like ribbons in your hair, my stomach's all in knots
you got the one thing that i want.
# summary. after violet paints your most treasured night in a new light, you avoid her like the plague, but if there's one thing about her—she's not going to make this easy for you.
# warning label, eighteen+ only. wc 9k+, older!vi x fem!reader, lesbian level yearning, abby cameo because i lover her, emotional lesbian sex, vi so pussy whipped it's crazy, angst (do i even need to put a warning this is me we're talking about), two women in love.
# rayne yaps. ngl ,, i was beginning to wonder if i would ever post again. i've been holding this one in the #rayvault for a long time but she deserves a little life outside my ellipsus docs. hopefully this will kickstart something bc ur girl has been struggling hard. anyways, hopefully y’all enjoy.
series masterlist.
Ten years can be a multitude of wonders. It can stretch on for as long as your heart can take. Or it can feel as if it never happened at all. But the memories? That’s what sticks to the wall of your most extravagant nightmares.
Fills in the cracks you try to hide when your own life comes up short. For a memory to cement, it has to be solidified in your core from the inside out. A story for your brain to latch onto. You remembered the entire night now. As if your mind had been protecting you from it all this time.
The glimpses of the shadow underneath the moonlight, the loud moans echoing inside your room in Mel’s home back in college. You have your fair share of poor judgement.
Lacy at the helm of all your indecision.
You did the decent thing, and you thought of your girlfriend first. It came from the lack of attention she failed to give. With your hips circling, a delicate cheek pressed against your sheets, you thought of her. The faceless butch, trapped in the haze of your mind, with only short glimpses for you to latch yourself to.
Each time—you would fall apart like never before, wishing you had a name to cry out to.
Lacey had even caught you once. A searing pain in your chest that you weren’t thinking of her, and she thought you were, yet all you did was think of a woman you would never see again.
Only the whisper of a night you didn’t never forget along with the lies Lacey told wrapped herself in.
It wasn’t the first time—and far from the last—Lacey had fucked another girl. In a drunken rage, you told her proudly that if you wanted to get off, you would think of anyone but her. When your relationship expired, you wish you had told her, or anyone else besides Mel for that matter.
Your lips remain concealed.
A secret you’re ready to take to the grave as long as Lacey remained by your side.
And it had all been for nothing. She already knew.
How on earth did Violet know about something so precious, a secret you hold so near?
"How do you know about that?"
Violet took a step forward, her body infiltratating your space with an innocence that could only be feigned. "Know about what?"
"I only told Mel about that night and I never told anyone else." You sighed, still not quite getting it. "We did not meet that night. I was—"
"Princess, I thought I was supposed to be the brainless jock."
No. It couldn't. It can't be—
"But the next time I saw you, you were with Caitlyn."
"We had a fight before that night. I wasn’t exclusive with her and then I saw you. In your red velvet dress, and then you gave me a night I’ve never forgotten. The next time we met, so much had changed, and you flirted with me in front of Cait. I realized you didn't know it was me that night.”
Violet takes a step closer, a firm hand on your lower back tugging you close, before her lips drop to press against your ear, "That I'd been the one to guide your hips as you used me. My face between your thighs, my tongue inside you deep and slow, the way you like it—I could never forget your voice crying out for more. Begging for anything I could give you."
"You've made your point." You push lightly, hands pressed against her chest, creating some distance between the two of you. The air feels tight, constantly constricting against your throat. A mountain of lies from Lacey Lave's mouth making you feel as small. Just as she intended. A ten year relationship—had it all been a rouse?
"Anyways, Lacey was threatened by it. I may have told her in the heat of a game. She was trash talking and I wanted to piss her off. So, I told her I fucked her girl, got a shiner for it. She got a red card and I got an easy goal to beat her at nationals." You didn't know what to do with all of it. One, that Violet was the woman of your ghostly dreams, the faceless woman buried in your sheets.
Lacey never brought it up. Not even to make you feel guilty about it.
"She never told me it was you."
"No, she wouldn't. She never wanted you to know and honestly I didn't want you to either."
"Why?" The apprehension couldn't be written clearer on Vi's face.
"It wouldn't have done any good."
"Yeah, right. Caitlyn."
"And you and Lacey."
The words escape from her tongue so easily. The secret of the night, your secret, but everyone held the key to Pandora's box but you. Your ex-girlfriend, the woman you couldn't stop thinking about for the duration of your relationship—practically in cahoots with one another. Rightful hatred making them stew, throwing daggers at me in the process. To them, it had been a game. On the field or not, you had forever been placed in the middle of it.
Violet showing up unannounced was definitely out of character for her. The two of you didn't do anything together. The structure of your dynamic depends on it.
Now, the only thing you can see is white flashes, her tongue and how she meled you into the sheets. Warm hands on your thighs dismantling your faith and making you believe in her.
You wish she would get back together with Caitlyn, or get with someone.
“Why are you telling me now?”
“Stupidity?” With a playful shove, you push her away from her, and she smiles.
“I still don't believe it’s you.”
Another lie.
You’ve looked at her hundreds of times since then but now you’re seeing her.
“If you need proof, princess, all you have to do is say please.”
She's smiling—you would give much of your pride to bite her lip—and make yourself familar with the iron in her veins.
God, you are every bit of screwed.
“That's never going to happen…again.”
It’s best to leave it here. You can’t let this get any farther. Knowing it was her that night is enough to want to jump her bones. She’s the kind of woman every goes looking for.
You can’t look.
You don’t want to.
Liar.
You’re picturing her lips everywhere; how she kissed you hopelessly that night.
The desperate look in her eyes—she just wanted to be loved—and you couldn't help but wonder if she still did.
Before Vi moved an inch closer, you kissed her cheek. Surprising Violet when you wrapped your hands around her neck, holding her in a warm embrace. “Thank you for checking up on me. It’s sweet.”
Your bid leaves no room for interpretation.
Violet doesn’t say another word watching you leave in silence.
⸻
"Can I tell you something without you freaking out about it?" Mel hands me the joint she's been smoking, offering me a hit.
"Still might freak out about it." You release the smoke from your lungs, "Go on. Lay it on me."
The grass feels smooth beneath your fingertips. A bit prickly, but damp from the rain. You hear Violet snickering in the distance when she's able to kick the ball right past Sev into the goal. In a way, you can finally realize why fields just like this were a second home to people like Lacey.
And Violet.
She's such a show off.
"Violet has been asking an awful lot about you. Who you're dating, the sexy bartender she suspects you're fucking on the side—"
Why is she doing this? "Didn't she end things with Cait recently?”
"I would hardly classify a year recent." Mel takes a beat, “You and Lacey have been broken up for what…a handful of months?”
"Yeah, but we both know my relationship was dead for years."
Mel nods, taking a hit from the blunt, "And you should know looks can be deceiving." She takes a minute, watching your gaze flutter from Violet to back to Mel. "Oh! Did something happen when she drove you home when you got properly knackered at brunch?"
"Not really.” You decide to twist Mel's own words against her. "I need you to keep a straight face, okay?"
"You're scaring me."
"Violet is kind of the woman from freshman year. The one I slept with right before Lacy and I got back together for the millionth time. You know, the woman you called—"
"The ultimate shag of your fucking life!"
"Mel…" Internally sighing you place your head and shove them in your hands to try to save yourself a little of dignity. "Please. Have some decorum."
"You know you’re not the only who spoke about that night. God, this is rich."
"Like it means anything."
Her golden irises shine in the sunlight, squinting at you with a devilish smirk pulling at the corners of her full lips. "It means more than you think, and you should speak with her about it."
Violet looked over at you for one second, smiling throught her perfectly pearly-white teeth. Ever so charming. Part of the problem, her and those bright eyes.
You never really thought about her like this. Now more than ever, you've taken the space foremore. The obstacles immountable.
Mountains of morality gripping your throat. For a while, Mel doesn't speak and neither do you. Welcoming the silence with open arms, you watch her. Flying mop of pink-hair being blown in the wind. The pure joy she has with a ball being passed between her feet—not a single eye on her—but not a soul would be able to tell the difference.
She looks so free, happy. You crave to capture the feeling, keep her warm and safe, making sure not a soul harms the lightning in a bottle.
It's how you felt, with a college degree you never used—but owning a restaurant had always felt more fufilling. More useful in the grand scheme of things.
The late-nights, early mornings, and the overnight shifts full of taking countless inventory felt worth it. It might have been a stupid building serving food, but it's a home you built from the ground up. The culture you created. The passion you felt every time you took over the kitchen. It's the closest you've come to completed fruition.
You imagine it's the same for Violet. For the first time, in a party of four, you're taking in everything she is and you're not sure what to do with it.
"I'm willing to bet you haven't shagged that pretty bartender of yours since you found out about the identity of your mysterious lover." Mel pushes, smirking, again.
You steal the blunt from her hands as you take the last hit, the courage of the cannabis winding you up, maybe enought to ask Violet what's been in the forefront of your mind. Could Mel have some merit in what she speaks of?
Well, of course. It's Mel. She tried to warn you about Lacey for years and you never thought sense of mind to listen. Now, maybe you out to.
"Don't remind me. Abby was practically sizing her up when you sent Violet like a hound ready to sniff out any smell of distress." You snuff the bud on the bottom of your boot.
"I did no such thing, love. If Vi came to visit you, it's because she wants to."
"But she—" How could you not see it for what it was? Were you truly always this blind? "She said you wanted to check on me. Make sure I was alright."
Mel innocently shrugs, a smile you think about hiding from makes it's way to the surface. "I texted you when Vi said you fell. That was me checking in on you. Her showing up at your restaurant is all Vi. I'll give her that. Always a bit cheeky with her women."
"Mel." The look you give her is more than pointed, narrowed in a sense to drown out any confusion racing in your heart. "I'm not her woman."
"Yeah, tell someone who actually believes it." She laughs, the two of you getting up to join them in their antics. Before you get within an earshot, Mel ushers underneath her breath, "You may not be ready yet, and I understand it, but if you want to give anyone an opportunity—she’s more than worth it.”
⸻
Every year, you relish in this time of year. The autumn leaves, the hot chocolate burning every sensation on your tongue. The park benches that would be too damp to sit on, but you would do it anyway just so you could perlong your walk for the sake of fresh air. Going from living to the countryside to the city had been an adjustment, but now you couldn't help but fall in love with it. Taking your walk every Sunday morning, a fresh cup of coffee in your hand.
Abby has been more than capable to take over the reigns on Sundays, and you finally gave into delegation. A necessary pain to relinquish a small amount of control.
You ought to be proud of yourself.
It's the moment of absolute absence of mind when you bump into her—a strong hand stabalizing the coffee in your hand and the other wrapped around your waist. Keep you close, safe.
"Watch your step, princess." Violet's cursed voice ripples out and scorns your weak heart.
Despite all the whispers in your ear, Mel’s attempt to push you in one direction, you avoid being alone with her.
Typically, you're quite good at being alone. Years of being with Lacey taught you that.
No one will love you as much as me.
It’s a death trap of the heart. You wish back then Mel had been the shoulder for you to lean on. It’s not what happened. Deceitful whispers in your ear with a prophecy filled with all your deepest insecurities is the choice you made.
Lacey over everything, yourself included.
As pathetic as it was, Mel’s the only kind of sunshine you had.
She sees your bullshit for all it's worth and can slither through the cracks. A trained python to snuff you out of toxic habits and an avalanche of heartache.
Violet feels more sweet. The sugar rotting your teeth to the bone. "What are you doing here?"
"Helping a beautiful woman from distress." She smiles instantly when you don't pull away, and laughs when you roll your eyes. "Kidding. Well, sort of. I actually live across the street. I guess the sort of thing is prompted when you end a relationship. Living on your own, downsizing, the whole thing. Just signed the second lease.”
"Mhm," You look in her eyes as she removes her arm and walks in pace with you. "How's all of that going?"
"Do you really want to know? Or are you doing the polite thing?"
The gaze feels heavy when you look at her. You do your best to control it. Violet's irises soften when you grace her paranoria with a warm smile, "I really wanna know, Violet."
She's nothing like Lacey, and you want to hate her for it.
"It's awkward, uncomfortable at times. I loved Cait and I was going to propose to her. It seemed liked the right thing to do. We had been together so long, I knew she wanted it. We talked about it, and I was just waiting for the right moment."
You did know, but you had been Caitlyn. Waiting for a commitment while the expiration date passed. Accepting a dried up love instead of what you deserved.
At least Caitlyn didn’t have to deal with the cheating. Vi had always been loyal. To a fault.
Except for once.
"So, what happened?" Violet seemed surprised you’re asking, but recovers quickly.
"I proposed because I thought it's what she wanted. She saw through me, and it killed us." Violet sighs, her breath materlizing in the cold air. "We couldn't come back from it and I didn't want to. We loved each other but not in the way I think we should have. Not in the way Cait wanted. So, I moved out."
Not knowing how to respond, you kept quiet, but Violet kept speaking.
"Caitlyn said she couldn't get over the look in my eyes. Said I was settling—that I wanted something stable like my own family. She told me how I should want more. That I shouldn't be able to contain myself if I was asking someone to spend the rest of their life with me, and that I shouldn't waste it on her. One look, and she knew that I wasn't in love anymore but I would have married her. Maybe have been unhappy five or ten years even down the line, so in a lot of ways, I think she saved us.”
Violet speaks with raw emotion, but she leans into it. The honesty beats her powder-blue eyes into life. Being truthful, leaning into someone else other than herself.
Two weeks later, Violet is heavy on your mind. You think of her entirely too much. Her kindess is a knight lingering in the shadows. Swift on knocking down each barrier protecting your heart. It would be easy to slip in with her and that's the very reason you can't. It's nearly been a year of being alone. And you think about her. Being with her, kissing her—reciting everything you've seen this week that reminds you of the unimaginable blue in her beautiful eyes. Because in her light, you might be deserving of it.
Mel's words ring truer than you wish them to.
You're about to walk down to the coffee shop, the one you always frequent on Sundays when your phone vibrates in your back pocket.
8:37am: care for a cup of joe and some miminal trauma dumping? i can meet you there. my treat, princess.
The walks become a weekly occurence. The beginning of September moprhs into the depths of October with Halloween just around the corner. In the time span, you've gone from meeting at Wolf's Brew, meeting her at the bench outside of your building, to her walking up the flight of stairs—the one you know can't be any good for her knee. Violet inists on it. You loop your arm through hers, the same as every other Sunday.
Each time her gaze falls on your lips, you think she notices the way your throat tightens, because she pulls away like she hadn't looked at all. The moment evaporates until it happens again, and each time makes you dizzer. You're thankful for the cold. Not only because your skin doesn't feel scorching, but because you can't see the strong muscles you'd want to stroke with your tongue. The tattoo perfectly places on the side of her neck has always done a thorough job sending you into a complete frenzy.
Violet looks at your lips again, and your gulp so loudly she lets out the lightest of laughs. "Do you want me to stop?"
You take the quickest glance of her lips, the sharpe intake of her jaw, those adoring puppy eyes. All of the signs eluding to a feeling greater than yourself bubbling underneath the surface, yet you're full of restraint. If anything, you have always had to be. Protection over surrender. Fight over flight. It never occured you may be in the safest hands imaginable.
It’s never worked out that way.
Why would she be any different?
"Stop what?" Innocently, you ask her. Playing dumb is the smart decision. Guarding yourself. It's the only thing in the world you can count on.
"I think you know, princess." Violet turns to you slightly. Cheek against yours, pressing her scarred lip against your ear, "For your sake, we can pretend that I'm not thinking about your lips every time I fall asleep. Or when I get a little lonely and your face is the first and only one to enter my mind. We can pretend I'm not thinking about you every second if that's what you wish."
Did she just—
Violet does pretend. She coasts over the moment like it didn't happen. It's the only thing you think about for a week until you see her next. The cappucino is the same. The pastry Violet buys for you, and your arm linked with hers, all the flirty innuendos she pulls from her tongue like a loaded shot gun. She's terrifyingly perfect. More importantly, she's so entirely patient.
The seasons change and she’s the constant weathering your storm.
The downpour comes out of nowhere, and Violet's apartment is closer. She tries to shield you from the rain as if it were even possible. The both of you rushing into her apartment, entirely soaked. Before you can even speak, she's stolen the words from you. "Let me go grab dry clothes for you to wear. Can't have you getting sick."
The plaid boxers and oversized sweatshirt smell of her. Cotton so soft you think about if her lips could rival it. She even brought you a pair of navy-blue socks fresh out of the dryer. Violet takes your clothes to throw them through the wash. The walls of her place fit her. Painted canvas' where Powder's signature is etched in the corner, a few bands you've heard her speak of, and some family pictures frame hung throughout. Her family truly is everything to her and you smile at the dream.
Her pink-hair is flattened, a sweet smile greeting you with an open heart. She looks so cozy, in a cropped shirt with the sleeves cut. A pair of basketball shorts that fit her athletic legs perfectly. The small scar on her leg from the surgery is healed, but it sends you back into where she was in your apartment.
The surgery had been fresh. And she had picked up, put weight on her fragile knee when she wasn't supposed to.
"Violet," With tears in your eyes you manage to get out, "The day you carried me. When did you have your surgery?"
"It's not important."
"And I think it is."
"Really, my knee is fine. Who knows if I will ever play again, but it's not going to be because I carried you up to your place. You couldn't even walk properly."
"Even when you thought I hated you—you have always been kind—surely more than I have ever deserved." You gnaw on your lip. Shame filling your stomach with a snap of your fingers. "Why are you so kind? Why can't you make it even a little bit easier to hate you?"
Violet bitterly laughs, "Yeah, right. You were living in bliss before. Not knowing it was me, but I was in agony. Seeing you with Lacey, she never deserved you. At all.”
You don't know why any of this matters. One night, over ten years, and it seems the ghost of the forbidden haunts the both of you.
"I think you've held onto a memory of me that doesn't exist. A dream of me. You've lied to yourself, convincing yourself it meant more than it actually did. It was sex. Really good sex, but maybe that's all it was. Whatever Lacey did to me, it doesn't have to involve you. Me choosing to stay with someone who was entirely fucking miserable was my own retribution. Stop caring about me, Violet. There's nothing going on between us."
The venom in her chuckle is so bitter, it almost makes you laugh.
"Then why are you so afraid to kiss me?" Violet pushes. Her hard edges you once knew so well are back. The fire in her eyes ignited by your ever-growing reluctancy. "Why does your body retreat back into yourself when I get close? You fuck Abby like it's nothing. C'mon princess, I can only be a good fuck, right?"
"Violet, you're twisting what my words. I didn't mean—"
"I'm not Lacey. I'm not going to hurt you like she did." It's a punch to your gut and the blood spills. “Let me take care of you. Alright? You are safe with me and don’t try to bullshit me. I’m not some horned up college kid anymore. I see the way you look at me. How you’ve been looking at me for weeks now.” The flip of her words give you whiplash, and you wonder if that's actually what she intended.
One wrong move. The words scramble in your brain, vines of reason trying to strangle her voice out. Violet stands close, you can see all the freckles scattered across her cheeks. Everything that makes her beautiful scarring you from the inside.
She leans in, her breath ghosting over your lips. "What are you so afraid of? I can handle every gorgeous part of you. God, I want to."
Violet's lips are softer than you remember. You awake in gratitude that she's not rushing this. Letting you lead, her lips move in sync with yours, becoming one force underneath the weight of your desire.
You mark her lips with light whimpers, firm hands rooted into her pink waves. Pouring all the time you lost into her. Into this one kiss, one you'll never be able to forget. Each moment stains you, her hands pressing in your thighs, hoisting you to wrap them firmly around her waist. For however soft Violet feels, you feel protected underneath her touch. Hoping no one could harm you. A tangle of limbs, her heavy breath and with a twist of her tongue, she's sucking on yours. "Fuck, how could I be such a coward and never tell you?"
The secret she carried lies at your feet as she carries you to the bedroom, placing you on the mattress. Letting you sit pretty, in her shirt and boxers, on her bed. Embers of blue fire ignite beneath her eyes, and you can see her fighting against it. "Princess, we can stop this at any moment. You say the word and my hands are off."
"I know." You pull her closer and Violet lets you. Her body stands between your legs. You sit on the edge of her bed, looking up at her through fluttering eyelashes. "Take off your shirt, Vi."
You see her chest practically vibrate, the moan she lets slip when you say the name she's asked you to speak so many times. But only now, do you grant her the wish, along with so many others.
Her smirk is too wide, and you want to smack it right off her. "Why would I do that when you can do it for me?" Giving Violet a pointed look she shurgs, but still she gives into you. "Alright pretty girl, but only because you said my name."
The flimsy material finds it's way on the floor. Along with the rest of any self-control you had with it. Running on instinct, you place a warm hand on her toned abdomen. The hard ridges of her trained muscle twitch with the scrap of your nails digging into the skin. Her pink nipples pierced, not concealed with tape like the first night.
"Oh princess, I'm going to fucking ruin you." She pushes your back to the bed with the power of hips. "And this time you won't have the luxury of not knowing it's me turning this pussy inside out."
Your hips buck against her, begging for any kind of friction. "If you can make me come."
Violet bites into your silence with her lips curving around your neck, down into your collarbones, kissing the cotton of her shirt over your sternum until she's pushed it up, exposing your soft stomach. "You have no idea how perfect I find you, every inch of your skin—I want all of it underneath my tongue." Vi pushes your shirt up, exposing your chest to her.
"V-Vi, my fucking god—" Her tongue circles your nipples, nipping the bud with her teeth, before sucking the rest into her mouth. She teases the ignored breast with a pinch of her fingers, Violet's entire body hums when you arch into her. "You're really good at that."
"Mhm, I know, princess." Violet groans, pulling the shirt from your body, as she kneels your thighs still wrapped around your waist. "Are you ready? 'Cause there weill be no coming back from this. Once I start, I have a feeling you won't wanna stop."
"You're really…confident."
"Yeah, you could say that." Violet leans forward, her breath hot in your ear as she speaks, "There's also no other woman on this fucking planet I'd rather have under me. So, m'gonna make my dream come true and have the most beautiful princess alive squirt all over my hand—just like the first time. Can you handle me, sweet girl? Can you take whatever I wanna give you?"
"Yes." Clinging onto her back, you give yourself something to ground to.
"Yes what?"
Violet wants to here the name you've denied her for so long, and at this point, you'd give her anything to have every inch of her fingers inside you.
"Vi….just fuck me."
After all the waiting, all the walks, all the flirting—Violet slips right in. As if the last ten years of absence didn't exist, as if she never left you and this moment was always meant to be. For the first time, you let yourself admit the ugly truth. Lacey's jealousy stood on solid ground. Nothing on this godforsaken planet felt like Violet Vanderson.
"I hate that it feels so good," You pant as she buries her face into your neck, craving to feel your erratic pulse. "I hate how perfect you fit inside me. You shouldn't be this perfect. So sweet. You're smothering me to death."
"You don't hate me, princess. You hate that you like everything about me." Violet growls into your neck, enjoying the divine music of your moans. With no hesitation, your cunt swallows her middle finger, and your hips follow the rhythm of her wrists, her palm grazing your clit with each pump of her fingers. "I think you won't even need my mouth to squirt like a good girl. I know you'll make a mess with my voice in your ear and your pussy gripping me like a fucking vice."
"Your good girl?"
"Yes baby, my good girl." She sinks another finger, stretching you to the brim, and her thumb rubbing circles on your clit. "Gonna be so good for me, yeah? Show me why you're my sweet girl. Does your stomach have that sinking feeling? Pussy fucking throbbing—I can feel it—every drop waiting to be spilled for me. You can let it all go, princess. I'll fuck every pretty drop out of you, until you've fucked yourself dry and then you know what happens after?"
Fuck….
"My mouth will do the rest of the work. Clean you up real good, and then I'm going to bury my head in those pretty thighs of yours and hope to god you smother me to death."
Violet moans when you let it all go, there's so much happening at once. Your screams, the cries of your name, the claws in her back she'll wear like a badge of honor. The way your entire body shudders and shivers, panting as Violet locks eyes with you. Mouth open as she claims you, swallowing your moans with her eager mouth.
She hasnt stopped, and she won't, not until you're entirely fucked try. You can hear yourself, offering everything you can give, making a mess on her hand and she pulls it all from you like it's easy. You've been chasing the unacheivable feeling, for ten years, you finally don't have to pretend.
"Fuck, I love you."
Violet instantly tenses, not even believing herself the words that spilled from her mouth. She's watching you, carefully. As if she just spooked you and the way you retreat into yourself, shows her she's done exactly that. You want to tell her it's okay. That she doesn't have to mean it. The two of you just had sex again, unforgettable sex, and emotions are high and you understand why those three words slipped out. Every voice is screaming at your head to listen to all the logic bouncing around in your head. You're unable to listen to any of it.
Lacey only told you she loved you after sex. You're creating the same pattern with someone new. Violet is no different. She'll up and leave you. She will cheat on you. You'll never be good enough. You're never enough. Why can't you be?
"Can you get off me, please?" She does, of course she does, she's too nice. She's so warm and gooey, the honey you crave to be stuck at the back of your throat.
"I'm sorry, fuck, I didn't mean for it to just come out like that."
There's tears, so many of them. So much you can't see. Violet only watches as you try to look for your shoes, in embarassingly soaked boxers. God, this couldn't be any worse.
"I-I need to leave." There's hiccups, you're tears are stained your cheeks and Violet looks like she'd rather die than look at you right now. Her own face crumples at the sight of you, but you can see her bite her lip to calm herself down.
"Did I hurt you? Was it too much?" Regret and concern floats in her gaze, but you can't tell if one outweighs the other. "I'm so fucking sorry. Oh my god, I never wanted to cause you any harm. I'm sorry. Can I do anything?"
"Some pants—" Violet disappears into her closet, having another pair of boxers, and a pair of sweats in hand.
She turns away from you, and it's then you realize she still isn't wearing a shirt. Violet gives you the privacy and you stumble over the clothes, and you're just staring at her tattooed back.
The gears and puffs of smoke working as one piece on her back, and in this moment of chaos, she completely grounds you. Even if you're not strong enough, you can't deny how incredible she is. How right now you let her believe she's hurt you in some way because you can't bring yourself to tell her that she activated the Lacey Lave of all triggers. And your hurt cannot see anything else.
Not even the woman you think you might even be in love with.
You tap her shoulder, and her lip is quivering as she wipes her wet cheek and grabs her hoodie to throw on. "I'm gonna take you home, and then you never have to see me again, alright? I didn't mean to hurt you and I can't tell you enough how sorry I am."
The ride is silent, and short. You could have walked but Vi wouldn't allow it. Under these circumstances, you understood why. Never have you seen her like this, so distraught. Quiet as a mouse. You have to say something. "Vi?"
"Yeah?" Her eyes are closed, waiting for you to lay one final burn. Shame coated on her face like an iron fist.
"Violet, look at me."
She winces when you say her name, but you've always thought Violet was more beautiful, more fitting for her never ending bloom. You cradle her face in your hand, year stained and all, wiping away anymore continuing to spill.
"Please believe me when I say this. You did not hurt me, Vi. I enjoyed myself with you but it was overwhelming and I handled it very badly. You're nothing short of perfect, okay? I adore you and I don't want you to doubt that."
Violet simply nods, her jaw clenching as her mind looks to drift away from this conversation.
You add for extra measure, "You're a lot. In the best way possible. I want to make sure I'm ready for it. Please, don't give up on me. I just need time."
"M'not going, anywhere." Violet's voice is hoarse, but she grabs your hand and kisses the inside of your palm. Her lips kiss your forehead next, and you can feel her scar when she does.
And it rips you, the feeling that never dies.
The knowing of being loved so softly, so truly—and you've never wanted anything so badly but you're not sure how to reach for it.
Violet lets you leave in silence. She doesn't push, she doesn't beg when you have nothing to give. She just loves you, and your insides crumble at the thought of someone as righteous as her finding the golden in you.
⸻
Routines for you have always been simple. You did well in university for the same reason. Structure, a schedule, the same days you visited the gym, the day you went to the grocery store, and the day you called your mom every week.
Everything for you remained the same. Adapdatuon has never been your expertise. With all the blood in your veins, you wished for your life to remain the same. The life you have prospers in predictability.
Violet isn't predictable.
She surprises.
The passion in her eyes makes you fall instantly. She commands every ounce of your attention and not because she's greedy, but because you can't look at anything but her.
The idea that she hurt you, sending her into a fit of tears still pierces through you. So much so that it wasn't until Mel reached out to you after two weeks of silence she came with red wine and a cardboard box filled with pizza, fresh from your favorite place in the townsquare.
"Out with it. Please tell me why Vi has been operating around us like she's some wounded pup."
"Us?" You question, but Sev walks through your apartment a few seconds later.
"Is this some kind of intervention?" You grab another glass from the kitchen, placing them on the maghony table in the living room. The both of them dig into the pizza when you're favoring more the the wine tonight.
"No, but Vi is a muzzled dog at this point. Won't spill an inch and I can always count on you." Mel grabs another slice, "Plus, I tried to poke her for it and she got rather angry. Wanker nearly bit my head off for asking. A bit protective if you ask me."
"That's entirely my fault. The whole thing is pretty much." You contemplated how much you should tell them, how much to keep a secret, but none of it felt right. Not when Vi didn't want anyone knowing. "We started hanging out with each other. Every Sunday. I had these walks I would go on. I don't know—we bumped into each other one day and then we just made it a regular thing."
Mel nearly chokes on her pizza, her elegance flying out the window along with the slice of pepperoni on the floor. Sevika took another sip of the wine but she hates it but she doesn't have the gaul to complain about it in front of her wine-snob of a girlfriend.
"So, let me get this straight," Sevika starts and you're terrified for where this is going to end. "You had a weekly date with Vi, every single week and neither of you told anyone."
"It was just on Sundays, sometimes lunch. A dinner here and there. It was hardly anything to write home about."
"And who paid?" Mel asked, her perfect eyebrow arching in a way that accused you to the bone.
"Is that truly relevant?"
"Yes." They both say in unison and for a split second you ponder on supplying wax in your ears so you wouldn't have the unfortunate curse of continuing this conversation.
"Uh, well…"
Fuck, did Violet pay for every single one? Were we dating already?
The walks went on for nearly three months.
There was that one weekend I was sick and Violet brought me homemade soup. A care package of cough drops, medicine, and she sat with me on the couch all day watching movies trying to make me feel better.
All of the moments, every single one, even Vi telling you she loved you for the first time. The frustration she had when you called the one night stand a fluke—everything she spoke of between the two of you stood in an entirely different light.
"I have a theory. Vi was soft launching, trying to caux you into it, you know? If not, she would have spooked you and you would have ran." Mel laughs as your eyes bug out even more, "It's kind of brilliant. You probably fell in love with her already and now, all she has to do really is wait for you to realize it."
"I'm not in love with Violet.
"Right, right." Sev chuckles, leaning into Mel. "And you're avoiding her because?"
"You said it yourself. I'm full of spook."
"Well love, don't be spooked for too long. Vi is the kind of woman others go searching for. Caitlyn would be the first to tell you not to make a mess of things, alright?" Mel kisses you on the cheek sweetly, and you've never been more thankful for it. "So, tell me, how was the first kiss with her since you shagged her?"
"I didn't tell you we shagged."
"Well, no but now you did. You need a better poker face, darling."
Jesus Christ, it's going to be a long night.
⸻
⸻
"Spill, you fucking maniac."
"Hell to you too, sunshine." Abby winks, holding the blunt in her hand.
Her l-shaped couch is cozy, you cuddle up in the corner, her dog, Blayke making home in your lap just as she did every time you were here. An ongoing joke she loves you more than Abby.
"You must really have no one if you're willing to tell me about it."
"I do have people. But they're Vi's people too and—"
"You don't wanna spread whatever the big, bad thing you did." You'd do anything to protect her, and if it means keeping what she confessed to yourself? Gladly, you'll wallow in all of the agony for her.
"It's not entirely bad."
Maybe it was. You couldn't stop thinking of her. Seeing the tears in her eyes, watching her cry and only yesterday could I say it for what it truly had been. A complete, a total misunderstanding. Old habits follow you as broken oaths. You think of her—and those kind eyes that have the capacity to shatter your entire soul.
"Tell me first then, what are you hiding?"
Abby's apartment felt like a distant memory, it always felt cold to you, but fitting for her. The terrace underneath the moonlight provides a nice view, and you think of Violet. What it would be like to be spending the evening with her. Is she eating enough—drinking enough water?
Does she talk about me with anyone? Every fight I had with her, none of them hold as much weight. Could you even call this a fight when you made it clear to her there's nothing to fight over? Crying when she said I love you and too weak to handle any of it.
Love and it's thorns. It takes more blood than you have to offer. The tips of your fingers bleed each time you cry to touch her. Each pressing of her skin against your own is more sensitive—more personable. An aching you haven't quite figured out the answer to. Surely, this is a question you're not meant to answer. You're just supposed to know. Love is love and reluctance is rejection.
Once you've struck gold, held a feeling so entirely precious, bronze and silver feels geep beneath your fingertips. There's no runner up—only the one who wins.
"I've never seen you like this." With a smile on her face, Abby takes a swing of her beer. "So in love."
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Your voice is pointed, reeking of desperation. Picking at your chip nail polish, you take another hit, "I think I would know if I was."
"You wouldn't. Not if you're in your head comparing it with whatever fucked up shit Lacey put you through."
"What does that have to with anything?" You hate the rot in your bones, the disease Lacey placed in your system. Every ill-spoken word raises graveyard of your own ashes, the voice of all your demons come in the night, in the terroizing face of her crimson hair and honey-brown eyes. She's there to sneak on you—a thief in the night threatening to steal every bit of joy you have ever held close.
As much as you would love to admit she's no longer in your system, you feel it in the silence you let Violet feel. The distance she created when you couldn't say those three little words back. How you didn't even alow yourself to imagine a life where Violet could somehow want a relationship with you, a soul so entirely broken.
With Abby, everything had been easier. No emotional connection, a battered heart in a vault, where no one could touch it. True to Mel's words, Violet had stolen it from you. And it's far too late to take it back now. You've let yourself want, need even, and you know nothing could be more deadly.
"Fuckin' everything." Abby can't help but smile at the pure ignornance etched in the pursed line of your lips. "You think just because you're free of Lacey, all of it changes?"
"Now you're just being a dick."
"M'not trying to. Would you just listen to me?" Tucking your calves underneath your thighs, wrapping yourself in the blanket she threw around you on your way out.
"Fine. Speak."
'"Lacey put you through hell. But you can't hold onto it. All the expectation you're putting on Vi? You're pinning her to the cross Lacey placed. Has she ever done anything to make you believe you can't trust her?"
"Well no—"
"Then don't making her pay for your ex-girlfriend's sins. S'all I'm saying."
"You don't even know what happened."
"Oh, I definitely do."
"How could you possibly know?"
"Remember the night she dropped by at the restaurant, after you rolled your ankle?"
"Yeah?"
"Her drop by wasn't as innocent or harmless as you think."
⸻
She loves coming here, granted she has only been here a few times, and your grand opening being one of them. Vi remembers Lacey's absence, and your struggle with it. Like most things, it was easy for you to brush it off. Focus on what really mattered to you, and Vi hasn't seen anything more beautiful.
A real smile.
You didn't force it.
Vi wonders if you even could.
Seeing you in the midst of your dream, watching as you held onto a passion you found from the ground up. It was more than admirable, and Vi never had felt so envious of someone else's purpose.
Vi had her purpose, even considered herself lucky enough to carry the weight of her dream in her chest—light as a feather—but her knee gave out on her in the last olympics. The greatest heartbreak of her life. It feels like a wound that couldn't stop opening. The moment before you die, and you think of this one thing, one event, one person. It's the biggest regret, it stands out when it shouldn't and you can't let go of it.
The last bell has been rung, the note of her last career game has been sung—and she has nothing left. A relationship unable to harbor the weight of her failure. Vi knew her career was something special. More than some could ever have and play twice as long as she did. Maybe now, even in her heated sorrow, her legacy would be protected.
She wouldn't be an aged-out soccer player who couldn't get her ass off the field. Holding onto to your dream like a kid with their emotional support blanket. She walked away with grace, and she did have Cait for a time after her increasingly public fallout. Now, she didn't. Eight months of loneliness, not making her physical therapy appointment, the mental therapy sessions she was missing.
The headlines drenching her in blood.
Everywhere she turned to online patiently awaited her return.
The goat isn't finished yet. Vanderson would never go out like that.
She'll be back stronger than ever.
Vi is 32. Her career is over. No more gold for the "goat".
"She could have warned me my competition is a football legend."
Vi smiles, the compliment is endearing, and even finds herself for a moment worth of the title. However fleeting the feeling comes, it decides to land home for more than a few seconds.
"I'm just a pain in the ass to her. An old college friend she could never get rid of." You hate her so much it hurts, and for the first time, Vi believes herself to be a true masochist.
Vi takes note on how big Abby is. A soft face, a smooth jaw, and a field of freckles coursing every inch of her body. That's the only soft thing about her. Her physique almost seems unreal, built like all she does is chop wood with an axe deep in the woods.
Vi feels insecure around the woman you're clearly having sex with and wondering if she could ever measure up. If you even want her to.
"Yeah, I've seen her college friends." Abby does a double take, "You're clearly not just a friend."
Vi plays with the frayed edges of her cap, catching eyes with you before you shake your shoulders, rolling Vi's presence clean off your body. Trying to anyway. "Neither are you."
"No, so go ahead and ask me. I'll allow you one question."
Calloused hands wrap around the chilled glass, the drink you made for her—you didn't even have to ask what she wanted—you knew.
"How much of a chance do you think I have with her?" Vi is so sweet when she asks. In all truth, she doesn't need to know how Abby fucks you. How pretty Abby thinks you are, all the ways she's had you on whatever surface. Abby throws the bait, but she won't take it. Whatever is going on has very little to do with her, and all she wants to know is what you could be with her.
Your Violet.
It’s clear now it’s all she wants to be.
Now more than ever, her belief lies with you. Maybe it's taken her ten years to accept, but she's always been yours to have. From the very first night, it's all she's been—a thorn of roses for you to pluck. Prick her any way you like.
Vi would happily bleed for you.
"I can see why she likes you." Abby lets the confession roll off her tongue like a precious sin.
With a twinkle in Violet's eyes she asks, "And why is that?"
"You're confident, but not too cocky where you'll push her into something she doesn't want. You're checking in on her, not sending her texts like her other friends probably did. Which tells me all I need to know." The blonde-haired woman disappears for a bit, spending a good half hour on the other side of the bar, before retreating back in front of Violet. Watching her watch you.
Vibrant lilac pen in your hair, tucked behind your ear—chewing on the cap in your mouth and you must have felt her stare—you're zoning in on Vi before you shake yourself out of it. Heading in another direction entirely.
"She's not you know—my girlfriend," Abby strolls over, picking up Vi's empty glass. "And she hasn't called me in the middle of the night in two weeks. Funnily enough, about the same time she rolled her ankle with you."
"Look—"
"Don't. I know when I've been beaten. She'll realize what's happening soon enough." Abby smiles, "Let me know if y'all ever want a third."
The unanswered question floats in the thin air for the remainder of the night. Vi isn't cruel enough to put Abby in a position to hear a stranger pin after the woman she's been fucking. All of it feels beyond her reach, and far beyond how she should act for her each. She's over thirty—Vi shouldn't be acting like some lovestruck teenager who is having a crush for the first time.
Then she stops herself, and she sees you clearer than ever—you are the teenage crush.
The dream Vi couldn't stop seeing every night she fell to sleep. The one she felt guilty about. The person who made her wonder if the sinking feeling in your stomach could be some malicious joke, or if it could be the real deal. Ever since she's been with Cait, she's never gone there. Lacey and Caitlyn—she had never been so grateful for either one of them.
Until she saw you drunk at brunch, crying over Lacey, she never felt it. Not with anyone else before you.
It made her body physcially sick to see you hurt. Tears staining your cheeks, the way your lip quivered and crumbled beneath the weight of your emotions. Mel soothing you enough where you could breathe again. Vi clenched her fists underneath the table, knuckles turning white as she tried to not find Lacey and yell at her for every vicious comment she ever made to you.
She never wants to see you hurt—when you hurt yourself on the asphalt—Vi became entirely a goner. Cradling you in her arms, with this look in your tempting eyes. Vi thought about it for weeks and weeks. If she died right then, it would be the last thing she thought of. The moment before you die, and you see your life.
As pathetic as anyone could be, Vi would see you.
Her teenage crush, a stupid one night stand she would never get over. It all could mean so much more to her. She wants to keep chasing this feeling. Your kindness, your laughter, and the way you're skin glows in the sun with a bottle of champagne flowing through your veins. You are her sun-kissed dream and Violet's always been a bit of a masochist for a little burn.
Being here, in the place you loved more than life itself, it seemed to be the only logical move. The first one she could play without entirely seeming like an obsessed freak.
i just know brendon park is the type of dad to talk to your baby bump as if he wasn’t talking to a baby bump lmao he’d unintentionally just start ranting. talking about the surgeries he did and how one of the interns hesitated too long in answering his question before going into a full explanation about how to do a medial patellofemoral ligament procedure. and you’re just laying there in bed with one of those full body pregnancy pillows that brendon insisted you get.
i'm going to try and post something every day of pride month. we'll see how long it lasts. happy pride and day 3 of consistency
Pairing: Trinity Santos x fem!reader
Summary: It’s been a long shift where you unexpectedly start your period and Trinity snaps at you. Dana comforts you, Ogilvie is a jerk, and Trinity realizes her mistake.
Tags/Warnings: fem!reader, nurse!reader, comfort/hurt, fluff, reader needs a hug, non graphic mentions of periods
Word Count: 2,344
Today felt like a day from hell. Patients were nonstop, trauma was nonstop, and patience was running thin throughout the department. Even Dana had been uncharacteristically snippy which she had been quick to apologize for and correct.
What made it worse was everything felt like effort. Even sitting down hurt. Your muscles ached and you weren’t sure why. Your brain felt foggy and your movements were stiff.
It didn’t stop you from doing your job, but it made everything infinitely harder.
You hadn’t done anything strenuous and couldn’t figure out what was going on until you felt something sticky between your legs when you bent down to pick up the pen you’d dropped three times in the last hour.
You rushed away to the bathroom to check. Your suspicions were confirmed when you saw blood. Fuck, you whispered. You did your best to clean whatever you could and hoped you had a pad in your locker.
You quickly washed your hands and rushed out of the bathroom hoping you didn’t get paged anywhere. You weren’t paying attention to anything other than the discomfort raking through your body as you swung the door open and crashed into the back of someone.
You watched in horror as a container of supplies flew forward and spread across the floor. You wanted to apologize and help, but the words died in your throat as anger roared out of the R2 you’d practically trampled.
“Holy fuck, does no one use their damn eyes. Now I have to completely start over. Thanks a lot, klutz.” Your body recoiled before your brain could catch up. You’d never heard Trinity sound so mean. Her words were like venom that immediately buried itself into your subconscious.
She hadn’t looked at you as she picked up her supplies and you rushed away. You could faintly make out her mumbling to herself as you rushed to the lockers a little more calculated than before.
Perlah and Dana saw the whole thing unfold. The blonde handed over her chart.
“Go, I got this,” Perlah assured as Dana walked in your direction. You didn’t hear her as you sat on the bench near the lockers and cried. Your shoulders were violently shaking and the tears would not stop. You’d always been an emotional person, but on your period it was one hundred times worse.
Your tears only continued as Dana sat beside you and held you tight.
“I’ve got you kid. It’s okay.” She knew there was more to the crying than just being yelled at, but didn’t push as you cried in the protection of her shoulder. She softly rubbed your back and held you until your breathing evened out. It felt like forever to you, but it had only been a few minutes.
You pulled away from her and saw the tear stains on her scrubs. You immediately cringed and went to apologize, but she raised her hand up in protest.
“Don’t. Sometimes we all just need a good cry. You okay?” You shrugged as your shoulders slumped.
“I just started my period today.” Dana gave a knowing look as she nodded. You’d never worked the first day of your period and now she understood why. Dana never questioned when you requested to swap shifts with someone once a month. It was only now she realized you didn’t ask this month.
“You didn’t ask to switch this week.” It wasn’t a question.
“I wasn’t supposed to start until sometime next week. Flo’s early.” Dana nodded with a smile.
“Oh, to be young. Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head no.
“I just gotta change out of these scrubs and hope I have a pad in my emergency bag.” She nodded in understanding as she stood from the bench and gave your shoulder a squeeze.
“Chin up kid. Only a few more hours. Take a break. Perlah and I will cover for you.” You gave Dana as good a smile as you could muster as she walked away. After fifteen minutes, a new pair of scrubs, and with a chocolate bar in hand you made your way back to the nurse’s station for your next assignment.
You slightly stumbled into the station and looked down to see your shoe was untied. You huffed, annoyed as you placed the candy bar on the counter to tie your shoe.
“I don’t know how you have so much energy today.” You heard Dennis’ voice as you straightened and were faced with him and Trinity. Your heart immediately sank. She didn’t look angry anymore, but you were still slightly scared.
“See Huckleberry, when you have an amazing girlfriend who brings you your favorite energy drinks to work, you’ll understand. Besides, I've put in two chest tubes and intubated a patient flawlessly.” She perked up when she saw you and quickly kissed your cheek when no one was watching. Well, besides Whitaker of course.
You were shocked. That’s when you realized Trinity hadn’t seen that it was you she yelled at. You weren’t sure what to do with this information when Dana spawned out of nowhere.
“Santos, Whitaker Trauma One. Incoming GSW.” Trinity swiped your chocolate bar from the counter with another kiss on your cheek and went off with Dennis. You pouted to yourself as you looked up at Dana with watery eyes.
“Triage with Donnie.” Dana handed you a few chocolate kisses and patted your forearm. You nodded and walked away to find the senior nurse.
…
Triage had been a welcome change of pace and you were grateful to Dana for placing you there. Donnie’s energy had always put you at ease. You enjoyed bantering with him and seeing pictures of his newborn in between patients.
He sent you to report back to Dana as he grabbed some things from one of the storage rooms. You carried an iPad in the crook of your arm as you approached the nurse’s station that was surrounded by student doctors.
“I’m telling you guys, all the supplies went flying. It was hilarious and the look on the nurse’s face was absolutely priceless.” A sour taste flooded into your mouth as you slowly approached, but didn’t see Dana.
“Crashing into Santos, did they have a death wish?” Victoria questioned. You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to ignore them as Dana finally appeared.
“The ED is definitely not a place to be clumsy.” Joy shrugged absentmindedly.
“Scram, you all have patients.” The three student doctors left immediately as Dana tapped your hand to pull you out of your stupor.
“Whatcha got for me kid.” You filled her in on you and Donnie’s patients and she nodded along. She asked a few follow up questions, but was glad to hear you’d discharged two patients and were freeing up beds.
“Great work. I heard you caught that appendicitis the second you saw the girl in the waiting room. That was an awesome catch.” You smiled up at the woman.
“Thanks Dana.” She tipped her head at you as you walked away feeling lighter on your feet.
…
As shift change came around you were beginning to lose steam. You were barely keeping your eyes open as you grabbed your bag to go home. You felt a little unsteady on your feet and stumbled backwards.
“Woah there klutz, don’t fall now that the shift’s over.” Your eyes were wide open now as you grabbed the edge of your locker to steady yourself. Just as you were about to turn around your heart dropped.
“What the fuck did you just say Ogilvie.” You’d know that voice anywhere. You turned to see the man looking down at Trinity with a pinched expression. Any tighter and he’d be physically shaking.
“Apologize now.” The bite in Trinity’s voice sent a shiver down your spine. Ogilvie threw you a quick glance and a mumbled “sorry” before he practically ran out of the ED.
You had been hoping to avoid the whole thing. You just wanted to go home and forget this day ever existed. You knew Trinity would’ve never acted that way if she knew it was you, but it didn’t make the interaction any better. She really had to do a better job of keeping herself in check.
Trinity looked like a kicked puppy as she approached you carefully. You sighed to yourself as a fresh wave of tears threatened to fall.
“Mahal… I. Fuck.” You sucked your teeth and shrugged sadly at her. Just as you were about to ask to go home a cramp decided to rip through your body. You gasped as you crouched down and held your stomach.
Trinity knew better than to try and touch you in that moment as she replayed all the moments of the day. You did seem rather quiet and she hadn’t seen you running around the ED like normal. You’d been more tired than usual. You also hadn’t been searching the ED for her.
Trinity bit her tongue when she finally placed all the pieces together.
You started your period, got yelled at by the one person who was supposed to be kind to you, and to top it all off she’d stolen your chocolate bar.
It all made sense, but Trinity hadn’t been paying attention. She kicked herself as you stood up. You looked pale and absolutely drained.
“Can we just go home?” Trinity nodded and followed behind you with her head down. You just didn’t have the energy for anything else today. You wanted to crawl into bed and not wake up for the next two days. You were grateful to not have to work for them.
The drive home was silent as Trinity drove. You stared out the window and clutched your stomach the entire time. Being in a car only amplified the pain. Every bump in the road meant a wave of pain rippled through your body. By the time you got to her apartment you were nauseated.
Trinity opened your door, but didn’t stand too close as you climbed out. It was clear her head was spinning. She’d been glancing at you the entire drive. You were slow to follow her inside, but did your best to keep up.
Once the apartment door closed behind the two of you the energy shifted. There was no hiding from the day. Trinity sat anxiously on the couch and looked up at you. She picked at her nails, but her eyes never left your form.
“Trin.” Her eyes flicked up to yours. She took a deep breath before words started spilling out of her mouth.
“Mahal, I am so sorry. I really didn’t know it was you, but that shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t have lashed out. And I’m even more angry that I yelled at you. And I stole your candy. And I wasn’t paying attention and I missed so many things. I’m sorry I wasn’t. I should’ve…” You cut her off by climbing into her lap to shop her spiraling.
Her hands immediately wrapped around your waist and held you close.
“Breathe baby.” You whispered to her. The warmth of her body grounded you and soothed your cramps slightly. After Trinity took a few deep breaths you pulled away slightly to look at her.
“Look, I understand. Thank you for apologizing. I didn’t appreciate being yelled at, but I wasn’t looking where I was going either so I’m at fault too. I barrelled into you and I’m sorry for knocking everything out of your hands.” Her eyes softened as she nuzzled into your jaw.
“You did, but if I’d taken a second to assess the situation I would’ve realized what was going on. How are you physically feeling? I can’t remember the last time you worked when you started your period.” You leaned into Trinity’s touch. Just as you were about to answer your stomach growled.
“When was the last time you ate something?” Your eyes widened as you tried to hide your face. You had absolutely no recollection of when you’d last eaten something substantial.
“Honeyyy.” Trinity whined. You kissed her forehead and ran to the bathroom before she could chastise you more. Trinity immediately barreled after you as soon as you were out of her grip.
Your giggles filled the apartment as you raced to Trinity’s bathroom. Just as she was about to crush you in a hug she remembered you were on your period. She came to a halt directly in front of you. You quickly kissed her mouth causing her to lose her balance and fall on her butt.
Oof escaped Trinity’s lips as she stared up at you.
“You did that on purpose.” She pouted and playfully crossed her arms over her chest.
“Maybe.” You teased as you helped her up. She turned away from you as you went to kiss her again. You tightly wrapped your arms around her waist and kissed her shoulder. She tried to stay neutral as you moved her hair to the side and placed a chaste kiss on her neck. Trinity shivered under your touch. You put your chin on her shoulder as she held your hand over her stomach.
“I know I’m on my period, but would you want to shower with me? If it’s not too weird.” You loosened your grip to give her an out. You’d never showered together on your period. You didn’t plan to do anything, but appreciated her company. She carefully turned in your arms and threaded your hands together behind her back.
“Aking mahal, it is not weird at all. A period is part of life, a typically annoying one, but I do not mind one bit. I’d love to join you. Perfect chance to appreciate what’s mine.” You gave her a pointed look that said, ‘no funny business.’
“With my eyes, of course. And after that we can order food.” You smiled at her as a blush spread across your cheeks. You placed your forehead on hers and smiled with your eyes closed.
You and Trinity, this is where you each belonged.
***
Masterlist - Archive of Our Own
thank you to everyone who reads these, likes, and/or reblogs. it truly means the world to me 🫶
femme reader with college butch trinity “helping” her study and quizzing her on her clinical immunology notes for an exam by sitting on her lap and cockwarming her strap until she gets everything correct. giving her a fake pout and kiss when she gets one wrong “no baby not quite :(”
-🪵
The second you sink down on her strap, Trinity forgets everything she studied for. She tries to rack her brain for something, anything, but nothing comes to her.
But she nods when you ask her if she's ready. She's stubborn, horny, and wants to prove that she's smart.
You quiz her about internal and external defense. She gets more wrong than right.
"Almost, baby. Why don't you think harder, huh? I know you're smart. Try thinking with your other head."
You subtly shift your hips, causing Trinity to let out a tiny groan as her strap sinks deeper inside of you.
When you ask her about it again, she gets it right. Takes her a long time to get her words out, but she gets 'em out.
You smile at her and kiss her lips. "Good job, baby."
Trinity lets out a weak, "thank you," that has you grinning.
"What are the roles of the MHC molecules?" you ask, reading off your notes. Trinity splutters and tries to remember. You lean in close to her ear and whisper, "If you get this right, I'll take my shirt off."
Trinity audibly gulps.
You continue. "And I'm not wearing a bra."
"You're trying to sabotage me," Trinty grumbles.
"Answer the question." You tug on Trinity's hair and look into her fluttering green eyes.
She blurts out her answer, and surprisingly, she's correct.
"My baby's so smart," you coo, pecking her warm cheek.
Trinity's eyes are so glazed over as she watches you slip off your shirt. Her mouth instinctively parts once it's off, and her lips purse just a tiny bit as she imagines wrapping her mouth around your nipple.
"Only a few more questions. If you get 'em right, I'll let you do whatever you want. Got it?"
Trinity nods dumbly, hands shaking in excitement and anticipation. "Hit me."
You ask about the five major classes of antibodies, and she can't think of anything. She's studied for this; she should know it. And she does! It's so easy. It's on the tip of her tongue. But nothing is inside her brain right now except for a fuzzy feeling.
"Uh...IgG..." That's all she can think of right now.
You nod at her. "Yeah? What else?"
Your voice sounds so sweet, it makes Trinity flustered. She shakes her head desperately. "Ask me something else."
You pout at her. "You got this. Keep going. You're almost there."
Your words remind her of what you'd tell her while talking her through it, and a low whine rumbles in her throat.
SUMMARY Since he first came into your life, two things have always been true: you've been in love with Bradley Bradshaw from the moment you laid eyes on him and he's been in love with your sister from the moment he laid eyes on her. But passing years and unforeseen circumstances find you and Bradley married—unfortunately, both your truths remain the same.
CONTENT little women au, fem reader (no use of y/n, but reader has a last name), angst, fluff, slow burn I guess, historical inaccuracies (read: I kinda just made up a time period that's whatever I want it to be and we're all gonna go with it), minor unhealthy language about food, toxic family dynamics, brief mentions of war, blood/small injury, barely edited
WC 6k
A/N heyyy 🧌 not sure if anyone remembers me (or this fic honestly lol) but idk I was looking through it the other day and got inspired to rewrite it again and here we are! if you do happen to remember this fic, hopefully you'll enjoy this remastered version of it. I haven't really been following the topgun fandom anymore (I've faceplanted back into my superhero obsession) but it felt wrong to change bradley to a different character. I also don't know if I'll post anything besides this fic, my plan is to start with this one and see where it goes! anyway that's enough yapping from me, please enjoy :)
NEXT
PROLOGUE…
There is something incredibly haunting about the concept of love.
Maybe it’s all the weight that people can’t help but put into a simple word consisting of two vowels and two consonants. Maybe it’s the way people seem to chase it so insistently, as if there is nothing else in the world that could possibly matter. Maybe it’s simply the fact that love is nothing more than a concept—an unexplainable unknown, a guess of a feeling.
You don’t know much about love, on rare occasions you’ve questioned its very existence. But you know enough to know that, whatever it is, no one has ever felt that way about you. And there was a time when you thought that they did—that someone loved you, and cared for you, and looked at you like you were brighter than all the stars in the sky—but you were wrong. You were young, and naive, and foolish, too caught up in the shiny novelty of your hopes and dreams to see things for what they truly were.
As a little girl, you dreamed of your wedding day like it was a promise. You imagined delicate bouquets of wild flowers, twinkling candle lights flickering around the room, and soft pastels against cream whites. In the dust of the attic, you’d find the folded stacks of your mother’s old cotton curtains, draping them across yourself and prancing around the creaky floors with bare feet you imagined in elegant slippers. Your sisters would laugh at you, before wrapping themselves in their own curtains—or one of your father’s old suits, in Charlie’s case—pretending to cover you in gold and pearls and fawning over your dreamt up ring.
Watched on by an audience of your creation, Rosaline would strut across the attic with her chin held high, tossing invisible flower petals over her shoulder for as long as she could get away with before Charlie would hurry her along with a laugh. Edith would follow, lining up next to Rosaline and giving her a playful nudge with her hip to stop the younger girl’s scowling. Then it would be you and Margo, wrapped arm in arm as Edith hummed a random melody for you to walk to. In perfect step, you’d reach the rest of your sisters, where Charlie would be proudly standing on an old apple crate, the sleeves of your father’s suit jacket rolled up to her elbows. In the fantastical world of your attic, you’d stand in the center. Margo and Edith would pretend to cry, Rosaline would excitedly remind you of all the flower petals she tossed on the floor, and Charlie would marry you to an imaginary man who you knew loved you more than anything.
Now, sitting silently as your father tenses with displeasure and your mother purses her lips in discontent, your vision blurs with how much you’re focusing on the woody grain of the table and you wish more than anything to be back in your attic, wrapped up in your mother’s white, cotton curtains.
From across the table, Pete Mitchell lets out a soft, resigned sigh. You can feel his eyes on you, almost burning you with his gaze, but you don’t dare look up.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and there’s a weight to his words that feel like he’s talking about much more than the current moment. “We tried to get Bradley to see reason, but with everything with—,” He stops himself. “With everything that happened, he’s… refusing.”
“So what exactly are you saying, then?” Your father’s voice is sharp, easily recognizable as the tone of a general.
For a moment, no one speaks. You feel Pete Mitchell glance at you again and you bite down harshly on the inside of your cheek to fight off the tears that have been itching your waterline.
Penny Mitchell places a hand over her husband’s, trying to subdue the tension in the room with a gentle smile. “Perhaps we should give it some time,” she suggests. “I’m sure we can all agree that the past week has been challenging for everyone, Bradley just needs some time to process it all. After that, I’m certain he’ll be more agreeable.”
Pete Mitchell nods in confirmation and the answer seems to quell your father. Your mother remains silent and, when you glance down at her lap, her hands are stiff and frozen. You have no idea what she’s thinking and the uncertainty makes your stomach twist with nerves. Though your hands are hidden under the table, away from sight, you still hold back from the urge to pick at your nail beds.
Your father says something more to Pete and Penny Mitchell, but you can’t seem to focus on it. The rest of their conversation sounds like muffled noise as they say their goodbyes. You follow your mother like a silent shadow. You almost feel like you’re floating. Like you’re walking on weightless steps, everything around you fuzzy and unfocused.
Through it all, your mind drifts, flashing through memories of this house you’ve come to know almost as intimately as your own.
You can see the hallway that leads to the staircase, decorated with beautiful paintings and detailed portraits of different members of the Mitchell family. You can see all the steps that take you up the winding staircase, all the homely rooms of the Mitchell estate. And then, at the end of it all, you can see one final room, the door closed and certainly locked.
And as you and your parents pass through the threshold of the front door, as your face is scorched with embarrassment and the insides of your cheeks hurt from being bitten, as your eyes turn glassy and you feel like you’re floating and sinking all at once, you can see exactly what’s inside that room.
Inside that room, hidden away with such little care for you that he couldn’t even face you himself, is the man who you once thought just might have the capacity to love you. Now, as you walk away from that room, ducking behind your mother’s frame, you’re certain of two things:
You are foolish and he never would.
AUGUST, SIX YEARS EARLIER…
“I hate this,” Charlie wrinkles her nose in disgust, yanking at one of the frilly sleeves of her dress. “How much longer until I can take this thing off of me?”
Your mother clucks her tongue, though she doesn’t even spare your sister a glare, her eyes firmly trained on the guests mingling around you. “Behave, Charlotte.”
Charlie slumps back in her chair with a scowl, but stays silent, only kicking at the fabric of her skirt in an act of defiance your mother chooses to ignore. You can’t quite figure out if that’s more upsetting to Charlie than being chastised. You’d think she’d grow tired of the constant back and forth with your mother—you know you would—but if anything the challenge seems to excite her, like she’d rather have all the questions than all the answers. The two of you have always been quite different in that way.
Around you, people chatter quietly, dressed in similar formal attire. Some you recognize, though only vaguely, but most are complete strangers to you. The thought makes you fold in on yourself slightly, rubbing the fabric of your skirt between your index finger and thumb just to focus on something else.
This catches Margo’s attention and she leans closer to the shell of your ear with a look of understanding. She points subtly at the back of an older gentleman sitting several rows in front of you. “That’s General Prescott,” she tells you quietly. “He knew Father from before the war. It’s his daughter that’s getting married. I think you met her once, but it was quite a while ago.”
You shoot her a grateful smile and she squeezes your hand again. Though it’s an action she’s done upwards of a thousand times before, this time there’s a notable difference in the new sensation of her engagement band pressing against the top of your knuckles. You watch as she pulls her hand away from yours, running her opposite index finger against the ring with a faint smile. When she catches you staring, you give her a smile of your own. The ring is something you’re both getting used to.
It didn’t necessarily come as a surprise when Thomas proposed to your sister, honestly it was more of an inevitably. From the moment he came into the clinic with a large lump on his head caused by accidentally walking into a barn door and locked eyes with your sister as she tended to him, it was as good as set in stone. You hadn’t been there, of course, but luckily Dr. Bangs gossips enough to provide much more detail than Margo—who only said she’d met a handsome man at work that day—explaining that Thomas was so smitten with her that he almost hit his head again on the door as he left. The next day, he was at your door, head bandages and all, formally asking to court your sister.
You like Thomas. He’s kind and witty and always puts up with Charlie and Rosaline’s eccentricities. Most importantly, he loves Margo more than anything in the world. But ever since the engagement, you’ve struggled not to resent him just a bit. It never lasts for very long, just momentary lapses, and you know that it really has nothing to do with him and you would be mad at anyone in his place, but you can’t help but feel resentful at the thought that he’s taking your sister away from you.
Because that’s what will happen—what was always going to happen—your sister will get married, and then she’ll have a husband and be a wife, and wives live with their husbands and not with you. And one day, all your sisters will get married, and you’ll get married, and you’ll never live with each other again. You can’t fully imagine it. You’ve never had to live without Margo, not once in your entire life. Sometimes the thought of it claws at your chest. It’s an almost frantic feeling of wishing time could just stop, that you could just stay in this moment forever and your sisters would stay right where they are too and no one would ever leave and you’d never have to be without each other.
But time doesn’t stop, regardless of how much your heart constricts. In a month's time, Margo will be married and then she’ll be gone and you’ll all get older and do the same. You’re trying to be happy about it, but for the first time in a long time, you can’t find it in yourself to pay attention to a wedding. You miss the bride walking out in a beautiful dress, the face of the groom when he finally sees her take those steps down the aisle, all the vows about love and forever, and try to ignore how it feels like there are rocks in your throat.
It takes Margo’s hand on your shoulder to pull you out of it and alert you to the fact that the ceremony is over. There’s a confused worry in her eyes as she watches you get up from your seat quickly, but she says nothing of it when you placate her with your best reassuring smile. Your mother and Charlie have already left, so you walk out of the church with Margo to the reception, trying hard to smooth out any wrinkles in your dress before your mother sees.
As soon as you enter the reception hall, Margo is quickly swarmed by her friends and some of the older women in town, all cooing as she excitedly shows off her ring and recounts the story of Thomas’s proposal. You stand off to the side awkwardly, not wanting to distract from your sister, and scan the room to try and find where Charlie and your mother are sitting.
“Oh, thank God.” A hand wraps around your bicep, fingers firmly pressing into the skin. You turn as Charlie pulls you closer to her, the relief on her face palpable. “I was wondering where you went. You have to help me.”
You laugh lightly. “What trouble could you have possibly gotten into in the two minutes I was gone?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Charlie huffs. “It’s Mother who’s—,”
You both look up at the sound of your names being called to see your mother’s pointed but refined gaze. “Come, there’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.”
“Wonderful.” Charlie mutters under her breath, but you’re already leading her over to your mother before she can bolt.
There are two men sitting at the table with your mother, the older one engaging in light conversation with her. He looks to be around your father’s age, with white strands blending into his blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard, a pair of thin spectacles balancing on the bridge of his nose. The younger one looks to be around your age, sitting politely in his chair in an expensive looking suit. It’s unclear if he’d been participating in conversation with your mother, but whether he had or not, his attention had now been caught by you and Charlie and he watches you as you walk over.
Once you get close enough, your mother hurries you with her hands and presents you in front of the two men. She says each of your names in order—in response Charlie grimaces and you smile politely. “And this is General Seresin and his son Jacob.” Her voice is sugar sweet as she introduces the two. “I believe Jacob is just around your age, Charlotte.”
“Yes, I turned 16 last winter, Mrs. Simpson” he supplies politely.
Your mother’s eyes light up. “Oh, wonderful! Isn’t that wonderful, Charlotte?”
Charlotte looks something akin to a feral barn cat, something between annoyance and rage glazing her eyes. She opens her mouth—too say something incredibly rude and unladylike, you’re sure—but then, unusually, clamps it shut, her expression still visibly sour. The silence hangs awkwardly in the air and you can sense your mother’s well-trained composer chipping away with each passing moment.
“Quite wonderful,” you assure the two men before the interaction becomes unsalvageable. “It’s not often we meet many new people our age.”
Both your mother and General Seresin look generally appeased by your statement—though your mother considerably less so—while Jacob’s eyes dart between you and Charlie with barely concealed amusement.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, we were both just a bit shocked to learn your age.” You tense as Charlie speaks, knowing that the smirk lighting up her face only means trouble. “Given that you look so old and decrepit, and all.”
General Seresin’s eyebrows raise and your mother looks like she wants to smite you both where you stand, but Jacob just laughs, not even bothering to hide his amusement this time.
“I see.” The look of horror on your face must be evident because, when he looks at you, his grin widens. “Well, then I apologize for any confusion I’ve caused.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” Your mother gets up quickly, trying to maintain a docile appearance as she grabs Charlie by the arm. “Charlotte hasn’t eaten quite yet and it makes her a bit… discourteous. If it’s alright, perhaps we should get some food?”
“Of course.” You shrink slightly under General Seresin’s gaze, his eyes unreadable as he looks at your sister.
Your mother gives him a polite smile, before turning slightly to Jacob. “As an apology for her indiscretion, Charlotte will bring you back a plate as well, Jacob.”
Your mother drags the two of you away before Jacob can respond or Charlotte can worsen the situation. Once you’re out of earshot of the Seresins—and the rest of the wedding guests—your mother turns on you both with a fury.
“You will not ever do something like that again.”
“Mother—,”
You subtly squeeze Charlie’s hand, begging her to hold her tongue. “We’re sorry, Mother. We’ll apologize to both Jacob Seresin and his father, I promise.”
Your mother’s gaze falls to Charlie expectantly, and you have to squeeze your sister’s hand again to get her to give a curt nod of agreement. “Very well.” Your mother sniffs. “Now, get your food and go back to the table. I will speak to General Seresin and try to salvage this.” You watch as she relaxes her shoulder, mask coming back on as she turns to leave. “And watch how you eat in front of him.”
And then she’s gone. As soon as she blends into the other wedding guests, Charlie’s hands ball up into fists.
“She is unbelievable!”
You let out a soft sigh. It’s futile to try and reason with your sister, so you don’t, instead letting her angrily shove macarons in her mouth as you put smaller portions of food onto your plate. Beside your plate, you’ve brought one for Jacob Seresin as well—knowing better than to remind Charlie that, technically, she was supposed to be bringing food for him.
You’re not quite sure what to make of him, you think, as you thoughtfully place food on his plate. He seemed amused more than anything at your sister’s blatant mockery, almost as if he enjoyed it. He’s handsome—perhaps not the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, but your mother has certainly introduced Charlie to worse options. You try not to focus on how handsome he is for too long, he’s clearly meant for—and seems interested in—your sister.
From beside you, Charlie rolls her eyes with a groan. “If he doesn’t stop looking at us, I’m going to throw a macaroon at him.”
You try to look discreetly back at the table to see Jacob very obviously watching you both.
“He seems quite taken with you. Maybe he’ll ask you to dance when we get back.
“Please.” Your sister scoffs, wiping macaron crumbs from her chin with the back of her hand. “If he even entertains the idea, I’ll step on all his toes as we waltz.”
You frown slightly. “Please don’t.”
“I’m serious,” Charlie insists, through another mouthful of macaron. “And if he calls me ‘Charlotte’, I’ll kick him in the shin. I don’t know what Mother has said to him about me, but, I swear to you, by the time we finish eating, I’ll make sure he thinks I’m the most horrid girl he’s ever had the displeasure of meeting!”
All of that sounds to be the exact opposite of your mother’s strict instructions, but you know that Charlie isn’t bluffing in the slightest. Again, you feel the smallest bit of resentment towards Thomas because, if he hadn’t proposed, then Margo would be here with you instead of mingling amongst the other guests to share the news with everyone, and then you wouldn’t have to placate Charlie alone.
Instead, you look back at Jacob Seresin—who is still staring intently at your sister—worrying your lip through your teeth in thought.
“If I keep him away, will you promise me that you will not do any of that?”
Charlie flings her arms around you dramatically. “Yes! Yes, I promise! Oh, I love you, I love you! You are the most wonderful sister I’ve ever had!”
You giggle at her theatrics. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re much too dramatic? Just let me think for a moment.”
“What’s there to think about? You’ve already said he seemed interested in dancing, just go ask him in my place!”
“But—,”
“You’re a much better dancer than me and you know it,” Charlie states emphatically. “Now go, before Mother figures out what we’re up to.”
The music changes to something you recognize, but can’t name, and you relent, instructing Charlie to wait for a moment longer by the food before returning to your table. Then you gather all your courage as you walk back to Jacob—notably without the two plates you made—his lips part, but before he can even attempt to ask where your sister is, you speak.
“Would you like to dance?”
You try not to wince at how shaky your voice sounds and hope against all hope that he doesn’t reject you outright because then you’d have no other way to stop him from pursuing Charlie for the rest of the evening, and you just promised her you wouldn’t let that happen.
Your attention snaps back to Jacob when you hear the sound of his chair moving. He stands up and holds out his hand to you.
“Very much so.”
It takes you a blink to collect your bearings and then you place your hand in his before he can change his mind and let him lead you to where the other guests are dancing. You catch Charlie’s eye as you do so. If you waited a moment longer, you would have missed the smile she gave you before heading back to the table with her food.
The music grows louder as you get closer to the orchestra and soon you and Jacob Seresin have fallen into step with the other dancing couples. You dance as smoothly as two teenagers can manage, though he’s quite a bit better than you, leading you with a practiced grace that you could only wish to have.
Jacob clears his throat suddenly. “Your sister seems to be… quite the character.”
You bristle slightly at the implication, but swallow it down quickly and plaster on a polite smile. “Yes, I—We—apologize. As my mother said, she hadn’t eaten much today.” Your voice falters as you try to think of all the things your mother would want you to say to rectify the situation. “But that’s still no excuse and we apologize for any offense and—,”
“I didn’t take any offense.” Jacob almost seems entertained by your rambling. “But I can’t help but wonder if there was any validity to your sister’s claims.” His head drops slightly, close enough that his teasing eyes take up most of your vision. “May I ask if you think I look–what was it–‘old and decrepit’?”
Your lips part in surprise and you lose your footing with a stumble, though Jacob corrects it effortlessly. “No, I—Of course I don’t—I would never—I think you’re very handsome!”
“Oh, very handsome? That’s quite the complement.” Jacob raises an amused brow.
You feel heat rush to your cheeks, now fully abandoning any semblance of following along in your waltz, simply letting Jacob guide you around as you try to contain your fluster.
“Yes, of course.” If you were Charlie, you think you would have stepped on his toes by now, but you aren’t, so you don’t. “I think you’d make a very handsome brother-in-law.”
Jacob grins. “I see.” Then his face softens slightly. “It’s a shame then.” Your head cocks slightly in confusion and he supplies, “My father and I will be leaving as soon as the month is over.”
“Will you be back?”
“Perhaps,” Jacob grimaces. “I’m not sure. He won’t talk to me about it much, but I think Father fears that the war is getting worse.”
You suck in a breath, your thoughts drifting to your own father. Much like Jacob, you find yourself in your own predicament of your mother sheltering you from the truth of your father’s safety. The occasional letters you get from him hardly go into detail either, and you’ve learned to stop asking your mother when he’ll finally be able to come home.
Your dance with Jacob ends on a somewhat somber note, the two of you lost in thoughts that you’re not yet intimate enough to share with the other.
Thomas and Margo’s wedding came sooner than you would have liked, but late enough that you’d been able to process it as much as you could. By that time, Jacob Seresin and his father had already left, forcing your mother to look for another eligible suitor for Charlie. At the very least, watching—and being roped in to—all of Charlie’s ever escalating plots to scare off any potential husband left you little time to focus on your eldest sister’s absence.
Still, there was a dull ache that wouldn’t subside anytime you came down for breakfast and Margo wasn’t there. She promised to visit you regularly—and already has. She and Thomas didn’t even live that far away, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they did. Before Thomas found a better job, and they had children, and then Margo would enter a part of her life that you weren’t meant to follow. You try not to think about it.
It’s winter now. Your shoes crunch against the white snow as you walk, the bottom of your dress dampening slightly. Your mother had wrapped up your lessons early this morning—Charlie had been especially fidgety and, after one too many loud interruptions, your mother had exacerbated her patience and dismissed you. Father had sent you all some presents with his most recent letter and Edith had become enamored with the book he got her, choosing to read it quietly in her room. Charlie had quickly set to work creating a grand pirate map and Rosaline only wanted to be wherever Charlie was—which just left you.
You weren’t exactly in the mood for pirates, you thought briefly about visiting Margo, but the trek seemed too long for the weather. And then that thought made you sad, that there was enough distance between you and your sister that it could be influenced by weather. To try and damper the melancholy feeling in your chest, you wrapped yourself in a scarf, tucked your pencils and paper away into a small satchel, and set out for the lake.
It was frozen over now—the ducks long gone—but with the way the snow powdered the branches of pine trees and wild grasses peaked out from under the frost on your walk to the lake, you knew the scene would be beautiful. Your fingers itch at your sides—partially because they were freezing, but also because your father’s gift for you had been a set of new charcoal pencils and one of them just matched the green of the pine trees perfectly.
Your nose feels like ice itself when you finally reach the lake and you breathe the cold air in with a soft smile. As you suspected, the view is magnificent, better than you’d even imagined. You brush the snow off a large stone before sitting down and taking it all in. For a moment all you can do is stare and then, suddenly remembering why you came to the lake in the first place, you open your satchel and pull out a stack of paper and the metallic tin holding your new charcoal pencils.
It’s cold enough now that you’re becoming congested, your fingers stiffening. You persevere though, sketching out the horizon line, trees, and the shape of the lake. With a cock of your head, you take in the scene again. Wouldn’t it be lovely if there were a couple ice skating? You lightly map it out on the paper, allowing yourself to indulge in curiosity.
You’d only ever gone ice skating once. It was back during the earlier stages of Margo and Thomas’s relationship, early enough that you’d only met him a few times at that point. It was a day similar to this one and, upon learning that your uncle had gifted you all ice skates for Christmas, Thomas had insisted on taking you out to the lake to try them on. Edith had picked it up quickly, while Rosaline had made it around the circumference of the lake once—with a vice grip on Thomas’s arm the entire time—before deciding that ice skating was unenjoyable. You’d also found trouble with it, holding onto Margo’s hands as she helped you both glide on the ice.
Charlie was trying to go as fast as she possibly could, tripping and slipping and getting up with a loud laugh. Thomas warned her that she would wake up with bruises from all that falling, and Charlie informed him that “there was nothing fun about going slow”, and you skated around the lake twice more, watching Charlie twirl and glide, and never let go of Margo’s hand once.
Ultimately, Charlie did wake up with bruises and, when your mother saw them, she put your ice skates away in the attic.
The wind rustles the pages of your sketching paper, pulling you from the memory. Your light outline of the couple skating had become more defined, transforming now into a resolute silhouette. Plucking the drawing between your fingers, you hold it out in front of you, tilting it from side to side to warp the perspective—just like your aunt said that real artists in Paris do.
A gust of wind picks up suddenly, pulling the paper from your grip, and the rest of your sketches scatter with it.
“No!”
You leap to your feet, rushing to collect them. In your haste, you don’t think to gather your dress, your petticoat getting caught under your steps and pulling you forward. Your hands shoot out before you can think, only one of them lucky enough to land on the soft snow. The other is sliced open by a loose stick, sending a burning sensation up the length of your arm that has childish tears pricking at your waterline. You slump to the ground, no longer caring about the wet snow, or your drawings, or your new tin of charcoal pencils, crying quietly as you hold your injured hand.
“Excuse me? Are you alright?”
“No.” You pout pitifully, because you're not. Your hand hurts, and your sketches are ruined, and you got blood on your dress, and you miss your father, and you miss your sister, and your hand really, really hurts.
There’s the sound of crunching snow and then, suddenly, two long legs are standing in front of you. You look up to see a face you don’t recognize looking at you with brown eyes full of concern.
He squats down to be closer to your level, probably ruining his nice looking shoes and pants, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s then that you’re able to take him in in more detail—through the tears blurring your vision. You’re now positive you haven’t seen him before. He looks older than you, definitely, but younger than Margo. He’s also the most handsome boy you’d ever seen in your life.
“Are you hurt?”
You nod.
His eyes drop down to the hand you’re clutching to your chest, he holds his own out gently. “May I?”
You hesitantly offer it to him, flipping your hand to let him see the injury on your palm. When you see just how much blood there is coming from the cut, your eyes widen and start welling up with tears again.
“It’s alright,” he tries to placate you, noticing how upset you’ve become. He cradles your hand gently as he inspects it. “But you’ll need someone to bandage it. My uncle’s quite close by, he should be able to help.”
You sniffle something too quiet for him to catch and he ducks his head closer. “Sorry?”
“I lost all my drawings.” It comes out louder this time, but just as pitiful.
You can hardly stand to look around at the scattered papers—some now wet and soggy from the snow—before your face falls into your uninjured hand with a defeated sob.
“One’s all the way out on the lake!”
“Hey, don’t cry,” he consoles you, helping you up and sitting you on a rock. “I’ll get all your drawings for you. You just wait here and—,” He takes his scarf off and wraps it tightly around your injured palm. “—Hold this taut for me, okay?”
You sniffle. “Okay.”
You watch as he spends the next five minutes running around the lake, collecting your sketches. He checked on you routinely as well, making sure you were staying put and keeping his scarf against your cut like he’d asked, and perhaps gauging how cold you were. You aren’t sure what you must look like, but, whatever it is, makes him move faster.
Planting his feet firmly on the ice, he makes his way to the last sketch cautiously. He wobbles slightly and your heart leaps to your throat. You try to call out to him to just come back—that one sketch isn’t worth all the trouble. But either he doesn’t hear you or is determined to get it anyway and, only then, does he come back to you with a large smile.
“There.” He holds them proudly, before grabbing your satchel to put them away with the rest of your things. You watch as he puts the pages in delicately, mindful of their fragility now that most of them are wet. He places the lid back on your tin of charcoal pencils and places them in as well. “All accounted for.”
“Thank you.” You tell him sincerely as you grab the arm he offers you and get up from the rock.
“It was no trouble.” He smiles gently, swinging your satchel over his other shoulder.
Having seen the whole ordeal, you know that it was nothing but trouble, but you’ve already started succumbing to the exhaustion that followed your excessive crying and you don’t quite have the energy to explain to him why you weren’t worth the trouble to begin with.
“Can you walk?”
You nod meekly and the two of you set off for, what you assume is, his aforementioned uncle’s house.
“Is that what you were doing out here?” He asks suddenly, before clarifying, “Drawing?”
You nod again.
“Are you an artist then?”
The cold air against your wet cheeks makes your skin itch and you wipe away some of your tear tracks with your good hand. “No, I’m not an artist,” you correct. “I just do it because I like it.” And then, because you can’t stop yourself, you add, “I’m not good enough to be an artist, anyway.”
“I disagree.” You can feel his eyes on you, but don’t dare meet them. “I saw your drawings as I was picking them up. I thought they were amazing.”
Your heart stutters in your chest. No one had ever called your art amazing before—no one had ever called anything you’ve done amazing.
“Oh.” Despite the cold, your cheeks now feel very hot. “Well… thank you.”
It takes you far too long to realize that he’s leading you to the Mitchell estate.
As soon as you recognize the grand manor, your head snaps up to him in surprise. “Your uncle lives here?”
“No, he—Or, yes—I should say—,” He pauses, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “One of them does, yes. But my other uncle should be able to fix up your hand and he doesn't live here, he’s just visiting.”
You narrow your eyes as you look at him again, this time more analytically.
You remember something that Margo had told your mother days ago, on one of her visits to the house, something about how Pete Mitchell’s nephew was finally coming to stay with him and his wife. Everyone in town knew the story of Bradley Bradshaw, the boy who lost his father to the war and then his mother to illness a year after. At the time, everyone assumed that meant that he would be coming to live with his aunt and uncle and suddenly all thoughts of his tragic orphaning were quickly replaced with the fact that he was becoming quite the eligible bachelor. And with no one else to carry the Bradshaw name, none of the older women in town even tried to be coy with their motives.
But then years passed and Bradley Bradshaw still hadn’t arrived at the Mitchell estate, and neither Pete Mitchell nor Penny Mitchell offered any explanation for it, and eventually everyone became bored of the whole thing and moved on.
But now, it seems, Bradley Bradshaw has finally arrived.
please don't copy, repost, or feed my work into ai, thanks!
Brendon Park who actually craves softness in sex. Who doesn’t have much gentle contact with other human beings so when he has it in bed he fucking savors it. Who loves lips on his neck and hands on his back and soft grabs of his muscles.
And you should have seen this coming, really. Now it feels so obvious. Of corse Brendon would be touch starved. A guy with such a hard, cold, rigid life. But you couldn’t imagine it
But now it’s clear as day. Now you see it.
You wrap your arms around his torso and he moans softly in your ear. You kiss along his jaw, his stubbly five o’clock shadow and he shudders. Rub your hands up and down his firm chest and be whispers “baby” like a plea.
He’s actually real sweet in bed, empathetic. When you feel awkward and shy he reassures you softly in low tones, guiding you along. No shame or turn off, just help, just trust. You’re safe, you can be a little awkward with him. This is soecial and intimate.
In the aftermath, then, he doesn’t kick you out and take a boiling shower like you’d expected. He pulls you into his chest- apparently he likes to cuddle face to face- kisses you slow and gentle and no longer sexually charged, strokes your hair, rubs your back. He’s cuddly. And he’s a good cuddler. And it’s been a long time since you’ve been held, so how long has it been for him? So when he holds you close you hold him back closer and stay there. Stay snug.
request: would you ever write a one shot with jack x bimbo!reader, she's the opposite of what people thought he would date but they're both so obessed with each other. He loves taking care of him and she loves pampering him, he even lets her help with his leg after telling her about it
summary: a look into your relationship with a man that couldn’t be more different from you, but acts as if you were made for each other
content: fluff, maybe a lil suggestive at certain parts, established relationship, implied age gap (reader is mid 20s), mention of jacks prosthetic leg, jack and reader doting on each other, jack obsessed with reader, technically grumpy x sunshine if u squint, jack calls reader by nickname, just a small one shot of the domestic/daily life with jack
authors note: this request is really interesting ! i was born in 2000 so i kinda sorta grew up seeing bimbo style culture on tv and i feel like that niche/culture has evolved so much ! like it used to be ‘dumb blonde girl who wears pink’ but now it’s ’headstrong girl who knows what she wants and her worth who just happens to also love pink, wearing short skirts, and is insanely gorgeous’ i feel like a good ‘modern bimbo’ is chrissy chlapecka c: also i feel like i just rambled this entire post and its all over the place 💔
⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
You and Jack could not be more different. Sure there were some overlapping in certain things, you’ve never met a couple that didn’t have at least one thing in common with each other, but from your personalities down to your clothing choices you and Jack were opposites.
Jack was more into neutral tones, never raised his voice even in stressful situations, and normally kept to himself. You are the pop of color in Jacks life. Everything you own is colorful, you’re bold and loud no matter your mood, and you’ve never met a stranger. You and Jack seemed to be from different worlds, and he loved it.
Jacks therapist is constantly telling him to try new things, put himself out there, ‘broaden his horizons’. And, although his therapist tells him that Jack finds comfort in the darkness, he can’t help but feel right at home with you; the little light in his darkness.
Just like your relationship, the way you two met was anything but typical. Jack was on the night shift, as always, when security was called to handle two rowdy patients in chairs. Jacks instincts got the better of him and he sprang to action as well, following the security guard through the double doors. The closer he got to the entrance, the louder a voice became.
‘Probably some patient yelling and complaining about the wait time.’ Jack thought to himself.
When he finally caught sight of the disturbance in chairs he couldn’t help but let the edge of his mouth cure up just slightly. There was a man, had to be over 6 feet tall with biceps the size of Jacks head, standing near the check in counter. But, much to Jacks surprise, the man wasn’t the one yelling. The source of the loud voice was coming from you. You were standing in front of the man, half his size, with your finger pointed at him as you scolded him. The security guard finally came in between you and the male patient and asked what was going on. The man spoke first.
“I was just trying to see what the hell the hold up is with getting seen by someone when this bitch-“
He motioned to you as he spoke, but before the man could finish his sentence, you were raising your voice again.
“Yeah this bitch stepped in because you were being a fucking asshole! He’s failing to mention that his way of ‘asking about being seen’ involved yelling at the worker and threatening to barge back there. I wasn’t just gonna sit there and let this dumbass talk to her like that.”
The man rolled his eyes as the security guard said something about waiting patiently and the ER being busy before asking you and the man to sit down and stay calm. The man began to walk back to his seat, but not before mumbling under his breath.
“The only one who needs to calm down is this cunt.”
You were riled up again.
“I might be a cunt but at least i’m not a dick! Probably wouldn’t matter if you were seen by a doctor anyways because it’s not like they’re gonna find anything in that thick fucking head of yours!”
The large man turned around and started walking towards you like he was on a mission, fists clenched, and mouth opened as if to retaliate. But you never move, not showing for a second that you were scared of anything this man might do. Jack takes this moment to step in.
“Hey, how about instead of turning the waiting area into a boxing ring, I go ahead and take her back there and then come get you as soon as we’re done.”
Before the man can complain about who’s been waiting longer, Jack leads you through the hall and towards the entrance of the pitt. He finally sits you on a bed in a free bay and closes the curtain.
“So, wanna tell me what you’re in for, tiger?” He asks as he puts on his gloves.
You hold out your hand and show off a slice across your palm.
“Was cutting up some strawberries for the cake I was baking. Dropped the knife and tried catching it before I even realized what I was doing.” You let out a small laugh as Jack examined your hand.
“Luckily for you it doesn’t look like it’s deep enough to need stitches. Just some antibiotics and bandages. You’ll be baking again in no time.” He gives you a small smile before straightening up and going to the cabinet on the wall to get supplies to clean and dress your wound.
“Gotta say,” he begins as he sits in the rolling chair to take care of your cut, “you handled yourself pretty well out there. Never seen someone look so tough while looking like strawberry shortcake.”
You can’t help but laugh at his comment. You came to the ER immediately after slicing your hand, panicking once you realized that one bandaid wasn’t gonna be able to fix it. You were covered head to toe in various shades of pink with small bits of flour across your shirt and pants. Your makeup was the same, expertly placed eyeshadow, winged eyeliner, and these little gems that caught the bright hospital lights perfectly.
“What can I say, I’m tougher than I look. Sparkles and all.”
He smiles as he begins wrapping your hand, noticing that even your nails were a perfect shade of hot pink.
“You’re all good to go. If you feel any pain or notice anything that doesn’t look normal, don’t hesitate to come back. I work nights, so if you’re in trouble while the suns out I won’t be here.”
You look at your newly bandaged hand and then look up to your care giver as you speak.
“I’ll make sure to keep all of my life or death situations at night then.” You smile up at him, your lip gloss shining as you do so.
The next day, Jack was hopping out of his truck, bag on his shoulder when he saw a flash of pink walking towards the ER entrance.
“Hey.” he calls out.
You whip around, smiling when your eyes land on him walking towards you.
“Hi, Dr. Abbot. You’re just the man I was looking for.” You respond when he’s finally a few steps away from you.
“Are you okay, hand still doing okay?” He asks, looking at your still bandaged hand. He quirks a brow at the small box cradled in your palms.
“Yes, I was actually wanting to see you for a different reason.” You hold the box towards him.
He takes it from you and looks through the clear film on top. Smiling as he sees a perfectly iced cupcake sitting in the box.
“I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for last night. So i thought i’d give you part of the reason I was in your care in the first place.” You half laughed before speaking again. “Oh, and I also wrote my number down. Just incase you fall in love with my baking and need more or if you need me to come tell off more annoying men in your waiting area.”
Jack unfolds the small piece of paper stuck to the pastry box and finds your number written in pink ink.
“Y’know it’s kinda frowned upon for a doctor to start seeing one of their patients outside of work.”
“Well then it’s a good thing i’m not your patient anymore, isn’t it?” You respond, a grin blooming across your face.
You wish Jack a good night shift and walk back to your sticker and decal covered car. Your hands are on the fluffy cover of the sterling wheel when your phone gets a text notification.
‘thanks for the gift, shortcake.’
And ever since then you two were always seen together. He loved having you on his arm. You stand out wherever you go whether it be due to your wardrobe, makeup, or both. Without saying a word, your very presence demanded to be heard or seen and Jack loved that about you, and loved even more that you paid no mind to the looks you got when the two of you went out. It truly was your world and Jack was just happy to be part of it. Sometimes he would get nervous about how much the two of you contrasted. He would get in his own head wondering why someone like you would want to be with a grumpy old man like him. He always tried to keep that slight insecurity hidden from you, but you could always tell when something bothered him.
You always used these moments to pamper Jack. He’d try to ramble on about how he didn’t want you ‘stuck with some old guy like him’, but you’d already be peppering lipstick kisses all over his face.
“Babe, why would you ever think that?”
He’s got red kiss marks on his cheeks and forehead, attempting to stammer out a response as he tries to focus while your lips trail down his neck. Your hands are already snaking under his shirt as you speak through kisses.
“You’re so handsome, Jack.” He whimpers at your words, his skin already completely flushed and warm.
“And you always take such good care of me. You always make sure I never go without anything.”
Your hands are pulling up his shirt to bunch up at the neck, the way his biceps stretch the material of the sleeves not going unnoticed by you. Your hands rake up his torso to his chest and Jack hisses as he feels your filed nails scrape against his sensitive skin. You kiss your way down to his chest, and then his torso, and finally at his belt buckle all while letting praises slip past your lips. Jacks looking down at you through hooded lids. The sight of you on your knees between his thighs was enough to drive him crazy. Your hands start undoing his belt and pants while you plant kisses on the skin right above his waistband, the red lipstick you wore now faded and smudged. Jack lets out a moan as his head falls back when you start palming him through his jeans.
“You’re gonna kill me, shortcake.”
And just as much as you loved pampering and praising Jack, he can’t help but do the same for you. You couldn’t count on one hand how many times Jack made up an excuse to pamper in any way he knew how. Jack loved taking care of you. One thing he loved most would be you letting him pay for you. Whether it be gas for your car or a full on shopping spree, Jack was ready to pay for it. The first time Jack offered to pay for something other than dinner, he practically begged you to use his card.
“God, how do they expect people to pay for this stuff?”
Jack took the mechanics bill out of your hands as he sat next to you on the couch, squinting at the words before grabbing his glasses.
“They actually cut you a deal. That sorta thing usually costs at least $300 more than what they billed you.”
“That is a deal?!” You exclaimed as you looked at him with wide eyes.
You deflated against the back of the couch, your head falling back as you look up at the ceiling.
“I’m gonna have to pick up extra shifts to pay for that. Maybe if I text my manager and ask nicely she’ll give me more hours or-“
“I’ll pay for it.” Jacks words cut off your stressed rambling.
You lift your head to look at him.
“What?”
Jack grabbed his wallet from the coffee table and rummaged for his card.
“I’ll pay for it. They wrote down their website so I can just go ahead and pay it online, easy.”
You reached for the mechanics receipt but Jack pulled it out of your reach.
“Jack that’s entirely too expensive, I can’t let you pay for that.”
You sit up as your knees sink into the couch cushions and your hand braces against the back of the couch, trying to take the paper from him again but he holds it further again, now leaving you almost in his lap as you continue trying to grab the receipt.
“Don’t worry about how expensive it is, i’m gonna take care of it for you.” He responds, his hand finding its place on your lower back.
You pause and look down at him from your position, worry in your eyes.
“Jack, that’s a lot of money I-“
“No it’s not. Not if it’s for you.”
The sincerity in his voice makes you melt and the eye contact he’s holding with you never falters. He drops the receipt next to him once he’s confident that you won’t try to take it and reaches up to cup your face.
“Let me take care of you.” He whispers, now moving you back on the couch.
Jack peppers quick kisses on your lips between speaking.
“Don’t want you to worry about that kinda stuff anymore.”
His lips move to your cheek.
“Wanna take care of you.”
He trails down to your jawline, his hand still cradling your face.
“You gonna let me take care of you, baby?”
You whisper a small ‘yes’ as Jack continues, laying you back on the couch and trailing down until your bottoms are discarded on the floor and Jacks face is buried between your thighs.
It was rare whenever Jack let you take care of him physically. Yeah, he let you be mushy over him and cover him in kisses and gentle touches, but he is the doctor in the relationship. It’s his ‘whole thing’ to take care of people, as he likes to put it. But that doesn’t stop you from trying, especially when Jack gets comfortable with taking off his prosthetic around you. The first time Jack let you help him with his leg was after a particularly hard shift at the ER. Jack laid on the bed next to you, prosthetic already discarded on the floor nearby. You had stayed the night before and you woke as soon as you felt the bed dip under his weight. You listened to him rant about coworkers, patients, and the workload he had during his night shift. Jack absentmindedly stroked your hair as he spoke, as if it were therapeutic to him.
“Should probably go bathe now. Don’t want that ER smell to get on the sheets.”
You smiled at his joke before sitting up.
“I’ll go run you a bath, stay here.”
Jack reached out for your hand, stopping you as you started to move off the bed.
“No it’s okay, I’ll be okay. I’ll just hop in the shower there’s no need to-“
“What’s that phrase you like to say? Let me take care of you.” You respond, standing off the bed when you feel his grip loosen on your hand.
Jacks eyes never leave you as you walk to the master bathroom and run a bath for him. He can smell the lavender soap you add to the water and almost see the steam emitting from the water as it continues to rise. He sits up as you make your way back to him, and asks you for the crutches he keeps near the bed to help him get to the tub without having to reattach his prosthetic.
“I got you, give me arm.”
Jack gives you a hesitant look but, when he seems that your determined expression doesn’t change, reluctantly gives you his arm. You drape his arm around your shoulders before helping him to the bathtub. When you both reach the bathroom, you help him out of his clothes. Jack doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so patient and careful as you undress him. Even when you bake or do your makeup you never look this focused; this attentive. When Jack is finally undressed you resume your position and help Jack brace himself against the tub as well as hold onto you as he sinks his aching body into the warm water.
“You want me to give you some alone time?” You ask as you put a towel on the edge of the tub for whenever he’s ready to get out.
“No. Want you in here with me.”
You smile as you plant yourself on the edge of the tub, Jacks hand reaching for yours. He intertwines his fingers with yours when he asks about your night while he was gone at work. You rambled on about the little things you did around his place. Jack always thought it was amusing how you could make something like a mundane night inside sound interesting. You rubbed your thumb over Jacks knuckles, and he felt his heart swell. After his wife passed, Jack never allowed himself to be this vulnerable with someone; especially when it came to this aspect of his life. He didn’t think that all the good he could bring to a relationship could outweigh this part of his life. Jack saw his prosthetic as baggage; something that would drive people away as soon as they realized his disability presented as a disability. But here you were, describing the latest reality show you were watching as if you hadn’t just helped him with a task that was greatly hindered by his disability. Jacks disability is part of him and it’s something that he cant turn on and off, and you knew this. Jack told you at the first whiff of your relationship getting serious that he lost part of his leg during his service. He wanted to give you a chance to run; said he wanted to give you a chance to ‘be with someone easier’.
“Everything is easier with you, Jack, and this won’t be any different.”
He remembers your response that night and how you seem to be proving your own statement correct. You made this look easy. You made being with him seem so easy, even when there were parts of him that tried convincing him that he wasn’t worth the effort. You didn’t see his disability as something that would hinder the relationship; you automatically accepted it as part of him and accommodated in any way you could.
“Are you listening, old man?” Your words cut through his train of thought and his eyes met yours. You had a playfully mad face, a smile fighting to break through your act.
“C’mere.” Jack whispered, giving a slight nod as if trying to direct you towards him.
You lean down, your face barely inches away from his when Jack leans up and catches your lips in a sweet kiss. He feels the corners of your mouth turn up slightly as you smile into the kiss. When you pull away for air, Jack holds eye contact with you again.
“I love you, shortcake.” He whispers, his eyes scanning your face and taking in your features as if he’s memorizing them.
Baz decided to be fucking dumb and tell Pope he'll never be a dad. He takes that dream of his and goes to his very lovely girlfriend to make it a reality.
Word Count: 2,545
Content Warning: Pope's got a breeding kink, afab reader, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it people), creampie, tit grabbing, lactation mention, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, missionary, slight manhandling, Baz is a dick, use of baby and princess (for reader) and honey (for Pope), use of Pope's real name (by reader), no use of Y/N
He’ll never say it out loud, but Pope Cody undeniably has a breeding kink.
He’s always wanted kids. He’s never once admitted that out loud, but he thinks about it sometimes. He thought about it even more when Baz had Lena. Seeing how Baz ignored the poor little girl had Pope taking on a fatherly role. At first, he didn’t even know he was doing it. He thought he was just being helpful, which is what he’s good at. He’d take her to and from school, pack her lunches, take her to the beach. He’d put Band-Aids on her knees when she fell trying skateboarding for the first time. He took her to doctor’s appointments when Baz just “forgot” to show up.
But he never recognized that as a paternal instinct until you said something.
“You’d be a good daddy.”
You had said it with such a big happy smile on your face. He didn’t say anything, just nodded his head in response. Truly, he didn’t know how to respond. He was never good at expressing positive emotions. He was never taught how to do that. So instead, he kept those words in his head and his heart, thinking about them any time he was alone or was having a bad day. They always made him feel better.
Over time though, they started to feel… heavy. They became more than just a compliment. They were changing, reforming themselves into a need too great for him to ignore. But how could he tell you that? He didn’t wanna scare you away. You loved him more than anything, he knew that, of course, but how would you feel about having a baby with him? He had issues out the ass, for god’s sake. His obsessive compulsive tendencies, very little emotional regulation, and then there was the whole career criminal aspect of his life. He didn’t even wanna think about all the shit he’d gone through with Smurf.
But being a father was starting to eat at him. Every day, he found himself wanting it more and more. He wanted a baby. With you. He wanted to see you with a baby bump and know it was him who put it there. Pope Cody wanted to make himself a daddy, and you a mommy.
What really fucked with him though? Baz. Baz and his big ass mouth.
They were arguing about Lena. Specifically about Baz’s girlfriend’s attitude towards Lena. That’s when he said it.
“You don’t know shit and you never will. Do you get that?” Baz practically spat at Pope. “No one is ever gonna have a kid with you. Ever.”
That fucked Pope up in a way he couldn’t verbalize. It made him so fucking angry and sad and disgusted all at the same time that he felt like he was gonna puke. So he left the house. Left and went running straight to you.
Your front door flew open. You knew it was him because you could hear him taking off his shoes by the door. A habit he’d developed since he first started coming over. You could also hear him breathing though. It was hard and heavy. You’d heard that before from him. You knew something was wrong.
“Andrew?” Your voice was tinged with concern as you rounded the corner. “What’s going on, honey?”
He freezes in the entryway. You were the only person who ever called him by his real name. The only person he wanted to call him Andrew. It made his shoulders relax, but only ever so slightly.
Before you can get another word out, his mouth found yours in a rough, longing kiss. His body was shaking from how upset he still was with Baz’s words. He couldn’t take it anymore. You had to know. He needed to be a daddy. Now.
“That fuckin’ asshole.” He growled against your lips. “Doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about.”
“What’re you talking about?” You panted out. "Who?"
He pulls back for just a second. Poor thing. You’re so confused as you grab his biceps so tightly, all breathless and ambushed by his need. His eyes roam over you and he bends his knees, arms looping under your thighs to pick you up.
“Baz.” He says the man’s name as if it burns coming out of his mouth. “Said no one’s ever gonna have a kid with me.”
Pope sees your confusion morph into anger as he carries you towards your bedroom. He almost smirks at how you get so offended on his behalf.
“That motherfucker doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
This time, he does smile.
“You think so huh?”
Pope sets you down on your feet. His chest bumps yours as his fingers fly to your waistband. He tugs hard at the button and zipper there. He’s desperate to get you out of them, so that way he can get into you.
“You’d have my baby, princess?” He pants, kissing you again.
When you wrap your arms around his neck and press as close to him as you can get, Pope knows the answer but wants to hear you say it anyways. He needs it.
“You know I would.” You pull back and hold his face in your hands in that gentle way he loves so much. “But I wanna know you’re sure that’s what you want.”
That deadpan stare of his graces his features. Although something more than that lurks in his expression. Desire. Need. Love.
All of it for you.
“Fuck yeah I do.” He nods, breathing hard through his nose. “Want that more than anything in the world.”
He yanks your pants down hard. He tugs your shirt over your head. He nearly rips your bra in half from how fast he wants you out of the damn thing. He jerks his chin towards the mattress.
“On the bed, on your back. Leave your panties on.”
Pope’s hands curl into fists as he watches you crawl onto the bed. He stands there staring for a moment. You look so goddamn good like this, all pretty and spread out. Your pretty blue underwear is stained darker from how wet you’re getting. Those gorgeous tits rise and fall with each breath you take. You’re just as eager as he is. His chest heaves and he can hear his heart thumping in his fucking skull.
He slowly stalks forward and crawls over you. He kneels between your legs, your thighs on either side of his own. His eyes bore into you as he takes off his shirt. You watch his abs tense. You see his biceps flex as he reaches for his belt.
“Tell me you want my baby inside you.” He says gruffly and he doesn’t break eye contact. “Fuckin’ tell me.”
"I want it." You blurt before you can stop yourself. "I want your baby, Andrew, please.”
You look so damn cute as you almost whine out the words. A little pout made its way to your lips. Pride blooms in his chest. Need blooms in his pants.
“That’s my pretty fuckin’ girl.”
He rips off his belt and throws it god knows where. He yanks his zipper down so fast that it makes an awful scraping noise. He stands up only to take off his jeans and boxers. Your swear your pussy flutters at how hard he is. His cock is an angry red, his tip already leaking. When he steps closer and you try to take him in your hands, he slaps your wrist.
“Not a chance.” He kneels by the edge of the bed and tugs you closer. “Only time I’m cumming tonight is inside this pretty pussy.”
His fingers find the elastic of your underwear. He yanks them down your legs, tossing them in the same direction as his belt. Those rough hands slide up the inside of your thighs. His thumbs spread you open. He tilts his head at the sight of your glistening sex.
“So damn ready.” He looks up at you from between your legs. “Gotta play with her anyways though. Gotta make sure she’s ready for me.”
The way he’s almost talking to your pussy instead of you has you blushing. A little giggle escapes you.
“Andrew…” You whine and cover your face.
On a normal day, he’d make you move your hands and make him watch what he’s doing to you. Right now though, all he’s worried about is making you feel good and fucking you full.
Pope drags his fingers over your clit and down to your entrance. He slips a finger into you and watches how you immediately clench around it.
“Easy.” He says softly. “Gotta relax for me, baby.”
He slowly thrusts his finger in and out, over and over until your inner muscles stop squeezing him so tightly. He presses his lips to the inside of your knee, kissing over your skin so nicely. Another finger joins the first. He scissors them, stretching you around them.
“Andrew, honey, please.” You moan, your hands reaching above you to grab the pillows tightly.
He hums against your thigh, his kisses never stopping. He curls those two fingers to gently caress that gummy spot inside you. A third finger joins the mix. He leans down, his breath hot against your pussy. You don’t even have to ask for what’s next.
A pretty mewl rips from you as his tongue finds your clit. He gives it a tentative lick, watching how you react. He hums when the little bundle of nerves twitches against his tongue and your hand finds his hair. His eyes flutter closed. His fingers and mouth work in tandem to give you what you want.
In truth, he needs you to cum first. He’s read the books, listened to you when you talk. He knows how hard it can be for a woman to finish. He also knows that once he’s set on knocking you up, he’s gonna get a little a lot selfish.
“Come on, baby.” He mumbles against your pussy, curling his fingers faster.
His lips seal around your clit. His head bobs as he suckles it hard, completely determined to push you over that edge. He feels you clenching and tugging at his hair, sees your back arch, hears you cry out his name. He groans approvingly as you cream around his digits. Slowly his fingers slip out of you. He doesn’t lick you clean like he usually does though. Not right now. He needs you as wet as he can get you for what he’s got planned.
He crawls over you, his cock bobbing between his legs. Your arms wrap around him, pulling his chest down against your own. He kisses you hard and lets you taste yourself on his lips. He swallows your moans as he reaches down and pushes into you, slowly inching deeper and deeper until he’s buried to the hilt.
He pants hot and heavy. His eyes meet yours again. One hand grasps your cheeks making it impossible for you to look anywhere other than at him. His thrusts are slow and deep at first. He wants to make sure you can feel him as much as he can. His groans turn into barely audible moans, little “yeah’s” and the occasional whisper of your name escaping alongside them. It isn’t until his hips pick up speed that he starts talking. Well, babbling really. Pope’s never this vocal in bed, like ever. You’re enjoying it a whole hell of a lot more than you thought you would.
“Gonna get you so fuckin’ full.” He says through gritted teeth. “Gonna put my baby right here, yeah?”
His free hand presses down on your lower stomach. His cock twitches inside you when he feels himself through your skin. He clenches his jaw. Both hands move this time. He tilts your hips at an angle better for both of you, allowing him to hit your g-spot with each thrust and fuck you deep. Oh so goddamn deep.
His hands stay on your inner thighs, keeping you from closing them. His movements turn hard and fast, punching little moans from your throat with each thrust. He’s got his face buried against your neck, biting and nipping at the skin there, his moans vibrating against it.
“So fuckin’ good.” He lifts his head to kiss your ear. “Pussy so tight for me.”
His fingers trail up your torso. He squeezes your tit, his thumb rolling over your nipple. He grins to himself as you arch into his touch. He nips at your jaw.
“These are gonna get full of milk, y’know.” He breathes out. “All for my baby when they’re born. You’re gonna be a good mama and give them what they need right?”
All you can do is nod. You’re not used to him being so loud and so lewd with his words. It’s overwhelming in the best way. You can feel gut burning white hot. He can feel your thighs shaking. When your breath hitches and you claw at his back, he smiles against the side of your head. His fingers quickly find your clit again, rubbing tight and fast circles against it.
“That’s it, baby, good girl.” He trails his kisses to your lips. “Cum so I can too.”
You cry for him as you cum, nearly squealing his name. “Andrew!”
Only then does he allow himself to break. He stops holding his breath, letting his pelvis become flush with your own, groaning hard as he spills inside you.
“Fuck yes!” He groans loudly.
He makes no move to get up or pull out. His forehead presses to your shoulder as he slowly comes down from his high. When he lifts his head, he rests it right against your own.
“Love you.” He breathes out. “I uh, I didn’t say that the entire time and I’m just now realizing it.”
You giggle and it’s like music to his ears. “It’s okay, honey. I know you do.”
Your fingers gently rub his back, soothing the scratches you’ve no doubt left there. Now he starts to sit up. He rests his weight on his forearms and smiles down at you.
“You really okay with me makin’ you a mama?”
He says the words so softly. You can tell he’s feeling vulnerable. Maybe even a little unsure that you were telling the truth. A nasty habit of his unfortunately, second guessing almost everything he thinks, hears, or says. It’s not his fault, but it’s there nonetheless.
“Of course I am.” You say in that calming tone of yours. “I wouldn’t have let you cum inside me if I wasn’t.”
You both let out a chuckle at that. He leans down to press a kiss to your chest. He nods.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
He hides his face in your neck again. You can feel him smiling.
“I love you, Andrew.” You say it and you mean it.
“Love you too, baby.” He mumbles against your skin.
His hand slowly slips between your bodies to rest on your belly. Hopefully in a few weeks and after a few more tries, you’ll have a baby growing right below where his hand now sits. The thought has him twitching to life inside you again.
You convince yourself that sleeping with Robby was just a one-time relapse, and return to the co-parenting routine you’ve carefully built. But everything unravels when you’re dragged into a family vacation at a resort in Mexico. One full week of trying to survive Robby’s relentless attempts to win you back.
warnings/tags: smut, minors DNI, porn with plot (lots of plot), age gap (but readers age isn’t disclosed), jealous!robby, co-parenting, GirlDad!Robby, this is long as fuck so read it with time, they’re still down bad for each other, unprotected piv, semi-public sex, handjob, blowjob, fingering, creampie
You remembered that day as if it had been yesterday. The cold porcelain of the toilet seat under your thighs. The pregnancy test stick clutched in your trembling fingers while you tried to aim. The uncertainty that made every sound echo louder in your tiny studio apartment, the best place a med student could afford. The steady drip-drip-drip from the leaky faucet. The nervous pacing of Robby’s footsteps just behind the thin wooden door.
“You good in there?” he asked, you could picture him leaning in, pressing his ear against the wood like he could somehow hear your thoughts.
You quickly wiped away the silent tears that had been streaming down your cheeks. “Yeah…” Your voice came out shaky and small. “Yeah. I’m done.”
You wiped, flushed the toilet, and stood up on unsteady legs, pulling your pants back on. Carefully, you set the cup and the pregnancy test on the edge of the sink before washing your hands.
“Can I come in?” Robby asked from the other side. Guilt was already eating him alive. This was his fault. He should have been the one guiding you, teaching you how to become a great doctor. Instead, he had jeopardized everything, your education, your career, your future. Now, because of him, you were taking a pregnancy test in a cramped bathroom, wondering what the hell you were going to do with your life if two pink lines appeared.
You didn’t answer with words. You simply walked to the door, opened it, and stepped aside so he could enter. “It says three to five minutes,” you murmured, nodding toward the test resting on the sink.
“How—” Robby cleared his throat when his voice threatened to crack. “How are you feeling?”
“Scared?” The word came out like a question. Truthfully, you didn’t even know if “scared” was the right word. What was the right word for finding yourself in a situation you’d never wanted, knowing it was your own damn fault? You should have been more careful. You should have said yes the first time he asked about wearing a condom. You should have told him to pull out instead of moaning “fill me up, Robby” every single time like you had lost all sense.
You knew the odds. You knew the risks. But when he was inside you, none of that had mattered. And now destiny was laughing in your face. You had no plan. If you were pregnant… what then? Goodbye to med school. Goodbye to your dream of graduating and matching into emergency medicine. You’d probably have to move back in with your parents and spend your days raising a child instead of becoming a doctor. And goodbye to Robby, because why would a man like him want to stay tied to the med student he’d accidentally gotten pregnant and the baby he never asked for?
Fresh tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, soaking your cheeks instantly. You tried to stay quiet, but the sobs broke free anyway.
“Hey, hey, hey… come here.” Robby closed the distance in one step. The heat of his body wrapped around you like a shield. He slid one strong arm around your waist, anchoring you against his solid frame, and the other hand cradled the back of your head. “It’s perfectly normal to be scared. But you’ve got me. You’re not alone in this.”
“What are we—” Another sob escaped, muffled against his shoulder. “What am I gonna do, Robby? What am I supposed to do?”
“Whatever feels right,” he whispered against your hair, pressing a gentle kiss there. “You’re supposed to do whatever you want to do. You have all the choices.”
“But which one is the right one?” You pressed harder into him, as if you could disappear into his chest. “Which one won’t make you hate me?”
“Jesus— Look at me.” He gently cupped your face with both hands, lifting it from his chest so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. His own were red and watery. “Let me say this once, and I need you to hear me. I could never hate you. None of this is your fault. It’s no one’s fault… this just happens, okay? If the test is positive, then… it’s not the end of the world. We’ve got options. We have time to think about it.”
“Then why does it feel like it is the end of the world?” You tried to hide your face again in the broad warmth of his chest, where your tears had already left a dark patch on his shirt. He wouldn’t let you. He kept your face cradled between his palms, one thumb softly stroking your cheek as he wiped away another tear.
“Why does it feel like no matter what I choose, you’ll end up resenting me for it?”
“I won’t,” he assured you again, his voice steady even though you could feel how hard he was trying. “You have to think about what you want. Nothing is more important than that. I’ll be here for whatever you decide.”
“What if I don’t want to keep it?” The words tumbled out. “Wouldn’t you feel like… like I took something away from you? Wouldn’t you think I’m selfish?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.” He leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose, his warm lips making you shiver. Then your cheek, tasting your tears. Then your lips, reassuringly. “If the test is positive and you choose to terminate 6he pregnancy, I wouldn’t think that makes you selfish. I wouldn’t think you’re a bad person or that you’re stealing something from me. I’d think you’re strong. I’d think you’re being brave. And I’d be right there with you.”
The calmness in his voice steadied you a little. You could tell he was terrified, probably having a panic attack on the inside, but he was pouring every ounce of strength into not showing it. He wanted to be the rock you could lean on, the one who had answer, who knew what to do, who’d be there to support you no matter what.
“Is that what you’d want?” he murmured against your lips. “An abortion?”
“I don’t know,” you whispered, so softly he might not have heard if he weren’t so close. “But… maybe it’s the only right choice. What would I even do with a baby? I’d have to drop out of med school… I’d fall so far behind. Raising a baby… I don’t know when I could even go back.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that, you know?” he said gently. “A lot of women finish their studies while pregnant. They work while being moms too. Think of Dr. Shamsi, she finished her residency while—”
You knew he meant well, but right now the last thing you needed was a pep talk about strong women. “Yeah, well, I’m not Dr. Shamsi, Robby,” you cut in, the words coming out harsher than you intended. “I don’t think I can do it. And I can’t… I can’t put that weight on you. That burden. A child, Robby. I’d feel so guilty knowing I trapped you.”
An incredulous laugh escaped him. He pulled back just enough to really look at you. “Trap me? Jesus fuck… do you even hear yourself? When have I ever made you feel like you’d be trapping me?”
His tone edged toward anger, which only made your own flare up. “You didn’t ask for this! You’d be stuck with a child you never even wanted just because I didn’t want to get rid of it!” You couldn’t meet his eyes anymore and stared at the floor instead.
“A child…” He let out a slow breath. “A child doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.” The words he’d been too afraid to even think until now finally slipped out. “Yeah, it would be difficult. Yeah, it would be a fucking challenge. I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared. But I don’t think a baby would be the worst thing to ever happen. Not by far.”
He’d be lying if he said he had never dreamed of having a child, of becoming a father. In his mid-twenties, he had pictured it so differently. Finding the love of his life, getting married, waiting a year or two before having their first baby, then another one soon after. A proper family. But life had gotten in the way, long hours in the ED, the weight of responsibility, his own fears and insecurities reshaping the entire trajectory of his existence. Time slipped through his fingers, and before he knew it, the dream had been pushed further and further into the distance. Definitely not like this, a baby at forty-nine with the fourth-year med student he’d been sleeping with in a messy situationship for only a few months… that was never part of the plan. And yet, as that pregnancy test sat on the edge of the sink, the possibility grew heavier, more real. Maybe this was how it was meant to happen. Maybe the universe had finally caught up with him. Maybe it was time to stop running, time to stop hiding, and finally commit to something bigger than work. Something that actually mattered. Something that’d change his life and give it a new meaning, a new purpose.
“You’re saying you’d want it?” you asked, surprise flashing in your eyes as you finally looked up at him. “If I were pregnant… you’d want the baby?”
“I’m saying I want you to do what you want. But yeah… if you chose to keep it, then I’d want it too. I’m in, 100%.” Behind the fear in his voice, you heard absolute certainty.
“And how would that even look?” you asked quietly. “How would we do it?”
“If we’re doing it, we do it right. Together.” He took your hands in his, brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. “You could move in with me. Once the baby’s born, we’d arrange our shifts so one of us is always with them. We’d get a sitter to help us so you can still have time to do your residency. You have me. You’ll have me every step of the way.”
“Promise?” you whispered.
“Promise.”
Silence stretched between you, as if the rest of the world had stopped spinning. In that tiny bathroom, it was just the two of you, holding each other’s hands with the promise of facing whatever came next together.
“I think it’s been over five minutes,” Robby said finally, glancing toward the sink. “Want to check?”
You nodded, and Robby released one of your hands, picked up the test, and held it between you without looking at the result yet. “Together?” he asked.
You swallowed. “Together.”
The imposing voice of Dana cut through the fog in your mind. “Earth to you… hello?”
You blinked, startled, and reluctantly dragged your eyes away from the computer screen where you’d been pretending to chart for the last ten minutes. Dana was leaning against the nurses’ station counter with one hip, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Are you even listening to me right now? Because I’ve been talking to myself for five minutes. What’s up with you? You look like you didn’t close an eye last night.”
You forced a small, nervous laugh and quickly looked back down at the computer, hoping the glow of the screen would hide the exhaustion on your face. “Sorry… I slept okay,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant and unbothered. You weren’t fooling anyone, least of all Dana. You could feel her eyes studying you, taking in the faint shadows under your eyes, the slight slump of your shoulders, and the way you kept subtly shifting in your chair. Because no matter how hard you tried to focus on work, your body was still painfully aware of last night. The ghost of Robby’s thrusts still lingered between your thighs, a delicious ache that refused to fade even twelve hours later.
Every time you moved, you were reminded of how hard he had taken you, how thoroughly he had ruined you. Your muscles were sore in the best and most inconvenient way possible. You crossed your legs under the desk, trying to ignore the throb that pulsed through you at the memory. The last thing you needed was Dana figuring out why you were so distracted. Unfortunately, Dana had the observational skills. She narrowed her eyes even further, tilting her head as she continued to stare at you. “Yeah… sure you did.”
Dana drifted his gaze past your shoulder down the corridor. Her expression shifted almost imperceptibly, lifting her brows a fraction and her mouth twitching like she’d tasted something sour. You followed her line of sight to Robby, striding toward trauma two, wearing his navy scrubs and cargo pants. There was a loose, easy roll to his shoulders, a confidence in his steps that screamed satisfaction. The corners of his mouth were curved in a half-smile that was the unmistakable “I got laid and it was fucking amazing” look.
Dana let out a dry huff of laughter, crossing her arms over her chest. “Jesus. I hate when he walks around with that ‘I got laid and it was amazing’ face. It’s obnoxious as hell. Makes the rest of us feel like we’re doing it wrong.”
You kept your face carefully neutral, tapping your fingers against the keyboard, but without writing anything. “Maybe he’s just in a good mood.”
“Oh, please, don’t give me that. You know that face, it’s always the same with that man.” Dana tilted her head, studying him as he paused to talk with Victoria, that satisfied smile lingering a beat too long. She narrowed her eyes, thinking hard for a second, then her head snapped back toward you when realization hit him. “Wait a minute… That face. That exact face is too familiar. It’s not just his regular ‘I got some’ look. That’s the same damn face he used to wear back when you two were sneaking around four years ago. And I haven’t seen it on him once since you two called it quits. Not a single time.”
Heat flooded your cheeks instantly. You felt cornered, exposed, like a deer caught in headlights. Dana ran this place, nothing escaped her eyes. Trying to lie to her was usually pointless, she could smell bullshit from miles away. “I– I really need to finish these charts,” you stammered. “I promised Hannah I’d try to get home early so we could—” The excuse died on your tongue, it sounded pathetic even to your own ears.
She looked at you like she’d already decided you were guilty. “Please tell me you didn’t do it.”
“Didn’t do what?”
She snorted. “You’re a terrible liar. Always have been.”
You exhaled through your nose, dropping your shoulders in defeat. You glanced around the nurse station. It was quiet, no one close enough to overhear, then leaned in just a fraction.“Okay,” you muttered. “It was one time. One weak moment. I’m not doing it again.”
Dana didn’t t look surprised, just disappointed in the resigned way of someone who’s watched this film before and knew how it ended . “You’re so stupid,” she said, almost fondly. “Letting that mess of a man back in again.”
“I know.” You rubbed a hand over your face, wishing you could teleport anywhere but here. “I know. I’m just… so weak when it comes to him. He’s got this way of looking at me, like I’m the only thing in the room that matters, and the way he touches me…” You trailed off. “God, Dana, you don’t know how good it is. How he remembers every single—”
She held up a hand with the palm out. “Stop. Right there. I do not need the details. I’ve worked with that man for the last 20 years of my life, and I still got to work with him for the next eight hours. Spare me the play-by-play.”
“Sorry. It’s just… it felt like coming home, you know? And then this morning reality hit like a truck. And I realized I fucked up last night.”
Dana studied you for a long beat, and her expression softened just a fraction, enough to show the concern underneath.“Honey,” she said quietly, “you’re not weak. You’re human. And that man has always known exactly which buttons to push with you. But you’ve built something solid these last five years. Don’t throw that away because the sex is good.”
You nodded, swallowing hard. “I told him it was a one-time thing. A relapse. I’m not doing it again. I swear.”
Dana arched her eyebrow high. “You swear.”
“Yeah.” You met her eyes even if your stomach twisted. You were embarrassed to let anyone know about your poor life choices, but if you could trust anyone, that was Dana, one of the only people who’d been here since the start of your story with him. “Last night was… it was stupid. It won’t happen again.”
She studied you for a long beat, then she pushed off the counter, stepping closer and dropping her voice to that tone she used when she’s done playing nice.“You'd better not. Go out. Meet someone. Anyone whose last name isn’t Robinavitch. Someone who can actually commit to a relationship.”
You looked down at your hands, still faintly wrinkled from too much hand sanitizer, a nervous habit you’d gotten out of him. “It’s not that easy.”
“It’s not supposed to be easy,” she countered. “But it’s supposed to be possible. Find a guy who doesn’t bolt after a month because he ‘feels trapped’ and ‘needs space.’ Someone who doesn’t look at commitment like it’s an impossible mission. Someone who stays.”
The words sting because they’re true. Robby never lied about it, he’d told you early on he wasn’t built for the long haul, that relationships felt like another thing he’d inevitably fuck up. And when Hannah came along, when the exhaustion and the shifts and the fear piled up, he didn’t fight to keep you together. He just… drifted. Back to separate houses, separate beds, separate lives.
“Hon, you know Robby was not made for a relationship. He’s a great dad, nobody’s arguing that. The man would walk through fire for that little girl. But you? He loves you in the way he knows how: sporadically. And that’s never gonna change. Keep it that way. Keep him in the dad column. Don’t let him back into the partner one.”
You rubbed your temples, the ache from last night’s lack of real sleep settling in behind your eyes. “I know. I do. It’s just… when he’s there, when he’s touching me, talking to me like I’m still his… it’s like the last five years never happened. Like we could pick up where we left off.”
“That’s the trap,” Dana said quietly. “It feels like home because it used to be. But homes can be haunted too.”
In the days that followed, you did everything you could to avoid Robby. At work, you kept your distance, volunteering for procedures on the opposite side of the ED whenever possible and burying yourself in charts or patient updates the moment you felt his presence nearby. Because every single time your eyes met his, even for a brief second, your body betrayed you.
You remembered the crushing weight of him on top of you that night, the way he’d fucked you into the mattress like the world was ending. You remembered how perfectly your bodies still moved together, how easily he could pull those broken sounds from your throat. Years had passed, but the fire between you hadn’t dimmed. If anything, it was burning brighter and hotter than ever, threatening to consume every boundary you had built.
Thankfully, Robby seemed to sense your need for space and didn’t push. He gave you room to breathe at the hospital, only speaking to you when a case genuinely required collaboration. His tone stayed strictly professional, his touches nonexistent. He still called every evening like clockwork to talk to Hannah, but with you he remained carefully polite, never lingering, never teasing, never crossing the lines you had drawn.
You should have been relieved. He was finally respecting your wishes, he was doing exactly what you had asked him to do, and yet… on nights like this, when Hannah was at his place for her half of the week, the silence in your house felt suffocating. The emptiness pressed in from every corner. No little footsteps pattering down the hallway, no giggles echoing from the living room. Just you, alone in the quiet, with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company. And your mind refused to shut off, It buzzed loudly, relentlessly, replaying every moment of that night in vivid detail, the heat of Robby’s skin, the burn of his beard against your neck, the groan in your ear when he came undone inside you.
You kept hearing his promises afterward: that he was a changed man, that this time he wanted you for real. Not out of duty because he’d gotten you pregnant. Not because he felt trapped by responsibility. But because he truly wanted to be with you, because he loved you. God, you wanted to believe him so badly. There were moments, weak and dangerous moments when you wished you could be reckless enough to fall for every word that came out of his mouth. To let yourself be dumb and hopeful and blind, just like you were five years ago.
Maybe you would have risked it if you were the only one who would get hurt when everything inevitably fell apart. You could survive a broken heart, you’d done it before. But Hannah couldn’t, she was innocent in all of this. She didn’t deserve to watch her parents try and fail again, to feel the instability, the confusion, the heartbreak of seeing her mother and father almost become a family, only for it to crumble. You refused to gamble with your daughter’s emotional safety just because you still craved the man who once broke your heart.
The knock on the door came right on time, just as the late afternoon sun was starting to slant through the living room windows. You were still in your scrubs, hair thrown up in a messy bun, when you opened the door to find Robby standing there with Hannah perched on his hip, her little pink backpack slung over his shoulder, making him look both silly and endearing at the same time, and her head resting sleepily against his chest.
“Hey,” Robby said softly. “We’re here.”
Hannah’s face lit up the second she saw you. “Mommy!” She reached both arms out, already wiggling to get to you. Robby shifted her gently into your arms, brushing his hand against your side in the process. The brief contact sent an unwelcome spark through you that you immediately tried to ignore.
“Hi, baby girl,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her soft brown hair, she smelled like the strawberry shampoo Robby always used on her. “Did you have a good time with Daddy?”
“We had a great time,” Robby answered for her, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He set her little backpack down by the couch and rubbed the back of his neck, looking unusually hesitant.
“Listen… I’ve been thinking about something.”
You raised an eyebrow, bouncing Hannah lightly on your hip as she played with the collar of your top. “That sounds ominous.”
He let out a small laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Not ominous. Just… I’m thinking of taking some days off work. Vacation days.” Your surprise must have shown on your face because Robby quickly continued. “I’ve been thinking about taking her somewhere warm. She’s been talking about the beach nonstop lately. There’s this resort in Mexico I’ve been looking at, very kid-friendly, right on the beach. Thought it might be nice for her to run around in the sand and actually see the ocean.”
Robby had never been one to take vacations. For most of his life, work had consumed him completely. He was drowning in the ED, the never-ending stream of patients, the constant pressure of being the one everyone relied on. There was always something more important, and a quiet voice in the back of his head constantly whispered that everything would crumble if he wasn’t there to hold it all together. He had never felt the pull to travel, no place ever seemed worth leaving the hospital for. Nothing could impress him or hold his attention long enough to make him want to step away. His entire identity had been tied to the job for so long that the idea of doing anything else felt foreign, almost selfish.
That was before Hannah arrived, she changed everything. From the moment she came into his life, Hannah gave him something he had never truly had before, and that was real purpose. She became the reason he woke up every single day determined to be better, to be the kind of father she deserved. The person who had to stay strong and healthy because she depended on him for everything, from teaching her how to tie her shoes, to how to be kind, how to stand up for herself.
But Hannah had given him more than just purpose. She had awakened in him a brand-new desire to actually live. For the first time in years, his world expanded beyondwork. He wanted to do things, he wanted to see things, and more than anything, he wanted to experience them with her. His life no longer felt like it should revolve solely around the ED, he craved as much free time as he could carve out so he could share it with his daughter, watching her discover the world. He refused to miss even a single moment of her childhood while she was still small and everything felt unique to her. Hannah had unknowingly pulled him out of the endless cycle of work and survival.
And that was how the trips began. Beach days where Hannah squealed at the waves and collected seashells in her bucket. Lazy summer afternoons fishing at a lake. Winter weekends at a cabin resort in the mountains, where they built snowmen in the backyard and drank hot chocolate by the fire. Whatever Hannah wanted to do, Robby made it happen.
You nodded slowly, processing the information. You dropped Hannah off carefully on the floor, and she immediately walked to her bedroom, mumbling something about saying hello to her stuffed animals. “Mexico… That sounds really nice for her. When were you thinking?”
“Probably in a couple of weeks, if I can get the time approved. I’d take about a week.” He paused, watching your expression carefully. “Are you okay with that? With me taking her?”
“Yeah,” you said without hesitation. “Of course I’m okay with it. She’ll love it. Just make sure you send me all the flight information and the hotel details once you have them. I want to know exactly where she’ll be and how to reach you.”
“Already planning on it,” he assured you. “I’ll send everything as soon as it’s booked.” A comfortable silence settled for a moment. Then Robby shifted his weight and looked at you again, something vulnerable flickering behind his eyes. “Actually… I wanted to ask you something else.” He rubbed the back of his neck again, a tell you knew too well. “Would you want to come with us?”
You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”
“I’d pay for everything,” he added quickly. “Your flight, your room. You don’t have to worry about that. You’ve been working insane hours lately with residency. It might be good for you to get away for a few days, too. Relax. Sleep in.”
The offer hung in the air between you, and for one brief second, you let yourself imagine it. You pictured the three of you on a beach in Mexico. Hannah running barefoot through the warm sand, her hair messy from the ocean breeze, laughing with pure joy every time a wave came close enough to tickle her toes. You saw yourself and Robby sitting nearby on lounge chairs, drinking margaritas while the sun kissed your skin. The sound of the waves rolling onto the shore, lulling you into a nap you hadn’t allowed yourself in years.
After surviving on less than six hours a night for so long, the mere idea of lying back on a lounge chair and actually resting felt almost sinful. Vacations had always been a luxury you couldn’t afford. Not with the mountain of student loans, the demands of your residency, and the constant juggle of motherhood. The thought of taking time off just to relax had felt selfish, unrealistic, and completely out of reach. And now Robby was offering it all on a silver platter.
You quickly shoved the beautiful images away before they could take root and make you weak. Because that was the problem with Robby’s offer, it wasn’t just a vacation. It was a week of playing house, of blurred lines, and of watching him be the devoted father he had become, while your stupid heart remembered exactly how good things used to feel when the three of you were almost a real family.
“Robby…” You let out a slow breath. “Thank you. Really. That’s incredibly generous. But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He furrowed his brow slightly. “Why not?”
“Because going on a vacation like that, the three of us, it would be confusing. For her, especially. If we’re sharing space like a family for a whole week, she might start getting ideas about us getting back together. I don’t want to give her false hope. And it’d be confusing for us two, we need to keep our distance after… You know what.”
Robby’s jaw tightened for a moment, but his voice stayed calm. “We can get separate rooms. Hell, we don’t even have to hang out the whole time if you don’t want to. You could do your own thing, be at a different pool, get spa treatments, whatever. I’m not asking you to pretend we’re a couple. I just… I want to do this for you. You deserve a break too.”
You shook your head, even as a small, traitorous part of you ached at how sincere he sounded. “No, Robby. Thank you, but no. It’s sweet of you to offer, but it’s too complicated. We’ve worked really hard to keep things stable and clear for Hannah. Mixing a family vacation into that… it blurs too many lines. I appreciate it, I really do. But I think it’s better if it’s just the two of you.”
He watched you for a long moment, something like disappointment passing across his face, a quiet frustration he tried so hard to hide. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Message received. I’ll just take her, then. But the offer stands if you ever change your mind.”
You gave him a grateful smile, even though your chest felt tight from how much you wanted to say yes, because of how much you wished that maybe in another life, Robby and you could be those parents sunbathing in Mexico with their kid. “I won’t. But thank you.”
He nodded once, lingering for another few seconds like he wanted to say more, but decided that by pushing too hard to get close to you again, he’d only end up pushing you away. “I’ll text you the details as soon as everything’s booked.”
“Sounds good.”
Before heading toward the door, Robby paused. He gave you one last long look, the kind that always managed to slip past every defense you’d carefully built over the years. In that single glance, you were flooded with memories you spent most days trying desperately not to dwell on. Memories from five years ago, back when everything still felt possible. Back when you still believed, with naive, foolish hope, that the two of you could somehow make it work.
And then there were the much more dangerous memories from just two weeks ago, the night where, for a few stolen hours, it felt like the rest of the world had simply stopped existing. His hands on your body like he still owned every inch of it, the way he’d whispered your name against your skin, the overwhelming feeling that you had teleported back in time, back to when it was just the two of you. For those few hours, you had let yourself believe again. You had let yourself imagine that maybe, just maybe, there could still be a “we” in your future.
A couple of days later, you heard the knock of the door echo through the house just as you were finishing packing Hannah’s favorite stuffed capybara into her little backpack. You opened the door to find Robby standing on the porch. Hannah immediately squealed at the sight of him.
“Daddy!” She bolted forward, launching herself into his arms. Robby caught her with ease, laughing as he lifted her high and spun her once before settling her on his hip. “Hey, angel,” he said, pressing a loud kiss to her cheek. “You ready for Daddy’s house?”
You stepped aside to let them both in, arms crossed loosely over your chest as you watched the usual handoff routine unfold. Hannah was buzzing with energy, clutching Robby’s shirt with her little hands. “Daddy, Daddy! Are we really going to the beach soon?” she asked with her eyes wide, full of pure excitement. “With the ocean and the sand?”
Robby grinned, the kind of soft and genuine smile he only ever wore for her. “We sure are, baby girl. I already picked out a really nice hotel. It’s right on the beach. Want me to show you the pictures later when we get home?”
“Yes!” Hannah bounced in his arms, practically vibrating. “Does it have a pool? And ice cream? And can I get a new swimsuit to wear?”
“It has a huge pool, and I’m pretty sure they have all the ice cream you can eat,” Robby answered patiently. He glanced over at you while still holding her. “I booked one of the family suites with a big balcony overlooking the ocean. You’re gonna love it, Han.”
Hannah gasped dramatically, her little mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. “Mommy, did you hear? Daddy got a hotel with a balcony! For the ocean!”
You couldn’t help but smile at her pure joy, even as a knot started forming in your stomach. “I heard, sweetheart. Sounds amazing.”
Robby set Hannah down so she could run to grab her stuffed animal from the couch. The moment she was out of earshot, he lowered his voice slightly. “I meant what I said the other day. The offer’s still open if—”
Before he could finish, Hannah came racing back, clutching her capybara tightly. “Daddy, can Mommy come with us to the beach? Please?”
Robby didn’t miss a beat. He looked straight at his daughter with an innocent expression that you knew was anything but. “You know what, Han? I was actually thinking about inviting Mommy too. What do you think? Would you like Mommy to come on the trip with us?”
Hannah’s entire face lit up like the Fourth of July. She spun toward you so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet. “Mommy! You have to come! Please please please! We can build sandcastles together and swim and eat ice cream and watch the sunset and— and everything!”
You shot Robby a deadly look over Hannah’s head, the kind that promised a painful retribution the moment you two were alone. He simply raised his eyebrows in mock innocence. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. He was weaponizing the one person he knew you could never say no to. Hannah. She had always been your biggest weakness, your softest spot, and Robby knew it better than anyone. Those big, warm brown eyes were lethal. One pleading look from her, and your resolve crumbled like sand.
And right now, she was using every ounce of that power, blinking up at you with hope while clutching your hand like her entire happiness depended on your answer. It was unfair, completely unfair. Robby wasn’t just standing by and letting her beg, he was actively encouraging it, using your daughter as the ultimate emotional leverage. He knew you could resist him, he knew you could fight your own feelings, your own desires, your own stupid heart. But Hannah? Saying no to her when she looked at you like that felt almost cruel. And the worst part? He wasn’t even trying to hide how satisfied he was with himself, that tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth said everything. He was enjoying this far too much.
“Hannah, baby…” You crouched down to her level, gently brushing a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “Mommy would love to, but I’m super busy with work right now. I have so many shifts and—”
Robby’s voice cut in smoothly from behind her. “Actually, you have a bunch of vacation days saved up. I checked it yesterday.”
You straightened up slowly, narrowing your eyes at him, silently warning him to stop this nonsense before it went too far. “Robby.”
He shrugged, completely unbothered. “Just stating facts. You shouldn’t lie to your daughter, you know?”
Hannah grabbed your hand with both of hers, swinging it dramatically. “Mommy, pleeease? Pretty, pretty please!” You opened your mouth to respond, but Hannah was already in full pleading mode, her big puppy-brown eyes, exactly like Robby’s, staring up at you with devastating effectiveness.
“I really can’t afford it right now, sweetheart,” you tried again. “Plane tickets and hotels are expensive, and Mommy—”
“If Mommy can’t pay,” Robby interrupted you. “Then Daddy will pay. I’ve got it covered. Flights, resort, activities, all of it. You wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing.”
Hannah tugged harder on your hand, bouncing on her toes. “See? Daddy’s paying! So you can come! Please, Mommy? I want all of us together. Pretty pleeeeease.”
You felt cornered, trying to come up with more excuses, but as you reached inside your head, you couldn’t think of any. Robby stood there looking far too pleased with himself, while your daughter continued her relentless assault with those lethal eyes and endless enthusiasm.
“Hannah…” you started, searching desperately for another excuse.
“But Mommy,” she whined, pressing her face against your leg, “I’ll miss you so much if you stay here.”
Robby, the absolute traitor, decided to join forces. “She’s got a point,” he said casually, though his eyes were anything but casual when they met yours. “It wouldn’t be the same without you. And like I said before, I can get us separate rooms. You can do your own thing the whole time if you want. But it would mean a lot to her… and to me.”
The “and to me” was spoken so quietly you almost missed it. You looked between the two of them, your daughter with her hopeful, shining eyes and her father, the man you still stupidly loved, with that steady and patient gaze that had always been able to wear you down. The silence stretched. Hannah’s lower lip started to tremble just slightly, the ultimate weapon in her arsenal.
With a long, defeated sigh, you finally gave in. “…Fine,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. “I’ll go too.”
Hannah let out an ear-piercing squeal of pure delight and threw herself at your legs, hugging them tightly. “Yay! Mommy’s coming! We’re all going to the beach together!”
Robby’s smile was slow and satisfied, though he tried to keep it modest. “That’s great,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Really great.”
You pointed a finger at him over Hannah’s head. “You’re going to pay for this later, Robinavitch.”
His only response was a knowing chuckle. “Looking forward to it.”
Hannah continued dancing around the living room in celebration, already chattering about sandcastles, seashells, and swimming with dolphins. You stood there watching her, with your heart full of love for your daughter, loving every second of seeing her so happy, and equal parts dread and excitement about what you’d just agreed to, a family vacation in Mexico with Robby. God help you.
Hours later, the glow of your bedside lamp was the only light in the room. You were already tucked into bed, wearing an old, oversized t-shirt that had seen better days. Your phone suddenly vibrated on the nightstand, making you glance at the screen, letting out a slow breath as soon as you noticed who was calling. A Facetime from Robby.
You hesitated for two rings, it was almost midnight, and you didn’t feel like having any possibly agitating conversation right before your bedtime, but ultimately ended up accepting the call. Robby’s face filled the screen almost immediately, he was in his bedroom too, the light of his lamp illuminating his face. His hair was messy, like he’d been running his hand through it, and his glasses were perched low on his nose, those fucking glasses… No, don’t even go there, you silently muttered to your brain
“Hey,” his voice sounded rougher, the way it always got late at night. A small smile tugged at his lips. “You already in bed?”
“Yeah,” you replied, adjusting the blanket over your lap, as if trying to cover yourself up. “It’s late, Robby.”
He hummed in agreement, slowly dragging his eyes over what he could see of you on the screen. “You look comfortable. Cute shirt.” There was a brief pause before he asked, almost casually, “So… have you started packing swimsuits yet?”
You stared at him for a moment, the irritation you’d been carrying for the past hours finally bubbled up. “Robby… we need to talk.”
Robby lifted his eyebrows slightly, but the lazy smile didn’t leave his face. “Alright. About what?”
“You manipulated me into agreeing to this trip.”
Robby let out a low chuckle. “Manipulated? Damn, you’re using big words tonight.”
“It’s not funny,” you said sharply, though you kept your voice quiet so you wouldn’t wake Hannah. “You used our daughter to convince me, and then you joined in. That was low, even for you.”
He tilted his head, still smiling like this was all some lighthearted game. “Anything else?”
You narrowed your eyes. “Yes. You guilt-tripped me. The whole ‘it would mean a lot to her… and to me’ line? That was manipulation.”
Robby leaned back against his headboard, resting one arm behind his head, giving you an even better view of his bare chest. He looked far too relaxed for someone being accused of emotional manipulation. “Jesus,” he muttered, still chuckling softly. “Oh-ho-ho, I’m so evil, I manipulated the mother of my child into letting me take her on a fully paid week at a luxury beach resort in Mexico.” He raised an eyebrow, mock-serious. “Am I gonna go to prison for that?”
“Robby.”
“Relax,” he said, softening his tone just a fraction, though the amusement was still there. “Hannah’s excited. You saw her. She wants all three of us there. I’m just trying to give her what she wants.”
“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you shot back. “I know your real agenda behind all of this.”
He tilted his head again, looking curious now. “Oh yeah? And what’s my agenda, according to you?”
You sat up a little straighter in bed, clutching the blanket tighter. “You’re using this stupid trip as an excuse to try and get back with me. You think throwing money at a vacation and putting us in the same space for a whole week is going to magically fix everything. It’s not going to work.”
For a moment, Robby just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then that stupid smirk of his spread across his face again. “Have you seen me in swim trunks lately? I look real good. You might have to swallow your words when you see me.”
You let out an exasperated scoff, though you couldn’t stop the flush that crept up your neck. You hated the way he could still make you laugh when you were trying to be pissed. You hated the way your body still reacted to his words. “You’re impossible. Seriously, it’s impossible to have a serious conversation with you sometimes.”
“I’m just saying,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Sun, sand, good drinks, me looking like this… you never know.”
“I’ll go,” you said, cutting him off before he could keep going. “But don’t even think this means anything else. We’ll get separate rooms. We’ll make separate plans. I’m going for Hannah. That’s it. Don’t get any ideas.”
Robby ignored your warning completely. “You look so gorgeous right now,” he murmured. Suddenly, his voice went quieter, more intimate. Robby moved his eyes slowly over your face, down to the collar of your shirt and back up again. “All soft and sleepy in bed like that. Fuck… I wish I were lying there with you.”
Your stomach flipped despite yourself, the way he said it, so sincere and full of a hunger that never ceased but only grew stronger every day, made heat bloom in your belly. You wanted to scream at how easily he could still do that to you. “Robby…” you warned him.
“I’m serious,” he continued. “I miss the way you feel under me. The way you breathe when you’re falling asleep next to me. I miss—”
“Goodbye, Robby.” You didn’t wait for him to finish, you ended the facetime call with a tap of your finger, plunging your screen into darkness. The room felt suddenly too quiet, too empty without his presence there. You dropped your phone onto the mattress beside you and stared up at the ceiling. Your skin felt warm, your mind was already replaying the way he’d looked at you, the tone of his voice when he said he wished he was lying there with you.
You pulled the blanket higher up to your chest, trying to ignore the storm of feelings Robby had just stirred up with nothing but his voice. It didn’t work, the ache was still there, as well as the flutter in your chest. The way your heart tripped over itself whenever he looked at you like that. Five years later, and Michael could still make your stupid heart race like you were that same fourth-year med student who used to sneak into his place late at night after shift. And now you had agreed to spend an entire week with him. A full week in Mexico. Seven days of Robby being Robby, charming, attentive, and far too good at reminding you exactly why you fell for him in the first place.
You had to force yourself to go back to one of the saddest days you could remember. Robby had come home from a brutal twelve-hour shift. You had just collapsed onto the couch after finally getting Hannah down, she’d been fussy all day, teething and crying restlessly. The moment he walked through the door, you could tell it had been a bad one. His eyes were glassy and distant, the lines on his face etched deeper than usual. Lately, every shift seemed to carve something out of him. He moved closer and pressed a quick, almost mechanical kiss to your forehead. No hello. No “how was your day.” Not even the ghost of a smile. Just autopilot, he was running on empty.
He sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, far from you, shoulders slumped. “There’s some pasta in the fridge I made,” you whispered, hoping it would reach him. He didn’t answer, didn’t even nod. He just stared at nothing, too drained to move.
Then Hannah let out a small cry from her crib. Before you could push yourself up, Robby was already on his feet. He scooped her up gently against his shoulder, swaying her in a soothing rhythm. “Are you okay, little angel?” he cooed softly, tender in a way it hadn’t been for you in weeks. “Yes, you’re okay. Yes, you are. Daddy’s here… shhh, go back to sleep.” That was the only moment you saw him smile genuine, and heartbreakingly soft as he held his daughter.
Tears burned in your eyes as you stood and walked closer to him. You had spent so many sleepless nights turning it over in your mind, and you couldn’t keep prolonging the inevitable. “Robby… we need to talk.”
“About us?” he replied, already sensing where this was going.
You nodded, feeling your throat tight. “Why do I get the feeling that you don’t want to be with me? That… you regret telling me to move in with you and being together?”
Robby sighed heavily, rubbing his temples like the weight of the world was pressing down on them. “It’s just work. You have no idea what it’s like trying to hold the whole fucking department together when everything is crumbling down and—”
“It’s not just that,” you cut him off. “You don’t look at me. You don’t talk to me. I understand your job is hard, that you’re stressed and exhausted, but… shit, Robby, all we do is ignore each other. The only time we actually speak is to argue about something stupid.” The tears slipped free then, there was no holding them back.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought I could do all of this, but I—” Tears welled in his eyes too, spilling over as he tried to hold it together. “I don’t know what to do. I—” A sob cut him off.
“Do you need space?” you asked, dreading the answer. “Is that it? You need us to take some time?”
He looked at you for a long moment, broken and defeated. “Yes.”
Two weeks had passed, and before you realized it, the suitcase lay now open on your bed, half-filled with the folded clothes you had carefully picked for the trip. You stood in front of it, folding another sundress, while Hannah sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by her own small pink suitcase and a pile of toys.
“Hannah, baby, do you have everything?” you asked for what felt like the tenth time. “Swimsuits? Sunscreen? The colouring books Daddy bought you for the plane?”
Hannah nodded enthusiastically, holding up her favorite ruffled swimsuit. “Yes, Mommy! And my water wings and the new sunglasses Daddy got me!” She beamed with uncontainable excitement. “Are we leaving soon? Is Daddy almost here?”
“Any minute now,” you replied, zipping up the main compartment of your suitcase with a sigh. Your stomach had been in knots all morning, this trip still felt like a terrible idea the more you thought about it, but Hannah’s joy made it impossible to back out now.
Right on cue, there was a knock at the front door. Hannah shot up like a rocket and ran toward it, yelling “Daddy!” at the top of her lungs.
You followed more slowly, pulling both suitcases behind you. When you opened the door, Robby stood there in a casual white linen shirt and shorts, looking annoyingly relaxed and handsome in the morning sunlight. His eyes immediately found yours, a small playing on his lips. “Hey,” he said softly. “You two ready?”
“Daddy!” Hannah launched herself at him. Robby scooped her up effortlessly, kissing her cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hi, my little mermaid. You got all your stuff?” He glanced over her head at you. “Need help with the bags?"
“I’ve got them,” you said, a little more curtly than you intended.
The drive to the airport was filled with Hannah’s nonstop chatter from the backseat. She pointed out every car, every cloud, every sign, asking a thousand questions about the plane, the ocean, and whether there would be dolphins. Robby answered every single one with patience, occasionally glancing at you in the passenger seat. You kept your eyes on the road, trying not to think too hard about how domestic this all felt.
At the airport, Robby handled check-in, and when the agent handed over the boarding passes, you caught a glimpse of them and froze. Business class.
You turned to him slowly as they walked toward security. “Seriously, Robby? It’s a four-hour flight. We could’ve flown economy like normal people.”
He shrugged, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I had miles on my card for an upgrade. Didn’t cost anything extra.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Robby.”
He leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low so Hannah wouldn’t hear. “Forgive me. I just wanted to spoil my family a little.”
“We’re not a family,” you said firmly, glancing ahead at Hannah skipping between you two. Robby didn’t argue, he just gave you a look that said he disagreed but wasn’t going to push.
The flight itself was smoother than you expected. In business class, the seats were wide and comfortable. You both let Hannah had the window seat, ans she spent most of the flight pressed against the glass, watching the clouds and looking at the ocean. Robby sat in the middle, keeping Hannah entertained with the in-flight entertainment and snacks.
You tried to read, but your mind kept wandering, every time Robby’s arm brushed yours, reaching for something, or when he laughed at one of Hannah’s excited comments, memories flooded your mind back, and you had to constantly remind yourself the only reason you were doing this was because Hannah had asked.
You landed in Cancun four hours later. A private transfer waited for you outside arrivals. The driver loaded your bags while Hannah bounced between you and Robby, holding both your hands. The drive to the resort took about forty-five minutes along the coast. You watched the palm trees that lined the road and the turquoise water on one side. Hannah pressed her face to the window the entire time, gasping at every new sight.
When the resort finally came into view, it was even more beautiful than the pictures. A luxurious property with white buildings, infinity pools cascading toward the ocean, and tropical gardens everywhere.
The humid air of Cancun wrapped around you the moment you stepped out of the transfer van. The resort lobby was stunning with high ceilings, white marble floors and massive floral arrangements. Hannah’s hand was firmly in yours, her fingers squeezing with excitement as her eyes darted everywhere at once. “Mommy, look! There’s a fountain! And flowers! And the ocean is right there!”
Robby walked a few steps ahead, carrying Hannah’s pink suitcase in one hand and his own duffel in the other. He looked completely at ease, the fabric of his shirt slightly damp from the humidity and clinging just enough to show the lines of his shoulders. He glanced back at you with a reassuring smile before heading straight to the reception desk. You stayed back with Hannah, letting her point out every detail she noticed.
A few minutes later, Robby returned, twirling a key card between his fingers. “All set. We’re in the beachfront wing. Follow me.”
The walk to the room was beautiful but felt endless. Hannah skipped between you and Robby, holding both your hands and swinging them as she chattered nonstop about building the biggest sandcastle in the world.
Robby finally stopped in front of a beautiful wooden door, he swiped the key card, and the door clicked open. The suite was breathtaking, with floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that opened onto a wide private balcony overlooking the ocean. The living area had elegant white furniture, and as you stepped further inside, your eyes landed on the bedroom area with two queen-size beds.
You stopped dead in the doorway. “Where’s the other room?” you asked slowly, worried you already knew the answer Robby was about to give you.
Robby set the suitcases down and scratched the back of his head, looking mildly sheepish. “Yeah… so there was a mix-up at the front desk. We only got one room.”
You stared at him with disbelief. “What? Are you serious right now?” The asshole had to be kidding. But then again, this was Robby, and this was exactly the kind of shenanigans he’d put you through. You should have known he wouldn’t keep his promise to let you do your own thing at the resort, to not act like you were a real family on a family holiday. You had been to hopeful to expect he’d at least wait a little longer before showing his real intentions.
Hannah, completely oblivious to the tension, let out a delighted squeal and immediately launched herself onto the nearest bed, jumping up and down with pure joy. “This one’s mine! No, this one! Look how bouncy it is, Mommy! Daddy, come jump with me!”
You barely heard her, your whole attention was locked on Robby. The family suite was gorgeous, in tasteful neutral tones, with fresh flowers on the nightstands, a bottle of champagne and fruit plate waiting on the table with a welcome note, but none of that mattered. What mattered now was that Robby had not only manipulated you to agree to this trip, but he’d also lied to you.
“Michael, do you think I was born yesterday? You totally did this on purpose. I know it.”
He held up both hands in a placating gesture, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “There was a confusion with the booking. I swear. They had us down for a family suite with two queens instead of two separate rooms.”
You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “Go fix it. Right now.”
“I already tried,” he said calmly, stepping closer so Hannah wouldn’t overhear. “They’re completely booked. Peak season, a big wedding happening this week. No other rooms available in the whole resort.”
You let out a frustrated breath, rubbing your temple. “This is not what I agreed to, Robby. Separate rooms. That was the condition. I never would’ve come if—”
“I know,” he interrupted gently. “But it’s just one week. I can take one bed, you and Hannah can take the other. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” you hissed, keeping your voice down as Hannah continued bouncing happily, now unpacking her stuffed capybara and arranging it on the pillows. “This is exactly what I was worried about. You’re pushing boundaries.”
Meanwhile, Hannah had moved on to dragging her suitcase across the room, chattering excitedly. “Mommy, can we go to the beach now? The water is waiting! I want to find seashells and build a castle.”
Robby glanced at her with that fatherly smile that always made your chest ache, then looked back at you. “Look at her. She’s already so happy. One week, that’s all. We’re adults. We can handle sharing space for a few nights without it meaning anything.”
You stared at the two queen beds again. They were large, luxurious, with more pillows than necessary. The balcony doors were open, letting in the warm breeze and the constant, soothing sound of waves. It would have been perfect… if it weren’t for the man standing two feet away looking far too pleased with this “mix-up.”
Hannah suddenly ran over and grabbed your hand, then Robby’s. “Come on! Let’s go to the beach! I’m ready! I have my bucket and everything!”
You looked down at your daughter’s beaming face, then back at Robby. He raised an eyebrow slightly, waiting. You let out a long, defeated sigh. “Fine. But this changes nothing, Robby. Separate beds. No funny business. And the second a room opens up, we’re switching.”
“Whatever you say,” he replied, but the small, satisfied smile on his face told you he wasn’t worried at all.
He set his suitcase near one of the queen beds and nodded toward the bathroom. “I’ll go change first. Won’t be long.”
You nodded silently, still processing everything, but as soon as the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, you turned your attention to Hannah, who was already pulling things out of her pink suitcase with frantic excitement.
“Come here, baby,” you said softly, kneeling on the floor beside her bed. “Let’s get you ready for the beach.”
Hannah stood in front of you, wiggling with impatience as you helped her out of her travel clothes. You carefully slipped her into her favorite ruffled swimsuit, bright pink with little white flowers, adjusting the straps and smoothing the fabric over her tummy. Then came the sunscreen. You squeezed a generous amount into your palm and rubbed it slowly over her arms, shoulders, back, legs, and face, making sure every inch was covred. Hannah giggled when you got to her nose, squirming because of how tickly it was.
“You have to stay safe from the sun, okay?” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’re going to have so much fun, but Mommy doesn’t want you to get burned like a toast.”
“I won’t!” she promised solemnly, then immediately went back to bouncing on her toes. “Can I wear my new sunglasses? And my hat with the flowers?”
The bathroom door opened, and Robby stepped out, for a moment, time seemed to slow. He wore dark swim trunks, paired with a simple white shirt that he hadn’t bothered to put on yet, it was slung over his shoulder. You had seen his bare body no more than a month ago, you’d been under it, but it still felt, somehow, like seeing him again for the first time.
You stared at him longer than you should have. His soft but solid tummy that drove you insane, and that familiar trail of dark hair across his chest that you had always, always loved running your fingers through.
Your eyes traced the lines of his chest, the way the hair curled slightly, the soft give of his stomach. Heat flushed up your neck because God, you still loved every inch of him.
Robby caught you looking and a knowing smile spread across his face. “What?” he asked teasingly. “I got something on my face?”
You blinked hard, tearing your gaze away. “No,” you muttered, grabbing your own beach bag a little too quickly. “I’m… going to change.”
You escaped into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind you. The mirror showed your flushed cheeks, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. This was just a week, you could handle this. Just a week of sleeping in the same room, just a week of seeing his body, just a week of him deliberately trying to break down our walls.
You changed into one of the bikinis you’d packed, a simple black two-piece that tied at the sides and back. You liked how it looked on you, it was flattering, but as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt suddenly, acutely aware of how little it covered. Your body had changed since having Hannah, a few stretch marks here and there, breasts that were fuller but not as perky as before. Standing here in just this tiny bikini, knowing Robby was right outside… it felt vulnerable.
You adjusted the ties one more time, took another steadying breath, and stepped out of the bathroom. Hannah immediately squealed. “Mommy, you look so pretty!” She ran over and hugged your legs before darting into the bathroom herself to grab her sunglasses and sun hat. “I’ll be right back!”
You stood in the middle of the suite, adjusting the strap of your beach bag, when Robby stepped in from the balcony. He had been leaning on the railing, looking out at the ocean, but the moment he turned and saw you, he stopped dead. His eyes widened, and he dramatically clutched his chest with one hand, staggering back a step like he was having a heart attack.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, the grin on his face pure mischief. “Warn a guy next time.”
You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile that wanted to break free. “You’re so not funny, Robinavitch.”
You wanted to slap that smug smile right off his face and kiss him senseless at the same time. The two urges warred inside you, because you hated how much his words mattered. How easily he could make you feel like the most beautiful woman who had ever stepped foot on this earth, and how completely you believed him when he said it. He wasn’t just mumbling the words because it felt like something he was supposed to say. No, Robby looked at you like he truly wanted you, like he was dying to get his hands back on your body, to pull you close and remind you exactly how good it used to feel. His gaze lingered, tracing over you in a way that made heat flood your stomach. God, you hated how much you still wanted him to.
He didn’t stop. He kept one hand pressed to his heart, shaking his head slowly as his gaze traveled over you, unashamed, appreciative, and far too warm. “You’re trying to kill me on day one, huh? That bikini… fuck. You look incredible.”
Heat flooded your face again, but you crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly self-conscious. “Stop it. This is exactly what I was worried about.”
Robby took a slow step closer, still smiling, but his voice dropped. “Can’t help it. You’ve always looked good, but seeing you like this…” He let the sentence trail off, his sight lingering on the curve of your waist and the ties at your hips.
Before you could respond, Hannah burst back out of the bathroom wearing her oversized sunglasses and floppy sun hat, striking a dramatic pose. “I’m ready! Let’s go see the ocean!”
The sand was warm under your feet as the three of you made your way down the wooden boardwalk to the private stretch of beach reserved for resort guests. The sea stretched out in front of you, waves lapping against the shore, leaving behind lines of foam. Hannah’s excitement was infectious. She ran ahead a few steps, then back to you and Robby, her little sun hat flopping with every bounce. “The water is so blue! Can we go in right now? Please?”
Robby chuckled, adjusting the beach bag on his shoulder. “Let’s set up first, kiddo. Then we’ll swim.”
You chose three loungers under a large thatched umbrella near the water’s edge. You spread out towels while Robby helped Hannah with her water wings. The resort staff had placed a small cooler with chilled water and fruit beside the chairs, and soft music drifted from speakers along the beach.
Once everything was settled, Robby stood and offered his hand to Hannah. “Ready, little mermaid?”
She grabbed his hand with both of hers and tugged him toward the water. You watched them go, settling back into your lounger with the book you’d brought. The sun felt incredible on your skin, you opened your book, but your eyes kept drifting over the top of the pages. Robby and Hannah waded into the shallow waves. Hannah squealed every time the water touched her legs, clinging to Robby’s hand. He lifted her high when a bigger wave came, spinning her around as she laughed uncontrollably. His swim trunks moved lower on his hips, and it made it impossible for you to focus on your book, every few minutes your gaze wandered back to them.
After nearly an hour, Hannah came running back to you, dripping wet and beaming. “Mommy! Come build sandcastles with me! Daddy said he’ll watch our stuff.”
You set your book aside and took her hand, walking down to the firmer sand near the waterline. The two of you knelt together, digging with plastic shovels and buckets. Hannah chattered nonstop about her castle needing a moat and a tower for the princess. You helped her pat the walls smooth, adding seashells and bits of coral you found along the shore. The sun warmed your back, and for a while, everything felt simple and perfect, just you and your daughter creating something together. But you felt Robby’s eyes on you the entire time, when you glanced up, he was sitting on the lounger, with his elbows on his knees, watching with an unreadable expression.
He didn’t look away when your eyes met, the intensity in his gaze made heat bloom across your skin. Later, when the castle was tall and elaborate, Hannah got a mischievous glint in her eye. “Can we bury Daddy in the sand? Like a mummy?”
Robby, who had joined you, raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I see how it is. Ganging up on me already?”
You smiled despite yourself. “Sounds fair.”
The three of you worked together, slowly covering Robby as he lay back in the sand. Hannah patted sand over his legs with delight, while you worked on his arms and torso. The heavy sand molded around his body as he lay there patiently, occasionally joking with Hannah about becoming a “sand mummy.” Every time your hands brushed his skin while smoothing the sand, a spark jumped between you. He noticed, and you knew he did.
When you finally stepped back, Robby was almost completely buried, only his head and part of his neck visible. Hannah clapped her hands and danced around him. “He looks like a turtle!”
Robby chuckled, trying to move and finding himself well and truly stuck. “Alright, ladies. Fun’s over. Unbury me.”
You exchanged a look with Hannah, a smile spreading across your face. “You know what, Hannah? Don’t you want to go get some ice cream? I saw a stand right by the pools, and since this is all-inclusive, we can have all the ice cream we want.”
Hannah’s eyes lit up like stars. “Yes! Chocolate and strawberry and rainbow sprinkles!”
Robby snapped his head toward you, as much as he could with what little mobility he had left. “Ice cream sounds great. Why don’t you get me out of here and we go there together?”
You crouched down beside him, close enough that your shadow fell over his face. You leaned in until your faces were only inches apart. “This is for booking one room, Michael.”
His eyes widened with outrage. “You wouldn’t—”
You straightened up before he could finish, taking Hannah’s hand. “Come on, baby. Let’s go find that ice cream. Daddy can wait a few more minutes.”
Hannah giggled conspiratorially and waved at Robby. “Bye, Daddy! We’ll bring you some… maybe!”
As the two of you walked away hand-in-hand toward the resort path, Robby’s voice followed you, half-laughing, half-protesting. “This is unfair punishment! Hannah! Come back!”
You didn’t look back, but you couldn’t stop the satisfied smile on your face. For the first time since arriving, you felt like you might actually survive this week, but only if you kept winning the small battles.
The light of late afternoon had softened into the warm pinks and oranges by the time you and Hannah returned to the suite. The scent of ocean salt that clung to your skin and your hair was a wild mess. You both needed showers badly. You helped Hannah first, rinsing the sand from her hair and body. After drying her with one of the oversized white towels, you slipped her into her favorite purple dress and brushed her hair until it was smooth. Your turn came next, you took your time, letting the warm water wash away the salt, sand, and sunscreen. When you emerged wrapped in a towel, Hannah was sitting on one of the queen beds, flipping through a children’s book the resort had left.
She looked up with a bright smile. “Mommy, I’m so hungry! Can we go eat now?”
“Soon, baby. Let’s wait and see if Daddy gets back so we can all go together.”
You were both dressed and ready when the door to the suite finally opened. Robby stepped inside, still covered head to toe in sand. It clung to his hair, dusted his shoulders and arms, and left visible trails down his legs. His swim trunks looked gritty, and there was sand stuck to the damp skin of his chest and stomach. He looked equal parts ridiculous and defeated. You and Hannah stared for half a second before bursting into laughter.
Hannah pointed, doubling over on the bed. “Daddy! You’re a sand monster for real!”
Robby closed the door behind him with a dramatic sigh, brushing uselessly at his arms. “It’s not funny,” he grumbled, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “That wasn’t cool at all.”
You tried to stifle your laughter, covering your mouth with one hand. “You deserved that, Michael.”
He shot you a look, narrowing his eyes playfully. “I have sand in places no person should ever have sand. I’m talking places, okay? You left me there all afernoon.”
You raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “Really? The whole afternoon?”
He ran a hand through his hair, sending another shower of sand onto the floor. “Maybe a beach guard eventually helped dig me out. That’s not the point. The point is you two left me there.”
Hannah was still giggling uncontrollably. “Sorry, Daddy. I ate all the ice-cream.”
Robby shook his head, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “Traitors, both of you.” He glanced down at himself again and sighed. “I need a shower. Give me ten minutes and we can head to dinner.”
While Robby disappeared into the bathroom, you and Hannah sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the water run. When Robby finally emerged, he looked refreshed, wearing a clean button-down shirt and shorts. “Ready?” he asked, offering Hannah his hand.
The buffet was everything a resort like this promised, long tables overflowing with fresh seafood, grilled meats, salads, tropical fruits, and many dessert stations. Hannah’s eyes were wide as saucers as she piled her plate high with pasta, shrimp, and fruit, while you and Robby chose more balanced meals.
You ate slowly, savoring the flavors while Hannah chattered between bites about everything she’d seen that day, occasionally yawning as the long day caught up with her.
After dinner, the walk back to the suite was peaceful, the pathways were lit with lanterns, and the sound of waves grew louder again as you approached the beach wing. Hannah walked between you and Robby, holding both your hands, her steps slowing with tiredness.
Back in the room, the bedtime routine felt strangely intimate. You helped Hannah brush her teeth while Robby turned down the beds. Hannah chose to sleep with you tonight. You tucked her in on the bed closest to the balcony, reading her a short story while Robby dimmed the lights.
Soon, Hannah’s breathing evened out into sleep, her body curled against your side. You lay there in the semi-darkness while Robby settled into the other bed, the sheets rustling as he got comfortable.
“Well, isn’t this nice?” Robby murmured, soft enough not to disturb Hannah’s peaceful sleep. “The three of us here like this… I had a great time today. Even if I spent three hours buried under sand.”
You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the way your treacherous heart agreed with him. It did feel nice, dangerously nice. You’d had so much fun being with him, doing things together like a regular family: building sandcastles, chasing waves, watching Hannah’s delighted squeals. For a few stolen hours, it had felt real. “Tomorrow morning,” you said quietly, despite the ache in your chest, “you’re going to the reception and asking if they have any more rooms available.”
The next morning you woke slowly, Hannah was still curled against your side on the queen bed. Carefully, so as not to wake her, you slipped out of bed. You moved quietly around the room, brushing your teeth, splashing cool water on your face, and running a brush through your hair. You chose a red bikini today, tied the strings and slipped on a light white cover-up. Before leaving, you scribbled a short note and left it on the nightstand: Went for an early walk on the beach to watch the sunrise.
Robby woke later, he spotted the note immediately and read it with a smile. “Mommy went for an early beach walk,” he told Hannah, helping her sit up. “Let’s get ready and surprise her with breakfast on the beach. What do you think?”
Hannah’s face lit up. They took their time, Robby patiently helping her brush her teeth and wash her face. He changed into swim trunks and a loose linen shirt, applied sunscreen to Hannah’s face and arms, and they headed out hand-in-hand, making a quick stop at the breakfast buffet to grab some fresh fruit, croissants, yogurt, and cold water bottles to bring to the beach.
The ocean sparkled brilliantly as he scanned the loungers, looking for you. When he finally spotted you further down the beach, his steps slowed. You were standing near the water’s edge in just the red bikini, the morning light highlighting every curve of your body. You looked relaxed, confident, and breathtakingly beautiful. And you weren’t alone. A tall, ripped guy in his mid-to-late twenties stood close to you, shirtless, his sculpted abs and broad shoulders glistening slightly with sweat or water. He was laughing at something you said, leaning in with confidence, clearly flirting back with you.
He looked like he belonged on a fitness magazine cover, young, with zero signs of the wear that came from decades of work. An ugly twist of jealousy hit Robby in the chest. But it wasn’t just jealousy, it was insecurity hiding right behind it. This guy was younger, fitter. Probably had endless stamina and no emotional baggage. Robby became acutely aware of his own softer stomach, the gray hairs scattered across his chest, and the wrinkles around his eyes from years of exhaustion. He felt every one of his fifty. years in that moment, standing there holding a plate of fruit and his daughter’s hand.
Hannah tugged excitedly on Robby’s hand. “There’s Mommy! Look, Daddy! She’s over there by the water. Can we go say hi? Please?”
Robby forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, angel. Let’s go.”
They started walking across the warm sand. Robby’s focus narrowed entirely on you and the man standing far too close. As they approached, he heard the guy’s easy laugh again. The young man was animated, gesturing toward the horizon with one muscular arm, clearly in the middle of some charming story.
“Good morning” Robby said, trying not to sound bothered but doing a terrible job hiding his annoyance. “I see you found company.”
The guy’s gaze flicked from you to Robby, then back to you with mild confusion. “Is that… your father?”
The word landed like a punch, and Robby let out a short and dry laugh, though his jaw tightened painfully. “Her father,” he mumbled on the low. “Cute. No. I’m her husband, as a matter of fact.” His voice didn’t even hesitate over the blatant lie he’d just said.
You laughed, an uncomfortable and forced sound that made Robby’s chest twist. “He’s not my husband,” you corrected quickly. “He’s just… a guy I know from work.”
Robby turned to you slowly, raising one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “A guy you know from work? Excuse me?” The young guy shifted awkwardly on his feet, clearly sensing the sudden thick tension crackling in the air. “I’m the father of her daughter. Michael Robinavitch, nice to meet you.”
The guy’s eyes darted between the three of you, with a confused look across his face as if he couldn’t quite process the sudden shift. Just a couple of minutes earlier he’d been leaning in close, flashing an easy smile and flirting with acute woman at the beach. Now here you were with a man standing possessively close and a little kid next to him. And as if he couldn’t quite believe that Robby, was somehow the father of that kid. “So… you have a daughter? With her?”
Robby kept his tone light for Hannah’s sake, ruffling her hair gently with one hand, but there was an edge underneath his words. “Yes. I got her pregnant. It was a wonderful experience, actually.”
The words came out with a possessive undertone he didn’t even try to hide. What a fucking little prick, Robby thought. He wishes he could pull a woman like you. Sure, the guy might have abs where Robby had a softer belly. Maybe his forehead was smooth, with no lines etched from the pass of time, and his head might still be free of silver hairs. But Robby had pulled you without any of that polished bullshit, and you had always looked at him like he was the most handsome man to ever exist. A little asshole like him wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a woman like you.
You shot Robby a warning glare, a mix of anger and embarrassment. because now you had to explain your awkard family situation to this stranger. “It’s… complicated,” you told the guy, forcing a polite smile that felt brittle on your face. “Really complicated.”
The young man rubbed the back of his neck, his sculpted shoulders tensing visibly. He was clearly uncomfortable now, the easy flirtation from moments ago evaporating. “Yeah… uhh, I think my friends are calling me. Nice to meet you, though.” He gave you one last lingering, appreciative glance before turning and walking away toward a group of guys further down the beach.
The second he was out of earshot, you rounded on Robby, trying to keep your voice low and controlled so Hannah wouldn’t hear, but still with a furious undertone in it. “What the hell was that? You completely ruined it. He was flirting with me, and you had to march over here acting like some possessive caveman. And “her husband” What the hell was that?”
Robby set the beach bag down on the sand a little harder than necessary. “Oh please,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, the movement highlighting the soft give of his stomach beneath his shirt. “He’s not even your type.”
You stared at him incredulously. “And how exactly would you know what my type is these days, Robby?”
He shrugged, but his eyes were dark with a potent mix of jealousy and insecurity. “Because I know you. That guy? All looks and no substance. Perfect abs and zero idea what real life looks like. You’d be bored in ten minutes.”
The words hung between you. Hannah, sensing the growing tension like children always do, tugged gently on your hand. “Mommy, can we eat breakfast now? I’m hungry.”
You forced a warm smile for her, pushing down the frustration and smoothing her messy brown hair with your fingers. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s sit down and eat. Daddy brought all your favorites.”
The rest of the morning on the beach passed in silence from your side. You didn’t speak one more word to Robby. Every time he tried to make conversation,offering you some mango, commenting on how beautiful the water looked, asking if you wanted more sunscreen, you answered with short nods or turned your attention to Hannah instead. Robby noticed, and after a while, he stood up slowly, brushing sand from his legs.
“I’m gonna take a walk around the resort for a bit. Give you some space.” He looked at Hannah with a soft smile. “You stay with Mommy, okay, angel? I’ll be back soon.”
Hannah nodded, already busy building another small tower on her sandcastle. Robby lingered for a second longer, resting his eyes on you with something regretful in them, before he turned and walked away down the beach path. You watched his back until he disappeared behind the palm trees.
The hours passed slowly, you played with Hannah in the shallow water, built more sandcastles, applied more sunscreen, and read a few chapters of your book while she napped under the umbrella. But your mind kept replaying the scene with the guy, Robby’s jealous interruption, his possessive words, the way he’d looked at you. It stirred up too many old feelings you didn’t want to examine.
Part of you enjoyed the attention he gave you, the way Robby got possessive whenever another guy even stepped too close. It felt good to be wanted like that. To see him look at you like he still wanted you to be his and his only, even after all this time, even after everything that had happened between you. It was dangerous, how much you liked it. Because it stirred up the same old feelings, the ones that made it so hard to remember why you kept pushing him away in the first place.
Robby returned a couple of hours later, carrying two fresh iced drinks. He approached cautiously and sat down on the edge of your lounger, close but not touching you. “I know you’re pissed,” he said. “And you have every right to be. I overstepped. I was an asshole back there. Jealous and… yeah. I’m sorry.”
You stayed silent for a long moment, staring out at the turquoise water. “You were. You ruined a nice, harmless conversation.”
Robby nodded, accepting it. “I did.” He paused, then offered one of the iced drinks. “I walked by the spa earlier. They have really good reviews. I thought of getting you a massage as an apology. You deserve to relax after everything… and after dealing with me being an idiot.”
You looked at him then, searching his face. His expression was sincere, the usual cocky edge softened by genuine regret. Part of you wanted to stay mad. The other part, the tired nd overworked resident and mother, desperately wanted that massage. “…Fine,” you said eventually. “But this doesn’t mean I’m not still annoyed.”
“Understood.” He gave you a small smile.
You left Hannah at the resort’s supervised children’s activity center, a beautiful shaded area with crafts, games, and attentive staff. She was thrilled to join the other kids, waving goodbye without a second thought.
The spa building was serene and even more luxurious than the rest of the resort. Robby stepped up to the elegant reception desk first. You watched him leaning slightly on the polished wood counter, and the woman on the desk checking the screen and nodding.
After a couple of seconds, Robby came back to you. “Okay, it’s all settled. I’m gonna head back, maybe hit the pool with the bar. Enjoy your massage. You deserve it.”
Before Robby had any time to head to the door, a masseuse in a white uniform approached you both. She offered a welcoming smile. “Okay, beautiful couple, ready for your couple’s massage? We have the ocean-view room prepared with the full aromatherapy package you selected. It’s one of our most popular experiences.”
You froze right there and then, the word “couple” hitting you like cold water. Your stomach tightened instantly, a rush of irritation flooding through you. “Robby,” you said, turning to him. “What the hell did you do now?”
He looked genuinely surprised, his eyes widening as he raised both hands in a surrender gesture. “I swear I don’t know,” he said quickly, sounding sincere for once. “I just booked a regular massage for you. I didn’t say anything about a couple’s anything. I was very clear, one person, one massage.”
The masseuse glanced between the two of you, still smiling politely, completely unfazed by the sudden tension. “It’s our signature couples experience, side-by-side tables, synchronized massage, and a glass of champagne afterward. Very romantic and relaxing. Perfect for reconnecting.”
Before you could refuse, clarify, or even form a full protest, the staff were already guiding you both forward with efficiency. They led you down a quiet, incense-scented hallway that opened into a treatment room. Two massage tables stood side by side in the center, candles flickering all around the room and towels folded neatly.
Your heart was racing now, a mix of irritation at Robby and anticipation because soon he would be shirtless again, lying only a few feet away while you were both having a “couple experience” when all you needed was to be as far away as possible from the concept of you and Robby being a couple. Your brain was already getting all these confused, dangerous feelings after spending so much time together, the laughter, the casual touches, the way the three of you looked like a real family from the outside. The last thing you needed right now was to keep doing couple activities. Every shared dinner, every walk along the beach, only made the line between co-parents. You were supposed to be keeping your distance.
You turned to him. “This is not what I agreed to, Robby.”
He looked almost sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I really did just ask for one massage. But… we’re here now. Might as well enjoy it?”
The masseuses were already moving, preparing the oils, laying out fresh towels, adjusting the temperature and lighting.
On of them smiled gently. “If you’d both like to remove your clothes to your comfort level and lie face down on the tables, we’ll begin with the back and shoulders. Take your time.”
Robby glanced at you, reading the hesitation in your posture. He gave a reassuring nod. “I’ll go first,” he said quietly, and stepped behind the simple privacy screen they had provided.
You heard the rustle of fabric as he removed his shirt and trunks. You turned around quickly, facing the wall to avoid the sight of his fully naked body, one you knew far too well and that still had the exact same devastating effect on you. Definitely not the kind of reaction you needed when you were supposed to be relaxing. But even with your back to him, the knowledge that he was right there in the same room, completely bare, got your heart beating fast.
When he emerged and lay face down on the right-hand table, he draped the sheet modestly over his lower half. You couldn’t help but notice the familiar lines of his back, his strong shoulders, the soft curve where his waist met his hips. Your turn came next, you stepped behind the screen, your fingers slightly unsteady as you untied the bikini top and stepped out of the bottoms. The cool air kissed your bare skin, you wrapped yourself quickly in one of the large, warmed towels and moved to the left table, lying face down.
You turned your head to the side, away from Robby, trying to steady your breathing. The masseuses worked in sync. Pouring warm oil first, spreading it with their fingers, starting at your shoulders and working downward in long strokes. The pressure was perfect — deep enough to melt the knots from endless shifts, gentle enough to feel indulgent. Beside you, Robby let out a low sound of relief as his own masseuse began. The sound sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine, you knew that voice too well, one you’d heard far too many times.
One of the masseuses, an older woman, spoke softly as she worked on your upper back. “You two make a lovely couple. Have you been together a long time?”
Robby answered before you could explain how you weren’t a couple, you two had ended here after a complicated series of events. “Five years.”
You opened your eyes, staring at the white sheet beneath you. “We’re not really together,” you corrected quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
Robby let out a soft chuckle from the next table. “It’s more like an on-and-off thing.”
You turned your head slightly toward him, the irritation mixing with the pleasure of the massage, an experience that was supposed to be relaxing, but now was irritating due to Robby’s presence. “It’s mostly off than on, really.”
The younger masseuse working on Robby smiled as she kneaded his shoulders. “Ah, but you are here together now. That counts for something, no?”
The older woman on your side pressed deeper into a knot between your shoulder blades, drawing a quiet sigh from you. “You make a good couple,” she said warmly. “I have seen many couples working here, but not many where the man looks at the woman the way he looks at you. It’s very special.”
You let out a small, skeptical laugh, the sound muffled against the face cradle. “I find that hard to believe.”
Robby’s voice came from beside you. “I look at her like she’s the second most precious thing in this entire world.”
The masseuses both made soft. The younger one asked curiously, “Why second?”
Robby didn’t hesitate. “Becuse the first one is the daughter she gave me five years ago.”
A soft chorus of “Awww” filled the room. You could practically feel the women melting at his words. The older masseuse patted your shoulder gently. “That is beautiful. A man who knows what he has.”
You felt heat rise in your cheeks, a confusing mix of embarrassment, irritation, and something warmer that his words always managed to make you feel. “He’s a flatterer,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice light. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s very good at saying the right things.”
Robby chuckled again. “Only when it’s true.”
The synchronized rhythm of the massage created an oddly intimate atmosphere. When your masseuse dug into a tight knot between your shoulder blades, Robby’s masseuse did the same at the exact same moment. The sensation of feeling your own body release tension while hearing his quiet groans of pleasure made the room feel smaller, more charged. Time stretched. You found yourself relaxing despite everything, the ocean view, the scent of the oils, the pressure, until the masseuse gently asked you to turn over. You hesitated for a second before complying, keeping the sheet carefully draped over your chest as you rolled onto your back. Robby turned at the same moment, and for a brief second, your eyes met across the small space between the tables. His gaze was dark, but you looked away quickly, focusing on the ceiling and the glow of the candles.
The front massage was somehow even more intimate, oil poured across your collarbones, your arms, your legs. The masseuse’s hands worked slowly up your thighs, careful and professional, but the proximity of Robby, who was lying there with his eyes sometimes closed, sometimes open and watching the ceiling, made every touch feel amplified.
The older masseuse spoke again softly as she massaged your temples. “It is good to see a family taking time together. These moments are precious.”
You stayed silent this time, and Robby’s quiet reply came a moment later. “They are. It took me a while to realize there’s nothing more important than my family.”
When the massage ended, the masseuses quietly stepped out, leaving you and Robby alone in the treatment room. Robes had been provided, and two elegant flutes of champagne with fresh strawberries and raspberries waited on a small table between the two massage tables. You sat up slowly, wrapping the white robe tightly around yourself. Robby did the same on his table, the robe hanging open just enough to show his chest.
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds were the distant waves. Robby reached for the champagne glasses and handed one to you. He clinked his glass gently against yours.
“To surviving the rest of this trip,” he said softly, a smile playing on his lips.
Robby leaned back against the edge of his table, watching you. The robe slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing more of his chest. “No matter how much you try to pretend you hate spending time with me… I know you secretly enjoy it. We get along. We have fun together. You know there’s this… connection between us.”
You stared into your glass, watching the bubbles rise. You took a sip before answering. “You’re wrong. The only reason we keep spending time together is because you pull this shit all the time. This wasn’t what I agreed to. I asked for separate rooms, no couple activities. You keep lying to me and manipulating everything because you have this fantasy that I’ll magically get back with you just because you paid for some expensive vacation.”
Robby set his glass down slowly. He didn’t look defensive. Instead, his expression was open, almost vulnerable. “I didn’t get a couple’s massage. I swear. I asked for one massage for you.”
You raised an eyebrow, the champagne making your cheeks feel warmer. “What about the hotel room mix-up?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. “Maybe… I didn’t correct the receptionist when he gave me only one room.”
You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”
Robby looked at you then. “I’m in love,” he said simply. “Crazy in love with you. And every single day, every second I spend with you it just gets bigger and bigger. I can’t help it.”
The confession hung between you. You wanted to push back, to stay angry, but the massage had stripped away too many defenses. You knew you could pack your suitcase right now. You knew you could call a taxi, get to the airport, and buy the fastest ticket back home. But part of you didn’t. Part of you longed to stay and see what the next thing Robby would do, how far he’d go to win you back, how much he was willing to risk this time, and whether he truly meant it. The worst part of it all was how little you actually wanted to run away from him.
“You can’t deny the massage was nice,” Robby added quietly.
You took another slow sip of champagne. The truth slipped out before you could stop it. “It felt good,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “Really good.”
The next day you woke to Hannah’s excited bouncing on the bed and Robby’s chuckle from the other side of the room. After a leisurely breakfast on the balcony while watching the ocean, the three of you headed to the resort’s massive water park, full of slides, lazy rivers, and splash zones. Hannah’s eyes were wide with wonder as she ran from one attraction to the next.
You spent hours in the shallow kids’ area first, where sprays of water misted over mushroom fountains. Hannah laughed uncontrollably as she darted through the sprays. Robby lifted her onto his shoulders so she could reach higher sprays, both of them soaked and beaming.
Later, you moved to the lazy river, the three of you floated together on a large raft, the current carrying you under bridges and past waterfalls. Hannah sat between you and Robby, chattering nonstop about the “big slides” she wanted to try next. Robby’s arm rested casually behind you on the raft, occasionally brushing his fingers over your shoulder.
You braved a few bigger slides with Hannah while Robby waited at the bottom with open arms to catch her. He went down the steeper ones with her, their laughter echoing as they shot out into the splash pool. You watched from the side, smiling despite yourself at how good he was with her, patient and playful.
By late afternoon, you were all tired, but still decided to head to the open-air resort theater for the karaoke night. The tables were arranged in an arc around a central stage. You sat at a table near the front with Hannah comfortably settled on your lap. She wore her favorite sundress, her hair still slightly damp from the evening shower. In her small hands, she held a colorful fruity mocktail with a paper umbrella and a slice of pineapple on the rim. She watched performer after performer take the stage, clapping enthusiastically for every single one, whether they were hilariously off-key or surprisingly talented.
Robby sat right beside you, he had switched to margaritas after dinner and was now on his third or fourth. His cheeks were flushed a warm pink, and his smile came easier, the alcohol had softened the edges that usually existed between you, but you kept your guard firmly in place, hyper-aware of the weight of his arm behind you and the occasional brush of his fingers against your shoulder
The host, a charismatic man stepped up to the microphone scanning the crowd. “Alright, folks, next up we have Michael Robinavitch! Michael, the stage is all yours.”
Your stomach dropped instantly. You froze, asking yourself if you’d heard right, because karaoke was something Robby would never, ever, do. But then again, this wasn’t normal Robby, this was Robby after four margaritas that inhibited any level of self-awareness he had. “Robby… where are you going? What are you doing?”
He stood up with a bright, slightly tipsy smile that lit up his whole face. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Hannah’s head, then straightened. “You’ll see,” he said.
He walked toward the stage with confidence, the stage lights catching on the slight sway in his step from the margaritas. The crowd quieted with anticipation as he took the microphone. For a moment, he just stood there, looking out over the audience, until his eyes found yours across the tables. A heart-stopping smile spread across his face.
“Good evening, everyone,” he began. “My name is Michael Robinavitch.” He scanned the audience again until his gaze locked directly on you. “This song goes out to the love of my life.” He pointed straight at you, and heads turned. Dozens of eyes shifted your way all at once. Heat flooded your face in an instant, a deep and mortifying warmth that burned from your chest all the way to your ears.
You wanted the sand beneath the theater to open up and swallow you whole. You sank lower in your seat, wishing you could disappear. Robby didn’t stop. “No, not only the love of my life. She’s the woman of my life. She’s the mother of my child. Look at them, aren’t they the most beautiful ladies in the world?”
The crowd let out a collective and heartfelt “Awww.” Some people clapped, a few whistled. Hannah waved happily at her dad from your lap, completely thrilled and oblivious to your embarrassment. “Daddy’s singing for us, Mommy!” she whispered excitedly, bouncing a little.
The opening notes of Aerosmith’s I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing began playing, and Robby’s voice came through the speakers, rough around the edges from the margaritas, but surprisingly in tune despite being a terrible singer. He sang directly to you, keeping his eyes locked on yours the entire time, as if no one else existed.
“I could stay awake just to hear you breathing
Watch you smile while you are sleeping
While you’re far away and dreaming…”
Embarrassment burned through every inch of you. Your cheeks were on fire, and you covered your face with one hand, peeking through your fingers.
“I could spend my life in this sweet surrender
I could stay lost in this moment forever
Where a moment spent with you is a moment I treasure…”
Hannah bounced happily on your lap, clapping along. “Daddy sounds so good! He’s singing for you, Mommy!”
Robby poured everything into the chorus, his voice rising with emotion, and cracking slightly on the high notes but full of feeling.
“Don't wanna close my eyes
I don't wanna to fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you baby
And I don't wanna miss a thing…”
He pointed at you and Hannah again during the song, his gaze never wavering. The crowd was completely swept up, some singing along, others watching the three of you with fond, smiling faces. You felt painfully exposed, seen in a way that terrified you, and yet terrifyingly wanted and loved in front of all these strangers.
When the final notes faded, the audience erupted in loud applause and cheers. He gave a small, humble bow, grinning widely. He didn’t step off the stage immediately, instead, he raised the microphone again. “Thank you,” he said, smiling at the crowd. “I just want to say one more thing before I go. I was an idiot. I did some things I regret. I let fear and work, and my own stubbornness get in the way of the best things in my life.” He looked straight at you. “But this woman right here… and our beautiful daughter… they are the best thing that ever happened to me. All I want is another chance to fix it. To do it right this time.”
The crowd reacted instantly, followed by scattered cheers and shouts of encouragement. Someone near the back yelled, “Give the man another chance!” More voices joined in, “Yeah, go for it!” until it became a playful chant rippling across the theater.
Robby finally stepped off the stage, making his way back to your table amid the lingering applause. Hannah launched herself into his arms the moment he sat down. “Daddy! You sang so good for Mommy!”
You stared at him, your heart still racing from the public love declaration and the serenade. You leaned in close so only he could hear. “You’re an idiot, Robby.”
He turned to you, so close that the scent of tequila and his cologne wrapped around you again. “Yeah. But I’m your idiot.”
You wanted to push him away, to stay angry about the public spectacle and the way he kept blurring every boundary. But with Hannah happily chattering between you two about how “Daddy is the best singer ever,” and the crowd still occasionally glancing your way with fond smiles, it was impossible to ignore the pull.
“Every single word was true.” He brushed your shoulder gently. “I lost so many years, so much time, so many memories I let go because of how I felt, and now the thought of missing one single moment with you kills me. I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not.”
You had to blink back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. For the first time, you believed every single word that left his lips, no doubting, no second-guessing, no walls left to hide behind. After days of fighting him, of pushing back against every word and lingering touch, all you wanted was to pull him close, to bury your face in his chest and tell him you wanted the same thing. That every second you’d wasted fighting him was a second the two of you could have been together, laughing, touching. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” you swallowed. “When you’re not four margaritas in.”
The next morning, you woke before Hannah. You glanced at Robby in the other queen bed. He was still asleep, lying on his back with one arm draped over his stomach, the sheet low on his hips. You moved quietly and sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. For a long moment you just watched him, the morning light highlighting the white hair on his jaw and the lines around his eyes.
Then Robby stirred, fluttering his eyes open slowly, focusing on you with sleepy confusion that quickly shifted into something softer, almost disbelieving. “Am I dreaming?” he murmured as he blinked a few times, pushing himself up on one elbow. “Why are you in bed with me?”
You stayed seated on the edge with your hands in your lap. “Do you remember what happened yesterday?”
He rubbed his face with one hand, still half-asleep. “We went to the water park? Hannah loved the slides…”
“Not that, idiot,” you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Later. The karaoke.”
Robby froze. His eyes widened as the memories clearly flooded back. He let out a long groan and dropped back onto the pillow, covering his face with both hands. “Oh yeah… Jesus. I can’t believe I did that.”
“I bet you’re regretting it now.”
He lowered his hands slowly. “I might be deeply embarrassed. But I don’t regret it. I wanted to do something romantic for you. Something that showed you how I feel.”
You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone light even as your pulse quickened. “Yeah? Nothing more romantic than singing off-key Aerosmith in front of a hundred strangers.”
Robby chuckled and pushed himself up to sit against the headboard. “Come on, it wasn’t that off-key.” His eyes met yours. “I meant every single word I said. About not wanting to miss another second without you. About you and Hannah being the best things that ever happened to me. About wanting another chance.”
You held his gaze for a long moment, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest, breaking down your defences more and more each day. “I heard you loud and clear, Robby.”
Hannah stirred slightly in the other bed but didn’t wake. You stood up slowly, smoothing your sleep shirt. “I’m gonna head to the pools for a bit before she wakes up.”
Robby sat up straighter. “You can’t.”
You turned back to him, raising your eyebrow. “Why not?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish again. “Yesterday I… booked us dancing lessons on the beach. Salsa. For this morning.”
You stared at him. “And why the hell did you do that? Why didn’t you ask me first? I don’t wanna go.”
He let out a helpless laugh. “I don’t know. I was drunk and thought dancing salsa with you on the beach sounded like a great idea at the time.”
You crossed your arms. “Well, I’m not going.”
“Please go with me,” he said wofter now, almost pleading. He looked at you with those warm brown eyes that had always been able to weaken your resolve. “I’ll behave. I promise. Otherwise I’m gonna have to dance with the teacher, and that would be even more embarrassing than last night.”
You stood there in the quiet morning light, part of you still wanted to say no, to keep the boundaries firm, to protect the distance you’d fought so hard to maintain. But you knew if it wasn’t this, then he’d simply come up with another way of putting the two of you together in another situation. Being with him for these days had softened you more than you cared to admit, it had all worn down your defenses. And after every honest word he’d laid bare last night, combined with the way he was looking at you now with that sheepish, boyish smile and those earnest eyes that always saw straight through you, it made it very hard to keep saying no.
After dropping Hannah off at the resort’s supervised kids’ activities center, where she immediately ran off with a group of children to do crafts and play games, you and Robby walked the shaded pathways toward the beach.
The beach dancing area was set up in a beautiful, semi-private cove framed by gently curving palm trees and large rocks. The instructor, a local man, welcomed you both with open arms. “Perfect timing!. Come, come, partners, face each other. We start with the basic steps.”
Robby was a terrible dancer. He tried, God, he tried so hard, but his movements were initially stiff and awkward, his hips resisting the rhythm. He settled his hands on your bare waist with visible hesitation at first, but that hesitation quickly melted into something much hungrier.
The first time the instructor called for a basic side step and Robby pulled you in, he pressed his palm firmly against the small of your back, splaying his fingers wide as if he needed to feel as much of you as possible.
The heat of his touch burned straight through your skin, sending a spark racing up your spine. “Like this?” Robby asked the instructor as he attempted the next step.
His thigh accidentally slid between your legs for balance during a turn, pressing close for a second longer than necessary. You felt the warmth of him, the subtle shift of his hips, and heat pooled in your belly.
The instructor laughed good-naturedly. “Looser hips, my friend! Feel the music. Let it move you.”
Robby tried again, pulling you closer on the next basic. He brushed his chest against yours with every step, the thin fabric of his shirt and your bikini top did nothing to hide the heat of his body.
“This is harder than it looks,” he muttered close to your ear, his breath warm against your neck. He slid his hand a little lower on your back, digging his fingers in with hunger. “But I like having an excuse to hold you like this.”
You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the beat. “You’re terrible at this.”
He grinned as he dipped you slightly on the instructor’s cue. “But I’m trying. For you.”
His body was pressed flush against yours, his hips rolling in what was supposed to be a salsa step but felt far more intimate. The subtle grind, the way his thigh stayed between yours for balance, the hungry way in which he dropped his to your mouth and lower, to the swell of your breasts, made your skin tingle everywhere he touched.
Your pulse thundered in your ears, almost drowning out the music. Every turn, every close hold, every time his hands guided your hips, the tension built higher. He traced possessive circles on your lower back with his fingers. When the music slowed for a moment to practice a more sensual move, he looked down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, like he wanted to devour every inch of you right there on the sand in front of everyone.
You couldn’t take it anymore. You’d tried to fight every single advance he’d made since you both arrived. You’d tried to ignore the way he looked, more tan from the sun, those charming freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, his soft body on full display in nothing but swim trunks. You’d tried to pretend you weren’t affected by the flood of memories rushing back every time he got close, or by the fantasies of what life could look like if you finally let him in. And you were bone-tired of pretending you didn’t want the same thing. Exhausted from denying yourself what your body craved so much, his hands, his mouth, the weight of him pressing you down, the way only he could make you fel.
Mid-step, you grabbed Robby’s hand tightly and started walking, pulling him firmly away from the group and down the beach. The ocean breeze tried cooling the flush on your skin but did nothing to calm the fire in your belly.
Robby stumbled slightly to keep up, surprised but not resisting. “Where are we going?”
You didn’t slow down, already scanning the shoreline ahead. “We’re going to have sex.”
He let out a startled and deep laugh that sent another shiver racing through you. A second later the laugh faded into pure disbelief. “Wait… are you serious?”
You kept walking, your breath coming faster as the arousal intensified with every second that went by without feeling Robby’s touch. “Yes, Michael.”
Robby’s grip on your hand tightened. “Let’s go back to the room then. No risk of anyone seeing—”
“It’s too far,” you cut him off, your voice breathy with need. “And they’re probably cleaning it right now.”
He let out an incredulous laugh, half-aroused, half-amused. “So what? We’re doing it in the wild?”
You glanced back at him, the corner of your mouth twitching despite the heat flooding your body. “Michael, it’s the beach, not the wilderness.”
“Excuse me,” he said, still laughing softly but with clear hunger in his eyes, “But I really like this resort. I don’t want to get banned for life from this chain.”
You stopped for a second, turning to look at him fully. Your voice dropped to a more direct and impatient tone. “You wanna fuck or not?”
His expression shifted instantly, completely undone. “Yes please.”
“Good, then stop complaining.” You kept walking until you found a good spot: a small, semi-secluded cove partially shielded by large rocks and leaning palm trees. The sand here was softer, shaded in patches by the foliage, with a clear but private view of the ocean. You pulled him behind the largest rock formation and Robby followed without hesitation, his hands already sliding to your waist the moment you stopped. The hunger in his touch matched the fire burning in your veins. He pressed you back against the smooth, sun-warmed rock, his body crowding yours, mouth hovering just inches from yours, breath ragged. The tension that had been building since the massage, since the karaoke, since the entire trip finally snapped.
The moment you pulled Robby behind the large, sun-warmed rock, the rest of the world fell away, all that existed was the heat between you, the desperate need that had been simmering since the very beginning of this trip.
You surged forward and kissed him. Robby met you instantly, a hungry sound rumbling in his chest as his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him. His mouth was hot and demanding, and his fingers dug into your hips with desperation. He kissed you like a man who had been starving ever since the last night you shared together, sweeping his tongue into your mouth, claiming, while he slid one up your back to tangle in your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted it.
He broke the kiss just enough to breathe against your lips. “I’ve been dreaming about this. Every single night since we got here. I didn’t think it would actually happen.”
You smiled against his mouth, sliding your hands up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms. “All your stupid tricks finally worked.”
He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours as he roamed his hands restlessly over your body, down your sides, cupping your ass, pulling you harder against the growing hardness in his swim trunks. “All I did was to try and prove you how much I love you,” he murmured. “I want to be with you. Not just fuck you again. I want everything. You, Hannah, us as a family. That’s all it’s ever been about.”
Your hand slid down between you, palming the hard and thick outline of his cock through the fabric. He hissed sharply, jerking his hips forward into your touch. “It was torture,” he rasped, against your ear, “seeing you in that bikini every single day and not being able to touch you. Not being able to do this.”
You squeezed him gently, stroking the length of him through his trunks. “Maybe I wanted to touch your body too.”
He let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan as you rubbed your thumb over the fat head. “I know. I could see the way you watched me. You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”
You couldn’t wait any longer. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of Robby’s swim trunks and pushed them down just enough to free him. His cock sprang out, the thick vein along the underside pulsed visibly as you wrapped your hand around the base, your fingers barely able to close fully around his girth. You stroked him slowly from base to tip, savoring the way he throbbed powerfully in your grip. “It’s your fault for having this fucking body,” you whispered. “It’s just my type.”
Robby let his head fall back against the rock with a moan, bucking his hips into your fist. “I was right,” he managed to say. “That guy the other day at the beach… he wasn’t your type, was he?”
You swept your thumb over the head on every upstroke, spreading the leaking precum and making him even wetter. Robby groaned deeply, jerking forward into your fist as you twisted your wrist just the way he liked, squeezing a little tighter on the way back down. “Please. That guy lacked everything I love in you.”
“Fuck… your hand feels so good,” he rasped. “Been dying to feel you touch me again.” He cursed under his breath, gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks.
You sank slowly to your knees in the sand, until Robby’s cock stood right in front of you, flushed a deep, needy red at the head and already leaking a steady bead of precum. You looked up at him through your lashes, taking in the sight of him towering above you.
As you wrapped one hand around the thick base, the heat of him pulsed strongly against your palm, the weight and girth of him making your mouth water. You started slow, torturously slow. Leaning in, you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the leaking tip, tasting the salty, slightly bitter bead of precum that had gathered there. Robby’s hips jerked forward involuntarily as a whimper escaped from his chest. You kissed it again, slower this time, letting your lips linger as you savored the skin stretched tight over the swollen head.
Then you dragged your tongue in a wet circle around it, tracing every ridge and vein, feeling the way he twitched and throbbed against your tongue with every pass. “Fuck… baby,” he groaned, already wrecked and sounding hoarse. One of his hands came down to gently grab your hair, trembling slightly as his fingers carded through the strands. “Come on… please… Take a little more, baby.”
You smiled against the slick head, barely parting your lips to take just the tip into the wet heat of your mouth. You sucked gently, swirling your tongue lazily around him, giving him only the lightest, teasing pressure. Robby’s moan was loud and needy, his thighs were trembling as he fought the powerful urge to thrust deeper into your mouth.
You pulled back just enough to speak, brushing your lips still against the glistening tip, a thin string of saliva connecting you. “You’ve been thinking about this the whole trip, haven’t you?”
Robby closed his eyes for a second and nodded, almost like he was in pain. Then you took him deeper, sucking more of his length into your mouth. You hollowed our cheeks as you worked him with deliberate bobs of your head, savoring every inch. The taste of him, the salty skin that was so uniquely Robby, made you moan around his cock. The vibration drew another loud, desperate whimper from deep in his throat.
You remembered every little trick he used to love from years ago, the way he liked the flat of your tongue pressing firmly along the sensitive underside, followed immediately by soothing suction, the way you hollowed your cheeks on the upstroke to create that perfect tight pressure. You did them all, eagerly and hungrily, losing yourself in the heavy weight of him on your tongue and the broken, needy sounds he couldn’t hold back no matter how hard he tried.
You slid your free hand between his spread legs, cupping and gently rolling his heavy balls, massaging them with careful pressure. Robby’s head fell back against the rock with a guttural groan that was almost too loud for the public setting. His hips stuttered forward, chasing the wet heat of your mouth as he fought for control.
“God… your mouth,” he panted, forcing his eyes to stay open. He couldn’t stop watching you, the way your lips stretched obscenely around his cock, the spit glistening on your chin and dripping down his shaft, the lust-drunk look in your eyes as you took him deeper with every bob of your head. “I can’t… fuck. You look so fucking good like this, on your knees for me.”
You moaned again around him, and took him as deep as you could, until your nose was brushing the dark, untrimmed hair at his base, holding him there for a long moment while your throat worked around him. You continued playing with his balls, gently tugging and rolling them, feeling them draw up tight as his pleasure built.
Robby’s whimpers turned into full, unrestrained moans. He tightened his fingers almost painfully in your hair as he began rocking his hips shallowly, fucking your mouth with tiny movements. Spit dripped down your chin, coating your hand as you stroked what your mouth couldn’t reach, twisting your wrist on every upstroke just the way he liked.
You pulled off just enough to gasp for air, strings of thick spit connecting your swollen lips to his throbbing cock. “You gotta be quiet,” you whispered, “if you don’t want to attract an audience.”
Robby let out a shaky laugh that quickly dissolved into another deep moan as you licked a long stripe up the entire underside of his cock, tongue pressing firmly against the thick vein there.
“I can’t… I can’t be quiet when I’m finally feeling your mouth again. Fuck, I’ve missed this so much. Missed you so fucking much.”
You took him back in without warning, sucking harder and faster now. Robby’s moans grew louder, more needy, his body trembling as he fought the edge, his thighs shaking beside your head. “Baby… I’m close,” he warned, stuttering his hips forward. “So fucking close—”
You kept going, eager to push him over the edge, dying to feel his thick load flooding your mouth, but Robby suddenly pulled you off with a desperate groan. He hauled you up to your feet with strength. His cock, slick and throbbing and coated in your spit, pressed against your stomach. “Not yet,” he rasped. “Not like this. I want more. I want all of you.”
With a growl, he spun you around, pressing your front firmly against the rock. Your cheek rested against the stone as he yanked the ties of your bikini bottoms loose with impatient fingers until the fabric slid down your legs and pooled at your ankles. You kicked it aside impatiently, leaving yourself completely bare from the waist down.
One of Robby’s large hands slid up your body from behind, slipping under the fabric of your bikini top. His palm was hot as it cupped your breast fully, squeezing the soft flesh with blatant hunger. He found your already hard nipple and rolled it slowly between thumb and forefinger, pinching just hard enough to send sparks of pleasure shooting straight down to your dripping core. You gasped, arching your back and pressing your breast harder into his hand, craving more of that delicious sting.
At the same time, he dipped his other hand between your legs from behind, dragging two thick fingers teasingly through your soaked folds, parting them and spreading your slick arousal everywhere. The wetness coated his fingers as he explored you, rubbing up and down your slit before finally finding your puffy clit. He circled it with the pad of his middle finger, pressing it just right, making your thighs tremble and your knees threaten to buckle against the rock.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” his voice was rough with lust. “This pussy is dripping for me already. You’ve been aching for my cock, huh?”
You moaned loudly and pushed back against his hand desperately. “Robby… I can’t wait anymore,” you gasped. “I need you inside me. Now. Please.”
He pressed a wet kiss to the back of your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth possessively. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned.
You felt the blunt head of his cock nudge against your entrance, sliding through your slick folds once, twice, teasing you both. Then, with one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you.
The stretch was like something you never felt before, overwhelming and full, exactly what you’d been craving for days. Robby filled you completely, his cock dragged against every spot inside as he bottomed out with a satisfied groan.
He stayed there for a long moment, buried to the hilt, both of you breathing hard together, his chest pressed flush against your back, one hand still massaging and kneading your breast, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks.
Then he started moving, he was slow at first, giving you deep and rolling thrusts that let you feel every single inch of him. Robby snapped his hips forward deliberately, driving his cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach. The wet sound of skin meeting skin mixed beautifully with the waves and your shared, breathy moans.
Robby’s grip on your hip tightened as he gradually picked up the pace, fucking you harder, deeper. “God, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned right against your ear. One of his hands left your breast, sliding down your body until it reached your ass. He grabbed a full, greedy handful of the rounded flesh, squeezing hard enough to leave marks as he spread you open wider for him, pulling your cheeks apart so he could watch every inch of his cock as it disappeared inside your greedy pussy. Your arousal coated his shaft, strings of wetness connecting you every time he pulled back, only to slam in deeper. “So tight… so wet for me. Been thinking about this pussy every single day on this trip. You’re creaming all over me, baby. Can you feel how deep I am?”
You moaned loudly, pushing back to meet every powerful thrust. The rock was warm against your front, your breasts kept rubbing against it with every movement. He leaned over you more, changing the angle so he could fuck you even deeper, snapping his hips forward with raw purpose now. “You’re mine,” he growled against your ear. “This pussy is mine. You’re mine. Say it.”
You could only moan in response at first, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. “Y-yours.”
He grabbed your hips with both hands, digging his fingers in hard as he pulled you back onto his cock with every thrust. “Fuck, Robby… harder,” you gasped, still pushing back against him. “Don’t stop.”
“Never,” he growled, slamming into you deeper. “Not gonna stop until you’re coming all over my cock.”
You moaned louder, unable to hold back. Robby’s hand left your hip and slid up your body, pressing two fingers firmly against your lips. “Suck on them,” he growled hotly against your skin. “Before someone hears how well I’m fucking you. Be a good girl for me.”
You parted your lips obediently, taking his fingers deep into your mouth. You sucked on them eagerly, swirling your tongue around the digits just like you had around his cock earlier. Robby groaned deeply at the feeling of your muffled moans against his fingers, his hips slamming into you harder.
With his other hand, Robby found your swollen, aching clit. He pressed his digit firmly against the bundle of nerves, rubbing tight circles with exactly the pressure he knew drove you wild. He alternated between teasing strokes and faster, more insistent ones, never letting the rhythm become predictable. The dual sensation was devastating, not only his cock stretching and pounding into you from behind, but now his fingers working your clit relentlessly.
“That’s it,” he rasped as he fucked you even deeper. “Suck my fingers while I ruin this pussy. You’re so fucking wet for me. Been thinking of it since the dance lesson, haven’t you? I could feel how soaked you were the whole time I was touching you.”
You moaned around his fingers, the sound vibrating against them as you sucked harder. Your legs shook uncontrollably. “Come for me,” he rubbed your clit faster and harder. “I want to feel you squeezing my cock when you cum. Let me feel how much you need this. How much you’ve been aching for me.”
The tension snapped, your orgasm crashing over you hard and suddenly. You cried out around his fingers, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his thick cock, fluttering and squeezing him tightly as waves of overwhelming pleasure rolled through your entire body.
Robby’s thrusts grew erratic as he chased his own release. “Fuck… you feel so good when you cum. So tight. I’m so close, baby.” He kept fucking you through your orgasm, drawing it out with deep strokes, his fingers still rubbing your oversensitive clit in gentler circles. His voice was completely wrecked when he spoke again. “Can I finish inside? Please… I need to fill you up. I need to cum inside you.”
You pulled off his fingers just enough to gasp out. “Yes. Cum inside me. Fill me up, Robby. I want it so much.”
That was all he needed. Robby buried himself as deep as possible with a broken moan as he came. You felt every pulse as he emptied himself inside you, hot ropes of cum flooding your pussy in thick spurts. He kept thrusting through it, as if he wanted to push every single drop of his fat load as far inside you as possible. His body trembled against yours as he pressed his forehead to the back of your neck, breathing raggedly against your sweat-slicked skin.
Robby wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you close as he softened inside you, placing lazy kisses along your shoulder and the back of your neck. His cum slowly leaked down your thigh in sticky trails, mixing with your own wetness.
Eventually, you shifted, feeling the pleasant ache between your legs and the reality of where you were. You reached down, picked up your discarded bikini bottoms from the sand, and slowly tied them back on with slightly shaky fingers. Robby stayed close, resting his hands on your hips, stroking circles with his thumbs as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.
“We should go pick up Hannah,” you said softly, still sounding a little hoarse.
Robby didn’t move right away, he turned you gently to face him, cupping your face with his hands. “Wait,” he murmured. “What does this mean? Just admit it and stop fooling yourself. Tell me you want this as much as I do. That you want to be with me too. That you never minded sharing a room, or getting a couple’s massage, or taking dancing lessons. Tell me you actually like spending time together like this.”
You looked up at him, the vulnerability in his voice made your chest ache, and after an intense orgasm like the one he’d just given you, you couldn’t even fool yourself. You took a slow breath. “Yes… I do,” you admitted. “I like being with you, Robby. I like the sex. I like how you make me laugh. I like talking to you. I like… all of it.” His eyes lit up with hope, but you continued before he could speak. “But what happens with me? What happens with Hannah if you change your mind? If the charm wears off once we’re back home, dealing with real life.”
Robby’s expression turned serious, almost pained. He cupped your face more firmly, brushing your cheeks. “I wouldn’t go through all of this if I weren’t a hundred percent sure of what I feel and what I want. Hannah is the most important thing in my life. I’d die before hurting her. Or you. I’m not going anywhere this time. I promise.”
You searched his eyes, tears pricking at the corners of yours. “How can I believe you?”
He smiled softly, a little sheepish. “I sang in front of a crowd for you. That has to count for something.”
You laughed despite yourself. “This whole trip has been so nice… but real life isn’t a beach resort with massages and dancing lessons.”
Robby pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “I want you when you’re tired from work. Sweaty, your hair a mess, exhausted. I want the long nights when we’re both too drained to speak, and the fights when we’re frustrated and still choose each other every single day. I want all of it.” He kissed you softly, then pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “Please… I’ve missed so much already, don’t let me miss another thing.”
You smiled, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. You leaned in and kissed him again, slow and deep, full of everything you’d been holding back. When you pulled away, he searched your face with hopeful eyes. “Is that a yes?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
You smiled wider. “It’s a maybe.”
He kissed you again, deeper this time. “Say yes.”
You laughed softly against his lips. “Maybe.”
Another kiss, sweeter. “Yes?”
You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes.”
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A/N: I feel like, the way it happens in a lot of media, second parts are never quite as good as the first one. But people wanted a second part, and I wanted to write one too, so here’s what I came up with. I hope it wasn’t too long or boring. I’m so thankful for all the love and support the first part got. It genuinely makes me so happy to see that people enjoyed it🥹
There’s honestly so much I could write about these two, but it already felt long as it is. I don’t think I’ll write a third part, to be honest.
Summary: Robby comes home early from his sabbatical to find you, the resident neither he nor Jack were supposed to touch, fucking the night’s shift attending.
Warnings: age gap, implied power-imbalance Smut| getting caught, unprotected p in v sex, creampie(s), voyerism, pet-names for reader, praising, Dr. Michael ‘monster cock’ Robinavitch.
“Jesus Christ”
You were on your attending’s lap, busy riding the man, completely naked, sweaty, and flushed, when Dr. Robby opened the door.
“This isn’t exactly what I imagined when I asked you to house sit for me.”
Your mouth was open in a gasp, eyes wide with mortification as you froze from embarrassment.
Dr. Robinavitch had just caught you fucking Dr. Abbot... on his couch.
“Brother” Jack grinned as he looked behind him, not even a little fazed at the interruption. “You came back early.”
You could feel your face setting on fire as you desperately tried to think of what to do.
Robby’s eyes weren’t on you anymore as he got rid of his jacket and boots… this would be the perfect time to get up and scurry away towards the bedroom… Robby’s bedroom— Shit.
Your hands went to cover your bare tits as you tried to come up with something else.
“Decided to cut my sabbatical short,” Robby was explaining, “You all were right- as it turns out, I can’t go more than a month without the ED.”
You heard and felt Jack’s snicker, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles where he still held your waist.
His hard cock was still deep inside you, and as much as you hated having to depart from it, you really needed to get off and try to at least regain some decency.
Which is what you tried to do. You began rising from Jack’s lap, but in an instant, his eyes were on you, his brows furrowed.
“Where you going, sweetheart?”
He can’t be serious right now.
You glanced pointedly at Robby behind him, your voice barely a whisper as you murmured his name.
“It’s alright, honey, Robby doesn’t mind,” he spoke softly, his hands caressing you softly. “Do you, Robby?”
Robby’s soft chuckle came from somewhere closer than where he’d previously been.
“I sure don’t,” He was smirking once you slowly raised your gaze.
He’d walked to the edge of the couch, right behind Jack.
You felt your face burn with embarrassment- and yet your pussy clenched harder around Abbot as you caught Michael’s eyes drink you in.
“We were having such a good time,” Jack murmured, his mouth on your collarbones as he pecked your skin, “Would be a shame to stop now.”
Oh God, he was being serious.
“Jack- I-”
Were you dreaming? Was this one of the sick fantasies that materialized in your mind whenever Robby and Abbot were both on shift, and you had to squeeze your tights together at how incredibly hot of a pair they made?
Everything seemed to point in that direction, except for the fact that the feel of Jack’s fingers removing your hands from your naked chest was very much real- the same went for Robby’s voice.
“You know, sweetheart... we had a talk about you before I went away.”
You were bare again now, and Jack was making use of the space, filling it with delicious, taunting kisses as Michael spoke.
“Decided none of us were gonna try anything... didn’t wanna take advantage of you or anything….” His voice was rough and soft all at once as his hand went to cradle your cheek, “and now look at that.”
Heat bloomed low in your belly and on your cheeks as you heard yourself whimper.
What he was saying was… unbelievable. They liked you- both of them. Just as you liked them.
This was really happening- Dr. Robinavitch was watching you as you sat on Dr. Abbot’s cock. And they both looked incredibly casual, as if this were a daily occurrence.
“Since when has this been going on?”
When you didn’t answer, Jack stopped his ministrations on your neck to speak, “Just two weeks, man.”
“Is he lying to me?” Robby asked you, his head tilted in doubt.
“N-no,” You murmured as you cowered under his stare.
To that, he smirked, shaking his head as he muttered, “A week- that’s how long you lasted.”
“C’mon, man- you knew it was bound to happen.” Jack groaned, looking at you with a smirk as his mouth ghosted yours, “You’re too pretty not to do something about it.”
You felt your heart skip, and your hips involuntarily grind against Jack’s lap- causing you to whimper pathetically.
“Oh sweetheart…” Abbot cooed, his hands going back to rest on your hips, “Go on, take what you need.”
There was nothing you wanted to do more. As unusual as this situation was, you were so turned on that you feared you’d start dripping on the couch any second now.
Yet you watched the two men uncertainly, biting your lip as you went against your instinct to use Jack’s manhood to feel good.
“Go on, baby,” Robby encouraged you once your eyes settled on him, “Do as he said.”
His palm was still on your cheek, his thumb pulling on your lower lip to free it from your teeth’s grip… and you had no choice but to obey.
You started slow, shily grinding onto him, feeling Jack’s dick graze and reach all those sweet spots inside of you as your clit rubbed against his base.
Your mouth hung open as soft whines filtered through your throat. Robby’s hands held your face so you could only look at him- and the look in his eyes… the darkness in his iris and the locking of his jaw gave you all the more incentive to go faster.
You began raising yourself on Jack’s dick just to slide back down again until you found the delicious pace from before your interruption.
Your moans weren’t so quiet anymore as you struggled to keep your eyes open and gripped Jack’s shoulders for dear life, your nails probably leaving crescent moons on his skin.
“So good for me, baby,” Jack murmured against your neck, resuming his kisses on your salty skin as he thoroughly enjoyed the show. “Such a good girl.”
You cried like a desperate little thing at that, his dick hitting that spongy spot inside of you that had you feeling on cloud nine.
“Jack feels good, baby?” Robby’s voice felt muffled, as if the pleasure was acting as a sound shield.
“Y-yes,” You whined, your voice breathless, your movements more and more desperate, “B-big,” you cried brokenly.
You felt Abbot’s growl vibrate against your chest at that, and seconds later, you felt his mouth against your ear as he whispered loud enough for Robby to hear, “You’ve seen nothing yet.”
You didn’t have the brain capacity to understand what he meant by that, or to analyze the grin that spread Michael’s lips at those words, because all you could focus on was the growing sensation that sparked in your belly.
“Oh my god,” You whined, your thighs burning with the effort as the sound of your skin slapping with Jack’s echoed against the walls.
“It’s ok, baby,” Robby murmured, watching closely as your eyes almost closed and your brows furrowed in bliss, “You’re doing so good.”
You didn’t even realize you were doing it, but as Robby guided his thumb into your mouth, instinctually, your lips closed around it, sucking him in further.
“That’s it, baby,” he nodded, the weight of his finger on your tongue making you wish it was replaced by his cock. And that image… that image made your orgasm approach even faster.
Your moans were silenced by Robby’s thumb, but Jack could feel your walls gripping him like a vice.
“Let go, sweetheart,” he commanded, kissing the spot right beneath your ear. “Be a good girl and show Robby how pretty you look when you come.”
That was it.
You didn’t even have time to mentally prepare yourself that a bright white flash of pure ecstasy overtook your soul.
You came like the world would end tomorrow, your pussy spasming around Jack as he couldn’t help but follow suit.
Somewhere in the frenzy, you could hear Abbot’s groans while Robby murmured what appeared to be soft words to you, his hand never leaving your face.
The pounding of your heart thumped in your ears as you tried to calm your breathing.
Your eyes fluttered open to both the men looking at you, Jack’s eyes soft with gratification and adoration, while Robby’s irises swirled with lust and just plain need.
“You wanna switch?”
Jack’s words didn’t even make sense to you. You were still lost in the haze of what had just happened.
“Not on the couch, man.” Robby shook his head, his lips pulling into a small smile as he watched you. “Let’s get on the bed, baby.”
__ __ __
Your legs felt like jelly as Robby towered over you.
You knew what was happening, and yet your brain was still buffering.
His lips were so close to yours… just a few inches and you’d be kissing him.
But that’s not what he had in mind.
“Lay down for me, baby.”
You blinked, needing a second to understand his command and do as told.
The mattress was soft, the comfy duvet wrinkling underneath you as you laid back, your wide eyes watching him.
With a quick move, he removed his shirt, throwing it behind him… in the direction of Abbot.
Your breath hitched at the sight of him leaning against the wall, his eyes dark as he watched the scene unfold.
By the time you looked back, Robby was naked- and your lungs took another toll.
You were propped on your elbows, shamelessly eying all of him. His broad chest, the dark hair on his pecs, on his belly, until your gaze lowered just enough to catch his cock-
You were pretty sure you’d stopped breathing completely.
That’s what they’d been talking about.
You really had seen nothing yet.
You swallowed dryly as his big hand wrapped around his dick, giving it two slow strokes that had him seemingly grow even more.
Your eyes were wide as he stalked closer to you, his smirk everlasting.
“R-Robby,” you stuttered, clearly intimidated.
“’S alright, baby. I’ll go real slow.”
“I-I- How…”
“Don’t worry about it,” he shook his head, “spread your legs for me, baby.”
And even if your heart was going crazy and your brain was telling you that was an impossible fit, you did as told.
“Wider.”
You slid your feet further across the bed, opening yourself up to him completely, eliciting a delighted groan.
“Pretty,” he murmured, his palm going to your mound and his thumb moving to your folds, exploring slowly.
Jack’s come was still leaking out of you, creating a sultry mixture with your own juices.
Your cheeks heated at his unabashed gaze, but then his other hand grabbed the base of his manhood, his tip suddenly parting your folds, and all thoughts left your head.
You were whimpering already, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and Michael would have done anything to record those sweet sounds and listen to them on repeat all day long.
“It’s ok, baby, relax for me.” That’s all he murmured, as he started guiding his impossibly thick tip inside of you.
“Oh!” You gasped, your eyes wide open as you watched him thrust into you.
He was looking at where your bodies melted into one another, watching your greedy pussy swallow him in.
The stretch burned at first- he had the biggest cock you’d ever seen after all- counting porn- but his soft growls and groans were making you all the more pliant.
His thumb started circling your clit to help you out as broken cries fled your throat.
He was retracting his hips just to thrust softly into you, over and over again, filling you up inch by never-ending inch.
“O-Oh my god,” You were crying, your hands fisting the sheets as he kept going.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” he reassured you, his free hand tight on our waist. “Stretching so good for me- such a good girl.”
Your walls tightened around him at that, causing him to hiss.
“Let me in- just like that… good girl”
You knew the moment he was in to the hilt, because you could barely breathe at the feeling of how unbelievably full you felt.
Breathy gasps spilled from your lips as your gazes met.
“Told you you could do it,” he smirked, before he started to move.
The moan you let out at the first full, deep thrust was more of a scream.
“Robby!” you gasped, your fingers gripping his forearm as he started building his pace.
His back hurt like a motherfucker from all those hours on his bike, but he’ll be damned if he denied himself this sight.
“He always makes you do all the work?”
How his voice was still so even when you could barely breathe, let alone think, was a mystery.
You want to tell him the truth, that no, Jack was usually very much adamant in his need to take care of you, to pin you beneath him and fuck you thoroughly well into the day… but all you could manage was a whine.
You watched his lips pull into a grin at the state he’d rendered you in.
“Oh, c’mon, brother, I’ve just come back from a twelve-hour shift,” Jack defended himself from his spot against the wall as your eyes found him.
You could see from the bed, even with his boxers back on, that he was hard again.
God, this was all so hot.
The way both their eyes were only focused on you as Robby’s thrusts had you bouncing up on the bed, your tits moving in tandem with his harsh movements…
“And she hasn’t?” Robby raised his brows, shooting Jack a quick, disappointed look, before coming back to you.
“You don’t have to worry about it now, baby,” he spoke softly, the thumb he still had on your bundle of nerves resuming its torturous movements. “I’ll take care of you like you deserve from now on.”
You felt butterflies in your stomach at those words.
Your hips were chasing his movements, forcing the loud smacking of his skin hitting your core over and over again to get even louder.
You could feel every inch of his dick inside you, every vein and ridge slide against your velvety walls as his tip speared you and reached parts of you no one ever could find but him.
And with a feeling like that… it was inevitable for tears to gather in your eyes, your vision blurring as a knot of pleasure tightened inside you.
“Oh baby, I know it’s a lot.” his voice was calming, soothing your overexited system.
It was a lot. He was a whole damn lot.
“Just take it,” he cooed, “Don’t think about it, sugar, just be good for me and Jack, yeah?”
You slowly nodded, tears rolling down your temples and onto the sheets as the air filled with your moans.
“That’s it, pretty girl— that’s it.”
And suddenly, it was all too much.
“I-I- Oh my-”
He groaned at how tight you got. His chest inflating with the effort not to come on the spot.
“Let go, baby,” he instructed. “Be a good girl and come for me.”
The last thing you saw was his smile; everything after that was sort of a blur.
A tidal wave of pleasure washed over your body; you were pretty sure you were moaning his name like a prayer as you experienced a mind-blowing orgasm.
Your eyes and ears started functioning again as Robby’s thrusts got sloppier, more erratic.
He grinned as you whimpered at the overstimulation, his groans getting louder as he got closer, until he spilled inside you with a feral roar.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed after several moments, slowly pulling out of you.
Jack had gotten beside him somewhere in the meantime, and both men’s eyes fell to the release spilling out of your spent core.
“C’mere,” you whined, breaking them out of their amazed trance.
They both smiled, and it was Jack who joined you on the bed first, moving you so your head could rest on the pillow as he spooned you, wrapping his arms around you.
“You did real good, sweetheart,” he murmured to your ear, his stubble grazing your skin as your eyes fluttered shut.
You were exhausted.
You didn’t even hear Robby lying down next to you until he placed your head to rest on his chest.
“So… am I gonna have to sanitize every surface of the house?”
A soft laugh fled your throat as Jack grinned amusedly.
“The kitchen should be saf—” The look you sent Jack had him suddenly remember all the alternative meals he’d consumed on the kitchen counter. “No, yeah… the whole apartment.”
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