp of falling asleep when your phone rings. Looking at the clock on your dresser it reads 4 a.m.
Not odd given your husband and close friends work in healthcare, so someone’s typically awake. It doesn’t phase you until it rings again. This time you’re quick to pick up, not even looking at the caller ID.
“Hello?” you answer tiredly, eyes still closed.
“My angel, I need your help” the familiar voice asks in a rushed tone.
You rub your eyes “Dana? What’s going on?”
“We’re having an influx of patients and the hospital is swamped in all departments. We’re having to empty beds as fast as we can to make room for more. We need to use baby jane doe’s room but she’ll have nowhere to go… is there any way you could take her? Just for the weekend?”
“I’m assuming you didn’t mention this to Brendon yet?” you laugh tiredly.
“I figured if I got the nicer Park to agree then the prickly one would go along with it seamlessly.”
“Well you definitely have the best strategy D” you smile.
“So is that a yes sweet pea?”
“That is a yes” you grab a sweatshirt, shoes, and your keys “I’m on my way now.”
“Thank you soooo much sweetie. Temporary custody papers are already approved, I’ll just have to submit yours and Brendon’s name to confirm.”
You nod even though she can’t see “No worries D, I’m comin.”
“You’re a gem. See you soon, bye!” Dana ends the call in a rush.
You rub your eyes as you stare at the ceiling of your bedroom.
Please don’t have a cow sweet husband of mine.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
You make it to ptmc and walk in the pitt looking for your favorite blonde charge nurse.
A waving hand catches your attention. Dana signals you to follow her to the baby’s room.
There, among all the chaos, is the sweetest patient of the pitt.
You tickle her belly lightly, earning a big grin from the 3 month old.
“Hey sweet girl. Ready to come home with me for a sleepover?” you ask her in a sweet voice.
You take the happy gurgles as a yes.
“I’ve got a diaper bag with the basics, some formula for a few days and a car seat. I also found this cute little onesie for her at a thrift store last week. Should keep her warm when you go out.”
Dana hands you the fuzzy onesie with teddy bear ears on the hood.
You dress her and pick her up, placing her on your hip. Dana situates the diaper bag in the car seat and places the handle into your hand.
“Im sorry to spring this on you last minute and so early in the morning but I appreciate it so much hun.” She gives you a side hug.
“No worries D.” You look at baby jane “can’t let this cutie patootie get left behind, can we now?” you say in a baby voice with a smile.
That one earns you a giggle and you can’t help but laugh back at the small one.
With one last goodbye you and baby jane make your way out of the pitt and back home.
——
As you make your way to the doors, Brendon happens to walk out of a room from down the hall having finished a consult.
He is completely unaware of the wife and small teddy bear duo walking the other direction and heading to the apartment.
He’ll find out in just a few hours
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Finally 8 a.m. rolls around and Brendon gets to go home. He originally had planned to spend yesterday with you but had to cover Garcia last minute while she attended to a personal emergency.
He grabs his bag and makes his way to the doors.
“Enjoy your weekend Shark! Bet you’ll stay busy!” Dana yells after him.
Huh? Busy? I mean he did have plans to take you a few places. Maybe you had mentioned it to her?
“Thanks D. My wife always keeps me on my toes.”
“Im sure it’ll stay that way !” she gives him a quick wink
What? Maybe it’s the need to sleep getting to him.
——
Brendon gets into the apartment and goes to set his stuff down when he hears you talking. It’s pretty early and you usually sleep in longer than this.
He makes his was into the bedroom and stops at the sight he’s met with.
You’re sitting in bed with a baby, a familiar one at that.
Baby jane doe?
He doesn’t even know how she’s here.
Did something happen? Did you—
Then it hits him.
Dana.
No wonder she looked a little too happy to see him leave today. Of course she arranged this and used his soft spot to get around him.
“Hey sweetheart. What’s the small bear doing here?”
He walks to sit on his side of the bed next to you, where you’re feeding jane a bottle.
The sight does something to his heart.
“Sooo, as you can see” you smile sheepishly at him “we have a weekend visitor.”
You explain the situation to him.
He can’t help but smile at you. He knows your heart is big for others and your love is boundless. This was just a prime example of that.
Brendon takes a finger and rubs the side of jane’s face gently.
“Hey little miss. You excited to party with the Parks this weekend?” He asks her softly.
Jane stares at him intensely and grabs his finger tight.
The action tugs at Brendon’s heart again.
She soon finishes the bottle and you prop her against your shoulder and make sure to burp her.
Brendon struggles to leave you and jane but he needs to start the decompression process so he can relax with you both.
He jumps in the shower briefly and then changes into sweats and a tshirt.
You had left a plate of breakfast for him in the microwave which he downs in a timely manner.
By the time he gets back into bed, you’re fast asleep beside jane who is still awake. Barely.
“Ready for a nap, pretty girl?” He coos at her.
He gently picks her up and lays her against his chest, rubbing her back soothingly. Slowly her eyes start to shut until she’s fast asleep against him.
Brendon can barely keep his eyes open, his hands securely on baby jane to keep her safe.
He can hardly focus until his eyes shut.
Before sleep overtakes him he has one thought
I could really get used to this.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Later that afternoon you wake up alone in bed. You slowly get up and stretch. Brendon’s voice echoes low from the bedroom door. With a yawn, you make your way towards his voice and find him in the kitchen with his back facing you, still talking.
When he turns around the sight you see makes your heart swoon and ovaries practically explode.
Brendon has a baby carrier strapped to his chest with baby jane snuggled close.
This man will be the death of me.
He looks up at you.
“Morning sweetheart. Me ‘n jane were just finishing up making lunch.” he says, making jane’s little hand wave at you, making her giggle.
“Hey cutie girl, is the big ole shark takin good care of you?” you coo at her with a wide smile.
Jane grins even wider at you which makes you laugh.
Brendon smiles fondly at the interaction. Completely smitten with you and how you are with baby jane.
He can only imagine how much sweeter it would be with yours and his baby one day.
——
After lunch you guys decide to go for a stroll around downtown Pittsburgh to get some fresh air. You guys pass by a cute baby store and head in to take a look. You see cute clothes and toys that jane would love.
You turn to Brendon who convinces you to only get a few items as anything you guys get would have to go back with jane to the hospital after the weekend.
But a girl needs a couple outfits right? Exactly.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
The weekend goes by faster than you would’ve liked but soon it comes time to bring Jane back.
Once you guys get to the hospital, Brendon straps jane into the baby carrier on his chest and you guys head into the pitt.
“Well well well, look what we have here.” Dana announces with a wide smile at the sight she sees.
“Baby jane doe and the shark. Cutest thing I ever did see.”
“Look at you, papa shark.” Robby chimes in from the desk beside her.
Brendon can’t help but blush a little at their words. He really did love having jane around. A new soft spot in addition to you.
You take jane from Brendon and baby talk with her as you walk back to her room, Robby coming around to grab her stuff for you.
Brendon stands there and watches you with her, something soft in his gaze.
Dana comes up beside him.
“So, when can I expect a baby shark, big guy?”
He lets out a long breath with a small smile.
“Whenever the missus is ready.”
Watching you with baby jane this weekend, he has a feeling that time will be sooner rather than later.
Then the people must be fed!! All I’ve got is this "quick", sweet and nasty blurb, hope y’all like it<3
Pairing: Rabbot x f!reader
Warnings: stuff in public (yk what i mean. it ain’t sex but it ain’t sfw either), established (secret) relationship, making out like teens, fluff, and Jack is kind of sub cause i know that man is.
“Jack!” you mumbled for the hundredth time under your breath— but the night’s shift attending’s hands continued playing with the hem of your panties.
You just wanted to relax with a couple of coworkers at the bar after a long shift, but apparently, Abbot had other plans.
Whitaker was going on and on about some story from the street crew, and on a normal day, you would have loved hearing all about it, but right now it was like torture… having to stay put and pretend to be retaining even a single word of what came out of Dennis’ mouth while Jack toyed with you was proving to be quite hard.
Just when Abbot’s digits found the damp spot right against your hole, you caught a glance of your savior… or so at least you thought.
“Mike- " you started, only to correct yourself, “Dr. Robby! You should… you should hear this too.”
If either he or Whitaker noticed how breathy your voice was, none of them reacted.
Dennis’ brows raised in confusion at your words.
“He just— Robby loves stories… like this.”
Poor Dennis was all too eager at the discovery; he didn’t even notice the way Robby’s mouth stretched into a smirk as he glanced between you and Jack, or how he purposely chose not to sit on the free chair next to the blonde, but opted to squeeze himself in the booth next to you.
All of a sudden, your idea seemed very dumb.
There you were, sandwiched in between your two very hot attendings… your two very hot, very secret boyfriends.
If it were for them, they would have told anyone with ears about your relationship, even at work… or especially there.
Both had very adamantly expressed their wish to touch you and kiss you like they loved to do wherever they could, ER included— Jack had expressed said wish also because he claimed to be very tired of watching Langdon or Park or Shang or even Ellis check you out and not be able to do or say anything without coming off as a weirdo. Robby never said it out loud, but he also really despised having to listen to surgeons and patients flirt with you and having to keep quiet.
But you knew it was better this way; it’s not like you didn’t wanna yap to whoever would listen about your two sexy, perfect boyfriends, but you knew the consequences… the rumors and voices that would inevitably start to spread were really not something you needed at this point in life.
Which is why your relationship remained a secret— even if they loved to make it one hard to keep.
Michael took one look at what was happening beneath your skirt, and it took all of thirty seconds before you felt his arm slither behind your back, slowly infiltrating underneath your shirt until his warm hands were caressing your back, spreading shivers down your spine.
Just like that, all your dreams of Mike making Abbot behave shattered with a loud crack in your head.
Dennis was completely oblivious, too excited at the prospect of impressing his attendings with his story… poor guy had no idea neither of them were listening to a word he said.
Both men were stroking you slowly and sultily, the heat and scent of them wrapping your body as you lost yourself in the moment… In the way Jack’s fingers kept teasing you, lightly dragging from your inner thighs to your dampening heat, moving up and down as he ever so softly traced your clit— in the way Michael’s big hand softly traced patterns on your back, soothing your overexcited system just to make your heart pick up all over again whenever it ended up on your side and squeezed just enough to remind you who had the upper hand.
The temperature rose, and you were certain everyone could see the heat on your face as you tried to act normal.
Jack and Robby were thoroughly enjoying watching you squirm and bite down desperate little whimpers at their ministrations, barely containing their grins as they nodded at Dennis’ story.
You were just starting to convince yourself you could survive this when Abbot’s fingers materialized underneath your panties, all of a sudden fully exploring your slick folds without a hint of rush, unhurriedly touching your most intimate spot as if you weren’t fully in public.
Your heart was hammering in your chest, your eyes subtly widening, and then… then Jack took it a step too far.
You heard the gasp come out of your mouth before you even realized Jack’s digits had trailed up to your clit.
For a moment, you forgot to pretend as your thighs squeezed shut and you turned to Jack, eyes and mouth wide in shock. He didn’t even try to hide the wolfish grin on his lips.
“Y/n? What happened?”
It was Whitaker's soft, almost scared voice that had you remembering where you were.
You schooled your features to resemble any sort of calm as you turned back to him with a small, awkward smile.
“O-oh nothing— I just… I think I need some air.”
__ __ __
You were outside for no longer than two minutes when Jack and Robby made their way out of the bar, their eyes immidiately catching you as they began to walk in your direction.
“You guys can’t do that.”
They decided to stand not even an inch away from you, you know… like regular coworkers.
“Do what?” Jack grinned, his voice husky as he leaned closer to you, his mouth ghosting your neck.
“You know what,” you murmured, eyes shifting between the two men.
“You liked it.” Robby intervened, his hand moving some hair from your face and lingering on your cheek.
You shook your head, sending them both a glare that promised death.
Jack couldn’t help but chuckle at that, his voice lowering to a murmur as he whispered to your ear, “The proof of it is coating my fingers right now, sweetheart.”
“No need to lie, baby,” Robby cooed, his thumb tracing your cupid’s bow.
“’S ok, I liked it too,” Jack murmured, moving close enough for you to feel the weight of his erection against your skin.
Your breath got stuck in your throat as a whimper fled your mouth.
Jesus, why did they have to be so frustratingly hot?
“People could see us,” you breathed, desperate eyes finding Robby’s for some sort of help.
He usually was the responsible one, but tonight it seemed he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Let them.” Michael’s voice was hoarse, rough with need and lust.
“W-what’s gotten into you two tonight?”
Jack had stopped reining himself in and fallen to the temptation of littering your pretty neck with kisses.
“This skirt…” he explained with a groan, his hand touching the guilty fabric.
“It’s hard to keep our hands to ourselves when you look like this.” Robby chipped in, his eyes making a point of looking up and down your figure appreciatively, before one of his hands traveled to your ass to cop a feel.
You squeaked in surprise, your panties drenched at this point. “G-guys…”
Your eyes darted to the door, the sane part of your brain remembering where you found yourselves.
“Maybe we’re tired of pretending you aren’t ours,” Robby murmured, thumb caressing your cheek.
“Maybe we just wanna let everyone know who you belong to.” Jack agreed, nicking the skin at your neck to emphasize his words.
You had to bite down a moan before you forced Abbot to look you in the eyes, guiding him by his silver curls.
“Is that what this is about?”
“Maybe.” Jack’s answer was sheepish, his sweet eyes honest and kind.
You smiled at the hopeful look in his eyes, a smile that only widened when you saw the matching spark of candidness in Michael’s iris.
“It’s not like you could finger me in public if people knew about us.” You couldn’t help but chuckle softly.
“Mmmh… not so sure about that,” Jack hummed with a boyish grin, before his lips inevitably found yours.
He kissed you as if he’d been waiting to do it all night… and perhaps it was because that was exactly the case.
He grabbed both sides of your face as he pressed himself against you and infiltrated his tongue inside your mouth to taste all of you.
One of your hands was raking through his curls as you enjoyed his mouth on you, while the other fisted Michael’s shirt.
The second Jack leaned away to get some air, Robby was there instead, murmuring, “Jesus, baby, you’re so hot,” before capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss.
You went back and forth for a few minutes, making out with them one at a time while the other kissed and caressed every inch of skin they could uncover, until you were all blissfully out of breath.
“So— what do you say?” Michael asked, his brows raised in question.
As much as you wanted to give them what they wanted, to make your relationship public, you still needed to ponder through some things.
“I say… I say we need to go home right now.”
Abbot’s lips pulled into a smirk as he whispered: “We could do it right here… let everyone see.”
You ignored his words as you went on, “And then— then we’ll talk about it.”
The hopeful, joyful shock on both men’s faces was absolutely adorable.
“Yeah?” Jack asked breathlessly, not able to hide a huge smile.
“I like that idea.” Robby nodded, squeezing your side with a quick kiss to your cheek.
“Good, now get me home before we end up getting arrested for public indecency.”
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{The Shape Of Her Smile - Andrew Pope Cody x F!Reader}
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The video was mostly useless.
That was the first thing you noticed when you watched it back properly.
Not emotionally useless.
Emotionally, it was devastating.
Technically, it was a crime.
The first three seconds were your knee.
Then the nursery rug.
Then one blurry close-up of Andie's foot kicking with great intensity while Andrew's recorded voice said, faintly in the background, "Hi, baby girl. It's me."
Then your own voice, whispered and frantic.
"Come on, baby. Do it again."
The camera lifted too fast.
Blurred.
Focused.
Lost focus.
Found Andie's face.
Your daughter lay on the soft blanket in the middle of the nursery floor, dark hair sticking up slightly, tiny fists pulled close to her chest, eyes wide and unfocused in the way that made her look like she was receiving visions from another realm.
Andrew's duck recording played from the little device beside her.
His voice was low.
Careful.
Nervous, still, even though he had denied that every time you mentioned it.
He turned a page.
The audio crackled faintly.
Andie blinked.
You held your breath even though you already knew what happened next.
Andrew's voice softened around a sentence about the duck finding its way home.
Andie's mouth moved.
Just a little.
A tiny pull at one corner.
Then the other.
A crooked, fleeting, impossibly small smile.
There.
Gone.
The whole thing lasted maybe two seconds.
Maybe less.
But it was real.
You paused the video so quickly your finger slipped and skipped forward.
"No, no, no," you muttered, dragging it back. "Come on."
You found the moment again.
Paused.
There.
Andie's face, caught halfway through the smile, eyes bright, mouth curved, one fist open like even her hand had been surprised by joy.
You stared at the screen.
Your throat closed.
It was not the first time you had cried over the video.
It was, embarrassingly, not even the fifth.
Motherhood had turned you into a woman who could be defeated by a tiny mouth.
You sniffed hard and wiped your cheek with the sleeve of Andrew's flannel.
Andie was asleep against your chest in the rocking chair, warm and soft and completely unaware that her face was currently doing structural damage to your heart.
"You know," you whispered down at her, "your dad is going to be unbearable about this."
She sighed in her sleep.
Tiny.
Content.
Her cheek pressed deeper into your shirt.
You looked back at the frozen frame.
Andie smiling.
At Andrew's voice.
Not yours.
Not Deran's ridiculous argument about gas.
Andrew's.
You had told him about it on the phone already, but telling was not enough. You knew that because you had heard the silence on the other end of the line. The way he had tried to imagine it. The way he had asked what she looked like, voice careful and rough, as if too much wanting might make the answer disappear.
He needed to see it.
You managed to transfer the still image to be printed the next morning.
It took far longer than it should have because technology seemed personally committed to ruining mothers.
Andie cried halfway through.
Then needed feeding.
Then spat up on your clean shirt.
Then smiled at absolutely nothing when your phone was across the room, because apparently she had developed comedic timing.
By the time Deran came by with groceries, you were sitting at the kitchen table with Andie in the crook of one arm, the laptop open in front of you, and a deeply suspicious expression on your face.
Deran stopped in the doorway.
"No."
You looked up. "No what?"
"Whatever this is."
"You don't even know what this is."
"You look like you're about to ask me to do something."
"I am."
"No."
"Deran."
"No."
"I need you to help me print a photo."
He stared at you.
Then at Andie.
Then back at you.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you look like you're committing fraud?"
"Because the printer app is asking me to create an account and I don't trust it."
Deran set the grocery bags down with a sigh. "Give me the laptop."
You smiled sweetly.
"You're very kind."
"Don't."
"And helpful."
"I said don't."
"And emotionally available in a crisis."
"I'm leaving."
"You are not. You love Andie."
Deran looked down at the baby.
Andie was asleep, mouth slightly open, one hand curled against your shirt.
His face did the thing.
The soft thing.
Then he looked away immediately.
"She's fine."
"That was not a denial."
He took the laptop. "Show me the picture."
You clicked the file.
The smile filled the screen.
Deran went quiet.
You watched his face.
He had seen the smile happen in person. He had argued about it. Denied it. Then folded completely when Andie did it again.
But this was different.
Frozen like this, there was no pretending it had been gas or timing or wishful thinking.
It was joy.
Tiny, blurry, crooked joy.
Deran's jaw moved slightly.
"Yeah," he said.
Your smile softened. "Yeah?"
"Print that one."
"I know."
"No, I mean..." He cleared his throat. "That exact one."
You looked at the screen again.
Andie smiling at Andrew's voice.
"That's the one," he said.
Your eyes burned.
"Yeah," you whispered. "That's the one."
Deran did not look at you.
That was kind of him.
The first copy went on the fridge.
You tucked it under the smiling sun magnet beside the photo of you pregnant in the nursery and the photo from the contact visit — Andrew holding Andie, you leaning into his shoulder, his eyes fixed on your daughter like he had forgotten the rest of the world existed.
The second copy you held for a long time.
Then you turned it over.
You had planned to write something beautiful.
Something thoughtful.
Something that would make sense of the ache and softness of it.
Instead, you wrote:
Father science confirmed.
You stared at it.
Then laughed so hard Andie startled in the sling against your chest.
"Sorry," you whispered, kissing her hair. "Your parents are ridiculous."
Underneath, you added:
She smiled at your voice.
That was better.
Simple.
True.
Enough.
You tucked the photo into an envelope with a short letter.
It lasted maybe two seconds.
Deran said it was gas.
He was wrong.
She smiled at your voice, Andrew.
I wish you could have seen it when it happened, but this is the closest I could get.
I watched it too many times and cried like an idiot.
You would have pretended not to cry and failed.
I love you.
She loves you too.
You sealed the envelope before you could overthink the last line.
Then you pressed a kiss to the corner.
Not because Andrew would know.
Because you would.
Andrew received the envelope four days later.
He knew it was yours before he saw the handwriting.
He always did.
There were very few good things that came through the mail in prison. Most of it carried bad news, rules, delays, official language, or nothing worth holding onto.
Your letters were different.
Your letters had weight before he opened them.
He took the envelope back to his bunk like he always did now.
Some men opened mail in the common area. Standing, impatient, tearing through paper with too much force.
Andrew never did.
He opened yours carefully.
Privately.
Some things deserved to be protected before they were even known.
He sat on the edge of his bunk, one shoulder angled slightly toward the wall, and slid his finger under the flap.
A letter.
And a photo.
The photo fell into his palm face down.
He saw your writing first.
Father science confirmed.
Andrew stopped.
For a second, he just stared at the words.
Then a sound left him.
Small.
Rough.
Almost nothing.
A laugh, maybe.
He pressed his thumb near the edge of the photo, not over the ink.
Then he read the line below.
She smiled at your voice.
Everything in him went still.
He turned the photo over.
Andie.
His daughter.
Smiling.
Andrew forgot how to breathe.
Not because it was big.
It was not.
The smile was tiny. Crooked. Barely there. Her eyes were still unfocused. Her fist was open near her chin. The picture was a little blurry, like whoever had taken it had been shaking or rushing or both.
But it was real.
She was smiling.
His daughter was smiling.
Andrew had imagined it badly.
He realized that immediately.
He had pictured something bigger. Maybe because grown people smiled with their whole mouths, their eyes, their whole faces. He had imagined a baby version of that.
But Andie's smile was smaller.
Softer.
More fragile.
Just a little curve, like happiness had touched her face and she had not known yet how to hold all of it.
It wrecked him worse.
Andrew sat there with the photo in both hands and looked until his eyes burned.
Her hair was darker than he remembered.
Her cheeks fuller.
She had changed again.
Babies did that, apparently. Changed without permission. Grew in tiny increments and then all at once, and he was always catching up through photos and phone calls and your careful descriptions.
But the frown was still there.
His frown.
Except now interrupted by a smile.
He brushed his thumb along the border of the photo, stopping before he touched her face.
He would not smudge it.
He would not wear it down.
His throat worked.
"She smiled," he whispered.
No one answered.
That was fine.
He said it again anyway.
"She smiled."
At his voice.
The thought landed differently every time.
Not just that she settled for him. Not just that his voice could quiet her when she was screaming. Not just that she knew the sound of him.
She had been happy.
Because of him.
Andrew covered his mouth with one hand and bent forward over the photo.
The tears came quietly.
No sound.
No dramatic collapse.
Just heat in his eyes and a sharp ache behind his ribs and the impossible weight of joy in a place that had never been built to hold it.
He read your letter next.
Slowly.
Then again.
He stopped at the line about Deran.
Deran said it was gas.
Andrew huffed through tears.
Of course he had.
Then:
He was wrong.
Andrew looked back at the photo.
"Yes," he whispered. "He was."
He folded the letter and tucked it beneath the blanket on his bunk, then held the photo again.
For a long time, he did nothing else.
Later, the programme officer came by during count.
Andrew stood with the others, photo tucked safely under his pillow.
She glanced at him once.
"You get the mail?" she asked quietly.
He nodded.
"Good?"
Andrew hesitated.
Good was too small.
Good was dry chicken not being as bad as usual. Good was a call going through. Good was being allowed into the recording room again.
This was not good.
This was his daughter smiling at his voice from across the city.
He nodded once anyway.
"Yeah."
The officer looked like she understood enough not to ask.
"Recording list is posted," she said. "You requested another book?"
Andrew thought about the book list.
The bear one.
The rabbit one he thought was stupid.
The bedtime one with the moon.
He had planned to pick one.
One was reasonable.
One was what the slot allowed if other men needed time too.
But Andie had smiled at his voice.
His daughter had smiled.
"How many can I request?" he asked.
The officer's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"One at a time, usually."
"Can I request them in order?"
"You can make a list."
Andrew looked at the wall.
At the place behind the blanket where the photo waited.
"Bear," he said. "Then moon."
The officer wrote it down.
After a pause, he added, "And the rabbit."
She glanced up. "Thought you didn't like the rabbit."
Andrew's jaw tightened.
"I don't."
"Then why request it?"
He looked down.
Because Andie might.
Because if his voice made her smile, he would read every stupid rabbit book in the building.
Because maybe one day you would play it in the green room while she lay on the blanket with her fist near her face, and maybe she would know him a little more.
Because he was her father and this was what he could do.
He shrugged once.
"It's for her."
The officer's expression softened.
Just slightly.
She wrote it down.
The phone rang at 8:52 that night.
You were in the nursery, because of course you were.
Andie was lying on her blanket again, kicking one leg with fierce concentration. The duck recording had just ended. The smile photo was propped on the dresser because you had not yet decided whether to frame it or carry it around like a lunatic.
Deran was downstairs, allegedly watching television, though you suspected he had actually fallen asleep on the sofa again.
You grabbed the phone.
The automated voice started.
You pressed one.
Static.
Then Andrew.
"Hey."
You smiled immediately.
"Hey."
A pause.
Then he said, "You didn't tell me she had your smile."
Your throat tightened.
There it was.
He got it.
You leaned back against the rocking chair and looked down at Andie.
"She does?"
"Yeah."
"I thought it was yours."
"No."
"You haven't smiled at yourself much, then."
He huffed softly.
"She smiled at your voice," you said. "That makes it yours too."
Andrew went quiet.
You could hear him breathing.
Not even.
Not steady.
"Baby," you whispered.
"I got the photo."
"I know."
"I looked at it."
"I assumed."
"A lot."
You smiled. "Also assumed."
"She's bigger."
"She is."
"Her cheeks."
You looked down at Andie's cheeks.
They had filled out slightly, soft and round and absolutely ridiculous.
"Very kissable," you said.
Andrew made a small sound.
"Sorry."
"No."
"You okay?"
"No."
"Good no or bad no?"
A beat.
Then, softly, "Good no."
Your face crumpled.
"Oh."
"She looks happy."
"She was."
"At the recording?"
"Yes."
"At the duck one?"
"Yes."
His breath moved through the line, shaken.
"She smiled at the duck."
"At you."
"At a duck book."
"At you reading a duck book."
"That's different."
"It is."
Andie kicked both legs and let out a tiny squeak.
Andrew went silent instantly.
"What was that?"
"She's here."
"She awake?"
"Very."
"She okay?"
"She is currently fighting the air."
"She winning?"
"Hard to tell."
Andrew huffed.
You smiled and moved the phone closer to Andie.
"Say hi."
Andrew's voice changed at once.
Softened.
Lowered.
The Andie voice.
"Hey, Andie."
Your daughter blinked.
Her legs stilled.
You bit your lip.
Andrew kept talking.
"I got your picture."
Andie waved one hand.
"You smiled."
Her eyes shifted vaguely toward the sound.
"You look like your mom when you do it."
Your eyes filled.
Andie's mouth moved.
Not quite a smile.
Almost.
You held your breath.
Andrew said, "Yeah. I know. She says it's mine too, but she lies about stuff like that."
You laughed.
Andie's mouth curved.
Tiny.
There.
Again.
You gasped.
Andrew stopped. "What?"
"She did it."
"What?"
"She smiled."
"Now?"
"Yes."
"At me?"
"Yes."
The line went completely silent.
You grabbed your phone tighter.
"Andrew?"
"She smiled again?"
"Yes."
You laughed through sudden tears. "You made her smile again."
Andrew made a sound that broke halfway through.
You closed your eyes.
"I wish you could see."
"Tell me."
"She's on the blanket," you said quickly, trying to hold every detail while it was still happening. "She's wearing the little cream sleepsuit with the yellow stars. Her hair is doing that mad thing at the back where it sticks up. She had one fist by her mouth, and then you said she looked like me, and she smiled."
He did not speak.
"It was bigger this time," you whispered.
His breathing broke.
"Bigger?"
"A little. Still tiny. But bigger."
Andie kicked once, then started hiccupping.
"And now she has hiccups."
Andrew let out a wet laugh.
Your chest ached.
"She smiled again," he said.
"She did."
"Father science confirmed."
You laughed, crying openly now.
"Father science confirmed."
You brought the phone back to your ear.
Andrew was quiet for a long time.
Then he said, "I asked for more books."
Your smile softened.
"Yeah?"
"Bear one."
"Good."
"Moon one."
"Very good."
He hesitated.
"And the rabbit."
You grinned. "The stupid rabbit?"
"It's for her."
Your heart went uselessly soft.
"She'll love the stupid rabbit."
"She better."
"She will."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Then I'll play it until she does."
"That feels wrong."
"It's parenting."
A soft laugh came through the line.
You leaned your head back against the rocking chair.
"I'm proud of you," you said.
He went quiet.
"Don't."
"I am."
"For reading?"
"For letting yourself be her dad in every way you can."
The line went still.
You heard him inhale.
"I don't know how to do enough," he said.
Your smile faded into something tender.
"This is enough for today."
"It doesn't feel like enough."
"I know."
"It feels small."
"It is small," you said softly. "But babies are small. Small things count."
He did not answer.
You looked at Andie.
She had started chewing on her fist, staring up at nothing with great concentration.
"She doesn't know what you can't do," you said.
Andrew's breath caught.
"She knows what you do. She hears you. She settles for you. She smiles at you. That is what she knows."
Silence.
Then, rough and low, "Okay."
You knew that okay.
It meant he was trying.
You let him have it.
The call timer beeped faintly.
You sighed.
"How long?"
"Ten."
Andie hiccupped again.
Andrew's voice softened. "She still doing it?"
"Hiccupping? Yes."
"Does she hate it?"
"She looks offended."
"She always does."
"You gave her that face."
"Apparently I gave her a smile too."
Your heart squeezed.
"Yes," you whispered. "You did."
For the next few minutes, you told him about the photo.
How long it took to get the frame right.
How Deran helped with the printer app and acted like the whole thing was beneath him while hovering over the screen.
How you put one copy on the fridge.
How the other copy, his copy, had been kissed at the corner before you mailed it.
Andrew went very quiet at that.
"You kissed it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I can't kiss you."
The line went silent.
Your eyes burned.
"So I kissed the thing I was sending to you."
Andrew's voice came back rough.
"I kissed it too."
Your breath stopped.
"The photo?"
"Yeah."
You closed your eyes.
"Oh."
"Corner," he said, like it mattered that you knew. "Not her face. Didn't want to mess it up."
A tear slid down your cheek.
"Same corner?"
"I don't know."
"I'm choosing to believe yes."
"Okay."
You smiled.
The timer beeped again.
Five minutes.
Andie started fussing slightly, tired now from the enormous work of smiling twice and hiccupping with her whole body.
You picked her up and tucked her against your chest.
"She's getting sleepy."
"Need to go?"
"Not yet."
"If she needs—"
"Andrew."
"What?"
"We can have five more minutes."
He went quiet.
Then, softer, "Okay."
You shifted Andie against your shoulder and stood carefully, walking slowly around the nursery because she liked movement when she was tired.
The chair creaked as you moved past it.
The wooden duck sat on the shelf.
The smile photo watched from the dresser.
Andrew's voice stayed in your ear.
For five more minutes, you talked quietly.
About nothing.
About everything.
The bear book.
Deran's printer skills.
Andie's star sleepsuit.
Bad prison chicken.
Whether the rabbit book was genuinely stupid or just misunderstood.
When the final minute warning came, Andie was asleep against your shoulder.
"Say goodnight," you whispered, holding the phone near her.
Andrew's voice came soft.
"Goodnight, Andie."
She slept.
"I saw your smile."
Your face crumpled.
"I love it."
Andie sighed.
"I love you," he whispered.
You brought the phone back.
"I love you too."
"And you."
"I know."
"No, you don't."
You blinked.
Andrew's voice went quieter.
"I love you for sending it. For making sure I see things."
Your throat closed.
"I don't want you to miss everything."
"I know."
"You won't."
"I know," he said.
And this time, maybe he did.
The line clicked off.
You stood in the green room with Andie asleep against your shoulder, Andrew's voice still warm in your ear.
The smile photo sat on the dresser.
Small.
Blurry.
Perfect.
That night, Andrew put the photo on the wall beside the contact visit picture.
He placed it carefully.
Not too close to the edge where it might curl.
Not where the light would fade it.
Just beneath the note that said It's a girl.
Now the wall had become a timeline.
Scan photos.
The gender note.
You in the green room, pregnant and wearing his shirt.
The contact visit, his arms around Andie and your head against his shoulder.
And now his daughter smiling.
He stood in front of it for a long time after lights-out, barely visible in the dim.
The first time Andrew saw his daughter smile, she was already asleep across the city.
He had not been there when it happened.
But the photo was there now.
Awake beside him.
Proof that his voice reached her.
Proof that she knew him.
Proof that joy could cross concrete if it had to.
Andrew touched two fingers to his mouth.
Then to the corner of the photo.
The same corner, he decided.
Because he wanted it to be.
Then he lay down with his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.
In the dark, he tried again to imagine the shape of Andie's smile.
"Man, going to this thing stag is gonna suck," Abbot remarks while carelessly tossing down a floppy manilla folder.
Robby smirks and shakes his head while finishing up with a bit of charting on the iPad he holds whose battery is draining faster than he can type. Which is thirty words per minute if he's lucky... "Not the only one who's going to be flying solo," he mumbles while clicking through a series of X-rays. "It's also not about us having women on our arms, but the hospital getting the funding it needs."
Jack purses his lips while studying him from narrowed eyes. "Because you're so eager to attend in the first place, Mister High and Mighty."
Robby chuckles amusedly. "If I could skip, I would. But if it gives us the money required for more security, then..." he shrugs.
Clasping his hands together and hanging them over the edge of the counter he stands at, Jack watches people mill about in the ED. "Could always show up in jeans, t-shirts, and boots. Be a hell of a way to never get invited back."
"Treating it like a BBQ would accomplish that end," Robby agrees while setting the tablet down.
Glancing across the room, Jack catches sight of you at the nurses station and something stirs to life within his chest. "Might've found a solution to our problem."
Robby looks up and follows his line-of-sight to the head of the room. "Y/N?" he questions.
Jack shrugs. "I mean, it's not like either of us have ever shied away from making it obvious that she's our favorite." Turning his head, he scowls at Robby. "'Til you stole her from nightshift."
Robby grins. "She had to switch to day if we wanted to keep her on when she became a resident."
Jack rolls his eyes sarcastically. "So, are you going to ask her, or am I?"
Robby crosses his arms while keeping his gaze focused on you. "You really think that'd be the best look? Both of us on one of her arms and squeezed between us all night at an already cramped table? There's going to be photographers, Jack. She'd never hear the end of it after the photos go up online." He takes a step closer. "How long before a rumor gets started that she's sleeping her way to the top?" he whispers.
Jack stands at full height with his feet evenly planted on tile floor. "Listen, the invitations stated that we can each have a plus one. So we bring one." He raises a brow. "Weren't you just complaining the other day about Park circlin' her more than you cared to see? You know he's going, too, right?"
Robby's eyes flit to Jack.
He continues. "You okay with the idea of him taking her instead? Because I wouldn't put it past him for this to be the first year he finally takes an actual date instead of a one-night stand, so long as it's her."
Robby wavers for a moment, then drops his arms before heading in your direction.
"You got much left to do, sweetheart?" Robby asks while pressing a steady hand to the small of your back.
You shake your head and return the clipboard you were just signing paperwork upon to its corresponding cradle. "No, that was the last of it," you reply with a gentle smile. "Why?"
"Somethin' we wanna talk to you about," he states while nodding toward Jack, who stands on the other side of you.
"C'mon," Jack says while bobbing his head in the direction of the ambulance bay outside.
Shifting nervously from atop the brick half-wall you're seated upon, you stare up at Robby who's standing in front of you, then glance to Jack out of the corner of your eye who's sitting on your right. "Am I in trouble?" you ask quietly. "Did I—"
"Course not," Jack says while cupping the back of your head.
A statement Robby mimics the sentiment of by shaking his own. "You're aware of the gala that's coming up in a few days, right?"
Your brows knit together and you nod slowly. "Yes..."
Robby looks to Jack with an unreadable expression, which seems to be bordering on entertained.
"Come with us," Jack offers while winding an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his side. "As our date."
Your eyes flit to asphalt and you blink dumbly. "To the...gala."
Robby's lips twitch into a smirk. "Yes, sweetheart," he replies while stepping forward. "We both want you there."
You tilt your head back to meet his eyes. "I... I don't have an invitation."
Jack rests a palm atop your thigh. "No, but we do. Invitations which explicitly state that we're each allowed a plus one. We want that to be you."
Your head feels rather empty all of a sudden, like all thoughts and words have been suctioned out. "Oh."
"So?" Robby asks while sliding an index finger under your chin. "Could you do that for us?"
"Will you get in trouble?"
Jack snorts. "How about you let us worry about that?"
You feel like there's many other concerns to discuss, but can only focus on one. "I don't have any appropriate dress wear," you supply helplessly. "Just...some sundresses and—"
"Another thing for he and I to worry about," Robby interrupts while wagging a finger between himself and Jack in gesture. "We'll pay for it. Dress, shoes, jewelry. Whatever you need."
It doesn't feel right to let them foot the entire bill for a black tie event. "But—"
Jack slips his hand firmly between your thighs then. "No objections. We're the ones extending the invitation, so it's only fair that we cover whatever costs come along with it."
"Alright?" Robby questions with a raised brow of expectation.
You suppose that whatever is purchased can always be returned for a full refund, so long as you keep the tags on and receipts in a safe place. As for shoes, you'll make sure to pick a dress that matches the cheap pair of heels you have at home that're already broken in just enough that you should be able to make them work. You nod hesitantly. "Only if you're both absolutely sure..."
Jack presses a kiss to your cheek, followed by Robby planting one atop your head. "We are," the latter whispers.
a/n: this was supposed to be a one-shot, but i lost all interest in it & idk what even inspired this much to be written in the first place, so here u go
summary: the ER knows you're married, pregnant, and hopelessly in love with your husband. so when brendon keeps hovering around you, everyone's convinced you're having an affair.
pairing: brendon park + attending!pregnant!reader
word count: 2.4k
warnings/tags: mentions of pregnancy, workplace misunderstanding
notes: based on this ask from anon, tysm for requesting!
reblogs, likes, and comments are so so appreciated! if you want to read more from me, kindly submit in my inbox !!! xoxo
The first rumor started because of a protein bar.
Not because of anything dramatic. Not because someone saw you sneaking around hospital corridors or caught you pressed against a wall with Brendon Park's hand around your waist.
No.
It started because at two in the afternoon, during a brutally understaffed Friday day shift in the ER, you looked up from charting and said with exhausted fondness:
"My husband is going to kill me if he finds out I skipped lunch again."
And Dana, who had worked enough years in emergency medicine to survive on caffeine and spite alone, snorted.
"Husbands," she said. "They worry too much."
You smiled to yourself while typing. "Mine's worse now that I'm pregnant. Yesterday he tried to meal prep for me."
"Oh?" Santos asked from the next computer. "How'd that go?"
"He labeled every container by protein count."
"Sounds intense," Santos muttered.
"He is intense," you agreed easily. "But he means well."
Nobody thought much about it then. Because everybody in the ER about your husband.
Well, sort of. They knew he existed. They knew he packed your lunches sometimes. That he texted reminders for vitamins. That he apparently folded laundry with terrifying precision. That he hated when you worked overtime but still stayed awake until you got home anyway.
They knew he rubbed your swollen feet after shifts. They knew he was "ridiculously overprotective." They knew he called you "doctor" sarcastically whenever you forgot to take care of yourself.
They knew you adored him, but they didn't know his name.
And somehow, over months of working together, nobody ever asked. Or maybe they had once and gotten distracted by a trauma alert halfway through.
That was the thing about the ER. Conversations happened infragments.
So your husbands became this faceless mythical man everyone pieced together from tiny details.
And because you were basically sunshine in human form (You were the warmest, most patient, endlessly kind person), everyone imagined your husband accordingly.
Probably some sweet elementary school teacher. Or a soft-spoken accountant. Or maybe a stay-at-home husband who baked sourdough and wore cardigans.
Definitely not Brendon Park. Absolutely not him.
The first time most of the ER really met Brendon was during a motorcycle trauma.
The ortho pager had gone off twenty minutes earlier and everyone was already stressed. The patient had multiple fractures, a discolated shoulder, and enough road rash to make the interns pale.
Then he walked in. Tall, broad-shouldered. No greeting, no wasted movement, just immediate assessment,
"X-rays," his voice cut through the chaos.
Someone handed them over. Brendon studied them for maybe three seconds.
"We'll prep OR two. I want vascular on standby."
Ogilvie beside him started talking. "So we were thinking—"
"No," Brendon interrupted without even looking at him. "You were guessing."
Silence. Ogilvie visibly shrank.
"Comminuted tib-fib fracture with displacement. If you'd waited another hour, he'd lose perfusion."
The room went still. Not because he was wrong, but because he was terrifying.
Then his eyes shifted toward you. And the entire atmosphere changed so subtly that nobody noticed it except maybe Santos.
Your shoulders relaxed just slightly. Brendon's expression remained unreadable, but his gaze lingered on you for half a second too long.
"You've been here since morning," he said flatly.
"Hello to you too."
"Did you eat?"
The room paused.
You looked midly defensive. "Yes."
"You're lying."
"I had crackers."
"That's not food."
Ogilvie who'd just been verbally executed stared between you both in confusion. The Shark did not do conversation, yet here he was arguing with you about crackers.
You rolled your eyes. "I'm busy."
"You're pregnant."
"And?"
"And you require actual nutrition."
Santos coughed to hide a laugh. Brendon ignored everybody. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and placed a protein bar beside your keyboard without saying anything else.
Then he turned and walked away. No goodbye or no explaination. He just left.
The ER collectively stared at the protein bar. Then at you. Then back at the protein bar.
Santos finally broke the silence. "...What the hell was that?"
You unwrapped the bar casually. "He gets grumpy when I forget to eat."
"You know Park the Shark?" Santos asked slowly.
You looked confused. "Brendon?"
The entire station froze at the first-name basis.
"What do you mean, Brendon?" Santos asked.
"That's his name."
"No one calls him Brendon."
"Oh," you took a bite of the protein bar. "I do."
After that, people started noticing things. Little things.
Like how Brendon only ever lingered in the ER when you were there. How he answered everyone else with clipped professionalism but always gave you full sentences.
How you somehow never seemed intimidated by him. Everyone else treated Brendon like a shark circling bloody water, you treated him like an annoyed housecat.
One afternoon, during a particularly miserable shift, you were sitting at the station rubbing your lower back.
"God," you muttered. "My husband bought six different pregnancy pillows."
Dana laughed. "Six?"
"He said the first five didn't have the right feeling."
"What does that even mean?"
"I don't even want to know."
Then Santos frowned. "Wait. Wasn't Park carrying a giant package into the parking lot yesterday?"
You didn't look up from your charting. "Probably."
"And didn't he get irritated at at someone who bumped into him because it caused him to drop it all?"
"Oh, that was ours."
Silence.
You blinked up. "What?"
Santos stared at you carefully. "You and Park live in the same building?"
"Oh." You smiled absentmindedly. "Yeah."
Another silence. Santos looked deeply concerned now.
"You're... close with him?"
You laughed. "I mean, I would hope so."
Nobody knew what to say to that. Because there was no way. No way.
You were married, pregnant even. Completely in love with your husband, whoever he was.
And Brendon Park looked at most human interaction like it personally offended him.
Yet somehow he kept appearing around you like a shadow, like it was gravity.
The rumors exploded after an incident at the cafeteria. You had been off your shift for exactly eleven minutes when Brendon walked into the cafeteria still in his scrubs.
And everyone noticed that. Because Brendon never went to the cafeteria (He barely seemed to consume food). He scanned the room once and found you immediately. THen walked over carrying a tray.
Without asking, he switched your coffee with a different one.
"You can't have that much caffeine."
You looked offended. "It was half-caf."
"It was basically battery acid."
"You tasted it?"
"You left it on the counter this morning."
Brendon sat across from you naturally, like this happened every day.
You pointed at his tray. "You got fries?"
"You wanted fries."
"I mentioned fries once."
"You cried about it."
"I was emotional that time."
"You threatened divorce."
The tables surrounding you stared. The conversation sounded disgustingly domestic.
Brendon pushed the fries toward you first before touching his own food. You stole half of them and he didn't complain.
Actually, he watched you eat with this faintly distracted expression that nobody had ever seen on his face before. Like he was making sure you were really eating.
Then your phone buzzed. You checked it and groaned.
"The husband says I forgot my appointment tomorrow."
Brendon immediately said, "Ten-thirty."
You looked at him. "I know."
"You forgot."
"I remembered eventually."
"You remembered because I reminded you."
The silence at the table became defeaning, like somehow everyone was staring at you. Brendon glanced around once, clearly unimpressed by the collective lack of intelligence.
Then his pager went off. And before leaving, he reached down and adjusted you chair closer to the table because you'd been sitting awkwardly with your belly.
The movement was instinctive, like he'd done this a million times. And it was weirdly intimate.
The second he disappeared, Langdon sat on the seat that Brendon just occupied.
"Oh my God."
You frowned. "What?"
He leaned forward carefully. "Are you having an affair with Brendon Park?"
You nearly choked on a fry. "What?"
"That man practically tucked you in!"
"He's just—"
"You literally just talked about threatening him with divorce!"
"My husband!"
"Exactly!"
You stared at him in disbelief before realization dawned.
"Oh my god."
"So, you are!"
"No I'm not, Frank."
"Then why does The Shark know your OB schedule?"
"Because he made it."
Silence. "...Made it?" Langdon repeated weakly."
"He color-coded the whole calendar."
He didn't speak. Then you laughed, actually laughed. Because suddenly the misunderstanding was hysterical. But before you could explain, a trauma alert blared overhead and the conversation died instantly.
Unfortunately for you, the rumor did not.
Within a week, the entire ER thought you were secretly involved with Brendon.
Not openly. Nobody confronted you directly again because you seemed so genuinely confused by the accusation.
But people whispered. The evidence kept piling up. Brendon carrying your bag without asking, appearing whenever you mentioned cravings, glaring at anyone who stressed you out, standing suspiciously close during procedures if you looked tired.
And worst of all? The way he looked at you when you weren't paying attention.
That's what really convinced people. Because Brendon looked at everyone else like they personally wronged him. He looekd at you like you were something precious.
Then one night, the ER was hell. Every bed was full, three ambulanced inbound, a drunk patient screaming in triage.
You were exhausted, hormonal, and dangerously close to crying. Then one of the newer interns snapped at you.
"Can we get another attending to handle this? Dr. L/N clearly isn't keeping up."
The station went silent. Your exhaustion sharpened into humiliation. And before you could answer, a voice cut through the room.
"No."
Everyone turned. Brendon stood near the doors, having apparently arrived seconds earlier. The intern straighted nervously.
"Repeat what you said."
The poor intern paled. "I didn't mean—"
"You questioned an attending physician with ten years of emergency medicine experience while you can barely place an IV."
The room became deathly still. Brendon's voice never rose which somehow made it scarier.
"You will either assist competently or get out of her department."
Her department. The possessiveness in those words hit everybody like a truck.
The intern muttered an apology. Brendon didn't even look at him again. Instead, he turned to you.
"You're shaking."
"I'm fine."
Brendon's hand briefly touched the underside of your belly as he adjusted your position from the station edge.
It was gentle. So different from the cold surgeon everyone knew.
And suddenly Santos understood. Not the affair, but something else. Something much bigger.
"Oh my god," she whispered.
Dennis looked at her. "What?"
But she was staring at Brendon. At the wedding band hidden beneath his gloves as he reached for the chart. At the identical band you wore on a chain around your neck because pregnancy swelling made your fingers ache.
At the way you entire body relaxed when he was near. At the way he knew every tiny thing about you.
Not like a lover, like a husband.
"Oh my god," Santos repeated louder.
You looked up. Brendon looked annoyed already, like he sensed where this was going.
Santos pointed between the two of you. "You're married."
You blinked. "Yeah?"
Brendon closed his eyes briefly like this was exhausting.
You looked genuinely baffled. "Who else would we be married to?"
Chaos. Absolute chaos.
"You let us think she was cheating on her husband?!" Santos yelled at Brendon.
Brendon looked unimpressed. "That sounds like a you problem."
"You never said—"
"Well, nobody asked."
"You literally acted like you hated each other!"
You burst out laughing. "What? No we don't."
Brendon looked down at you. And for the first time ever, in front of the entire ER, his expression softened completely.
Not subtly or barely there, but fully. Warm eyes. Affection. Something that was gentle.
Park the Shark was apparently somebody's husband. Somebody's incredibly devoted husband. And somehow that was more shocking than if he'd announced he killed people.
And somehow, from that day on, things became infinitely worse. Because now everyone noticed everything.
The quiet touches. The instinctive teamwork. The fact that Brendon always knew where you were in the hospital. The way he softened only for you.
The way you could make the scariest surgeon in the building carry your snacks and hold your coffee and rub circles into your back between traumas.
And worst of all?
Now the ER knew that every horrifyingly domestic story you told about your husband had been all about Brendon Park all along.
Which completely destroyed their ability to fear him properly anymore. Especially after they heard him answer your phone one day with:
"Baby, why are you calling me from upstairs?"
thank you for reaching until the end! i'd love to know what you thought about this story anddddd if you'd like to see more ;)
✶ pairing | jack abbot x f!reader, michael robby robinavitch x f!reader
✶ word count | 2.4k for part 01
✶ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; oral (f receiving in this part), face sitting, undefined age gap, switching pov, begging, dirty talk, pet names, enthusiastic pussy eating, edging, orgasm control, squirting, threesomes, sharing is caring, porn with emotion, porn with plot, mild angst, wet n messy, desperate, robby has a crush on abbot's girl, undefined relationship, praise kink, part 02 is going to be all smut
✶ summary | Paris is lovely this time of year, isn't it?
✶ notes | aka alternatively titled call me eiffel. un-betaed atm. part 02 will be up sometime over the next few days. i tossed in a yes chef reference lmao. dedicated to my lovely sister @pulseistacky~
From slogging through medical school together before he enlisted to quick blink-and-you-miss-him encounters, Jack Abbot was a constant in Robby's life. The Holmes to his Sherlock, the Jim West to his Artemus Gordon: the dynamic duo tasked with wrangling the Wild, Wild West that was the PTMC.
And while they were close in age, in addition to sharing a love of complaining about how technology ruled the world and Mayo Clinic articles rotted the brains of their patients, Jack was several years younger, hovering on the cusp of over the hill but not quite — not yet.
As such, he deferred to Robby's seniority when the matter called for it much like how Robby preferred to yield to Abbot's judgement when situations got a little too personal.
Not only was Abbot a widowed combat medic who might as well have been a chef in another life, he attended a weekly yoga class, and surrounded himself with a regular circle of friends — albeit small as it was.
Meanwhile, Robby was just... Robby.
His diet consisted of burnt coffee and cheap freezer meals, the extent of his exercise regiment (if you could call it that) was walking to the PTMC for his shifts, and the last time he got laid — let alone went on a date with someone — ChatGPT didn't exist.
So when Abbot approached him after yet another unscheduled shift with a smirk, rattling a can of beer and motioning towards the park, he followed. A little buzz and bullshitting between old friends was far preferable to the stale silence waiting for him at home.
The world ground to a startling halt, and Robby choked on a mouthful of beer. Shamefaced — floundering — flustered.
Leaning against the bench with a mean spirited smile, Abbot looked as nonchalant and unbothered as ever. Like he hadn't just asked him how long he's wanted to taste his cute, questionably young girlfriend-not-girlfriend's sweet pussy — how hard he came when he imagined fucking her until she cried.
Then he propositioned him. Said it was your idea.
But it couldn't have been — not completely — not if the impish glint in Abbot's eyes was any indication. Robby must not have been the only one who noticed the way you looked at him. Those coquettish blinks and considering once overs; the soft giggles and shy smiles (that kiss tucked in the corner of your mouth a secret he longed to unearth).
This seemed like a terrible, world-ending-friendship-ending joke.
"What, uh, what're you — I— Jack…"
"Don't worry, brother," Abbot reassured, his voice low and rough with amusement. "Nothing wrong with lookin'. Besides, I don't mind if it's you. She's been eyein' you up lately too."
Oh, what the fuck.
Abbot scratched his jaw. "That said, I'm not gonna let you fuck her but…" He trailed off with a shrug.
"But?" Robby parroted, mouth dry and tacky as he struggled to swallow. His heart thundered in his ears, his hands shaking where they clasped the aluminum can like a lifeline. "What're you saying, Jack?"
"My mother taught me how to share — within reason." His eyes glinted beneath the jaundiced glow of the lamppost. A flash of his teeth like the grinning maw of a wolf before it gobbled you up. "Whaddya say? I think it could be fun."
Robby opened his mouth to respond, words molasses thick.
Time contracted, constricted.
Robby stumbled to Abbot's house in a haze.
Jittery with anticipation — with dread — a great, awful churning in his stomach. He worried he might puke as his heart threatened to burst out from beneath the cage of his ribs and tumble to the ground with a sickening wet splat.
Was Abbot really okay with this — was Robby?
After months of fantasizing — of stripping his cock raw to the thought of how soft and wet your pussy was — of blowing his load as he imagined the exact pitch of your moans and the taste of your cum — could he go back to business as usual once it was over?
But then he was being ushered inside and there was no more time to overthink. The lock sliding into place rang through the entrance, a noose around the neck. Final. No going back.
This was a mistake. Maybe if he was quick enough...
Robby swallowed, hands flexing by his sides.
Before he could bolt, you sashayed into the room graceful and collected. Greeted them both with a coy smile and playful waggle of fingers. His thoughts dissolved like incense smoke, curling through the air in wispy tendrils as his awareness narrowed in on you.
"Hi boys," you said, then nodded towards Robby, "I'm glad you decided to join us."
How could I say no?
Only your attention — blinding as the sun — didn't last because once you got close enough, Abbot pounced.
He reached for you, his strong arms pulling you into his chest as you wasted no time in winding a hand over the nape of his neck, fingers delving into disheveled curls.
Robby's stomach swooped at the wet smack of your mouths meeting in a filthy kiss, your softness yielding to the greedy pulls of Abbot's lips as he tangled your tongues together. Then your eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring into your soul, enraptured and unable to look away as you licked your way into another man's mouth.
So pretty with your mouth slack and eyes half-lidded — blissed out and needy. If this was how sensitive you were from a kiss, how would you be with a dick shoved deep inside your tight little cunt?
... Is this what you looked like when you came, cum-drunk and half-conscious?
Hapless, he watched as the tip of your tongue — wet and glittering beneath the light — traced the seam of Abbot's lips. His blood thrummed hot and heavy in his veins; a pounding pulse. Envy hooked behind his navel, sharp and unwelcome, as he choked on his breath.
Fuck.
His cock jolted against his thigh, and he couldn't help but think about forcing you to your knees so he could stuff your mouth full, that slick muscle lapping kitten soft along his shaft and bathing his balls until they dripped with spit.
Wished, not for the first time, it was him you clung to so desperately — the one you dug your nails into as you gasped.
Distraction!
He needed a distraction.
— There.
Across the room a strange piece of art hung slightly askew. All bold, impressionistic brush strokes and muddled blobs of color; it no doubt cost Abbot a criminal amount of money to obtain. Though from a certain angle the painting looked like something done by an angry toddler. Fit for the fridge, but not the wall.
If he had to guess, he'd say it was your doing.
Goddamnit.
There he went thinking about you again; a never-ending cycle. One that plagued him since he met you all those months ago, running through his mind like a broken record player: you, you, you.
Before he spiralled further into hysteria — the wet smacking of your mouths and heavy exhales dripping down his spine like candle wax — a hand settled over his forearm. The soft touch tugged him from the depths of his thoughts.
"Come on," you said, leading him (weak-kneed and jelly limbed) into the bedroom, "let's get comfortable, Baby."
Under the guidance of your gentle palms and peppered kisses, he stipped naked and settled flat on his back. His fingers fisted in clean sheets as the sea-salt bite of Abbot's cologne and something distinctly warm and musky — feminine — clogged his nose. Made his cock chub up until it throbbed, pre-cum oozing down the shaft in thick, sticky strings that pooled in the soft divot of his belly.
"Just relax, man," Abbot said. He disrobed, prosthetic leaned against the side table, and slotted himself into place in front of the headboard. Plush pillows cushioned his back as his thighs stretched out across the mattress, the toes of his left foot flexing. "She doesn't bite unless you ask nice."
Then you were slinging your leg over his body, knees anchored around his shoulders with your pussy hovering over his face; pretty folds spread wide and slick with arousal. He almost went cross-eyed, hissed out a low curse between clenched teeth. Struggled to keep his hands to himself (you didn't say he could touch, not yet) when your clit throbbed.
But fuck, he wanted to feel you pulse and quiver on his tongue. Smother him as you soaked him in your cum until he went light-headed and dizzy. "Please," he murmured. "Want to taste you."
Your hand reached between your thighs to pet at his face, lowered your hips until you sat flush against his mouth. Soft, warm, salty, sticky; smearing across his skin.
You sigh, "Robby."
He moaned, his mouth dropping open to pant against your pussy as the vibrations of his noise riccochetted up your spine. Then your back bowed and your legs clamped down on the sides of his head, crushing his ears. Pressure built in his temples — the soft spots aching.
He didn't even care, so far gone the only thing he could focus on was the silken clutch of your body. His tongue snaked out, the tip drawling languid circles around the swollen bud of your clit.
With every high pitched whine and low, wounded whimper, he cared less and less about how he got here and more about when he'd feel you drench his beard in squirt (he knows you can — Abbot bragged the first time it happened and Robby'll be damned if he stops before you're absolutely dumb and dripping).
"Oh, f-fuck!" you said. "That feels —"
Lips whispered over the length of you, your folds surrounded by the wet heat of his mouth as he traced your drooling entrance, the slick muscle of his tongue thrusting shallowly — taunting, teasing — as it chased after the taste of your pussy. Fingers tightened around your squirming hips, shackles that refused to let you pull away.
"He feel good, baby," Abbot asked, "like his mouth on your pretty pussy?"
Your shoulders curled in as your hands shot out to find some stability on Abbot's thighs, nails digging into the dense muscle. "Mhm! Ah, s'good. Robby — don't stop. F-Faster."
What was that saying — can't teach an old dog new tricks?
Well, fuck that.
Robby might be old(er) but he'll prove to you how fast of a learner he was. Every press of his lips was an offering as his tempo increased, his tongue twisting and lapping over every inch of your slit faster and faster. Your body jolted with every talented flick and your clit pulsed between his lips when he sucked the hard bud into his mouth.
"Ohmygod, right there — yeah, yeah. Suck on my clit, please—please—please. You're making my pussy feel s'good, Robby, I can't— hng!"
Slick gushed across his lips and into his mouth as your hips rocked down onto his face. Fuck. He was lightheaded. Your scent — your heat — your everything surrounded him. Consumed him until his thoughts were weighted down. Sluggish to come and even slower to go.
Tiny little snapshots of what's happened and what more he wanted to do before the night was out; brain getting ahead of his body as more pre-cum spurted out across his pelvis, his hips rocking up futilely for the wet friction of your body.
Calm down.
Abbot chuckled, raspy and burning with arousal. "Yeaaah, you're feelin' it. You already look cum drunk and he hasn't even really started yet."
You whimpered, head dropping to hang between your shoulders. A flush of heat oozed down your spine, thready and thick like warmed honey. Spread between your hips and pooled behind your navel. Every nerve ending sparked to life. You shuddered as the friction of Robby's coarse beard rubbed you raw.
"Shit, you look so fuckin' good like this." Abbot pumped his cock in a loose fist, thumb teasing the swollen crown. His eyes laser focused on the pretty picture you made sitting on his best friend's face. He never thought he was one for sharing but… "Could watch him eat that pretty pussy for hours. Fuck," Abbot squeezed the base of his shaft, a pearl of pre-cum oozing out of the slit, "I just might have to get my own taste of you, huh."
You clenched, head spinning as your stomach swooped. Electricity crackled down your spine. The thought of that talented tongue in your pussy alongside Robby's eager lips kissing and sucking your clit, their tongues tangled together and playing in your slick as they made you cum over and over again until the sheets were drenched and you shook with pleasure almost ended you then and there.
"Please, want it - want it so, so much. Please."
Robby groaned, working his jaw side to side as he sucked and slurped and swallowed. He released your folds with a soft, sticky pop. Then pressed a tender, open-mouthed kiss to your pulsing clit to hear you whine. "Sh, it's okay," he said, moist breath ghosting over your slit. "I got you — m'not going anywhere. Gonna be so good to you, baby."
You hiccupped, a tear squeezing past your clenched eyes. "Please." You weren't sure what you were begging for but you needed something — anything to happen. You felt like you were about to burst out of your skin, bones rattling and nerves buzzing with barely leashed energy. "I can't."
Robby replied, "You can."
"See, Sunshine?" A hand cupped your jaw and tilted your face up. Your blurry gaze snagged on Abbot's. He devoured your expression, brushed a thumb over the slack give of your mouth. Tugged until your teeth showed. "You got us right where you want us."
Robby murmured in agreement, petting his hand over the outside of your hip as he nuzzled his nose into the crease of your thigh. Teeth nibbled their way down your inseam before retracing a path back up towards your center, little kisses of pain. Your hips wiggled and Robby buried his face as far as he could between your legs. The bridge of his nose ground into the top of your slit.
"O-Oh, fuck, Robby!"
You tried so, so hard to stay still — Abbot trained you well — but it was nigh impossible. Every messy flick of Robby's tongue felt like a live-wire. And once you started grinding down on his face, peeking between your thighs to see the flushed tops of his cheeks and fever-bright eyes, you couldn't stop.
"Hey now," Abbot interjected, "I'm starting to feel a little left out so why don't you put that pretty mouth to work and make me feel good too?"
part 02 dropping soon | feedback is always apprecaited
★word count: 2.6k
★description: you finally have a night off (ish) after a busy week of work. lucky for you, you can do whatever you want. unlucky for you, soap takes that to mean he can drag you (and the rest of TF141) to the pub. extremely fortunate for you, then, is the fact that simon riley is there to make it all better <3
★content: this is smut. don't like, don't read! MDNI! they get freaky in bed, consensual somno (it's not explicit, but i have written this as if it were consensual), established relationship (reveal at the end hehe)
roe speaks: i've recently been playing back through the cod games (again... i know...) and have been plagued with a simon riley fixation that i just can't shake off! also the green from the moodboard reminds me of the first mission in mw2 (2022) (the night vision). anyway, enjoy this post-gym fic i wrote up tonight <3 anyway im gonna go dream ab that picture on the right tonight teehee
You had a routine. The same old, usual bullshit - day in, day out. Monday to Friday, rest day on Saturday, prep day on Sunday. Sometimes, you'd give yourself a little leeway though, like tonight. After all, the rest of the team was out here for drinks too - so why not, hmm?
So here you are - in some random pub Soap had dragged you all to. Nursing a shitty beer, trying not to get your arms on the weird sticky surface every pub's tables had. It's loud (as it always is, on a Friday night), and you can barely hear yourself think. Gaz and Soap have been eyeing the karaoke machine for a while, leaving you all alone with Captain Price, making small talk as the two of you avoid proper conversation. Well… you're not really all alone.
The room shifts around you as he walks in - six foot four, towering over everyone as he swaggers over towards your table. You don't turn around (but then again, you dont need to. You know he's here), sipping at your beer as Price scoffs and shakes his head,
"Not how you drink that-"
"I know."
"And yet here you are, sippin' away like a baby."
"Fuck else am I supposed to do - tastes like shit, Cap."
"Can't deny that- Simon. Nice of you to join us."
His voice holds a consistent tone, until he acknowledges the other, a small inflection giving away his joy at seeing the still masked man. Price nods at him, and he nods back, taking a seat across from you. After he's finished his conversation with Price, he slowly turns to you - his eyes following after as he drinks you in.
The two of you lock eyes, and for a moment, both you and him know exactly how this night ends. But that's not an issue that either of you are willing to acknowledge at this point in time. As you have your slightly strange, very awkward moment, Price stands up and Gaz and Soap finally get their hands on the mics at the karaoke machine. He sighs, letting out an almost fatherly chuckle,
"Right then kids, steppin' out for a cig - don't call me unless you're dyin', or someone else's dyin', got it?"
..which was his own way of saying 'love you, but leave me the fuck alone tonight'. Neither you nor Simon stop him, watching him trail off and step outside. The two of you turn towards each other again, words tickling your tongues before you both think better.
One moment passes… and then a second… and a third, before you finally smile at him and get up, pointing towards the bar,
"I'm gonna go grab myself a new drink - can't stand this beer - you want anything?"
"I'm good."
"…cool…"
"…"
Your hips sway as you turn away from him, not realising how his eyes follow the way you move. Watching you as you order. There's something that tugs at him as he watches you giggle and play with your hair, leaning on the bar as you watch the bartender make your drink.
With their song finally over, both Gaz and Soap have had plenty of time to assess what's happening in front of them. And it's nothing short of a nuclear disaster, in their books! They pass their mics off onto the couple waiting patiently to sing after them, nodding to one another as Soap saunters over to Simon, and Gaz over to you,
"New drink, huh?"
"In my defence-"
"Shitty beer! Say less."
"Exactly! Ugh, why Soap insists on beers for everyone is.. beyond me."
"Some bullshit about it being the 'right drink', or something. So, whatcha drinkin' now?"
"Double Bells and coke."
He makes a low whistle, nodding appreciatively as he orders himself the same. As the two of you fall into a comfortable conversation, back at the table, Soap's just planted himself beside the not-so-stoic, struggling man,
"Lt!"
"Johnny."
"Preoccupied tonight, eh?"
"Never."
"I dunno Let, seems like ya mind's lost somewhere… perhaps on someone, even…"
"What're you tryna say, Johnny?"
"Nothing! Nothing…"
The two sit quietly (a stark difference to your and Gaz's bumbling gossiping away at the bar), hands shoved in pockets. It doesn't start out awkward, but with how Soap stares at him, and how the pub seems to suddenly feel so overpacked - he can't help but pull a face under the mask. He tugs off his jacket, letting his head roll back.
It's that exact moment that your eyes land on his stretched neck, watching how his Adam's apple bobs up and down and trying so very hard not to stare at the veins that colour his skin. You quickly tug yourself back into conversation, inhaling deep as you try to ignore what had just happened.
As both Gaz and Soap nod in some sort of success, Price walks back in - face dropped as he approaches the table. He turns to face Gaz and you, beckoning you over and then crossing his arms as he waits,
"Right. So. Our lovely Sergeants have fucked up their paperwork of the night - calling this lovely get together to a quick end. Unfortunately we'll just have to reschedule - understood?"
Both Sergeants moan and groan as Price practically drags them out of the pub. You miss the subtle wink he throws in Simon's direction, but don't miss the knowing eyebrow raise on his way out. Fortunately, that has brought a very awkward situation to an end… ish. Neither you nor Simon make any move to continue at the pub, leaving and catching the first bus back to your place. Despite all the places you had travelled, there was always a weirdly nostalgic feeling about Manchester at night. The slightly off-putting lights, the dinghy signs. Even better when slightly tipsy, riding a bus and stumbling back home.
As soon as the two of you stumble inside, you quickly fall into a well practiced rhythm - his hands pressing up against your waist, holding you up to the wall as he rips his mask off, and his lips find your neck. Your hands tangle into his dirty blonde hair, anchoring yourself to him as he lifts both of your legs and wraps them around his waist,
"Upstairs, now."
"So commanding - don't you get enough of that at work?"
"Oh, she wants sweet and soft tonight?"
"Hmmm… we'll have to see~"
He sighs, shaking his head as you wrap your arms around him, pressing kisses to the side of his face. As he walks the two of you into the bedroom, he lowers you onto the bed, and you elt your arms fall from him. Unlike before, there's no awkwardness as the two of you stare at each other. There's no weirdness between you as both you and him quickly strip down to nothing, as he lowers his own body - letting it loom over you and cage you in.
He can't deny how his cock twitches when you whine like that.
You take the moment, flipping him over as you take control (for now) (or does he let you take control?). He's briefly taken back, before he rolls his eyes, leaning against the headrest. One hand reaches out to flick on the nightlamp, casting a soft amber glow around the room and upon the two of you. And as the cold Manchester night rumbles on with winds and bursts of rain, the two of you finally bring yourselves together.
He runs a finger up your folds, before parting them, playing with the slick as you inhale sharply. Your hands find his shoulders and he moves his to your waist, helping you lower yourself onto him. You wrap your thighs around him, rocking back and forth as you slowly accomodate his thick length. His head drops to your shoulder, breathing in the scent of you as it mixes with his, and the sweet tang that begins to fill the room starts to waft in between. His eyes flit open as he groans, urging you to go faster,
"Patience, Simon-"
"Patience? Don't talk to me about bloody patience, love."
"What, the great Ghost can't practice a little restraint?"
"…"
"Awhh.. poor baby… sulking and sighing and-"
"Do you want to be in control?"
"Yes!"
"Do you want to stay in control?"
You roll your eyes but comply anyway, picking up the pace as you roll your hips up and down. His hands help, pulling and pushing your body. You tell yourself you're letting him help, but both you and him know it's not that. Still, you won't stop him - not when you feel so perfect, with his cock filling you in ways you had missed so desperately. Except right as it starts to feel like that, he stops. He holds your hips in place, pulling his cock out of you and ignoring your pathetic whines as he turns you around - facing the long, full length mirror in front of your bed as he pulls you back down onto him.
And now you're presented with the sight of you - legs wide open, back pressed against his chest as his mouth finds your ear, whispering softly,
"Sorry love - let me take over tonight, yeah? You can have another night."
"Not fair, Si-"
"Shhhh, it's okay, it's okay - I'll make it up to ya."
"You better.."
He hooks his arms under your legs, lifting them up and practically folding you on his cock. Your hands rest on his arms as shaky breaths trickle out of your throat - he's so much deeper than he ever was before, reaching further into you as he thrusts in and out at a pace that you know will have you sore in the morning. The need for him begins to envelope you, a thick haze clouding your mind with thick, lustful mists. You try to claw at him, to anchor yourself to him, and your nails practically dig into his heavily tattoo'd arms. Not that he minds. He never minds.
"So pretty and fucked out f'me, huh? Don't pass out on me yet."
"I- o-oh, that's it, right th-there!! I wo-n't~!"
"Good girl."
"Oh!"
The validation has you clenching around him as he chuckles, slamming his hips into you faster as your body falls forward from him. The two of you move into a position that has his arms caging you in, pinning you down to the bed as your hips move back into his. Your back arches and you feel one hand lower to your stomach as the other trails further.
The one on your stomach presses down as he kisses your neck, speaking into your skin as vibrations rumble through your body,
"Feel that, right there? That's me, fillin' ya up."
"F-fuck, Si-"
"I know, baby. Gonna fill you, don't you worry."
You only moan in response, body slumping as he drives you closer and closer to your release. The other hand finds your clit, rolling slow circles whilst you try not to buck your hips back into his (and fail miserably). As you get closer and closer, your hands dig into the bedsheets below - tugging at them whilst your brain drives itself over the edge, filled with a maddening desire for him, him and only him. You make the mistake of looking up in the mirror, meeting your own eyes (overtaken by a hazy lust) before finding his own eyes. When you do, he slams into you one last time as you cry out - entirely overwhelmed as you shake in his arms, small whines and moans whispering out of your throat.
The two of you stay still for a while, with him whispering slow, sweetened praises into your ear as you bring yourself back to reality. He slides out of you - taking his time, letting both you and him enjoy every inch before repositioning you in bed. With you now on your back, he trails kisses down your body.
Your neck.
Your chest.
Your nipples - the very peaks, before swirling his tongue around both.
Your stomach, and finally all the way down to your folds - coated with cum. He holds your thighs apart, pressing down with his hands to ensure you won't close your legs around his head (not that he'd mind if you did) before licking one long, unhurried stripe up your folds - stopping at your clit. His mouth latches on, sucking at your clit with a vigour that you just can't match as you cry and grab at his hair. Your hips rock up into his mouth, overwhelmed by his expert ministrations.
But he doesn't slow down. Instead, he removes his mouth from your clit - replaced with three fingers that swipe over with a maddening pace - and moves to your folds. As his fingers work tirelessly over your aching clit, his tongue plunges in and out of you. He laps up each and every drop that leaks out of you, all as you writhe and shake underneath him. You're rolling your head back, pushing your hips into his face and he's chuckling and humming over your clit. The sensation sends shivers up and down your spine as you attempt to clench your thighs around his face - held back by his hands still pressing down. Still, you cum fast and quick on his tongue. He works through, swirling his tongue through your folds as he ruts himself into the bed below. His cock leaks onto the bedsheets, sure to ruin them as he grinds down to relieve himself, his mouth still pressed firmly against you.
The last thing you realise before you pass out from the sheer overwhelming nature of it all is how he spells his name out - one letter at a time - into you.
You're not sure how long he spent with his head between your thighs, but if previous nights were any indication to go by, he probably stayed there well past you passing out. All you know is that when you wake up to the sounds of birds chittering outside, wrapped up in the arms of the man you love so very dearly, you feel nothing but content. Your head rests on his chest as you lazily draw patterns into his skin - tracing over his tattoos, trailing your nails up his skin as he sleeps-
"Oi - quit it, you."
His voice holds no real malice, nor any actual wish for you to stop as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. In respose, you hum, pressing a kiss to his chest and looking up at him. Oh, how he missed your doe shaped eyes, staring up so peacefully back into his own soft blue eyes. One hand finds your back, drawing circles onto your skin as the two of you slowly wake up,
"Been a while, hmm?"
"Mmm."
"Si?"
"Yes, love?"
"When are we gonna tell 'em?"
"Who?"
"Gaz and Soap?"
"…"
"Simon…"
"I dunno, love.."
"It's been three years. I'm tired of pretending! It was funny at the time, only having Laswell, Price, Nik and a few others in on the wedding-"
He sighs, closing his eyes as memories of you in your dress, twirling around flood his memory. Only to be quickly replaced by memories of him practically tearing you out of the dress, pounding into you all night as-
"Simon?"
"Huh?"
"You zoned out?"
"Oh.. erm.. we'll tell 'em soon-ish?"
You roll your eyes, closing them again and letting yourself drift off to sleep. Whilst outside, as morning birds sang their songs and two tired Sergeants stumbled out of base (oh, if only they knew!) - desperately seeking a bed and sleep, in here, the two of you had made your own sweet paradise.
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summary logan and hannah accidentally walk in on dean making out with his tutor.
contains suggestive content, making out, dean really likes reader's boobs, they get caught (shocker...), down bad dean, mutual pining wc 4k
a/n ive been too busy to sit down and write but this was so fun and silly to write!! likes and reblogs are appreciated :)!!
"I'm just tutoring him."
"That's what Hannah said," Allie states, tone laced with sarcasm. "Now look where she is."
You fight the urge to roll your eyes at the assumption, more so annoyed by the fact that she may be right, even if you don't want to admit it.
You've been tutoring Dean for the past two months, and what starts off as a horrible agreement that you regretted with your entire being turned into an anticipated two hours study that you now look forward to.
Ironic.
At first, you did it for the extra cash. It's easy money, you couldn't refuse the tempting offer when you were already struggling to get by with a part time job. Not only did it pay better, but it consumed less of your time.
It's a good deal, you couldn't pass it down when Dean was practically begging on his knees for you to accept it. He once sent over his hockey teammates just to cozy you up into accepting his offer, causing a whole humiliation ritual in the cafeteria while he watched from the side with puppy eyes and a pout formed across his lips.
It was a ridiculous sight, made you fume for days before finally calming down and eventually agreeing to help him. You regretted it in an instant, watching as a cocky, taunting smile smears all over his face, screaming at you to get away and avoid trouble.
But you didn't. Instead, you showed up, even if you dreaded it, and considered it the worst part of your day. In your defense, Dean is very annoying, and wouldn't take you seriously unless you flashed him a life-threatening glare that would end him in the spot.
He'd pretend not to understand things just to rile you up and make you scold him, almost as if he enjoyed it, amused by the way your face twists into a sour expression. Then comes apologizing, where his voice lowers into a whisper, and you'd fight the urge not to fold over the hushed apologies he mutters to you while tracing soothing patterns to your hand.
You don't know when, or how it starts, but the dreaded sessions suddenly turn into something you look forward to. Two hours oscillate into three then eventually four, until you both lose track of time, and forget the entire reason to you being there.
You hate it, how easy going he is, and how his dimples form when he flashes you a smile, or chuckles at a stupid joke you make just to earn a reaction out of him. Or how your stomach flutters with butterflies when he sits too close, or teases you with that taunting tone that makes you melt.
You hate how easy it is for him to be near you, when you're short of breath half of the time he's around. It's absurd how the compliments he gives you roll off the tongue, like it's natural for him, like he doesn't flirt with half of the girls on campus.
He probably thinks it's some joke, something that started and now you can't seem to get away from it. You know you shouldn't, this is Dean Di Laurentis, everyone knows he's trouble, and you shouldn't have let him cross your boundaries, or get to you with a few flirtatious comments, but somehow he did, and now you're in too deep to end things.
So the least you can do right now is deny it. Deny anything even happened, even though your friends can see right through your lies.
"Like I said," you start, "Nothing's going on between us, I'm simply tutoring him."
"Oh, for fuck' sake." Allie shoots back, "The whole campus thinks you're dating. You know how serious that is for Dean Di Laurentis?"
"It's just rumors, nothing more. People thinking we're together doesn't mean that we are." You mumble, rolling your eyes with offense. "You wouldn't catch me with Dean Di Laurentis even if my life depends on it."
"I call bullshit." Hannah chants from the side, shifting the attention to her.
"Hannah!" You shout, as Allie perks from her seat in agreement. "You're supposed to take my side, why are you feeding into her delusion?!"
"It's not delusion if everyone sees it," Hannah shrugs her shoulders, approaching your bed. "C'mon, I'm dating his best friend, that man never stops talking about you."
"You're lying," Allie gasps, scooting close to Hannah as she throws herself next to her. Her gaze shifts back to you, eyebrows pinching with frustration. "She never tells me stuff!"
"That's because nothing happens." You reason, exhaling with fake annoyance. "We're barely even friends, I doubt he thinks of me like that."
"Calling bullshit again," Hannah's head tilts towards you, not believing a word you muttered. "Have you seen the way that man speaks about you?"
"Stop it!" Allie slaps Hannah's side, excitment visible on her face. "Tell me about it! he mentioned her often?"
"She's all he talks about," Hannah turns back to Allie, ignoring your presence and pretending you're not even there. "Once he stayed by my side for an entire party just to ask about her interests."
"He did that?" You mutter, feigning oblivion to the teasing smile Hannah flashes you. "Okay, why are you talking as if I'm not even here?"
"Oh, come on you have to admit, he likes you." Allie chimes in, "I've never not seen Dean Di Laurentis not have sex at a party. What do you mean he gave that up just to talk about you?"
"Okay," you mumble, slightly convinced. You settle for shaking off that feeling, "That doesn't mean anything, he can, not have sex if he wants, how does that involve me?"
"I need to knock some sense into her," Allie huffs, falling back into the bed. "Do something, Hannah."
"I tried," Hannah pouts, joining Allie's side with disappointment. "She's such an idiot."
"Hey!" Your brows pinch with annoyance, as you sling your backpack over your shoulder. "Anyways, I'm leaving. Do you guys need anything?"
"Where are you going?" Hannah questions, sitting up along with Allie.
"I have a tutoring session with Dean." You reply.
"Oh my God." Allie says under her breath.
"Wait, I'm coming with." Hannah gets up, heading towards her room to grab her stuff.
"Are you going in that?" Allie questions, gaze flickering to the baggy shirt covering all your curves.
"What's wrong with it?" You ask, glancing down as you grab into the hems of it.
"Dress up a little, will you?" Allie groans, grabbing into you as she walks towards her closet.
"You're acting as if I'm going to a party." You mumble, face scrunching with confusion when she throws a pink, spaghetti strapped top over to you.
"Wear this." She orders, observing you with anticipation.
You don't argue, because doing so will only lead to more arguing, and Allie won't give up unless you admit defeat. Instead, you sigh, taking off your shirt and throw the soft material over your head.
It... complements you. Definitely not appropriate for a tutoring session, but you know exactly what Allie intents when she handed it over to you. It scrunches around your chest, showing a bit of cleavage, and it displays all your curves, curling at your waist, and showing the sliver of skin around your stomach.
Then, before you can argue, she throws a denim skirt in your direction, lips pressing into a a thin line as she waits for you to take off your pants.
You do. It's not like you really have a choice.
Your pants slide off your legs easily, soon replaced by the skirt she handed you, which complements the top well. It rests comfortably around your hips, the length of it reaching just below your inner thighs, covering enough for you to not pick a fight.
"I still don't think this is appropriate for a tutoring session." You start, admiring yourself in the mirror.
"Oh, shut it." She huffs, grabbing a necklace and a few bracelets for you to wear. "Here, put these on, I'll find you a pair of sneakers that match with your outfit."
"That's not needed!" You shout, but she ignores it as she digs deep into her closet, only coming back up when she pulls out a white pair of shoes, decorated with a bit of pink.
"Here." She offers them to you, waiting for you to put them on.
"What's taking you so–" Hannah's sentence cuts short as she stills in her spot, taking a moment to admire your outfit. "Oh."
"It's too much, isn't it?" You complain, ready to slide off your top.
But before you can proceed with your action, Hannah perks up again. "No wait!" she says, approaching you. "You look amazing."
"Hannah." Your lips form into a pout, shoulders relaxing with defeat.
"I'm not sure Dean can handle all that." Allie murmurs, checking you out with an amused expression spread all over her face. "You look so sexy, holy shit."
"You did your big one, Al." Hannah shoots back, fist bumping Allie with her attention still glued to you.
"So dramatic," you roll your eyes, failing to hide the smile smothered across your lips. "Should we leave?"
"Oh, yeah." Hannah nods, "We definitely should."
"Is it too late to go back home?" You anxiously look back at Hannah, who's a moment away from knocking on the door.
"Probably," Hannah shrugs her shoulders, glimpsing between you and the door. "Dean's expecting you any second now, Garrett said he's camping by the door for you."
"But–" You start, cutting your sentence short when Hannah sends you a death glare.
With no hesitation, Hannah knocks on the door, barely giving you time to process the gesture before the door's wide open.
Your eyes widen with shock at how quickly the door unlatches, gaze instantly shifting to Dean, whos eyes land on Hannah with a tight-lipped smile that displays his dimples.
"Wellsy!" He leans against the door, feighning surprise, as if he hasn't been waiting for your arrival for the past hour. His attention lands on you, breath cutting short when his eyes lock with yours. He mutters your name, deliberate, quiet, if you weren't paying such close attention, you would've missed it. "Hi."
"Hey."
Tension seeps into the air, and you're sure it's obvious in the way your body tenses, stilling in your spot as Dean's eyes travel from your head, all the way down your legs, then back up again. You fight the urge to come up with an excuse as to why you're dressed up today, but settled on silence when Dean huffs out a ragged breath, one he didn't know he was holding.
"I was waiting for you." He doesn't think when he speaks, mouth moving faster than his brain could process. He clears his throat, cheeks flushing a deep shade of red as he realizes what he said, quickly correcting himself. "Since you're tutoring me. I wasn't sure if you wanted it to take place here, or maybe in the library, since–"
"You don't have to explain yourself," You nervously scratch the back of your neck, an awkward chuckle tumbling past your lips. "I'll make up for it, since I'm a bit late today, sorry."
"Oh, it's totally fine." He emphasizes the 'totally', nodding his head with comprehension. "Should we..." he trails off, stepping to the side. "Come on in."
"About time," Hannah rolls her eyes, walking past Dean into the house. He almost chuckles, face growing serious when you follow behind your friend, nervously fidgeting with yours fingers.
Logan perks up from the couch at the sight of you, tilting his head back as a sigh of relief escapes his throat. "Ugh, finally."
"Hi," you wave, chuckling even though you're confused. Dean closes the door, following behind you as you step up the stairs.
"I'm glad you're here." Logan states before you can disappear, continuing when your eyebrows pinch with confusion. "I've never seen someone this excited to study, he's mentioned you like a million times in the past hour alone."
"John Logan." Dean's tone laces with embarrassment, the threat barely heard through his gritted teeth.
"Oh, be nice to him," you joke, glancing towards Dean from over your shoulder, who's far too busy observing the way your hips sway back and forth to pay your gaze the attention.
The walk up the stairs feels like an eternity, but you eventually get to Dean's room, door instantly clicking shut once you're both inside.
Dean leans against the door, taking a moment to admire as you throw yourself on the bed, making yourself comfortable as you grab out your school stuff. Your head shoots up with confusion once you take notice, lips jutting into a slight pout as you utter your next words.
"Are you not sitting down?"
You ignore the tension cutting through when he flashes you a lazy smile, taunting, yet teasing, tugging at the strings of your heart and making your stomach flutter with butterflies. Your gaze flickers back to your supplies, taking a deep breath to get a hold of yourself.
Why's it so difficult to control yourself?
Dean doesn't say a word, simply walking over to you before he positions himself next to you. He sits close, too close you can smell his musky cologne that impales all your senses, and feel his breath as it lightly fans over your exposed arms.
You cut to the chase, starting your tutoring session like you normally do. Everything's going smoothly, and you're nearing the end of it, but something else is weighing down your chest.
You can clearly feel Dean's gaze on you, burning holes through your skin and flustering you into a mess. Your words stammer past your lips, and a deep breath drags out before you're fed up, finally looking up from the textbook. Your eyes shift to Dean, who's propped against his elbows, too comfortable to move, or take his eyes off of you.
"Someone's paying close attention." You tilt your head, tone filling with sarcasm. Dean laughs at the abrupt change of atmosphere, head leaning back for a moment before his eyes are on you again.
"For sure." He goes along with the 'joke', entertained by the sassiness laced in your voice.
"What did I just say?" You question, your words more of a challenge.
"Don't put me in the spot." He cooes, and if not for how annoyed you are, you would've folded in the spot.
"You're not paying attention!" You state, causing the boy to scrunch his nose with defeat.
"Alright, I'm sorry." He admits, barely earning a smile out of you. "I'll try to pay attention."
"And what's got your attention, Di Laurentis?"
"Something." He says, as he fidgets with the sheets covering the bed.
"And what would that something be?"
His gaze flickers to your cleavage, and it's swift, you would've missed it if you aren't paying such close attention. It's not on purpose. his face turns pale as soon as it happens, and he fight the urge to come up with an excuse as to why he looked, and why he did it right as you asked.
But you know. Deep down you know what's distracting him, and keeping him from paying attention.
"Oh." You mumble. It's barely coherent, but Dean still hears it, cursing under his breath in reaction.
"I'm..." His eyes force shut, head dipping with shame. "I'm trying really hard not to look."
"Wow," you chuckle, entertained by how guilty he seems. "Aren't you the gentleman?"
At that, Dean laughs, tension off his shoulder as his eyes travel back to you. "Trying to be," he reasons, voice lowering into a whisper. "But it's really hard when you look this pretty."
Your breath gets caught in your throat, and it's difficult to control the corners of your lips, tugging into a smile, barely visible, but it's there, enough for Dean to take it as a sign.
He inches close to you, leaning his head down as he traces small circles to your hand, ticklish, and making goosebumps breakout across your arms. You take his action as a challenge, leaning forward so there's barely any distance separating you.
He whispers your name, exhaling through his nose. Like your mere presence is tempting him, pulling at his strings. His gaze flickers down to your lips, keeping contact for a brief second before his eyes lock with yours again.
"You should probably tell me to stop." He states, forehead brushing against yours. His fingers trail up your arms, deliberate, yet casual, halting around the spaghetti strings of your top. He toys with the material, breath shuddering when his knuckles make contact with your bare skin.
"Probably," you repeat, fingers finding the curve of Dean's jaw. Your tone drops to match his, breath shaking as you mutter your next words. "But what if I don't want you to?"
That's the only sign Dean needs.
Dean ceases the distance separating you, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss, needy, and so desperate, it knocks a breath out of you. Your hands move to the back of his neck, grasping onto his hair as he kisses you numb, tugging and nibbling at your lips.
He bites down hard enough, the pressure of the action making you whimper, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. His tongue meets yours halfway, the warmness of his mouth engulfing the inside of yours in an instant.
Dean's hands trail wherever he can get them, traveling from your waist to your stomach, to your back, and back on your hips when you moan into the kiss. His fingernails dig into the skin, applying enough pressure for it to leave a mark, and the mere thought of that turns you on.
Your body leans into the touch, back arching as he rolls your hips against his knee. The fraction makes you feel funny, tingly all over, he doesn't give you a chance to process it before he does it again, entertained by the mess he creates out of you.
You mewl into the kiss, crying out in pleasure when he disconnects the kiss, not giving you a chance to complain before his lips are back on your skin again. Only this time, he kisses down your throat, licking and nipping at the curve of your jaw, then slowly kissing his way down your neck, where his teeth graze the delicate skin with so much want, you can feel the desperation in his action.
Dean groans against your skin, pressing slick, open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones, while one of his hands messages the exposed flesh of your cleavage. He kisses his way down, taking a mouthful of your chest the moment he has the chance to.
The kisses he litters to your chest are soft, the sensation like feathers on your skin. He presses another kiss, grazing his teeth over the flesh, licking the same spot to soothe any pain away.
"Dean," You whimper, head falling back as you press his face into your chest, chasing after the pleasure he's making you feel. "Please."
"Please what?" He mumbles, kissing your chest once more before he straightens again, sitting up as one of his knees separate your legs, giving him enough space to stand in between.
His hand caresses soft circles to your cheek, now hovering over you, with his legs dipping into the mattress. Then, with a thumb to your chin, he forces your mouth open, pressing a kiss to your lips, licking a stripe of your mouth before he repeats it again.
"God, you know how much I wanted this?" He says in between kisses, gaze growing hazy. "Wanted," another kiss, "you."
You don't say anything, simply letting him tilt your head as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your lips, licking into your mouth and savoring every bit you're offering him. He kisses you like a starved man, like he's never done this before, like he's been dying to feel your lips on his.
"So fucking pretty for me." He says, slowly kissing down your jaw, this time lingering when he sucks on the skin, to mark you for everyone else to see. "You dress up for me, darling? Dolled up all for me."
You whine out in embarrassment, but that doesn't stop the pleasure surging through your body, traveling to in between your legs when Dean's hands reach under your top, massaging the plush skin and pressing you closer than you already are.
He kisses you again, this time deepening it to savor the taste on his tongue. He tilts his head to the side, taking your upper lip between his, fingers occupied with the clip of your bra.
And just as he's about to unclip it the door clicks open.
"Tucker told me to bring over some–" in front of the door stands Logan, with a bunch of snacks scattered on a tray. He almost drops the stuff in his hold, mouth gaping to speak, but falling into utter silence instead.
Your attention shifts to Logan in an instant, and you have to process the situation for a second before realization takes over.
Fuck.
You don't think as you push Dean off of you, causing the boy to lose his balance and fall off the bed. You try to grab onto his shirt, but it happens too fast, he lands on the ground with a thud.
A gasp escapes your throat, attention shifting from Logan to the now stretched out shirt in your grasp, with Dean, a mess on the ground.
Dean's eyes follow yours, flashing his friend a guilty look that tells Logan all he needs to know.
As for Logan, he's awkwardly standing by the door, gaze flickering from Dean to you. His head tilts, and he's contemplating whether right now is a good time to speak, maybe confront you both?
And just as you thought things couldn't get any worse, they do.
Hannah's giggles bounce off the walls as she approaches Dean's room with a plate Logan seemingly forgot.
"You forgot the–" Hannah starts, words dying in her throat when she's met with the awkward position you and Dean are in. "Cashews."
"Fuck." You mumble under your breath, falling into the bed with defeat.
"Are we..." Logan trails off, pointing between you two. "Are we interrupting something?"
"Huh?" Dean starts, too hazed by what just happened to answer. "I–"
"No," you beat him to replying, violently shaking your head. "We were just studying."
"Mhm, just studying." Dean agrees, reaching for the hand you offered him earlier, for the mere purpose of balancing. It doesn't help your situation, causing you to instantly pull back your arm when both Hannah and Logan glance down. "I'll just, stay on the floor."
"Yeah, right." Hannah says, not convinced whatsoever.
"We should probably leave," Logan turns to Hannah, nudging her side as he continue. "We'll leave you to it."
"You are explaining yourself as soon as we're home." Hannah whisper-yells to you, as if the two boys aren't still listening.
"Explain what?" You whisper back.
"This." Hannah points to you, eyes traveling down to your chest, and Dean on the floor, a total mess, he can't even pick himself back up.
You fix your shirt, covering Dean's face with your palm. "Don't look at him."
Hannah's lips tug into a smile, amused by how much you're trying to prove a point.
"He's all yours." Hannah's eyebrows raise with intrigue, giving Logan the signal to leave.
"It's not what it looks like!" You shout, but they don't give you a chance to justify yourself, shutting the door before you can continue.
And through the walls, you can hear Hannah yelling "Guess what we just fucking saw?"
Right, so now everyone will know that happened, no matter how hard you try to deny it.
Isn't this great?
"They left without giving us the snacks." Dean's lips jut into a pout, growing serious when you flash him a death glare.
"Dean Di Laurentis."
"That would be me." He scratches his chin, avoiding your gaze.
Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley considered himself an old-fashioned man, and he wore that belief as comfortably as he wore his mask—like it had always been fixed there.
The world could shift and twist itself into whatever new shape it fancied, but some things, in his mind, remained fixed. Proper.
A man provided. A woman was provided for.
Simple as that.
He didn’t think it cruel.
Didn’t think it limiting.
If anything, he thought it kind.
Women, in his eyes, were meant for softer things. Quiet mornings with sunlight spilling through the windows. A book resting open in her lap. Maybe paint on her fingertips or the citrus scent of a mandarin orange as she peeled it slowly.
Not this.
Not hauling around something that looked like it could snap her bloody spine in half.
So when he turned the corner and saw Y/N staggering slightly under the weight of a box that was, frankly, absurdly large for her frame, he didn’t hesitate. Didn’t pause. Didn’t consider that perhaps she had chosen to do this.
He stepped in.
“Oi,” he called, voice low and firm, boots echoing against the corridor floor as he closed the distance. “Put that down.”
Y/N didn’t. She adjusted her grip instead, stubborn thing, shifting the weight higher against her stomach as if that would somehow make the situation more acceptable. Ghost frowned behind his mask, irritation flickering to life.
“I said put it down,” he repeated, already reaching for it. “Women can’t do that.”
The words came out as naturally as breathing—no malice, just a statement of fact as he saw it. His hands closed around the sides of the box, effortlessly lifting the burden from her arms before she could protest further. It might as well have weighed nothing to him.
“There,” he muttered, settling it against his chest. “No reason for you to be strugglin’ like that.”
She gaped at him.
Ghost tilted his head slightly.
“What?” he asked, brow furrowing beneath the skull-patterned fabric. “You shouldn’t be carryin’ things like that. Not your job.”
He started down the hall again without waiting for an answer, fully expecting her to fall into step beside him like this was the most natural thing in the world. “You’ve got better things to be doin’,” he went on, tone shifting into something that almost resembled a lecture. “Stuff that suits you.”
He gestured vaguely with his head as if the air itself could supply examples. “Reading. Painting. Hell, sittin’ in the sun doin’ nothin’ at all. That’s the point, innit? Not this.”
Behind them, a door creaked open.
Captain Price stood in the doorway of his office, mug halfway to his lips, frozen mid-sip as he took in the scene before him. His eyes flicked from Ghost to Y/N, whose face was utterly unreadable.
Horror slowly crept across Price’s face.
Ghost, oblivious, kept talking.
“A man’s meant to handle the rough parts,” he continued, adjusting his grip on the box with ease. “No sense in you wadin’ through muck when someone like me’s right here, s'there?”
Price lowered his mug.
Very slowly.
“Ghost,” he said, voice edged with genuine disbelief that was rapidly shifting into panic.
But Simon Riley didn’t hear the warning in it. Didn’t see the silent what the hell are you doing written all over his captain’s face.
Because as far as he was concerned, he’d done exactly what he was supposed to do.
"Next time, you bloody ring me. Daft thing." Ghost muttered.
kiss your screen every time you see a typo or grammatical error in my fics because it means it's home grown and not some ai bullshit and im dead serious about this
who do you think reader would go to if she had a bad dream in her own room, i can’t tell if bro!frank would baby her or not lol
18+ mdni i absolutely think frank would baby you!!! probably more than robby tbh. So i think it would depend on what kind of comfort you needed. if you wake up needing to be coddled your best bet is to go to frank's room and gently shake him awake "Frankie."
"What, baby?" without even opening his eyes.
"I had a bad dream."
n he's opening his eyes and sitting up right away, immediately clocking that you're crying from how small and fragile you sound. "Aw, poor thing. C'mere, pretty girl." He coaxes you into his lap and holds you against his chest, swipes away your tears and pets your head and runs his fingertips against your scalp. "You're okay now, I've got you. Wanna tell me what was scary? No? That's okay, baby." n he'll cup your jaw and pepper kisses all over your face until you giggle. "That's much better."
robby's much more blasé about it, but that's comforting in it's own way. like it helps ground you in reality and makes you feel protected to have him be so unbothered and calm if that makes sense?? if you shake him awake through tears he'll raise an arm for you to snuggle in beside him. his voice is all low n gruff with sleep-- "Shhh." He rubs your back as you nuzzle into his chest. "Breathe, hon, you're fine. I've got you."
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What if Jack has to stay at Robby’s place cuz the heatings broke at his or smth n then Robby’s house only has the three rooms (Robby, frank, reader) so reader says jack can stay in her room
Js thinking abt all the shenanigans they’d get up to 🤭
Maybe even frank getting a little jealous reader is spending so much time with Jack
18+ mdni omg your mind.... several little moments have come to my mind so this is gonna jump around a bit and probably end up kinda long
first im picturing you're all in the livingroom when jack calls robby and the second you hear robby's "Hey, brother" you're grinning, disentangling yourself from frank on the couch, going to robby’s chair, and crawling into his lap <33
"Oh, shit. Four days to fix it? Yeah, man, I heard it's gonna be a cold one. Of course. We don't have a spare room, but--" there's a short pause before robby scoffs lightheartedly. "you kidding me? I like you and all, but I don’t miss waking up to your arm hitting my face. We've got a perfectly good couch--"
"He can stay in my room!" You chirp right away. Robby looks at you with a raised brow, Frank rolls his eyes, and you can just barely hear Jack's chuckle through the phone. Jack says something that you can't make out, but whatever it is makes Robby scoff again. "Please?" You frown. "He shouldn't have to stay on the couch..."
"She ends up in one of our rooms most nights anyway." Frank points out wryly. As if you'll be sharing a bed with anyone other than Mr. Abbot for the short 4 days you have him.
"Yeah. Sure." Robby allows. You break out in a huge grin.
When Jack arrives that evening with his duffel bag, he also comes with pizza, wings, garlic knots, beers, and cookies <3 he shrugs it off when you gape and robby says it wasn't necessary "Gotta eat, don't we? And you're doing me a big favor."
ugh it's like a 4 day long sleepover with your biggest crush <3 you break out all your cutest pjs, you guys are constantly oogling one another and being all touchy... at one point jack comes out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and asks "How the hell do you turn on the hot water?" and you brightly say "Let me show you!" and are up so fast that it's a wonder you don't get whiplash....
of course it leads to Jack fucking you in the shower... and when you both emerge later, hair wet and in your pajamas, frank laughs and robby looks at you both over his glasses and dryly jokes "If you do that every night you're helping with our water bill this month."
ugh YES and frank getting jealous!! i think he’s fine at first bc he really does like jack and doesnt mind the dynamic of the four of you… but by the end of day 2 the constancy of jack having most of your attention does start to get to him.
it comes to a head the morning of day 3… frank’s definitely starting to miss you guys’ usual morning routine of making coffee and being all cuddly :(( he comes to the kitchen to find you already sitting on the counter, looking so cute with your bedhead and your legs swinging idly… but you don’t even look at him when he walks in, you’re staring intently at jack as he cooks breakfast
Frank grumbles back a quiet “morning” when Jack greets him, then grabs a mug from the cabinet… and you scowl and say “That’s Jack’s mug.”
and frank shoots you such an exasperated look, so over it. “Jack doesn’t live here, how could this be his mug?”
“He uses it every morning—“
“It’s been two mornings”
Jack’s wearing an amused grin and cooly says “It’s okay, doll, I don’t mind.”
“But you said you pick it cause you love the color.” You insist, stubborn. Then to Frank, “Use a different one.”
But Frank just scoffs and rolls his eyes and continues the process of brewing his coffee. You stretch out your leg to jab him with your foot. “Fraaaank.”
“Watch it.” He snaps with more bite than usual.
You pout. “Why are you so crabby? It’s no fun.”
“No fun?” He mocks. He puts down the bag of coffee he’s holding and approaches you. Plants his hands on the counter on either side of your thighs, boxing you in and getting in your face. “You want me to be fun, princess?”
“Yeah,” you murmur, already a little breathless… his lips are on you the next moment, heavy and rushed and possessive. You gasp into his mouth and he grips your waist to pull you closer to the edge of the counter, allowing you to grind against one another…
Soon Robby walks into the kitchen to see Frank fully fucking you while Jack casually cooks at the stove not 4 feet away. He groans and tiredly scratches his beard. Mutters “Jesus christ, it’s too early for this.” as he moves to stand beside Jack and lean against the wall. “We’ve talked about fucking on the counter.”
“Please,” Frank pants. “You ate her pussy in this exact spot last week.”
Robby ignores the heat that rises to his cheeks when Jack shoots him a boyish grin. “That was after dinner— there is active cooking going on right now! Food is out!”
“Don’t be a prude.” You tease breathily. You grin, pleased with yourself, when both Jack and Frank let out shocked laughter. Robby shakes his head, resigned.
You’re curled up against Simon beneath the heavy comforter, your cheek pressed to the steady rise and fall of his toned chest. One of his arms is wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close. The other hand moves lazily along your back, fingertips tracing slow, absentminded patterns through the thin fabric of your shirt. Every touch is gentle, warm enough to melt the last bit of tension from your muscles.
The apartment is wrapped in that late-night stillness that only settles in after midnight. Somewhere in the distance, rain taps softly against the window, and the muted glow from the bedside lamp paints everything in soft gold. His thumb drags lightly across your shoulder before his voice finally breaks the silence, low and rough with exhaustion.
“Wanna hear a joke?”
You already know he’s going to tell it no matter what answer you give. That alone makes the corner of your mouth twitch.
You let out a sleepy hum, somewhere between a groan and permission.
Simon shifts slightly beneath you, like he’s preparing to deliver the greatest punchline of the century.
“Why did the scarecrow get promoted?”
A soft sigh escapes you as you bury your face further into his chest, already bracing for impact. “Why?”
“Because he was outstanding in his field.”
The terrible joke is followed by his own quiet snicker, you can feel the vibration of it beneath your cheek.
You groan softly, nudging him with your knee. “Go to sleep, Simon.”
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