i need more about pope making his sweet girl practice scary intruder scenarios
okay i kind of got carried away and wrote something that is usually totally out of my comfort zone. if you want something cuter & more funny & sweet, i’d be happy to help pumpkin! :)
nsfw mentioned, breaking & entering scenario, mentions of weapons (knife), almost predator & prey dynamics, dumbification (HALLELUJAH!)
“okay, so tell me what you do again.” pope’s crossing his arms as he speaks to you, eyes nearly blackened and jaw set tight. baz’s house is pitch black, save for the soft glow of the lamp in the corner. lena’s sleeping at a friends, which means it’s andrew’s time to quiz you on house safety. “it’s more of a demonstration then a quiz, honey” he’d chide, but you knew a part of him liked to know more than you.
“i wake you up.” “right, but what if i’m not home, then what? “i-i go to the safe” andrew makes a clicking noise with his tongue before imitating a buzzer noise as he stalks closer to you “wrong. start over, close your eyes and tell me.” your eyes flutter shut, but your heart is pounding against your chest— it’s impossible to be calm with andrew glaring down his nose at you. he takes this very seriously, you should too. his hand comes up to cup over your eyes, a gentle “focus, baby” on his tongue.
“i put shoes on, and-and go over to the door” “good, then what?” “grab the knife under the bed, and my phone, ‘n get ready to run.” he’s chest to chest with you now, and you can feel the pulse of his breath on your forehead— his calloused hands still rubbing against your eyelids.
“good girl, you got it. you ready to run through it?” nervously, you nod your head as he pulls his hand away. “yeah? need words kid” “yes andrew” “okay, good.” it’s 2:33 am, you’re exhausted, and the red LED of your alarm clock reminds you of it. but andrew wants to do this, and he wants to do it for you.
cradling your face, he pulls his hands away and stands stoical; arms at his sides and eyes dark. in the pitch black of the house, his voice is almost unrecognizable. “g’head and go in our room honey”
swallowing, you nod, following the usual routine of going to your shared bedroom. your hands drag along the walls as you try and ground yourself. shoes on, knife, phone, book it. shoes on, knife, phone, book it. somewhere along the walk back to your room, you stopped hearing the breath of your lover. barely noticed the heaviness of his boots as he walked to the door. definitely didn’t notice the dark mask pulled over his gorgeous auburn curls.
in fact, the last thing you heard as you sat in your silent room secluded in darkness, was the click of the front, sliding door.
you’re not sure how long has passed. it’s a funny thing, having an alarm clock by the bed for punctuality, but waiting for catastrophe makes it entirely irrelevant.
you know andrew’s waiting, too. maybe he’s watching through the window. your stomach drops, maybe he’s already in the house and you’ve failed. there are few things more gut wrenching then disappointing andrew cody.
either way, you start to grow sleepy. breath evening out, wishing this would all be over so you can go back to snuggling with andrew under the covers. tonight, he came home in a state quieter than usual. fucked you nice and sweet under the covers, licked you clean before tucking you in next to him. somewhere between your sobs for his affection & his shivers, he found himself stewing on losing you. it wouldn’t happen, it couldn’t happen. and that’s what brought you here.
3:16 am. no sign of him yet.
you start to doze off, head leaning back against the pillows when your hear it. the nauseating movement at the door. he’s here— the big, bad wolf in the woods has gotten your scent at last. sitting up, you try and remember his directions as the footsteps grow closer. fuckfuckfuck!
shoes! shoes are on. your phone’s unplugged and essentially sutured to your hands, but the knife… the knife is gone. the slow, disgusting drag of metal against wooden walls resounds in your ears.
oh. so this is how he feels tonight.
you peel open the door, peering down the long hallway and seeing the front door wide open. he’ll be so proud of you, so proud that you remembered the main goal— “get out, fast, and call me.”
you wait for the grating noise to stop, swallowing before running.
but andrew knows you like he knows how to breathe. and before you’re even slightly past the kitchen, he’s whisking you in his arms.
you yelp in surprise, instantly beginning to cry from the sudden shock. he has your back to his strong, broad chest as he backs you up to the wall.
his ski mask scratches your cheek as you try and catch your breath, the warm cotton causing perspiration to spread across your face, “come on, y’usually so smart, what happened? huh? what’s going through that head?”
being longterm neighbors with the cody’s but having a strangely devoted relationship with dad boyfriend-esque!andrew that everyone else notices, but you two don’t question.
it all starts with a foot stomp. a bratty, annoyed, frustrated foot stomp on smurf’s wooden floors. “that’s not fair andy!” “tough, you’re not going.” “it’s the fucking beach, all of my friends are going.” “don’t care. y’too little, you won’t know what’s going on, or-or who to pay attention to if something goes wrong-“ “i’m 24 andrew! my brain is fully developed!” “yeah? then act like it.”
your little argument fills the kitchen, forcing craig and deran to eat breakfast outside. from the outside looking in, it seems almost like a sibling-ly fight, but oh, it’s so much more.
from the very beginning, you’ve been following andrew around like a doe; skittish when he moves, anchored next to him in the breaths of the oceanside wind. you don’t even remember where it began, it’s just always been this way. sure, you’re close friends with deran & friendly with craig, but they just aren’t your kinda people. and andrew never let you get too close to them anyways.
andrew slams the fridge door shut, turning to the cutting board to continue making your lunch- he knows you get fussy when you don’t eat. “i just don’t understand why andrew, it’s a music festival, i’ll only go for a little!” “why don’t you eat first and then we’ll continue talking okay?” exasperated, he slides the plate toward you, and like clockwork, you sit and eat.
craig shakes his head in confusion on the pool deck, “she knows she doesn’t have to listen to that shit, right? i mean she’s completely an adult.” deran chimes in, lightly coughing from his cigarette smoke, “nah man they’ve got this like… unspoken agreement. she’ll never do what he doesn’t want her to or some shit.”
that’s only partially true— you won’t do it because andrew is always right. when you listen to him, you’re safe. when you listen to him, you always have more fun. when you listen to him, you come home to a happy friend? older brother figure? lover? some other perverted twisted relationship where he leads you but never touches you?
no matter how much you both want it?
regardless, it’s better to listen than to ignore him. andrew can be very persuasive, it’s agonizing when you disappoint him.
he comes to stand in front of you as you nibble on the sandwich he made you, angry breaths slowly leaving your body. tilting his head down, auburn curls flopping a bit over his eyes, he makes eye contact with you. “hey. c’mon, i know you wanna go. but it’s just… not safe, sweetheart. what if there’s an emergency and you drop your phone in the sand? what if you get separated from your friends? whom i dislike… by the way. what’ll you do then?” he speaks so softly… his word is gospel. you respond immediately, “i’d find you.”
andrew’s cheeks redden, the cut on his face from his latest match throbs as he pouts. he thinks for a second, pointer finger making circles on the cold, marble counter as he contemplates. “who’s all going?” you list off your friends, nervously trying to throw in “j” before andrew’s putting his towel down and walking to the bedroom. “i’m coming with you, go wait by the truck.”
now what pope doesn’t see, as he trudges into his room in jealousy and reluctance, is exactly what deran and craig see every.single.time.
you sit on the stool, swinging your feet excitedly in silent victory. happily putting your hand over your mouth to hide a squeal as you smile and stand up. grabbing your towel, and slipping your flip flops back on, you shift your coverup up the slightest inch before bouncing outside to his truck.
craig stares with a shaking head and smile, and deran looks down at the pool with a laugh “every fuckin’ time, man.” “oh just wait bro”
pope comes stomping out of his room, black t shirt, jeans and vans (totally NOT equipt for a beach concert) and turns to his brothers with a set jaw and shrug. he stands there for a second, feigning annoyance, if he’s truthful. your sweet voice calls to him from the driveway with a honk “c’mon andy we’re gonna be late!”
it’s almost comical how quickly he books it out of the house.
give me reader who’s marrying robby but has been sleeping with jack for the better part of a year because robby has been so neglectful on his sabbatical.
give me 15 minutes before the ceremony begins, in your bridal suite, white gown rested on your hips as jack drives into you.
give me jack in his “best man” suit, gel melting out of his hair as he pants and paws at you.
give me your cheek pressed against the table, where your marriage certificate waits, tearing up because nothing, no-one could ever feel as good as jack.
give me jack who knows this fact, and grits his teeth to push back his own tears as he settles into a part of you so deep, that he’s never touched it before.
give me jack abbot groaning out “prettiest little bride, had to be your first wedding day fuck. so fucking beautiful, i love you so much. always will. everyday.” as you desperately try to hold his hand 💔
pairings: ex!michael ‘robby’ robinavitch x reader, jack abbot x talent agent!reader
summary: you’ve made a name for yourself as an agent for a big actress. when she gets into an accident, you’re forced to face your ex boyfriend and his flirtatious best friend.
word count: 3.6k
warning: heavyyy making out, dry humping 😝, praise kink, jealous!toxic!robby, medical inaccuracies, flirting, use of ‘little girl’ once, random oc i created for plot purposes, reader is very . euphoria s3 maddy perez coded .
note: eeek i love writing jealous fics HEHE i had sooooo much fun writing this ! honestly id be very open to writing a pt 2 but let me know what you guys think ! i’m like one fic away from just writing smut atp …………
a young woman’s scream echos the PTMC,
“Somebody call my agent!” she cries in pain as she enters through the ambulance bay,
“Rochelle King, 24 years old, vehicle hit her going 30 miles. Sounds like she was launched about nine feet. BP is one forty over ninety, heart rate one ten” the paramedics say as Doctor McKay and Doctor Robby approach the gurney,
“Hi Rochelle, we’re gonna get you some pain meds as soon as we can. Can you tell me if you’re experiencing any dizziness or nausea?” McKay starts as they enter trauma two. from a distance Victoria and Joy watch in disbelief,
“Is that Rochelle King?” Victoria says walking over to trauma two to get a quick peek. Joy follows quickly behind,
“Whoever it is, they’re a patient. One of you find out who her agent is or whatever she needs,” Dana calls out to the two med students. Joy walks to the desk begrudgingly. “Who the hell even is she?” Dana asks Joy as she takes her phone out to find the correct phone number,
“Seriously? She just won an Oscar for that Audrey Hepburn biopic? She’s in Pittsburgh filming for the new X-Files reboot,” Joy looks at her unimpressed as Dana blinks, still confused. Joy passes her phone over and Dana’s eyes widen in surprise as she stares at the headshot of you. she hasn’t seen you in years and you were almost unrecognizable. there’s a new look in your eyes, a less naïve and more ambitious look that only those who knew you previously would notice. Dana hands the phone back to Joy,
“Call her, let her know we have her actress here.” Dana leaves and sees Robby leaving trauma two. She speeds over to him, just as he’s taking his plastic gloves off,
“How’s our Hollywood star?” Dana starts.
“Her?” Robby turns around looking back at Rochelle as they pull her gurney out.
“What, you didn’t see that movie she was in? She won an Oscar for it.”
“Nope, I’m too busy saving lives here to watch anything.” Robby looks up at the patient board to see who’s next,
“Yeah, well the agent she was screaming about? Her agent is your ex-girlfriend,” Robby looks at Dana with panic before shaking his head, concealing his initial fright with a straight face. “You’ve got about four hours left, Robinavitch, I’m sure you can handle her until Abbot is in.”
Robby’s palms run up his face in agitation. of course, right as his shift was on its last few hours, he’s forced to face you. it felt like an impending doom that the universe sent him for all his mistakes he made while with you.
“I refuse to sit here any fucking longer and wait for you! I can’t believe I gave up my life for this… I be should in school, making a name for myself but instead I’m in fucking Pittsburgh playing housewife to you!” you yell with hot tears rushing down your face, voice cracking as you struggle to finish your sentence. Robby stands in the middle of your shared living room, hands on his hips, quietly taking all of it. he looks as if he’s disassociated from the conversation, waiting for it to be over so he can move on with his night,
“You done?” Robby says with a mildly condescending tone.
“Yeah, actually, I’m fucking done.” you walk to your shared bedroom, throwing clothes into a bag, rushing to get out. Robby doesn’t put up a fight, he simply sits on the couch, throwing his legs up on the coffee table. he’s been through this before with you. he doesn’t think you’ll get far and thinks it’s only a matter of time before you come running back. you needed him to survive, or so he thought. you took everything you could and bought a plane ticket heading west, never looking back. since then, you’ve been untraceable (though it’s not like he went looking for you anyways).
the sound of heels clicking against the linoleum floors snaps him out of the memory. you enter the ER dressed in a clean, well tailored designer outfit, carrying a matching bag with all sorts of papers poking out. your heavy eye makeup matches your blown out hair and minimalistic jewellery. you had your phone to your ear, quickly shutting it off as you approach the workstations,
“Dana!” you say with your arms open, embracing her. Dana squeezes you tightly in response. you look wildly different from the last time Robby saw you. if you passed him in the street, he wouldn’t be able to recognize you but there was something about your new look though that Robby wasn’t entirely buying. he felt as if he could see right through your alleged act, how could you mature so quickly from being someone who used to be so dependant on him?
“Hey kid!” Dana says as she pulls away, her hands still gripping your forearms. “Look at you! All grown up!” you smile big at her, relishing in her kindness,
“Thank you! Listen, I’m here for my client, Rochelle King?” in the corner of your eye, Robby approaches,
“She’s resting.”
“Robby, long time no see,” you say, adjusting your posture so you’re standing a bit taller now. Dana slowly backs away as she watches you try to keep your composure. Victoria and Joy’s heads poke up in interest, observing from not too far away. “You know, I asked them to take her to Westbridge, but apparently PTMC was much closer.” you say, trying to take the opportunity to get a quick jab at him,
“We put her on some pain medication and are waiting on her CT results back in case she has any symptoms of a brain bleed. She’s got a concussion, an ankle fracture and some pretty bad road rash, but she’s lucky to be alive.” you nod at his diagnosis,
“So where is she?” Robby stretches his arm out, guiding you down the ER,
“Robby’s ex is Rochelle King's agent?” Victoria asks Dana,
“And if she is, he fumbled. Hard.” Joy continues.
“Don’t you two have patients to check on? Chop chop, let’s go!” Dana claps her hands, breaking up the scene.
the curtains inside the ER room are closed and security stands in front of the room. before Robby opens the door he turns to you,
“Did I get a chance to say that you look amazing?” Robby says quietly, making sure only you could hear.
“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming?” your eyes squinting slightly in suspicion.
“But between us, I’m not buying it,” you scoff at his caveat.
“You can convince Dana and the rest of this ER that you’re a big Hollywood agent, but deep down you’re still a little girl, scared to live without someone taking care of her twenty-four seven.”
“Unbelievable. You’re still so self-centered as always, Robinavitch. You really can’t believe that I actually made a life for myself after you.” you shake your head in shock and disappointment before entering the room. Robby follows close behind.
“Hi!” you say softly to Rochelle, something about the tone of your voice makes Robby’s heart ache, it’s reminiscent of the way you used to speak to him when he’d come home from a rough shift,
“Miss King, we’d like to keep you overnight for observation while you wait on your results back. We don’t suspect any brain bleeding at this time but we’d like to just monitor you in case anything comes up.” your client stays quiet, nodding at the new information,
“That’s all, thank you Doctor Robby.” you dismiss him, keeping your eyes on Rochelle. you give her a soft smile as you grab her hand. you don’t care to look at him, or give him any attention besides what’s necessary. you’re technically still working, and you weren’t going to let your ex get in the way of that. Robby watches as you pull out papers from your bag before exiting the room.
maybe Robby will be okay with you here. an hour has passed since he dropped you off in the ER room and there’s three more to go before he can clock out and hopefully never see you again. through the ambulance bay, Jack arrives early than usual, camo backpack slung over his shoulder,
“What’re you doing here? You don’t come in till six usually.” Robby says as he double checks his watch for the time,
“Yeah, I’ve got a SWAT friend coming in for a wound check up, figured I might as well just come in and do it myself.”
as if the universe's timing couldn’t be worse, you come out of your clients room and walk over to Dana,
“Hey Dana, are there any issues with ordering food to the hospital? My client refuses to eat anything right now unless it’s a protein smoothie.” from a distance, Jack sees you chatting with Dana,
“Is that who I think it is?” Jack chuckles in amusement, “Didn’t think this place couldn’t get worse for you, brother.” Robby sighs as Jack gives him a sympathetic pat on the back.
“She’s an agent for some big actress who got into an accident today. I’ll give you the rundown in a bit.” Jack stares, scanning you from head to toe. with your clothes fitting in all the right places, accentuating your waistline and hips, he can’t help but stare.
“She looks good.” Jack says, testing the waters.
“Yeah? She’s all yours if you can handle that.” Robby jokes. it’s the first genuine laugh Robby has had all day but Jack keeps a straight face, taking his statement seriously. you feel the burning gaze of the two men as Dana passes you a sticky note with the hospital's info. your eyes meet Jack’s first, cracking a big smile on your face. he looks a bit older than the last time you saw him, and damn has time done him well. his salt and pepper hair, deep wrinkles around his eyes, if you were put in a room with him, you aren’t sure how you’d act.
“Hi Jack!” you say throwing your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body against his. Jack wraps his arms around your waist, leaving his hands there as you pull back.
“Hi sweetheart, long time no see. You look beautiful.” sweetheart? beautiful? Robby thinks.
“It’s what happens when you leave Pittsburgh, what can I say?” you say using your fingers to flaunt your face, letting out a giggle.
“Heard you’re here with some big actress? You live in Hollywood now?” Robby’s head tilts as he looks at Jack in confusion.
“Yeah actually, it’s been great. I’m a talent agent to a few actors and I’m in town for a bit while we film a reboot for a series.” you beam, proud of how you’ve established yourself.
“Yeah? Well you gotta tell me about it over drinks sometime while you’re here.” Robby couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. did Jack not remember all the times Robby had complained to him about another fight you two had? or that time Robby had to sleep on Jack’s couch?
“If you’ll excuse us, we have jobs to do.” Robby says as he interrupts the moment. Dana raises her eyebrows from a distance, catching Robby’s attention. you finally look at Robby,
“Good, so do I.” you say quickly looking back at Jack, giving him a wink. Jack shakes his head as he watches you walk away. he knows you’re trouble, and he’s willing to bet everything on you. as Jack heads to his locker, Dana quickly pulls Robby aside,
“What the hell was that? That poor girl has already been through enough of your bullshit.” Robby puts on an innocent face as Dana interrogates him,
“This is an ER, not a speed dating event and we have work to do,”
“Real professional of you, Robby. I almost believe you.” Robby walks away as Dana finishes her sentence. three more hours, just three more he repeats to himself.
𝜗ৎ
the room is quiet in comparison to the ongoing chaos outside in the ER. you type away at new emails before a soft knock at the door that awakens your client,
“Come in.” she mumbles, shuffling around in the bed. Jack and Robby enter the room together as you push your laptop aside.
“How’re you doing Miss King?” Robby starts as he examines her vitals. his eyes quickly glancing at you before bringing his full attention back to the patient. she groans in response, “Hurts.” she mumbles. while Robby slowly begins unraveling her bandages, Jack puts his hand on your shoulder softly,
“You doin’ okay?” you nod in response. the gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by Robby or Rochelle,
“Wounds look like they’re healing okay, no signs of infection so far. Your CT scans came back good as well so no risk of internal bleeding,” Robby turns to Jack who is standing beside you, “Let’s up her pain meds and keep an eye on the wound tonight. Should be okay to discharge by the morning.” as Robby makes his way out of the room, Jack quickly turns back to you again,
“You let me know if you need anything, got it?” you nod in silence again as he follows the other attending. as the door shuts, your client turns to you,
“What was that?” she says, eyebrows raised and with a smirk similar to a cheshire cat,
“It’s nothing, he’s a friend– an acquaintance even. I’ve known him for a long time,” you say as you pull your laptop back out. she doesn’t break her disbelieving stare, waiting for you to confess, “You’re high on pain meds, go back to sleep.”
“I might be high, but I know when a guy is really into you like that,” you shake your head as she turns over, “Plus he’s hot! My god, should I go for older guys? Honestly, and I mean it respectfully, if you don’t jump on him, I will!” you laugh at her drug induced ramble, trying your best to keep things professional.
just as you’re about to respond to another email, your phone begins buzzing. you’re quick to step out of the room and rush towards the ambulance bay exit. like a puppy, Jack’s eyes trail after you as you dash out answering the call,
“You know I was kinda joking when I said she was all yours?” Robby says sliding beside him,
“Were you? What happened to never wanting to see her again?” Jack challenges,
“All I’m saying is that I don’t believe she’s changed and I don’t think you should either.” Robby says with his hands up in surrender,
“Well I’m willing to be the one to find out.”
Robby shouldn’t feel threatened by Jack’s determination. he deemed that he was over you long before your relationship ended and yet he hated every time Jack made a pass at you (and even more that you were eating it up).
outside, the red light of the ‘Emergency’ sign above illuminates you,
“I promise you, if you don’t change that stunt team and you don’t do another pass at cast and crew safety, you’ll need to find another actress and we both know you’re in too deep to do that at this stage,” Jack walks outside to see you pacing back and forth. the click of your heels fill the silence while you listen to whoever you have on the phone, “Great, I’ll have that contract sent to you shortly, thank you.” you shut your phone off letting out a deep breath. Jack waits until you’ve had a second to decompress before approaching,
“Everything okay? Saw you running out the ER, just thought I’d check on you.” you spin around to see Jack with his hands behind his back slowly walking towards you. he stops at a safe distance standing beside, looking out at the nearby road with you.
“Yeah, producers just wanna know when they can start filming her scenes again, it’s nothing really.” your tense shoulders drop as it becomes quiet again, cars passing by filling the silent void,
“Y’know, I missed seeing you around.”
“Really? I thought I was a mess back then. I feel like my terrible decisions showed that.”
“Like being with Robby?” you huff in amusement as Jack’s question.
“Yeah, kinda. But it led me to meeting you…” there’s a brief pause, “And Dana,” you add. seeing Jack after years of being away has made you feel something you haven’t felt in a long time. when you left for LA, you refused to wear your heart on your sleeve again and being around him has brought something out in you.
the way he’s checked on specifically you multiple times since arriving, the interest he has in the life and career you’ve built, and let’s not forget how much more handsome he’s become. you don’t feel like he’s making you smaller being around him, he embraces your change. he treats you like an adult and like someone who is capable,
“The last time I was in Pittsburgh, I didn’t really know what I wanted. I just blindly followed a man who was essentially leading me nowhere.” you turn to face Jack. he mirrors your movement standing closer to you now,
“Have you figured out what you want now?”
“Yeah, I have.”
𝜗ৎ
thirty minutes left, Robby kept repeating to himself. thirty more minutes and he could finally go home, escape the sight of you, escape Jack’s attempts at flirting and repress any resurfacing feelings or memories he had of your time together.
though, he couldn’t help but remember the way you used to laugh when you rode on the back on his Bonneville, or the little scream you let out when he would pick you up and spin you around after coming home. he tries to keep busy to avoid any old feelings resurfacing but he can’t help it when the last four hours have been spent watching you openly flirt with his best friend,
“Princess, have you seen Jack?” Robby asks,
“You could try triage? I think he mentioned something about a wound check for a friend?” Robby flashes a thankful smile and heads over. he just needs to brief Jack on one more patient then he’s out of there.
in the nearby supply closet, Jack pushes you against the wall kissing you desperately as if he’s waited years for this exact moment. you moan as Jack takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. his knee pushes your legs apart and settles in between, allowing you to gently grind yourself against him. he slowly begins kissing down your neck,
“Fuck.” you moan lowly as he marks the sweet spot on your neck. Jack quietly shushes you and puts his hand on your mouth,
“You’ll be my good girl and stay quiet, right?” you nod vigorously, his hand staying on your mouth, following your nodding movements. “Yeah, you’re my good girl.” he kissed and marked your neck, desperately wanting to show everyone he’s yours.
Robby’s head pops in triage, doing a quick pass and even going towards the lobby to see if Jack is around. still nowhere to be found, Robby runs up the stairs towards the rooftop next.
Jack slowly undoes the buttons of your top as he kisses up your neck again, making his way back to your lips. he hovers over them for a second whispering,
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, wanted you.” he kisses you again, struggling with the buttons of your top. your fingers run through his grey curls, stopping at the roots to gently pull and tilt his head away from yours. A quiet groan slips from him at the loss of contact with your lips,
“Tell me how long,” you whisper with a seductive smile. Jack smiles back as he looks down at you, hands still in his hair,
“Since the second I met you, I didn’t care that you were Robby’s, I always knew you’d end up here with me,” he confesses. “And I’m not letting you go, I’m not making the same fucking mistake.” you pull him back in again for an even deeper kiss than before.
“Robby!” Doctor McKay calls out from a room. Robby dreadfully turns around. fifteen minutes he reminds himself as he walks over,
“I can’t find Abbot and I need an attending’s opinion on this.” as Cassie goes to unravel a bandaged wound, Robby turns to grab some disposable gloves before seeing the box is empty,
“Hold that thought, let me grab a new box of gloves.” Robby says turning around to head towards the supply closet. Robby turns his head left and right, looking around as he heads towards the closet, still unable to find the night shift attending. he couldn’t have gone far, not when he should be doing his usual nightcrawler huddle with the night shift now.
the supply closet door swings open. forcing Jack to stumble away from you. your eyes meet first with Robby’s whose eyes quickly dart to Jack’s. his lips are sticky with your lip gloss, and his short grey hair is somehow sticking in every direction possible. something about the thrill of being caught by Robby makes you lick your lips and beam a vicious smile at him. he looks back at you mortified, unable to determine if he should start yelling in anger or just close the door and pretend nothing happened. maybe this is your cue to leave and check back up on your emails and missed calls and texts. Jack and Robby turn to watch you pull a small rectangular paper out of your pocket, pressing it to Jack’s chest,
“I’ll be in town for a little longer.” you say, walking out of the closet back to the assigned room of your client. Princess watches you from a distance as you smooth your hair out and redo the buttons on your shirt. she quickly turns to Perlah to relay what she just witnessed.
Robby stands in the closet doorway still, hands on his hips as Jack looks at the small business card. one side is simply your first and last name on a sleek blank background. on the other side is your phone number and a small description at bottom:
Notes/Warnings: SMUT. Oral (M!Receiving). Season 5 Carter x the fuck ass northwestern shirt is my favorite. Carter calls reader baby, pretty girl, and honey. One slight mention of switch!john carter. Happy (belated) 55th birthday to the loml, Noah Wyle. There’s not a lot of plot. Not canon typical because reader and Carter have smart phones with their locations shared. Medical inaccuracies? Shoutout to twin ( @atlaslapis ) for helping me decide part of the ending 😘
You were already at work for your 16 hour shift when Carter woke up to the cold bed.
“Baby?” he mumbled half asleep before opening his eyes.
Once he blinked his eyes a few times, the scene from a few hours ago came flashing back. You. Waking up. Detaching yourself from him. A kiss before leaving where you whispered. “Happy birthday, baby. I’ll see you at work.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, as he got up and realized he didn’t want to be late for work.
You stared at John’s location on your phone.
“Shit,” you mumbled as you saw he had just left when he was supposed to be there in 5 minutes. Right on cue your phone rang. You quickly began to step outside as you answered.
“Hey birthday boy,” you said.
John could tell you were smirking by the way you talked. You drove him crazy in the best way possible. “Hey honey. Missed you this morning.”
“I missed you too,” you said with a chuckle. You wanted to add birthday boy, but you stopped yourself so you didn’t rile him up too much. 
“Can you do be a favor? Will you-“
“Cover for you since you’ll be 10 minutes late?” You said as you chuckled.
“Yeah. Thanks baby. I Iove you.”
“I love you too, birthday boy,” you said as you hung up and rushed back in to get back to work.
John was on shift two hours before you were able to talk to him for more than two seconds, that didn’t involve patient care.
He was standing at the central hub stretching his arms up when you hurried over and wrapped you arms around him. “Hey birthday boy,” you said.
John grabbed your hand and moved it to his half hard cock. “Hey yourself,” he said as he moved your hand away quickly, before anyone caught on.
You removed your hands from around him and took his hand. “Come with me,” you said.
John looked at you and you batted your eye lashes. “Where to?” He asked.
“To get your birthday surprise,” you said as you pulled at his arm. “Come on, John.”
He followed you down the hall, stopping just before the supply closet. He pulled you back to him and cupped your face, as he bent down to kiss you hard. He opened the door the supply closet, and shoved you in before quickly coming in behind you and shutting the door.
You blinked as you looked at him. “What happened to our spot?” You asked. You and John usually snuck away to the on call room down the hallway.
“We gotta be quick and I can’t wait anymore, pretty girl,” John said as he started untucking his shirt and pulling his pants down just enough to get his cock out.
You quickly dropped to your knees in front of him, and helped him free his quickly hardening cock. You pumped it in your hands a few times, causing John to swallow a shallow moan.
You placed kitten kisses along his shaft before reaching to play with his balls. You slowly worked your kisses back towards the tip and swirled your tongue around the tip before taking it into your mouth and starting to suck. You moved your hands to the outside of John’s legs and began to bob your head up and down his length.
“Just like that, don’t stop, pretty girl, don’t stop,” John cried out. Your usually soft dom boyfriend turned into a sub the moment he saw you drop to your knees, everytime.
When your hair started to get in the way, John made it into a makeshift ponytail. You hummed around him in acknowledgment. “Hmm. Of course. You’re welcome, honey,” John said as you started moving your mouth faster up and down as much of his length as you could.
John started thirsting his hips into your mouth, causing you to gag around his cock, as it made its way down your throat. “Feels almost as good as your pussy, pretty girl,” John said as his hips started moving faster to keep up with your mouth.
You looked up at him, fucked out expression on your face, and saw him looking up at the ceiling mumbling to himself. “B. Balance. E. E-eyes. FUCK baby.”
Of course he was going over diagnosing a stoke. John often would mumble medical procedures during sex - a way to distract him to help him last just a little longer. Most girls found it unattractive, but it made you love him that much more.
You continued to look up at him, as tears started to form at your waterline. You adjusted your hand on his thigh, and he looked down at you. John groaned as he looked away. “Fuck. Keep looking at me like that pretty girl, and I’m not gonna last.”
You hummed around his cock, as one of your hands reached up to play with his balls. John pushed your head further down his cock, as your nose was touching his pelvis. He pulled you back, as he looked down at you. The same fucked out expression as before, with the tears no longer forming, but starting to fall.
“Oh oh oh, pretty girl,” John shuttered, as he pushed you back so you had all of him down your throat. “Oh fuck.” That was all the warning John gave you before his hot cum coated the back of your throat, as John threw his head back. He stared to lose his balance, and grabbed the shelf next to him, causing everything on it to come crashing to the ground.
You quickly pulled yourself off John’s cock, as the items began to fall.
“Fuck. Fuck you okay, baby?” John asked as he reached a hand down to help you up.
You nodded as you opened your mouth - showing John you swallowed everything he had spent down your throat.
“Hmm. Good job pretty girl,” John said, as he kissed you, tasting his salty taste still on your tongue , while tucking his cock back into his pants and started to fix his clothing.
A knock at the door. “You okay in there?” Benton called form the other side of the door. “Heard the crash.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re okay,” John said without thinking.
“We?” Benton asked.
You and John looked at each other like deer caught in headlights.
“Carter, who the fuck is in there with you?” Benton asked, as he started to jiggle the handle.
You and John quickly shared a glance - realizing in the heat of the moment neither of you thought to lock the door.
As the door flew open, exposing the two of you, Benton exchanged a glare of anger at both of you.
“Get this cleaned up,” he demanded as he turned to walk away, “and next time lock the damn door.”
☆ SUMMARY: Months after Jack broke your heart, you attempt to move on by going on a date. The problem? You run into your ex-boyfriend before you even make it out of the parking lot.
☆ CONTAINS: Ex!Jack, younger, fem!reader, dating app slander, mentions of shooting someone. No descriptions of readers' appearance, except that hair is put up while at work, wearing makeup and a dress.
☆AUTHORS NOTE: Whipped this up in a day in an attempt to get the creative juices flowing! Almost done with school for the summer, so hopefully I can get back into writing<3 Is it meh? Yes. Is it also a start? Yes! PS. I have a 1K special up where you can request some things, so check it out if you’d like!
☆ PAGE DIVIDERS BY: @sweetmelodygraphics
“So, a little birdie told me someone's got a hot date tonight?”
The teasing lilt in Trinity Santos' voice does not go unnoticed by you, even after hours of saving lives and being slammed with paperwork as a reward.
That's healthcare for you.
“I’m going to shoot the little birdie,” you scoff, rubbing your eyes rougher than one probably should. “And it’s definitely not a hot one,”
“But it is a date,” Trinity perks up, a cheshire like grin forming on her face while she spins the chair you're sitting in and charting to face her. “Tell me everything– who is he, how did you meet, what are you going to wear–”
“Okay, slow down!” A small laugh unfortunately manages to escape you, and you don’t know whether to be touched or offended over the fact that she was this invested in your love life. “There’s nothing to tell, I haven’t even met the man yet,”
“Oh, ew,” she immediately says, grimacing in disgust, “You met him on the apps? That’s low, even for you babe,”
You stare at her blankly, momentarily stunned.
“Desperate times means desperate measures,” you finally say, officially finishing charting and logging out of the computer. Standing up, you start making your way towards the lockers, Trinity's excited voice following behind you.
“I mean, not that desperate. I know one man that would go out with you in a heartbeat,”
Opening your locker, you take out the little duffel bag you had to bring into work today. In order to make it to the date on time, you’d have to get ready at work, and as much as you hated drawing attention to yourself, you wouldn’t have time to make it back home.
So you’d done your hair the night before, hoping for the best when you tied it up for work, shoved your makeup kit, as well as your dress and heels into a bag and made your way to work.
This was also the exact reason you had asked to get out before handoffs. And Robby owed you just enough favors to let it slide, but not before giving you a suspicious look. You knew better than to tell your ex-husbands best friend– and by default spy– why you suddenly needed to cash in on those very handy, very hard earned favors.
“Yeah, and me and that man are broken up for a reason,” you snort, promptly shutting down any insinuations and blaming it on her sleep depravity.
Slipping off your scrubs, you falter when you hear Trinity snort at the action.
“Excuse me? What happened to privacy–”
“Alright, alright– sorry!” She amends, throwing her hands up in defeat and turning around.
But the sound of her laughter is already replaying in your mind and you huff at your own insecurity, crossing your arms.
“What is it, Santos?”
Immediately turning back around, Trinity gives you a sheepish smile, before her eyes dart to you, still standing in your underwear.
“Are we, like, super committed to the granny panties?”
You gasp, throwing your scrub top at her face when she speaks.
“Rude! They’re not granny panties, they’re just, you know…” you defend yourself, digging through your duffel for your dress. “Comfortable. They’re comfortable, Trinity,”
“That’s kind of the problem, babe. You’re going for sexy and alluring– not comfort! Trust me, I’m the last person to tell someone to change for a man, but those–” she points an accusing finger at your matching set, “Are just one big turnoff, my friend,”
You groan, running a hand through your hair.
“You cannot be telling me this right now. I don’t have any spare underwear with me– are you sure you’re not just biased?”
Trinity gives you a sad look, then walks to the door, peeking her head around the corner.
“Mohan! Get in here–”
You gape, quickly tugging your work pants back on and crossing your arms over your chest.
“What the hell? Hello, I’m like naked in here–”
“Oh calm down, we’re doctors,” Trinity waves you off, and before you can say anything else, Samira Mohan walks into the tiny excuse of a locker room.
Her eyes dart between Trinity and you, before going down to your chest, where a very sturdy looking bra is in place.
“For the date tonight?” she says carefully, noting the agitation on your face and the amusement on Trinity’s.
“Does everyone know?” your answer confirms her words, and Samira gives you a gentle smile, officially dismantling the last irritation in you.
Slumping against the lockers, your head hits the metal with a small thump!
“Okay,” she finally says, adopting the same, comforting tone she uses when explaining treatment plans to patients, “I don't think they're bad,”
“You lie, sweet child of mine,” Trinity sighs dramatically, crossing her arms when she looks back at you.“Literally just go commando at this point,”
Shaking your head, you snap out of your haze, going back to your bag and digging your dress out.
It’s not like you’re going to sleep with the man.
You weren’t ready for that just yet, your mind echoes to you, but you quickly stop the spiral you feel forming.
If you were still with Jack, you wouldn’t have to worry about first dates and underwear–
Okay, no.
“Zip me up please?” is what you say instead, looking between the two women helplessly.
Noticing your sudden quietness, Trinity obliges and does what you ask. The zipper slides up your back smoothly, and for once, she’s quiet.
“Hey, come on,” she says softly, giving your shoulder a squeeze once she's finished. “You look pretty,”
Samira nods, taking a hold of your other shoulder and leading you to the mirror, a small smile on her face as you watch her reflection watch you.
“You look good,” she says simply, in a way she knows does more of an impact on you than an overflow of compliments would.
Your eyes linger on your reflection, smoothing down any crinkled pieces of fabric as an attempt to self soothe. But there was something deeply humiliating about standing in a hospital locker room, while two coworkers attempted to convince you that you weren't a complete disaster.
Admittedly, you do agree. You looked pretty wearing something other than scrubs and letting your hair down for once– hell, even applying new lipstick makes you feel reborn.
Taking one final look, you straighten your shoulders before walking back to your bag and taking your heels out, putting them on and shoving your bag back into the locker and dumping your dirty scrubs into Trinity’s arms.
Payback for the panty comments.
“Wish me luck, ladies,” you say, the small purse you’d brought with now swinging on your shoulder.
“Knock him dead, babe!” Trinity grins, and Samira gives you a supportive thumbs up beside her.
Twenty more meters and you're out of here, on your way before anyone can properly see you.
You take a deep breath, trying not to cringe or look at people as your heels click against the linoleum floors. The doors to the ambulance bay hiss when you step through them, a small sigh of relief escaping you once the evening breeze washes over your face.
Rounding the corner towards the parking lot, a yelp escapes you when you crash into someone.
“Shit!”
Strong hands grab your arms before you can stumble backwards and crack your skull open on the pavement and die in your granny panties.
“Christ, slow down,” a familiar voice mutters and your stomach instantly drops.
Fuck.
The last person you wanted to see, the reason you were leaving work thirty minutes early and watching your back like a criminal, instead of a grown woman simply going on a date.
Jack Abbot, in all his fine glory, dressed in one of those tight, white shirts he loves and his usual cargos.
His hands are still wrapped around your arms, your own are still gripping his forearms, far too close for your already scrambled mind to be able to handle right now.
Pulling away, you quickly smooth down your dress once again, clearing your throat.
“Hi! Uh– nice catching up, I should probably–” you laugh awkwardly, motioning vaguely with your hands towards your car.
Jack doesn’t say anything, his eyes unabashedly travelling across your body. First your styled hair, then to your painted lips, then to the dress, gaze lingering on your exposed legs.
“You’re awfully dressed up for work,” He mutters dryly, head tilting once his eyes lock with yours once again. “But I suppose this wasn’t how you came in at seven am,”
“Wow, nothing gets past you, huh?” you can’t help but quip, ignoring the warm feeling in your belly at the sight of him fighting a smile at your words.
The evening breeze catches a loose strand of your hair and blows it across your face. Before you can move it away, you notice Jack's hand twitch, but ultimately stay rooted by his side.
"Clearly not. Are you going to answer or keep being a smartass?”
Against your will, a small smile forms on your face, and you shake your head and cross your arms.
“I should be on my way to a date,” You finally concede, gauging his reaction.
Yeah, to see if he even cares anymore.
Unfortunately, as Jack glances toward the parking lot before looking back at you, he asks:
“Is he not picking you up?”
For some reason, his words send a wave of embarrassment through you. Like you have to prove to him that you’re not going out with a piece of shit, like you’re not downgrading, or settling, or desperately trying to get over Jack by going on shitty dates.
“It’s the first date, I’m not having him know where I work,” you mutter petulantly, shifting on your feet, the pain growing more intense the longer you stand there. “That’s just common sense,”
Jack hums thoughtfully, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants.
“You’ll have to excuse my ignorance, then. I haven’t been on a proper date in a while,”
Asshole.
You know he’s talking about your relationship, that petty bastard.
“And who’s fault is that?” the words come out sharper than intended, but you’re too deep into this to notice, or even care about it.
“You know, normal people would just let it go,” Jack muses, eyes narrowed in amusement as he takes a step closer to you.
“Normal people also don’t interrogate their ex in the parking lot,” you retort, chin raising defiantly as your irritation spikes at his indifference towards seeing you moving on.
You’d once heard a rumor of another attending on the surgical floor reportedly laying it on pretty thick at some gala.
It had you eating ice cream for dinner for a week, just the thought of him moving on from you that easily.
Your phone buzzing in your purse fills the silence, and you’re suddenly made aware of the entire reason you're standing here in a dress and heels instead of driving home to watch terrible reality television.
“I should go,” you say quieter than intended, clearing your throat afterwards.
The amusement fades from his face, replaced by something harder to read, and for a moment, Jack doesn't say anything, his eyes flickering to your purse and where your phone is buzzing.
A cruel reminder to him of the fact that you indeed are moving on, probably with some guy your age that wouldn’t have to worry about how you’d look walking down the street with him.
“Yeah, don’t let me keep you,” Jack mumbles, shifting on his feet as he follows you with his head when you walk past him slowly.
Your heels sound against the pavement, the loud clicks taunting in his ears, like a clock reminding him of the time he's running out of, both in life and with you.
“Fuck,” He mutters under his breath, scratching the scruff on his face harshly, before walking after you. “Hey, wait–”
“I really have to go, Jack,” you don’t stop walking, in fact speeding up a bit.
You couldn’t trust yourself around him.
“You don’t even know this guy!” Jack throws out in a desperate attempt to get you to stay, to make you argue with him, anything to make you stay– to choose him again, even if it only were for a moment.
You stop so abruptly your heel almost catches on a crack in the pavement, before you’re whirling back to glare at him.
“Are you serious right now?
Despite your anger, Jack can’t help but notice how pretty you look while glaring at him, and even though he'd be six feet under if looks could kill.
“I’m just looking out for you,” He has the nerve to say, shrugging slightly while he walks up to where you’ve come to a stop.
“I don’t want you to look out for me! You wouldn’t need to if you hadn’t–” you stop yourself from lashing out, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “...Why are you doing this?”
“I’m worried about you, I mean– leaving work early, dressing up, then running straight into me because you aren’t paying attention–” Jack lists, the lies falling from his lips unconvincingly.
You scoff, turning around and walking back towards your car.
“Goodbye, Jack,”
Panic fills his veins, and his hand shoots out and grabs your arm, pulling you towards him.
“Fuck, okay! Alright, just–” Jack sighs, running his free hand through his silver curls, “Just wait, okay? Don’t just…go,”
“Then tell me why you’re being like this,” you press him again, impatiently.
Jack takes it as a small victory when you don’t rip your arm out of his grip.
“I don’t want you to go out with him,”
“You don’t even know him–” you roll your eyes at his shitty explanation.
“I don’t want you to go out with anyone,” Jack interrupts, jaw clenching as he forces the words out. “I don’t want to see you laugh with anyone, or leave work early because you’re seeing someone, or see you get dolled up for another man,”
The words echo in the empty parking lot and land bitterly in your ears.
Your mind couldn’t help but betray you at this moment.
Why wait until now? Is it to make sure his words are devastating enough? To make you lose the progress you thought you had made after he broke your heart?
Was it really all his fault if you could let yourself be this affected by his words?
“You’re such an asshole,” you say shakily, eyes welling up with unshed tears.
Jack nods, a bitter smile forming on his face.
“Yeah, I know,”
He doesn’t argue with you, because he agrees.
He is an asshole. A selfish, greedy asshole who wants nothing more than to get on his knee and grovel at your feet, because the biggest mistake he’s made is thinking that letting you go is an act of love.
Over the fear of what others might think.
Over the fear that there will come a day where instead of him taking care of you, you’ll be taking care of him, while he takes advantage of your youth, all while knowing you’d be too sweet to leave him.
Jack stares at you, your teary eyes and trembling lips, he stands there and he stares at the woman he still loves.
“I’m fucked up, I know. But every morning I wake up and you're still the first thing I think about,” he begins, swallowing thickly when he feels a lump form in his throat. “I look for your car in the parking lot before I walk in. I mean fuck, even at handoffs, I look for the charts that have your signature,”
The tears are definitely ruining your makeup now. You were late beyond belief for the date, and the buzzing in your purse had ceased ten minutes ago.
And yet you have no urge to go anywhere anymore.
“That’s kind of sad,” you sniffle, muttering weakly.
Jack chuckles weakly, fingers tightening around your arm before he reluctantly lets go.
“It’s really fucking sad,” he agrees easily, resisting the urge to wipe the tear tracks off your face.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” you meet his gaze at last, and Jack sees the confusion and fear in your eyes that comes with the possibility of forgiving him, or letting him make it up to you.
“I don’t know, I just…” he begins,“I couldn’t let you leave thinking I didn’t care. That I don’t care,”
“Do you think your age is secret or something?”
Jack blinks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“What? No–”
“Do you think I didn’t see the grey hair, and wrinkles, and the glaring at screens before we got together?” You continue, stepping closer to him, gaze landing on the evident smile lines, and signs of his life actually being lived.
“You’re making me sound worse than I am,” he grumbles quietly.
“And what really sucked is that you thought I hadn’t already thought of all that when we started this, that there would come a time when you needed me more than I needed you. You keep acting like you lured me into a relationship with you, and acting like I didn’t consider any of it,”
Your voice is steady when you speak, finally wiping the tears away as your feelings spill, the weight on your chest lightening up with each word you speak.
“I saw it. I saw it and I still chose to be with you, so I really don’t understand what favor you thought you did me when you ended things,”
Jack is silent, for once. No sarcastic quip, no flirty deflection– he just stands there and lets the words sink in, feeling incredibly stupid.
He knew you were bright, incredibly empathetic and intuitive. Of course you hadn’t just thrown yourself into this blindly. You’d chosen him on purpose, and Jack was too blinded by his own fears to let you love him the way you wanted to. In turn, he’d hurt himself, but most importantly, he’d hurt you.
“I may have overestimated my own charm,” he says, sounding almost embarrassed.
Despite the earlier tension, his words make you laugh softly, and Jack perks up like he’s been rewarded with something.
“For what it's worth, breaking up with you was the stupidest thing I've ever done,” Jack adds, lips stretching into a tight lipped smile, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, still stubbornly resisting the urge to just give in to him.
“You’re still not fully forgiven,”
“I know,” He nods solemnly.“I’d love it if you did, but I know you can’t, and that’s okay,”
“And you have a lot to make up for,” you continue, not letting up. You had, after all, been tortured for months.
“I do,” Jack says instantly, the answer coming so quickly it almost throws you off.
After everything the two of you had been through, it felt like a step in the right direction. A moment of tense silence ensues, and you know it’s because Jack doesn’t want to immediately jump back into things and make it seem like he's brushing things under the rug.
You decide to throw him a bone.
“...You’re way too old to be playing with people's feelings,” You finally joke, and Jack bites his lip until he’s unable to hold the grin back any longer.
“Hey, that’s still a sensitive topic,” He tuts, a faux hurt expression forming on his face. “And if I’m so old, I guess I won’t be able to drive us to that restaurant you like so much?”
Your eyebrows raise in suspicion.
“That’s real cute, but don't you have work?”
“Robby owes me one,” He shrugs, hand landing on your waist, “Besides, we can’t have this dress go to waste, right?”
You let him lead you towards his car, the smile on your face growing wider at his ridiculousness.
“I suppose not,”
And for the first time in months, Jack didn’t feel that sharp, stinging in his chest whenever he took a breath.
♡ synopsis: now happily married to the kind of woman sammy could only dream of before, he's a very satisfied man. but... something seems to be bothering you tonight. once you're finally in bed together, you divulge the reason for your quiet disposition this evening. afterward, you prove to him yet again just how smart he was for wedding you.
♡ content: misogyny & internalized misogyny, anti-tammi, reader is a pregnant housewife, blowjob
Sammy often calls you his guardian angel. Because coming home to you is blissful heaven. There's no shouting matches, unhinged hysterics to deal with because you did something ridiculous while he was at work earning a paycheck and putting his ass on the line to provide for you, or a wreck of a house to clean up when he walks through the door.
No, just peace and quiet and calm.
Vacuumed carpet, mopped hardwood floors, polished countertops, freshly laundered uniforms, a fresh assortment of fruits and vegetables in the kitchen, and faintly flickering candles on the coffee table which is complete with tidily organized stacks of magazines for your own respective interests.
And there's always toilet paper under the bathroom sink.
After his mess of a divorce, he was lonely, sure, but also very reluctant to ever get involved with someone ever again. After all, what if the new woman he chose turned out to be just as unstable as the last one—if not more so—and took him for all he was worth yet again, simply because he was trying to do the right thing by being a hardworking man?
Going on a reluctant search was never necessary to begin with, though, because there you were all along... From the very beginning, ahead of his filing for legal separation.
Before Sammy made you a happy little housewife, you'd been a waitress at a local diner, which he soon began to frequent after every shift, in an attempt to unwind and decompress before going home to a wife he resented.
You were a balm to his ragged nerves. Always sweet and sociable, and willing to lend an ear to listen to his woes when he actually had the energy to speak.
It gutted him that you were working ten hour shifts—and on sneakers that were being held together with naught more than duct tape, at that (he always felt guilty anytime he left you less than a $30 tip, even if all he ordered that evening was a glass of ice water). Meanwhile, Tammi was at home getting high with a damn teenager who stole something he stretched himself so fucking thin over to provide her with in the first place.
He should've known photography was just going to be another whim just because she was bored.
At that, instead of being thankful, she instead reminded him of how he wasn't enough—or doing enough—when she harped on and on over the phone about wanting to move into a house he could never dream of affording while he was just trying to do his goddamn job.
Pushing it all down, his anger manifested in other ways before long.
It made him seethe watching other men put their hands on you when you came by to refill their coffee, or bring them their ordered meals because they somehow felt entitled to you.
When he started pulling his badge to get them to back the fuck off, or leave altogether, is when he knew that he was absolutely whipped.
Whenever Sammy would try to flirt, though, your eyes would always drift to that bothersome gold band that he desperately wanted to flush down the toilet and forget about entirely.
He was fucking terrified of losing you.
So, he filed and risked half of everything—his savings, pension, personal property, and financial assets—just for a chance at having something better by your side before the day finally came where you either disappeared from the diner's outdated interior in search of more favorable prospects elsewhere, or you slipped through his fingers altogether while another man put a wedding ring on one of yours.
No more does Sammy come through the front door and toe off his black rubber boots before you suddenly appear before him. Pressing yourself affectionately to his chest, you wind your arms tightly around his neck and grant him a soft peck on the lips.
"Welcome home," you whisper. Running your fingers through his soft auburn curls, you rest your forehead gently against his. "How was your day?"
Snaking his arms around your waist, your husband gives you a careful squeeze while a contented smile crawls its way across his lips and feeling of uncontainable warmth fills his heart. "Better now."
Sliding a heavy palm over your swollen belly, the corner of Sammy's lips twitches when your little one kicks excitedly.
"He missed his daddy as much as I did," you murmur.
Falling back a step, you tug Sammy past your two's cozily decorated living room. "Go ahead and take a hot shower. Dinner's just about ready."
He smooths a hand down the back of your head. "Did you—"
"Grocery list is all checked off," you remark with a confident nod. "And the gentleman at the auto store even changed my wiper's for me."
He frowns slightly. "I could've done that, baby."
You pad into the kitchen. "Think it's just something they do," you state with a shrug. "One less thing for you to worry about."
Squeezing your backside, you squeak quietly while Sammy chuckles and heads back to the bathroom to wash up.
It's always the little things that she would've never even dreamed of considering which repeatedly confirms that he made such a great fucking choice in his second spouse. Like a carefully folded pile of clothes waiting on the edge of the bed for him to change into after bathing.
Happy wife, happy life indeed.
While Sammy is all too happy to be chowing down on a heaping plate of steaming hot wings, and sipping from a cold bottle of beer in-between hearty bites after suffering through a grueling day amongst the crime-riddled streets of LA, he's acutely aware of how quiet you are tonight.
Maybe the grocery shopping should've waited until he could make a trip out this weekend instead. You already do so much. What, with cooking and cleaning and growing his baby in your womb...
Tacking on a trip to Sam's Club was a task that should've been placed on his calendar instead, he thinks.
When it came to Tammi, what he wanted mattered little, if at all. But he fears with you—since you never tell him no—that you somehow feel obligated to meet his every demand because he's the breadwinner in the relationship.
You even went so far as to encourage him to sign a prenup incase he "decided he made a huge mistake" and "wanted to undo it with no financial fallout."
Sammy refused to allow papers to be put between you, though. Not a single one.
No way in hell, because he was sure this time.
He just hopes that you don't feel...trapped.
Are you happy? Do you feel safe, loved, protected, and appreciated? Worshipped?
He nudges your socked foot beneath the round wooden dining table you're both seated at, and smiles when you look at him. "You okay, baby?"
You nod and nibble on a piece of chopped celery that's drenched in ranch. "Just tired."
Sam's well of worry deepens.
"Alright," Sammy groans while dragging you into his lap now that you're both in bed. "You gonna finally tell me what's been on your mind all evening?"
Your eyes flit to his and he immediately takes note of the look of hesitation he finds within.
Curling your fingers against the warm, freckled skin of his bare chest, you worry your lower lip between your teeth.
"Is it...somethin' I did?" he questions warily. "Are you—"
"No," you state softly while cupping his stubbled cheek tenderly in your hand. "It was something that happened at the store. I planned to tell you. I just... Wanted you to be fully settled in for the night before I did."
Gripping either of your hips, he leans back against the fluffed pillow behind him. "I'm all ears, angel."
"So..." you begin while resting a hand over his shoulder. "I was done shopping and went into the baby aisle to browse for a bit before I checked out. And..." you sigh exhaustedly. "Tammi was there."
He sits up the least bit straighter.
"Nothing happened, though," you swiftly reassure. "Apart from a verbal confrontation."
"Tell me," he insists.
"I felt like I was being stared at. Turned out I was right when I looked over my shoulder. There was a moment of recognition, which she commented on: Good, you know who I am," you relay in a snide voice meant to mimic her own. "I told her that I've seen photos. When she saw that I was pregnant, she sort of flew off the handle. Started screaming that I was a whore who stole her husband from her and destroyed her life. That I was a homewrecker, a slut..."
You shake your head while blinking back unbidden tears.
"Thankfully, an employee was nearby. He broke it up and threatened to call security on her if she didn't leave. Her being forced out of the store when she wasn't done shopping only set her off further. She was yelling the whole way out the door."
He squeezes his eyes shut to force down a broiling torrent of pent-up rage. "I'm so sorry, honey." Opening his eyes again, Sammy cups your shoulder—adjusting the strap of your nightgown where it's slipped down your arm. "Why didn't you call me?"
"I had food to get home and put away. If I did, I knew you would've come running." You chew your cheek. "Or you would've made things worse by having it out with her in the parking lot."
"This bitch..." he murmurs. "Sometimes I feel like no matter what I do, I'll never be rid of her."
"I wanted to tell her that it wasn't what she thought. That you and I never had an affair, but—"
"Not entirely true," he interrupts. "No, we never screwed before my marriage was dissolved, but there was definitely emotions being exchanged."
You rest a hand atop your belly. You've tried to give her grace; understanding in her numerous issues. But you think you've finally reached the end of your rope with it all.
No wonder he was so eager to have you instead after all the bull she put him through. She nearly made a monster out of a good man, but you've done your wifely duty and healed his troubled heart.
"Cunt," you whisper.
Sammy barks a laugh and leans forward. "I'm sorry, did my perfect little do-gooder wife just say what I think she did?" he inquires with an amused, toothy grin.
You study him from beneath hooded lids while smirking salaciously. "She never deserved you," you continue. "I'm the better woman."
Now it all comes out, he thinks with satisfaction.
"Yes you are," he rumbles while cupping your ass cheeks in both his hands and kneading the plump skin. "In every way."
"Mhm," you hum while slowly nodding. "Actually know how to keep house," you add. "I have dinner on the table every night, and I spend your hard-earned money wisely. Except for when you spoil me," you murmur with a shrug while grinding down against his semi-erect cock. "I do whatever you tell me to like a good girl."
"Shit," Sammy rasps while throwing his head back.
"I'm thankful for the home you've provided, and all the nice things you give me," you continue while leaning forward and trailing soft kisses along his chin. "I'm so lucky to have such a good man who gave me his last name. Who's put his baby inside me where it belongs."
His cock stirs against your thinly-clothed pussy.
"Let me help you relax after such a long, hard day," you mutter while tugging off your nightgown.
Lying on your back in the middle of the bed, Sammy is resting back on his haunches while continually sliding his swollen, twitching cock between your shimmering lips.
Gripping the velvety shaft firmly in your fist, you plant a wet kiss atop the oozing mushroom tip before circling it lazily with your drooling tongue.
"Fuck, such a good girl for me," he utters.
You open wide, and Sammy eases his erection into the back of your throat. Cradling the base of your scalp in his palm, he rocks his hips and moans when you eagerly swallow what he gives you, just like always.
"You're right," he whispers while gazing down at you with unabashed adoration. "Better in every fuckin' way."
Gagging happily on his hard length, your eyes flutter closed when your husband sinks two calloused fingers between your slick, fluttering walls.
Summary︱Fixing an EKG machine was a lot more easier than you thought. Though, you never had expected it to work a little too well.
Pairings︱Michael Robinavitch x Fem!Reade
W.C︱4.0K
Warnings︱18+ MINORS DNI, med play (I think, Idk), cussing, semi public sex, fingering, praise kink, reader has a semi established relationship with Park, definite medical inaccuracies, please let me know if I missed anything!
Author's note︱This is sort of a part 2ish from my last one shot. Read it if you'd like though you don't have to. I got this idea based off of this tik tok so props to the creator! Also I do not fully know how an EKG works but we'll pretend I do for the sake of this fic. Enjoy!
Robby had met plenty of women with different personalities. He's dated every kind of woman there is.
The prude.
The whore.
The lunatic.
The crybaby.
The avoidant.
Daddy's girl.
The trust fund baby.
Robby couldn't say that he had a personal favorite. Though, he did prefer some personalities more than others. Avoidant women were the main course while daddy's girl was his dessert. He liked feeling needed from time to time.
But not all the time.
Though, Robby had never met a woman like you. A woman who acted like a man. There was a certain arrogance you carried with you like a purse. The quiet shift in gender roles made Robby's head spin all the damn time.
You kicked him out right after you climaxed. You would roughly shove his face in your aching core, guiding his head exactly where you wanted even if he couldn't breathe. His aftercare kisses would be dodged and instead he would be met with you tossing his clothes to him.
But it didn't stop there.
You said no to dates. Your phone was always facing down. You weren't a huge fan of PDA. He was a hidden part of your life.
He was being treated how he treated the women before you.
And he didn't like it.
Robby had tried figuring you out with each attempt he made to get closer to you. He didn't get very far each time. You weren't unhappy, he knew that. In fact, you had a very fulfilling life. You had a master's degree, earned 6 figures, had plenty friends. The list went on and on with how well you were doing for yourself.
"Keep staring at her ass any longer and someone is going to report you for being a perv," Jack spoke, knocking Robby from his thoughts.
"I'm not looking at her ass," Robby sneered as he took off his glasses. "Besides, I can look if I want."
Robby did have a right to look. Park could go to hell, he could stare at your ass if he wanted to. Robby was the last one to sleep with you. HE was the last one to be in your bed. The ball was in his court.
Jack wanted to roll his eyes at how pathetic his friend had became over you. You had taken over Robby's world completely. Jack hadn't ever seen Robby so stupid—suicidal for sure but not stupid.
"Can you please get your head out of her ass and come back to earth?" Jack commented. "Swear you're so far up there that I can see you coming out of her mouth when she talks."
In any other situation he would have found his remark hilarious. But now since he was the one on the receiving end, he found it irritating.
"I am not up her ass all the time," Robby scoffed.
The corner of Jack's lip quirked upwards, no longer bothering to hide its smirk anymore. "Yeah because when you're not up there, Park is."
The joke rubbed Robby the wrong way. That's what he hated the most about your arrangement, whenever he wasn't around, there was an opportunity for Park to come right back.
"That's not funny."
Jack rolled his eyes this time as he shook his head. "You're losing your mind over this girl for no reason. I guarantee you that she sleeps soundly at night while you lose your mind over her."
"At least she's getting some good sleep."
At first, Jack thought that Robby was kidding. That he was finally making a joke out of this horrible dating situation. But when there was no smile nor laugh attached at the end of his sentence, he was utterly disgusted.
"You're kidding me, right?" Jack asked as he placed his hand on his shoulder. "She can't be that good in bed that you're losing your mind over her."
"It's not just about her being good in bed," Robby replied.
Robby would much rather die than tell Jack about how you were in bed. For the first time, his lips were sealed shut. It wasn't common for Robby to talk about his sexual escapades but he would make a comment here or there.
Robby didn't want Jack to imagine what you were like in bed. He didn't want to implant that image into the folds of his brain. He saw the way Jack looked at you at times. Robby knew Jack wouldn't admit it but he found you attractive.
It wasn't just about you being good in bed. Despite the nature of the relationship between the two of you, there was familiarity. It was a different kind of familiarity given you were younger than him but he felt comfortable. He didn't feel like there was a massive weight against his chest. He was able to talk freely without feeling that stupid lump build up in his throat.
"I just don't get why she keeps going back to him," Robby added as he rubbed his face.
Jack shrugged his shoulders, unable to give him a definite answer. It was no surprise that Park had a tight grip on you. If someone wanted your attention, they had to strike when he wasn't looking.
Robby had managed to take you away from his arms just for a little bit. It was a blissful time for him. He loved your attention and he loved your affection. He was like an eager puppy, always wanting more.
But so did Park.
And so did many other guys around you. You were free to choose your pick of the litter.
"I don't know……maybe it's because they've been with each other for three years so he knows her pretty well," Jack sighed.
Oh yeah, three years.
The two of you had been together or involved for three damn years. Three damn years of getting to know you. Getting to know where you were the most sensitive. Getting to hear your laugh in the morning before work. Hearing the fact from someone else felt like rubbing alcohol on a freshly raw wound.
"I don't know why I bother talking to you sometimes," Robby muttered with annoyance.
"But it's true," Jack said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Or maybe because he's just a huge wallet for her given the whole surgeon thing…….or maybe he puts her in her feminine energy or whatever bullshit kids say nowadays."
Robby scoffed. Feminine energy. Of course he put you in your feminine energy. "Please if anything she's putting me into my feminine energy. We do everything a normal couple does in a normal relationship and then she'll tell me that she doesn't want anything serious."
Jack nodded as he looked at you. Who knew you were that kind of woman. It was a little impressive you had a 50 something year old man by the balls so easily. Jack was more impressed by the fact that you didn't get attached. Most women did though he couldn't blame them. He would get attached too if a girl was treating him like a boyfriend.
You could feel the gazes of the two men behind your back. With a small turn of your head, you waved at the both of them with an innocent smile on your face. Robby didn't waste anytime in acknowledging you, discarding the discussion between the two men right away.
"That girl is a goddamn succubus and you're letting her suck the life out of you," Jack remarked. "It's a miracle you still have your balls."
Robby shook his head at Jack, a silent dismissal of the remark. "She's an angel……with a pair of horns but an angel nonetheless."
Jack shook his head as a small puff of fake laughter left his lips. "Dude, you have to learn how to make yourself less available to her. I thought that being emotionally unavailable was your whole spiel."
"I would make myself less available to her," Jack added. "Or at the very least, say no to her from time to time. Hell, I'll say no to her for you."
Robby sighed. He found it hard to say no to you. No matter how ridiculous the request was, if it placed a smile on your face then it was worth it. "I like spending time with her. Why mess that up?"
"I think the two of you need some time apart. Seriously, the sabbatical will really help you," Jack said to him. "You are still going on your sabbatical, right?"
Robby nodded to Jack's question with no hesitation. "Yeah."
But was he?
If Robby left, he knew it was the perfect window for Park to come right back into your life again. Park was no exception to your little rule, even he had to win back your affection despite you being the one that walked away.
Robby's gaze was in pursuit of your body once again. He couldn't wrap his head around how you could toy with him. He wasn't your personal puppet. He was a man. He was the one that was supposed to have the upper hand.
Maybe this was the universe telling him to throw in the towel. To just give up and find someone else to take up his time. Or maybe it was the universe trying to tell him to not give up. To find a way to get through that cold demeanor of yours.
Robby never knew when to quit.
Though he was good at telling other people when to quit.
Sometimes, a little too good.
"At least wait for me to be in the elevator to start talking shit about me, Jackie."
The two older men turned their heads around and saw you standing behind them. In unison, they turned around so they could lean their back's on the counter.
"How I miss the sweet shrill of your annoying voice," Jack retorted. "Not."
Your lips jutted out in a fake pout as you pretended to wipe a tear off your cheek. "Awww boo! Here I thought that you and I were the best of friends."
"Keep on dreaming," he muttered.
A smirk appeared on your lips as you looked into his already tired eyes. "You know, for someone who claims to not like me, you spend a lot of time talking about me."
Jack's eyebrows raised at your comment. Touche.
"You know how there's incantations to keep demons away from your house—"
"Alright," Robby interjected with a laugh as he stood slightly in front of you, shielding you away from Jack. "Why don't you let me take over so I can finish my shift."
Jack didn't hesitate in taking the iPad that was laying besides him and walking away to the nearest room. Robby didn't need him to tell him to back off. Jack knew when to walk away, it was all about strategy.
You sent a small wave to Jack as he walked away before you turned your attention to Robby. "Grumpy cat, isn't he?"
Robby shrugged his shoulders. "It's just Abbot being Abbot."
A look of suspicion flashed on your face as you looked at Jack's figure walking away. "Yeah….sure lets go with that."
You knew Jack wasn't too much of a fan of the relationship you and Robby had. Jack liked you on your own. He just didn't like how stupid and neurotic you made his friend. Robby already had enough on his plate, you certainly didn't need to add onto it.
Or so he claimed.
What you didn't appreciate was his snarky little comments towards you. They started shortly after you began your hookup situation with Robby, seemingly getting worse with each week you. It was as if he wanted to separate the two of you.
There was no motive you could pin point to.
"I don't appreciate your friend calling me a demon," you added with a pointed look. "But what I don't appreciate even more is you letting him."
Robby immediately went to defend himself. He placed his hands in the air, silently pleading for a truce. "I didn't let him call you a demon—I told him you were an angel."
"An angel with horns."
Robby placed his hands on your shoulders, his hands massaging the tense muscles. "Oh come on, you know it was a joke, baby. You're still the purest angel in my eyes."
"Oh wow. Yay me. I cannot believe how lucky I am to have this compliment bestowed on me," you dryly said.
"Aw come on," Robby cooed as his fingers went to softly pinch your chin. "You know he's just doing it to get under your skin."
"Sure, lets go with that too," you said with a slight mocking tone in your voice. "Can we just go fix the EKG machine so we can go?"
"Or we could just leave it for someone else to do and we can go back to my place," Robby offered. "And finish where we left off this morning."
You smiled at his offer from amusement. The two of you had been unpleasantly interrupted early in the morning when the Robby was called in for work. You normally had time to swing by for a quickie before your shift. But once Robby was called in, he didn't have the same liberty as you to take his sweet time.
"It's just an EKG machine, it'll take less than 10 minutes," you answered as you began to walk towards the dark and empty room of West 14. A room no one had been in since a patient had practically destroyed the walls.
Robby sighed in defeat but followed you anyways. Technically his shift had already ended but he sure didn't mind putting in some overtime. He couldn't risk you being all by yourself.
It wasn't a surprise how easily equipment in the ED got destroyed. There was always so much chaos going around. Nurses, doctors, medical assistants and anyone else in the room ran the risk of accidentally breaking a machine.
You've certainly broken a few.
"I thought this one was still relatively new," you murmured as you untangled the leads.
Robby took the leads away from your hands, untangling them himself. "Yeah, I don't know. One of the residents told me it wasn't working in the morning."
You shrugged your shoulders as you looked at the EKG machine. It looked intact. It still turned on. You didn't see anything wrong with it.
"It looks fine. It turns on and everything. Maybe they didn't put the leads on right."
"And have them potentially miss a heart attack? Oh, don't tell me that," Robby said as he looked at you, his hands working to continue untangling. "I'm going to ignore what you said and pretend that it's broken."
You raised your hands as you shrugged your shoulders. "You can't be everywhere all at once to check everyone's work. Just saying."
"No," Robby answered as he shook his head. "I know my residents. They wouldn't misplace a lead."
You hummed in acknowledgment. There was a chance that Robby was right, there could have been something wrong with the machine. Technology had a funny way of behaving.
"Well, let's try it out," you said as you shrugged off your jacket, exposing yourself to the unforgiving cold room. "I'll place the leads and see if it's really the machine or just misplacement."
Robby nodded along. Instead of letting you out on the leads yourself, he took the task from your hands. Robby guided you onto the hard hospital bed, making sure your back was supported by the pillows behind your back. His cold hands went underneath your top, causing goosebumps to arise upon your skin.
"They're cold!" You yelped as you yanked his hands out from your shirt.
Robby lowly chuckled at your little whine. He didn't waste time in bringing his hands together, rubbing them to warm them up. "Sorry, sweetheart."
After his hands were finally warmed up, his hands dove straight to your top. He smirked once he noticed you didn't have a bra on. "No bra? I should have known." Unable to resist, he allowed his fingers to skim the underside of your breast with the false pretense making sure the leads were on correctly.
You turned your head to look screen, looking at the output. "Everything looks normal."
Robby hummed in acknowledgement. "Yeah…..is your heart rate normally this low? It's at 58."
"Well I am just kind of sitting here so…."
"No, sweetheart," Robby hummed as his fingers went to check your pulse. "I think that's a little low. I think its reading wrong."
As Robby went to adjust the leads once again, his fingertips skimmed your hardened nipple, making the EKG spike.
Robby nearly missed it. Nearly.
"Oh?" Robby said in a low timbre. "Was that what I think it was?"
Normally, Robby couldn't tell when you were aroused. You often jumped on top of him and pulled his pants down whenever you felt like getting lucky. He could never hear your breath hitch or feel your skin warm up whenever he attempted to erotically caress you.
Robby decided to push his luck again. His fingers deliberately skimmed against your breast again, this time his fingers pinching the bud. Though you didn't make a sound, the EKG revealed what you had been hiding this entire time.
His touch makes your heart race.
"It's a normal body reaction," you huffed. "Don't be so full of yourself."
Robby's eyes didn't peel away from the screen. He seemingly had ignored your words as his fingers slowly traveled their way downwards. He watched as the screen showed your heart rate increasing.
It wasn't a weakness to let Robby know what he did to you. It was more of a weakness of where you liked to be touched and what made your heart race. You knew that once Robby held that kind of power, he would abuse it.
"Okay, we know it works now. You can take these off now," you said as you attempted to take off the leads.
You were met with Robby's hands on your chest, roughly shoving you back down on the bed. "I didn't say you could get up."
Your eyes widened at the rough action. You had gotten so used to taking the reigns. The simple action of him pushing you back like nothing made your heart race even faster.
"You liked that? You like me being rough with you?" Robby whispered as his left hand went for the buttons of your jeans. "I spent so much time being gentle with you when all you needed me was push you around."
He found your first weakness. You loved it whenever a man was rough. There had been too many times where you wished Robby could stuff your face in a pillow while he relentlessly pounded into your aching pussy.
But that was a fantasy for later. Not one to be fulfilled while they both of you were still clocked in.
"Someone could come in," you warned despite you lifting your hips to help him get your pants down.
"No one is going to come in," Robby soothed. "Everyone is too busy working. Just be quiet."
You nodded your head as you watched his hand disappear underneath your black lacy underwear. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his ran a finger through your sopping folds.
"Don't tease me, we don't have the time," you added as you lifted your hips once again.
"I'm making the time today," Robby replied as he continued his ministrations. "Gotta see what makes your heart race since you won't tell me what does."
You bit onto your knuckles to contain the noises that were threatening to spill from your mouth. It wasn't your fault you were sensitive. Or how the rough pads of his fingers created a delicious friction against your swollen clit.
"Look," Robby said as he nodded over to the screen of the EKG. "Notice how your heart races."
Your head lolled backwards to watch the screen once again. Your vision was blurry from working a 12 hour shift and you could barely make out what was happening. But there it was, the damn machine showing your erratic heartbeat.
"See that spike when I only use one finger against your clit? Look what happens when I use two."
Your mouth opened in a silent moan at the added friction. The added finger made your pleasure climb instantly, just as instantly as your heart picked up. You enjoyed the added sensation for a few seconds before he replaced his index and middle finger with his thumb.
"Now look at what happens when I do this."
Your eyes screwed shut and a high pitched whine filled the room as he slipped his two thick, warm fingers into your pussy. Robby pumped his fingers against your velvety walls without hesitation, setting a decent pace. It wasn't too fast but it had you grinding against his palm.
"Fuck, Robby," you moaned. "Hmmm….that feels good."
"I know," Robby smugly said. "I can see that."
The lewd sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your wet cunt soon filled the room. It was a miracle that no one was hearing the two of you—or mostly just you. You tried to contain your moans but Robby was making it impossible.
The man found his cheat sheet and he was using it to his advantage.
"You're close, aren't you?" Robby asked. "I can feel you squeezing the hell out of my fingers."
You nodded your head, unable to form any words. All you could do was keep grinding on his hand as he kept his agonizing pace. You were getting lost in the sensations and the thrill of being caught. You were right on the edge, the god awful titillating edge that seemed like it was going on forever.
"I need…..fuck…..I need more," you whimpered. "I need more."
"More? What more could you want?" Robby asked with a laugh. "You're going to take what I give you."
"But—"
"No," Robby said in a stern voice as he lowered his head towards yours. "You're going to come on my two fingers because that's all you're going to get tonight. Either come, or don't."
A potential orgasm denial? From Robby?
That was a first.
You had been so used to getting your way that it felt foreign for Robby to be stern. Maybe you had to pull out the infamous puppy eyes again. That should make him fold.
"No, no, no, no, put those puppy eyes away," Robby immediately shut down as his other hand went to grip your cheeks. "I'm serious. Either focus and come or don't."
"Robby—"
"Focus," Robby interjected. "Come on, sweetheart. I know you're close, I can feel it. Breathe in and breathe out."
You nodded your head as you followed his directions. You took in a big deep breath in and even a bigger deep breath out.
"Yeah, there you go, just like that," Robby praised. "Again."
You followed his command without hesitation. It was working. You could feel your orgasm approaching faster and faster. The lighting hot heat was shooting up and down your legs, a telltale sign that you were close.
"You've been doing so good," Robby praised again. "Just a little more and you'll feel so so good."
It took a matter of seconds for your orgasm to take over your body. Your thighs clamped shut around his wrist as your pussy fluttered against his fingers. Robby gradually slowed his pace to keep you from overstimulating. The last thing he needed was for you to ruin the hospital sheets. He preferred you to gush all over his sheets.
"Open your mouth," Robby instructed.
You tilted your head in confusion. "Open my mouth? For wh—"
Robby stuffed his fingers, still glistened with your essence, into your mouth. Your eyes were as wide as they physically could go at the sudden ministration. This was certainly new.
"Lick them clean."
You hesitated for a quick second before you swirled your tongue around his digits, making them clean. He took his fingers out of your mouth with a loud pop. He didn't say anything else as he helped you pull your jeans back on.
"Well, at least we know the EKG is working just fine."
Summary︱Robby is infamous for his 7 week itch. Though, after being with you past 7 weeks, something changed in him. While he tried going back to his normal routine post hookup breakup, he couldn't.
Pairings︱Michael Robinavitch x Fem!Reader
W.C︱6.0k (Sorry, got carried away)
Warnings︱18+ MINORS DNI, age gap obvi, mentions of Park the Shark (my ortho daddy), jealousy, cussing, kissing, no mention of y/n, fingering, unprotected sex (use a condom!!), usage of the word daddy, slight breeding kink, cream pie, let me know if I missed anything!
Author's note︱Happy mother's day to my lovely readers who are mothers! I kind of rushed to publish it today so it would make sense haha. There are like three different versions of this fic and maybe I'll release them. Maybe not. Enjoy!!!
Robby got around in the hospital. That was a very well known fact. He had the inability to settle down with someone and had a 7 week itch. After the 7th week of hooking up, he would normally ghost and find another victim.
7 weeks is abnormally short to be causally hooking up with someone.
But that's how Robby was.
He had set his eyes on you the minute you started working in the hospital. However, his pursuit had ended before it had began. Park had locked his jaws on your and hadn't set you free since.
18 weeks ago, rumors started to fly around that Park was dating the new OR nurse. Robby assumed that meant that Park left you unsupervised. And behind the shark's back, he took his bait.
At first, you hadn't noticed Robby swarming in on you. You had even thought you were delusional that he was suspiciously friendly for an ulterior motive. He must have known you were itching to have sex. Once you picked up on the fact that he was flirting with you, you took the leap of faith and had sex with him.
It was some of the best sex you ever had.
Surprisingly, your interesting relationship lasted 16 weeks. It didn't end on bad terms necessarily. You just didn't need him that desperately anymore. You began to care less if he came over to fuck you or not. Robby's ego took a hit and he took the hint.
What you had liked about your position in the hospital was that you didn't run into Robby. No awkward encounters. No awkward greetings. You were rarely paged down to the ED.
Now it seemed like you were paged down to the ED a little too much.
It was your third time being in the ED within two days when you were paged at 11:05 AM.
"You know, it's a little concerning how much the equipment keeps getting damaged," you commented to Robby. "How bad is your patient satisfaction?"
Robby chuckled as he playfully nudged the back of your knee with his foot, causing you to fold slightly forward. "Didn't realize you were here to be a mini Gloria."
"Hey!" You yelped at his action. "You're going to make me fall."
"Not my fault you're wearing heels," he said as he nodded down to your heels. "They're nice by the way. Did a cute boyfriend buy you those?"
You playfully rolled your eyes as soon as he mentioned the word boyfriend. Robby had bought you a pair of heels once management had told you that heels were a part of the new dress code. They had been a pair of heels you had been eyeing but never bought due to how expensive they were.
"Ironically, I did have a very special man friend buy me a pair of heels that looked identical to these," you began to say as you went back to doing your job. "Then they mysteriously landed in my friends closet and I bought myself a new pair."
Robby's face fell for a brief second as you called him a special man friend but he quickly recovered to avoid being discovered. Though, he found it much harder to hide the disappointment when he hard you had given away the heels he had gifted you.
"You didn't," he said. "Those were a gift."
"A very expensive "fuck me later," gift indeed," you retorted without missing a beat.
"It came from my heart."
You snorted at his words. Of course he would say something like that. "Yeah, the heart of your dick."
"Still from my heart nonetheless."
You stopped working on the monitor an angry patient had destroyed during his temporary state of madness and turned to look at Robby. "Don't you have an emergency to go tend to?"
"Always do," he said as he shrugged his shoulders. "As chief attending of this ED, I have to make sure everything is running smoothly."
"Yeah with your residents and other attendings—not this."
"These machines are a part of the ED which I need to make sure—"
"That they're running smoothly," you finished off for him. "Yup, got that memo loud and clear."
Robby was good with women, everyone knew that he could charm the socks off of any woman. It was his special talent he had. He had a way of being so insufferably annoying that it was cute.
You didn't continue the conversation, solely focused on fixing the monitor as fast as you could. Not because you needed to be away from Robby. But because you knew the department needed the room, they didn't need anymore delays.
Robby hated this kind of silence. He loathed it with you. He liked hearing your voice. He liked the playful banter that naturally sprouted between the two of you. He always thought the two of you had great chemistry.
Your phone began to loudly buzz among the loud silence. The screwdriver in your hand was quickly dropped onto the bed as you picked up the phone.
"Morning, Dr. Park," you greeted with a smile despite the fact that he couldn't see you.
Robby stilled for 2 whole seconds as he heard you cheerfully greet Dr.Park. Robby, the ever so nonchalant man, had been keeping a close eye on you over the past few weeks. He had noticed two things. The first thing he noticed was how much time you were up in ortho due to you setting up new equipment for the department.
The second thing he noticed was how close you were getting with Park once again.
Park was a very fit man for his age. He had that stern demeanor that he knew you liked. Park was a rare man, most of the surgeons in ortho were blissfully married. He was the only man on the floor who was still single and he used it to his advantage. Robby wouldn't be completely surprised if Park already started nudging you his way towards his bed again.
He certainly did when you used to work in the ED. The dirty bastard used to pull his strings to get you to float to the OR to spend more time with you. He loathed the days where he'd be down a favorite nurse.
"You do know Park has a girlfriend, right?" Robby questioned as soon as you hung up the phone.
"He does not," you immediately countered, placing your phone back in your back pocket. "You're such a liar."
Robby internally groaned when you didn't buy into his lie. "Okay, maybe he doesn't actually have a girlfriend but he is seeing someone else. Park is a notorious whore. He uses pretty little things like you and then dumps them when he's had his fill."
The smirk crawled its way onto your lips. The remark slipped out of your lips as smooth as butter. "Sounds very familiar, I'm sure I can handle it again."
"That's not funny," Robby said as he voice instantly grew serious. His hand went to pinch your side, unable to contain his irritation. "Watch your mouth."
You jumped at his pinch. A scowl overtook your face as you swatted his hands off of your body. "I wasn't trying to be funny," you countered. "I was just stating the facts. Just how the facts say you're not entirely…..alone."
Robby's eyebrows furrowed inwards in confusion from your words. Alone? What the hell was that supposed to mean? "What the hell are you talking about?"
You knew you were poking a bear that you shouldn't have been poking. You loved getting under his skin to test his patience. "Noelle's demeanor seemed too cheerful this morning. Said it was her post sex glow."
That was all you needed to say.
Ever since you left the ED, you finally got a proper lunch break. A lunch break you share with Noelle Hastings, aka Robby's new fling. She didn't spend lunch with anyone besides you. Despite the age gap the two of you share, she found comfort in spilling her juiciest secrets to a girlfriend.
You didn't mention to Robby that your heart dropped once she revealed she was seeing Robby. Or how your stomach churned when you realized how the day prior, she had mentioned her secret fling that had bent her over her counter and pounded her into oblivion.
When you pieced the puzzle together that it had been Robby, you had felt strangely bothered by it. You had spent that entire shift full of intrusive thoughts of Noelle and Robby having sex in different positions. The worst thoughts were the ones where he kisses her in his bed, telling her that she was his girl.
"Look, good for you for finding someone born in the same century as you," you began to say as you placed on the last few screws on. "It was about time you put an end to your late midlife crisis."
Ouch.
"I certainly don't care who you have sex with since it is none of my business," you commented as you finally finished. "Just like how it is none of your business who I have sex with. If it happens to be with Park now, it doesn't matter."
Oh, he didn't like the sound of that. His body jumped off from the counter and he stood right in front of you. His towering height made his neck crane down while yours craned upwards.
"So you're letting him fuck you?" Robby spat. "You're letting that asshole touch you? Again?"
"Park and I are friends," you declared, placing your hand on his chest. "That's it.
"Friends can fuck."
You rolled your eyes in frustration at his words. You took a step towards the right, grabbing your bag to haul it over your shoulder. "So?"
"We were friends when you were riding my face and begging me to cum inside you."
You turned to look at him at the mention of the intimacy the two of you had. You were never one to talk about intimacy outside of your bedroom. Sexual endeavors with flings were to be talked about among friends during brunch—not to other flings.
"So I'm going to ask you one more time," Robby said with calculated anger. "Is he fucking you?"
He didn't dare ask if you were the one fucking him. He asked if Park was the one pinning your hips down as he angled his cock at your entrance. Because he knew Park wasn't the kind of man to let the woman have control of a situation involving him. Because he especially knew that Park would coax you back into his arms, you wouldn't have gone back willingly with him.
"I have to go back to Ortho," you said to him as you tired to push past him.
Robby grabbed your bicep, stopping you from moving any further. "Answer me," he growled in frustration.
You continued to ignore him, not wanting to indulge in his jealous behavior in the middle of your shift. You took your arms from out his grasp, heading straight for the door and into the busy ED. Your heels clicked against the ground with every step you took.
"I'm not done talking to you!" Robby exclaimed as he followed shortly behind you.
"Nice seeing you!" You announced as you kept your back to him.
Robby went to open his mouth, ready to force the answer out of you. Just then a panicked intern went up to him, begging him for help. He couldn't ignore a case for some woman, no matter how badly he wanted to.
And you knew you would be seeing him again.
Robby was a very persistent man. He wasn't above making himself look pathetic to get a woman's attention. If he had to go on his knees and beg, he would gladly do so.
He had been waiting for you after his shift ended. For once, he didn't stay until 8 PM. The minute he had been finished with hand offs, he made a beeline for your car. The ED be damned, he needed to talk to you.
He kept his eyes at the entrance, waiting and waiting. His jaw involuntarily clenched when he finally saw your figure right next to Park's. He nearly broke his own molars when he saw Park lean down to whisper something in your ear as his hand squeezed your elbow. He was sure he heard one crack when you loudly giggled at him when he pulled you closer to him.
That dirty bastard.
Robby couldn't believe Park had the nerve to still be chasing you. The man no longer had the right to pick you off from the floor as he chose another toy. Park left you alone and Robby rightfully captured your attention.
You didn't notice Robby leaning against your car as you left the hospital. It was typical of you to be completely unaware of your surroundings, something he had reprimanded you time after time. You had only noticed him when you finally looked up from your purse.
"May I help you?" You deadpanned as your hands fished for your keys.
"Yes, you can actually," Robby responded with a smile.
"I was being sarcastic," you dryly responded, finally finding your keys. "Shouldn't you be at the nursing home? You know they have a curfew of 9 PM."
"I'm exactly where I need to be."
"And that is?" You questioned, tightening your grip on your purse.
"With you," Robby responded.
Ah, his stupid charm that swept all the ladies off their feet. He was often so quick and smooth with it, It made you wonder if he secretly practiced in the mirror.
"Please move so I can get into my car." You didn't have time to be indulging him. If this had been 7:45 AM then it would be a different story.
"What's the rush?" Robby said as his hands flew to your shoulders. He mockingly winced at you as he noticed how tense you were. "Oh, poor baby, you're so tense. Let me make it better."
The argument died in your throat once his warm, large hands began to massage your shoulders. The moan bubbled in your throat at the touch. Robby knew your body like the back of his hand. Not only was he a quick learner but once Robby learned a person, he knew exactly how to handle them. Especially when it came to you. He knew how your shoulders filled with tension after a grueling shift.
"Robby, move. I want to go home," you declared despite your eyes fluttering shut in bliss. "I'm serious this time."
"Oh but you're still so sore," Robby shushed as his hands slowly started to make their way downwards. "Just let me get all the knots out your shoulders."
"Robby."
He shushed you once again. One hand was still massaging your shoulder while the other slowly strayed underneath your shirt. You barely registered the fact that his left hand was snaking its way up to your breast.
"Robby," you called out again with a warning tone.
His grip tightened in annoyance from your persistence of getting home."Shut up."
Your eyes shot open as soon as his fingers danced slightly underneath your bra, his bare fingers skimming the underside of your breast. "Robby!"
"Jesus Christ," he muttered in annoyance, making no move to remove his hand. "Why do you always have to put up a fight?"
You scoffed at his tone. You shoved his hand away from under your shirt. You had made an attempt to push him away from you but his right hand was firmly planted on your neck, forcing you to stay put. "Why do you always have to push my boundaries?"
"I just want to help you relax," Robby explained. "I know you're stressed and tired."
You laughed from amusement at his pathetic excuse. "Yeah? Well, I'm not very relaxed when your hand is on my tit."
He shrugged his shoulders, clearly having his fun in riling you up. "It slipped."
"Michael!"
Robby seemed to let up once he realized you called him by his first name. A rarity unless he was in deep shit.
He took his hands away from your body and instead found their way home to your cheeks. He brought you slightly forward as his lips planted a kiss on your forehead. "Oh come on, just let loose a little bit. I just want to play with you. Is that so bad?"
You peered at him through your eyelashes, too lazy to tilt your neck up to see him. You feel him guide your face at a higher angle, allowing him to look you in the eyes. "With a game of hello titty in a public parking lot?"
"I wanted to expand on our voyeurism kink," he declared with no hesitation.
You opened your mouth to protest, ready to fight him once again. Instead, his thumb pushed on your bottom lip, effectively shushing you. "I'm just kidding—again. You make it too easy to push your buttons."
He could feel the words bubbling up in your throat to fight him. It always had to be your way or the highway. He thought it was cute some days. Just how you thought it was cute how some times he kept fighting you back.
The black pumps were really starting to became unbearable to wear. You kept shifting around, hoping to alleviate some of the pain. Robby noticed right away and grappled onto your hips, lifting you to set you down on the hood of your car.
A yelp of shock had left your body at the sudden move of being manhandled. Your eyebrows furrowed inwards in frustration but your voice was laced with amusement. "Jesus! Give a girl a warning next time!"
"I have always loved the way you say thank you," he quipped.
You shot him a sneer in retaliation but it did feel nice not having to be on your feet anymore. The pulse in your feet quickly died and you could feel the relief of not feeling the blood pool anymore.
"Better?" Robby asked as he took a step closer.
You nodded your head at him. "You know it feels better."
"Of course I do. I'll always know what you need," Robby said arrogantly. "It's my specialty."
A smile twitched on the edge of your lips as a result of his words. "Oh yeah? Then what else do I need?" You challenged.
Robby swallowed the last step between the two of you. His legs were threatening to stand in between yours."Want me to tell you? Or do you want me to just do it?"
You mockingly cooed at him, placing your hands on the hood of the car to bear your weight. "Oh wow, an illusion of a choice. How sweet of you Dr. Robinavitch."
His eyes flickered down to your lips for one indulging second before he peeled his eyes away. He nodded his head like a complete idiot, his head gaining distance between yours "Yeah, I'm a total sweetheart."
You hummed in acknowledgment, leaning back with every inch he leaned forward. While Robby should have taken that as a sign that you didn't want his lips on yours, he ignored the silent rejection.
Once you realized you couldn't lean backwards anymore without losing your balance, he took the unwanted bait. His head surged forward and his lips encased yours in a surprisingly soft kiss.
You resisted. For about 3 seconds.
Your sexual instincts kicked in and you willingly kissed him back. You sudden protest of not wanting to be groped in the middle of a public parking lot was thrown out the window when your felt his tongue caress yours.
It was easy to get carried away and ignore your survival skills whenever you kissed Robby. The sudden need of air became a chore when the priority was to hear his low moan grumble in his chest whenever you nipped at his bottom lip.
Though, the both of you were forced to pull away when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. You looked down to see who was calling him. Besides, you had every right to lurk.
Guilt quickly flooded your veins when you saw Noelle's name pop up on his screen with a text asking him if he was still coming over. Here he was kissing you while he had plans with another woman. Your body tensed as you quickly pulled away from him. A hand was placed on his chest, preventing him from getting closer to you.
"I can't do this, I'm sorry," you said.
But you weren't really sorry.
"I can't do this to Noelle," you added as you shimmied your way down. "She deserves a man who will give her his undivided attention even if it's just sex."
That was true.
Noelle had years on you and the two of you weren't friends outside of work. But you did know her. That was enough to draw the line for Robby. There would always be another man chasing behind you, trapping you against your car while you made it. To you, there was nothing worth more than maintain your friendships with your girlfriends. Even if it was just at work.
The sudden wall instilled a sense of urgency within Robby to knock it down. Being denied of having you was something he had came accustomed to. It didn't mean that he liked it.
"Noelle is a big girl," Robby stated as he watched you open your car door. "She knew what she was getting into with me."
You turned to look at Robby, shrugging your shoulders with indifference. "You made plans with her already. Go be with her."
"I don't want to go with her anymore," he quickly responded.
You quirked your eyebrow at Robby, trying to fight back the laugh that was climbing up your throat. A toddler didn't whine this much.
"Then tell her."
Robby shook his head as he waved his hand dismissively. "I'll tell her later."
It was clear he wasn't taking no for an answer. As you opened your car door and threw your purse inside, your hand remained on the door panel. "Robby, go play with your friends. I'm going to go play with mine."
A mix of a scoff and a dejected sigh left his lips at your words. You took your hand off the door panel and swung your legs into the driver's seat. A silent but friendly goodbye was whispered into the air right before you shut the door and drove off.
There was an inconsistent pattern that was beginning to reflect on Robby's commitment. At first, it had been stable. Every time a new relationship began, the 7 week week time bomb began to tick.
That pattern became disrupted when you came into the picture. It kept climbing higher and higher. But with every peak, there must be a come down. Much to Noelle's dismay, the relationship had only lasted 27 days. Not even the full 4 weeks.
The blame was pinned on a false accusation of work leaving him too tired to function. At 54 years old, working at a poorly funded trauma hospital and emotional baggage chained to his feet, it was certainly believable.
In the medical field, it demanded a laser like focus to recognize any alarms the body was triggering. The eyes were meant to catch subtle shifts in the body. Perhaps an abnormal lump by the chest. Maybe even an angry red mark, screaming that there is something wrong.
He had noticed the shifts in you.
Underneath your shirt, he noticed a new shape that was hidden behind your clothes. Surely it had to be a new necklace. The last one had been oval shaped that used to peek out if you bent down. Now, he could barely make out the shape of a flower. Or was it a heart? He couldn't tell.
Robby had never been good at resisting his carnal desires. It simply wasn't in his nature. Patience wasn't his virtue.
Which is how he ended up at your doorstep at 8:09 PM, still in his scrubs. A black box was being held in his large hands. With every millisecond that passed, his impatience grew.
After a whopping 15 seconds, you finally opened the door. A gray silk night dress adorned your body, showing off his favorite parts of you to him. You leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on your face.
"Can't say that I'm surprised to see you," you started off, certainly entertained in this moment. "My mother sends her warm regards and a thank you for the flowers."
Robby's face broke out into a smile as he saw the grin on your face. He turned into a mirror every time you smiled, he didn't even realize it. "It was my pleasure."
"Yeah, yeah," you waved him off. "Why did you send her flowers? Trying to win her over next?"
Delight was dancing in his eyes as you spoke. This was something he could work with. Now you were playing with him. "Jealous?"
A playful scoff pushed past your lips as you shook your head. "Yeah, real jealous my mother got flowers."
"Don't worry, I brought you a gift too," he assured you.
"An orgasm?" You asked with hope.
Robby nodded but you could tell this wasn't part of the banter you were setting up. He was serious. His eyes kept a hold on yours for a little bit too long to be considered casual. "And a gift too."
A pause was set in your playful mood. You pushed yourself off your door frame, straightening your spine. The realization that he was serious set in faster than you had wanted it to. "A gift? For what?"
He ignored your question and a small box was pushed into your hands. A velvet kissed your palms and you could faintly hear something slithering inside.
"Happy Mother's day," he said with a warm voice.
The boisterous laugh fled from chest, unable to stay restrained by your mouth. "You have to be kidding me! I'm not even a mom!"
Not yet.
Robby didn't mind your laugh one bit. In fact, he was happy to get a joyous reaction from you. "I still got you a gift." He nodded his head to the box as it still was left unopened. "Open it."
You gently shook your head at him. "Later. I need to do something else first."
You didn't give him time to argue as you grabbed his forearm and dragged him into your apartment. This wasn't a foreign home to him. In fact, he could walk around the entire apartment with his eye closed and come out unscathed.
So when his vision was being introduced to the hallway leading to your bed, a Freudian response began. A hot flash of need shot directly down to his pelvis and his heart was already starting to pick up.
A relief washed over his body as the routine from 5 weeks ago began to take place. Naturally, his body was being called to your bed. His hands were already flying to his scrubs, peeling them off as you took off your nightgown that you solely wore to tempt him.
Of course you had nothing underneath your nightgown because you hated wasting time. His moments became rushed, suddenly finding his scrubs to be a little too tight. They flew across your room without a care in the world.
Your hips were soon being cradled by his hands. Robby drew you until your bare chests collided. A soft moan bloomed when you felt your nipples graze the soft hair on his chest. The warmth of your body and you heightened sensitivity only meant one thing.
"Are you ovulating?" Robby suddenly asked.
You nodded your head at his question, bringing him down to kiss him. Now wasn't the time to talk and Robby knew that. He knew how sensitive women got during this time. How much warmer your body got. How your nipples seemed to poke out, begging for his attention.
But his favorite part?
The damn waterfall that came from your aching pussy.
His arm went to wrap around your waist with a firm grip. With a calculated precision, his middle finger went to gather the wetness that had been pooling in between your legs all day and circled your clit.
Just as expected, your knees buckled at the sinful action. His arm around your waist kept your body firmly against his. Your poor pussy was achingly wet and pulsing underneath his touch. Your breath started to get heavier as it was harder to keep kissing him from the pleasure.
You released one hand from his bicep, grabbing his fingers to guide it at your entrance. The quiet hint didn't go unnoticed by him and he slipped his middle and ring finger right inside. They slipped right in with no resistance.
A sharp gasp flooded the room at the stretch of his thick fingers. His pace started off slow, wanting to drag every wanton moan from you as much as he could. He wanted to savor this precious moment.
You eventually had to stop kissing him as your body folded from the pleasure. What had you nearly folding in half was when his fingers slightly curled into the soft spongy spot inside you.
Your hand shot out to grasp his wrist, holding him in place. "Don't stop," you demanded. "Just like that. Just like that."
Robby shook his head at you. He was too focused to say anything back and too focused on your pleasure. He had been too busy watching your reactions. As a temporary punishment, he wasn't going to let you come undone on his fingers. Or his tongue.
No.
The only orgasm you deserved was the one on his cock.
His fingers never stopped, in fact they curled even deeper inside you. What he needed was to bring you to the edge so he could deny you. A ruined orgasm made it nearly impossible for you reach an actual orgasm. It took longer. It cost more effort than what you were used to.
As he felt you clench around his fingers with more frequency, he kept his pace up. He even let you grind against his palm, the friction of your clit grazing the hard edge brought you even closer to your release.
"I'm close—I'm so close," you whimpered as your nails began to leave its imprints.
The edge of his palm pushed into your clit and you were sure you were going to gush all over his hand. The fantasy had been cut short when he pulled his hand away right as you were about to finish. You felt yourself clenching around nothing but air.
"Michael!" You whined as you chased his hand. "No, no, no."
A cruel laugh was heard coming from him as he watched you chase his hand. His fingers encased your wrist, roughly shoving you on the bed. You landed on the bed on your back and your legs had immediately spread open for him, silently and yet loudly inviting him back home.
Drool nearly dribbled down his chin as your pussy glistened in front of him. Your slick was dripping down your inner thighs, begging to be licked up. As much as he wanted to lick you like his favorite lollipop, he was simply too impatient to do so.
"Fuck me," you meekly whispered, your legs wrapping around his hips to drag him closer to you. "Please. Stop standing there and fuck me."
That was new. Robby wasn't used to hearing you beg so quickly. Usually he had to torture your poor cunt throughout the day to get you like this.
"I've been so desperate for you since last week," you added as your hands went to his thick cock, missing the weight of it in your hand. "I touched myself but it didn't feel the same."
The revelation had Robby's body moving on his own. He took a step closer to the edge of his bed and he took your hand off his dick. With the same hand, he grabbed onto both of your wrists and held them above your head.
"Are you still on the pill?" Robby asked as he dragged his leaking tip up and down your slit.
Your eyes fluttered shut with every swipe on your clit. A deep flush started to expand to your face. If he didn't move in the next 10 seconds, you were sure you would explode.
"No."
In that moment, Robby pushed himself inside you with a deep groan. Your tight heat easily welcomed him in and clenched down, ensuring he would never leave. He stilled, not to let your body adjust, but to feel you clench around him desperately and selfishly.
A snap of his hips caused your eyes to squeeze shut as you bunched your white sheets underneath your hands. Robby's pace was brutal from the beginning, deep and hard. Just how you loved it.
"Finally," you whispered like a prayer being answered.
A soft plap, plap, plap echoed in the otherwise quiet room. Robby looked down at where the two of you were connected, a white ring forming on the base of his cock already. He wasn't a stranger to the sight but it wasn't often that you were this creamy.
"Holy shit—you really are ovulating," Robby gasped.
You nodded at him as your body jerked from his rough thrusts. "Mhm," you hummed. "God, you feel so good. Your cock is meant to be inside me, daddy."
Your words couldn't have been further from the truth. Ever since the first time the two of you had sex, you never struggled taking him. His thick cock always split you opened but he fit. He could always fill himself all the way and you greedily took him.
Every single time.
Robby's fingers found its way to your clit once again. Your mouth fell open and a pornographic moan came out. You were already dangerously close to the edge which was only making you babble straight nonsense.
"I can't understand you, baby," Robby chuckled despite the fact that he was out of breath. "What do you want? Hm? You want to come?"
A frantic nod was all he got as a response. It wasn't enough. He needed you to say it. A sharp punch to your thigh knocked you out of your drunken haze.
"Use your words. Daddy wants you to use your words."
"I want to come," you quickly said as your adjusted your hips to let him get even deeper. "I want to come and I want to feel you come inside me. Please come inside me."
Perhaps it had been the fact that Robby hadn't had a proper orgasm in awhile. At least since you. Perhaps it had been he was so focused on your pleasure that he missed his own telltale signs of his own orgasm approaching. But once he heard your sweet little plea, the knot in his stomach came undone.
Thick white topes of cum shot inside your body as he kept thrusting. His bottom lip was tugged with his own teeth as each wave of pleasure got stronger and stronger. He didn't even register you placing your hands on his pelvis, trying to get him to stop.
Your voice was faint in his ears as you squealed from the overstimulation. "I finished! I finished!"
As Robby was barely able to register your words. But when he finally came to, he finally stopped. The orgasm had him so spent that he collapsed on your chest without a care in the world. Just like how he didn't have a care in the world that his seed was deep in your pussy.
Maybe you would end up pregnant.
Hopefully.
It didn't sound too bad. It'd mean that he would finally have the privilege of having you all to himself. It would mean that he finally was able to get you out of Park's grasp.
It would mean that you would be his in every single way possible.
summary: the new nurse in the pitt has caught jacks attention.
content: fluff, hurt/comfort, yearning, protective jack, age gap, miscommunication, slow burn, he snaps at you, descriptions of reader injury/blood, mentions of abuse (patient)
wc: 10.5k
note: this is my first fic, enjoy :))
masterlists
You desperately wanted to make a good first impression on your first shift at PTMC.
The universe had a different idea, with your plan actively unravelling.
You’re new to Pittsburgh, and unfamiliar with the notorious unreliability of the public transport system, causing you to be 45 minutes late and frantically running from the nearest bus stop into the emergency department.
This is your worst nightmare. You picture everyone looking at you as you walk in, silently judging. Hating the feeling of eyes on you. You’re definitely flushed red in the face, your bag being packed to the brim with items you certainly do not need weighing you down, cursing yourself for packing so heavy.
While running through the entrance of the ER, you’re barely looking where you’re going and end up colliding with a chest, solid and unmoving you almost mistake him for a wall. You stumble a little, losing your footing and almost fall backwards over your own feet.
Warm hands on your shoulder steady you, preventing the horrific embarrassment.
“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry– I didn’t even see you,” your voice is frantic and apologetic, worried you’ve already made an enemy and you hadn’t even started your shift.
A deep, gravelly voice cuts through to you, grounding your panicked state.
“Hey, kid– easy, easy. You’re okay.” His voice is instantly calming. “You our new nurse?” he asks gently, while his hands slip to your arms, fully stabilising you.
You settle down quickly, gathering yourself and finally looking up at him, nodding after a while realising he asked you a question.
He’s incredibly attractive.
The first thing that you notice about him is how big he is. He’s taller than you and so broad, forming a literal wall between you and the ER in this moment, no wonder you crashed into him. He stands so close to you that you have to lift your head to look up at him as he towers over you with a gentle, concerned look. Butterflies twist in your stomach.
You swallow thickly, nerves returning as you realise you probably fucked this impression up by remaining silent and gawking at this man.
Collecting yourself, “Uh– yes! That’s me–” you stumble over your words internally cringing, “I’m so sorry about being late, it won't happen again.”
He chuckles quietly, finding your flustered state incredibly cute, and extends a hand to you.
You notice the size of his arms, his veins, his hands– oh, you’ve got to stop thinking like this. You’re so fucked.
“Dr. Abbot, nice to meet ya, kid.” His voice is low and gravelly, stirring your stomach. “But don’t let it happen again.” His voice is firm, making your insides flip and guilt rises within you.
“No, no of course not. I promise. I’ll be 45 minutes early every day!” Your voice is laced with guilt and you avoid his eyes, whilst shaking his hand, feeling like you’ve already failed before starting.
“Jesus, kid, breathe.” He chuckles, mouth twitching in amusement. “You’re apologising like you hit me with your car.” He soothes, smirking a little at how easily his teasing had gotten to you.
He watches your face fall in relief, and you let out a small, shy laugh. Still holding onto your hand a second longer, it's hard for him not to notice how incredibly soft your hands are in his, how untouched by cruelty, unlike his rough, calloused hands. Something protective stirs in Jack, confusing him, but a drive to keep you safe, keep you soft takes root in him. He needs to ensure this place doesn’t ruin you, doesn’t cause you to burn out like he's seen time-and-time again with nurses and doctors.
“I’m really not usually this much of a disaster– well, most of the time.” You laugh shakily.
You notice his intense stare, like he’s studying you, makes you squirm under his gaze. Your eyes flick down where your hands are still joined, you notice the sheer size difference, how his hand completely engulfs yours. You go to pull away, when he brings a second hand to cup your hand, completely engulfing it, before he pulls away entirely. Your breath hitches, trying to stave off any completely inappropriate thoughts,
Dr. Abbot tilts his head towards central, signalling to meet him there once you’re settled.
“Oh– and, kid?” He drawls, eying your bag as you head towards the lockers.
“We do have supplies here, I promise.” he teases, but his voice is soft and amused, referring to your massively overpacked bag, watching heat flood your face and you nod, completely embarrassed.
Jack watches you scuttle away, shaking his head and chuckling to himself, but his mind is elsewhere, how you were looking at him so shyly, your wide doe eyes ingrained in his mind. Imagining your eyes after kissing you, those eyes looking up at him when– Fuck. This is so unlike him.
Approaching central, he sees Lena and Shen talking in hushed voices. He chooses not to entertain their shenanigans, just crossing his arms and staring up at the patient board, but he catches Lena’s fierce stare in his periphery, alongside Shen’s smirk.
“Stay away from my nurses, Abbot. She’s clearly a good kid.” She scolds, her tone firm and motherly. He can feel her eyes shooting daggers at him.
Jack doesn’t look away from the board, smirking a little.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice is low and equally amused, shaking his head gently. “Just being friendly.”
Shen scoffs, “Yeah? Friendly? You look like you wanted to eat her.”
Jack tenses a little going to defend himself before Lena’s sweet voice interrupts him. She walks past Jack making her way towards you where you had emerged from the lockers and placing a protective hand on your shoulder.
“There ya are, honey. I’m Lena, your charge nurse. C’mon, let us give ya a tour, get a lay of the land, yeah?”
During the tour, you notice Abbot seems to never stray too far from you. Always directly behind you, his hand hovering over the small of your back whenever the halls get crowded, ready to move you if needed.
Surely it's just friendly, you tell yourself.
You hope otherwise.
───────
True to your words, you’re never late again.
Always early to every shift, settled down and working by the time Jack clocks in. But he notices since you’re starting to be early, you get closer and closer with Robby, and it wouldn’t bother him, if you’d at least show the same fondness for him.
Every shift, you avoid interacting with Dr. Abbot at all. You tell yourself it's necessary, you can’t let yourself fall for an attending, despite how flustered, frankly, just warm all over, he makes you feel. You love watching him work, his competency and confidence as he works allures you. Especially in trauma cases, when he barks orders to his residents, you imagine him telling you what to do, when to do it, how to do it, guiding you.
However, during a particular trauma, you were meant to be in the background, watching and learning. But you couldn’t stop watching Abbot’s hands work with such fine precision, the way they flex, the veins popping out. You get lost in your head staring at how big they are, how they’d feel cupping your face, your neck, inside you–
That’s when you decided, for your own well being, but most importantly your work, you couldn’t be around him.
From then on, if you needed anything, you went to anyone and everyone, to avoid speaking to Abbot. Even if he was right there, and asking if you needed anything, you’d go quiet, and your quiet, meek voice dismisses him, “Oh, uh, I’m okay, thank you.” Before you turn and scuttle off in the complete opposite direction, towards Shen.
It bugs him.
How you avoid him, how easily you laugh and joke with Robby, or how you always go to Shen for questions or help.
Jack watches right now, as you laugh freely with Robby, gazing up at him as if you’re hanging on to every word. Gazing at him like he hung the moon. He feels an ugly feeling crawling up his throat, and doesn't want to admit jealousy. He’s not jealous. He’s not. He simply wishes you'd talk to him, with those wide, round doe eyes, smiling shyly and getting you to fall apart with the simplest of words and touches.
He’s so lost in his own head, he doesn’t notice Robby walking by ready to leave for the day.
“You got a good one there, brother, might steal her from the dark side if you’re not careful.” Robby jokes in passing, leaving Jack completely stunned. His eye twitches and his breath stops.
No.
His gaze flickers up to you across the ER, your sweet laugh cutting through the air.
You’re his.
───────
Admittedly, you’re making it very hard to make you his.
You’re almost too polite with him. A small, “good evening,” greeting when he comes in, a simple, “see you tomorrow, boss,” whenever you head out. You’re impossible to get time alone with.
Every time he catches you walking down the hall, jogging to catch up to you, asking you how your night is, you get all quiet. You don’t even look at him beyond a polite glance, your smile is tight and professional. Nodding before dipping into the closest room to get away.
He sighs, thinking you could be so focused on your work you may not want to entertain small talk. But he knows that’s not it, seeing how you laugh every time Shen or Ellis make jokes as you walk with them in the hallway.
So he tries to talk to you when you’re not as busy, just charting.
Jack’s leaning against the counter at central, pretending to be looking at the patient board, but his eyes keep drifting over to you, thinking of ways to get you to talk to him.
He watches the way you pout while charting, your brows pulled tight in concentration, and has the sudden urge to smooth the crease between them with his thumb. He wants to gently scold you for mindlessly chewing at the tip of your pen whilst you work, to take his hand and brush the hair covering your face behind your ear–
His body takes him over to your desk before his mind catches up with him, a seemingly magnetic pull driving him to your side.
He slots himself beside you, a hand over the back of your chair, leaning down to look at your screen.
“Oh– Dr. Abbot!” you startle, being caught off guard.
Your mouth dries and your heart rate ticks like a rabbit, having him so close. His face is so close to yours, you don’t turn your head, you can’t. You can hear his breathing, can smell his cologne at this distance. Your mind reels.
He can smell you too. Caramel and vanilla.
The proximity alone has your stomach flipping, his hand behind you becoming an oddly domestic, claiming gesture. Placing a hand on your back, his voice is gentle, low when he speaks.
“This is good stuff, kid, keep it up.”
His praise sends a jolt down your spine and your face reddens instantly. He can feel you twitch under his hand.
You dip your head, hiding your red face and mumble a quick, breathless, “Uh– thank you, Dr. Abbot.”
He watches you fidget, uncomfortable from the praise. Laughing quietly, before removing his hand.
You’re so shy. Shy with him. Oh.
But then you flee, almost running in the opposite direction, and his mind reels. Maybe he’s read this all wrong.
───────
He concludes after a few more nights of avoidance that maybe you just want nothing to do with him at all.
He keeps his distance, returning your polite greetings, but he hates it. The night shift is supposed to flow, be light and less stressful. Jack's spent so long cultivating an environment where people feel free to laugh, ask questions, not be afraid of getting things wrong.
Now you’re here and he’s all confused. He wants you to enter the stream but it feels like wading against a river trying to figure out what to do differently for you.
He decides to just ask. He approaches you during your break one night.
You’re sat in the break room scrolling mindlessly whilst poking at your food.
His quiet, tired voice cuts through.
“S’alright if I join ya?”
You’d been too tired, too into your phone you hadn’t noticed him come in. Nodding fervently you allow him to sit opposite you, his tone of voice sounding different than it does most nights, almost resigned. You actually look at him properly, concerned.
“Listen, kid. I just wanna apologise if I’ve ever done anything to make ya uncomfortable, yeah?” His eyes meet yours, intense and serious.
You pause.
Uncomfortable?
Fuck.
You were avoiding him so much he thought you didn't like him, made you uncomfortable. Your eyes widen in panic, head shaking rapidly putting your phone and fork down immediately.
“No, god, no. You’ve never– that’s not it–” Stop rambling, you tell yourself. Swallowing, taking a deep breath, you realise you need to get over yourself. “M’sorry for the way I’ve been acting. It's not you.” Your voice is quiet, avoiding his eyes.
He tilts his head down to try and meet yours again, concern on his face. His voice is so soft, when he says,
“You sure, kid? You can tell me–”
You shake your head again, cutting him off.
“You make me nervous.” You blurt out in one panicked breath. You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment and literally bring your head to the table, groaning.
Abbot lets out a quiet chuckle, amused.
“Honey, hey, look at me.” He coaxes trying to get you to stop wallowing in embarrassment. “Please?”
You lift your head slightly, hands covering your face, peeking at him through your fingers. He’s smiling, like this is funny to him, like you didn’t completely ruin everything–
“S’okay.” His expression softens, voice gentler now. “You never gotta be nervous around me, you hear me?”
Oh.
He misunderstood, thinking you mean nervous of his authority. You can work with that, you haven’t entirely humiliated yourself.
Your hands drop from your face, blush still evident on your cheeks and a shy smile creeps up. You nod in affirmation to his words letting out a deep breath.
“I want you to come to me as well, for anything. Not just Shen, Lena, or Robby. Me.” His inflection on Robby’s name confuses you and makes you giggle a little.
The sound awakens something within Jack, without thinking, he leans over placing a hand over yours where it rests on the table.
“I mean it. Anything.”
───────
He notices how you don’t run from him anymore, don’t push him away, let him exist within your space.
You’re still nervous most of the time, but you push it away, and he’s proud. He wants you to come out of your shell with him.
One evening, Lena calls you into North 7 for a debridement, knowing how much you love mindless, repetitive tasks. It unwinds your brain, picking out thousands of tiny pieces of gravel and debris from a patient's leg, letting you let go and not have to worry about doing something wrong.
You’re about halfway through, the only thing heard in the room is the slow hum of the patient's monitor, and Lena tidying up a cart nearby, when you hear the door open.
You frown, not enjoying having been disturbed and the loud, chaos sound of the ER filters through the door. You keep your attention laser focused onto the patient, until you hear his familiar, gentle voice, checking in.
“All good in here?”
You hesitate, stopping your motions for the first time since you started, before lifting your head up and looking at Dr. Abbot, leaning against the doorframe. Your breath hitches as you make eye contact, his focus entirely on you, not the patient. His head is tilted, and his eye contact is intense, making you nervous.
Lena scoffs to herself. Checking in, my ass.
“Mhm.” Your sweet voice hums in affirmation, the only thing you can manage to verbalise at the moment.
Lena pauses from tidying up the cart, turning raising an eyebrow at you, oh god not you too.
“Good. Can always count on ya to keep things moving smoothly, can’t I, sweetheart?” His voice is sweet, almost cooing.
You’re starstruck. Sweetheart.
You blink, unable to respond, but he’s already leaving with a smug, self-assured smile like he accomplished his goal. You swallow, unable to stop the smile spreading on your face, ducking your head to hide your flushed, red face from Lena.
Walking down the hall, he recalls how much the praise got to you when he complimented your charting, and watching you now?
The knowledge that praise gets to you so much?
Wrecks him.
He feels a sense of power, knowing how much he can get you to fall apart from a few words.
───────
The closer he gets, the more he observes your interactions with everyone else. You’re just as shy and nervous with everyone too. A quiet little thing.
During shift change over one morning, a few night shift and day shift nurses and doctors are gathered gossiping about a particularly rowdy patient you had that night.
You’re off to the side, included, but just about. He notices that's always the position you take, included just enough, but never in the centre, never leading, and never actively involved. He thinks maybe you just like to listen, observe, feeling more comfortable for you like that knowing how shy you are.
He frowns, because the rowdy patient they’re on about? You were the only nurse working with him. He wasn’t dangerous by any means, he was strapped to the bed. Jack would never let you in a room with a patient that’s a danger to your safety.
But the group were already feeding the rumour mill, exaggerating the patients words and actions. He watches you from the corner of his eye where he’s leaning against the counter with a pen in hand, stopping his writing to watch.
He wants you to speak up, correct them, and join in.
He watches your eyes dart around the group, you lick your lips, breathing becoming shallower. You’re assessing for the right time to jump in. You’re so nervous to speak up, his heart aches.
And when you try? You’re so quiet, no one even noticed. Immediately you were cut off.
He watches you blink, swallowing in embarrassment before collecting yourself as if you hadn’t even spoken, smiling along.
His heart breaks.
You’re used to this, being spoken over always happens, you’re just too quiet sometimes, better at one-on-one interactions, not groups. Though you’re a little stung, you push it away, familiar with the feeling. Sighing, you slip into your coat before silently taking your leave.
Just before you can head through the exit doors, he catches up with you.
“Hold up, kid.” You hear him jogging slowly behind you.
You turn, smiling at him, he can see the tiredness and hurt in your eyes even if you’re trying to hide it.
“You leaving without saying goodbye?” he teases lightly, his expression incredibly soft.
You dip your head shyly,
“Didn’t think anyone would notice.” You mumble, trying to laugh it off.
His brows scrunch, a displeased look on his face, almost offended.
“I notice.”
His words are so final, so real. You just stare at him with a vulnerable expression. His words heal something deep, knowing someone cares about your presence. You’re speechless.
He places a hand on your back guiding you outside, noticing your hesitance.
“C’mon. Let me walk ya to your bus stop, you can tell me about the rowdy patient, yeah?”
You nod shyly, trying not to let your eyes well up from his care. It’s a short distance, the sky brightening as you both walk. He’s silent and attentive, actively listening to every word you tell him, like they’re the most important words ever.
When you reach the stop you turn to thank him, but before you can he speaks first.
“Hey. M’proud of ya, for speaking up in there.”
You give him a little confused look shaking your head.
“It didn’t really feel like I did.” You laugh awkwardly, embarrassed to revisit the moment knowing he was watching.
“You did. I’ll always listen, whatever you wanna talk about, yeah?” Your chest tightens painfully at the sincerity in his voice. You can only nod, suddenly too affected to trust your own voice.
“G’night, sweetheart” He drapes an arm around your shoulder squeezing you before letting you board.
On the way home, your head mulls over his words, settling on one detail.
He’s proud.
───────
Being around Abbot so much recently is fucking with you, to say the least.
His constant praise at your actions, you begin expecting and waiting for it. Every time he’s within your vicinity, you wait for his gentle but ragged voice ushering praise.
“Good catch, sweetheart.”
“Don’t know what I’d do without ya.”
“Jesus, you really make my life easier, y’know that?”
And he always delivers.
Aside from the praise, he’s incredibly attentive and observant, knowing what you need exactly when you need it. Encouraging breaks any time he sees you get overwhelmed during the night, telling you to drink water, take a breather.
But he’s also so patient with you, like no one's ever been. With him, you begin to unlearn your fear of being judged for saying the wrong thing, acting the wrong way, because he never judges.
Tonight is no different.
You’re in central 7 with Dr. Ellis, with a very panicked, frantic mother and her daughter. Her child is only around 6 years old, clearly withdrawn and quiet. Her mother explains to Dr. Ellis how she’d been bathing her daughter that evening, when she found a large bruise on the daughter’s back and legs, suspecting her husband’s abusing her.
You immediately make eye contact with Ellis, silently signalling that you’ll call Kiara, the hospital social worker. But before you can step out to do so, a large, loud and drunk man barges through the door, angry.
He’s unsteady on his feet, eyes directly narrowing onto his wife, before pushing past you and immediately going to yell at her.
“You bitch! You have NO right bringing our daughter here without my permission–” He yells spit flying out of his mouth, alcohol clearly on his breath
“Sir–” Ellis tries to calm him down, placing a hand on his shoulder which he shrugs off.
“No!” He shrugs her off
“Your permission?” The mother yells back, cutting him off in disbelief. “You’re laying your fucking hands on my kid and you think I’m gonna let you be near her?” She’s defensive, shrill, adrenaline thrumming through her.
The yelling gets to you admittedly, you’re never good whenever patients of their families raise their voices. They carry on, Ellis begging for them to keep it civil or he will be removed by security
The door opens swiftly with Dr. Abbot and a night shift security guard filtering through to de-escalate.
Drowning it all out, trying to not let it affect you, you turn your attention to the little girl on the bed, all hunched up scared of her parents yelling. You turn her towards you telling her to focus on you. You just try to distract her in any way possible, asking her questions about school, her friends, her hobbies. It works a little, her tiny voice whispering over her parents yells.
The father is finally removed, and the air to the room returns, silence taking over.
“It’s alright, you’re okay.” You comfort the girl placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, testing it beforehand to see if she pulls away.
Jack turns to you then, really looking at you. The way you’re so gentle with the girl, how your focus was on her comfort during her parents screaming match. God, he admires you. But he also picks up on your tense shoulders, the way your breathing is unsettled, your face is tighter than normal.
You step back once the mother sits by the daughter’s side comforting her, you don't realise you walk back into Jack’s hand, which now rests on the small of your back. He leans closer to you dipping down to speak into your ear,
“Go take a breather, yeah?” His voice is soft, gentle.
You look up at him to convince him you’re fine, you don’t need a break. But the look in his eyes is stern, pleading: do not fight me on this.
───
Jack finds you around 5 minutes later in the stairwell, you seem to just be sitting there lost in your own head.
He approaches slowly, groaning as he sits next to you on the stairs, your shoulders touching. He speaks first,
“You did really well there – with the girl.” He nudges your leg with his as he praises you, trying to cheer you up. You can tell he’s looking at you from the corner of your eye but you keep your eyes on your lap. Pedes cases always got to you.
“She shouldn’t have had to hear that.” Your voice is quiet, unsteady. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, but the tears build in your eyes anyways. You dip your head down further trying to hide.
“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice softens, his hand settling on your knee. “Talk to me?” His voice is begging.
You lift your head to look at him, drying your eyes. “It’s stupid, really.” You shake your head quickly, trying to laugh through it. “I just don’t handle yelling very well.”
“Yeah. I thought so, honey.” His thumb rubs back and forth over your knee, comforting you. “That’s not on you.” His voice is gentler now.
“I feel ridiculous.” You wipe quickly under your eyes. “I should be able to handle it better by now.” Insecurity laces your words at breaking down like this in front of an attending.
“No.” His response is immediate, firm but gentle. “Don’t start thinkin’ the answer is makin’ yourself colder.” He aches at the prospect of you removing the brightest parts of yourself, to dim your light to handle the harshness of the world. Absolutely not. He wants to shield you, be the barrier between people's cruelty and your soft, gentle heart.
Your shiny eyes meet his, vulnerability flashing through them. Without even thinking he brings his thumb to brush a stray tear from your cheek. He watches your eyes flutter close and your breath hitching at the gesture, his heart leaping.
“Take as much time as ya need. Come find me at the end of the day, I’ll take you home, yeah?” His voice grumbles, sending a jolt through you.
Your eyes open ready to protest, you can’t possible accept a ride from him, thats asking too much–
“Ah, ah, I’m not taking no for an answer.” He smirks before standing and heading back out to the ER.
───
Before your shift ended that same day, you had asked Lena to show you how to work the medicine cabinet as you’d had trouble returning a vial earlier in your shift.
The day shift starts to filter through whilst Lena is describing the steps to take, making you distracted.
You see Dr. Abbot in your periphery down the hall, talking to another nurse, one you had never seen before, most likely on the day shift.
She’s gorgeous.
She stands tall, confident and makes him laugh. Nothing like you.
Your heart aches, as you stare unapologetically, completely drowning out Lena’s voice. You watch as he also dips his head to catch her eyes, how he touches her arm, how charming he is.
It feels like your heart gave out and fell into an endless pit. Eyes flickering away slowly, realising your hope that the way he treated you was special, is just his charm. His naturally flirtatious personality.
God you’re so stupid.
Lena sighs, shaking her head before closing the cabinet and turning to you, sensing your distraction and sadness.
“Hun, you don’t wanna go down that route.” Her voice is firm, but motherly. Like she’s truly trying to protect you, not wanting you to get hurt.
Your head snaps over to her wide eyed and panicked having been caught.
“Oh– no it’s not like that.” you laugh awkwardly, embarrassed but your excuse is weak and she sees through it instantly. Placing a hand on your back and directing you away from the hallway before you get in your head any longer.
“Trust me, hun. I’ve been around long enough to know, men like him don’t realise the effect they have on girls like you.”
Your brows furrow at her words, girls like me? You reach the lockers before she hits the final blow.
“You’re young, go on dates. Don’t pine over old men like him, you’ll only get hurt.”
She walks off, leaving you speechless. You gather your things, mulling over her words. Is she right? Have you been misreading everything, pining over a man who’s naturally charming and kind to everyone?
You’d completely forgotten Dr. Abbots offer to take you home by the time you’re walking out of the doors. Your mind is only repeating her words and reevaluating all of Abbot’s actions towards you, trying to search for when you’d started to misinterpret things.
Jack frowns watching your hunched up form walking out of the ER from where he stands and talks to Ruby. He excuses himself from the conversation, trying to catch up with you before you leave, but you’re already down the street by the time he’s at the door.
───────
Just as he thought he was making progress, the rug is pulled from under him, and you’re colder than ever.
You’re distant with everyone, clipped greetings and polite words the only things you mutter during your shifts. He watches how you avoid groups, but more importantly, how much harder you’ve been working.
You’ve doubled your workload, trying to forget your feelings by distracting yourself. Always with a patient, never sitting down and charting, avoiding your colleagues asking you what’s wrong. Or, avoiding where Dr. Abbot could find you and make you fall for him all over again.
He notices how you’re no longer early to your shifts, just right on time, jumping straight into cases. Whenever he tries to coax you into slowing down and taking breaks, you brush him off, refusing to admit you need them. But he notices the bags under your eyes, you’re pushing yourself too much and he hates it, he can’t help and it’s hurting him.
But he also notices how late you stay. As you no longer chart during the day, you spend 3 to 4 hours overtime during the day shift charting. Robby allows it, sensing something going on with you but doesn’t want to overstep. Occasionally, you ask to work doubles, staying to around 1-3pm during the day shifts. It’s completely wrecking your body, but you don’t want to think about anything else except work.
One evening, during shift change before you got to work, Robby pulls Jack aside.
“Hey, brother, I gotta ask.” Robby glances over his shoulder towards the door, checking you hadn’t arrived yet, before lowering his voice. “Somethin’ going on with her lately?”
Jack’s brows furrow instantly, worry clenching at his heart. “Why?”
“She’s running herself into the ground, to put it mildly.” Robby sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s working through till the afternoon, then coming back to do it all again at night. Girl can’t be getting more than a couple hours of sleep.” His expression tightens. “M’worried about her.”
Jack goes still, his stomach dropping.
He noticed, of course he noticed. He just hadn’t realised how bad it’d gotten.
His jaw tightens, hand dragging tiredly across it as he sighs.
“Fuck.” The word leaves him quietly.
“I’ll talk to her.”
───
Later that night, Jack came to find you during a particularly quiet lull around 11pm. He assumes you’d be with a patient, checking with Lena before heading towards south 16. He’s rehearsing his speech to you, over and over.
When he approaches the room, his body stops. He hears you laugh. It’s beautiful, and he doesn’t realise how much it hurt him not hearing you laugh recently.
Rounding the corner he sees you through the glass stitching up a man’s forehead, and you’re blushing. You have that bashed, shy smile as you work, the type that was reserved for Jack. You're standing close to the man from where he sits on the edge of the bed, and he’s looking up at you with desire in his eyes, clearly flirting with you.
He shouldn’t feel jealous, but he does, insecurity clawing at his heart. The man you’re stitching up, he’s definitely closer in age to you than Jack is. He hates the way that fact digs under his skin, the sudden awareness of the years between you two. You’re still soft, bright, and untouched by the world in ways he hasn’t been for too long. He can’t take his eyes off the easy smile you give the man, bitterness twisting low in his chest.
He knows he should leave, but he can’t bring himself to move. Which is why when you turn, putting down the sutures, you see him outside watching you, and your body stills. He watches your face fall, and it hurts him how you’re no longer happy to be around him.
Jack sighs ready to turn and leave, but you excuse yourself from your patient and head outside to catch him.
“Hey–” Your voice is gentle and cautious, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear nervously at Abbot’s expression. “Did you need something?”
Jack’s jaw tightens as he hears your voice, trying to steady himself. This is the first time you’ve chosen to speak to him in ages, and he hates how relieved and conflicted he is right now.
His eyes flicker behind you, to the man in the room sprawled out on the bed scrolling through his phone, and his chest tightens. Possessiveness and insecurity battle within his heart, and he doesn’t even think when he blurts out a cold comment to you.
“Didn’t realise we were entertainin’ patients now.” His voice is clipped, and he regrets it as soon as he says it.
He watches your face fall. Fuck.
Your head shakes rapidly, apologetically.
“I-I’m sorry–” Your voice is meek, he can’t bear that he caused this.
“Just don’t let it happen again.” Jack’s voice is firm, as he walks off. He needs to leave, clearly not in his right mind, he’s hurting you and he’s completely out of line.
───
The way he spoke to you eats him all night, distracting him. He’s completely unfocused during cases, Shen telling him to take a breather during a trauma, get his head right. How is he supposed to make sure you’re okay if he’s also driving you away.
He decides to start small. Around 1am he watches you exit a patient's room, pausing outside leaning against the wall. He can tell you’re exhausted by the way you hold yourself.
He slows as he approaches you, wanting to get you to slow down, take a break. Up close he can see the way your shoulders sag like the weight of the wall is the only thing keeping you together, your undereyes heavy with exhaustion. He can’t remember the last time you sat down.
“Hey– hold up.” His tone is softer, contrasting the way he spoke to you earlier. “You eaten yet?
Your eyes flick towards him briefly, before looking away again.
“M’fine.” You’re short, a little dismissive.
Jack nods awkwardly, he knows he doesn’t deserve your kindness right now.
“It’s quiet, you should take your break–” He tries but you cut him off.
“I said I’m okay.” Though your tone has little real bite behind it, it’s still harsher than he’s ever heard it.
He stills, letting out a deep sigh. The silence between you both hangs in the air thickly. You won’t look at him.
Jack nods, accepting his defeat watching you walk off.
What he doesn’t see is the guilt flooding your face.
───
You need to apologise. He’s your attending and it was extremely unprofessional of you, a nurse, to speak to him that way. Guilt is clawing at your throat and you can’t get rid of it.
You decide that after you finish organising the supply room with Lena, you’ll find him. Explain yourself.
You’re standing on a stepping stool as Lena passes you supplies to restock the shelves with.
“That guy– from earlier? He was a real hottie, hun.” She says while passing you a box of nitrile gloves. Your face scrunches in amusement as you let out a breathy laugh
“That guy who got his head smashed with a beer bottle? Yeah, right. Like I need that kind of trouble in my life right now.” You joke back with Lena about the flirty guy.
“C’mon, you’re young. Live a little! He’s insanely hot, god knows if I was 20 years younger I’d jump his bones–” you cut her off with a real, chesty laugh.
“Lena! You’re married!” You turn towards her with a wide smile.
“I can appreciate beauty when I see it, hun.” She smirks before continuing. “What’s the harm? He’s still here isn’t he? Go get his number, go on dates, have mind blowing sex– just do something to get you outta this slump, y’hear me?”
You sigh whilst organising the top shelf. You don’t want that guy. You want Abbot.
What you didn’t realise was Jack was walking past and heard snippets of the conversation, well, particularly Lena’s grand speech about having mind-blowing sex with the man. He falters in his steps, realising who she’s talking to, who she’s talking about. The ugly, possessive feeling rears within him again. He peeks through the door, watching your face. You’re smiling, like you’re considering it. He can’t handle it. He storms off, childishly slamming the door of the next room he enters, blaming it on the draft.
You jolt at the sudden noise and frown before continuing. “I dunno, Lena.” Your voice is almost sad. “He’s not who I want.”
“You’re still hung up on him, aren’t you, honey?” Her voice is soft, pitying. She watches your sad smile when you nod in affirmation. “M’sorry, hun. It’ll pass, I promise.”
You don’t want it to pass.
───
You can’t seem to find Abbot for the rest of the night, until a trauma comes in around 5:30am forcing you both into the room together.
The EMTs roll the patient in on a gurney as you jog over to Trauma 1, reading off his vitals. Fuck, it’s a kid.
“Pediatric MVC, eight-year-old male, unrestrained passenger. Vehicle rolled twice after being T-boned at a high speed. Drunk driver.” The EMT scoffs.
You begin to glove up as you walk alongside the stretcher, Jack on the other side, his eyes land on you as he actively listens to the EMT, his gaze feels as if he was assessing you.
“Initial GCS was 10 on scene, refrained from intubation. BP 80/52, heart rate 145, satting 92 percent on non-rebreather.”
You watch Abbot nod, cutting through the patient's clothes as Ellis and Shen check current vitals and assess internal injuries. You end up stationed directly behind him, ready to hand him what he needs. But him in action is making you nervous, like he doesn’t want you here.
The EMT cuts in. “Father pronounced dead on scene, mother inbound, no obvious injuries.”
“Decreased breath sounds on the left side, significant bruising across the abdomen and chest. Patient increasingly lethargic.” Abbot begins his assessment. But is being drowned out by an increasingly loud scream from the floor outside the room, his mother arriving.
She rushes to the doors, doctors encourage her to wait outside but she barges in regardless. Her sobs and yells for the doctors to save her son cut through the room, loud and distracting. You take a deep breath at the sound trying to focus, remain unaffected by the scene, present.
Abbot’s jaw tightens as the room erupts around him. The mother’s wailing to his right, monitors beeping rapidly as the boy gets worse, the blood coating his gloves as he presses harder against the kid’s abdomen.
“Pressure’s dropping.”
“BP 78/40.”
“We’re losing him, Abbot.”
Fuck. Each sound and sensation cramming for dominance within his skull, overriding his focus.
And then he glances behind at you, where the station is set up ready for you to hand him things. But you’re spaced out, wide-eyed and pale, clearly overwhelmed by the sounds of the boy crying in pain and grief for his father, the mother’s wailing. Jack’s chest twitches violently. One thing at a time. Save the boy.
“Get her out!” He yells across the room, his voice loud and booming, a couple nurses urge for the mother to wait outside.
But he can’t focus with you standing there looking wrecked, your hands shaking. His focus should be on the boy, not you.
“Gauze.” He commands, a hand outstretched towards you.
Nothing.
The gauze finally hits his hand, a few seconds delayed.
His pulse spikes, the room suddenly feeling too loud. Your presence pressing against the back of his skull.
He snaps.
“I can’t afford hesitation right now.” Jack’s voice cuts sharply across the room, eyes snapping to yours. “If you can’t keep up, leave.”
You feel like you’ve stopped breathing. The room goes painfully quiet, heat rushing to your face instantly at the humiliation.
Your chest feels like it’s caving, shame burning beneath your skin. You swallow hard, blinking rapidly, staving off tears.
You nod once, unable to trust your voice, before stripping off your gloves with trembling fingers backing away from the table.
Another nurse takes over flawlessly, the room continuing like normal around you. You exit the room, tears burning your eyes and threatening to fall.
Lena sees your shaken state from across the room, beginning to make her way over to you. But you duck, scuttling away to lock yourself in the toilet. Needing to break down in private.
You sink against the wall, sliding down until your head rests on your knees.
You know he’s right, you shouldn’t have hesitated. Your throat tightens.
The boy could’ve died because you froze. He still might. For what? Because Abbot didn’t want you near him anymore? Because the sounds of the boys’ mother screaming cracked something open inside of you?
Abbot’s words replay over and over in your head as self-punishment, as you sob into your hands.
───
Jack regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.
He watches your face crumple in devastation and it almost knocks the breath from his lungs.
Your teary eyes flicker away, avoiding his fiery gaze. He hates that he’s the one who put those tears there, made you cry. He never wants to be the reason for your pain.
He watches you nod, so meekly it hurts his heart, the tremble in your hands when you pull off your gloves. Every instinct in him screams to go after you. He can’t. He turns back to the table, continuing to work on the boy even more distracted than he was before.
───
You manage to gather yourself not long after, exiting the bathroom and ignoring Lena’s concerned looks, just searching for a simple case to get your mind off what happened. You can hear the chaos continuing in Trauma 1, still working on the boy.
Lena assigns you to a wound debridement, a simple task to recalibrate and gather your thoughts.
You set up your tool table beside you, and you’re lucky your patient isn’t a chatty one. His arm rests on the bed, skin burnt red and white.
You’re utterly exhausted, emotionally spent. Too in your own head to notice how cramped your fingers get around the scalpel.
You try to reposition your grip, but the blade unexpectedly slips from your grasp, falling and slicing a clean gash from your hand down your arm. Pain slices hot and immediate.
“Shit–”
The scalpel clatters into the tray as blood begins to well. Your vision blurs for half a second, before you jerk back sharply, hissing from the sudden pain
“Oh shit you okay, lady?” You hear the patient ask, but you’re already halfway out the room, asking Matteo to finish your case before entering an empty room to sort yourself out.
“God fucking damn it, piece of shit–” You curse violently, voice breaking, trying to hold back tears yet again, whilst setting up the equipment you need to clean your cut.
Your heart beats violently, embarrassed at fucking up yet another thing. Abbot cannot know, he cannot have another thing to chew you out over.
You’re not that lucky.
“Hey, listen, I wanted to say that– what the fuck?” Jack’s voice is shocked when he glances down at your bleeding arm from where he stands at the door.
Your head whips around immediately, eyes wide and panicked but you don’t speak or move. Fear wraps around your heart knowing you’re going to get scolded for being distracted, getting yourself hurt, or creating unnecessary paperwork for the hospital.
The sight of your bleeding arm disturbs him. But what hurts more is the way you look at him, wrecked and terrified, like a child that just got caught for doing something wrong, more worried about his reaction than the fact you’re hurt. He shakes his head stepping inside fully making his way to you.
“Sit.” He commands, his voice tight, clipped.
Your breath hitches at his tone, interpreting it as annoyance for having to deal with this, but you do as he says, not wanting to make things worse.
“You don’t have to–” You attempt to say you’re fine, you don’t need help, it’s a small cut. But when you look into his eyes, you pause, there’s something softer behind them, concern.
“Yeah. I do.” His voice is gentle and strained like it pains him you’re trying to hide your hurt.
You watch his face as he washes out your cut and stops the bleeding. You can’t read him. He avoids your eyes, focusing solely on your injury, you watch as he clenches his jaw and swallows.
He can’t look into your eyes again, the broken teary look you’re adorning right now would completely break him. He feels your pulse thrumming from where he holds your wrist, shaky breaths like you’re trying not to cry in front of him.
“This’ll sting–” He warns gently before bringing a cold disinfectant wipe to your cut. He cleans it so gently, so carefully, you realise how much you’ve missed him. His touch, his care, his smell.
You hiss slightly at the alcohol stinging, and he quickly retracts, gaze flicking to meet yours worried.
“I’ve got you.” He coos, rubbing a thumb back and forth against your hand, avoiding your injury. “You’re alright, sweetheart.”
His soft tone breaks the flood gate, tears flowing freely and you sob. Hard.
“M’so sorry.” Your voice breaks, blurting out apologies, as you try to catch your breath. “I’m sorry, please–”
His heart shatters at the sound, immediately setting the wipes down and cupping your face.
“Hey– No. No, honey. Don’t.” His warm hands ground you, wiping the tears as they fall. He can’t stand the sight of you falling apart in front of him.
You shake your head. “I keep fucking up–” you whisper brokenly, your expression apologetic.
“God, c’mere.” He coos bringing your head to his chest rubbing his hand on your back. “You got nothin’ to apologise for, y’hear me?
His chest aches at your cries, knowing he led you to this, knowing he hurt such a sweet girl. His sweet girl.
“I shoulda never yelled at ya, it weren’t right.” His voice vibrates through your body against him, sniffling into his chest. “You get that? You did nothing wrong, baby.”
Baby.
He pulls back cupping your face again, eyes intense and searching. Searching for something in your eyes that tells him you understand him, that you know you didn’t do anything wrong.
“Is he– is the kid–” You choke out, genuinely terrified that your slip-up had cost the kid his life, and had cost the mother losing both loves of her lives on the same night.
Jack shakes his head quickly, dismissing your worry. “He’s good, he’s stable. Dontcha worry about that. I let shit get to me, yeah? Not on you.”
You sniffle, breathing jagged as you settle down. The kid will be okay. Abbot isn’t mad at you. His hand lifts from your cheek to smooth down your hair on your forehead, tucking it backwards. Looking at you like you're precious.
Unexpectedly, he brings his forehead to rest on yours, whispering:
“I never wanna make you feel like that.” His voice wavers slightly, but you notice. “Never again.”
You stop breathing at his proximity. Realisation crashing down at how stupid you’d been to avoid him all this time, to let insecurity overrun your thoughts. His lips are so close to yours.
“Jack–” You practically whimper his name.
His breath hitches, searching your eyes before leaning in slowly.
He presses a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, testing.
Instinctively, you turn your head towards his lips.
You both pause, staring at each other and breathing heavily. He watches as you dart your tongue out, licking your lips nervously, and he breaks.
He crashes his lips to yours.
It’s hungry, full of apology, and devotion. He brings a hand to cup the back of your head, deepening the kiss. Electric sparks fly down your spine, your mind turning to mush. The emotional toll of the day mixing with the high of finally kissing Jack, you melt.
He finally pulls away, after needing to catch his breath, not because he wants to stop kissing you. He’d kiss you for the rest of the night, if he could.
He takes in your flushed state, catching your breath and looking at him with so much trust. Your red cheeks, dazed and glossy eyes, and plump red lips and he lets a sound akin to a growl out. The look wrecks him.
He shakes his head, pressing a short, quick kiss to your hair before physically stepping back before going too far with you.
“I didn’t– I convinced myself you didn’t want me like that.” Your whisper breaks the silence. “I couldn’t be around you, it hurt too much.”
Oh.
He swallows the lump in his throat before nodding. He understands. Why you avoided him all this time, you must have been going crazy. Hell, you’d affected him so much tonight he snapped. He can’t imagine what living like that for so long would do to you.
“You don’t gotta explain, sweetheart.” He brings the chair to sit in front of you on the bed, and he takes your hands in his, bringing a small kiss to your knuckles. “But you scared me, doll. You gotta take care of yourself.”
Your gaze flickers downwards a little embarrassed, nodding
He turns your injured hand over in his, nodding his head towards it before gently asking.
“How’d this happen?” He refocuses on cleaning and assessing if it’s deep enough for a bandage or stitches.
“Wasn’t–” You pause, recalling how he scolded you last time for being distracted, shaking off your fear, you continue. “Wasn’t paying attention, cutting off patients' dead skin. Hand cramped n’ tried to fix it, blade slipped.”
He takes in a deep breath hearing your shaky explanation.
“Why didn’t ya tell someone, hmm?” He speaks softly, his attention focused on placing small little butterfly bandages along the cut.
You shrug. “Wasn’t thinking straight. Was overwhelmed, on the verge of crying again. Just needed to be alone.”
Crying, again. He hates the recollection that he made you cry that night. That after you had left the trauma room, you’d broken down alone.
He places the last bandage on, setting down the equipment and turning to you once more, placing a hand on your thigh.
“You always come to me when you’re hurting, yeah? I hate that I didn’t know, baby. Hate you were hurt and you tried to deal with this alone.” He begs, squeezing your thigh.
He sighs in relief as he sees your small nod. “Good.”
He places a small, gentle kiss over your cut. “There we go, all fixed up, my sweet girl.”
You flush red, a shy smile taking over your face before you can stop it, letting out a small laugh of disbelief.
“There she is.” He coos at your smile.
───────
After a few months of dating, Jack took a sabbatical, and asked you to go with him.
It was his way of an apology, for snapping at his sweet girl, taking you away from the place that you’d been running yourself into the ground for.
He didn’t tell you much, just to pack your cutest dresses. You obeyed mindlessly, trusting him completely. Truthfully, he couldn’t get enough of seeing you in sundresses after one particular picnic date where he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, or hands. Needless to say, the date ended early, with Jack driving you back to his place to tear off the sundress.
You’re leaning against Jack in his truck as he drives through the country. He had specifically chosen to bring this truck due to its bench seats, needing a hand on you at all times.
The warm breeze filters through the truck windows, and you hum gently along to the faint country rock playing through the truck radio, Jack tapping his fingers against the wheel along with the beat.
Everything felt perfect, domestic, calm.
Until you get deeper into country backroads.
You frown the first time you drive by a small animal on the side of the road, clearly roadkill. It disturbs something in your stomach, seeing the bloody mangled animal alone. You try to push it down, focus on Jack, the trip.
Until you seem to keep passing more animals.
Deer.
Squirrels.
Rabbits.
Foxes.
Every animal seems to twist your heart more and more, saddening you so deeply, wishing you could protect the babies that died alone.
Jack, observant as he is, feels you go quiet against his shoulder. No longer humming or drumming your feet with the music, just looking straight ahead into the dashboard, stiff. Something had set his girl off. He brings his hand that rested on the gear stick onto your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze, checking in on you.
His hand is warm where it rests on your thigh, grounding, as he coos, “Talk to me, sweetheart.” He glances over briefly before looking back at the road. “What’s got my pretty girl all quiet, hmm?” he says, softly.
Your stomach flips, of course he notices. He’s so in tune with your tells by now, you couldn’t even hide it if you tried. You whine a little embarrassed, turning to hide your face into his side.
His heart aches at the small, sweet noise you make and his grip tightens protectively on your thigh. Sensing your shyness, his thumb starts rubbing back and forth on your leg.
“Don’t hide from me, my sweet girl,” his voice is gentle and sweet, the tone he uses when he knows something is bothering you. Gentle fingers tip your chin upwards to meet his eyes momentarily, your stomach twisting as he brushes the hair behind your ear, a silent plea: tell me.
Hesitating, feeling shy and not wanting to ruin the trip you tell him, “It’s nothing, really, It’s the animals–”, your breath hitches as Jack drives by another dead deer on the side of the road. Your voice breaks before continuing, “It hurts”, you whisper sadly whilst immediately ducking your head to not look out the window for too long, the scene disturbing you.
Oh. Realisation floods Jack’s face and his heart clenches, oh, his sweet, sensitive baby.
You hear Jack breathe out a small sigh, before dipping his head and placing a small gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Yeah? That’s what’s gotten my girl all upset?” his voice soothing and rubs his hand up and down your thigh in comfort. Your stomach twists at his sigh, unsure if he’s silently judging.
“They might have had family or friends waiting for them!’’ your voice is whiny, desperate for him to understand as deeply as you do why you’re upset. You sniffle a little, trying not to let tears fall.
Jack blinks, trying not to laugh at his sensitive girl, knowing it’ll upset you more. He doesn’t mean to find it amusing, but your true devastation over deer and squirrels having family and friends, he can’t help but let out a low chuckle.
“You’re right baby, m’sure they’re sat around the dinner table, waiting for ‘im to come home.” He teases gently a smirk playing at his lips.
“Jaaaaack! It’s not funny,” you pout petulantly, hurt. You shift away from his side, scooting over to the other side of the truck, feeling dismissed.
Jack shushes you quickly, grabbing you by your shoulders before you move away, hating the way you curl in on yourself so easily. He pulls you back into his side, coaxing an apology.
“M’sorry, baby, c’mere.” He’s still smirking a little, but knowing he may have teased too much in your sensitive state, he needs to calm you down.
You feel him pepper quick kisses to your forehead, whilst rubbing the back of your neck gently. Your body relaxes instantly at the touch.
You sniffle a little calming down, wrapping your arms around his middle.
“Shh, baby, I know, I know.” He says, his voice softer now, before continuing. “I was so mean for teasing my delicate girl, yeah?” His inflection rises at the end of his question, like he was comforting a small kitten.
Sniffling, you nod at his comfort. “You know I love how my sweet baby feels everything deeply.” he croons, and you feel him run his fingers at the nape of your neck into your hair, petting you.
“You just keep your eyes on me, yeah? Focus on me for the rest of the trip.” He commands gently, shielding you away from the hurt of the world.
The low music continues to hum in the car, yours and Jack’s breathing matching as you sit quietly soaking the evening breeze.
Gravel crunches as you pull up to the cabin, you notice he doesn’t make a move to exit the truck yet. You frown, worried, is something wrong? Before you can even ask him, Jack breaks the silence, with such a soft tone it's unexpected.
“S’why you’re my favourite nurse, baby”. You falter, his words stirring something in your stomach, his praise making you shy. You feel him draping his arm around your waist and tugging you into his lap, straddling him.
Unable to avoid his intense eye contact, you duck your head shyly, quietly asking, “What is?”
For the life of you, you can’t figure out what he means. He ducks his head following yours to look into your eyes, cupping your face.
His voice is low, serious, when he speaks. “Your sensitivity, compassion, empathy.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, uneasy by the intensity of his praise. Tucking your head into his neck to hide your shyness, you quip– “It’s not the sex?”
You hear him chuckle, the vibration running through your body.
“You were my favourite before the sex smartass– no, you have a big heart, biggest I’ve ever known, you care deeply.” You feel him guide your head out of his neck, needing to see your face, his thumbs brush against your cheeks as he watches your wide, doe eyes trying to accept the praise.
“Plenty of other nurses and doctors are empathetic.” You begin shyly, trying to brush the compliment off, uneasy by how seen he was making you feel. Always having been told your sensitivity is a curse, especially in this field, and it’ll wear you down.
Jack immediately interjects, not enjoying how quick you are to self deprecate, diminish yourself.
“Not like you, baby.” His voice is stern, as are his hands gripping your face. Desperate for you to see yourself the way he does.
Those three simple words cut deep, your eyes watering from so much care. He wipes the tears before they fall and watches a shy smile tugging at your lips, hitting him like a punch to the chest.
“You hear me, baby? Hmm?” he coos gently while pressing a kiss against your temple. You nod in his hold, cheeks flushed from receiving so much affection, never having been treated so carefully before.
“You’re m’favourite attending.” You mumble shyly fidgeting with your hands in your lap.
Jack laughs deeply, he knows, of course he knows. He just hadn’t expected that to be what you said. He finds your tone so cute, like you're too shy to admit it.
“Oh yeah? S’not Robby?” He teases, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, laughing again at your scrunched up face, like the idea is ridiculous to you.
“I know, sweetheart.” He calms you, presses a final, soft kiss to your temple and brings you closer to his embrace.
Outside, the sun sets as crickets chirp around you, the air gets cooler but neither of you rushes to leave the car yet, this moment meaning something so deep to the both of you.
─
Jack is setting down the last of the bags in the bedroom when he hears you yelp from the bathroom. Before he can even ask if you’re okay, you call out for him, your voice startled and afraid.
“Jack!”
His heart jumps, and his mind immediately rushes to the worst idea, that you’re hurt somehow.
Jack runs to the bathroom panicked, “Baby, what’s–” he calls out in fear, until he enters the room, and pauses, blinking.
You’re crouching on the toilet seat like the floor is lava, with one shoe off, in your hand, looking around the floor terrified. You meet his eyes, genuine fear behind them,
“I swear, it's taunting me! It looked me right in the eyes!” you whisper urgently pointing at the small bug in the corner of the room.
Jack laughs for real this time, tilting his head affectionately, “baby, what are you doing?”
You screech as you watch the tiny dark bug scuttle along the bathroom floor and chuck your shoe at it, completely missing it.
“Please– kill it, quick!” you beg him
He smirks at you from where he leans against the bathroom door frame, crossing his arms, and taunts you, “What if his family is waiting for him to come home, hmm?”
You groan as Jack points out your hypocrisy, squealing again as you watch it come towards you. “Jack, I swear to god–”
He hangs his head in, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face before he walks over and stomps on it. He picks you up into his arms and mumbles into your hair.
“Yeah, you’re not lasting ten minutes out here, sweetheart.”
Balancing your final year as a resident while raising a five-year-old is hard enough. Co-parenting with your ex Michael Robinavitch? That’s a whole different challenge.
warning/tags: smut, minors DNI, porn with plot (lots of plot), age gap (but reader’s age isn’t disclosed) jealous!robby, co-parenting, Robby is sooo girl dad coded, attempt of slowburn, they're down bad for the other, inadequate medical terms, longing, unprotected piv, pussy eating, fingering, handjob, creampie, multiple orgasms
“Robby,” you repeated for the millionth time, staring at the way his focused eyes stayed glued to the computer screen. “Robby, are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Your words went in one ear and straight out the other. His attention was completely locked on the patient charts, as if the world had temporarily ceased to exist.
You let out a quiet sigh, then reached over the nurse station counter, fished a latex glove out of the open cardboard box, and with a quick movement, snapped it right against his back.
“Ouch!” Robby exclaimed, finally jerking his gaze away from the screen. He rubbed the spot where the glove had stung him, looking equal parts surprised and betrayed. “Why the hell did you do that?”
“Because I’ve been trying to talk to you!” You fought to keep your voice from snapping, though the frustration was definitely leaking through. “Did you call the bouncy castle people already?”
He nodded, leaning back in his chair with a groan. “Yeah, already did. They’re charging me two hundred extra for switching from the unicorn castle to the capybara one with less than a week’s notice, by the way.” He tried to sound annoyed, but it didn’t quite land. Michael loved his daughter far too much for that. If he had to build a goddamn capybara bouncy castle with his own two hands so she could have whatever she wanted in the entire world, he would do it without hesitation. Instead of irritation, his expression softened into something almost endearing, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was fighting back a smile at her latest demand.
“And you’re paying for it without complaining because you’re a great father,” you said matter-of-factly, unable to hide the fond smile tugging at your own lips. “Remember, the party’s at three. You still good for setup?”
Robby exhaled through his nose, the sound almost a laugh but not quite. "They're delivering the capybara monstrosity at one-thirty. Said they'd set it up in the backyard." He rubbed a hand over his jaw as if he was remembering what other arrangements he’d made. "Also confirmed the balloon guy with a helium tank, should be there by two."
You nodded, feeling the relief you always felt whenever Robby managed to take care of everything. Co-parenting with Robby has always been like this, efficient, practical, and competent. No missed pickups, no forgotten appointments. He'd never once let your daughter down, even when work tried to swallow him whole.
"And the cake?" you asked because you can't help it, even though you knew the answer.
He gave you a side-eye, the one that said do you even have to ask? "Chocolate with vanilla buttercream, extra sprinkles. Pickup at two-fifteen, I'll swing by after my shift ends, already talked to Shen and he’ll cover for me.”
Five years ago, you were a fourth-year med student rotating in this very department, terrified of screwing up in front of the mighty Dr. Robinavitch. Then Dr. Robinavitch slowly became Dr. Robby to you… and eventually he was just Michael when you were moaning his name under the weight of his body in his bed.
What you and Robby once had was simple, and you both liked it that way. It was the comfort of each other’s company after a brutal shift when neither of you wanted to be alone. No strings, no labels, no complications of being a real couple. No whispered rumors in the hospital about Robby seeing a med student outside of work. No pressure on Robby’s well-known inability to commit to anything more than passionate sex at night and coffee in the morning.
But simple things didn’t always stay simple, especially not when two adults knew exactly how risky it was to keep skipping protection, and neither of you ever felt much enthusiasm about pulling out. “Fuck, this is the last time, Michael,” you’d said more than once, breathless and frustrated. “Why are you nagging me?” he’d reply with a half-smirk, still catching his breath. “I had every intention of pulling out before you wrapped your legs around me like that.”
And that’s exactly how, six months after the first night you slept in Robby’s bed, you found yourself staring at the most terrifying sight you’d ever witnessed in your life: two pink lines on a plastic stick.
The conversation that followed was painfully awkward. You told Robby you were pregnant, and Robby, being who he was, decided it was time to put on his big boy pants and play his cards right. Life had handed him something he never thought he’d get, a baby, a real chance at a family. So he did what any traditional man would do in his position: he settled with you.
You’d moved into his house, and Robby and you had settled into a routine, not as two people who casually slept together on lonely nights, but as partners, and soon-to-be parents.
Robby took you to every single appointment. He insisted on every test to ensure his child’s safety, blended you the best prenatal smoothies, disgusting carrot-and-spinach concoctions that made you gag but that he swore were just what you needed, and even pushed hard for you to take early maternity leave. But of course, you refused, determined to finish your last year of med school before the baby arrived.
The day your daughter was born was the happiest day of Robby’s life. Even now, it still brought him to tears whenever he thought about it, the moment his entire life changed forever, the day he met his greatest love, his reason to keep going, to keep living, to try harder every single day.
But even as Robby put in his best effort to be a boyfriend, it didn’t take long for the fantasy to crumble. It wasn’t all sunrays and paradise, and after endless long shifts in the ED, endless diapers, and all-night cries that never seemed to stop, you were both running on fumes. It became painfully clear, day after day, that the only reason Robby had decided to settle down with you was because he’d gotten you pregnant.
You could see how unhappy he was. He barely spoke a word to you when he got home from work. He’d just sit on the couch with distant, lost eyes staring at the wall like he was the most miserable person alive. The only times he laughed or smiled were in the presence of his daughter. You couldn’t help but feel crushing guilt for trapping him in a relationship he never truly wanted. Robby had longed for a family and for company, but once he had it, he didn’t know what to do with it.
That’s why, after five months of fights and desperate trying, you decided it was time to do the most noble thing you could: let him go. Set him free instead of keeping him trapped beside you in a pretend marriage he’d only started because he was too considerate to let you raise his daughter alone.
Hannah Robinavitch had never once envied her friends whose parents were still married. She never got sad or asked why the three of you couldn’t just be a normal family. Because she already knew you were one, a little different from the others, maybe, but still a family nonetheless. And having separate parents actually had its perks. It meant two houses, twice as many birthday presents, and two different vacation destinations every single year.
Sunlight slanted through the tall maple trees lining the backyard fence, painting patterns across the grass. Your yard was huge, the short green grass always perfectly maintained, and the swimming pool sparkled with crystal-clear water that seemed to catch every ray of light. It was the kind of house you could never have afforded on a resident’s salary in a million years. But Robby had made sure you and Hannah had it anyway the moment the two of you decided to part ways and break up. He’d never blinked at the money when it came to his daughter. If giving her (and you) the nicest possible place to live during your half of the week with her, in a safe, beautiful neighborhood full of every comfort meant making his baby girl happy, then he would do it without hesitation.
Because fuck, Robby was such a good father. The kind who puts his little girl first and everything else second. He finally had a real reason to take days off work and actually go on vacations. He finally had something to look forward to, a future worth living for: taking care of his daughter, watching her grow up, teaching her things, just being needed by this helpless little angel who still demanded he check under the bed for monsters every single night.
You’d read once that when it came to having children, women should look for a man who would make a good father, not necessarily a good husband. Because love could run out. People broke up. They got divorced. But a child was a lifelong commitment. And you’d won the lottery with Michael, even if sometimes you still wished he could have been as good a partner as he was a father.
The enormous capybara-themed bouncy castle Hannah insisted on dominated the grass as screams of delight and the rhythmic thump-thump of small feet echoed from inside it. All her kindergarten friends chased each other in circles as their parents clustered near the patio tables, drinking iced tea and making polite small talk about preschool and summer camps.
You were on snack duty, refilling the chip bowls, and right on cue, the side gate swung open. Robby stepped through, wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt rolled to the elbows, the sleeves catching on the muscles of his forearms, revealing Hannah’s name tattooed on his wrist.
He was carrying a large gift box wrapped in shiny silver paper with a bright red ribbon tied around it. The second Hannah’d spotted him, the entire backyard might as well have disappeared.
“Daddy!” She launched herself down the slide so fast the inflatable nearly tipped. She was sprinting with her bare feet on the grass before she even landed properly.
Robby dropped to one knee just in time to catch her as she collided into his chest like a missile. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her clean off the ground for a second, even though she was getting too big for it. She squealed and buried her face in his neck.
“You came! You came!”
“Wouldn’t miss it, babygirl.” He set her down but kept one hand on her shoulder. “Happy birthday.”
She was s already eyeing the box. “Is that for me?”
“Depends.” He raised an eyebrow. “You been good?”
“Super duper good! Ask Mommy! I only ate two cupcakes and I shared my shovel in the sandbox with the other kids!”
You caught his eye over her head, and Robby gave you the tiniest smirk, yeah, he knew “two cupcakes” was probably an undercount.
“Guess it’s yours then.” Robby set the box on the grass, and Hannah attacked the paper. A brand-new bike glints in the sunlight, purple with whitewall tires, training wheels already attached, and even a little bell shaped like a flower.
Hannah froze for half a second, then let out a shriek that made half the parents jump. “A BIKE! Daddy, a BIKE!”
She flung herself at him again, hugging him so hard he had to brace himself. He laughed again, softer this time, and rubbed a hand over her back. “Figured it was time for you to have some riding lessons.”
“I can ride it now? Right now?”
He glanced at you for a quick check-in, the way he always does when big decisions happen, and you nod once.
“Yeah, angel,” you said, walking over. “But helmet stays on, and daddy’ll hold your seat until you’re steady.”
Hannah was already trying to climb on, so Robby steadied the bike with one hand, using the other to guide her foot to the pedal. She wobbled the second her weight hit the seat, but she was grinning so wide it looked almost painful.
Robby shot you another look and then crouched beside Hannah again. “Ready?”
She nodded furiously, and Robby started walking her forward, keeping one hand on the seat, the other hovering near her shoulder to steady her in case she fell. She pedaled hard, poking her tongue out in concentration. The bike lurched, straightened, and lurched again. Robby kept pace easily as you watched from the patio steps. The man who once told you, half-asleep after a fifteen-hour shift, that he wasn’t sure he knew how to be anyone’s dad, was now the same man who walked backward in front of a wobbling five-year-old, talking her through every turn.
“Push harder with your right foot… there you go. Look where you want to go, not at the ground. Yeah, just like that.”
Hannah laughed when the bike finally held a straight line for more than three seconds, and Robby let go of the seat, just for a heartbeat, and then grabbed it again when she tipped.
“I did it! I almost did it!”
“You’re doing it,” he corrected her, encouraging like he’d read in so many parenting books. “Keep going.”
They made a loop around the bouncy castle. Parents pulled out phones to snap pictures of her, and someone even started clapping, making Hannah beam like she was crossing a finish line. You felt eyes on you, Robby’s, briefly. He didn’t say anything, but the look told enough: we made this kid. Look at her.
After another lap, he slowed her to a stop near the bouncy castle. She was flushed and sweaty, but utterly triumphant. “Can we take the training wheels off?” she asked immediately.
Robby exhaled a laugh. “Tomorrow, maybe. Today we celebrate the fact you didn’t eat pavement.”
He ruffled her hair, then stood, brushing grass off his jeans. Robby walked over to you, watching Hannah show off her new ride to anyone who’ll listen.
“You good?” He asked you. “You’ve been running this circus solo all afternoon.”
“I’m fine. Exhausted, but fine.” You paused, then added softly, “She’s having the best day. Because you’re here.”
He looked at you then, and something about his eyes reminded you of the way he used to look at you when you were falling asleep on his couch with a newborn between you. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
Hannah zoomed past again, ringing the little flower bell. “Five,” he muttered, almost to himself. “How the hell did that happen?”
You didn’t have an answer, you just stood there beside him, your shoulder almost brushing his, watching your daughter ride circles around the backyard.
Two hours later, you were cutting slices out of the chocolate cake while Robby stood right next to you, handing them out to the sugar-desperate kids swarming the table.
You passed another slice to Robby. He took it from your hands, brushing his fingers against yours for a brief second.
“You know, I didn’t see Vet Guy over here,” he said, pulling on a dramatically disappointed face. “Bummer. I was really hoping to finally meet the guy.” You decided to ignore the sarcastic, obviously ill-intended comment. Robby, never one to let silence win, kept going. “I suppose he was busy. Did he have a labradoodle to give a haircut?” He let out a loud, self-satisfied chuckle that rumbled into a deep “Ha!”
“That’s a pet esthetician, you know?” You mumbled, aggressively slicing the knife through the cake. “Vets don’t do haircuts.”
“Oh, you’re right,” he mock-apologized, not even pretending to drop the subject, not when he had weeks’ worth of jokes lined up. “Then I guess he had some high-risk procedure. Open-heart surgery on a hamster, maybe?”
“You’re hilarious, Michael,” you said with your biggest deadpan face. “How long did it take you to come up with that one?”
“Oh, I have plenty more where that came from,” he replied, grinning. “Do you even call him Doctor? I mean, vets aren’t even real doctors.”
“Of course they are!” you shot back with sudden, exaggerated respect for the veterinary profession, purely to piss him off.
Vet guy was nice. You’d met him at the hospital after he came in with a nasty dog bite on his leg. You’d tended to the wound while he respectfully flirted with you, not too hard, not desperate or aggressive, but just enough to make you feel seen. He asked genuine questions about you, shared funny stories from his own job, and somehow managed to pull real smiles out of you even after a brutal shift.
When he asked for your number, intending to take you to what he swore was the best Thai restaurant in Pittsburgh, you’d hesitated. You didn’t need more distractions from residency and motherhood. But Dana had insisted you accept. She said you needed to spend time with adults outside the hospital, to do something just for yourself, and to let yourself be treated nicely for one night. Secretly, you knew she was cracking up at the way Robby’s jealousy flared every time Vet guy flirted with you, the way he clenched his jaw, cleared his throat, and rolled his eyes like a petulant child.
You’d gone out with him a couple of times. It was fun. He was a gentleman, smart, funny, handsome, the type of man most women would be thrilled to stumble upon. But then your stupid, stupid brain did that awful thing it always did whenever you started seeing someone new: it compared him to Robby. Robby would’ve ordered that. Robby would’ve said that. Robby would’ve done that. As if your brain had never gotten the memo that you and Robby had broken up. That it hadn’t worked. That you were supposed to be looking for a guy who wasn’t like him at all.
“Oh, please. WE are doctors. They’re frauds.” Robby scoffed. “What’s that guy’s biggest life achievement? Getting vomited on by a dog?”
“You’ve clearly thought a lot about a guy I’ve only gone out with like two times,” you offered him your fakest smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the one dating him, not me.”
Robby’s expression, which up until that moment had been mocking and sleazy, changed completely. His smile flattened into a thin, straight line, and his eyes turned serious. “Funny,” he mumbled as he handed another slice of cake to a waiting kid.
“And to answer your question, no, I wasn’t gonna bring some random guy I had dinner with a couple of times to my daughter’s birthday. You know me better than that.”
He didn’t say anything else. Robby knew you were right, you weren’t the type of person who introduced someone new into Hannah’s life unless it was truly serious. But behind all the mockery and cheap jokes, there was something dangerously close to jealousy. The thought of you deciding another man was better than him, more worthy of your time and interest, the idea of Hannah ever having a stepdad, of him no longer being the only male figure in both your lives… it infuriated him.
Was he an asshole for wanting to keep you all to himself when he had no right to demand to be the only man in your life? Maybe. Was he stupid to pretend that a gorgeous, smart, and amazing woman like you would stay single forever, living on the memory of what you two once were, waiting for him to finally grow a pair of balls and give you what you deserved? The same thing he’d had every chance to give you years ago, but had been too scared to reach for, letting it slip away Definitely.
As the party came to an end, kids hugged, and parents collected backpacks and stray shoes, mumbling thank yous to you and Robby.
You stood by the gate, waving and promising playdates. Robby was on Hannah duty now, helping her say goodbye to each friend, crouching so he was eye-level, reminding her to say “thank you for coming.”
Most of the crowd thinned out quickly, a few stragglers lingered, one of them was Ethan, father of Mia, one of Hanna’s closest friends from the four-year-old room. Divorced last year, or so the gossip went. Nice enough guy. Tall, with an easy smile. He was hanging back near the patio table, helping stack chairs while his daughter ran one last lap around the bouncy castle.
You walked over to grab the last of the empty cups. “Great party,” he said, straightening up. “Hanna’s in heaven. That bike was a killer gift.”
“Thanks. Robby picked it out.” You smiled, tossing cups into the trash bag. “She’s been begging for one since she saw the big kids riding at the park.”
Ethan nodded, lingering his eyes on your face for a second. “Smart move.” He paused, then added, softer, “You pulled this off like a pro. Solo hosting a kindergarten party? Respect.”
You laughed lightly. “Not entirely solo. Robby’s been here all afternoon.”
“Yeah, I saw.” His tone was casual, but there was a flicker of curiosity there, maybe appraisal. “You two seem… good. Co-parenting goals and all that.”
“We manage,” you said neutrally.
He stepped a little closer, dropping his voice like he was sharing a secret. “Listen, if you ever want a break from… all of this. I just… figured it might be nice to talk to someone who gets the single-parent thing.” He smiled warmly. “Mia talks about Hannah nonstop. Be good for them to have more playdates. And for us to… catch up. Maybe you could give me some tips for this whole co-parenting lifestyle.”
It wasn’t subtle at all. The way he held eye contact a beat too long, the slight lean, the casual brush of his hand against yours when he handed you a stray napkin. You felt heat creepong up your neck. It wasn’t interest, exactly, just the awkward awareness of being seen that way.
You opened your mouth to deflect politely. But before you could, behind you, a voice cut in.
“Ethan, right?” Robby was there suddenly, casual as anything, holding Hannah’s new helmet in one hand. “Mia’s dad.”
Ethan straightened, his smile faltering only a fraction like he’d been caught red-handed. “Yeah. Hey, man. Good to see you.”
Robby nodded once. “You too.” He flicked his gaze to you, then back to Ethan. “We’re starting to clean up over here. You need help finding her shoes? Think they’re by the slide.”
Ethan blinked, then laughed it off. “Nah, we’re good. Just saying goodbye.” He looked at you again. “Think about what I said, okay? No rush.” He waved, called for Mia, and headed toward the gate.
You exhaled slowly, but Robby didn’t move. He was quiet for a long minute, then: “Sooo. Ethan.”
You snorted as you started gathering stray plates from the patio table. “Yeah?”
Robby followed, picking up cups without being asked. “Seemed chatty.”
“He’s friendly.”
“Very friendly.” Robby stacked the cups. “Animated, even.”
You glanced at him. His face was neutral, almost too neutral, a sign of how secretly annoyed he was. “Robby.”
“What?” Innocent. It sounded too innocent.
“You’re being nosy. First with vet guy, and now again.”
“I’m making conversation.” He set the stack down. “Guy was all secretive talking in your ear. What’d he want?”
You laughed despite yourself. “None of your business.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”
“Not bad. Just… standard divorced-dad. He wanted to organize some playdates. The usual.”
Robby nodded slowly, like he was filing that away. “Huh.”
You waited, but he didn't elaborate. Instead, he picked up a stray balloon string, winding it around his fingers. “Guy’s got some nerve. Hitting on you in the middle of our kid’s birthday party.”
Our kid. He didn’t say it possessively, just as a fact. You turned to face him fully. “Jealous, Robinavitch?”
He met your eyes without flinching. “Curious,” he corrected. “Big difference.”
“Sure.”
He didn’t deny it. “Anyway,” he said, his voice back to normal without the edge of jealousy in it. “I’ll help deflate that monstrosity in the yard before it blows away. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”
After Robby had helped the bouncy castle guys, he hauled the last of the folding chairs back to the garage and carried out three trash bags without being asked. He stepped back into the kitchen through the sliding door. “Hannah's out cold,” he said, keeping his voice low so he didn’t wake her. “Tried to get her to brush her teeth, but she rolled over and kept sleeping.”
You laughed under your breath. “She’ll be up at six tomorrow demanding to ride the bike again.”
“Good luck trying to talk her out of it.” You felt the weight of his gaze as he pushed off the counter. “Anyway, I should head out. Early shift tomorrow.”
You turned the faucet off, drying your hands on a dish towel. “Thanks for everything today. Seriously. She had a great time thanks to you.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Thanks to both of us. We’re a good team.”
You walked him toward the front door. At the door, he stopped, with one hand on the knob as he turned back to you. For a second, he just looked, not at your face, but at all of you.
His eyes started at your bare shoulders where the thin straps of your sundress sat, tracing the line of your collarbone, then they dropped deliberately down the front of the dress. You felt suddenly aware of every inch it covered, and of every inch it didn’t. Robby lingered his gaze on your waist, the flare of your hips, and the hem brushing just above your knees. Then lower, to your legs, and back up again, slower this time, until he met your eyes.
There was heat in the way he looked at you, nothing subtle about the way his eyes roamed your body. It was the look of a man who was remembering exactly what you feel like under his hands, what you tasted like, what sounds you used to make when he was inside you. The kind of look that said he wanted to back you against the nearest wall, hike that dress up around your waist, and fuck you until the only thing either of you could hear was your own breathing and the wet sound of skin against skin.
He didn’t say anything, there was no need for words. Your mouth went dry as the heat coiled in your lower belly, the same way it had many nights before. Five years since you stopped sleeping together. Five years of boundaries, separate beds, separate lives. And still one look was enough to make your body remember.
He exhaled through his nose, almost an incredulous laugh, “Happy birthday to her,” he said quietly, nodding toward the living room. “We made something good.”
“Yeah,” you managed to say, your voice coming out softer than you meant it to. “We did.”
The weeks slid by in the same rhythm you’d grown accustomed to: long shifts at the hospital, trying to be a present mom whenever you weren’t buried in charts, and the handoffs with Robby at your house.
It was a Saturday afternoon, the day of Hannah’s ballet recital. You arrived a little early because she had been buzzing about it for weeks, her first real performance after long months of practice. Plus, you appreciated every rare opportunity life gave you to wear something that wasn’t scrubs. You’d gotten your hair done, put on soft makeup, slipped into a nice dress and high heels, and for once you felt like a whole different person. Someone confident. Someone who could take on the world.
You loved Hannah. You loved being a mom. But sometimes you missed the person you used to be before all of this. You missed being seen as more than just “Mom.” You missed conversations with adults that didn’t revolve around kindergarten, tantrums, or pediatric appointments. You were still young, and even though you’d always been mature for your age, you’d had to grow up fast the moment you became a mother. You had never imagined yourself with a child before you even became a doctor. You certainly hadn’t pictured managing residency at the same time you were raising a tiny human being.
But even if life hadn’t turned out the way you’d once planned, you didn’t regret any of the decisions that had brought you here in this auditorium, about to watch your daughter’s ballet recital.
You spotted Robby near the front row, saving seats for the two of you. When he saw you, he stood, waving you over with a half-smile. “Hey,” he said as you slid into the seat beside him. “She’s backstage, losing her mind. Kept asking if both of us were coming.”
You laughed softly, settling your purse on the floor. “Wouldn’t miss it. Was she nervous?”
“Not one bit. She made me practice clapping in the car.” He glanced at you, his eyes lingering a second longer than necessary. “You look nice.”
You couldn’t avoid feeling the heat creeping up your neck, but you brushed it off. “Thanks. You cleaned up nice, too.”
Before he could reply, the lights dimmed, and the ballet instructor, a woman in her sixties, welcomed everyone, and then the curtain slowly parted.
There she was. Hannah stood front and center in her pink leotard and tutu, her hair,the same brown shade as Robby’s, pulled into a slightly lopsided bun secured with a sparkly clip. She immediately scanned the audience, spotted the two of you sitting side by side, and her whole face lit up like sunrise. Forgetting every rule about staying still, she waved at you both with both hands.
The routine was equal parts adorable and chaotic, little arms waving with enthusiasm, a few spins that turned into giggles, and tiny dancers bumping into one another. But when it came time for her part in the middle, Hannah nailed it, twirling with maximum concentration, poking out her tongue slightly the way it always did when she was trying her hardest.
You were grinning so hard your cheeks ached as you recorded the whole thing on your phone, careful not to miss a single moment. Beside you, Robby was doing the same, leaning forward in his seat like he was afraid to miss even one second of his little girl shining under the stage lights.
When it ended, the room erupted in applause. You and Robby were on your feet first, clapping loud enough to drown out half the parents. Hannah beamed, blowing kisses at the audience, then bolting offstage the second she was allowed.
Backstage, Hannah launched herself at you both at once, her arms around your legs and Robby’s in a group hug.
“Did you see me twirl, Mommy? Daddy, did you see?”
“We saw everything,” Robby said, scooping her up in his arms. “You were the best one up there, angel. Hands down.”
“You were perfect,” you whispered, leaning to place a big and loud kiss into her hair. “So proud of you, baby.”
Hannah tugged at your hand. “Can we get ice cream? To celebrate?”
Robby raised an eyebrow at you as if awaiting to see what your answer would be, and silently hoping it’d be a yes.
You smiled. “Ice cream sounds perfect.”
He set Hannah down on the floor, then crouched so she could climb onto his back. She wrapped her little arms and legs around him tightly, her favorite perch. With a soft grunt and an easy smile, Robby straightened up, carrying her like she weighed nothing.
The three of you headed for the exit together. You walked beside Robby, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his every few steps, but neither of you pulled away. There was something about the way the three of you looked, almost like a picture-perfect family to anyone glancing from the outside. It made your mind loosen the reins on old fantasies: how different life would have been if the three of you had managed to make it work. If being together had been a choice made out of love instead of obligation, the only option he felt he had at the time.
God, how much you still wished things had worked with Robby. What wouldn’t you give to see him truly happy to be with you, instead of miserable the way he looked every time the two of you came home from a long shift.
The ice cream shop had a neon sign flickering “OPEN” in red letters, sticky vinyl booths, and the widest variety of ice cream flavors you’d ever seen. Hannah insisted on extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce on her cone. She was perched between you and Robby on the bench seat, swinging her legs and recounting her ballet routine for the third time.
“I did the spin and everyone clapped SO loud! Did you hear it, Daddy?”
“Loudest ovation in the room,” Robby said, wiping a streak of chocolate from her cheek with his thumb. “You owned that stage, babygirl.”
You watched them as you ate your strawberry ice cream cone drizzled with hot fudge. It was uncanny how much Hannah looked like Robby, like he had been cloned into a tiny, feminine version of himself. The same soft brown hair, the same big, puppy-brown eyes that were easily the warmest you’d ever seen in your life. Eyes you could never say no to, because one single look from them melted your heart every time.
She was already slowing down, the adrenaline from the recital and the sugar rush from the ice cream finally catching up with her. Her head rested heavily against Robby’s shoulder as she munched the last bites of her ice-cream, her little eyelids starting to flutter.
The walk home was only ten minutes, but Hannah's steps turned sluggish halfway there. Robby scooped her up without a word, and she curled against his shoulder as she’d always belonged there, tucking her head under his chin as she fisted her little hand on his shirt.
At your front door, Hannah was completely out, her rosy cheek smooshed against Robby’s collarbone, with her mouth slightly open. You unlocked the door quietly and stepped inside.
Robby carried her upstairs like she weighed nothing. You followed, watching the careful way he lowered her to the bed, tugged off her ballet slippers and pink tutu, and pulled the covers up.
Downstairs again, you were suddenly aware of how quiet the house was without her chatter filling it. He stopped a few feet away. “She’s wiped..”
“Yeah.” You smiled. “She had a big day today.”
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “And you… in that dress. You’re punishing me. You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Robby.”
He didn’t back off. Just looked at you in the same way he did the night of the birthday party. Tracing his eyes over the neckline of the dress, the way it hugs your waist, the bare skin of your breasts.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you said, but your voice came out quieter than you intended. As if part of you didn’t really want him to stop. You longed for the validation, for knowing you were still the woman who drove him insane, the one who made him feel things no one else could, his soft spot, his weakness.
And for Robby, you still were. Until this day, you were the only one who could bring out the most vulnerable side of him. It wasn’t just the physical part, though God, your body drove him insane. He could still feel the ghost of your skin against his every night when he closed his eyes. It wasn’t the sex either, though in fifty-four years of life he’d never found anyone who felt quite like you did, anyone who made him feel so many things, who woke up the most primitive, most virile part of him.
It was simply you. Your strength when you carried a pregnancy and still worked your ass off for your career. Your quick mind and the way you could deliver a witty comeback that put him in his place when he deserved it. Your competence, something he found extremely attractive, both at work and as a mom. And watching you raise his daughter with a patience and love only you could give, loving her so fiercely with every bone in your body… it made him feel things he’d never felt before.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to eat me alive.”
He huffed a half-laugh as he stepped closer. “Can’t blame a guy for looking.”
You swallowed, using all the self-restraint you had in your body to stop yourself from jumping into his arms. “Every time we’re close like this, I have to remind myself why this is a bad idea.”
He tilted his head. He knew you too well, he could see how much you were trying to be strong and how much you wanted it too. “And why’s that, exactly?”
“Because we tried. We crashed. We hurt each other. We’ve got a kid now, it’s not just us we gotta think of, but her. And we’ve got a good thing going on, we’re good at this.” You gestured between you. “At being her parents. At not screwing it up. Adding… whatever this is… risks that.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then: “Don’t think. Just do what you want.”
You stared at him. “Is that your new motto? ‘Don’t think, just do it?’”
He took another half-step, close enough you could smell the mint from his ice-cream on his breath. “One night,” he said. “Doesn’t have to mean more. Doesn’t have to change anything tomorrow. We used to be so good together. You remember that? Because I do, I remember it every single night.”
Your pulse hammered in your throat, a rhythm that matched the sudden heat blooming in your belly. You remembered it too, every vivid and overwhelming detail.
The kind of chemistry you and Robby had in bed had been like nothing you’d ever experienced before. The way your bodies responded to each other was like they were made for it, instinctive, almost frightening in its intensity. Every single touch felt magnetic and electrifying, sending sparks racing across your skin even from the lightest brush of his fingers. The way he knew exactly how to unravel you, and how you could do the same to him. You had both cried out in pleasure every single time, sounds that echoed in the dark of his bedroom, your bodies slick and trembling, chasing that peak until the world narrowed down to nothing but the two of you.
It was the kind of fire you only find once in a lifetime. But you couldn’t do it.
You couldn’t risk setting that fire loose again and burning down the delicate, carefully manufactured system you had built together. For Hannah’s sake, you needed to keep Robby exactly where he was: your co-parent, your reliable partner in raising your daughter, not your lover anymore. One wrong move, one night of giving in to the pull that still crackled between you, and everything could crumble, the peaceful handoffs, the shared birthdays, the stability Hannah thrived on. You refused to gamble with her sense of security just because your body still remembered how perfectly he once fit against you, how his voice sounded when he fell apart because of you.
“Of course you’re horny. You just want a quick fuck. I should’ve known.”
His expression flickered, showing a little of something that looked like hurt in his eyes. “Come on. It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?”
“Okay, fine. Maybe I do want sex,” Robby admitted, “but come on, don’t pretend you don’t want it too. You remember how much fun we used to have.”
He found your waist, pulling you gently against him. You gasped softly as he slid his palms lower, cupping your ass through the fabric, possessive squeezes that send sparks straight through you. He massaged your flesh deliberately, pressing his thumbs in just the right spots, drawing you closer until you were flush against his chest.
“God, I want you,” he murmured against your ear. “So fucking much. Always have. Always will, probably.”
He dug his fingers a little harder into the curve of your ass, kneading the soft flesh with confidence. You were so close that you could already feel the hard outline of his cock pressing insistently against your lower stomach. He was hard for you, just from being this close, just from a few lingering touches. It took every ounce of willpower you had not to give in, not to reach down and palm him over his pants until he groaned into your mouth the way he used to.
“Keep your hands where I can see them, Robinavitch,” you warned, trying to sound threatening. It came out breathy and weak instead. You couldn’t fool anyone, least of all him. You wanted this, maybe even more than he did.
“You don’t want my hands where you can see them,” he replied with that stupid, cocky tone he always slipped into when he knew he had you right where he wanted you. “You want them in places you can’t see. You haven’t forgotten how good I am with them, have you? Nah… some things these hands did to you are impossible to forget.”
You bit your lip hard to stop yourself from smiling. Cocky motherfucker.
Finally, with the last scrap of self-control you could muster, you pushed him away. “You had your fun. Time for you to leave.”
“I was barely starting to have fun,” he said with a wicked smile as he took a step back, rubbing one hand over his face. “You, cruel, cruel woman.”
“You’ll live,” you muttered. “Go chase some nurses. They love you. Well… the ones who don’t actually work with you do.”
“You hurt me,” he exclaimed dramatically, pressing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “I don’t have any nurse to chase. And even if I did, nobody could compare to us. You know that.”
“You broke things off with the last one?” you asked in mock surprise, playing dumb. “What was her name? Nora? N… Natalie?”
You knew Robby had had his fair share of affairs throughout the years, nothing too serious, nothing that ever deserved a real conversation, and definitely nothing meaningful enough to introduce to Hannah. Still, it stung. You couldn’t exactly throw it in his face, you’d gone out with people too. But you wished the asshole would keep his flings away from the hospital, away from the place where you had to watch him flash those stupid little smiles and do his little shoe-lace trick for whatever nurse had caught his eye this month. The same way he’d once done it for you.
“I won’t answer to those accusations against me,” he said, shaking his head with a low chuckle. Robby stepped closer again and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Have a good night. I’ll see myself out.”
You couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips as you watched him walk toward the door and finally leave the house. Five years later, and your body still caught fire whenever his hands were on you. Five years later, and you still loved your silly arguments and the way he could make you laugh even when you were pretending to be mad at him. Five years later… and you were still deeply enamored with Michael Robinavitch.
The clock on your nightstand glowed 2:17 a.m. when the first cry cut through the dark.
It wasn’t not the usual sleepy whimper or the “I had a bad dream” whine. It was a sharp sound, followed immediately by the unmistakable sound of vomit hitting the floor.
You were out of bed before your brain fully registered it, rushing down the hall. Hannah’s room light was already on, and she was sitting up in bed, with the bedsheets twisted around her legs, her face shiny with sweat, and her eyes glassy because of the tears. There was a small puddle of bile on the rug beside her, and another streak down the front of her pajama top.
“Mommy—”
“I’m here, baby.” You dropped to your knees beside the bed, lifting your hand to her forehead. She was burning, her skin hot enough to make your palm sting. “Oh, sweetheart.”
She leaned heavily into you, her body trembling as another wave hit her. This time it was dry heaves because there was nothing left in her stomach to bring up. You lunged for the small trash can under her desk just in time, holding it steady beneath her chin while your other hand gathered her soft brown hair back from her face. With gentleness, you rubbed slow, soothing circles on her back, murmuring the same comforting nonsense you always did in moments like this.
Your voice stayed calm and steady for her sake, but inside, your mind had flipped into full doctor mode, racing through the mental checklist at lightning speed. Fever. Persistent vomiting. She had been fine at bedtime, tired from her long ballet practice, a little sniffly maybe, but nothing that had raised any red flags.
“Mommy… tummy aches,” Hannah mumbled weakly.
Your heart clenched so hard it hurt. You scooped her up immediately, blanket and all, and carried her to the bathroom. You ran a washcloth under cold water, wrung it out, and pressed it gently to the back of her neck, hoping the chill would bring some relief. Then you offered her a small sip of water from the cup on the sink. She took it obediently, but almost instantly spat it back out, coughing and whimpering.
Reaching out for the thermometer from the medicine cabinet, you grabbed it and slipped it under her tongue, holding her close while you waited for the beep. 103.8. You managed to get a dose of Tylenol into her, but she could barely keep it down, her whole body shuddered as she fought the nausea, and her teeth chattered from the fever chills as she curled into you even tighter, shaking hard.
Helpless, that’s how you felt, completely helpless. And as a mother, feeling helpless was the worst torture imaginable. You were a doctor, and yet here in your own house, with your own child, there was only so much you could do. The cold washcloths weren’t bringing her temperature down fast enough. The medicine wasn’t staying in her long enough to work. Nothing seemed to help.
You couldn’t stand seeing your baby like this: so pale, so tired, her usual bright energy drained away, her little body trembling in your arms.. In this moment, more than anything, you wished Robby were here. Robby would know exactly what to do. He always did. He’d take one look at her, assess the situation and figure out what was wrong with Hannah right away. He’d fix it the same way he fixed dozens of people every single day in the pitt.
You sat on the edge of the tub with her in your lap, rocking her slowly, trying to keep her calm while you dialed Robby.
He picked up on the second ring. His voice was rough with sleep, but instantly alert when he realized you wouldn’t be calling this late at night if there wasn’t something really urgent going on. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Hannah’s sick. Fever’s 103.8, she’s been vomiting for the last twenty minutes. Won’t keep anything down. She’s shaking.”
There was the rustle of sheets and the immediate creak of a bedframe on Robby’s end. He was already moving, even half-asleep. You could practically see him sitting up in the dark.
“Okay,” his voice came through the phone. “Did you give her Tylenol?”
“Yes.”
“Motrin too? You should alternate if the fever’s that high.”
“I only have children’s Tylenol here,” you answered. “Motrin’s at your place.”
There was a brief pause, then a quiet “Okay… okay. Alright.” You heard him exhale slowly, the sound of fabric shifting as he moved. “Cool clothes? Cold washcloth on her neck or forehead?”
“I’m trying the cloth right now, but I’m not seeing any changes. The fever won’t come down at all.”
“Are you hydrating her? Give her small sips of water, tiny amounts so she doesn’t throw it right back up.”
“I am,” you said, glancing at the half-empty cup on the bathroom counter. “She’s spitting most of it back up. She can’t keep anything down.”
Another pause stretched between you. Even for a man who could keep ice-cold composure during the most chaotic live-or-die codes in the ED, something in Robby’s voice betrayed how uneasy he really was. You heard the rustle of clothes being pulled on quickly, then the unmistakable jingle of keys.
“So, fever’s still not budging?” he asked.
“Not yet. She’s miserable, Robby. Keeps saying her tummy hurts, and the dry heaves are getting worse. She’s shaking so hard her teeth are chattering.”
You heard loud, hurried footsteps crossing his floorboards, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing with a firm sound.
“Take her to the ER. Now.” There was no hesitation left in his words. “I’ll meet you there.”
Your stomach dropped. “You think it’s that bad?”
“I think 103.8 in a five-year-old who can’t keep meds or fluids down is worth getting checked. Could be viral, could be something else. Better be safe.”
You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “Okay. I’ll get her dressed. We’re leaving in five.”
“I’m already in the car. Text me when you’re on the road.”
He hung up, and you moved fast, changing Hannah into fresh pajamas, wiping her face, and wrapping her in the softest blanket she owned. She was listless now, her soft head lolling against your shoulder as small whimpers left her lips every time the nausea rolled through her again. You grabbed her insurance card, your wallet, a spare change of clothes for her, and the little stuffed unicorn she’d been sleeping with every night.
You placed Hannah in her car seat, with her blanket tucked around her. You buckled her in carefully, kissing her hot forehead. “We’re going to see the doctors, okay? Daddy’s meeting us there. You’re gonna feel better soon.”
She just nodded with her eyes half-closed. The drive to the hospital was only fifteen minutes at this hour through the dark and empty streets. You kept one hand on the wheel, and the other reaching back to hold hers. She was quiet except for the occasional gags into the bowl you’d wedged beside her seat.
You pulled into the ambulance bay lot, killed the engine and unbuckled Hannah. She was burning up, her usually light body now felt heavy and limp because of the fever. You wrapped the blanket tighter around her and lifted her carefully into your arms as you hurried toward the sliding glass doors.
They whooshed open, and Lena, the night-shift charge nurse, looked up from the desk. Her face immediately softened with concern the moment she recognized you.
“Hey… oh, honey.” Her voice dropped gently. “Is that Hannah?”
“Fever hit 103.8 at home,” you rattled off, shifting your daughter’s weight higher on your hip, trying to keep your voice steady, as if you were presenting a case, not describing your daughter’s symptoms. “Persistent vomiting, abdominal pain. I gave her Tylenol twenty minutes ago, but no improvement at all.”
Lena nodded briskly, already waving you over. “Bay six. We’ll get vitals right away.”
“Who’s on tonight?” you asked, walking fast down the familiar hallway. “Shen?”
“Dr. Abbot. I’ll send him your way as soon as he’s free.”
“Oh, thank God,” you exhaled, the relief hitting you so hard it made your shoulders sag for a moment. If there was anyone in this entire hospital you’d trust with Hannah besides Robby, it was Jack, Hannah’s godfather. You still remembered the day Robby had asked him to be his daughter’s godfather. The way Jack’s eyes had filled with tears, the two men pulling each other into a tight hug like brothers, like two men who were the only ones who truly understood the weight of this life, the long shifts, the losses, and the rare moments of hope like that one. Abbot had promised right then that he’d always have her back, no matter what.
You were halfway down the hall when Robby rounded the corner. The second his eyes landed on Hannah in your arms, his entire expression shifted to fatherly fear.
“Hey, angel,” he said softly, stepping close. He brushed a gentle hand over her back. “Mom said you’re not feeling good, huh?”
Hannah managed a weak, cracked little “Daddy…” before turning her face back into your neck, hiding from the bright lights and the unfamiliar sounds.
Robby flicked his gaze up to yours, doing that assessing scan he always did, checking not just Hannah, but how you were holding up. “You okay?”
“Fine,” you whispered, though your voice trembled as the tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Just… scared. I hate seeing her like this. She’s never been this sick.”
He nodded once. “I’ve got her.”
You handed her over without hesitation. Hannah clung to him immediately, wrapping her small arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder like he was her safe place. Robby carried her the rest of the way into the bay. He laid her down gently on the hospital bed, keeping one hand resting protectively on her stomach while the other smoothed damp strands of hair off her forehead with tenderness.
One of the night-shift nurses stepped in right away and rechecked her temperature. “It’s up to 104.1 now.” Her oxygen saturation was still holding steady, but she was clearly dehydrated, her lips cracked and dry, her eyes a little sunken, her usually rosy cheeks pale.
A couple of seconds later, Abbot strode into the bay, sweeping his eyes over the scene: little Hannah lying on the bed, Robby standing guard on one side, you on the other.
“Hey,” Abbot said, pulling Robby into a quick, one-armed brotherly hug, clapping his back once, and giving you a nod. “Heard our girl was here. Sorry, I was tied up with a gunshot wound, perforated lung. It’s chaos tonight.”
“She’s been throwing up everything, couldn’t even keep the Tylenol down,” Robby reported, giving the facts the way two attendings would, except this time his voice carried an edge of helplessness he rarely showed. He wasn’t the doctor tonight. He was the father. “Fever’s up to 104.1. We should get an IV going, more Tylenol, Zofr—”
“I’ve got this,” Abbot interrupted gently but firmly, keeping his tone calm and reassuring as he stepped closer to the bed. He looked down at Hannah with the softest smile, dropping his voice into that sweet, playful tone he saved only for kids. “Hey, Hannah Banana… we’re gonna get you feeling brand new before you even realize, okay?” He offered her a warm smile and the gentlest pinch on her cheek.
“Uncle Jack…” she mumbled, her voice cracking pitifully as another wave of nausea rolled through her.
The nurse started the IV in her tiny hand. Hannah cried out at the poke, a heartbreaking whimper that twisted something deep in your chest. Robby was right there, holding her other hand tightly, talking her through it in that calm voice he used with every scared kid who came through these doors. “Just a little pinch, angel. You’re being so brave. Almost done… that’s my good girl. Daddy’s right here.”
You stood on the opposite side of the bed, holding her foot gently in both hands and rubbing soothing circles over her ankle with your thumb, as if your touch alone could somehow absorb her pain and make it yours instead.
“We’ll keep her under observation for a while, wait for the fever to come down,” Abbot told you both. “I’ll come back in fifteen to check on her again, but she’s in the best hands tonight with the two of you right here.”
“Thank you, Jack,” you said quietly with gratitude. He gave your shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze before stepping back.
“Thanks, brother,” Robby added right after you, his hand never leaving Hannah’s hair.
Robby didn’t leave her side for even a second. He didn’t glance at his phone, didn’t step out to grab coffee, didn’t let himself get distracted by anything else. He stayed right there, anchored to the bed, resting one large hand gently on Hannah’s forehead, occasionally stroking her damp hair back from her skin. Every few minutes he’d lean in and murmur soft, ridiculous nonsense to her sleeping body, telling her she was tougher than any superhero, that the doctors here were the absolute best because they all knew her dad, and that meant she was getting the royal treatment, the best care in the house. You watched him from the corner of your eye. Even after everything, this was still who he was when it mattered most: steady, devoted, completely focused on the tiny human you’d made together.
The hours dragged, and eventually, after the second round of meds, Hannah’s fever finally started trending down. It had dropped to 100.7, and for the first time all night, some color began creeping back into her pale cheeks as her chest rose and fell more peacefully under the blanket.
You and Robby were slumped in the two chairs pulled up beside her bed. Robby broke the silence first. “I know what you’re thinking. You did everything right.”
You let out a shaky breath, staring at Hannah’s sleeping face. “Maybe I should’ve brought her sooner. She would’ve gotten better faster.”
He shook his head slowly. “You waited until it was warranted. You’re a doctor. You know the signs.” He reached over without hesitation, covering your hand with his on the shared armrest. His palm was warm and grounding in a way that made your throat tighten. “It’s just viral. She’s gonna be okay.”
Without thinking, you turned your hand over beneath his and laced your fingers through his, holding on tightly. For a moment, you didn’t care what it meant, or what anyone walking past the bay might think if they glanced in and saw the two of you like this, exes, co-parents, sitting together holding hands. The exhaustion of the night had stripped everything down, and right now, all that mattered was that Hannah was improving and Robby was here.
“Thanks for coming,” you whispered, even though you knew the words weren’t really necessary. Robby would drop everything and be anywhere either of you needed him, that had never been in question.
“Always.” He brushed his thumb slowly over your knuckles, a gentle motion. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
By the 6 a.m. check, Hannah’s fever had already dropped to 99.8. The IV fluids had done their job, and she hadn’t vomited anymore, even managed a few sips of apple juice without it coming right back up.
She shifted under the blanket, blinking up at you both. “Mommy? Daddy?”
“Hey, sweetheart,” you whispered, leaning forward to brush her hair back. “How’s your tummy?”
“Better,” she mumbled. “Did uncle Jack cure me?”
“He did.” You smiled, feeling a wave of relief flood through you. “You’re doing great now.”
Robby reached over, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “Morning, angel. You scared us.”
She managed a tiny smile, then winced. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He kissed her temple, lingering there for an extra second. “Just glad you’re feeling better.”
Jack came back a moment later for a quick exam and a review of vitals and labs, thankfully nothing alarming. Viral gastroenteritis, most likely, with a febrile response.
“Thanks for curing me, Uncle Jack,” Hannah said softly with that radiant smile that could melt absolutely anyone in seconds. “You’re the best doctor ever.”
Abbot grinned widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at her. “Well, thank you, Hannah Banana. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”
Robby cleared his throat dramatically from the other side of the bay, crossing his arms. “Second best,” he corrected, raising an eyebrow at his daughter.
“Second best,” Hannah agreed immediately, turning that same sweet, dimpled smile toward Robby now, like she was bestowing him with the highest honor.
“Don’t worry, Hannah,” Jack said, leaning in conspiratorially and lowering his voice as if sharing a great secret. “I won’t tell your dad that you actually think I’m the better doctor.” He glanced sideways at his best friend with a mischievous glint. “A man with a fragile ego like him couldn’t take it.”
Robby let out a low, genuine chuckle, shaking his head. “Is she clear to go back home?” he asked, his tone shifting into something more serious, though the corner of his mouth still twitched. “See? I’m asking for your professional opinion and everything.”
Jack nodded, glancing once more at the monitor readings before looking back at both of you. “I’d say she can go home. Fever’s trending nicely downward, and she’s keeping fluids down now. Just keep checking her temperature regularly to make sure it stays down. If she starts vomiting again or the fever spikes back up, bring her straight back, but you two already know that better than most.”
Robby stood, stretching his back with a low groan. “I should head out,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Shift starts in thirty. Gotta change, grab coffee, pretend I’m human.”
You looked up at him, still holding Hannah’s hand. “You’re going in?”
He shrugged, like it was obvious. “Someone’s gotta run this place. You—” He nodded toward Hannah, then you. “—should take the day. Go home with her. Get some sleep, keep an eye on her. She’s fine now, but she’s still wiped. And you’ve been up all night.”
You opened your mouth to argue, out of pure habit, mostly. The words were already forming on your tongue, something about not wanting to burden the team, about pulling your weight like everyone else. But they died the instant your eyes landed on Hannah.
She was curled up small on her side in the hospital bed, the blanket tucked around her shoulders. You couldn’t stay away from her, not today. The thought of leaving her for twelve long hours, of being stuck in the ED while she was at home, possibly starting to feel worse again without you to notice the fever creeping back up made your stomach drop. You wouldn’t be able to focus. You wouldn’t feel at ease for even a second. Every patient you saw would be overshadowed by the constant fear that Hannah might need you and you wouldn’t be there to catch it, to bring her right back in.
And honestly… part of you simply wanted the day off. You wanted to take her home, wrap her up in her favorite blanket, and spend the whole day curled together on the couch. Just the two of you. A Disney marathon playing in the background while she rested her head on your chest and you stroked her hair.
So instead of arguing, you closed your mouth and let the silence settle. The decision had already been made the moment you looked at her.
“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Okay.”
Robby nodded, satisfied. He leaned down to kiss Hannah’s forehead again. “I’ll come by after shift to see how you’re doing.” He straightened and hesitated for half a second, then reached out and squeezed your shoulder, brushing the side of your neck, just once, before he pulled back. “Text me updates. I’ll turn off silent mode.”
“Will do.”
He lingered for another beat, like he didn’t quite want to leave the room, then turned toward the door. “See you later, angel,” he called softly to Hannah, who was already drifting again.
“Bye, Daddy,” she mumbled, half-asleep.
He gave you one last look, longer than necessary, before slipping out into the hallway. You exhaled slowly, while Robby and Jack handled the last few details with the nurse, you gathered Hannah’s things.
Home sounded like the best idea you’d had in hours. If there was one thing you truly hated about this life, it was how little time work left you to be the kind of mom you desperately wished you could be. Residency had already demanded so much, and motherhood had taken the rest. Every free moment you managed to carve out, you longed to spend it with Hannah. You didn’t want her to grow up one day and feel like you had missed it, like you weren’t there for the special moments. You didn’t want her to remember a childhood where her mom was always rushing, always tired, always halfway out the door.
By the time you pulled into your driveway, Hannah was already dozing in her car seat again. You carried her inside and laid her gently on the couch. The house felt wonderfully quiet after the night chaos of the ED. You changed into new pajamas, made her a nest of pillows and her favorite fuzzy blanket, then crawled in beside her, pulling her body against your chest. She stirred just enough to wrap one arm around your waist and mumble, “Mommy, will you stay today?”
“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Today is just us.”
The rest of the day unfolded slowly. You started with her favorite movie, Encanto, because she never got tired of singing along to every song, no matter if she was just recovering. Hannah curled up with her head in your lap, as you gently played with her hair while she hummed to the songs.
When the movie ended, you made a simple lunch together, something easy on her stomach, a bowl of oatmeal with bananas and strawberries. She only ate half, but she kept it down, earning praises from you. After lunch, you moved on to Moana. She sat cross-legged on the couch, wrapped in her blanket like a burrito, occasionally lifting her head to point at the screen and say, “Look, Mommy, the ocean! Can we go to the beach too?” You laughed softly and pulled her closer, letting her rest her cheek against your shoulder.
Robby’s shift ended late, as usual, and by the time he signed out, he was bone-tired, but the pull to check on Hannah overrode everything else. He texted you: Just got off. Coming by to check on her. You home?
Your reply wasquick: Yeah. She’s asleep. Door’s unlocked.
He let himself in quietly, finding you on the couch where you were curled up with a blanket. “Hey,” you whispered. “She crashed about an hour ago. Fever stayed down all day, no more vomiting.”
Robby exhaled, shrugging out of his jacket and walking over. “Good. That’s good.”
You nodded toward the hallway. “You want to peek in on her?”
He did, already heading to Hannah’s room. She was sprawled on her stomach, with one arm flung out and her stuffed bunny tucked under her chin. Her breathing was deep and even, Robby stood in the doorway for a long minute, just watching her chest rise and fall.
When he came back to the living room, you’d poured two glasses of water and set them on the coffee table. He sank onto the couch beside you, close enough that your knees almost touched, far enough to keep the boundary.
“She looks so much better,” he said quietly. “Color’s back.”
“Yeah.” You tucked your legs under you, pulling the blanket tighter to your body. “I was terrified last night. Thought… I don’t know. Worst-case scenarios kept running through my head.”
He nodded. “Me too. When you called, my heart stopped for a second.”
You took a breath, then another. “You’re a great dad, Robby. You know that, right?”
He glanced at you, surprised by the sudden moment of honesty. “Trying to be.”
“No. You are.” You met his eyes so he could see how much you meant every word that left your lips. “I always knew you would be. Even back when… everything was a mess. When we were still figuring out how to be parents instead of just two people who accidentally made a kid. I saw it in the way you held her the first time. You stepped up. Every single time.”
He looked down at his hands, rubbing his thumb over a callus on his palm, like he didn’t know how to take the compliment.
“We might not have planned her. But Hannah got the best possible dad out of the deal.”
Robby swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement of his throat. His voice came out rough when he finally spoke. “I’ll always be grateful to you for that. For giving me her. For making me a dad when I didn’t even know I could be one. When I didn’t even know if I wanted to be alive.” He exhaled, sounding almost like a laugh without humor. “I look at her sometimes and think… how the hell did I get this lucky? She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s fearless. And half of that’s you. But the other half… I get to be part of it. Every day. Because of you.”
The air between you thickened, it was full of years of shared history, good, bad, messy, beautiful. “I still love you for that,” he said quietly. “Not like… not trying to cross lines. Just… I’ll always have love for you. Because you gave me the best thing in my life. And you trusted me with her. That means more than I could ever express.”
“I know. I feel the same way.” You rolled your head to the side, trying to loosen the knot that’d been building since last night. The motion made your neck crack loudly, and it pulled a wince out of you.
Robby lifted his brow. “You okay?”
“Just the couch napping. My neck’s killing me.”
He didn’t hesitate, standing up right away. “Come here.”
You did hesitate for half a heartbeat, long enough to consider the offer. You were too tired to argue, and you knew how good Robby’s hands were, so you stood up from the couch, then turned so your back was to him. He stepped in behind you, close enough that you felt the warmth of him before his hands even touched you.
He settled his fingers on your shoulders first, pressing his thumbs into the muscles along the tops of your traps, working in slow circles. You couldn’t help dropping your head forward on a soft exhale, closing your eyes as the pressure hit exactly where you needed it.
“God,” you murmured. “You’re still really good at that.”
He huffsed a quiet laugh against your hair. “Muscle memory.”
Robby moved his hands, working down the column of your neck, tracing the tense line on either side of your spine, then out across your shoulders again. You melt into it without meaning to, dropping your shoulders and slowing your breath as the ache unwound thread by thread.
For a minute, it was just that: his hands on your shoulders. Then he slid his palms lower, intentionally, until they settled at your waist. He pulled you back gently, just enough that he had your back pressed against his chest.
He brushed his lips along the side of your neck, teasingly soft at first. Then, firmer in a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear.
Your pulse jumped immediately at the contact of his lips against your skin. “Robby.”
He didn’t stop. Another kiss, lower this time, along the curve where neck meets shoulder. He tightened his hands on your waist, slipping his thumbs under the hem of your top, grazing your bare skin.
“This is a bad idea,” you whispered but it came out unsteady.
Robby moved his mouth over your skin. “Then why does it feel so good?”
You didn’t have an answer, you couldn’t think of one that made sense. He kept going, trailing kisses along the side of your throat, sliding one hand up your side, splaying his fingers across your ribs, the other staying firm at your hip, holding you against him.
You tipped your head back against his shoulder in instinct, and he took the invitation, kissing the exposed line of your throat. Robby drifted his hand higher, brushing the underside of your breast through the fabric. Your hands came up in response, half to stop him, half to hold on, and they landed on his forearms, gripping them.
He murmured against your skin. “Tell me to stop.”
You didn’t stop it. Not one single part of you wanted to. Maybe if you weren’t so bone-deep tired, physically drained from years of resisting him, of constantly convincing yourself that you didn’t want this, that you weren’t aching for this every time he got too close, you might have found the strength to push him away again. To remind yourself of all the careful boundaries you’d built for Hannah’s sake. To remember why this was dangerous.
But right now, none of that mattered. Right now you needed Robby. You needed his warmth, you needed his touch, those large, capable hands that knew every inch of your body better than anyone else ever had, or ever would. You needed the intoxicating pleasure only he could ever give you, the rumble of his voice in your ear, and the way he could make you forget every careful reason you’d built to keep him at arm’s length.
The resistance you’d been carrying for years suddenly felt too heavy to hold anymore. In this quiet moment all you wanted was to let go. To stop fighting the pull that had never really gone away. To let Robby remind you, just for tonight, how good it felt to be wanted like this.
Under your shirt, one of Robby’s hands cupped the swell of your breast through the fabric of your bra. He traced slow circles over the peak, teasing the nipple into a tight point, making you arch without meaning to, and he rewarded you with a soft bite at the curve of your shoulder.
“Fuck,” you whispered, the curse slipping out before you could stop it.
Robby exhaled a rough laugh against your throat. “There she is.” He sounded proud of getting this reaction out of you, of remembering your body even if it’d been years since the last time he’d touched you.
He palmed your other breast now, both hands working in tandem to knead your flesh, brushing his fingers back and forth until the friction through your bra was almost too much. Your nipples ached, already feeling oversensitive, and every pass of his fingers sent heat straight between your legs. You could feel him behind you, his thick cock rigid, pressing against the small of your back through his jeans. The size of him, the heat of him, the way he rocked forward just enough to let you feel every inch, made your thighs clench.
You should stop this. You knew you should. But your hands were already reaching back, curling into the fabric of his shirt at his hips, holding him closer instead of pushing him away.
He growled with approval, leaving one of your breasts to slide his hand down the front of your body. He was slow, giving you every second to say no.
“When was the last time someone fucked you the way you deserve?” he murmured against your neck, slightly tightening his fingers once he reached your thigh, dangerously close to the waistband of your shorts.
You stayed silent, like part of you didn’t want to admit the truth. Robby didn’t pull back, he kissed your neck again. “Tell me, baby. When was the last time you were properly fucked? Deep and hard like I used to… Until you couldn’t think straight?”
You swallowed once, then answered honestly, barely above a whisper. “I haven’t slept with anyone since the last time we were together. About four years ago.”
Robby stilled completely. He lifted his mouth from your neck like he was waiting for the punchline. “You’re joking.”
You shook your head. “I’m not.”
He stared at you for a moment, processing the new information. Then he let out a slow, disbelieving breath. “What about those guys you’ve dated? The vet? That other guy a year ago, what was he? An engineer? What about him?”
“Two dates, maybe three at most with any of them,” you said quietly. “Never went further. Never slept with any of them. Being a mom and a resident… there’s no time. Between Hannah’s schedule, shifts, studying, and trying to keep everything together, sex just wasn’t a priority.”
Robby tightened his jaw, and a fix of emotions flashed through his face, surprise, heat, and a fierce kind of possessiveness. “Fuck,” he muttered. “You can’t just tell me you haven’t been fucked in four years and expect me to act like it’s nothing.”
Before you could respond, he dipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, then under the elastic of your panties. “Four years. Four fucking years without anyone touching you the way you need. Without anyone filling this perfect pussy. I’m gonna leave you so fucking wet and satisfied when I’m done with you tonight. You’re gonna be ruined for anyone else after this.”
There was no hesitation now. He parted your pussy with two fingers, finding you already slick with arousal, your lips swollen, and he dragged his digits up through your folds in one long stroke, making your knees nearly buckle.
“Jesus,” he whispered against your ear, already sounding wrecked. “So fucking wet for me.”
Robby circled your clit, it was light at first, his touch feather-soft, just enough to make your hips jerk. Then it turned firmer, pressing down in tight circles the way he always knew you liked. The exact pressure, the exact rhythm. Muscle memory for him too, apparently.
You tipped your head back against Robby’s broad shoulder, fluttering your eyes shut so you could focus entirely on the intense pleasure flooding through your body. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his fingers worked you open with precision.
He kept his other hand on your breast, tugging your bra down roughly so he could give your nipples the attention they craved. He rolled the sensitive peaks between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and tugging in perfect time with the slick strokes between your legs. The dual sensation was devastating in the best way, making your pussy clench and flutter around nothing.
He slid one thick finger inside you, stretching you carefully, opening you up with a patience that drove you insane. When you pushed your hips back greedily, silently begging for more, he added a second finger, sinking them deeper. You were so tight, clenching hard around the intrusion, and Robby let out a guttural groan against your ear, like the feel of you was almost painful for him too.
“Still so fucking perfect,” he rasped with want. “Fuck… the way you grip me. Like you never want to let go.”
He curled his fingers deliberately, hooking them forward until he found that spongy spot inside you that made your vision flash white for a second. A broken moan tore from your throat as he started stroking your g-spot with every thrust. The sound was loud enough that you both froze for half a heartbeat, listening for any noise from upstairs. The house stayed quiet. Hannah was still fast asleep. Robby didn’t waste another second, he resumed his movements, going deeper now, fucking you steadily with his fingers while his thumb kept the pressure on your clit.
Robby alternated the pace just to torment you, slow and deep, then faster and harder, then dragging it back to that torturous slow rhythm again. Teasing you right up to the edge without ever letting you fall over it.
You rocked back against his hand, chasing the pleasure, chasing him. Every curl of his fingers and every swipe of his thumb made your clit throb and your walls flutter around him. You were soaking his hand, the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping pussy filling the quiet room.
Your breathing turned ragged. Small and desperate sounds slipping out despite your best efforts, whimpers, half-moans, his name once or twice when he hit the spot just right.
He kissed your neck again, sucking lightly and then soothing with his tongue. Robby couldn’t stop his hips from rocking against your ass in shallow thrusts, matching the rhythm of his fingers, allowing you to feel how hard he was, painfully so.
Your thighs started to tremble. The coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter. You were close, so close, and he knew it, still remembered how your body shook, how your pussy pulsed and clenched when you were about to let go.
“Come on,” he murmured against your ear. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.” He pressed his thumb harder on your clit, and crooked his fingers again, stroking that spot in quick pulses. “Let me feel you cum. Please, baby, I want it so bad.”
It hit you like a wave. As you orgasmed around his fingers, your back arched, throwing your head back against his shoulder, opening your mouth on a silent cry that turned into a choked moan when the pleasure finally broke. You came hard, shuddering and clenching around his fingers. He had to tighten his arm around your waist to keep you upright when wave after wave of pleasure hit you, until your legs felt like liquid.
Robby’s arms stayed locked around you for a long moment after you came down. Slowly, he turned you in his arms until you were facing him. Your legs felt unsteady, so he steadied you with his hands on your waist.
When he lifted the hand that was inside you, the one still slick and shining with you, he brought it to his mouth without breaking eye contact with you.
Robby licked his fingers slowly, first one, then the other, dragging his tongue flat and thorough, tasting every bit of you.
“Fuck,” he murmured, humming as if the taste of your slickness pleasured him. “Still taste the same. Sweet. So goddamn good.”
Heat flooded your face, your chest, everywhere. You couldn’tlook away, the sight of him, with his lips wet and his eyes locked on yours, while he savored you like that, made your core clench again. It felt so aching and empty without him inside you, and you desperately needed to be filled again, to feel the stretch of his cock impaled inside you, to have his weight over you while he made you feel owned.
The words slipped out before you could think them through. “Fuck me, Robby.”
His mouth curved almost predatory. The words he’d longed to hear for so long. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He leaned in until his forehead rested against yours, allowing you to feel his hot breath on your lips. “Ask nicely.”
You narrowed your eyes with defiance even through the haze of want. “Go to hell.”
He laughed, the same laugh he used to give you in stolen moments years ago, when you’d push back just to watch him unravel. “Still stubborn,” he said, almost fond. “Good to know some things don’t change.”
Robby didn’t hesitate. In one smooth motion, his hands were under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, nd your arms around his neck, as he carried you up the stairs. His mouth found your neck again on the way, kissing and nipping while he navigated the familiar hallway in the dark.
He pushed open the door to your bedroom with his shoulder, kicking it shut behind him, and turning the lock with a click. Robby set you down on the edge of the bed but didn’t step back. He stood between your spread thighs, looking down at you with an expression that made your stomach flip.
“Fuck… I feel like I’m dreaming,” he cupped your face, stroking his thumb over your cheeks. “You, here, letting me touch you again after all this time. After everything.”
Then he was on you, Robby climbed onto the bed, his knees bracketing your hips, and pressing you back into the mattress with his weight. He crashed his mouth down on yours in a desperate kiss while he ran his hands over your body.
He groaned like a man starved, staring at your chest. “These tits… God, I missed them.” His mouth descended immediately, devouring you with almost frantic need. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue roughly around the peak before he sucked it hard, hollowing your cheeks. He kneaded the other breast, digging his fingers in, flicking and pinching the neglected nipple until you arched off the bed with a loud moan. He switched sides, licking and biting, sucking marks into the flesh like he wanted to claim every inch. His stubble was scraping deliciously against your skin, making you whimper and thread your fingers through his brown hair, holding him to you.
He was almost desperate in the way he worshiped your body, groaning against your skin, grinding his hips down against your thigh so you could feel how painfully hard he was. “So fucking perfect,” he mumbled between sucks and bites. “These tits were made for my mouth. Look at how pretty they look. I love sucking on them… fuck, baby.”
You were panting, pushing your chest further into his face as pleasure shot straight to your cunt. Robby spent long minutes there, alternating between teasing licks and rough hungry suction, until your nipples were swollen, sensitive, and glistening with his spit.
Then he started moving lower. His mouth trailed wet kisses down your sternum, over your stomach, pausing to nip at the soft curve just below your navel. He settled between your spread thighs, pushing your shorts the rest of the way down to bunch around your ankles. For a moment, he just stared at the damp spot on your panties with eyes full of lust.
“Look at you,” he rasped, his hot breath right against your dripping pussy. “You’re making such a big mess for me. You ruined your panties… so fucking soaked.”
He leaned in and mouthed at your pussy over the thin fabric, pressing kisses along your slit, dragging his tongue slowly from your entrance up to your clit through the soaked cotton. He sucked gently on your clit through the material, making your hips jerk. Then he pulled back just enough to blow cool air over the damp spot before diving in again, licking broad stripes, nipping at your folds, mouthing at you like he was trying to taste every drop of your arousal through the barrier.
You moaned louder, with your thighs trembling around his head and your hands fisting the sheets as he teased you mercilessly. Robby hooked his arms under your thighs, holding you open while he continued the torturous worship of his mouth. Every time you tried to grind harder against his mouth, he pulls back slightly, keeping you right on the edge, whimpering and desperate.
“Robby… please…” you gasped, but he only groaned against your pussy and keept teasing, determined to drive you insane before he finally gave you what you both needed.
He looked up at you from between your thighs, gleaming with satisfaction. Robby hooked two fingers into the thin cotton at your hip and ripped. The sound of fabric tearing filled the quiet room. You only had a second for the cool air to hit your bare, dripping pussy, because right away Robby’s mouth was on you, aggressive and devastatingly skilled.
He devoured you like a man who’d been starving for years. There’s no gentle buildup or teasing licks. He buried his face between your thighs with a hunger that bordered on feral. He drags his tongue broadly, giving you flat strokes from your entrance all the way up to your swollen clit, lapping up every drop of your arousal like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
He groaned deeply into your pussy, the sound was filthy. “Fuck, baby… you taste even better than I remembered,” he said against your folds before diving back in.
He ate you out with aggression, swallowing your clit into the heat of his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves before releasing it with a filthy pop. The sudden loss of suction made you whimper, only for him to immediately flick the tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit as his stubble scraped against your inner thighs with every movement of his head.
Robby alternated between deep licks that plunged his tongue inside you, fucking you with it in slow strokes that had you dripping down his chin, and tight suction on your clit that made you curl your toes hard.
Every time you tried to muffle your moans, he only doubled down, sucking harder, licking deeper, devouring you like he’d been dreaming about this exact taste for years. He gripped your ass, spreading you wider for his mouth, holding you firmly in place so you couldn’t escape the assault of his tongue.
“Oh my God… Robby—” Your voice cracked as he flicked his tongue rapidly over your clit. “Fuck, right there, don’t stop, please don’t stop…”
He ate it like he loved it. Like he needed it. His hands weren’t idle either. One arm banded across your lower stomach, holding you down when your hips started bucking too wildly. The other hand reached up to palm and squeeze your bare breasts, making you moan louder.
You pushed up onto your elbows, desperate to watch him. The sight was both obscene and intoxicating, Robby’s head buried between your thighs, his shoulders flexing as he worked, eyes closed in pure bliss while his mouth devoured your cunt. His jaw was moving with every lick and every suck, his lips and chin already shiny with your wetness. When he glanced up and caught you watching, his eyes darkened even more.
He pulled back just enough to spit directly onto your swollen pussy, a thick glob of saliva landing right on your clit. The warm sensation made you gasp, asd he watched it drip down your folds for half a second before he drove back in, spreading the spit with his tongue, mixing it with your own slick until everything was messy and glistening.
“God, look at this pretty pussy,” the words came out muffled against you. “So fucking wet for me. Been waiting four years to taste you again.”
He continued his relentless assault on your clit, and you couldn’t look away. The sight of this strong man, completely lost between your legs, eating your pussy like it was his favorite meal, was almost too much.
“You’re so fucking good at this… shit, your mouth—” A broken moan escaped you when he sucked hard on your clit again. “I’m gonna… I can’t! Robby, I’m close already…”
Your second orgasm built fast, and it crushed over you without mercy, making you bow your back off the bed, tearing a broken cry from your throat as the pleasure peaked. Robby didn’t let up for a second, he sucked your nub harder, drawing the orgasm out until it felt endless.
Your vision whited out, tears spilling down your cheeks as the pleasure rolled through you while he kept licking you through it greedily.
You sobbed his name, “Robby… fuck—oh god,” as your body shook uncontrollably, clamping his thighs around his head when the intensity bordered on too much.
He finally eased off only when your cries turned into overwhelmed whimpers, your body limp and trembling on the bed. But even then, he didn’t pull away completely. Robby continued placing soft kisses to your folds, licking up every drop of your release like he couldn’t bear to waste any of it. His hands soothed your thighs, rubbing circles while you came down.
Robby lifted his head, letting you admire his lips and chin glistening with your cum between your spread thighs. “Four years… and you still taste like heaven.”
When he finally started kissing his way up your body, his mouth was soft, reaching your mouth and kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He pulled back, hovering his face above yours. “You okay, baby?” he asked with an edge of worry in his tone, cupping your cheek with one hand, brushing away a tear. “Talk to me. Was that too much?”
You managed a shaky nod, still catching your breath. “I’m… fine. Just… holy shit, Robby.”
He chuckled softly, pleased with himself after seeing the effect his mouth had on you. “You’ve got the most perfect pussy in the world, you know that? So fucking pretty when you cum. And look at the mess you made…” He glanced down between your bodies at the soaked sheets, a proud and filthy smirk tugging at his mouth. “You still soak everything when I eat you out. God, I love how wet you get for me.”
Your voice came out breathy, needy, honest in a way you haven’t been with him in years.You were finally embracing what you truly wanted. “I need you, Robby. All of you. Please.”
Something possessive flashed in his eyes. He didn’t make you ask twice this time, just sat back on his heels and stripped in a rush, yanking his shirt over his head, then shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs in one impatient motion. His cock sprang free, looking every bit as thick as you remembered it, with the head already flushed in a dark red, leaking precum.
He was rock-hard, with the veins standing out along the shaft, curving slightly upward the way you loved, because it hit your g-spot so easily. He knelt between your spread thighs, pressing his into the mattress, and looked down at you with hunger. “Stroke it a little,” he asked you. “Let me feel your hand on me first.”
You sat up just enough to reach him, wrapping your fingers around his impressive length. He felt hot in your palm as you gave him a firm stroke from the base to the tip, swirling your thumb over the leaking head to spread the precum. Your touch made Robby groan deeply, twitching his hips forward into your touch.
“Fuck… It’s so big,” you whispered, locking your eyes on the way your hand looked around him. “I need it so much, Robby. I’ve missed this cock. Missed how full you make me.”
He watched your hand move, his breathing growing increasingly ragged with every stroke. “Slow, baby. Just like that. Real slow.” His voice was strained, like he was already fighting not to cum from your touch alone. “Shit, I’m close already. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this… your hand feels too fucking good.”
You kept stroking him slowly, twisting your wrist on the upstroke, squeezing just the way he’d always liked. Robby's head fell back for a moment, a moan rumbling in his chest, before he looked down again, watching your tits move with each stroke, watching your slick pussy still glistening from his mouth, waiting for him.
He reached down and gently took your wrist, stilling your hand. Then he shifted forward, gripping the base of his cock and rubbing the thick head up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your wetness. The pressure against your clit made you whimper.
Robby leaned over you, bracing one hand beside your head, the other still holding his cock against your entrance. He locked his eyes onto yours. “Should we.. uh… grab a condom?”
You didn’t even hesitate, spreading your legs wider for him, sliding your hands up his arms to grip his shoulders. “I’m on the pill,” you whispered. “Go raw. I want to feel all of you.”
A deep groan escaped him as he notches the head of his cock right against your entrance, pressing just enough to tease the stretch without pushing inside yet. He cupped your face with his free hand, brushing your lower lip while he held himself right there, waiting for the moment he finally sank into you after four long years.
When he finally pushed forward, you felt the blunt pressure increasing, letting you feel every inch as he sank into you. You both moaned at the same time, he was thicker than you remembered in the haze of memory, and the stretch was intense, bordering on overwhelming after so long without anyone inside you. Your walls parted around him, fluttering and clenching as he slid deeper, inch by slow inch, until his hips were flush against yours and he was buried to the hilt inside you.
The fullness was perfect, almost too much, pressing against that deep spot that made you curl your toes instantly. “Fuck… baby,” Robby groaned, dropping his forehead to yours for a second. “You feel… Jesus Christ. So tight. So fucking wet and warm. I missed this pussy so much.”
He stayed still for a heartbeat, letting you adjust, both of you just breathing each other in after four long years. Then he started to move. The first thrust was slow and deep, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with a wet sound. The second was a little harder. By the third, he’d found a steady rhythm, long and powerful strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. The drag and stretch were incredible, every time he bottomed out, the head of his cock kissed that deep place that made sparks explode behind your eyes.
“Oh my God… Robby,” you moaned, already trembling, and he’d just started. “You’re so fucking deep.”
It felt amazing for both of you. For you, it was like waking up after years of numbness, every nerve lighting up, pleasure flooding your body in waves with every thrust. For Robby, the groan that left him is guttural, almost pained with how good it felt to finally be inside the only place that’d ever made sense in his life.
His hips snapped forward harder, the slap of skin on skin filling the bedroom as he fucked you with measured strokes. You were trying so hard to stay quiet, bringing your hand to your mouth to bite down on the side of it, muffling the moans that kept trying to spill out. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, then fluttered them open again. Robby was watching you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, flicking his gaze between your face, your lips parted, eyes glassy with pleasure, to your tits bouncing with every thrust, and down to where your pussy was stretched wide around his cock.
He watched himself disappear inside you, the shiny wetness coating his shaft every time he pulled back, your folds clinging to him greedily. “Fuck, look at that. Your pretty pussy taking me so well after all this time. Stretched so tight around my cock… making such a mess on me.”
You bit harder into your hand as a particularly deep thrust made you whimper loudly. Robby’s rhythm started to pick up, snapping his hips with more force, the perfect angle to hit your spot inside you over and over, making you clench around his length.
“Shit… right there,” you whimpered. “That spot… fuck! I can feel every inch. God, I’m so full.”
“Stop squeezing like that,” he groaned, almost pleading, tightening his grip on your hips. “You’re gonna make me cum already if you keep clenching around me like that. This pussy is too perfect… so fucking good. Feels like heaven. I’ve dreamed about this for years… being buried inside you again.”
He leaned down and captured your mouth in a messy kiss, swallowing your muffled moans, before he suddenly gripped the backs of your thighs and lifted your legs, hooking them over his broad shoulders. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and the next thrust punched the air out of your lungs as he bottomed out completely, pressed his hips tightly against your ass, grinding his cock against that deepest spot.
“Oh my god—Robby!” You gasped against your hand, rolling your eyes back. “Like that! Like that… Please don’t stop.”
He fucked you harder now, making the bed creak softly beneath you. “So perfect,” he panted between thrusts. “You feel so fucking perfect. This body… these tits… this tight little pussy squeezing me. I missed you so much. Missed fucking you like this.”
He slid a hand between your bodies, finding your swollen clit with his thumb and rubbing firm circles in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation was pushing you toward the edge fast.
“Cum for me, baby,” he growled. “I want to feel you cum around my cock. Let me feel it.”
When the pleasure started cresting, your words turned into fragmented, needy whimpers.
The combination of his deep strokes, the pressure on your clit, and the overwhelming fullness after four years was too much. Your third orgasm of the night crashed over you even harder than the other two. Your back arched violently off the bed, a broken cry tearing from your throat despite your teeth sinking into your hand. Your pussy clamped down around him like a vice, pulsing and fluttering rhythmically as waves of intense pleasure ripped through you.
Robby groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he felt his own impeding orgasm approaching. “That’s it—fuck, yes—milk me, baby. I’m cumming—”
He thrusted deep one last time, burying himself as far as he could go, and finally allowed himself to cum. You felt the thick pulses of his seed as he filled you up, rope after rope of cum flooding deep inside you, so much that you could feel it spilling out around his cock where you were stretched around him. Robby kept grinding his hips against you through his orgasm, drawing it out, making sure every drop stayed inside you as long as possible.
He stayed buried deep while you both came down, breathing hard, your bodies slick with sweat. Your legs were still over his shoulders, your pussy still gently fluttering around his softening cock.
“Four years,” he whispered hoarsely against your lips. “And you’re still mine.”
An incredulous chuckle rumbled out of his chest, utterly satisfied. His brown eyes were in disbelief, like he genuinely couldn’t believe he just got to be inside you again after all this time. The lines around his eyes crinkled deeply as he smiled. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured, sounding a little husky fro the exertion. “I can’t believe I just got to be inside you again. That was… fuck. That was the best fuck of my life. Better than I remembered. Better than anything.”
He stayed there a moment longer, savoring the connection, before he finally pulled out of you. You both groaned at the loss, a thick of his cum leaking out of you onto the already-soaked sheets. Robby rolled off you and onto his back beside you, reaching out with one arm to pull you against his side
He turned his head to look at you, brushing damp strands of hair off your forehead with gentle fingers. “How was that for you, baby?” he asked softly. “Tell me. Was it okay? Did I hurt you at all?”
You huffed a small, tired laugh against his collarbone. “You already know the answer.”
He hummed, but didn’t let it drop. “Say it anyway.”
“Robby.” You tilt your head back just enough to meet his eyes. “Stop fishing for compliments. You already know exactly how good it felt. It was amazing. More than amazing. I don’t even have words for it. I came so hard I— God, I needed that.”
He smiled again with a satisfied grin, and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Good. That’s all I wanted, to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”
As the afterglow started to fade, and reality started to creep back in… the sleeping five-year-old down the hall, the careful co-parenting boundaries you’ve both worked so hard to maintain. You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him.
“You should get going now. It’s late. Hannah will be up early, and I don’t want her to wake up and find you here. It might make things weird or confusing for her.”
Robby let out a genuine laugh, rolling onto his side to face you fully. “Oh, so that’s how it is? You use me to break your four-year celibacy, three orgasms, mind you, and now you’re kicking me out?” His eyes sparkled with humor, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Cold, woman . Real cold. I give you the best, and only, dick you’ve had in years, and this is the thanks I get? Straight to the door?”
You couldn’t help but laugh with him, swatting lightly at his chest. “I’m serious. You know how she is. If she comes in here looking for me in the morning and sees you in my bed, she’ll have a million questions. Or she’ll think we’re back together and get her hopes up. We can’t do that to her.”
He propped himself up on one elbow, too, mirroring your position, still grinning that cocky grin that made him look ten years younger. “Three orgasms,” he repeate, holding up three fingers like he was making a point. “I ate that pussy until you were crying and shaking, then fucked you so deep you saw stars, and now I’m being evicted? Harsh, really harsh. I feel so used right now.”
“Robby,” you said, trying to sound stern but failing as another laugh bubbled up. “Come on. You know I’m right.”
He sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the pillow but keeping one arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer so your bare breasts pressed against his chest. “I don’t want to go. Not yet. I want to stay here and cuddle you. Just hold you for a while. I promise I’ll leave early tomorrow morning, before Hannah wakes up. I’ll set an alarm, sneak out. She’ll never know I was here. Please, baby. Let me stay. I missed this. Missed holding you after.”
You hesitated, chewing your lip. The warmth of his body against yours, the beat of his heart under your palm, the way he kept tracing circles with his fingers on your lower back… it all feels dangerously good.
He sensed your wavering and leaned in, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, then to your lips. “You’re perfect,” he murmured between kisses. “So fucking perfect. The way you took me tonight, the way you came for me… You made me feel whole again. Nothing in my life has ever compared to this. You and Hannah… you two are the best things that ever happened to me. Being inside you again, hearing you moan my name… it reminded me how much I still need you. How much I’ve always needed you.”
He tightened his arm around you, pulling you fully against his chest so you were tucked into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. Robby slid one of his legs between yours, tangling you together under the messy sheets. He kept kissing you, your forehead, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, then back to your mouth in lingering presses.
“I mean it,” he whispered against your hair. “You made me the happiest man alive when you gave me Hannah, but nights like this… being with you like this… it completes something in me. I feel alive. Whole. Like the missing piece finally clicked back into place. No one else has ever made me feel this way. No one else ever could.”
You melted into him despite yourself, and the night passed in fragments of deep sleep, the kind you haven’t had in years. Robby’s arm stayed across your waist the whole time, with his fingers splayed over your stomach like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. His chest rose and fell against your back in an even rhythm, and the snoring… God, the stupid snoring you’d missed so much.
You woke slowly, first to the weight of him, then to the ache between your legs, the reminder of last night still dried on your inner thighs. You felt him stir behind you as consciousness returned. You could practically hear the smile before you even turned your head.
When you did roll over, he was already looking at you with his eyes half-lidded, sleepy, and crinkled at the corners. And yeah, there it was, that stupid and contented grin spreading across his face like he’d just won the lottery.
“Stop smiling,” you muttered. “You’re creeping me out.”
He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, didn’t even try to dial it back. If anything, it got wider. “Can’t help it,” he said. “Woke up next to the most gorgeous woman in the world. Kinda hard not to smile about that.”
Heat climbed up your neck despite yourself. You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off. “Flattery at six a.m. is a cheap move, Robinavitch.”
“Fuck,” he breathed, roaming his eyes over your face like he was seeing it for the first time. “Look at you.”
He dropped his gaze appreciatively, taking in the messy hair spilling across the pillow, the sheet tangled around your bare hips, the faint marks his mouth left on your collarbone last night. He reached out, tracing one with his thumb, gently.
“Don’t even think about it, Michael,” you warned him. You’d had your fun last night. It had been amazing, even better than you remembered sex with Robby ever being. But it had been one time. One stupid lapse of judgment, one moment of weakness that couldn’t repeat itself again. You couldn’t let it. Not when the delicate balance you’d fought so hard to maintain for Hannah was so stable. You refused to risk your daughter’s sense of security just because your body still craved the man who used to know every inch of you better than anyone else.
Robby snapped his eyes back to yours, looking equal parts hungry and amused. “You know how I get when you call me Michael.”
“Last night was a relapse. I was tired, and… Emotional. Not happening again today. Not happening again ever, as a matter of fact.”
“Yeah?” He laughed before he shifted, rolling you onto your back in one smooth motion. His body came down over yours, caging you under his weight. Robby braced his forearms on either side of your head, his knees bracketing your hips. “You sure about that?”
You pushed at his shoulder. “Robby… get off.”
He stirred above you, lifting his head. For a moment, he didn’t move, but you kept pushing, gentle but insistent, until he finally rolled off you with a sigh and propped himself up on one elbow.
“All of this… It was a mistake,” you sat up and pulling the sheet up over your bare chest, suddenly too aware of your nakedness.
Robby reached for you instinctively, but you shifted away, scooting back against the headboard. “Why?” he asked. “It felt fucking amazing for both of us. You know it did. We’re good at this, we’ve always been good at this.”
You shook your head, the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way your bodies still fit together like they remembered every single time before… it made your resolve weaken. “You know why not. I can’t just think about ourselves anymore. We have to think about Hannah. We can’t hurt her. We already crashed once, and I’m not putting her through big changes, through the uncertainty, the chance that everything falls apart all over again.” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “I know you, Michael. In a month you’re going to regret this. You’re going to need space, and your head won’t be in the right place for commitment. I won’t do that to her. I won’t do that to any of us.”
Robby sat up fully now, the playful morning haze completely gone from his face. “It’s different this time. The first time… everything was happening all at once. You know how fucked up I was… After Covid, after… everything that happened. Having to take care of the whole ED… I was drowning. I couldn’t be what you needed. But I’m not that man anymore. You know I’ve changed. You’ve seen how much being a father changed me.” He leaned forward slightly. “I want you. I want this. I want the family. I want the commitment.”
You swallowed hard, and for one dangerous moment, you let yourself imagine it, waking up like this every morning with his warmth beside you, the three of you as a real family, lazy weekends and shared dinners and Hannah running between you both. The picture was so beautiful it hurt, but reality settled back in fast.
“You should go,” you whispered, looking away toward the window so he wouldn’t see the tears gathering in your eyes. “We shouldn’t keep talking about this anymore.”
Robby exhaled, running a hand through his messy, sleep-tousled hair. “It’s not fair.”
You let out a bitter little laugh. “A lot in life isn’t fair, Robby. You know that better than anyone else.”
He watched you for a long moment. The silence stretched between you until he finally swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. You stayed under the sheet, trying not to watch the familiar way his muscles moved as he gathered his clothes from the floor and got dressed.
When he reached the bedroom door, he paused, turning back to you with that half-smirk that you knew meant trouble. “You can try, but I know you can’t stay away from all of this for too long. I’m a real catch.”
You couldn’t help the tired laugh that escaped you. “Goodbye, Michael.”
He gave you one last long look full of affection before he slipped out of the room and down the stairs. The sheets still smelled like him, your skin still remembered his hands, nd you were left alone with the echo of everything you wanted but couldn’t let yourself have.
PART TWO HERE
A/N: Oh my god, I finally wrote something!!!😭 I’d had this idea sitting in my brain for so long, and the other day I finally felt the urge to start it. After about a week, and using all the free time I have between work and college, I actually managed to finish it. Finally something with a bit of plot, lol.
I really hope you enjoyed this idea! I’d love to write a second part, but with my schedule… that could be anywhere from two weeks to a year from now. It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, so it’d be really nice to hear your thoughts, if you liked it, your favorite parts, anything really🫶🏻
craig comes across andrew and his gf's homemade videos (18+)
(not proofread)
series masterlist
-
as per usual, craig could totally justify himself in his actions.
it wasn't like he'd walked into pope's room in search for the tiny little digital camera that now resided in his hands. he had an iphone at his disposal, what the hell would he use a digital camera for?
but it was the content of the tiny screen that had caught his attention.
pushing aside his search for the baggies nicki had misplaced somewhere around the house, he was now onto an entirely different mission.
pope's was usually the last room he liked to go into. it was eerily clean, with every single one of his possessions perfectly laid in its assigned spot. which was why the camera had stuck out like a sore thumb. it was an odd thing for pope to leave lying around, specially on his bedside table.
and so he picked it up.
and then he fell into a trance.
displayed on the small screen was a paused video.
you were sat back on the side of the bed, elbows digging into the plush of the mattress as you supported your weight on them, looking up at the camera with wide eyes and a tiny, pleased smile. your body was barely covered by a pink negligee falling off your shoulder and your tit peaking out. your hair had a little more volume than usual and your makeup was slightly different. you'd done yourself up for this.
with the click of a button, the enticing thumbnail began playing.
the quality was somewhat shitty, which annoyed craig a bit.
it was shot from pope's perspective, he noticed immediately. he towered over you as you sat on the bed looking up at him.
"hey, handsome," you spoke at the camera, cheeky smile on your lips.
your hands went up to pope's body, disappearing from frame but clearly beginning to paw at pope's chest off-camera.
similarly, pope's hand entered frame, cupping your cheek as you leaned into the touch. your face turned slightly to the side, mouthing at pope's palm until you caught his thumb in your mouth.
the angle of the camera raised a little, giving craig the perfect angle as you looked up at the camera, eyes wide and mouth suctioning at pope's thumb. he could pretend it wasn't his brother's.
"fuck, baby. so fuckin' perfect for me," pope interrupted.
after some moments, you finally slipped the thumb out of your mouth, licking at its length once before kissing the back of pope's hand.
with some coaxing, you laid back on the bed as pope drew himself closer, straddling your body on the bed.
"let me get a good look at you, angel."
this was followed by pope somewhat shakily panning into every inch of your body. he started with your face, planting a kiss on your lips before you showed the camera a toothy smile. his hand came out once more to caress at your cheek, trailing down to your neck, to your half-uncovered tits. there, his thumb circled your nipple through the thin fabric, drawing a sigh out of you.
below him, you squirmed and moaned for pope as his hand traced down every inch, feeling every supple inch of barely-covered skin. occasionally he'd lean down and kiss at whatever part of your body laid in front of him at that moment, making it so the camera drew too close for craig to see anything, but he could still hear that tiny intake of breath you did every time he kissed you.
"andy... want you."
"i know you do."
again, he panned out, hovering over you and showing your needy self under him. there was some silence, only filled up by some low grunts of pope's.
"do i look pretty, andy?" you giggled up at him after some moments of silence, eyes drawing below the lens every so often.
"so pretty, baby," he grunted.
craig could guess what was going on off-screen as pope watched you.
"you gonna fuck me, or what?"
a breathless chuckle could be heard off-screen, and then some unbuckling and ruffling of clothes.
a hand appeared, digging into your hip as pope drew himself closer. while one hand shakily held onto the camera, the other aided in turning you over and onto your hands and knees.
from behind you, pope adjusted you, pressing deep into the small of your back to get your ass further up and your arch a little deeper.
teasingly, you swayed your hips at him, smiling at him as you twisted your head to look back into the camera.
the tiny thong you had on hid absolutely nothing, much less did the negligee pope had pushed up to fully uncover your ass.
the next few scenes were a little unfortunate for craig.
they consisted of pope pulling out his dick, stroking it as he pressed it into you, circling at your clit as you mewled out his name and pushed your ass up against him.
craig was conflicted. on one hand, he didn't want to see his brother's dick, but on the other, he really wanted to see you getting fucked from behind.
with a mental coin toss, he decided to do some mental gymnastics to remove pope from the equation and solely focus on how breathless your wails sounded as soon as pope made his way inside you.
he had a perfect view of the recoil of your ass, groaning inwardly when you'd push back, when the sound of skin slapping joined in with your tiny, high-pitched moans.
sometimes pope would grip at your hair, making you sit up on your knees and pressing your back to his chest. craig couldn't really see much from this angle, but he'd hear the kissing and your muffled cries.
he wasn't sure when this was recorded, whether he'd been at home when it happened, but you'd been careless in the volume of your noises. an endless stream of sounds of pleasure left your lips as pope pounded into you.
"m-more, ffuuck, please."
"right there- fuck, don't stop—"
"andy- oh, fuck, andy!"
these were all sounds he'd grown familiar with through your relationship with pope. you were never shy in expressing yourself in the bedroom, but seeing it? and from this angle, where he could pretend it wasn't his brother who was dragging these noises out of you?
fuck, he could just-
"what are you doing in my room?"
craig felt his body go completely still. every hair in his body stood up and his muscles tensed.
he couldn't dare look behind him, to look at the source of the voice as the video continued to play in his hands.
"and what the fuck are you doing with my camera?"
slowly, craig twisted his body, camera still in his hands as he looked to find pope's erect figure standing by the door of his room.
"hey, man, i was just-"
"fuck are you doing looking at my videos of my girl?"
with a single move, pope's hand landed on a tight grip around craig's wrist, making him groan out as his fingers relaxed around the camera, letting it fall onto pope's other hand.
mutely, the sex noises could still be heard emanating from the digital camera. pope turned the volume down, not once taking his threatening eyes away from craig's guilty ones.
"i just- i was looking for my baggies and-"
"they're not in my room."
craig sighed at the interruption, "yeah, man, i noticed. i just saw the camera and i got curious, that's all."
"you got curious for," he took a moment to check the screen, "twelve minutes and fifty-five seconds?" he read off the time lapsed of the video.
craig winced.
"it's not like that, okay?"
it was pure denial, but if craig knew anything, it was that the best remedy was always to lie your way out of trouble.
pope nodded to himself, unconvinced. with one step forward, he was in craig's face, looking up to him with that same threatening expression pope reserved for anyone but you.
"i catch you looking at my girl again, i'm going to break your legs. this is your last warning, craig."
even as he towered over him, craig gulped with a nod, eyes wandering away from his. it was kind of embarrassing how easily he folded under his gaze. he knew pope would be good on his words, specially with this being his second warning.
"understand?"
"yeah- yep, got it, pope."
taking his chance, he rounded pope and practically sprinted out of the room. outside, he let out the breath he'd been holding, relieved it didn't escalate this time around.
but even then, he found himself making a mental note.
he'd have to come back when pope was out of the house.
manipulative pope cody + ‘just the tip?’ + breeding kink drabble :3
this is for my moots who inspired me to blurb! i luv you~ @valleyanimalz @dirtygir1 @bbuuunnyyy @groovyangelkisses
*nasty smut below the cut teehee* ! mdni !
pope cody hates that you make him wear a condom, that you have been making him wrap it up for the entire two month relationship. he feels it’s an unnecessary barrier keeping him from feeling all of you and filling you up properly. but, he agreed the first time because he was so desperate to be inside you. always has been. always will be.
now, even after you’ve fucked more times than he can count while protected. he’s fed up. he knows that you’ll like it bare. that you’ll need it. that you’ll never make him wear a stupid condom again when you learn how good it feels when he sinks into you raw. you just need his help. need your strong, heroic boyfriend to take that step that you cant take yourself. god, he’s so good to you. that’s what he tells himself when he formulates his plan.
he made sure you came on his face at least three times. until your legs were jelly, brain mush, voice hoarse from begging him to stop. ‘i-i can’t’ you had whined, ‘ ‘s too much andy!’. he did it to get you into that floaty head space where you’re babbling mindlessly and lax for him.
and you’re exactly that as pope crawls up your body and settles where he belongs, above you and inbetween your legs. still, you breathlessly slur the question that he despises. “condom?”
he feigns frustration even though this is exactly what he planned. “shit— i left my wallet in craig’s car… i don’t have one.”
your response is a needy whine that morphs into a gasp when he rests his cock against your drenched folds and slowly slides back and forth. “can i just have you like this sweetheart?” pope rubs his thick length upwards, angry pink tip catching your clit with every pressing glide. you whimper through your desperate nods, nails clawing at his shoulders, fusing your knees to his ribs to stay spread for him. such a good girl, he thinks to himself.
he keeps his ruttings short. almost playfully light in order to not get you anywhere besides out of your mind from teasing. just how he wants it. when you start to wriggle beneath him, whimpering a few mindless “please please please”s, he looks down at your aching pussy to see her clench around nothing. poor baby, she needs me so bad, he tells himself.
his dick is so coated in your slick releases that pope ‘accidentally’ notches at your opening. staying in motion, he pushes in ever so slightly. your eyes shoot open in surprise “ohh- andy!” you squeal. frustration bubbles in his chest, but he doesn’t give up. because your panic simmers to pleasure and your mouth forms an ‘o’ as you moan at just his bare tip breaching your wet heat.
he buries his face into your neck to hide his satisfied grin, licking and suckling the skin how he knows you like. “jus the tip sweetheart? please?” he emphasizes his wimpy whines with an inching forward of his hips. your nails tear at the flesh on his back as you shudder. “p-promise?” you croak out in hazy compliance. his reply is strained. “ ‘course honey.”
popes promise — to him at least— goes up in flames when he slips a tiny bit further inside and is met with warm, silky tightness. fuckkk. he groans, muscles tensing and you cry out, eyes rolling back. his thrusts are shallow and unsatisfactory. after a only a few, he’s twitching in need, pathetically trying to inch deeper.
you notice, starting to whine and pant. “you c-cant andy! i’m not on the pill!” the words almost make pope start to piston in and out of you. the thought of coming in you until you’re swollen with his baby infiltrating his mind. that you’ll be tied to him forever and— oh yeah. that’s happening, he decides.
pope leans down to kiss you languidly. trying to tongue fuck you into submission. your pussy is rapidly fluttering around the first inch of his cock, telling him that you want this just as bad as he does. he uses his words. “you just feel so good sweetheart. need you so bad. need all of you.” a breathy moan slips from you at his praise as you return his kiss greedily.
you pull back and blink up at him with your glossy eyes and kiss bitten lips. when your legs start to wrap around him, crossing tightly at his back, he knows he’s almost home free. “okay... i- i need you too andy.”
you barely get the words out before he hastily pushes all the way inside of you. guttural noises of pleasure are ripped from you both as you clench around him so prettily and he stretches you out so perfectly. it’s searing, intimate and raw. so fucking raw.
as pope starts to thrust in and out of you eagerly, obscene slapping sounds echo throughout the room. he whimpers loudly at the warm, wet feeling of you and the noises your body makes for him.
when you shakily tell him between moans “you h-have to pull out.. okay?”
it takes all of his dwindling restraint to not laugh in your face.
summary: robby tells you he wants to keep things casual after you catch him flirting with noelle. he's less enthusiastic when he finds out you've been seeing his best friend. (5k)
characters: michael robinavitch / fem!reader, jack abbot / fem!reader, trinity santos, dennis whitaker, mel king
contents: established relationship, friends with benefits, jealousy, mutual pining, angst, possessive!robby, allusions to smut
FIC #5 / 20 FOR 20
( NAVIGATION ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( AO3 )
You and Robby were not together. Not officially, and definitely not publicly. You were hardly together privately, if you were being real honest with yourself — aside from a few stolen nights after particularly draining shifts, where he’d show up at your place with takeout and exhaustion sitting heavy in his eyes and promises of distracting you from the hard day; where he’d then wake up before sunrise and leave before you had the chance to miss him.
Casual. That was the point. Because he was an attending, and you were his resident, and Robby had already made the mistake of blurring those lines once before. “It gets messy, sweetheart,” he murmured against your bare shoulder one night, voice heavy with sex and sleep alike. “And when it ends, it… It really fuckin’ ends, you know?”
You didn’t know what he meant by that, actually. You figured he was saying that dating within the hierarchy tends to crash and burn in some way or another, but you didn’t press him on the issue then. Though now you think that maybe you should’ve.
You should’ve told him to give this a name back then — whatever this thing was between you — because at least then you’d have a name for the feeling searing in your chest just now, as you’re forced to watch Robby flirt with Noelle on the other side of the workstation.
You’re examining the chart glowing from the iPad in your hands, trying hard to ignore the ache in your lower back and the fact that you haven’t eaten since six that morning, when the sound of Robby’s sudden laughter graces your ears — finding you despite the buzzing chatter of the crowded E.R.
You glance up automatically and find him leaning against the counter, with the sleeves of his undershirt pushed up to his elbows and his stethoscope looped lazily around his neck, towering several inches over Noelle.
“You’re getting less grumpy in your old age, Robinavitch,” the older woman quips beneath a quiet smile and the faint flush coating her caramel-colored cheeks. She arches a manicured brow in his direction, dark eyes glimmering beneath long lashes. “Something been improving your mood lately? Or some-one?”
Your palms go clammy around the tablet in your hand. You never wanted anyone to find out that you were dating your attending, but god, your heart stops beating just to hear your name fall from his lips.
Robby laughs instead, a sharp exhale from his nose.
“You always think you know everything,” he says with a shake of his head, though you can still hear the smile in his voice when he tells her, “I’m not sure your new boyfriend up in ortho would like you asking about my love life, Hastings…”
“Oh, I stopped seeing him ages ago,” Noelle scoffs. “He kept calling himself an alpha male unironically, and I— couldn’t take it anymore.”
Robby physically recoils. “Jeez… And here I thought your taste in men improved after me.”
Their laughter entwines and lingers in the air for several lingering moments. It’s more familiar than flirtatious, but your stomach twists with a sick feeling anyway. Because Noelle was, to put it simply, everything you weren’t. She was effortlessly gorgeous and carried all that confidence in her matching pant suits and pulled-back curls. She was much closer to Robby’s age, too, and their lengthy history is one you know you couldn’t compete with if you tried.
You feel a little like a child as you watch them talk in hushed voices. You flare with all the embarrassment of one, too, when Robby’s eyes lock suddenly with yours.
You turn away a beat too late, just in time to catch the look that flashes suddenly across his weathered features — as if he’d somehow been caught. You pretend not to notice, or otherwise care, when he dismisses himself from Noelle and closes the distance between you. He towers over you the same way he had with her, smelling like a mixture of his cologne and your bed sheets.
“Hey…” he says, all casual, stuffing his hands into his scrub pockets and nodding to the tablet in your hands. “You get that CBC back on Central Eight?”
“Yep,” you deadpan, still without looking at him.
He flinches slightly when you shove the chart suddenly at his chest with a less-than-gentle hand. His brows lower in confusion when you turn on your heel and walk away a second later, with considerably more ire than you had that morning. (‘Cause you’d been complaining about some mild insomnia for a while now, so Robby fucked you to sleep the night before. He figured you’d be in a better mood today accordingly. But alas.)
“So I take it you’re not helping with this endoscopy?” he calls after you, pulling his glasses from his shirt pocket for a better view of the screen in his hand.
“Nope,” you call back, already halfway down the hall — not as his resident, but as a woman halfway scorned.
Whitaker’s eyes dart back and forth like he’s watching a tennis match — between you, Robby, and the bloodied head wound he’s watching you stitch up with practiced hands. There’s a heavy tension he can feel simmering in the air, snatching all the remaining oxygen out of the room. Even from where he stands behind you, peering over Trinity’s shoulder, he feels hardly shielded from the building stress.
“Call ortho for a consult for me, will ya?” Robby asks you, or rather politely commands, without looking away from the chart in his hands.
You, similarly, don’t glance up from your sutures as you tell him, “You have a pair of free hands, don’t you, Dr. Robby?”
The man’s eyes dart to you in an instant, peering at you over the top of the glasses sitting low on his broad nose. His dark brown gaze glimmers with a mixture of amusement and shock as a faint smile flickers beneath his beard.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll do it!” Whitaker blurts, half-strangled by the tension, as he rushes for the red phone across the room. It’s quite telling, the younger boy finds, that he’d rather suffer a call with Park the Shark than watch this lover’s quarrel unfold.
Robby squints as he takes a slow step towards you. His eyes flit from your deadpan face, to your gloved hands, to the balding head of the unconscious patient you stitch up.
“Have you eaten today?” he wonders aloud.
“Are you gonna ask if I need a nap next to?” you scoff. “I’m not a child.”
“Well, you’re kinda acting like one,” Robby says within a breathless chuckle. “So do you wanna maybe dial the attitude back a notch?”
“Sorry, Dr. Robby,” you say flatly, tying off the final stitch with sharp, methodical movements. “I’ll remember to stroke your ego next time— Maybe then you won’t accuse me of being a bitch.”
“I wasn’t—”
A laugh sputters suddenly from Santos’ mouth before she can help it. She hides it behind her fist when Robby glares at her and pretends to cough instead.
The tension between the two of you doesn’t snap until around the tenth hour of the shift, when you’re hiding from the chaos of the E.D. with the excuse of fetching more supplies from the walk-in closet. Robby enters like a dark cloud, mixing with your own storm, and threatening to create a most fatal concoction when he corners you against the shelf. (You hadn’t stopped moving for about four straight hours, to be fair — this was his only real chance of getting you alone.)
“What the hell is your problem today?” the older man says in lieu of a greeting.
You huff and roll your eyes, shoving at a pack of saline flushes a little harder than necessary when they threaten to fall from the shelf and on top of you. Robby watches with narrowed eyes and a pair of weathered hands splayed on his hip.
“Did I do something to you? ‘Cause you’ve been acting crazy all day—”
You slam the cabinet door shut with a resounding clang, so hard it refuses to latch,before spinning on your heels to face the man behind you. The glare you give him almost makes him flinch before he swallows down the instinct to.
“Crazy?” you echo through a tense jaw. “You flirt with Noelle all day, right in front of me, and now you’re calling me crazy?”
Robby blinks owlishly back at you for several long moments.
You almost think you see a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth beneath his mustache, before a chuckle sputters suddenly from his lips. You flinch at the intensity of his laughter, and at the distant mania glimmering in his dark eyes.
“Oh, my god—”
“Don’t laugh!” you exclaim, face burning under the weight of your embarrassment.
“—That’s what this is about?”
“Yes! It is. Because I thought I was enough for you.”
His weathered features soften with a heavy sigh, though traces of his amusement still remain — equal parts fond and exhausted.
“Oh, c’mon… You know this wasn’t supposed to be anything serious,” Robby croons gently, taking slow steps towards you. “That was the agreement, right? Casual. So we could avoid all… This.”
You peer up at the man from beneath your lashes when he plants himself in front of you. You try not to melt when you catch a whiff of his dizzying cologne. “This?” you echo.
“Yeah… You know, all the… jealousy and the— arguments,” he huffs with a lazy shrug and crosses his pale arms over his chest. “I’ve been through this before, kid. Trust me. This is… This is what’s best.”
Your chest sears with a mixture of red-hot anger and ice-cold jealousy. Your jaw tightens at how detached he sounds, how rational, as if he were discussing policies instead of real actual feelings. (If he was even capable of those). You want him to feel this, too — this awful, wretched jealousy clawing at your ribs from the inside out.
You fold your arms tightly across your chest, forcing your voice into a deadpan as hurt simmers somewhere beneath the words. “So I can see whoever I want?” you ask him.
Robby’s expression flickers slightly, almost imperceptibly. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows, but his dark gaze never once wavers from yours.
“Of course, you can,” he tells you, though his taut voice threatens to betray him. “We’re casual. That was the deal.”
“Okay,” you nod once and turn away from him again, giving him very little to play off of as he tries and fails to call your bluff.
Robby’s forced to stare at the back of you while you pull a large pack of lap pads from the shelf. His brows knit in confusion when you spin back around to face him, mostly back to normal again, with a ghost of a polite smile dancing the edges of your mouth.
“Run these to Trauma 1 for me, will ya? Dr. Al-Hashimi needs ‘em for a trauma patient coming in.”
You press the package to Robby’s chest before he can answer and walk past him for the exit before he can blink.
Three days after the fact, you’re sitting in a crowded bar a block away from the PTMC, drowning your post-shift sorrows in half-priced beers.
In those three days, you haven’t seen Robby once outside of work. There were no more stolen kisses in empty elevators, no more lingering touches in stairwells, no more “come over” texts sent in the dead of night. And Robby thought it was strange, because the two of you weren’t even fighting anymore — not technically, anyway — and yet you were more distant now than ever.
“Question,” the man murmured casually from the other side of the desk while you finished up your charting at the monitor. “Is it me you’re avoiding or just my apartment?”
“What?” you scoffed, still typing. “I’ve just been— busy, Robby.”
“Hm…” he sighed, less than convinced.
You didn’t spare him a second glance — not then and not when you took Santos’ offer of happy hour and Friday night karaoke. The girl herself returns now to the cracked pleather booth in the corner of the dingy bar, where you sit with Mel and Whitaker, after butchering another Alanis Morrissette song.
Her chest heaves with panted breaths under her black tank top, pale skin sticky with a thin layer of alcohol-induced sweat.
“Okay, what’s with the long faces over here?” Trinity jokes as she steals a room-temperature fry off your plate, talking through the mouthful. “I know you and Robby are fighting or whatever, but I just gave the performance of a lifetime up there.”
You slurp nosily at the remnants of your fruity drink and nearly choke on it at the accusation. “What?” you cough with the thin straw still in your mouth. “We aren’t— fighting. What are you talking about?”
“Oh, please,” Trinity scoffs and reaches for her beer. “You’re both been acting like a couple of… divorced parents at soccer practice.”
“Okay, I don’t even know what that means—”
“Playing nice in front of everyone as not to evoke suspicion, which inevitably turns the obvious tension between you from angry to sexually charged,” Mel rambles matter-of-factly. Her blonde hair sways around her jaw as she nods, left slightly crimped from her undone braid.
Your eyes flit to Whitaker then, who nods much more solemnly in agreement.
Your face burns red-hot in response. “Well— we’re not even, like, together or anything, so…”
“Mhm…” Santos hums with a knowing look that makes you shift uncomfortably in the booth. She takes another quick swig from the amber bottle in her hand before her gaze zeroes in on an unfortunate Whitaker. “C’mon, Huckleberry. You’re up.”
His light eyes widen, glassy with exhaustion and alcohol alike. “I’m… Up?”
“Yeah. You’re doing karaoke with me. Let’s go,” Trinity says as she slides once more off the weathered vinyl. She frowns when she rises and finds the boy still sitting in place. “Let’s go, I said! We gotta get back in line before the spots fill up—”
Whitaker scrambles to follow the girl towards the stage despite his better judgment. You use that as an excuse to get another drink, tugging the skirt of your dress further down your thighs as you go. You weave through the crowd of strangers and coworkers alike until you reach the sticky wooden counter.
You lean your elbows against it and flash the bartender a kinda smile. “Can I get another aperol spritz, please?”
“Put that on my tab,” a familiar voice says from beside you.
Your head whips to find Jack sitting there, one chair down and nursing a sweaty amber bottle of cheap beer in his pale hand. He looks more relaxed now than you think you’ve ever seen him — camo pants baggy around his legs, black t-shirt untucked from the belt, warm around the edges from the alcohol.
You feel very suddenly overdressed in your form-fitting velveteen number and cross your arms over your chest to hide beneath the loose cardigan you wear over top of it. “Oh, you don’t have to do that—”
“I insist,” the older man smiles. “You deserve it after that canthotomy you did today. You were a real trooper.”
The bartender slides a cocktail glass across the wooden surface over to you. The orange liquid threatens to slosh over the thin rim. You give him a polite grin in return. “Thank you,” you tell the man, then grow considerably shier when you turn back to the attending sitting a stool down from you. “Thanks, Dr. Abbot.”
“Jack,” the older man corrects before bringing the lip of his bottle back up to his mouth.
“Jack,” you echo softly.
The man shifts on the hard stool, keeping his prosthetic limb stretched slightly ahead of him beneath the bar. A not quite silence settles between you then, filled by the buzzing bar all around you. Your eyes cut to the stage on the far side of the room, where Santos belts the lyrics to “You Oughta Know” and Whitaker stumbles over himself to get the foreign words out.
“I think Shen is looking for a karaoke partner,” you quip, nodding your head towards the doctor standing by the stage and flipping through the binder of song choices there.
The dim overhead lighting turns Jack’s silver curls a softer golden shade when he turns his head to follow your gaze. He grimaces instantly at the thought. “Yeah, absolutely not.”
“Why?” you laugh softly, with the thin straw dancing against your mouth. “You scared?”
“Yes,” the man answers without a second thought. “And I’ve been shot at before— Today, even— And somehow karaoke still feels more terrifying.”
Your eyes squint in his direction, glittering with something foreign. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t ya think?”
“Eh. Maybe a little.”
You scoff and slide into the bar stool beside him. “You don’t strike me as someone who embarrasses easily, Dr. Abbot.”
“That’s because you only know me at work,” he quips halfway into his beer, before licking the amber sheen from his mouth. “Where I am equal parts competent and mysterious.”
“Mysterious?” you repeat skeptically.
“Mm,” Jack nods with narrowed eyes and a faint smile twitching the corner of his lip. “Very tortured, you know? Very brooding.”
“Ah, yes…” you sigh with alcohol glittering on your lips like gloss. “The very brooding, tortured doctor who makes dinosaur noises to win over scared children in pedes.”
Jack pauses mid-sip, pale eyes narrowing. “Well, this is new…” he hums.
Your stomach flips at the way he’s looking at you. Heat crawls instantly up your neck. You feel very suddenly suffocated by the heavy cardigan on your shoulders. “…What is?”
“I don’t know,” he answers with a lazy shrug, though his heavy eyes dart once down your form and up again. You don’t realize, until then, that this is his first time seeing you in anything other than your dark black scrubs. “You… Flirting with me.”
You exhale a breathy laugh, if only to dispel the anxiety clawing at your chest. “Flirting? Is that what this is?”
“Hey— You’re the one who called me mysterious.”
“Actually, I was clarifying if you thought you were mysterious.”
“Still counts.”
“Does it?” you squint.
Jack smirks behind the lip of the beer bottle against his mouth. His adam’s apple bobs with a short sip before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You know… For a while there, I thought you hated me… Considering you never talked to me unless you had to.”
“You work nights, Jack— I don’t talk to you because I see you for, maybe, twenty minutes out of my day,” you scoff, and don’t realize you’ve called him by his first name until his eyes glimmer with amusement. You turn away with a shake of your head as your face burns, bringing the straw back up to your mouth. “Though, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t consider it…”
“Oh, really?” Jack hums with raised brows. “What’s the verdict now, then, huh?”
You let your gaze drag over him deliberately as you ponder the question, biting at the straw between your teeth. You scan over his toned biceps, his lean stomach caged beneath his form-fitting tee, and his spread thighs that make your head spin, before meeting his eyes once more.
“Now,” you hum sweetly, “I think I’m starting to understand the appeal…”
Jack stares at you for a long moment before he lets out a low, disbelieving laugh. The lamplight shines in his greying curls as he shakes his head. “Yeah? And how does Robby feel about that?”
Your eyes harden in an instant.
Jack raises a free hand in surrender. “Hey, I’m just sayin’— He looks like he wants to put his fist through a wall any time another attending talks to you for more than thirty seconds.”
Your chest tightens unexpectedly. You swallow hard to fight the strangling feeling — of Robby, and of his laughter in the supply closet — as you shrug a lazy shoulder in response. You don’t bother to lift your cardigan when it slips softly down your arm.
“It’s casual,” you tell him.
Jack studies you for a long moment. The corner of his mouth curls into a slow half-smile, and you feel your heart stuttering behind your ribcage.
“Casual, huh?” he hums and brings his bottle back up to his mouth. “Interesting…”
Morning arrives slowly through the veiled curtains of the quiet bedroom, where pale golden light cuts softly over hardwood floors and rumpled sheets. You rouse gradually, cocooned beneath strangely heavy blankets that smell differently from your own back home — like unfamiliar detergent, cedarwood, and musky cologne.
For a blissful wink of a moment, you don’t remember where you are. Not until you stretch your tired limbs and brush a scruffy leg with your foot, anyway.
Your breath catches. Your heavy eyes snap open. Your body prickles with heat as flashes from the night before return to you at once — of the walk home from the bar, of Jack’s laugh against your throat, of his stubble scraping your skin, of the teasing murmur in his velvety voice as he told you to cum for him.
Your thighs clench together at the memory, while a lingering ache pulses pleasantly low in the pit of your stomach.
You lift your head from the pillow and inhale sharply through your nose as your eyes scan the foreign bedroom, which you had been too busy to do the night before.
There’s an expensive-looking record player in one corner, sat beside a crate of well-loved vinyls. There’s a bookshelf lining the far wall — cluttered with medical textbooks, old paperbacks, and framed photos from his military days. His camo bag, etched with his name, slouches by the entrance, and over the foot of the bed, you can see his prosthetic limb lying beside your shoes.
Other than that, it’s strikingly empty, with very little decoration on the wall or bedside tables. It makes sense, you figure, for a man who is working far more than he isn’t.
Your head turns in the opposite direction to find Jack sleeping soundly just beside you. The gentle rays of morning light brush over the canvas of his bare back, turning his freckles there a deeper shade of golden brown. He’s got one arm shoved beneath the pillow he folds into his cheek and the other lying loose across the mattress — from where your waist must’ve been before you slithered out from underneath it.
Your chest pinches at the sight of him. With pride, maybe, at having conquered him. And with a pang of white-hot guilt that twists when your mind inevitably drifts to Robby.
You slide out of bed, careful not to let the mattress give too much beneath your weight. You grimace when the fabric of your t-shirt twists uncomfortably around your form, only to find that you’re wearing Jack’s shirt, which had seemingly been given to you at some point last night. It falls over your thighs when you stand, bare feet padding as you gather your discarded clothes.
You bend down to drag your underwear back up your thighs and wince when your head throbs from last night’s cheap cocktails. With your dress and knit cardigan balled in your arm, you toe your shoes back on. Your breath hitches when the mattress shifts with a soft creak.
Jack squints when he raises his wild head. His mouth twitches when he finds you at the foot of the mattress. “Y’know…” he rasps, voice rough with sleep. “I’m at least grateful you’re not robbing me before sneaking out. That’s very courteous of you.”
“I’m not sneaking,” you scoff. “I just… didn’t want to wake you.”
The man inhales sharply as he twists onto his back, charcoal sheets tangling around his waist. You force yourself to look away from his lean stomach and the red claw marks you left on his scruffy chest when he stretches his toned arms above his head.
“That’s sweet,” he says with a wince. “But unfortunately, I wake up if somebody breathes wrong in the next room.”
You exhale a soft laugh.
Jack’s eyes soften around the edges at the sound of it. “You workin’ today?”
“Yep, in about…” Your eyes flit to the alarm clock on his nightstand. “Half an hour.”
“Brutal,” he scoffs.
“You’re fault.”
“Don’t say that like you didn’t have a good time,” he teases with narrowed eyes, then softens slightly when you turn away. You fumble with the stubborn back of your shoe, and his chest twists at your silence. “Do you… Do you regret it?”
“No,” you answer instantly.
“Good,” he hums, relaxing visibly once more into the sheets. “Me neither.”
Your stomach blooms with warmth. You shift awkwardly on your feet before him, even still. “So, uh… What— What now?”
“Well, feel free to use my shower, if you want—”
“I’m serious, Jack,” you insist gently, then add, more sheepishly. “But I will be using your shower, actually, thank you…”
Jack inhales deeply, considering. “Well,” he starts carefully, “I like you. Obviously.”
Your pulse rushes like a teenage girl.
“But,” he continues, as relief and disappointment tangle in your chest all at once. “I also know that neither of us is in the right spot for a relationship right now…”
“So… Casual?” you offer lightly, mouth lifted in a tired smile.
“Casual,” Jack agrees with a firm nod and glassy eyes.
You wear the night before all over, despite your desperate attempts to hide it.
Robby notices it the moment he sees you — how relaxed you are, how happy you seem to be. Whatever had been plaguing you before is now long gone, and that alone should be enough to comfort him. But still, he can’t shake the feeling that someone had gotten rid of all the aching for you — fucked it out of you the way only he could.
“You’re in a good mood today,” he observes while signing off on the chart you’d given him.
“Am I?” you hum.
“Yeah,” he nods, clicking his pen with his thumb. He glances at you over the top of his glasses before averting his gaze once more. “What’d you get up to last night, huh?”
“Nothing,” you shrug. “Other than watching Santos butcher Alanis Morrissette’s discography at karaoke… Maybe I just slept well.”
“You usually only do that at my place.”
Your brows furrow when he passes the clipboard back to you. “I’m sorry— Are you accusing me of something, Dr. Robby?”
His mouth opens to respond — to tell you that he can smell the foreign body wash on your skin, far muskier than the delicate sweet-vanilla he’s used to. But the automatic doors across the station swish open and shut before he can.
Jack enters with his camo pack slung over his shoulder and brings a cool evening breeze in with him. Robby can’t help but notice how your eyes find each other’s almost instantly, clicking like magnets and lingering together like there’s a secret that only the two of you know about. His stomach swirls with jealousy.
“Look alive, degenerates,” Jack announces in lieu of a greeting, then quiets slightly when he reaches your side. “What’d I miss?”
“I was just briefing Robby on last night at karaoke,” you answer with a polite smile. “And how I will never be able to listen to Alanis Morissette after Santos’ crimes last night—”
“Fuuuck you,” Trinity drags out from the desk beside you, still sluggish from the long day and the hangover that won’t seem to leave her.
“Don’t drag me into this,” Jack quips. “I took an oath as a physician to do no harm.”
You exhale a quiet laugh. The man’s eyes soften around the edges, as though pleased at having earned the sound, before walking off towards the locker room. He leaves a trail of musky cedarwood as he goes, and Robby’s heart drops when he finally places the scent — the one he’s been smelling on you all day.
The realization hit him like a truck.
His expression darkens instantly when he turns back to you.
“Supply closet,” he mutters lowly as he walks past you. “Now.”
Your stomach drops at his tone. He takes all the remaining breath from your lungs with him as he goes. Your chest stings accordingly — with a surge of pride at his jealousy, and with a pang of distant regret at his hurt. You follow behind him down the long hallway to the supply closet like a scolded child. He barely waits for the door to click shut behind him before rounding on you.
“You slept with him?” he shouts, eyes wide and wild.
You cross your arms tight over your chest, with your head tilted inquisitively to your shoulder. “Aren’t you the one who said I could see whoever I want?”
“Yeah, I meant random assholes at the bar,” he snaps. “Not my best fucking friend!”
An incredulous laugh sputters from your lips. “Oh, so now we have rules? What happened to just being casual, huh? If you can flirt with your coworkers, why can’t I?”
Robby’s dark eyes narrow as he takes a slow step towards you. You catch a faint upward flicker of his mouth as he asks, “So that’s why you did it, huh? You just wanted to piss me off?”
Your anger spikes instantly. You feel it prickling red-hot beneath your scrubs. Because he’s an arrogant asshole, maybe, or maybe because a distant part of you knows that he’s right.
“No, actually,” you tell him anyway. “Because not everything’s about you, Robby. I did it because Jack wanted me. Because he didn’t treat me like I was just another one of his dirty secrets—”
“Yeah, alright,” Robby scoffs a breathy laugh and turns away, running a pale hand through his chopped brown hair.
“Because being with him made me feel good—”
“I said alright!”
“Aw, what’s wrong, Robby?” you coo, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Does it bother you that somebody else wanted me?”
Robby exhales another one of his stupid laughs.
Your chest swells with a burning feeling that makes you feel like crying. “Why is it so hard to admit that you care about me?”
“I care about you! Of course, I fucking care about you!” he exclaims, red in the face. “Because I’ve spent months trying not to screw this up.”
“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes. “Says the man who practically shoved me into someone else’s bed.”
“Oh, don’t do that,” Robby squints.
“Do what?”
“Act like this is what I wanted—”
The words die in his throat when the silver knob to the closet door clicks suddenly behind him. The hinges open with a quiet squeak a second later. Your heads whip in sync to find Santos in the threshold, rubbing at her tired eyes as she steps into the room. She doesn’t realize the two of you are in there until the door shuts behind her again.
Her wide eyes dart back and forth between the two of you for a moment. “…Why does it feel like I just walked into a hostage situation?” she quips in a monotone.
“Now you know how I felt last night,” you joke back weakly.
She flips you off and walks further inside. Neither of you says a word as she retrieves a case of saline flushes and four-by-fours from the shelves. The plastic crinkles loudly in the silence.
“Please. Feel free to continue,” Santos deadpans as she leaves. “I definitely won’t be listening with my ear pressed against the door.”
The entrance shuts behind her with a dull click that sounds much louder in the quiet. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Robby pinches his nose between his thumb and forefinger. When he lifts his head against, his eyes zero in on you.
“We’ll finish this when we get home,” he tells you, firmly.
“Can’t tonight,” you shrug, lying through your teeth. “I have plans.”
“Yeah, not anymore, you don’t.”
Your stomach does a back flip at his words, at his very sudden act of dominance that makes you feel like melting into a puddle at his feet. And judging by the newfound glint in Robby’s dark eyes, he notices it, too.
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