30| she/they if I posted my name I’d no longer be anonymous ~ If you do not let me write out my fantasies, I will go insane and I WILL TAKE YOU ALL WITH ME!
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Warnings: baby, fluff, newborn phase, banter, new dad Peter, Peter has a beard.
Word Count: Under 1k
A/N: a quick one from me before bed prompted by pictures of AG in the Magic Far Away Tree on my feed. I have no idea fully what this is but hope it does something for at least someone and I’m always a sucker for a little Dad Peter fic.
“What is that?” You asked him when he walked into the room with a glass of water and handed it over to you in exchange for the newborn you’d just finished feeding in your arms.
“Its water. You need to stay hydrated-“
“No, I mean, what is that on your face?”
You know you’ve been out of it for a few days, having a whole tiny human come out of your tiny hoo ha will do that to you, but how had you not noticed the increased amount of hair forming on his jaw.
He looked over to the mirror then back to you. “What this?” He said, shifting the baby into one arm so he could point at his chin. You simply raised your eyebrows and nodded in response. “This,” he said with a grin, “is my dad beard.”
“Your dad beard?” you pressed a faint tickle creeping into the corner of your mouth.
“Yes, my dad beard,” he said proudly. “Most dad’s get dad bods,” he said, as he began to gently jiggle and soothe the baby into his arms. “I can’t get one of those with you know the whole spider metabolism thing, but what I can do,” he said, now directing his words and attention to the quietly fussing baby, “is grow out a very manly dad beard.”
“Very manly?” You said in a deadpan and mocking manner, your eyebrows raising again as you watched him fondly rock the child in his arms, a complete natural in his new role.
“What? You don’t like it? Well tough, it’s part of my identity now.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, really,” he pressed, his tone equally as lighthearted and teasing as your own.
You smiled. “Come here,” you encouraged him, wanting him and your daughter to come settle on the bed beside you so you could soak up the short moment of silent bliss.
With him closer, you could observe his new facial hair a little closer. “I like it,” you finally said to him. “But if you’re keeping it, you better be prepared to take care of it.”
“You talking about my beard or her?” he joked again and this time you really did crack a big toothy smile.
“Uhhh you’re so corny,” you faked protest, your nose wrinkling.
“Yeah, but that’s why you love me,” he said, leaning over to give you a slightly more scratchier than usual kiss on the head.
“Now that I’ll have to get used to,” you said.
“You better, because I think it’s here to stay. Now shut your eyes and try and get some more rest, I’ll bring her back to you in a little bit when she needs her next feed.”
“Thanks Pete,” you said fondly, carefully shuffling yourself back down under the sheets for a nap.
“I love you,” he said, gently shifting back off the bed. He made it all the way to the door when he paused to look back at you one last time. “You know she’s beautiful,” he beamed looking between you and the baby. “You made an absolutely beautiful baby Mrs Parker.”
“Yeah, yeah Dad beard,” you joked, unable to take the emotional mushy moment right now for fear of your hormones would push you into floods of tears, “now go, let me sleep.” You said, snuggling down into a moment of bliss, allowing you forget the lingering aches in your body for just a little bit in favour for your new wonderful little family.
Summery: Amongst the jazz and the liquor, all anyone can talk about is the new hero in the city. But that hero has a plan all of his own.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY! drinking, smoking, general prohibition debauchery, male oral receiving, reckless driving, hints of violence.
Word Count: 4.9K
A/N: So I've been tinkering with this idea for a while. This will probably have another part or two eventually but I'm in no rush. If all else fails, it can still be read as a stand alone. I love all things 1920s (as a former socialite in a past life) and have been itching to incorporate the era in a story at some point. This is also a little bit of a time period mob!au as well. Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think.
There was a pop and a few shrieks of surprise, as yet another bottle of champagne was opened. A round of cheers and another round of gossip as the band continued to play loudly from the conservatory.
“Did you hear about that fellow in red and blue pyjamas who beat up those thugs on Bond Street the other night?” A red head cried out to the small group she was currently entertaining.
“Oh yes, I read all about it in the papers.” A blonde responded as she puffed away on a cigarette.
“I heard it was one of those fellas from one of Mabel’s costume parties. The guy was a bit squiffy if you ask me.” A gentleman bellowed, champagne sloshing out of his glass and splashing on the lapels of his suit.
“Really, Dickie?” The gentleman next to the first who had spoken said. “I thought it was one of those acrobats from the circus that’s just dossed up in the park.”
“Whoever he was,” said a third, “he prevented a bank robbery and knocked out three guys to boot, all on his lonesome.”
“What are you hens gossiping about?” A blonde girl cried as she pushed her way through the crowd into the group.
“Ahh Birdie will know.” Said the man named Dickie.
“Birdie will know what?” She cooed drunkenly to him, referring to herself in the third person, as she swayed back and forth before wrapping an arm around the redhead beside her and curling into her side for support.
“About that fellow in red and blue pyjamas on Bond Street who stopped that robbery the other night.”
“And why would I know anything about that?” She protested.
“Because I heard it was some of your brother's chums who were trying to rob the bank.”
“Now, Dickie, where did you ever hear a tale like that?” She drunkenly brushed him off. Besides, even if that had been the case, her brother never let her anywhere near his business for her to know.
The small crowd continued to debate the facts of the story about the man in red and blue pyjamas, for the next quarter of an hour, unaware the gentleman in question was currently stood, his back to a wall of books, eavesdropping on the whole conversation. He went mostly unnoticed, apart from catching the attention of a certain blonde in the group that he kept making eyes at.
“Oh I love this song.” The redhead exclaimed to the group as a new tune began. “Oh Dickie, let’s go dance!” She placed her mostly empty glass on a rich wooden side table before grabbing one of Dickie’s hands in both of hers and pulled him towards the band and the makeshift dancefloor before them.
“Come on Birdie!” Another girl exclaimed as she grabbed the hand of the other gentleman in their group and began to lead him away. But Birdie had her eye on something else. Or rather, someone else.
“It’s a swell party.” The gentleman said, tipping a barely touched glass in her direction as she sidled up beside him, slumping against the wall of books as she looked up at him.
“Who are you? Why have I never seen you before? Are you a friend of a friend or something?” Birdie asked him over the music.
“Or something.” He chuckled and mused as he turned his body towards her.
“So have you got a name ‘or something’?” Birdie tipsily asked him with as much audacity as she could muster.
“Peter.. -Parker.” He hastily added, shifting his drink from one hand to the other so he could reach out and offer it to her.
“Well Peter Parker, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She said cheerfully, taking his hand and shaking it vigorously. It made his face burst into an ear splitting smile. “I would introduce myself,” she said as she dropped his hand and took a sip of her drink, “but I’m sure you already know who I am, or else you wouldn’t be in my house.”
“No, no, you’re quite right.” He said with a small breathy chuckle.
“So what do you make of all this guy in red and blue pyjamas business. I saw you listening and smirking to yourself. You think it’s a load of old rubbish really, don’t you?” She said her last sentence in a hushed conspiratorial manner.
“No, no, not at all.” Peter was quick to say. “I uh- I was there actually- when it happened that is.”
He watched as her face lit up. “Oh really!” She said eyes wide as she shimmied even closer to him, her back coming into contact with the bookcase as they huddled secretly against it. “Do tell.”
“I don’t know what you expect me to say. It’s just as the people say, he swooped in and stopped those guys who were trying to steal from the bank.”
“Some people would say that makes him a bit of a hero, don’t ya think.”
“Well, what do you think?”
“Well I don’t think it matters what I think.”
“So you don’t think he’s a hero?” Peter continued to fish.
“Well I think it takes more than just stopping one bank robbery to become a hero.” She said confidently as she stood herself up taller, aiming to impress. “Besides, only fools trust all their money with the bank.”
“Is that so? So where do you keep yours then?”
“Oh I don’t deal with all that- do you have a smoke?” She quickly added but he shook his head, “ah oh well- anyway my brother deals with all the money and things. Georgie darling, have you got a smoke?” She quickly asked a nearby friend who reached into his pocket despite being mid conversation with another person, took out his cigarette case and held it out to her. “You don’t mind do you?” She asked Peter as she put a cigarette to her lips and Georgie turned and lit it for her, before returning to his conversation.
Not given much of a choice, Peter politely responded, “Uh no, sure.” But she was already puffing away. “So you’re brother doesn’t trust banks?” Peter pressed.
“What Freddie? Oh no- he’s in the security business you see. Says they’re awful things actually. They claim to be all safe but anyone could walk off the street and take what they wanted- just look at those men. No, no. You won’t find our money in the bank.”
She was giving him everything he wanted. It was almost too easy. “Where is your brother? Sounds like a smart fellow, I sure would like to meet him.” Peter said looking about the crowd.
“Oh you won’t find him at a ghastly party like this I’m afraid?”
“But I thought this was your party?”
“Yes, it’s a bore isn’t it? Not at all like that party we had at Margot’s last month. You know we really should get a swimming pool. Now that really would be swell. I’ll have to talk to Freddie about it- Do you want to get out of here?”
“But what about your guests?”
“What about them? They’re fine. They know where the door is when they’re ready to leave.” She continued to gabber on cheerily. “I’m sure most of them don’t even know who I am, let alone if I’m here.”
-------------
She took a flashy Bentley from the garage, driving them into the city, Peter having to grab the wheel a couple times as she drunkenly leaned towards the edges of the dark roads. She pulled up outside a club in the middle of the city, giggling loudly as she tossed the keys towards an awaiting doorman.
“Good Evening, Miss Thompson”
“Linus.” She greeted the doorman as he held open the door for them to enter.
They entered into a smaller mock shop entryway whose walls were lined with shelf upon shelf of books and other nicknacks. She hooked her arm into Peter’s and guided him through to a section in the back divided by a deep red velvet curtain. Just to the left of the curtain was a door. Peter took a step back, holding out a hand to indicate she should open the door and enter first.
As the door swung open to reveal a series of steps down, the roar of a jazz band burst out from its confines in the underground establishment. Birdie turned her head back giddily as she lured him down to the depths of the club.
At the bottom of the stairs they found a beaded curtain that she swept aside to reveal the cacophony of lights and sounds that was The Pharaoh's Tomb. There was a long bar along one side of the room, backed with mirrors and filled with more bottles of liquor than Peter had seen in his whole life. There was a stage complete with Jazz Band, Singer and dancing girls in Egyptian inspired costumes, complete with Cleopatra wigs. Small round tables littered the middle of the room save for a small space in front of the stage reserved exclusively for the drunken dancing masses, who writhed together to the music like a nest of snakes.
The last spare wall was home to a few more intimate booths, which Birdie eagerly took his hand and pulled him towards.
“Well if it isn’t the little bird.” A sleazy man’s voice called over the sound of a trumpet solo as they approached the circular booth closest to the stage. “Come here.” he continued, his voice changing and becoming lighter as his face lit up, arm coming out to ensnare her into his side.
“Floyd.” she beamed equally as large as she placed an arm around the man’s back.
“What are you doing here? Your brother said you were hosting a party tonight.”
“I was.” she said back giddily, “It was a terrible bore.” She watched his face closely as his head turned to the company she had brought. “Oh Floyd,” she exclaimed, “this is Peter. He was a real gem to chaperone me down here.”
“Nice to meet you.” Peter said, holding his hand out for Floyd, but Floyd just looked him up and down with a grunt before turning back to the girl at his side.
“Is my brother here?” Birdie asked with curiosity as her eyes, having not recognised her brother amongst the gentlemen gathered at the table in the booth, scoured the dancefloor.
“He’s out back. He’ll be back in a minute. Had some business to discuss with Jack.” Floyd informed.
“Oh good.” Birdie continued obliviously, “I really wanted to introduce him to Pet- Ahhh Freddie!” she shrieked, reaching a hand for Peter’s and dragging him towards her brother who was just emerging from a side door next to the stage.
“For the love of Christ,” Freddie muttered upon seeing his baby sister bounding towards him, but quickly changed his tone, a composed showmanship falling over him as he saw the poor man she pulled along behind her. “Birdie!” He beamed at her. “And you brought a friend.”
“Freddie, this is Peter.” Birdie introduced.
“Hi, I’m Freddie Thompson, but everyone just calls me Flash.” Freddie said, his hand held out to Peter.
“Parker.” Peter said, providing Freddie ‘Flash’ Thompson with his surname before awkwardly adding, “Peter Parker.” for clarity.
“Well Peter Parker, I apologise for anything my sister has dragged you into, or is yet to drag you into. She seems to always find a way to get what she wants.” Freddie said with a deep chuckle. Peter wasn’t quite sure how to react to that. He was grateful when Freddie indicated for him to go and sit down at the table with him, two of the gentlemen already sitting in the booth getting up and vacating the table.
Peter noticed that both men looked a little dinged up. One sporting a gash in his right eyebrow, the other clearly nursing a broken nose. “What happened to your friends?” he turned to ask Flash, wondering what tale he would spin.
“Oh those two?” Flash said boastfully. “I’m in the security business, you see my friend.” His hand reached for a decanter and two glasses that had been brought over to the table and poured himself and Peter a drink, “We do a lot of work providing… security for different businesses. Sometimes that means we get in a few skirmishes. Nothing to worry about. I assure you the other guy looks worse.”
Peter had to stop himself from laughing, the sip of whiskey passing his lips almost spraying onto the table. He wanted to assure Flash that the other guy definitely didn’t look worse, but that would have been giving away his well calculated game.
“So what do you do Pete?” Freddie asked.
“I’m in the journalism business.” Peter watched as Freddie’s eyebrows raised. “Oh no, not a reporter. I just take the pictures.”
“A camera man eh?” Freddie chuckled. “I bet my sister will be very pleased about that.”
Peter and Freddie turned their heads to see Birdie, perched on the end of the booth, tucked close to Peter’s side smiling at them, but it was clear she wasn’t fully listening to the conversation due to the jazz band blasting in her ear on the other side. “Be sure to get her good side now, or else she’ll never forgive you.” Freddie continued to jest.
“Oh don’t worry, I will.” Peter said with a grin.
“Say, how much does a job like that pay?” Freddie asked.
“Oh it’s okay. I’d say just enough.” Peter replied.
“Just enough for what?” Freddie pressed.
“Rent, food, a ride into the city everyday.”
Freddie raised his eyebrows at that. He looked between Peter to his sister, who seemed to be studying Peter’s features closely, clearly smitten. “Oh my friend, that won’t do.” Flash said, slapping Peter on the shoulder. “If you’re gonna be seeing my sister now, you’ll need some money in your pocket. Why don’t you come by here Monday morning and we’ll see what we can do about that. I’m sure I can find a place for you round here somewhere, as long as you don’t mind getting your hands dirty a little bit?”
“Uhm, thank you. Yes, I’ll be sure to do that.” Peter feigned surprise, yet accepted the offer confidently. Flash was playing right into his hand.
“Freddie darling, are you done talking business? You’re being an awful bore, we came here for a party, not listen to you beat your gums.” Birdie interjected.
Freddie rolled his eyes. He hated his sisters' friends and their fandangled new language. He held his tongue though in present company. “Birdie my dear, I thought you were in fact hosting a party tonight.” He merely replied.
“Oh Freddie Darling I was, but it was a terrible bore and me and Peter weren’t enjoying ourselves nearly as much as we ought to. Everyone was just talking about that frightful business about that man in those red and blue pyjamas.”
“Really? What were they saying?” Freddie pressed, his face turning serious.
“Oh they were all a wire, you know how people chat their lips, but Peter here assures me it really wasn’t the hooptie doo everyone’s raving about. Isn’t that right Peter?”
“Mhmm.” Peter mused quietly.
“Is that so? And how do you know that?”
“Because Peter was there of course, Darling. Taking pictures for the paper weren’t you.” Birdie beamed. “Now really Freddie this is all really a bore. Me and Pete came here to get away from all this chatter. Come Peter, let’s dance. It’s getting late and I need to dance off some of this giggle juice or else I won’t sleep for the room will be spinning.” she said, getting up and reaching for Peter’s, hand pulling him up with her.
Peter reached for his glass, necking the last of the liquid inside then lifting it in thanks in Flash’s direction. He quickly placed it down on the table before he was dragged over to the dancefloor.
Birdie pulled him through the mass of sweaty writhing bodies, still moving to the rhythms of the ongoing jazz. He wasn’t sure if the band had taken a break between songs at all. As he looked over Birdie’s head to the stage, he noticed the dancing girls and the female Jazz singer had now vacated the stage, the all black male band the only ones left standing as they burnt the midnight oil.
They danced for what felt like a solid hour, the two giggling together amongst the mass of bodies, Birdie by far the youngest of the bunch but never intimidated. No, she seemed far more comfortable here, lost within the crowd than she had the rest of the night. Peter was mesmerised as the beads of her dress caught the light, her melodious giggle floating on the sound waves to his ears. She often shared knowing glances and smiles with those around her but she never left his side not once.
They were finally dragged from the crowd about 1 in the morning, when Floyd made his way through the crowd to whisper something in her ear. Peter saw her face turn sour as she looked to her brother and then back to Floyd. She decidedly chose to ignore him, turning her back to him to face the stage, her arms eagerly raising and hands clapping with the music as she tried to prolong the night. Floyd didn’t seem amused though. He instead turned to Peter, handing him the keys to the Bentley.
“I think it’s time you ought to be taking her home.” he encouraged, his head moving over to look at his boss, Peter’s eyes following through the crowd to where Flash sat at the table watching him intensely.
Peter took the keys from Floyd, giving him a curt nod to show he understood the message, before Floyd began to move back through the crowd and over to the booth. Peter knew there was no arguing with the task he had been given. He no doubt also saw it as a test. And if he wanted to get on the inside of Flash Thompson’s operation and take him down, he needed to pass this test.
“Come on little owl.” He said into her ear as he approached her from behind. She pushed herself back against him, her hips swaying temptingly and he grabbed a hold of her hip, stilling her before he lost control of himself. “Time for us to scram.”
“Oh Petey, don’t tell me you're a bore too.” she pouted.
“I wish I didn’t have to be, but the way your brother is looking at me, if I want to live another day to see that beautiful angel face of yours again, I fear I must.”
She turned to gaze into his soft brown eyes. They were kind and serious, but also held a devilish childlike nature to them she wanted to explore. “Fine.” she chirped, her fingers reaching for the keys in his hand, but he snatched them from her reach.
“Ah, I don’t think so Missy.”
She folded her arms indignantly.
“I’m driving. Now be a good girl and go get in the car.”
“Fine.” she said with a dramatic eye roll, but began to make her way towards the curtain at the back of the hall and the stairs.
Peter turned his gaze looking over the crowd to Flash. Flash gave him a small nod of approval before turning back to his conversation.
Peter was nervous as he climbed into the driver's seat of the car. He’d never really driven before. He’d taken a few lessons with his Uncle Ben during the war before he too was drafted and like so many, gunned down in the prime of his life, but had yet to fully get behind the wheel of a car since. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. He took one look towards Birdie in the passenger seat, her eyes gazing longingly out the window at the late night city lights.
Even though it had gone one o’clock in the morning, a late summer humidity hung in the air, mixing with a faint sound of jazz, which seemed to cling to everything in the city these days as much as the smog and smoke from the nearby factories and the still developing young city. Peter worried at his lip as they sat in silence, Birdie seemingly giving him the silent treatment, unsatisfied with the abrupt end to her evening of joy.
As he began to take streets heading away from the city, towards the direction they initially came she stopped him. “Oh no, don’t go back to the house.” She said.
“But I’m supposed to be taking you home.”
“Yes.” She gave a small tight lipped smile, still agitated at having her night cut short. “But don’t go there. No doubt Dickie and Georgie and the others will still be there and I have no intention of going back to that party.”
“Where am I supposed to take you then?” Peter asked, looking over at her.
“We have a small apartment on Clinton Place.”
“But that’s in the other direction. Why didn’t you tell me-“
She shot him a look that had him falling silent. Her eyebrows raised in a way that said you know exactly why. When he didn’t continue she said, just to confirm her reason if he hadn’t fully cottoned on to it, “Because I like spending time with you Peter Parker and I didn’t want this night to be over.”
She watched Peter closely, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard in an attempt to keep his cool. His eyes were fixed firmly to the road, not daring to look at her. She couldn’t help but beam at knowing she already had him hooked around her little finger.
She had to fight to suppress the little giggle that wanted to escape her lips as a naughty little idea popped into her head. She continued to watch him closely as her fingers began to tiptoe across the leather seat towards him. He jumped slightly, a shudder moving through him as she made contact with his thigh.
He took one look down at her hand before fixing his eyes to the road again, still unable to look directly at her.
He stiffened as her hand kept moving over his trouser leg, her fingers moving to stroke up the inside of his thigh. He couldn’t help the sensation that crept into his body in reaction to her touch. His hips shifted slightly as he asked, “What are you doing?”
“Just focus on the road.” She cooed to him as she shuffled herself across the seat closer to him.
She began to nuzzle herself into the crook of his neck as her hand began to palm the growing bulge in his pants.
“Birdie. Birdie…I-“ he tried to protest, but he struggled to find the words.
“Just relax.” She said sweetly into his ear.
He swallowed hard again, his fingers shifting over the steering wheel, gripping onto it for dear life as her fingers began to work open the fastenings to his trousers.
Peter grew tense as she freed his cock from his confines, her manicured fingers wrapping around his length, tugging on him gently as she continued to kiss, lick and suckle at the crook of his neck. His whole body temperature was rising under her attention and he wondered if her brother knew about this side of her behaviour.
“Mhmm,” he cleared his throat, “Birdie… birdie-“
“I love it when you say my name like that.” Her teasing voice whispered into his ear. His hips involuntarily jerked in her hand and the car swerved slightly. She giggled.
He realised she got off on it. The recklessness. The rebellion. She saw what her brother was like. Knew the image he wanted her to have. But it was clear she had no intention of being a pawn in his little game. This intrigued Peter. Where first he had only seen her as a way to get to her brother, maybe there was more to her than meets the eye. Maybe he didn’t have to play her at all. Maybe she’d willingly turn on Flash.
The car in front of theirs turned off onto a different street, leaving a long open stretch of road before Peter. He kept his hands steady on the wheel as he turned his head away from the road to meet her gaze. He looked from her eyes to where she nibbled at her lower lip and back to her eyes. He could smell her arousal between her legs, sensed the small shuffle of her thighs as she fought with her own want.
His foot grew heavy on the gas, the car revving slightly and she began to beam. He still did not look back out the front window. But she did. “Peter.” She giggled. His foot pushed down on the gas peddle more. “PETER.” She giggled louder. But still he didn’t look away. She bit at her lips with nervous giddy as she fought to commit to this, her hand frozen on his cock, eyes trying to stay fixed to his- but he still wouldn’t look to the road.
She knew from the glances she’d taken that they were getting closer and closer to the building at the end of the street. Knew they’d have to turn soon. Knew he’d have to look. She wondered for a second what would happen if she didn’t say anything. Could he sense it out the corner of his eye. Did he know before he put his foot on the gas? It would likely be seconds now until they hit the brick facade. She wondered if it would be so bad if they did hit it. If they just went out with a bang like this. Together. New acquaintances, drunk on life, jazz and lust. She imagined it. She’d finally be free of her brother if nothing else. But she wanted to live. She wanted to get to know him better.
She broke his gaze to look at the nearing building. “Peter,” she said his name as a warning once more.
“Kiss me.” She looked at him shocked. “Kiss me and I’ll look.”
“Peter!” She warned again already beginning to brace herself for the impending accident, her hand gripping his cock tighter. She had forgotten it was still in her hand. No, she adamantly decided, although she’d be free of her brother if she died right now, there’s now way she’d let her body be found with that of a man she had only just met, his cock still hanging out of his trousers. So she kissed him, smashing her lips into his and smearing her lipstick across his mouth. He grinned against her lips.
His eyes finally turned to face forward. There was a sharp turn of his hands on the wheel and a screech of tires as he broke, the car narrowly making the turn. There was a blast of a horn as they swerved into the oncoming traffic on the other side of the road, before they moved back into the correct lane and they both let out a breathy giggle of relief at still being alive.
Birdie finally removed her hand from his cock and Peter stole a glance back towards her to find her shuffling back slightly on the bench seat. He kept checking between her and the road as he tried to work out what she was going to do, her eyes briefly meeting his with a devilish smirk as she slowly lowered her head towards his crotch. Peter groaned as her tongue caressed his length, her finger wrapping around the base of his cock and pulling at the length her mouth couldn’t reach. Peter had never had his cock sucked before and from the feeling low in his belly, he knew he wouldn’t last long.
He placed a hand to the back of her head, urging her to slow down so he could at least make it to Clinton Place before he came hard in her mouth, but it only seemed to make the sensation worse.
He tried to keep his eyes on the road as her head bobbed up and down in his lap. He leant his elbow against the door, his finger biting at his knuckles as he fought with all his resolve to hold out.
When he saw the sign for Clinton Place he wanted to kiss God himself as he sent up a silent praise. He just had enough foresight to carefully pull into a space at the side of the street before his hips stuttered. He grunted once, twice, before he spilled his seed into her pretty mouth.
She took her mouth off his cock and pumped it twice more with her hand as Peter watched her swallow his load. “Fuuuuck,” he said with a low hiss.
She smiled. “Well, thanks for the ride, Peter Parker.” She said seductively, behind heavy lashes.
“Uhh- you’re welcome.” He stuttered. She blushed, her smile growing wider.
“You can take the car to drive yourself home.” She said as she wiped at her mouth and climbed out of the car. She stood with one hand on the door as she lowered her head back into the cab to talk to him. “You can bring it back to the house tomorrow. We’re having brunch at 11.” She said with another one of those sly and foxy smiles, before slamming the door closed and walking away.
As Peter watched her from the driver's seat as she began to skip her way up the front steps to let herself into a building just the other side of the street, Peter realised- he was in so much trouble than he realised.
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
Writers have two modes and they are "i haven't written in three weeks and i am rotting from the inside and everything feels wrong and i don't know who i am anymore" and "i wrote for four hours straight and forgot to eat and it's dark outside and when did that happen and i feel like a god" and there is nothing in between. no chill. no medium setting. just famine or feast and a very confused nervous system.
Loving you is torture… but I’d do it all over again | Aramis x Reader
Summary: you knew it was a bad idea, but you fell in love with him anyway. problem is he’s in love with the queen.
Warnings: angst. like really hard excruciating angst. unrequited love.
Word Count: 1kish (wrote in app)
A/N: I’m hormonal and desperate for angst. I’ve had some angst prompts saved in my Pinterest for a while and when I read two of them just now, I knew I needed to write them right now. all props to whoever came up with these line originally, I hope I’ve only added to them.
You can’t remember the first time your heart ached when you looked at him, it just happened one day. Back then the ache was different. It was more like a flutter… Much easier to bear. This pain now, sitting back, observing him as he looked at her. Looked at her in a way he’d never looked at you. It felt like death.
What was worse, was it wasn’t the first time you’d seen this scene either. The pained look in his eyes he tried to hide behind a fond smile as he looked across the room at the fair and beautiful queen. She was the Queen, you knew you could never compete with her, no matter how many evenings you spent with him in the glow of candle light as he whispered sweet nothings into your ears.
It didn’t matter that he went home with you at the end of the night. That he shared your bed not hers, because that kind of decision wasn’t even a choice. It was the obvious alternative, but you both tried to ignore that fact. He’d drop everything and go to her if he could. Often has under the guise of work. But he always came back, because he knew he couldn’t stay with her.
And you thought that would be enough. To know you got him in the end. That he always came back to you. But how you wished it was only you.
It was late when he finally got back. You sat at the table, a single candle lit to stave off the dark.
“You didn’t have to wait up,” he said lightly, taking off his leathers and hanging them on the back of the wooden chair at the kitchen table.
When he stepped forward and really looked at your face in the dim light he froze. The flickering flame of the candle illuminated the tear tracks on your cheeks.
“How long?” he said.
“How long what?” your voice croaked from misuse.
“How long have you been crying?”
You licked your lips. They tasted like salt. You breathed deeply and tried your hardest to not start crying again.
“Since I got back this afternoon,” you finally confessed.
You didn’t have to say why for him to know. It was the unspoken giant in the room. Silently acknowledged, yet still ignored... Most days.
“All I want is for you to look at me they way you look at her… just once,” you whispered pitifully.
“I do look at you-“
“No you don’t.” You cut him off, the words honest but hollow.
His gaze fell from you to the table where his fingers picked at the textures of the wood.
“Have you ever loved me?” your broken voice asked, but shame quickly made you back track. “Actually no don’t answer that. I don’t think I could bare actually hearing you answer that,” you said, rushing to stand and turn your back to him.
You closed your eyes and counted your breathes along with his steps as he made his way across the room, his hand moving to slide gently down the side of your arm in an attempt to comfort you.
“You know I do,” he said, encouraging you to lean back into him and because it’s him, you do.
“Just not the way you love her,” you said, turning in his arms to look at him.
Your hands move up to smooth his unruly hair back and away from his face as you search his expression for the answers to his pain. Because it was true. He did love you. But it was a steady love. A reliable love. The love you share with family. But the love he felt for Anne was different. It was the kind of love that made his heart race. That made him feel truly alive. The kind of love that made him want to be reckless. It was the kind of love he knew you felt for him. Which is why he always stayed, but you both knew his sacrifice wasn’t enough.
“I think it’s time,” you said to him as your eyes continued to roam his face, attempting to commit every mark and feature to memory one last time.
“It doesn’t have to be-“ he tried to reason, but you cut off his words with a shake of your head, tears welling up in your eyes and tracing down your cheeks through the same channels they had before.
You liked your lips again, the taste of the salty tears comforting now. “No,” you said softly. “No. I can’t do this anymore.”
Aramis knew you meant it this time from your tone. Gone was the theatrics, the desperation to hold on. You were calm and detached. You’d already let go. Your tears weren’t from a place of anger or resentment, they were the tears of peace. Of coming to terms with grief. Of acceptance.
“Loving you was a torture. One I fear I enjoyed all too much,” you said to him with a bittersweet smile, your tender fingers still brushing at his face.
Unable to find words, he pulled your face into his. His lips collided with yours softly, kissing you so tenderly he hoped it spoke a thousand words. A kiss that would stay with you for a lifetime. A kiss that apologised. A kiss that wished he could do or be more.
Although your lips parted, your bodies didn’t. He continued to hold you close, his forehead pressed gently against your own. It was a moment that felt like sand between your fingers, gentle, yet heavy and oh so slowly slipping between your fingers.
“Thank you,” you finally said to him, your fingers brushing downing his chest and open shirt. “For letting me in. For letting me love you. Even if you could never love me back in the same way.”
You parted your head from his so you could hold onto the look of his deep brown eyes better. To feel his soft gaze on you one last time. To pretend his loving gaze had the same meaning as yours one last time. But it had already faded. All that was left in his eyes was sorrow.
“You know I’ll always be here if you need me,” he said, brushing his hand down your face one last time and cupping your chin between his fingers, forcing you to hold his gaze.
Summary: it’s easy to get caught up in life sometimes. The small stuff feels big and overwhelming. Sometimes we just need to take a moment and get some perspective.
Word Count: 1.1k+
Warnings: just a little existential crisis shit
A/N: I have definitely not had a very thoughtful and philosophical 24 hours 😂 I wrote this in hopes that it helps at least one person out there who may be struggling at the moment. Society can suck some times, but it’s not the world. As Hannah Montana once said ‘life’s what you make it, so let’s make it rock!’
“Uh ma’am. Hey ma’am? Are you okay?” His voice came from behind you as you stood at the edge of the rooftop looking down at the street below. It still wasn’t high enough, you thought to yourself.
“You’re not going to jump are you? You know if you do I’m obligated to save your life and catch-“
“Would you just shut up a minute,” you turned your head and snapped at him. “I’m trying to think,” you said turning back to look down at the street, then up and out to the surrounding buildings. “I need to be higher,” you muttered to yourself.
“Trust me ma’am, if you are trying to do damage, this is plenty high enough.”
“I don’t want to jump, idiot. By the way Peter,” you said turning back to him, “you can take the mask off we both know it’s you.”
“Uhhh, what?” he said, clearing his throat, trying to make his voice deeper and hide his anonymity. “Peter? Who’s Peter? Nope, no Peter here.”
“Shut up,” you said finally abandoning your ledge and walking back to him. “I need to be higher,” you muttered again.
You came to a stop directly in front of him, looking up at him expectantly until he finally pulled the mask off his head.
“How did you know it was me?” He asked.
“Peter, I have been in the same class as since we were in kindergarten. You think I don’t know what your voice sounds like or recognise how your body looks in skin tight Lycra.”
“It’s not Lycra,” he protested.
“I don’t care. Look I need a higher building, you gonna help me or not?”
“Tell me why first?” he said, folding his arms across his chest.
“I need-“ You hesitated as you thought through the best way to explain what you needed. You pursed your lips, twitching them to one side. You sighed deeply. “I need a better perspective... Look, I’m in crisis okay! That I’ll admit- but I don’t want to jump. I just want perspective. A better look at the world- from a distance,” you stated. “I need to remember there’s more to life than… just this. I’m too close. Everything is too close. I see the same people everyday. I ride the subway with strangers who ignore each other. I can go days stuck behind a desk in a cubical with four sides and not see the sun. Not seeing friends or family. I just need to remember how small and insignificant we all are. That it’s okay to live a life that is small and insignificant. That even the people who make it get forgotten eventually because the world is so big and that today, right here and right now it’s okay to just be nothing. That existing can be enough.”
He looked at you stunned, his brain working overtime to process everything you just said.
Eventually he put his mask back on and held out his hand to you. “Come with me.”
The next thing you knew, he’d swept you up into his arms and was swinging you through the city. You watched as cars rolled on down the street. People walked on the sidewalks. Sirens blared, engines rumbled. People chatted or shouted. There was even one guy singing. Then he was taking you up.
He landed on top of the Empire State Building like a cat jumping off a tall fence to the ground, with a silent yet powerful thud. It was like someone had turned off the world. Well almost. There was still the faint hub bub of the city below, but it was muffled and quiet beneath the breeze.
“Wow,” you said, as you took in the view. “You know I’ve lived here my whole life and never once have I been up here.”
“It’s pretty spectacular,” he agreed. “You know sometimes I like to just come up here and think. To take a break. Pretend that the world is a peaceful place. That there weren’t any criminals or dirtbags and I could have a normal life.”
“I mean, you still could,” you said to him.
“No I couldn’t,” he replied. “When you have these powers, like I have, you have to do something with them. You have to do something good. You can’t just work in an office day in and day out and pretend they don’t exist.”
He pulled his mask off and took a perch on the metal walkway and you did the same. At this height, the buildings didn’t look that big at all. You could see how far the water stretched around the city. Cars looked like tiny ants on roads that looked no bigger than the gaps between the tiles in your bathroom. It made you laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing,” you said between giggles, “it’s just- we’re all so tiny. How do we do anything when we are that tiny? And yet look at all these buildings. Look at all these bridges. People made those. People- humans who lived and died before we were born built those. There are trees in the park who are even older than some of the buildings.”
“And one day the ice caps will melt so much the Hudson will flood the streets and bury it all and send it back to nothing.” Peter mused.
You looked at him with a furrowed brow.
“What? I’m a man of science. It’s just a fact. The earth moves and changes. You know, once upon a time everything was connected as one big land mass and now look at it.”
Slowly you smiled. “Change is inevitable,” you summarised, looking back out at the view.
“Change is the only constant,” he agreed.
“I need a change,” you said, turning your gaze back to him.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you sighed.
“What you gonna do?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe travel? Try out some different things in different places.”
“That sounds like fun,” he stated.
“Yeah,” you once again sighed and agreed.
“I remember when we were kids you used to always talk about Paris. We watched that film with the talking rat in class you became obsessed.”
“Ratatouille,” you said fondly.
“Yeah, that’s the one. Maybe you could go to Paris. Be a waitress. Learn the language. See the sights.”
“Then what after that?” You asked.
“London,” he stated with a nod of his head like it was a solid plan and a matter of fact.
“And what would I do there?”
He was quiet for a moment as he thought. He caught the glimpse of a yellow taxi crossing the Brooklyn bridge in the distance and laughed. “Drive one of those black cabs,” he said proudly.
You laughed too. “I think you have to pass a test for that.”
“Fine, work in one of those souvenir shops with the tiny red phone boxes and bobble heads of the queen.”
You both continued to laugh at that.
When the laughter finally petered out, you turned your head towards him again, your hand reaching out for his. “Thank you for this. I really needed it.”
“No problem,” he replied, his gloved fingers giving yours a small squeeze. “We all need a little perspective from time to time.”
Okay, so I just saw a video on tiktok of these two circus kids practicing a new routine together and it got my brain thinking. But I don’t have the time or capacity to fully write it as a whole story. However if I don’t at least get the idea roughly out of my head, it’s just gonna keep growing and distracting me from the writing I should be doing. So here’s a quick little bullet point headcanon type story. Enjoy
It wasn’t unusual for those in the circus to fall in love. After all, when you spent most of your time travelling from one town and city to the next, it’s difficult to meet new people.
His Mother was an acrobat. His Father was a strong man. From an early age he showed a strength like his Father, but had a nimbleness and skill similar to his Mother, making him perfect for the trapeze. A real adrenaline junky he was swinging around and hanging off of the many ropes and strings attached to the roof of the big top from the age of 4.
You however, were not born of the circus. An orphan, left abandoned as a babe in a basket around the back of one of the tents, swaddled in bright fabrics from the clowns act, to be found by the costume designer and raised as her own. She had been a middle aged woman who had not found love but always longed for a child.
You loved to pop into the towns and cities with her, scouting through fabric shop after fabric shop for pretty, colourful fabrics for the performers costumes.
You loved to watch from the curtains every night as they donned your Mother’s creations and put on a show for the crowds to oooh and ahhh.
You can still remember the first time they let him perform. There were small gasps from the audience as they saw him emerge from the curtains to stand in the middle of the ring. He was only a year or so older than you. You watched carefully, stomach in your mouth, as he swung from one trapeze to the next, without a net, until he was on a tiny platform, way up high in the big top. You could only stare, as he fastened his wrist to a looped bit of fabric before he took a small hop and leap off of the platform. It was like he was flying as he swung around the room, twisting and turning his body until he was slowly lowered back to the ground. The crowd erupted in a way you had never heard before and you knew it had changed you.
From that day on, you would sneak off to watch his rehearsals as he practiced under his Mothers experience gaze. Neither of them seemed to realise you were there at first, watching from the edge of the tent. But as the days went on and the weather changed you found yourself growing bolder and bolder as you stepped further and further into the tent.
It didn’t take long until they noticed you then. His Mother growing frustrated as he became distracted by you. She watched you closely too. Kept an eye on how your eyes watched him swing back and forth in the big top.
“Would you like to have a go?” His Mother came over and asked you. You weren’t quite sure. Making an excuse to leave, telling her you’d have to check with your Mother.
You avoided that tent for a few days after that. But things quickly changed when his Mother came and found you instead. She knocked on your Mother’s trailer door late one night when you should have been sleeping. Your ear listing at the curtain that divided the small bedroom you had, only big enough for a single bed, and the main living area of the trailer. It didn’t take much convincing for Peter’s Mother to talk your Mother around into letting you have a go. After all, your Mother wasn’t stupid; she’d seen the drawings you’d been doing lately, knew exactly where you had been going.
The following afternoon, your Mother asked you to walk with her into town for some new fabric. She instead walked you to that big top where Peter was already doing stretches.
From then on, his Mother taught you both all that she could do. She began choreographing routines for you. He to be dressed as Peter Pan, you to be dressed as Wendy. When the two of you performed, you had the audience eating out of the palm of your hands.
That all changed though one stormy night as the whole troop packed up the tents and began to make their way to the next town. However, Peter and his family never arrived. The storm had made leaf covered autumn roads slippy and they crashed their car into a tree. His parents died on impact and Peter, the lone survivor of the crash, protected by the head on collision in the backseat, was sent by the police to live with his next of kin; an Aunt and Uncle who belonged to a different touring circus, the other side of the country.
16 YEARS LATER…
Both of you had continued to perform, cherishing the memories of your youth and the start you had in the business. Childhood friends torn apart, forever wishing the best for the other, despite knowing they’d never likely see each other again.
You barely thought about him these days as you decided to head to a circus convention in Las Vegas where you met a fire eater named Harry. He had been instantly mesmerised by you as you performed in a beautiful bedazzled costume made of scraps of red, orange and gold. He thought you looked like literal fire as you twisted around the set up performance space and he knew he had to have you.
The two of you talked for hours that week. He was passionate and handsome and although you wouldn’t say it was love at first sight, you’d definitely say it was lust.
When the week came to an end he managed to convince you to go back to his troop with him. They had space for a female acrobatics performer, their last one having to step down due to being pregnant. It was one of the reasons Harry had been sent to the convention in the first place. To find a replacement.
You figured you could do with a change of crowd, a different kind of scenery and so you packed up your camper van and the two of you drove back east to meet up with his troop.
You almost didn’t recognise him at first. He was older, taller, his body leaner. His hair that had been a mousey brown as a kid had grown darker, but as you entered that tent that first day to introduce yourself and practice, you quickly realised who he was.
Peter hadn’t needed a moment to recognise you. He’d realised who you were the second you’d driven into camp and gotten out of your van. He hadn’t dared approach you though, especially when he saw how you draped yourself over Harry- and why wouldn’t you. Tall, dark and handsome in his leather jacket. Daring and enticing with his skills. Peter had seen Harry’s act multiple times, seen the way he played with fire like it was nothing. It was like honey to the bees. All of the girls screaming and crying over him like he was the member of some boyband.
“Hey, I’m-“ you froze, one hand still held out as he walked towards you.
“Hello Y/N.” He smiled back at you.
“Peter?!” You practically squealed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His breath chuffed against your neck in delight as he folded his arms around you, accepting the hug.
It was like no time at all had passed between you. Even as you both recounted your own separate stories to one another about the events of the last 16 years. Both of you now in your early 20s and still doing the thing you loved most- swinging around the big top.
You had an intense week in the tent, creating a new routine that would shock audiences. Becoming reacquainted with each others bodies in a far different way than the way you were still acquainting your body with Harry’s at the end of a long day.
You created the story of a superhero and his damsel in distress. One of the clowns stepping in to play a comedic over the top villain for Peter to rescue you from.
It was an instant hit. The two of you garnering much attention across the different states you visited. Your childhood bond growing stronger every day that you worked together.
But as time went on, feelings grew. Peter had always been besotted with you, even when you were kids. And now you were fully grown, those feelings only became worse. But you were Harry’s girl. No matter how awfully Harry treated you.
At first, Harry was amazed by the act you and Peter performed. Found the positions you twisted your body into mesmerising and sexy. But as the weeks grew. As the applause for the act grew louder. Harry grew jealous.
There was a reason Harry played with fire. He was a hot head, with a wicked temper to boot. Everyone could hear your arguing across the camp at night. But you seemed to hold your own, kicking him out of the trailer when he was too drunk, growing too violent, encouraging him to take a walk and calm down. Harry would take a walk alright. Straight into town in search of more drink and a pretty girl to fuck his frustration out with.
It didn’t take you long to find out he’d been cheating. The argument that had ensued was nasty. All anyone could do was stop and watch on as you threw out his clothes into the mud, telling him things were over and that he should find somewhere else to sleep. In his rage he accused you with having been sleeping with Peter this whole time anyway. Peter listening to that had decided it had been enough.
Peter had raced to step between the two of you. He punched Harry in the face before taking the last of Harry’s stuff you held in your arms and chucking it at him. “Go find somewhere else to work.” Peter had spat at him, “You’re not wanted here anymore.”
Harry had packed up his things into his old beat up car and driven off that afternoon.
The whole ordeal had you feeling like you were stuck in a spin, rapidly spiralling out of control. But he was there. Peter was there. He watched as you threw yourself further into your work to get over it. Held your hand through it all, until one day the tears stopped and you could see clearly again. See him stood there in front of you, heart laid bare.
“I’ve always loved you.” He said when you showed up for dinner at his cabin post show ready for a debrief. You had been met with candles and music. At first you wanted to run, but then you saw him, stood there, that hand still outstretched to you. As it always had been, even as children. That promise that he’d hold on tight. That he’d never drop you. That he’d always be there. So you took it and you never let go.
You grew old. Performed many more shows. Had a family and created performances all four of you could perform. From children to adults, your love story laid out in the big top for all the world to see. Forevermore.
Can I Sleep With You Part 2 | Joaquin Torres x Reader
Summary: Since coming out of hospital Joaquin hasn’t slept well, he’s hoping sleeping next you will help.
Warnings: fluff, mentions of drowning/injuries, ptsd if you’re reading between the lines
Word Count: 1k-ish?
A/N: I feel like I’ve been neglecting you guys so thought I’d do one of my 2am quick one shots with Joaquin. I say one shot but it’s also a call back to another short I wrote with the same prompt except this time it’s Joaquin who can’t sleep and is coming to you. I know this is bread crumbs, I’ve been a busy bee and my writing has taken a backseat lately/I’ve been writing stuff for other hyperfixation characters but not actually finishing anything. Hopefully I have something proper to feed you guys with soon.
As he stands outside your door his heart is racing. His knuckles hesitate before knocking because it’s late and you’re probably already asleep and this is so very stupid. He feels very stupid. But ever since he came out of the hospital he hasn’t been able to sleep. It was okay at first because the drugs made him drowsy. But they were wearing off now. The doctors were weaning him off them.
‘Fuck’ Joaquin muttered to himself before he finally mustered the courage to just knock.
It’s silent at first on the other side of the door, so he tries again, this time knocking a little louder, his sleep deprived desperation taking over. It takes a moment, but this time he can hear the heavy thuds of your feet moving towards the door.
The second he sees you he feels like this is a mistake. You’re in a tank top and a pair of pyjama shorts that are both riding up on one side, a small slither of your mid riff becoming exposed. Your hair is sticks up slightly where it’s been rubbing against your pillow and you have the softest most innocent and sleepy look on your face as you rub them awake and stare up at him.
“Joaquin?” You question, your voice a little hoarse from misuse. It takes you a second, but you suddenly become alert, because why else would he be knocking on your door in the middle of the night if it wasn’t an emergency. He immediately feels guilty. “What is it? What’s wrong?” You say to him, your eyes now wide awake, no doubt a flood of adrenaline coursing through your body.
He can’t speak. His tongue feels numb. How the hell is he supposed to tell you he can’t sleep. That’s it. No emergency, just he can’t sleep.
“Joaquin?” You press him, your voice growing soft with worry as you search the sorrowful look on his face for all the answers he won’t say.
“I- uh- I can’t sleep,” he finally stammers, his eyes now looking at the floor instead of you.
“What?”
“I can’t sleep,” he says again, clearer this time, his eyes finally meeting yours now the worst part was out the way.
You don’t respond right away, like your brain is still processing his words. He uses the silence to fill in the extra information you’re missing.
“Ever since I got out the hospital, I’ve not been able to sleep,” he continues his confession. “My room is too quiet. When I was in the hospital I had all the noise to distract me, but here. In my room… it’s too quiet. There’s no distraction. Every time I try to close my eyes and go to sleep, I’m back in the water. My suit weighting me down.” He doesn’t say drowning, but you know.
He had told you when you’d visited him in the hospital. He had blacked out when the missile exploded. Was shocked back into consciousness the second he hit the cold water. But then his suit had hindered his movement in the water, the damage on it making parts rub and grind together in ways they hadn’t before. The damaged wings weighed him down, pulling him below the surface and with his injuries, there was nothing he could do.
“Can I sleep with you?” he finally asked.
You didn’t need to think about it. Of course he could. You’d been there before. Knew how comforting it was to have the energy of someone else beside you that you trusted to make you feel safe. To be there when you woke from the nightmares. To regulate your breathing. To match their breaths as their chest rose and fell. To feel their heart beat beneath their skin and know you were okay. That you would be okay.
As you climbed back into bed, you heard him shuffle around in the dark until he could climb in on the other side.
“Just nudge me if I snore,” you joked with him.
“No chance,” he quipped.
At first he continued to feel guilty, cortisol rushing his body with every move and shuffle of his body as he tried to get comfortable. Fear pulsing through him, feeling like he was disturbing your rest. But then he turned towards you. Not quite close enough to be the big spoon, but close enough that when he rested his hand on the mattress, he could feel the warmth of your body. He could hear your steady heavy breathes, could see your body shift slightly in the barely there light in the room.
He breathed in deeply through his nose, the smell of your shampoo flooding his nostrils, the scent of your body lotion mixing together in the air between you. Gradually he felt his body growing heavier, his eyes becoming drowsier. Until finally, nestled in the safety of your bedroom, he fell asleep.
Just sat staring at my recent search history and realising it’s been a while since I’ve actually read anything by anyone else for the preferred characters I actually write for and usually read. Not that the characters stories I’m reading aren’t on brand for me or characters I’ve had heart eyes for for a long time, I’m just really noticing the difference. Also not to say I won’t come back to my loves at some point, after all that’s the joy of audhd hyperfixations and special interests, they’ll always come back around eventually.
Summary: You’d gone straight to the gym after work, or else you would have seen the condition your roommate was in earlier. After getting home for your shift in The Pitt, and subsequent gym session that came after it, you find your roommate suffering from appendicitis and rush them to the ED. All would be well except in the rush to get there you forget that you were braless in a top that leaves nothing to the imagination. Now in the chilly ER you are faced with the senior attending who has been secretly pining over you for months, and the piercings you got when you turned nineteen are on full display for him to see.
Tags: Jack Abbot x Resisdent!Reader, Female reader, age gap (reader is 29), mildly explicit content, public setting, smoking mentioned, mutual pining, minor jealousy, no use of y/n
Word Count: 6.4K
A/N: So fun tidbit for this fic, the story reader tells Santos is entirely my own experience. That actually happened to me verbatim. Also nothing about the fic itself, but about the formatting. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written a one shot fic on here, and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to centre the page breakers, so if anybody can help a guy out so I can stop looking stupid I’d really appreciate it. Thanks!
Part 1 | Part 2
You’d barely stepped through the door before you were pulling the slightly sweaty sports bra off from underneath your shirt, breathing a sigh of relief at finally being free from the constricting material. You knew your roommate wouldn’t mind. You had both seen each other in various degrees of nakedness over the years, a nipple through a tight sports tee was nothing new in your apartment. You threw the garment straight into the washer as you passed by on your way to the living room where you assumed your roommate would be waiting for you. After all, you had one more episode of your current Netflix binge left to watch, and you knew she would still be up waiting for you.
The living room was dark when you opened the door. Odd. Your roommate never had the lights off. In fact it had been a point of contention between you when you’d first moved in together whilst you were still a medical student. She would walk into a room, turn all the lights on and then leave them on when she left. It had stressed you out more than you’d liked to admit as a student just barely scraping by from month to month, but the habit never left. So the fact that the living room was not illuminated right now was setting alarm bells off for you. You flicked the light switch on regardless.
”Hello? Are you alive in here?” You asked as you walked in, hoping that she had just fallen asleep after a hard day at work. There was a small groan from the bundle of blankets on the couch. In an instant you were crouching down beside where she was laid. ”Hey. What’s going on?” Your roommate was pale and clammy from the small amount you could see poking out of the blankets. You pulled them off of her, despite her argument, in an attempt to further check her over. “Tell me what’s going on.” You insist, quickly going back into doctor mode as your eyes scan her body.
”It’s just a stomach ache. I probably just have food poisioning.” She mumbled.
”Have you puked at all?”
”A couple times.” She shrugged, wincing again at the pain.
”Okay, I’m going to press on your stomach here. Tell me if it hurts.” You begin prodding at her stomach, pressing a few times before she screams out in pain. Guarding and tenderness in the lower right quadrant. These were tell tale signs for appendicitis. You had to get her to the ER now.
~~~
Through sheer will and determination you managed to drag your roommate out of the apartment and down the stairs to your car. You hadn’t stopped to put a coat on either of you, and barely managed to slip your crocs —the ones you only ever wear to take the bins out— onto your feet. It wasn’t until you had situated your roommate in the backseat of your car did you realise that she was only wearing socks herself. Oh well, shoes can wait right now. From the quick exam you were able to give, her appendix was set to burst soon if you didn’t do something, so shoes were the least of either of your worries.
You set off driving, placing your phone in the holder on your dashboard. It was a miracle it had still been in the pocket of your leggings and not discarded somewhere when you entered the apartment. You wouldn’t have thought to grab it again in the rush to get to the car.
”Hey Siri, call Ellis.” You speak to your phone as you keep your eyes on the road. Every few seconds your eyes flick to the rear view mirror to check in your roommate in the backseat, but aside from that your eyes never leave the road. No point getting into an accident before you make it to the hospital.
”Calling, Ellis.” Siri chimes and the ringer begins to buzz out.
”Come on.” You mumble. “Come on, pick up.”
”Sorry, the person you are trying to call is unable-“
”Siri, hang up.” You all but shout. “Call Shen.”
”Calling, Shen.” Your phone began to ring again on the dash board. You weren’t particularly religious, but in that moment you prayed to anyone you could think of that somebody would pick up. On the third ring the call connected.
”Hey Tiger, what’s up?” Shen’s voice filled the car. It was a stupid nickname really. On your second night shift rotation as an intern you’d squared up to a notoriously stern cardio doctor, the shouting match had been heard throughout the ER. The incident had landed you the nickname Tiger and needless to say it had stuck around in the years since.
”Look, Shen, I’m on my way into the ER with my roommate; query appendicitis. She’s in a bad way, thing feels ripe to burst. I’m gonna pull up in the ambulance bay, so can you have someone ready to bring her in? We’re about six minutes out.” You ramble off as you concentrate on driving.
”Shit, yeah. Okay. We’ll be standing by.”
”Okay, thank you. See you in a few.”
”See you soon.” Shen hung up the phone then, and the car was silent once again.
As promised Shen was waiting with Ellis and a gurney when you barreled into the ambulance bay. You had the where with all to pull up as close to the wall as you could get so that any incoming ambulances would not be impeded by your car, and you wouldn’t have to move it straight away. You stumbled out of the drivers seat whilst Shen and Ellis pulled open the back seat and dragged your roommate out onto the gurney.
”How long has she been like this?” Ellis enquired.
”I’m not sure. She was on the couch like this when I got home about fifteen, twenty minutes ago. She was fine when I left this morning, so anywhere within the twelve hour range.”
”Right, let’s get her inside.” She nodded, taking hold of one side of the rails to guide the gurney inside. You follow behind them as they march through the ambulance bay doors.
”Jack, what’s open?” Shen shouted as you stepped inside the ED, the air con basting against your cool skin from above. A shiver ripped through you and goosebumps marbled your skin at the sudden change in temperature.
”South 15’s free. What’ve we got?” Jack Abbot asked. You reel off your roommates name and age as you walk through the ED, as well as the reason you had brought her in. Jack looked at you then. Your face was still on your roommates, so you did not see the way his eyes cast down to your chest and quickly averted again when he realised what he’d just seen. The silhouette of two nipple piercings poking through your skin tight gym top.
Your roommate was put onto morphine, and labs were sent off to confirm a diagnosis. Just as you assumed, it was in fact appendicitis. She would be taken up to surgery for an appendectomy as soon as an OR was free. You were sitting by her bedside. Jack stepped into the room.
”Any news from surgery?” You asked him. His eyes could not find yours, they instead landed on the monitors by your friend's bed.
”Come on, walk with me and I’ll fill you in.” Jack smiled. You weren’t sure why you needed to leave the room, but regardless you stood from your chair and followed him as he walked through the ward. “Surgery said they should be able to take her within the hour, so they’re going to come down soon and get her prepped and take her upstairs.” He filled you in. He had walked you over to the lockers on the opposite side of the ED.
”That’s good. I wasn’t expecting such a quick turn around if I’m honest.” You sighed. “Where are you taking me?” You asked as he stopped by the row of lockers.
”Sorry, I just needed to grab something.” He smiled half heartedly. “Yeah, they’ve not been too busy tonight so your friend got lucky.” You watched as he punched in the code to his locker and retrieved a fleece jacket from inside. Oh, okay. Fair enough. The ED was a busy place and speaking to you was as good a time as any to retrieve something he needed. “Here.” He pushed the fleece towards you. You were confused. Why was he giving you his jacket?
”Thank you?” You questioned. “Sorry, what’s this for?” You took the jacket from his hand regardless.
”You, um.” He stumbled over his words. “Sorry, you just look cold wearing that.” You see the way his eyes flick downwards. In a second you follow them and realisation sets in. You took your bra off when you got home. You took your bra off, and you're wearing a skin tight gym top. You’re wearing a gym top that leaves nothing to the imagination in the ER where the air con is always blasting and now your nipples and the piercings attached to them are practically jutting out for the entire ward to see.
”Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” Your arms come up to cover your chest as your face blazes bright red. In an attempt to save your dignity you swivel around on the spot to face away from the night shift attending.
”You came in in a rush. I don’t think anyone will hold it against you.” He chuckles as you pull the fleece on and zip it up to the neck.
————————————————
Jack absolutely should not have been thinking about you. He should not have been thinking about the piercings beneath your shirt and the way he craved to see them outside of the confines of your shirt. It was wholly inappropriate, but every time he closed his eyes in the days following all he could see was the outline of those pretty buds, and the tantalising metal that lay across them.
Jack Abbot was not a believer in love at first sight, and you were a testament to that. You were someone who had snuck up on him. Quietly, slowly, until one day he realised that his whole world was orbiting around you and he couldn’t pinpoint when his center of gravity had shifted. He barely noticed you in the beginning. An R1 doing a compulsory night shift rotation. He’d traded his last intern off to the day shift for the month and gotten you as replacement, the same way he did every year. You were just another intern. If he noticed you at all it was in the way he noticed all of the interns who wandered onto his shift. He noticed the way your sleep was out of sync when you first began, the way you stumbled over your first few ‘weird and wonderful’ night shift cases as he liked to call them, the ones that truly took a minute to become desensitised to because how on earth had somebody done something so stupid? You were just another intern, barely on his radar outside of somebody to monitor and keep a steady eye on.
It was during your R2 year that you really began to register to him. You’d asked to switch over to the night shift for a period of time. Jack quickly found out that your mother was ill and your family needed the help at home whilst your father worked so you had agreed to switch to nights so that you could help back home in the day. It was slightly concerning to him, he had no idea when you slept, but you seemed to make it work. There were no tell tale signs of burn out, or that you weren’t getting enough sleep. So he let it slide, and if he gave you the easier cases to work on during your stint there then who was he to mention it? All too soon though you had become a part of his day, an integral part of the team. Your laugh across the ED could light up his mood, your childlike wonder at medical mysteries was infectious, and your poise in the face of ‘sensitive cases’ became a reference point he instilled in all his future interns. You were like a beacon of summer sunshine in the cold dark of the night shift, and you’d crept up on him like the first rays of morning.
Jack’s feelings towards you were a secret to nobody except yourself, something the rest of his team took great pleasure in ribbing him about. Something they were able to do quite easily now that you were firmly back on the day shift. Which was how they’d ended up here. Only two hours earlier he’d been talking to you by your locker, him just arriving and you on your way out, two passing ships in the night. That was how all of his shifts began now. A quick conversation about your shift, how the day had been, what your plans were for the rest of the night, and on occasion how your mothers health was holding up. He only got you in glimpses these days, and pined after you for the duration of his shift until your steady presence was back with him at hand over the next morning.
~~~
Ellis had a bad habit of leaving her phone on the nurses station. Jack had warned her multiple times that one of these days it was going to get stolen, but still every night without fail he would see it sitting there. He’d been in Trauma 2 with a nasty MVC accident. The patient was on their way up to surgery and he was tossing his gloves into the bin by the doors as he sauntered back over to the nurses station. He already knew the buzzing phone on the desk would be hers. The ringing died before he got to it though, oh well. Ellis could deal with whatever it was during their next lull. Except then another phone was ringing, from somewhere to his left. A coincidence surely.
”Hey Tigar. What’s up?” Shen spoke. Jack’s head turned. What were you calling Shen for in the middle of his shift? His eyes met Shen’s and he raised an eyebrow in an inquisitive manner, what could he say? Jack was nosy.
”Shit, yeah. Okay. We’ll be standing by.” Shen sighed. Jack waited for him to hang up before he spoke.
”Everything okay? Was that-“ His voice trailed off. If something was wrong with you, he didn’t want to think about it.
”She’s fine old man, chill. She’s bringing a friend in, recons it’s appendicitis. Says they’re about five minutes out.”
”Right.” Jack tried for nonchalant. “I’ll see what’s open. Grab Ellis and be ready when she gets here.”
”Yes boss.” Shen chuckled, shaking his head and wondering off. The tension left Jack’s shoulders then. It was okay. It wasn’t you who was ill or hurt. That put his mind at ease some as he found Lena and made sure there was a room ready on standby for when you got here.
”Jack, what’s open?” Shen shouted as he and Ellis reemerged into the ED, gurney in hand and you trailing behind. He had been trying to catch up on his charting, and desperately trying not to think about the fact that you would be walking through those doors any minute. Now here you were.
”South 15’s free.” He called out to them as he jogged over. “What’ve we got?” Doctor mode. Be the attending, he reminded himself. He could talk to you when they’d cleared your friend. It was only natural that his eyes would fall on you as you spoke. That is what we do when somebody is speaking. We look at them. What wasn’t natural was the way his eyes scanned down. Down to the stretchy nylon of your shirt that hugged your curves in all the right places, and in a cruel twist of fate showed off perfectly one asset of yours that Jack was not aware you possessed. There on either side of your chest, two little bars of metal that were poking through the soft fabric of your shirt. His breath hitched just a fraction. Ellis caught him. Of course she did. A smirk plastered on her face as his eyes met hers. Oh they were going to rip him a new one for this. Jack just grimaced and carried on walking.
~~~
“All I’m saying is that if there was a betting board on this, then that is not where I would have placed my money.” Jack heard Ellis laugh as he walked back over to the nurses station half an hour later. The labs had come back on your roommate and the diagnosis confirmed. They were now just waiting for a surgery slot to open up so that they could get her upstairs. She was stable for now and on morphine, so it was just a waiting game at this point. Jack had left you by her bedside. You were off shift, but he knew you’d want to keep an eye on her vitals whilst you waited.
”What are you two nattering about?” Jack sighed as he slumped down in his chair. Ellis was currently gossiping away to Bridget instead of charting or picking up patients. He ought to scold her for it, but the night had been pretty tame so he’ll let it slide just this once.
”Oh, just the pretty hardware your favourite resident is sporting.” Ellis smirked. “I know you spotted them too.” He didn’t need to look at her to know she was wearing a Cheshire Cat grin right now.
”I have no clue what you’re on about.” He mumbled as he typed in his work up for a patient he barely remembered the name of.
”Oh come on, cap! I know you saw them. Hell I think half the ER could have spotted those. I just never pegged our little tiger to be a piercings girl. Especially-“
”Okay.” Jack cut her off. He’d heard enough. “This conversation is wholly inappropriate to be having right now, and plus I think your labs are back on your patient in central 8. So why don’t you go follow up with that and leave the poor girl alone.” He pushed the chair back away from the desk and stood up, frustration coursing through him now. “I’m going to go get an ETA on surgery coming down.” He mumbled as he skulked off.
It was jealousy that was running hot through his veins. That wasn’t a mystery to him. The confusing part was jealousy over what? Jealousy that other people had seen them as well? That he hadn’t actually seen them at all, and he probably never would? That now he knew what was sitting there just below your top and he would never actually get to see them, touch them, know what they felt like in his mouth? You had just opened his eyes to a whole host of fantasies he never knew he wanted and he couldn’t have any of them. Now the whole of his team was talking about you, and in a twisted way he wanted this for just himself. He didn’t want them all to know, but he had no claim on you and he never would. Still he didn’t want anybody else to see. So he pulled you from the room and walked you over to his locker whilst he discussed your friend's condition. He had to put a stop to this, stop everybody from looking. They shouldn’t be allowed to look. He tried to keep his voice neutral as he punched in the code to his locker. You were still talking about your roommate, it was endearing how much you cared.
”Here.” Jack pushed his jacket towards you, tried not to think about you wearing something of his. He was just trying to protect your modesty here. You looked between the jacket and him, confused.
”Thank you?” You raised an eyebrow as you took the garment from him. Thumbing the soft fabric in your hand subconsciously. “Sorry, what’s this for?” The realisation hit him then. You didn’t know. Of course you didn’t. In the rush of everything going on you were more focussed on your friend than you were yourself. Of course you hadn’t stopped to consider what you were wearing right now.
”You, um.” He faltered. Jack didn’t want to embarrass you here. He wanted to choose his words carefully. “Sorry, you just look a little cold wearing that.” His eyes betrayed him by flicking downwards again. Grasping one last glimpse of those little metal bars poking through. Your eyes tracked his line of sight, and Jack watched as the look of horror plastered itself across your face.
”Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” It could almost be described as a squeal you let out as your cheeks bloomed bright red and your arms crossed your body to cover your chest. Jack would consider your reaction to be downright adorable if he couldn’t see the embarrassment written on your face. You spun on your heels before pulling his jacket onto your shoulders. He couldn’t hold back the chuckle any longer.
”You came in in a rush. I don’t think anyone will hold it against you.” He tried to soften the blow before you turned back around. God you looked pretty in his clothes
———————————————
Thankfully the rumour mill in the Pitt is ever turning and you only had to endure one snarky comment from Santos the next morning before something else had caught everybody’s attention. And needless to say it wasn’t even a bad comment from her. You had definitely heard worse from the R2 in the almost two years she had been in the ED.
”So, I heard a rumour from Ellis that you came in last night and gave the night shift a bit of a show.” She wiggled her eyebrows as you shoved your bag into your locker.
”Oh my god.” You groaned, dipping your head forward.
”No! I think it’s cool, seriously.” She backtracked. “I’ve been considering getting mine done for a while. I actually wanted your opinion.”
“On whether you should get your nipples pierced?” You asked. This felt like a trap, there had to be a joke coming here.
”Do they hurt? I mean I know they hurt, all piercings hurt obviously. Everybody says that nipples are one of the worst though. So what’s your opinion? Do they hurt?” You couldn’t help but laugh at that.
”Yes, they hurt. The second one hurts more than the first, because you know what to expect. Also don’t make the mistake I did, if you’re going to do it make sure you go when you don’t have anything else to do that day. I got mine on a whim before a six hour waitressing shift and was doubled over in pain the whole time. Those fuckers are sore for a good few days after you get them.” You giggle at the memory.
”Ouch, noted.” Santos grimaced.
”Yeah, that was not a fun shift. Also I was on with my creepy boss who kept asking me if I was feeling okay, and obviously I couldn’t tell him or he would have made some weird sleazy joke so I had to lie and tell him I had a migraine.”
”Girl, I feel you on the creepy boss.” Santos laughed.
”You best not be talking about me.” Jack smirked as he walked over to his own locker. You tried your best not to let the smile creep onto your face. Now that you weren’t fretting over your roommates health you could enjoy being in Jack’s presence again. To say you were harbouring a crush on the man was putting it lightly. You had been infatuated with him since your first night shift rotation in your R1 year, and your feelings had only steadily grown as you’d gotten to know him better over time.
”Okay, I am outta here.” Santos said before walking away again.
”No. Reminiscing on an old boss I had in college when I was still waitressing.” You chuckle.
”Ah.” He nodded his head “And what led you to that conversation?”
”Oh, Ellis told her about me coming in last night, and my-“ You pursed your lips and looked down. “-awkward wardrobe choice.”
”Hmm.” He hummed.
”She was grilling me about them, asking if they hurt to get. I was telling her not to make the same mistake I did and get them on a whim before a shift.” You filled him in.
”Well I think most people could have told you that.” He shook his head.
”What can I say? I was nineteen and kinda stupid.” You giggle. “Oh! I have your jacket by the way.”
”Nah, you can keep it. I think it shrunk in the wash, it fits you better than it does me.” The statement could have made you laugh, the jacket was visibly too big on you, with sleeves that needed to be pushed up over your hands and a hemline that fell around your thighs.
”Are you sure?” You asked, now holding it in your hand.
”Yeah, it’s yours.” And well, he didn’t need to tell you twice.
~~~
Three weeks later and your roommate was back to full health. You both had the day off work, and you had planned to go out that night to celebrate her newly removed appendix and her making partner at the law firm she worked for. She had tried to play the achievement down, citing that it was only a non-equity partnership and not full equity but that didn’t matter to you. It was still a huge milestone for her, plus you had no clue what the difference was anyway. In the end you compromised on going out for drinks at a local bar and keeping it ‘lowkey’.
You had been riffling through your wardrobe for a good fifteen minutes trying to find something to wear and you had come up empty handed. Who knew you actually needed more clothes than just hospital scrubs and old sweatpants and hoodies? Evidently, you didn’t.
”Hey!” You shouted through the paper thin wall of your bedroom. “Can I raid your closet for a top to wear?” You stood in the middle of your room and waited.
”Yeah, babe. Just come in!” She shouted back and you made your way over. You entered her room wearing just a brown leather mini skirt and your bra. “Is that the skirt you’re wearing?” She asked from where she was sitting on the floor in front of her mirror.
”Yeah, I never get a chance to wear it.” You nod.
”I think I have a top that will go perfectly with it actually.” She scrambled off the floor and began rummaging through her wardrobe trying to find the aforementioned top. With a gasp she turned around and presented to you a burgundy halter top with a plunging neckline. That was actually perfect. You took the top from her and threw it on. “Yeah, no, the bra’s coming off, you look like a middle schooler who can’t dress themselves.” She laughed as she gave you a once over.
”What do you mean?” You pouted looking in the mirror.
”You can’t wear a halter neck and have your bra straps out. Anyway your tits are nice! Show off those piercings.” She ribbed you. You considered it for a moment before conceding.
”Fine, whatever.”
The bar you had agreed to go to was about a ten minute walk away from your apartment. Which puts it about half way between your apartment and the hospital. That was fine, it was a Saturday night which meant that most of the people you worked with would be on shift tonight anyway, and the younger day shift group never came to this bar. They preferred to go out to clubs when they went out. The place wasn’t overly busy when you arrived, but it was lively. It took you a minute to find a free booth and sit down, your roommate leaving you there so that she could go and get you drinks. That was when you saw him. Sitting two booths away from you was Jack Abbot, with whom you could only assume were a few of his SWAT buddies.
”Oh, you’re joking.” You groaned and hid your head in your arms.
”What? What’s going on?” She asked as she slid in across from you.
”Behind you, two booths over. My fucking boss.” You hiss.
”No way!” Her eyes lit up. “Which one? The hot one you’re pining after or the other one?” You looked up just long enough to glare at her.
”Not the other one.” You huff. She cackles at that, catching Jack’s attention who looks over the shoulder of the people sitting between you and catches your eye. You flash him a courtesy smile and look back at your friend. “I hate you so much.”
Needless to say, the top you’d borrowed was drawing a lot of attention towards you. With its low cut that showed off your cleavage and your piercings that proudly pressed against the clinging fabric, it was definitely gaining you a lot of unwanted attention as you walked back and forth to the bar each time you needed a new drink. Namely the skeezy looking guy who was sitting across from you at the bar, and seemed to have no issue with just openly staring every time you went up there. It was making your skin crawl. The worst part of it all, you had reached the point in the night when you really wanted to go outside for a smoke. You couldn’t risk him following you out there, and you didn’t want to give up your seats if your roommate came with you. You were stuck at an impasse. Just as luck would have it though at that moment you saw Jack getting up and heading towards the bar.
”I’ll be back in a minute. I'm going out for a smoke.” You tell your friend and head towards the other end of the bar where Jack is standing waiting to be served.
”Hey. Sorry, I know you’re with people, and this is kind of a weird question, but will you come outside with me whilst I have a smoke?” You place a hand on Jack’s arm. “That guy down there has been staring at me all night, kinda giving me the creeps really, and I don’t want him to follow me outside if I go on my own.” You chuckle awkwardly.
”Why doesn’t your friend go with you?” He asked, eyeing your friend who was still sat in the booth.
”I don’t want us losing our seats.” You shrug. “Please?” You tack on looking up at him through your lashes. He just smiles at you.
”Yeah, sure, come on.” Jack’s hand came to rest on your lower back as he guided through the bar and towards the door. A quick glance over at your roommate as you passed and you shot you an obnoxiously oversized wink. She was teetering on the edge between tipsy and drunk, you were going to have to cut her off soon, but first you were going to enjoy this unexpected turn of events.
”Thank you.” You spoke first, back against the brick wall, cigarette dangling precariously from your bottom lip as you fished your lighter out of your purse.
”Well, I couldn’t let some creepy guy follow you out here and try and harass you. Especially when you look like that.” You don’t miss the way his eyes flick down to your chest. It took everything in you not to fold your arms across them, the cool night air was surely only exasperating the problem. You knew you shouldn’t have taken your bra off, straps be damned.
“Oh, god.” You groan, breathing out the plume of smoke that had settled in your lungs. ”This is the second time in a month you’ve seen me like this. I really hope you don’t think I make it a habit to go around braless in public.” You giggle. The alcohol was loosening your senses, making you bolder.
”You could make a habit of it if you wanted.” He shrugged in that flirty tone he sometimes used with patients. “I mean I don’t mind, but maybe not at work.” His eyes had gone dark, pupils dilating in the dark to almost completely cover the hazel you loved so much.
”Yeah?” You breathed quietly, taking a very sudden interest in flicking the ash off of the end of your smoke. You heard him take a step closer to you.
”Personally, I think you should get rid of every bra you own. Just never wear one again.” He was right in front of you, shoes almost touching. Your eyes were still on the ground.
”I mean that’s certainly one way to improve patient satisfaction scores.” You tried to joke. The sound of his laugh reverberated through you. “I think you might be a little bit drunk, Dr Abbot.” You finally looked up at him. His hand came to hold your waist, fingers pressed delicately against the sliver of skin between your top and skirt, as he ducked his head down to your ear.
”I’ve only had two beers.” His voice was low, it sent a shudder through you. His hand trailed up and down your side. “Can I?” He asked. You weren’t sure exactly what he was asking but you nodded all the same. He could do whatever he wanted. His other hand joined the first on the opposite side of your waist, both now trailing upwards until they were cupping the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitched. His eyes had never left yours. “Yeah?” He nodded at you, checking in.
”Yeah.” Having been given the go ahead his hands moved again, still cupped in place his thumbs moved to caress over your nipples. Still over your top, ever the gentleman, but you knew he could feel them and the metal beneath.
”I don’t think I have stopped thinking about these since you came into the ER that night.” He mumbled, as though he were more thinking aloud than talking to you at all. The sensation was feather light but your head tipped backwards against the wall nonetheless. The cigarette in your hand fell to the floor, half smoked and long forgotten now. “I had to give you my jacket because it was pissing me off that everybody else was getting to see them as well.”
”I can still give you that back if you want?” Your voice was breathy.
”No. I like seeing you wear my clothes. I want to see you wear it every morning when you come into work.” His face was against your neck now, speaking the words into the soft skin beneath your ear. He placed a tentative kiss there, then another and another, trailing down your throat, hands still firmly in place gave a light squeeze. The sensation kickstarted your brain, reminded you that you had hands of your own that could move or more correctly could move his. You placed your hand over his, picking it up and sliding it into your shirt, giving the go ahead for him to have a better feel. “Jesus Christ.” He groaned as he finally got to touch. The soft nub of your nipple contrasting the hard metal that stuck through it. His head dropped onto your shoulder, body fully slotted against your own, your own hands now grasping at the sides of his shirt keeping him there.
The sound of somebody clearing their throat to the left of you startled you to your senses. You and Jack turned your heads at the same time to find your roommate standing there awkwardly.
”I think I’m gonna call it a night and head back home. You don’t have to leave if you’re um, busy, but I’m going to head back.” She said, trying not to look at Jack, whose hand had thankfully left your boob, but was now kissing your neck again. The man really had no shame.
”Um, yeah. Okay” You gripped at Jack’s waist, he was making it really hard to think. “How are you getting home?”
”I’ll walk, it's ten minutes from here.” She rolled her eyes.
”No. Get a cab. If you’re going back without me I want to know you’re safe.” The logical part of you took over. You had seen far too many drunken accidents on walks back from bars and clubs come through the ED.
”Okay, fine.” She pulled her phone out and ordered an Uber. You turned your attention back to Jack.
”Wait. Stop, just stop a second.” You squeezed his sides to make him stop his trail of kisses and nips. His eyes found yours. “Let me make sure she gets in a cab okay.” You pressed your lips to his ear. “And then how about you take me home with you and I’ll let you see these for real.” The grin that spread across his face was worth a million bucks.
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