Welcome to Hell

Jack Abbot has been dreading the drive to Danforth Resort and Casino since the moment his brother, Titus Danforth, offered to host his wedding there. All expenses paid for by the Danforth family, of course. 

One of the wealthiest families on the planet…that Jack happens to be a part of. 

He knew he shouldn't have agreed but after he had confided in you that an ancestry test he did revealed he has two brothers, who look identical to him, you urged him to reach out. He did and they have all been talking ever since. 

“Cheer up, babe.” You nudge Jack playfully as you two pull up to where you'll be staying at the Danforth residence. “It'll be nice to be surrounded by family. I know I wish mine could've been here to see us get married.”

All of your family members live overseas, since your father is deployed. That's how you and Jack met. His father knew him from his time in the military and one thing led to another and you two hit it off. 

Thankfully, Jack is an incredible man with a successful career in medicine or your father would've been a bit more iffy about letting you marry someone twice your age. 

“I'm unsure if I can consider them family just yet.” The only family Jack has ever known is his foster parents, Mr and Mrs. Abbot, who ended up adopting him when he was a baby. He's sad they passed a few years ago. He would've loved for them to have met you. 

“Well, they'll be our family soon.” You take his hand, squeezing it. “I can't wait to be part of your family. I love you.” 

Jack looks at you with so much affection. “I love you too.” 

He leans in for a kiss. You smile against his lips, pulling him towards you to kiss him back. 

Then, there's a knock on your window, which makes you pull away. You nearly jump when you see Jack outside. But…it isn't Jack. 

It's one of his brothers. 

You have no clue which one, though. They look exactly the same. It would be creepy if Jack wasn't so handsome. 

You assume this must be Titus since he's dressed in designer clothes from head to toe. He opens the door for you. 

“Come on, lovebirds. You two can kiss at the altar.” Titus puts his hand out and you take it, letting him help you up. You pretend not to notice how his hand holds onto yours rather tightly before you have to pull away. 

Jack hands his car keys to the valet and someone comes out to help take your bags into the estate. You have never stayed at such an extravagant place with staff all around. 

Apparently the whole resort is booked out for your wedding. You find that so sweet. 

The Danforths didn't want anyone else but immediate family on the premises, which is why you couldn't invite any friends to your wedding. You didn't mind. It makes you feel like part of the family already. 

Jack takes a hold of your hand as the two of you follow behind Titus into the mansion. You can't take your eyes off all the eclectic artworks. They all…seem kind of eerie. 

The color palette is dull and lifeless but with pops of harsh reds, which seems to be on purpose. Purposefully bloody. You wonder why. 

“This is where you'll be staying.” Titus takes the two of you up the grand staircase and into a private suite. “I hope you feel right at home.” 

He gives you a smile that you can only really describe as a half smirk. His eyes linger on you and you feel your cheeks warm up from the way he's looking at you so directly. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief when he shuts the door behind him. Jack catches that. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You touch your cheek with the back of your hand, feeling how hot your skin is all of a sudden. “Just a little surprised how much he looks like you.” 

“That's how I felt when we first met.” Jack remembers how his brother flew out the next day to meet him when they first got in contact. Private jet then a helicopter directly on the landing pad at his work to pick up Jack after his night shift. 

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center got a huge anonymous donation that very same day. Jack told Titus to keep it anonymous. He didn't want people at work to associate him with the Danforths. 

It's going to be impossible not to once people at work see the photos of the wedding but Jack will wait until then to tell people he suddenly came into a lot of wealth. 

His biological father, Chester Danforth, welcomed Jack with open arms, given how good of a background he has as both a doctor and a decorated war veteran. He believes Jack will make a great Danforth.

The same could not be said for his other brother, Andrew Cody, who his mother Smurf and his half-brothers call Pope. Pope was raised to hate his biological father from all the stories Smurf told him about him growing up. About how his father made her give up his brothers because he didn't want so many children. He already had Julia and Ursula, twin girls who were a year older than the triplets. He could not handle a house with five children, so he picked Titus to keep as his male heir and had Smurf get rid of the other two. She gave up Jack for adoption but she kept Pope and took him away to the west coast, leaving Chester to raise three children on his own. It was punishment for what he made her do. 

They've been separated since, only seeing each other occasionally for holidays with the children until Smurf got sick of it. 

Chester couldn't risk divorce or he'd lose half his assets. Smurf couldn't risk divorce or she would lose access to her kids. 

This is the first time they'll be in the same place in years. 

“Janine.” Chester says when she steps into the parlor with Pope and his half brothers, Deran and Craig, in tow. “How are you?” 

She gives him a curt smile then says, “where's my grandson?” 

She shifts her eyes over and spots Josh, who everyone calls J. He comes up to her and gives her a hug. She hasn't seen J since he was a little kid. That was the last time she saw her girls too. 

Julia and Ursula come up to their mother and give her a hug. From your perspective, it seems a bit strained. You try not to judge. Every family is complicated in its own way. 

“And who might you be?” Smurf comes up to you and Jack, giving you a once over with her striking eyes. “You must my baby Jack's soon to be wife.” 

Jack introduces you to her and then says, “it's nice to finally meet you, Smurf.”

“You have to say hello to your brothers.” She gestures for them to come over to you two. “I heard you've only met your father's side of the family. Now you get to meet the Codys.” 

Jack shakes each of their hands, which makes Deran and Craig give each other a look that screams who the hell is this guy. They look completely out of place here, that casual California surfer look contrasting so much with the high class wealth vibe of the Danforths. 

Pope has his eyes on you the whole time they're introducing themselves. He only knew you existed. He never knew how beautiful you'd be, standing next to a man who looks just like him. It's like he's inserting himself in Jack's position, imagining what it would be like to have you by his side like that. 

“Andrew.” He puts his hand out in front of you. You shake it and he loves how warm your hand feels in his. 

“It's nice to meet you, Andrew.” You notice, again, like Titus, Pope doesn't let go of your hand. 

Actually, he slides his hand a little further up, grazing your wrist, noticing your quickening pulse. You have to tug it away, startled at how he touched you so casually. 

“You can call him Pope.” Another man enters the room with a woman and a small child. 

“Baz! I didn't think you were going to make it.” Smurf opens her arms for a big hug. 

There must be tension between her and presumably Baz's wife because she doesn't hug Smurf. She goes right up to you and says, “I'm Catherine. This is my daughter, Lena.” 

“Nice to meet you.” You say to her and Lena, introducing yourself. “I like that name, Lena.” 

Lena smiles at you and tells you, “you're very pretty. You're my Uncle Jack's wife, right?”

“Soon to be wife, if everything goes well.” Pope answers for you, his words giving you goosebumps for some reason. 

Jack doesn't like that Pope said that but he can't say anything when he's wrapped up in meeting Baz, who Smurf adopted when he was a teenager, effectively making him also his brother. Just not by blood. 

“You didn't have to be here.” Smurf whispers to Baz. You can barely hear them, since you don't have the best hearing. “It's not your bloodline.” 

“You are my family. I'll make the pact.” Baz whispers back, rubbing her shoulder affectionately. “Catherine and Lena will too.” 

You're unsure if you heard him right. The pact. You don't know what he could be referring to. You ignore the sense of foreboding and focus back on Jack, who has slipped his hand into yours, squeezing it for comfort. 

“Your fathers will be here soon.” Smurf tells Deran and Craig. “Then we can really have a reunion.” 

They arrive almost immediately after she says that. Billy goes to hug his son, Deran, and Jake nods at his son, Craig. 

Now, there's a full household. 

You all have dinner at a ridiculously long table. You've never eaten so many courses before. You're stuffed by the end of it. 

You joke to the table that his family must be fattening you up to slaughter you. Smurf laughs at that. Catherine gives Baz a concerned look. Everyone else stays quiet. 

Jack doesn't like the energy in the room so he excuses the two of you from dessert. You go back to the room to rest up, since the wedding tomorrow will likely drain you of all your energy. You'll need your sleep. 

But first, you want to touch your future husband. 

You pull Jack against you, kissing him, moving him with you into the large bathroom. There's a tub. You love a good tub. 

“Will you fuck me one more time before you become my husband?” You ask him, nipping at his bottom lip. “Please.” 

“Just once?” He smirks, grabbing onto the hem of your shirt. 

“Don't tease me with a good time.” You let him lift off your shirt and he lets you do the same to him. You love seeing his bare chest, with all his lovely freckles. “You are the most handsome man I've ever laid eyes on.” 

“Does that mean you think the same of my brothers?” He teases and you scoff. 

“You are the best looking of them.” Even though they do all look very similar. “And I bet you have the biggest cock too.” 

Jack groans, rolling his eyes at you. “You're really thinking about what size their cocks are?”

“Can you blame a girl for being curious? I've never met triplets before.” You chuckle. 

“Well stop thinking about theirs and start focusing on mine.” He unbuckles his belt and you lick your lips, already dropping to your knees in anticipation. “Someone's eager.” 

“You know how much I love putting you in my mouth.” You pull his pants completely off and Jack steps out of them, letting you bask in how great he looks naked. “I can't believe I get to marry you.” 

“I can't believe I get to marry you.” He says before you drag your tongue along the length of his shaft. “You're fucking incredible.” 

You hum happily when your mouth closes around him, his hand slipping into your hair in response, pushing himself deeper down your throat. You can't help yourself so you slip off your pants so you're completely bare too and start touching yourself as you suck on his cock, wanting to be ready to take him once he's close. 

Jack loves the sounds that fill the bathroom, echoing off the walls. You enjoy the noises he makes when you swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock just the way he likes it. 

“Get over here.” He pulls you off of him by your hair, gesturing to the tub. “Hold on tight and wait here for me. I'll get a condom.” 

“You don't have to.” You grab onto the edge of the porcelain tub with one hand, spreading yourself wide open with your other. “You can fuck me raw. I'm going to be your wife soon, after all.” 

You saying that has Jack on his knees in an instant. He grips your thighs so he has the leverage to drag his tongue up and down your folds, tasting how wet you are for him. 

“You're going to let me fuck your perfect pussy raw? Are you sure?” He makes it hard not to be sure when his lips close around your clit and he starts playing with it in his mouth, sucking and licking it until you're desperate for something inside of you. 

“Yes.” You want him so badly. You and Jack have talked about having children but you both wanted to wait until after you were married to start trying. 

There's no reason to wait now. He'll be your husband very soon. 

His tongue dips inside of you, flicking against that spot that has you shivering, before he says, “I need you to say it, babe. Tell me what you want.” 

“I want you to fuck me, Jack.” You're gripping the tub so hard in anticipation, your knuckles showing through your skin. “I want to have a baby with you. I love you.” 

Jack gets up from the floor, running his hands up along your back before placing kisses up your spine. You giggle at how ticklish it feels then you gasp when his cock rubs up between your thighs. 

“I love you so much.” He says and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I can't wait for you to be my wife.” 

You let out a lovely sigh when he finally sinks his cock inside of you. You've never felt him raw like this before. It's incredibly hot, how vividly you can feel him. It feels even better when he wraps his arm around your middle, holding you steady as he starts rolling his hips. 

“Can we fuck on the floor?” You ask him, touching his arm, liking the feel of his tensed muscles. “I want to look at you.” 

Jack pulls out of you and then helps you lay down on the plush bath rug in front of the tub. You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling up at him. 

“I can't wait to marry you and do this everyday.” You tell him, sliding your hand between the two of you so you can line him up, making it easy for him to slip right back into you. 

“We already do this everyday.” He chuckles, leaning down to kiss you. You love the sound of his laugh. 

“Yeah, but I'll be fucking my husband everyday.” 

Calling him that makes his cock twitch inside of you. You laugh. Jack can be so cute. 

“I'm not going to last much longer if you're going to keep calling me your husband.” Jack likes it a little too much. 

“Gives us more time for round two if you finish now.” You pull him towards you with your arms and legs, burying him deeper inside of you at the same time as your lips take over his. 

You moan his name when his thrusts get quicker and you cum when he slides his hand between your legs and rubs your clit as he cums. It'll be hard to resist this now that you know how good it feels for him to cum inside of you. 

Jack rests his forehead against yours, grinning at you. “I'm going to need to do that again.” 

“You like cumming in your wife that much?” You brush your nose against his, grinning back. 

“I like it very much.” He plasters your face in kisses, making you giggle, before he pulls you upright. “But I'd like to take a nice bath with my wife first.” 

“Let me get cleaned up first.” You have to or Jack would scold you. He always makes sure you won't risk getting a UTI. 

Jack fills the bath while you get situated and then you help him get in after he sets aside his prosthetic. You straddle his lap when you're in the bath, leaning your head against his shoulder, breathing in deeply. 

“This is my favorite.” Bathing with Jack is always a treat. 

He cups the soapy warm water with his hands, pouring it onto your back gently before pressing his fingers into your skin, massaging you. You feel utterly spoiled. 

“Maybe you should quit being a doctor and become a masseuse.” You tease, kissing up the column of his throat before pecking his lips. 

“These hands are for you and you only.” He trails his hands lower until he's grabbing onto your hips, dragging you forward onto his lap, right above his already hard cock, and you gasp, shoving at him. “What?” 

“How are you hard again already? I thought old men were supposed to have troubles.” You will always be impressed by Jack's stamina. Though, you shouldn't be surprised. 

This is the same man that works out after a twelve hour shift and then still finds the energy to come home and fuck you. 

“It's easy when you're this beautiful.” He lines his cock back up with your entrance and then slowly pushes you down onto him, loving the face you make when he fills you back up. “You take my cock so well, babe.” 

“Do you remember how long it took me to get used to you?” You and Jack have been dating for years now and the first year, you couldn't have sex because he was simply too big. You were worried he was going to get tired of having to wait for you to take him but he was so patient with you. You knew then that he was the man for you. 

“I remember how much fun I had figuring out how to make you cum in the meantime.” He places his hand between your legs again, pinching your clit between his rough fingers until your orgasm hits. You tighten up around him when he does that and he groans with satisfaction when you start riding him. “Just like that.” 

“Now I can't get enough of you.” You're splashing water everywhere with your movements, the water rippling every time you lift yourself up and sink back down onto him. 

“I'll never get enough of you.” Jack loves you with all of his heart. You know that.

Pope knows it too, since he's been watching the two of you this entire time from the Danforth's hidden security room. He came here because he figured Titus had installed cameras in your suite to spy on you. He was going to disable them but then the two of you started fucking and…he couldn't stop himself from watching. From seeing how happy the two of you are as a couple. 

It's real, the love you two have for each other. That makes Pope nervous because…love doesn't last in this fucked up family. 

He sits down at the control panel, staring intensely at the screen, watching you ride a man who looks exactly like him, hearing you tell Jack how much you love him. You must love him a lot to be so enthusiastic while fucking him. 

Pope has never experienced anything like that. You're so in love with his brother. He wishes that was him. He wishes you were riding his cock instead of Jack's. 

He cums when you and Jack do, covering his hand with his release. He grabs a tissue and cleans himself up, tossing it into a nearby trash can and zips himself back up. Then, he disables the cameras in your suite and deletes the footage so no one else can watch the two of you. That's a memory for him and him alone. 

He leaves the room then, only to run into Titus. Titus raises an eyebrow at Pope, noticing the tint of red in his ears. He must've watched something good in there. 

“Enjoy the show?” Titus smiles in that creepy way of his to Pope. 

“You should've given them privacy. It's their wedding.” Pope states coldly. 

“You mean their funeral.” Titus says back with a dark chuckle.

“You don't know that.” 

“I know she's not making it.” Titus pats his brother on the shoulder. “A pretty girl like her never lasts in a family like this. We're going to corrupt that sweet innocence of hers. Wouldn't death be better than that?" 

He enters the security room, shutting the door behind him, leaving Pope with those words. Pope clenches his fists, rage boiling inside of him. 

He has always hated Titus but it wasn't until this moment that he realized how evil he really is. 

Why else would he tell Jack to have the wedding here without telling him what that would mean? 

Pope needs to say something. He won't be able to live with himself if he doesn't.

Not after witnessing how much you and Jack love each other. 

He would want someone to warn him if he was in love with that. Though, he knows that could never happen for him. He would never subject anyone to what his family has in store for you…

When you're all tucked into bed after a very nice bath time, Jack tells you he's going to step out for some water and you nod, falling right to sleep. 

The moment Jack leaves, he's immediately ambushed by Pope, who pulls him into a nearby corridor. 

It's some kind of servants’ corridor, so the staff can get through the house without being seen. Pope holds his hand over Jack's mouth so Jack can't make a sound. 

“Listen to me and don't be fucking stupid.” Pope glares at Jack with so much intensity as he says, “call off the wedding.” 

Jack shoves him off, cursing, “what the fuck is your problem?” 

“You are.” Pope can't believe how much of an idiot Jack is to have agreed to bring you here. “If you love her, call off the wedding.” 

“I love her and that's why I want to marry her.” Jack is getting irritated. “Do you like my wife or something? Is that what this is about?”

Pope scoffs, to hide how he feels about you. “If you don't want to take my warning, then it's your grave. Or, well, hers. I don't care for dead people.” 

He walks back through the hidden door then, leaving Jack with a headache. 

What the hell was that about? 

Titus had told Jack that Pope was a violent person. He could definitely feel that aura just now. But he also felt…a genuine kind of fear. 

But why would calling off the wedding solve anything? It would only make you confused. Jack isn't going to do that. He loves you. He wants to marry you. He wants you to be his wife. 

If only he had known what it means to marry into this family… 

The wedding goes beautifully. You are in a breathtaking white dress that hugs your body perfectly in every way. You love how you look in the photos you took with everyone. You especially love how Jack looks in his tux. You can't wait to rip it off of him later. 

But your wedding night is getting put on hold. 

“It's a family tradition to play a game to initiate a new family member.” Chester tells you as he walks with you and everyone else to the parlor. “We do it to honor the one who made everything we have possible, Mister Le Bail. He loves a good game.” 

“What game are we playing?” You love games too so seeing a room full of them is incredible. The things money can buy will never cease to amaze you. 

“We don't know.” Titus pops up behind you, his voice low. “But I know it will be very fun.” 

He pats you on the top of the head before heading over to sit by the fireplace. He is joined by his sisters, who stand on either side of him. Everyone else files in, taking seats or standing. You and Jack stand beneath the bust of a tiger with its mouth wide open, fangs sharp. It creeps you out because you're certain it was alive once…

Chester pulls down a black box with the Danforth sigil on it that was set on a shrine of some kind. There's a painting of a man, who you figure must be Mister Le Bail, hanging there. You notice the way the black candles beneath the portrait are weeping wax. They've been lit for a while now. 

He walks over to you, handing you the box after he slides open a slot on the side, revealing a playing card. On one side is the Danforth sigil, the other side is completely blank other than the intricate bordering. 

“Now, we will see what game you get, my dear.” He gestures for you to slide the card back into the box and see what you pull.

You look at Jack, giggling at the theatrics of all this. Jack doesn't laugh with you. 

For some reason, he feels anxious. He doesn't have any reason to be. 

It's just a game, right? 

You push the slot back into the box and then pull it back out. The card is face down so you pick it up and look at it. 

In beautiful calligraphy, it reads…

“Capture the Flag?” You haven't played that game since you were a little kid in school. 

Titus doesn't hold back his dark chuckle when you reveal the game to everyone. Pope meets Jack's gaze and then mouths the words you should've listened to me. Jack doesn't know what to think of how everyone's face in the room seems to drop. You don't notice it because you're thinking about how you're all supposed to play Capture the Flag. 

“Now that is a game we haven't played in a long time.” Smurf glances over at Chester. “Do you still remember the rules?” 

“How can I forget?” He says back to her. “It's the game you played to marry me.” 

“Then, same rules?” She turns her attention to you once Chester nods. “Follow me, baby. Let me tell you how we play Capture the Flag in this family.” 

You move to go to her but Jack grabs your hand before you can, keeping you in place. 

“You can explain it to us all at once.” Jack doesn't want you to leave his sight. 

Smurf shrugs then goes, "alright then. The rules are simple. Our lovely bride is the flag. She gets to pick a few people to “protect” her. Everyone else tries to get her. If she is captured before dawn, she loses.” 

“That seems simple enough.” It's like a more complicated hide and seek so you ask, “are we really playing until dawn? That's a long game.” 

“That's the fun of it.” Titus seems eager to get this rolling.

That is, until Smurf tells you, “since there will be twelve of us participating, I think it's fair for you to pick three people to protect you.”

Smurf did exactly that during her game. She picked Chester, Billy and Jake. And since they're all still alive right now, it proves she won her game. She doubts you will win yours, though, since she's on the playing field this time. 

The twelve in the game are: Pope, Baz, Deran, Craig, Billy, Jake, Smurf, Chester, Ursula, Titus, Julia and Jack. You technically don't count as a player because you're the flag. 

Lena and J are left out, since they're children, and Baz represents Catherine, since she's his wife, so she only has to participate if Baz is out of the game. 

Now, you need to pick who is going to protect you. 

And Titus clenches his jaw when you choose, “well, wouldn't it be fun if the triplets were my pick? That way, I don't get confused having someone who looks like my Jack chasing after me.” 

Chester gives Titus a look. He knows what the look means. It's not pity. It's more like acknowledging a death sentence. 

Because you've just picked who gets to die with you if you lose. But you don't know that yet. 

Not until Chester states to everyone, “you four have fifteen minutes to set up and then we will be coming for the flag.” 

He heads over to an old fashioned record player and plays a record titled “Capture the Flag”. It sings a tune about the game. The record is exactly fifteen minutes long. The moment the music ends, that's when the game begins.

When the needle hits the record and music starts to play, you are immediately dragged out of the room by Pope and you are not prepared for him to throw you over his shoulder and start sprinting. 

Jack can barely keep up, given his prosthetic leg, when Pope is running at top speed. Titus is right in front of Pope, gesturing for him to follow. He may have gotten stuck on the losing team but that doesn't mean he's willing to make it easy on his family. 

You are taken to the family graveyard, into a tomb. Titus shuts the stone door behind the four of you and hits a button on the wall, opening the adjacent wall. 

“My sisters know about this place so we won't have long here until they think to check it.” He leads you all into a room with a bunch of stone coffins. “Now help me find her some real shoes.” 

Titus starts pushing off the covers of the coffins, sifting through the dead bodies for shoes that could fit you. Pope drops you to your feet and goes to help Titus. 

“Why are you guys acting like this?” Jack can't wrap his head around what compelled them to sprint all the way here. He's still catching his breath from the sudden work out.

“Maybe they just take this game really seriously.” You don't mind the enthusiasm. It's kind of cute. 

That feeling doesn't last when Pope says, “you better take this game seriously because if you don't, you will die.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jack practically yells at him. “What the fuck is going on here!” 

Titus laughs under his breath before he answers, “you brought her here to die.” 

“What do you mean?” You don't get the joke if they're making one. 

But they aren't joking. 

Pope sighs, then explains, “our families are fucked up. They believe that if they don't capture you by dawn, they're all going to die. But if we don't keep you safe until dawn, we all will die.” 

“That makes no sense.” Jack doesn't see any reasonable explanation here. He has always been a very logical person. “Why would they die? Why would we die?”

“Because our family sold their souls to the devil. And we will die because they're out there, with weapons, ready to kill us to get to her.” Titus finally finds a pair of sneakers in one of the coffins and tosses them to you. “Put those on.”

“You can't be serious.” You're talking about both the killer family members and putting on some dead person's shoes. 

“Look, I don't know you. You're just my brother's wife. I shouldn't be risking my life to protect you. But you chose me. You chose us. So, if you do not fucking listen, I will make you.” Titus is scaring you with how harsh his tone is. 

You obey, taking off your heels and putting on the sneakers. They feel super dusty and gross because you don't have any socks on, just your skin colored tights. You grimace as you tie the laces securely, since you probably will be running a lot. 

“Don't talk to my wife like that.” Jack could beat the shit out of Titus right now. 

“I will talk to her however I want.” Titus glares at Jack. “I shouldn't even be here. I should've been the one hunting her. That was the whole point of me telling you to have the wedding here. My fun got fucking ruined.” 

Jack should kill Titus right here. Because if he's being serious about leading you to your death, he has every reason to murder his brother. 

“Well, now you have to protect her.” Pope gets between his brothers, trying to stop the conflict before it begins.  “And I don't want to die because you two are going to fight over bullshit. We need weapons and we need a place to hide her. Any ideas?” 

“I don't fucking know this place.” Jack knew he should've never agreed to having the wedding here. 

“Titus?” Pope defers to him.

But then none of them can start planning because you start panicking. “Wait, am I really going to die? Is your family seriously going to try to kill all of us? Why would they do that?” 

“Because we sold our souls to the devil. Did you not fucking hear me the first time?” Titus groans in annoyance. “You need to get your ears checked, you little—” 

Jack throws a punch across Titus's face in an instant, knocking him down to the ground. You cover your mouth to stop yourself from screaming too loudly. Pope has to stop Titus from trying to fight Jack back. 

“This motherfucker just hit me!” Titus pulls out a gun from his jacket, pointing it at Jack. “I should just kill you and make this shit easier on myself.” 

“Don't!” You rush over to stand in front of Jack, shielding him. “Don't fight, please. Andrew is right. We need a plan. Let's focus on making a plan. I don't want to die here.” 

You blink away the tears that threaten to drip out of your eyes. Titus clicks his tongue then puts his gun away. He doesn't know why but the sight of you about to cry disturbs him. He thought he'd like seeing your face all scrunched up but he doesn't. 

Jack pulls you into his arms, cradling you, “everything will be okay. We're going to get the fuck out of here.” 

“Impossible.” Titus illustrates the reality of your situation. “The whole resort is on lockdown. My father owns the police. They aren't going to help us. We have to make it until dawn. That's the only way this game ends.” 

“Where can we find weapons? At least we have one gun between us.” Pope should've carried his with him. He usually does but he figured that there was only a slim chance you'd pull one of the few cards that had any kind of hunting involved. 

You could've pulled Hide and Seek, in which case Jack would have to participate in hunting you. He remembers what happened when Julia's husband had pulled that card. She shot him herself, even though she was pregnant with J at the time. She did it without hesitation.

Pope is unsure if he could've done that to you. Though, you're not his wife. You are gorgeous, however. So, a part of him is grateful he doesn't have to kill you. But a part of him hates that he has to kill everyone else to protect you.

Luck of the draw…

“There's a few different security caches around the resort.” Titus maps them out in his head in relation to where you all are currently. “We could make it to the one at the south gate. That should put enough distance between us and them, at least for a bit. Thankfully, staff can't participate in the game so they're all away, including security. From there, we can hide in the private underground spa.”

“The what.” Jack grew up in a modest household, unlike Pope and Titus. 

Who the hell needs a private spa, much less one underground? 

“Hopefully there will be a change of clothes for her.” Titus stares at your wedding dress. “We have to get you out of that.” 

Your skin heats at his words. He catches the face you make, smirking. He has been wondering what you look like under that dress. Delicious, probably. It's not difficult for him to see why Jack adores you so much. 

“Alright.” Pope grabs Jack's wrist, looking at his watch. It's about to be ten past midnight. “We have a few minutes left. We should head over there now.” 

Titus leads you all out of the crypt and purposefully leaves the door slightly ajar, in hopes that their family will go and investigate, wasting their time there. You have to hold up your dress to run with them to the south gate. At a certain point, Pope just picks you up and carries you the rest of the way. He doesn't want you slowing them all down and Jack can't risk taking on too much if he's going to be moving around this much on his leg. 

Plus, Pope likes holding you. He won't say a word about that but he likes your shallow breaths against his neck and the way you cling onto him. 

He sets you down when you all are at the south gate and Titus breaks the glass window, opening the security office. He finds a crowbar and pries open the weapons cache, pulling out two pistols and a shotgun. 

“Can you shoot?” He wants to hand you a pistol but he doesn't want to risk you shooting one of them. 

Jack scoffs, taking the gun from him and handing it to you. “You didn't look up my wife?” 

Pope raises an eyebrow. “Why would we have? Is she like famous or something?” 

It would be better to show them, so you step outside with the gun, pointing to a pinecone dangling off a tree in the distance. Jack steps up behind you, cupping your ears with his hands to soften the noise impact. You take in a deep breath then pull the trigger, hitting it perfectly. The pinecone explodes into a million bits. 

You hit it dead center and Jack gives you the proudest little kiss on the head. “That's my girl.” 

“What the fuck?” Titus can't hold in how shocked he is. “You hit that?”

“She's an Olympic gold medalist, you dumb fuck.” Jack takes the shotgun from Titus forcefully and Pope takes the other pistol. “Never underestimate my wife again.” 

You feel shy whenever Jack compliments you so boldly. But it's because he knows how hard you worked for it. You sacrificed a lot of your hearing to get to where you are. A side effect of being around loud guns all your life. That's why he wouldn't stand for Titus making a comment about it.

Titus was not expecting such talent in such a small package. Maybe he did underestimate you. You're growing to be more intriguing by the second. He kind of wishes he had met you before Jack did. 

Though, would it be that hard to steal you away from him? Titus does look just like Jack. Perhaps that will play into his advantage in the future. 

Pope doesn't like the way Titus looks at you. Because he knows that must be the look he has on his face when he thinks about stealing you from Jack. Especially after seeing you hit that shot so cleanly. 

He liked the way you smiled so humbly after. You knew you'd hit that shot but you aren't a show off about it. 

You have no place to put the gun so you opt to hold it. Pope walks up to you and you nod at him, letting him pick you up again. 

He whispers to you, his voice strangely soft, “just until you're out of this dress.” 

Again, his words, like Titus's, make you warm all over. Pope can feel the heat radiating off of you. He made you feel that way. It makes him think things he shouldn't. Like how good your bare skin would feel against his. 

He has a bad habit of lusting after his brothers’ lovers. He had to hide how thankful he was that Catherine doesn't have to participate in this. He wouldn't want her to die here and he definitely wouldn't want to have to kill her. 

But he would, if it meant protecting you. 

Like when a shot is fired and he shields you with his body, tanking the shot into his shoulder as he sprints forward. 

“Oh my god, Andrew!” You look at the hole in his shoulder that's gushing blood. “You have to put me down!” 

“Give her to me.” Titus shouts and Pope tosses you over to him. He catches you securely in his arms and you clutch onto him tightly. He looks at you, seeing the tears welling up in your eyes, and says, “you need to shoot them back.” 

“What…” You've never shot a person before. Only targets. 

“Fucking shoot them—” A bullet flies by, slicing a thin line across Titus's neck that he barely dodges. “Before they kill one of us!” 

You look over his shoulder, aiming your gun. It's Deran and Craig, on a golf cart, heading your way. Craig is the one driving. 

“I need you to stop moving for just a second.” You aren't good at running and shooting. 

Titus slows to a stop enough for you to aim the gun. Thankfully, they're gunning straight towards you, so it won't be a hard shot. You take a deep breath and then pull the trigger. 

The bullet hits Craig right between the eyes and his body slumps forward, the golf cart speeding up and swerving away. It crashes into a nearby tree and blows up, fire engulfing the bark in seconds. 

Deran barely makes it out in one piece, clutching his rifle. He's going to make you pay for killing his brother. 

You whimper against Titus's chest, trembling at what you just did. Again, he thought seeing you like this would make him feel happy. He usually likes seeing people in pain. But for some reason, he holds onto you a bit tighter, rubbing your back. 

“The first one is always the hardest.” He says quietly to you, his voice sounding so strange to him with how kind it is. “Everything will be okay.” 

You look up from his chest and you quickly place your hand on his neck, applying pressure to the cut. He shakes you off. It's barely a scratch. But you keep your hand there anyway, not wanting to risk it. He ignores how much he likes your touch. 

“These motherfuckers are actually trying to kill us.” Jack has managed to dodge all of Deran's incoming bullets despite lagging behind a bit. The shots are getting more sparse since the four of you are running further and further away from him.  

“We weren't fucking around.” Pope spits out, clinging to his shoulder. “I told you to call off the wedding!”

When did Pope tell Jack that? Titus catches the confused look on your face. Obviously, you had no idea that Pope pulled Jack aside the night before to warn him. But Titus puts two and two together. His criminal brother has empathy, something he does not. Because he wouldn't have warned Jack. Titus wanted this to happen. 

Maybe a part of that was jealousy at how in love the two of you are. He wishes someone would love him the way you love Jack. He wishes you would love him. 

He knows you're capable of it because you're tending to his wound so closely. You don't find him repulsive like other people do. You don't apply too much pressure on his cut because you're scared to hurt him. You might be the only one in the world who has ever taken care of him like this. 

He'd let you hurt him. He's never had thoughts like this before, for anyone. 

There's something about you that makes him think things he never has before. Like how much he wants to kiss you whenever you glance up to look at him. He's fucked people before, but he has never kissed them. He wants to kiss you. 

Titus leads his brothers into the entrance to the underground spa. They can't stay here long, since Deran definitely saw what direction they went in, but they should be in the clear long enough to get situated a bit. 

Jack quickly finds a first aid kit and helps cut Pope out of his shirt. Titus sets you down.

“We have to go find some clothes. Stick by me.” 

“But your neck.” You worry because it's still bleeding. Jack should take a look at it first. 

“He's going to sew up Pope. I'll be fine.” Titus likes that you're concerned about him. That might also be a first. Someone actually caring about him, without any ulterior motive. 

He grabs your hand, dragging you down the corridor to where the employee lockers are. You don't know why you let him hold onto your hand like this. It must be because it's so similar to Jack's, with a more aggressive grip. 

When you both are in the staff room, he lets go of your hand to start sifting through the lockers. None of them are locked since these aren't meant for long term storage. 

You find another first aid kit so you call Titus over to sit down at the bench between the lockers. “Let me at least put a bandage on it.” 

“You're making too much of a fuss.” It's just a little nick on his neck.

“It's still bleeding.” You sit down next to him, opening a small packet containing a disinfectant wipe. “This might sting.” 

You notice how Titus doesn't react to the pain. Maybe he has felt worse than this. You try not to dwell on that, cleaning his wound and then placing a bandage on his neck, padding down the edges gently so you don't accidentally hurt him. 

His face is so close to yours when you look up from tending to his cut. You stand up the moment he leans in, because you were so close to almost kissing him that your heart nearly stopped in your chest. 

“I'm going to put this back and look for some clothes.” You go to do just that. 

Titus should've just grabbed you by your dress and kissed you. He missed his chance. He won't miss again. 

You find some staff clothes that should fit you and a shirt for Pope. You put your hands behind your back, attempting to unzip yourself from your dress but failing miserably. You can't seem to get a good grip on the tiny zipper. 

“Can you help me?” You ask Titus, turning around, gesturing to the zipper of your wedding dress. 

He is grateful you can't see him right now. You don't see the way he licks his lips, wanting to nip at your bare skin as he slowly unveils it when he pulls down the zipper. 

You feel a jolt in your stomach when Titus brushes his fingertips along your spine. His hands are so soft, which makes sense since he hasn't had to lift a finger his entire life. You hold your breath when his hands slip into your dress, helping you pull it off your shoulders, his hands lingering on your skin longer than they should. 

“You're so beautiful.” He whispers into your ear, his body pressed up against your back. “You make such a lovely bride.” 

“I-I got it from here.” You clutch your chest, not wanting your dress to fall off any further. 

“I should stay close, in case someone comes in.” Titus doesn't move. 

How can he? He wants to see what you look like underneath that dress. 

The flustered look you have on your face right now, he likes a lot. This is a face he wants to see more of. 

“Titus…” You don't know what to say to get him to give you a little privacy. 

“I like the way you say my name.” His voice is so low, rumbling in your ear. 

You hate that he sounds just like Jack when he's touching you. Your body reacts even though it shouldn't, your core coiling up. 

“Please look away.” You swallow the lump in your throat. You just need to change then you can get out of here and back to Jack. 

“Kiss me and I won't look.” You turn around when he says that and he smirks at your startled expression.

“I-I can't do that.” Your breath catches in your throat when he steps forward, backing you up against the lockers, his body flush against yours. “Please, Titus. I just need to change out of this dress.” 

“Either you let me watch or you kiss me. Those are your choices.” He glances down at your lips then back into your eyes. 

He has you cornered. You should scream so Jack comes rushing this way. But if you scream, someone else might hear and you're all supposed to be hiding right now, especially since Jack is treating Pope. They need the time. 

But both of those choices are horrible for you. You can't possibly kiss Titus when you're literally married to his brother. But you also can't let him see your naked body. You aren't wearing anything under this dress besides tights…

“Why do you want to…” You don't understand why he's doing this to you. 

“I've never kissed anyone before.” His hand reaches up, cupping your face. “And I've never watched someone undress in front of me before either. If I die today, I'd like to have experienced at least one of those things." 

“You've never…” You're surprised to hear that. He's as old as Jack, after all. No one has ever wanted to kiss him? 

“I've never wanted to kiss someone before you.” He admits the truth. He's never wanted anyone before. 

Not like this. Not like you. 

You bite your lip. You need to just get this over with so you can change out of your dress and get a move on. 

So, you lean up and kiss him. You reason in your mind that this is the quicker of the two options. 

At least, it should've been. 

But Titus doesn't let you move away. His lips stay plastered against yours as his body presses you further up against the lockers. You try to push him off but then you quickly have to cling onto his shoulders because he grabs your thighs and lifts you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around him or you'd slip. You try not to react when he grinds his hips against yours, letting you become very aware of how hard his cock is. It feels as big as Jack's. 

You're squirming as he deepens the kiss, his tongue fighting yours in your mouth. You can't breathe. You can't escape how good it feels when his cock rubs up against your clit over and over with every grind of his hips. He feels too much like Jack, your body too familiar with your husband's touch that his brother's movements trick it into thinking they're one in the same. 

You're scared at how wet you've grown already just from him kissing and grinding on you. Your heart is hammering in your chest and your head is so dizzy. You have to push him away! 

“Please, Titus. You need to st—” You try to get words out but he simply just growls against your lips and shuts you up with a more forceful kiss. 

You think it's over when he lets your feet touch the ground but then you hear a loud rip and you realize he only did that so he could rip your tights off your body. You're now bare from the waist down, the skirt of your wedding dress hiking up as he hooks one arm under your ass, lifting you back up, his lips never leaving yours. 

His free hand slips between your legs and your breath catches in your throat when he touches your pussy directly, dragging his fingers through how slick you are.

“You're so wet.” His warm breath against your lips sends shivers through you. “All because of me?” 

You shake your head, squirming from the sparks that shoot through you when his fingers graze your clit. “Please stop, Titus.” 

“I'll stop if you don't cum.” He slips a finger inside of you, swirling it around, making you bite back a sound. “You're so tight. Jack must love fucking you.” 

“Don't do this.” You pinch your eyes shut, hating how similar in girth his finger feels to Jack's. “Please don't do this.” 

“You're going to cum, aren't you?” He can tell because you're milking his finger every time he curls it inside of you. “You're afraid that I'm going to make you cum. Because how are you going to explain to your husband that you just came on his brother's fingers?” 

Titus thrusts two more fingers inside of you and to stop you from making noise, his lips crash back onto yours, his tongue slipping back inside your mouth. You claw at him, digging your nails into his shoulders, trying everything in your power to get him to move away. 

Because he's right. You're going to cum. You're getting too close. Just holding in your orgasm like this is going to make it even more intense when it happens. 

You hate that it feels so good, the tension winding up inside of you, threatening to burst. 

You hate how much you like how rough his touch is. His fingers are relentless, spreading you open wide, moving side to side furiously, putting sloppy wet sounds into the air. 

Jack would never do anything like this to you, out of fear of hurting you. It gives you a sick thrill, especially when Titus looks just like him. 

A darker version of your Jack. 

You cum harder than you should on his fingers, squirting all over his hand. He doesn't let you stop, not until you're shaking all over from how much you've drenched his hand. He revels in it, pulling his fingers out of you and making you watch as he licks his hand clean. 

“Please put me down now.” You're on the verge of tears. You can't believe how amazing that felt. Your body is twitching all over from the intensity of cumming like that. 

It only gets worse when you feel his bare cock rubbing up against your pussy. Your eyes widen. When did he unzip his pants?

“No, no, no, Titus, please—” You place your hand over your mouth and bite your palm when his cock slides inside of you all too easily. 

Usually, you need to cum a few times to take Jack because he fills you up way too much. Titus must be a similar size because he feels too big inside of you. You nearly cum just from the stretch, his cock pushing into you until he hilts completely. 

At this angle, the tip of his cock rubs right up against the sensitive spot by your womb with every slight twitch. You cling onto him, scared if you slip, his cock will keep grinding against it and you'll cum again too easily. 

He closes his eyes, needing to memorize how warm and wet your tight pussy is. He loves how you clench around him more when he peppers kisses along your neck before he drags his tongue up along the side of your neck to your ear.  

“Don't cum on my cock and I'll pull out before I cum.” He says right before he nips at your earlobe. “But if you cum, I'm filling you up with mine.” 

You shake your head, begging, "please don't. Jack—”

“Just pretend I'm him. We look the same. I'm just your husband fucking you on your wedding night. My beautiful wife.” He grabs your hips, holding you steady against the lockers. 

Then, he starts to pound into your pussy. 

You bury your head into his shoulder, trying to muffle the moans that threaten to escape your lips because every stroke of his cock inside of you hits all the spots you love so much, especially when he's ramming his cock into you without mercy. It's like he doesn't care to be gentle. He knows you're tightening up from how rough he's fucking you.

If you cum, you're done for. 

But you can barely hold it in. 

Then, you clamp your hand over your mouth the moment you hear Jack knock on the employee locker room door. “Babe, are you in there?” 

Jack tries the door but it's locked. Titus had locked it when you both came in earlier. 

You should scream. You should tell Jack to come and save you. You should. 

But you cum way too hard instead, at the thought of Jack catching you fucking Titus. You imagine how angry he'd be with you that you're cumming on his brother's cock. That's a sight you've never seen before but one you secretly crave. A meaner Jack. 

Maybe that's why you're letting Titus make you cum. 

You cum so much that Titus groans against your neck, needing to keep himself quiet or he won't be able to enjoy this. He will not let Jack interrupt him now that he has made you cum on his cock. He wants to do it again. 

“I don't know where they went. Maybe further down.” Jack says and you hear two sets of footsteps walk away. 

The moment Titus can't hear their footsteps anymore, he pulls out of you. You're shocked that you feel disappointed then you're shocked when he turns you around and thrusts his cock into you from behind. You cling onto the lockers as he grips your hips and starts fucking you so roughly, your legs nearly give out. 

“Titus, please, oh god—” You can't handle how his cock is slamming against that spot deep inside of you over and over again, teasing your womb. 

You need him to keep going. You need to cum. You have to cum. He has to cum. You need him to flood you with that warmth you're growing addicted to. 

Stars flood your vision at the same moment you drench your legs from how hard you squirt on his cock from the merciless fucking. He pulls you back, sitting down on the benches between the lockers, driving his cock up into you. Then, he reaches down, rubbing your clit. You grip onto his thighs with your hands, needing some kind of leverage to handle how he's touching you without a care that you're overstimulated and on the verge of cumming again already. 

Titus takes his other hand and wraps it around your throat, tugging you towards him so he can whisper in your ear, “you better cum hard on my cock when I cum.” 

He chokes you at the same time as his cum fills your pussy and your orgasm hits you when you can't take in a breath. Your head is so fuzzy from being choked and how hard you came. You don't even fight Titus when he kisses you in your daze. He lays you down onto the bench, climbing on top of you, kissing you, his cock still rubbing up against you. You cum again from how sensitive you are down there and he smiles against your lips, completely satisfied. 

“I won't tell him if you don't.” He says to you once you've regained your sentience, snapping back to reality. 

To the reality of what you just did. 

“Why did you do that?” You can't believe that you just had sex with Titus. 

“Because you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met.” He looks at you with those same, affectionate eyes Jack would. “I couldn't die without knowing what you look like when you cum. I would do anything to see that again.” 

He does exactly that. He slips his hand back behind your legs, under the skirt of your wedding dress. You grab a hold of his arm but you can't stop him from slipping his fingers inside of you again. 

“You need to learn to fight me if you don't want this.” He takes your hand with his free one, placing it on his face. “Slap me. Dig your nails into my face. Gouge my eyes out. Do it or I'm going to make you cum again.” 

Why can't you do it? You should hurt him for touching you like this. But his fingers curl inside of you and you cum right then, panting from the sudden rush of euphoria. 

He chuckles at your stunned expression, pulling his fingers out of you and stuffing them into his mouth, savoring your taste. 

“Try harder next time, or I'm fucking you again.” He gets up and puts his hand out. “Come on, you need to get dressed and we need to get back to my brothers.” 

“I can't…” You wrap your arms around your middle, curling into yourself, heartache shooting through you. “I can't look him in the eye after what we just did.” 

“Just tell him I raped you.” Titus shrugs, like it's no big deal to him if Jack views him poorly. “He doesn't need to know I made you cum.” 

“Titus, this is not something simple that can be explained away.” You wipe your eyes, the tears finally dripping out. “I shouldn't have kissed you. I shouldn't have done any of that with you.”

“Don't blame yourself. I forced myself onto you. You didn't do anything. You didn't betray him. Unless you want me to do it again. Then that's a completely different problem.” Titus kneels down in front of you, placing his hand on your side, rubbing it gently. “There's no way you want me, right?” 

No, there is no way. You're in love with Jack. He's your husband. You love him with all of your heart. 

But your pussy is throbbing from how roughly Titus just fucked you. You know, deep down, that you'll never forget how that felt. 

And you won't be able to resist doing it again.

So, if you do die today, maybe you can take this feeling to the grave. 

That you do want Titus, even though you shouldn't…

There's a restroom in the employee locker room so you clean up yourself as best you can so you aren't walking around with Titus's cum dripping out of you and then you check to see if you look presentable enough after you shrug off your soiled wedding dress and put on the uniform. You can't look freshly fucked, after all.

Thankfully you just look disheveled, which is understandable, given the circumstances.

You and Titus spot Jack and Pope in the sauna room and you hand Pope the shirt you had found. He puts it on right away. It's a bit small on him, the fabric clinging to his chest. You shake away any of the flustered thoughts you have about that, about how nice his body is. He definitely works out, like Jack does.

You already fucked Titus. You can't be thinking about Pope too. 

But it's hard not to think about him when he's grabbing you and sprinting with you in tow as Jack and Titus fend off their sisters as shotgun rounds go off, blasting off the tiles of the walls. 

Julia and Ursula figured the underground spa would be a good place for you all to hide. Their hunch was right. They run after you and Pope while Jack and Titus sprint after them. 

Earlier, when Pope and Jack were looking for you and Titus, Pope had found one of those hidden employee corridors. He loops around, evading his sisters, then slips into it with you. His hand clamps over your mouth, keeping you quiet. Jack knows where it is, so surely he will know to come back here once they've chased off their sisters. 

Though, Pope wouldn't be surprised if their sisters ended up dead. It's doubtful that Titus would risk keeping either of them alive. The less people playing, the higher chance of making it until dawn. 

So when you two hear several shotgun rounds go off, you whimper into Pope's hand, so scared that Jack's hurt. 

“Don't worry, I'm sure they're okay.” He tries to comfort you, rubbing your lower stomach. 

He startles when you moan into his hand uncontrollably. You're still sensitive from earlier, his touch reminding you of how hard Titus was pounding against your womb with his cock. Pope leans in, and he can smell that musky scent of sex on you. It's not repulsive. But it's surprising, since he had been with Jack that whole time…

“Did you fuck my brother?” Pope asks you directly and the way you squirm in his hold answers that for him. “Why?”

You whisper once his hand lifts off yours, “he wouldn't let me change unless I kissed him so I did and…then…we…”

A kiss is really all it took for you to give yourself to Titus? Pope spins you around to look at him and he can see how you're keeping your legs together. Which can only mean one thing. 

Titus came inside of you…he fucked you raw. Like Jack had last night. 

“Why didn't you shoot him?” You can handle a gun. You could've shot Titus. 

“I don't know.” You really don't. You set your gun down in one of those lockers, where you found the uniform. You forgot to get it… “I realize I left my gun back there.” 

“We'll go back for it but…why would you fuck Titus? Do you like him?” Pope would be surprised to hear that. He's pretty crazy but Titus is like an even more fucked up version of him. 

And Pope saw how much you love Jack. There's no way you suddenly had a change of heart and would cheat on him with Titus of all people. 

“It was just…a mistake.” You let out with a sigh. “It shouldn't have felt good…” 

Pope's eyes stare at you with so much shock in them. “It felt good?”

You bite down on your lip. Why did you say that! 

“It was just a lapse in—” Your words are cut off by Pope grabbing your face and kissing you passionately. You're so stunned that his lips kiss yours so gently that you almost melt into it. This kiss is so much like the ones Jack gives you when you're making love. It's impossible not to think they're the same when you open your eyes and it's like you're staring at your husband. But it's not Jack. 

It's Pope who is kissing you like you're the most precious person in the world to him. 

He breathes against your lips, “can you make one more mistake?” 

Pope doesn't want to die tonight. But he definitely doesn't want to die knowing he could touch you before he does. If Titus got to have you, there's no reason for you to deny Pope. 

You're getting swept up in another brother…

Pope drops your pants, tossing them aside,  and then drops to his knees, burying his face between your legs. You gasp, putting your hand in his hair as his warm tongue flicks your clit. 

You bite back a whimper when he shoves two fingers into your pussy, curling them while he plays with your clit in his mouth. He knows you don't need any prep and yet your pussy is still super tight. His cock is desperate to burst out of his pants.

You need to tell him to get off of you. You need to tell him to stop. You can't let him make you cum. 

You'll never recover if you do. 

But then he says, his warm breath tickling your thighs, “I need you to cum. I need to know how you taste when you cum.” 

He adds another finger, stretching you out as he spreads them inside of you, opening you up wide like Titus had. You expect him to be like Titus, and fuck you roughly with his fingers. That's why you're ill prepared for him to dip his tongue into your pussy too, the contrast between his calloused fingers and his soft tongue pushing you right over the edge. 

You cum so hard all over his face and he laps it up like it's the best thing he's ever tasted. 

You love the way he looks on his knees like this. It's not a thought you should have in your mind at all but you can't stop yourself from reacting to how he looks up at you, kissing your thighs like he worships you. 

“Please let me fuck you.” Pope begs. He's never begged for anything in his life but he needs this. He needs to know what it feels like to have your pussy wrapped around his cock. 

“We can't, Andrew.” You need to stop him. 

But your words only motivate him more. “Say that again.” 

“What?” You nearly shriek when Pope tackles you onto the hard ground, climbing on top of you, unbuckling his belt. “Andrew, stop!”

“Say it.” He pulls his cock out, brushing it along your bare pussy. You can't help but moan from how good it feels since you're still sensitive from earlier. 

But you shouldn't feel good. He's literally lining up his cock. He's going to fuck you. 

“We can't, Andrew!” You try to shove him away when you feel the tip of his cock pop inside of you, grinding back and forth against your entrance. “Please, stop! I'm married to your brother!” 

“I know.” That makes him ram the entire length of his cock inside of you and he groans when you squirt in response from the sudden impact, tightening up so much around him. “I need you to do that again.” 

You don't know if he means telling him to stop or cumming on his cock. He must mean both because he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming it back inside of you, pulling out another sudden squirting orgasm. He does this again and again, watching you drench the floor beneath the two of you with every thrust of his cock. 

“No, don't do this, Andrew, please.” You're going to burst completely if he keeps this up. 

You've never cum like this before. It must have to do with the fact that he's uncut, his foreskin rubbing up inside of you in a way that feels completely different than Jack and Titus, who are both cut. 

Pope's cock grinds against every spot that drives you up the wall, your whole body convulsing. You feel him press his hand down on your lower stomach, forcing you to be aware of how harshly he's pounding into your womb. He starts to massage right there, drawing out moans you can't hold in anymore. 

“Don't cum then.” He knows that'll be impossible from how much your pussy is clenching around him. You're desperate to cum again. 

“I can't!” You try to push him off but he grabs your wrists with his free hand instead, pinning them above your head, leaning more forward, holding you down with all of his body weight. You're helpless, his cock pushing you closer and closer to your next orgasm. “I'm going to—”

“You're going to cum on your brother in law's cock?” He shakes his head at you before degrading you, “I didn't realize my brother married such a slut.” 

Your eyes roll back and you cum so hard that Pope has to keep you held down or you'd surely push his cock out from the sheer force of your orgasm. You're gasping for air, crying at how every thrust of his cock is making you squirt, wishing it didn't feel incredible to be fucked like this. 

You've never felt so defenseless before. He's forcing you to cum and your body loves every second of it. 

You love every second of it. He's ruining you. 

Pope and Titus have ruined you. 

How are you supposed to look Jack in the eyes ever again when you're letting Pope kiss you as you grind your hips against his, needing more? 

“Say you're a slut.” He breathes out, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, biting it hard before he demands, “say it.” 

“I'm a slut.” You tell him and you believe it from how that bite sent such a thrill through you.

“Tell me why.” He loves the depraved look in your eyes. You looked so in love just a few hours ago. Now, you're tainted with a fucked up kind of lust because of him and Titus. 

“Because I can't stop cumming on your cock.” You admit because it's the truth. You can't stop. He has rotted you to your very core. 

“Good girl.” Pope presses a soft kiss against your cheek. “I don't want you to stop cumming until you feel me cum inside of you, okay?” 

You nod. You have to listen. You wouldn't be able to hold back regardless. 

You don't know how many more times you cum before Pope finally finishes inside of you, flooding you with that warmth you can't get enough of. 

You were fucked raw for the first time yesterday and now you've had three different cocks fill you up since. 

By three brothers who look exactly alike. 

You're never going to be normal again after this. 

How can you be, when your husband walks in right as Pope is pulling out of you? 

You look up and see Jack covered in blood from head to toe. He looks down at you, at your pussy that is leaking out Pope's cum onto the floor. The heat in his gaze is enough to make you cum all of a sudden, pushing more of Pope's cum out of you with your orgasm. 

He doesn't have any words to say to you. 

Because he let that happen. 

He let Pope fuck you. 

Because right before this, him and Titus had caught up to their sisters and had a stand off. Everyone had a gun pointing at the other. 

And Ursula goes, “I'm surprised you don't want to kill Titus.” 

Jack is confused by her words. “Why would I kill him? He's on my team.” 

“Is he?” Julia laces in more doubt. “I wouldn't considered a man who fucks your wife on your team.” 

Titus scoffs, feigning ignorance. “Are you fucking high right now? What the fuck are you two talking about?” 

Julia is definitely high out of her mind. But Titus can't hide from the facts when Ursula pulls out her phone, showing Jack the camera footage from the employee locker room, where Titus is fucking you in your wedding dress against the lockers. 

Jack points his gun over at Titus, who keeps his gun on Ursula. “What the fuck did you do?” 

“Can we talk about it after we kill them?” 

Though, maybe he should take this opportunity to kill Jack. But then his sisters would just unload all their bullets into him. He needs to convince Jack to point the gun back at Julia. 

“He fucked your wife.” Julia says to Jack, her words slightly slurred. “Are you seriously not going to do anything to him? She liked it.” 

“What?” Jack doesn't believe what he is hearing. Why would you—

“She came so hard on our brother's cock.” Ursula practically cackles. “You should just give her up to us and let us handle her. We'll make sure she gets punished for being a little slut.”

“You don't want a slut like that as your wife, do you?” Julia pushes further, cackling like her sister. “You can do better than a woman who would fuck our psycho brother.” 

“What did you just call my wife?” Jack's voice gets dangerously low. Titus's eyes widen, because he knows how he gets when he sounds like that. 

It's how he sounds when he's about to kill someone. 

Jack pulls the trigger on his shotgun and Julia's guts splatter all over the tile walls of the spa. There's a giant hole in her middle, where her stomach used to be. She collapses, going completely limp. He pumps the shotgun and points it at Ursula. He doesn't hesitate and fires. Her head bursts on impact, blood flying all over Jack and Titus. Jack wipes their blood off his face then his eyes shift to look at Titus. 

He reloads the shotgun as he says, “give me a reason to keep you alive.” 

“Your wife loves you.” Titus drops his gun and puts his hands up. “There's no reason she enjoyed fucking me other than the fact that I look like you.” 

“But she liked it?” Jack clicks the shotgun back in place and aims it at Titus. “Answer me.” 

Titus has never been nervous like this in his life. Other than when his father would slap him. Those were the only times he felt on edge. 

Because he has no idea what he needs to say to convince Jack not to kill him. He figured Jack would when he found out but Titus was hoping he'd get to fuck you one last time before he died. That seems like a fever dream now.

“They weren't lying.” Titus points to Ursula's phone, since the proof is right there. “She came really hard when you knocked on the door. I think she liked the idea that you almost caught us fucking.” 

Jack grabs the phone off the floor, his gun still pointed at Titus, and watches the replay of the security footage. He has never been that rough with you. He always treated you with so much care because you're much younger than him and he didn't want you to be afraid of him in any way. He was slow and patient with you.

But now he sees that you don't need him to be gentle.

You actually like being scared. You actually like being forced to cum. You love it, from the way you don't resist Titus slipping his hand back between your legs after he fucked you, making you cum again. 

He had no idea about this side of you. And he can't pretend like it doesn't turn him on to see you give in to your desires. He loves you. Everything about you. 

He shuts off the phone and tucks it into his pocket. Then, he looks Titus in the eyes and asks, “are you clean?” 

Titus nods. “She's the only one I've ever fucked without protection.” 

“What makes her so special to you?” Jack knows the answer for himself but he needs to know if Titus is willing to die for you. That's the only way Jack will let him live. 

If he dedicates his life to you forever. 

“I don't know. I've never felt this way about anyone before.” Titus is unsure if his confession is the smartest move but…he wants to be honest. “She's so sweet. She bandaged me up. No one has ever cared about me like that.” 

“Do you think she wants to fuck you again?” Jack holds the shotgun steady, waiting for Titus to answer.

“Are you going to kill me if I say yes?” Titus would. Less competition. 

“I'm going to kill you if you lie to me.” Jack is sick and tired of being lied to. 

“I think she does.” Titus doesn't want to stroke Jack's ego but… “I'm pretty sure it's because I'm a more messed up version of you.”

It isn't hard for Jack to believe that his brother would fall for you. You're the most amazing person Jack has ever had the pleasure of being around. Anyone would fall for you. But you love Jack. You love him so much that the only people in the world that could ever sway your heart would be the two people who look identical to him. 

“Listen closely.” Jack lowers his gun, his eyes remaining locked on his brother's. “You don't get to fuck her unless I say so. And you don't get fuck anyone else ever again. The moment you do, I put a bullet through your head, got it?” 

“Are you fucking serious?” Titus knows he's serious about killing him but…letting him fuck you is unbelievable. 

“You're right.” Jack steps up to him, leveling with him. “My wife loves me. Which, unfortunately, makes it really easy for her to fall for someone who looks just like me. I'm not looking to lose her and I'm not risking her falling for you. So, if she wants to fuck you, I'll let her fuck you. On my terms.”

That is something Titus can agree to. He isn't going to win your heart. He knows that. It belongs to Jack. But if he gets to be close to you, to feel your pussy wrapped around his cock again, to kiss you, he'll take that. That works for him. 

“Alright.” Titus nods. “On your terms.”

“Swear it.” Jack wants no bullshit. 

“I swear to Mister Le Bail that I will not fuck your wife unless you say I can.” Titus makes that promise. “But you will let me, right?” 

“If she wants it.” Jack looks down at his blood soaked clothes. “Is there anywhere else we can get clothes?” 

“Not here. You said Pope found the service corridor right? They're probably some clothes to change into in the laundry room.”

“I need a bathroom at least.” He doesn't want blood on his hands for much longer. It's going to crust up and get gross. 

So, after they wash their hands in the nearby restroom, Jack and Titus head over to where Pope hid you and when they get there, they can hear you and Pope fucking from the door. 

“She really gets around.” That comment lands Titus a punch in the gut. “Fuck, sorry, holy shit, that hurt!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jack doesn't want you or Pope to hear them outside. 

He wants to see how far you'll go. 

Then he hears you call yourself a slut. 

And he knows then exactly how far you would go. 

So, they walk in right as Pope pulls out of you, his cum dripping out of your freshly fucked pussy. Your eyes look up to meet Jack's and you cum when they trail down to stare at your soaked pussy. That solidifies it for Jack. 

You like being fucked by his brothers. 

He stands over you, crossing his arms, the look on his face one of pure disappointment. 

“Did you rape her?” Jack turns to look at Pope before turning back to face you. “Tell me he raped you.” 

“Yes, I—” Pope is about to answer but then you shake your head. He furrows his brow at that. Why are you protecting him? 

“Did you like him fucking you?” Jack's tone is so harsh. You've never heard him so mean before. “Did you like my brother's raw cock inside of you?” 

“Jack, I'm—”

“Answer my question.” He kneels down, slipping his hand between your legs, feeling how wet you are and how swollen your clit is. You squirm when he pinches it. “I'm waiting.” 

Tears build in your eyes as you nod, sealing your fate. “Do you hate me?”

He doesn't answer you. He looks up at Pope, pulling out a phone from his pocket and tossing it to him. Pope catches it, confused.

“Film this.” That's all Jack says before he thrusts three fingers inside of you, pulling a gasp from your lips. 

He's dragging the pads of his fingers roughly against that spot inside of you that always makes you cum right away. “Jack, if you do that—”

“Do you love me?” He doesn't stop fingering you, his stern gaze engulfing you completely. 

“Of course I love you.” You pinch your eyes shut, your orgasm building too quickly. “Oh god, I'm going to—”

“Titus, come here.” Jack snaps at him and he drops to his knees beside you right away. “Play with her clit.” 

Your eyes shoot open when you feel Titus's fingers rubbing your clit. You burst completely then, squirting all over their hands, unable to control yourself. You don't know what's going on or why Jack is letting Titus touch you but they don't stop. You're going to cum again if they keep—

“Pope is right. You are a slut.” Jack's harsher tone sends you into a frenzy. He's never spoken to you like that before. It shoots an orgasm through you too easily. “Look at you cumming because my brother is touching you. Did you like fucking him too?” 

Jack isn't expecting you to nod. Neither is Titus. That makes him harder than earlier, knowing you liked it too. 

“I'm sorry, Jack—” You choke on your breath when Jack wraps his other hand around your throat. 

“If you're really sorry, you'll show me how hard you cum from being choked.” He drives his fingers deeper inside of you as he tightens his grip on your throat. Titus starts rubbing your clit roughly, then he gestures for Pope to come in closer, so he can catch it on camera clearly. 

You nearly pass out from how intense your orgasm is. Your vision goes blurry and you're trying to moan but they're getting locked up in your throat, which only pushes you further to your limits. 

When Jack pulls his fingers out of you and moves Titus off of you, Pope pleads to him, “please let me taste her right now.” 

Jack turns to you. “Do you want my brother to eat you out?” 

Even in your daze, you manage to nod. You feel so crazed for doing that but then when Pope's tongue is dipping into your pussy, you can't seem to care about how you look. 

If you die tonight, at least you will have experienced whatever the fuck this is. 

You grip onto Pope's hair with your hands, riding his face as you cum again, his tongue eagerly licking it all up. 

You're so spent that you don't even register Pope picking you up into his arms. He carries you, walking beside his brothers, trying to understand what just happened. He expected Jack to be mad at him for fucking his wife…not give him permission to go down on you. 

Everything is cleared up once you all find the laundry room and barricade the doors. Then, Titus breaks all the cameras in the room, hoping that will stall anyone finding out where they are for a bit. 

Pope sets you down on one of the folding tables and you shyly thank him when he gives you a pair of pants to change into, since you left behind the other ones out there. 

“She should wear this.” Titus tosses a maid uniform at Pope. “At least then we'll have easy access. Better than ruining another pair of pants.” 

You've never felt so feverish as you change into the maid uniform. You meet Jack's gaze while he strips out of his bloody tuxedo. You hop off the table so you can go help him. You take a wet towel and wipe off as much blood off his skin as you can. 

“Thanks, babe.” He leans in and kisses your temple so sweetly. “I got it from here. Go help Titus.” 

The look in your eyes screams are you sure but Jack nods so you go over and do the same for Titus, wiping off the blood where he can't reach. 

“Do I get to kiss her too?” He smiles at you in that sinister but playful way. 

“If she wants you to.” Jack says as he pulls on one of the staff shirts. He doesn't seem to care if you do or not. 

You're so confused…

“Well, beautiful? What do you say?” He waits for you to reply. 

“Jack, can we talk?” You don't know if you can accept what's going on right now without speaking with him privately first. 

“There's an office back here.” Pope points to the management office. “You both can talk there.”

You put your hand out and Jack takes it, letting you lead him over there, shutting the door behind the two of you.

“How are we supposed to eavesdrop now?” Titus glares at Pope. “You always ruin all the fun. Like Christmas.” 

“Are you still holding a grudge from when we were eight?” Pope rolls his eyes. 

That was the last Christmas he ever spent with the Danforths. Smurf was done taking him there for the holidays after Titus threw a fit about Pope “stealing” the rifle Chester bought for Titus. Pope only stole it because Titus kept aiming it at Julia. 

Titus has been a pain in his ass ever since, which is why they haven't spoken much until right now.

They're going to be speaking a lot more now if they're going to be sharing you with Jack. 

Something you're still unsure about…

“Are we…okay?” You ask that first when you and Jack are finally alone. “I understand if you're mad at me.”

“I'm not mad at you.” He walks up to you, pulling you into his arms. “I promise, I'm not.” 

“Why?” Surely you'd be mad at him if the scenario was reversed.

But then he says, “because I figure if you had two sisters who looked exactly like you, it would be hard for me to not feel something too when I love you so much.” 

That should give you pause but…he's right. In a strange, twisted kind of way, it would be very difficult for you to be mad at Jack for feeling something for someone who looks exactly like you. You couldn't resist his brothers. You wouldn't be able to judge him if he felt the same if the scenario was flipped. 

Though, it might just be because you're learning a little more about your personal preferences than you originally thought…like how much you liked being touched by all of them at once. 

“Still, I'm sorry this happened.” You wrap your arms around him, hugging him. “You don't have to be okay with it, even if you love me.” 

“Everyone in my family is trying to murder you. I think we're even.” He says with a chuckle, giving you a big squeeze. 

“Oh my god, Jack.” You shake your head against his chest, then you giggle with him. “I don't think those are the same thing.”

“Arguably my brothers fucking you is not as bad as everyone else in my family trying to kill us.” 

“Still bad though!” You pout at him and he cups your face, nuzzling your nose all cutely. 

“It's okay, babe.” He reassures you. “All that matters is making it until dawn. Then, we can figure this shit out after.” 

“Should we…figure it out…?” You glance out the glass window of the office, looking at his brothers who are bickering about something out there. 

“If you like fucking them, I'd rather you be honest with me then hide it.” Jack doesn't want you to keep a secret from him that would blow up in your face eventually. 

You bite your lip then confess, “it's hard not to like it when they look just like you…”

“Who has the best cock though?” Jack's question makes you shove him, making him laugh. “Don't act like you haven't thought about it. Tell me.” 

You shake your head. “That's a trick question. I'm not answering that.” 

“Oh, I get it.” He pulls you towards him, spinning you like you two are on the dance floor, then wraps his arms around you from behind, holding you securely as he leans in and whispers, “you need a bit more data first, right? You need them to fuck you a few more times before you can decide?” 

“Jack…” You're flushed all over from his words and the way his hands are sliding down, lifting your skirt up with one hand and moving between your legs with his other hand. Your eyes snap to the window, aware that Pope and Titus could look over here at any moment once they're done with their argument. “They'll see us…” 

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Jack starts to rub small, methodical circles around your very swollen and sensitive clit. “Imagine locking eyes with them as you cum on my hand.” 

You grab onto his hand, holding it steady against your clit as you grind on it. Jack presses kisses along your neck before taking a bite out of the side of it, marking you. You cum when you feel his teeth sink in, the pleasure overwhelming you. The thought of an obvious mark on your skin for Pope and Titus to see is what sends you reeling. 

“You'll always be my wife.” Jack tells you, pressing a light kiss against the mark he made. “And I love spoiling my wife. Is fucking my brothers a good treat for you?” 

You say “yes” quicker than you should. Jack can feel how soaked you are between your legs. He needs to be inside of you. 

“Get up against the window, babe.” His words make you gasp. “Let them watch me fuck you. Then I'll let them come in and do the same.” 

“You're killing me.” You've never been more turned on in your life. 

“Luckily I'm a doctor.” He chuckles against your skin. “I'll bring you back to life. Now hurry up.” 

You make your way over to the window, looking out at Pope and Titus. They are still arguing, their hands flailing around. You can't imagine what they could be talking about. 

But you don't have the space in your mind to think about it when Jack slams every inch of his cock inside of you from behind. 

“Hold up your skirt.” Jack demands. “Show them how much of a slut you are.” 

The window is large enough that they would be able to clearly see Jack fucking you if you lift your skirt up. 

So, that's what you do. You hold it up and you can see the faintest reflection in the glass of Jack's cock driving deep into your pussy. You cling onto the window with your other hand, moaning way too loudly at how good it feels to have Jack back inside of you. 

“Do you like having your husband fuck you while your brothers in law watch?” Jack is really leaning into this since you're clenching around his cock so tightly when he does. “You should let them see you cum.” 

He's taken back by how much he reacts when you tell him, playing into it more, “please Jack, I don't want them to see…”

You swear he must've gotten bigger inside of you because every thrust seems to fill you up more than the last. 

“Why don't you want them to see?” He whispers in your ear, his voice more seductive than ever. “Is it because you belong to me?” 

You nod, turning your head back to look at him. “I'm your wife. I'm all yours—”

Jack grabs your chin and forces you to look forward and you lock up when you see Titus and Pope staring right at you through the glass. 

“If you're all mine, then don't cum from them watching us.” Jack knows that's impossible for you, which only adds to the thrill. He never realized how fun it would be to tease you like this, especially when you're wriggling in his grip, the pleasure building too quickly that you can't stay still anymore. 

“No, Jack, you know I can't—” Your shocked yelp gets caught in your throat when his hand slides down and settles around your neck. He doesn't squeeze but the threat of it is there. “No, please, don't—”

“You don't like it?” He chuckles in that same dark way that Titus does, making goosebumps rise on your skin. “I think you're lying to me, babe. I think you're going to cum real hard once my hand starts to strangle you.”

“Not while they watch.” You try not to meet their gazes or you'll surely cum from how heated they are, staring at you while Jack is holding your body hostage like this. “Please don't, I don't want to cum while they—”

“If you cum, they're going to get to use you however they want. Isn't that what you want?” Jack slips his other hand from your hip to your clit, pinching it between his fingers since he knows you'll break the moment he does. “My wife loves being a slut for me and my brothers.” 

It's like a dam breaks inside of you. All the coiled up tension finally releases and you can't stop yourself from cumming anymore. Titus and Pope watch the way you unravel completely, squirting on Jack's cock all over the window. They look at each other. 

“Truce?” Pope has already forgotten what they've been arguing about. He's more focused on how hard his cock is against the new pants he just put on. 

“Truce. Do you think he'll let us fuck her?” Titus looks towards Jack, who gestures for them to come over. “Our brother is fucking nuts.” 

“Runs in the family.” Pope doesn't hesitate to start the walk over there, his eyes never leaving your quivering body. 

When the door opens, your scream is choked out by Jack's hand. He smiles at how you're trying so hard again not to cum. 

“It's okay, babe.” Jack turns you away from the window and towards his brothers. “Show them how hard you cum when I do.” 

You shake your head then gasp when you feel someone's hand on your chin. It's Titus. “Come on, beautiful. Show us.” 

Titus takes over rubbing your clit so that Jack can have both hands gripping your hips, leaving your pretty neck all exposed. That's when Pope steps forward, wrapping both of his hands around your throat. 

“Oh god, don't do this…” You plead to Pope. “Please, Andrew, I won't be able to—”

You'll never be able to have vanilla sex again after this. You'll crave being touched by all of them at once for the rest of your life. 

There's still a chance you die tonight, too. 

“This is just what happens when you become part of the family.” Pope tells you, his grip tightening around the delicate column of your throat. “You were never going to make it out of this unscatched.”

“I like her better like this, though.” Titus leans in, kissing you, making you more breathless. 

“I love you like this.” Jack says right into your ear and that's all it takes for you to finally give in completely. 

You grab a hold of Titus with one hand, kissing him back, while your other hand grabs Pope's wrist, tugging him towards you more, wanting him to choke you harder. Jack starts roughly ramming his cock into you, something he has never done before, and your moans are caught in your throat, desperate to come out but you can't breathe. 

Your orgasm is unbelievable. Your thighs are soaked. Jack is pumping so much of his release inside of you that you'll surely be walking around with it dripping out of you after this. 

But it won't just be his. 

“Let me go next.” Titus breathes out onto your swollen lips, his hot breath intoxicating. “Let me fuck her next, please.” 

He has never begged like that to anyone, not even his father. But he'll beg Jack for this. He needs this. He needs you. 

“It's up to her.” Jack smacks your ass, jolting you back to reality from your orgasmic daze. “Do you want Titus to fuck you?”

Pope lets go of your throat just a little so you can tell them, “yes, please.” 

“Please what?” Jack didn't realize how much of a sadist he really was. “You need to say it clearly, babe. Say “I want your brother Titus to fuck me”.” 

Pope and Titus give each other a look. Is this really their straight-laced brother? They see too much of themselves in him right now. 

You look right into Titus's eyes when you say, “I want your brother Titus to fuck me, please.” 

He starts to laugh. “Holy fuck, she's perfect. You've got an incredible wife, Jack.” 

Jack pulls out of you then cups his hand over your throbbing pussy. “Hurry up and fuck my wife before my cum spills out of her.” 

Titus eyes the desk chair in the corner and says, “let's go over there.” 

He goes to sit down as Jack and Pope drag you over so you can sit down on Titus's lap like you had earlier, sinking his cock into you from behind. You grab a hold of his knees again, squirming at the way his cock is twitching inside of you. Then, you have no idea how to react when Pope drops to his knees between your legs and leans in to lick your clit, his warm tongue making you dizzy with Titus's cock buried inside of you. 

“You're a fucking freak, Pope.” Titus groans when you clench around him from Pope playing with your clit. 

“Just fuck her already.” Pope wants to know what you taste like when you're being fucked. 

You look up at Jack, seeing that his cock is still out, glistening from having been buried inside of you. You lick your lips then grab him by his pants, pulling him towards you. You aren't holding back anymore, so you proceed to stuff him into your mouth, licking him clean. 

“Do you like having my brother's cock in your mouth while I'm fucking you?” Titus says right before he nips your earlobe and slams you down harder onto his cock. You gag on Jack's cock in response. 

He really shouldn't like the way that feels, but he does, so he keeps his hand in your hair and starts fucking your mouth, stuffing himself deeper down your throat. Tears build in the corners of your eyes from the sudden forcefulness but draws an orgasm out of you more easily than it should. 

“She likes it rough.” You can feel Pope's words against your clit, making you tingle all over. “I wonder how much your wife can take.” 

You're sent into an instant frenzy when Pope slips a finger into your pussy, stretching you out wider than Titus's cock already is, his tongue still abusing your overstimulated clit. 

You pull Jack's cock out of your mouth, heaving out, “wait, wait, wait—!”

Your hand laces into Pope's hair as he sucks on your clit, dipping another finger inside of you, curling them against that spot right beneath your clit. Titus is enjoying every second of you tightening up around his cock so he grabs your hips and starts thrusting up into you, driving the tip of his cock against that spot deep inside of you. Jack leans down and presses his hand down on your lower stomach, making you very aware of everything that's happening inside of you. He wraps his other hand around his cock, stroking himself to the sight of you in complete disarray. 

When you feel Jack cum all over your neck, you cum so hard that you drench Pope's face, screaming from the intensity of the orgasm that shoots through you while Titus fills you up with his release. Jack clamps his hand over your mouth, since he can't let you give away where they are. They all need time to refresh after this before going back out there. There's no way he's letting anyone else catch you in this state besides him and his brothers. 

Titus pulls you off of him and Pope is on his feet in an instant, grabbing you and slamming you down against the desk in front of them, burying his cock inside of you right away. You're winded from the sudden push but you don't get a chance to take a breath when Pope is holding you down, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. 

It doesn't take him long to finish. It doesn't take you long to cum from him spilling inside of you like his brothers just had. But his thrusts don't stop. Not until he's sure you've cum again from him grinding the tip of his cock right up against your womb, coaxing his release deeper inside of you. 

When Pope slides out of you, you're laying there on that desk, dripping their cum onto the floor. You clench your fists around the edge of the desk, pinching your eyes shut, trying to stop yourself from cumming again from the warmth of them slipping out of you. It feels too depraved to cum from this. 

But then, you feel two fingers slip inside of you and then Jack's voice saying, “you need to tighten up, babe. You're spilling our cum. How are you supposed to have a baby if you can't keep it inside of you?” 

You open your eyes when you feel another set of fingers dip inside of you, alongside Jack's. Titus has his other hand on your thigh, holding your legs open. He smiles at you, that frightening smile of his that sends shivers through you. 

“You should listen to your husband, beautiful.” Titus curls his fingers inside of you, pulling a gasp from your lips. “That's it, tighten up.” 

Pope holds down your other thigh then slides two of his fingers inside of you, spreading them. He whispers to you rather sweetly, “I bet you can fit two cocks inside of you soon. It'll be good prep for the baby.” 

You try to wriggle away from them when they start thrusting their fingers at the same pace, completely in sync, rubbing up against every spot inside of you that's terribly sensitive from having been fucked so much today. 

“No, please, you guys have to stop…” This will corrupt you forever. The feeling of the three of them coaxing you to an orgasm you know will shatter you. It'll haunt you forever. 

You'll be chasing this feeling forever. 

They know this. Somehow, they're very aware of it. Jack looks at his brothers, realizing something about himself that he never thought about before this moment.

That he was never a good man. 

Not when it came to you.

Because the moment he had the opportunity to ensure that you would never be able to leave him, he took it. 

Because there's no way you'll ever leave him now. 

You're his forever. 

He has defiled you to the point of no return, thanks to the help of his brothers.

And that is the devil in his blood. 

The part of him that revels in the way you're so desperate to hold onto that final shred of innocence you have left in you. 

It's gone now. 

It's gone the moment Jack pinches your clit exactly the way he has taught you to love over all these years together and you arch your back, the orgasm shooting through you too quickly after that. You scream their names as your body releases all the tension you've been building up in the hopes that you could stop yourself from cumming so hard. 

But it's impossible not to, when you have three brothers fingering you at the same time. 

It only gets more difficult to stop yourself when they start to degrade you. Titus let out that dark chuckle of his, watching you squirt like a fountain on their fingers, “you're going make such a mess for the staff to clean up later. Is that how you'll be from now on? Are you going to be leaving your cum all over my mansion whenever we fuck you?”

Pope loves how you tighten up around their fingers in response, your eyes glazing over from cumming again and again. “Maybe we should just keep her locked up here so we can use her whenever we want. Keep her pussy nice and full at all times. As long as Jack is okay with that.” 

Jack looks down at you, his gaze so intense that you could easily mistake him for his brothers. But you know it's your Jack. He speaks to you in that soft tone of his, asking, “what does my wife want? Does she want to be our little lived-in cumslut? Letting us use her body whenever we want?” 

If you had any sense of rationality left, you would say no. You should say no. Because is this truly the life you wanted for yourself? To be made to cum over and over again, to feel this kind of pleasure on a daily basis, to be stuffed with their cocks whenever the feeling strikes? 

They stop moving their fingers inside of you at the same time, and you nearly whine. You've gotten too used to cumming the moment you got close. Now they're not letting you. Not until you answer Jack. 

“What does my wife want?” Jack asks you again. “Tell us.” 

“I want…” What do you want? 

“You want to be our little plaything, don't you?” Titus knows that's what he wants. He wants to be able to sink his cock into you whenever he's hard. He wants to be able to kiss you whenever he wants. He wants you. 

Pope does too. He needs you to say it. “Say “I want my husband to let me be a slut for him and his brothers”. You can do it.” 

You look into Jack's eyes. Your lovely husband. The man you married. The person you're going to spend the rest of your life with. 

And you say right to his face, “I want my husband to let me be a slut for him and his brothers because I love him so much. I don't want to be anywhere but right here with you, Jack.”

You made your vows earlier and yet, this seems more substantial than the ones you made at the altar. Because Jack knows you'll be his forever. 

He made sure of that, with the help of his brothers. 

“I love you too.” He tells you with a beautiful smile on his face. The same smile he had when the officiant said he could kiss his bride. “Now I want to see my wife cum again. Can you do that for me?” 

You nod and brace yourself when they start thrusting their fingers inside of you again. Then, the moment they all pop their fingers out of you at the same time, you cum harder than you have all night, gushing all over the desk. You don't know how you're even able to function right now. All you see in your vision is stars dancing around the haze. 

“She's so cute.” Pope leans in, giving you a peck on the cheek. “Look at how precious she looks all cummed out that. Are you feeling okay?”

He sits down next to you, pulling you into his lap. You rest your head against his chest, nodding. “I'm okay. Thanks for asking,” 

“Do you have a pharmacy?” Jack asks Titus, who has to think of how to get there from here. 

“There should be a nurse's office for the employees somewhere along this corridor.” You all will likely find it just traveling down the maze.

“She'll need some painkillers and lots of water.” 

“We got leftovers from that electrolytes sponsor a while back.” Titus is pretty sure the staff took whatever extra they had from that event. “We can head to a hospital once dawn hits and get her an IV infusion too.” 

You feel kind of strange, hearing them talk about how to take care of you. You didn't think it would be like this. You figured, at least for Titus and Pope, that this would mostly be a physical relationship. 

But Pope rubs your back so gently and kisses you on the forehead, whispering, “does it hurt anywhere?” 

You shake your head. “Just a little sore.” 

“Where?” 

“My stomach.” You definitely cramped up a lot from all the orgasms. 

Pope lays his hand across your belly and the warmth of it is oddly soothing. You like it a lot, leaning more against him as he rubs your tummy in small circles. 

Once you're more relaxed, they find you a staff uniform that fits, letting you take off the maid uniform. As useful as the maid uniform was for the sex you just had, it probably isn't practical to be running around with your legs exposed. 

“I can't wait to have sex with you when you aren't wearing any clothes.” Titus whispers to you out of earshot of his brothers. 

Though, he shouldn't have been surprised that Jack heard him. Jack, unlike you, has very good hearing. “Keep it in your pants until we make it out of here alive.” 

You all go back to where Julia and Ursula died, so you can grab their guns. From the looks of it, no one else has found them yet. You opt to take the revolver that Julia had and Jack takes Ursula's handgun, since the shotgun only has one round left in it. 

Then, Titus leads you all to the nurse's office. There is plenty of water, along with that electrolyte powder, and some painkillers. It does look like the staff has been skimming off the top of the medication. Titus will deal with that later. 

Jack portions out the medication for you and you take it, trusting him to prescribe you the right dosages. He gives you a nice kiss once you've taken everything and you smile against his lips. 

“That should help.” He tells you, brushing his nose against yours. “How are you feeling?” 

“I'll be okay.” You actually can walk pretty well, all things considered. Pope offered to carry you but you declined since his shoulder is still shot. Titus would but you'd rather save it for when it's necessary.

Like when a gas canister gets thrown into the room.

And a bright white flash fills your vision in an instant…

So many noises bombard your ears that you can't actually hear anything. All you can really make out is Jack shouting your name, trying to find you in the thick fog that has clouded the room. But a wet rag covers your mouth before you can call out to him.

Your limp body is dragged away from them…

“We need to get out of here!” Pope shouts to his brothers, who are violently coughing from the smoke.

“But they took her!” Jack needs to chase after you but Titus pulls him towards the side of the room that isn't covered in smoke. 

“We'll die if we breathe in any more of this shit!” Titus wishes the ringing in his ears from the flash grenade would settle. All this yelling is annoying. 

He tries to remember if there's a way to go underneath the spa. There has to be, for all the pipes. He looks around and then gestures for his brothers to come help him pry open the vent that leads down into the sewer. 

“This is going to be fucking gross.” Titus cringes but Pope just jumps in. He has dealt with way worse during jobs. 

Pope catches his brothers as they drop back to back and then they have to find a path back to the surface. 

Before you get sacrificed…

You wake up tied down to a table. You're…in the parlor. The table is placed right beneath the portrait of Mister Le Bail, those black candles still weeping wax, nearly completely melted. Each flame is roaring, moving so quickly that you're getting lightheaded staring at it. 

Though, that might just be whatever pungent smell is in the air.

Is that…a goat? 

Your eyes shift over to Baz, who is holding a goat in his hands above you, a knife pressed to its throat. You scream when he slits its throat, its blood splattering all over you. You have to shut your mouth promptly so you don't accidentally swallow it.

You then look down and…realize you're wearing an exact copy of your wedding dress, though it's soaked in goat's blood now. You tug at your restraints but the bloody ropes won't budge. 

Chester walks up to you, taking a handkerchief and wiping your mouth so you can answer him when he asks, “was it fun corrupting my sons?” 

What the hell is he talking about? 

You stare back at him confused and he proceeds to slap you. You wince from the sudden rush of pain. 

“Don't play coy. I figured I had no control over Jack falling for you. He was the lost one, after all. But somehow you got to Andrew and then even Titus. The prophecy is true, then. Of a snake in my garden.” He walks around the table, your eyes following as you spot everyone else in the room. 

It's all the people left in the game, except the sons he's referring to. Where are they? 

Are they…dead? 

You swallow back the lump in your throat, praying that isn't true. 

“You are the forbidden fruit.” Smurf smiles at you, the sight frightening to say the least. “Now that they've all had a taste, they'll do anything to protect you. Even kill their sisters.” 

“You killed Craig.” Deran points his rifle at you, stepping close enough to you that your hand brushes against his jeans. He assumes you're trying to touch him and he presses the gun harder against your temple. “You can't corrupt me. I don't like women.” 

“I didn't want to kill him.” You're going to remember how Craig looked with that bullet between his eyes for the rest of your life. “But you were shooting at us. What was I supposed to do?” 

“Can I just kill her?” Deran asks the family but Billy shakes his head so Deran moves away from you, standing beside his father at the foot of the table. 

“We need to sacrifice her first.” Jake tells him, placing more black candles around you before standing beside everyone else. “That's the only way Craig's death will mean anything.”

“What are you going to do to me?” You've never been more scared in your life. 

“They're going to offer you to Mister Le Bail.” Catherine answers, grateful that J is with Lena and neither of them will have to witness this. She walks up to you and you feel her give you something. 

It's a gun. A very small gun. She conceals it with her body, so no one can see that you're holding it in your hand. 

She leans over you, whispering, “end this, please.” 

Your eyes dart all over the room. You have to make whatever shot you take count. You need to take out as many of them as you can. Is that even possible? 

But then you see that bust of a tiger on that incredibly heavy wooden plaque hanging above where Deran, Billy and Jake are standing. 

Baz is a bit to the left of them. Two bullets and you can take out those four. Then the only people left would be Smurf, Chester and Catherine. 

Your eyes shift up to Catherine. You want to make sure she realizes what she's asking of you. She nods, signaling that it's okay. 

Then, she moves out of the way so you can aim the gun and fire. One bullet hits the drywall, which breaks the integrity of the nails holding up the bust and it collapses onto the three men, the sheer weight of the frame crushing them beneath it, the tiger's fangs piercing through Deran until he's spitting blood. He can't grab his rifle. He can't reach it while he's stuck in the tiger's mouth. He bleeds out pretty quickly. His father and Jake suffocate under the weight. 

Baz reacts quickly, pulling his gun out but you shoot a bullet between his eyes before he can shoot you. Smurf shrieks when she sees Baz fall over, dead. She has lost all her sons now, since she can't control Pope anymore. You stole him away from her. 

She will make you pay for that. 

But before she can, the sound of glass shattering fills the room. 

They had secured the parlor doors but not the windows. Jack, Pope and Titus come swinging in on a makeshift rope they hung from the floor above, since they had to figure out a way to get into the room to save you. You breathe a sigh of relief seeing them.

That is, until Catherine grabs the gun from your hand and points it to your temple.

“Move one step closer and I kill her.” Catherine says, her voice eerily steady. 

“Catherine…” You don't know what to say.

Why is she doing this after she just helped you? 

She turns back to you and says, “I can't let Lena die because of you. But I couldn't be in the game and have the chance to kill you unless Baz died.” 

There's a clause that you didn't know about. Where people on the same team can't kill each other. And people who aren't playing can't harm you. So Catherine needed you to kill Baz so she could play. She couldn't do it herself. 

Thankfully Jack didn't end up killing either of his brothers because it would've resulted in his immediate death. They are all loyal to one another now. Because they have you to protect. 

“Put the gun down, Cat.” Pope says, aiming his gun at her. “Please don't make me shoot you.”

“You should let me kill her. You love Lena, don't you? She'll die if I don't do this.” 

“That's right, baby.” Smurf tries to coax Pope to join their side. “If we don't kill her before dawn, precious little Lena bear will die too. You don't want that.” 

Titus and Jack share a look. A nervous one. Because they don't know what Pope will pick. As much as Jack values a child's life, since he works hard everyday to save them, he values you much more. Titus doesn't give a shit about children, besides the ones he hopes to have with you.

Pope is the wildcard here. He loves children. He loves Lena. He loves…he loved Catherine. 

But he doesn't anymore. 

And he definitely doesn't love Smurf enough to pick her over you. 

Smurf knows this, from the look that Pope gives her. 

That's why she shoots him before he can shoot Catherine. 

You hear Pope's body hit the floor from the impact of the bullet to his heart. You let out a wail, a broken hearted sob, because what kind of mother shoots her child like that? 

A cold hearted one.

Shots ring out in the parlor. Jack shoots Smurf. Titus shoots Chester. And Pope shoots Catherine, despite bleeding out on the floor. 

The gun in Catherine's hand fires but misses you completely. It does, however, rupture your eardrum and you can't hear out of your right ear. That sucks… 

“Go cut her out of her restraints.” Jack instructs Titus. “I'll see how bad the bullet wound is.” 

Pope seriously got shot twice today. At least he got to fuck you twice before he dies. He didn't think this would be how he went out. He always assumed it would be in some kind of blaze of glory. Not because his own mother shot him for not picking her. 

Jack examines the wound. It's bad but…if they get the medical supplies they need, he can stabilize Pope enough to take him to the hospital and Pope should live. 

Dawn is approaching. 

Just a few more minutes and you will have won the game. 

After he unties you, Titus cups your face, pressing his forehead against yours, letting out a series of nervous breaths. “Are you okay? We were so scared when they grabbed you. They didn't do anything to you, did they?” 

You shake your head. “My ear hurts, though.” 

Titus can see that it's bleeding, most likely from Catherine shooting the gun so close to your ear. “I'll go find some medical supplies. There should be some nearby.” 

When he's back with several kits, Jack stabilizes Pope and gets him to his feet. Titus plugs your ear up with gauze then takes over for Jack, since he can pick up Pope if they need to carry him. For now, he's just helping Pope walk outside. 

Jack grabs a hold of your hand as you both walk alongside them out of the residence. He's squeezing your hand, needing the comfort. 

“We won.” You say to him. “Everything will be okay."

“I'm worried about your ear, babe. And Pope.” Jack hopes by the time they get to the gate, the lockdown will be over and they can get the two of you to a hospital. 

“We'll be okay.” You all file out of the estate and Titus sets Pope down on a bench so he can go grab one of the cars. 

The sun is rising in the distance. This wedding night is almost over.

At least, it should be.

But then a bullet pierces straight through your chest. Blood spews out of the hole, the redness spreading and discolored your wedding dress more and more. You look up at Jack, your hand going limp in his before you collapse onto the ground. Jack turns around and…

J is there, with a gun in his hand. Jack has no time to react as J shoots him too. Jack drops down right next to you, blood pooling between the two of you, mixing together. 

Your eyes meet Jack's and you whisper, like they're your last words, “I love you.” 

Tears drip out of his eyes as Jack says back, “I love you too. And I'm so sorry…” 

J walks up to the two of you, looking down at you both. “You killed my mother, which means I'm in the game. And now you'll die with my uncles and I'll inherit everything. Just as it was meant to be.” 

J points the gun at you and right as he is about to pull the trigger, sunlight overtakes all of you, the light beams flooding past the tree line in the distance. It blinds him for just a moment. 

And then J explodes into a million bits and pieces, coating you and Jack in his guts and blood. You've never seen anything like that before in your life. It was like a bomb went off inside his body and he completely obliterated. 

What a sight to see before you die… 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” Titus comes rushing out from the car. “What the fuck happened?” 

“We won.” You tell him, coughing up blood. 

Everything hurts. It's so sticky too. Feels gross. You go still as Titus lifts you up into his arms and settles you into the passenger seat, buckling you in. 

He goes back out to Jack and Jack shakes his head. “Take her to the hospital. Save her.” 

“Fuck you, dude.” Titus lifts Jack up into his arms and stuffs him into the backseat. “She won't fuck me if I let you die out here.” 

He slams the door shut on that side and then rushes to go get Pope, shoving him into the other backseat. 

To think, Titus would end up being the one to save you, when he originally went into this night wanting to kill you. He's even putting in the effort to save his brothers because…now he has a real bond with them. A bond he doesn't want to lose. 

He pays an exorbitant amount of money to have you all treated immediately when he gets to the emergency room, which is the only way you all manage to survive. He pays the entire hospital to work on the three of you, ignoring everyone else in there. He can afford any civil settlements if the other patients want to sue. All he cares about is that you and his brothers live. 

You wake up a few days later and Titus is sitting at your bedside, sleeping with his head rested on his arms. Somehow, you know it's Titus. Maybe you'll get good at telling the brothers apart. 

You lift your hand up to put your fingers into his hair, brushing through his soft curls. He wakes up then, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees your eyes open. 

“You're awake.” He grabs your hand, kissing your palm over and over again. “Thank the devil you're awake.” 

“Should we be thanking the devil?” You say with a strained giggle. It hurts to laugh, unfortunately.

“Pope and Jack are up already. Their gunshot wounds weren't as bad as yours. Yours got infected. Probably because of the fucking goat's blood.” Titus stabbed that dead goat to his heart's content when he went back to the Danforth residence yesterday to organize the clean up. 

“Gross.” You cup his cheek with your hand. “Thank you for saving me…and them too.” 

“You would hate me if I let them die so I could have you for myself.” 

“I could never hate you.” You pinch his cheek playfully. “You look too much like my husband. Will you get him for me? Pope too?”

Titus nods and then goes out to grab them. Jack rushes up to you, giving you a big kiss. He rests his forehead against yours, also breathing a sigh of relief.

“You scared the shit out of us.” Jack doesn't know what he would've done if you didn't wake up. 

“Sorry.” You lean up to kiss him again. “I'm here now.” 

Jack moves away so that Pope can look at you. He actually recovered faster than both you and Jack, so he has been worried sick with Titus this whole time. Even though he technically had two gunshot wounds to deal with. 

You reach up, wanting to touch Pope, so he leans into your touch, letting you caress his jaw and then he kisses down the length of your arm, so grateful you're okay. 

“I guess this means no crazy sex for a while right?” You make a bad joke but they all laugh, coupled with some pained groans from how much laughing hurts. 

“We'll postpone our honeymoon until you're all healed up.” Jack wouldn't want to go on a trip while you're not able to fully enjoy it.

“Do they get to tag along?” You ask, looking at Titus and Pope. “I think we can all use a vacation after that night.” 

Titus and Pope look over at Jack, since it's ultimately his decision. Jack turns to you and answers, “if that's what you want.” 

“I'd like that.” You smile at all of them. 

You'd like to spend a lot more time with them.

Though, you'd like to be spending time on vacation with them. Not whatever is about to happen.

A man walks into your hospital room in a suit, carrying an obscenely large withered book. 

“Hello there.” He says to you all, shutting the door behind him. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Pope is tired of not having his gun on him. He needs to start carrying from now on. 

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mister Le Bail's lawyer and I have come to inform you all that given the results of the game, there is a clause you all must be aware of.” He sets the book down the tray table above you, so you all have a clear view of the by laws. 

“What the fuck is it this time?” Jack does not like how many secret clauses there are to this mix. 

“Ah, well, this one is about the game Capture the Flag. If the flag and their team wins that game, then they are bound to those people for the rest of their life. In this case, since you all are men and she is a lovely bride, it means that Mister Le Bail would like some form of security that you four will be tied together for life.” The lawyer flashes you all a brilliantly creepy smile. “I'm sure you're aware of your mother's choice in how to do that.” 

The three brothers look at each other. Smurf had children with Chester, Billy and Jake, the three men she chose to protect her…

“There are many options you all can explore for a permanent bond. I'll send you an email with all the details. Mister Le Bail is quite lenient when it comes to this game. It is one of his favorites so there is no rush. Just be sure to stay together forever.” The lawyer closes the book then and grabs it, holding it securely in his arm. “I would prefer it if I never had to see you all again but unfortunately, you aren't the only ones to win a game recently.”

“What are you talking about?” There are only a few families in the High Council who participate in Mister Le Bail's games. 

Who else got married recently?

“The Le Domas. They have met their end, I'm afraid. Meaning the High Seat is up for grabs for the first time in years. Naturally, it would've fallen to you, Titus, but since the bride survived, the ring is up for grabs. And you three are the only heirs left to the Danforth fortune so given that you're triplets, you all will have to compete together. How exciting. Would you like to host the game?” 

For once in his life, Titus is not excited to participate in a game. But he should host it, so they have home field advantage. 

“Will she have to play?” Titus points to you. He won't do it if you're in danger.

The lawyer shakes his head. “She will only have to participate if the three of you die, since she would be the last heir in that case.” 

“When do we have to do this?” Jack would prefer to heal up a bit more if he has to kill people for some sick game again. 

“Preferably within the next 48 hours. While the bride is still fresh.” The lawyer is referring to Grace Macaullay Le Domas, who won her Hide and Seek game against the Le Domas family. They all perished, including her husband. She's the only one left. 

“Let's just get this shit over with.” Pope will kill her quickly so he can come back and enjoy your company now that he gets to be with you. A forever bond, thanks to the devil. 

The lawyer leaves so that Titus can start making arrangements. You grab a hold of Jack's hand, saying, “will you be okay?” 

“I have to be.” He's firm in his words. “This is our family now.” 

What a fucked up family this is… 

A/N: So if I do continue this, it'll likely be the alternate take on the events of the second movie (since this fic was kind of an alternate version of the first movie, but with Capture the Flag instead of Hide and Seek) + the honeymoon! Because well, how can I not write a honeymoon hehe ~ 

“No, no, not for me, my patient,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Please, I wish it was for me.”

“Why do you need a condom for a patient?” you asked, amused almost. “Is he hot?”

“What? No? My patient, he's HIV but apparently very, very active and he doesn't have condoms. He says he-he prefers it without and I've explained everything to him but there's no condoms in the draw where we keep them!” explained Samira.

“We have a condom draw?” asked Trinity, taking only that as the necessary information from Mohan's ramble.

You handed her the chart. “You sleep with women.”

“What? So I'm not allowed in the condom draw?”

“It's for sex ed teachings, people who are young and having sex,” you shrugged. “Stuff like that. Come on, I can help you out.”

The nurses desk was practically vacant. Around you everyone busied themselves with greeting the nigh shift and getting them out, taking away patients like the changing of the guard. It was almost too early to be dealing with tough patients who wouldn't protect themselves.

You led the way around the counter, Mohan and Santos (who took an invitation for herself) followed you over to the desk as you reached down for Robby's bag, propping it up.

It was no surprise to them that you were reaching for his bag, reaching for his stuff like it was yours. What was Robby's was yours. The real surprise had been when Mel found the two of you eight months ago making out in the storage room, shrieking and dropping a bag of blood that then splashed all over you.

And obviously at the scream everyone ran over and found the two of you rather compromised and covered in blood. You still weren't really done living that down.

You fished around in Robby's bag, the owner somewhere not there to see as you brought out an opened box of condoms. “Here,” you said handing her a thick strip as Santos laughed.

Samira took them wearily, a small dusting of pink on her cheeks. “Won't you... miss these?”

“No,” you said, rocking on your heels, suddenly feeling the familiar creeping heat of embarrassment. “We have... more.”

Santos smirked. “Keeping Robby in shape, huh?”

Samira shuddered. “I really don't want to think about my boss like that, but thank you!” you said, waving the strip like it was a flag and rushing off before her patient could walk off. She was a good doctor, dedicated you knew and you were just happy to help her reach her potential.

Distracted by watching her leave you failed to notice Trinity sneak over to Robby's bag, peeking inside like a nosy cat.

“Hey!” you lectured, pulling the zipper shut on her hand.

“What? Just wanted to know what else you got in there? Does he keep a pair of panties? Vibrator if it gets quiet,” she teased.

You blushed, shaking your head and looking down to the bag. “You have no shame, that's your boss you're talking about.”

She made a pfft noise. “You're the one screwing him.”

Yes, you were. Proudly and happily.

Javadi slid up next to you, practically shoving you a tablet and asking for your advice. You were somewhere deep in your residency, one of the first they were introduced to on their hell of a first day. Not as scary as Robby, easier to talk to than Langdon. It was typical for the Pittlings and Mohan to come to you when they needed advice. You liked it really, as much as Santos teased you and as much as Mohan and Javadi doubted themselves.

“Hey Crash,” said Trinity, all but giddy with the new knowledge she had about Doctor Robby's contents in his bag. “You wanna know what's in this bag of secrets.”

“No,” you chastised.

Javadi's eyes lightened up. “Is that Doctor Robby's bag?”

“It doesn't matter,” you said, pushing it back down to your feet.

“Hey,” Samira joined the group of you again, handing you back the strip of condoms. “He said he can't take these.” The rest of the doctors and nurses hustled around the Pitt, un-knowing of the personal dilemmas being aired out.

You lifted your shoulders. “You needed condoms, those are condoms.”

“Yes but they're not the right size,” said Mohan. “He says they wouldn't fit, they're too big.”

Oh.

Perhaps at some point you'd been shocked at the size of Robby. Before you'd only had your imagination and hints of him beneath his scrubs. The times when he'd brush past you in the teasing beginning of your relationship and you'd feel something prod at you. The first time he'd dragged you to his bedroom, lips seething in heat and teeth nipping in want to only lay you out on his bed and drag his pants and underwear down to show all of him- then you'd been shocked. Mouth watering so.

Over the months the shock transformed to desire, reaching hands and an eager mouth that you stopped thinking about the size.

You didn't think anything of it when you handed Mohan a strip of five extra-large condoms.

Standing at the nurses station it may as well have been a deserted island and you stared down at the condoms like it was your first offering of food.

“Uh-”

Javadi snatched the condoms from Samira first, staring down at them with mouth agape. “Oh my god.”

“Javadi-”

“Holy shit!”

You looked back and Santos had pulled out Robby's bag again, pulling out the box and staring at the size stamped on the front. “Santos!”

“No wonder you walk in limping.”

“I do not- I do not walk in limping!”

“Well, there was that one time-” said Mohan.

“No, there wasn't!” you argued. “I'd bruised my ankle.”

Mohan chuckled to herself. “Sure.”

Trinity smirked. “Bruised something.”

Javadi was still staring at the strip of condoms in wonder. “How do they even get this big?”

You snatched them away from her the way you might have if a child found them. Quickly you stuffed them in the box, threw them back in Robby's bag and kept it behind your back.

“Wait, why do you have a box of condoms for work?” asked Javadi.

“Oh please,” said Santos with a groan. “They're always at it in work. Better safe than sorry.”

“We are not always at it at work,” you defended.

“The storage closet?” asked Mohan, apparently abandoning the venture of finding fitting condoms for her patient.

You held up a finger. “That was one time.”

“The toilets,” added Santos, sadly remembering the time you and Robby had hid yourselves in the bathroom for a break. A break that was only supposed to be comforting touched turned hot and reaching quickly.

“That one time in the exam room where we thought we were examining a broken hip for a Mrs Driscoll-” began Javadi.

“Okay! Okay, I get it!” you interrupted.

“I think it's nice,” Trinity quipped her lip, arms crossing over her chest. “Get some dick when you can right.” She patted your shoulder like a proud sister as she left the group of you, laughing quietly to herself.

Victoria and Samira followed suit, leaving you with the ramifications of your own embarrassment. So what your boyfriend was largely endowed, wasn't it a compliment? Weren't you the luckiest girl in the world to have Robby with soft and tender touches turned to almost hateful thrusts with how hard he loved you.

You made sure Robby's bag was tightly closed before sliding it back under the desk.

The day brought the same usual storm the ED always brought. Enough to distract you from the mornings events and the package sitting inside of Robby's bag. You were left with only a creeping heat crawling up your neck, the last dregs of your doctors eyes on you and their giddy smiles.

You'd only managed to make it to the staff lounge for a coffee by mid day, taking the mug that was yours, marked with an inside joke and given one secret Santa round.

“Hey.” Robby slipped into the room, leaning his back against the sink and standing next to you.

“Hey yourself.”

For a moment there was a silence where you poured coffee for the both of you, handing him his mug.

Robby's fingers grazed yours, the simplest touch sending shivers through your skin. “Can I ask you something?”

You hummed, head tucked away. He wouldn't have heard about the mornings teasing's, would he?

“Santos has been... off today,” he said.

He would.

You gulped, a feign of concern falling to you. “She has?”

“Keeps looking at me and smirking. She's doing this thing with her hands where she-” he demonstrated, spreading his hands to different distances, some small, some bigger. His hands wavered around the imaginary object between his hands.

You were left groaning.

Robby's head tilted toward you. “Do you know anything?”

In attempts of hiding away the story your head ducked and shook side to side.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” you said.

Robby's fingers were slightly calloused but no less humble as he pinched your chin, realigning his gaze with yours. His brows rose, gaze pouring into yours. He didn't even have to ask you again.

You sighed. “This morning Mohan had a patient with HIV and she wanted to give him condoms but there was none where they usually are so I gave her some of ours. But they weren't exactly... the right size.”

There was a small furrow of confusion in his face as he waited for you to elaborate.

You turned your body into his, lowering your voice. “Not everybody can fit into an extra large, Robby.”

The furrow gave and a small grin split his cheeks as he glanced down to your shoes, a pink blooming under his beard and to his cheeks. It was different from your own embarrassment. He was more pleased with himself.

Robby straightened, hands wavering. “So how does... this connect to-”

“Santos was there this morning when Samira asked.”

He chuckled, tongue poking out into his cheek as he shook his head in amusement.

“It's not funny,” you said, nudging him.

He rocked on his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Your coffee was turning lukewarm in hand, the bitter taste suddenly too sweet as you made to walk away from him and stew in your own humiliation.

Robby's fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged, using you to pull himself in closer. “Oh, I'm sorry,” he teased, voice dropping into the low drag in his condescending way. The sort of voice he used to coax you down into bed with his darkening eyes and lustful approach. “Is my dick too big? Do I fuck you too good?” His hands grabbed at your hips, bringing you into him, tongue darting out to your neck.

Your body wriggled in his hold, trying to escape as his arms grew strong around you. “Stop!” You laughed.

“Make me.” He nipped at your neck, licking over the sting he caused.

The door was pushed open and Langdon stumbled in the doorway, catching sight of the two of you tangled in arms and laughter.

“Are you two doing it in the lounge now?” he asked.

You guessed you just should've been thankful Langdon wasn't there that morning, otherwise there would have been competitions between him and Santos on who could make the best jokes out of your misery.

Slowly, Robby moved away from you, pulling himself up straight and pulling at his hoodie before leading the way out the room.

McKay was wheeling a patient away to x-ray, Samira was giving aftercare instructions to an elderly couple and Mel was somewhere lurking in a corner talking to Dana.

Santos, however, was still being the most productive, sitting across from Javadi and still trying to make sense of some invisible size between her hands.

You watched, un-able to stop as Robby walked behind Santos and spread her hands apart just a little, enough to leave more than enough inches between her hands.

Robby walked away, satisfied.

“Stomach bug?”

Fuck.

You turned toward the voice, your shoulders immediately stiffening.

Robby stood a few feet away, one hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket, the other loosely holding a coffee he’d barely touched. His expression was difficult to read. Not his usual easy grin. Not the detached professionalism he’d worn around you for the last couple of weeks.

Concern.

Or something close to it.

Your stomach lurched.

For a split second, you hated yourself for noticing.

“What do you want?” you asked, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping into your voice.

Robby hesitated. “I came to check on you.”

A hollow laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “You came to check on me?”

He shifted his weight, looking almost uncomfortable.

“I heard you’ve got some stomach bug. Dana’s sending you home.”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you turned back toward your locker. “I don’t need your concern,” you muttered.

Silence settled between you.

You started gathering your things.

You could feel him watching you. Waiting for you to say something else. When you didn’t, he spoke again.

“Look…” His voice was quieter now. “I’ve noticed you’ve been off lately.”

Your fingers tightened around the edge of your backpack.

“You’ve barely talked to anybody.” Another pause. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

That finally made you look at him.

Your nails dug into the strap of your backpack as you slowly turned to face him.

There it was.

The real reason he’d followed you.

Not concern.

Not guilt.

Him.

“I’ve been avoiding you?” you repeated, disbelief coloring every word. “Are you kidding me?”

Robby blinked, clearly caught off guard by your reaction. He took a cautious step forward, saying your name softly.

But you didn’t let him finish.

“No.”

You shook your head, the motion sharp enough to make a loose strand of hair fall into your face.

“You don’t get to turn this around on me.” Your voice trembled despite your best efforts to steady it.

Weeks of frustration, of humiliation and anger and heartbreak, they’d all been simmering just beneath the surface.

Now they threatened to boil over.

“You’re the one who ended…” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “…whatever the fuck we were doing.” You laughed. Hollow. Brittle. “Remember?”

Robby’s expression tightened.

You barely noticed.

“So don’t stand here pretending you suddenly care about me—” The words came faster now. Each one sharper than the last. “—when you never did in the first place.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Oppressive.

Robby stood perfectly still. His shoulders had gone rigid. His jaw slowly clenched.

The concern you’d seen moments earlier disappeared behind something harder. His eyes darkened. Not with anger. With hurt. And maybe a little frustration.

“I never cared?” His voice was quieter than you expected. Almost incredulous. “Is that seriously what you think?”

You folded your arms across your chest, more to keep yourself together than anything else, before retorting, “What else am I supposed to think?”

Robby opened his mouth. Closed it again. For once, he didn’t have a quick response. After a moment, he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, letting out a slow breath.

“I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

The words landed like gasoline on an open flame.

You stared at him. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. A humorless laugh escaped you. “You don’t understand?”

He frowned. “I’m trying here.”

You shook your head again, “No, you’re not.” The distinction hung between you. Painfully clear. “You don’t get to disappear the second things get complicated and then act confused when I don’t want to talk to you.”

His expression faltered.

You saw it, that flicker of guilt crossing his face. Gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“I think you should go.”

Your voice had gone quiet.

Dangerously quiet.

Robby looked at you for a long moment. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

That almost broke you. Because once upon a time, hearing those words would’ve made your entire day.

Now they just hurt.

You swallowed hard, forcing the lump in your throat back down.

“I’m fine.”

The lie came automatically.

Robby studied you. “You don’t look fine.”

“I’ll survive.”

“I know you will.” His voice softened. “But you don’t have to keep pretending with me.”

Your breath caught.

If only he knew.

If only he knew how much pretending you were actually doing.

Pretending you weren’t exhausted.

Pretending you weren’t terrified.

Pretending you weren’t carrying a secret that was changing your life by the day.

Pretending seeing him didn’t still hurt.

You met his gaze, your eyes stinging.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, anger flaring in the pit of your stomach. “You’re what, fifty, Robby? And you’re still acting like this? Like I’m supposed to drop everything and pretend we’re fine? Like I’m supposed to ignore how you were texting other women? Meeting other women behind my back…” You shook your head.

“You’re a coward, Robby. And I want nothing to do with you.”

The words were barely above a whisper.

But they landed with the force of a slap.

Robby’s face fell.

Whatever argument he’d been preparing died before it reached his lips.

For the first time since he’d approached you, he looked genuinely speechless.

And despite everything—despite the anger, despite the hurt, despite how desperately you wanted to hate him—seeing that expression still made your chest ache.

You hated yourself for that.

Before Robby could say another word, before your emotions made you regret what you’d said, you slung your backpack over your shoulder.

The movement was quick.

Abrupt.

More of an escape than anything else.

You brushed past him, your shoulder clipping his as you headed for the door.

He said your name.

You didn’t stop.

Didn’t turn around.

If you looked at him again, you weren’t sure what would come out of your mouth.

The locker room door swung open, and you stepped back into the familiar bustle of the Pitt. The noise hit you all at once. Normally, the controlled chaos grounded you.

Today, it felt suffocating.

Your pulse hammered against your ribs.

Your face burned.

The argument replayed in your mind before you’d even reached the hallway.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

You squeezed your eyes shut for half a second as you walked, trying to force the conversation out of your head.

It didn’t work.

Your stomach rolled violently. Whether it was the pregnancy or the confrontation, you couldn’t tell anymore.

Probably both.

You swallowed against the wave of nausea threatening to climb your throat.

You still needed to order an Uber.

You still needed to call your friend at Presby.

You still needed to schedule your first appointment.

You still needed to figure out what the hell you were going to do.

Robby was the last thing you should’ve been wasting your energy on.

And yet, somehow, the conversation with him left you feeling like you’d been scraped raw.

The locker room door clicked shut behind you, muffling the voices inside. You stopped for just a moment in the hallway. A shaky breath escaped your lungs. Then another.

You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, willing yourself to get it together.

Not here.

Not at work.

You refused to let anyone see you fall apart.

The familiar chaos of the Pitt continued around you, but it barely registered now. Nurses hurried past carrying medications. A resident jogged toward trauma, calling for lab results. Someone laughed down the hall.

Life went on.

As if yours hadn’t just tilted on its axis.

You lowered your hands and pulled your phone from your pocket with slightly trembling fingers.

One thing at a time.

Order the Uber.

Call Presby.

Go home.

Sleep.

You could cry later.

Definitely cry later.

Preferably where no one could hear you.

Squaring your shoulders, you started toward the ambulance bay doors.

You needed to get out of here.

Because if you stayed another minute—if one more person asked if you were okay—you were certain you’d implode.

As you stepped outside, the late afternoon air hit you like a bucket of cold water.

You stopped just beyond the front entrance, letting the cool breeze wash over your overheated skin. It helped, if only a little. Your breathing remained uneven, your heart still pounding from your conversation with Robby.

People moved around you in every direction.

Visitors carrying flowers.

Families huddled together.

A paramedic crew unloading another patient from an ambulance.

Life continued as though yours hadn’t just been turned upside down.

You stepped farther away from the automatic doors until you found a quiet spot near one of the concrete planters lining the sidewalk.

Your hands trembled as you unlocked your phone.

One thing at a time.

You opened the rideshare app first, requesting an Uber back to your apartment. A driver accepted within seconds.

Eight minutes away.

Good.

One less thing to think about.

Drawing in a slow breath, you navigated to your contacts and selected the number Dana had encouraged you to call.

Presbyterian.

You stared at the screen for several seconds.

Your thumb hovered over the call button.

You could still back out.

You could tell Dana you forgot.

You could wait another week.

Another few days.

Tomorrow.

The excuses came easily.

You closed your eyes.

Then pressed Call.

The line rang twice before someone answered.

“UPMC Presbyterian Women’s Health, this is Megan speaking. How can I help you today?”

Your mouth suddenly felt impossibly dry.

“Hi,” you began quietly. Your voice sounded smaller than you intended. “I’m…um…”

The words caught in your throat.

You looked out toward the steady stream of people entering and leaving the hospital, focusing on strangers instead of your own reflection in the darkened phone screen.

No one from the Pitt.

Good.

You cleared your throat.

“I’m calling because I’d like to schedule…” Another pause. “A prenatal appointment.”

Saying the words aloud made your stomach twist.

The receptionist’s voice remained warm and matter-of-fact.

“Of course. Congratulations.”

The automatic response caught you off guard.

Your throat tightened.

“Thank you,” you murmured, though the words felt strange. “I’m not exactly sure how far along I am.”

“That’s okay,” Megan replied reassuringly. “We’ll help you figure that out. Have you taken a home pregnancy test?”

“Yes.”

“And it was positive?”

You let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

“Several of them.”

“All right.” You could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background. “Do you happen to know your last menstrual period?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, mentally counting backward. “I think…” You frowned. “About seven weeks ago. Maybe a little longer.”

“That’s helpful.”

More typing.

“Are you having any heavy bleeding or severe abdominal pain?”

“No.”

“What about nausea or vomiting?”

You laughed softly. “Unfortunately.”

“Has it been difficult to keep food or fluids down?”

You hesitated. “Yeah.” The answer came out barely above a whisper. “I’ve been throwing up several times a day.”

“Okay,” Megan said gently. “Make sure you mention that to your provider during your visit. If you find that you can’t keep fluids down for an extended period of time, or you start feeling dizzy or notice signs of dehydration, we want you to seek medical attention sooner. There are medications that can help with nausea during pregnancy, so you don't have to just suffer through it.”

You swallowed hard.

Dana had been right.

Again.

“We have an opening this Thursday morning with one of our certified nurse midwives, or Friday afternoon with one of our OB/GYN physicians. Either provider can confirm the pregnancy, discuss your symptoms, and get your prenatal care started.”

Thursday.

Two days away.

Your stomach fluttered.

“I’ll take Thursday.”

“Perfect.”

More typing.

“So I’ve got you scheduled for Thursday at 9:30 a.m.,” she said. “We’ll have you arrive about fifteen minutes early to complete paperwork. During that visit, they’ll review your medical history, estimate how far along you are, talk about your symptoms, and discuss the next steps. Depending on how far along you are and the provider’s assessment, they may also schedule your first ultrasound if it's not done that day.”

The words blurred together slightly.

Medical history.

Ultrasound.

Next steps.

Everything suddenly felt very real.

“Do you have any questions for me today?”

A hundred.

None that you could actually put into words.

You looked toward the hospital entrance again, your eyes unfocused.

“…No,” you said quietly. “I think that’s it.”

“All right. We’ll see you Thursday morning. And if you develop heavy bleeding, severe pain, please don’t wait for your appointment—call us or seek emergency care.”

“I will.”

After another brief exchange, the call ended.

The screen went dark.

For a long moment, you simply stared at your reflection.

You had an appointment.

It was on the calendar now.

There was no pretending this wasn’t happening anymore.

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you slipped your phone back into your pocket.

Your Uber was three minutes away.

Thursday.

The date echoed in your mind.

Two days until someone else confirmed what you already knew.

Two days until the secret you’ve been carrying became just a little more real.

You lowered your phone, rubbing a hand across your forehead as you let out a long, shaky breath.

Thursday.

The date echoed in your mind, heavier now that it had a time attached to it.

Nine-thirty.

Fifteen minutes early.

Medical history.

Prenatal appointment.

Ultrasound.

Each word seemed to settle deeper into your chest than the last.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to steady your breathing. The knot in your stomach hadn't eased. If anything, it had tightened.

This was really happening.

You were really pregnant.

The realization still felt surreal, despite the positive tests sitting in the trash can of your apartment bathroom.

For a moment, you considered simply going to the appointment alone.

It would be easier.

No explanations.

No awkward conversations.

No worrying about someone seeing you cry if the reality of it all became too much.

But the thought of sitting in an exam room by yourself, hearing everything for the first time without anyone beside you, made your chest ache.

Dana’s words drifted back into your mind.

You can’t shut yourself out. You need people.

You sighed through your nose.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe.

Unlocking your phone again, you scrolled through your contacts until your thumb paused over Leni.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.

You’d met during nursing school, surviving clinicals, exams, and too many late-night study sessions fueled by vending machine coffee. Even after ending up at different hospitals, the two of you had never drifted apart. If anything, the distance had made the friendship stronger. There was no competition, no hospital gossip—just someone who had always picked up the phone when you needed her.

If there was anyone you trusted with this…

It was Leni.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

You started typing.

Hey.

You erased it.

Too casual.

Can I ask you something?

Delete.

Too ominous.

With a frustrated sigh, you typed the simplest thing you could think of.

you free on thursday?

Your thumb lingered over the send button.

Once she answered, she’d probably ask why.

You weren’t sure if you were ready for that conversation.

Not over text.

Not yet.

Drawing in a slow breath, you hit Send.

The message disappeared into the conversation.

Now all you could do was wait.

You slipped your phone back into your pocket just as your rideshare app buzzed.

Your driver has arrived.

You glanced toward the curb, spotting a gray sedan pulling into the pickup lane.

Another deep breath.

One step at a time.

That’s all you could manage.

Today, that would have to be enough.

———

Series Taglist:

@nyxmoretti, @xlana-brooke, @flatlyworthyeclipse, @lacontroller1991, @imabapical, @thehockeynerd30, @readersassemble5, @4ia790, @amacphet, @the-sassy-one, @superbapexquirk, @lovepollution, @eurydicejones-butfanfiction, @mack470, @emma8895eb, @itwas-maroon16, @eowyn86, @frogg-ie, @abbotaes, @the-doctor-9-10, @ritasantosworld, @thefemininemystiquee, @pascallllllll1, @madprincessinabox, @ladystardussstt, @sullyselena

———

Stretchers rolled past.

Someone shouted for respiratory.

Someone else was arguing over whose turn it was to restock sutures.

Compared to your usual workplace...Compared to the peace of your morgue….Compared to its tranquility…

It was sensory overload.

You paused just outside the department entrance, "...I miss my dead people already."

No one heard you.

Probably for the best.

As your words drowned out beneath the chaos of the department. 

There was a reason you liked working in the morgue. 

There was a reason you didn’t often stray from your own department. 

Didn’t stray from its peacefulness. 

Didn’t stray from its calm.

There was complete control over the environment. Unlike here…Where it seemed like everyone was doing their best to wrangle something. 

Normally. 

You wouldn’t be caught dead here. 

Normally you’d choose to be in literally any other department…you’d take pedes over this place any day. And their chaos was fairly comparable. 

But then your eyes glanced down. 

Down at the empty thermos in your hand. 

Sucking in a deep breath you do your best to calm your mind, to drown out the chaos and focus on the reason you were here. 

The coffee machine in the ICU department was out of service. It had died a tragic death about thirty minutes earlier…

Something you had learnt when you stood before it. 

Heartbreaking at the sight. 

Your need for caffeine growing stronger by the minute. Fatigue settling into the depths of your bones, requiring a jumpstart. 

And now…

All because it was broken. With a damn OUT OF SERVICE sign hung over it. Mocking you whilst you read it.

You had stood there for a full minute hoping it would somehow resurrect itself.

Hoping it was just a mirage. 

Some cruel trick of the eye. 

…No luck.

So here you were.

Venturing into the ER.

Because despite your reservations…

Despite your doubts…you go there anyway. 

Because their coffee was…

…Acceptable.

Not good.

Never good.

But acceptable. Adequate…

Sometimes.

On a good day.

And today. You really hoped it was one of those good days. 

At the very least it was the next best department to get a coffee, a fresh pot always brewing, always ready to go. 

The one downside to working in the morgue. 

At least the one downside in your opinion. 

Was that the coffee was never fresh, and for some reason, even with the freshest filter there was always a mild taste of mothballs…and that was a mystery you weren’t set on solving. 

You had learnt early on in your career that the best coffee was normally found in the ICU or the ER…

Threading through the chaos, doing your best to stay out of everyone’s way. Keeping your head down, weaving through. 

You finally make it through to the staff room. 

Letting out a sigh in relief once you walk into the room, letting your tense shoulders droop. 

Your fight or flight response, slinking away for the moment. 

You approached the coffee station like it had personally offended you. Already there was a bitter note in the air…

Already it felt different from the subtle blend of the ICU’s coffee…

"...This already feels disappointing," you muttered with a sigh, clasping at the coffee mug, before filling your thermos. 

"You talking to the coffee again?" 

Practically jumping out of your skin, almost spilling the hot coffee, shoulders tense up once more, before you looked over your shoulder, "Robby!"

You let out a deep breath, trying to shake the skittishness. 

He wandered over with that familiar tired smile, looking every bit like a man halfway through a twelve-hour shift, "You escaped your cave."

"You know I don’t talk to coffee–I've just come seeking caffeine,” you gesture to the coffee. 

"And you’re in the ER…why?” he quirks a brow in question. 

You sighed dramatically, "The ICU machine died."

Robby placed a sympathetic hand over his heart, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"It knew me,” you said with a distant look in your eye. 

He snorted, "It served you burnt coffee."

"It understood me,” you replied, with a very real sadness lacing your tone. 

You follow him out into the midst of the ER, stopping at the hub, leaning against the desk while he talks with you, honestly just the brief snippet of his department was already giving you a headache.  

The things you put up with for a cup of coffee…

Meanwhile, across the nurses' station...Several heads slowly lifted, eyes flicking over, doing their best to be discrete. 

Because...

There you were.

The forensic pathologist. Not to be confused with the other people who worked down in the morgue…

You were the elusive one.

The one that ducked out of M&M’s. That would walk in the other direction just to avoid someone. 

The one everyone knew of...

...But almost nobody actually knew.

Hospital gossip travelled ridiculously fast.

Especially in an ER.

Everyone had heard stories.

"Apparently they talk to the bodies."

“Someone told me they sing while doing autopsies."

"Apparently they're kind of terrifying."

"Apparently they're weird."

"I heard that they’re always hanging around ortho"

Nobody had really confirmed any of it. 

You were practically hospital folklore.

The Mole of the Morgue.

Always underground.

Rarely seen. 

So watching you stand beside Robby complaining about coffee...was unexpectedly normal.

"Oh, hey,” a small surprised voice enters. 

You looked up as the person approached. Recognition clicked almost immediately.

"Oh!" You pointed at him, with a click of your fingers, "Emotional support physician."

Whitaker’s eyes widened in question, "Uhh–Excuse me?"

"You've come down to the morgue a couple times, with that threatening looking one,” their names escape you, but the memory of him being dragged down into the morgue with a stunned expression couldn’t be completely wiped from your memory. 

“Threatening looking one?” Whitaker asked confusedly, “Santos?”

You click your tongue whilst nodding your head, “That’s the one”

“Oh yeah, I can see it,” Robby adds in agreement. 

And as if summoned, Santos strides over to stand beside Whitaker. Tilting her head whilst she looks you up and down, “Dr L/N, right?” 

You nod, “Yup!” popping the ‘p’, before adding, “But my patients rarely call me that, so we can stick with Y/N”

“Uhh–but don’t you,” she clears her throat, not sure of what to say, “But don’t you work in the morgue”

“And let me tell you, their manners are shit,” you add jokingly. 

Robby lets out a small chortle, while the other two look at you in light concern. 

“Must be pretty cool, working in the morgue, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of stories,” Santos continues. 

“Sure I do.” you shrug…

A silence stretches out. 

Just waiting to see if you’d say anything more. 

But you. 

You look pretty content leaving it there. 

And so, Santos clears her throat once more, grasping onto a passing Javadi, “Hey, Crash. You wanted to ask Y/N something, right?” 

She probes…referencing the fact that just mere minutes ago, across the room. 

The two of them had gone through a round of rock, paper, scissors…just to find out who had to ask this question…

“Right,” she laughs nervously, averting her gaze, whilst she quickly asks, “So do you actually sing down in the morgue? It’s just something we heard–I mean surely that’s not, that’s not–”

“Sure I do,” you say nonchalantly

"You actually do?" they blink in surprise. 

"Sometimes,” you nod, before adding, "The acoustics are lovely."

Offering them a smile, "And they never complain about my singing." Not a single ounce of sarcasm in your tone, clear cut and plain. They had no option but to believe you. 

And as she passes by, Princess lets out a laugh first alongside Dana. Nothing amused them more than seeing the pittlings become stunned by PTMC lore. 

Whilst Robby does his best to conceal his amusement. 

The three before you let out a small laugh as well. While Whitaker added, "You are nothing like I imagined."

"Oh?"

"I thought you'd be..." He hesitated a little warily, unsure of the right word to use. 

Santos interrupted, “–Strange."

"I am,” You answered so sincerely, so proudly, that nobody knew whether you were joking. Then you smiled, "...Just selectively."

The tension dissolved instantly.

Within minutes, conversation flowed surprisingly easily.

You were...

Different.

A little eccentric.

A little socially sideways.

But kind.

Very kind.

"So you really spend all day down there?" Javadi asked.

You hum in acknowledgement. 

Whitaker asked, "Doesn't it get lonely?"

You shrugged, "I've got company. Besides, they're excellent listeners."

Santos chuckled, "You've really committed to this bit. You know with the whole dead people thing"

"What bit?" You asked, looking at her with a tilt of your head. 

"...Never mind.” 

You took another sip of your coffee. Face scrunching immediately.

Robby looked over, "That bad?"

"I miss ICU,” you sighed sorrowfully. Mournfully looking at the cup of coffee in your hand. It just wasn’t the same…

"You've been here ten minutes."

"I've suffered enough,” you said, doing your best not to spit out your coffee. 

None of them noticed the surgeon entering the department.

Not at first.

Brendon walked with purpose. Those who had noticed him, ducked their heads, walking in any other direction aside from his. 

Takeaway bag in one hand.

Coffee carrier in the other.

His eyes scanned the department only briefly before finding exactly who he was looking for, "There you are."

His lips pulled thin, but a small light twinkled in his eyes. Eyes locking onto you. 

Your head lifted.

The tiredness that had settled behind your eyes seemed to disappear almost instantly. 

"Oh!" A smile spreads across your face, a little teasingly whilst you state, "And here you are."

Every single person at the nurses' station noticed.

Watched with baited breath as the fearsome Shark of Ortho, Brendon Park stood beside you…there he was. Being civil…no glare in his eyes. Instead a lightness. 

"I stopped by the morgue."

You frowned, "I wasn't there."

"Clearly,”  He handed you the coffee first. "And then I bumped into Maria, who said you went looking for caffeine."

You accepted the cup carefully. Quickly placing your ER coffee aside, quickly forgetting it whilst the delicate fresh coffee floods your senses. 

Already feeling refreshed as you inhale its scent. 

"She also said the ICU's machine broke,” he added knowingly, knowing for a fact that you held the belief that the ICU had the best coffee. 

"So..." He lifted the paper bag, "I figured you'd end up here."

His eyes never leave yours. For all he cared. It was just you and him. And everyone else simply faded away. 

You looked inside.

Your favourite sandwich.

A small container of fruit.

A lemon slice.

Your eyes widened, "They still had lemon slice?"

"There was one left,” he nodded. 

"You fought someone for it,” you said, with an arched brow. 

He shakes his head, pitch heightening ever so slightly, giving him away entirely, "They hesitated."

"I knew it,” A fond smile tugged at your lips, nodding gratefully, "Thank you."

"It was nothing," he shrugged. Simply warmed by the smile upon your lips. By the simple joy it had brought you. 

Around you. 

Your company had fallen into complete and utter silence. 

Their eyes darted between you.

First they settled onto you. 

Then Brendon.

Then the lunch bag.

Then to the way his hand naturally settled against the small of your back.

Their minds are completely flooded with questions. Stunned whilst they practically short circuit from the interaction they bore witness to. 

"What?" Santos finally managed.

You looked over, blinking in complete unawareness, "What?"

She pointed between the two of you, "This–what? How?”

Whitaker looked utterly baffled.

Javadi’s jaw was practically on the floor, "...You're together?"

You nodded with a small hum,"Mhm."

"...Since when?"

You glanced at Brendon, raising a brow, mind drawing a blank, "About..."

"Eight months,” Brendon answered automatically.

You smiled approvingly, "You keep count."

"I remember dates,” he shrugs, as though it wasn’t a sweet sentiment. As though it was nothing. 

"That's adorable,” you coo. 

He only grumbles lightly, "It isn't."

"It kinda is,” you counteract. 

Javadi looked completely lost, she gestured helplessly, "But you're so–so, nice."

Then her eyes flicker over towards Brendon. Shrinking down immediately beneath the weight of his blank stare, "And he's–"

She immediately stopped talking. Mouth clamping shut. 

Brendon slowly turned his head, "And I'm what?" 

With an expectant look in his eyes. 

Javadi suddenly found the ceiling incredibly interesting. Averting her gaze, unable to continue, throat feeling completely dry in this moment. 

Santos coughed into her fist.

Whitaker quietly took one step backwards.

Brendon's eyebrow lifted another fraction, "...Finish the sentence."

"...Intimidating?" Whitaker offered weakly.

Santos nodded vigorously, "Yeah–Terrifying," she doubled down.

You snicker while they describe Brendon. Letting your laughter fade whilst you look between everyone before shrugging, "He's pretty alright–you know considering his reputation and considering he tried to use me to cover up his crimes when we first met"

They almost choked on air just from your words. Taken aback by the bluntness of your delivery. 

And taken aback from the way Brendon does nothing to retaliate…

No signs of exasperation. 

If you were looking closely enough…You might even say he looked a little amused by it all. 

You nodded thoughtfully, "I'm still figuring out whether to keep you or not."

The ER collectively froze.

Because your delivery...

Was so perfectly flat.

Nobody knew if you were joking. That seemed to just be the way you were. 

Brendon, however...

Simply rolled his eyes.

The smallest smile appeared. The tiniest quirk of his lip, "Just let me know where you land on that."

He adjusted the lunch bag still tucked beneath your arm, "I'd prefer sooner rather than later."

You looked down at the food, “Well–It definitely helps your case that you brought me lunch."

"I hoped it might,” he said with a small chuckle. 

You grinned up at him, "So things are looking optimistic for you,” You paused dramatically, "...Unlike my case this morning, now that–that was a pretty grim case. Terrible advice from him too"

Brendon sighed through his nose. A small shake of his head, doing his best to hide the laugh from escaping him. 

And that was why he loved you. 

You never failed to make him laugh. Never failed to bring a smile to his face. And truly. Brendon found it so refreshing to be with you. 

Because you never tried to be anyone but yourself. 

Never apologised for your quirks. 

For your unique humour. 

For your oddness.

In fact you took it all in stride. You took it all as a compliment. Character building. 

The entire nurses' station was still staring.

Processing.

Trying to reconcile the stern, famously intimidating surgeon...

Was before them bringing lunch across the hospital because your favourite coffee machine had broken.

Brendon finally looked around.

Slowly.

Meeting each pair of eyes.

He didn't say a word.

Didn't raise his voice.

Didn't frown.

He simply lifted one eyebrow.

That was enough.

Before flicking his eyes over to Robby, “Doesn’t your department have anything better to do?” 

Robby snorted, patting a hand on Brendon’s back before ushering everyone back to work. 

Within seconds...

The station emptied.

"I swear. I've watched trauma alerts cause less panic,” Robby snickered, elbowing you lightly, “You know what this means right?” 

“And what’s that Robinabitch?” his little nickname slipping off your tongue out of sheer habit. 

“Everyone in PTMC is going to know about you both by sundown”

“Is that a bet?” you ask. 

“I know better than to bet on gossip,” Robby claims. 

You only scoff, “Sure”

He waves you off, before getting back to work. 

And by tonight...whether you wanted it to happen or not. 

Every department in PTMC would know.

The Mole of the Morgue and Park the Shark...

Were somehow, inexplicably...

A couple.

But for now, you enjoy just the simple pleasure of Brendon’s company, “Ok–We should go, before Robby’s circus and monkeys start giving me a stress headache,” you say. 

Causing Brendon to chuckle, with a small nod in agreement. 

Perhaps there was one good thing to come of this…

You no longer had to be secretive about your relationship with Brendon. 

His arm remained settled naturally around your waist as the two of you headed toward the elevators.

Away from the constant alarms.

Away from the frantic pace of the ER.

Back toward the quiet basement. Toward your peaceful little corner of the hospital. Back to the place where it all began for you and Brendon. 

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft chime.

Silence settled around you.

For the first time all day...

Real silence.

You let out a contented sigh, "Better”

"I thought you might say that,” he commented, whilst his lips stretched into a smile. Glad to finally see you so at ease. 

You smiled up at him.

The fluorescent lights reflected softly in his pale blue eyes.

Without thinking too hard about it...

You rose onto your toes.

Your hand found the front of his scrub top, and you pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.

It was brief.

Soft.

Comfortable.

When you pulled away, Brendon rested his forehead lightly against yours.

"So..." He murmured, the huskiness of his tone sending shivers down your spine, "Have you decided whether you're keeping me?"

You pretended to think about it.

A long beat passed.

"I suppose..."

Another beat.

"...I'll keep you."

His lips curved into that rare smile that almost nobody else ever got to see, "I'm relieved."

You reached into the paper bag, pulling out the lemon slice, "Don't get cocky."

"I wouldn't dream of it.” he retorted. 

"At the very least, cause you got the lemon slice, you've bought yourself at least another week,” you added with a slight teasing edge. 

Brendon chuckled quietly, "I'll take it."

The elevator dinged as the doors opened onto the morgue level.

Cool.

Quiet.

Peaceful.

You slipped your hand into his as you stepped out together. Intertwining your fingers with his. 

Even as you joked, even as you teased him, poked fun at him here and there. You knew you were so down bad for him. 

And truthfully. 

Brendon had no intention of going anywhere else. 

Truly and quite frankly besotted by you and your quirkiness. That never failed to make his heart warm. Soothed in your company. A feeling of home settled into his bones whenever he was with you. 

And you had no intention of letting him go. 

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Thought it'd be fun to have these two be revealed as a couple (and yes, they kept this thing under wraps for ages! but that's just because they normally meet in the morgue), really loved making Brendon be an acts of service kind of love when he brought you lunch, this guy really pays attention to your likes and dislikes, and literally isn't that what we all want from love? In return you never fail to make him smile and laugh, let his walls down because of your quirky nature. Let me know what you think! ✨

Feel free to check out my Brendon Park x Baker!Evans!Reader Series, Sugar & Spice here!

Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Feel free to find my overall Pitt Masterlist here!

You inhaled deeply as you worked, unable to stop the small smile that found your lips.

Your hands moved almost instinctively.

Measuring.

Folding.

Brushing each croissant with egg wash before sliding another tray into the oven.

Years of practice had woven the movements into muscle memory. You scarcely had to think anymore. Every motion was smooth, precise and unhurried, as though your body already knew the dance by heart.

Beyond the kitchen island, the living room was awash in soft morning light.

And in the middle of it–

Brendon sat cross-legged on the rug. Still dressed in a pair of worn grey track pants and an old university hoodie, his dark hair adorably messy from sleep.

The sight alone was enough to make your heart ache.

Surrounding him was an explosion of toys.

Soft blocks.

Books.

Tiny plush animals.

A wooden stacking tower someone had already attempted to dismantle.

Your husband looked entirely at home amongst the chaos. Whilst Rosie had abandoned every toy in favour of climbing him instead.

Her tiny fingers curled around his knee as she used him like the world's safest piece of furniture. One determined little grunt escaped her as she hauled herself upright.

She wobbled dramatically.

Her chubby legs still uncertain beneath her.

Brendon instinctively held one hand close behind her without actually touching.

Ready.

Always ready.

Close enough to catch her if she fell.

Far enough away to let her discover she could do it herself. 

"There you go, sweetheart," he murmured, "So strong."

Rosie beamed as though she'd just conquered Mount Everest. A triumphant squeal echoed through the room.

Nearby, Finnick was entirely absorbed in a stuffed Nemo almost half his own size.

His tiny fingers squeezed the plush fish before he promptly attempted to introduce it to his mouth, "Dadadadada…” He giggled to himself.

Completely delighted. Whilst tiny bubbles of drool escaped with every happy laugh.

Brendon chuckled, "Nemo probably doesn't want kisses, buddy."

Finnick ignored him entirely.

You couldn't help but smile.

No matter how many times you witnessed moments like these...

They never stopped feeling miraculous.

This...

This was your life.

The life you had built with Brendon and you were so grateful for it. 

Not perfect.

Not spotless.

Certainly not quiet.

But beautiful.

A home filled with laughter.

Fresh bread.

Rain against the windows.

Children learning something new every single day.

And Brendon.

Always Brendon.

He looked up then, almost as though he'd felt your eyes resting on him. His gaze found yours across the room.

Instantly, he smiled.

It wasn't the polite smile he wore at work.

Nor the amused grin reserved for family dinners.

This one belonged only to you.

Soft.

Unhurried.

Overflowing with the kind of love that had only grown deeper with every passing year.

You smiled back without even realising it. It had become as instinctive as breathing.

Outside, the rain continued its gentle percussion.

Inside, the smell of buttery croissants filled every corner of the house.

The warmth.

The quiet.

Your children laughing.

You smiling at him across the room.

It all wrapped around Brendon until, before he even realised it...

He was somewhere else entirely.

Brendon is brought back into a memory…

The memory of your honeymoon. 

…

The memory arrived so vividly he could almost smell the city again.

Your hand fit perfectly inside his as you practically dragged him through winding cobblestone streets with endless enthusiasm.

The way you beamed as you shared all your old haunts. Whilst you rambled on and on about what certain places meant to you. 

"Oh!" You'd gasped every few minutes, "You have to see this."

Or–

"I forgot to show you this place!"

Or–

"Wait, wait! We have to go this way."

The way you’d simply pull him to a bakery or a cafe or restaurant insisting that he had to try something. You insisted he try everything.

And it never failed to be the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. 

Flaky croissants so buttery they shattered into delicate layers at the slightest touch.

Warm pain au chocolat.

Perfectly caramelised crème brûlée whose crisp sugar shell cracked beneath his spoon with a satisfying snap.

Rich beef bourguignon that melted apart before he even needed a knife.

Then–

"The Paris-Brest," you smiled up at him, waiting in line to order. 

He blinked, "The...what?"

"The Paris-Brest, this place is meant to have the best one,” you said, eyes glancing over the delicate sweets on display, rows of macarons, beautifully glazed cakes.

He looked at you.

Then at the menu.

Then back again, "...You're serious?" He raised a brow. 

You burst into laughter, shaking your head, "It isn't what you're thinking."

"I don't know..."

"You absolutely are thinking exactly what everyone thinks."

He couldn't stop laughing, "You've brought me all the way to France..."

"...Yes?" You grinned. 

"...to order something called a Paris Breast,” he said finally, looking at you completely. 

"It's Brest!" You dissolved into helpless giggles, "It's named after a bicycle race!"

He wiped tears from laughing, "I cannot possibly order that with a straight face."

"You have to!"

"I can't!"

"You absolutely have to,” you say while your smile split across your face, trying your best to hide your snickers while you force Brendon to order. 

Naturally...

He loved it.

"Okay,” He admitted after his second bite, "You win."

"I know,” you remark. 

"It's incredible."

"I also know that,” You wore the most smug little smile he'd ever seen.

Days blurred beautifully together.

Museums where you wandered hand in hand, pausing to admire paintings you'd loved since your university days.

Bookshops where you disappeared between shelves for far longer than either of you intended.

Afternoons spent lingering beneath leafy trees with pastries balanced between you.

Evenings watching the city glow beneath golden lights.

Sometimes you'd simply sit together beside the Seine, saying very little.

Just...

Existing together.

Taking him to all the hidden places, all the tucked away little secrets that the city had to offer. 

Showing him where you used to live, study, work. 

And all the stories that came with it. 

Walking side by side through the parks. Simply basking in the simple joy it brought you. Pointing out the sweet older couples, saying to Brendon that that would be you and him one day. 

He couldn’t help but fall deeper and deeper in love with you. 

So grateful to you. 

Grateful that he was your husband. 

That you wanted to share your life with him…

You explored the city from top to bottom, creating new memories you’d cherish with him. 

One of which had led to you both being caught in the rain. 

One afternoon, while wandering through the Jardin du Luxembourg, sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead.

The gardens glowed.

Children sailed little wooden boats across the fountain.

Everything felt impossibly peaceful.

Until–

The heavens opened up from above.

Rain crashed down without warning.

And in the next moment, you were both caught beneath the sudden rain. 

Your hair clung to your cheeks. His shirt stuck to his back. Water dripped from both your noses.

Around you, everyone scattered. Umbrellas opened. People sprinted towards cafés. Parents hurried children beneath trees.

Meanwhile–

You laughed.

Not politely.

Not quietly.

The kind of laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside you.

Head tipped back. Eyes closed. Face lifted towards the rain.

Completely, wonderfully alive.

Brendon stopped walking.

Simply watching you.

You looked...

Radiant.

He honestly didn't think he'd ever seen you happier.

Rainwater streamed down your face.

Your dress clung to your legs.

Yet somehow...

You looked like sunshine.

And the smile. 

God, that smile…

How it warmed his chest, how it made his heart race. Even as he’s soaked to the core, your smile makes it all so worth it.

You reached for his hand, "C'mon!"

Pulling him beneath the nearest covered pavilion. Rain continued hammering down just beyond its roof.

The gardens had emptied.

Leaving only the two of you. 

The city somehow quieter than before.

Your laughter still ringing out, while you try to wring out your hair and clothes as best you can. 

Smile still beaming, you meet his eyes. 

Then you noticed how his hair clung to his forehead. Reaching up you gently sweep the hair from his eyes, combing it back. 

A smile tugged at your lips.

“You look like you’re about to go into surgery,” you giggle, noticing how his wet hair mimics his usual gelled back look for work. 

He chuckles softly, “I don’t think they’d be pleased if their surgeon showed up drenched”

“You have to admit, that this is pretty fun–you can’t help but laugh about it,” you say, whilst the rain only pelts down harder. 

"I don't even know where this came from,” He looked towards the grey sky, "It wasn't supposed to rain today."

You followed his gaze.

Watching tiny ripples dance across puddles forming along the pathways, you shrug, “I’ve always thought Paris looked prettiest in the rain,” you say, admiring the view before you, “There’s something peaceful about it”

He smiled, "Of course you do."

You glanced back, "What does that mean?"

"It means..." He chuckled,"...Leave it to you to find something beautiful about getting caught in a storm on your honeymoon."

You laughed. Elbowing him playfully, "So what? I'm a glass-half-full kind of girl. I'm pretty sure that's why you married me.”

He looked at you for a long moment, "It's one reason."

"Only one?" you teased. 

“It’s one of many reasons,” he replied softly. Eyes shifting to settle back onto you. 

He truly loved you. 

He stepped closer, "There are hundreds."

He could list all the reasons why, and he’d still come up with new reasons with each passing day by your side. 

His fingers slipped naturally between yours. His free hand settled against the small of your back.

"What are you doing?" you asked, smiling already.

"You'll see,” he said and then without another word...

He began to sway.

Slowly.

Almost imperceptibly.

Your eyebrows lifted. 

"Brendon..." You laughed, "...Are you trying to dance with me?"

"No,” he shook his head. 

"No?"

"I'm succeeding,” he replied smoothly. Sweetly. 

A grin broke across your face.

No music necessary, just the steady rhythm of your heartbeats, accompanied by the rainfall. 

Your feet found his effortlessly.

Swaying together beneath the shelter while the storm raged around you.

“Who would’ve thought that Park the Shark was a romantic?” you teased. 

“Only ever for you,” he says sweetly. “I know how much you love to dance, so what better time than now. In Paris, on our honeymoon, while the rain falls.” 

You rested your forehead against his, "Who would’ve thought that Park the Shark was a romantic,” his little nickname amusing you. 

He smiled, "I'm only romantic for one person."

"And who's that?" You lifted a brow, with a knowing glint in your eye. 

"You,” His voice was so gentle it almost disappeared beneath the rain, “I know how much you love to dance, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder, "We're in Paris. It's our honeymoon. It's raining. I figured..." 

He smiled that soft smile reserved only for you, "...What better time?"

Emotion welled unexpectedly in your chest.

You leaned up.

Capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

Rain surrounded you.

Neither of you noticed.

You only noticed him.

His warmth.

The way he always met you where you were.

The way he indulged every whim, every dream, every silly tradition because seeing you happy somehow made him happier.

You often thought about your parents.

How they'd loved each other.

How they'd quietly set impossibly high expectations for what marriage should feel like. You'd worried no relationship could ever live up to theirs.

Then you had met Brendon.

He hadn't just met those expectations.

He'd quietly rewritten them.

Because love wasn't measured in grand declarations.

It lived in moments like this. 

In dancing beneath unexpected rain. In listening to stories he'd already heard simply because you loved telling them. In making room for every version of you.

When you'd first met him, he'd been guarded.

Careful.

Keeping pieces of himself tucked safely behind practiced professionalism and dry humour.

You hadn't forced those walls down.

You'd simply waited.

Loved him anyway.

Until one day...

He'd realised he felt safe enough to open the door himself. Piece by piece. Truth by truth.

Until every part of him belonged beside every part of you.

And somehow...

He'd become softer.

Lighter.

Happier.

Holding you now beneath that tiny shelter, Brendon rested his forehead against yours and silently wished for a lifetime filled with moments exactly like this.

Ordinary moments.

Unexpected moments.

The beautiful ones.

Even the difficult ones.

As long as they were with you.

And truly. 

Brendon was happier for it…

Holding you closely now, swaying gently. Eyes drifted close, relishing in this moment, holding you now. 

Excited for many more moments like these in your future together. 

Both the good and the bad. 

He couldn’t wait to experience it all by your side. 

…

“Brendon!”

The memory fades in an instant at the sound of your voice pulling you back to the present. 

The kitchen came back into focus. The scent of warm croissants. Rain against the windows.

Your excited voice, "Oh my goodness–Brendon, look!"

You hurried from the oven, setting the tray onto the cooling rack with a clatter before dropping into a crouch.

Both hands stretched out.

Your entire face lit up, "Rosie!"

Brendon turned, with his breath caught in his throat.

Rosie was no longer holding onto his knee.

There she stood all by herself.

Tiny feet planted uncertainly against the rug.

Her little body swayed from side to side.

Balancing.

Thinking.

Realising.

With a slight wobble, teetering between standing and falling. 

Her mouth opened, eyes wide, looking all around her. A slight bubbling laugh spills from her lips when she sees you, “Mama!” she squeals. 

Your eyes instantly filled, "You're standing!"

You laughed through happy tears, "Brendon, she's standing!" Your hands clapped together excitedly.

"That's it, sweetheart. Mama's right here. You can do it,” you gently cooed in encouragement, "Come to Mama."

Brendon scrambled for his phone so quickly he nearly dropped it, he laughed breathlessly, "I am not missing this."

The camera began recording just as Rosie looked towards him, "C'mon, Rosie-girl."

Eyes crinkling at the corners, smile spreading across his lips. His voice was impossibly soft, "Daddy's watching."

She grinned.

Then...

One tiny foot lifted.

A step.

Tiny.

Wobbly.

Another.

Her arms pinwheeled dramatically for balance.

A third.

Until she’s stumbling over to you, hands grabbing at you. 

Until gravity finally won.

Not by sending her to the floor–

But straight into your waiting arms.

You scoop her into your arms, showering her with kisses, “Wow! Mama is so proud of you Rosie, aren’t you clever–” You caught her against your chest.

Beaming so brightly, pride spreads across your features. A warmth curling in your chest. 

You peppered kisses all over her rosy cheeks, "So clever! Our clever girl."

Rosie squealed, giggling uncontrollably as your kisses tickled.

Then–

"Achoo!"

As if knowing what you meant, Finnick sneezed from his place on the floor, where he now sits. Stuffed Nemo abandoned beside him.

His lower lip had begun to wobble ever so slightly.

His big eyes moved between you cuddling Rosie...

...and his own empty arms.

The pout arrived with heartbreaking speed.

Brendon chuckled knowingly, "Oh, buddy.” 

He crossed the room and scooped Finnick effortlessly into his arms, “You’ll get there soon Finn, it’s ok,” he reassured gently. 

Soothing Finnick, who in an instant, melted against his father's shoulder with a tiny sigh.

Brendon rubbed slow circles across his little back, "Your turn will come."

He kissed the top of his son's head, murmuring softly, "I promise. You'll be running circles around us before we know it."

Finnick blinked sleepily up at him.

Then smiled.

One tiny hand reaching up to pat Brendon's cheek.

As rain continued to fall outside...

The smell of warm croissants filled your home...

And Brendon couldn't help but think that, somehow, every dream he'd ever dared to have had quietly come true.

And in this moment now. With little Rosie in your arms, Finnick in Brendon’s, your heart swelled with warmth. Overflowing with love. 

Love for your family. 

For the family you had created with Brendon. 

For the love he always carried for you. For always indulging in your whimsy. 

Together you had made a home.

And whether you were in Paris. 

Or at the bakery. 

The hospital. 

Or anywhere else for that matter. 

Your home would always be with Brendon. Just as you were his home. 

Always his safe space. Where his walls could come down. Revealing the deepest secrets of his heart. 

Only ever for you.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little story ♥️ I loved exploring snippets of their honeymoon moments, even if Paris is a little on the nose, it holds a special meaning for you and Brendon just loves hearing all that you have to share and say. Pushing his boundaries in the best ways! and just loved exploring a little more of Rosie and Finnick ugh, so so cute to write - next part I'm thinking of exploring a little of when they were trying to get pregnant (possible miscarriage exploration) maybe a tinge of angst. Let me know what you thought and if you'd like to be tagged for future parts of this series✨

Read Part 7: here!

Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Help yourself and check out my other Pitt Works on My Masterlist Here!

That gentle smile that makes you swoon at the sight, whilst it makes your heart melt. A warmth blooms in your chest. 

He murmurs hushed good nights, sweet dreams and I love yous, to the two little twins, now sound asleep. 

He turns around, eyes landing on your figure, making his smile simply widen, eyes practically sparkly at the sight of you. 

Every time he saw you it was as though he fell further and further in love with you. 

Gently walking up to you, closing the door behind him, he presses a sweet kiss to the side of your head, “You should go get comfortable, I’ll make us some tea–maybe even a little dessert,” the words laced with a slight tease while he nibbles your ear. 

Sending shivers down your spine. 

“You know you don’t have to do that,” you say softly, warmed by his consideration. 

“I’m lucky I get to do all of that for you,” he whispers softly. 

You twist your head, leaning up to press a quick peck to his lips, before pulling back, “Ok, I’ll go change and then we can catch up on that show we’ve been watching?”

“Sounds perfect, love,” he smiles, eyes trailing after you while you walk away. 

Expecting to see the TV on, steaming cups of tea and plates of cake upon the coffee table, and Brendon waiting for you. 

Just a normal evening in the Park household. 

But what delighted you when you returned.

Was the gentle warm glow of candles flickering ever so slightly. 

The soft cadence of music fills the room. 

It’s melody, soothing. 

Nostalgic. 

I love you to the bone I love every piece of you All the pieces you don't That face you pull for strangers The voice you assume on the phone 

Tilting your head whilst you raise a brow looking at Brendon, who walks up to you, hand outstretched, his fingers intertwining with yours, pulling you closer to him. A gentle laugh slips through your lips. 

“And what brought this on?” you asked, looking up at him. 

You both begin to gently sway to the music. The very song that still makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

And I'm so glad that you let me in You are not a prize for me to win But with every piece we share I'm a kid at county fair And you are the giant teddy bear 

“Am I not allowed to have a dance with my beautifully stunning wife?” He murmured softly in response, lip quirking up in the corner. A sparkle in his deep blue eyes. 

Smiling sweetly up at him, “You may–I’m just wondering why?” 

“Do I need a reason to?” He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head. 

Whilst you shake your head in response, “I suppose not,” you sigh in content, resting your head on his chest. The rhythmic beat of his heart steadying. 

He gently places his chin atop your head. 

The movement is so familiar now, so instinctive, that neither of you even thinks about it anymore.

His arms tighten around you just enough to keep you close, and you melt into him without hesitation, your cheek pressed against the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Here.

This is home.

Not a place.

Not four walls.

Not an address.

Just this.

Being wrapped in Brendon's arms while the rest of the world keeps turning around you.

The warmth of him seeps through every layer between you, his heartbeat slow and reassuring beneath your ear. You let your eyes flutter shut, drinking in the moment as though you could somehow store it away for the days when life became too loud.

“So…” You ask softly, “You just felt like playing our wedding song on a random weekday evening?” 

"Maybe."

You laugh quietly, "That's not an answer."

"No?"

"No,” you shake your head slightly. 

His fingers lazily trace circles against the small of your back, "I was thinking about you."

"I was right here."

"I know,” he presses another kiss. This time against your hair, "I was thinking about how lucky I am."

Heat blooms across your cheeks.

You roll your eyes despite the smile tugging at your lips, "You're unbelievable."

"I've been told," he chuckles softly. 

You tilt your head back just enough to look up at him, "So sentimental all of a sudden?"

His gaze meets yours.

There isn't a hint of teasing there now.

Only affection so deep it almost steals your breath.

“And you are just as radiant as you were on our wedding day,” he compliments smoothly, filled with the deepest sincerity. 

“You’re just saying that,” you shake your head, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, you add teasingly, “You have to say that”

“I absolutely do not have to say anything,” he counteracts. 

You simply snort, “I’ve seen myself in the mirror, you don’t have to lie–”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, so tender and sweet, “Trust me, when I say you always look beautiful to me–And I don't think there's ever going to be a version of you that I won't look at and think..." 

His forehead rests against yours."...how on earth did I get this lucky?"

Your eyes sting.

Not with sadness.

But with the overwhelming, all-consuming comfort of being loved so completely.

You smile through the tears threatening to gather, "You always know exactly what to say."

"I don't."

"You do,” you say softly, resting your head against his chest once more. 

He smiles gazing down at you lovingly, "I just tell you what I've always thought."

I love you to the sea I love you like the tidal wave That cast me away When it washed me back to shore The first arms that found me were yours

The melody gently carries you backward through the years.

Back to a warm afternoon.

Back to strings of fairy lights swaying in the breeze.

Back to flowers spilling over every corner of your parents' backyard.

Back to the day your forever began.

…

The memory of your wedding comes to mind. 

When the conversations about the wedding had first started, Brendon had only ever said one thing, "There isn't a budget on making your dreams come true."

You had laughed, thinking he was exaggerating.

He wasn't. 

"If you want the castle," he'd said with complete sincerity, "We'll find one. If you want two hundred guests–We'll invite two hundred. If you want to get married overseas–We'll go. If you want fireworks..."

He'd shrug, "We'll have fireworks."

His only condition had been heartbreakingly simple, "I just want you happy."

And that was exactly why your answer had surprised everyone except him.

Because happiness, to you, had never looked extravagant.

It had never looked like crystal chandeliers hanging from ceilings you'd never visit again. It hadn't looked like designer centrepieces or a guest list filled with people you barely knew.

Happiness...

Looked like home.

It looked like your parents' backyard.

The place where birthdays had been celebrated.

Where scraped knees had been kissed better.

Where Christmas lunches stretched long into the evening.

Where your Dad still insisted on tending the garden himself.

Where your Mama knew every flower by name.

It looked like fairy lights woven through the old trees. Soft music drifting through warm evening air. Long wooden tables filled with people who genuinely loved the two of you.

No strangers.

No obligation.

Just family.

Just friends.

Just love.

The flowers–arranged lovingly by hands that adored you—turned the backyard into something out of a storybook.

Soft creams.

Blush pinks.

Deep blues.

Wildflowers woven between elegant blooms until it felt less like decorations and more like the garden itself had decided to celebrate with you.

As dusk settled, the fairy lights flickered to life overhead, bathing everything in a warm golden glow.

It wasn't grand.

It was something infinitely better.

It was yours.

When Brendon first saw you walking toward him, every coherent thought simply...

Stopped.

You would later tease him that he'd forgotten how to breathe.

He'd never denied it.

Because standing there, watching you make your way down the aisle, your bouquet had been delicately arranged with flowers your Dad had grown himself, his arm interlocked with yours. 

Brendon could only think one thing.

There she is.

My future.

My life. 

His eyes never left yours.

Not once.

The world blurred into nothing.

The guests disappeared.

The music faded.

There was only you.

Always you.

When it came time to exchange your vows, his hands trembled ever so slightly around yours.

Not from doubt.

Never doubt.

Only from the sheer weight of what he was about to promise, "I vow to meet you where you are–in joy, in fear, and in every in-between,” His voice was steady. Certain.

"I'll hold your hand when the road is easy…” His thumb stroked gently across your knuckles. "...and even tighter when it isn't."

A quiet laugh rippled through the guests when he smiled at you.

"I vow to protect the quiet between us and fill it only with love, never noise,” Emotion thickened his voice, "I can't promise a perfect life. But I can promise an honest one."

A tear escaped down your cheek.

"Walked side by side,” His smile grew, "And through every ordinary Tuesday, every rushed morning, every grocery run, every sleepless night, every celebration and every hardship..." He squeezed your hands, "...I will keep choosing you."

Another tear slipped free.

"Again."

A smile.

"And again,” His voice barely whispered the final words, "I will love you through all of it."

There wasn't a dry eye in the garden.

Least of all yours.

When your turn came, you took a slow breath, looking into the eyes of the man who had become your safest place. 

"My mum and dad taught me something without ever meaning to,” You glanced briefly toward them, "They showed me that every great love is built on two promises."

You looked back at Brendon, "The first..." Your fingers tightened around his, "...is the promise that I get you.I promise to keep learning your heart. To understand your joys. Your fears. Your silences. Your dreams. I promise to never stop being curious about the person you're becoming."

His eyes softened. Endless care swirled into those blue eyes of his. 

"And the second promise..." You smiled through your tears. "...is that I've got you. I will stand beside you. When life is easy. When life isn't. When you're strong enough to carry us both...And when you aren't."

Your voice wavered, "I'll be your peace. Your safest place. Your home,” You laughed softly through your tears, "I can't promise perfection. But I can promise that every day–I'll choose you too."

The kiss that followed wasn't elegant.

Or rehearsed.

It was joyful.

The kind of kiss born from relief, excitement, and overwhelming love.

Brendon laughed against your lips before sweeping you clean off your feet, spinning you in a circle as cheers erupted around you.

Your laughter rang through the garden beneath the fairy lights.

Your parents cried. Your sisters cheering and wolf whistling in overwhelming happiness for you both. 

Someone started clapping before everyone else joined in.

For one perfect evening, the backyard that had watched you grow up became the place where your new life together began.

…

And even now...

Years later.

Swaying together in your living room to the same song that had played for your first dance...

You realized something.

Your wedding hadn't been the happiest day of your life because it had been perfect. 

It had been the happiest day because it had been the beginning.

Every ordinary day since then–

Every quiet dance in the kitchen.

Every sleepy morning.

Every difficult conversation.

Every shared laugh.

Every embrace like this one–

Had become another reason to keep choosing each other.

Again.

And again.

And again.

“I love you,” you murmur softly. 

Smiling gently, he shifts his hand to tilt your head up to face him, “I love you too”

He looked upon you as though you were his world entirely.

Then came rings and a house Sixty years or thereabouts And still, I'm searching for the perfect way to say

Your peace is fractured by the gentle cries of one of your twins, Brendon sighs softly, before placing a quick kiss to your cheek, “I’ll be back in a moment–”

You grasp his hand before he speeds off. Smiling up at him, squeezing his hand gently, following him step by step, “I’m coming to help too”

Going to their nursery, you lift little Rosie in your arms, while Brendon takes Finnick. Rocking them gently, 

You softly sing the words of your wedding song to soothe them. 

I love you to the earth I love that you love Hemingway And the first hint of May And daffodils and oil spills And mountains made from molehills And I hate that I know All that makes your garden grow What to do with all of this once I'm alone?

Gently lulling them back into their slumber. Wiping away their tears, watching them flutter close once more. 

Brendon’s eyes flicker up to settle onto your figure. Gently cooing at your little baby in your arms. 

I love you to the bone I love every beat of you Every measure and note And so, if I stand the chance May I ask you for this dance?

The question that always seems to cross Brendon’s mind whenever he sees you making itself known once more…

How did he get so lucky to spend his life with you?...

The woman that held his heart so tenderly. 

That was endlessly kind, smart, and funny.

Who had broken down every wall Brendon had ever built…

How did he get lucky enough that you said yes to marrying him?...

Brendon recalled the day he had asked you…It was one of the happiest moments of his life. Even more thrilling than being accepted into med school. And that was truly saying something…

…

He had been nervous these past few months. 

The ring burned a hole in the corner of his drawer, tucked away out of sight and yet always on his mind. 

He simply had no idea on how to ask you. 

No idea on whether or not you’d even say yes.

What if you said no?...

–He couldn’t think like that.

He just had to find out the perfect way to ask you…

Leading to now…

Brendon seated across from your sisters at Ellie’s home, whilst he sought out their advice. 

“So..." Liv leans forward across the kitchen island, elbows resting on the countertop, "...what's your plan?"

Brendon stares at the notebook in front of him.

He’d always liked a plan. Liked to visualise things ahead of time…Which led to the notebook before him that he had stashed away at work, hidden from you. 

The notebook that has somehow become twenty-seven pages of crossed-out ideas, venue sketches, possible dates, flower lists, backup flower lists, weather contingencies, and a section simply labelled: Things That Could Go Horribly Wrong.

He sighs with a shake of his head, "I don't know."

"You absolutely know,” Ellie reaches over, flipping through the pages "...Why do you have a risk assessment?"

"It's colour coded."

"I can see that."

"There are graphs."

"There are graphs,” Liv snorts.

Brendon rubs both hands over his face, "What if she hates flowers?"

Ellie blinks, "She has literally never once said she hates flowers."

"I know."

"You've bought her flowers,” Liv adds. 

"I know!"

"Then why–"

"What if these are...wrong flowers?" Brendon questions. 

The sisters exchange a look.

Liv mouths, He's gone.

Ellie nods solemnly.

Completely.

Brendon keeps spiralling. 

Questions of all sorts flying out from him, endless rambles whilst he frets over planning the proposal. The sisters simply let him rant. 

"What if I kneel on the wrong knee?"

"What if I can't get the ring box open?"

"What if I accidentally drop the ring?"

"What if she thinks I'm tying my shoe?"

Liv slowly reaches across the counter, "Brendon."

He doesn't hear her, instead continuing, "What if she says 'What are you doing?' and I panic and stand back up?"

Ellie winces, muttering to Liv, "Oh, he's deep."

"What if I accidentally say 'Will you marry me?' before I'm kneeling?"

"What if I kneel and then forget every single word I've planned?"

Liv sighs dramatically.

Then–

In a split second. 

Smack.

Her palm lands squarely against his cheek.

Not hard.

Just enough.

Brendon freezes.

Silence.

He slowly turns to look at her, nodding slightly, "...Thanks."

Liv grins, "You needed that."

He nods once, "...Yeah."

Ellie pats his shoulder, "Anytime."

Brendon exhales, "Right," He straightens his notebook, “You’re both right–I shouldn’t worry too much”

"Good," Ellie nods, before asking, “So do you have a plan”

"I have a plan,” he states. 

"Excellent."

"...Mostly,” he adds a little nervously. 

Liv gestures dramatically, "Hit us." Both of them leaning in, eyes peering at him in question. 

"So, I know better than to do it at a restaurant."

Both sisters nod immediately.

“Way too public, she’d hate it.” Ellie commented. 

He nods, building courage from their support, “Right–I don’t want her worrying about everyone watching. I don’t want it to feel…” Brendon searches for the word, “Generic.” 

The two listen, smiling softly as Brendon gets lost at the thought of you. 

“She’s just so extraordinary–so she deserves something that actually feels like her. Something perfect for his perfect someone”

Liv gags jokingly, “Ugh–You’re going to give me a toothache from all this sappiness. Honestly, does Y/N know what she might be marrying into–Ah!” she whines when Ellie slaps her arm with a pointed look. 

“Shut up–it’s sweet,” Ellie huffs, “At the very least it’ll be better than my proposal” 

Brendon’s brows furrowed looking at her, “How’d Liam propose?”

“He didn’t”

Liv leans back with a roll of her eyes, muttering, “Not this again”

“Yes, this again,” Ellie chides, before looking at Brendon, “We were on a holiday by the beach, taking a walk when we stumbled upon this whole set up–and well I thought it was for us, so I turned and just said yes to him–safe to say it was an awkward walk back to the hotel when he finally said it wasn’t for us,” she sighed before adding with a shrug, “He actually organised one for us the day after, so I wasn’t too far off” 

“Ok, no beach proposal, got it,” Brendon noted. 

“What about Paris?” Liv suggests, tapping her chin in thought.

Ellie nods, “She does love Paris–but it might be a giveaway…”

Brendon shakes his head, “I know its one of her favourite cities, and I’d love to take her there again–it’s just…”

“Just what?” 

“I was thinking that would be the perfect honeymoon trip, we would stay there, travel through the countryside, go to other cities like Copenhagen, places known for their bakeries, I think she’d love that,” Brendon said thoughtfully. Imagining you and him exploring all that these cities had to offer…

Liv nudged Ellie, “Look at him, he’s already planned the honeymoon before the proposal. Come on Brenny, focus!” 

Ellie rests her head on her hand, a small hum escapes her. 

A fleeting realisation. 

Liv raises a brow, “Whatcha thinking?”

“What if you proposed in the bakery?”

“The bakery?” Brendon asks. 

Ellie nods, “Yes,” growing more and more sure, “Think about it, it’d be perfect. You said it was the place you both met, and Y/N’s mentioned those early morning dates, the bakery is perfect, it’s special to you both and well Y/N loves that place”

“She’d never expect it,” Liv adds, thinking the idea over. Who was already running with it, "You arrange everything with her coworkers."

"They'll happily cover the shop for the day," Ellie interjects. 

"They adore her–They'd probably volunteer before you even finish asking."

Ellie nodded enthusiastically, "You get there before sunrise. Decorate the kitchen. Nothing ridiculous."

"No balloon arch, no giant 'Marry Me' sign,” Liv pointed at him, wagging her finger, “And no rose petals spelling your names."

Brendon blinked, "...I wasn't going to."

"Good."

Ellie continued, "Just make it beautiful. Flowers, fairy lights, soft music, fresh pastries in the oven. The smell of coffee…It already feels like home to her,” her words soften, smiling up at him, "You're just making home a little prettier."

Brendon was already picturing it.

Morning sunlight pouring through the bakery windows.

You walking in, still half asleep.

Confused.

Wondering why Brendon was there smiling.

Then...

His heart began racing, "I..." he admitted quietly, "I think she'd love that."

Ellie smiled, "Exactly,” Then she snapped her fingers, "Oh, and propose with a cupcake."

Brendon looked up, "...A cupcake?"

"Yes," Liv agrees. 

"Why a cupcake?"

Both sisters looked at him.

Seriously.

"Brendon,” Ellie sighed dramatically, "How long have you been dating our sister?"

He frowned, "...Years?"

"And how many times has she said every celebration needs dessert?"

His eyes widened in realisation, "Oh."

Liv laughed, "Every single time."

Before she lists off, "Good news? Dessert. 'Bad news? Dessert. 'Survived Monday? Dessert.”

Brendon laughed, nodding his head in agreement, “You make a good point. It’s very her.”

"Exactly."

He scribbled another note into his already overcrowded notebook.

The word Cupcake. Circled and underlined, highlighting its importance. 

"What about after work?" he asked.

Both sisters immediately shook their heads, "No."

"Absolutely not."

"She'll be exhausted,” Ellie noted. 

Liv groaned, "And flour-covered. Whilst running entirely on caffeine."

"And mentally counting stock."

"Do it before work," Ellie decided, "Catch her before the day starts. She'll be rested. She'll have the whole day to celebrate. You can get her coworkers to cover her for the day."

Liv smiled, "And she'll never expect it."

Brendon slowly closed the notebook, "I think..." His smile grew wider, "...that's it. I think that's the one."

Ellie reached over and squeezed his arm, "It is."

He looked down at the closed notebook, "...I'm really going to ask her."

Liv laughed, shooting him a grin, "That is generally how proposals work."

He ignored her, "I'm really..."

His voice became quieter, "...going to ask her to marry me."

The reality of it hit him all at once.

His stomach flipped.

His palms suddenly felt clammy.

"What if?..."

"Oh no," Liv groaned.

"He's spiralling again."

"What if she–"

Ellie reached over.

Smacked him lightly on the cheek.

He blinked.

Silence.

"...Thanks."

Ellie smiled reassuringly, "Brendon."

He looked at her.

A look of certainty filled both her and Liv’s gazes, gentle smiles on their faces. 

"She's not going to say no.”

…

And it was a proposal that neither of you would forget anytime soon. 

An early morning start, you had woken to find your bed empty, vaguely remembering Brendon mentioning he was going into work early. 

You had gotten ready for the day, just as you normally would. 

Thinking nothing much of it.

Unlocking the bakery doors, getting prepared to start the day. Knowing that soon your colleagues would be coming through to start.

A little surprised to see that none of them were here–normally at least Katie would be here before you...Maybe she was running late? 

You simply shrugged, walking through. 

Only to stop dead in your tracks.

The kitchen–

Your kitchen–

Looked completely transformed.

Fairy lights had been woven along the shelves, their warm glow dancing against the exposed brick.

Your favourite flowers were arranged everywhere–not overwhelming, just enough to make the room feel soft and magical.

Fresh croissants and pastries cooled on the racks.

Coffee filled the air.

Your favourite aromas enveloping you entirely. Soothing you right down to the core. 

And somewhere, quietly, your favourite playlist drifted through hidden speakers.

It was beautiful.

Your hand instinctively flew to your mouth, "What..."

"Morning," the deep, slight huskiness of his voice echoed out. 

You turned.

Brendon stepped out from around the corner.

He looked almost painfully handsome.

But more than that–

He looked terrified.

His hands were clasped tightly around something behind his back.

"You did all this?" You asked, still stunned in awe. 

He smiled nervously, "With...a little help."

Your eyes darted around again, simply taking it all in, breathless from the beautiful simplicity of it all, "It's beautiful."

"I wanted..." He swallowed, before regaining composure, "I wanted to surprise you."

"You definitely did," you smiled, unable to stop it from splitting across your face. Feeling your cheeks hurt from its intensity. 

He laughed softly, "Good."

For a long moment neither of you spoke.

He simply looked at you.

Like he was trying to memorise every expression crossing your face.

Then he took a slow step closer.

"I actually had a whole speech."

"You did?" You lifted a brow in question, a slight teasing lilt to your words. 

"It was really good," He nodded confidently.

You smiled, "I believe you."

"And now I've forgotten every single word."

A laugh escapes you. Shaking your head, "You don't need a speech."

He took one more breath.

Then slowly lowered himself onto one knee.

Your world stopped.

"Oh..."

He brought his hand forward.

A small velvet ring box rested neatly on top of a beautifully decorated cupcake.

A tiny laugh escaped you through the sudden tears gathering in your eyes.

"There's dessert," he said softly, “Because you always need a dessert whenever there’s a celebration…at least I hope there’ll be a celebration.”

You laughed again, already crying.

Your heart felt like it might burst.

"I love you,” He didn't look away once, "I love the ordinary life we've built. From the quiet mornings, the comforting evenings, the grocery shopping, the dancing in the kitchen."

He sucks in a deep breath, steadying the shakiness, "The way every day with you somehow becomes my favourite."

His own eyes had begun to glisten, "You've made every place feel like home. And..." He smiled through the emotion, "I'd really like to spend the rest of my life making memories with you."

He opened the box.

"Will you marry me?"

It felt like the air in the room had been vacuumed out. Everything is painstakingly silent. 

Breath caught in his throat. Nerves simmering beneath, fear creeping in with each silent second. 

You stared at the ring.

At him.

Eyes flickering between them both. Shocked. Stunned. Surprised. 

Overwhelmingly surprised. 

Your mind stutters. Heart pounding. Your thoughts had suddenly scattered.

Not because you didn't know your answer.

You did.

Without question. You knew your answer. 

Instead–

Something your Mama had said only a few days ago resurfaced, “I'm so proud of you. Don't be afraid of the future. I think you're happier than you've ever been. And I'm so glad..."

At the time, you'd smiled, hugged her, and thought nothing more of it.

Now–

Your eyes widened.

She knew.

Brendon had told your Mama.

Which explained...

Your Dad's suspicious smile every time Brendon had been mentioned.

Liv and Ellie disappearing into whispered conversations whenever you walked into the room.

Your Dad insisting Brendon was "a good man."

Your Mama tearing up for absolutely no reason while folding laundry. Blaming it on allergies. 

It all clicked together.

They all knew.

Your gaze snapped back to Brendon.

Still kneeling.

Still waiting.

His smile had begun to falter ever so slightly.

A flicker of panic crossed his face.

Oh no–I've been quiet too long.

Before he could possibly convince himself the silence meant anything other than your complete shock, you dropped to your knees in front of him.

Both hands immediately cupping his face.

His eyes widened.

A watery laugh escaped you, "You told my Mama."

His expression instantly gave him away, "I might’ve asked her if it was ok…."

You laughed harder, "I knew something was going on."

"You did?"

"Well I know now,” you answer. 

Another tear slipped down your cheek, "You all kept acting..." You shook your head, "So so weird."

A tiny, nervous smile tugged at Brendon's lips, his chest tightens, lungs constricting, "...Is that a yes?"

You looked at him as though he'd asked the most ridiculous question imaginable, "Brendon."

You leaned forward until your foreheads touched, "Yes."

And with that one word you had stolen the air from his lungs, you had set his heart alight, had made his mind flood with overwhelming joy. 

His breath caught, "Yes?"

You smiled through your tears, "Of course yes."

A soft laugh bubbled out of you, "Always yes." You nod your head enthusiastically. 

Relief flooded his face so completely that he almost laughed and cried at the same time. Before he could even reach for your hand, you surged forward and kissed him.

Long.

Warm.

Joyful.

The kind of kiss that answered every fear he'd carried for weeks.

And somewhere just beyond the kitchen door. Just behind it came a muffled cheer.

Followed by Liv's unmistakable voice, "I told you she'd say yes!"

Ellie laughed, "I told you not to yell yet!"

You pulled back just enough to grin, "They're all listening, aren't they?"

Brendon sighed dramatically, "Definitely."

You laughed, shaking your head, "My family..."

He smiled, slipping the ring gently onto your finger, "Our family."

And somehow, hearing him say those two words made your heart swell just as much as the ring now sparkling on your hand.

…

Our family…

The family you shared with him. 

The family you cultivated with him…

Brendon never once thought that was something he’d be able to have…But now, because of you. 

He had a family he cherished. 

A family he loved. 

And so much more…

“Thank you,” He whispered, planting a gentle kiss to your shoulder, his arms holding you close to him whilst you settle in to sleep. 

“For what?” You asked drowsily, letting your eyes flutter close, relishing in the feeling of his lips gently brushing against your skin, his hands tracing gentle circles along the lengths of your arms. 

“For everything–for saying yes, for being my partner, for being my family, for being such a good Mom–just thank you,” he says so sweetly. 

You sigh in delight, twisting in his hold, to face him, eyes peering up at him, hands resting upon his chest, whilst his embraces you. 

You smile at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, upon the bridge of his nose, his cheek, before landing on his lips. 

Melting into his embrace. 

“Thank you for being my home,” you whisper softly. 

Before parting from him, “Now as much as I love this soft side of you–you know just as well as I do, that we’ll be up in a few hours to feed the twins, time to sleep” 

And as you drift off. 

Brendon couldn’t help but think that no dream could compare to the one he was living in now…

Content and at peace with you in his arms. 

Yes, I'm so glad that you found me here And made the choice to love me all these years Though, I can't return the favour That the mermaid lent the sailor Oh, my dear, you've been my saviour And every second spent with you is worth the tears

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little story ♥️ I know its a little topsy turvy to explore the wedding before the proposal, but in my mind it just worked, like a trip down memory. Hope you enjoyed its sweetness of these two!! next part I'll be exploring their journey into parenthood with a tad bit of hurt possibly-I also plan on writing out a little honeymoon exploration... And how perfect is the song To The Bone by Sammy Copely. And I just had to have Brendon spiral out a little while talking with your sisters. Let me know what you thought and if you'd like to be tagged for future parts of this series✨

Read Part 6: here!

Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Help yourself and check out my other Pitt Works on My Masterlist Here!

This new realtionship, after many years of evading romantic commitment, was intresting, to say the least. Shallow relationships, casual, were familiar for Robby. Jack being this attached to a new person this fast was a bit strange, and Robby was afriad to be hopeful about it. He felt the need to find loopholes, dig into his suspisions, or say something about the age gap. 

What stopped him was the way you folded your jacket at the restaurant.

"What if-"

"Baby, Robby will like you so much, he'll want to steal you," Jack teases as he parks his car across the street from the restaurant.

You scoff at him, but your nerves are slightly settled at his joking mood. If Jack's not nervious, maybe there wasn't anything to be scared of. 

"It's just- he's important, Jack," you mumble, fingers fiddling in your lap, pressing on the fabric of your dress. 

Jack knows. It's clear you're feeling apprehensive, bracing for judgment, because of the place Robby holds in his life. He is important. 

"I know," Jack leans back against his seat and turns to look at you, eyes softening, "that is why he'll like you, Sweet."

His hand reaches over to your lap and stops the fidgeting with a warm embrace around your fingers, "Robby is important because he can see me, he will see you."

You nod with a sigh, and pick up your purse while Jack turns off the engine and walks over to open your door

"Also, just in case you need to be sure," he says, holding your hand to help you step out of the car, "Robby's opinion, not matter how terrible, will not make me love you less. We don't need anyone's approval." 

You sweep a hand down your skirt and Jack swings the car door shut behind you.

"What about Gemma's?" you quip, looping your arm through his.

"Oh, baby, I think I will strive for your sister's approval till the day I die," Jack teases, then places a kiss on your forehead, "happily."

You close your eyes, humming at the warmth of his lips and the scratch of his stubble. You cross the street to the restaurant entrance hand in hand.

"At least the twins' approval was a step through the door," you softly tease back.

"Like they'll ever let me forget that."

Abbot not only intruduces you by name, he adds a Dr as he stands to the side with a proud curl in his lips. Robby's brows raise, but he recieved your handshake gently and warmly.

"Doctor?" He inquired.

"Phd," you clarify with a small laugh.

The academic prowess can clearly be detected in your handshake, your posture, and the way your shoulders stay straight. Your smile, however, is sweet, comfortable, with a hint of shyness. He wonders if it was some anxiety about meeting your man's best friend. Robby's been told impressions of him are polarizing, he can either be intimidating or comforting, and he never knows what to do about it. 

Focusing on dropping his shoulder and gentling his tone, Robby gestures to the table in welcome, "Oh, so that's why I caught Jack reading research articles about stem cell regenerative medicine."

You turn your smile to Jack, who ducks his head and huffs, "you make it sound like I'm not well-read in the first place," he casts a half-glare to Robby. 

"You're not," Robby says.

"You don't really-" you unknowingly agree at the same time.

Robby locks eyes with you in suprise, then trains his smirk at his friend. Jack's gaze bounces between the two, jaw slack open, and tries to look offended. 

"Oh, you can call me Robby," he takes a seat across the table, smirking up at where jack is standing, "I'm gonna like this, I think." 

Jack snorts despite trying to look displeased and shakes his head. He steps towards the chair further from the walkway and near the wall, and pulls it out for you. Tucking it under you with a squeeze to your shoulder, Jack takes the chair beside you. 

"I should've known somehow you'd gang up on me," He leans back and rests an arm on the back of your chair.

Robby finds conversing with you instantly intrigueing, finding common intrests in science and academics. A sparkle in your eye welcomes him into a discussion about famous medical researchers and speacial application tools that are future projects, you're not only enthusiastic about what you do, but your focus never wavers from wanting to support medicine, help people. Robby catches a matching sparkle in Jack's eyes as watches your hands gesture excitedly.

The food arrives and Abbot gestures to the server to place all the plates at the outer edge of the table instead of in front of each of them. It catches his friend's attention, as it didn't make sense. Jack pushes your plate to you carefully, doing the same for Robby's. 

You notice the taller man eyeing Jack's hand as he does this and a blush climbs up your cheeks, "Sorry, Robby, I um- I don't really like when they stand over my head to hand me things."

Jack looks up from his plate, brows furrowed, as if he was so used to adjusting to this information that it was basically muscle memory for him to intercept the servers before they reach your seat. Then they furrow more as he nudges you. He's saying don't be sorry, you nudge back a thank you with a shy smile.

Robby blinks at his plate for a moment, because that was so sweet and considerate, but also so unannounced and quiet. Jack doesn't address any of the staff, doesn't request aloud for a specific treatment. Maybe for your sake, or for the waitress', but overall everyone is comfortable with the small, almost unnoticable, adjustment. Robby notices, and is immediatly warmed by it. 

"I wish I got to meet him, I was so close," you subtly groan, covering your mouth as you eat, and fangirl about Proffessor Sanrie Denoire, expert in Cardiovascular Devices .

Robby, having finished his meal, sips his drink, "close like you saw him?"

"Time, not space," you snort, "I was attending his seminar, but he died a couple of weeks before it started."

"I," Robby leans forward, enunciation long for suspense, "have a picture with him from when I was a resident."

He rests back against the chair, smug grin on his lips, and watches you gasp and tap Jack's arm repeatedly, the man tucking his arm around you to avoid the sting of your excitment. Jack would have worn a long-sleeved shirt if he anticipated this amount of enthusiasim. You eagerly go on about Pacemaker development, and the specific coating used in a REBOA balloon. Your conversation with Robby flows, respectfully but warmly.

Abbot feels the need to point out that he allowed this deranged, too-close-to-the-job, discussion go on for too long and he's starting to feel excluded, so he clears his throat deeply. You attention snaps to him, as do Robby's eyes.

"Nerds."

"Are you drunk, Robinavich?" Dana's groggy rasp comes through the headphones.

"One glass only, why're you so hostile, Evans?" 

Robby calls Dana directly after dinner with you and Jack, because she obviously knew and for some reason he needs to talk. Walking along the pavement towards his car, he picks out his headphones and calls her. 

"You called me, Robby," she scoffs, "and it's 10 pm. I pretend I don't know you past 7pm, you know that."

"Hurtful," He laughs, "do you wanna also pretend you don't know who I'm talking about when I tell you I just left a dinner with two people?"

Cluttering and rustling comes through so loud Robby had to pick the earbuds out for a moment.

"You met her?" Dana hisses, sounding like she left the room she was in with speed.

"I sure did."

Robby proceeds to tell her how gentle you are, soft-spoken at first then suprisingly funny. He goes on to describe how Jack looks at you, how the strain in his brow relaxes. There was always an alertness to Abbot, easily seen in a forward jaw and a brisk pace, likely leftovers from military days reinforced by years looking for and respoding to medical emergencies in the ED. Robby, for a couple of hours, saw a man leaned back, and it took the entire dinner to know why. 

"I was getting up to go to the restroom and I rounded the table," He speaks into the wire speaker, "I didn't even see her do it, but she had rolled her jacket up tight and tucked it under Abbot's knee, right above the prosthetic attachment." 

"… Wow."

It was such a quiet kind of love looking from the outside, that the man had to look back at the table twice to be sure he saw it right. 

"There's something else."

"Spill," Dana demands speedily.

Robby looks up at the night sky and sighs, smile tugging uo his lips, "Jack wasn't wearing the ring." 

The skin color around Abbot's ring finger is paler, unexposed for years. Tonight though, Jack's left hand is bare. He looks happy, Robby nods to himself, like he got a hold of the sunlight he watches from afar every morning after shifts. Took a piece for himself and let it warm him up inside.

an: Attempted to write in present tense because I'm reading Red Rising and I've never read something like that (firstperson, present) it's interesting. I made up the scientist name, I made everything up. don't google anything I write lol. Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :)