Heâs got to have some pain, most orthopedic surgeons do after a few years. Itâs a physically demanding job, so it wouldnât surprise me if heâs got neck and shoulder pain, along with lower back pain, both of which heâll slap an icy hot patch on and keep trucking during the day because as long as his hands are steady, heâs fine.
However I do think he lets himself be taken care of by his partner outside of work, coming home from a long and laborious surgery where he's in control of everything to your awaiting arms where he can let someone else be in control. Youâve already got everything he needs, his meds, pain relief creams, frozen peas, and heating pads. Heâd asked once why you sometimes preferred fabric pouches filled with dry rice stuck in the microwave over your electric heating pad and just nodded when you just shrugged and replied âthe weight is niceâ.
Brendon would have to agree after you settled two of them on his aching traps once, the slight weight added to the heat had him snoring within the hour.
He appreciates when you stretch with him, it's good for you but he also gets to watch you in your workout gear so it's like a reward for him really. I think he'd appreciate that you learned some massage techniques for the weeks when he doesn't have time to go get a professional one done.
Of course it never fully goes away, and some days are better than others, but there are still days where even the strongest tiger balm barely cracks the surface, and the only thing that brings him a bit of comfort is just laying in your arms. It may not make his body feel better, but it makes him feel better to feel your hands gently carding through his hair and tracing patterns across his upper back with your fingertips.
It's nice to have someone that he can give himself over to on his worst days and know he'll be taken care of.
Anyways this was brought on by my own chronic pain so I decided to gift it to him too since he's my fav lil blorbo rn
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#33 - "I thought you said it was a one time thing" - Brett Richards
You know what's a bad idea? Sleeping with your interim Battalion Chief.
You know what's an even worse idea? Continuing to do so.
It had stopped occuring to you that it might be a bad idea the first time around precisely two minutes before he sank to his knees and buried his face between your thighs.
A one time thing, he'd said after. A one time thing, you had stubbornly agreed, even if he had made you cum so hard you'd almost forgotten your own name. Not his, though. No, you'd had no trouble at all remembering his name as you'd moaned it into his ear.
Yes, you were both adults, but it broke half a dozen rules. There was the morality issue besides the hierarchy that was in place for a reason.
And sure, you'd originally planned to agree to that.
Except now, you're sitting in his lap in the back seat of his truck, sucking on his tongue and moaning into his mouth as his hands grab the plush curves of your ass, pulling you back and forth against the sizeable bulge in his cargo pants.
Your own shorts are somewhere in the footwell of the truck, along with your bamboo cotton underwear.
The upside of that is that you're pretty sure you're leaving a wet patch of your slick over his navy blue cargo pants.
That, and you can feel everything. Can feel his cock - which you know firsthand is thick and just the right length and perfect - throbbing against you.
"Please-" you beg, hands sliding down his chest, over the slight softness to his abdomen that covers muscle; you know that, remembered that, from the one and only time you were close to him without his shirt on.
You remember vividly how his muscles feel under your hands, soft and worshipful, because Brett Richards may be your Battalion Chief, but he's also a work of fucking art.
"I thought you said it was a one time thing?" Brett hums, which you think is pretty fucking funny coming from him, considering he's planting wet, open mouthed kisses down your throat, helping you get his belt undone.
"Mm, you actually said that first, Chief," you counter, and he groans softly against your skin.
You file that reaction away for later; it's not necessarily a surprise that he's into it, the little reminder of the power imbalance between you.
The gentle clink of his belt buckle coming undone, the zip of his pants hastily being tugged down, prevents any further commentary.
He wraps his hand around his thick, pulsing cock, frees it from the almost painful constraints of his pants and underwear.
God, he has such a pretty cock; you tell him as much as he rests his free hand on your hip, guides you closer so he can line the fat head of his cock up with your drooling cunt.
He notches just the tip, just enough to tease you, to make you both inhale sharply, lets you ultimately decide when and how you sink down onto him.
You choose immediately, impaling your tight walls with his thick length, head tilted back and moaning shamelessly at the feeling of him.
Brett drags the pad of his thumb across your kissed plump lips, eyes slightly glazed over as your pussy constricts around him, adjusting to his size.
"Another one time thing?" You query, deliberately cheeky, teasing.
He has the air of a brat tamer, and you'll be damned if you don't test that theory.
"Mm," he responds, doesn't take your bait, instead smoothly rolls his hips up, getting deep inside you and making you mewl.
You're so wet that your slick drips down the length of his shaft, over his balls. Brett doesn't remember the last time anyone got this wet for him.
He's been with people since his wife passed, and they've always been enthusiastic and consenting participants, but you... You're something else.
You cling to him as you grind against him, the coarse greying curls at the base of his cock stimulating your clit and only adding to your slick.
He's just enjoying that when you tug his shirt up over his head, gently rake your nails up and down his chest, making him purr.
You remembered that he liked that; that surprises him a little, but the surprise doesn't stop him from rutting up into you, feeding your greedy, sopping cunt every single inch of his cock until you're mewling, the windows of his truck all fogged up from the desperate, heavy breaths leaving both of you.
"Oh fuck, yes, oh my god, fuck me, please!"
You moan and plead and there's a small part of him that feels like he's doing something perverted; he's higher in the chain of command than you, he's older than you, even if it isn't by much; he shouldn't be entertaining even the thought of this, let alone acting on it.
But the fact is, you feel too good wrapped around his cock, held in his arms, running your fingers through his soft, messy curls and whimpering as he fucks you.
He isn't rough; you ride him and he rolls his hips up to meet you, steady, deep, controlled.
You feel safe with him, safe enough to just let go. To just focus on the sensations and the pleasure as you bounce on his cock.
So maybe it's a bad idea, given the circumstances, but it's the furthest thing from your mind as he works you up to your release. His thrusts are becoming erratic, and you know, instinctively, that the moment you let go, he will too.
"Mmnn, o-ohhhh, oh~"
The moans fall from your parted lips, uncontrolled, breathy and high pitched as he gets you right to the edge, has you tumbling over it with a series of heavy thrusts and thick groans into your ear.
His warm, strong arms wrap around you, holding you close as he fucks you through it, grunting softly on each impact of his hips against your ass as your cunt tightens around him, milking his cock and sending him over the edge, too.
You whimper, still in the throes of your own release, as you feel the hot stickiness of his spend fill you, grind down against him and whine as your clit gets rubbed deliciously, prolonging your orgasm.
Slowly, slowly, you both come down, his arms around you and yours looped around his neck.
Breathing heavily, panting, sighing, before finally laughing softly, looking at each other in vague amusement.
"A one time thing, huh?" You laugh, look at his mess of just-fucked curls where you've run your fingers through them, the slight flush to his freckled cheeks.
You're so fucked, and not just literally.
Brett must be thinking the same thing, because he cups your face in one hand, drags his thumb gently across your cheek.
"Come home with me instead?" He suggests, and you smile, lean in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"Mm, that sounds nice."
Sleeping with your interim Battalion Chief? Maybe not the best idea.
But starting something real together? Yeah. That might work.
Brett Richards X Teacher Reader I've been brainstorming. Obviously 18+
A = Aftercare (what theyâre like after sex)
The man is a caretaker okay, it's part of what attracted him to his current role. He's accustomed to taking control and taking care of things and people. That extends to the bedroom.
Reader is getting a glass of water. Reader is getting cleaned up. Reader is getting checked in on to make sure she's okay, no regrets? No worries? No discomfort?
When Reader requests that she's held then he's doing it no hesitation. The afterglow is always cozy and lovely even if they're sweat soaked, even if one of the cats jumps up on the bed. It's loving and it's more than Brett ever could hope for. Reader is his first experience with intimacy since his late wife and she's everything and more he could have hoped for. He wants to make sure she's cared for and preens at the care she shows for him in return. For Reader it's healing. She went from a marriage with a man who did not ever put any effort into anything especially any form of aftercare, to Brett who is going above and beyond to make sure she's cared for.
BÂ = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partnerâs)
Reader is rather fond of Brett Richard's hands. Brett has strong hands and he works with them quite a bit whether its maintaining the engines of one of the firetrucks at station 42, literally putting out fires and wielding axes, or simply digging in the garden at home the man uses his hands. He has some calluses despite how much thick working hands cream he might use. Reader appreciates that he's a man who works with his hands. She likes how his hands feel in hers strong but gentle. She loves how they feel against her body. They caress her like she's something to be cherished.
She loves his thighs and his broad chest. The man is in great shape for someone who has just crossed over into his fifties. He's got a fit form given it's a necessity in his career. He's got to keep up with guys half his age and carry the strength to break down burning walls with axes and carry victims from burning buildings. The man is strong enough to lift her and does it often enough that she's learned to expect it. She likes resting her head against his broad chest when relaxing and she loves being carried to the bedroom by him or lifted up onto any available surface if he's too impatient to make it to the bedroom.
Brett likes her ass...he wouldn't claim that he's more of an ass man or a breast man or a leg man, but there's something lovely about her backside especially in one of those cute little cotton panties she insists aren't meant to be sexy at all. He can still remember how her face flushed the first time they made love and he came face to face with her panty covered bottom spotting the cute cherry printed panties. He's sold on her ass by that point. He enjoys playfully smacking it and don't get him started on how her backside looks when she wears those little denim shorts when they work side by side in the garden.
He's quite enamored with her lips; how they look in that lovely pink lip stain she sometimes wears on date night, how they look wrapped around a straw when he buys her one of those iced oat milk lattes she loves, how they look wrapped around things much thicker than a straw... He likes how they feel against his neck and his own lips. They're so soft and kiss him so delicately. He sometimes catches himself staring at her lips far too often enough that she's noticed and maybe reapplies her lipstick or chapstick more often than she needs to.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Brett is a tiny bit paranoid about cumming in Reader. He's an older man and isn't 100 percent sure he's wanting to risk have another kid at his age...of course later once he realizes that Reader wants kids he lets go of that fear knowing he'd do anything to make her happy. Reader reassures him that nothing would make her happier than having his kid. She couldn't picture having a child with anyone but him.
The first few times she convinces him that they can go without a condom he'll admit he pulls out and cums on her belly or her backside...he likes it far more than he expected. Reader does soothe his anxieties over finding release inside of her. She figures out how to get him out of his head enough and reassures him that she's on the pill and if somehow by some very slim chance the pill fails then having his kid wouldn't be the worst thing on the planet for her.
Brett has to admit that he does like the sight of his cock pistoning in and out of her with a white ring of her around the base of him. He knows its a sign he's making her feel good, him the fifty year old widower with baggage that has kept him bouncing from town to town from station to station not comfortable enough to remain in one spot for too long. She's chosen him; the young sweet lovely schoolteacher who is so far out of his league its not even funny chose him. She not only chose him but she desires him and the evidence is right there on his dick.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Brett fantasizes about fucking Reader in some pretty interesting places. His garden is one of the places he imagines taking her. He can picture the warmth of the sun shining down on their bare skin, the sweat and mix of garden soil covering their skin, the scratchy feel of the ground below them, the smell of flowers and tomatoes mixed with the scent of their coupling.
He also maybe imagines fucking her in several places in station 42; in the firetruck, in one of the bunks, over the counter in the station kitchen.
He wouldn't really risk taking their bedroom activities to any of those locations of course. Garden sex would lead to a public indecency charge and fucking at the station would ruin his career, The fantasies though are still quite enjoyable.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what theyâre doing?)
Brett is a widower and has a grown daughter...so obviously he's not inexperienced. His wife and he married young meeting at work. She was his mentor though she was not that much older than him...he worshiped his late wife though. He was loyal to her and losing her almost destroyed him in the process.
He never thought he'd fall in love again. He thought that it would just be wrong...loving again after his late wife. So, Reader took him by surprise. He feels like an immature schoolboy when it comes to Reader...which he almost feels is fitting...the phrase 'hot for teacher' rolls through his head.
He's shocked by how easy it feels to fall for Reader. She is so lovely; his sweet elementary school teacher neighbor who he meets soon after she moves in right Nextdoor to him. He speaks to her the first time when she brings some of his mail over to him it accidentally winding up in her mail box. The next meeting comes when he's helping her bring a massive bag of gardening soil into her place. He sees her struggling to drag it out of the trunk of her little blue Toyota Carrolla and can't ignore the need to help. They talk about gardening and when he spots cat food sitting by her back door she admits she's been feeding the neighborhood stray cats and so has he..."I knew they were getting fatter" she exclaims and he's gone for her.
They meet again when station 42 comes to Reader's school for a school assembly on fire safety. Brett realizes that his cute neighbor is a first grade teacher at the very school he's giving that assembly at.
When Reader brings cards made by her first grade class thanking station 42 for the assembly along with muffins baked by hers the crew at station 42 realizes their new chief is smitten and maybe encourage him to make a move...not for the hope of getting more baked goods of course.
Brett asks her for coffee and the rest is history.
Their first time is nerve wracking and he allows himself to be vulnerable with Reader surprised that she feels as vulnerable due to her own reasons.
He's dumbfounded to find out Reader is not only divorced but that her ex husband is such a prick. Her past experience with her ex hasn't left her with warm fuzzy feelings about sex. The man cheated on her enough that she admits that he eventually lost interest in sex with her. Brett thinks the guy has to be a moron. He had Reader at home and he sought it out somewhere else.
Reader's ex did a number on her self esteem so she's not the most confident the first time Brett and she sleep together.
She's had a few boyfriends before marrying her ex but she's not really dated after her divorce. She fears her experience or lack thereof his not exactly something her older boyfriend wants to put up with.
Brett is worried that he's out of practice given he's not been intimate with anyone since his late wife. Reader is worried that her ex husband was right that she's not desirable.
Her first time with Brett is filled with a ton of reassurance on both ends and the acceptance that perfection isn't necessary. Sex can be clumsy and it's okay to laugh. They're surprised by how easy it is to laugh. It is different from what they expected but it's different in the best way possible.
Brett definitely shows Reader she is desirable and Reader shows him he's not as rusty as he feared in the bedroom.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
As boring as it might sound both are rather fond of missionary. They like the closeness of the position. It allows them to make eye contact and press their lips to one another's. Brett likes being pressed so close to her like this, her arms caressing his back and his ass. He likes it when she wraps her legs around his hips and tilts her hips back letting him get a deeper angle. Reader likes how safe she feels caged under Brett's body. She likes the weight of him over her.
Brett does love reverse cowgirl...any excuse to admire her ass and spank it when he's feeling a little more demanding in the bedroom.
Brett will never say no to Reader riding him out. His favorite way to to go about it is sitting up, his back resting against the headboard, while Reader straddles his hips and bounces on him. He likes the closeness of it keeping his hands on her hips encouraging each roll of her hips and each bounce. He loves watching her face from this angle seeing her lust drunk on him. He loves glacing down and seeing her tits bounce. He really loves encouraging her to reach down between them and play with her clit while she rides him.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
The first time they have sex Brett gets a little lost in his head; worried about displeasing her. Reader manages to get him to snap out of it and pulls him out of his head. It's the apologetic giggle that leaves her when she yanks his hair harder than she means to when he's going down on her. The laugh gets him and he's laughing too before he knows it. The laughter comes when he admits he's sure if she keeps saying his name like that he won't last and she exclaims that he should have thought about that before he fucked her this good.
After that it becomes easier to approach sex with a little more humor. Though Brett has a dry sense of humor it's there and Reader seems to appreciate it.
They seem to realize that sex should be fun, if it wasn't fun people wouldn't enjoy it so much. Even if their coupling manages to be filled with soft I love yous and gentle caresses there's also giggles at awkward movements and the realization that one of the cats keeps scratching at the door or has clearly knocked something off a shelf in the living room.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Brett will be the first to admit he's not the most groomed guy on planet earth. He's just never put too much thought into it. It's not like he's abnormally hairy but he does have hair though its far more silver than he's happy to admit.
He maybe tries to manscape a little after Reader's and his first time not entirely sure she'll appreciate too much of a jungle down there when she blows him.
Reader frets a bit over the fact that she's not fully waxed downstairs. Her ex husband treated like a nonnegotiable expectation and once it was clear that he was straying from the marriage she began to refuse to get waxed in retaliation.
After he divorce she's managed to avoid waxes and has just kept things neat.
She's almost convinced that Brett will be exactly like every guy she's dated and act as though body hair on a woman is some unforgivable sin, but Brett proves he's actually a grown ass adult about it and doesn't seem to show even an ounce of disgust over her bush the first time they're intimate.
The one time she decides to try waxing he's staring at her bare center asking her why she did it quick to point out that he's fine if she did it for her own personal preference but he misses the 'puff'
He's pretty fast to reassure her that he is fine with pubic hair the one time she dares to question it. He's going down on her and he's fast to reassure her concerns over the "mess' down there by remarking that he doesn't see any messes he just sees a pussy that he's dying to eat out.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Brett is a romantic. He's old school when it comes to dating; opening doors, buying flowers, pulling out chairs for Reader. That romance extends to their bedroom.
He knows Reader's ex didn't treat her the way she deserved and he is determined to show her how she should have been treated all this time. He's all about worshipping kisses, soft touches, and praise.
He tends to be kind of in awe of her to be honest. He's teased she is out of his league and he believes it. She's young and sweet and could probably land a much younger guy with less baggage. She's chosen him though and Brett wants to make sure she never regrets it.
So, he's going above and beyond in the bedroom making sure Reader feels adored and satisfied. He's all about making sure she feels protected and loved.
She's just as prone to wanting to make him feel loved. She knows how meaningful it was for him, trusting her enough to fall in love with her after losing his wife. She is well aware he sees falling for her as something kind of scary for him...letting go of control and letting himself fall in love, allowing himself to feel excited about falling in love without fearing he's somehow betraying his late wife.
When his estranged daughter feels comfortable enough to reach out to him Reader is there to support him and soothe his anxieties about rebuilding his relationship with Rose Richards.
When Rose so happily accepts Reader's place in Brett's life it makes him all the more adoring of Reader and makes both Reader and he all the more determined to show one another love and acceptance.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Brett was alone of a while after his late wife. He found release by his own hand when the need arose.
Meeting Reader changed that, why seek out pleasure in his own hand when she is there? Of course he still has to seek out his own self pleasure when they're forced to be apart for any reason.
It's not his favorite thing on the planet but he's got a few dirty photos of Reader on his phone to help him out.
Reader won't ever admit it but the handsome Fire chief next door was a main character in her own self pleasure fantasies pretty quickly after they met. How could he not be?
Even after they become a couple Brett is the main drive towards any self release.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Reader has maybe asked Brett to fuck her wearing one of his t-shirts that proudly states Cal Fire on it...she maybe gets off on the whole "firefighter" thing...she likes a man in uniform so sue her. She knows that asking him to fuck her in the full firefighter get up is unreasonable, so this is as close as theyâre getting.
Brett has a praise kink...something about Reader telling him how handsome he is and how sexy he is makes him preen. He knows he's older than her and the age difference is obvious to observers. So, hearing that she finds him to be hot is reassuring and makes him feel sexy even with his crows feet and his silver hairs.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Brett always exclaims he's too damn old to get too creative with locations. Despite that he has pulled off to some remote wooded area and gotten down and dirty with Reader in the backseat of his SUV. He gets a thrill out of steaming up the windows and fumbling around in a cramped backseat like a couple of overeager teenagers. It makes him feel younger than he's felt in years.
After they move in together they make it a point to 'christen' every room in their house. Brett didn't buy his girlfriend later wife a nice little house not to fuck her in every single room of that house. He's going to eat Reader out on the kitchen floor. He's going to take her from behind bent over his desk in his office. He's going to have her ride him on the sofa.
He debates building a greenhouse so he can make that whole fucking Reader in the garden fantasy become a reality.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
We've already established Reader like's that Brett works with his hands. So, she gets hot and bothered seeing him dig in the garden or seeing him change the oil in his car. When they move into a place with a fireplace she's also quite enamored by the sight of watching him chop firewood.
He builds up a sweat with hard work and Reader makes him build up more of a sweat by showing him how much she likes all that hard work.
Brett gets easily worked up by Reader. He loves watching her spread lotion along her skin each night. The sweet vanilla scented lotion smells all the more heavenly against her skin.
He loves watching Reader bake and has been known to stare a little too longingly when she licks batter from a spoon. He's maybe once or twice asked to have a taste...if she lets him taste it against dripped against her breasts.
Reader takes up yoga and Brett is delighted. He gets to see her ass in leggings and watch her bend into some pretty lovely positions. Her new exercise routine is made all the more intense when Brett can't take it any more and pulls those leggings down so he can eat her out and turn downward dog into doggystyle.
N = No (something they wouldnât do, turn offs)
Given Reader's ex husband's affairs, Reader can't ever imagine bringing a third into the bedroom. It is a hard no though Brett has never requested something along those lines nor would he ever...man has a jealous streak a mile wide. So, he's not wanting any company in their bedroom.
Brett can't do the 'daddy' thing....he has a daughter who grew up calling him "daddy" he can't see that word as being even remotely sexual.
Ageplay is a no...Brett might get off on Reader being a younger woman who is into him, but he is skeeved out by purposely playing into any notion that he's a dirty old man and she's a young naive thing.
Reader won't do the teacher student role-play....no way no how. She's a freaking teacher and can't see her profession as being sexual.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Brett doesn't just eat, Brett feasts. He is an eater 100%. Reader admits she didn't exactly cum when her ex did it, and she's pretty sure she can't cum from it. Brett proves her wrong and she so orgasms hard from it more than once. The man is not letting up after just one.
Reader is surprised she loves going down on him. She feels powerful and adored when she takes him down her throat. She loves the way he stares at her during it; like he's in awe of her, like he worships her. She has to work towards taking him deep and she's proud when she manages to get her gag reflex under control enough to manage to take him down to the hilt. Brett is in awe when Reader swallows his release. He isn't expecting it and the kiss he presses to her lips shows her just how much he loves it.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It depends on the mood. Brett prefers slow and sensual. He adores Reader. She not only gave him a second shot at love but gave him a shot in general. He wants to make her feel as worshiped as she is by him.
He's willing to get a little rough with her with her encouragement or if he's been away from her for too long, too many late nights at the station, too many nights fighting forest fires. If he gets pent up he's making it rough and dirty and is relieved she's just as keen for it.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
They love a good quickie, Brett has been known to talk into a morning quickie before she has to leave for work. They love a quick session to work out stress. Sometimes a quickie is all they have time for.
It's not their preference but they won't turn a quickie down. They have an active sex life so quickies tend to happen often if their schedules get packed.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Brett fights fires for a living; the man takes risks every day. He is protective enough of Reader to not push it too far when it comes to sex. He's never going to try to 'convince' her of something if she seems uncertain. He takes her consent with the upmost seriousness. He knows guys like her ex seem to think that "no" or "I'm not sure" means "convince me". Brett isn't a thing like her ex.
He is game for whatever she's willing to give him. The car sex is a pretty frequent occurrence. Date nights often end with a pull over to a remote alleyway or empty parking lot and fooling around in the backseat as immature and silly as it feels.
They try new positions trusting one another to give anything a shot at least once within reason.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Brett is getting older and he resents his body for aging and impacting his stamina and his refractory period.
He's always paranoid that Reader will wake up one day and realize she could find a younger guy who might be able to go for more rounds quicker and can last longer than him.
Much to his relief she doesn't blink twice when he needs a break and she admits she finds the fact that he cums quicker than he'd prefer to be flattering.
She reminds him that sex doesn't have to be a marathon and she's patient enough to wait and work with him. Their partners in this relationship after all.
Reader has a high sex drive but she's always reassuring that Brett can satisfy her just fine.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Reader owns sex toys. She's a grown divorced woman and this is the 2020s. She doesn't have a massive collection but she has a few toys.
She isn't ashamed when Brett finds them and breathes a sigh of relief that he doesn't treat the toys like some sort of competition.
He gets that they exist to get her off when he's not available.
He's maybe been known to ask her about them during a few late night phone sex conversations when he's stuck up at the station.
The wand is a favorite of is especially when she shows it can be used on the underside of his cock.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Brett teases and he knows just what he's doing, the dick. He's not shy about the lingering touches in public and the grabs to her backside. He's handsy on date nights and nights out at the bar with the station where Reader is invited to tag along.
He's getting it back in return ten fold from Reader. She can play his game too wearing those jeans he likes and brushing her hand teasingly along his thigh when they're sitting at the bar.
They enjoy the tease and it always builds up to a fun way to end their evening.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Brett is loud an unashamed; grunts, actual full on whimpers, and dirty talk about how good she feels and reminders to keep her eyes on him. He is not a silent lover.
Much to his delight Reader proves to be just as loud. She's a talker and will babble mindlessly over how good he is. His name has never sounded better than it does on her lips.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Brett encourages Reader to buy lingerie. The only time she ever bought lingerie was for her ex husband when she still had the foolish hope of repairing their relationship and he was brutal about it. He criticized her choice pointing out cellulite on the backs of her thighs and commented she should have found something to hold her tits up more.
Brett is irate when Reader recalls his story, both pissed at her ex husband and angry on her behalf. He's all the more distressed when he realizes she maybe internalized those messages about her body.
So, Brett talks her into taking his card and going to a nice boutique to buy herself anything she wants so he can show her the reaction her in lingerie deserves.
She is terrified but knows she trusts Brett enough to face the fear.
She settles on a sweet pink sheer babydoll and a matching thong and Brett stares at her like she's an angel sent to him.
He shows her that her ex husband was an idiot and didn't appreciate the gift of her body. Brett so appreciates it.
X = X-ray (letâs see whatâs going on under those clothes)
Big-dick energy which matches what he's packing okay. Brett is thick enough that Reader frets a little over it and he has to reassure her that he's going to make it work without any discomfort on her end.
He's average length but the thickness of him...
He's blessed downstairs and Reader reaps the benefit.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Brett worships Reader, okay. The man is a simp for her though you'd have to explain exactly what that means to the old man.
He might be getting older but that doesn't impact how much he wants Reader. He might not be able to go as many rounds as he would have been able to go as a younger man, but he's creative enough to find plenty of ways to get her off.
He's devoted to her and he yearns for her.
Luckily for him she yearns for him. He's a hot mature firefighter, of course she's yearning.
The man is the best lover she's ever had and she can't get enough of him. He's her everything and she's just thankful he was brave enough to let her love him after the loss he's experienced.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Brett tries to hold out and stay up...he really truly does. He works such a physically demanding draining job though. That combined with feeling so loved and satisfied making love to Reader equals him being the first to knock out after sex.
He'll be mid pillow talk and the man is snoring...he denies he snores but he so does...Reader does a little too okay, so it's fair.
Reader finds it sweet that he tries so valiantly to fight sleep even if he always fails.
She follows him pretty close behind once he knocks out. She can't help it. She feels safe with Brett Richards. She sleeps by his side better than she's ever rested in her life.
Follow Up to:
The Loophole: Dark Wedding
A Solstice Sacrifice
The Debut
Little Bite One: Spend. His. Money.
Mating Rituals
MUST READ:
Little Bite Two: The Nightmare
Summary: in the wake of bad news, another Danforth cousin's wedding and post-wedding ritual brings you and Titus closer than ever, and you finally see why he has his reputation for violence.
Tags: age gap, blood sacrifices, human sacrifice, extremely graphic violence :)))), descriptions of bodily injury, lots of blood, sexual arousal over violent acts (duh), really bitchy and mean family members, more ursula background and sister behavior with reader :)))), slapping, biting, rough sex, choking, all that usual stuff, ritual sex (again!), sex on an alter table (trying again!), sex covered in your victim's blood!!!, unprotected sex (duh), mr le bail is kind of a pervert......
A/N: that summary kinda sucks but we're doing a duel! you really should read the nightmare drabble that is linked above or you'll be kinda confused about the beginning and missing some context needed! this is the second to last full part!!! couple more little bites coming tho!!!
this thing is 20k words y'all.............
AO3 Link if that's your preference
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
So. Â
Youâre not pregnant. Itâs totally fine. It doesnât bother you at all.Â
It doesnât bother you so much that you ask Titus to make appointments for both of you with the best fertility doctor in the world, just to be sure thereâs nothing wrong with you.Â
It doesnât bother you when that doctor makes a house-call, runs a million and one tests, and comes to the conclusion that both of you are perfectly healthy. This is just one of those things. Of course, she doesnât know that you two performed an ancient ritual that has worked hundreds of times to create an heir for countless families, thanks to the dark magic of the literal Devil. Â
It doesnât bother you to think about how Le Bail had his hands on you, how he looked at you from the fire and...for some reason felt he shouldnât give you an heir.Â
It doesnât bother you so much that you havenât had sex with Titus in...well itâs been about three weeks. It feels like a year.Â
At first, you retreat from him. You push yourself into your work with the Foundation, you disappear into your garden and your conservatory, you end up in bed next to him each night, smiling and talking about your days but distant the moment he puts his hands on you.Â
It doesnât really hit you how long youâve been in this slump, until Titus is getting ready to leave on his final trip to the West Coast Lodge construction, the last one he needs to do before the site is officially ready to be opened. The one he was supposed to take with you.Â
âItâs a whole week, Baby,â Titus says as you help him pack his bags, teeth gritted, hands clenched, whole body tense the way it has been since the night you realized the ritual had failed, since youâd woken up screaming from a nightmare you still havenât told him about. âYou donât have to be there the whole time, but I want you there this weekend.âÂ
âWell I...â your voice fades as you feel his arms wrap around you from behind, like waking you out of a trance. He doesnât need to vocalize the part where if you donât go on the trip, it will push your âbreakâ from sex to a month. âIâm just not sure...that Iâm ready.âÂ
Titus lets out a long, impatient sigh. He's been worse with his attitude lately, never directed at you of course, he turns his brattiness and petulance to anyone else he can, but you know itâs because of lack of connection to you. âBaby, you canât keep punishing yourself like this.âÂ
âIâm not punishing myself, Titus.âÂ
âWhatever it is youâre doing in your mind thatâs making you stay away from me, it feels like a punishment.â He turns you around, holding your hands in place at your side. âI want to fuck you.âÂ
You roll your eyes. âFucks sake TiââÂ
But Titus cuts you off with a hand to your jaw. He makes you look at him, at how hungry he is. âEnough, Little Lamb. Youâre keeping yourself from me. Youâre the one making yourself unhappy. So, the ritual hasnât worked yetâ"Â
âIt didnât workâ"Â
âIt hasnât worked yet. That doesnât mean we did anything wrong. It doesnât mean I donât want you just as much as I have since the moment I first laid eyes on you. Why are you punishing yourself?âÂ
Your lip starts to wobble, and your eyes grow sparkling with tears, chest tightening. âI feel like a fucking failure. Why would...why do you still want me?âÂ
âBaby,â Titus sighs, mournful furrow in his brow. âI love you. Iâm fucking obsessed with you. I donât just want to fuck you to make a baby, I want to fuck you because every time I look at you, I see the one person in the world whoâs just as much as monstrous animal on the inside, and I want to fall to my knees and worship you. Before you, sex was a hobby, just something I did for fun, to fill an urge, not something to bring me closer to another soul. I fucking miss you, youâre so far from me.âÂ
Your heart breaks at the cracking of his voice, the way his volume rises to almost a broken yell in his desperation. His eyes are wide, and as you look in them you can see a lifetime of loneliness, the handsome boy who everyone was too afraid of to truly get close to, unless they were trying to use his familyâs power in some way. The boy who scared his own twin sister at times, now has finally found the one person who not only never fears him, but embraces and craves his terrifying nature.Â
Your existence had been lonely so much before him, too.Â
âIâm sorry,â you finally whisper, brushing your hands up his chest, digging your fingers in so he can really feel your presence with him. âYouâre right, I was so fixated on this but...I miss you too.âÂ
âThen come with me like we planned, the jet will wait for you to pack your things,â Titus urges, voice sounding so youthful, hopeful.Â
âWell I...â you want to throw it all to the wind and say yes, of course youâll come with him now, but youâd thrown yourself into work during your slump, you canât just leave Ursula hanging so last minute now. âUrse and I are planning the Foundationâs Halloween Benefit, and we just sent out RSVPâs for the Familyâs Winter Solstice Banquet...I do need to work.âÂ
You feel his hands tighten their grip on you again, a flash of annoyance on Titusâs features, which quickly fades to acceptance. âAlright. Finish your work, I guess it will make it easier to focus on mine out there...but then Friday, come to me, Little Lamb. Let me show you what I built for you.â Then, leaning down to nip at your ear, kiss at the sensitive skin right below it, Titus whispers, âI canât christen it all by myself.âÂ
You bite your lip, color comes back to your face as you feel the skip in his heartbeat right under your hands. Like waking from another horrible dream. The lingering anticipation of whatever Titus has planned for you, makes you feel like yourself again.Â
+Â
âThree weeks?â Ursula yells, falling into a fit of laughter so big she almost knocks her food off her desk.Â
âHey! Not so loud!â You snap, looking over your shoulder through the glass walls of her office.Â
Youâre having lunch in her office between your duties for the Foundation, a habit youâve gotten into since she moved you into the corporate offices a couple months ago. You have your own office, of course, but itâs so much more fun to eat with Ursula, she has all the gossip.Â
Itâs less fun when your sex life is the topic.Â
âIâm sorry, ha, I'm so sorry,â Ursula waves her hand, pulling herself together from her giggles. âI mean, that explains why thereâs been less servants on my side of the Estate lately. You know when you two get going they all run to the East Wing to get some peace and quiet?âÂ
âOh my god,â you whine, covering your face with your hands to try to hide your embarrassment. âI really donât want to talk about this with you.âÂ
âYeah, I donât want to hear about your weirdo sex life either, but you brought it up,â Ursula says, shaking her head and clicking her teeth.Â
Actually, you tried very hard not to bring it up, but she asked why you were so down and wouldnât stop pushing and pushing until you told her about the ritual. And how it didnât work.Â
âOkay well...sorry for that, I guess,â you roll your eyes. Itâs hard to actually be sorry for having really great sex with your hot husband, not matter how disruptive it is to the household. âBut I just...I donât understand. I thought Le Bail liked me. Iâve seen him twice.âÂ
Technically three times but you donât think Ursula wants to hear about Le Bail making an appearance during the sex ritual.Â
âYou won two of his games, of course he likes you. Probably more than he likes me and Titus,â Ursula says nonchalantly.Â
âThen why...â your voice trails off sadly.Â
âItâs not a guarantee that youâll conceive a child, itâs a request,â Ursula says with a shrug. âThe ritual didnât work the first time our parents tried it as well. They waited a whole year to try it again, and thatâs when Titus and I were conceived.âÂ
âReally?â You ask, voice laced with disbelief.Â
Titus hadnât mentioned that part. He made it seem like it was so easy, like him and Ursula were some gifts easily bestowed upon Chester and Violet Danforth being such great rulers in the High Seat. Maybe thatâs why heâs not as worried about this...Â
âI wish he told me that,â you mumble, taking a big bite of your sandwich. Â
âWell thatâs Titus for you, all action and no thought,â Ursula says, eyes flicking up and down at you. You were his biggest no thought action so far, not that Ursula is mad, she loves you very much.Â
âHow did you find out about you and Titus?âÂ
âOne of our aunts told me, she was very close to Mother,â Ursula explains. âThey figured Le Bail felt they werenât ready yet, maybe thatâs whatâs happening to you. I mean...you guys have only been married for a few months. Mr. Le Bail probably just wants you to like, chill. Have some more fun. Youâre not even out of the honeymoon phase.âÂ
You let out a light laugh, shaking your head. âWhen you put it like that...I sound a little crazy.âÂ
âYou joined Satanâs literal organization, so you are crazy,â Ursula says with a smirk. âBut you need to take it down a few notches, alright? Adapt to our way of living a little, and then you can add more little Danforth's to the mix.âÂ
âRight, thank you,â you say sincerely. She has no idea how much better just her words have made you feel. Â
âSpeaking of honeymoon phases,â Ursula starts, face dropping into an annoyed frown. âI assume you and Titus received the notification of Felicityâs wedding?âÂ
âOh, yes he mentioned something about that, donât we have to host it? As the High Seat branch of the family?â You ask. Youâre pretty sure this means youâre going to get to see a Danforth Wedding duel, and you really, really hope itâs Titusâs card thatâs pulled.Â
âYup,â Ursula sighs, pursing her lips. âDid he tell you about Felicity at all? And me?âÂ
âNo,â you say, carefully studying her face. Sheâs looking down at her glass, jaw tight, something like an angry fire forming in her eyes. âHe said I should ask you about her.âÂ
That makes her eyes snap up to you, with a look that almost makes you afraid to cross her. âWell, letâs just say this isnât her first marriage.â Then in a lower mumble. âAttempt at a marriage, anyway.âÂ
Your brows raise with curiosity. âUrse...you canât just leave me hanging. I told you something deeply personal.âÂ
âYeah a sex thing about my twin brother.âÂ
âOkay, fair. How about this, when we met, you tried to kill me multiple times.âÂ
Her mouth drops open in a scoff. âOkay, I had to do that.âÂ
âHmmm, okay thatâs also a good point,â you bite down on your lip, looking at Ursula with squinted eyes. âOkay, how about this? Your power hungry, psychopathic, murder and violence loving brother loves me so much, heâs actually so busy trying to make me happy that heâs agreed to share the High Seat of ruling the entire world with you.âÂ
Ursula opens her mouth to retort, but canât find a good enough argument against that. âFuck, thatâs a good point.âÂ
âYes,â you exclaim in victory. âTell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell meâ"Â
âAlright!â Ursula cuts you off with a deep sigh. âOkay. Felicity is one of our cousins, obviously, just a few years younger than Titus and I. And she has terrible taste in men, slimy losers who want to marry into our family for connections and all those gifts from Le Bail. Well, her parents donât usually approve of her marrying anyone, because theyâre all awful, except for her first marriage. He was...â her face falls. âHe was different.âÂ
Thereâs a moment of silence hanging in the air, as you watch the emotions play out over Ursulaâs face, and you realize this is something deeper for her. âWho was he?âÂ
âHe was my first love. My high school sweetheart.â Her voice is too calm, too controlled. Sheâs looking down at her food, poking at the salad with her fork, staring down at the way the prongs of the fork pokes holes in the leaves. âWe...we were together for a long time, and I loved him very much, but I made it clear I did not want to be married. Ever. We could live a life together, do whatever we wanted, be successful, but I didnât want to marry him. I didnât want to risk him having to duel Titus, or worse at that time, my father. I told him everything about us, Mr. Le Bail, the marriage game, and I thought he understood why he could never officially be in the family.Â
But then...well, during the fall after we graduated from college, he proposed to me during Thanksgiving dinner.â Ursula lets out a long breath through her nose at the memory of him standing up, in front of almost all of her family and his, and got on one knee as he pulled out this gorgeous emerald and silver rose cut ring. Everyone in that room had cheered, except for Ursula, Titus, and Chester. Titus looked like he wanted to kill the guy, which... Â
âWell anyway, it was ugly. I ran out of the room and we fought, and then he finally let me know that I was being selfish trying to keep all of my familyâs gifts from him. Turns out he really wanted in on all the Danforth and Le Bail deal-with-the-devil fortune after all. But I just...I knew if he had to duel then he would die and I tried to tell him that, but he wouldnât accept it. He accused me of not thinking he was good enough. Didnât really leave me much choice, and I was thoroughly disgusted by him, so I broke up with him.âÂ
âOh Urse...Iâm so sorry,â you say, reaching out your hand to hers. The frown on her face jumps into shock momentarily when you touch her, but her body quickly deflates into relaxation at your warmth. Itâs a level of intimacy sheâs not used to.Â
âThank you,â she replies sincerely. âI got over it, you know, but then...I found out heâd started seeing Felicity as soon as she turned eighteen. Two years after I broke up with him, we got the invitation to their wedding.âÂ
âLet me guess, he did the ritual and pulled Titusâs card?âÂ
âOh yeah,â she says with a small laugh. âFelicity was so smug about that whole day, pretending she was so sorry and things just worked out the way they were meant to blah blah blah, she really thought Le Bail would let her have him. The duel can go all night if needed, but Titus had him hog tied and beaten to a pulp in under twenty minutes. I think itâs the record for the whole family.âÂ
Damn, you really want to see that. Thank god this family started recording all of these the moment video cameras were invented.Â
âFelicity threw such a fucking hissy fit over it, we didnât have to see her at family events for like a decade,â Ursula says with a smug smile. âI can only imagine what kind of dreg of society sheâs convinced her parents to let her attempt to push into the family this time.âÂ
âShe sounds like a cunt,â you say bluntly.Â
Ursula nearly chokes on her drink in her fit of laughter. âYes, oh my god sheâs the worst. Listen we have like a million cousins, and half of them are annoying as fuck, but Felicity...sheâs always been jealous of me. She basically wants to be me. I was so angry about it for so long, but I guess itâs a good thing she does shit like this. Makes me look even better. Got rid of a terrible man from my life for once and for all.âÂ
You watch as the sadness leaves her face entirely. She looks so much like Titus right now, the way she can mask any hint of pain behind a smug demeanor, behind the knowledge that sheâs more powerful than pain itself. Youâve spent so much time with both of them, together and separate, and without meaning to, youâve studied their dynamic. They annoy each other, poke at each other, she babies him, he brushes her off like a bratty child, but...there is love there. Theyâre twins, brought into this world together. âTitus killed him for you.âÂ
âHm,â Ursula muses, clicking her tongue. âLe Bail had him killed for me, Titus made sure it hurt.âÂ
And the way she says it, sounds like thatâs more important than the act of killing in itself. Â
âSo, is that why you never got married? You didnât want to send them to die?âÂ
Ursula shrugs. âThatâs how it was with him, I really thought I loved him. But...I already knew I was going to have to share my power with Titus one day, Iâll be damned if I have some man walk in and think he can take a piece of it too. Besides, I sort of realized Iâd rather be independent. I have several lovers, and none of them expect anything more from me. The second they do, they get dropped. And if they donât like that...well letâs just say thereâs been a few of our seasonal guys that have been exes of mine that demanded just a little too much.âÂ
Her tone is so casual it actually almost shocks you. Youâre so used to Titus being the openly cruel and violence loving one, you forgot that Ursula has been raised to be just as vicious. Sheâs so much better at hiding it.Â
âWish Titus would have done that with Priscilla,â you mumble.Â
Ursula bursts out in laughter again, eyes flicking up and down your form with an amused smile that reminds you so much of the one you constantly get from her brother. âUnfortunately I think Titus kind of likes watching people get pathetically needy over him, and when he makes them leave he doesnât really think twice. That man dumped Priscilla last year for the last time and wasnât ever going to look back.âÂ
Thereâs a beat where you two share a look, both thinking about the memory of putting her in her place back at the gala. Ursula had laughed harder than youâd ever seen when you told her everything that happened that night, from Priscilla catching you and Titus in the conservatory, to you bashing her face into glass.Â
âYou know,â Ursula starts. âMy brother stayed a bachelor all this time because he honestly never thought heâd find someone who understood him. Even Priscilla, for all her nastiness, always talked about how if they married, she expected him to settle down with the Danforth traditions. No more, hunting, and fighting, and certainly none of that gross stuff I know you two are into.âÂ
âReally?â You ask but a big part of you already knows sheâs telling the truth. You feel it swirling inside your heart, the spirit of something that calls to the demonic force that was born in Titus Danforth. It was always going to live restlessly inside him, unsatisfied, unhappy, until you came along.Â
âOh yes, donât let him know I said this, but I think my brother has always been a bit of a romantic. Just, his form of romance is a very specific acquired taste. He never let himself search for it until you were put in our path.âÂ
The sincerity in her words only highlights what she really wants you to hear. You are the key to her brotherâs happiness, just like she said the night you all met. Just as he is the key to yours.Â
Why are you sitting here moping with her, when you should be truly happy across the country with Titus?Â
+Â
The jet got you to Washington in the middle of the day on Thursday. You didnât tell Titus to expect you a while 24 hours earlier than originally anticipated.Â
No, it is way more fun to show up, tell the workers to take you to Titus Danforthâs quarters, not say a word on threat of death (which they know is literal), and then leave a trail of your clothes for him to the bedroom.Â
The text youâd sent him about how nice the room is, how soft and comfortable the bed is, while he was trying to finish a meeting had been unexpected but pleasant. He certainly was able to stay professional and continue on with finishing up his work.Â
And then about an hour later you sent a picture of you laid out on the bed with your fingers teasing the entrance of your soaking pussy and he was very much forced to call it a day.Â
The black panties you left on the doorknob were very quickly stuffed in his pants pocket for safe keeping.Â
âSo good to have you back, Baby,â Titus moans into your mouth, fingers replacing yours inside you, as he braces himself for your first pleasurably sleepless night in a month.Â
+Â
Over time, you and Titus find your way back to each other, just like you had been since the start, hot and heavy and obsessed, magnets pushed together by all the worldâs forces. Â
The West Coast Lodge has its grand opening just in time for the Holidays, when you and the Danforth Twins host the familyâs annual Winter Solstice ritual. This year, however, there was an added bonus of participating in a ceremonial hunt for the familyâs sacrifice. Most of the extended branches of family were too put together in their fanciest clothes to want to partake, but a party of about twenty, including you and Titus, took to the woods around the Lodge to hunt down the victim.Â
The sacrifice was some guy who tried skimming off the Danforthâs profits from their new vineyard. The one they acquired after the untimely demise of the Le Domas family. Since it is technically your vineyard, Titus took it as even more of a personal offense, to the point you were surprised the man even made it to the Solstice.Â
Naturally, you and Titus caught him first, kissing over his dying body after Titus let you smash the guyâs legs to bits with his Warhammer. This is also after Titus shot him just below the spleen. Youâd found it very amusing how heâd still tried to run away.Â
Almost the entire family, the branches you had yet to meet, got a very clear lesson on just who you were. Many were terrified the twins managed to snatch up someone so similar to them. A few were happy Titus now has someone to focus all of his infamous psychopathic tendencies on.Â
Not everyone was there, however. The most notable absence was Felicity. According to one of her sisters, a quiet, mousy girl closer to your age than Ursulaâs, she was spending the holidays with her fiancĂŠ in Australia, borrowing one of the Danforth villas all for herself. Ursula had half a mind to call their property manager to have her kicked out, but you convinced her to let it go for now.Â
After the family festivities, you and Titus retired to the Master Suite where you gave him a small present. Heâd thought it was hilarious that you gave him a Christmas present, but was stunned when heâd opened the tiny box to reveal a gold pentagram pendant hanging from a gold chain. Itâs intricately hand carved with the face of a goat in the middle, and tiny little rubies.Â
He loved it so much and since he didnât have anything for you, he returned the favor by going down on you for an hour. You came so many times you lost count and basically passed out.Â
Time went on, you and Titus spent New Years in Granada at the cottage you purchased, breaking in every surface just like heâd promised, neither of you caring if it resulted in a baby or not. You were determined not to worry about that anymore, to enjoy the time and love between you and Titus just as you are. Â
Between all the sex and holidays and working, Titus also gets you in with his trainers, because if Felicityâs new husband pulls whatever card gets assigned to you, he wants to make sure you can truly beat him. You argued that you won two whole hunts without any training, but he wouldnât hear it.Â
Secretly you think he just wanted an excuse to watch you shoot a gun or wield a sword and daggers, or even better, roll around and dominate an expert fighter in nothing but a sports bra and tiny shorts.Â
He liked it even better when you practiced on him.Â
+Â
February 14th.Â
Ursula found it incredibly cheesy and lame and tacky that Felicity would choose Valentineâs Day for her wedding, and if it were anyone else you might have defended the decision. Â
The West Coast Lodge, that Titus had built in your honor, designed to embody everything that reminded him of you, is dolled up in pink and white, like a cheap candy dream. You liked pink and white, Titus had bought you entire sets of knives and hand-crafted pistols in those colors, but something about seeing so much of it in ribbons and banners and gaudy flowers of all kinds leave a sick taste in your mouth.Â
At the rehearsal dinner, Felicity had tried to argue with Titus about staying in the Master Suite, since it was to be her wedding night after all, but he threatened to shut the whole thing down and send them to a sleezy chapel in Vegas instead. Nobody but you and him were allowed to ever stay in that suite, not even Ursula. Granted, he made sure his sister had her own personal quarters in the Lodge as well.Â
Felicity mostly ignored you, beyond an overly polite introduction, and venomous, sharp eyes directed at Ursula. She kind of looked like Ursula too, full lips, round eyes, long blonde hair, but thereâs this sense of alertness in the way Felicity holds herself, like sheâs trying to force her way onto a pedestal that Ursula was born into. Like sheâs aware that nobody in any room that Ursula is in would look at her twice.Â
Maybe thatâs why she stole Ursulaâs boyfriend all those years ago, or rather placed herself into Ursulaâs role with him. The Danforth name is the most powerful in the world, but not being born to Chester means you are still a lesser person, especially in the eyes of Le Bail.Â
Youâre pretty sure you catch Felicity trying to flirt with Ursulaâs date when nobody is watching. Graham, a concert pianist who has been one of Ursulaâs many steady lovers over the years, made eye contact with you from across the room, rolling his to show how he could see right through her act.Â
The ceremony takes place in the afternoon in a Chapel next to a mass garden that Titus had filled with your favorite breeds of flower. The Lawyer is there to officiate, with his usual too cheerful smile. Â
His speech is much different to the vows youâd had to make with Titus in the Black Temple, a show for the guests attending who had no idea about Le Bail, and the fact that the Danforthâs arenât just the richest family in the world, but in fact the ones who pull every string.Â
He is happy to see you, even gives you a wink as you take your seat in the front row.Â
The ceremony is quick, to the point, Felicityâs FiancĂŠ, now Husband, Fitz Harrison, gives some overly syrupy dribble about finding the love of his life and belonging in her world, blah blah blah. Many of the guests ooooh and ahhh over it, but you see right through his words. The implication that he is meant to be part of the Danforth familyâs deal with Le Bail.Â
You start to see what Ursula and Titus say about her.Â
The early evening reception goes by in an almost monotonous blur. Sure, plenty of guests have a good time, many are dancing and drinking, you even take to the floor to dance with Titus, but mostly you are waiting around until the guests have all gone, and the only thing left to do with the family is the duel.Â
Much of the reception goes along the same lines as your time at your first Gala, with people youâve never met and never heard of coming up to essentially pay tribute to the wife of Titus Danforth. There are significantly less openly rude people this time, the rumors of just how youâd put Priscilla in her place having spread under the breaths of almost everyone in high society.Â
âI hear the wife is a total psycho.âÂ
âNo, please, sheâs nice. Nicer than Ursula, anyway.âÂ
âNot what I heard at all! You know at the double or nothing, she caused the entire El Caido line to be exterminated, when she could have just gotten away with killing the father and running off with Titus.âÂ
âShe was fighting for her life, I hardly think thatâs fair.âÂ
âIâve seen the footage, the girl is an animal. Three high families gone completely because of her. Those poor Le Domasâs...âÂ
âThatâs on Alex. You know, I heard he didnât even tell her about any of the contracts. Itâs not her fault she had to survive.âÂ
âWell she survived like an animal. No wonder Titus liked her so much, heâs just as bad. Thereâs something seriously wrong with that girl.âÂ
You overhear some of the cousins, who think theyâve found a hiding spot off in the corner, out of earshot of any other guests. They have yet to notice you standing off to the side, as you wait for a refill on your drink. Maybe you should be insulted, but their petty comments just make you smirk, quietly chuckle to yourself. Â
âDidnât you see what she did to Priscilla? Poor thing. That girl is a monster, she could snap at any one of us.âÂ
Okay, yeah that pisses you off. If Priscilla is telling everyone what happened between you two, it seems she left out the part where she tried to fuck another womanâs husband.Â
Youâre about to turn and set them straight, when Penelope appears at your side and sweeps you away, having heard their little annoying chirping as well.Â
âShe was invited to this, you know,â Penelope says, in her usual blatantly excited to gossip tone. âItâs probably not a surprise, but Priscilla and Felicity are actually pretty good friends.âÂ
You smirk at her from behind your wine glass. âOh? Why ever would she stay home then?âÂ
âSeveral little birds have told me that Priscilla is banned from any and all Danforth owned properties, probably from risk of death.âÂ
You almost choke on your wine in your effort to hold in your laughter. âSo where is she?âÂ
âMy aunt said sheâs somewhere in Europe recovering from reconstructive surgery, but I also heard they canât erase the entire scar.âÂ
âGood, it will be a nice reminder for her not to try to fuck things that arenât hers,â you say with a shrug.Â
âHa!â Penelope lets out a loud giggle, covering her mouth and turning away from the faces that turn to the two of you. âYou guys are so fucking crazy, I love it.âÂ
Your giggling together dies down as youâre joined back by your husbands, Titus wrapping his arm around your waist as he flicks back the sleeve of his dress shirt, peaking at his watch. He lets out an impatient huff, jaw tight and lips pursed. You think he looks adorable.Â
âRelax, dear Brother,â Ursula cautions, sauntering up next to you, small glass of whiskey in her hand, sheâs gripping it so tight her knuckles have gone white. âThe sun is almost down, this shit show is on its final minutes.âÂ
âWell it needs to hurry the fuck up, Iâm ready to get this over with,â Titus snaps, hand tightening on your side. âAlso, the cake was dry. Felicity and this fucking guy leech off our money and they canât even get a decently made cake?âÂ
âIs that why youâre going to take pleasure in...whatever youâre going to do later?â Penelope asks, sly smile on her face. She wonât be allowed to watch, as sheâs not in the family, but sheâs very familiar with the Wedding Rituals of Mr. Le Bail. Â
Titus snorts. âIt will be one of the reasons, thatâs for sure. If itâs even me, maybe this time Le Bail will let Ursula do the honors of ruining Felicityâs fun."Â
âIt would have been more fun if I got to do it the first time,â Ursula mumbles, before glancing at you. âMaybe Mrs. Danforth will get to do her first one.âÂ
You look up at Titus excitedly, as he smiles down at you sweetly. He licks his lips before giving you a small kiss on the cheek. âNow that I would enjoy very much.âÂ
Youâre about to say something to agree, when a cheerful, sing-songy voice cuts in. âSo sorry to interrupt, Ms. Danforth, Mr. Danforth,â The Lawyer says as he walks up, looking at you with a more intense smile as he finishes, âMrs. Danforth. I will need Titus to escort me to the Black Temple, as the architect of this...opulent resort, he will need to assist me in preparing for tonightâs final event.âÂ
Holding in his frustrated sigh, Titus isnât interested in being parted from you for too long tonight, as per usual, your husband reluctantly lets go of your body, gritting his teeth. âOf course, happy to show you the way.âÂ
âLovely to see you again, by the way, Mrs. Danforth. You seem to be assimilating to the High Seat quite well.â Then, in a lower voice, The Lawyer leans in to tell you, âMr. Le Bail is very pleased.âÂ
And even though a small, horrible voice in your head tells you not to believe him, your heart still swells with warmth, nerves racing. âTh-thank you.â Â
 You give Titus a quick kiss as you let him go, and the Lawyer gives you a wink as he turns.Â
âFuck, that tiny little man is so creepy,â a grating voice with a valley girl-like accent says in a disgusted tone behind you. Â
Your face falls into a frown, and you look to your side to find Ursula scowling. She sucks in a silent breath through her nose, covering her annoyance with a smile that doesnât reach her eyes, and stiffly turns around. âFelicity, my goodness you really make the loveliest bride.âÂ
âEven better than the first time wouldnât you say,â Felicity hums, her eyes sharp like a viper, satisfied bragging in her tone.Â
You donât miss the way Ursula tenses. âWell, hopefully tonight goes better for your new man.âÂ
The grin that has been sitting firmly on Felicityâs face for two days faulters for just a moment, before her eyes widen in her effort to keep control on her expression. âFitz is much more suited to Le Bailâs lifestyle, believe me. He already runs successful businesses all around the world, multi-millionaire even without any deals.âÂ
She lets the part where the Danforthâs are billionaires who could buy and dissolve any of his businesses just for shits and giggles stay unspoken.Â
âHm,â Felicity hums, choosing to ignore the obvious sarcasm in Ursulaâs words. Finally, her attention turns to you.Â
Her eyes rake up and down your body, studying you, calculating the perfect thing to say to someone who has been given everything she has ever wanted for her life. In her mind, youâve had it easy. You just had to marry Titus and you were handed everything the highest seats in the family get. She doesnât even consider the violence you had to endure in such a short time to get here. Youâre a bug that belongs under her boot.Â
âLovely dress,â She says, though thereâs no kindness in her voice.Â
You look down at the lilac colored dress that Titus had picked out for you. It has layers of sheer fabric on the skirt, and a corseted bodice that hugs your waist and pushes your breasts up. He also picked out the white pearls that sit in three layers on your neck. You know you look beautiful, and it must kill her.Â
âThank you,â you say, glancing down at her own dress. White and basic but covered in Swarovski crystals to make it look more expensive. Itâs probably a ten thousand dollar dress, but it could have been bought at Macyâs for $150.Â
âSo sorry I havenât had the chance to properly welcome you into the family, I simply was too busy this year with my own engagement to attend all the Danforth events. Congratulations on winning over my cousin, Titus can be a hard man to please, and I know so many of the women who have tried.âÂ
Sheâs trying so hard to push you, but itâs not anything you havenât already heard from the other jealous girls of High Society. Â
âIâve been welcomed plenty, trust me. Ursula is teaching me everything I need to know.â Â
âOh, Iâm sure,â Felicity grins, toothy but no emotion in her eyes. âIâm surprised, though, Ursula was never one to take someone under her wing, even her own family.âÂ
The look she shoots at Ursula would be lethal if given to anyone else, but itâs only met by an exasperated laugh from your sister-in-law. âOh you have got to be joking meâ"Â
âUrse!â Grahamâs voice interrupts as he walks up from the side, holding two very full champagne flutes in his hands. The sound of his voice instantly calms the fight brewing inside Ursula. âThe Governor and his wife are asking for you, they want to say goodbye for the evening.âÂ
âWonderful,â Ursula grits, snatching one of the flutes and downing its contents in one gulp, before glaring back at Felicity. âIâll see you soon.âÂ
Felicity just rolls her eyes as they walk away, then turns her attention back to you. âI see she hasnât changed at all, still the snotty, self-centered brat sheâs always been.âÂ
âFunny, she says the same things about you,â Penelope scoffs.Â
âRelax, Pen, whatâs a little playful insulting amongst family?â Felicity says, eyes still firmly scanning up and down you. âSpeaking of which, I think I'd like to spend a little time getting to know my new cousin, if you donât mind.âÂ
But she doesnât leave much of a choice when she grabs you by the elbow and snatches you away. You turn back to Penelope with a pleading look in your eyes, but she just sighs and throws her hands up in defeat as youâre dragged across the hall.Â
âYou know, Iâm sure those two have filled your little head with all sorts of horrible things about me,â she starts, patronizing. âAnd Iâm not going to deny any of it, but youâre new here, so Iâll give you my own lesson in what it means to be a Danforth.âÂ
âI canât imagine I have anything useful to learn from you,â You spit, shaking your arm out of her grip. You could walk away, go off to find Titus or join Ursula and Graham, maybe even run back to Penelope or Elton, any of the allies you have in the room, but something in you tells you to stay. The little monster inside is curious about just what Felicityâs game here is.Â
She scoffs. âHow about the perspective of someone from outside the main branch of the family? You got fucking lucky joining them, you know? I just happened to be born from the wrong Danforth brother and because of that, Iâm cursed to a lifetime of second best.Â
What did Ursula tell you about my first husband? Hm? That she loved him and was so disappointed when he wanted nothing more than what every single person in this room would want? A piece of the power over the whole world? Oh, how awful of him!âÂ
You look around as you stand in the middle of this room filled with old money blue bloods, new age elite, and various members of government, world movers. How many of them are part of Le Bailâs organization? How many of them would kill to be? Itâs something so secretive that you may never know every single family that is a part of it. And...you sit at the very top of it. By complete happenstance.Â
If you hadnât pushed Alex Le Domas to marry you, this would never be your life at all. A twinge of pain begins to stab like a needle at your heart, as you realize whatever Felicity has to say about you could be right.Â
âI donât care what the twins have said to you, I loved that man, and I had to watch Titus bash his skull in on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.âÂ
You can only imagine the glee on your husbandâs face as he did. âAre you really throwing a bitch fit thirty years later, because of something everyone who marries into the family is at risk of?âÂ
Her face contorts, jaw locking and twitchy as her emotions move from fiery anger to a calm that barely contains it. âEveryone but you, right?âÂ
You hold in any response you can think of. You donât owe her an explanation, she already knows everything you had to do to join the family. Nobody who has ever married into the Danforthâs has had to kill as many people as you have.Â
âI wouldnât look so smug about your little kill record, or Titusâs, by the way,â Felicity sneers. âFine, I want what the twins have, I want that high seat. And yes, weâre allowed to kill family members, but thereâs only one time where killing that family member guarantees you the High Seat.âÂ
Your face hardens, cold anxiety shooting up your spine. âWhat the fuck are you talking about?âÂ
âYou and the twins didnât think Iâd get married to someone who could be so easily defeated by one of you again, did you?â Felicity says with a patronizing laugh. âFitz is a world class athlete. Golden gloves boxer, Olympic medalist power lifter, trained in archery, javelin, sharpshooting, you get the picture. Youâve seen him, heâs twice the size of you and Ursula, and younger than Titus, more fresh. No matter which one of you he duels, he will crush your bones into dust. And I will get that High Seat. Then whichever two of you are leftover, Iâll have fed to the dogs.âÂ
âYou fucking cuntâ"Â you hiss as you raise your hand, caught between wanting to deck her in the jaw or strangle her in front of all these people.Â
She steps back with a wicked smile. âAh, ah, ah, you canât do anything to me until after the duel. Hasnât Titus told you any of our rules?âÂ
You freeze, stilling the movement of your hand with every ounce of self-control that you have. Eyes from all around start to hone in on you, the small scuffle between you and Felicity bringing in attention from various guests. Â
She doesnât seem to care as she continues to taunt you. âHm, I can see why Titus likes you so much, youâre a feisty one. And I would have thought Le Bail would like you too, but from what I hear, you might have fallen out of his favor.âÂ
âWh-what the fuck does that mean?â You scowl at her. Â
âWell, itâs my understanding that you and Titus tried a little ritual recently,â Felicity sneers, stepping into your space, looking down at you. âAnd it looks to me like it didnât exactly work, hm?âÂ
You gasp, eyes widening with horror, lip shaking. You look around the room, at the eyes on you, unsure if they can hear your conversation, but a horrifying voice screaming at you that they can. They know, they all know youâre a failure.Â
âH-how did you...â but you canât force yourself to finish the question.Â
âHow did I find out? Ha,â she laughs, shrugging. âYou need special materials for that ritual, and thereâs only so many people you can get them from. Fitz and I...we want to make an heir of our own. Iâm getting a little...â she purses her lips tightly, â...older, so we are going to ask Le Bail for his blessing and, well, the Dark Priest we went to mentioned he just filled a similar order for the heads of the Family. But, well, you donât look pregnant to me.âÂ
You want to scream. You want to shove her on the ground and beat her to death with the closest blunt object. You want to rip her hair out and shove it down her throat. But you stay still. You let our deep breaths, doing your best to not let her see just how much sheâs getting to you. But youâre failing at that too.Â
âFitz and I will be trying it on that lovely alter table in the black temple, as soon as heâs killed...well, whichever one of you whoâs card he pulls but fuck,â Felicity licks her lips. âI really hope itâs yours.âÂ
âFelicity!â Titusâs gruff, booming voice breaks through the noise of guests, music, and her vile words. She jumps slightly, eyes snapping up over your shoulder to where your husband and the Lawyer approach. When you turn to look, you see his dark eyes narrowed, with an intense hatred you donât think youâve ever seen before. âWhen it comes to speaking about Mr. Le Bail, or my personal business, you better hold your tongue around outsiders,â he spits, putting a protective arm around your waist, âor I will let Mrs. Danforth cut it out.âÂ
You look up at him with a smile, eyes twinkling under the light as all cold and anger melts away from your body. âLet?âÂ
Titus smirks down at you, as though to silently say, let me pretend I have a say.Â
Behind you both, the Lawyer looks at Felicity with a stern frown, shaking his head. âMrs. Harrison, Mr. Le Bail is very clear about how he feels about discussions of the organization in public places. If you continue, he will be...very upset.âÂ
The visible gulp in her throat, a sign of genuine fear, brings a sick delight to you. Â
âO-of course, sir, it wonât happen again,â she assures him through gritted teeth.Â
The Lawyer keeps his frown at her for just a moment longer, before instantly changing it to a much too perky smile. âWell, I believe things are winding down here anyway, shall we prepare for the rest of tonightâs events downstairs?âÂ
The three of you nod, and Titus sends out a message in the family text to alert the others that it is almost time, before guiding you gently out of the ballroom. You feel Felicityâs scheming eyes on you the whole way.Â
+Â
The Black Temple in this Lodge is much grander than the one at home. Twice as big, in the shape of an oval, with black marble flooring and a pentagram shaped table at the center. The stairs descend down in a spiral around the room, framed by a black metal railing thatâs been intricately twisted and carved to look like thorny vines. Â
On the opposite end of the bottom of the stairs is a large fireplace, jutting out from the dark grey stone of the wall, in the shape of a screaming goat, the horns twisting symmetrically in curves along the wall. The eyes are dark onyx that shines in the light of the fire. Â
In front of the table sits a small circular gate in the ground, the opening to the goat pit, which currently sits empty.Â
Pyres line the walls, filling what should be a cold basement room with rich warmth. There are dark wood shelves lining the walls, filled with old spell books, crystals, candles, herbs, and all sorts of other materials needed for various rituals.Â
Itâs beautiful, every piece of it made specifically to what Titus thought you would love. Â
As you enter the room, arm in arm with Titus, you notice a set of items sitting on one of the shelves. You recognize the heart candle for the mating ritual, and your throat starts to burn with bile that you swallow back down.Â
Most of the family retire to their rooms in the hotel section of the lodge, but a few of the extended branches join you in the Temple. Itâs not a requirement for every single Danforth to be there, but most enjoy being witness to the duels, the ones who are almost as cruel and sick in the head as Titus.Â
You are soon joined in the center of the room by Ursula, Felicity, and Fitz, who gives you a twisted smirk. He drags his eyes up and down your body, licking his lips, like a predator planning his next meal.  You cringe and look away, holding on tighter to Titusâs arm.Â
The Lawyer waits for everyone to gather around, Mr. Le Bailâs book carefully laid out on the alter table, open to a blank page, as he pulls a set of golden playing cards from his pocket.Â
He looks up around the room with a giddy smile. âWell, everyone all set?â The room falls silent at his question, you suck in a nervous breath. âExcellent! We gather here today to honor a possible new edition to the Danforth Family, by performing the sacred tradition, the duel. Â
For those who may be unfamiliar, I will go over the rules as agreed upon by Mr. Le Bail and William Danforth the third, the original signer of this illustrious familyâs contract.â He looks at you, tilting his head as his lips close in a more friendly smile just for you. âA face card from this deck,â he holds up the golden cards, showing them to the room, âis assigned to one of the heads of the household, in this case, Ursula and Titus Danforth as they are twins and sharers of the High Seat, and Mrs. Danforth, as their equal. The spouse will draw a card, and if it is one assigned to a head of the house, that family member must participate in the duel. If they draw a numbered card, the Spouse is automatically entered into the family, per Mr. Le Bailâs wishes.Â
The duelers are permitted to use any weapon at their disposal, from any era. They will begin at exactly midnight, and continue until the death of one of the duelers. After which, the sacrifice will be taken back down here to the alter, their blood emptied into the goat pit, along with their body, in offering to Mr. Le Bail.Â
If the spouse is the winner of the duel, their branch of the family takes over as head of the household while the former head and other branches...â he pauses, smile faltering for just a moment as he watches your eyes widen, the memory of the total annihilation of the Le Domasâs flooding back to you. âWell. Iâm sure you can all guess. As is the fate of the entire Danforth line, should neither dueler be successful in killing the other by sunrise.âÂ
Murmuring fills the room, and again you feel everyoneâs eyes fall to you. They also remember what happened the nights of your first two weddings, the complete destruction of multiple High Council families. This time, however, itâs not judgement you read from their faces, but rather fear. So much death caused by such a little, young thing, and now she stands ruling their family with Titus.Â
âBecause of the realignments of the head of the Danforth family because of the passing of Chester Danforth, we will begin tonightâs ceremonies with a reassignment of the cards. Then, Mr. Fitz Harrison will draw to determine his fate, if he draws one of your cards, you will have half an hour to prepare before we must meet on the dueling grounds. Understood?âÂ
The main group of you all nod, and you watch as The Lawyer lays out the cards on the table, face side down. Â
âStep forward each of you, and select your cards. These shall be your cards for any future marriage rituals, until the day another reassignment must be made.âÂ
You, Titus, and Ursula step up to draw your cards, each of you placing a hand down on one at the same time. After a count from The Lawyer, the three of you pick your cards up simultaneously.Â
Ursula draws the Jack of Clubs, you draw the Queen of Diamonds, and Titus draws the King of Hearts.Â
He chuckles when he sees Ursulaâs card. âDemoted.âÂ
She rolls her eyes, elbowing him in the side. âItâs not a demotion.âÂ
âHail Satan!â The Lawyer interrupts, sending the twins a warning with his eyes. âAs Le Bail has wished, the cards are assigned. Mr. Harrison, please step forward to learn your fate.âÂ
Felicity makes a show of kissing him first, pulling him in by his cheeks and moaning into it, earning an annoyed groan from each of you. Fitz turns to the Lawyer with a cocky grin, as the cards are all put back and shuffled. The lawyer spreads them out on the alter table, in a gorgeous gold circle, then steps back to allow Fitz to make his pick.Â
As he steps up, looking directly at you from across the alter table, thereâs a wild, hungry look in Fitzâs eyes. You wonder what kind of things Felicity has told him about you three, why would he be singling you out? Because your fights are already family legend? Or because Titus took Felicityâs first spouse...so that debt can only be paid by Fitz taking his.Â
Either way, his look makes your skin crawl. It reminds you of how the High Council families looked at you when fighting for the seat, the little lamb for their slaughter, the one obstacle between what they all had truly wanted. Everyone except Titus, who had looked at you with deeply immense sadness, because what he wanted was you.Â
Fitz places his hand on one of the cards, keeping that same overly delighted smirk directed at you, until he flips his chosen card over. The smile shakes, so minutely that you almost miss it, as he picks up the card.Â
The King of Hearts.Â
An excited hum fills the room from the other family members, as Ursula and Titus chuckle, and Felicity lets out a frustrated whine.Â
âTitus Danforth, Mr. Le Bail has tasked you with the duel. You have half an hour to prepare in any way that you need,â The Lawyer says, as he writes out a small contract for the duel on the blank page of the book. Â
He takes Fitzâs hand and pricks his finger, directing the man to sign his blood, and as Titus does the same, he looks at Felicity with a grin filled with fake pity. âSo sorry, dear cousin, you seem to have just the worst luck.âÂ
âThatâs what you think, Titus,â she grunts, snatching her husband away as soon as sheâs able to. Â
It should bring you relief to know that Titus will be the one taking the field. Heâs the most experienced with duels, after all. Heâs the violent twin. Heâs the one just as brutal as you are. Â
But.Â
Somewhere in the back of your mind, the image conjured up by your dreams, your nightmares, of him laying in the grass covered in his own blood, fills your every sense. Â
+Â
The Master Suite is dark, with only the light of the moon shining through the windows, and the orange glow from the fireplace. Titus sits on the edge of the bed, securing the buckles of his black hunting gloves to his wrists. You stand against the door across from him, as you have been for the last twenty minutes, silently watching him prepare.Â
On the way up to the room, Titus had tried to comfort you, to joke around and point out that you wanted to see him fight, but your anxiety prevented you from finding the humor in it. When you entered your quarters, youâd given him a big kiss, held on as tight as you could to his arms, his neck, his face, memorizing every piece you could with your touch.Â
Now you lean against the door, taking in the look of your husband, scanning every inch with your eyes. Â
âThink Iâm going to break my duel record tonight, bet I could have him finished in under ten minutes,â Titus says, voice almost too casual for your current comfortability. âSometimes I let them go on for fun, you know? Iâll let them run away and hide to build up the suspense, make it better for me when I finally get the kill, but I donât think Fitz deserves that.âÂ
You donât respond. The silence hums between you. Barely a breath escapes your lips. You donât think itâs all that funny.Â
He took off his tuxedo jacket, laid it carefully on the back of the vanity chair off to the side, but heâs kept on his white button up shirt and black dress pants. The chain you gave him glimmers in the light from the fireplace. Your eyes follow the path of it down his neck.Â
Over his shoulders sits a black leather holster that holds two giant hunting knives that sit easily accessible on either side of his waist. His war hammer is strapped to his back, and he throws a bandolier around his shoulder as well, as he sits and loads an old family hunting rifle.Â
You think he looks...well he looks fucking hot. First off. The way he carefully loads the rifle, clicking it into place and checking it over, the way his silver curls still sit perfectly styled, practically shining in the moonlight, the way he bites his bottom lip as he concentrates. Itâs almost upsetting how sexy he is.Â
âLittle Lamb,â his voice breaks through the foggy silence of the room again, as he looks up at you. âCome here.âÂ
You glance at him with nerves you thought youâd left behind long ago. But you do as he asks, sliding into his lap, one hand around his shoulder, as the other pushes into his soft curls. His eyes flutter shut and he leans into your touch, smiling softly. Youâve done this a thousand times by now, calmed him by petting him, showing him an affection he hasnât had since he was just a young boy.Â
âDo you think youâre ready?â you ask, voice quiet.Â
His eyes flash open, and he looks at you with a frown. âBaby, this is what I do. You have nothing to worry about.âÂ
âIâm not I just...Felicity was saying some things...âÂ
Titus snorts. âYeah, Iâm sure that bitch was saying lots of things to get in your head, but you shouldnâtââÂ
âSheâs doing the mating ritual.â You say bluntly. âYou heard what she saidâ"Â
âSheâs not doing shit because that man is not making it off the grounds alive,â Titus says sternly. He gently pushes a stray strand of your hair back behind your ear, leather-covered thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheek. âI know you like to think itâs you, but I'm the strongest in this family. Iâve been waiting for a chance to really show you what I can do.âÂ
And that finally earns a little smile from you. âWell...when you put it that way...âÂ
âMhm,â Titus hums with an amused grin. âI know you want to see me rip that man apart. I know Iâm bringing all this, but Iâll do my best to strangle the life from him with my bare hands, I know thatâs what you really want to see.âÂ
An excited shudder races up your spine, as you let out a shaky breath, heat blooming between your thighs. âFuck, yeah, I really, really do.âÂ
âCourse you do,â Titus chuckles, tightening his grip on you, fingers denting into your jaw, just on the edge of pain that you love. âIâll make sure to give the cameras a good angle when I choke him out, but I donât know actually...I could kill him like that, but wouldnât it be more fun if he died bloody? Leave bits and pieces of him on the green for the grounds men to clean up.âÂ
Your body contracts at the thought, the image of Fitz spitting up his own blood in Titusâs hands. âKill him however you want, just make it hurt.âÂ
âThatâs my girl,â Titus grins, pulling you in for a kiss.Â
You moan into it, slipping your tongue into his mouth and tasting the alcohol and cigar smoke leftover from tonight. Your teeth latch onto his top lip and you bite and pull hard, Titus whimpers as a cut is formed, and his blood drips into your mouth. You suck it in, eyes rolling back in your head from the taste that sends electric sparks deep into your body. Â
You want him to feel it when heâs out there. You want him to touch it with his tongue while he fights to win the sacrifice, a physical reminder of who his blood belongs to.Â
A soft alarm interrupts your kiss, much to both your annoyance. Thereâs only a couple minutes of prep time left, which means he has to make his way to the dueling ground.Â
You slip off his lap to stand up, but Titus pulls you to him again, kissing the swell of your breast just above the line of your dress, before resting his head against your chest. He brings a hand up to your stomach, pressing his fingers into the soft fabric. âWe can try again, you know. After I win, after I kill that motherfucker for you. Felicity was so nice to gather everything we need for it.âÂ
You suck in a breath, fingers finding the gold chain, and you gently pull it form under his shirt, twiddling with the pentagram nervously. âI-Iâm not sure...âÂ
âItâs okay, sweet baby, you can decide during the duel and tell me after,â he says, standing up so he can tower over you, darkness filling his features. âBecause I am coming back to you. I told you I would kill a hundred people for you, well Iâd destroy this whole fucking world to be in your arms again. One pathetic man will never keep me from my Little Lamb.âÂ
+Â
The duelers are led out to the fields on the rear side of the Lodge, surrounded by hedges and tall trees, small bushes of flowers and soft lanterns lighting the paths. The first time youâd walked it with Titus, you thought it was so romantic, but now it stands as a field of death.Â
The family members who wish to observe are taken to the club room, where a wall of various tvâs shows every single inch of the fields, in full high-definition color, with working microphones. A major improvement to past Danforth Wedding Duel viewings.Â
You sit in the middle of the room, not trusting your feet to hold you up enough to stand like everyone else. Â
Ursula brings you a short glass filled with their finest Danforth Whiskey, neat. Something to calm your nerves.Â
+Â
âGentlemen, please take your beginning stances,â The Lawyerâs voice booms over a loud speaker across the field. Â
Titus and Fitz stare at each other from about 50 yards away, Titus pulling up his rifle, and Fitz placing his hands on two handguns in his waist holster. Itâs practically silent, barely a brush of wind or sound from forest animals to distract Titus from the blood pumping in his veins, rushing through and heating his body.Â
âThe duel will begin in 3...2...ââ The sound of a grand clock striking midnight rings throughout the club room and the field, and instantly after the first bell tolls comes the sound of a gunshot.Â
Titus shoots a second time, swearing to himself, as Fitz dodges by rolling to the ground. Titus gets another shot off, and then loads another as he stomps across the field, teeth gritted as he watches Fitz roll towards the tree line.Â
âFuck,â Titus hisses, shooting again as he watches Fitz duck behind a tree, missing again. He was expecting a little bitch of a challenge, was hoping for it so he could really give you a show, but he didnât expect Fitz to be so quick. Titus catches him leaning over to try to get a look out at him, and aims quickly before shooting again, splintering the tree but missing Fitz again. âYouâve gotta be fucking kidding me.âÂ
+Â
âFitz is so fast, he was on multiple Olympic track teams, you know? And All State in high school and college,â Felicity brags, earning interested hums from the other families in the room. She looks down at you with a pleased smirk, basking in positive attention for once. Â
You want to scream. You want to throw the glass in your hand at her and slit her throat open with the shards. You want to get in her face and remind her that Titus is a monster. Heâs killed dozens of men and women like Fitz.Â
But you stay in your seat, downing the last drops of the whiskey as your eyes stay glued to the screens. Â
Ursula gives a nod, and an attendant comes over to fill the glass again.Â
+Â
As Titus goes to load his rifle for the third time, he hears a rustling from the trees, and looks up just in time to see Fitz raising his own guns at him. Titus drops to the ground before Fitz can get a shot off, pulling the rifle into his chest and rolling onto his front. Â
He squeezes an eye closed and aims again, this time managing to hit one of Fitzâs guns out of his hand.Â
âAhh! Fuck!â Fitz shouts in pain, dropping the smashed gun to the ground. His hand burns, wrist stinging, and he quickly leans back behind the tree as he clenches that fist shut. His face breaks into an amused smile. âGood shot, old man!âÂ
âNot that much older...â Titus mumbles, loading another round into the rifle. He shoots towards Fitzâs tree again, more as a warning shot to keep him back than anything actually meant to maim.Â
With Fitz still stunned, Titus takes the opportunity to jump up from the ground and run to the trees. He's not going to go right for the other man, heâs still got one good gun, and inside the forest itâs going to be harder to get a clear shot with his own gun, but he wants to get closer. He can do the most damage with his hands.Â
He doesnât bother to stay quiet as he moves through the trees, wants Fitz to know heâs coming, and when he circles enough to spot the man leaning up against the trunk, Titus raises his gun with a smirk. âGotcha.âÂ
âFuck,â Fitz swears, eyes wide as he ducks again, just in time for Titusâs shot to hit the spot on the tree right where his face had been a second ago. He yelps as he lands on his bruised wrist, but manages to still himself in time to get a couple shots off his other gun.Â
One of which rips right past Titusâs arm, grazing the skin with a painful force that enough to knock him over. âAhh!â Titus yells, dropping his rifle and grabbing at his arm, where a small cut bleeds through the white of his shirt. He pulls his hand back to stare at his own blood, eyes dark with anger. âLittle punk.âÂ
Thereâs no time to sit a stew over it, because Fitz starts shooting again, and Titus twists his body behind another thick tree, chest heaving and jaw tight. Â
The gun goes off until itâs out of bullets, and Fitz is swearing and throwing it to the side.Â
+Â
âHa! First blood spilled tonight is Titus!â Felicity giggles, the sound like nails on a chalkboard to you. âPerhaps my dear cousin has lost his touch.âÂ
Youâre on your feet in half a second, without even thinking, eyes wild as you stare her down with barely contained rage. You want to scream that actually the first to spill Titusâs blood tonight was you. In a kiss, the only way it should be spilled, in an act of love. By the only one who deserves it. The one who owns his blood, his soul, his heart. Youâre about to leap across the room to strangle her, when Ursula shoves you down by the shoulder.Â
She leans down and whispers right into your ear. âYou cannot touch her until the duel is over. Get it together.âÂ
With a deep breath, you close your eyes, and remained in your seat, fingers going white where they grip the glass.Â
+Â
With no way of knowing what else Fitz has armed himself with, Titus uses the moments of near silence to take his chance, and break into a run towards the other man. He jumps over bushes and fallen branches, ignoring the leaves and little twigs that scratch at him as he runs, raising his rifle again. Â
He shoots again once Fitz is in view, just barely missing the manâs shoulder, and then heâs on him. Titus grips the barrel end of his rifle, smashing it into Fitzâs cheek, a loud crack echoing from the breaking of the manâs nose.Â
âFUCK!â Fitz yelps, ducking a grabbing his nose, his own blood pooling in his hand. He manages to dodge Titusâs next hit, grabbing the rifle and using all of his strength to keep Titus from hitting him with it again. Â
They both groan from the exertion of fighting for control over the rifle, teeth gritted and voices rumbling. Fitz is able to win out, twisting the rifle in Titusâ hands, forcing him on his back on the ground, and Titus lets go. He quickly rolls away, as Fitz lets out a wild yell, throwing the useless rifle somewhere far off into the woods. Â
âNice try, old manâ"Â
Titus scoffs at the taunt again, spitting up at Fitz, the saliva staining his cheek. As he stands again, he reaches to his sides, hands gripping both of the large, serrated hunting knives. Â
The light from the moon is bright as it shines through the trees, combined with the orange and yellow glow emitting from the Lodge. Itâs enough for the high-tech cameras to catch all the action, but to Fitzâs human eyes, Titusâs silhouette comes through as a hulking figure, something monstrous. Something not human at all.Â
Fitz blanches, eyes widening as he wipes the spit from his face and backs up. His hands shake as he reaches behind, swallowing a large lump in his throat.Â
âTalk all the shit you want, one of us has won dozens of these duels, and the other is a fucking idiot who thinks a few little tricks are going to impress Le Bail.â Titusâs voice is low, gravelly, menacing. It almost sounds like two voices in one, the other growing from somewhere deep within the fires of his soul.Â
+Â
You stand up, eyes wide as you walk closer to the TVs, with your free hand you press your finger on a screen with an overhead shot of your husband. Even from all the way out here, you can see his true form. The shadows make it seem like heâs walking through black smoke, the knives in his hands shine, and you wish more than anything that you could have a closer view. Â
What you wouldnât give to be standing alongside him, still allowing him to take the lead in the right, but able to see every detail of his power up close.Â
Behind you, a few murmurs reach your ears, Felicity snickering and goading them on. Theyâre all watching you in this trance, and theyâre...laughing. Taunting you like theyâd done during the reception.Â
Your hand clenches, and you turn back to her, straightening your spine with your jaw clenched. âYour husband looks a little scared,â and your gaze moves to the other cousins that had dared to join her side for even just one small moment, âdonât you think?âÂ
Several faces fall from their smiles, terror growing in their places, as the cousins all look away, nodding to agree with you instead.Â
+Â
Fitz backs up with that same wide-eyed expression, injured hand held up in the air, not in surrender but rather to keep some sort of barrier between them, while the other remains behind his back. His back hits the trunk of a massive tree, thick and winding and old, and he sucks in a breath.Â
âEnjoy your final moments kid, I know I will,â Titus smirks, stopping only a meter away from the man, holding one of his knives up in line with his face.Â
He slashes the knife, Fitz yelps and ducks, and Titus slashes again, managing a deep cut on the manâs arm as he tries to get away. But before Titus can strike again, Fitz pulls the weapon heâd had hidden behind his back, an antique crossbow.Â
âOr Iâll enjoy yours, fucking bastard!â Fitz yells, carelessly shooting his first arrow.Â
It swipes past Titusâs face, sharp point just barely grazing his cheek, a line of red staining his freckled skin as he hisses. His eyes narrow as he wipes the blood with the back of his fist, keeping his knife raised as a shield against the next arrow flying towards him.Â
He breaks into a run in a circle around Fitzâs body, avoiding the barrage of arrows that follow in quick succession. Â
Once behind Fitz, Titus launches into him, slashing his bad arm with the knife again, cutting deep, and blood splatters onto both Titus and the ground.Â
Fitz screams in pain, but he gets upright again, running in the opposite direction. Titus throws one of the knives this time, nailing Fitz right in the leg, and the cut is deep as Fitz reaches down to yank it out. Â
âGet back here and fight me like a fucking man, you pathetic little child,â Titus screams as he chases after him. Fitz disappears into the dark of the trees and Titus stops short, chest heaving as his breaths come out ragged, a tiny smile on his lips. A little droplet of blood trickles down his cheek from the little cut, but he can barely feel the pain from it now. âWhere the fuck are you?âÂ
+Â
Anger boils from somewhere deep in your belly at the sight of your husbandâs blood trailing down his beautiful face. You have half a mind to turn around and take it out on Felicity, who has gone back to postering about her man.Â
But everything else about Titus is so fucking erotic to you. The power he displays, the lack of fear, the hunger that had flashed in his eyes when heâd spilled Fitzâs blood. Your body heats up, eyes growing black, and you bite your lip to keep from moaning.Â
+Â
Titus stays low as he moves through the trees, eyes scanning the shadows to find any sign of Fitz hiding from him. He really thought this was going to be a harder fight.Â
A soft crack sounds from behind Titus, and he snaps his body around to chase it, grunting and growling, like a feral wolf zeroing in on its prey. Â
Another arrow zooms by, and Titus knows heâs close by the sound of the crossbow clicking coming to his ears. He runs through a row of trees and into a clearing, where Fitz is crouched on is good knee, teeth gritted as he does his best to keep his strength up and shoot off a few more arrows. He yells a cry like a falling warrior as he presses the trigger over and over again, until finally he runs out of amo.Â
Before he gets a chance to reload, Titus throws his other knife, and it lands smack into the mouth of the crossbow, rendering it useless. Fitz swears, loud and broken and desperate, as he throws the crossbow as hard as he can at Titus.Â
It hits him roughly on the shoulder, a few splinters of wood cuts into his skin through the thin dress shirt, but Titus isnât deterred. Â
He has one weapon left, but heâs saving it.Â
Fitz clearly came unprepared, as he scrambles to his feet and runs at Titus full force, no more weapons for him to choose from on his person. At the last second, Fitz throws a handful of rocks at Titusâs face, who squeezes his eyes shut for only a millisecond to avoid being blinded.Â
Butâs just enough time for Fitz, Titus grunting from the pain, and then Fitz is on him.Â
+Â
You gasp as you watch Fitz tackle your husband to the ground, and their hands meet in the air, Titus pushing up and Fitz trying to break free from his grip to punch him.Â
âThere we go,â Felicity says delightfully, smacking her lips. âTitus really is out of practice, this is where my Fitz really shines. Iâm going to enjoy this very much.âÂ
You rear around again, and again Ursula stops you, stepping between your body and Felicityâs. âIgnore her. This is where Titus shines too.âÂ
+Â
Titus is able to launch Fitz back off his body, and both men race to their feet, raising their fists.Â
Itâs Titus who makes the first move, swinging a hard punch to Fitzâs left, then following it with an uppercut when the first attempt is dodged, nailing him in the jaw. Â
Fitz yells, then starts swinging wildly. Both men exchange blows, and punch to the cheek, to the nose, both bruising spitting out their own blood, but neither really getting the upper hand.Â
Again, Fitz launches into Titus, yelling through the pain of Titus punch him over the shoulder as he uses all his strength to force the man into the closest tree. Titusâs back hits it with a heavy thud, and his head snaps back, smacking against the trunk as well, sending him reeling.Â
Finally, for the first real time tonight, Fitz gets the upper hand in the fight. He knees Titus in stomach, doubling him over, and he spits blood down at the man with a triumphant grin. He grabs Titus by the hair, yanking his neck back, slamming his face into the tree, the wood cutting more little lines into his skin.Â
+Â
âNo,â you whisper, raising a hand to your lips. Itâs not supposed to be like this. The cut you gave Titus is still the biggest bruise left there on his lip, but the sight of his blood spilled by someone else gives you flashbacks to that sleepless night.Â
Behind you, Felicity giggles. âYes.âÂ
+Â
Fitz tosses Titus on the ground, kicking him in the stomach as hard as he can while heâs down. âThis is who I was supposed to worry about? Huh?âÂ
âFuck you,â Titus coughs, choking blood up from his throat, still dizzy from the hits to his head. Â
âPathetic old man,â Fitz growls. He grabs Titus by the neck, one hand wrapped tight around it and he rears the man up, bringing them face to face again. âAll this for your cunt sister? And that whore wife of yours...thinks sheâs one of us? What could you possibly know what to do with a pretty young thing like that, anyway? From what we heard, you couldnât even knock her up. Useless.âÂ
And that... that breaks Titus out of his daze real quick. Words against him and Ursula are an annoyance at best, but you? No sleazy piece of shit, lower than dirt human will raise their tongue against you and expect to live. Titusâs heart starts pumping double time, and he sucks in deep breaths, hands clenching into white knuckled fists at his sides.Â
âMaybe before weâve drained you, Iâll ask Le Bail if I can keep her for myself. As soon as I win, Iâll make it a command that I can have as many wives as I please,â Fitz says with a low, menacing laugh. âAlready got Felicity so I can have the power, Iâll take your sister, and your little bride. Show her what itâs like to have a real man.âÂ
The moment of taunting laughter from Fitz is all Titus needs to make his move. He punches hard down on the knife wound on Fitzâs leg, grabbing it and squeezing, as the manâs scream rips through the night, and he lets go of Titusâs neck.Â
Cracking the exhaustion out of his neck, Titus slowly stands tall, towering over Fitzâs pitiful body, and he reaches over his shoulder to pull out his final weapon. Â
The Warhammer comes down hard on Fitzâs already injured leg, smashing the bone to bits and breaking it entirely. The manâs strangled cry is music to Titusâs ears, and he licks his lips. Â
The hunger grows in his belly, the scent of blood and bones floods his senses. Titusâs body starts to vibrate, the sickly sweet adrenaline coursing through his veins causing a smile to break out on his face. The shadows and moonlight create an image, to both Fitz and you watching through the screen, of an angel of death.Â
+Â
âShit!â Felicity screams, throwing a glass on the ground from her own bratty frustration, the fragments shatter across the floor. âItâs not fair!âÂ
Her snooty, bragging smile had left the moment Fitz started talking about taking you as a wife. She knew not only did he mean it, but that saying it to Titus would mean his end. Â
You had twisted with disgust in your throat, but itâs reformed into something completely different now. You watch as Titus raises his warhammer, and slams it directly into Fitzâs ribs, and the crunch of bones is so loud you can hear it through the cameraâs microphone. Â
Your eyes go wide in an eager smile, saliva forming under your tongue. Your thighs clench and you know youâve soaked through your panties already.Â
+Â
The sound of bones breaking echoes through the trees, as Titus jams the warhammer into Fitzâs spine, most likely snapping it in two. Â
Titus lets out a thrilled laugh as he watches Fitz crumble in front of him, and he drops the weapon to the ground. Thereâs still a little bit of life left in the man, but Titus will snuff that out soon.Â
He rips his leather gloves off with his teeth, pocketing them before wrapping both hands around Fitzâs neck. Thereâs no fight left in Fitzâs fading eyes, as Titus squeezes his throat, crushing the veins under his hands. He wants to feel the life fade from Fitz without a barrier. Small, choked out breathes escape the manâs lips, eyes and skin turning red from the blood vesicles popping, tongue lolling out to the side.Â
âYouâre a worm of a man and I am a fucking god,â Titus groans, voice deep, dark. âYouâre never gonna get these hands on my wife. Or yours ever again.â Then Titus brings his lips right to Fitzâs ear, hissing as he declares, âIâll see you in hell, when I come to rule it.âÂ
His hands press down on the manâs throat until he hears a distinct crunch, and all the light leaves his eyes, as a final breath is caught between the bones.Â
His body falls to the ground with a heavy thud.Â
+Â
Felicity lets out a roaring scream, falling to the ground in a fit of tears.Â
You bring your whiskey back up to your lips with a satisfied, needy smile.Â
+Â
After a few moments of staring down at Fitzâs spent body, blinking as he takes in the pathetic form of his latest victim. Â
Then, without much more thought, Titus picks up his warhammer again, fingers tapping the handle before wrapping around it tight. He knows thereâs a camera hidden in the tree right across from him, and somewhere in the clubroom where youâve been forced to wait, youâd have the perfect view of him. You saw every part of it. You heard the vile things this piece of meat had to say about you.Â
He raises the warhammer above his head, and lets out an animalistic yell as he brings it down on Fitzâs head, smashing his skull to bits. The blood splatters up on him, staining his white shirt with beautiful red splotches, and smattering over his face in an arching pattern.Â
Titus looks right down the camera, as though piercing right through to your eyes, and he licks his lips. Â
+Â
The glass presses into your bottom lip as your mouth is dropped open, eyes wide and hungry, staring at how your husband eviscerated Fitzâs skull with his warhammer.Â
âYup,â is all you can say, attention never leaving the screen. You want to get this part over with. You stare at the screen at Titus, covered in blood, looking like a demonic king. His muscles ripple through the lines of his shirt, and you want to get your hands on him more than anything. You want to scratch down his chest, leave red marks with your nails, spill his blood onto your hands, and then you want to clean him off with your tongue.Â
Ursula giggles, âGross.âÂ
She glances over at Felicity, who is sobbing hysterically, hand covering her mouth as she watches in horror, as for the second time in her life, Titus Danforth has killed her husband. âYou are fucking monsters, all of you!âÂ
Ursula starts to take a step to her, but you beat her to it, finally dropping the glass and forcing her to move back until she hits a wall. âYouâre pathetic for ever thinking you and that piece of garbage could take our place. We have the High Seat, not because Titus and Ursula were lucky to have been born to the right branch of the family, and not because I got lucky being thrown at them like a fucking sacrificial lamb. We have it because we are the strongest and the most vicious. Le Bail doesnât settle for anything less. You are a lesser being.âÂ
Felicityâs mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words of response seem to come. Her hands clench at her sides, fingernails like claws that look ready to pounce. And as much as sheâs allowed to do it, she knows very clearly now that itâs a fight she will lose.Â
âNow, now Danforths,â The Lawyerâs chipper voice breaks through the tension. His smile reaches wide to his ears and all the way into his teeth, toothy like a cat. âWe must retire to the Black Temple and complete the rituals. Mr. Le Bail does not want to be kept waiting.âÂ
The room begins to clear out, with Felicity running out first, wiping the tears from her eyes, sobbing and calling for her mother. The others look at you, eyes full of fear and reverence, and you just know they finally get it. Not only are you one of them, youâre the best of them.Â
âIf only Titus got to see that,â Ursula whispers to you with a wink. âCome on,â she says, wrapping her arm in yours, and guiding you out of the room.Â
You give her a smile, but your mind is elsewhere. It races with images of the fight, memories of every night youâve spent with Titus, the feeling of how your power has grown within your own body, thanks to yourself, yes, but through him. Your mind is made up.Â
+Â
By the time you enter the Black Temple, itâs already filled with about fifty other Danforth family members, the ones who wanted to be there for the final part of the ritual. Â
Titus stands in the middle of the room, Fitzâs dead body laying on the ground with a trail of dark red blood from where Titus had dragged him into the room. He hasnât bothered to clean any of the blood off his face or arms, he knows this is how youâll want to see him, the spoils of his fight.Â
And your breath is taken away as you emerge at the top of the stairs, giddy and buzzing and relieved, and so fucking turned you feel aggressive. You want to scream at everyone to leave so you can rip Titusâs blood covered clothes from his body and take his cock in your mouth or you pussy or wherever he wants you, however he wants you.Â
You run down the steps, Danforths parting left and right to stay out of your path, and you leap into his arms. Not a care is given to the blood that now stains your lilac gown, as you catch him in a deep kiss, tongue licking into his mouth, teeth biting down on the mark youâd given him, as you both whine into it. Â
You give no thought to your audience, as you glide your fingers into his soft hair, sweaty and wild from his duel. He smells like the woods, the blood, his own natural musk, and you just want to get your tongue all over him. You want to kiss the cuts on his cheek and arm, the bruises on his body that someone else put on him, replace every single one with a mark of love from you. Â
This is how he felt the night you got married, and had traced over every war wound youâd received. Â
A cough comes from behind you, not impatient, just the Lawyer trying to move things along. Ursula appears at your sides, giving Titus a soft pat on the back.Â
Titus carefully lets you down, but keeps you close in his arms as the Lawyer goes through the steps of the ritual. He leads the room in a few chants, a few Hail Satans, and he pulls out the ceremonial knife, handing it to Titus.Â
With a devious smile directly to Felicity, who stands angrily staring the three of you with her jaw clenched, Titus drags whatâs left of Fitz over to the open goat pit. He holds the body just over the mouth of the pit, yanking the neck back so itâs exposed, and as The Lawyer reads the last of the rites, Titus slits the skin of its neck, and fountains of blood pours into the pit.Â
The room breaks into a chant of HAIL SATAN! And the fires of the wall sconces, candles, and grand fireplace grow to greater heights.Â
The last drops of blood are drained from the body, and Titus kicks it into the pit, then raises his knife in a triumphant pose, as cheers break out through the room. Â
Your eyes shine as you take in the scene, the entire family giving praise and thanks to a successful duel. The whole reason theyâre all still standing here and not blown to bits of bloody goo, is because Titus won. That is who the three of you are to the Danforth clan. Itâs more than just head of a family or a kings and queens.Â
Your heart thumps deep in your chest, and you wrap a dainty hand around Titusâs hard bicep, bringing his attention back to you. And he can see it in the rise of your chest, the look of sheer hungry fire in your eyes. You need him. Â
âMr. Danforth, congratulations on another successful duel, Mr. Le Bail is very proud, you of course have his approval again,â The Lawyer says, as you both turn back to him. His eyes meet yours again. âBoth of you.âÂ
You suck in a breath, gaze moving to the set of shelves just beyond him, to the heart candle and ritual materials that Felicity had gathered. âTitus,â you sigh, tugging on his bloody sleeve, looking up him with a pleading expression. âTitus...I canât wait any longer.âÂ
A puzzled frown settles on your husbandâs face for just a moment, until he realizes what you mean, and the excitement blooms as heat in his chest. âYou sure, Little Lamb?âÂ
You nod, then look over at Felicity, who stares pitifully down into the pit. âJust one more thing, and then...âÂ
As though reading your mind, Titus cuts you off with a kiss, placing the family knife in your hand.Â
âEveryone OUT!â Titus shouts, hand tracing up your back, thumb rubbing impatiently on your skin.Â
âNot you, Felicity,â you snap, as she tries to leave through the crowds of family members. A few stray eyes remain on the group of you, but they all know better than to try to stop what will inevitably happen next.Â
Ursula is the one who blocks her path, twisted smile on her face. She understand what the two of you had planned, but sheâs the one whoâs been waiting decades for it. âSorry, did you think you would be walking away from this?âÂ
âWhat the fuck are you talking about?â Felicity spits. Mascara has run down her face, her lipstick is smudged where sheâd rubbed it around while crying, and her hair sits out in wild strings. Â
Sheâs never looked worse. Ursula is so happy. But she waits until the other witnesses from the family have left you all alone. âThose things you were saying to my dear sister-in-law today about her and Titus, and me even? In fact, the shit youâve been saying about me for years? Youâre done getting away with it. You are the weakest, most pathetic, branch of the family tree, and we are done trying to nourish you.âÂ
âI wanted to cut you off years ago, after your first marriage, actually,â Titus says with a shrug. âBut this guy today? Wow. You really know how to pick âem. You werenât even good enough for him alone, you heard what he said about taking my wife and my sister? That thing didnât even like you that much.âÂ
You giggle as you watch the red hot anger seep into her expression. Titus gives you a small pat on the back, encouraging you to step forward. That feeling deep inside, that voice that goads you on, reminds you how good it feels to split someoneâs skin, to take a life, it is screaming at you. It fills your veins with electric venom, and you look to The Lawyer for quick approval.Â
He smirks and you and bows his head.Â
âWeâre allowed to kill family members.âÂ
The last thing you see before pure red and white fills your vision is the look of horror on Felicityâs face, the last thing you hear is her blood curdling scream echoing through the temple. You black out completely, and when you come to, Felicityâs body lays at your feet, twenty stab wounds covering her, red blood staining her wedding dress and your own, the knife clangs to the ground.Â
The feeling of Titusâs hand on your back brings you back. âWonderful, my little lamb, Iâm so proud of you.âÂ
Ursula kicks Felicityâs body into the pit with her husbandâs, and then brushes her hands clean. âWell, that was our best wedding since...well yours I guess. Mr. Lawyer, shall we? I think the happy couple needs some alone time.âÂ
She reaches out a hand and The Lawyer takes it, assisting her in exiting up the stairs. Ursula throws you one more wink, before shutting the grand doors behind her, leaving the two of you alone.Â
Thereâs only one second of quiet, one humming pause in the room filled with thick tension, before Titus is on you.Â
His mouth crashes into yours and his hands grab all over, digging into the fabric of your dress, mixing the blood stains from Fitz and Felicity. Titus pulls down on your dress until it pools at your feet, and youâre surprised he didnât just rip it to shreds. Â
Youâre about to make a joke about it, when Titus lifts you and carries you over to the alter table, biting down on your neck. He whimpers at the taste of blood on your skin, and places you down gently. You moan at the feeling of his warm, hard body against yours.Â
Itâs all frantic, the way you grab at each other, the way you kiss and bite all over, the way your hands push at the leather holster on his shoulders. You shove it to the ground with a clunk, then grab at his blood-stained white shirt, the force of which pulls apart the buttons. Â
With a whimper, Titus lets you rip the shirt open and scratch down his chest, as your lips move to kiss over each little cut left by the trees on his cheek. Â
Mournfully, Titus pushes back, just by a foot, to get a better view of you. Both your chests are heaving, rising and falling from the rapid breaths you both release, the same rapid beating of your hearts, but he canât take his eyes off the white lingerie set, lacy and soft, that you put on just for him.Â
âYou look like an angel,â he says breathlessly, eyes full of awe.Â
Even if you werenât covered in little splotches of blood, youâd still find the comparison to be hilariously ironic, in a place like this. You reach out, fingers wrapping around the pendant you gave him, and you tug him forward with the chain, pulling his warmth back into you. Your tongue licks at the cut youâd left on his lip. Â
âTitus, stay with me,â your voice is low, velvety. You link your free hand with his, spread your legs just slightly, and bring the hand between them. âWhen I was watching you out there...fuck. It was everything I wanted, everything I thought youâd be. Youâre so fucking strong, so fucking terrifying, my big powerful man.âÂ
âYeah?â A wicked, toothy smile breaks on your husbandâs face, eyes wild. âI look like a monster?â Youâre nodding before he even finishes asking. He flattens two fingers against the thin layer of lace that covers your slit, soaked through completely. âThat monster is all yours. I told you I would kill for you, my love. They could make me fight a gauntlet of a hundred fucking useless vipers like that thing, and Iâd destroy them all for you.âÂ
âI know,â you moan. âI loved it. Everyone in that room could see it, they all knew what I wanted to do you, to thank you...to reward you.âÂ
âYou donât needâ"Â
âShh,â you let go of his hand, press those fingers to his lips instead. A shudder runs through you when he reacts by rubbing his fingers up and down your pussy, and your hips buck into him, voice cracking when you continue. âTitus, I want to try again. Itâs all I could think about watching you. I wanted you so bad, I was ready to rip my clothes off and run through those woods completely naked so you could fuck me next to his body, I didnât care who was watching.âÂ
âFuck,â Titusâs voice shakes, and his eyes roll back, body contracting even closer to yours.Â
âIâm ready to try again, you were right,â you whimper, yanking harder on his chain to pull his attention back to you. âShe brought everything here for us. We gave Mr. Le Bail two sacrifices, showed him why weâre the strongest, the most worthy of holding his high seat,â your face falls down into a pout, âand I want you to fuck me, like how you killed your prey, here in the temple you built for me.âÂ
And Titus hears it in your voice but thereâs something else in it. Something rumbling and shadowy under the words, something reverberating in your voice. Something pulls him into a trance, mind zeroed in on only you.Â
âYes, Little Lamb, letâs make an heir.âÂ
Itâs cold when Titus rips himself from your body, running quickly to the shelf to grab the materials, and you rush to grab the knife from the ground. You hear Titus mumbling out the spells as he draws a messy pentagram with chalk in the center of the table. Thereâs no careful placement of materials tonight, no ceremony about it, Mr. Le Bail will have to forgive you.Â
Titusâs fingers shake as he lights a match to set the heart candle ablaze. When everything is set, as good as itâs going to get tonight, he pulls you into a deep kiss, ripping the bralette from your body. He just canât stop himself from leaning down and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, as your back arches into his touch.Â
You tear the rest of his shirt off, careful not to irritate the cut on his arm from the fight. His mouth doesnât leave, moaning and whimpering as he sucks the hardened nub into his mouth. One of your hands slides into his hair, scratching at his scalp, holding him to you for just a little longer.Â
He finally lets go and snatches the knife from you, quickly pricking both of your fingers, kissing you as he draws the symbols on your bodies; a pentagram on his chest and one over your womb.Â
You reach down to unbuckle his belt, and youâre about to wrestle him out of his pants, when the memory of a sick thought from earlier shows back up in your mind. Â
âTitus, c-could you, um,â you bite your lip, almost too excited to even say it.Â
âWhat, Baby? Whatever you want, you can have.âÂ
âCan you wear the gloves?âÂ
A devious smirk cracks onto Titusâs face, and he stands up straighter, looking down at you curiously. Thereâs no argument when he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the black leather gloves heâd dawned earlier, eyes never leaving your aroused face as he carefully slips them back on. Titus leans over you until your body hits the edge of the alter table, and your back arches on it. His hands land flat on the table on either side of you, strong, muscled arms bracketing your body, trapping you.Â
âYou want me to fuck you with these on? Oh, Baby,â He laughs, cruel and teasing, and so fucking turned on. âWhat me to bruise you with these on? Hm?â He grabs your face and you moan at the feeling of the rough leather on your jaw, eyes shutting from the pleasure. âWant me to treat you like a piece of meat? Like some thing Iâm hunting in the forest? Can I spank you with these on too? Hm? Bet itâll be so much easier to mark you up with leather rather than just my hands. That what you want?âÂ
âYes,â you whine, grabbing at his forearms, not to move him, but rather because you already feel your legs going weak, and you need the anchor. âPlease, Titus.âÂ
He does what you want, rears back his hand to give a slap on the cheek. It's lighter than what heâd normally do, but you still react beautifully to it. You let out a quick squeak, eyes going wide but dark, wanting, and your body pulses from the impact.Â
âFuck, look at you,â Titus moans, and he suddenly turns you around, pushing your front onto the table. âSo needy for it,â he says, voice quiet, mostly to himself, and full of admiration. Somehow, a small part of him still canât believe someone like you exists, just for him. He drops to his knees behind you, and tugs your panties down your legs, wrapping them around his wrist for safe keeping. âSo needy for me.âÂ
He slaps your ass, and the leather creates such a delicious sting on your skin. You hiss and he spanks you again, then gives one of your cheeks a quick bite as he stands back up. That makes you gasp and squeak again, and you look over your shoulder at him, eyes wet and pleading. Â
You donât get a chance to beg before heâs spanking you in that same spot again, and as the skin heats, you just know a deep mark is already starting to form. You whimper as he hits you again and again, pussy leaking as you writhe into his touch.Â
His hand comes down for the umpteenth time, you havenât bothered to keep count, and then it grabs your ass, squeezing where heâs left a handprint on you. Â
Then, digging his fingers in hard, Titus starts to rake his hand up to waist, and with both he leaves a deep trail on your skin with the gloves. The leather drags and leaves goosebumps as he slides up your sides, over your tummy, up to your chest to grope your breasts, and then back around to your back, up your shoulders, until they stop on the back of your neck.Â
With a grunt, Titus, shoves you back down on the alter table, face pressed to the cool, onyx stone. His voice comes out low and scratchy, but with a steely resolve as he continues the ritual, âWith thy assistance, may the seed grow in your wisdom and your strength.âÂ
Your fingers are flat on the alter table, and you feel him move quickly behind you, the sound of his buckle clinking open echoes through the room, reaching your ears like a melody. When Titus presses against you again, you shudder at the feeling of his dress pants on your thighs. Â
He didnât bother to take them off, he canât wait any longer. He kicks your legs open more for him, and grabs you hard by the waist with one hand, while the other grips his cock. He rubs the head into your dripping entrance, biting his lip at the view of it glistening, overflowing for him.Â
âWith me, Baby,â Titus grunts, pushing the head of his dick inside you.Â
Youâre both breathless as he shoves his cock in all the way, chanting together, âShemhamforash.âÂ
Titus whines at the feeling of your tight, hot pussy taking him in, practically whimpering as he follows up with, âHail Satan.âÂ
He doesnât give you a single moment to breathe before heâs pulling out and quickly driving back in, hips meeting your ass with a delicious slap. Heâs spent the last ten months memorizing every little thing that drives you crazy, and he proves it every time heâs inside you. Â
âNobody could ever fill you like this,â Titus grunts, setting a brutal pace, as a hand slides up the ridges of your spine until it twists in your hair. He yanks you back hard, ripping a surprised yelp from you, then swats at your ass again. âHmm? Who were you fucking made for?âÂ
âYouYouYouYouYou, Titus,â your voice breaks, cracking deliciously as you chant his name, already so taken apart by him. Â
âThatâs right, fucking made for me,â He shouts, voice cracking beautifully into a whimper, like heâs desperate to not only remind you, but any force or spirit that could be listening. âYouâre mine, my fucking wife, and this is my soaked pussy, and Iâm going to fuck you full of my fucking seed.âÂ
Heâs fucking you hard enough to make it hurt, to make bruise, so youâll feel it for weeks, just the way he knows you love. The way that always got you through when he had to leave you for business. The way that no other woman whoâs ever taken him as been able to handle. None of them, no matter how rough he may have gotten, have ever had the true full force of Titus Danforth, but youâve craved it since youâd met him.Â
âPlease, Titus, want it so fucking bad,â you mewl. ââm all yours.âÂ
Any other night, any other context, youâd be slapping him and shoving him back and showing him just how much he belongs to you too, but the ritual requires submission, and fuck it just feels so good to not have to think too much.Â
But he already knows what you want to hear, and heâs always happy to show that he knows too. âând Iâm yours, sweet lamb, body and soul. My sick little monster, Iâll give you everything in this world that you want.â He lets your hair go and you drop to the alter, as both his hands grip hard at your hips as he leans over your back, chain tickling your skin. âMoney, homes, my cock, my love, a baby, youâll have it all.âÂ
Adrenaline pumps through your veins in thunderous echoes, mouth dropped open as cries release freely. You must look like animals, like a pair of demonic mates fucking covered in blood, moaning and grunting in perfect harmony. Â
Your eyes glaze over, only the feeling of his hard cock fucking hard into you, his fingers digging into your skin, his grunts like a drum beat, can break through the jolts of pleasure that ripple through you.Â
Titus heaves in deep breath after breath, as his gravely, scratchy voice continues on with the latin parts of the ritual, drawing in the powers of the devil to fill you. The room grows hot as fires grown around you form every sconce and candle and the fireplaces. Itâs as you remember from the first time youâd tried it, a new presence entering your space. Your cheek presses to the alter table as you look directly into the fire across from you.Â
Even in your trance, your brain a fuzzy cloud consumed only by thoughts of Titus, eyes hypnotized by the flames dancing in front of them, you see something in the fireplace.Â
There are eyes staring back at you. Eyes youâve now seen a few times, and a crooked, fanged smile in the flames. This time you donât stare in awe at him, no, your wide eyes are filled with determination. This time you beg him.Â
âPlease, please, please,â your voice is whiny and desperate, raw from screaming. âI want it so bad, I need it. Please,â your voice raises, both in volume and tone, and you wonder if Titus even registers your pleas are not for him. âPlease, give us an heir.âÂ
Behind you, Titus only moans louder, hips hitting into you harder, hands gripping down on you harder, the pendant you gave him bounces against your back. He pulls you up to his chest, one hand wrapping around to hold you there by your tummy, the other glides up to grope at your breast, pinching your nipple between his middle and pointer finger.Â
In front of you, Le Bailâs smile grows with the flames, as you feel the blood of your victims begin to shimmer and heat on your skin. This time, you feel a hand wrap around your throat and force you to look upwards. Â
You canât see him, thereâs no face in flames looking back, but, as tears slip from the outer corners of your eyes, running in cold tracks down the side of your face, you hear a deep, velvety voice in your mind, âAsk me again.âÂ
âPlease,â you choke out. âGive us an heir.âÂ
The hold releases and you feel something soft like lips kiss the center of your forehead. You hear laughter and crackling, like little sparklers going off all around you, and then the presence is gone.Â
Titus is moaning in your ear, and he licks up one of your tears, lips staying at your temple. The movement of his body into yours hasnât stopped or slowed down at all, as though he wasnât aware anyone else was here with you. His hand takes its own place on your neck, forcing you back to look at him instead, finding your eyes distant. âYou with me, Little Lamb?âÂ
âYes,â you moan, touching your own hand to his, putting enough force to let him know you want him to squeeze down.Â
He does so, face twitching into pure admiration, and he cuts off the supply of air and blood to you for a few seconds before releasing, taking in your heaving breaths with a kiss. Â
Finally, his rhythm becomes erratic. He shoves you back onto the alter and reaches his hand between your legs. The feeling of thick leather rubbing circles onto your clit sends charges of pleasure up your spine. Your cunt flutters, legs shaking as a peak builds in your stomach, and your breath comes out high and breathy as Titus takes you closer and closer to the edge.Â
âWith me, baby, with me,â he whimpers, âCome with me while I fill you, sweet girl, fuck, come with me.âÂ
âYes, yes, Ti, I-I,â you stutter, words trapped in your throat, and with one particularly hard slam into your cervix, you scream out your husbandâs name, begging him to fill you, as your pussy clamps down tight on his cock, and you come with a loud cry. âTitus, fuck!âÂ
He swears, thrusting into you only a second later one last time, coming deep inside with a moan of your name, body convulsing as he fills you to the brim. âOh, baby, my sweet lamb, shit, thatâs it, took me so well, always take me like a good fucking girl.âÂ
The fires around you reach their great heights, and a rush of hot air bursts around you, before the lights drop back down again.Â
You twitch and whine as you feel him empty in you, warmth filling you as your spent body deflates, and the two of you whisper in unison, âHail Satan.âÂ
Your fingers curl up softly, tapping the table as though youâre trying to wake some life in you. Titus kisses up and down your spine, the back of your neck, your shoulders, as he removes the leather gloves and drops them to the ground.Â
His bare hands soothe your arms and sides. The touch of his fingers makes you shiver, goosebumps form in their paths, and you wish you could just stay like this all night. You want to keep him inside you, warm his cock until heâs able to go again, maybe let you ride him on the table this time, not for the ritual, just because you want to.Â
But you donât have all night. Titus knows this as he pulls out, turns you so youâre facing him but leaning against the table. You start to let out a whine in protest when you feel him leak from you, a spike of anxiety over wasting it pierces your heart. He can feel that energy from you, and he shoves the come back inside with two fingers.Â
The feeling is so good and so right you almost beg him to make you come again like this.Â
âHold on, baby,â his voice is soft, cutting through the needy madness in your mind. You bite your lip as you watch curiously while he unwraps your panties from his wrist with his teeth. Titus drops to his knees, looking up at you with a soft smile. âLift your feet for me.âÂ
He peppers soft kisses on your knees as he slips your panties back on, lips trailing your legs, and he pulls his fingers out once theyâre all the way in place. He kisses your lower stomach, right over your womb, humming his only silent plea to Mr. Le Bail, as you run your fingers through his sweaty, silver curls.Â
âI know it worked this time,â he says softly.Â
Just the smallest bit of fear remains in you. His lips meet the place on your tummy where, in your nightmare, Priscilla had pushed the knife in. Â
But you shake that doubt out of yourself. Titus is looking up at you with that boyish wonder, that grin that makes him look so young, despite the crows feet around his sparkling eyes. Â
âI think so too.âÂ
Your gaze trails around his body, over each of the freckles that stand out darker than others, the bruises and scratches, little leaking blood droplets from his injuries, and the blood left by his victim from the fight tonight. He must have felt some pain, right? It was a hard fight for a bit there, and Fitz got some blows in, so Titus...he must have been pushing down any pain, for you.Â
Your place your hands on his cheeks and pull him until youâre the one looking up again. You kiss his jaw, trail your lips to his, and you both sigh into it. Â
âTi,â you say, rubbing circles on the little cuts on his cheek. âYou always take such good care of me. Tonight, will you let me take care of you?âÂ
He looks unsure. âI was very rough with youâ"Â
âYou won a duel to the death,â You interrupt, voice just as stern as the look you give him. âNow Iâm not asking. Youâre going to let me take care of you.âÂ
He purses his lips petulantly, pressing down any argument heâd very much like to make. âFine.âÂ
You smile brightly, âGood. Better enjoy it while Iâm feeling generous, you know. Because if it took, then for the next few months youâre going to be doing everything for me. Right, Daddy?âÂ
Youâre pretty sure you feel his dick twitch where itâs pressing up against your thigh, and you smirk.Â
âDown boy,â you whisper, pressing another kiss to his cheek. âLetâs get you cleaned up, and then we can talk about a round two in our suite. You know, just in case.âÂ
âFuck, I love you,â Titus sighs, wrapping you in his strong arms and lifting you while you giggle. This is the you he was missing, sweet and playful and a little mean. And all his, most importantly. His little Lamb, his monster.Â
+Â
DANFORTH COUPLE EXPECTINGÂ Â
Mr. and Mrs. Danforth made an official pregnancy announcement, PEOPLE has confirmed.Â
This is the first child for Titus Danforth, only son of late billionaire businessman and political lobbyist Chest Danforth, who passed a little over year ago.Â
Mrs. Danforth is said to be in her first trimester, and everyone in the vast Danforth family has been extremely supportive of the couple. Ursula Danforth made a statement congratulating the couple on their âwonderful giftâ on her Instagram and is said to be looking forward to transitioning to her new role of Aunt and most likely God Mother.Â
The announcement comes as a light in a time of healing for the Danforth family, following the tragic death of the coupleâs cousin Felicity and her new husband Fitz. The newlyweds had sadly passed the night of their wedding after crashing their vehicle off a bridge in what police suspect to be an incident of drinking and driving. Their bodies have not yet been recovered.Â
âWe are brought together as a family in the form of new life after a great loss.â Ursula Danforth concluded in her Instagram post.Â
The couple are expecting this fall and are said to be very thrilled.Â
I know you said no to writing Pope....but would you ever consider writing for Titus Danforth??
I have nothing classy to say about that man...genuinely, like I woulda been running towards him not away. I wouldn't even know where to start with Titus! Like am I freak enough?
I have been thinking about his "fucking Irish Catholics" line for a hot minute though....
Will we try some Titus?
MDNI
Titus Danforth who is obsessed with the new maid in the Danforth home. How you try to keep out of sight as much as possible...but he can still smell your floral perfume.
Titus Danforth who has never been told no in his life but knows that maids are off limits. The Danforth line is better than that, he can't sully it with some random girl
Titus Danforth who corners you in the library where you're dusting and drags his nose over your neck, inhaling you.
Titus Danforth who sneaks into your room to steal your panties... wrapping them around his thick cock as soon as he gets back to his quarters and spilling into them with hot ropes of cum.
Titus Danforth who tells you to run...and you do, heart racing, terrified of your new boss. But he finds you quickly on the grounds of the family home.
Titus Danforth who rips that pretty little dress off you and shoves his throbbing dick into you and fucks you on a bed of leaves and twigs.
Titus Danforth who keeps you tied to his bed, fucking you over and over. Pressing your legs up to your shoulders to get deeper and deeper into you. He's gonna put a baby in you.
Titus Danforth who is obsessed with seeing his cum leak out of your needy pussy...
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content: NSFW/mdni âš implied smut âš age gap (reader is 20s, Robby is canon age) âš stepcest
1.4k words
âš âš
You find out only a few days before the three day weekend that all of your friends are either leaving town or are going to be ridiculously busy. Youâd figured that youâd drop by someoneâs house, maybe figure out who was throwing a bbq, or at least watch some movies with your roommates and bake something.
But noâ everyone is going to visit college friends, or else theyâre working extra to make holiday pay.
You grumble about it when youâre on facetime with your mom, and behind her in the kitchen her new husband cocks his head.
âYou could come here,â Robby offers.Â
Your mom scoffs. âIâm headed out of town too, thereâs the work conference up in Boston.â
He shrugs. âJust a thought, kiddo.â
You roll your eyes, but it is a nice offer, going back to sleep in your old bed, take your momâs dog out for a walk, maybe drop in and see if any of your old friend also had the time to go back to Pittsburgh.
âIâll text you if I decide to drive up,â you tell Robby, not really committing because then it would be like heâs won. But you at least do have his number, even if youâve only ever sent him two things. Itâs not like you know the guy your mom met and married when you were off at college.
Iâll drive up Thursday night you text him on Wednesday.
He sends back a thumbs upâ like a fucking dorkâ and then reminds you that you shouldnât have to worry too much about packing, your closet is still pretty full.
What he does not mention is that when you reply back with a thumbs up, he takes a garbage bag in to your old closet and shoves everything aside from the skimpiest things into the bag and hides it in his own closet.
âš âš
You drive in straight after work on Thursday, and show up at the house when itâs full dark out and you let yourself in. The light to your mom and Robbyâs room is still on, but you slip into your own room and frown when you look in your dresser drawer for pajamas
The sweater from sports in high school, the holiday pj pants your mom had gotten you in college as a jokeâ all gone. You shrug and just strip down to your underwear and call that a tomorrow problem so you can just knock the fuck out after a long day.
In the morning, the closet is bare, tooâ the t-shirts youâd accumulated in college for random clubs and the knee-length cargo shorts youâd gotten from goodwill have disappeared. All thatâs left is the daisy dukes that show your whole ass that your mother hates and lacy bras that are a size too small and the ribbed tank tops that cling to every curve.
You get dressed in that anyways and head downstairs, lured by the scent of pancakes. You pout when you go downstairs to find Robby in the kitchen in a bathrobe. He at least looks comfy.
âWhatâs wrong, kiddo?â He asks when he glances over his shoulder and sees your face.
âMost of my clothes are gone.â
He looks up like heâs thinking hard. âI think your mom might have cleaned some out to donate? Sorry, I should have double checked.â
He watches you carefully as you move around the house that morningâ bending down to refill the dogâs water dish, which gives him a straight view of your cleavage in that topâ and then again to to pick up his bone to throw it, which shows your ass cheeks that are practically hanging out of the ripped denim.
He curses under his breath when he gets the call that he has to go inâ not surprising, given the holiday, but stillâ and you offer him a hug when he comes out of his room dressed in scrubs.
âThanks, sweetie,â he says, and wraps his arms around you tighter than he ought to for just a polite good-bye. Honestly, you might have just forgotten that your mother isnât here and that youâre not obligated to do this, but heâll take it.
Youâre asleepâ in your underwear again, since itâs not like the skimpy shorts will do much of anythingâ by the time he gets home. Your door is cracked open so that the dog can come in and out if he wants, and he figures that it wonât do any harm the push the door open just a little further to get a glimpse of you in the sliver of light from the hallway.
Robby doesnât see your eyes open just a little, heâs too wrapped up in looking at the rest of you and trying not to groan aloud.
âš âš
The next day youâre up first, and you return the favor of cooking, so you turn and smile at him when he comes in bleary-eyed in his robe again.Â
âGood shift?â You ask, and pretend not to notice how his eyes sweep down you and realize that today youâd forgone the too-tight bra. Youâd skipped any bra. In the cropped, undersized concert t-shirt he can see your nipples right through the fabric.
He nods, not trusting his voice for a second. âSlammed, but fine enough. Iâm on call again, though. Sorry if Iâm not very exciting company.â
You turn back to the eggs you were cooking. âI was here to relax, really. And nobody else in town is here, so Iâm getting plenty of that done.â
After breakfast, he offers to clean up so youâre about to head out to the couch to read a book with the dog curled on your lap, but you turn back to say one last thing.
âIâm glad I came,â you tell him. âYouâre still good company.â
Honestly, itâs the most time the two of you have ever spent alone, so he just watches you walk off without really knowing how to answer you. At least itâs a nice view, your shorts riding up again.
He doesnât have to go to work, thankfully, so you have a quiet day together in a way that drives him mad. Itâs a hell of his own making, but he wonders if he made the right choice when it seems like you are actively showing off.Â
The two of you pick a movie to watch, and then you keep getting up, shuffling past him between the couch and the coffee table so that you donât bother the dog where heâs sleeping on the other side.
You wince when the movie is over, and say that you must have slept wrong, and you ask if he knows how to make a muscle chill out. Robby tries to say massage calmly, nonchalantly, but you then sit closer to him and turn your back so that he can help you out.
When thatâs done, and you sigh like a giant weight is off your chest, he shoves himself to his feet and heads off to his room.
That night, he thinks itâs over, and he vows to put your clothes back once youâre gone and not try this again, when you knock on his door.
âCome in,â he calls.
You walk in wearing an oversized t-shirt from your collegeâ one that he knows he hadnât left for you, and not something you could have just bought when youâd left for a little while in the afternoon.
âIâll be heading out in the morning,â you say, and wait to see if heâll say anything. You could have been wearing this the whole time, and heâs definitely figuring that out.Â
He nods. âDrive safe, then.â
You pout again and step into the room. âNot gonna call my outfit pretty? You really ought to learn how to flirt.â Even with both of your outfits, heâd never commented on them. It had driven you up the wall, that he would stare but wouldnât say anything.
If he wasnât going to make a move, then you will.
âI⌠thought you didnât bring anything.â
âNo, you said I shouldnât. But I packed. I just saw your game and you know what?â You walk closer to him, and itâs a victory that he takes off his readers and sets his book aside as you do. That youâre so mesmerizing that he is going to watch you now, especially since youâre practically giving him permission.
âWhat, kiddo?â Robby asks. Doesnât even deny that heâd been playing some game.
âI was down to play.â You put one knee up onto the bed to crawl closer to him, and he makes a sound that youâll hold onto for a long time when he sees that youâre not wearing any underwear beneath the shirt.
authorâs note: jumping on the chubby robby bandwagon because i love me a man that can eat and look good filled out đŠ
cw: mild nsfw content, subby robby, chubby robby, kinda dom reader, fem reader, please let me at this man holy god
robby had been gaining weight recently- his pants fitting tighter around his waist, his chest becoming softer under the forest of hair that rested there. and you couldnât have been any happier.
you were so excited that he was filling out, it meant he was eating, he was healthy, he was doing better. most of this was your doing, extra portions shoved onto his plate at dinner time, distracting him in the morning from joining jack at the gym, and of course- stress snacking.
(he always says heâs gonna stop snacking but oh no you just restocked the pantry with his favorite snack cakes and chips whatever shall he do~)
now he laid on his back in his california king, bare back against the plush pillows, you perched up against his softness, hands caressing his sides that spilled over his now tight fitting sleep pants.
âlook at you, so handsome, mikey. and all mine.â
he whimpered as your hands moved to card through the hair on his chest, back arching against your touch, pupils blown wide. he could feel your bare pussy sliding against his stomach, coarse hair sat flat with the sticky residue of your arousal, his chest heaving with each breath as his cock pressed harshly against the cotton fabric, a large dark spot leaked through where the head pressed against his thigh.
the bite of the lace soft pink babydoll nightie brushing against the trail that was left behind, the dual sensation sending shocks straight to his brain and his cock.
âso handsome. all full, your tummy all soft, your thighs plump, and your ass too, i love it.â
robbyâs hips bucked up at the praise, his head thrown to the side, his eyes shut and face flushed all the way down to his chest- a pretty dark red that accentuated the dark purple marks that littered down his neck.
âah ah, eyes on me, pretty boy. donât hide, wanna see you.â
your fingers hooked under his chin, gently bringing his head back to face you, his big brown eyes glazed over as they bore into yours, his lips swollen from either your kisses or from biting down on them.
he wasnât used to being taken care of, especially from his recent weight gain, but now, he doesnât think he could get enough of your sweet words, plus the way your body reacted to his sent his mind reeling into euphoric bliss.
dr robby x exwife!reader // you learn he's been flirting a little too much and put an end to it // listen: i know you want to see him jealous but we're getting there. i had three more of these written that i just want to post because they're funnnzies (this is a programmed post btw)
word count: 1k
warnings: robby is a jerk with capital J
make sure to check the masterlist for more toxic content
âMichael Robinavitch.â
The way you pronounced his full name was a warning in and of itself, cold and heavy enough to slice through the ambient noise of the ER. You saw the exact second he heard you; his broad shoulders visibly flinched before he even turned around.
He stood from the rolling chair in the middle of the central hub, a stack of patient charts clutched in one hand.
âDonât you dare walk away from me.â Second warning.
The effect was instantaneous. Everyone within a five-foot radius suddenly found an urgent reason to be elsewhere. Next to him, Donnie blew a sharp, low whistle. âGood luck, boss.â He tapped Robbyâs shoulder with a sympathetic grin, moving away from the blast zone.
Robby dropped back into his chair with a heavy sigh, turning your way with creased brows and an expression that was entirely too innocent. âWhat did I do now?â
You marched straight into his space, stopping at the front of his chair and leaning your hip against the high edge of the nurses' station desk. Your arms crossed tightly over your chest, creating a physical barrier between you.
Around you, the ER kept moving in its usual frantic rhythm. Monitors beeped, a trauma page echoed overhead, and nurses and doctors walked a little slower as they passed the hub, tryingâand failing miserablyâto pretend they werenât hanging on every word.
âI ask myself that every single day. What did Michael do now?â You were fuming. The heat of it was crawling up your neck, your heart thumping against your ribs like a trapped bird. âIs there a nurse shortage I havenât heard about?â
He shrugged, leaning back and resting his interlaced fingers on his stomach, his brows creasing in practiced disinterest.
âOr why are you trying to get into our kids' teachers' pants?â
âWhat?âÂ
âWhy the hell is Milaâs teacher asking me about the status of our marriage?â You spat the words, leaning down slightly into his space.
His eyes narrowed, a sudden sharpness cutting through his casual facade. âIs this a male or a female teacher?â
âFemale, Michael. A very beautiful, very young female teacher.â Your voice might as well have been dripping with poison.
Robbyâs lips twitched, a dangerous spark of amusement lighting up his eyes. âIâI donât know? Maybe she wants to ask you out.â He teased, shifting his weight forward on the chair.
âI am not joking.â You swallowed hard, trying to force the rising panic and anger back down, desperate to regain some semblance of professionalism in the middle of your work place. âShe asked me this morning if we were still married, because apparently, Milaâs dad has been aggressively flirting with her.â
Robby snapped upright, his boots hitting the linoleum floor with a loud thud as he stood. âI did not!â
âListen, I donât care who you sleep with, Robby, but keep your one-night stands away from our children.â The accusation tasted bitter. You turned sharply on your heel to walk away but his hand shot out. His fingers wrapped firmly around your elbow, stopping your tracks.
Your body jerked back into its previous position, but you didn't have time to recover your footing before he closed the distance. In a flash, he bracketed you against the desk, planting one heavy palm on the countertop on either side of your hips.
âKeep your voice down.â The order was delivered in a gravelly undertone meant for your ears alone.
Because of the sudden closeness and the sheer difference in your heights, you were forced to tilt your chin up, your eyes locking onto his. You could smell the sharp tang of hospital coffee and his familiar cologne.
He shrugged slightly, though his gaze didn't waver. âI might have teased her a little so she wouldnât sign Mila a tardy.â
âWhy was Mila late in the first place?â you counterattacked automatically, your hands coming up to press against his chest to keep him from crowding you further.
He leaned his face even closer, a shadow of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. âBecause you know I never speed with the kids in the car.â
You shoved him. Your hands laid flat against the solid plane of his chest, pushing with enough force to make him back up just enough so his elbows fully extended. But he didn't lift his hands. You were still completely trapped within his little bicep jail, the warmth of his body radiating over yours.
âDonât do that, okay? Mila doesnât need help with her grades, and we certainly donât need the discount.â
âWouldnât hurt either,â he murmured, his eyes dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up.
âMichael, I mean it. How would you feel if I started flirting with their pediatrician?â You tried to keep your tone even and level, masking the absolute urge to rip his handsome face off.
Robby didnât even blink. âIâd apply for the job.â
You scoffed. An honest-to-God, breathless scoff of disbelief. âMichael,â you whined, the anger melting into pure exasperation. âIâm trying to be serious here. Donât do that. Please.â
The playful defiance finally softened, and a genuine, warm smile broke across his face. âI didnât, okay? I swear.â His head leaned slightly sideways, watching your expression soften. âCome on, sweetheart, how much of a jerk do you think I am?â
When he saw the sharp, pointed way your eyebrows rose in response, he quickly cut in. âDonât answer that.â
A reluctant smile mirrored his own on your lips. âYouâve been warned, Robinavitch.â
He finally lifted his hands from the counter behind you, taking a step back and setting you free. The sudden rush of the ER's air-conditioning felt freezing against your skin, and against your better judgment, you instantly missed the heavy warmth of his chest.
âWarning received, boss.â He sent you a slow, deliberate wink.
Straightening your scrub top, you turned and began walking out of the central hub, heading down the main corridor.
âNo more flirting ever again, anywhere, I promise!â he called out, his voice laced with amusement.
You kept walking, not slowing your pace. âPlay in your own league, Michael!â you shouted over your shoulder.
âMy league divorced me!â he yelled back across the chaotic department.
You rolled your eyes, biting your inner cheek to keep from laughing out loud, and purposely avoided looking back so he wouldnât catch the massive smile on your face.
Robby Robinavitch finally dating, but his girlfriends a hypochondriac
It starts with something simple, a complain.
"Robby..."
You whine, your hand coming up to massage your temple. His head is in a book hes reading. Glasses perched low on his nose. He looks up, quirking a brow as if to ask "yes?". And he notices you massaging your temple, he can guess.
"I have a headache."
You complain. He places his book to the side before approaching you. He holds his finger out.
"Follow my finger."
He states, and you do. Your pupils are normal in the light from what he can see and your able to follow his finger. He shrugs.
"Have you drunk enough water?"
His eyes search yours. And judging by the way your expression turns sheepish he already knows the answer.
"Your dehydrated."
He states it like its the weather before going back to his book. And you just huff. Going to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
And then it happens again. Your reassurance for things so tiny.
"Robby, ive got a pain in my back."
You murmur while making dinner at one point. He leaves the vegetables he was chopping to approach you from behind. Feeling around your back. When he presses against the area in the middle of your lower back you wince.
"When was your last cycle?"
He asks, his rumbling voice right by your ear as he focuses.
"Two weeks ago, if anything I'm ovulating."
You answer. He hums in thought before pressing down again and earning another wince.
"You've probably pulled something, did you pick something heavy up recently?"
And when you nod, he huffs out a laugh.
"Then your fine, sweetheart."
But this time made his curiosity grow. You'd gone to the bathroom and then he hears you approach. This time he's getting ready for work. Your always up early with him. He pulls on his scrub pants, and you look genuinely worried. He stops in his tracks to approach you. Cupping your cheek and tilting your face up. His eyes search yours. And its a miracle he doesnt laugh at your words, or even smile.
"Im peeing green."
He blinks. As if trying to process it and not laugh. He'd dealt with patients with the most mortifying stories and treated them without even cracking a smile. But this almost breaks him. Yet the genuine worry in your eyes makes him pause.
"Have you taken any vitamins? Eaten anything with food dye in it perhaps?"
He asks softly, now sensing your worry. You shake your head softly before remembering something.
"Oh! I take a multivitamin. Ive had this before but its just so random."
The concern in your eyes makes his chest clench before, only in his scrub pants he leaves you there before striding to the kitchen and looking for your vitamins. While hes rummaging, he asks another question.
"Theres no burning? No pain, you feel fine?"
He asks. You stand at the doorway of the bedroom. Watching him. Another shake of your head.
"Thats why its so weird, I feel fine."
He finally finds your vitamins, reading the labels. Sure enough. There it is. Vitamin B2. Riboflavin. He actually smiles now. Holding up the bottle of vitamins like hes won a prize.
"Riboflavin, a famous vitamin that can make people's pee green."
He says it with such a proud smile that you laugh and feel the anxiety in your chest ease.
"Your kidding?"
You ask, now embarrassed at how anxious you were about something so..miniscule. He shakes his head with a grin wide enough to make his crows feet wrinkle.
"Nope, your digestive system might have just digested it differently this time. Disposing of the vitamin and making you well...pee green."
He tosses the bottle onto the side before approaching you once more. Leaning down to nuzzle his nose against yours. A fond glimmer in his eyes.
"My little hypochondriac."
He whispers softly, a small giggle slipping past your lips.
"Dont I annoy you with the constant worry about my health, all the questions?"
You ask. A hint of insecurity creeping into your expression. But he just appears genuinely amused.
"No, your like flashcards. Always keeping my medical knowledge on its toes."
Its a fond answer, one filled with warmth and love as he places a gentle kiss to your lips.
"Want me to check your heartbeat next, although that might be a little elevated from the panic?"
He teases and you playfully bat his arm. Scoffing at him.
"Hey, it might be a tiny problem to you. But to me? Im dying."
Theres a look in his eyes of something softer, but then far more amused.
"Good thing your boyfriends a doctor then, hm?"
He kisses your temple before leaving you in the doorway and heading back to where his scrub top lays. Pulling it over his head. Unable to tease you a little further. And you could swear your as red as a tomato.
"You want a pelvic exam while we're at it? The usual checkup too just to cover all bases?"
You cant tell whether hes being serious or not. But you'd be lying if the thought of him going into doctor mode to check you, examine you, doesnt make your thighs clench. But you just look..flustered. And perhaps take a mental note of actually doing that at some point.
hi!?! could you please write slowburn with hotch.. like working at the bau and being a little oblivious and udhhd until it eventually resolves with smut?? I lack fics without previously established relationship
you're the risk i'm gonna take it
pairing: aaron hotchner x reader, background michael robinavitch x reader
summary: request above
word count: 3.7k
tags: jealous!hotch, possessive!hotch, angst, hotch is lowk toxic but it works out for him, reader is oblivious but also kind of dumb, the pitt mention (helloo hyperfixation) dr robby is down bad, not proofread.
author's note: thank you for this request angel! i hope you like this and ty for being so patient xx
The first time you meet Aaron Hotchner, youâre ready to hightail it out of the room. Your transfer to the Behavioural Analysis Unit was something done out of necessityâyouâd spent a long time in private practice before deciding to branch out and were lucky enough to score an opening with the FBI.
Hotchner wasâŚa lot. Of what? You werenât entirely sure. Youâd been made aware he had a reputation for being a hardass and somehow also one of the best team leaders in the FBI.
He was calm, confident and at times abrasive, but you wouldnât have gotten to this point if you were unable to work under pressure. He had been strict and clear in his expectations of your role on the team; you were new and had to fight to prove yourself.
âI look forward to working with you Agent.â He had remarked, barely looking up from his pile of papers as he dismissed you from the meeting. If you were any less professional, you would have scoffed but all you did was offer a tight smile and nod.
âI do too, have a good day further Agent Hotchner.â
And that was that.
Ëâŕżŕťâ â
The BAU was a learn as you go workplace and you quickly figured out it was also a seemingly do as I say, not as I do environment. If you had a dollar for every time you witnessed one of your coworkers pull some kind of self-sacrificing bullshitâyouâre fairly sure youâd never have to work ever again.
You would be lying if you said it didnât bring some sort of spark back into your life, despite the dead bodies and sadistic murderersâyou had found that missing puzzle peace.
The team sat on the plane back from one of their most recent cases, half-asleep on the red eye whilst you had your laptop out, typing away at your report so youâd be able to sleep as soon as you got back.
âYou should sleep.â Hotchâs voice startles you despite being barely above a soft murmur. Heâs watching you over a case file whilst sitting across from you.
You snort, âYeah, no chance.â
Hotch frowns, âYou having a hard time sleeping?â His tone is concerned and it brings a stiffness to your shoulders. You shouldnât have said that. Youâre completely capable of doing your job and itâs not like youâre the only one on this plane who has a hard time closing their eyes at night and not picturing every other gruesome thing theyâve encountered.
âNo,â you smile tightly, shuffling your laptop closer to you as you squint at the screen. âIâm fine.â
Hotch stares at you for a second, as if heâs deciding whether or not to call you out on the blatant lie but instead heaves a sigh, slumping into his own seat.
âYou shouldnât squint like thatâit will hurt your eyes.â He reprimands lightly and this time you canât help the amused raise of your brow as you meet his dark gaze.
âGod, youâre old.â You snort, immediately trying to muffle your laugh when his expression turns perplexed.
âOld?â he mutters in disbelief.
âSorry,â you giggle, slapping a hand over your mouth as you watch him shake his head in fond amusement.
âYouâre trouble for a manâs ego.â He points at you with a wry smile on his face as you flush.
You shrug, âGotta keep emâ humble.â
Hotch flashes his teeth as he grins softly. Silence grows between the two of you as you continue to work on your own respective tasks.
As you continue to write your report, nibbling on your bottom lip you are seemingly unaware of the soft looks Hotch sends you in between his own reading.
Ëâŕżŕťâ â
Your relationship with Hotch is complicated. There are times where youâll catch him staring at you from his office, small smile on his face or thereâs times where he inconspicuously accommodates you more than he would someone else.
Heâs just being nice is what you tell yourself, because any other option would be ludicrous to even consider. Though there are moments that make you start to question whether those options might be reality.
Youâre on a case in Pittsburgh, somewhere near the hospital you used to work at before transferring to the BAU and itâs just your luck that one of your key witnesses is currently being held in the ED.
Youâre more than happy to accompany Hotch to the ED to try and get something useful out of the guy and you really struggle at schooling your face of excitement of seeing any of your past colleagues.
It doesnât slip passed Hotchâs notice who quirks a curious brow at you from the driverâs seat, âYouâre quite eager to be meeting a witness.â He remarks dryly but thereâs no hiding the humor in his expression.
You grow shy, nibbling on your bottom lip and drawing his attention to your action. âI used to work in the psychology department at PTMC.â You admit softly, wringing your hands in front of you.
Hotch hums interestedly, itâs not often in their line of work that Agents are transferred into the FBI from outside of the academy. Heâs willing to take any chance to know the parts of you heâs been yet to discover and visiting your work is what brings him hope that this might just push you both closer together.
You havenât been outwardly dismissive of his advancements, but he would be lying if he said it wasnât killing him inside that you werenât as forthcoming. Sure, it had been a while since heâd had to whip out his flirting tacticsâhis first and last relationship being well his late wife.
But you were so enigmatic that he just couldnât help but want to be near you, heâd been making every effort to impress. Well, at least he thought he had, if your blatant obliviousness to his affection wasnât sign enough.
Hotch had found himself gritting his teeth one too many times after heâd been blatantly flirting with you only for you to respond in your sweetest smile yet most professional tone.
He knew it wasnât right, that he had no business crushing on his subordinate but Lord help him if you werenât the only woman who had made him feel things he didnât think himself capable of.
When Hotch parks the car, you practically launch yourself out of the vehicle to speedwalk your way into the entrance. Youâre fast enough that Hotch has to jog a little to catch up to you with a breathy chuckle before matching your strides.
âSo, you can run in those heels,â he teases softly, his arm coming back to rest on the curve of your back to guide you to the entrance.
You lift your hand to swat at his chest half-heartedly with a playful scowl that diminishes the moment you step into the bustling ER, the both of you adopting your composed manner of professionalism despite your simultaneous twitching lips.
Ëâŕżŕťâ â
Youâre met by a blonde nurse whose smile is as wide as can be when she catches sight of you, her southern drawl echoing as she crosses the room, âWell, arenât you a sight for sore eyes sunshine? Who knew weâd be seeing your face again!â she remarks happily, wrapping her arms around you in a motherly hug.
âDana, I missed you.â You say softly, hugging her back before throwing a sheepish expression to Hotch who shrugs.
âAnd whoâs this with you?â Dana sizes up Hotch, staring him down something fierce and he feels himself paling a little.
âUhââ you chuckle nervously. âThis is Agent Hotchner, heâs umâheâs my boss.â You say.
Dana turns to you, quirking a brow that makes you roll your eyes fondly. âWeâre here on a case, Pittsburgh PD should have called ahead, weâre here to interview a James Harlow? He was inââ
âMVA, Yeah Robbyâs got him down in South 12, you remember where that is donât you? Heâs gonna be real excited to see you.â Dana drawls teasingly.
Hotch expects you to laugh and wave off the statement, but heâs surprised to see you fluster, your shoulders hiking up towards your ears as you shove Dana softly.
âStop,â you chastise her through a whine and Hotch feels like a rock had lodged itself in between his heart and ribcage. Who the hell is this guy?
He has no right to be jealous, the two of you arenâtâŚanything. Youâre both colleagues, heâs your superior but Hotch feels his gut clenching and palms sweating all the same.
He coughs, clearing his throat which draws your attention back to him. You have the decency to look embarrassed but without further mention of it you say a hasty goodbye to an amused Dana who looks like sheâs sizing him up and drag the both of you to what he assumes is South 12.
Ëâŕżŕťâ â
When the curtain is drawn away, you both are met with the sight of your witness and what Hotch assumes is âRobbyâ explaining his blood test results to.
âUh,â your witness mutters awkwardly, gaze switching between yourself and the man behind you. You suppose you must look quite intimidating in your formal wear and FBI badged plastered to your lapels, but you school your expression into something that you hope resembles comfort.
âSunshine.â Robby remarks surprise as you muster a shy smile and an awkward wave while Hotch behinds you clenches his jaw.
Fuck. Granted, Hotch couldâve rationalised his jealousy if the guy were your age (no he couldnât have) but Robby must be his age if not older. Heâs all crowsâ feet and greying hair that Hotch canât help but measure himself up against.
He hates this. Never once has something so personal jeopardised his ability to maintain professionalism yet you have a way to test all of his boundaries. He hates how Robby is looking at youâlike youâre some kind of miracle that he never thought heâd have the chance to see again.
Itâs how Hotch looks at you. He knows that look, he wears that look every day with a feeling of pride because up until nowâhe had no reason to doubt that it was a matter of when not if you returned his affection.
Now? Now he feels the urge to drag you out of this ED and make you promise to never look at another man ever again. But he canât, so he doesnât.
âI uhâweâre here to interview Mr. Harlow. Weâre with the BAUâwe just have a couple of questions about what you saw today,â you murmur reassuringly to the wary man whilst glancing back at Robby.
Hotchâs firm voice startles you slightly when he moves from behind you to stand next to you, effectively acting as a barrier between you and Robby, âWe need you to go over anything you can remember from this morning.â
Robbyâs gaze turns amused when he notices Hotchâs posturing, snorting to himself as he shuffles out of the room, âIâll leave you to it.â
You nod meekly, opening your mouth to start the cognitive interview before Robbyâs voice interrupts you, âDinner later Sunshine? Would be good to catch up.â He offers, an easy smile in his place.
Your heart warms, as much as youâve enjoyed your time at the BAU, the day shift were the first people who made you feel like you were part of a community.
âYeah,â you offer easily. âIâm working a case right now, but Iâd like that. Maybe you could invite the restââ
âAgent, weâre in the middle of something.â Hotch spits out, his eyes ablaze as he stares you down.
You shrink into yourself, not noticing Robbyâs frown at your demeanour though he leaves after you give him a reassuring smile. You give your full attention back to your witness and proceed with the interview.
Ëâŕżŕťâ â
You somehow feel like youâve done something wrong despite the interview being a complete success. You walk out of the room with the feeling that Hotch isâŚmad at you? Frustrated?
Youâre not entirely sure, only that he speaks to you in one word responses if heâs not supplied a grunt of some kind. It gets worse when you confirm your plans with Robby as you walk out, offering for Hotch to go on without you when you notice other Pittsburgh PD officers also in the ED.
âItâll give me some time to ask him a couple more questions and you can go over what we already know with the rest of the team, Iâm sure the officers wonât mind.â You reassure him.
Hotch fights the growl that wants to burst out of his throat. He minds. He minds that Robbyâs been waiting not so patiently to get you wrapped around his dirty little fingers, for you to decide that maybe you donât want Hotch and instead want to trade up to some fucking ER Doctor.
âNo, we came together. Iâll drive you back.â His answer is curt and your confusion doubles. What is his problem?
âBut Iââ
âSunshine, my truckâs sitting outside if youâd rather drive that. I donât mind coming and gettingâ it from you later before dinner.â Â Robby offers, interrupting your conversation Hotch thinks bitterly.
Of course he drives a truck, and of course heâd offer for you to take it. Any excuse in the book to get to see you again huh? Well Hotch can deal with that.
âThat wonât be necessary, we have everything that we need to form a working profile and time is really of the essence here. We need to go. Now.â He orders, leaving no room for misinterpretation as he grabs your arm despite the gasp you let out, sparks shooting up your arm as your dragged out the parking lot.
âWhat? Hotchââ you squeak out, trying to tug your arm from his hold as he pulls you into the car, lifting you by your hips and plopping you into the passenger seat. You squawk in protest squirming as he adjusts your legs slightly and closes the door, jogging to the driverâs seat and getting in with a scowl still planted on his face.
Ëâŕżŕťâ â
Youâve been silent and matching Hotchâs scowl the entire drive back to the precinct, âThis is kidnapping you know.â You remark sarcastically, folding your arms over your chest..
Hotch blows out a frustrated breath, âWe had to leave, we didnât have time for you be chummy with your friends.â He growls out, hands tightening on the wheel until heâs white knuckling it.
âYeah sure, blame me when youâre the one with a stick up your ass.â He hears you mutter to yourself, forcing his resolve to break.
âThatâs it.â He snarls, pulling off onto the shoulder of the road. There are barely any cars on this stretch of road, but it still brings a gasp to your lips at the jerky movement.
âWhat is wrong with you!â you hiss out, clutching at your seatbelt and the handle of the door as your eyes grow wide in panic.
âYouâre being a brat.â Hotch growls out, his gaze dark and heavy as his chest heaves up and down in frustration. Your gaze drops to his chest, your mouth growing parched as you shake yourself out of your stupor.
âIâm a brat?â You say incredulously, âIâm a brat when youâre the one who nearly got us into an accident because you were too busy having a temper tantrum over what the fuck ever?â
Hotchâs jaw clicks from how hard heâs clenching it, his glare focused on you, âWell I wouldnât have been so on edge if you werenât distracted while on the job.â
If itâs even possible, your scowl deepens, as you unbuckle your seatbelt thrusting your pointer finger into Hotchâs chest with vehemence, âDonât you dare insinuate that I canât do my job, I told you I couldâve gotten a ride with a different officer. Hell, even Robby offeredââ
âDonât fucking say him name.â Hotch threatens.
You falter, expression turning into bewilderment, âYouâve got a problem with Robby? You just met him howââ
âBecause he was hitting on you!â Hotch bursts out, running his hand over his jaw as he blows out a frustrated breath as he chuckles without humor.
âHuh? Robby? He wouldnâtââ
âOh, trust me,â Hotch taunts, âHe would and he did. I had a front row seat to that entire segment.â
You frown looking as puzzled as ever, âThatâs why you were angry? Why does it matter what Robby thinks, it doesnât impact the caseââ
âFuck, youâre irritating.â Hotch grounds out, launching himself over the counsel and swallowing your annoyed sound with his lips. He kisses you fiercely, his chapped lips borderline bruising your own as he prods at your lips with his tongue, seeking entrance.
He muffles your whimpers with his drawn out groan as he licks into your mouth, his hand coming up to cup your face, angling you to deepen the kiss as he threads his fingers through your hair.
Your hands come up shakily to clench around his t-shirt as you whine into his mouth, lazily licking into his mouth like youâre trying to play catch up with him.
When he draws himself away, you follow his lips unconsciouslyâyour own puckered with a whine as he takes in your dazed expression. He licks his lips watching you, already half hard in his pants from the taste of you.
âI was jealous.â He admits, his voice low. Heâs still looking at you, watching for any change in your expression.
Your eyes widen, âWhy?â you mumble aloud.
Hotch scoffs a laugh, âBecause I like you? Because I wished that I had worked up the nerve to ask you out before that hotshot doctor did? Because I was too much of a wuss because I was scared youâd say no? you take your pick.â He says, smiling without humour.
You frown, your hand hesitantly lifting to cup Hotchâs cheek. You nibble on your bottom lip, drawing a groan from Hotchâs chest.
âIâI like you too.â You admit shyly, your expression growing abashed as you avoid eye contact with him.
âLook at me.â He demands firmly, his hand cupping your chin to force you to meet his gaze.
âIâm sorry I lashed out at you, that was unfair of me.â He says softly. You shrug, rubbing your thumb up and down his cheek.
âSâokay, I know you didnât mean it.â You mumble.
Hotch shakes his head, âNo.â he states firmly, âI didnât mean it but that doesnât make it right, you donât deserve to be treated like that. Iâm sorry.â He insists.
You smile softly, âForgiven, you can be so emotional sometimes.â You tease softly.
Hotch canât help but roll his eyes, âYou mean it though? youâyou like me?â he asks hoarsely.
You grow shy, nodding softly. âSay it again.â He demands petulantly.
You snort, âWhat will I get if I do?â you taunt.
Hotchâs expression grows devilish, âAnything you want.â He mutters darkly, gazing at you with heat in his eyes. His dick twitches inside of his pants as he has to fight the urge to thrust up into empty space.
Your pupils dilate, âI like you.â You say breathily and Aaronâs smirk grows wider.
âThat right?â He taunts softly, his hand dropping to your thigh and slowly moving upwards.
You shudder softly, your thighs slipping open as you gaze grows heavier. âIs this okay?â Aaron checks in with you.
You nod softly, your own hand coming to rest of his shoulder as you feel him run his index finger over the inseam of your tailored pants.
A sharp gasp escapes you, âFuck.â Aaron mutters as he watches you squirm.
âTake off your pants.â He orders and you scramble to pull your pants and underwear off in quick succession.
Aaronâs breathing grows heavier as he catches sight of your wet cunt, glistening from its moisture as you spread your legs shyly.
His groan is loud in the car as he runs his thumb over your sticky entrance, pausing to press indecently over your hole softly before running it back up and down through your wetness.
You whimper, grabbing hold of his bicep as you make half-hearted thrusts against his thumb, clenching down emptily on the tip of his thumb each time he teasingly enters your cunt.
âIâoh.â You gasp, feeling Hotchâs thumb start to rub circles on your clit mixed with your wetness. You feel yourself start to leak between your thighs, grinding your hips up into Hotchâs thumb.
âDoes that feel good?â he grunts, using his other hand to circle your entrance with his index finger, slipping it in as he rubs your clit and watching in fascination as your pussy swallows his finger whole, clenching down so tightly on him that he canât help but imagine how tight youâd be on his dick.
âHotch, Iâ" you whine as he thrusts his finger in and out, curling it slowly to brush against that soft spongy area inside of you that turns your legs into jelly.
âAaron,â he orders you. âYou call me Aaron while I make you feel good.â
You nod nonsensically, barely even listening as your focus is on the feeling of Hotchâs fingers in you. âAnotherâwant, oh my god, another.â You beg him, leaking all over his fingers as you thrust harder, seeking more friction.
Hotch adds his middle finger easily enough, drawing out a guttural moan from you as you feel yourself climbing closer to the edge. You can feel every callous and groove on Hotchâs fingers and it makes you even wetter.
God you want his fingers inside of you forever, stretching you out and making you cum. âI canât, closeââ you mumble softly, throwing your head back as you clench your hand down on Aaronâs shoulderâyou expression scrunching in pleasure.
âYeah?â Aaron coos, âCum on my fingers babyâthatâs a good girl, cum for me.â He growls, fucking his fingers into your harder as you hurtle towards the finish line.
Your cunt clenching down harshly as you walls spasm around his fingers, your vision whiting out from pure pleasure as Hotch milks you for your orgasm until youâre left twitching and spent on the seat.
âGood girl.â He mumbles softly, laying a soft kiss on your forehead before taking his fingers out of you, bringing them to his own mouth, and sucking as his own eyes roll back into his head.
Youâre about to offer to suck him off when youâve recovered when you notice the wet patch that blooms over his crotch.
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Summary: you go out to the goth club while your old man is sleeping.
A/n: I tried to find a physically/racially ambiguous pic đđŤ I'm working on a long jack x Goth!reader fic so this is just a small nibble before that. Also the app I used is lowkey shit plz ignore any stupidity. Plz lmk if u want more. OH also ignore the slight red tint from my blue filter đđđ TW for drunk reader in last slide
Summary: No one knows what Robby is doing, not even himself
Here's the prompt list if you want to participate
You can read this on AO3
âMy head is in a bad placeâŚbut I'm having such a good timeâ
The engine on the motorcycle revved as the speed increased. Michael Robinavitch had been on the open road for three weeks now and hadn't looked back once. His helmet was strapped behind him. He didn't need it right now. There hadn't been much traffic or bugs.
Right now he didn't want to think about The Pitt. He didn't want to think about the people he left behind. He didn't want to think about Jack's words. He knew Jack was worried. Hell, he was worried. He knew he wasn't acting right. But that was future himâs problem. Right now, Robby just wanted to focus on the drive.
He came upon a seedy looking bar on the edge of some small town on a back road in South Dakota. Seemed like a fair place to stop. He didn't need The Pitt right now. He needed whatever this place had to offer. Whoever this place had to offer.
Why not? What did he have to lose right now?
Walking into the bar he saw you. He knew that whatever happened happened. He wasn't the least bit worried. He didn't even know if he stood a chance.
âBut I've been in the wrong placeâŚbut it must have been the right timeâ
Summary︹Fixing an EKG machine was a lot more easier than you thought. Though, you never had expected it to work a little too well.
Pairings︹Michael Robinavitch x Fem!Reade
W.C︹4.0K
Warnings︹18+ MINORS DNI, med play (I think, Idk), cussing, semi public sex, fingering, praise kink, reader has a semi established relationship with Park, definite medical inaccuracies, please let me know if I missed anything!
Author's note︹This is sort of a part 2ish from my last one shot. Read it if you'd like though you don't have to. I got this idea based off of this tik tok so props to the creator! Also I do not fully know how an EKG works but we'll pretend I do for the sake of this fic. Enjoy!
Robby had met plenty of women with different personalities. He's dated every kind of woman there is.
The prude.
The whore.
The lunatic.
The crybaby.
The avoidant.
Daddy's girl.
The trust fund baby.
Robby couldn't say that he had a personal favorite. Though, he did prefer some personalities more than others. Avoidant women were the main course while daddy's girl was his dessert. He liked feeling needed from time to time.
But not all the time.
Though, Robby had never met a woman like you. A woman who acted like a man. There was a certain arrogance you carried with you like a purse. The quiet shift in gender roles made Robby's head spin all the damn time.
You kicked him out right after you climaxed. You would roughly shove his face in your aching core, guiding his head exactly where you wanted even if he couldn't breathe. His aftercare kisses would be dodged and instead he would be met with you tossing his clothes to him.
But it didn't stop there.
You said no to dates. Your phone was always facing down. You weren't a huge fan of PDA. He was a hidden part of your life.
He was being treated how he treated the women before you.
And he didn't like it.
Robby had tried figuring you out with each attempt he made to get closer to you. He didn't get very far each time. You weren't unhappy, he knew that. In fact, you had a very fulfilling life. You had a master's degree, earned 6 figures, had plenty friends. The list went on and on with how well you were doing for yourself.
"Keep staring at her ass any longer and someone is going to report you for being a perv," Jack spoke, knocking Robby from his thoughts.
"I'm not looking at her ass," Robby sneered as he took off his glasses. "Besides, I can look if I want."
Robby did have a right to look. Park could go to hell, he could stare at your ass if he wanted to. Robby was the last one to sleep with you. HE was the last one to be in your bed. The ball was in his court.
Jack wanted to roll his eyes at how pathetic his friend had became over you. You had taken over Robby's world completely. Jack hadn't ever seen Robby so stupidâsuicidal for sure but not stupid.
"Can you please get your head out of her ass and come back to earth?" Jack commented. "Swear you're so far up there that I can see you coming out of her mouth when she talks."
In any other situation he would have found his remark hilarious. But now since he was the one on the receiving end, he found it irritating.
"I am not up her ass all the time," Robby scoffed.
The corner of Jack's lip quirked upwards, no longer bothering to hide its smirk anymore. "Yeah because when you're not up there, Park is."
The joke rubbed Robby the wrong way. That's what he hated the most about your arrangement, whenever he wasn't around, there was an opportunity for Park to come right back.
"That's not funny."
Jack rolled his eyes this time as he shook his head. "You're losing your mind over this girl for no reason. I guarantee you that she sleeps soundly at night while you lose your mind over her."
"At least she's getting some good sleep."
At first, Jack thought that Robby was kidding. That he was finally making a joke out of this horrible dating situation. But when there was no smile nor laugh attached at the end of his sentence, he was utterly disgusted.
"You're kidding me, right?" Jack asked as he placed his hand on his shoulder. "She can't be that good in bed that you're losing your mind over her."
"It's not just about her being good in bed," Robby replied.
Robby would much rather die than tell Jack about how you were in bed. For the first time, his lips were sealed shut. It wasn't common for Robby to talk about his sexual escapades but he would make a comment here or there.
Robby didn't want Jack to imagine what you were like in bed. He didn't want to implant that image into the folds of his brain. He saw the way Jack looked at you at times. Robby knew Jack wouldn't admit it but he found you attractive.
It wasn't just about you being good in bed. Despite the nature of the relationship between the two of you, there was familiarity. It was a different kind of familiarity given you were younger than him but he felt comfortable. He didn't feel like there was a massive weight against his chest. He was able to talk freely without feeling that stupid lump build up in his throat.Â
"I just don't get why she keeps going back to him," Robby added as he rubbed his face.Â
Jack shrugged his shoulders, unable to give him a definite answer. It was no surprise that Park had a tight grip on you. If someone wanted your attention, they had to strike when he wasn't looking.
Robby had managed to take you away from his arms just for a little bit. It was a blissful time for him. He loved your attention and he loved your affection. He was like an eager puppy, always wanting more.Â
But so did Park.
And so did many other guys around you. You were free to choose your pick of the litter.Â
"I don't knowâŚâŚmaybe it's because they've been with each other for three years so he knows her pretty well," Jack sighed.
Oh yeah, three years.Â
The two of you had been together or involved for three damn years. Three damn years of getting to know you. Getting to know where you were the most sensitive. Getting to hear your laugh in the morning before work. Hearing the fact from someone else felt like rubbing alcohol on a freshly raw wound.
"I don't know why I bother talking to you sometimes," Robby muttered with annoyance.
"But it's true," Jack said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Or maybe because he's just a huge wallet for her given the whole surgeon thingâŚâŚ.or maybe he puts her in her feminine energy or whatever bullshit kids say nowadays."
Robby scoffed. Feminine energy. Of course he put you in your feminine energy. "Please if anything she's putting me into my feminine energy. We do everything a normal couple does in a normal relationship and then she'll tell me that she doesn't want anything serious."
Jack nodded as he looked at you. Who knew you were that kind of woman. It was a little impressive you had a 50 something year old man by the balls so easily. Jack was more impressed by the fact that you didn't get attached. Most women did though he couldn't blame them. He would get attached too if a girl was treating him like a boyfriend.Â
You could feel the gazes of the two men behind your back. With a small turn of your head, you waved at the both of them with an innocent smile on your face. Robby didn't waste anytime in acknowledging you, discarding the discussion between the two men right away.Â
"That girl is a goddamn succubus and you're letting her suck the life out of you," Jack remarked. "It's a miracle you still have your balls."Â
Robby shook his head at Jack, a silent dismissal of the remark. "She's an angelâŚâŚwith a pair of horns but an angel nonetheless."
Jack shook his head as a small puff of fake laughter left his lips. "Dude, you have to learn how to make yourself less available to her. I thought that being emotionally unavailable was your whole spiel."
"I would make myself less available to her," Jack added. "Or at the very least, say no to her from time to time. Hell, I'll say no to her for you."
Robby sighed. He found it hard to say no to you. No matter how ridiculous the request was, if it placed a smile on your face then it was worth it. "I like spending time with her. Why mess that up?"
"I think the two of you need some time apart. Seriously, the sabbatical will really help you," Jack said to him. "You are still going on your sabbatical, right?"
Robby nodded to Jack's question with no hesitation. "Yeah."
But was he?
If Robby left, he knew it was the perfect window for Park to come right back into your life again. Park was no exception to your little rule, even he had to win back your affection despite you being the one that walked away.
Robby's gaze was in pursuit of your body once again. He couldn't wrap his head around how you could toy with him. He wasn't your personal puppet. He was a man. He was the one that was supposed to have the upper hand.Â
Maybe this was the universe telling him to throw in the towel. To just give up and find someone else to take up his time. Or maybe it was the universe trying to tell him to not give up. To find a way to get through that cold demeanor of yours.
Robby never knew when to quit.
Though he was good at telling other people when to quit.
Sometimes, a little too good.
"At least wait for me to be in the elevator to start talking shit about me, Jackie."Â
The two older men turned their heads around and saw you standing behind them. In unison, they turned around so they could lean their back's on the counter.Â
"How I miss the sweet shrill of your annoying voice," Jack retorted. "Not."Â
Your lips jutted out in a fake pout as you pretended to wipe a tear off your cheek. "Awww boo! Here I thought that you and I were the best of friends."Â
"Keep on dreaming," he muttered.Â
A smirk appeared on your lips as you looked into his already tired eyes. "You know, for someone who claims to not like me, you spend a lot of time talking about me."Â
Jack's eyebrows raised at your comment. Touche.Â
"You know how there's incantations to keep demons away from your houseâ"Â
"Alright," Robby interjected with a laugh as he stood slightly in front of you, shielding you away from Jack. "Why don't you let me take over so I can finish my shift."Â
Jack didn't hesitate in taking the iPad that was laying besides him and walking away to the nearest room. Robby didn't need him to tell him to back off. Jack knew when to walk away, it was all about strategy.Â
You sent a small wave to Jack as he walked away before you turned your attention to Robby. "Grumpy cat, isn't he?"Â
Robby shrugged his shoulders. "It's just Abbot being Abbot."Â
A look of suspicion flashed on your face as you looked at Jack's figure walking away. "YeahâŚ.sure lets go with that."Â
You knew Jack wasn't too much of a fan of the relationship you and Robby had. Jack liked you on your own. He just didn't like how stupid and neurotic you made his friend. Robby already had enough on his plate, you certainly didn't need to add onto it.Â
Or so he claimed.Â
What you didn't appreciate was his snarky little comments towards you. They started shortly after you began your hookup situation with Robby, seemingly getting worse with each week you. It was as if he wanted to separate the two of you.
There was no motive you could pin point to.Â
"I don't appreciate your friend calling me a demon," you added with a pointed look. "But what I don't appreciate even more is you letting him."Â
Robby immediately went to defend himself. He placed his hands in the air, silently pleading for a truce. "I didn't let him call you a demonâI told him you were an angel."Â
"An angel with horns."Â
Robby placed his hands on your shoulders, his hands massaging the tense muscles. "Oh come on, you know it was a joke, baby. You're still the purest angel in my eyes."Â
"Oh wow. Yay me. I cannot believe how lucky I am to have this compliment bestowed on me," you dryly said.Â
"Aw come on," Robby cooed as his fingers went to softly pinch your chin. "You know he's just doing it to get under your skin."Â
"Sure, lets go with that too," you said with a slight mocking tone in your voice. "Can we just go fix the EKG machine so we can go?"Â
"Or we could just leave it for someone else to do and we can go back to my place," Robby offered. "And finish where we left off this morning."
You smiled at his offer from amusement. The two of you had been unpleasantly interrupted early in the morning when the Robby was called in for work. You normally had time to swing by for a quickie before your shift. But once Robby was called in, he didn't have the same liberty as you to take his sweet time.Â
"It's just an EKG machine, it'll take less than 10 minutes," you answered as you began to walk towards the dark and empty room of West 14. A room no one had been in since a patient had practically destroyed the walls.Â
Robby sighed in defeat but followed you anyways. Technically his shift had already ended but he sure didn't mind putting in some overtime. He couldn't risk you being all by yourself.Â
It wasn't a surprise how easily equipment in the ED got destroyed. There was always so much chaos going around. Nurses, doctors, medical assistants and anyone else in the room ran the risk of accidentally breaking a machine.Â
You've certainly broken a few.Â
"I thought this one was still relatively new," you murmured as you untangled the leads.Â
Robby took the leads away from your hands, untangling them himself. "Yeah, I don't know. One of the residents told me it wasn't working in the morning."Â
You shrugged your shoulders as you looked at the EKG machine. It looked intact. It still turned on. You didn't see anything wrong with it.Â
"It looks fine. It turns on and everything. Maybe they didn't put the leads on right."Â
"And have them potentially miss a heart attack? Oh, don't tell me that," Robby said as he looked at you, his hands working to continue untangling. "I'm going to ignore what you said and pretend that it's broken."Â
You raised your hands as you shrugged your shoulders. "You can't be everywhere all at once to check everyone's work. Just saying."Â
"No," Robby answered as he shook his head. "I know my residents. They wouldn't misplace a lead."Â
You hummed in acknowledgment. There was a chance that Robby was right, there could have been something wrong with the machine. Technology had a funny way of behaving.Â
"Well, let's try it out," you said as you shrugged off your jacket, exposing yourself to the unforgiving cold room. "I'll place the leads and see if it's really the machine or just misplacement."Â
Robby nodded along. Instead of letting you out on the leads yourself, he took the task from your hands. Robby guided you onto the hard hospital bed, making sure your back was supported by the pillows behind your back. His cold hands went underneath your top, causing goosebumps to arise upon your skin.Â
"They're cold!" You yelped as you yanked his hands out from your shirt.Â
Robby lowly chuckled at your little whine. He didn't waste time in bringing his hands together, rubbing them to warm them up. "Sorry, sweetheart."Â
After his hands were finally warmed up, his hands dove straight to your top. He smirked once he noticed you didn't have a bra on. "No bra? I should have known." Unable to resist, he allowed his fingers to skim the underside of your breast with the false pretense making sure the leads were on correctly.Â
You turned your head to look screen, looking at the output. "Everything looks normal."Â
Robby hummed in acknowledgement. "YeahâŚ..is your heart rate normally this low? It's at 58."Â
"Well I am just kind of sitting here soâŚ."Â
"No, sweetheart," Robby hummed as his fingers went to check your pulse. "I think that's a little low. I think its reading wrong."Â
As Robby went to adjust the leads once again, his fingertips skimmed your hardened nipple, making the EKG spike.Â
Robby nearly missed it. Nearly.Â
"Oh?" Robby said in a low timbre. "Was that what I think it was?"Â
Normally, Robby couldn't tell when you were aroused. You often jumped on top of him and pulled his pants down whenever you felt like getting lucky. He could never hear your breath hitch or feel your skin warm up whenever he attempted to erotically caress you.Â
Robby decided to push his luck again. His fingers deliberately skimmed against your breast again, this time his fingers pinching the bud. Though you didn't make a sound, the EKG revealed what you had been hiding this entire time.Â
His touch makes your heart race.Â
"It's a normal body reaction," you huffed. "Don't be so full of yourself."Â
Robby's eyes didn't peel away from the screen. He seemingly had ignored your words as his fingers slowly traveled their way downwards. He watched as the screen showed your heart rate increasing.Â
It wasn't a weakness to let Robby know what he did to you. It was more of a weakness of where you liked to be touched and what made your heart race. You knew that once Robby held that kind of power, he would abuse it.Â
"Okay, we know it works now. You can take these off now," you said as you attempted to take off the leads.Â
You were met with Robby's hands on your chest, roughly shoving you back down on the bed. "I didn't say you could get up."Â
Your eyes widened at the rough action. You had gotten so used to taking the reigns. The simple action of him pushing you back like nothing made your heart race even faster.Â
"You liked that? You like me being rough with you?" Robby whispered as his left hand went for the buttons of your jeans. "I spent so much time being gentle with you when all you needed me was push you around."Â
He found your first weakness. You loved it whenever a man was rough. There had been too many times where you wished Robby could stuff your face in a pillow while he relentlessly pounded into your aching pussy.Â
But that was a fantasy for later. Not one to be fulfilled while they both of you were still clocked in.Â
"Someone could come in," you warned despite you lifting your hips to help him get your pants down.Â
"No one is going to come in," Robby soothed. "Everyone is too busy working. Just be quiet."Â
You nodded your head as you watched his hand disappear underneath your black lacy underwear. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his ran a finger through your sopping folds.Â
"Don't tease me, we don't have the time," you added as you lifted your hips once again.Â
"I'm making the time today," Robby replied as he continued his ministrations. "Gotta see what makes your heart race since you won't tell me what does."Â
You bit onto your knuckles to contain the noises that were threatening to spill from your mouth. It wasn't your fault you were sensitive. Or how the rough pads of his fingers created a delicious friction against your swollen clit.Â
"Look," Robby said as he nodded over to the screen of the EKG. "Notice how your heart races."Â
Your head lolled backwards to watch the screen once again. Your vision was blurry from working a 12 hour shift and you could barely make out what was happening. But there it was, the damn machine showing your erratic heartbeat.Â
"See that spike when I only use one finger against your clit? Look what happens when I use two."Â
Your mouth opened in a silent moan at the added friction. The added finger made your pleasure climb instantly, just as instantly as your heart picked up. You enjoyed the added sensation for a few seconds before he replaced his index and middle finger with his thumb.Â
"Now look at what happens when I do this."Â
Your eyes screwed shut and a high pitched whine filled the room as he slipped his two thick, warm fingers into your pussy. Robby pumped his fingers against your velvety walls without hesitation, setting a decent pace. It wasn't too fast but it had you grinding against his palm.Â
"Fuck, Robby," you moaned. "HmmmâŚ.that feels good."Â
"I know," Robby smugly said. "I can see that."Â
The lewd sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your wet cunt soon filled the room. It was a miracle that no one was hearing the two of youâor mostly just you. You tried to contain your moans but Robby was making it impossible.Â
The man found his cheat sheet and he was using it to his advantage.Â
"You're close, aren't you?" Robby asked. "I can feel you squeezing the hell out of my fingers."Â
You nodded your head, unable to form any words. All you could do was keep grinding on his hand as he kept his agonizing pace. You were getting lost in the sensations and the thrill of being caught. You were right on the edge, the god awful titillating edge that seemed like it was going on forever.Â
"I needâŚ..fuckâŚ..I need more," you whimpered. "I need more."Â
"More? What more could you want?" Robby asked with a laugh. "You're going to take what I give you."Â
"Butâ"Â
"No," Robby said in a stern voice as he lowered his head towards yours. "You're going to come on my two fingers because that's all you're going to get tonight. Either come, or don't."Â
A potential orgasm denial? From Robby?Â
That was a first.Â
You had been so used to getting your way that it felt foreign for Robby to be stern. Maybe you had to pull out the infamous puppy eyes again. That should make him fold.Â
"No, no, no, no, put those puppy eyes away," Robby immediately shut down as his other hand went to grip your cheeks. "I'm serious. Either focus and come or don't."Â
"Robbyâ"Â
"Focus," Robby interjected. "Come on, sweetheart. I know you're close, I can feel it. Breathe in and breathe out."Â
You nodded your head as you followed his directions. You took in a big deep breath in and even a bigger deep breath out.Â
"Yeah, there you go, just like that," Robby praised. "Again."Â
You followed his command without hesitation. It was working. You could feel your orgasm approaching faster and faster. The lighting hot heat was shooting up and down your legs, a telltale sign that you were close.Â
"You've been doing so good," Robby praised again. "Just a little more and you'll feel so so good."Â
It took a matter of seconds for your orgasm to take over your body. Your thighs clamped shut around his wrist as your pussy fluttered against his fingers. Robby gradually slowed his pace to keep you from overstimulating. The last thing he needed was for you to ruin the hospital sheets. He preferred you to gush all over his sheets.Â
"Open your mouth," Robby instructed.Â
You tilted your head in confusion. "Open my mouth? For whâ"Â
Robby stuffed his fingers, still glistened with your essence, into your mouth. Your eyes were as wide as they physically could go at the sudden ministration. This was certainly new.Â
"Lick them clean."Â
You hesitated for a quick second before you swirled your tongue around his digits, making them clean. He took his fingers out of your mouth with a loud pop. He didn't say anything else as he helped you pull your jeans back on.Â
"Well, at least we know the EKG is working just fine."Â
sex with jack abbott is needy and passionate. his thrusts never seem to be lacking love and force. his kisses are always filled with intensity and desire, teeth and clashing tongues.
itâs you both whispering reassurances to each other, you telling him you love all of him, regardless of his ailments; and him telling you he loves you regardless of true age gap or your own insecurities. âso fuckinâ pretty honey, didnât-didnât know it could fuck-feel like thisâ
sex with jack abbott is waking up at sunrise because he thinks sex in the early mornings keep the relationship alive. his tip kisses your cervix and keeps sleepy moans whimpered out of your mouth. âthatâs right baby, time to get up. need me for everything, gotta wake you up with an orgasm everyday-shitâ
sex with jack abbot is getting a text after his shift saying âbe readyâ, knowing it means he expects you kneeling behind the welcome mat inside the house wearing that outfit he loves; a pink lingerie mini dress, knee high socks, and a bell collar that he bought you when he introduced you to his world. ânothing-nothing will ever compare to that s-sweet pussy if yours, but your mouth sure as hell tries hardâ he says this with a disbelief filled chuckle.
sex with jack abbott is bdsm and kink filled but never lacking love and intimacy. he fucks like heâs angry with you but also like he needs and craves you. Jack abbott is a desperate man with vile needs.
âKnow I wanna beat it, wanna beat it bad
Oh, everyone looks happy in a photograph
I've crossed the county line, I cannot go back
I'm always on my own.â
-All Them Horses, Noah Kahan
summary: your family is in town for the annual âparents berating their kids for their decisionsâ get together. jack overhears you talking about how much easier it would be if you had a boyfriend to shove in their face, and offers his services. No strings attached, of course.
wc: 15.7k (steak is too juicy lobster is too buttery)
tags/tropes: jack falls first and harder, reader is an eldest daughter (but not the eldest child) to a large judgmental family who are constantly disappointed in her, jack pretty much uses the fake dating as a chance to show reader what a good boyfriend he COULD be to her if she let herself have nice things, jack 'i'll pay for it' abbot, jack is YEARNING in this one, a teeny bit of mean dom jack as a treat
a/n: how are we all feeling about the latest noah kahan album. Doors is great. i do NOT repeat timestamp 2:14-2:21 of All Them Horses. iâm normal and can be trusted with noah kahanâs discography. this fic was supposed to be crossposted on ao3 at the time of post but ao3 crashed and i lost all of my tagging and uploading process so im saving that. for later. when it is POSTED it will be linked below :)
acknowledgements: thank you @wesandresons for the amazing gif and @saradika-graphics, @chrisssiren, and @uzmacchiato for the dividers! and thank you @leeknowpegger for your work in keeping up morale and being deranged with me
masterlist
âYour familyâs in town?â
Youâre at the nurses station, tucked into a corner with your head in your hands while Shen, of course, drinks what has to be his third Dunkin coffee of the day. Where heâs getting them is one of the worldâs strangest unsolved mysteries.Â
You canât see his face, on account of the heels of your hands being pressed into your eyes so hard stars are bursting and swirling behind your eyelids, but you can hear the grimace in his tone.Â
âYeah. I moved out here to get away from them, but they decided to host the annual family dinner circuit here in Pittsburgh instead. My mom always complains about how itâs such a huge imposition to have the entire family fly out, but I never asked to do it and offered to just fly to them on multiple occasions. Apparently, my work schedule is too hard to work around.â
âDinner circuit?â
You wave a hand. âItâs actually a lunch circuit now, since I work nights. Basically, for every single day that theyâre here everybody has to attend a lunch, no matter what. Most of the time theyâre at different restaurants, but sometimes my mom demands to have them at my place.â
âYikes,â The attending says, sipping on the last bits of his coffee, âAnd the whole successful doctor thing doesnât work on them? It got my parents off my back.â
You shake your head. âIâm the only doctor in the family, but they thought I shouldâve been a hospitalist or go into general surgery.â
The sound of ice being shaken in a plastic cup rings in your ears. âThereâs money in emergency medicine. Eventually.âÂ
âThereâs money in all medicine eventually,â You groan, lifting your head and leaning against the wall, blinking dazedly up at the flickering fluorescent lights. âIâm sure if I'd picked general surgery they wouldâve found a problem with that too.â
âSo your fucked, basically.â
Your eyes slip shut again. âYep. Anything short of showing up with a rich boyfriend and a promise of grandkids on the way wonât get my mom off my back.â
Shen clasps you on the shoulder. âBest of luck with that. Youâre the only intern the night shift has got, so weâd rather you donât off yourself via poisoned wine.âÂ
âI wouldnât do poison. Iâd choke on bread so theyâd have to live with the guilt of not being able to save me.â
âJesus fuck, man. I mean, clearly, they suck, but thatâs brutal.â
You shrug. âNot as brutal as my mom not coming to my med school graduation.â
He gapes. âWhat reason could she have possibly had for not showing up?â
âI told her at dinner the night before that I was going into emergency medicine.â
âThatâsâŚâ Shen trails off, flabbergasted, ââŚWow. Now I'm worried youâre going to kill one of them.â
âWay too much effort. They arenât worth the jail time.â
The attending tosses his now empty coffee in a nearby trash can. âWell, if you snap and kill them all in a fit of extremely valid rage, please donât call me. I canât afford to be implicated.â
âYou saying I canât hide a body myself?â
âIâm saying I canât hide a body.â
âWhoâs hiding bodies?â Jack says, sidling up to the two of you with a tablet and a chart open in his hand.Â
Shen jams a thumb in your direction. âSheâs killing her parents later today.âÂ
You roll your eyes. âIâm not. Honestly, so long as I agree with whatever my mom says and donât bring up any trigger topics, Iâll be fine.â
Jack snorts. âYouâre describing being held hostage by someone mentally unstable.â
âDr. Intern?â Ellis interrupts, using the stupid nickname Santos picked for you when she found out youâre the only PGY1 on the night shift, âThereâs a woman in the lobby here to see you. Says sheâs your mom.â
Your stomach drops to your feet and your heart seizes in your chest. âItâs six in the morning. Oh my god. Oh my god.â
Someone behind you says âHoly shit,â but youâre already gone. As youâre speed walking you whip out your phone, checking the dates of their flights that youâd only had a chance to skim andâ fuck. They got in an hour ago. Why the fuck would she stop here? At the PTMC?
You practically slam the doors open and make eye contact with your mom across the crowded lobby.Â
âMom?âÂ
âThere you are sweetie. I was trying to explain that thereâs nothing wrong with me and I was here to see you, but they wouldnât let me. Something about a security issue?â
âItâs not safe. Weâve had incidents in the pastââ
She waves a hand, dismissing you. âIâm your mother. Honestly, I wouldnât have had to come down here if youâd just respond to my texts.âÂ
âIâve told you mom, Iâm really busy here and I donât get very much time to look at my phoneââ
âYour brothers take the time out of their busy schedules to text me back,â She sighs, then continues on, âDid you get time off this week for dinner?â
You frown. âI thought we were having lunch.â
âWell, I figured since weâre all making it easier for your work schedule to come to you, you could manage to take a few days off for your family. But if we need to make an extra effortââ
âItâs fine, mom,â You tell her with a gritted-toothed smile, âI can make something work. Can you just send me the dates again?â
âItâs this Friday and Saturday.â
Before you can even open your mouth to respond, a large, warm hand settles on your shoulder. Accompanied by the hand is a steadying one on your lower back, a familiar, rich scent and a low voice.Â
âCan I help you, maâam?âÂ
Jack.Â
Jack fucking Abbot.Â
Hottest man in the ED. Probably in the world.
Your mom blinks, clearly caught off guard, before regaining her judgy senses and narrowing her eyes at him.Â
âIâm trying to have a conversation with my daughter. Donât tell me youâre security.â
You know for a fact that Jack has his stethoscope around his neck and his keycard in his scrub pocket that says âDOCTORâ on it, so your momâs just being bitchy. Figures.Â
Jackâs hand in your shoulder gives you a tiny, reassuring squeeze before he speaks.Â
âIâm Dr. Abbot,â He sticks out a hand for her to shake, the one that was on your shoulder, âIâm an attending here at the ED.â
And my boss, you mentally add. Your mom probably hears it anyway.Â
âYou work with my daughter?â
âYes maâam. Sheâs the most promising intern we have here on the night shift.â
Your lips twitch at his words. Heâs joking. Testing your motherâ youâre the only PGY1 on the night shift. If your mom remembers that, sheâll pick up on his joke.Â
She doesnât. She purses her lips for a moment before giving him one of her big, fake smiles.Â
âWell thatâs good to hear. Weâre very proud of her.â
Proud of the money I send home, maybe.Â
âIf youâll excuse us, I need her working on patients.â
âOh yes, of course,â Your mom gushes, clearly already charmed by Jack. He has that effect on people. âI didnât realize she was so important and busy here.â
You would if youâd ever let me talk about work before interrupting me and telling me what I should be doing better.Â
Jackâs thumb makes tiny sweeping motions on your lower back, little tingling motions that distract you enough to unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders.Â
âIâll text you as soon as I can, okay mom?â
Your mom sweeps you into a hug, a rare show of affection. Putting on a show for Jack, more than likely.Â
âNo rush. Whenever you get the chance, sweetheart.â
Jack gives her a parting nod, but you wait until your momâs turned around and walking out of the lobby before allowing Jack to steer you back inside.Â
The second the doors close behind you and youâre enveloped in the sounds and smells of the heart of the PTMC, you shut your eyes and release a long exhale.Â
âI,â You start, âAm so sorry. I never thought sheâd show up here, I got the flight times mixed upââ
âHey,â Jackâs voice is low and steady, a much needed anchor. He uses the hand still on your lower back to turn you towards him, âNone of that was your fault. We deal with patients like that every day. It is not your job to keep your mother in line.â
âI know. I know. Still, Iâm sorry. She can be⌠difficult.â
He snorts. âUnderstatement of the year. But seriously. Donât worry about it. If I didnât want to get involved with her, I wouldnât have swooped in there.â
You huff a laugh. âMy hero. Iâm pretty sure if youâd introduced yourself as my boyfriend she wouldâve had an aneurysm. Or a heart attack.â
âAre those desired outcomes?â
âMostly.â
He slides his hands into his pockets and leans against the opposite wall. âMight be worth a shot, then.â
Itâs a very well kept secret that youâve harbored an embarrassing, âthink about him while youâre falling asleep at nightâ crush on Jack.Â
So naturally, your response is to laugh. Loudly. And semi-awkwardly. Because he has to be joking. Obviously.
âYeah, right,â You say, looking down at your feet because eye-contact has never been your forte and Jackâs gaze is too intense, âCould even take you to dinner with me. Maybe my dad would have a heart attack too. Really just wipe out the whole family.â
âYou could.â
âWipe out my entire family?â
âTake me to dinner with you.â
Jackâs body is relaxed and his tone is even. Not light and humor-filled. Thereâs no mischievous uptick to the corner of his lips. He looks like heâs serious.Â
âAre you joking?â
He canât really be serious. Heâs probably just fucking with you. He wouldnât actuallyâ
âNo.â
You run a hand over your hair. âYeah, sure, laugh it up, hahaââ
âIâll go to dinner with you. As your boyfriend.â
What. The. Fuck.Â
âNo.â You gape, incredulous.Â
âNo?â He raises an eyebrow.Â
âNo, I meanâ fuck. Dr. Abbotââ
âJack.âÂ
You purse your lips. âJack. You canât just⌠pretend to be my boyfriend at a family lunch.â
âWhy not?â
âWhy not?â You sputter, âFor one, we hardly know each otherââ
âYouâve been working here for three months. Weâre hardly strangers.â
âYouâre my boss, your way older than me, youâreââ You cut yourself off before you can say something embarrassing like âyouâre ridiculously fucking hot and I havenât washed my socks in monthsâ, âIt wouldnât even be believable. How would we even have met?â
âIn the ED, obviously.â
âHow long have we been together?â
âMonth and a half.â
âWhy are we even dating?â
âBecause youâre a beautiful and intelligent woman, not to mention a good doctor.â
Your mouth goes dry, and your stomach does an entire gymnastics routine.Â
âHave you⌠thought about this?âÂ
He makes a noncommittal hum, tilts his head back a bit. âWould it work?â
âAre you rich?âÂ
Thereâs that devilish, pants dropping smile.Â
âIâm a senior attending on night shifts in an emergency department. Iâm comfortable.â
You worry your lip between your teeth. âI still canât⌠I appreciate the offer, but I canât subject you to my family. No one else should have to suffer through these lunches and dinners.â
âBut you do?â
âTheyâre my family.âÂ
Jack doesnât respond, but he doesnât move off the wall and walk away either. Distantly, you really hope a patient isnât coding somewhere.Â
You sigh. âWhy would you even offer, anyway?âÂ
âYou need help, and Iâm in a position to give it. Plus life has been kind of boring recently. My therapist told me to pick a new hobby that doesnât involve people dying or getting shot at.â
âSo you thought spending an evening being subjected to backhanded questions, comments, and not very subtle micro-aggressions was a good substitute?â
âBeats drinking beer in the park.â
You canât say yes. Itâs crazy. One, it would make your crush a million times worse and you might never recover on that fact alone, and two, when this inevitably blows up in your face, your family will never let you live it down and bring it up in literally every conversation for the rest of your life.Â
On the other hand, if it works, it will work. Your mom would probably get off your back for a while. You wouldnât be a complete and total disappointment. If it works, it would be a much needed win.Â
âSo. Weâve been dating for a month and a half?â
Jack nods, another smile playing at his lips. âI asked you out, of course.â
âFlowers?â
âNaturally.â
âYou pay?âÂ
âFor every meal.â
âWhatâs my favorite color?â
âNavy blue. Mine?âÂ
You roll your eyes. âBlack. What are we going to tell my mom when she pokes at the age gap?â
Someone rushes by, pager beeping, and you both wordlessly start moseying towards your respective patients.Â
âWill she really be that upset about it?â
âProbably not, but sheâll definitely ask about it. My dad will probably be angry, but heâs easier to placate than my mom is.â
Jack hums thoughtfully. âWhenâs the lunch today?â
âTwelve-thirty, at that Italian place that has that mussel dish.â
âHow about this,â He starts, apparently not needing anymore clarification on the location, âLets focus on finishing our shifts right now. Then go home, get some sleep, and Iâll pick you up at eleven so you can pick my brain for every detail that you want to make this work. Deal?â
Last chance to back out. Say hell no, this is a crazy idea, why would you even volunteer for it, I changed my mind.Â
âDeal.â
â
Holy fucking shit. Jack Abbot is your boyfriend.Â
Fake boyfriend. But for the next few hours, heâs as good as yours. Kind of.
In a way.Â
Youâre standing in front of your bathroom mirror, dressed in the outfit you picked out for the stupid lunch when your mom texted you the plane ticket details a month ago.
Neither your makeup nor your hair are cooperating and you really need them to because you have to be perfect, so you need your mascara and stop clumping and your hair to stop laying like that and you just donât want to fucking go.Â
Before frustration induced tears can ruin your half-done makeup, a knock sounds at the door.Â
You rush through your apartment, nearly cracking your skull open on the corner of the couch when you trip over a stray shoe.
Shit, heâs here and youâre not ready, god heâs going to be so upset you have to make him wait itâs so rudeâ
âHi!â You swing open the door and plaster what you hope is a cute-frazzled smile and not a panicked one. Itâs a thin line between the two, âIâm almost ready, Iâm so sorry, you can come in and sit down wherever, I promise I wonât take too long to finish up. Sorry.â
You turn, unable to bear the anger or frustration on his face and dart away (an old methodâ hiding and disappearing is much better for everyone in the long run) but a hand encircles your wrist before you can successfully escape.Â
âWoah, easy girl. Nobodyâs mad at you. We have time, remember?â
Your smile is definitely coming across as panicked.Â
Your nails wander and find a hangnail to pick at while you talk. âI know, but that was so weâd have time to plan and itâs rude to make you wait and I really need time to plan, but I canât get my makeup to look rightââ
Jack nudges you into the house and you cut yourself off with another apology. Right. Cause heâs just standing in the hallway and youâre rambling on like someone deranged. God. Why canât your brain just work? Get into gear? Actually function properly?
âFirst of all,â Jack starts, gently steering you towards your couch, âYou look beautiful.â
Why does he have to say these things? Has he no care for what heâs doing to your heart? Is he unaware that Simone Biles would be impressed with the flip routine your stomach is currently doing?Â
He places a throw pillow in your hands which were previously clenched in your lap. Itâs your favorite throw pillow, actually, because the texture is very soothing. You squeeze it and rub your fingers across the grain.Â
âSecondly, we donât have to do this if you donât want to. I can go home and go to bed and if you want, Iâll never bring it up again. Not even to Robby.â
You crack a wobbly smile. âNot even to Nurse Evans?â
âSheâd probably guess on her own, but I would never confirm her suspicions.âÂ
You tuck your feet under your legs, shrinking into the corner of your couch. âI couldnât even if I wanted to. I already texted my mom to add a person to the reservation, and if I show up without a plus one thereâll be hell to pay.â
âYou could swap me with someone else?â
âDo you think I would have agreed to let my boss be my fake boyfriend if I had someone else to bring?â
âTouchĂŠ.âÂ
The corner thread of your throw pillow has begun unraveling, and your wandering fingers pull and tug at it erratically.Â
âIâm sorry. Iâm not usually this neurotic, I swear. My family brings out the worst in me.â
âI ainât judging, sweetheart,â Jack soothes, âBesides. Weâre ER doctors. Weâre all a little neurotic.â
Steadfastly avoiding his gaze (again, just a little too knowing, like he can see every insecurity youâre trying to hide) you stand on shaky legs and rush to the bathroom.Â
âIâll just. Finish up. Sorry again.â
âIâm gonna start a tally of unnecessary sorryâs. Youâre gonna owe me an hour of overtime for each one.â
Oddly enough, getting ready (the rest of the way) feels much more manageable and much less difficult with Jack nearby. He doesnât critique how long it takes you, the fact that you change earrings three times, or tell you that you look good enough and should just go.Â
He just hangs out in your living room, on the couch, practically oozing calm and nonchalance. The foolish, romance-starved part of you wants to cancel on your mom and spend the rest of the day curled up next to him on the couch, like a cat. Lazily dozing while Jack watches TV or something sounds like a much better way to spend your time after work than experiencing all five stages of grief over the course of one lunch. Repeatedly.Â
Finally ready, and with your sanity intact thanks to Jack, you pause by the kitchen and debate the merits of taking a shot to loosen your nerves. Unfortunately, your mom would undoubtedly somehow smell the alcohol on you and no doubt chew you out for a minimum of twenty minutes. Heaven forbid you make the event bearable.
Ever the kind host, you peek your head around the kitchen wall. âDo you want a shot, Jack?â
âYouâre aware that Iâm fifty?â
Right. That's probably an unhinged question.
âJust thought Iâd offer,â You say, meekly tucking the bottle back under the shelf, slightly embarrassed, âSometimes alcohol is the only way I can survive these things.â
Heâs leaned up against the couch, hands in his pockets when you exit the kitchen. âIt was very considerate, thank you. But I think the days of vodka and tequila shots are behind me. Iâm more of a whiskey man, anyways.â
âIâll keep that in mind when we end up at a bar afterwards to drink away memories of the lunch.â
Jack raises an eyebrow. âYou act like weâre going to be hung, drawn, and quartered after showing up.â
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. âSorry. I just donât want you to be unprepared, because theyâre not always bad but when theyâre bad theyâre bad, you know? And I just donât want to scare you off, and ruin the day you could be spending sleeping, and I really am thankful, by the way, I just donâtââ
âDo you always ramble when youâre worried?â Jack interrupts, tilting his head to the side.
âUm. No? I donât know. I try not to. But like I said. My family brings out the worst in me.â
He searches your face for a moment, then taps the underside of your chin with a crooked finger, raising it slightly.Â
âWe got this, okay? Iâm not easy to scare. Combat med vet, remember? Plus, if it really gets that bad, Iâll fake a call from the hospital. Say there was some horrible accident and weâre being called in.â
âWonât my mom get wise when she never hears it on the news?â
Jack shrugs. âItâs the city. Something horrible is always happening here.â
He holds the front door open for you when youâve got your shoes on and purse ready, but as youâre sliding past him, he leans down, the angle of his jaw almost brushing the side of your neck, and breathes in deeply.Â
âYou smell good.âÂ
Fuck the gymnastics routine. Your stomach is going for Olympic Gold.Â
âOh,â You exhale, a shiver running up your spine and a pleasant tingling sparking where your skin barely brushed his, âUhâ Thanks. Vanilla and spice. I like layering scents.â
âItâs nice. Suits you.âÂ
You manage to squeak out another awkward âThanksâ before hastily locking the door, hoping he canât tell just how flustered he keeps making you. Judging by the smile playing at his lips, your hopes are in vain.Â
The car ride to the restaurant is longer than it should be, on account of Pittsburgh traffic, but the time goes by quickly as you pepper Jack with questions to prepare for the million and one that your mother will no doubt ask.Â
(âWhat should I say if she asks if weâve slept together?â
âDo you really, honestly, truly think your mother is going to bring up the topic of sex at the table, in a nice restaurant, with your entire family present?â
âFair point.â)
By the time you arrive, youâve picked and torn every single hangnail and loose cuticle around your fingers down to raw flesh and tiny dots of blood. Jack parks the car (parallel parks easily in one go, no repositioning needed, in downtown Pittsburgh. Itâs one of the hottest things youâve ever seen in your life) a good distance away from the restaurant, so that your family wouldnât be able to see you if you decided to flee to his car to escape them.Â
At least, thatâs what he says.Â
âI want you to hang onto the car keys, okay? If they get too much, you can sneak out through the kitchen and go to the car. Iâll meet you there.â
You canât help but smile at his efforts. âAnd what will you be doing while Iâm sneaking out?â
âSinging your praises, of course.â
Exhaustion from the shift you worked in what seems like a lifetime ago lines your limbs, but as you step out of the car (through the door Jack insists on opening for you âIn case theyâre still watching,â) and loop your arm through Jackâs, you feel⌠almost capable.Â
The lunch is going to suck. Thatâs a given. But Jack assured you heâs seen worse (âProbably done worse, sweetheart,â) and will not leave the lunch in a fit of rage and cause a scene. His arm is firm and solid âand fucking huge, how are his biceps that bigâ under your arm, and his presence is steadying.Â
As you cross the street and begin your final walk towards the building, he un-loops his arm from yours, but after you make a questioning noise in your throat, worried youâd be completely untethered (how pathetic to already be this reliant on a man, but thereâs no time to unpack that now) but instead he wraps his arm around your waist instead, drawing you to his side and effectively grounding you to his body.Â
The entire left side of your body lights up at the contact, and if this were your apartment, it would be very difficult to refrain from climbing him like a tree or doing something equally embarrassing, like plastering yourself to his side and begging him to never stop touching you.Â
Youâve almost managed to come off unaffected, but then he leans down, lips almost brushing your ear, and whispers:Â
âYouâve got this, baby. And if you donât, I do.â
Forget your family. Jack Abbot is going to be the death of you.Â
When you walk into the restaurant, hyper-aware of Jackâs grip on your body (your delusional mind has you thinking how⌠possessive the hand almost feels, if you ignore the fact that this is all fake) your family is waiting in the foyer, talking amongst themselves.Â
Your mother immediately zeroes in on you. âHoney, weâve talked about you being on time to these things. You canât be late to important familyââ
You watch in real time as your motherâs gaze finally flicks to Jack, and the shades of recognition, shock, almost disgust, and confusion before settling back into forced pleasantness.Â
Your father, however, looks downright murderous. Looks like the age gap isnât going down too well.Â
If Jack is at all nervous or put off by the several stares and outright glares from your family, he does not show it. He exudes cool confidence, the same unflappable energy he has during chaotic night shifts. The same calm that makes him so alluring to you in the first place.Â
He sticks out his hand for your mother to shake, a mirror of earlier that day in the PTMC lobby.Â
âI believe weâve met before, but Iâll introduce myself again. Iâm Dr. Jack Abbot.â
Your mother shakes his hand, but looks between the two of you like youâve just spilled wine on her Persian rug that she canât afford in the first place.Â
âYouâre my daughterâs plus one?â
Jack nods. âHer boyfriend, yes.â
Your brotherâs gape. Your dadâs glare intensifies. You want to kiss Jack.Â
âHoney,â Your mother says, gaze darting to you, âYou didnât sayââ
âI didnât want you to meet him at the hospital,â You tell her, hoping the lie doesnât come across as too rehearsed, since you did rehearse it several times with Jack in the car on the way over, âThe lobby of the hospital isnât the best place to introduce people. And we really did have patients to get back to.â
Your mother purses her lips. âWhy the last minute addition? If youâd told me that he was coming before today, it wouldâve been easier to make the reservation.â
Jack is quicker to respond than you. âThatâs my fault, actually. I didnât think I was going to be able to come, what with my shifts as a senior attending, but when we met in the lobby I understood how important it was to make the time.â
You have to try hard not to smile at Jackâs not-so-subtle flex. Senior attending.Â
âYes, well. My daughter doesnât always stress the importance of these things.âÂ
Jackâs grip on your waist tightens ever-so-slightly at the backhanded remark, and your motherâs gaze darts to the point of contact. But your father jerks his head towards the tables before she can say anything. âIâm starving.â
Everyone files in behind him, with you and Jack at the back of the line. Again, he leans down to whisper to you.Â
âHowâd I do?â
You elbow him in the side. âWeâll discuss your performance after this is over.â
âLooking forward to it.âÂ
The hostess leads everyone over to a large table near a window (your mother is particularly about seating) and everyone finds a seat. One of your brothers, either as a test or just to be a shit (your moneyâs on the latter) slides into the open seat next to you before Jack can.Â
To his credit, Jack doesnât cause a scene, but he doesnât back down either. He just stares at your idiot brother for awhile before finally asking:Â
âDo you really wanna do this right now?â
Your brother must sense that Jack Abbot is not a man to be fucked with (just a man you want to fuck), and scurries to his own seat, tail between his legs.Â
Once everyone is seated and the food is ordered (you donât bother ordering anything other than the salad; Jack orders the most expensive thing on their menu. Heâs never seemed like one to care for finery and expensive Italian restaurants where you practically have to order in Italian, but again, his unfazed demeanor makes him fit in anywhere) your family immediately begins peppering him with questions. Questions you knew theyâd ask and appropriately prepared him for.Â
âSo. Dr. Abbotââ
âJust Jack is fine.â
ââHow long have the two of you been dating?â
âA month and a half.â
âWhyâd you start dating?â
You take a generous gulp of your wine.Â
âBecause your daughter is an incredible woman and an even better doctor.â
âDo you think sheâs pretty?â One of your brothers chimes in.Â
Jack takes it in stride, despite that not being a question you prepared. âIâd have to be blind and stupid if I didnât.â
You feel hot from the tips of your ears down to your toes.Â
Thatâs going in the mental folder.Â
âHave you always wanted to be a doctor?â
âPretty much. Took a bit of a detour as a combat medic first, though.â
âWhyâd you leave?âÂ
âHonorably discharged after I lost my right leg. Below the knee amputation.â
You drain the rest of your glass and inconspicuously motion to the waiter for more wine.Â
The table is silent for the customary length of time after someone drops the âgot a limb chopped offâ bomb. Your family is clearly mildly uncomfortable, but Jack just keeps sipping his drink, his free hand drifting down and brushing the side of your thigh.
Your dad clears his throat. Here we go. Home stretch. Final questions before weâre in the clear.Â
âMr. Abbotââ
âEither Doctor or Jack works.âÂ
Ooo. There was some bite in that one.Â
Your Dad frowns. He does not like to be interrupted or corrected. Youâve been on the receiving end of far too many hour long lectures (read: berating and borderline verbal abuse) to know better.Â
But Jack isnât his daughter. Jack is pretty much his equal. Actually, the fact that Jack not only served but is now a doctor places him above your father, by social conventions.Â
This no doubt infuriates your father. Heâs always hated it when he couldnât tear somebody down to his level. A true coward.Â
âJack,â Your dad continues, a trademarked forced smile to save face, âYouâre a smart man, yeah? Havenât you ever considered the age difference between the two of you might be a little much?âÂ
Yikes. Questioning Jackâs competency is not the way to go. Jack is very competent. And smart. And capable. Itâs really hot.Â
Your fake-boyfriend just reaches over and grasps your hand, over the table, and looks at you with such devotion in his eyes that you forget how to breathe.Â
âWar doesnât really lend to longevity. Iâve learned to hold on tight to things I care about.âÂ
For a moment, it doesnât feel fake. Thereâs raw, punched emotion in his voice, and his thumb rubs your hand gently. Like he really does care that much. Like he wants to hold on.Â
But then your brother fake-gags and your fake boyfriend looks away with that, heâs passed the tests, and the conversation moves onto to different topics. Jack laughs at all the right moments, doesnât bring up any argument-starting topics, doesnât rise to bait when itâs thrown his way.Â
Heâs perfect.Â
Eventually lunch is drawn to a polite close. You have one last glass of wine while Jack settles the bill. Himself. With one card. He doesnât even look.Â
Your mom sends a smirk your way after he waves off your fatherâs attempt at splitting the bill or offering to pay. Itâs probably the third time sheâs actually looked at you for the entire duration of the lunch, but since itâs positive, youâll let it slide.Â
Pretty soon bags are grabbed, hands are shook, and Jackâs hand magically finds its way back to your lower back and youâre being (very gently) escorted out of the restaurant and to the car.Â
âWow,â You breathe as you slide into the passenger seat of his car. âI think thatâs the smoothest a lunch with my family has ever gone in my entire life. Youâre really good at this.â
Jack doesnât respond though. Doesnât make any kind of noise that he heard you. His hands are nearly white knuckled on the steering wheel and heâs staring straight ahead.Â
âJack?âÂ
âThey didnât even talk to you.â
You blink.Â
âWhat?â
âYour family never tried to include you in the conversation. Didnât even ask you any questions.â
You snort. âTrust me, itâs better that way.â
He hasnât started the car yet, just keeps staring off into the middle ground. He canât be old enough to start doing a thousand yard stare already, right?
âYou ordered a salad.â He says, a very prominent frown on his lips.Â
âSo? It wasnât too expensive, was it? I swear, if I knew you were gonna pay for the whole bill I wouldâve looked at something cheaper, I donât know why salads are so expensiveââ
âPlease donât apologize for ordering a salad,â Jack says, voice pained, âEspecially because I know you hate salads.â
Oh.Â
âHow do you know that?â
âI overheard you talking to Dr. King that time you two were discussing the merits of Olive Garden. You said the salad there was the only kind you like, because of the dressing and the pepperoncinis.â
Your cheeks heat. âI never said I hated all salads. I said I like that one in particular.â
âYou hardly ate anything during lunch.â
âMy family tends to have that effect on my appetite.â
Jack does not look placated. He doesnât take the out that your little joke provides. Doesn't so much as huff. He looks upset. Distressed.Â
Something about what he said goes ding! in your mind.
ââŚMel and I had that conversation like, last month. You seriously remembered that?âÂ
He frowns harder, like the answer to your partly rhetorical question should be obvious.
(Itâs not. Why would he remember that conversation? Why would he care at all?)
âOf course I remember.âÂ
There isnât much to say after that. Youâre not really sure what in particular has upset Jack, what possibly blunder or error youâve made to incur him going completely monosyllabic and frowny. Ever eager to appease, you refrain from any attempts to cajole him, make conversation, breathe too loudly, or make any kind of indication that youâre still present.Â
The tension in the car is thick and uncomfortable. It prickles at your skin and the hairs on the back of your neck, but the only thing you dare to do is scroll through Pinterest, only looking at the safest, basic boards in case Jack glances over (he doesnât.)
But then he does glance over. He just doesnât look at your phone.Â
Jack just keeps looking at you.Â
Heâll look over, eyes darting over your face like heâs looking for something, and then heâll look away. Over and over for almost the entire course of the drive. He only stops when you accidentally time your staring (monitoring) of him wrong and make eye contact.Â
He parks by your place (he once again sexily parallel parks with ease) and then puts the car in park. And then he starts talking.Â
âYouâre so much more than them.âÂ
Jack has the heat on, but the air in the car suddenly feels cold.Â
âWhat?â
âYour family,â Jack clarifies, like that was the confusing part âYour parents. I hated watching you⌠disappear like that. You deserve better than that. You are better than that.âÂ
You try to swallow, almost choking on the sudden lump in your throat.Â
âListen,â You start, unaware of how to even begin processing what he said, let alone formulating the best response because your brain is just flashing abort! Abort! Abort! in big neon letters,, âThank you for today. I really appreciate it. But if this is all just too much, I can handle things from here. Really. I can say that someone called out and you had to cover shiftsââ
âNo.â
Jack says it with such vehemence, bordering on vitriol, that it startles you, and you flinch backwards ever so slightly.Â
An old habit.Â
Something flashes across his face âgone before you can decipher itâ and he noticeably forces himself calmer. Â
âI wouldnât be able to live with myself if I let you go alone again. Ever.âÂ
Your brain starts short-circuiting at his words. âI really canât ask you toââ
âItâs a good thing youâre not asking me then.âÂ
âJackââ
âPlease.â
Youâre stunned silent at the rawness in his toneâ the pain.Â
He said please. He said it like he was begging. He is begging.Â
âI donât know how you do it,â He continues, jaw working, âI can see it on you, plain as day. How you hate what they do, how it makes you hurt. But you keep going.â
You shrug uselessly. âIs there another option?âÂ
Jack reaches out for you, then falters, like he thought better. A tiny part of you wishes heâd followed through; bridged the yawning gap between the two of you thatâs made up of the center console in his car, a couple decades, and your own unwillingness to try at vulnerability.Â
âIâll walk you to your door.âÂ
The walk to your door is a stark contrast to the walk to the restaurant. Thereâs no mischief on his face now, only a mask of stony distress.Â
At the doorway to your apartment building, you pause. It seems customary. Appropriate. Necessary.
Really, you just want to look at Jack some more. Try to puzzle out why the lunch that felt like it went so well made him so upset. Where youâre getting signals wrong and crossing wires. Why success to you is failure to him.Â
(As an ED resident, youâve seen child abuse cases. Youâve seen foster care children littered with cigarette burns and criss-crossing scars of broken bottles and the corners of coffee tables and haunted eyes. Â
You know your family isnât great. But there arenât any cigarette burns or glass scars or eyes that track fast movement.)
You have this burning inclination to apologize to Jack. Logically, you know you havenât done something wrong, but you feel like you have because heâs upset so maybe you can make it better?Â
âYou have that look on your face.â
You frown. âWhat look?âÂ
âThe âIâm gonna apologize for something stupidâ look.â
âI wasnât going to.â
âYou were thinking about it,â Jack ducks down, catches your eyes, âHey, listen to me. You cannot fix what I am upset about. It is not your job. My mood is not your responsibility.âÂ
âItâs freaky when you do that.â
âDo what?â
âYou always know what Iâm thinking.â
Jack just huffs; shoves his hands in his pockets.Â
Emboldened by his reassurance, you ask: âWhy are you upset?âÂ
âBecause your family treats you like shit, and I want to fix it, but I canât.âÂ
âOh.âÂ
Itâs not that bad. It canât be that bad. Youâve seen bad. This isnât it. Itâs hard, but itâs not bad.Â
He stays quiet, seemingly sensing the inner turmoil his words have sparked. That, or he really is that good at reading you.Â
Jack nods towards your door. âWe can talk later. Get some sleep. We both have shifts tonight.â
Right. Yeah. All of these events roughly occurred over the course of six hours. Time makes sense.Â
Despite the fact that you are exhausted and desperately need to sleep if you have any chance of surviving your âquickly approachingâ shift, you linger.Â
âHow am I supposed to repay you for all of this?âÂ
The question thatâs been burning a hole in your pocket since he said Iâll do it.Â
He just shakes his head. Like itâs simple. Easy. âThis isnât something I want repayment for. Now go. Youâre no good to me as a zombie.âÂ
âIâll just have some of Shenâs Dunkin.â
âHe doesnât share that shit. Besides, heâs off tomorrow.â
âMaybe Iâllââ
âSleep,â He points at your door, âNow.âÂ
You smile at his insistence. Heâs sort of like cold coffee with sugar. Seems all bitter but then you get a bit of that sweet crunch, so it balances out. He balances out.Â
Sometimes it feels like he balances you out.Â
âGoodnight.â
He gives you a little smile of his own.Â
âGoodnight.â
â
Jack Abbot does not take his own advice. Mostly because he knows if he doesnât talk about what happened during that lunch from hell, heâs going to do something that will end in him being thrown in prison and having his medical license revoked. More importantly, if that happens, he wonât be around to take care of you.Â
So instead he collapses on his couch, works his prosthetic off to give his stump a needed break, and dials the number at the top of his favorites in his contact list.Â
âThis really isnât a good timeââ
âRobby,â Jack starts, âThey didnât even fucking talk to her.âÂ
âJesus, okay. Whitaker! Cover for me a sec, will you? I gotta deal with this.â
âThey justâŚâ Jack continues, genuinely at a loss for words. His vocabulary feels woefully unequipped to relay the depth of anger he feels about the events of the lunch, ââŚIgnored her. They talked over her, didnât ask her questions, hardly ever let her finish speaking when she did finally get a chance to speak, and threw jabs at her constantly. It was fucking awful.â
The background noise quiets over the phone, and Jack knows Robbyâs moved to either the break room or an empty patient room.Â
âShe fight back at all?â
âNo. Just⌠grinned and beared it. It was fuckinâ unsettling, man. Iâve seen her yell back at rude patients, watched her stand her ground to EMTâs who think they know better. It was like she hollowed herself out to sit at that table.âÂ
âChrist.â
âShe flinched away from me. Afterwards, in the car, when I raised my voice on accident.â
âFuck. Do you thinkââ
âI donât know. Maybe when she was younger. They donât live in state, so if they are, sheâs safe.âÂ
Jack scrubs a hand down his face. âGod. I donât know what to do, Robby. It doesnât seem like sheâs got⌠anybody. She didnât even understand why I was upset. She doesnât get why that would be upsetting.âÂ
âSheâs friends with Mel and Santos, right?âÂ
âAnd Whitaker by extension, yeah. But those are recent friends. Iâve never heard her mention anybody from back home. No boyfriend or best friend or anything. Sheâs just been doing everything on her own.â
Jack can picture Robby nodding. âWeâve done our fair share of that.â
âYeah, and look where that got us. I canât just leave her here. Fuck, it was like watching someone kick a puppy, over and over.âÂ
âThat bad?âÂ
âYeah.âÂ
The line goes silent for a bit, both men stewing on the subject at hand.Â
âSheâs always had these habits. I thought they were just personality quirks, you know. I mean, weâre all fucked up, but watching it happenâŚâ
âItâs different.âÂ
âYou could say that,â Jack sighs, âShe soaks up praise like a fucking sponge. She looks surprised every time I do something nice for her. And she keeps trying to make me happy.â
âYou lost me on that last one.âÂ
âIt doesnât⌠Sheâs not doing it to make me happy, exactly. She just does everything she can to keep me from getting mad.âÂ
âIs there a difference?â
âThere is. Eager to please versus eager to appease.â
âAre you sure you want to get involved?â
âBit late for that.â
âYou could pull back.â
âFuck no, I canât. Then Iâd be kicking the puppy.â
âShe is a grown woman.â
âWho happens to look like a kicked puppy.â
He scrubs a hand down his face, groaning into the microphone.Â
âYou finally realize how ridiculous you sound?â
Jack grunts. âIâm not giving you the satisfaction of answering that.â
The line crackles with the staticky sound of Robby chuckling. âThatâs an answer in it of itself, and you know that.âÂ
He lets the line go quiet again, briefly debating just hanging up.Â
âI donât know, Robby. Itâs justâŚâ
âWorse than you expected?â
âYeah.â
âCome on. You knew that was a possibility. Has it put you off, at all?â
âFuck no.â
âExactly. Now please, go to bed so I can get back to saving lives? Whitaker is covering for me and heâs only gone through two pairs of scrubs so far today. Iâm not a betting man, but if I were, Iâd bet money that heâs moved onto his third during this conversation.âÂ
âI save lives too.â
âYou wonât save any if you fall asleep on the drive over and die.â
âI would never fall asleep behind the wheel.â
âThatâs what they all say.âÂ
Jack really does hang up after that, plugging his phone in and rushing through everything he needs to do before bed.Â
But even as exhaustion pulls his body down into deep, dreamless sleep, he canât stop thinking about that hollow look on your face. And he knows, even half-asleep, that he wonât be able to let it go.
â
The next night at work is weird, because nothing has changed, except now you know what the inside of Jackâs car looks like and how his voice sounded when he begged you to let him help.Â
Itâs jarring, to say the least. Unsteadying and mildly world-rocking if youâre being honest.Â
But gossip travels fast within the walls of the PTMC, so by the time night shift is halfway over, youâre convinced youâve heard every variation in existence of the same two questions:Â
âDid you and Jack go on a date yesterday?âÂ
And:Â
âWhatâs Jack like on a date?âÂ
The answer to the first question is complicated and embarrassing, so you donât answer it or any of itâs variants. The answer to the second question is not complicated but it does, however, stir some very complicated feelings, so you refrain from answering that one too. You just try to refrain from thinking about or seeing him in general.
Youâre not avoiding Jack, per se. Just keeping busy. With other stuff. Thatâs conveniently nowhere near him.Â
Ellis keeps shooting you entirely too knowing looks, Mckay, whoâs pulling a double, pats your shoulder and tells you sheâs there if you want to talk, Shen is absent as Jack said he would be, and Jack himself is acting like nothing happened and everything is normal and heâs never been to your apartment smelled your perfume.Â
(ââŚI like layering scents.â
âItâs nice. Suits you.â)
Itâs all too much.
Hence the avoiding.
You try to curb your own ridiculousness for the sake of your patients, but itâs oddly difficult. Youâve always been amazing at compartmentalizing. If your family gave you any kind of skill, itâs the ability to shove your feelings in a box, and then shove that box in a corner of your mind you wonât access consciously until you end up on public transportation with your headphones. You should be more than capable of gathering up all the loose feelings labeled âFor: Jack Abbotâ and tucking them all nice and neat in that little box and then shove it in a dark mental corner.Â
But you canât. And along with the flurry of Jack Abbot causing a hurricane in your head, thereâs a lesser storm that is the result of your family. More specifically, how they look to Jack.Â
All roads lead back to Rome. Or, in your case, to Jack.Â
You catch yourself during every spare moment or menial task that doesnât require 100% of your brain power analyzing every interaction he had with them. Everything they said, everything they did, and how Jack wouldâve taken it. And why. Because clearly, the act of dealing with them isnât the problem. The ease and finesse in which he did so crosses that off the list. So itâs something else.Â
Itâs how they treat you.Â
You understand, logically, that it would be upsetting, from his point of view. If you were in his place, youâd also probably be upset too.Â
But this feels different. Jackâs reaction is different. Jack is different.Â
Itâs just never really been something that anyone should be upset over. Your family are who they are. Not great, but not truly bad either. You deal with them sparingly. You donât even live in the same state anymore. Itâs not a big deal.Â
âWhy are you hiding from me in a supply closet?âÂ
You whirl around, a box of gloves clutched in your hands.
âIâm not hiding from you.â
Jack crosses his arms and leans against the doorway. âThis is the third time youâve been here in two hours.â
âSo? I just want to be⌠on top of things. Iâm a productive person.âÂ
âYou are,â He amends, âBut all of your productivity tonight has been pretty strictly nowhere near me. Funny how that works.â
You sigh, placing the gloves back on the rack. âThings are just⌠weird, okay? I donât know how youâre being so normal about all this?â
Your fingers wander and find a loose piece of skin on the edge of your cuticle, and you begin absent-mindedly picking at it.Â
You canât exactly disagree with him, right here, in the supply closet at the hospital. But you canât quite bring yourself to agree eitherâ because whether he acknowledges it or not, things have changed. Seeing him outside the hospital, perfectly placating your family into one of the most peaceful get-togethers youâve had in years isn't just nothing.Â
Itâs everything. And you, for one, canât just pretend that it didnât happen.Â
âHey,â He calls your name softly, âWhatâs on your mind? Whatâs bugging you?âÂ
âNothing.â
He snorts, pushing off the doorframe and shutting the door behind him, so itâs just the two of you alone. âLiar.â
He doesnât probe any further, just leans against the now closed door with his hands in his pockets, eyes flitting over you like theyâre looking for an answer. An answer youâre too hesitant to give.Â
âIâm just worried.âÂ
âYou? Worried? No.âÂ
You cut him a glare, âThereâs a very real chance that this could all go horribly awry, you know.â
âSure,â Jack dips his head, âBut thatâs not what youâre really worried about.â
âAnd how do you know that?â
âBecause that doesnât address the fact that youâre avoiding me.â
You sigh, scrubbing a hand across your face.Â
âWhy do you care?âÂ
The question thatâs been nagging at you since the beginning. The little itch in the back of your mind that you just canât seem to get rid of. The puzzle you canât figure out; the tune you canât place.Â
Youâre a logic driven person. You like knowing how things worksâ why they work. Why things do the things they do.Â
You like having the why. Having the why makes the world make sense.Â
Nothing about Jack Abbot makes sense.Â
âWhy do I care about what?â
âThis,â You gesture vaguely to the air, âMe. I donât buy that you just didnât have anything better to do or whatever it was you said. People donât just⌠do that. Youâre really ruining your life for an entire week for what? So I'm a little less uncomfortable? Me? At the end of the day, weâre just coworkers. I know how important your down time is for you, so I just donât get why youâre so okay with being miserable just for my sake. Iâm not that important. These stupid lunches arenât that important.âÂ
Itâs a stupid confession. Much too vulnerable for a supply closet and a man youâre harboring feelings for.Â
He doesnât respond right away. Hums, stares at his shoes for a bit. Re-adjusts so his prosthetic isnât taking so much weight.Â
âYou are important. Youâre important to me, to this hospital, to your patients. And for the record, I am not âruining my week.â If it was that easy for my week to be ruined, I never would have become a doctor, let alone joined the military.â
âBut why?âÂ
âJesus, you watched a lot of the science channel growing up, didnât you?âÂ
You snort. âGuilty as charged.âÂ
Now itâs his turn to sigh.Â
âYou⌠seem to have this misguided belief that caring is reciprocal in nature.â
You frown. âIt is.âÂ
âIt isnât. At least it shouldnât be, but I donât think anyone ever told you that.âÂ
You scoff. âSo this is about my family.âÂ
He shrugs. âAmongst other things.â
âTheyâre not that bad.â
âThey are.âÂ
âOther people have it worse.â
âItâs not a competition.âÂ
You resist the urge to throw your hands in the air. âWhy is this such a big deal to you?âÂ
âBecause itâs a big deal to you.âÂ
The air gets quiet and tense. Like the supply closet and all the medical supplies in it are holding their breath. If they were alive, if they were holding their breath, youâre convinced theyâd all be looking at you.Â
Itâs Jack who speaks first though.Â
âI can see it. You do everything yourself, get back up even when itâs hard. You look out for other people more than you look out for yourself. Youâre selfless and kind and I donât think very many people give that back to you.âÂ
A reflexive smile pulls at your lips, a habit you never quite managed to kick after years of people telling you âsmile, look grateful, stop looking so upset, thereâs nothing to cry about.â It feels awkward and clunky on your mouth but you donât know what else to do. Thereâs no pre-written protocol for something like this.
âI still donât really get it.â You murmur, more to yourself than to Jack.
Jack sends you a light grin. âWeâll work on it.âÂ
âWe will?âÂ
âSure,â He shrugs, âAlready started anyways.âÂ
âIf youâre sure.âÂ
âIâm sure,â He opens the door, âNow get back out there. And bring the gloves too.â
You roll your eyes but comply, snagging the box off the shelf where youâd left it and following him out.Â
The rest of your shift passes much smoother than before, even with the routine influx of patients as the time inches closer to morning. Jack doesnât hover, but doesnât pull the disappearing act that you (totally fairly) pulled on him either. He truly seems unfazed. Like it really, actually doesnât bother him.Â
Well. Correction. It does bother him, but not because itâs something heâs doing for you, the part that bothers him (apparently) is how all of this affects you. All this caring makes you feel like a deer in the headlights.
You recall something he said that night. Something that had made you shiverâ something that hit the nail right on the head.Â
âHey, listen to me. You cannot fix what I am upset about. It is not your job. My mood is not your responsibility.âÂ
He always seems to know exactly what to say to you. How to act, what to do, what specific worry youâre feeling and the best course of action to soothe it. Itâs great but itâs also difficult, because thereâs a part of you that wants to let him keep doing it, but then thereâs the part of you that bristles every time and wants to snap that youâre completely capable of doing things yourself.Â
That probably wouldnât even work. Heâd just say something infuriating and sexy, like âI know, but I want to do this for you.âÂ
He would. He totally would.Â
The thought is equal parts haunting and reassuring.Â
(And maybe, also, a little, kind of really sweet?)
â
The next two lunches go great. Jack is still freakishly incredible at charming your family. And, with his help, you actually manage to hold a (mostly) civil conversation with your parents for the first time in⌠years.Â
The lunches are fine, but the part youâve started looking forward to is the before and after. Before, Jack comes to pick you up, and sometimes he comes early and helps prepare (which mostly involves him either talking you off the ledge, pouring a shot or two, or assuring you that your makeup and outfit look great. Not fine, great) or just to hang out. The hanging out part is nice, because he never comes with any sort of expectation. Heâll sit on your couch and scroll through his phone and entertain all the inane chatter you like to get out of your system beforehand but never had an outlet for before.Â
The after is even more fun. You run through the highlights of the night and hate on all the annoying things your family said to you. This usually also involves stopping somewhere for food (only for you, Jackâs never hungry because he eats t=at the restaurants but youâre never allowed to order anything that isnât a salad) and then the two fo you fight over who pays. You always insist since youâre the only one actually eating any of the food, but then Jack usually takes your card, puts it in his pocket, and uses his own.Â
Itâs as frustrating as it is hot.Â
But for the most part, the lunches and your shifts at work have actually been pretty goodâ as good as night shifts in a trauma center can be, anyway. Jackâs presence is⌠steadying, even when heâs not physically there. Heâs always present in some wayâ whether itâs little reminders he leaves at your favorite spot for charting (he only uses blue sticky notes) or a real lunch left for you in the breakroom fridge (you werenât previously aware he actually knew how to cook, or that he knew how picky you are when it comes to what youâll actually eat for lunch and how often you get too busy to properly make something.) Sometimes heâs there in your head; in little things heâs told or taught you that you remember in the moment.Â
Itâs nice. To have someone be around. Someone you can relax with, joke withâ someone who hasnât looked down on you for the the way you turned out.Â
You were pretty ready to declare smooth sailing ahead, but then on the third lunch your mother shows up and is decidedly not in a good mood and the seas turn choppy and the boat smashes into the rocks below.Â
At least, two peach bellinis in, thatâs what it feels like.Â
âHonestly,â Your mother puffs, âI donât understand why making some simple appetizers could take so long. This is why I hate going to restaurants during lunch hours, the staff just gets so lazy. The menu is always better at dinner anyways.âÂ
You ignore the thinly veiled dig and instead choose to quietly drain the rest of your third peach bellini. They taste like juice and take a much needed edge (or two) of the evening. Lunch. What-fucking-ever.Â
Jack, ever aware of the best way to survive these functions (somehow) whilst keeping his sanity, remains silent as your mom huffs and puffs, seeming to understand that trying to placate her when she gets in these moods is a fruitless endeavor that only leads to your mom getting more upset and everyone else more annoyed.Â
You, made slightly optimistic by the wonderful powers of alcohol, attempt to put her in a better mood.Â
âI have the next three days off, mom. Weâll be able to do dinners instead.â
Your mother, however, only scoffs. âThatâs no good to anyone now. Weâve already spent half this week dealing with poor restaurant service. I mean, no respectable job would have such a ridiculous schedule."Â
âIâm a doctor, mom. It doesnât get more respectable than that.âÂ
Jack nudges your leg with his, either a silent laugh, show of support, or quiet question of your sanity. Maybe all three.Â
Another bellini appears in front of you, this one heavier on the alcohol than the last. Your server is getting a giant tip when this is all over.Â
âYou work in the emergency department, dear. Thatâs hardly stable, and stable is respectable,â Jack clears his throat, and your mother at least has the manners to look mildly sheepish, âNo offense, Jack.âÂ
He smiles thinly. âNone taken.âÂ
Conversation from there is stilted at best with even your brothers tip-toeing around your mother. No one wants to be the subject of a nitpicking lecture, even when the version she gives them is a slap on the wrist compared to what you endure.Â
So you keep drinking your belliniâs and they keep coming. After your fourth, you think you should maybe slow down a little, but then your dad starts grilling Jack about his life (again) and you decide that alcohol is, in fact, necessary.Â
âHave you ever been in a serious relationship before, Jack?âÂ
That one almost makes you ask the server for a shot of vodka, straight. Thatâs a question you ask a nineteen year-old pimple-faced boy, not a fucking fifty year old man.Â
âI have, yes. But, like most things in life, they were learning experiences. Iâve moved on.âÂ
Your dad snorts, then gestures to you. âYou could teach her a thing or two about moving on.âÂ
Your blood runs cold.Â
Jack sets his glass down. âAnd what do you mean by that?â
Itâs your mother who answers. Because one vulture circling your soon-to-be carcass wasnât enough.Â
âIâm surprised she hasnât told you. It was all she ever talked about for years. Sheâs had exactly one boyfriend before youâ what was his name honey?â
âChristopher,â You answer hollowly, stomach churning.Â
Your dad snaps his fingers. âThatâs it. It took ages for her to get her first boyfriend. We were fairly convinced it would never happen, but then one day she came home with Christopher. Whole family wanted to throw a partyâ finally found someone to put up with all that attitude!â
Your family laughs, but Jack doesnât.Â
âWhereâs the funny part, in all this?â
Your mother clears her throat, just a tad awkward. âWhen she broke up with him it was awful. She refused to leave her room for works, cried all the time. Honestly, I would have understood if he had broken up with her, but it was all her decision.âÂ
Your dad nods in agreement. âWe had to have a sit-down conversation with her about decisions and consequences before she finally stopped crying and hiding in her room. Christopher was such a nice boy, we hated to see him go.â
Jack opens his mouth, poised to fire something back and defend you, but you beat him to the punch.Â
âHe cheated on me with my best friend.âÂ
At that, your mother frowns. âThatâs not what Christopher said. You were in your teen angst era, remember? Always picking fights? He told your brother that you were so distant with him he didnât know you were still together.âÂ
âI wasnât distant, I was really busy. I was studying for the MCAT. He knew that. He knew how important medical school was to me.âÂ
Your brother rolls his eyes. âMed school was all you talked about. Itâs not like you were putting out.â
Your mother snaps her fingers once. âThat is inappropriate talk for public. You know better.âÂ
âCome on, mom. Itâs true. Everyone knowsââ
âSorry to interrupt,â Jack says, not at all sounding sorry, âBut the hospital just texted. Thereâs an emergency, and weâre needed, so we have to go.âÂ
Jack does not wait for your mother or father to excuse him. He just stands, offering you his hand. It turns out that you need it, because there is, apparently, such a thing as too many peach bellinis. Your mom sends you a pointed glare as you stumble once, after which you make a concerted effort to look more sober.Â
Neither you nor Jack bother saying proper goodbyes. Once he grabs your jacket and purse (and your vision stops swimming so much and youâre sure you can walk in a convincing approximation of a straight line) youâre both gone. You pass your server on the way out, who is slipped a very generous cash tip for the excellent bellini service.Â
By the time you get to the car, you realize that youâre about to have to save patient lives and you are very, extremely, drunk. There is no way you are capable of doing any life-saving at the moment.Â
âJack,â You mumble, fumbling with your seatbelt, âI think Iâm too drunk to go in. Did they say how serious the emergency was? Can I just get a banana bag?âÂ
âThere is no emergency,â He says calmly, batting your hands away and buckling you in properly, âI made it up. I figured youâd be okay with ducking out of there.âÂ
âOh. That was nice of you.âÂ
He clicks you in and gives you a wry grin. âTold you I would handle things.â
You nod, the movement exaggerated and lopsided. âI hate it when they bring up Christpher. They always take his side. Like, is there ever a situation where itâs okay to cheat on a girl with her best friend? I was studying for the MCAT. I didnât even wallow or break up with him when I found out. I waited until after I took the exam so I didnât fuck up my score.âÂ
âThatâs my girl.âÂ
âChristopher was an asshole. He was a real dickhead. The whole situation sucked. I lost the only two people who I thought cared about me at the same time. My family acted like I was the fucking anti-christ for being upset about it, too. It was fucking terrible. Iâm so glad I donât live with them anymore. I mean, I still love them, and I care about them, cause theyâre my family, but everything is just so much easier when theyâre not around.âÂ
âYouâre allowed to hate them, you know.âÂ
âI know,â You say, fiddling with a hangnail. âI know I probably should.âÂ
You sigh, tilting your head back against the headrest. âI always keep holding out hope, you know? That one day theyâll apologize, figure their shit out, care about me in a way that matters. I know itâs stupid.â
âItâs not stupid.âÂ
You frown. âItâs not? It kinda seems stupid. Youâd think by now I would know better.âÂ
âNo,â Jack eases the car out of the parking space, âWeâre biologically wired to love our families. Itâs the reason why they can fuck you up so bad. Your brain canât compute why the people who are supposed to love you above all else just⌠donât. Not in any of the right ways.âÂ
You blow air through your lips. âI think my parents fucked me up. I was so happy when I matched into the Pitt, because it was so far away. But then I got out here it just kind of hit me, all at once, that I was alone. My best friend was gone, my ex boyfriend sucked, and I was too busy in med school taking care of myself and my family to make any friends.â
Shit, that sounds so whiny. âBut it turns out it wasnât so bad. Now I've got Mell, and Santos, and Iâm pretty sure Iâm friends with Shen too. Mckay is nice too. I like her. Sheâs cool.âÂ
Jack huffs something that could be a laugh, and you turn to study him; the angles of his face awash in the glow of the red light youâre currently stopped at. From here, you can see the tiny bits of tension he carries in his faceâ a slight pinch in his brow, the tiniest downturn of his lips. Itâs the only evidence that heâs not as unaffected by your family as he pretends to be.
Then the light turns green, and his face isnât illuminated the same.Â
âAnd what about me?âÂ
Oh. Well. Thatâs a loaded question.
The alcohol emboldens you to answer honestly. âI donât know what to think about you.âÂ
âOh really?âÂ
âMmm. Nope.âÂ
âHow come?âÂ
"You're soââ You gesture vaguely, âConfusing. I canât figure you out. For a while there, I was pretty sure you hated me, but then you offered to help me with this and you keep saying you care so I think Iâm wrong.âÂ
âYou think youâre wrong?â
âStill canât figure you out.âÂ
âAnd how can I show you that I mean it?âÂ
Thatâs. Hmm.
âI donât know. I think what youâre doing is working,â You pause, debating the pros and cons of continuing to just say whatever the fuck you want before deciding youâre too tired to care, âIt helps that youâre really hot.âÂ
His lips twitch. âOh, does it now?âÂ
âMhm. Youâve got this whole⌠capable thing about you. Itâs hot. Competency is in.â
âIf you say so.âÂ
âI do say so. I feel like if I had a problem I could call you or something and you would fix it. Youâre soâŚâ
âCompetent?âÂ
âThatâs the word.â
If heâs at all irritated, annoyed, or otherwise put off by your stupid rambling, he didnât show it.Â
âYou should call me whenever you have a problem. Chances are, I can fix it.âÂ
âAre you like Bob the Builder?â
âIâm a doctor, so no.âÂ
âYouâre kind of like Bob the Builder.âÂ
âWhatever you say,â He pauses at an empty intersection before continuing on, âBefore I start heading towards your place, do you want to stop by mine? You didnât even get to eat your salad, and I have leftovers. You can say no.â
âAre you gonna be mad at me if I say no?âÂ
âNo.âÂ
âThen yes.âÂ
âYou sure? I wasnât lying.âÂ
âI know. But I like your cooking.â
You spend the drive to Jackâs continuing to ramble about nothing and everything, to which he entertains with a seemingly endless amount of patience. The only time he interrupts is to hand you a bottle of Gatorade he procured from his back seat. Apparently, he bought a few to keep in his car after the first lunch. âFor any alcohol excursions.âÂ
Itâs freaky how prepared he is for every situation.Â
When you arrive, he unbuckles your seatbelt for you (unbuckling is just as difficult as buckling when youâve had an unknown amount of peach bellinis) and helps you up the stairs to his apartment.Â
His gigantic apartment.Â
âWoah,â You mumble as you shuffle through the doorway, pulled along by your hand in Jacks, âI didnât know they made apartments this size.âÂ
âIts not that big.âÂ
âI think, like, four of my apartments could fit in here. Your living room is the size of my entire place.âÂ
You stumble once, heel catching on the little rug on the entry way, and heâs immediately motioning for you to sit on the little bench by the door and pats his thigh once. You clumsily raise your leg, barely managing to land your foot on the general area he gestures to. He pulls the first shoe off, then repeats with the second with an air of total calm. Like this is normal and he does this all the time for you. Like you regularly find yourself drunk in his apartment.
You decide to unpack the moment when youâre sober.Â
âOne, itâs not that big, and two, thatâs what you get for renting a studio apartment.â
âLike you could afford better when you were an intern.âÂ
He snorts, leading you to his couch and gesturing for you to sit. âIf you want to change clothes you can borrow some of mine.â
You chew on your lip. The outfits you choose to look nice for your mother are never exactly comfortable, and when else are you going to get the chance to privately live the scenario you fantasize about several times a week before falling asleep?
âOnly if you donât mind.âÂ
âI wouldn't have offered if I wasnât. Stay there.âÂ
Jackâs only gone for a few minutes before he reappears with a dark grey sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants in a slightly lighter shade. The sweatshirt is oversized and looks well worn, but the sweatpants are suspiciously new, close to your size, and look eerily similar to a pair you changed into after a shift a few weeks ago.
He hands them to you. Neither of you mention the sweatpants. âYou can change in the bathroom. Door locks from the inside. Iâm gonna change too, and then Iâll heat up the food.âÂ
Jack shows you the bathroom (you donât bother unpacking why exactly he felt the need to tell you that the door locks and from the inside, thatâs for when youâre significantly more drunk than you are now and when youâre not in his fancy-ass apartment.)Â
Because heâs a man and men take approximately three seconds to change, heâs already in the kitchen setting stuff on the counter by the time you emerge from the bathroom. His countertops are solid granite, because the apartment is clearly expensive and heâs a man. Theyâre an inky black color with tiny flecks that sparkle when the light hits them just so.Â
âWhat are you doing?â Jack asks when he turns from the fridge to find you tilting your head this way and that.Â
âLooking at the sparkles.âÂ
âOookay. Do you want me to heat up the vodka pasta or the chicken?â
âYou made vodka pasta?âÂ
He shrugs. âYou said you liked it.âÂ
You slide into a seat at the kitchen island, a flush creeping up your neck. âThe pasta, please.âÂ
Suddenly exhausted now that youâre in soft, comfortable clothes that smell like Jack, you decide to just rest your head on your arms for a bit. And close your eyes. But youâre not going to fall asleep. Youâre not.Â
âDonât fall asleep. You need to eat something first.âÂ
âMâ not fallinâ asleep.âÂ
âMhm. Sure.âÂ
With great effort, you blink your eyes open and watch Jack while he heats up the pasta and prepares something else. A salad maybe?
âWhatâreâyouâ making?â
âJust a little salad. In case the pasta is too heavy for you.âÂ
âOh. How come?âÂ
âBecause I donât want you to throw up.âÂ
âI promise I wonât throw up on your furniture. I donât usually throw up when Iâm hungover.âÂ
âYou drink often?âÂ
âNo,â Your head lulls to the side, âIâm too busy. Iâm actually not-so-secretly very boring. I donât really like partying. I much prefer staying at home.âÂ
âThought you went to that thing with King and Santos?âÂ
âYeah, but that was âcause Trinity really wanted me to come and I felt bad and I didnât want her to think I was a boring, uptight bitch.âÂ
âI see.âÂ
âYeah. I kinda had fun, though. I wished you were there.â
âReally?âÂ
âYeah,â You sigh, probably a hint too dreamily, âMakes me feel better when youâre around.âÂ
âIâll keep that in mind.âÂ
He slides a little bowl with a light salad in it to you across the counter, and it's perfectly refreshing. Not at all heavy like the pasta ends up being.Â
âSorry I couldnât finish it,â You say, forcing down a yawn and resisting the urge to burrow into your arms and go to sleep right there, âI feel bad that you went through the trouble of making it and heating it up.âÂ
âIt wasnât that much effort. Besides, now you can just eat it for lunch tomorrow instead. Iâll send it home with you.âÂ
âMhm.â You hum, slowly inching your arms forward and down onto the counter, your head quickly following suit.Â
Jack chuckles, and you can hear the light step of his feet as he rounds the corner of the island and nudges you in the arm.Â
âCome on, sweetheart. You wanna get home to bed, donât you?â
âNo,â You shake your head, âI wanna sleep right here. Itâs comfortable.â
âIt wonât be when you wake up.â
You whine, curling away from him.Â
He just puffs another little laugh. âYou can either sleep in your bed, or my bed. You canât sleep on the kitchen island.â
âWhy not?â You finally lift your head, âAnd why is your bed an option?â
âOne,â He lifts up one finger in front of your face and slowly drags it back and forth, âBecause the kitchen island is not a bed. Two, Iâm not letting you sleep on the couch.â
âWhy? Is your couch uncomfortable?â
âNo,â He says, shuffling back over to where the leftovers are and tucking all the food away in the proper places, âItâs just not right to make a woman sleep on the couch.â
âI like sleeping on couches.â
He shoots you a look over his shoulder, âIâm sure you do. But youâre still a little drunk, and my bed is closer to the bathroom than the couch is.âÂ
You prop your head on your hand. âWho said Iâm even staying here tonight?â
Jack closes the fridge. âDo you want to? Because I donât care either way. We both have tomorrow off.â
âItâd be weird to wake up here.â
âWhy?â
âBecause youâre my boss.â
âAnd Iâm faking being your boyfriend so your parents get off your back. Pretty sure weâre past coworkers.âÂ
âWhat would we even do in the morning?âÂ
âSleep.â
âI donât want to kick you out of your bed. Iâll sleep on the couch.âÂ
âYouâre my guestââÂ
âYouâre already doing so much for me,â You blurt, stomach clenching, âIâ You know me. I can only handle so much. Let me do this one thing? Please?âÂ
Jack glowers for a bit, then sighs.Â
âOnly because you asked nicely and I believe in rewarding good behavior. And because I know my couch isnât uncomfortable. Iâll help you make it up.âÂ
Jackâs apartment is surprisingly tidy for the fact that a man lives in it (Christopherâs room at his parentâs house always looked like shit) and he pulls down a couple options for bedding. You go with the plain black sheet and its matching thick, fluffy comforter. He insists on making up the couch himself (despite the fact that the alcohol has mostly worn off by now) and even sets up a glass of water, a liquid IV packet, and a bucketâ âJust in case those belliniâs donât love you back.âÂ
The sight of it all is almost too much. Itâs just so much care. All of it. The fact that heâs helping out with you and your disaster of a family, the way that despite the horribleness of it all he hasnât judged you at all for how you deal with them. He refuses to let you drive yourself, always pays for every lunch for your entire family and the little snacks you get afterwards. Listens to you rant and he makes you food and gets you blankets andâ
âYou okay there?âÂ
âMhm,â You hum, âJust thinkinâ.âÂ
He leaves you be for a moment, busies himself with fixing your pillows and and tugging the comforter into its proper place.
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you turn, throwing your arms around Jackâs middle and burying your face in his chest.Â
âThank you,â You say, voice muffled by the fabric, âFor doing all of this. Thank you for looking out for me.âÂ
Jack is still for a second, just long enough for you to second guess initiating physical contact âa line you were previously too scared to crossâ but then his hands come up and it's so, immediately, remarkably over. Because youâre never ever going to draw that line again. You can never go back to your life without having this. Without having him.Â
Jackâs hands are big and deliciously warm as they slide up, around your waist, lingering to rub a few circles on the mid of your back before moving on. One arm stays, tightening around your waist and drawing you closer while his other glides further up, up, up, his callused palms sliding over the knob at the very base of your neck before his hand settles around your nape, fingers just barely brushing the edge of your hairline.Â
You barely manage to suppress a whine at how warm and incredible it feels to be fully enveloped by him. You never want him to let go. Goosebumps erupt everywhere he touches, little sparks of electricity lingering under your skin in his wake.
âI will always,â He presses the lightest of kisses to your temple, just a feathering of his lips, âLook out for you, baby. Iâm always gonna be right here.â
His arms tighten around you, drawing you inâ closer, closer, closer. Wrapped up in everything that is Jack you canât help but sag, going completely boneless in his grip and allowing yourself to just bask in him.Â
âYou smell good.â You mumble into his shirt, completely lost in the moment.Â
âDo I?â
âYeah. Good. Like man.âÂ
He chuckles, the sound vibrating pleasantly against your cheek. âThank you sweetheart.âÂ
âWhy do you call me sweetheart?âÂ
âBecause youâre a sweetheart.âÂ
âI am?âÂ
âDonât play dumb now,â He pulls back a little, just enough to get a good look at you, fingers curling in the fine hair at your nape and tugging down, angling your chin up so youâre forced to look at him, âYou know you are.âÂ
You shrug, eyes darting to the side, your cheeks flushing, âI donât know. I was just making sure.âÂ
âMhm.â He hums, tone almost mocking, fingers tightening around your hair just before the precipice of pain.
You stay like that for a few moments of charged silence. Jackâs eyes shamelessly rove over the planes of your face, mapping it out in his mind. He keeps his grip on your hair, not completely forcing eye contact but keeping your head firmly in place.Â
Itâs possessive. Bold. Probably too intimate for two people who (supposedly) are not actually dating
And you love it.Â
Jack only lets his hand (and your head) drop when your jaw opens in a splitting yawn.Â
âOkay,â He huffs, taking a step back, âTime for bed. Get going.âÂ
Embarrassment is the only thing keeping you from whining at the loss of contact and impending reality of sleeping on the couch alone. But you made your bed (figuratively) so now you have to lie in it.Â
The couch does look comfortable. Especially since Jack put all the blankets together.Â
He waits until youâve crawled under the comforter to bid you goodnight, followed by a parting reminder to âWake him up if you start aspirating on vomit.â Itâs a very Jack thing to say.Â
Youâre out almost the second Jack turns the lights off. You fall into deep, blissful sleep, dreaming of that final moment in the living room, your eyes boring into each other.Â
Except in the dream, you tilt your head up those last few inches, and kiss your fake boyfriend as hard as you can.Â
â
Generally, the annual lecture event ends with a massive blow out argument. Something dramatic and filled with expletives, after which your mother will refuse to answer any texts or calls you send before finally telling you thatâs sheâs sorry if (always if) something she said offended you, but talking to you is just so hard sometimes so she doesnât want to unless youâre ready to be more civil. By the time the two of you are on neutral terms again, itâs time for the next annual lunch circuit.Â
Youâre a mess of nerves in the hours before the last one. Like usual, your mom requested that the last dinner be held at your place. âSo it can feel like a real family dinner.â While you know that there isnât any saying no to your mother, you also know that there is no way youâre cramming your entire family in your tiny ass studio apartment. It happened once. It will not happen again.Â
You originally asked Jack during a last minute shift you both got called in to cover if he would help you move some of the furniture at your place to accommodate them, and then heâd gotten this incredulous look on his face and then told you to tell your mom that youâre having dinner at his place.Â
âJack,â Youâd gaped at him, âItâs fine. My apartment isnât that small, and you donât have to help move the furniture if you donât want to. I can ask Dennis to give me a hand instead. I really donât think you want to host my family.âÂ
âSweetheart, itâs just logic. Youâve seen my place.â
âOkay. No need to rub it in.âÂ
Heâd just rolled his eyes and pinned you with a firm look. âCome on. You know this is the best option. If your mom throws a fit, tell her I insisted and give her my number.âÂ
âDo you have a death wish?â You hiss, âThatâs asking for torture.âÂ
Jack had just shrugged. âWould having it at my place be easier for you?âÂ
â...Yes?âÂ
âThen weâll do it there. Youâre off in a bit, right?âÂ
Youâd nodded.Â
He fishes something small and shiny out of his pocket and tosses it to you. âThatâs my spare key. Iâll be here later than you, so just let yourself in if you want to get there earlier to start setting up. Iâll be home soon.âÂ
Robby shouted his name soon after and Jack was whisked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the ED, holding the fucking spare key to his apartment, gaping like a fish.Â
The line between real and fake has become so blurred youâre not sure if it ever was there to begin with.Â
Heâs started calling you sweetheart more and more oftenâ sometimes when no one's around. No familial audience to be persuaded into the romantic lie youâre selling. Is it still a lie if it doesnât feel like one anymore?
The question and accompanying feeling follows you all day. All throughout your harried dinner preparation. Even now, with a solid hour until your family is supposed to start showing up, you canât help but pace the length of Jackâs kitchen, heeled feet clicking on his floor. Jack himself is similarly dressed up, wearing a pair of dark jeans (âIâm not wearing slacks in my own home, and Iâm not old enough to start wearing khakis with everything.â) and a black button down shirt with the first two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He makes a very nice view and under other circumstances you might take the opportunity to climb him like a tree. But alas. Anxiety.Â
âTake your shoes off if youâre going to pace. Youâre gonna give yourself blisters.âÂ
You ignore him, chewing on an already stinging cuticle.Â
âThings have been pretty good this far, right? Do you think sheâs just waiting until the very end to bring up some secret thing that sheâs upset about?â
Jack begins preparing the wine âyour mother only likes redâ for decanting. âI think if your mother were that upset about something she wouldnât be able to hide it.âÂ
âTrue. But what if?â
âIâm not going to help you spiral.âÂ
âWhy not?â You whine.Â
He looks at you with a heavy glare and points to the shoe tray at the door. âShoes. Off. You can put them back on when they get here.âÂ
You grumble under your breath the entire way but comply. Only because your feet were starting to hurt.Â
When your family finally does arrive, it ends up being annoyingly anti-climactic. You spend the entire time on the edge of your seat (literally and figuratively) waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for conversation to turn sour, arguments to erupt, someone to choke on a piece of lettuce and die despite professional intervention.Â
But the argument never starts, conversation remains what it usually is and becomes no worse (or better, unfortunately) and no one passes away due to unevenly chopped vegetables.Â
The torture is over fairly quickly. Most everyoneâs flight back home leaves early the next morning and your dad is paranoid about flight times.Â
Pretty soon itâs all just⌠over. They leave, your mother bickering with your father on the way out about something that probably doesnât matter, and then itâs just you and Jack and the entire scheme is just done. Finished. Just like that.Â
There won't be anymore knee's brushing under the table, no more shared glances and pecks to the cheek when you make a joke that actually lands. No more excuses just to sit and watch him under the guise of playing the adoring girlfriend. No more late night milkshakes.
You'll just go back to being coworkers-- People who pretend not to know each other intimately. Jack probably won't struggle with it. But to you, right now, the idea of just not having him anymore seems like a another wound, right over top all the others.
You don't want him to become another person who used to know you.
Youâve been staring at the closed door for upwards of five full minutes, clenching and unclenching your fists when Jack comes up next to you. He hands you the same clothes you wore the last time you were there and jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom. Â
âWhy donât you go and change, huh?â
Your lip wobbles a bit as you answer. âBut I want to help you clean up.âÂ
âYou can,â He soothes, âAfter you change.â
âButââ
âHey,â He interrupts, âNo. Youâve been stuck in those clothes for hours. Go change. Iâll wait for you.âÂ
Jack keeps his word. Heâs leaned up against the kitchen island when you emerge, rubbing at your ânow bare, having had the foresight to bring makeup wipes with youâ face.Â
He looks up when the door opens. âBetter?âÂ
âYeah. Thanks.âÂ
He just hums, heading back over to the kitchen table, stacking plates and cutlery. You follow in silence, and he thankfully doesnât push for conversation.Â
Cleaning up doesnât take long enough. Jack has a fancy dishwasher (and probably doesnât want to stay standing any more than he has to this late in the day) and there arenât any leftovers to pack up. Your brothers are bottomless pits when it comes to free food.Â
It canât just be over like this. It can't.
When everything is finished and there isn't anything left to do, Jack wordlessly leads you to the couch and puts something quiet and calm on the TV. The white noise washes over you as you attempt to get comfortable, but the knowledge that it's all over proves to be an itch under your skin that you just can't seem to squash.
âSo,â You say after the two of you are seated on opposite ends of the couch, âThatâs it then.âÂ
âSo it is.âÂ
âGuess I owe you big time, huh?âÂ
âIâve already told you I donât care about that.âÂ
âRight,â You look down at your lap, âYeah. Sorry.âÂ
You lapse into silence.Â
Jack sighs. âSweetheartââ
âWas it fake to you?â You blurt, jiggling your knee, still staring at your lap, âWere youâ did you mean it?â
It never felt fake. It never felt like pretending.Â
It felt real.
It felt like, for the first time in your life, things could be easy.
Maybe easy isn't the right word. But it life sure as hell didn't feel as hard.
When you look up, uncomfortable in his silence and hoping thereâs answers in his face, but instead of finding something like disappointment or irritation, heâs grinning.Â
âWhat do you think?âÂ
âI donât know.âÂ
He dips his head once. âYes you do. Youâre a smart girl, I think you can figure it out.âÂ
Your fingers are curled around the hem of his sweatshirt, white-knuckling the fabric as if to stabilize yourself. Like youâre liable to somehow float away if you donât dig your heels into the couch and hold on tight.Â
âWhat if Iâm wrong?âÂ
âYou wonât be.â
A scoff escapes your lips, âYou canât know for sure.âÂ
He taps his pointer finger on his leg in an unhurried rhythm.Â
âYou do.âÂ
Your stomach is rolling in a combination of leftover anxiety from the dinner that went better than it was supposed to and the weight of Jackâs gaze on you.Â
âI thinkâŚâ You pause, worry threatening to overwhelm you, and take a deep breath before continuing, âI think you might like me.âÂ
âYou think,â He drawls, âI might.âÂ
âI donât want to be wrong!â You cry.Â
Jack huffs, throwing his head back in a good-natured sigh.Â
âCome here.âÂ
You scoot further down the couch, sitting criss-cross right in front of him. This is not going the way you thought it would. You were almost certain youâd walk away shamed and embarrassed, forced to fake your death and flee the country out of the sheer humiliation of thinking your boss would actually have a crush on you.Â
Jack does love to prove you wrong.
âSoo,â You start, still hesitant, âYou do like me.âÂ
Jack props his head on his hand, his expression something youâre starting to recognize as fond. âYes.â
âMore than a little?âÂ
âYes.âÂ
âAnd you werenât faking anything. You were serious about theâ You know.âÂ
âUse your words.âÂ
âThe flirting.â You clarify, ears burning.Â
âAll correct,â He nods, âThough I would have said it differently.âÂ
You frown. âAnd how would you have put it?âÂ
âI would have said,â He reaches out, snagging your arm and tugging until you fall down onto his chest with a little oof, âThat you have a hard time believing things that are good, so I had to audition for my role. Like old-fashioned courting.âÂ
You want to be offended, but unfortunately, it did work.Â
You frown.Â
Wait.Â
âHave you known I liked you this whole time?âÂ
Jack snorts. âOverheard you talking to Whitaker about it during your second week.â
Heâs known since the second week?
âOh my god.âÂ
âDonât worry, I didnât tell anyone. Except Robby. Heâs been hoping you would figure it out for awhile now.â
âOh my god.â
âI thought it was cute,â He smoothes a hand over your hair, âYou were so much more nervous back then. Youâve come a long way.âÂ
You shift uncomfortably at the praise, but Jackâs having none of it. He wraps his arms around you, holding you in place.Â
âCan you take a compliment?âÂ
âNo.âÂ
He re-positions under you, getting more comfortable. âWeâll try again later.âÂ
âAm Iâ Can I stay here tonight then?âÂ
âOf course,â he murmurs, âMy one condition is that youâre not sleeping on the couch.â
âFine,â You sigh, long and drawn out, âI suppose we can share.âÂ
âHow kind of you to share my bed with me.âÂ
âI have been told Iâm kind.âÂ
You both smile, and everything just feels so right and so perfect that you can't help but lean up, clearing the last few inches, and pressing a hesitant, gentle kiss to his lips.Â
Itâs just like your dream.Â
Only this time, itâs real. And Jack is kissing you back.Â
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hey again, honey! how do we feel about riding jackâs thigh? especially if he has erectile dysfunction? like he knows he canât please you in the way you truly want but he wants to have you finish in anyway he can
hi, sweet girl!! you caught me at the right time because i am SO READY FOR THIS!! <3
contains: older bf! jack, horny gf! reader, big age gap because we can, jack has ed (but that'll never stop you), daddy kink! (bc i know moot loves >:3), lots of kisses, thigh riding, finger sucking, use of dildo (i'm SO geeked AAAAA)
word count: 992 :D (apologies if i got carried away)
it's no secret that jack isn't exactly a spring chicken anymore. he's getting older, and his body isn't as resilient as it once used to be. that could be difficult, especially having you, his much younger girlfriend. your sex drive was something he admired, but definitely not something he could keep up with anymore. his erectile dysfunction was starting to get the best of him. he felt terrible that he just couldn't get it up for you, despite how fucking perfect you always were for him.
he had to reassure you many times, since you were afraid it was because he wasn't attracted to you anymore. on the contrary, seeing the way you were desperate to find any other way to get off with him, it made him feel wanted... which is how you got to where you are now. your mouths are colliding, saliva dripping down both of your chins as your tongues tangle with one another. you are whining into his open mouth while he grinds you down against his lap.
despite the lack of a bulge between his thighs, the friction from your barely-covered pussy against his flaccid cock through his sweatpants was still enough.
"shit, baby- 's not gonna happen tonight. 'm sorry..."
he pants against your cheek as you trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down his jawline and neck. you pull back giving him a soft kiss to the tip of his nose.
"don't say sorry... just wanna feel you."
he nods, pulling you back to him and shoving his tongue right back in your mouth. you moan loudly at the lewd noises of him licking around in your mouth like it was his day job.
"let me see that pretty tongue, princess."
you stick out your tongue as instructed and he sucks on it just the way he knew you liked it. not everyone got to say that just making out with their lover could be their undoing. but for the two of you and your mutual oral fixations, the sky was the fucking limit. you manage to squirm around a bit, straddling one of his thighs. as soon as you start to grind against it, his grip is bruising on your hips, adding more pressure against your sensitive clit.
"open, say aaa."
he watches you, one of his hands coming up to your mouth. you open your mouth and he slides two fingers in. he groans, feeling your tongue swirling around his digits while you're still riding his thigh. you whimper against his fingers, feeling yourself gettling close already. you suck on them enthusiastically, more spit pooling at the corners of your lips.
"messy fucking girl, look at you. daddy's fingers taste that good?"
you whine and nod, the sound reverberating through his hand. it's not until his entire hand is covered in your drool that he finally removes his hand. your moans are getting louder, your hips twitching as you grind down on his clothed thigh. you're clenching around nothing at this point, so desperately needing his cock inside of you. but, as suspected, the thing still hadn't budged.
suddenly, a bright idea popped into your head.
"the drawer..."
you pant, pointing toward your nightstand. you had a plethora of sex toys hidden in there, but there was one you particularly had in mind.
"what do you want from it? use your words."
he rasps in your ear, holding you close as you try to catch your breath.
"the- the blue one... the one that's shaped like you."
oh yeah, one of your birthday presents from him. a dildo that was made using a mold of your older boyfriend's stupidly thick cock.
his expression darkens, a knowing smirk spreading across his lips.
"close enough to the real thing, huh? such a smart girl."
he presses a kiss to your forehead, holding onto your hips as you lean over and open the drawer. you hand it over to him as he helps you lie back on the bed. he gently pulls your panties down your legs, discarding them to the side. he drags the blue silicone through your wet folds, realizing rather quickly that you wouldn't even have to worry about lube.
"all of this for me? you sure do know how to spoil daddy, sweetheart."
you whine as the tip of it rubs against your aching clit, head falling back against the sheets. he lies down next to you on his side, pressing a kiss to your lips. mid-kiss, he shoves the tip inside of you, causing you to gasp. he takes advantage of your parted mouth, his greedy tongue slipping in once again. once it's fully inside of you, he's thrusting it rather quickly in and out of you.
"s-so much, daddy. slow down... please."
you whine softly, your head resting against his chest.
"you can take it, just like you take the real one."
he spoke encouragingly, watching the way your thighs trembled as he continues to thrust the dildo inside you.
"don't worry, baby. as soon as the real one is ready, you'll get all of it."
you clench around the silicone toy at the thought of being able to take his actual cock soon. your eyes roll into the back of your head as his free hand slides down between you and rubs furious circles into your clit. you couldn't even form a sentence at this point, cock drunk and it wasn't even the real thing.
"atta girl... that's it, you can cum on this cock too, can't ya?"
you nod shakily, moaning against his chest. before long, you're finally crashing over the edge. your slick was pooling around your ass and onto the sheets, and you swear a toy has never felt that good until now. he gently removes the toy from you, wrapping his big, strong arms around you and peppering kisses all over your face.
"you did so fucking good, baby. take every cock of mine like a champ."
a/n: EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU EMMY FOR THE LOVELY REQUEST!!!! <33333
A Red Velvet Original: Jack Abbot x Reader (Based On Jack Becoming A Quinn VA)
AN: This started with a throwaway comment by @beebeechaos and turned into something I'm really interested in exploring. As usual much research has been done into voice acting, scriptwriters and Quinn as an app.
Summary: After doing a guest spot on Javadiâs podcast, Jack discovers there may be a niche for a voice like his.
The voice acting starts because of a guest spot on Javadiâs podcast. Itâs another hustle sheâs running alongside the Tiktoks, trying to give the public a taste of what life is really like on the front lines. He ends up talking about the eccentricities of the night shift, how you have to be a special type of person to fall in with the night crawlers, to do the things that his team do in the dark.
Itâs Jesse that approaches him about the comments in the aftermath. He thinks Javadiâs too embarrassed to which is why he ends up hunched over the nurseâs station studying the nurseâs phone as he scrolls through the litany of people describing how sexy his voice is, how they could listen to it for hours no matter what heâs saying.
âYou knowâŚâ Jesse says his thumb hovering a pink icon on his phone with a âqâ in the centre. âThereâs this thing I do that no one knows about, itâs kind of wild.â
âWilder than getting shot at on a Friday night?â Jack asks him as the full screen for an app called Quinn flashes up. Heâs still salty that he didnât pass that last TEMS psych eval. Apparently, it wasnât what his therapist meant when he told him he needed to get a hobby.
âItâs⌠a different type of wild.â Jesseâs teeth sink into his lower lip indecisively before pulling up a profile entitled ThatSilverFox. He hands Jack the phone, the doctorâs eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he studies the details.
ThatSilverFox â Purveyor of fantasies and dedicated to your pleasure.
Scripts written by Red Velvet.
Male - 50,987 listeners â 5,000,567 plays.
345 Audios:
Boys & Their Toys â My new toy has arrived and you like to watch. [M4F] [Exhibitionism] [Voyeurism] [Toys] [Vibrator] [Edging Myself]
Bad Romance â Youâve been a bad girl and I need to teach you a lesson. [M4F] [Bondage] [Spanking] [Degradation] [MDom] [Blindfold] [Red Room]
The Boss â The way youâre bending over that desk⌠it gives me a lot of bad ideas. [M4F] [Power Dynamics] [Boss x Employee] [Oral] [Praise] [Body Worship]
Thereâs more, hundreds more. All with different tags and kinks.
âAre you telling me that the entire time Iâve known you, youâve been secretly recording audio pornâŚâ Jack hisses under his breath as he continues to thumb through the profile. He has to hand it to Jesse, heâs versatile.
 âI started doing it to pay my way through nursing college and well, I got really fucking good at it.â Jesse says running a hand through his snare of gray curls. âOne of my friends on the same course wanted to try her hand at script writing. She says itâs a great way to decompress after a pulling a shift at this hellhole.â
âThis⌠Red Velvet⌠she works here too?â His gaze strays to a nurse that drifts past, his eyes narrowing as if trying to detect if they have a secret life as an erotic script writer.
âYouâd be surprised by how many people in this place have worked in adult entertainment to make ends meet.â Jesse says with a seriousness Jack feels in the depths of his soul. They all know the story of Dennis Whitaker, homeless until Santos took him in, living on the 8th floor. âThis is safe, inclusive, it gives us control and sheâs right, it is a great way to decompress, something I think youâre struggling with after what happened with TEMS.â
Jack clears his throat, his palm scrubbing over the back of his neck as he takes in Jesseâs words. As much as he doesnât want to admit it to himself, he spends most of his downtime in a state of hypervigilance, listening to the police scanner, bitter he isnât one of those people rushing out to help. TEMS made him feel useful in a way he canât explain to others who havenât been a part of the services. That desire to deserve itâs been bred into him ever since his first tour and on his days off he finds himself lacking purpose.
âI mean I didnât hate doing the podcastâŚâ He says, shrugging his shoulders before gesturing at the phone that rests in the space between them. âBut Iâve never done anything like that before, I wouldnât know how.â
âWellâŚâ Jesse drawls, his elbows coming to rest on the desk as the two of them bend their heads together conspiratorially. âI want to expand my brand a little, do a collaboration. Two guys, one girl kind of thing. The script Red Velvet has written is absolute fire, I just havenât been able to find the right voice untilâŚâ He lets the rest of the sentence hang but Jack gets the drift.
âYou think Iâm the right voice?â Jack asserts, mulling this latest development over in his head.
Sex⌠itâs a fact of life. Something heâs very good at when heâs engaged in a relationship. And those kinks that were listed on Jesseâs profile, heâd participated in more than a few of them, the others⌠he wouldnât mind exploring.
âI think youâve got a great voice.â Jesse says earnestly before holding up his phone, shaking it from side to side. âAnd so do thousands of other people on the internet if Javadiâs podcast is anything to go by. I have studio set up at my place. We could do a few read throughs, you can get a feel for it, see if itâs your thing.â
âAlright.â Itâs not like Jack has anything else to do when heâs not running the nightshift at PTMC, something like this, it might be a way to decompress, fill the time between shifts. âSend me the script and Iâll read it through.â
Itâs an hour later his phone pings. He reaches into his pocket and see that Jesse was true to his word about sending the script the moment he got home.
Jesse Van Horn: File Attached.
Booked â A Red Velvet Original.
You get caught cheating and your professors must punish you any way they see fit. [MRoughDom] [MSoftDom] [Spanking] [Blowjobs] [Double Penetration] [Voyeurism] [Oral] [Overstimulation] [Pussy Slapping] [Fingering] Â
His eyebrows raise as he studies the script. Itâs clear which role heâs meant to fit into. He can hear Jesseâs voice as the Soft Dom, smoothing over his own Rough Dom hard edges.
Jesse Van Horn: What do you think?
Jack Abbot: Iâm in.
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