. ੭ you knew the rules of the game you were playing; or, at least, you thought you did. for months, the boundary between you and jungkook had been a thin, vibrating wire—stretched taut by late-night conversations and a mutual, bratty refusal to give in first. but forty-eight hours ago, that wire didn't just snap; jungkook wrapped it around his knuckles and pulled, leaving you to navigate a high-profile gallery opening while he stakes his claim in the most public of spaces; J.K.
°⊹-- pairings: bestfriends to lovers!jungkook x reader (F)
°⊹-- tags + warnings: gallery au, established tension, public displays of affection, dominant!jungkook, possessive behavior, overstimulation, fingering, ruined makeup, formal wear, explicit content.
°⊹-- word count: 1.6k
°⊹-- notes: he doesn't need to say a word when his hands are doing all the talking. he smells like expensive leather and cedarwood, and he has no intention of being a "good friend" tonight. enjoy the tension.
☾ ･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ :.⋆･ﾟ :.⋆･ﾟ:.☾
The fluorescent lights of the parking garage flickered with a dying buzz, a sharp contrast to the heavy, silent tension inside the car. You knew the rules of the game you were playing. Or, at least, you thought you did.
For months, the boundary between you and Jungkook had been a thin, vibrating wire—stretched taut by late-night conversations, lingering looks, and a mutual, bratty refusal to give in first. But forty-eight hours ago, at two o’clock in the morning, that wire hadn’t just snapped; Jungkook had wrapped it around his knuckles and pulled. The "safe best friend" persona was dead, buried under the memory of his heavy weight pushing you into your mattress, his teeth marking your jaw, and the terrifyingly dark, possessive tone of his voice when he told you exactly who you belonged to.
Now, you were supposed to play normal.
Tonight was a high-profile gallery opening and after-party downtown—the kind of event where the champagne flowed too quickly, the lighting was deliberately dim and moody, and everyone who was anyone was there to see and be seen. It was the perfect stage for an outside glimpse of your new, unspoken reality.
Standing in front of your full-length mirror, you smoothed down the fabric of your outfit. You’d deliberately avoided leopard print—too cliché, too expected. Instead, you’d leaned heavily into a sharp, dark feminine aesthetic, opting for a strapless, sheer tan mini dress. The delicate mesh was layered over a nude slip, adorned with contrasting horizontal black tiger stripes made of dense, glittering sequins that caught the low light. It was short, daring, and left your shoulders and legs bare, paired with gold Giuseppe Zanotti heels to anchor the look. With your hair sleek and dark, a sharp wing of eyeliner, and a deep, bitten-cherry lip, you looked like a predator waiting in the shadows.
When the car arrived, Jungkook was already in the backseat.
As you slid inside, the scent of his cologne—expensive leather, cedarwood, and a faint hint of tobacco—hit you instantly. He was dressed in a tailored, monochromatic black suit, the collar of his silk shirt unbuttoned low enough to tease the heavy ink climbing up his throat. He didn't say a word at first. He just looked at you. His dark eyes tracked slow and deliberate, starting from the sharp toe of your boots, up the sheer expanse of the tan, sequined mesh covering your thighs, to the bare curve of your collarbone and the defiant tilt of your chin.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. The silence in the car was thick, almost suffocating.
"You look ridiculous," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sent an involuntary shiver straight down your spine.
"Is that your version of a compliment, Kook?" You leaned back against the leather seat, crossing one leg over the other with deliberate slowness, letting the sequined mesh stretch tight over your knee. You gave him a lazy, bratty smirk. "Because it sounds a little desperate."
Jungkook’s eyes darkened, a dangerous, lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He didn't take the bait. Instead, he reached out, his large, tattooed hand hovering just above your knee before his fingers sank firmly into the flesh of your bare thigh, just where the short hemline ended. His thumb stroked a heavy, possessive circle, his heat burning through the thin fabric.
"It means," he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, "that I'm going to have a very hard time keeping my hands off you tonight. And if you push me, sweetheart, I won't wait until we get home."
Your breath hitched, the smirk faltering for a fraction of a second. He noticed, his thumb pressing a fraction deeper into your skin in silent victory, before the car pulled up to the glittering entrance of the venue.
The gallery was packed. Art collectors, influencers, and socialites mingled beneath soaring ceilings, their voices echoing off the polished concrete floors. To the rest of the world, you and Jungkook were exactly what you’d always been: a devastatingly attractive, fiercely loyal duo; best friends. You walked side-by-side, laughing at inside jokes, nodding politely to acquaintances, and navigating the crowd with effortless grace.
But beneath the surface, the air was combustible.
Jungkook was playing a new game tonight, and he was winning. Every time a man looked at you a second too long, or a photographer asked for a shot of the two of you together, Jungkook’s hand would find its way to the bare skin of your waist. Not a polite touch, but a heavy, commanding pressure, his palm splayed wide, fingers anchoring into your waist as if marking his territory for everyone to see.
"You're being incredibly loud tonight," you whispered, turning your head slightly as you pretend to examine a massive abstract canvas.
"I'm not saying a word," Jungkook replied smoothly, taking a sip from his glass of champagne. His gaze wasn't on the art; it was fixed entirely on your profile, his eyes hooded and dark.
"You don't have to," you murmured, tilting your chin up to look at him. "Your hands are doing all the talking. People are going to notice."
"Let them," he said, his voice dropping an octave, entirely unbothered by the crowd surrounding you. "Let them notice how you look at me. Let them notice that every time I touch you, your heart rate spikes. I can see it pulsing right here."
His index finger traced a light, agonizingly slow path down the center of your collarbone, stopping right at the sensitive dip of your neck, before his thumb hooked under the edge of your strapless bodice, pulling you a fraction of an inch closer.
The sheer audacity of it—doing this in the middle of a crowded, brightly lit gallery—sent a rush of heat straight to your core. Your inner thighs brushed together, a sudden, heavy ache settling between them. You wanted to match his arrogance, to push back and regain control, but the raw, dominant intensity in his eyes was completely paralyzing.
"Jungkook," you breathed, a faint warning that sounded far more like an invitation.
"Come with me," he commanded softly. It wasn't a request.
He grabbed your wrist, his grip firm and unyielding, and led you through the crowd. He didn't look back to see if you were following; he knew you wouldn't dare pull away. He guided you past the main exhibition hall, down a dimly lit, concrete corridor that led toward the private offices.
Finding an unlocked door to a darkened office, he pushed you inside and clicked the lock behind him.
The silence of the room hit you like a wave, a stark contrast to the thumping bass of the after-party outside. The only light was a weak, ambient glow filtering in from a distant streetlamp outside the window.
Before you could even draw a breath to speak, Jungkook spun you around and pressed you flat against the smooth surface of the heavy office desk.
"You've been testing me all night," he growled, his face inches from yours. The safe, polite best friend was entirely gone, replaced by the man who had wrecked your sanity two nights ago. "The dress. The attitude. The way you smirked at me in the car. You think because we're out in public, I won't do anything about it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," you provoked, your voice shaking slightly despite your best efforts to play it cool. You arched your back, leaning into him, your bare chest brushing against his jacket. "Maybe you're just projecting, Kook. Maybe you're just weak for me."
A dark, dangerous chuckle rattled in his chest. "Weak? No, sweetheart. I'm completely undone by you. But don't confuse that with a lack of control."
He released your wrists, but before you could move, his hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up. He brought his mouth down on yours in a bruising, possessive kiss. It wasn't gentle; it was a reclamation. His tongue parted your lips with a heavy, demanding stroke, tasting the deep cherry lipstick you’d carefully applied earlier, completely ruining it within seconds.
You whimpered into his mouth, your hands instantly flying to his jacket, gripping the lapels to keep your knees from buckling. The sheer contrast of his rough, dominant mouth against the quiet sanctuary of the hidden office was intoxicating.
Jungkook broke the kiss, his breath ragged, his lips tracking down your jaw to the sensitive skin right beneath your ear. He bit down, just hard enough to make you arch your back and gasp, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin before his tongue smoothed over the sting.
"Jungkook, someone's going to come down this hallway," you panted, your fingers tangling in the dark hair at the nape of his neck.
"They won't," he murmured against your skin, his hands moving down your body. His large, calloused palms slid over the sheer, sequined fabric covering your hips, gripping you tightly and lifting you slightly, pressing your pelvis firmly against his.
The breath completely left your lungs. He was rock hard, the rigid length of him pressing directly against your center through his trousers and your thin slip.
"Feel that?" he whispered, his voice dangerously low as he ground himself against you in one slow, heavy, rolling motion. "That's what you do to me. And you're going to fix it right now."
He didn't need to ask you to lift your dress. Because it was a mini dress, it was already hitched high on your thighs as you leaned back against the desk. He slipped his hand between your legs, his fingers navigating the delicate fabric of your underwear. He made quick work of it, pulling the cotton aside.
"Jungkook, please—"
"Shh," he murmured, his warm fingers fanning over your sensitive flesh, making you shudder before he’d even properly touched you. "Be a good girl."
Then, his fingers made contact. He used a devastating, relentless focus. He used two fingers, mimicking the heavy, rhythmic pressure that he knew you needed. His thumb worked in tandem, rolling against your clit, occasionally slipping a third finger inside you to stretch you, filling with a thick, heavy heat as he slid in and out.
The sensation was overwhelming. You were wet, slick, and stretching, the ambient sound of the bass from the after-party vibrating through the heavy desk against your back, matching the frantic rhythm of your heart.
"Kook—Jungkook, I'm going to—" You bit your lower lip, trying desperately to keep your voice down, tears of sheer pleasure pricking the corners of your eyes.
He didn't slow down. If anything, he grew more aggressive, his fingers pumping faster and deeper, his thumb grinding hard against your sweet spot. He was relentless, driving you closer and closer to the edge with a terrifyingly deliberate control.
You couldn't hold it back. Your hips jerked helplessly against his hand as the orgasm crashed over you—a sudden, violent wave of heat that made your entire body go rigid. You buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the loud, undone cry that escaped your lips, your fingers tightening so hard on his shoulders that your nails dug into the fabric of his suit.
Jungkook stayed right there, watching you unravel, his thumb gently slowing its pace as your body spasms subsided into a slow, trembling aftershock.
When he finally pulled away, he stood up straight, towering over you. His breathing was heavy, his chest heaving, and a streak of your ruined cherry lip gloss was smeared across his jaw. He looked entirely predatory, completely satisfied, and devastatingly handsome.
You leaned against the desk, completely breathless, your legs shaking so badly you could barely stand. Your dress was in disarray, and you were a mess of arousal.
Jungkook looked down at you, a soft, incredibly dark smile touching his lips. He reached out, gently smoothing the sheer, sequined fabric of your dress down over your thighs. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, casually wiping his fingers, then his mouth and jaw. He reached out, his thumb gently smudging the remaining lipstick on your lips to make it look intentionally blurred, rather than completely devoured.
"There," he murmured, his voice returning to that smooth, calm cadence, though the fire in his eyes hadn't died down a single bit. He unlocked the door, turning the handle just an inch before looking back over his shoulder at you. "Now, let's go back out there. Let's see if you can keep that pretty mouth shut for the rest of the night."
You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as you looked at him. The game wasn't over. It was just getting started.
Summary: You bring your daughter into the ER with an increased fever, and she manages to convince herself that Dr. Jack Abbot is her dada.
Lovergirlnote: I had this idea on my mind for a while, and I had to get it out! Let me know what we're thinking. Are we feeling this?
Chapter I: A Case of the Mistaken Daddy
You walk into the daycare and greet the receptionist, Connie, at the front desk.
“How’s she doing?” You ask, concern lacing your voice.
“She’s a little down. She’s been throwing up and mostly lying around,” Connie explains, sympathy coloring her tone. This was one of the things that you enjoyed most about this daycare. They actually cared about the kids and valued them like they were their own. It wasn’t easy for you when you had to go back to work and put Nova into daycare. It’d been just the two of you for the first year of her life.
Your parents and friends were great at helping you take care of her, especially since she was your first child. But you didn’t want to burden them with the responsibility of taking care of Nova when she was your daughter. Plus, it’d be pretty demanding trying to drive Nova out to your parents’ house early in the morning and then picking her up after work.
No, you were an adult now, which meant you had to make adult decisions. You were thorough with your search for a daycare for your little girl. You’d seen enough horror stories to know that you needed to be careful about where you sent your baby.
You landed on Miss Sunshine’s.
A daycare run by a woman named Ms. Berta Jones. The woman is the literal embodiment of sunshine and safety. You’d brought Nova along with you to meet the woman and her staff. Within five minutes of meeting Ms. Jones, Nova was sitting in the woman’s lap like she’d known her for ages.
It also helped that Miss Sunshine’s would be teaching Nova things like her ABCs, numbers, and other things all before she reached Pre-K. It was a done deal for you, and the price wasn’t bad either.
You had left work early to pick up Nova after you got a call that she was throwing up. You follow behind Connie as you spot Nova lying on her little cot. It breaks your heart to see your baby so down.
You walk over and kneel in front of her, “Hi, Nova baby. I heard you aren’t feeling so good.”
Nova pouts at you, big tears filling her small eyes, “Mama.”
She reaches up for you, and you immediately take her into your arms. In return, she wraps her limbs around you and stuffs her face into your neck. You run a soothing hand up and down her back while whispering gentle words to her. Connie walks up and hands you Nova’s bag before smiling softly at the little girl, “I hope you feel better, Nova. We’ll be right here when you get back, okay?”
Nova gives her a weak smile in return, along with a small ‘mhm.”
Outside, you strap Nova inside her booster seat before starting the drive to her pediatrician. You spare fleeting glances back to her in the mirror to continue to monitor her condition. The anxiety inside you spikes up more at the helpless look on her face. Pulling into the parking lot, you carry Nova inside the doctor’s office before walking up to the front desk.
Amanda, the receptionist, whom you’d grown fond of, smiles softly at you and Nova. “Oh dear, I was so worried when you called to make an appointment for Nova. Dr. Ashmore is just wrapping up with a client. She’ll be ready for you two soon.”
“Thanks, Amanda,” you reply before going to take a seat.
You look down at Nova as she plays with the necklace around your neck. “Hey lovebug, you wanna play games on my phone while we wait?”
Nova shakes her head. You know that she has to be feeling awful if she declines to see your phone. The fact only makes the nerves in your stomach worse. It’s only a few moments later that you’re called back by one of the nurses. You clutch Nova tighter to yourself as you walk to the back. The nurse gets all of Nova’s vitals.
She places the thermostat in Nova’s mouth before waiting to hear the beep. You watch intensely as she holds the numbers up to her face and frowns.
“What? Is there something wrong?” You ask.
The nurse gives you a tense smile, “It appears that Nova’s temperature is at 108. That’s a very concerning temperature. I know that this is going to sound scary, but I need you to take Nova to the Emergency Room right now, okay? I know someone there, and I’ll call to let them know that you’re on your way and you need to be seen immediately.”
You feel lightheaded for a second. The words ‘108’ and ‘Emergency Room’ all send your blood pressure skyrocketing, but you know that you can’t panic in front of Nova. She’s probably scared enough as it is.
You nod at the nurse, and you know that she can blatantly tell how scared you are.
She grabs your hand, “It’s going to be okay. They have some of the best doctors on staff there. When you make it to the front desk, ask for Dana Evans. She’s going to get you seen quickly, okay?”
“Okay, thank you.”
You carry Nova to the car and strap her in again. You drive a bit quicker than when you initially came to the doctor’s office, but still at an appropriate speed to not get pulled over. You try to keep things as calm as possible for Nova by talking with her.
You watch as her face crumples and tears fill her eyes, “Mama..”
“It’s okay, baby. We’re almost there. Just one second.”
You recognize the distinct sound of Nova throwing up before she fully starts to cry. Luckily for you, you pull into the PTMC parking lot before moving to the back to grab Nova. Fortunately, she managed to throw up mostly on the floor and less on her clothes. You take a wipe and run it across her chubby face before wrapping her in your arms.
When you walk through the doors, it’s clear that you’re a very concerned mother in need of help. You spot a blonde lady standing at the desk, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Dana Evans. My daughter is sick, and her nurse said she had a temp of 108 and she just threw up.”
You ramble through the words, light tears pricking at your eyes, before the woman places her hand over yours.
“Hey, breathe with me, honey. You’re okay. I’m Dana. Nancy called and said you’d be on your way. I have the room open for you already. Let’s get you and little Miss all settled.” You walk behind Dana while continuing to soothe Nova, who’s looking around the hospital in curiosity.
Dana is thorough in making sure that you and Nova are comfortable. She’s checking Nova’s vitals all while talking sweetly to her. “What’s your name, Princess?”
Nova smiles shyly, “Nova.”
“Nova. That’s a really pretty name. How old are you?”
Nova holds up one finger, to which Dana smiles, “One year old. Wow, you’re a big girl!”
The door opens, and possibly the most attractive man that you’ve ever seen in your life walks into the room. A girl in similar scrubs walks in behind him.
Dana looks at you, “This is Dr. Abbot. He’s one of our best. This is Dr. Samira Mohan. They’re both going to make sure that you’re taken care of today.” She gives Jack and Samira your name before handing them the chart. She gives you and Nova one last smile before exiting the room.
Jack looks at the chart before looking back at you, “Can you walk me through what’s going on?”
You take a deep breath, “Her daycare called me today and said that she’d been throwing up. I picked her up and took her to her pediatrician, and they said she was running a fever of 108, and we needed to get Nova here immediately. She also threw up on the way here.”
Jack nods before looking over at Nova, “Hi there, sweetie. I’m Dr. Abbot, can I take a look to see what’s wrong?”
Nova looks at the man in awe, but doesn’t appear to be put off by him at all. Jack takes this as a sign and starts to listen to her heartbeat. Nova watches him the whole time in pure curiosity. Jack catches her inquisitive stare before smiling at her. In response, Nova turns her head shyly.
He checks her temperature again before frowning, “We need to get her temperature down. Dr. Mohan, can you get me an IV-pack set up? She’s a bit dehydrated, and I want to get fluids in her. Also, bring me some Tylenol.”
Dr. Mohan nods before leaving the room.
Jack spares a glance over in your direction and can sense the worry oozing from you.
“First one?” He questions.
You lift your eyebrows in surprise, “Is it that obvious?”
He nods before chuckling softly, “I’ve been a doctor for a long time, and I can spot the difference at this point, but I can assure you, I’ll do my best to take care of her.”
“Thank you, Dr. Abbot.” You respond, sparing a soft smile at the man. There’s a quick moment of fluttering in Jack’s chest as you smile at him. He admits to himself that you’re really pretty.
He shakes his head before looking back in Nova’s direction, “What’s your favorite color, sweetie?”
“Ink,” Nova responds. Jack knows that she means ‘pink.’ He’d always found that the beginning stage, when kids were still learning to pronounce words very enduring. He asks her a few more simple questions as she answers shyly. He can tell that she still doesn’t feel well, and it makes his heart clench in ways that he’s not comfortable acknowledging right now.
Soon, Samira arrives back in the room with the IV pack. You pale at the sight of the needle before looking back down at Nova. You grab her stuffed bunny, Bun Bun, from her bag before handing it to her. “Hey, Nova, look, here’s Bun Bun. He’s going to sit right here with you and be so strong for you, okay?”
Nova looks at you with wide eyes before hugging Bun Bun to her chest. Jack grabs the needle from Samira before scooting closer to Nova. He and Nova both make eye contact as his gaze softens, “Okay, sweet girl, just a slight pinch and you’ll feel better.”
Nova looks at Jack like she understands what he’s saying. It makes his heart clench even more to know that the needle will be pricking her skin. Much to yours and Samira’s amusement, Jack starts to make a funny face at Nova before sliding the IV in her arm.
She flinches at the quick stab before the fat tears start welling in her eyes. Her bottom lip starts to jut out before she lets out a sob. Jack rationalizes that he’d do anything in his power to never see the little girl cry again.
You rub your hand along Nova’s curls while pressing gentle kisses to her forehead and whispering in her ear. Jack looks down at the little girl, “I’m really sorry about that, Nova. How about I bring you a special treat later for being such a big girl?”
The tears in Nova’s eyes slow down, and she nods her head at Jack. Soon, her little eyes get droopy as the medicine begins to take effect. Her long lashes droop over her chubby cheeks as she lets out small breaths. In that moment, Jack believes that she looks like the cutest kid in the world.
He looks back at you, “We’ll be back to check on her later. I’d be comfortable with keeping her here for a few hours, just till we’re sure that her fever has broken.”
“Okay, thank you so much, Dr. Abbot,” you respond, before looking over in Samira’s direction, “Thank you as well, Dr. Mohan.”
Jack and Samira both nod and give you a smile before exiting the room to take on other cases and check on their patients. Samira turns to Jack, “You were really good in there with her. She was totally comfortable with you.”
Jack shrugs, “Years of experience, kid. You pick up a few things along the way.”
Samira smiles before walking off in the other direction. Jack saddles up to the front desk next to Dana, who shoots him a glance, “How’s our little lady doing in there?”
“She’s good. She went to sleep. I’m gonna keep her and her mom here for a few hours to monitor her fever.”
Dana nods while typing on the computer, “Sounds good. I’ll have Emma check in on them.”
Jack turns his head sharply, “No, that’s fine. I got it.”
Dana eyes him suspiciously, “Okay then. I didn’t realize you had such a strong attachment to children.” Jack clocks the teasing tone in her voice and rolls his eyes before leaving the desk.
Dana chuckles under her breath as she watches Jack leave.
As suspected, Jack gets caught up in numerous cases, but he gets Emma to give him updates on you and Nova when he has a free second. When he finally has a second, he immediately darts in the direction of the room where you and Nova are.
You have Bun Bun in your hands, and you’re doing a deep voice while moving the stuffed animal around. Nova is laughing and squealing in delight as you make the stuffed rabbit give her kisses.
“I see someone’s feeling a lot better,” Jack comments, stepping into the room.
Nova lights up at seeing Jack walk into the room, a wide grin overtaking her chubby face.
“Dada!”
You and Jack both pause in surprise. You’re holding Bun Bun in the air with your eyes widened. Jack closes and opens his mouth a few times before looking at you.
You give him a sheepish look before turning to Nova, “Hey..Dr. Abbot isn’t Dada. He’s just the nice doctor who’s helping you.”
You try to get your little girl to nod along with you in agreement, but she frowns at you before looking back at Jack. Nova smiles once again, “Dada.”
You sigh before looking at Jack, “I’m so sorry. She doesn’t typically even say that.”
Jack recollects himself before smiling at you, “It’s fine. Happens all the time.”
Which is definitely a big fat lie. There are definitely no kids in the ER who are calling him Dada. In fact, Jack has to admit that in all of his twenty-something years of being a doctor, this is a new experience for him. He walks closer to the bed and sits down to check over Nova.
She looks a lot better than when she was first admitted. Jack notes the color that’s come back into her brown skin, along with how much more lively that she is now. He also clocks the look of admiration that she’s shooting him.
He smiles down at her, “You feeling all better, Nova? Let’s check your temperature. Say aahh..”
Nova lets out a loud ‘aahh’ before clasping her lips around the thermometer. Jack waits for the sound of the beep before turning it in his direction. He smiles at the results before looking at you, “Her temp’s dropped down significantly. It seems like she’s taking the meds really well. I’m going ot get you two discharged, and I recommend switching between giving her Tylenol and Tamiflu. I’ll put in a prescription for you to pick up. What pharmacy do you use?”
“CVS,” you reply.
Jack nods, “Okay, I’d also recommend keeping her at home for a few days and keeping her hydrated. Start her off with small meals like soups and crackers before upgrading to bigger meals. If any other symptoms persist, bring her back here immediately, okay? You can even ask for me.”
Your surprised eyes meet Jack’s again, “That’s a really generous offer. Thank you so much for everything, Dr. Abbot.”
You hold his gaze for a couple of seconds before Nova starts making small sounds as she plays with Bun Bun. Jack smiles at Nova, who holds the stuffed rabbit up to Jack, “Bun Bun.”
Jack nods, “Yeah, I can see that. He’s really cute.”
Nova smiles at the praise before holding Bun Bun out to Jack, “Dada.”
It’s only when she looks between Jack and Bun Bun that you both recognize that she’s introducing Jack as “Dada” to Bun Bun. Good lord.
Jack plays it cool. He gently removes the needle from Nova’s arm as he places a pink Band-Aid over the sore. She doesn’t even seem to mind it all. She takes it all like a big girl and smiles at Jack or “Dada” as she has so intensely insisted upon.
You’re about to pick Nova up from the bed when she turns away from you. She turns to Jack as she looks up at him with wide, expectant eyes and pouty lips. You try again to pick the little girl up, but she begins to whine and reaches for Jack again.
The tears are back again, “Dada..”
Jack looks over at you, to which you give him a rather helpless look. He scratches the back of his neck, “I’m fine with holding her until we get to the front desk. Plus, it’ll make it easier while you fill out the discharge papers.”
Truthfully, he doesn’t fully come out and say that Nova’s pulling at his heartstrings.
You nod, biting your lip softly, “Okay, I’m really sorry again, Dr. Abbot. I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but she seems to like you a lot.”
Jack waves you off, even though he’s dying to hold Nova and he’s literally bursting at the seams at her cuteness. Nova lifts her arms, and Jack gladly scoops her up. He takes Bun Bun in his hand and lowers his voice, “Hi, Nova, you were such a brave girl today.”
Nova laughs and curls her small body into Jack’s once more. He can’t deny that he likes how natural it all feels, especially with how you’re smiling at him and Nova. He gently bounces the little girl in his arms as she wraps her own arms around his neck. He can even hear her softly whispering “Dada” into his shoulder, and she holds Bun Bun.
Jack hopes not to draw too much attention to the three of you, but as usual, luck’s not on his side. It appears that everybody and they mama decided that this exact moment was the moment that they all needed to be at the desk.
Simultaneously, everyone turns their heads to look at the three of you. Jack has to admit, you all do look like a cohesive family unit. He doesn’t even want to begin to acknowledge what he feels when he thinks about it.
Robby eyes the little girl in Jack’s arms before shooting him a questioning look. Jack shakes his head in response.
Dana’s obviously amused by the situation as she smirks at Jack, “Well, it seems like our little lady has taken a liking to you. You feeling better, sweetie?”
Nova lifts her head and catches all of the adults staring up at her. She curls herself into Jack’s arms and looks up at him, “Dada.”
A wave of silence overtakes the group as they all hear Nova calling Jack “Dada.” Jack doesn’t move to correct Nova, but in his honest defense, how would he?
Was he just supposed to chastise the little girl and break her heart?
Nope, he’ll be Dada for the time being. He’s sure that she’ll forget all about Jack once she leaves the ER. A bitter nagging settles in his stomach at the thought of her forgetting him.
Mel, never one to read the room, looks between you, Jack, and Nova. “I didn’t know you had a kid, Dr. Abbot.”
“He doesn’t,” You chime in, signing the discharge papers and glancing at Jack and Nova.
You smile softly at him, “Nova’s just taken a liking to him, hence the nickname.”
Jack takes the opportunity to sit Nova on the counter and holds her steady. She kicks her chubby legs back and forth as she babbles and waves Bun Bun around. Jack listens intently, even though he doesn’t have a clue what she’s talking bout.
“Hey sweetie, you want a sticker?” Dana asks, pulling out the sticker sheet.
Nova smiles and claps in excitement as Dana places a big pink smiley face on her t-shirt. She looks at you and Jack in excitement, “Mama! Dada! Look!”
You gasp in surprise and smile, “Oh my Nova girl, look at that. You were such a big girl today. That means we can go and watch all the Bluey that you want!”
Nova gasps and looks at Jack, “Dada! Bluey!”
Jack smiles, even though he has no clue who Bluey is. “That’s great, kiddo! You be good for mommy, okay?” Nova nods with a wide smile. Jack’s heart melts even more at the little girl.
You hand the discharge papers to Dana before scooping Nova up in your arms. You press a kiss against her chubby cheek, which causes her to giggle. You glance at Jack, “Thank you again for everything, Dr. Abbot. We really appreciate it.” You glance down at Nova, “Nova, tell Dr. Abbot bye-bye.”
Nova looks at you like you’re speaking Spanish before turning her gaze back to Jack. It seems like it only takes her brain about two seconds to comprehend that she’s leaving “Dada” behind.
Almost instantly, the tears start welling up in her eyes as her pout increases. Everyone at the desk watches with bated breath until the little girl begins sobbing hysterically and reaching out for Jack.
“Dadaa..” Nova cries, big tears rolling down her cheeks.
You try your best to soothe Nova by presenting Bun Bun to her. It only seems to make her cry harder for Jack. You give everyone a sheepish smile before turning to leave the ED. You always knew that your baby would be dramatic, and if there’s an award for Best Child Actress in Motion Picture Drama, your daughter was hands down sweeping that award.
It breaks Jack’s heart to see Nova crying out so helplessly for him, so he takes a step in your direction.
“Hey, what if I carry her out to the car for you? I mean, you’ve had a long day, and maybe this’ll make the transition easier for her,” He suggests.
You give him a tired nod before passing Nova off to him. Almost immediately, Nova’s tears dry up, and she smiles at Jack while draping her arms around his shoulder, “Hi, Dada.”
“Hi, Nova,” He says with a chuckle.
He rocks her in his arms as you both walk out of the ED towards your car.
At the front desk, everyone turns to look at each other.
“That was weird, right? We can all agree that the whole scenario was weird,” Trinity comments, to which everyone hums in agreement. But it’s the Pitt, everything’s always weird there.
Outside, Nova has managed to fall asleep once again on Jack’s shoulder. Her tiny breaths tickle Jack’s neck, but he doesn’t mind. He’s holding Bun Bun in his hand after he started to droop from Nova’s. You open your car door before reaching for Nova. Jack passes her and watches carefully as you strap her in.
To any outsider, it would truly just look like you and Jack were a married couple with your daughter. They’d never be able to guess that Jack had just met you and Nova only hours before.
You close the door gently and turn back to face Jack, “Thank you. I know that I’ve said it like a million times, but I really do appreciate all of your help tonight. I was really nervous about Nova.”
“It’s no problem at all. Nova seems like a really great kid, and I can tell that you’re an amazing mom,” Jack comments.
You smile and rock on your heels nervously. It’s not every day that a super sexy silver fox doctor is complimenting your parenting skills. You realize that you’re staring and snap out of the daze, “It was really nice meeting you, Dr. Abbot. The world needs more compassionate doctors like you.”
“Jack..” He corrects softly.
You give him a look of confusion, to which he clarifies, “You can call me Jack.”
“Okay, see you around, Jack.”
He smiles at you one last time before watching you and Nova drive off.
Yep, he needs the day off after this. Secretly, his heart yearns to see you and Nova again.
Summary: Y/N was a planner. Everything had to go along with the schedule she had in her head otherwise it felt as if the world was coming to end.
What happens when she decides to surprise her family far earlier than expected?
What happens when the shift in schedule brings her someone that has come before?
That someone being none other than Park Jimin, a man dearly loved by many, especially his members.
What happens when the pair soon realizes that their invigorating encounter over coffee was not the first time their paths have crossed?
Chapter 1:
“Can I sit here please?” Y/N looked up from her computer at the person’s voice. She squinted her eyes for a moment as she tried to decipher where she recognized those eyes from.
His face was covered with a mask and a black cap fit snuggly on his head, concealing his brows and only allowing her to have a view of his eyes. She was in a cafe trying to kill time before her train had to leave when she was disturbed from her typing by the mystery man.
She looked at her phone before responding and realized that she had been so enthralled in her work that she was going to miss her train if she didn’t leave now.
“It’s your lucky day. I gotta head out. Excuse me” she said politely as she grabbed her things to head out. She would’ve left if not for the hand that pulled her back gently by the wrist. She made a sound of protest at the stranger’s audacity and turned to him with a glare. She was stunned at how her mood started to shift at the pleading look he gave her.
“Please. Just sit with me for a moment. It’s important.” She scoffed.
“Yah. I’m gonna miss my train” she said in a whiny tone. The man’s eyes flickered for a moment as if contemplating something before he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.
Y/N felt her stomach as he lowered his mask a little so that she could see his face. She gasped.
What the fuck!
“Y-you.”
“Shhh” he said with a finger to his lips and used her shocked state to guide her back to her seat.
“Where are you headed to?” he asked softly. Her brain took a second to register before she sputtered a reply.
“Busan. I’m visiting family” his shoulders drooped slightly, letting his guard down a moment.
“That’s good, so am I. I’ll take you. Just please do this favor for me” he practically begged.
She stared at him for a moment, fully perplexed at his request. What could she possibly do for him?
“What could you need from me? I mean you’re...” she glanced around the cafe for a moment before leaning into whisper, “Park Jimin.” Jimin smiled under his mask finding her reactions rather adorable before his expression shifted to serious.
“I have a dilemma. I got separated from my friends and ran into some sasaengs. I just need to wait with me for a bit until my car arrives. Is that ok?” her heart softened slightly, feeling pity for his situation.
Jimin, watched her carefully as she nibbled her lip in contemplation before she sighed and put her bag on the table.
“Thank you” he said earnestly. She gave him a small smile.
“It’s ok, take it as gift for surviving the military.” he titled his head and let out soft peel of laughter. The sound made her a little giddy, the sound far clearer in person compared to his lives.
“Are you ARMY?” she felt her face heat up at his question as she took out her laptop.
“This is embarrassing” she muttered. Jimin caught her words and laughed again. “Yah. Stop laughing” she complained with a pout.
She’s adorable.
“Sorry. People usually start asking for pictures by this point, this is a nice change.” She gave him a soft smile, laced with pity and Jimin felt his heart flutter at her gaze. He turned his eyes away from her, unable to stare for too long as heat traveled from his neck to his face.
She was stunning. The kind of beauty that made you stop for a moment and gaze upon her. Her features were soft, big doe eyes that slightly turned upwards, pretty dimples, full lips that were set in a slight pout and the cutest nose complemented by her brown skin and long dark locs that fell down her back stopping right above her hips.
“What’s your name?” She had resumed her work on her laptop when he turned his head away now at his question, she looked to him and answered shyly.
“Y/N Choi.” He hummed in response and tilted his head a little to the left before hesitantly asking his question.
“You’re Korean?” She giggled softly. she was used to the perplexity that came when she told people her name as she did not look Korean—well mostly.
“Half. My dad is from here, and my mom is from Jamacia.”
“Ahhh. Are you just here to visit?”
“No, I just moved to Seoul. My dad moved back when I went to college. I moved here after getting my masters, for work.” He listened intently to her words, picking up how her voice shifted slightly at the mention of her father. A sad twinge mirroring the flash of pain in her eyes.
“Why did he move back? If you don’t mind” She went silent for a moment, trying to keep her tears at bay. Jimin felt horrible as he saw her eyes turn glassy. He reached his hand forward, taking her soft one into his own.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer.” she was startled at the touch but decided to tell him anyway.
“My mom passed 6 years ago. My dad moved back shortly after. It’s ok” she answered with a smile. It was a soft thing, her words coming out wetly. He caressed the back of the back of her hand with his thumb as she composed herself. She let out a little giggle.
“This is not how I envisioned meeting you would be like.” Jimin laughed at her words feeling oddly at ease the longer he sat with her.
“Oh. How did you imagine it?” he teased. She closed her eyes in embarrassment, almost as if the action would erase him from in front of her. When she opened them, Jimin stared deeply into her orbs, eyes filled with mischief. She let a light gasp and turned her head away slightly, earning an amused chuckle from the man and a slight tug of her finger. She turned to him at this and noticed that he had started to toy with her acrylics absentmindedly.
“Yah. It’s rude to ignore your elders” he teased further. She scoffed with a slight smile playing on her lips and rolled her eyes dramatically. Jimin smirked under his mask, enjoying her sassiness.
“Who’s to say I’m not older?” He stared at her for a moment, not believing her quip at all. She looked a little younger than his maknae, 24 or 25 at best. She got nervous at his staring and shifted her gaze before muttering under her breath.
“I’m 24”
“That’s what I thought” he said cheekily. She sucked her teeth and removed her hand from his and went back to typing. Jimin didn’t like this, he couldn’t explain why but he rather enjoyed their hands together, far more than he should have.
She shook her head in amusement and went back to work, typing away on her laptop for a few minutes while Jimin watched her.
“What are you working on?” He inquired curiously. She glanced up at him through her lashes, sending a flash of heat down his spine.
“Lesson plans.”
“Lesson plans? You’re a teacher?”
“Professor. I got a position at SNU.” Jimin looked at her in awe for moment. He sung her praises, earning a shy blush from her and they fell into smooth conversation after that.
Jimin found out that she had graduated with her master's from Oxford and due to her studies, she hadn’t been able to see her family for nearly 2 years. She had come home due to getting an offer from SNU as an assistant professor where she would be instructing various English courses.
She said that she was surprising her family with her visit as they were originally expecting her to come home next week. However, she had rushed her plans to make it in time for her grandmother’s 80th birthday which was tomorrow. Her words made his heart melt as she got excited while talking about her family. He had learned that she was the eldest of 5, with a twin brother who was 7 minutes younger, a fact she emphasized, making him laugh. Then there were her younger siblings, another set of twins who had recently turned 20 and finally her little brother who was 8, and a niece and nephew she had yet to meet.
He had revealed to her that he and Jeongguk had just finished filming Are You Sure and were going to visit their families before heading to the states for work. He had told her about them making a new album that would be releasing next year, a fact that he was not supposed to divulge but he couldn’t help it, she was easy to talk to. Before they knew it, an hour had passed and Jimin had finally gotten a call stating that their ride was there.
She had made to pay the bill they had stacked up after 3 rounds of drinks, but Jimin stopped her despite her protest and paid while also leaving a $100 tip. He guided her out of the cafe, taking her small suitcase, the action making her heart flutter.
She shook her head a little as her mind started to go in treacherous territory. She couldn’t have him, at all, he was Jimin and she was Y/N. In no world could she even have the chance to call him hers, those thoughts penetrated her brain as they made it to the black SUV with heavy tints.
“Get in” Jimin told her softly as he took her bags. She opened the back door of the vehicle shyly and when she did her eyes widened and she stood in shock for a full 30 seconds before the man raised a brow with a smirk. She snapped out of her daze and went in, sitting as far away from him as she could, the action prompting a soft chuckle.
“You could at least say hi” he said in a teasing tone, highly amused at her skittish nature, knowing well what his presence did to people.
Kim Taehyung was an adonis in the flesh. Pure sex appeal and confidence emitting from him without a word, and when he did open his mouth, she felt pure heat pool in between her legs.
“Hello” she said politely without looking at him. If she had turned her head slightly, she would have caught his appraising look of her figure and the way his eyes softened at the sound of her voice. Instead, no other words passed between them as Jimin got in, causing her to slide in the middle seat and sitting right next to the very man who looked as if he would eat her alive.
“Hyung, I think your friend is in shock” he drawled out. Jimin was about to scold him for his teasing but was cut off by the friend herself.
“Yah. This friend has ears” she said with full sass, turning to look him in the eye and earning a loud laugh from Jimin as the driver started their 6-hour journey.
Taehyung’s eyes widened slightly at her attitude, the nature of it propelling his fondness further.
“Leave her alone. I owe her a favor” Jimin deescalated. Her mouth was set in a stern expression, extenuating their natural pout, as she turned forward facing away from the man who was oh so conveniently her bias.
Taehyung glanced at Jimin over her head, his hyung giving him a warning look that he returned with a lazy smirk.
“What’s your name?” she tried not let his deep voice affect her but was failing. She schooled her expressions easily, keeping them neutral but her body was reacting, a fact that irritated her as she disliked the fact that this man that she had idolized for 6 years got under skin so easily upon their first meeting.
“Y/N” she answered flatly without looking to him. Jimin watched the interaction carefully, waiting to step in if need be.
Taehyung scoffed lightly with a smile, an amused expression settling onto his face. She was quite bratty, something he thoroughly enjoyed, and was the opposite of what Jimin had described over text. Jimin had sung her praises, telling him all that he had learned, leaving out her headstrong nature, and the fact that she looked like an angry kitten when she caught an attitude.
“Are you not going to ask me mine?” he teased. She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes lightly before turning to him.
“I don’t enjoy people toying with me. I don’t like childish behavior. I know who you are, and right now I don’t care. I just want to get home.” she rushed out before reaching in her pocket for her Airpods and connecting them to her phone.
The tanned man was stunned for a moment and Jimin was trying and failing to hold in his laughter, the driver not even trying to conceal his own amusement at the girl telling the idol off.
“I told you to leave her alone” Jimin said in between laughter. She couldn’t hear them as she had her music blasting in her ears with her eyes closed. The two men glanced at her before speaking in low tones.
“Are you sure she’s an ARMY?” Jimin snorted at his words
“Why? Expected her to fawn over you? You were being an ass” he replied in his Busan accent.
“I was only teasing” Taehyung tried to defend, now feeling slightly bad for his teasing after mulling over the logistics. She had helped Jimin, even when she could’ve left him to fend for himself, causing her to miss her train, even though she was given the option of riding with them.
“Just apologize. She’s a good person.” Taehyung studied Jimin as he spoke the words. He had known this girl for an hour and was defending her so vehemently. He could tell that his hyung had taken a liking to her, a fact that did not bother him as he felt the connection the moment, she had sat in the car.
Y/N’s presence was enticing even when she had spoken shyly before he had pushed her to be combative. He had understood Jimin’s interest and he knew that he wouldn’t have bothered her in that cafe if his gut hadn’t trusted her. His instincts were never wrong, a quality that freaked them out half the time.
The group had not been actively looking for another person to add in their dynamic, but they were open to the idea, perhaps it was fate that Jimin had been stalked today, allowing for him to cross paths with their missing piece.
[...]
After the first hour of the car ride, Y/N had finally softened up to Taehyung. The man had apologized for his teasing, and she had replied in kind, stating that she was just upset that her original plans had been disrupted. Jimin had felt bad at her words, but she had reassured him that it was fine due to the nature of their meeting.
The pair melted at her being understanding and kept sharing glances when she wasn’t looking. They had decided mentally that she was someone they could consider to be a part of the relationship that the 7 of them shared if all parties agreed.
Y/N was unaware of their intentions but could not deny the pull she felt towards them both. Her body felt incredibly hot the longer she remained in between them. It frightened her a little as she was unsure on how to classify these emotions.
They were insanely attractive and charismatic, a fact that she already knew but it was more than that. It felt like she was bound to them in some way that her brain could not fully conceptualize but still yearned for them the longer they drove.
It didn’t help that the pair was incredibly funny and had a lot in common with her. Taehyung had beamed when she told her about her career and passions for literature, and Jimin when she revealed that she had done ballet since she was 3.
By hour 4 they had made a stop at a gas station, and she was relieved that she could be away from them for a moment when she went to the bathroom. The boys had done the same, both adorned in masks and hats to help conceal their identity.
After she was done washing her hands she splashed water on her face to cool her down, staring in the mirror questioning her own sanity for a moment as she thought about what it would be like to be in between both of them in a different manner.
She eventually left the bathroom and was met with the pair at the register. They didn’t make eye contact with the clerk, a fact that didn’t truly matter as the poor boy didn’t even bother with a glance due to his tiredness.
Snacks secured she followed them out of the store and back into the SUV. She let out a sigh, the sound boardering on a moan as she took her first bit of the rice ball in her hands, not realizing before how truly hungry she was. The boys glanced at each other again without her being aware.
They felt the same connection she did, a bit more intense than they expected but they couldn’t deny that they enjoyed it.
They chatted for a few moments after eating when she got a call. They caller id read Auntie showcasing a picture of n older woman likely in her late 50s. Jimin’s eyes widened at this as he recognized the woman instantly.
Taehyung gave him a quizzical look while Y/N spoke to the woman affectionately on the other line, explaining that she had missed her train and was hiking a ride. They couldn’t make out exactly what the woman was saying but they she was scolding her niece, then Y/N was told to switched to FaceTime. She glanced at Jimin and the man broke out of his state of shock and instead of replying he simply took her phone, causing the young woman to let a sound of shock and switched it himself.
When the video turned on the woman on the other line greeted him with familiarity.
“Oh! Jiminssi! Aigo, how have you been?” Jimin giggled at the woman’s words, cooing slightly as if she was speaking to a child. He felt the dumbfounded looks of the pair beside and ignore them, giving his full attention to the woman on the phone.
“I’m doing well, Auntie. I didn’t know Y/N was your niece.”
“Eh?! Auntie?!” Y/N said in shock. He turned to her with a cheeky smile then and she snatched her phone.
“Auntie how do you know him?” The woman gave her a stern look laced with fondness.
“He’s Sooyoung’s boy! You remember Sooyoung don’t you?” Y/N jaw dropped at her words.
Just her luck it would seem, Jimin was not merely an idol she had admired for years but was the son of her Aunt’s best friend since childhood who conveniently enough lived right next door to her family.
Hiiii would die if you could write Clark Kent x Demi god?? Like maybe the daughter of Zeus or something and they start dating and she gets really upset and he abilities come out before she can tell him that she’s a demi god?
𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗄𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗑 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗈𝖽!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌/𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗃𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗌!
𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 2.8𝗄
𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾: 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 <3
The rain over Metropolis had been nothing more than a persistent drizzle when you'd walked into Clark's apartment two hours ago. Now, it was a full-throated downpour, hammering against the windows like a warning.
Lightning was flashing, the winds picking up faster in an intense thunderstorm no meteorologist had forecasted for today.
You should have known better than to let it get this far.
You were usually very good at compartmentalizing that side of you. The side that let your emotions take over your actions and cause all hell to break loose. But right now, your heart was hammering incessantly, your rage simmering hotter and hotter, and it was boiling over.
Clark had no idea, of course, that this sudden pop-up storm was essentially all his fault.
He was currently rushing around shutting all the windows that he had left open earlier in the day for sunlight, muttering under his breath. You were almost certain that he was taking longer on purpose so that he didn't have to come back and finish this pointless argument you were having right now.
You half-wanted to use your own mind to shut the windows yourself and bring him back here in front of you.
But you couldn't, unless you wanted to explain yourself. Something you were not ready to do. Which, ironically enough, was the cause of this whole argument in the first place.
You were hiding something, and Clark knew it.
But unfortunately for the both of you, you just weren't ready to reveal that part of yourself, even if Clark had already revealed that part of him.
You clenched your hands into tight fists, forcing yourself to take deep inhales to calm your mind and clear the raging storm outside. But for some reason your usual tactics weren't working, and every time you thought back to why you were feeling this way, you got upset all over again.
Clark eventually found his way back to your side, taking the open seat he was in previously on the opposite side of the couch. You noticed the slight space he left next to you and cursed yourself internally.
Of course he's keeping distance, you thought bitterly. You've been snapping at him for an hour over nothing.
You just wanted to get this argument over with already so that you could kiss and make up and lay in his arms all evening like you originally planned to do. But it seemed fate had other plans because Clark was determined to get to the bottom of things. Curse the gods and their timing.
"Honey, I'm not trying to accuse you or attack you, or make you feel bad. I just know something is off and I want to help you in any way I can. But you keep pushing me away."
You take a deep breath, but it comes out uneven anyway.
"I'm not pushing you away," you say, too quickly, too defensively. Your voice cracks at the edges, and you hate that he notices.
Clark's expression softens, but he doesn't move any closer. "You are," he says gently. "You've been… different lately. And every time I ask, you shut me out. I don't—" He exhales, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want to be someone you can't trust."
The words hit harder than they should. Because that's not it. That's never been it.
"I do trust you," you insist, your fingers digging into your sleeves, grounding yourself in the fabric, in something normal. You take another breath. "Trust me, this isn't about you."
"Then what is it about? Because it's affecting you, and it's affecting me… baby, please, how can I help?" he asks, quieter now.
You shake your head immediately. You feel yourself getting anxious and irrationally angry. Why can't he just drop it? Why does he have to be so insistent and caring and loving? Ugh.
"I can't," you say simply instead.
Another crack of thunder splits the sky, loud enough to rattle the windows. The lights flicker. The air feels heavier, charged, pressing in on your lungs. Clark glances toward the window, brows furrowing.
"Gosh, that's… weird. Isn't this strange? This storm came out of nowhere. There wasn't supposed to be—"
You knew his Superman brain was probably now jumping to all kinds of conclusions and potential threats.
"Just drop it, Clark," you snap. "This isn't going anywhere."
The moment the words leave your mouth, regret floods in. His jaw tightens.
"I'm not going to drop it," he says, firmer now. "Not when you're clearly upset and refusing to tell me why."
"I said it's not about you!"
"Then let me in!" His voice rises for the first time—not loud, but desperate. "I can't help if you won't let me—"
"I don't need your help!"
Lightning flashes again, blinding this time, illuminating the entire room in stark white. The thunder follows instantly, deafening. The windows rattle violently. Clark freezes.
Slowly, his gaze drifts back to you. He tilts his head, curiously.
Your heart starts pounding and your palms get sweaty and of course he notices.
And you realize, with a sinking, horrified clarity, that it's happening. The one thing you've tried desperately to avoid.
Everything was spiraling too quickly.
The air around you is alive. You can feel it crackling against your skin, raising the fine hairs on your arms. The lamp beside the couch flickers once, twice, then pops—glass tinkling to the floor. Across the room, Clark's television screen glitches and dies. The storm outside isn't letting up. If anything, it's getting worse, the wind howling like something wounded.
Clark isn't looking at the destruction, though. He's looking at you.
No. No, no, no. Fuck!
This wasn't supposed to happen like this.
You force your hands to unclench, but faint sparks flicker across your skin anyway, dancing between your fingertips like restless fireflies. The overhead light pulses now, syncing with the frantic beat of your pulse.
"Nothing, it's nothing," you breathe, even as the lie falls apart in real time. Did he even ask you anything? Gods, you were losing it, bad. "It's just the storm—"
Concern is written all over Clark's face as he glances back outside, then back to you. He's looking at you the way he does when something doesn't add up. When he's piecing together a story.
And he's so, so good at that.
"...You're causing it," he says.
It's not a question. You realize that with a jolt of ice-cold terror. He knows. Your throat closes up.
You shake your head, stepping back instinctively, like distance might undo what's already unraveling. "I didn't mean to— I can't—"
The wind howls outside, fierce and sudden. Papers scatter across the room. The door rattles in its frame.
"Hey, hey, honey," Clark says immediately, hands raised in reassurance. He takes a cautious step forward. "It's okay. Just—just breathe, alright? You're scaring yourself."
"I know!" Your voice breaks, something raw and panicked tearing through it. Curse him for still trying to calm you down, even when he didn't understand what exactly was happening.
"Baby, your eyes…"
You lift a trembling hand to your face, but you already know what you'll find. You've seen this before—in mirrors, in rain puddles, in the split second before you manage to shove it all back down. Your eyes aren't yours right now. They're glowing. A faint, storm-silver light bleeding out from your irises, the mark of your father written across your face like a brand.
"I can explain," you whisper, even though you can't. Even though the words have lodged themselves in your throat like broken glass.
Clark approaches slowly, like you're something that might shatter. Or something that might explode. You wouldn't blame him for either assumption.
"Shh," he murmurs, voice low and steady in a way that makes your chest ache. "You don't have to explain all at once. Take a deep breath for me, please."
Another flash of lightning cuts across the sky, and the answering thunder shakes the entire building. You flinch, shoulders tensing, power surging instinctively in response. You try to do as he says, inhaling shakily.
The floorboards creak under your feet.
"I do," you choke out. "I do, because if I don't, you're going to—" Your voice breaks, breath stuttering. "You're going to look at me differently."
"I'm already looking at you," Clark says softly, before adding. "You're beautiful."
That almost makes it worse. You feel sick, even though you know he doesn't mean it like anything other than a compliment.
Your hands curl tighter, electricity snapping between your fingers. You try to force it down, to smother it the way you always do, but it's slipping, spilling through the cracks of your control.
"I'm not—" you start, then stop, shaking your head hard. "I'm not normal, Clark."
"I know," he says gently, and there's a faint curl of his lips. "I'm not exactly… normal either," he adds, a hint of humor threading through his voice.
"That's not the same!" you snap, louder than you mean to. The windows rattle violently in response. "You—you're good. You're… you're him. Superman. You save people, you—everyone looks at you and sees hope and—and—"
"And you think they wouldn't look at you the same way?" he asks.
A hollow laugh rips out of you. "No. They don't."
The storm surges, as if agreeing.
"I've seen what people do when they find out," you continue, the words tumbling out now, years of fear and hurt cracking open all at once.
"They don't see me. They see what I can give them. What I can fix. What I can destroy. I only destroy, Clark." Your voice drops as it cracks. "Or they get scared. And they leave. It happens every time."
Your eyes burn.
"So I don't tell anyone," you admit, lips trembling. "I try so hard to be human, Clark. I try so hard to just be… enough without it."
The admission hangs heavy between you.
"And I didn't tell you," you finish, getting it all out, "because I couldn't stand the idea of you seeing me like that too and choosing to leave. And things are getting serious now, and I'm obviously falling in love with you, and gods, I'm so scared. I didn't even realize I was pushing you away. I just figured it was better this way, to keep us both safe."
For a moment, there's only the storm. Then Clark closes the distance.
You tense immediately, instinct screaming at you to step back, but his hands find yours before you can. The sparks jump to his skin. He doesn't let go. If anything, he holds you tighter.
"Hey," he says again, softer this time, grounding. "Look at me."
You hesitate. Then you do. You release a long breath.
"You really think this is the part that changes things?" he asks quietly.
Your throat tightens. "It should. It usually does."
"It doesn't. It's not going to."
The words land with a strange kind of weight. Clark's grip on your hands tightens just slightly, enough to remind you he's there when he feels your brain spiraling.
"You're still you," he says. "The person who overthinks everything. Who insists on doing things the hard way because it 'feels right.'" A small, fond smile tugs at his lips. "Who gets stubborn over the tiniest arguments."
A shaky breath leaves you, almost a laugh.
"And I'm obviously hopelessly in love with you too." Clark repeats your words back.
"You didn't tell me," he continues, "and yeah, that hurts a little. Not because of what you are." His thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles, then your face. "But because you thought you had to hide from me."
Your eyes sting.
"I wasn't hiding from you," you whisper. "I was trying to protect what we had."
Clark tilts his head slightly. "By shutting me out?"
You wince. "...Yeah. That part didn't really work out."
He huffs a quiet laugh at that, something warm breaking through the tension.
"No," he agrees gently. "It didn't."
Another rumble of thunder rolls overhead—but distant now. Fading. You swallow hard.
"I'm… a demigod," You say finally, the words fragile but real as they leave you. "My father is—" You hesitate, shame flickering across your face. "It's Zeus."
You brace yourself, shutting your eyes quickly to avoid the look on his face.
Clark just places a soft kiss to your forehead. Then your temple, then your cheeks, and lastly your lips before your eyes are fluttering back open again, relishing in his touch.
"Okay," He says.
You blink. "Okay?"
"Well," he shrugs lightly, a small smile returning, "It explains the lightning."
Despite the lasting remnants of panic, you let out a startled, breathy laugh. It feels like something unclenches in your chest.
"You're not… scared of me?" You ask, quieter now.
Clark shakes his head. "I've seen a lot of things," he says simply. "You're not one of the things I'm afraid of."
The storm softens further, rain easing against the windows.
"I'm sorry," you murmur, guilt creeping back in now that the panic is fading. "For not telling you. For snapping. For—" you gesture vaguely to the destroyed living room, the storm, yourself. "All of this."
Clark looks at the cracked floor, the blown-out lamp, the dead television, and then back at you. His smile turns gentle, almost teasing.
"You know," he says, "most girlfriends just apologize with flowers or baked cookies."
A wet laugh escapes you. "I'll buy you a new TV."
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "I'm kidding. I don't care about any of it. I care that you're okay."
"I'm getting there," you admit.
"Good." He presses another kiss to your forehead. "Then let's get you somewhere more comfortable. You look exhausted."
You don't argue. The adrenaline is fading, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness that makes your limbs feel heavy. Something you always feel after wielding too much. Clark loops an arm around your waist, guiding you past the wreckage and toward his bedroom.
The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of the city through the window. The storm has calmed to a gentle rain now, a soothing rhythm against the glass. Clark pulls back the blankets and eases you onto the bed like you're something precious.
"Scoot," he murmurs.
You shuffle over, and he climbs in beside you, gathering you against his chest. His arms wrap around you—solid, warm, impossibly safe. You press your face into the crook of his neck and breathe him in.
"I'm still mad at you," you mumble against his skin.
"Mad at me?" He says sarcastically, "What did I do?"
"You made me fall in love with you. And now I can't even be properly angsty about my secret demigod identity because you're too nice."
Clark laughs softly, the vibration rumbling through his chest. "That's the worst apology I've ever received."
"It's not an apology. It's a complaint." You tilt your head up to look at him. His glasses are gone, his dark hair falling messily across his forehead. "A very valid complaint."
He hums thoughtfully, tracing idle patterns on your back, gazing in your back to normal eyes. "Noted. I'll try to be meaner."
"Don't you dare."
Another laugh. He tucks you closer, chin resting on top of your head. The rain outside has softened to a whisper, the thunder nothing more than a distant memory. You can feel your pulse finally settling, the electricity in your blood quieting to a low hum.
"So," Clark says after a long, comfortable silence. "Zeus."
"Please don't."
"I'm just saying, if he ever shows up to give me the 'If you hurt my daughter' speech, what am I supposed to do? Shake his hand? Bow? I've never met a god before"
You groan and bury your face in his chest, even though you know he's only trying to cheer you up with his teasing. "I will throw lightning at you."
"See, that's exactly what I'm talking about. Most girlfriends throw pillows."
"You're impossible."
"And you're a demigod who shorted out my entire apartment." He presses a kiss to the top of your head. "We're a match made in—" He pauses, reconsidering. "Well. Maybe not heaven. But somewhere."
You lift your head just enough to glare at him. He grins down at you, all boyish charm and warm affection, and you hate how much you love him.
"I'm going to electrocute you in your sleep."
"No, you're not."
"You don't know that."
"I do, actually." He cups your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. "Because you love me. And also because I'm pretty sure I'm immune."
"You're not immune."
"Wanna test that theory?"
You stare at him. He stares back, utterly unrepentant.
"I hate you," you say.
"Love you too, baby." He kisses the tip of your nose. "Now go to sleep. You've had a big day of revealing your secret divine heritage and destroying my living room."
You want to argue, but your eyes are already heavy. The warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, the soft rhythm of the rain—it all pulls you under.
"Clark?" you whisper, drowsy.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
His arms tighten around you. "Always."
The last thing you feel before sleep takes you is his lips pressing gently to your hair, and the quiet rumble of his voice as he murmurs something you're too far gone to hear.
But you feel it anyway.
Safe.
━━━━━━━
author's note: if you guys want more clark kent x demigod!reader, check out my drabbles for them. as always thanks for reading, requests are open, and checkout my masterlist for more!
a/n: I’d like to warn you before reading this is a black reader x Steve Harrington fanfic! There’s cussing and slight sexual humor added as well. I will also like to add that the plot is slightly different from the original story. If anything i mentioned isn’t what you like I’d advise to click off now. To those staying, Enjoy!!
Not proofread.
Word count: not sure since this was written on here and not another app.
It was quiet outside, only the wind could be heard every few minutes it picked up. The sprinklers could be heard shooting small amounts of water onto the freshly cut grass.
The moon glowed above the neighborhood but that didnt stop the wheeler house from still being active. The lights were still on and a group of eight were in the basement. They needed a plan fast and by tonight.
“What are we going to do!?“ Mike spoke, pacing the crowded room back and forth. The group kept debating on ideas only to be left with others saying “That’s dumb.” Or “That doesn’t make sense?” It’s been atleast an hour or two now.
“I’ll just call my sister!” Lucas Sinclair yells and everyone in the room bickering shuts up immediately.
This makes them pause at his suggestion but it was a perfect idea. You were such a heartthrob in hawkins. If anybody could seduce someone into getting information It’d be you.
“Cmon, Hurry up and call her!” Mike says pushing the wired telephone into Lucas hands.
You’re not just some dumb bimbo—you’re smart and boys are already memorized by your charm to realize that your playing with their feelings. Steve has fell for your schemes way too many times.
On Saturday’s You’d prance right inside starcourt mall with your bootcut jeans and matching jean jacket along with your curly blowout bouncing with every step you’d take and go right inside Scoops ahoys ice cream parlor and get a free cone on his tab.
Steve claims it’s only because you’re Lucas older sister but deep down he knows it’s really because you’re gorgeous and he could never turn you down and he hated himself for that. Every time you came around all that confidence he had melted.
Soon as he got on his break he’d rush over to the food court meeting you at a random table and drag you right into a secluded area and put his lips everywhere on you like he was savoring the moment.
But Nothing was ever labeled and nobody knew.
“Wait a second, Older sister…I thought it was just you and Erica?” Robin chimed in, furrowing her eyebrows together in confusion.
Dustin sighed, “It’s complicated. She doesn’t like being seen with Lucas since she claims he’s a loser—That we’re all losers. She’s so hot, I’m excited she’s coming over.” He smiled at the thought of you.
Lucas rolled his eyes at his best friends comment about you. He always felt like he was gonna puke every time they’d say something over the top about you and your features.
Steve watched the phone as Lucas waited for you to pick up, hoping that you’d answer and come over to see him and help the kids of course—that too.
“Y/n speaking, who’s this?” You say on the other end, laying on your stomach while organizing a few vinyls. The moment you spoke Steve could hear it faintly. You used that same soft tone that makes a man want to keep talking for hours and hours. He also knew that you probably thought it was one of the guys you handed a napkin with your phone number too. You kept up with your charm that felt like a Facade to him.
“Y/n, Don’t hang up! My friends and I need you to come to mikes house A-S-A-P” Lucas spoke quickly but before you could even protest back he hung up.
This made you curious about the situation which was the only reason why you got ready and practically zoomed to the wheeler house.
Once you were led to the door by Mrs.Wheeler you head downstairs. The group of eight quiet down almost immediately watching you and that damn blowout bounce with every step you took down the creaky stairs.
“You called Lucas?” You question not even acknowledging the others sitting around stressed out.
“We need you.” He says, making room for you to sit down but you quietly refuse due to Dustin being right there and showing all 32 teeth. This makes Lucas roll his eyes before further explaining why he urgently called you over
“So you want me to seduce her brother, to find out about his visions?” You raised your eyebrows in confusion. The others nod quickly, staring at you waiting for an answer.
Steve stared at you as well, The thought of you even flirting with the asshole he once fought gave him a jealous streak. It was a terrible idea in his eyes.
“Okay..I’ll do it. Tomorrow at the public pool.” You say, glancing around at the other faces.
The group of eight smile and sigh in relief. It was getting late and by now it was time to go home before parents started calling the wheelers house. Steve got up and waited for the rest of the kids.
“I’m taking them home, Do you want a ride for you and Lucas?” He suddenly says to you, the awkwardness of the situation made him want a demo dog to take him out right about now. Steve’s tone of voice was a mixture of jealousy and nervousness.
“Yeah, thank you.” You batted your lashes at him slightly.
You made your way into the car along with Steve whom was in the driver seat looking at the similar houses in the neighborhood. You fiddled with your fingers looking out the window, wishing Dustin, Robin, Max, and Lucas would hurry up already.
“You didn’t come to scoops this Saturday, Why?” He looks at you.
“Haven’t been in an ice cream mood lately, Just been busy.” You say not making any eye contact with Steve, hoping your reply made sense.
“Are you lying to me Sinclair?” He teased, still leaning his arm on the steering wheel trying to keep up with his confident act that was horribly melting the more you both talked to one another.
You can’t help but smile at him, turning to look at his face. You roll your eyes and before taking a huge breath and opening your mouth to speak.
“My brother has just been so stressed out about will, this situation is heavy for him recently. After william went missing I just wanted to keep my brother close to me. It’s been scary out here in Hawkins lately.” You say, voice slightly cracking at the thought of will. You always thought that he was weird too, but he was your brothers best friend and him randomly going missing made your heart fill with sympathy for the Bryers.
“No no, i understand. It’s been tough for everyone. Don’t worry about it Sinclair.” Steve shook his head after hearing your words.
You smile, looking back at the house and seeing the group of kids talking to Mike. Specifically watching your brother, smiling and nodding. What a sight for you.
“Thank you Steve, for looking after him. I appreciate it a lot. The thought itself calms me when I’m not there to protect him.”
That’s what struck something in Steve, He couldn’t hide his grin, it was easy to speak and understand the way you felt. If he could he’d tell you to keep talking, till you were done or until he’d finally interrupt you with a kiss like some movie he watched. He looked down at your lips, ready for the moment where he spoke up and became bold again.
Lucas opened the car door.
That made Steve pause suddenly, looking back at all the kids and Robin get inside the car. You put a finger to your mouth to avoid the awkwardness again, looking out the window. Steve blinks hard for a second, before driving off.
“You’re the last stop.” Steve says putting the car into park. You look back at Lucas before speaking.
“Go inside and get ready for bed before mom kills us both.” You say smiling at him. This makes him nod rushing out of the car and running into the barely lit house. Lucas opened the door to only be met by Erica, this made him roll his eyes and close the door.
“I know I already say thanks but—I meant what I said Harrington.” You reassured.
He chuckles before nodding his head a few times. One of his hands still gripping the steering wheel tightly turning his hand a slight white color. This you notice, of course you did.
“Cmon, you don’t have to keep thanking me for driving your brother around Y/n. I protect the kids because it’s all I know these days. It’s hard to focus on a future during this Hawkins mystery.” He says still trying to sound a bit unbothered.
That was it for you, your very first breaking point when it came to a man like Steve. You took your seatbelt off and launched your entire body over the seat that was keeping you both inches apart, capturing his lips. This caused Steve to be in shock for only a moment before he hugged your waist and kissed you back. It’s what any smart man would do if they had the change to kiss someone like you.
You broke it after a period of time, taking a deep breath before speaking again, “okay, I’ll uh—see you tomorrow.” You say a bit out of breath.
“Yeah, tomorrow.” He replied.
You get out the car and walk toward the door. You’re hair bouncing with every hard step you took and Steve watched. He watched like it was the last time he was ever going to see you.
But tomorrow came.
A/n: my first fanfic written and actually posted instead of sitting in my drafts for months. I hoped you enjoyed if you made it this far, Chao!
Reverse comfort but not really because there isn't any emotional turmoil. (Almost) pure domestic fluff.
Contains: words. Reader uses multiple pronouns. Reader is heavily implied to be black. Unspecified age gap. Suggestive content (Minors please do not interact).
Wc: 2.4k and some change. Lot's of typos, yay!!
Not proofread as i am vaguely ashamed that this is the first fanfiction I've started AND finished. A fucking Dr. Robby fanfic out of my many others. Thank you for reading.
-
Dr. Robby (Bobby, sparingly and teasingly) has had a very long, very strenuous day shift at the PTMC.
No lost patients but a lot of bullshit. Between his full grown adult patients doing stupid shit like sticking candle holders in places that candle holders do not belong, his residents preforming procedures they are about ten years short of experience in the medical field to preform — behind his back no less, and Gloria crawling up his ass about 'Patient satisfaction stats' for the fifth time this week on a Wednesday morning, he was tired.
On the ride home after finally clocking out he thinks about you.
You haven't been together a long time. Around six months by now. He finds himself stuck in that sickly sweet phase everyone experiences at the beginning of a relationship. Can't stop thinking about you, even at inappropriate times, his cell is glued to his palm until he remembers that he is an important man at his important job, and that he cannot message his girlfriend back and forth like some grade-school boy —
And oh, the longing is nearly unbearable. It isn't as simple as just missing you. It's like something untangle on the inside of him doesn't fit quite right with all of his other pieces. Nothing so apparent that impedes on his daily function, but every time he see's you after being away, his lungs fill with air his body didn't previously know it had space for. It makes him crazy. You make him crazy.
When he finally does get back home his back feels even worse than it did when he tweaked it pulling Myrna out of he wheelchair because she 'couldn't stand on her own right now'. He's wondering if he asks very sweetly he can convince you to come over. He isn't "supposed" to see you today, but he figures if you're not busy then. . .
He almost finishes his thought before he keys the door open and finds you. It looks like you've just finished cleaning dishes. Dishes he doesn't remember leaving. There are distinct fragrances in the air. Garlic, rosemary, and something else green, and sharp.
You turn to see him, and the light in your eyes shines all the way down your body breaks his heart a little. There are people happy to see him all the time. But there are few people this happy to see him.
You're wrapped up in his arms before there is time to blink, returning the embrace just the right side of too hard.
He spends and undetermined amount of time with his face buried the crux of your neck inhaling you before you gently push him away.
"Bobby," The name in of itself is a greeting; warm. The teasing in your eyes doesn't escape him.
He nearly whispers you name back at you in such a way that betrays how happy he is to see you despite the very rude roll of his eyes.
"Didn't know you were coming by today," he says, drifting down the corridor to his bedroom, knowing you'd follow.
You make yourself comfortable on his slightly askew sheets, tracking his movements as he sheds his layers before responding. "Me neither. I was actually planning on asking you to come to mine, but your kitchen has a pasta roller, and mine does not."
He groans deeply as he straightens his back after removing his socks, tossing the into a nearby hamper. One hangs off of the edge sadly. "Yeah? s' that what I'm smelling?"
The question is rhetorical as he sinks one now bare knee into the bed, folding himself over you with minimal pressure before deciding to completely collapse his weight onto you, face warm against your neck, the space collecting almost dampness with every close inhale-exhale.
Your hand gravitates towards his spine, fingering catching each swell of vertebrae, nails softly scraping down, down, down, until the reach just above the band of his briefs, before coming up to the base of his neck, scraping through the sweet strands of hair there.
An unspoken question hangs in the air. It was only until about three months into your relationship you could ask without asking. Asking someone the same things everyday basically guarantees an unconscious urge to provide an answer. At least for Robby.
He starts with a not quite sigh, "No deaths today, residency is solid, enough water, probably not enough food —"
He feels you twist under him at that.
"I'm definitely not getting up right now, though."
You suck your teeth, but still anyway.
"Myrna's okay?" You ask, turning to brush your nose against the shell of his ear, wordlessly prompting eye contact.
You get his eyes on yours for a second before they shift down to your mouth. Just watching. It makes your heart jump.
"Fucking Myrna. Yeah, she's good. As she can be, anyway." You reward him with a soft titter.
"She's been having an issue with her, uh, leg recently, so between patients I've been helping her in and out of her chair."
"Yeah? I thought Dana usually. . .?" His eyes meet yours again.
"Dana has enough to deal with outside of Myrna. Decided To help out a little bit more."
You give him an incredulous look. He smiles.
"Well, I'm paying for it now. Back hurts like a bitch." That makes your brow furrow.
Your fingers trail down towards the very small of his back, feeling the downy hairs there mindlessly before pressing down firmly in a question.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat.
Taking that as your cue, you wiggle your way from underneath him, blatantly ignoring his 'Where are you going 's' and his halfhearted 'you don't have to 's'. that sound like he really wants you to. He doesn't actually bother trying to chase after you, but he does shift a little further up the mattress, taking a pillow into his arms to replace you.
You begin the small ritual you partake in at times like this, more you you than him. A small towel damp with hot water (Not warm, if its not hot it might as well be cold to Robby), Fragrance free Oil, lights off safe for the small warm plug in light near the bed, and wet wipes.
You decide to skip the record this time, feeling silence is best for now, letting the asthenosphere speak for itself. And the other towel. One usually goes under Robby to catch the stray drops of oil that are bound to slide off of his back, but you don't think its worth the fuss of shoving him to the side.
Plus, if your evening goes how you're planning, the sheets are going to need changing by the end of it.
The room feels like it usually does when Robby is in it, but not present. You can somehow feel his energy drifting back and forth between this world and wherever he goes when he's asleep.
Finally, you straddle him, taking care to avoid his back entirely, taking his own ass as a seat for yours. You aren't particularly gentle about it, so you're mildly surprised he doesn't sound that disturbed sort of grunt you imagine from an disgruntled bear.
You warm the oil between the palms of your hands before gripping his shoulders with the conviction that if you just squeeze hard enough, the skin of his back will be soft flesh once more, and not a slab of brick and rock.
The less than graceful pressing of the heels of your palms startle him back aware. There's a small, nearly silent 'pop!' in his neck when he quickly turns his neck to look at the the best he can like this.
With a very very drowsy glare and a rumbling groan he says without words: '"What the hell are you doing?"
You pay him no mind as this is a theatrics you're used to by now. Before your involvement with Robby, you couldn't have ever guessed how dramatic doctors are.
He glares even harder when when you start thrusting your hips into him.
"What is —" he cuts himself off with a grunt. You're squeezing the hell out of his shoulder, Christ," What's wrong with you?"
"You literally like it, i can see your ears turning red, Robinavich. You aren't fooling anyone, unfortunately." You pinch the warm tip of his ear to make sure you're pissing him of maximally.
The frantic shifting of his body under yours suggests he's about to buck you off onto the floor and give you a stern talking to from the bed.
"All right old man. Cut it out before you hurt your back even more than you already have." Your tone doesn't mask the genuine concern in your voice.
Reluctantly he hides his face (and ears) back into the cradle of his arms, but not before giving you a more than firm spank on the meat of your thigh that echos probably all the way to the kitchen.
"Micheal—"
"Oh, are you not liking that today, Sweetheart? I'm sorry."
You don't kill your boyfriend, but you do spend half an hour working out a knot older than you, which is pretty much the same thing.
Only after you've gotten reacquainted with every faint freckle, bold beauty spot, and light, downy hair on Micheal's back do you untangle your body from his.
He's fallen completely back asleep, so you decide to make yourself even more useful instead of cramming yourself onto the sliver of mattress available.
Despite that fact that Robby's house is relatively nice (Relatively because when you aren't leaving your things everywhere it looks like a barren bachelors pad), the tap never gets warm right away. Sometimes, with the kitchen sink, you have to turn the know just right to get it hot enough to actually clean dirty dishes.
So you spend fifteen minutes running Luke-warm bath water, and another five running scolding hot bath water. With sweet almond scented bubbles.
It doesn't take long to get Robby up, surprisingly. More often than not, he sleeps like a brick after a squeezing. It does take a while to actually get him into the bath.
You're both way too old for it but you run back and forth through the hallway after you pettily pinched his bare ass a little harder than you should've, anyway. He has a cute butt, unfortunately for him. The same one most men (his age) have, but its his so you like it especially
He bathes, you warm up dinner, and choose something to watch while you eat. Only you and Jack know this about him, but Robby fucking loves 'Jersey shore'. Almost as much as he loves 'The Devil Wears Prada' at three in the morning when you have work in two hours.
In the end you decide to put on some generic live t.v. show for background noise. You draw the curtains of the great big window in the kitchen above the sink. If Robby isn't watching t.v. or talking to you, he likes to watch the world from the window. It's one of the many favored past times you both share.
And you do that. You watch the window from the dining room table, ankles interlocked, and by proxy the hairs of you legs.
When you first started dating, you used to shave pretty much every-time you were going to see him. You weren't proud of it, but you liked him more than the last three people you casually seen over the last year or so. It wasn't something you planned on keeping up throughout the entirety of your possible relationship, but if he was the kind of guy to care about that kind of thing (It wouldn't have worked out for very long if he was, but yo digress) you needed to make sure he wanted you badly enough to not drop you over superficial shit like that.
But one day he'd caught you completely of guard. You were sick with minimal contact with him, and he showed up at your house. Needless to say you looked exponentially worse than you'd ever let yourself look around him.
No bonnet for three days, curls in one big tangle, wearing a three day old t-shirt with a toothpaste stain down the front, damn near green skin, and enough hair on your body to keep you warm through the winter.
You were deeply pleased when he kissed you hello anyway. A smile crinkling beside his eyes.
After, you partake in your nightly ritual. You smoke a spiff on the balcony while he reads, brush your teeth together, and then you help each other with menial tasks that only truly require one person before tucking yourself into bed, into each other.
You're nodding off on his chest, the soft-prickly hair there lulling you to sleep before you remember what else you were supposed to be doing tonight.
"Micheal?" You ask without bothering to open you eyes.
"Yeah?" He's clearly halfway to sleep himself, but he always answers when you start asking bullshit this time of night. Your face wants to smile, but the rest of you wants to sleep more.
"I was gonna give you head tonight, you know. After dinner probably."
He just huffs into you hairline, not quite a laugh.
"I know baby. You're not exactly subtle."
You suppose he was right. You always got just a little more teasing when you were planning something. It was your biggest tell. Sex is almost always even better when your partner is already keyed up beforehand.
Robby, specifically, was more prone to teasing after being teased. Making you look him in the eye, stopping whatever he was doing when you didn't hold eye contact. Or perhaps even better than that, mocking every single sound you make; gasping when you do, cooing every-time you whine. 'Poor boy' this, and 'you can take more than just this right, sweet girl?' that. It would be insufferable if you didn't fucking love it.
He does it until you're tearing up with embarrassment. He kisses your tear away, too. You know he likes it when your eyes get all wet. Dirty bastard.
"Just wake me up really nicely in the morning, okay? Go to sleep." With two firm pats to your flank he's out like a light, and so are you. But not without the disgusting things you're going to do to your boyfriend tomorrow on your mind.
omgggg ur writing for the pitt!!!! if u can, can u do nsfw hcs for robby?
When I say I’d let him bend me over and [redacted] I mean it! I do indeed have some improper thoughts about one (1) Michael Robinavitch to share xx
1.1k - warnings: smut, pussy eating/fingering, use of “good girl”, dirty talk
Robby is as touch starved and emotionally devastated as they come he would be soo unavailable in a relationship but like just let me love you sir please but I think when you finally are able to get through some of those walls, he can’t ever get enough.
Listen he’s going to melt into your hands any time you reach for him, he’s weak for your touch. Absolutely helpless. Down bad and never recovering!
Whether it’s an innocent nudge, snuggling up to him on the couch after a long day at the hospital or when your touch turns seductive and needy, pulling at his clothes, looking into those big, expressive eyes of his, pleading for him to feel you up just a little.
You make him act like a fool when you get him in that mood.
Every. Single. Time.
So he shouldn’t be surprised when you have him stiff and aching in his pants from just some heavy eye contact but he has to take a deep breath to regain composure anyway.
He’s watching you too, that’s something not to be mistaken about Robby. He’s so observant, always reading your emotions, your body language, always taking note of what you might be needing because he can’t ever turn the physician in him off but it makes him attentive and in turn your body responds to him so eagerly.
That's the real reward for him, watching and feeling the affect he has on you, how he can make you squirm on the spot when he looks at you over his glasses and tells you, "Need you over here. Right now.” and there's that edge to his tone that will tell you everything you need to know.
Loves pressing his face against your tummy or your hips and wrapping his arms around you for a moment before he lays you back to eat you out slow and intense, intending to savor all parts of you.
“You know I’ve been waiting to come home to this? Couldn’t stop thinking about you my entire shift.”
“Bet you’ve been thinking of getting fucked all day too, huh. And don’t lie, I can feel your pulse.”
And when he’s smoothing a hand over his beard and moving in to open you up, taste the pretty, glistening folds before him…you’re moaning and grinding your hips already, hands flying to his hair and he’s smiling like he’s drunk when you tug at it.
You’re soaked for him and he can’t stop pressing his mouth deeper against your pussy, his tongue thorough with every inch of you, he’s the kind of man that doesn’t rush things like this!
His nose bumping against your clit and you’re seeing stars, the hungry and deep growls escaping from the sides of his lips making you breathless, desperate for more, for his teasing even though it drove you crazy but he’s already replacing those thoughts with slicked up fingers and sweet reassurances.
Mikey absolutely talks you through it all too and I’m dying thinking of how he speaks at work, the skill and competency and knowledge there and maybe he was never very good or confident at relationships but he knows how to speak to you in a way that puts fire in your eyes so he leans into it full force.
How personal and intimate and intense it would probably be with you at home, so fucking gentle too.
He won’t spare any of his words, he needs you to know what you do to him, how special you are and how much you keep him grounded and give him such bliss, he’s obsessed with making you feel good when he’s turned on.
“That’s right, sweetheart. You got it, breathe for me, you’re doing so fucking well. Ohh just listen to that pretty pussy talking to me.”
It’s hard to hide how much you want him and how his voice makes every cell in your body vibrate.
“Just focus on me, baby. I know you can take this. Don’t want anything in that gorgeous head other than my voice, understand me?”
When I say he’d have you pleading for a moment to catch your breath. And no worries if you can’t hold your legs apart or hold yourself up anymore, he’ll keep you steady against his chest, free hand supporting your weight.
Hushing you sweetly when you cry out for him and reach for his hand that’s slick with your pleasure now, two fingers curling against that sweet spot inside you so expertly. His forearms flex in an effort to keep you from squirming too much and you’re whining his name again and again, cheeks hot from realizing how much you liked being caged in his hold.
The reward for letting yourself receive what he wanted to give so eagerly and what you ached for so ardently was well worth it.
You feel so reassured entrusting him with your body, knowing he’d take care of you, evident in how he never takes his eyes off you for a moment, save to gaze down at where you’re joined so he could admire the sight.
Michael never neglects to give attention to the rest of your body all while he keeps an earth shattering pace with his fingers and you’re sure that is the exact reason he’s always having to swallow your climbing whimpers and moans with gentle kisses that ground you enough to keep you relaxed as your orgasm approaches.
The huff of his breath against your neck that gives you chills, how he grunts and growls his amusement at your pretty sounds, encouraging you to let go for him.
“Mhm, I can feel you squeezing me. C’mon, let me feel you cream around my fingers…fuck…you’re being such a good girl.”
The praise is what really does you in while you try to remember how your limbs work and he’s soothing you with more kisses and a satisfied tilt to his smile, struck by how much you can tell he means it and it’s so filthy and only makes you want more the minute your breathing evens out.
“Mikey…baby, please.”
He never stood a chance, even before you asked so nicely, the naughty look in your eye and that blissed out expression on your face too sweet of plea to ignore. Not when he’d only just gotten a taste, dreaming of stretching you out on his thick cock next.
In his eyes, you deserve to feel that good all the time and he loves that he knows exactly how to bring you there. He’ll never tire of chasing your pleasure.
—
Need him in the most feral way oh my god!! I just know he would give it to you so good! Hope you enjoyed this, please feel free to be feral in the reblogs 🥵
Dry humping. Titty fucking. Thigh gap fucking, thigh riding. Mutual Masturbation. Solo Masturbation. Just making out without an escalation to sex. I will be bringing it.
three examples of black reader baiting. wtf are you hoes doing???? genuinely. the first one clearly shows a photo of a nonblack woman’s arms, let’s be sooooo serious. the second one shows the side profile of a nonblack woman. the third one says “no race specified” but you tagged x black reader???? i’m literally chilling trying to find awesome jack abbot x black reader fics and you hoes are ruining it. and i have a feeling that none of these creators are black women! PLEASE dont let this shit happen again dawg.
snowghoul
annaxmalina
theartofmadeline
pixelskylines
2087
stormborns
