#workplaceromance

The help that wasn't wanted 

Chapter 9: 

He’d tell it later like it was nothing. Like the kind of thing that just… happened. But in the moment, it wasn’t nothing. The fire escape groaned the second his weight hit it metal screaming in that sharp, warning way that every instinct in his body recognized too late. “Go, go move!” Abbott barked, already pushing the last of his team through the third-story window ahead of him, smoke pouring out behind them, heat licking up the sides of the building. He stepped back onto the fire escape, one hand bracing the railing—just for a second and then it gave. The whole thing collapsed. Metal tore loose from brick. His boots slipped. And then he was falling. Not far enough to kill him but far enough. He hit the lower platform hard, shoulder first, the impact jarring up his spine, knocking the air clean out of his lungs. Pain shot through his arm instantly, sharp and bright, something wrong in the joint that he didn’t have time to think about. His back scraped across rusted metal, fabric tearing, skin catching, heat still clinging to everything. “Abbott!” someone shouted. “I’m good,” he snapped back automatically, and kinda winded, even as he pushed himself up with his good arm, jaw clenched so tight it ached. “Keep moving” And they did because he didn’t give them another option. He stayed in it. Cleared rooms. Broke down doors. Took hits he shouldn’t have taken and ignored the way his arm refused to fully cooperate, the way every movement pulled something deeper out of place. Another teammate had to shift to cover his side. He noticed that, cataloged it, tucked it away but he didn’t stop. He never stopped. Not until it was over.

By the time they got him into the car, the adrenaline had worn just enough to make everything worse. “You need an ambulance,” one of them said, glancing at his shoulder again, at the way it sat just slightly off. “I’m not calling it in,” Abbott shot back, leaning his head against the window for half a second before forcing himself upright again. “Drive.”... “You can’t just” … “I said drive.” And they did. Because that tone didn’t leave room for argument. The ER doors slid open like any other night. No heads-up. No prep. No chaos waiting for him. Just the hum of a normal shift. Abbott walked in alone and for a second just a second it almost felt like he could keep it that way. Until… “Dr. Abbott?” Kit of course it was Kit. Her voice caught him before anything else did, cutting through the noise like it always did, and when he looked up, she was already moving toward him, eyes scanning, taking him in too quickly, too carefully and then her expression changed. “What happened?” she asked, already at his side, already reaching for him before she could stop herself. “Nothing,” he said easily. Too easily. “It’s fine.”... “It’s not fine,” she shot back immediately, her hand hovering near his arm before finally settling lightly against it, testing, careful. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I don’t care.” That stopped him. Just for a second. Long enough for her to guide him toward a bed, her hand firm now, no hesitation in it. “Sit.” patting the bed  “I can take care of it—” Say it again “Sit.” And something in the way she said it was sharp, controlled, just this side of anger made him listen. Barely. He lowered himself onto the bed with a tight exhale, trying not to show how much it pulled at his shoulder. She noticed anyway of course she did. “Can you lift your arm?” she asked, already grabbing supplies, already moving like she’d done this a thousand times. He tried, but it didn't go well. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s fine.”... “That’s not fine,” she said again, softer this time, but no less firm. She stepped closer, eyes flicking over the cuts along his face, the scrape along his jaw, the blood dried into the collar of his shirt. “I need to see your shoulder.”

“I can—”

“You can’t,” she cut in, already reaching for the hem of his shirt. “You physically cannot, so stop pretending like you can.” There was a beat. A charged one and then she started cutting. The fabric gave easily under the scissors, falling away in pieces, exposing skin that was already bruising, already marked with shallow cuts and scrapes across his chest, his shoulder, his back where she could see it. And suddenly she was very aware of how close she was too close. Her fingers brushed his skin as she worked, careful, clinical—but not entirely steady. Heat crept up her neck, into her face, the awareness of him overwhelming in a way she hadn’t expected. Abbott felt it too. That shift, tension. The way her hands lingered just a second too long before pulling away. The way his breath caught was not from pain. Something else, something worse, he absolutely did not need. “You don’t have to—” he started, voice rougher now. “I do,” she said quickly, not looking at him. “You’re my patient right now.” still trying to work on him “That’s not… “Stop.” That did it. She lifted her hand and stepped away taking off her gloves to prove a point. The argument came fast after that because he couldn’t just sit there. Couldn't just let her take care of him. “I said I’ve got it,” he snapped, trying to push himself up, immediately regretting it when his shoulder screamed in protest “And I said you don’t,” she shot back, stepping in front of him, blocking him from moving. “You can’t even lift your arm, Abbott.” she snapped at him “I’ve handled worse than this alone.” in a low grown of pain  “Yeah? And how’s that working out for you right now?” He didn’t answer, and he didn't like the answer to that question. Didn’t like the way she was looking at him—like she saw right through it Through him “I don’t need you to—” she then reached for a new pair of gloves  “Well, I’m here anyway,” she snapped, frustration bleeding through now, something deeper under it that neither of them wanted to name. “So maybe just let me do my job for once instead of fighting me on everything.” That hit harder than it should have. Neither of them said anything. Then she stepped back one more time. Too abrupt and final. “Fine,” she muttered, dropping the gauze back onto the tray. “Do it yourself.” throwing the gloves at him  and she walked out.

Abbott sat there for a long second, alone. The shirt was cut off. Shoulder hanging wrong. Blood is still drying along his skin, and for the first time that night, he didn’t feel in control. Robby didn’t knock when he came in. He just walked in, took one look at the situation, and sighed like he’d been expecting it. “You’re an idiot,” he said simply. Abbott let out a short breath. “Not now…” Abbot said, "No, actually, now is perfect,” Robby shot back, crossing his arms. “Because what the hell was that?” Abbot tries to interrupt “I don’t need—” but it doesn't work. “She’s the one taking care of you,” Robby cut him off, voice sharp now. “And you just talked to her like that?” Abbott looked away, Jaw tight. “If a patient spoke to one of your nurses like that,” Robby continued, stepping closer, “you’d be on them in a second, yelling at them for the way they were speaking. So what makes you any different?” That landed because he didn’t have an answer.“Fix it, I don't care how, or I will.” Taking a beat, “and if you talk to her again, I swear to god I will come in here myself and break your other arm and let Dana watch,” furious at him . “Plus, I know you have a thing for her, and I am not letting you ruin it,” Robby finally said, walking out the door so only Abbot could hear him. 

By the time Brendon Park came down to pop his shoulder back into place, Abbott had gone quiet. Not the usual kind of quiet—controlled, observant, calculating. This was different, Still. His head tipped slightly forward, eyes unfocused like he wasn’t entirely in the room anymore, jaw tight as he replayed Robby’s words whether he wanted to or not. The echo of it sat heavy in his chest. Fix it. Like it was that easy. Like he knew how. Park barely spared him more than a glance as he walked in, already pulling on gloves like this was routine because with Abbott, it kind of was. “You’re still doing this shit?” Park sighed, not even bothering to hide the judgment. Abbott huffed out a quiet breath, something almost like a laugh slipping through despite everything. “Apparently.” Park muttered “Yeah,” stepping closer, his eyes dropping to Abbott’s shoulder, assessing the slight misalignment, the way he was holding himself just a little too carefully. “Apparently.” There was a beat. Then, under his breath “Idiot.” Abbott didn’t argue. Didn’t have it in him this time. Park reached for his arm, firm but not unkind, fingers pressing along the joint, testing range, finding the exact point where everything sat wrong. Abbott’s muscles tensed on instinct, breath pulling tight in his chest. “This is going to hurt,” Park said, almost lazily but there was precision in the way he adjusted his grip, positioning him just right. “I know,” Abbott started But Park didn’t wait, Didn’t count down. Didn’t give him the chance to brace. He just did a sharp, controlled movement quick and exact and then a sickening pop as the joint slid back into place. The sound echoed louder than it should have. Abbott’s breath hitched, a low, involuntary exhale forcing its way out as the pain spiked and then just as quickly shifted. Not gone. Never gone. But different. Manageable. The deep, wrong pressure easing just enough to let him breathe again. His head dropped forward slightly, eyes closing for half a second as the tension drained out of his shoulders in slow increments. “Yeah,” Park said, stepping back like he’d just fixed a loose hinge instead of a dislocated joint. “That’ll do it.” Abbott rolled his shoulder cautiously, testing it, wincing at the lingering soreness but already trying to pretend it was nothing. “Try not to dislocate it again tonight,” Park added dryly, already turning away, already done with the whole situation. Abbott let out a quiet breath, flexing his fingers once before settling his arm back at his side. “No promises.” Park paused at the door just long enough to roll his eyes. “Of course not,” he muttered. But then he glanced back just for a second longer than necessary. Something softer there. Something that said take it easy without actually saying it. Then it was gone. And just like that he was out of the room. Leaving Abbott alone again, with the dull ache in his shoulder and, unfortunately alone with his own thoughts.

Robby didn’t let it end there. He found Kit halfway down the hall, hovering near the nurse’s station doing some charting so she could take a breather. Her arms were crossed tight over her chest, fingers digging into her sleeves, eyes fixed on nothing in particular but he could see it all over her face. The frustration and embarrassment,  Something softer underneath it that she clearly didn’t want to look at too closely. “Hey,” Robby said, gentler than usual. She didn’t answer right away. Just let out a quiet breath. “I’m not going back in there.” shaking her head. “Yeah,” he nodded, like he expected that. “You are.” She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Did you not just see how that went?” she stopped typing at this point  “I did,” he said simply. “And I think you’re taking it a little too personally.” That made her look at him in disbelief , disgust or disappointment that he said that to her. “He was being an ass, Robby.” she quickly replied  “Yeah,” he agreed easily. “He was.” That threw her off. That he doesn't have Abbot back. She blinked. “Okay… so why am I the one going back in there?” now she was questioning everything “Because,” Robby said, leaning his shoulder against the counter beside her, lowering his voice just enough that it felt like something meant only for her, “that’s not actually about you.” She didn’t look convinced. “He gets like that,” Robby continued. “When he’s hurt. When he’s not in control. When he can’t just push through something the way he normally does.” Robby now looks at her trying to see what she is thinking.  “He didn’t have to take it out on me,” she said,  “No,” Robby agreed again. “He didn’t. And I already told him that.” Her brows pulled together slightly. “You did?” Robby snickered, “Oh, yeah,” he huffed. “Pretty sure I called him out on his bullshit behavior and someone not so nice stuff” That earned the smallest flicker of a smile from her. “Look,” he added, softening a little more, “Abbott can be… a lot. You’ve seen that. He’s sharp, he’s stubborn, and when he’s in that headspace, he doesn’t always filter it.” while crossing his arm  “That’s a nice way of saying he’s mean,” she muttered.

Robby shrugged. “Sometimes he is.” There was a beat. “But he doesn’t mean it,” he said after a second. Kit looked at him again, searching this time trying to see if he was up to something and secretly wanting to make her life miserable or not.  “He’s used to taking care of everyone else,” Robby explained. “Being the one in control, the one who fixes things. The second that flips, the second he’s the one on the table… he hates it. And instead of just saying that like a normal person, he—” he gestured toward Abbot room, “—does that.” She let out a quiet breath, some of the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “He shouldn’t have talked to you like that,” Robby added. “You didn’t deserve that. But don’t confuse him being bad at handling his own shit with you doing something wrong.” Her throat tightened slightly at that. “ Ok fine I will go back there but why choose me? why are you harping on me to do it?”  The part she hadn’t said out loud. “ because you already started with that mess I don't want to throw someone else into the shit hole” Robby replied “I wasn’t—” she started, then stopped, shaking her head. “I just… I was trying to help. I wasn't the one to make the shit hole ” pointing in that general area “I know,” Robby said. “And you did.” She frowned. “Didn’t feel like it.” Then he cut her off  “That’s because he’s an idiot,” Robby said again, easy, but then his tone shifted just enough to matter. “But you’re a good nurse, Kit. A really good one.” She stilled and he continued. “You saw what he needed, you stepped in, you took control of the situation—even when he was pushing back. That’s not easy. Especially with someone like him.” Her eyes dropped for a second, processing that. “Why are you kissing my ass so much, you are never like this” She swallowed worried that he was going to get yelled at for the way she said it but she didn't know how else to say it and too much, probably. “Give him a little grace,” Robby said after a moment. “Not because he deserves a free pass but because you’re going to see that side of him again. And if you take it personally every time, it’s going to wear you down and it will make you a better nurse” She nodded slowly. “And give yourself some too,” he added, softer now. “You handled that better than most people would’ve.” For a second, neither of them said anything and where just looking at eachother, kit saying in her head what the fuck. Then Robby nudged his head toward the room. “Great it looks like Dr. Park just left and he's in there trying to put on a shirt like it’s his first day with arms,” he said dryly. “So… maybe go save him from himself.” That pulled a real smile out of her this time. “Okay,” she said. She turned toward the room and paused at the door to see what he was trying to do and then she stepped inside.

Abbott was trying and failing to pull on a clean shirt with one arm. She didn’t say anything at first.

Just walked over. Took the shirt from him. “Stop,” she said quietly And this time he did. “Can I finish cleaning your wound first before we put the shirt on?” before looking at the shirt and seeing how it was an over shirt that would be hard to get into “do you have another shirt?” Abbot looked at her hand and said “no” then she looked at him and realized he was shirtless again and got bothered about it “do you have one in your locker?” asking while she was turning pink in the cheeks and Abbot see this stand up and look at her and take one step closer to her “i dont know let me go check” before slipping out and going to his locker and he knew he had one in there he always does and by the time he came back kit was talking to Gabbie in the hallway still holding my shirt “can i take that now” now shirtless, hand out for my shirt in front of both of them she both stood there for a sec speechless and Gabbie quickly said “I am going to check in on my patients now” before speed walking away then kit gave me my shirt back “ok miss kennedy let clean these quickly” She helped him get cleaned up and get all the Debris out of the cuts. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. She paused. Just for a second not feeling the q-tip on his forehead 

“I didn’t mean to be… mean to you,” he added, voice low. “I was—”...  “Mad,” she finished for him.

“Yeah.” he slowly said “At yourself,” she said. He huffed a small laugh. “Yeah.” She nodded, adjusting the fabric over his shoulder. “You’re still an ass.” he quickly responded “Fair.” she was moving to a new spot on his chest and there was a beat. Then “Why do you do this?” she asked. He looked at her. She stopped working on his wound so she could see too “My therapist told me I needed a hobby,” he said lightly. “Something active.” Her expression didn’t change.“That’s your hobby?” she asked flatly. “Breaking into burning buildings, getting shot at?” with no hesitation. “It’s not that bad.” she shot back “It is that bad,” frustration slipping through again. “You should think about a new hobby, because this one feels like a death sentence waiting to happen.” He didn’t argue, didn't joke, just watched her. As she continued to work not wanting to ruin the moment  “You don’t get burnt out?” she added, softer now. “Doing all of this? Doesn’t anyone worry about you?” He signs without saying anything and changes the topic “You’re the second person in thirty minutes to tell me to rethink my hobbies,” he said instead. “Good,” she muttered. “Maybe you’ll listen.” He rebuttals “Maybe.” Then she put him into his new shirt, careful, slower now, her hands steady again but softer than before, brushing his skin in a way that felt intentional this time. The air between them shifted again, heavier, quieter. By the time she finished, the room had gone quiet again. The tension hadn’t. If anything It had shifted. Deepened. She looked at him differently now, Softer, Worried and something else he couldn’t afford to name. He felt it too, that pull. That dangerous, familiar edge of something he shouldn’t want because she wasn’t something he could have and that made her worse than anything else. Worse than the fire, Worse than the fall because this was the kind of adrenaline he didn’t know how to survive and for the first time he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

ღ. synopsis ; you had the ability to turn ladies man derek morgan into a flustering mess with just a look, how didnt you realise it sooner?

ღ. pairing ; derek morgan x reader

ღ. notes ; short but cute please dont flop :/

you were the only girl that could turn SSA derek morgan into a fumbling, blushing, mess.

if you even attempted eye contact with the man he would look away immediately, but with any other girl it was always, "hey baby girl," and "lookin' goood mama,"

and it made yoi so sad, because the transition into joining the tram had been so smooth, and you hd thought you got along really well with everyone, except derek. he couldn't even stand to talk to you.

having a desk directly across from him only made things harder. you had to think before you even dared to look up, because derek might get annoyed and leave to go do his work separately.

one day, after a case you were writing the paperwork for the case summary report, absentmindedly putting your pen in between your lips, you pause, feeling eyes on you.

you look up not taking the pen out of your mouth, looking across your desk to be met with derek sitting at his desk, a strange look on his face. well, at least he wasnt immediately looking away, thats a good sign.

you twirled the pen between your teeth out of habit, keeping eye contact with the tall man.

a sudden DING from your phone distracts you from your innocent teasing,

maybe? derek morgan: stop looking at me like that, its distracting.

you: never.

you wink at him, illiciting a sigh and yet another text from the man.

maybe? derek morgan: meet me in the utility closet ASAP

huh, maybe he didnt hate you as much as you thought...

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Wow, hi, you actually found this post! Welcome!

We're Cherry Orchard, just getting serious about writing smutty fiction! We're going to be posting salacious short stories here, so be sure to follow if that’s your kind of thing! Our writer has been creating short stories as a hobby for over a decade, and our editor is the finest internet grump one can find. We're hoping you'll like what you find around here.

Today we're starting off strong (hopefully) with a little bit of Gravity Falls fanfiction, a Dipcifica office romance of sorts. Enjoy!

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An Interview At Northwest Mining Co.

„Alright, thank you for your time, we’ll call you if you got the job. Goodbye!”

The man with the diploma in arts finally left the office, and Pacifica Northwest could lean back in her chair, hands on her cheeks in desperation. Four interviews today. Four of them, each a bigger loser than the last. Sure, the job is urgent, but that doesn’t mean she should settle for… these people. She could practically feel her long, blonde hair turning white from just listening to them. She should have been stricter in the advertisement, she really should have…

She rested her hands on the mahogany wood desk, thinking. There was a stack of resumes still on her right, while on the left, a neat golden sign exclaimed: “Pacifica Northwest, CEO”. Behind the sign, out of sight, was where she kept the intercom, for quick commands to her secretary. In front of the desk, there was a simple chair facing her, intended for the applicants.

Pacifica groaned, glancing towards the intercom. Delaying it won’t accomplish anything, but… ugh. She spun her chair around to look at the wall behind her, where various diplomas and certificates in all kinds of fields were being displayed. Business, geology, sports, fashion, philosophy, and so on. They were intended to be the second thing anyone saw when entering the office. The first thing should, of course, be Pacifica herself. On her left and right were two display cabinets filled with all kinds of different trophies, medals, and some personal items. ‘Excellence In Business’, ‘Female CEO Of The Year’ two consecutive times, ‘National Minigolf Champion’… Though there were clearly still spaces left empty, deliberately so. More awards to be won. They were, as you’d say it, a ‘work in progress’.

She sighed, turned her chair back towards the desk and glanced up at the clock hanging above the door. There’s time for one more, she thought... Maybe a quick one. She was losing hope for the day, but she could probably just hurry this last one along so she could at least say that she tried. Keep her conscience clear.

“Send in the next one,” she said after pressing the button on the intercom. Let’s get this over with… She adjusted her purple blouse and knee-length skirt – stylish yet professional –  and put her hands together as the door opened.

“…YOU?”

Two voices rang out in unison as a man stepped into the room. Short, messy brown hair, checkered red shirt, semi-slouched stance… all that would have already made Pacifica want to have nothing to do with him, although the handsome face with the stubble, and the wide shoulders would probably have given her pause. It didn’t matter though, as she already recognized him the moment he entered the office.

“YOU’RE the boss here?” The man said with a doubtful voice. Pacifica was already rummaging through the pile of resumes, her eyes going wider and wider.

“Wait, no way…” She knew the name sounded familiar the first time she read it, but she didn’t think much of it at the time. It can’t be him, right? He was a dork, and this guy actually looks… decent. From the neck up, at least. And maybe the waist down… Finally she found the paper, pulling it from the stack as a few other resumes gently floated down onto the floor. “You… Mason? YOU’RE Mason?! Mason Pines?!”

“What, you thought Dipper is my real name?” The man looked like he was about to laugh out loud. At the same time though, he was clearly just as surprised. “I’m not gonna write that on a resume, come on! And you? Northwest Mining Co.? I didn’t even think to put it together...”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s my company, I can name it whatever I want.” Pacifica put down the resume and stood up to grab the ones that fell down.

Dipper shook his head and grabbed a stray resume from the floor as well, putting it on the desk. “Yeah but… mining? That’s so unlike you.”

“Hey, it’s an honest business!” She got up, throwing the resumes back onto the table. One of them slid right off the other end. “Besides, gold and gems will never be out of fashion.”

“So when it said you’re looking for an inspector…”

“It was for the mines, yes. Check for structural and… other dangers.“ Pacifica walked up to him, pushing Dipper onto the interviewee chair. “Now sit down and let’s just get this over with, pretty boy. I literally don’t have all day.”

“Personal space?” Dipper smirked up at the girl. “Still very handsy, are we? You haven’t changed a bit since that night at the manor…”

“Hey!” Pacifica leaned in close, a slight rosy color on her cheeks. “I thought we agreed to pretend that never happened.”

“I didn’t take your money.” Dipper shrugged, staring back at her. “No agreement, blondie.”

One could practically cut the tension with a knife as they stared into each other’s eyes. For a few seconds, not a single sound broke the silence. Even without the exchange of any more words, the longer their staring contest went on, the more and more red their faces became. Their eyes were filled with hostility, but also… something more. Something from a long time ago…

Neither of them expected what happened next – Pacifica’s hand on Dipper’s collar, his hands on her shoulders. Who started it? Neither knew, but neither could stop themselves either, and before they realized, their lips met, pressing together into a wild makeout session. Their tongues intertwined harmoniously like they already knew each other inside and out, wrapping into a wild dance. Closing their eyes, they wanted to focus on nothing but that sudden passion, even if they would have never admitted it. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders, his slid down onto her waist. Her palm-sized breasts pressed up against his chest as she practically sat in his lap, letting him feel every single breath she took.

After a lingering minute, Pacifica finally broke the kiss, pulling back with a silent gasp. Dipper, panting for air, looked up at her with a confused smirk. “So handsy…”

“S-shut up…” She frowned, her eyes practically piercing his as she quickly stood up again.

Dipper smiled, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away. That joke was not worth the glare. “Hey, sorry… Can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it at least a little…” After a few awkward seconds, he added, “It’s an interesting way to greet an applicant.”

“Don’t think I do this for everyone, idiot…” she mumbled, glancing away… her eyes settling on the growing bulge on his pants.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She found it difficult to look away: the sight made her quiver inside, feeling a heat growing in her loins. Maybe this is what she needed right now, and… he just might be the right person for it. “You are lucky I had a bad day… and need… something to…”

“You don’t have to explain it, Paz.” Dipper shook his head with a chuckle. “I know you can’t resist me.”

“God, you’re so infuriating...” Pacifica groaned as she slid down onto her knees. “What-ever. What comes next will never leave this room, got it?”

Dipper had no time to react at all before she had his pants down. Her eyes went wide as she gazed at his erection. “Wh-“

Pacifica was just staring at it for a short while. She wasn’t exactly new to seeing a man’s dick, but this one was way bigger than she would have ever given him credit for. The length of an entire stretched-out hand, if not longer…

“Impressed?” Dipper asked, trying to keep up the witty exterior, though his voice was a bit shaky. He looked to the side as he could feel her breath on his sensitive skin, feeling her soft fingers slowly and gently close around the base…

Pacifica looked up into his eyes. She wanted to say something, berate his confidence, talk down his involvement in all this… but she decided otherwise. She was beyond giving a damn. She looked back at his sizeable manhood as it was twitching in her hand from the warm air, then parted her lips, and without another thought, wrapped them around the head. Her tongue quickly found the tip, licking at it a few times for a salty appetizer before leaning her head down, taking more of that large rod into her mouth.

She soon found a rhythm, her head bobbing up and down along the length of his manhood. Her lips tightened around it as her tongue brushed against the shaft again and again, getting a taste each time as if she couldn’t have enough of it. Dipper has long lost his composure, moaning silently at the sudden but pleasant treatment. His dick couldn’t lie, twitching eagerly in response to each wave of pleasure. One moment she was giving the tip a kiss, the next her tongue was running across his sack, egging his balls on as she took the entire shaft into her mouth and throat. She wanted to be the best, THE BEST, at everything she did, so of course she had to be amazing even in this...

“P-Pacifica… too… good…” Dipper groaned. His cock was twitching in anticipation, telling her that he won’t last much longer… but after a few seconds, Pacifica pulled her head up, looking at him with a gasp. He looked down to return her stare. “W-wh-…”

With a stern expression, Pacifica put a finger on his lips before he could say anything. She then got up and stepped back until she reached her desk, sitting onto the mahogany and spreading her legs. “I don’t care what you think right now. I need it. So take it or leave it.” Please take it, come on, just take it, she thought… She was acting tough, but her eyes betrayed her desire for him.

For a moment, Dipper just sat there, still dumbfounded as if he’s contemplating whether he’s just dreaming, then stood up. “Well, alright… works for me...” Without question, he lined up his still-eager shaft against Pacifica’s waiting, wet slit, pushing in with a confident thrust. She couldn’t hold back a moan, the act almost making her go cross-eyed right away.

He leaned forward, giving her a brief, romantic kiss before settling into an even pace. Eager but restrained, each push sent a wave of pleasure through both their bodies as if they were becoming one in the act. Pacifica could practically feel its shape, every vein rubbing against her insides as she eagerly welcomed the sexual invader. Her bra couldn’t stop her perky breasts bouncing up and down from the rhythmic yet aggressive motion, and when Dipper put a hand on them, she didn’t react to it beyond an approving moan, too lost in that feeling… Pacifica’s entire body was melting into the ecstasy she hadn’t realized she needed. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, urging him to keep going harder, faster… or maybe demanding that he do not stop. Ever.

‘Ever’ came sooner than expected though, as just after a few minutes, Pacifica suddenly pushed Dipper back. “N-not… done yet,” she moaned as he flumped onto the chair, with her quickly getting on top of him. The surprise only lasted a moment though. She had no intention to stop, taking control as she saddled his crotch eagerly, pushing her entire body down onto his stiffness. She took it all inside, stopping for a few seconds to enjoy having it so deep, feeling it twitch and quiver from her grip down there… before she slowly moved up again, just barely keeping the tip in her grasp before plunging right back down. She quickly gained speed, using his shoulders for support so her shaking legs wouldn’t give out on the spot. Her lower lips were burning with desire, lapping up every bit of pleasure she could get out of the act. It urged her to go faster, bounce on it even more aggressively, focus on nothing but the tip piercing into her deepest sanctum time and time again.

She had no idea how much time had passed, but soon she could feel something building up inside. In a final surge of lust, she picked up the pace as much as she could, greedy for more, before peaking into a blast of pleasure rushing through her entire body. Her eyes rolling up, her tongue hanging out, she had nothing else on her mind at that point. Her head empty, Pacifica’s insides tightened around that shaft eagerly, riding out the orgasm as if it was her ultimate reward for existing. Dipper tried to hold on, but it was too much – his arms wrapped around her waist and his head cocked down as he thrusted all the way in... The next moment, he began to fill her with surge after surge of his own climax, painting her insides white while he let out a few satisfied groans, basking in the intense pleasure.

When Pacifica finally came down from the high of her orgasm, she collapsed onto Dipper, her chin resting on his shoulder. She let out a few gasps as she moved, panting, trying to gather her bearings. Dipper still had his arms around her, feeling her warm breath on his neck. After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke.

🦋🦋🦋🦋

And a huge shout-out to the wonderful @carrot-gallery for organising this entire thing!

So without further ado:

Delivery 

Chapter 13:

Two weeks. That’s how long you’d been away from the ER. Two weeks of being told to rest. To heal, do not think about the way your body still remembers the chaos of that night. The blood, the pressure, the way his hands hadn’t left you until you were safe.  Two weeks of trying not to think about him. Which, of course meant you thought about him constantly. So you did what you always did when things got too loud in your head. You showed up. Ten pizzas might have been excessive. Okay—no, they were definitely excessive. But you didn’t care, If you were going back in there—even just to visit—you weren’t doing it quietly. The ambulance bay was packed, ambulances lined up, chaos spilling in and out of the doors, paramedics moving fast enough that you knew better than to even try squeezing through. So instead you turned and walked straight into the waiting room Arms full of pizza boxes stacked so high you could barely see over them. “Jesus—Kit?” Michelle’s voice came from the front desk. You grinned. “Hey. Can you let me in before I drop all of this and embarrass myself?” She was already moving, laughing. “Yeah, yeah—come on.” The second the doors opened it was like you hadn’t been gone at all. You were in there long before Mateo blinked. “What the—” Then he grabbed a few, stepping forward and that’s when he saw you. His entire face lit up. “Kit!” Erica wasn’t far behind, both of them immediately pulling you into the room like you might disappear if they didn’t hold onto you. “Kit’s here!” Mateo yelled to everyone and  “And she brought pizza!” Heads snapped up Voices overlapped, “Holy shit—” someone else saying “Kit?!” then another person said “Is that—pizza?!” And then they were all moving, Toward you. You barely had time to set the boxes down before people were hugging you, grabbing at your arms, talking over each other. The reaction was instant, People getting up like you had just handed them a winning lottery ticket instead of carbs and grease. Gabbie slid up beside you, arms crossed, smirking. “You know you’re becoming the food person, right?” she said. “Like this is your thing now.” You laughed. “I would be very excited for that title instead of something bad.” She snorted. “Oh, we can still give you a bad one if you want.” You bumped her shoulder lightly, shaking your head.

God, you missed this place sometimes.

You found Dr. Robby not long after, leaning against the counter like he always did when things slowed just enough to breathe. “Hey,” he said, easy, like you hadn’t scared the absolute shit out of everyone two weeks ago. “Hey, how are you?” You fell into conversation naturally about the floor, about how things had been, At one point, you shifted and started talking about his bike. You too have the common ground of fixing up old vehicles. “Are you still working on it?” you asked. “Trying to,” he said. “The thing’s being stubborn.” You grinned. “If you ever need help transporting it, you’ve got my truck.” He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Well, ain't I lucky — I got two of you now.” You frowned slightly. “Two of—”

Then robby cut you off and nogged his head behind you “And speak of the devil.” You turned to see and there he was Dr. Jack Abbott himself. Mid-argument with Gloria, something sharp and controlled in the way he was standing, shoulders tight, jaw set, Work mode fully. But when he saw you, he noticed and everything shifted. He kept flickering His attention back toward you once then again, Like he couldn’t help it. The conversation with Gloria wrapped faster than it probably should have. And the second he could, he moved right toward you. Robby smirked slightly beside you. “Kit got us pizza. It’s in the break room if you want some.” Abbott glanced at him—then at you, and something in his expression softened. “That’s very nice of you,” he said charmingly. Maybe too charming for you to handle,  You tried not to react to it but Failed. Blushing ever so slightly and smiling a little bit. “No problem, I just know how to help this place run” The conversation stayed group-based for a while. Slowly it transitioned to conversation, me staying something to abbott and then it turned back toward robby and collins and they were walking away talking about the patients that they are treating. 

You looked back at Dr. Jack Abbott and slowly, without really deciding to, you started moving. At first, it didn’t feel like anything. Just one step then another and suddenly you were side by side. You didn’t even notice when it happened. Didn’t clock the moment your body just… fell into pace with him, it was so natural. Like it had always been like that there was never a time they did know how the other body operated. Neither of you spoke at first. The noise of the ER faded just enough behind you, still there, still loud, but not here. Not in the space between you. The silence wasn't awkward, which is worse. Because it gave you too much time to think. Too much time to replay everything—the last shift, the stairwell, the way he looked at you, the way he still looked at you. You kept your eyes forward. Trying to think of something normal to say, something safe. Something that didn’t sound like your heart wasn’t beating just a little too fast. “So,” you finally said, glancing at him, “what are you doing here two hours before your shift?” He huffed quietly beside you, one hand brushing the back of his neck like the answer annoyed him just as much as the situation. “Meeting. Gloria. Patient satisfaction numbers, budget issues, policies…” he trailed off, rolling his eyes slightly. “All the fun shit.” You winced, a small smile tugging at your lips but biting it before it could come out. “Oh, that sucks.”… “Yeah,” he muttered.

And then silence again, a few more steps, neither of you rushed to fill it. Which somehow made it heavier. You swallowed slightly. Then, softer “Thank you for the flowers. They were really nice.” That got his attention, fully. He turned his head just enough to look at you, not quick, not casual. Like he was trying to read something you weren’t saying out loud. you felt it, the way his eyes lingered just a second too long. You kept your expression steady or tried to. “I hope I got them right,” he said after a beat. “I overheard you talking to Gabbie about your favorite.” Your cheeks warmed instantly, Damn it. “You got it right,” you said quickly—too quickly. “But you didn’t have to do that.” A small pause. Your fingers flexed slightly at your side. “Especially after the last time we “”talked“”——” you added, lifting your hands in small air quotes, “—I yelled at you when I was out of line.” 

“I deserved that,” he said, "No hesitation, No deflection. Your brows pulled together slightly. “No, you didn’t—” he cut in, “Yeah,” quieter now, but firmer. “I did.” A beat His gaze didn’t leave yours. “I was an ass,” he added bluntly. “Well… I wasn’t exactly nice either,” you admitted. His mouth twitched slightly, not quite a smile but close. “I can handle the not nice you,” he said. “What I can’t handle is you thinking you were wrong for saying it.” That landed, you didn’t know what to do with that. So you deflected of course you did. “Wow,” you muttered lightly. “That almost sounded like emotional growth, Dr. Abbott.”

That did it, A real smile this time Slow, Crooked, Dangerous in the way it always was. “Careful,” he said, stepping just a fraction closer again. “You keep talking like that, I might start thinking you like me.” you shut down afraid to say anything else because she doesn't want to expose anything and abbott observe the change in you.

He stopped walking which made you slow down and stop a few steps in front of him. You can tell that he was looking around to see if anyone would notice him being very alert of everything. He decided that it was ok and turned sharply. You barely had time to react before he grabbed your hand softly as he could so he could move me and he pulled you with him into the stairwell. The door shut behind you and suddenly it was quiet. We were alone in our own little bubble from the hospital, he got down low to your eye level so he would know you could hear him. “Hey,” he said, stepping closer, voice lower now. “I am truly sorry. About everything. How I handled it. The way I talked to you.” You blinked because this wasn’t the version of him you were used to. “That was the second time in less than a week I got mad at people for something they didn’t do,” he continued, running a hand through his hair. “First at you. Then everyone else after you got hurt.” A small, humorless huff. “Apparently I’m on a streak.” You softened slightly. “I’m serious,” he added, stepping closer again. “I need someone to call me out. And you did. So… thank you.” There it was, that raw edge he didn’t show anyone else.And then you realized How close you were. He leaned in slightly. One hand coming to your waist, steadying you or maybe steadying himself, you didn’t know, didn’t care. My skin is super sensitive when he is around and right now it feels like my skin is burning where his fingers are touching my skin. I was counting them so I calmed myself and then his voice dropped right near your ear. “How are you?” You swallowed, your breath catching slightly as you answered. “I’m fine,” you said, softer now. “No pain. I should be back next week.” Your hand moved without thinking. Resting my hand lightly on his bicep, the one connected to my waist, so I can get more balance or the sense of it. Feeling his soft shirt, a barrier, Thin one but one I need. He looked at you like he was losing a fight he didn’t want to win. His jaw tightened, and his grip on your hip just barely firming. Leaning just a little bit further, I could feel his breath on your lips and  you look at him seeing him licked his lip then you make eye contact for a beat.

for a second…

You thought… 

But then he stepped back like he forced himself to. Like every inch of distance he put between you cost him something. You felt it, the physical shift in the air with him gone.  Like whatever had been holding you steady just left. Your breath hitched without meaning to. Chest tightening in a way that didn’t make sense or maybe it did. You looked up at Jack…No, Dr. Abbott…  And saw it.  The change. The softness was still there but buried now and now controlled. Pushed down under something sharper. Safer. Professional. Like he had just slammed a door shut inside himself. “I’ll see you next week then,” he said. Still soft but there was something strained in it now. Like the words didn’t come easy, he didn’t want them to be the last thing he said. And just like that, the moment ended. He turned Walked back into the ER. Didn’t look back and you didn’t move. You were still pressed lightly against the wall where he had you. Like your body hadn’t caught up yet, it didn’t realize he was gone. The stairwell still felt different. Charged, the air thicker than it should’ve been, like it was holding onto something you couldn’t quite name. You rolled your head back slowly, letting it rest against the wall. Eyes drifting up to the ceiling, pupils blown and your breathing heavier than it should’ve been. You just stood there… Stunned.

“What the fuck was that…” you muttered under your breath. Because it wasn’t just a moment. It wasn’t just tension or flirting. It was something else, it sat heavier in your chest, you didn’t know what to do with it. You let yourself stay there for a second. Let your breathing even out, your heart settle just enough that you could think straight again. Because you weren’t ready to move. Not yet. You weren’t ready to walk back into the ER like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t just been that close. Because even standing there, even surrounded by everyone, you could still feel him. The ghost of his hand at your waist. The way his voice dropped just for you. The way he looked at you like he was trying not to cross a line and failing.

Because this wasn’t just flirting anymore and you both knew it.

The Girl Before the Pitt 

Chapter One

Kit Kennedy didn’t grow up in the kind of place people left, at least not for any obvious reason. The street she lived on sat tucked just outside of Pittsburgh, about forty-five minutes from the city, lined with houses that all looked slightly different but somehow the same. Big yards, bikes left on driveways, kids yelling to each other until the streetlights came on. It was the kind of neighborhood where you were never really alone, where there was always someone knocking on your door asking if you could come out, where time moved slower in the way only childhood allows. She was the youngest of four, which meant she was never supposed to feel lonely. Not with siblings who adored her from the moment she was born. Her brother hovered like a built-in bodyguard, always a step ahead, always watching. Her sisters let her follow them around even when they didn’t have to sit on bedroom floors, playing games they had long outgrown just because she asked. There was always someone there for her. Always noise, always movement, always life filling the house. But her parents were different. Not absent in the way people liked to assume but not there in the way that mattered, either.

They loved her. She never questioned that. It lived in the way they spoke to her when they were home, in the hugs that lingered just a second longer before they left again, in the promises that sounded sincere even when they were broken by circumstance. But their lives were somewhere else most of the time. Her mom was constantly traveling, moving between countries for work that Kit only half understood. Her dad was always back and forth between Pittsburgh and Washington, D.C., his schedule unpredictable, his presence temporary. So, Kit learned early how to be noticed. Especially with three other siblings it was hard to get her parents' attention. It started small. Good grades taped to the fridge. Gold stars, honor roll, little moments where she could feel their attention settle on her, even briefly. But her siblings were the same way and always trying to outstage each other. Then when she grew it turned into placing 1 state track meets, getting into special programs and getting competitional grants and prizes for her Academics, pushing herself harder and harder, chasing something she couldn’t quite name. Excellence became the language she spoke best. If she was perfect, they would look. If she was exceptional, they would stay. For a while, it worked. Until it didn’t. Except for the fact that the calls home were shorter, the praise came more quickly, and the attention was sliding through her fingers despite the fact that she tried very hard to hang onto it. Nevertheless, by that point, she had no idea how to stop. She had already incorporated the act of trying into her identity.

The only time it felt different, the only time it felt like enough was summer. Summer meant everything shifted. Every June and July, they packed up and left, trading the quiet suburbs for the salt-heavy air of Ocean Beach, on Fire Island. Her dad’s childhood lived there, tucked into a small beach house that only had two bedrooms which all her siblings had to share and looked like it was straight out of the 60’s that nothing ever changed, no matter how much everything else did. And for those two months, something softened. One of her parents was always there. Always present. Always within reach, no of her siblings ever fighting for their attention. Those summers became the rhythm of her life. She grew up on that island with no cars and a beach that was always filled, first as a kid running barefoot through the sand, then as a teenager who knew the tides like second nature. Daycare turned into responsibility, responsibility into purpose. She followed the same path her siblings had before her lifeguarding, training, learning how to respond when things went wrong. Eventually stepping into something bigger, something heavier, working as a lifeguard during the day and EMT at night alongside people who trusted her to handle the worst moments of someone else’s life. Out there, everything made sense. The noise in her head quieted. The constant need to prove herself faded into something steadier. It wasn’t about being the best, it was about being there. About showing up when it mattered. Back home, that role belonged to someone else. Aunt Dana.

If her parents were the ones who gave her life, Dana was the one who shaped it. Living close enough to always be there, she filled in the spaces without ever making it feel like something was missing. Her siblings and I never felt like we had to compete that we could be ourselves when everyone was the most kind to each other and how we became so close. Dana and her husband may have not been my real parents but they were the closest one to it at that time. She got them ready for school, sat in the stands at every game, showed up to meet with a kind of pride that felt unwavering, uncomplicated. Putting her life to the side and being able to start a family so she could raise me. Kit followed her everywhere. She was Dana, a little shadow wanted to be her so badly. There was never a question about it she just did. Trailing behind her from room to room, watching the way she moved through the world, the way she took care of people without hesitation. There was something about it that stuck, something that settled deep before Kit even realized it. That was where it started. Not in a classroom. Not in a single moment. But in the quiet consistency of someone who always showed up.

As Kit got older, her world expanded, but not in a way that pulled her apart from it. Her friendships grew slowly, naturally, weaving themselves into her life until they felt permanent. It started with Mia from kindergarten, living just down the street, walking to the bus together, afternoons spent playing outside until they were called in for dinner. Then more followed. Middle school brought new faces, and she met juniper and summer while track practices that stretched late into the evenings, then she added one more Taylor who needed help in science and Kit let her copy her answer and once they all met, routines that made it easy to stay connected even when life got busier. It wasn’t instant. Some friendships took time quietly at first, hesitant, unsure. But eventually, they found their rhythm, folding into each other until it felt like they had always been that way. By high school, they were solid. A group that didn’t need effort to stay together. It just worked. 

Still, Kit life was the best in Pittsburgh. Kit knew she was leaving.Not because she didn’t love it but because she needed something else. College wasn’t just about getting out. It was about becoming someone new. Somewhere no one knew her before she could introduce herself. Somewhere she wasn’t already defined. She found that at Tulane University. At first, it was overwhelming in a good way. Different in every way that mattered. The pace, the culture, the distance from everything she had ever known, it forced her to adjust quickly. To step outside of herself in ways she hadn’t before and slowly, she did. She found people whether it was through class or college track or living in the dorms, she found those people who felt like home in a completely different way. Her roommate Emma, who became something closer to family, they just clicked from the start and never looked back, she connected instantly over the smallest things that somehow mattered the most. Conversations that stretched late into the night, about how everything is so new to them,how they were both new to this place and had never been here before this, about the way the world worked and the ways it didn’t.

She found a version of herself she hadn’t known how to access before one that wasn’t built on proving anything, one that didn’t need to be the best or the brightest just to be seen. A version that could exist without constantly reaching, without constantly trying. And for the first time, that felt like enough. It felt steady. It felt real in a way nothing else ever had.

When Beau and her met and how it wasn’t loud or complicated it just happened. Easy in the way people always say love is supposed to be but rarely is. He saw her as she was in that moment, not as the girl she had been back home or the one she thought she needed to become. And she loved him for that. For the way he showed up, for the way he made space for her without asking her to earn it. His family welcomed her without hesitation, folding her into holidays and traditions like she had always been there, like she wasn’t an addition but a part of something whole. For the first time, she wasn’t trying to fill a space, she was simply in it. She let herself believe in it. How she finally had a proper family. 

By the time graduation came, everything felt like it was finally falling into place. Not forced, not chased just naturally aligning into something that made sense. Plans came easily, like they had been waiting for them all along. The next step didn’t feel uncertain, it felt obvious. They would follow each other anywhere, and somehow that anywhere became New York City. A place where Beau’s future could grow into something bigger, and hers could too. It felt like momentum, like movement, like stepping into a life that had been building quietly beneath everything else.

Her first job as a nurse in New York City felt like stepping into everything she had been working toward without ever fully knowing what it would look like. She worked at NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital, one of the best hospitals in the city, where the pace never slowed and the expectations were as high as the stakes. It was overwhelming at first the noise, the urgency, the constant pull in every direction but she adapted the only way she knew how: by showing up fully, every time. The job hardened her in some ways, forcing her to face things most people never had to, to move through chaos without freezing, to act when there wasn’t time to think. But it softened her too. It taught her how to be present in someone’s worst moment, how to offer comfort even when she couldn’t fix everything, how to carry empathy without letting it break her. She became the kind of nurse who didn’t hesitate, who didn’t look away, who could walk into any room and handle whatever was waiting on the other side, not because she wasn’t scared, but because she had learned how to be brave anyway.

Like a story that knew exactly how it was supposed to end.

Kit life was the kind of place people dreamed about building a life in, And for a while, she was so happy about this life and what the future had for her. But the days blurred together and it started losing its magic. Everything felt louder, busier, but somehow more isolating. It wasn’t that she was unhappy it was that something felt off, And somewhere in that quiet shift, Beau started to feel farther away too. Stop caring about her and being there to support her through the rough days where she felt hollow, he stopped caring in general, missed dinners from staying later at work, that turned into habits, conversations that got shorter, him becoming more controlling of her and what she can and can’t not do. How she still loved him and how she wanted to make it work but he wanted to mold her into something that she was not. How she was still fighting for his love. 

But life had never really worked like that for her.

The road trip started before the sun was fully up, Dana outside Kit’s NYC apartment. The car was already running, the trunk popped open, and for a second Kit just stood there on the curb how she got to this moment, and took it in. Dana, in the driver’s seat like no time had passed at all. They hadn’t been this close in a while. Life had pulled them in different directions, schedules packed, calls shorter. But none of that showed in the way Dana looked at her, like she had always been there, like Kit was the little kid that she remembered, like she would always come if she needed her. And she had no questions about what happened, just showed up.

By the time they finished packing, the car was stuffed to the brim, every inch filled with boxes and bags of Kit’s life, piled so high she couldn’t even see out the back window. It felt excessive, almost chaotic, but also strangely comforting everything she had built, everything she was leaving, all crammed into one small space. She climbed into the passenger seat, glancing over at Dana, and something in her chest tightened in a way she hadn’t expected.

They fell into conversation easily, like they always had. It wasn’t forced, wasn’t trying to make up for lost time, it just existed. Talking about small things, laughing at nothing, sitting in stretches of silence that didn’t feel empty. Kit realized how much she had missed this. Missed her. Missed the simplicity of being with someone who didn’t need anything from her except for her to just be there.

Dana’s life had always been steady in a way Kit admired but never quite knew how to replicate. She showed up for people. Always had. No matter what was going on, no matter how busy things got, she made space. That kind of consistency, that kind of care was something Kit had carried with her, even when they weren’t as close. It was the reason she became a nurse, even if she hadn’t said it out loud in a long time.

She looked over at Dana again, hands steady on the wheel, completely focused, completely present, and felt it settle in her chest.

Some things never changed.

And maybe, some things weren’t meant to.

And no matter how far she went, no matter how much she changed, it all circled back to the same place.

Back to Pittsburgh.