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Summary: Robby leaves his wife in Pittsburgh for his sebbaticle. Luckily, his best friend will check in on her from time to time for him.
Pairings: Jack Abbot x Robinavitch!reader
Warnings/Tags: Pregnancy/Troubles concieving -> Reader has had miscarriages in the past and at times worries she will lose this pregnancy but she does not (mentions of past miscarriages throughout the story), Sucidal Ideation -> Reader and Jack are both worried about Robby's fragile mental state (nothing graphic happens on page), age gap (M - early 50s, F mid-late 30s), affair, medical inaccuracies (author has google and a dream), reader is an at home baker, smut, jack abbot goes to therapy, ambiguous ending, no beta we die like leah
If you have any concerns about the warnings, please feel free to ask me
Notes: the working title for this fic was "whack him [robby] again" so do with that what you will
Word Count: 6K
Part 1, Part 2 | Masterlist | Jack Abbot Masterlist
Jack does a double take at his phone,blinking at the screen to make sure he's reading it correctly.
Incoming call from Robby
His thumb trembles as he swipes across the screen.
"Robby?" he says when the call connects, "How have you been. Everything okay?"
"Yeah, brother, everything's great."
"How's… smashed brain?"
"Smashed head in Buffalo Jump."
"Same thing," Jack grunts.
"It was good. Educational, beautiful. You should take a visit."
"I'll add it to my list," he responds dryly.
"I'm actually not there anymore though. I went down to British Colombia and now I'm back in the states."
"Yeah your wife told me that the other day," he can't keep the annoyance out of his tone, "Speaking of. Have you talked to her at all recently?"
He already knows the answer, but he's certain Robby doesn't know that.
The other man doesn't respond immediately.
"I've been messaging her occasionally," he says finally, "You been checking on her? How's she doing."
"Why don't you pick up the phone and call her?"
The line is silent for a while.
"She's doing okay," Jack says finally, "I know she's worried about you. I think you should call her."
"I will. I just need some more space for a bit. The time away has been doing me some good. I haven't thought about resident schedules or trauma patients or fucking Gloria at all since I've hit the road.
"That's good, brother, really. I want you to get better, but that doesn't change the fact that you need to call your wife."
"I will. I just need some more time. I know that once I do talk to her she's going to start asking questions and-and I just can't answer them right now.
"Can't answer your wife?"
"I didn't call for a lecture, brother. I was just checking in."
For a few moments Jack debates telling Robby himself.
"Call her, Robby. By end of the day."
You're practically bouncing when you open the door. Jack scoffs, looking you up in down, ignoring the burn in his biceps from the gracery bags weighing him down.
"Since when do you have this much energy?"
You slug in him the arm playfully, the smile never leaving your face, "What's that supposed to mean?"
He shrugs, "you've just been tired recently."
Your dress swishes around you as you close the door behind him. It's a simple lilac house dress that hangs off your bump. Jack does not notice that this particular dress shows off the swell of your breasts. His gaze simply keeps floating downwards because he's concerned about your breathing habits.
Fuck it, your tits have started to get noticeably plumper and Jack is a weak man who dreams about sucking on your nipples until you cry - maybe he even thinks about shoves his thigh between your legs as he does so, you slick dripping down his leg as shudder against his body.
The shame that burnsthrough his body each time he cleans himself up after thinking about you creeps in again. He averts his gaze.
He eyes the cupcakes on the counter.
"You didn't tell me you had an order today?"
"I didn't," Your grin is still plastered across your face, "I have some news."
"Everything okay with miss chinchilla?"
"Everything perfect. 14.6 centimeters from head to rump."
Jack nods approvingly, "So what's the news?"
You're practicially vibrating with excitement. It's contagious, Jack feels the grin creeping on his face as you bound up to him, picking up a cupcake on your way. The frosting is pink with a little blue heart on top. The other cupcakes have different combinations of the pink and blue frosting. Jack suspects he knows what this is for.
"They told me the gender."
Jack laughs, tilting his head skeptically "They told you the gender?
"Okay, maybe I caved and I asked. But on the way over I was thinking that there is a very good chance that you end up in my delivery room instead of Robby, and that's more than enough certainty for me so why not just find out the gender now."
Jack's heart skips a beat at the thought of being in the delivery room with you. He'd never really found the right time to ask about your birth plans, but he'd stay with you if that's what you wanted.
"It's a girl, isn't it?"
"What makes you say that?"
"You haven't stopped smiling since I got here," he chuckles as you try to force your face to stay neutral but your smile creeps back up.
"I could have cried the entire way home and drowned my sorrows in my baking and my love of cupcakes put the smile and enthusiasm back on my face," you punctuate the end of your sentence by placing a cupcake in his hand.
As Jack looks at the cute blue and pink cupcake in his hand he knows he has two options. The first, hand back the cupcake. It's definitely toeing the line of "surrogate husband" he's been trying, and sometimes failing, not to cross. He should tell you to call Dana and get her to do this instead. It's too much for him, for your undefined blurry relationship.
The second option-
"Blue for boy, pink for girl I assume?" He's already going to hell. What's one more cupcake?
"It's a classic for a reason," you say as he peels back the wrapper, "Close your eyes. I wanna make sure that colour shows up."
He closes his eyes and bites down. Lemon blooms on his taste buds and he lets out a little groan. Every time he eats one of your desserts he's reminded of what an idiot his best friend is.
"Can I open them now?" he asks.
"Yes! Open, open!"
He obeys, cracking open his eyes. Pink frosting stares back at him from inside the cupcake.
"Girl?" he turns to you, stumbling a little bit when you throw your body at him. He catches himself and wraps his arms around your waist. Your shampoo floods his senses - coconut pineapple something, he doesn't give a fuck- just drinks it in, "Congratulations."
You're both acutely aware when the hug lasts a beat too long. But you both stay a moment longer before untangle yourselves. Jack purses his lips as he pulls away, unable to tear his gaze from yours just yet.
He clears his throat, shaking himself of his trance, "Have you- have you talked to Robby today?"
No better way to kill the tension in the air at this point.
He's proven correct by the way you take a step back from him, nose wrinkling in disgust, "Nope."
"Not at all?" Jack usually doesn't try to prod about your feelings about your husband, only lending an ear when you need it but never pushing boundary. But hope is becoming a much more scarce resource these days, "He reached out to me."
"He texted you?" your eyes widened, "What did-what did he say?"
He doesn't bother telling you that it was a call. Not when he knows Robby's only called you once, and it ended with you hanging up the phone without saying goodbye.
"Asking how I've been, how the hospital's been. How you've been."
"Motherfucker could have just asked me himself," you mutter. Jack chuckles and briefly wonders if it was a mistake to bring him up, "Does he seem…okay?"
"As okay as one can be."
It looks like you debate asking him more. Instead you stand tall and take a deep breath (and Jack's eyes are definitely not drawn to your tits once more because he was raised with manners and honour).
"Whatever. We should start making the burgers before miss chinchilla takes over and makes me eat the whole loaf of burger buns."
11:58 pm
Late. Much later than he's allowed himself to stay since that night at your front door. Your phone is on the coffee table next to the empty cup of hot chocolate he made for the two of you earlier. Occasionally it buzzes from various notifications and each time Jack cranes his neck to see if they're from your husband. You're curled up on your side of the couch, snoring softly as the soundtrack of whatever movie auto played after the one you'd picked autoplays in the background.
11:59 pm
He huffs, crossing his arms.
Fucking Robby.
Now Jack wishes he told the other man about your pregnancy. He'd never actually betray your trust like that, fully understanding your hesitation to telling the news. And he's been trying to play both sides, advocate for his surrogate brother where he could. But this is getting ridiculous.
18 weeks, and he hasn't given you one proper phone call.
18 weeks, of mostly radio silence with only the occasional check in.
18 weeks, and you're still here in this house alone and pregnant while he refuses to seek help.
12:00 am
Your phone screen stays black. He sits in silence for another 2 minutes playing out different endings to the scenario he's about to initiate. He takes a deep breath before gently shaking your shoulder.
You grunt, flicking his hand away. He tries again, calling out your name softly.
"C'mon, wake up. Your neck is going to be wonky in the morning if you sleep on the couch."
You blink slowly at him, stretching your legs into his lap. He grabs your ankle in his hand, massaging your foot softly. You let out a little moan, settling back into the pillows.
"If you keep doing that I'm going to fall back asleep," you sigh as your lids flutter shut.
"Don't sleep till I leave, kid," he chuckles, lightly scratching his nail against the bottom of your foot making your toes curl with a squeal.
"It's late, Jack, just stay. If you must, you can sneak out of here before I wake up tomorrow like a bad hookup."
"Might not want to let me stay after I tell you what I'm about to say."
Your brows furrow, "Spit it out then, Abbot."
It takes you a minute to pull yourself on the couch and he waits until you're sitting up, looking him in the eye.
"I lied earlier. Robby called me today."
The creases between your brows get a little deeper, "Called? Why didn't you just say that?"
"I was giving him the benefit of doubt - you know, one last chance to do the right thing. I practically begged him to call you."
"You didn't tell him-"
"No. Of course not. You and little miss are not my business to tell," he smiles, "But I told him to check in on you and heavily implied that there was a reason to. Even told him to call you by midnight."
"What time is it?" you ask. You tuck your feet under you, tears starting to well in your eyes.
"Past midnight when I woke you up."
You nod slowly, letting the tear roll down your cheek, "Does he hate me?"
"He doesn't hate you," Jack reassures, resisting the urge the to wipe it away
"Then why hasn't he called?" Your voice is soft, quiet. So completely different from your boisterous behavior when he bit into the cupcake, "If-if he does come back is he just going to leave me anyways?"
Your hand rubs idly over your belly. You turn your head to the side, looking at the wall.
"He doesn't hate you," he repeats, "I don't know what he's thinking or how he's rationalizing his actions in his head, but he won't abandon you."
You still don't move.
"Hey," he moves closer to you, squeezing himself on the couch cushion despite the fact that there is not enough room, "Listen, even if he doesn't come back, or he does but leaves again you're not alone okay? I'm here. You can't get rid of me even if you wanted me to."
He tilts your chin back to face him, suddenly very aware of how close he is to you in this moment. His body is pushed up against yours, hips pressed together as you share one cushion. You blink at him with wet lashes. It would be so easy to lean down and touch his lips to yours. To feel his breath mingle with yours, to finally give in.
"Jack," you whisper, leaning in closer "Stay with me tonight?"
"We shouldn't," his voice is heavy with need. Despite that annoying little voice telling him to pull away, he can't bring himself to, "You're married."
"I know," you nod. Your hand rests on his chest, two fingers curling in his shirt collar.
"To my best friend."
"I know," you repeat. You start to pull him forward. He doesn't stop you.
"It's not right," he whispers just centimeters from your lips.
"I know."
He smiles as he tastes the lemon on your lips.
Your hands come up to play with his curls. He leans into your touch, pulling you on top of him. Your legs fall on either side of your hips. Your dress starts to ride up your hips. He doesn't want to move too fast. He doesn't know what your relationship is going to be after this so he's going the revel in every moment.
You seem to have a different goal in mind.
"Easy, kid, easy," Jack chuckles, gently moving your hands from where they're desperately fumbling with his belt, "You gotta be somewhere?"
"Don't fucking make me wait, Abbot," you grunt. You push him just far enough for him to meet your stern brow, "These pregnancy hormones are no fucking joke. I've already broken two vibrators, Jack. Two."
"How did you even manage-" he shakes his head with a laugh, "You've been waiting long enough, so why don't you let me get you into a bed and do this right."
He stands in your bedroom moments later, sitting on the edge of the bed. You waste no time climbing into his lap once more. You hold his jaw in your hands, keeping his face in place as you smash your lips against his. He grunts, hands coming down to stabalize your hips. He feels you tug at his shirt collar once again, the fabric stretching as you do so.
"Easy, kid," he tuts, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth once his shirt is on the floor, "We got all night, remember?"
"Two vibrators, Jack."
"Alright," you yelp as he flips you over, "If you're going to be this needy."
His hands slip under your dress the silky fabric sliding off your body. Finally, Jack gets to set his eyes on your heaving tits.
He starts at your belly, kissing the swelll of it before moving upwards. When he gets to the valley of your breasts. He laps at your nipple, testing your body. You sigh, fingers scratching at the back of his neck. His hand creeps down your body. Jack smirks, amused when your legs fall open for him.
"So good for me," he murmurs. He pinches lightly at your inner thigh, making you jolt. "So eager."
Jack switches, leaving anoteher trail of kisses between your breasts as his fingers tease at your opening. He groans, gliding through your folds with ease. It takes him a moment to get into position, but gets his thighs between your legs.
"Two vibrators, yeah?"
"Don't make fun of me," you whimper.
"I'd never," he coos, moving up to your neck. He flexes his thighs, pressing up against your cunt, "Show me what you were doing with me."
You start out slow, only moving your hips slowly against him.
"Don't get shy on me now," he laughs, "Where's the girl that was ripping my shirt in half."
"I can't believe you're making me do the work. I'm practically begging you to fuck me-"
"Have I let you down before?"
You pull him down to kiss him again. Your hips start up again with more confidence this time. He flexes and unflexes his thigh, testing what pulls those sweet little whimpers that have been plaguing his dreams for so long. He kisses your neck, using one hand to play with your breast. Each time he tweaks your nipple he pulls another moan from you. You're panting against his mouth, clawing at his back. Your breathing quickens as you rut against him, cumming with a shout.
"Good girl," he whispers in your ear. He can feel your pussy twitch against him once more, "Think you're ready for me?"
"I swear to god, if you don't get inside me right now?"
"Okay, okay, baby."
He's dreamt of this moment many, many times before but nothing can compare to the sight of your head thrown back in ecstasy as you sink down on his cock. His hips arch, meeting you in the air.
"Christ, Jack," you mutter, hands planting themselves on his chest as your body adjusts to him, "If I'd known you were this fucking thick I'd have asked Robby for a threeseome."
"If I knew you were this fucking sweet around me, doll, I'd have said yes."
"Tell me you didn't move the heavy boxes by yourself?" Jack demands as soon as he sets eyes on the empty porch, "Get in the truck."
"Relax would you?" you laugh, shutting the door behind him, "I'm fine."
"Do I need to remind you that you're a high risk pregnancy?"
"Do I need to remind you that you're not actually my husband."
"Hilarious. I'm glad one of us is having fun because I wasn't joking. I will drag you into my truck kicking and screaming."
"Sexy," you wink at him, "Might take you up on that, soldier."
"Get your fucking jacket."
"Jack relax," you roll your eyes, "Bill - my across the street neighbour - he's really nice. Him and his son moved it all upstairs into the nursery already for me."
"Oh," he muters, face warm, "Sorry."
"It's okay," you hook your fingers in his belt loops, pulling him in close, "And I wasn't joking. You can pull out that caveman voice again after you put the crib together for me."
He starts to walk you back, pushing you up against the nearest wall, "What, they weren't man enough to put the thing together?"
"They offered," you smirk, "But why would I deprive myself of seeing you looking sexy and using your tools."
"Second trimester hormones seem to be kicking in."
"Mhm," you nod, pulling him in closer so you're caged against the wall, "Thinking 'bout kicking up the heat so you work up a sweat and take your shirt off."
"You can just ask me to take my shirt off."
"But then you won't be sweaty," you pout.
He chuckles, nipping at your protuding bottom lip. You sigh, relaxing in his arms as your lips move languidly together. He holds your head in place, enjoying the moment.
You whine when he finally gathers the strength to pull away.
"None of that," he tuts, shaking his head, "You want that crib built? Stop seducing me, woman."
Your giggle is music to his hears, "Can't I want my crib built and to make out a little."
"After," he heads towards the stairs, "You gonna keep me company?"
"In a bit, I made chocolate chip cookies for your thank you gift and I've gotta put them in the oven," you point to the balls of dough ready on their trays, "And I'm going to take some over for Bill and Logan as a thanks too."
"Should I be worried about this Bill?" he jokes, "Manual labour is how I show affection. I don't like when other men encroach on my territory."
"He's not my type," you scrunch your nose, "He's my age. We both know I like them a bit more mature."
In terms of DIY furniture, this crib was pretty easy to build. Everything was sectioned and labeled and he only needed to look at the instructions once in order to get his bearings. He's practically finished by the time you waddle up the stairs with a plate of warm cookies in hand.
"Looks like you don't even need my help," you say, impressed as you hand him the plate.
"I told you, kid," he says through a mouthful of cookie, "I'm good at this stuff."
They're still warm, the chocolate still gooey. He doesn't think before sucking the melted chocolate off his finger.
"Oh my god," you roll your eyes with a groan, "Do you have to eat everything like a fucking pornstar?"
"What?" he pauses, still mufffled by cookie, "This does it for you?"
"Of course it does," you cross your arms in defiance, pushing your breasts together. Jack is a simple man, a nice rack has gotten him into trouble before, "Even if I wasn't pregnant, you sucking on your fingers would drive me up the fucking wall dude."
"Yeah?" he stands, tilting his head, "What else do I do that gets you hot?"
"Did you know you the sound you make while eating a steak and the sound you make when I suck your dick are practically indistinguishable."
"What can I say?" He shrugs, getting his hands on your waist, pulling you close to him. Your bump pushes against him as he leans down and brushes his lips against yours, "You make a good steak."
"Oh nothing about my blowjob skills?"
"Might have to remind me, doll, after I settle my debts," your hands come up around his shoulders, immediately tangling themselves in his curls, "Speaking of. You got any chocolate left over?"
"Finish putting my crib together, soldier, and then you can think with your dick.
"What took you so long? I was begining to think you were actually going to the border."
Jack hears your voice from the kitchen as he toes off his shoes.
"I thought about it, but I knew you'd be too tired to cook after your order today, and that would take too long."
You're sitting on the barstool, your feet propped up on the stool next to you as the dishes you used earlier in the dry in the sink.
"Did you bring food?" your eyes light up as he enters the room. He puts the grocery bags on the counter before greeting you with a kiss.
"Of course I brought food. What kind of man lets his- a pregnant woman go hungry."
His near miss goes unacknowledged by both of you. Neither of you have tried to define the relationship, both too afraid to mention it.
"What's on the menu tonight, chef?"
"Bought some fruits for you to snack on to hopefully counteract the insane amount of potatoes, gravy and cheese you're about to consume."
"You bought poutine?" Your eyes widen, "I didn't know anyone made it around here."
"I couldn't find a place. So I'm gonna make it for you."
"You don't have to-"
"And I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to," he says as he starts to gather the bowls from the sink.
"At least let me do those. I was just being lazy-"
"Stop," he shakes his head, "You've been on your feet all day. I can do it."
"So have you! At least let me help, your leg must be bugging you."
"I'll power through this part and bring a chair here when I start the gravy," He tosses you a potato, "You can peel the potatoes if you want."
"You're making the fries from scratch."
"I don't do anything half-assed, when are you going to learn that, doll."
You shake your head with a smirk, "If this poutine is good, you are gonna get laid so hard, Abbot."
"I look forward to it," he winks.
"What's going on?" he asks as he leans his crutches on the wall before taking his seat next to you, "You've been quiet all night."
"Nothing," you shut off your phone, placing it next to you, "Smells delicious, thank you."
"The grocery store didn't have cheese curds," he says watching you mix your fries around, "So I used shredded mozzarella instead."
"In some parts of the country that's considered treason," you take a bite. Jack grins at your involuntary groan, "But this is really good so I won't call the Canadian authorities."
"How generous."
Usually during dinner you like to talk. Even if he's too tired to shoulder his half the conversation, you keep chatting through.
"You can tell me what's on your mind, you know," he rubs his thumb along tour knuckles, "You chatting through dinner become part of my unwinding routine every night."
"Robby always said dinner was quiet time," you roll your eyes, "we'd talk before or after but during dinner it was just food which was just so weird to me."
"Well," he chuckles, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles, "I'm not Robby."
"Robby's been sending my "allowance,"" you slump against your chair, dramatically flailing your arms around to signify air quotes, "every Monday. Sometimes with a text, sometimes not but always before noon. And he hasn't today."
Jack's stomach turns, fearing the worst, "When was the last time you talked to him."
"Last Monday he sent me money and then Friday he texted me some pictures of a baby cow from a farm he saw on the road. Just outside Arizona," you sniffle, "I thought it was a sign. I almost told him then."
"And then nothing?"
"Nothing."
Jack's silent, trying to think of anything to say.
"Have you tried calling?"
"What if he doesn't pick up," you whisper.
"Then we hop in my truck and head to Arizona," he grabs your hand, "Want me to give you some space to call him?"
"No," you shake your head, picking up your phone, "In case - if he doesn't, you know-"
"It's okay, doll. I'm right here."
It's silent when you dial, both of you holding your breath. Each time the phone rings the pit in Jack's stomach gets a little bigger. You've got your eyes on your phone screen but Jack can't take his eyes away from you, watching the tears well up in your eyes.
The line drops, your phone turns off. You look back at Jack, with a gasp.
"He didn't-"
"Try again," Jack clears his throat, "One more time to be sure."
You nod, tapping Robby's icon again. He recognizes the contact photo, a picture of Robby smiling in his suit on your wedding day. He feels queasy.
You look at him in a panic when the line finally connects.
"Hello?" Robby says on the other end. His voice is gravely from sleep, "Everything okay, baby? Why are you calling so late?"
You hit the speaker button once more, bringing the phone to your ear.
"Everything is fine," you say, tucking yourself into Jack's side. Your head rests on his chest and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, "I just…hadn't heard from you on a while."
Jack can't hear what Robby says in response - nor does he particularly care, he's just relieve that Robby answered. His ring feels heavy on his finger as he drifts off, the hum of your voice lulling him asleep. He's only woken by the press of your lips on his jaw and your words urging him to take your to bed.
"Brian," Jack takes a deep breath as he prepares himself for what he's about to say, "I have confession."
Brian chuckles in the chair across from him, "Any particular reason why you phrased that like a confessional."
"Probably because I have feel some guilt about it."
"Go on then," he gestures with his hand to continue.
"Well," He sighs, thinking about where to begin,"Good news is that I've been seeing this girl."
Brain's face is neutral, waiting for the rest of the story.
"Bad news is that she's Robby's…wife," he cringes as he says it. It's the first time he's really acknowledged it out loud.
"I see," Brian nods, "Is that why you're not wearing your ring today? I noticed it earlier, but I was waiting to see if you wanted to talk about it."
Jack's thumb faulters as it reaches to fiddle with the absent ring on his finger. The skin underneath is softer than the rest his fingers.
"I-yeah. I think so."
"And is that because you feel guilt over Lucille, or Robby?"
"Both I think?"
Jack knows its cliche to say but it was true - he just got caught up in whirwind of things. You had been so scared that first day on the steps of your house that he couldn't have possibly left you alone. He felt those feelings deveop the moment it happened, and he should have backed away. But he didn't.
"Lucille was my first love. I will never love anyone like I loved her, and I certainly don't think that this new girl is replacing her but it feels like a slap in the face of our marriage - a slap in the face to her that the first woman that I've been with after her is married."
"And, what about Robby?"
Jack shrugs, "Robby's my brother."
He doesn't walk away from that session with all of his issues solved, or even with any more clarity - though it's at least partly because he waited until the end of his session to drop the bomb, a habit which Brian is not a fan.
But what he said was true.
Ever since he heard Robby's voice on the phone the other night. He's found him self wrestling with his feelings. On one hand his feelings for you were real.He cares about you and your baby, and whatever happens with Robby, he will absolutely stay by your side if that's where you want him to be. On the other hand, Robby was his brother.
"Ja-ack."
Though it is difficult to remember when he has you mewling beneath him. He's got you on your side, pressed up against your back. One of his arms has the crook of your knee resting on your elbow, pulling it up higher so he can bury himself deep inside, while the other pinches your nipple making you squeal.
"Please Jack, please," you pant, rocking back on him, "Don't tease me. Need you - been thinking about you all day. Please."
And what is he supposed to do except suck at the pusle point on your neck and give you everything you ask for.
"You fucking mauled me, last night?" you laugh as you come down the stairs the next morning. The smell of the pancakes he was going to surprise you with must have called you down the stairs, "You're so lucky I don't have a public facing job."
"I'd get you all the turtlenecks you need as long as I get to be the reason you keep needing them," he smiles as you come over and greet him with a kiss where he's sitting by the stove, "How is miss rabbit feeling about pancakes?"
"Pretty good I think," you scrunch your nose, "But I don't think we like the smell of the maple syrup."
"But she's half Canadian! That's why I chose pancakes."
"She'll have to get over it once she's out of here, otherwise I can never take your home -" you freeze mid sentence, staring at him with wide eyes.
He turns his head to the garage, having the same fear, "That the garage?"
"Yeah," you breathe.
"What are the chances someone other than Robby has your garage code?"
"None."
He doesn't even have time to think before the thud of Robby's feet hit against the garage steps. Jack knows that his only attempt to salvage this is to run, but he doesn't even have his leg on. You know you're caught, even if you were to try to distract Robby long enough for Jack to get out of the house, that stupid bruise he left on your neck incriminates you. He can't let you face this storm alone.
Robby calls your name, booming through the halls.
"I'm home! Is that Jack's truck on the drive way? Did he-"
Robby falters mid sentence when he finally sees the two of sitting in the kitchen. You're in one of your slip dresses that you love, which may be a tad revealing to wear around one of Robby's friends, but nothing scandalous. His eyes eventually trail down, catching on your rather prominient baby bump. His brows furrow in confusion, coming together in one straight line when he sees the little marks Jack has left over the past few weeks. He scans over Jack's shirtless form too, his stump and the fact that his prosthetic is nowhere to be found. The scene is entirely domestic, damning.
He's tan from his hours in the sun, his beard a shade or three lighter than the last time Jack saw him. Jack wants to laugh because Robby does look better than he did when he left. Robby's eyes flick back and forth between you two, incapable of processing the information in front of him.
"What the fuck am I looking at?" Each syllable slips out of his mouth with a stab to Jack's chest.
"We can explain-"
He doesn't smell it until the smoke detectors go of, ripping everyone from the stand off. He looks at the stove. The pancakes are burnt.
Now, I am a woman with morals but yall know I love a little cheating because your partner is lacking trope!!!!!!! My god. I’m hooked. Everyone please give this (currently) three parts series a read and report back with your thoughts PROMPTLY
Hiii!! I don’t know if you take requests but I would like to see Soldier Boy and the reader is a porn actress… I don’t know if this sounds bad but pleaseee do it💗 (I would like it if it’s like long, like a one shot or something)
Hi! Thank you so much for sending in the ask ❤️ as of right now, I am not really writing for the boys fandom. I don’t think the request itself doesn’t sounds bad, though! Feel more than welcome to send it to another writer who might be willing to write it— but definitely read through their rules first as a lot of people, including myself, have guidelines, and I know specifically anything having to do with sex work can be a limit for people sometimes.
Something, something about Robby doing his residency in Louisiana because Jack (whom he met while they were both studying medicine at the University of Pittsburgh) is from down there and has always planned to move back home.
So that's how Robby (and Jack) end up doing their residency at Big Charity Hospital in New Orleans. After his grandparents die Robby doesn't really have anything left tying him to Pittsburgh anyway...
Right?
But when Jack is deployed overseas after finishing his residency in 2004 Robby decides to stay so Jack always has a place to come home to. And then...
Hurricane Katrina happens.
For the first time since Jack deployed he's more afraid of losing Robby than of losing his own life. He can't reach him. He can't contact him. He has no idea whether Robby is even alive.
Meanwhile Robby stays with his patients until every last one has been evacuated from the hospital. The ICU patients have to be kept alive with manual ventilation. The staff insert IVs into each other to stay hydrated after food and supplies run out. The flooding is so severe that patients have to be airlifted from the roof by helicopter.
Afterward Robby volunteers at the makeshift Spirit of Charity hospital at the Convention Center before later moving to the New Orleans center.
And when everything finally quiets down... he quits. He can't live there anymore. He's seen enough. For the first time in years he wants to go home... back to Pittsburgh. Back to where his mother and grandparents are buried.
So he moves back, thinking he can outrun the ghosts he found in New Orleans.
When Jack loses his leg and is honorably discharged he comes back to Pittsburgh too. Neither of them realizes that Robby is only going to collect more ghosts at PTMC.
Until one day... he starts wishing he were one of them.
being titus' favorite cartgirl at the danforth golf course in the summer⋆˖°🏌🏼♀️⚘.˚⛳⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱
mixing his gin tonic while he tugs on your ponytail and asks you who else you've served today. "were they nice? respectful?" "yes sir!" you chirp in response and he's smirking beneath his round glasses.
titus loves to publically toe the line, too. you're leaning over your cart to put some ice in his cup and he's using the tip of his five iron club to lift up your skirt in the slight breeze. tilting his head to see up your skirt, he looks pleased when you squeal and giggle. "just checking to see if you're in uniform, sweets"
the "uniform" being the danforth crested thong he slipped into your tip jar last week <3
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ok fucking trad wife wannabe. if you want to be subservient to a man you don’t deserve rights like the rest of us do. hope you get knocked up and miserable
Well this was… something. I’m just going to assume this was to my last little yapping post? And if so womp womp. Whine about it somewhere else. There is nothing in my relationship that’s subservient. This man cooks ME dinner every single day. Also, I’m literally putting off my wedding almost FOUR YEARS from when we got engaged so I can focus on school and my career. It will sound selfish but I always come first with things like that.
If the domestic life isn’t for you, that’s okay <3 we’ve all got different things going on. That’s great thing about getting to choose! But it doesn’t make someone’s else wrong for wanting that different path.
Not to be mushy gushy on main but I cannot wait to be married. I can’t wait to own a nice house and have cute little and a big fluffy dog and a successful career. Like I year for it so bad. Need it now.
hey queen! would u ever think about doing a part 2 to just take it? i fw it so heavy, like just being taken care of and spoiled hehe
Hello angel!!! Im so glad you like it <3 I don’t think I’d ever do another part to that specific little one shot but I also love the vibes of it so I would definitely be open to writing something else like that. The first character that comes to mind for me is Titus Danforth from reading or not 2: here I come, so if anyone would be interested let me know and I’ll see what I could whip up 🫶🏻
I fear there’s girls who are expecting to be bridesmaids but they truly are not at all good enough friends on their part to be one. We talk in our gc almost everyday and yet I can’t tell you the last time they invited me somewhere as a group or 1:1 despite fairly frequently hanging out amongst themselves. Womp to them
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Unfortunately I don’t :( I could be misremembering but I think I read a post from someone else saying that bbuunnyy’s blog got terminated and she was trying to get it back, but I’m not sure. It’s a sad day when we lose a diva like her 💔
This is so random and hyper specific but I feel like you’d fw it sweet cherry. Super sex positive Jack Abbot and his sunshiney gf who he proposes to on a whim (but not really a whim because he’s been thinking about it for months and has a ring ready and waiting) either while you’re having sex or right after while yall are still all sweaty and panting 🙂↕️ and then, being the Gen Z you are, you post a pic of you two all tangled up in bed and blissed out, flashing your rock of a ring for everybody to see!!!! It feels so fitting to me idk why
claire, you are an absolute gift… this is soooooo yum!
it’s in between heaving breaths and happy sighs, jack’s declaration of a future. you on your back and him leaning on his side as he presses kisses along your tits and chest and shoulders and neck. one long, veiny, tanned arm stretching back toward the drawer of his bedstand– jack is still coming down from the high of being inside his favorite girl.
pulling out the little wooden box, he plops it on your chest, shoving his head in your neck and inhaling to catch his breath. “marry me. i want you so… fuckin’ much, if you’ll have me. marry me, baby?”
squealing and crying and he has a hand spread across your tummy and he’s smiling so fucking wide it looks like he’s all teeth. he puts the ring on you, in the dark cozy atmosphere of your shared bedroom, and nips at the skin over your heart to make you giggle again.
you squeeze him in your arms, an aggressive hug that has him laughing in the pure delight of making you so happy & ensuring that you’re next to him for the rest of your lives.
for the picture, you loop your arm around the back of his neck & hold your ring covered hand over your eyes as you smile. jack’s nose touches your cheek, his face still warm with lovemaking and happiness. white, cozy sheets and comforter pulled up just enough for decency <3
Titus Danforth is a bit stunned by how much he loves his children. Yes, he assumed he'd care for them as they are his heirs after all...
He doesn't anticpate he'll love them though...like genuinely fully love them with his whole chest.
Titus Danforth is selfish after all. People never fail to remind him that he is a petulant brat who only cares about himself. He has been told that he has no good in him.
His wife seems to disagree, but he's certain his wife is an outlier when it comes to his ability to feel affection.
He falls for his wife on the hunting field when he witnesses her take down a man twice her size with all the grace of a capable killer.
He works hard to woo her after witnessing that hunt, and though he's certain her father is not pleased with the age gap between Reader and himself, Titus manages to not only gain Reader's affections but take her hand in marriage.
He loves his wife.
So, he guesses it should make sense that he loves their children.
He doesn't anticipate the love he feels though.
He feels himself cry when his first born is placed in his arms and he's shocked by the tears. He stares down at his newborn and is certain he'd not only kill for them but he'd burn down the world for them.
The feelings are the same with each child born after that.
The Danforth children are the apples of Titus' eye. They get every little thing they want.
His daughters have hand crafted intricate doll houses, little miniature versions of the Danforth family estate. They have tea parties with real china. They have a massive collection of stuffed animals and always seem to acquire more.
His sons have more legos and hot wheels than any child should reasonably have. Reader has to talk Titus out of buying an actual dinosaur skeleton when his sons have a dinosaur phase.
The Danforth children are permitted to interrupt any business meeting Titus may be having or any serious meeting he's having with the high council.
There have been more than a few occurrences of a child entering the room during a serious meeting and Titus reaching down and pulling the kid into his lap without missing a moment of the meeting,
He's rocked and bounced cheerful chubby little babies in his arms while discussing the logistics of the latest hunt to honor Mr. Le Bail. He's discussed kill pits and goat sacrifices while cuddling a drowsy sweet baby in his arms.
Titus carries pictures of his children in his wallet.
Titus trains his babies to hunt because they will survive and will be victorious on the hunt.
Titus would shatter the bones of anyone who dared to lie a hand on any of his children.
The man is overprotective to a dangerous extreme.
Titus does everything in his power to be nothing like his own father. He does not raise a hand to his children. He tells them he's proud of them every day. He tells them what fine Danforths they are and how they bring honor to their family name.
When his kids reach the teenage phase where they want to argue with him and push his buttons, Titus is beyond frustrated...even more so when Reader points out they get their impulsive tendencies and stubbornness from him.
Even when there's slammed doors and snark thrown at Titus, at some point during the night Reader will find the man sitting with the teenager he was bickering with just earlier in the day looking at a photo album from when they were babies and acting as though they weren't at each other's throats hours ago.
Titus Danforth might be a petulant brat, but the man does genuinely love his babies.
Titus might do anything to gain power, but his wife and children make him want to gain that power all the more.
His family deserves to have anything they want. Titus intends to make sure his place on the high council ensures his family will have everything they deserve.
• Titus does not understand casual. Considering that he grew up filthy rich in a Satanic elite society, he doesn’t understand casual dating. The moment he decides he likes you, you are simply absorbed into his schedule, you automatically are his.
• Titus is obsessed with how you react to his voice. Low and gravelly, he loves to whisper in your ear, telling you how you belong to him while kissing softly down your neck.
• Titus is stuck to your side like glue. At a gala, he always keeps his hand on your back, guiding you around and sending glares at anyone who he deems as looking at you disrespectfully.
• Titus is incredibly territorial. If someone from another elite family tries to flirt with you or make a slick comment, Titus doesn't make a scene in the moment. He just stares them down through his sunglasses. Later that week, that person will usuallind themselves in an unfortunate accident.
• Titus' love language is acts of service. He will buy you absurdly lavish gifts, custom jewellery, designer clothes, and multiple bouquets of your favourite flowers just to watch your reaction. He just loves to see the sweet smile that spreads across your face when you open his presents.
• Titus treats you like an angel. Despite how brutal he is during the Council's twisted games, he is so gentle with you. If you ever get caught up in the crossfire of his family's bloodbaths, he will gently wipe the copper stains off your skin and whisper praise to soothe you, but he usually doesn't like for you to get involved in the hunts.
guys this was my first time doing headcanons, I hope you enjoyed 🫶
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