normalize sexualizing that old woman without having mommy issues. maybe i don't want to be her pet because i'm traumatized. maybe i want to be her pet because she's hot. you ever think of that.
summary: you've spent most of you're life thinking you're weird and hard to know. so much it's started to feel like fact. robby doesn't agree. you love to much and think too much and robby knows exactly how to carry it. after an impossible shift, your walk home get interrupted... for the better.
tags/warnings/tropes: no use of y/n, reader definitely doesn't use kind words about herself, no aesthetic descriptions of reader, reader sees herself as a "weird girl", descriptions of loneliness, but they kiss!, patient death, child patient death (nothing in detail!), a car accident is discussed, reader is VERY in her own head, robby is like an emotional soft dom... if that makes sense - SFW though!, vague descriptions of depersonalization, robby is a soft hearted guy because I said so., more descriptions than dialogue oops, emotional hurt comfort,
wc: 6.1k
a/n; hi friends!!! its taken me so long to get this one published after my first pic. forgive me!!! this is my first time writing for robby so i hope his characterization comes across well. i am a robby stan so hopefully that shows! im working on an abbot fit right now too so stay tuned! also pondering a john carter if anyones interested. k happy reading. hugs and kisses!! <3
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You were weird.
That wasn't new; you always had been.
The sense of perpetual oddness that people tended to tiptoe around. Not everyone; some people were drawn into your orbit based on that alone. The way you'd laugh at someone's joke when you noticed no one else was, but would somehow slip yourself back into the shadows. Or, how your voice was just a decibel below everyone else's, easily talked over and interrupted.
In some cases, you were sure that it had something to do with it. That they were drawn to your oddness because they had a desire to fix it, fix you. If not to fix it, then at least use it to their advantage. Someone kind and malleable that'd smile and nod as they shoved their problems onto.
In defense of your hospital colleagues, most of them were kind to you. Some you'd even call friends. They'd look to you during traumas for an opinion they valued and then ask you to join them on whatever outing they had planned after work. They'd ask even if they didn't expect you to say yes, which you often didn't.
Every once in a while, like clockwork, you'd force yourself to join. For the sake of team building, you'd tell yourself. Really, you wanted to belong somewhere. To be understood, quietly and gently.
You knew you couldn't blame people for not feeling things at the same intensity you did. That was one of life's many curses for someone like you. Someone who lived with an open heart that trickled metaphorical blood, staining everyone you met with love. But, an open heart that never gets filled empties quickly.
The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Yet, every time you went, you had some kind of hope that you'd magically feel different. That you'd blink and suddenly people would see you.
Because every time you looked in the mirror, you were convinced what you saw was different. You saw your own reflection, the pores on your skin, and the rise and fall of your chest. You were real, alive. But when others looked at you, all you could imagine they saw was a shadow. Amorphous, dark, confusing. Something tangled in the wires of your thoughts you were sure they could read if they squinted enough.
At the very least, the feelings subsided during work. A small mercy through the blood and chaos you deal with every day. When you were in trauma, your voice had to carry; it had to boom. You couldn't afford to be pushed aside. When you were gloved up, people listened. Every night as you fought sleep, you pondered if that was better or worse.
If there was ever a quiet moment between the workload, and the feelings started clawing their way out of your chest, an incoming trauma would force them back down, letting them settle there and no doubt finding a way to eat at your liver.
———
So, your gaze disassociated further, eyes locked onto the computer screen in front of you. Your head blared that you should be comprehending the words on screen, not letting them get lost in the swirl of thought. You were relieved to hear Dana's voice echo around the nurses' station before you accidentally suffocated.
"MVA rolling in, ETA 2 minutes out."
"How many we gettin'? You hopped out of your chair, grabbing sterile gloves from the rack as you passed.
"Three minor, two major. But, who knows if it'll stay that way." Dana gives an exasperated sigh from behind the desk.
"What do we got?" Robby asks, winding up beside you on his seemingly never-ending circling of the hospital floor.
"Car crash." You say simply. Never leave much room for filler words when you speak. Especially not once you find yourself in trauma mode. Already heading towards the ambulance bay, Robby falls into step with you.
You liked having Robby as a boss, actually. Being his resident was the one steady thing you had. At the beginning of every day, you could expect him to already be there. Chart in one hand and that thermos of coffee he always had in the other. Whatever chaos happened in between was the hard part. Whatever horrors you both saw that day and whatever ways your brain decided to attack you during the quiet moments. But then the end of the day came around, and you could expect a pat on the shoulder from Robby's hand, strong and steady like he didn't just live through the same disastrous day you did.
Robby didn't always say much. Especially not standing in the ambulance bay like this, mentally trying to come up with any sort of a game plan without seeing what damage has been done.
But, he always had this way of his eyes saying more than his words could. You weren't sure if he was aware of it. Like a language he didn't even know he could speak.
Everything about him was contradicted in his eyes. Not only his anatomy, but how dark they were, deep-set with age, but unexplainably soft in expression.
Whenever he'd look at you with those eyes and a tiny tilt of his head, you knew what he was asking in that language only he was fluent in, but you'd somehow manage to pick up.
Are you okay?
With a nod of your head and a hollow smile, he didn't press further, but you saw the unbelieving squint in his eyes once again.
———
These people were going to die.
There was no way around it. They were in your care, and they were going to die.
An accident. One that could've happened to anyone. A speeding car, a car that ran a red light, and a minivan passing through an intersection at the wrong time that got T-boned. The fact was left completely up to fate that they were in the left lane, so the right side of the car took the brunt of the impact. Father, who chose to drive, and his daughter, who chose that side of the car today.
That's the part that never made sense to you. How did accidents get decided? Was it fate? Was it religion? Was it punishment of some kind, or was it predetermination? Were you always going to end up here no matter what kind of life you lived? If that was true, how was that fair?
A father and daughter were completely helpless to anything modern medicine could do. His wife and second child were in the adjoining room beside you, their comparable injuries so mundane it really was unfair. They were even alert enough when brought by ambulance for you to hear the wailing and screaming. The wife got a chance to say whatever words she could to her husband and daughter while they wheeled them in together. The other two lost their chance to say anything else once that car hit them. Unfair
With Langdon gone, leaving Robby down a resident, he had to up your workload. Putting you as lead on two of the major traumas tonight. He didn't like it, putting more on you. But you were capable and reliable.
If those were the two words someone thought up when it came to you, you'd take it. It was the typical thought everyone seemed to have about you. Only what you're capable of, how you perform at work, and nothing else. Nothing about you. But, at the very least, you took up occupancy in someone's brain enough to be thought of. You didn't have a clue at the reverence the other doctors held for you, Robby included. Maybe most of all.
Santos did what she could with the father as you ran between both rooms at the sound of someone yelling for you or the beeping of a monitor that sometimes jolted you awake in nightmares.
You yell for Santos to page surgery, even though you know it would be an anomaly for these two people to make it long enough to become emergency surgery candidates. You can't even get a sentence out to Garcia's voice on the other end before you hear the beeping from the other room.
"If he crashes, shock and come get me! And get surgery down here!" You yell over your shoulder at the nurses and doctors in the father's room with you.
Shouldering your way into the daughter's trauma room, it's a worse sight than before. Javadi and Whitaker were exhausting themselves with the daughter. Beads of sweat are already forming on Whitaker's forehead from the extensive CPR.
Over his shoulder, McKay shakes her head at you just once. Enough to tell you there's nothing to do.
"Alright," You shake your head out once, feeling it clear the mental debris there. "Intubate. Then we're gonna ventilate that way." A nurse scurries off to grab the items required the moment you ask. "Whitaker, tap out."
You physically tug his arm off and straddle the bed before beginning compressions yourself. Whitaker's hands go to his knees immediately as a small bead of sweat falls onto the floor already dirtied with blood.
"She's had three rounds of Epi already." Someone calls out, voice mixing in with all the other stats being shouted.
Hair slips loose from your clamp as you continue with the compressions, the motion rattling the girl's body and your own in different ways. You blow it from your eyes as best as you can to see the screen. Agonal rhythm is still, and no positive change in blood pressure. Not to mention the blood loss. Focusing completely on compressions, you can't let yourself get lost in the image you see. So much life-saving work has already been done that it's left her looking half-machine.
"She's crashing!"
You think the voice belongs to Whitaker, but don't look up.
Your hands stop compressions for the short second after you say "clear", immediately back to work, the stats showing no changes. After the third shock, the sweat is stinging your eyes as it travels down your face in streaks.
"Again!" You yell. You put your arms up and yell clear, but you're not even sure how you managed it since your arms are completely unfeeling besides the vibrations coursing through them.
You recognize the change in sound that follows the fourth shock. It's the same one that plays in your ears when you're finally alone and able to crumble. The same one you somehow manage to hear in the hospital bathroom when you lock the door with tunnel vision setting in. The specific flatline that people don't come back from.
"Asystole."
The room was still for the first time since the young girl was brought in. That's the worst kind of sound you can hear in a hospital room. Maelstrom means there's still hope, but stillness means there's nothing left. Another person gone and another piece of yourself you're sure you won't get back.
"Call it, and I'll notify the family." You say somberly, not sticking around to hear anyone offer to take that burden off you. This should be your cross to bear.
Maybe you should've been a better doctor.
———
"He's not an ECMO candidate." You hear Robby saying in the vague direction of the nurses and doctors from where he stands near the front of the room. The monitor is screaming, and the rhythm is showing asystole. A father's and daughter's hearts both giving out within minutes of each other, nothing but a wall apart.
"Time of death 20:14."
Your legs get that same burning feeling your arms have, but they haven't been strained at all. It seems like the sole act of holding yourself upright is starting to become too much for them. The stillness and quietness are setting in again, and your body is taking notice.
Robby gestured with a nod of his chin to the room next door. All you can do is shake your head in response. You see the pain flash through his eyes, mirroring your own. You look away quickly, choosing the floor as your target, afraid that his eyes will somehow betray you for the first time and turn cruel.
"Let's all take a moment of silence." Robby's commanding voice comes out in the somber tone it takes on during times like these. "Remember this man for who he was, a husband, father, a son to someone." A few people clasp their hands as everyone's heads bow.
Robby's head tilts again just a bit as he looks at you, stuck in place, eyes still on the floor. His heart clenched in his chest in a way it often didn't do anymore. The way you have this tendency to cower in on yourself. It's like he can physically see some kind of force pushing you down, making your shoulders hunch.
Believing you're to blame somehow sits easier in your chest. Sometimes that hatred soothed the stabbing in your chest. Yeah, it was sick and unhealthy, you knew all that. But you were in no place these days to sit down and fix it.
You had all the words, the trite sayings that'd been said to you by multiple people over the years. You even had a little stack of papers from professionals with a written list of what to do and say when you felt like the world was resting entirely on your shoulders. You are not in control of other people's feelings and bullshit like that.
But, as it was Atlas's punishment to hold up the heavens alone, so it seems it should be yours.
You can't take standing in the room a minute more; not only are you facing the failure of this body on the table, but behind you, just a door away, is the daughter with the same fate. And both of them should've survived. Whether it was because you should've been a better doctor or just that fate's a cruel bastard doesn't matter. Either way, it's unfair.
"I'm going to go notify the family."
A hand clamps down on you before you're even halfway down the hallway. The shuffle of his boots on the vinyl gave him away before you even had to turn around. His taller frame should feel daunting in this little hallway, especially with the way his fingers are curled around your forearm but it doesn't.
You're pretty sure you can feel your own heartbeat under the spots where every one of his fingers is. But, as a doctor, you know that's just not possible.
"I sent McKay to speak to the family." His words feel like they reverberate in your skull even though he's speaking softly to you.
Instead of answering right away, your eyes just focus on the hand he still has on your arm. This is the oddness that usually made people turn away from you. The long silences during what should've been conversations, the way you'd hone in on one specific thing and stare sometimes. That could be unnerving to people who didn't know you enough. But Robby? He knew you.
So, instead of speaking again and scaring you out of whatever small hole inside you've just crawled into, he just squeezes your arm. Carefully, barely a flex of any muscles. But, similar to what you'd done for him in the times you'd found him in a similar state. Silent but there.
"No." You say, finally shaking out your head and finding his eyes. The glasses made his eyes look bigger, amplifying every emotion he had in them. "I should. I was the one…" Your voice trails off, unsure even which word was going to come next. Doctor or Reaper?
"I sent McKay." He says with finality this time. "Why don't you head out early. There's less than an hour anyway."
Once again, your silence drags on, taking up the entire hallway.
"I have some charts I need to finish up." Gesturing vaguely with your thumb back towards the hospital floor.
"Charts can wait until tomorrow."
"I know. But, I'd just rather not have it on my mind." That was almost a laughable excuse. Charts would be lowest on the totem pole of worry. No doubt they'd be there, floating around like everything else, but not enough to matter. "I'll help Abbot with the handoff too. Thanks, though."
"Okay."
———
The wires in your head were tightening. Every thought stretched into a thin line and managed to tangle itself together. The cacophony of sounds blaring through your head defied any medical logic. But, even that was more tolerable than the images of people you failed to save burned behind your eyelids.
Charts
You reminded yourself, blinking the thoughts away and forcing your eyes to focus. The chatter of everyone around you actually served as a nice buffer for a while until you felt the same hand on you once more.
Your shoulder instantly unraveled the built-up tension inside, dropping from where it felt like they were hiked up to your ears. Your night was back on track, finally. Robby's hand on your shoulder and some empty words of, "Get some good rest tonight."
"We're heading across the street to unwind, maybe have a few beers. Why don't you join us tonight?"
Great. It already sucked enough rejecting your colleagues' offers, but now you're going to have to reject your attending.
That emptiness in your chest begged you to say yes. But this time it burned differently. Something inside you that you couldn't trace to a specific place was begging for more time with Robby.
Your heart dropped. Usually, you could figure out what was hurting you, where it was metastasizing. But this? This was entirely different.
"Not tonight. I have some more stuff I wanna get done here."
"You sure?" Donnie popped up behind Robby, six-pack already tucked under his arm. The invitation was real and open. He wanted you there, like you weren't some nuance that would wreck someone's night. "We might even manage to get Javadi drunk!"
A smile actually graces your lips, small and fleeting. Man, Robby hates how his eyes lock onto it immediately. He glances away quickly, scuffing his foot across the floor quietly at the fact that he wasn't the one who got it out of you.
"I'm okay. Kinda tired anyways." You pull your shoulder up into a shrug. "Thanks, though."
"Can I talk to you before I head out?"
Robby waves Donnie along, shouting something about being there in a second, as he lingers by your desk.
"Me?" You point to yourself. Idiot. Of course, he means you. Who else could he possibly be speaking to? "I mean, yeah. What's up?"
Your head starts working so fast that, for all you know, there may be a hole burning through you somewhere. Were you in trouble? Anything but that, please.
As he guides you down the hallway, his hand barely hovering just over the small of your back, like he was afraid to push you too hard. That, or he was so unsettled by you that he didn't want to touch you right now. Either way, the gesture felt more humiliating than if he were to drag you down the hall by the ear.
Was he going to go through a checklist, point by point, of everything you did wrong with that poor father and daughter? Okay, that probably wasn't it, but still.
The sound of the door clicking shut felt like it reached the volume of a gunshot, every nerve in your body was screaming at you to somehow fix whatever you've done wrong.
"You're not in trouble." He says the second he turns enough to see your face. He bends his knees just a little bit to get closer to your level as he speaks. Like he was making himself a little smaller for you.
Oh. So, your emotions must be showing on your face, clear as day.
"I just wanted to check in before I left… Do you have anyone to talk to after days like this?"
You want to burst into flames where you're standing. Either bile or humiliation climbs up your throat as you stare back at him unblinking. Was your loneliness that palpable?
"Yeah." You shake your head no before course-correcting it to an up-and-down nod. The single word burns your lips as it passes through, a punishment for lying, you'd assume.
Robby doesn't crowd you or reach out to pat you on the shoulder again; he just stands there with that slight bend in his knees, his eyes not leaving your crumbling face. His eyes narrow just slightly, but stay impossibly soft.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I'm sure."
You feel so small right now. Not like you're prey caught in front of a predator. No. Robby could never be a vulture like that. Not when he's looking at you like this. Small, like somehow all the strings that make you up, make you appear human on the outside, have given way at once. Now, all that's left of you is a tangled mess of twine on the floor.
"I should really get back to work." You say, brushing past him before he could interject. Whatever pieces of yourself you couldn't manage to pick back up stay there in that room with him. More of yourself is lost tonight.
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A single chill racks through you as the wind seeps in through your unzipped jacket. But the most important matter at hand is getting your headphones untangled. Once those are in, everything will be fine.
Your phone shows 12:24 as you plug in your cable. No calls, no texts, one alert from iCloud that you don't have storage space anymore. Great.
Spotify picks something old and slow as you cross the street, zipping your jacket up to rest over your mouth, the zipper ice cold as it bumps your nose with each step.
The song crescendos in your ears as the vague silhouette of a man comes into view, barely illuminated by a streetlight that the city needs to change. He's slumped against the back of the park bench that's become a landmark for you to pass on your walk. The short hair, big hoodie, and bad posture could only belong to one person.
Part of you considers turning around, taking a different way home, but another part of you, same as before, begs you to move. Your feet make the choice before you do.
"Dr. Robby?" You say quietly as you take the headphones out. Tony Bennet, whom you've just identified, is now singing into the night through the dangling headphones.
"Hey." It's all he says for a moment. He doesn't seem shocked by your presence, like he knew you'd stumble upon him eventually. Hoped maybe. "Everyone headed out pretty early." He tries to explain why he's still sitting on this park bench two hours after a casual after-work meet-up that probably only lasted half an hour max.
You nod, no words finding their way out. Lips pulled into a thin line. But, instead of your feet forcing you to leave, they kick at the dirt idly. Why won't you leave? And more importantly, where the hell is this feeling coming from?!
He kicks at the half-empty six-pack with his foot. "Want one?"
"I'm really not a big drinker."
He bends over toward his backpack, resting against the park bench. His hands dig for a second, the sound of a Ziploc being opening sounds before he retrieves what he was searching for.
"I have an apple."
You stare at the red apple in his hand for a second, then back to him, completely earnest in his offer. Just anything to keep you here a little longer.
"Yeah, okay." You say quietly.
He rubs the apple along the sleeve of his hoodie, haphazardly cleaning it before tossing it to you. The bench barely makes a creak as he shifts over. No big fanfare, just a now-open spot beside him.
"Sit."
You keep enough distance between you two as you scoot onto the bench. A little wary, like somehow you were going to break something or scare him. You take a careful bite into the apple, your stomach twisting as you do, far more hungry than you'd realize. Yeah. Hunger. That had to be all this feeling was! That's why your stomach is in knots.
"Thanks." You say through a bite of an apple. "What are you still doing out here?"
He sipped his open beer before he answered. Staring ahead at the treeline, trying to plan out his next words before he spoke. He had no interest in scaring you off now that he got you to stay. Like a stray that finally butted it's head against his hand after months of letting them adjust.
He didn't want to admit that he stayed out here for two hours in the hopes that you'd turn up eventually. That he's been worried about you. That he worries about you more than the rest of his residents, and worst of all, that whenever you let him get close enough, you have a way of making him feel an assortment of things that he thought he lost the ability for.
"Didn't feel like facing my couch." Is the final casual sentence he lands on.
"Yeah." You nod back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
The silence takes over the two of you for a bit, and neither of you rectifies it. It was comfortable. For the first time you can remember, your silence didn't feel like it was imposing on anyone. You didn't feel like the weird girl in the back of the class getting laughed at or told to "speak up".
"How were the mom and son?" You ask. The images of the way you failed them flashing through your head. You give a tiny shake of your head to rid the thoughts. Robby doesn't comment on it.
"Medically, they're gonna be fine. Emotionally, it'll take a while. But, they'll figure it out."
You make a sad sound of agreement, poking at the apple with the end of one of your nails.
"Why do you think it happened?" You ask, offering up no more information on the question.
"Guy ran a red."
"No. Not like that." You say, spinning the apple in your hand. "Why does anything like that happen? Is it God? Just the way life goes sometimes?"
Robby hesitates with an answer. He probably had less of an idea than you did. But it wasn't lost on him the way this was eating away at you. Maybe you actually did need an answer. One from him specifically. You trusted him to teach you medicine. Why couldn't he answer this for you? Surely this was easier than explaining how to put in a chest tube.
"I don't really think I'm the one to ask." He laughs, but the sound is hollow and gruff. "I think it depends on what you believe in."
"What do you believe?"
"I don't know on days like today." He shrugs with his hands in his hoodie pockets. The tension in his shoulders is even more obvious.
He turns his body towards you on the small park bench, uncrossing his legs so he doesn't crowd you.
"But what I do know is that you did really well today."
Your eyes shoot up quickly. He must be mistaken. You? Who lost the only two patients you were supposed to handle? You search his eyes quickly for any signs of deception, but there are none there. No, what looks back at you is earnest.
You have to peel your eyes away immediately. The lump in your throat forms so quickly you're afraid the look he's giving you might actually kill you. How is he not looking through you? He's looking like you're not some figment of imagination that accidentally stumbled onto this plane of reality.
"I don't see it that way." You clear your throat after your voice cracks on the second word.
His eyebrows knit together, getting lost behind the rim of his glasses as his eyes soften, barely adjusting them with two fingers. That little sideways frown on your stone face showed him how much guilt you held for yourself.
"You know that's not true."
You pull your legs up on the park bench with you, tucking your knees against your chest and wrapping your arms around them. Not to hide or cry into, but just to have another barrier to the world. Like an animal protecting their soft points.
"Isn't it? You trusted me with half that MVA, and my half died."
The words have harshness behind them. Like you were talking about the wrongdoings of someone you hated.
There was the same feeling creeping up Robby's neck. The one he gets when the anger you have for yourself seeps into your words, the pain he feels for you, like he was divinely sent to care for you, and you won't let him. Or, he won't let himself.
"They didn't have a chance. You did better than anyone else could've."
What was he trying to do to you, seriously? Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but there was nothing you wanted to do less than cry in front of your attending. Especially not one that's the only person you've ever come across that's made you feel something that, for the first time, was even lost to you.
"I've been training residents for a long time, and you're one of the best I've ever had."
He saw the way your eyes were glassy and half lidded with exhaustion. The kind you always carried but worsened after days like today. The adrenaline had left your veins a long time ago and left nothing but guilt in its wake.
"Thanks- uh, thank you." Is all you can get out without your voice betraying you even further. Blinking in rapid succession for a few seconds, angling your head away so he couldn't see the sheen of tears covering them.
There you were, cheek pressed against your knee as you rested your head, your body slowly and against your will relaxing in his presence. The worst part was that you didn't even look sad, necessarily. You just look faded, like pieces of you were being carved away every day. Robby recognized this pain.
He collapsed in on himself the same way every night. At home, if he was lucky, in some tucked-away corner of the ED, if Adamson's presence loomed too heavily. But right now, he saw you armorless.
"I should probably go." You said once your voice felt solid enough coming out.
Now, it was his turn to let silence stretch on. The kind of quiet that forms around two people feeling adjacent things that they don't have names for yet. Maybe Robby knew long ago, but this feeling was new to you and confusing, not to mention terrifying.
His eyes found yours over the rim of his glasses, and for a second, he didn't look burdened. Like he'd let all of his reservations go. Maybe that was the natural order of things. One person could be so petrified of their own feelings that they give the other a new sense of self.
"Not if you don't want to."
"Do you want me to?"
You had no idea how he saw you. The fact that you'd even have to ask. Like he hadn't been half begging for you to just be near him all night. He had more respect for you than you could ever fathom. How you acted as a doctor, how you poured life into everybody else. You were extraordinary to him, and yet you acted like you were nothing.
"No, I don't." He had to force the words out, not because they weren't true, but because they were hard for him to say. His emotions had been stuffed down for so long that he wasn't even sure they were there anymore. But, for you, he'd work at them, chip away at whatever he had to.
Looking at you right now, he felt a pull like he never had before. Like everything awful that had happened, happened so that you could be sitting right here.
You couldn't fathom what was happening in your body. But maybe it wasn't bad?
Yes, you couldn't identify what part of the body these feelings were sitting in. One of the stupid things you tried to train yourself to do when "complicated feelings" arose, as your old therapist called them.
But, maybe the reason you couldn't trace them was because it was everywhere. Like your skin was prickling. But this didn't feel the same, not the feeling you had when you'd lay in bed hollow and alone, and certainly not the feeling you'd get when you lock yourself in the bathroom, with a hand over your mouth sobbing.
Was this actually good?
His hand lifted slowly, just enough to land on the spot between your collar and jaw. His thumb barely brushed across your jawbone. His touch was so careful, not grabbing at you or rushing you, just there. Feeling you under his hands, rough from work. You were almost shocked when his hand didn't go through you. You were here, real, and he was touching you.
"You okay with this?" He asked quietly, bringing his hand up just enough to wipe a stray hair away from your temple. He was giving you the chance to retreat if you wanted to.
But if not, he had no issues taking this weight off your shoulders and guiding you tonight.
"Yeah." You say, nodding, turning your head into his touch just barely. Maybe unconsciously even, just needing it to stay.
Robby felt your stillness when he kissed you. You panicked. You saw him going in for the kiss and even leaned in yourself. But now? All those thoughts swirled in your head again. Not to mention the newest one blaring about how he must be hating you right now for messing up this kiss. Your hand on his shoulder, perched awkwardly, trembled against him just a little.
"Hey," Robby said, pulling back enough to speak, your foreheads almost touching. "I got you."
Those words undid you completely.
When you finally met his lips again, your kiss wasn't aggressive or with years of pent-up tension behind it. It was careful and tentative. It felt like you were testing to make sure this was real. His lips softened against yours, following whatever pace you set. He has a firm, guiding hand on your back, anchoring you here. He traces his fingers up and down your spine slowly over your scrubs. All of his motions give you some kind of security in this moment. That he's here, he's got you, that for once it's okay to rest.
His thumb strokes small circles on your cheekbone. A quiet kind of tenderness that Robby can't remember the last time he showed anyone.
With little confidence in your movement, you brought a careful hand up to his face, letting one of your fingers barely trace over his beard. He exhaled through his nose, a quiet breathy sound.
His own hand leaves your back and covers the one on his face, intertwining your fingers together, keeping you there. A silent, that's good.
Your touch was so soft. The tips of your fingers tracing over his beard, the grays peppering throughout it giving it a new kind of coarseness. The way you drew him in closer, like the feeling of the beard, of the age it showed, the stability was something of deep reverence to you.
You were wrecking him.
His lips slowed against yours again. He didn't want to deepen the kiss or devolve into hunger right now. He wanted you to know he was there. That he had you. You were here, you were safe, and he wanted you. Two people who could understand the weight the other one carried without words.
Pulling back from the kiss felt torturous, but you had to. You couldn't bring yourself to pull your hand away yet, loving the way every part of his face felt under your fingertips. He couldn't help lean into it, taking a ragged breath like a man starved for tenderness.
"Still with me?" He asks.
And the smile on your face was one of the best things he'd ever seen. Not the polite one you'd give to patients, or the fake one you gave while fighting your way out of tough conversations. No, this was real. Your eyes crinkled around the edges, even. Because someone had chosen you.
"Yeah."
Your heart is hammering in your chest so rhythmically it sounds like knocking. Like it was physically pounding against your skin to be let out. Because, for the first time in a long, long time, it had the strength too.
It was emptied out for so long, a slow tear that leaked until nothing was left, and now Michael Robinavitch, like the great doctor he was, was stitching it back together with steady hands.
logging onto tumblr like heyyy i'm thinking about the same character i've spent the past few weeks thinking about. no change here. just wanted to let yall know
at work, frank loses a patient and their death could have been avoidable. frank breaks down and seeks comfort in reader in an abandoned exam room, in a….. unconventional way?
pairing: frank langdon x f!reader
warnings: medical inaccuracies, reader is an r2 and frank is an r5, mentions and descriptions of violence, frank is divorced, DESPERATE sex, comfort?? sex, pet names, unprotected p n v, mentions of death, whole hospital is sad.
wc: 3.4k
a/n: reader and franks dynamic is like carter and lucys from er since im obsessed with them :))
You and Frank Langdon had a complicated relationship to say the least. It started with him being assigned your mentor when you were just a third year med student. You always got on Frank's nerves, you still do.
He used to scream at you in front of patients and other doctors, but you never took any of his shit. You argued with him back, almost always about a patient and most of the time you were always right.
Of course, you didn’t know why he always had a stick up his ass for the first couple of months you were working with him. It was only one night up on the roof that you learned of everything.
You and Frank had worked on a particularly gruelling case together, you ran up to the roof ready to shout out all of your problems to the streets of Pittsburgh. That’s when you heard heavy footsteps jog up behind you, joining you in feeling sorry for yourself.
That night Frank told you about his failing marriage. But, he hadn’t told you about his addiction yet, feeling too ashamed.
Now, you were a resident with your own med students to mentor, and Frank was a fifth year resident. Your relationship was still very much like it had been in the beginning, nothing's changed. You still confide in each other but you are still a massive pain in his ass. In the four years you have known each other, you have come to know Frank Langdon like the back of your hand.
You still ran up to the roof to scream and shout, and like clockwork, Frank always followed behind you without a word even if he didn’t have anything to scream about. No matter how many times you tried to convince yourself and him that you wanted to be alone and wallow, Frank always came up on the roof with you to keep you company and to stop you doing anything stupid.
There were one too many times you teetered on the edge of that roof, looking down at the moving city beneath you, contemplating doing something irrational because all of your problems seemed big at the moment. Frank always softly pulled you back and spun you around so that he could wrap you into the tightest hug, you both never mentioned those moments of weakness after.
You were Frank's safe space, he could tell you anything. In the four years, you learned a bit more about his marriage to Abby and how it was a total disaster. You were there for him when they eventually got divorced, his custody battle for his kids. And most importantly, you knew about his addiction.
The way Robby handled kicking Frank out the hospital angered you to no end, it was unfair. You had shouted at Frank a fair bit for him using while in the hospital, you were beyond furious at him but you helped him get into the best rehab facility and visited him whenever you could.
You tried to make his transition back to work easy for him, reassuring him that you were always there for him and that you could both escape up onto the roof whenever.
Frank was also your safe space, you opened up to him about everything that plagued your mind daily and all of the problems you had. Sometimes, you didn’t even need to say anything to Frank; he just gestured up to the roof and opened up his arms for you to collapse into.
You were codependent on each other. Anyone could see that.
You weren’t quite sure where your friendship began and where it ended, the lines blurring into one and boundaries were nonexistent long ago. Lately, this “friendship” had taken on a new form entirely, it was leading to something new that you and Frank did not want to address, avoiding the subject entirely.
At this moment, Frank just lost a patient. A death that could have been totally avoidable if Frank just examined her for maybe a minute more.
You saw that manic gleam in Frank's eyes when he stopped compressions and stepped down from the bed. Your blood ran cold at that look in his eyes, wanting to do anything to avoid a relapse or Frank going off on everyone in the ER.
Frank looked around the room, his eyes flitting from doctor to doctor as everyone else was totally silent, their expressions conveying that of sadness and shock. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, messing it up. Until his eyes, locked on yours. You didn’t have that same shocked expression that everyone else had, you composed yourself giving him a small, comforting smile.
Frank called it and bolted out of the room. You slinked out of the room, trying to pretend like you hadn’t even been there at all. The air was thick with tension and grief.
You caught up to him as he took long strides through the ED, bumping into people in the process, too distracted to apologise.
“Langdon!” You shouted after him, catching up to him. He turned around to face you, you could tell he was about to break down. You were the only person he stopped for, always. Al-Hashimi had called after him numerous times, but he pretended he hadn’t heard her.
You took his hand that had gone limp at his sides in defeat and led him to an abandoned exam room. It was too cold to go up to the roof, the wind was biting and sharp today. You genuinely believed that his tears could’ve turned to ice if he was to even step foot onto that roof.
Frank didn’t say anything as you led the way to the far end of the ED where no one else frequented often. The abandoned exam room was dimly lit, only one overhead light switched on but was flickering, the buzzing noise filling the otherwise silent room.
You pushed Frank backwards slightly so that the backs of his knees pushed against the bed, he sat down and once again run his hand through his hair. Pulling at his hair from the root so the short jolt of pain replaced his feelings of guilt.
You stood above him, not saying a word. You were usually good with words, but you couldn’t say anything. Unsure on what would make Frank feel better or what would make him lash out at you.
Frank outstretched his hand so it wrapped around your arm, he pulled you so you stood closer to him. He bowed his head so that it rested against your stomach as at the same time he broke down, his guttural sobs filling the quiet of the room.
You wrapped one hand around his broad back while your other hand played with his hair in the way that he liked it. Your own eyes squeezed shut as you tried to suppress your own tears.
You were the only person that Frank cried in front of, he felt safe being totally vulnerable with you. Everyone else knew Frank to be short tempered and hot headed, but if they only took a minute to sit and chat with him with something that wasn't work related, they would see.
“This is all my fault,” Frank started, lifting his head up from where it was resting against your stomach. “Langdon…” You trailed off, shaking your head. You still called him Langdon even after forming a friendship with him.
“No it is, if only I examined her further then I would've caught it. I literally left her alone for two minutes to go write up a script, and when I came back…. She was unresponsive and limp.” Frank cried, his tears freefalling down his cheeks. He ran his rough hands down his cheeks, irritating the skin.
“Anyone could've done the same thing, Langdon.” You reassured, swiping the tears away with your thumb. Frank's cheeks were red and blotchy, a sight that made your heart crack and made him look like a kid who's crying because he's just scraped his knee, not that he just lost a patient.
“You wouldn't have.” Frank responded back quickly. “You don't know that. Just like you didn't know that the patient had underlying issues that weren't picked up on the initial exam.” You said softly, staring down into his deep blue eyes that were now lighter since he started crying.
“Its not the first time I've done something like this,” Frank admitted, sniffling. “What do you mean?” You questioned, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
“That patient that attacked you? I told you to get the discharge papers for him….” Frank trailed off as the memories of your bloody face and wet eyes flooded his mind.
A patient had attacked you last year after you tried to send him home, the patient was convinced he needed to stay longer. As you tried to reason with him, he lashed out and lunged for you. Sending you flying to the floor as he punched you repeatedly before he was torn off you by a furious Dr. Robby.
That resulted in you being knocked out, a broken nose, a nasty bruise on your eye, and a permanent scar above your eyebrow.
“That was no one’s fault but the patients, Langdon. You didn’t predict that would happen just like you couldn’t predict what happened to that woman today.” You tried to reason, linking your hands through his.
Frank stared up at the scar above your eyebrow like he often did, every time he saw it the painful reminder of what happened to you because of him rushed back. You always noticed him staring, urging him to stop softly and reassuring him.
That’s what he was looking at now, avoiding your eyes but staring up at the deep scar. Somedays you forgot that it was there, it had become apart of you now. You were only reminded when someone looked at it for too long, insecurity creeping in and making you flustered.
“I’ll always feel responsible.” Frank sighed, bringing you closer so he could go back to his previous position.
You felt the soft cushion of his hair press against the fabric of your black scrubs. The room once again fell into silence, as Frank collected himself.
You planted a soft kiss on the top of his head, a gesture that instantly soothed him. Frank usually kissed you on the top of the head because he was always tall enough to reach, you took advantage of how you towered above him at this moment to do it first for a change.
Frank looked up, his blue eyes boring into yours. His eyes flit to your lips then back up again, a movement anyone would miss if they hadn’t been watching intently.
Frank slowly started to rise off the bed as he came face to face with you, your breathing had picked up in speed.
He closed the gap between the two of you and planted a kiss on your lips that was full of hunger and need, you opened your mouth allowing him access.
You kissed him back with equal amounts of need, feeling that you both needed this. His tongue danced around yours, causing a string of saliva to form and connect your lips together.
His hands travelled down to your scrub pants, you nodded ever so slightly to grant him permission. Franks hands snaked under your scrubs, his hand cupping your clothed core.
You pulled back gently, it was your turn to look up at him now. “Frank…” You whispered, it was your first time using his first name in years.
Frank sensed the doubt in your voice as your morals started to kick in. “Please.” He said desperately, his expression screwed up.
“I don’t want you to think I'm taking advantage of you.” You whispered, feeling a pang in your stomach at the thought of anyone thinking you’ve done that. You felt his hot breath radiate between the two of you because of how close you were standing, how your lips were almost connected.
“No. I want this, I initiated it.” Frank said firmly, one hand rubbing up and down your arm to let you know it’s okay.
You felt the desperation radiating off of him, the need to get whatever this was out of his system. You could sympathise because you felt the exact same.
“Okay.” You nodded. A small smile played on his lips at your agreement.
It was Franks turn to push you back against the bed, he kissed you again as you climbed up onto the bed.
When you were lying down, it was his turn to climb up onto the bed with you too. Franks legs spread so that each leg was planted firmly next to yours, he now towered over you.
You went to go pull your scrub pants down before Frank stopped you. “I’ll do that.” He ordered, you gulped before nodding and placing your hands at your sides.
Frank hooked a finger in your underwear so he pulled both your panties and scrubs down in one swift motion. He freezed at the sight of your glistening pussy.
“What?” You giggled slightly, your cheeks heating up at the intense eye contact Frank Langdon was currently making with your pussy.
“It’s beautiful, You’re beautiful.” Frank corrected, a boyish smile appearing on his lips. “Thanks.” You whispered, your hands flying up to your cheeks to try cool them down.
Frank leaned back so that he could take his scrub pants and boxers off. You watched intensely at the way his long fingers toyed with the tie on his pants, the bracelet his kids made kept catching your eye, making a ball of anxiety swell up inside of you as though you were doing something wrong.
Just then, Franks cock sprang out already leaking with pre cum. “Fuck, Langdon.” You swore, giggling at the sheer length of him and how he was already dripping for you.
Frank laughed humourlessly at your little remark.
He leaned forward to kiss you, his fingers trailing across the soft skin of your stomach from where your scrub top had ridden up, the action making your stomach drop in that way when Frank casually grabs at you in a normal setting. He was always touchy with you, finding any opportunity to pull at your hips or squeeze your shoulders.
He took his lips off of yours and moved to kiss the scar above your eyebrow, something that he had never done before. But, the gesture grounded you.
You could feel his tip tease at your entrance as he kissed you, the waiting getting too much to handle. Out of habit, you lifted your hips up to grind into him, desperate to feel contact.
“You want it so bad, don’t you sweetheart?” Frank cooed, you nodded, desperate tears forming in your eyes.
“Mmm.” Was all that you could get out, and was enough of a confirmation for Frank. He slammed into you which sent shockwaves through your core as he was repeatedly hitting the correct spot.
Frank groaned as soon as he was inside of you, the pleasure immediate.
You placed your clammy palm over his mouth to shut him up, fearing that for some reason someone was going to come into an abandoned exam room.
The pleasure of Franks cock and his steady rhythms replaced the discomfort of lying on a hospital mattress and the fact that these sheets hadn’t been changed in a while.
“You feel so good, sweetheart.” Frank murmured into your neck, his teeth gently nipping at you. Your nails clawed their way down through his back, the scrub top acting as a barrier from the scratch of your nails.
You buried your face into his neck to conceal your moans, horrified at the idea of someone hearing you.
You cast a glance up to Frank's face which was currently crumpled up in pleasure, he was biting his bottom lip slightly to suppress his own grunts. Him biting his lip in that particular way, went straight to your core.
You felt your orgasm start to rapidly build as Frank's cock hit your cervix over and over again. Your legs shaking from where they were wrapped around either side of his hips.
“I’m so close.” You murmured, moving your body to the rhythm of his deep strokes. “Hold on, baby.” Frank groaned, wanting to wait until he was close so that you could both cum at the same time.
“I don’t think I can.” You cried out, the familiar rope inside of your stomach unravelling by the second as a shockwave of pleasure coursed through you.
Frank slammed into you deeper somehow, feeling his orgasm inching closer too. “Frank!” You moaned as your orgasm washed over you.
“That's it, Cum for me.” Frank encouraged, as he was extremely close.
Feeling you cum around his cock, the wetness coating him made Frank spill into you with a low groan.
“Cum inside of me, please!” You exclaimed as your orgasm was coming to an end. You would deal with the consequences of this actions later— you thought.
You felt hot spurts of cum coat your insides, Frank's orgasm lasting longer than yours meaning he filled you up nicely. “Mine.” He murmured, as the final rope of cum filled you.
Frank remained inside of you, not wanting to move. You lay underneath him, trying to catch your breath.
Frank pulled out of you slowly but the coldness that filled you from where he just left, still had you wincing.
“I wish we could just lay here.” Frank pouted, standing up to retrieve his scrub bottoms and pulling them on with a huff. He threw your bottoms at you, you caught them with a giggle.
“I would be mortified if any of our friends walked in on us.” You laughed, shifting yourself to an upright position and dangling your feet off the bed.
“Frank! Look!” You gasped, pointing down to where his cum was currently running down the inside of your leg.
“Shit,” He chuckled, desperately looking around the room for anything to clean you with.
Frank found a roll of tissue and thought it would suffice for now. He knelt down in front of you, his face coming into direct contact with your glistening pussy.
Frank quickly wiped up the mess he made on your legs and then he moved to your core. You winced as he wiped the tissue along your pussy, you were still sensitive.
“Sorry,” Frank winced back, standing up and deciding you were clean enough.
“Thank you.” You said shyly, this new shyness creeping in as you pulled up your bottoms as the reality of what you did started to creep in.
Along with reality creeping in, so did insecurity.
“What’s on your mind?” Frank asked, sitting back against the bed as he examined you closely. You had suddenly gone quiet after just talking and laughing with him seconds ago.
“Do you regret it?” You asked, gnawing at your bottom lip as the possibility of his answer being yes was not slim. “What? Baby, no.” Frank said in disbelief, moving towards you and cupping your cheeks with his large hands.
“I don’t want you to think I'm taking advantage of you either.” You rambled on, thoughts of doubts clouding your judgement on this whole situation. The conversation you had earlier was ringing in your head, but you didn’t know if Frank's mind had changed.
“Stop.” Frank said, cutting off your rambling.
“You have no idea how long I have wanted to fuck you.” Frank deadpanned, you stopped staring up at him with wide eyes and a jaw that was practically on the floor.
“Ever since you were that pain in my ass med student, your charm and personality outweighed everything else.” Frank confessed, your cheeks turned red as you recalled back to four years ago where you had a massive crush on your mentor.
“I felt—I still feel— the same.” You confessed, grinning up at Frank.
“Oh thank god.” Frank said, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Let’s go back to my place,” Frank nodded solemnly. That sounded like a great idea. “I don’t think I like the idea of you going home to an empty place.”
“I’d like that.” Frank smiled.
You smoothed down your hair, and straightened the creases in your scrubs and left the exam room while Frank exited out of the other exam room door which was at the opposite of the room.
You were horrified to discover that you had forgotten to lock either of the doors when you were having sex. You silently thanked whatever god was listening that no one walked in on you.
jack is readers dads best friend. when your dad, robby, forgets to pick you up jack takes you home instead. that car ride home reveals everyone’s true feelings.
pairing: jack abbot x f!robinavitch!reader
warnings: AGE GAP, reader is in her 20s, inappropriate touching, use of pet names, praising kink if you squint, filth, semi-public sex, brat/brat tamer dynamic, oral (f and m receiving), fingering.
wc: 3.7k words
a/n: i can’t stop thinking about this.
Your dad, Robby, was supposed to pick you up from the bar an hour ago. You stuck around waiting at the bar for fifteen more minutes, but when he didn’t show up you started your walk to the hospital.
You would have stayed longer at the bar with your friends, but the guy you liked kissed another girl in front of you, causing you to silently shed tears and go into a foul mood. Your friends tried to convince you to stay out for a little longer, but you couldn’t stand to be around him any longer.
Of course the guy you liked had no idea why you were so upset, he was questioning you and your friends but no one was giving him an answer.
You had messaged your dad rather frantically to come pick you up, the thread of messages you sent him made you look like a crazy person.
When you realised that your dad was most likely stuck in work, you decided to walk to the hospital. It wasn’t a long walk and it was a nice night, so you didn’t mind that your dad didn’t pick you up after all.
You arrived at PTMC, deciding if you should go inside or not. Deciding you would rather not sit in chairs with a bunch of sick people, you opted to sit outside the entrance on the wall.
You swung your legs back and forth so that your heels were hitting off of the stone wall behind you, watching the sunset across Pittsburgh.
Robby was supposed to get off shift at seven PM and it was now a little after nine. There was no way you were paying money on a cab or taking the train at this time, but seeing as he was taking so long you were seriously considering it.
You blew out a huff of air, twirling your thumbs in your lap out of boredom. You probably looked weird sitting outside a hospital in nice clothes and messy makeup.
“Hey, kid.” The familiar voice of your fathers best friend, Jack said. “Hi, Jack!” You beamed, your mood instantly being lifted at the sight of Jack. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.” Jack frowned, shrugging off his jacket and pulling it around your arms.
The small gesture made you smile, he didn’t even offer his jacket to you, he just gave you it without any hesitation. That was what you loved about Jack the most, the fact that he would give anything up no questions asked, just for you.
“I’m waiting for my dad, he was supposed to pick me up two hours ago.” You huffed, sliding off the wall, the stone scraping the backs of your thighs.
“I’m sorry, Robby will be there for a while,” Jack said, glancing back to the hospital. “I’ll take you home.”
“Jack…. my house is out of your way.” You said, shaking your head. “I’m not even offering you a lift, I’m telling you, you’re getting one regardless.” Jack said sternly. His tone made you gulp nervously, your legs almost turning to jelly which made you grip onto the wall for balance.
“In a way I’m kinda glad he couldn’t pick me up…. Having to ride on the back of his motorcycle in front of my friends kind of cramps my style a little bit.” You giggled softly, Jack chuckling back in response.
Jack took one look at you and decided he was taking you home. He noted the streaks in your makeup from your tears, you just looked so sad. Jack suddenly felt an indescribable anger that someone would make you so upset that it messed up your pretty face.
Jack stepped closer to you and swiped his thumb under your eye, wiping off some mascara that had smudged from your tears. The gesture made your mouth hang open slightly, paralysing you.
He scanned his eyes down your figure, his cock twitching slightly before saying “You look nice, where were you?”
“Oh,” You gulped, pulling up your top over your bra to cover it, suddenly becoming aware of how intensely Jack was looking at you. “My friends and I decided to go for a couple drinks after university. We just finished our last exam, so we thought we’d celebrate.”
“Well done, princess. I know you passed.” He smiled as he opened the door for you, the sureness in his voice making you feel positive. The nickname caught you off guard, which was weird as Jack always called you princess. But this time felt different.
“Thank you, Jack.” You smiled, watching as Jack got himself situated in the driver's seat, unloading everything from his pockets into the cupholders. You chuckled at the amount of things that Jack manages to stuff in his scrub pockets.
“It doesn’t explain why you were crying though.” Jack said, turning more serious. “I thought I was being subtle, you can always tell.” You huffed, bowing your head to look down at your lap to avoid Jack's eyes.
“I can read you like a book.” Jack shrugged. You nodded, because it was true.
“Let me just put my bag in the backseat, don’t start the car yet. I promise I'll tell you.” You ordered, Jack listening to your orders, his hand hovering over the gear stick to take off at any moment.
You twisted in the seat to reach the back, your ass up in the air as you shoved your bag into Jack's backseat. Your pink thong peaked over the short skirt you were wearing causing Jack's eyes to widen ever so slightly and swallow nervously.
Jack's cock twitched once again, he shuffled about in his seat trying to readjust his trousers so that you wouldn’t see his growing erection.
“You okay?” You asked curiously, noticing Jack fidgeting in his seat more than usual. “All good, let’s go.” Jack said, clearing his throat and getting into gear, pressing his foot on the accelerator.
“So, who made you cry?” Jack asked, redirecting the attention away from him. “This stupid guy, Brody.” You scoffed, pulling down the sunvisor mirror to examine your smudged mascara.
“What did he do?” Jack said, his tone becoming more serious. “I really liked him, and he went and kissed another girl in front of me. Of course, he’s clueless and didn’t know I liked him.” You sighed.
“I’m sorry, kid. Any guy who fumbles you needs to be slapped silly.” Jack chuckled, a slight blush crept up onto your cheeks in his choice of words. You were silent for a moment, staring at Jack until he took his eyes off the road briefly to look back at you.
“I mean I don’t even know why I liked him. He is everything I don’t want in a guy, he doesn’t even live up to my expectations.” You grumbled, Jack nodded along as he listened to you bitch about Brody.
“First of all he’s a total cokehead so that makes him insufferable. He’s so passive too, I’m the one that always has to start the conversation and the worst thing is, he never realises when he is in the wrong!” You exclaimed moving around your hands wildly, listing off all the reasons why Brody is a dick.
“You got real big expectations, don’t you?” Jack smirked, moving his hand to rest on your upper thigh. “I do.” You said more quietly, Jack's hand shutting you up.
Jack's hand was resting dangerously close to your clothed core, if he moved his hand inwards he would be touching you.
You squirmed in your seat at the contact, his touch feeling like fire on your skin.
The silence in the car was deafening, the only sound being the low hum of the car radio as it played some cheesy song from the 80s. You moved your head slowly to look at Jack, scared that if you made any sudden movement he would take his hand away.
Jack's eyes were planted on the road and he wasn’t even moving, a million thoughts racing through his mind as battled against his impulse to touch you.
Your lips curled up into a mischievous smirk, an idea blooming in your head. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol that you had in your system from earlier making you think like this, but the idea seemed brilliant in the moment.
You wrapped your soft hand in Jack's calloused palms, moving it inch by inch until his fingers made contact with your thong. Jack whipped his head around to face you, a warning look in his eyes. You smiled innocently at him, nodding the smallest bit that anyone else would miss but not Jack.
Jack hooked his finger around your underwear to move it to the side for easier access. He ran a finger up and down your slit, gathering up all your wetness.
“God, you’re soaked.” Jack said lowly, as his finger teased at your hole. “Mmm.” Was all that you could respond, your ass hovering up off the seat as the sensation of Jack's big fingers probing at you felt too good.
Jack's finger slowly pushed into your hole which made you gasp out loud. Jack's finger pumped in and out of you at a rapid speed, slowly stretching you out. “Feels so good. You’re stretching me out.” You noted as your hands gripped onto the top of the one that was inside of you, urging him to somehow push his finger even further into you.
“There’s only one finger inside of you right now.” Jack chuckled lowly at your soft moans and innocence. As he said that, Jack pushed a second finger inside of you making you groan. The sound of you groaning vibrating around the car.
You shuffled your ass further down the seat, your legs unsticking from the cool leather in the process making the back off your thighs sting. You spread your legs open wider, allowing Jack to move his fingers in and out of you more comfortably.
Jack suddenly removed his fingers out of you, the coldness rushing to your bare core. You whined as you saw Jack smugly place that hand back on the steering wheel. “You’re so mean.” You pouted, moving your panties back to cover you.
“We’re almost at your house,” Jack started, checking the wing mirror as he pulled into your street. “I’ll resume what I started, don’t worry.”
You smiled, resting your hand over the car handle ready to bolt out.
Jack stopped the car, opening his own car door as you practically fell out of yours in your excitement. You put a hand in Jacks, dragging him behind you up the apartment steps.
You dug around in your bag for your keys, getting them out and fumbling the key in the lock. Your cheeks flushed a little at the calico critters figurine dangling from your keys, but Jack didn’t comment.
As you fumbled at the lock, Jack stood behind you. His breath hot on your neck as he placed his lips on your neck, kissing down the way nipping at your skin as he did so.
The door to the apartment finally clicked open as you stumbled inside, Jack stumbling over you as you pulled him inside as his lips were still connected to your neck.
You spun around so you were facing Jack now, he pushed you up against the front door making your head bounce back. Jack started closing the gap between the two of you, you leaned in close and melted your lips into his.
The combination of your bubblegum flavoured lipgloss and the taste of a faint fruity alcohol that you drank earlier still lingering on your breath made Jack even more hungry for you.
Jack patted your thighs, wordlessly urging you to jump up on him. You did as you were told and jumped up as your legs hung on either side of his hips.
His tongue danced around yours, the movement of your lips becoming sloppy. The makeout session made you both feel like teenagers but you were enjoying this immensely.
Jack pulled back from your mouth, a string of saliva hanging from both of your lips. “Where should we continue this?” Jack asked, a smirk playing on his mouth.
“My bedroom definitely.” You nodded intensely. “The idea of my dad having to sit on a couch I just had sex on, fills me with so much embarrassment.” You shook your head, berating yourself for mentioning your father in a moment like this.
Jack wasn’t deterred, he chuckled. “Bedroom it is.”
Jack walked backwards while still carrying you in the direction of your bedroom, knowing you and Robby’s apartment like the back of his hand. But, he had never been in your room, only passed it.
As Jack pushed his back against your door to enter your room, you felt a sting of embarrassment as you hadn’t changed your room in years. You still had posters of all your favourite bands and movies that you put up well over a decade ago.
There were strips of fairy lights hanging on the walls in your room and various trinkets littered on different surfaces. This reminded you of being a teenager again and hiding any ounce of personality you had whenever a boy would come over.
However, Jack didn’t make any comment. He was too focused on you and making you happy.
You felt stupid for even feeling embarrassed when you knew Jack would never judge you.
He laid you back on your bed gently, the soft plush of your bed covers hitting your back. Jack unwrapped himself from you and pulled off your boots, the relief being immediate.
“Rub my feet.” You joked, wiggling your feet at him. “Later, but I need to take care of you in other ways first.” Jack smirked, your smile dropping off your face slightly as the gravity of the situation began creeping in.
Jack sat down on the bed next to you, kissing down your neck to your chest, one hand cupping over your boob. You tilted your head back to grant Jack more access to your neck, Jack smiling menacingly as he nipped at your skin roughly.
On instinct as Jack bit at your neck, your hand pushed down onto his crotch on accident. The feeling of his bulge in your hand making you freeze, a groan left Jack as he jerked his hips upwards into your palm.
“Careful.” Jack said gravely. “I want to take care of you back.” You said seriously, looking into Jack's deep brown eyes intently. “No… no.” Jack said, shaking away your suggestion.
You pulled down his trousers and boxers at the same time, making his thick angry cock spring out. You gulped at the size of him, thinking about how that will be able to fit inside of you later.
“Guide me.” You said, swallowing nervously. There was a beat of silence for thirty seconds as Jack weighed up if he should let you do this or not.
“Put your pretty mouth on me, angel.” Jack said, his tone soft. You obeyed, dropping to your knees as you took his cock in your hands.
Jack breathed in a sharp intake of air at your soft, delicate hands around his big, raging cock. You moved your hand up and down Jack's cock slowly, teasing him which made him grit his teeth. “I said put your mouth on me.” Jack bit out. A few tendrils of hair had come loose, meaning that they stuck to your sweaty forehead. Jack pushed those hairs away gently, moving his hand down to cup your cheek.
You wrapped your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around it. You started moving your mouth down more slowly, still teasing him. “You can take it, baby. I know you can.” Jack praised, his hand suspended in the air as he was unsure if he should place said hand on your head.
You licked up his shaft before circling back to focus on his tip. The attention that you were giving him in that specific area, turned Jack into a whine mess as he thrust up into your mouth. Hearing Jack's whines made you wet, a puddle of wetness already forming in your panties. Something that you were sure Jack would comment on later.
You took Jack whole in your mouth, sucking at a steady pace as your head bobbed up and down repeatedly. This took Jack by surprise, he thought you were just acting coy.
“And here I was thinking you couldn't take me.” Jack smirked cockily, you took your mouth off him temporarily to comment “This is not my first rodeo.” You smirked back, placing your mouth back on him.
Jack's cockiness waned as it was replaced by annoyance. Someone had you before him? He pushed your head down roughly, making his cock hit the back of your throat. You narrowed your eyes into slits, glaring at him. “Brat.” Jack said through a half grumble, half moan.
To get him back, you stroked him at the same time as you were sucking. Causing Jack to turn into a whining, overstimulated mess. “Youre evil, but fuck Im so close.” Jack moaned, his hips jerking upwards.
You stuck out your tongue as ropes of hot cum spurted onto your tongue. “Swallow.” Jack ordered, grabbing your jaw to clamp it shut so you had no other choice. You nodded and swallowed the salty, hot cum. He also ordered you to lift up your arms, pulling off your shirt in one swift motion and unclipping your bra, your boobs spilling out.
Jack's mouth practically watered at your perfect tits.
“Get up here. It's my turn again.” Jack said, as you switched places with each other. Now, your legs were dangling off the bed.
Jack got to his knees in front of your pretty pussy, the metal clink of his prosthetic hitting your hardwood floors as he was committed to the full experience of satisfying you.
He leaned forward as you shimmyed off your skirt and tossed it to the end of the room, now you were in nothing but only your panties. His face was in the direct view of your pretty pink thong. Your thong had a little bow on the front of it, something Jack noticed right away.
Jack kissed the bow on your panties and clamped his teeth around your thong, pulling it down with only his teeth before your thong was bunched around your ankles. He unhooked the panties from around your ankles before placing them in his back pocket for later. Your jaw hung open, feeling flattered and also flustered.
Jack pried your legs open, hooking two big hands under your thighs to keep them open. “So wet for me.” Jack admired, his tongue connecting to your clit as he swirled at the delicate bud slowly.
“Ohmygodohmygod.” You moaned, your words sounding like a mantra. Jack lapped up your wetness, eating your pussy with vigour.
The stubble on his cheeks scratched at the insides of your legs, the pain of it hurt so good that when it was mixed with the pleasure you were already feeling made you see stars.
You weaved your fingers through his soft grey curls, tugging at them whenever Jack hit a particularly good spot. The feeling of your pulling at his hair made him moan, which in turn vibrated onto your pussy.
You ground down on his lips, riding his face slightly as you felt your orgasm getting closer.
Suddenly, the sound of your phone ringing on your bed caught you and Jack off guard. You reached for your phone and looked at it, the caller ID making your heart drop to your ass.
“Its my dad,” You said, widening your eyes as your heart beat rapidly even though Robby was clueless. “Answer it.” Jack smiled menacingly.
“Are you crazy? I cant do that!” You exclaimed, but stopped once Jack connected his lips back onto your clit.
“Challenge accepted.” You grumbled, accepting the call.
“Hey, dad.” You said, trying your best to not let a moan slip out. ‘Hi, sweetheart. I am so sorry I didn't pick you up.” Robby said, his tone conveying guilt.
“It's okay, honest.” You said, keeping your sentences short and sweet. ‘Are you home now?” Robby questioned, you could hear the sound of wind.
“Yeah, Jack ended up giving me a ride home. He's just keeping me company until you get back!” You said, trying your best to make it sound like you were smiling as you spoke.
At the mention of his name, it only egged Jack on more to help you reach your climax. So, he moved his tongue down to your hole as he rubbed his thumb at your clit. You slapped your hand over your mouth, praying your dad would just get off the call.
“Can I speak to him?” Robby enquired, you started to panic as you thought up some bullshit lie. “Im in my room getting changed right now, he's sitting in the living room.” You lied, Jack chuckled and you pushed his head down onto your hole to shut him up.
“I hoped you thanked him.” Robby warned. “Of course, who do you think I am?” You joked, but your voice was strained as you held back a moan. Robby chuckled back in response as how quick witted you were.
A groan suddenly slipped from your lips, making both of you freeze.
“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Robby asked, his voice taking on an air of suspiciousness. “Stubbed my toe.” You lied, Jack looked up at you and furrowed his brow at how shit that lie was.
“Okay well, I'll be home in five.” Robby said. You were now panicking. “See you in a few!” You exclaimed and hung up.
“Dad will be in five. Get to work.” You said, bossing Jack around.
Jack worked quickly and now your orgasm overtook you, your legs shaking as the knot unravelled in your stomach.
Your cum coated Jack's mouth as he lapped it up. When your orgasm was finished, Jack pulled away. Revealing the sheen of you on his chin as he wiped it away with your panties before putting them back in his pocket.
“Dad will come home any second, you need to sit in the living room and act normal!” You exclaimed as you opened your door and shoved Jack out.
“Ill finish what I started, I promise.” Jack smirked, smiling at your flustered and panicked state.
“I look forward to it.” You smiled back in response, shutting the door over as you scrambled to pick up your discarded clothes and change into your pyjamas.
