yearning

a lover | she/her | 18 | on a tiny hiatus 😅

[lemonpeppermintstickshift]

pepper | she/her | 18 | down bad for boys i can’t fix

about me

masterlist

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favorites | frank langdon x reader

requests: open! keep em coming

minors dni. you will be blocked.

all of my work belongs to me and only me. it is not to be posted anywhere else.

enjoy your stay :)

[lemonpeppermintstickshift]

i'm obsessed with all your Frank stuff!!!

Do you have anything else planned for him???

i have two requests currently sitting in my inbox! i’m slowly working on them one by one, but unfortunately i’ve been so busy recently so it may be a slow process to get them finished 💔 trying to be fast as possible!

[lemonpeppermintstickshift]

if ur doing request… anything frank lol

maybe like nurse!reader x frank or something like that.. unless ur tired of writing for him ofc! <3

favorites - f. langdon x fem!reader

summary: frank knows he's not supposed to have favorites in the workplace, but there's just something about you that he can't seem to resist, for better or for worse.

warnings: SMUT (minors dni, 18+ only), (slight?) infidelity, frank is a munch, fingering, p in v, protected sex, no use of y/n, frank has no kids!! mentions of divorce, regular pitt gore, idiots in love

author's note: I'M FINALLY DONE GET THIS OUT OF MY DRAFTS!! thank you for the request anon!! i hope i did it justice. something actually took over me while writing this... i don't condone infidelity but.......

wc: 9.1k

Frank knew he wasn't supposed to have favorites. 

Really, favorites—or any sort of personal bias—is unprofessional. It’s especially unprofessional in his line of work, where you’re expected to be able to operate with anyone regardless of your own personal feelings or partiality. And, for a while, Frank understood and abided by this rule. Sure, it was hard sometimes to work alongside Santos after he finished his leave from rehab, but even their strained relationship had morphed into something more respectable these days. Frank liked to believe he treated everyone the same. In Frank's eyes, he has no favorites. 

Well, except you.  

You’re a different story. Something a little more... complicated. You’re a difficult thing to describe, Frank thinks, and an even more difficult thing to behold. You’re impossibly smart, witty, quick on your feet, hard when you need to be and sweet when you can. All of these things draw Frank to you, and he has a hard time understanding why. 

When Frank came back to the Pitt after his leave of absence, terrified out of his mind about jumping back into the environment where he once fell down a hole too deep, he was convinced maybe his return was a bad idea. Maybe, after all this time, the voices were right. He shouldn’t be allowed to be a doctor. 

These whispers swirled in his head like poisonous ivy on brick walls, growing their way to the core of his brain where they planted and nursed the most horrid of self loathing thoughts. Frank was halfway through his first shift back, contemplating the validity of what the voices had been saying to him, when he saw you for the first time. 

You were tucked away into a corner, medicine bottle in hand as you bit your bottom lip, listening intently as Mateo rattled off some unimportant patient details. You nodded every once in a while to prove you were paying attention, your dedication shown through your body language and intense facial expression. 

It didn't take long for Frank to realize you were a nurse, and a new one at that. You still had that anxious air surrounding you—one that Frank knew all too well. 

He attempted to listen to what Collins was saying to him—really, he was trying. But his eyes kept drifting to the side of your face, the curve of your hips, the small smile that escaped you when he overheard Mateo trying to soothe your nerves. He couldn’t look away.

From then on, it was difficult for him not to treat you differently. 

If there was any opportunity to have a nurse on a case, whether that be administering medication, patient assessments, or monitoring vitals, your name was the first thing out of Frank's mouth. Yes, he knows there are many talented nurses in the Pitt, but none of them were quite like you. None of them worked so well with him, none of them understood and returned his playful banter the way you did, none of them could take one look at his facial expression and determine exactly what was necessary for him to succeed in the way you always did.

It was almost magical the way he felt around you. In between stolen snacks from the staff lounge, shifts that ran overtime, and shared caffeine addictions, Frank grew fond of you, against his best wishes.

But it was so hard for him to fight it. He attempted, he really did. For a while he didn’t return your morning smiles, he feigned annoyance at your weekend updates with Mohan, but it was all futile. You were intoxicating—funny, gorgeous, sarcastic, and most unfortunately for him, engaged. 

That was the second thing Frank had noticed about you his first day back: the sparkling rock on your left hand. He had to admit, it was a sizable ring, which made it all the worse. It was salt in the wound. Frank, a man who had just gotten over his marriage, enthralled with you, a woman about to enter into hers. The irony was not lost on him. 

He watched in the following months as you let loose a few small details about your fiancé. Things like how you met (at a coffee shop, boring if you asked Frank), what he looked like (blonde, Frank never trusted grown men with blonde hair), and his name (Chad. Don’t get Frank started).

With every mention of your wedding, with every compliment of your ring, it felt like someone was dragging nails across a chalkboard directly in Frank’s ear. Chad’s presence irked him in a way he wasn’t able to understand, or rather, in a way he didn’t want to accept.

One sided affection was growing increasingly difficult for him. He felt crazy, desperate, running his fingers through his hair at night and asking himself, why didn’t he meet you sooner? But Frank knew, deep down, there was nothing he could do to change the fate of your relationship. You were happily engaged to a man you loved, who loved you. It didn’t matter that he noticed the way your lips tugged into a smile the first time Frank caught your eye during the day, or the packet of goldfish you’d slide his way halfway through his shift, or even the quiet moments you two have had in the stairwell together after a particularly difficult case. There was no hope for him. 

So, Frank took what he could get. Sure, it was blatant favoritism, but Frank couldn’t bring himself to care. 

//

“Okay! I think you're all done.” You smile, patting your palms on the tops of your scrub clad thighs. The elderly woman in front of you, staring at her freshly dressed numb burn wound, beams back at you with a grateful expression as her frail hands clasp together in appreciation. Her young daughter that sits right by her side looks at you before saying, “Thank you, miss. For being so kind.” 

“Absolutely, my pleasure.” You respond, beginning to clean up the materials around you. “And, Ma’am, do you remember your steps for after you're discharged?”

“Yes, I think I’ve got it.” The mother begins to reply. “No harsh chemicals, only soap and water before the antibacterial cream, and then change the bandage daily.” 

“Yup, you got it. If there are any complications, if the pain suddenly becomes unbearable or if there's any swelling or pus, come right back here and we’ll get you sorted.” You explain.

The kind woman thanks you again as her daughter helps her up and out of the room, making sure to give you one last smile on her way out. You give a small wave back just as a familiar face approaches you.

“Feel like helping me today?” Langdon asks as you turn to look at him. His brown hair falls in front of his face as he angles his eyes down to meet yours. Something swirls in his irises, something familiar and warm, and you find yourself feeling clammy at the sight. 

You roll your eyes in fake annoyance, clearing your throat. “It’s only 11 and you're already asking for my help?”

“Pretty please?” He says, his voice turning syrupy and low. His bottom lip juts out into a pout. You find your eyes trailing over his oh so soft looking mouth. “Robby and I have a patient in Trauma 1 that I need you for, like asap.”

You laugh and shake your head as you give him a silent nod. You’ve never been able to say no to Frank, and he knows it. He grins in response, flashing you his million dollar smile before turning around, motioning you to follow him.

You try not to let his words swirl around in your head as you trail behind him, but somehow they find their way to the forefront of your mind. 

I need you.

For the next thirty minutes, you and Frank are glued to each other's side as you work in Trauma 1. Where Frank goes, you follow. You’re there for it all—the first time the patient codes, the blood transfusion you assist on, the frantic calls from Frank as Robby rushes into the room, it all swirls around you and him like a complex symphony. 

Frank watches you in admiration, though you’re so engrossed with the task at hand that you fail to see it. His eyes follow as you skirt around the room, listening to every order Robby gives you, nodding and jumping into action. This is one of the things he admires the most about you—your dedication. The silent way you accept direction without hesitation.

The thirty minutes pass like seconds. Before you know it, the patient is stable, and you watch as Frank and Robby chat quietly. You don’t feel like interrupting their seemingly private conversation, so you take your leave and head to the staff lounge, rubbing the soreness out of your shoulders as you walk down the halls. 

In the privacy of the staff lounge, you take a quiet minute to yourself. You crack open another redbull and give a sigh of relief at the taste. You need the boost this morning—you felt restless last night, tossing and turning in the comfort of your bed. A million things were running through your mind as you attempted to sleep. You tell yourself to get a grip, to shake it off. There are more important things to worry about, better things to do with your time than lament on things you shouldn't be thinking of.

When you think you’re beginning to take too much time, you force yourself back on to the floor. You walk fast towards the direction you last saw Dana, hoping to chat with your charge nurse for a few minutes before tagging along with Perlah and Princess. You’re so engrossed in your own mind—still replaying the same thoughts that kept you up last night—that you don’t see the shine of the floor below you, somehow missing the bright yellow bucket full of soapy water.

You don’t see the puddle of liquid in front of you until you’re slipping in it, falling backwards and smacking your head on the linoleum tile with a gasp. Pain blossoms at the base of your skull as your body lays on the ground. Your eyes flutter softly, vision turning blurry before, eventually, it fades to black.

//

Your ears are ringing. 

Someone is faintly yelling words you can't quite pick up somewhere in the background. You feel a pair of hands behind your neck as someone is propping your head up, and just when you think you may have escaped this incident unharmed, just as your eyes begin to squint open and you make out the face of Dana and Robby, the back of your head throbs.  

“Oh, motherfucking christ—” You sputter, attempting to sit up. “Jesus that hurts.”

“Hey hey. Take it easy, kid.” Robby orders, grabbing one of your arms to help steady you. 

Dana crouches down beside him, immediately handing you an ice pack that feels freezing against your palm. You accept it gratefully as your eyes continue to adjust to the harsh fluorescent lighting of the ED. 

“Quite a fall you took there,” Dana starts. “Here, let me check to see if your head's bleedin’.”

You groan as her hand ghosts against the back of your skull, hissing when the tips of her fingers barely come into contact with your pulsing skin. When she removes her fingers to examine them, they’re dry, which is a relief—at least you won’t need stitches.

“Do you know where you are?” You hear Robby ask. 

“I’m in hell,” you reply. You watch as a little of the concern melts from his face, a small smile replacing the serious expression he had been sporting since he watched you slip. 

“We should examine you for a concussion,” he continues, beginning to stand back up. Your ass is still firmly planted on the floor, one hand propping yourself up as the other ghosts the ice pack against your temple. Your entire head feels like it's on fire, like someone just took a wooden mallet and went crazy against the inside of your mind. 

You're just about to take Robby’s helping hand up when the sound of rushing footsteps catches your attention.

“What the fuck?” You hear Langdon say, and you don’t have to turn to know the way he’s looking at you. Your head starts to pound even further. “What the hell happened?”

“I acquainted myself with the floor,” you mumble, finally taking the aid to get yourself back on two legs. You feel like a baby deer finding its footing for the first time, wobbling slightly back and forth as you try and steady yourself. 

“Are you okay?” Langdon asks, his arms finding their way to yours, attempting to help stabilize you. 

“I’m fine, totally good. Just embarrassed.” You laugh, immediately regretting it as you wince from the pain.

“How hard did you hit your head?” He asks, eyes scanning over your face. He turns to Robby before asking, “Has anyone assessed for a concussion?”

“No, not yet, I was just abo—”

“Someone help me!” A voice cries out. 

Robby, Dana, and Frank tense immediately. Your reaction time is a little slower, and you’re still a little confused until you see Whitaker on the floor, attempting to stop the convulsions of an elderly man currently laying on the floor. 

“Jesus, we got people dropping like flies!” Dana yells before running over to help the poor fourth year med student. Robby isn’t far behind her, grumbling to himself about how he can't catch a fucking break, how its always one thing or another. 

“Langdon!” He booms from across the room. “Take over for me. Check her for anything, I gotta go.”

Frank gives him a wordless nod, taking no time before leading you towards an empty room not too far away. You feel like a grandma being walked across the street. Langdon’s hands are wrapped around your body, guiding you towards the seat of the bed before they remove themselves, shutting the door behind you both. 

“It’s a fucking shit show out there,” he breathes as he swiftly brings up a stool, positioning himself in front of you. “We’ve got doctors cracking their skulls open, patients seizing on floors—it's not even lunch.”

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t planning on practically seeing god today.” You huff. “Holy shit my head hurts.” 

“Yeah, let’s make sure you didn’t give yourself permanent brain damage.”

He wheels himself around the room in a comfortable manner, like he's done so many times before. His fingers wrap against the cool metal of a flashlight, and before you know it he's shining it in your face, making you flinch.

“Jesus! A little warning, please?” You hiss.

“Sorry, sorry.” He smiles sheepishly. “Just let me check out your pupils and then I’ll turn it off.”

He scooches his stool closer to you, finding a respectable place that is semi in between your legs. There's still enough distance that it's professional, but it's just close enough that it makes you sweat. 

“Can you tell me your name?” He finally says, clicking the flashlight off. You assume that means your pupils are fine, and he’s moving on to the cognitive aspect of his makeshift exam. You roll your eyes. You're almost positive you don’t have a concussion, just the makings of an incredibly nasty bruise and bump, yet you answer him anyway.

“And what day is it?”

“Wednesday.”

“The…?” 

“The twelfth, jesus. Do you want the year too?”

“I wouldn’t say no.”

You playful wave your hand, dismissing him. The pain in your head has slowly receded, not as prominent as it originally was. It thrums slightly in the background, though, not completely over.

“Alright, can you look at my finger?” He starts again, breaking the small silence. He holds his index finger in front of your face. “I’m just gonna move this around, and I want you to follow it, okay?”

“Yes, Dr. Langdon,” you attempt to tease, but your voice comes out lower than expected. You watch as Frank swallows hard.

“Tell me what you did this morning.” He stares intensely into your eyes as he asks the question, still moving his finger around the peripheral of your vision. You follow your order, eyes never leaving his hand as you think of your answer, hoping you don't seem as frazzled as you feel. Did he get closer or are you imagining things?

“Woke up. Ate breakfast. Came to work. Helped on a couple different cases before the one with you and Robby. Went to the staff lounge to down a redbull and before I knew it I was slipping on the wet floor.”

“Good, okay.” He breathes. He stops moving his finger around which allows you to look at him once more. His stethoscope hangs loosely around his black scrub top, the white of his undershirt peeking through his collar as his chest slowly rises and falls. He looks handsome today. Yet again, he always looks handsome, and you find yourself biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from telling him that very same thing.

“You were great this morning. With Robby and I, I mean. You handled it like a champ.”

“Thanks,” you whisper. You never know what to do when Frank compliments you. “It’s all you guys. You’re easy to work with.”

“Yeah, but you were collected. Purposeful. Calm. Even when Mateo almost threw up.” He chuckles.

“I try.” You say, and it’s true. You always try. You always give it your best, but it's just easier with Frank. You’re not sure why.

“I’m gonna take your temp now.” He decides, rolling away from you for a second to get a thermometer. 

“That feels a little unnecessary,” you say. You don’t want to be a bother—Frank’s a busy man, a coveted one at that. You know he could be helping someone else right now, and you'd hate to think that you were stealing him away from people who needed him more.

“Nope, don’t even.” He replies. “I’m checking off every box.”

He brings the electric thermometer that reads your temporal artery to your forehead. He clicks the button and watches for a few seconds as the device seems to think for a moment, giving you a small smile when a normal and acceptable number flashes on the screen.

“Thank you, again. For checking me for the concussion.”

“No problem.” He responds. “Can’t have you getting worse. Don’t know what I’d do if I had to ask Jesse to do anything instead of you.”

You try not to think too much about what he says to you. You try to pretend you don't notice the way he favors you over other nurses. You try to pretend you don't care. You try to pretend it doesn't kill you.

When Frank finishes putting away the thermometer, you think he's done with his exam. Yet, he doesn't get up to leave. Instead, he leans back, stretching his arms in the air. His shirt riles up, a sliver of his skin between the tops of his pants peeking out. Your eyes scan down the hair on his abdomen. 

You clear your throat. Looking at Frank like that is wrong, for many different reasons. When you get up to move, Frank puts out a hand to stop you, wordlessly communicating that he doesn't want to leave yet—that the exam isn't over. 

“What are you checking right now?” You ask as Frank sits in front of you, seemingly doing nothing.

“Your responsiveness.” So, bullshit, basically.

“And how is it?” 

“Well, for starters, you're responding.”

You give him a small chuckle. You feel appreciative of the calm moment between you two—you’re only halfway through the day, yet you feel like you’ve been going one hundred miles per hour all morning, never stopping to catch your breath. Especially with your newfound head wound. The rest and ice will do you good, you’re sure.

“How have you been?” Frank asks in hopes of breaking the silence. Your eyes flicker up to meet his, and you give the normal response. I’m good, smile. Work is crazy, cheek bite. Thank god I’m off this friday, chuckle.

Through your painfully normal response, Frank watches as your eyes betray you. Your body plays the part perfectly, posture open and inviting, smile bright and cheerful, but something distant swirls in the dark parts of your irises. Frank catches it all. 

He frowns. He wants you to be open with him, but he doesn't push it. 

“And your—” He coughs, choking on something oddly shaped like his pride. “Your fiancé?”

Your eyes widen. Right. You have one of those.  

“He’s.. fine.”

“Good. That’s good. Have you been telling him about all the amazing shit you do here?” 

“Um… No. Not recently. We’re actually…” You try to think of how to phrase it. “We’re having a little bit of a disagreement right now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s stupid, nothing serious, obviously,” you lie. “I just feel bad. I feel like it’s been distracting me.”

Frank tries to act like he's not enthralled. Obviously, he's sad that you’re feeling inadequate with yourself and distracted at work, but Chad can go kick rocks.

“You’re not off your game. Not at all. You were amazing this morning.”

“Thanks.” You reply, still deflected. You toy with your slightly melted ice pack, squishing around the slushy-like gel between your fingers. Your eyes bounce around the room. You don’t want Frank to see the discouragement in them. 

“I mean it. You’re a great nurse, and partly the reason why I’m a great doctor. I… I couldn’t do this without you, I hope you know that.” He whispers. 

It hasn’t been the easiest thing for him, coming back. There have been so many demons he's had to face, so many challenges he's had to overcome. The cold glances he's had to brush off his shoulder and the shame of his actions all seem a little more bearable when you’re by his side.

He smiles when you look at him again. There's a slight awe in your eyes, like you can't believe what you've just heard, but it's true. Frank thinks the world of you. 

“Can I ask what you're fighting about?” He says, lying to himself about his intentions. God forbid a nice doctor care about his a nice nurse. “We’re… friends, so I guess I can ask.” 

You sigh. You don't want to let on too much, to make him worry about you or anything. “He’s staying with a friend right now. We’re just disagreeing on stuff about the future. Really, it’s nothing.”

He can see the way you’re downplaying your true feelings in real time as arguments replay in your mind. Harsh words being tossed around, all about how you’re too busy, you never see me anymore, we never have sex anymore. 

You don’t tell Frank any of this, obviously. You would be mortified if he knew about the state of your relationship. (Or secretly enthralled, depending on how honest you want to be with yourself.)

“Well, he’d be an idiot to fuck this up with you.” He confesses.

You laugh. It’s heartfelt, Frank can tell. He’s proud of himself for pulling it out the depths of your lungs. After a second, your eyes fall back to the ice pack that's now fully jelly in your hands, feeling a similar melted sort of emotion. You start to speak, but feel like your words fail you.

“I don’t—” Want him. Love Him. “I just—” Want you instead. “It’s—” Easy. Kiss me. “—Complicated.”

“Well,” he starts again, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to. And, anyways, I have to finish your exam.”

“There’s more?” You groan. This has been the longest concussion assessment of your life.

“Mobility. I’m just gonna check around your neck, see if anything hurts. That sort of stuff.”

You gulp. “Sure.”

Frank rolls his stool in front of you once more, a pair of plastic gloves now hiding his hands from the fluorescent lights of the room and the soft feeling of your skin. He inches slowly towards you, trying to find a compromise between the space he knows he should give you and the space he wants.

Quietly, he brings up his fingers to the side of your neck, lightly brushing against the area where your jaw meets your throat. You swallow thickly. 

“I’m gonna press lightly on the sides of your throat, and then I’m gonna ask you to move your head around. Let me know if anything I do hurts you, okay?”

“Y-Yeah.”

You watch as his gaze leaves your face to focus on the task at hand. He’s gone from being Frank, to being Dr. Langdon. It’s sexy admirable.

You feel the light pressure of his two fingers as they make their way down your throat. You wait patiently for his instructions, trying not to gasp when his grip changes from two fingers to five, his hands practically engulfing your neck.

“Mkay,” he murmurs, cocking his head. “To the left… Good. Now the right.”

You feel yourself getting hot. Your heartbeat is spiking, you're sure of it. What a horrible time for Frank to have his hand on your carotid artery.

“You seem flushed? Are you alright? Is it hurting?” 

“Jesus—No. It’s nothing. Sorry.” You cringe. 

He halts his movements. You feel his hands soften around you, feeling lighter around your throat. Oh great, you think. He thinks he's hurting me.

When you finally get the courage to open your scrunched up eyes, you see that he’s back to Frank now. Frank, whose hands are around your throat, his latex clad fingertips barely brushing against the small hairs on the back of your neck. Frank, who’s the closest he’s ever been before. Frank, whose eyes are bouncing back and forth between your eyes and your lips. 

It’s wrong. You know it is. It’s bad to want it. It’s bad to think about it.

It’s even worse to do it.

But it happens anyway.

You don't know who starts it. One minute you’re trying not to crawl out of your skin in embarrassment of the way your body betrays you, the next your heart turns to putty as you feel his lips brush against yours, soft and slow with hesitance.

You kiss him back. You don’t think you could pull away if you tried. He tastes like the peach-nectarine red bull he drank this morning. He smells handsome, if that's even possible. Like the ocean. Your hands itch to cradle his face, to make their way into his dark brown hair that always looks perfect, no matter how many times he runs his fingers through them.

It’s deep. It’s sweet. It’s everything you’ve wanted since the first day you saw him. 

You play with your fingers to distract yourself reaching out to touch him, as if he’d turn to gold and crumble from your midas touch. Your fingertips run over something hard.

Your ring.

And suddenly it's over.

You pull back from him. You're breathless, you feel disheveled. Your lips feel swollen. Your head hurts worse than when you practically slammed it on the floor like a basketball.

“Are you—shit. I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“We shouldn’t. I can’t, I have—”

“Yeah, yeah, obviously. Shit.”

“Yeah. Um. I should… go.”

“Yes,” he breathes, “You’re all good. No… no concussion. Or brain damage.”

“Thank you,” you say, scrambling to stand up. “For… Yeah, okay.” You find your footing faster than you did in the halls. You’re not sure what you would do if Frank tried to help stabilize you, but you imagine it can't be anything good. 

You leave the room without looking back. 

//

For the rest of his shift Frank is torn into pieces.

He feels awful. You came to him, hurt—possibly concussed—and what did he do? Kiss you. Stupid idiot. You had trusted him. Confided in him about problems you were having in your personal life, problems you were having with the man who put that rock on your finger, and Frank just couldn’t help himself, he had to ruin it. 

It was clear you were avoiding him. Painfully so.

You immediately walked away in the opposite direction if he spotted you, never giving him the chance to ask you for help with a patient. Every time you caught his eye, you were deep into conversation with whoever was around you, always managing to avoid his gaze he so desperately wanted you to see. 

You’re nowhere to be found when he’s roaming the halls, right as Frank is in between cherry picking cases. You’re somewhere in a room down the hall when Frank sits down to log some information, pretending to look busy as he clicks the mouse around an empty screen. He feels like a kicked puppy. 

The worst part is he knows he did it to himself. He knew at the beginning of your friendship that he wasn’t capable of knowing you without loving you, and he worked with you anyway. Now it's all ruined, he thinks. You’ll never speak to him again. You’ll probably never want to be in the same room as him, especially alone. It’ll be horrible to work with him, you’ll hate every minute of it.

He’ll be a gentleman about it though, transfer to night shift. Never speak to you again. Wishing you and your future toddler twins a good life as you cradle a new baby that looks just like fucking Chad. He can see it all play out in his head. He’ll die alone. The cat he doesn’t have will eat his face.

The hours pass by quickly as Frank loses himself in his head. He goes through the motions. He’s done it all before. It’s not good to work distracted, but there's no use in trying to clear his mind. He wants to talk to you desperately, but he doubts he’ll get the chance. 

And he’s right. You take off like a shot when your shift ends, leaving a trail of dust behind you. No one seems to notice but him. Frank feels so twisted inside, like he’s fucked everything up beyond repair. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits in the driver's seat of his car. He let himself get too comfortable, be too hopeful that anything could change between you two. 

He drives home in disappointed silence. 

//

When Frank finally makes it back to his house, to his sparsely decorated apartment that's just a little too small and a little too dark, he collapses with exhaustion. His bag is tossed somewhere haphazardly, his lanyard with his medical ID thrown loosely on his kitchen counter. He slides off his scrub top and doesn't bother to look where it lands. 

A hot shower should fix everything. 

He stands under his showerhead moments later, his shitty water pressure doing an even shittier job at getting the shampoo out of his hair. He tries to distract himself with miniscule things in order to prevent thinking of you. This ends pathetically, however, when Frank realizes he doesn't have much of anything else to distract himself with.

He’s not married anymore. He barely has any friends. All he does is work, and if Frank thinks of work, then Frank thinks of you.

“This is pointless,” He mutters to no one. 

When he finally deems himself clean, appreciative of the small relief that the shower has given him, Frank tosses on an old pair of sweatpants that ride low on the bony parts of his hips, sliding over a black steelers t-shirt to go with it. He reheats some leftovers from the night before, going through the motions of being too eager and burning his mouth over and over with every bite. 

He’s impressed with himself about how his cooking skills have grown. Now that he lives alone, all of the decisions fall to him. It wasn't like he never cooked when he was married or anything of the sort—Frank always helped out. But now, he’s on his own. He wonders briefly if you’d like the meal he’s eating. If you’d like his cooking. 

He stands in the kitchen for longer than he should. His plate is clean now. The dishes are washed and dried, put away in their respective cabinets. But Frank can’t bring himself to move. From here, he can see the entirety of his home as it lies before him. His small living room with a couch and a TV he got on sale. The door to his bedroom cracked slightly askew, allowing for the tiniest bit of light to bleed in from his bathroom.

His apartment is cold. Empty. It feels lonely and like salt in the wound. It’s times like this when Frank misses you the most. He closes his eyes and selfishly imagines you in his kitchen, smiling softly at him as he cooks for the two of you. The way you’d look on his couch, watching a movie so scary you’d have to turn to look away, burying your face in his chest. 

He tries not to think about you in his bed. It never ends well for him, and he feels all the more shameful the next time he sees you. 

When he’s done playing pretend in his mind, he makes his way to his couch alone. He turns on some shitty reality TV show to distract him, and make his space less quiet. He rots in the same position for what feels like hours. 

Frank’s eyes just begin to flutter shut when he hears the faintest knock on his door. 

At first he thinks he’s imagining it. It’s late, and Frank doesn't talk to his neighbors. It must’ve been from down the hall.

But then it happens again. He pauses the show and groans as he stands, stretching out his arms and legs before he rubs his eyes. He knows he didn’t order anything, so maybe someone’s just got the wrong house?

He contemplates a few different possible scenarios until he opens the door, and it’s clear the person in front of him is at the right place. You stand anxiously, toying with your fingers like you did that morning. You look at him like a deer in headlights, almost as if you weren't expecting him to answer. Neither of you say anything. 

He breaks the uncomfortable silence. “How the hell did you get my address?”

You seem relieved when he speaks, like you were afraid he might shut the door in your face. “I have my ways.”

“That's… frightening.” He admits. “Do you… do you want to come in?”

“Yeah.”

He maneuvers his body and opens the door widely for you, allowing you to step inside. You slowly creep into his living room, looking around and taking in his scarce decor, his degrees hung on the wall. He barely has any photos in frames. 

His apartment radiates the same sort of Frank-esque smell that graced your senses earlier that morning, and you find yourself inhaling deeply, as if you were running out of breath. You hope he doesn’t notice.

When Frank shuts the door behind you, he leans against the kitchen counter in order to give you some space. He thinks maybe you’re here to yell at him, to tell him you’re transferring to Presby or even moving just to get away from him. 

But he can’t help himself from worrying about you, which is why he ends up asking, “Are you okay?”

You don't answer him, which only puts him on edge more. He's always been used to easy conversations between you two. He hates this switch. He hates himself for it even more. The guilt that starts to bubble in his stomach again at the sight of you suddenly feels unbearable. He thinks he may just die if he doesn’t try to make amends in some way, he can't bear the thought of losing you because he couldn't control his desire. 

“I’m so sorry,” he begins to say, “For this morning—”

“No, no. That wasn’t your fault at all. Don’t apologize.” You confess. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. That’s—That’s what I want to talk to you about. If you have a second.”

“O-Of course, yeah.”

“Um… so I left work really fast. As I’m sure you saw. Partly to avoid you and partly because kissing you made me realize some things that I had been ignoring. So I went home and got into a really big fight with Chad.”

Langdon gulps at your confession. He wants to reach out and touch you, but he decides against it. 

“We fought about… well about everything. He said that I wasn't in love with him. And… he's right. I’m not. And also, apparently he was sleeping with the ‘friend’ he was staying with, so. Tried to tell me it was my fault because I wasn't giving him any attention.” you whisper. 

You stop yourself to catch your breath. You feel overwhelmed talking about something so fresh. You feel almost embarrassed in a way to admit this—that you had been so in love with Frank that it ruined your already crumbling relationship. 

“I ended things with him. Gave him his stupid ring back and told him to get the hell out of my house. I gave him the night to pack a bag but I couldn’t be there any longer, so I just left. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”

Frank stays quiet as you explain the situation you find yourself currently in. He watches as your eyes dart around the room once more—you're nervous. You're worried he’ll kick you out, make you go back to your home where you have to come to the realization that the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with is a cheater.

“I’m so sorry.” He says. He hears the way his own voice cracks. He hates seeing you emotional, and it’s getting to him. “He didn’t deserve you at all. And fuck him for trying to say it was your fault.”

He watches as you take a shaky breath. You look up at him.  You’re dressed more casually than when he last saw you, a pair of low rise jeans and some old band t-shirt covering your body. You look nice for someone who's just had their world turned upside down. 

“Believe it or not… I’m actually not that torn up about it. In his defense, I don’t think I've mentally been there for the past six months. I’ve been distracted.” You admit. Your stomach does a somersault when you watch as Frank clenches his jaw. You have to admit being cheated on feels shitty, but there's a certain feeling of freedom blooming in your chest as you stand in your favorite resident’s living room. 

“By what?” He asks. His voice is low. His arms are crossed, and his fingernails dig into his arms. They leave tiny crescent shapes in his skin. 

You gulp. “By you. Always by you.”

Frank freezes. The hair on the back of his neck stands up straight, sending a chill down his spine. He can’t believe the words that are leaving your mouth. He feels like he must be dreaming. It just isn't possible for you to be standing in front of him after all this time, newly single, saying you’ve wanted him just as much, if not more, as he’s wanted you. 

Your confession hangs heavy in the air. Frank gets flashbacks to this morning. The feeling of your neck in his hands, the shape of your lips as they slotted so perfectly against his. He starts to understand that he was so worried after the kiss had happened, so convinced that he had screwed everything up, that he forgot to see the way you’d melted against him and moved your mouth against his.  

“About this morning… Did you mean it? Did you mean to kiss me?” you whisper. “Because if not, I’ll go, and we never have to talk about it again.”

Frank pushes himself off of the counter and walks towards you. He gets closer than he did this morning, yet his hands make their way to that same spot on your neck, just below your jaw. You exhale shakily as you wait for his reply.

“All I do is think about you. Every goddamn day.” He breathes out. “I’m sorry about how that fucking asshole treated you, but I’m not—I’m not sorry you’re not with him. You deserve to be with someone better than that. Who wants you.”

Something crackles between you two. Now that you both know where the other stands, it’s hard to not act on it. 

“And do you want me?” You ask lowly.

“Yes.” He replies, not missing a beat.

“Then kiss me. Please.”

Frank moves you closer with one small tug at your neck, bringing your face to his as his lips lightly brush against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh into him as you let your hands wander. As your hands move up towards his hair, his move down your torso, resting lowly on your hips. He feels the rough material of your jeans underneath his palms. He hooks his fingers around your belt loops and pulls you closer, your body coming flush with his. 

“We don’t have to do anything,” he says once he breaks away from you. The last thing Frank wants to do is rush you and scare you away, so he’ll let you dictate how far you go tonight. He’ll take anything he can get, even if it's just a kiss. As long as it's with you. 

“Please, Frank. Haven’t stopped thinking about you for months,” you confess against his lips. 

The admission makes him rock hard. You feel like play-doh in his hands, so soft, so willing. You look at him in a way that makes him flush. You’re so perfect, he thinks. And by some miracle, you want him just as much as he wants you. 

So how could he refuse you?

He slides his hands down your ass to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up around his hips as he carries you to his bedroom. You feel his erection press through his sweats, and when he lays you down gently, you bite your lip at the sight of his outline through the sweatpants. 

It doesn’t take long before his hands are tugging at the hem of your shirt, signaling to you that he wants it off. You work on sliding it over your head as Frank removes his own shirt, his chest heaving up and down as his eyes rake down your body. His lips find their way to your neck as they kiss on your pressure point, causing you to squirm. You run your fingers through his hair as a way to distract yourself from the pleasure. He kisses his way down your chest until he comes to the swell of your breasts, reaching behind you to unclasp the garment. He groans as you help slide it off your body. He takes one nipple in his mouth and you gasp at the feeling of his warm tongue swirling around your areola. 

He gives both of your nipples a little bit of attention, suckling slightly, watching the way they gleam with his spit in the moonlight before he keeps moving down your body. When he reaches the top of your jeans, you give a little hip lift in desperation. He gets the hint. His fingers undo the button and zipper, grabbing both your pants and underwear before sliding them down your legs. He discards them somewhere in the darkness of his room before his eyes are back on you. Your thighs are pushed together in slight embarrassment of how wet you are. A flush creeps its way down your neck as Frank slides his hands up and down your hips, trying to coax you open for him. 

“You don’t have to,” you breathe out. 

“But I want to. Please let me, baby. Been thinking about it forever.”

You melt at his words. You’ve never been able to say no to him, not at work and not between the sheets of his own bed. His pleas cause your legs to spread open. He moves his head down to the same level as your soaking pussy, grinning when he sees how wet you are for him. He takes a moment to admire how you practically drip onto the sheets. 

You cry out when his tongue finally licks a fat stripe up your cunt. Your fingers tug at his brown curls, his name leaving your lips in small whispers as he moves his mouth against you. It’s sloppy, and the sound he makes against your pussy is obscene. He wraps his hands around the outside of your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders. This changes the angle of your hips, allowing his tongue to dive deeper into your core as your back arches from the sensation.

Before you can register him moving, Frank’s middle finger breaches your entrance. He pushes it in slowly, watching in awe at the way your tight walls engulf his digit whole. You groan at the intrusion. He curls it ever so slightly, a chuckle caught in his throat as your hips begin to grind down on his palm. 

Frank wants to tease you, he really does. But for your first time together he can barely contain his excitement, let alone make you wait any longer than you have to, so he slides his ring finger in as well, developing a smooth rhythm that has you crying out his name.  

He presses his tongue up against your clit, sucking it into his mouth as his fingers work to bring you closer and closer to your first orgasm of the night. You feel the familiar ache in your abdomen as he picks up his pace. 

“Frank, fuck, fuck—” You whine. “‘M close.”

He groans against you in response. He wants nothing more to have you cumming into his mouth, your sweet slick dripping down his tongue as he licks your pussy like it was made for him. 

Your thighs begin to tremble and shake around his head. You scrunch your toes in pleasure as your eyes roll into the back of your head. You see stars as Frank brings you to the edge. When you cum, it's with a gasp and an arch of your back. You throw your head back against his pillow, and Frank doesn't let up on his movements as he works you through your orgasm.

When you finally come back down from your high, you see Frank with a shit eating grin between your legs. The lower half of his face shines with your juices. 

“Oh my god,” you blush, bringing your hands up to your face to hide your embarrassment. 

“Fuck, that was hot.” He laughs, pressing a wet kiss to the inside of your leg.

He climbs back up your body, wiping his mouth before kissing you softly. His tongue runs over your top lip, sliding its way into your mouth. You taste yourself as he deepens the kiss. Your hands run up and down his shoulders until your palms come flush with his chest. You feel the softness of his hair over the sharp edges of his muscles, sneaking your fingers down to the drawstring of his sweatpants. You undo them as Frank suckles at your neck. 

You gingerly slip a skilled hand down his pants until you feel his erection through the thin fabric of his boxers. He hisses through his teeth at the relief the pressure from your hand gives him. You bite your bottom lip before cupping him gently, then raking your nails over his lower stomach once more before slipping your warm hand into his underwear. You gently grab his cock, watching as he shudders into your body. An involuntary whimper escapes his throat as you slowly begin stroking him up and down, feeling how hard and angry he feels even in the dark.

“‘M not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” He groans. 

You can't help but smile at the way his face scrunches up in pleasure as you continue to tug at his weeping member, occasionally running your thumb over his slit, gathering the precum before spreading it down his base.

“Can’t wait anymore. Need you.” He states plainly, grabbing your wrist and removing you from his pants before he stands up, removing his sweats and underwear in one motion. 

His cock, now free from the restrictive fabric of Frank’s boxers, pulses red between his legs. You drop your head back onto the mattress. He’s big. 

“Need you to fuck me, please,” you beg as he leans over to his bedside table, ripping open a condom. He throws his head back as he slides it over his penis, eventually lining himself up to your dripping entrance. He drags his mushroom tip up and down your soaked folds, tapping your clit lightly. Your legs twitch at the stimulation.

“You're my favorite, you know that?” He teases. 

You drag him down for a kiss. Your nails scrape down his back as he slowly begins to push himself in, watching with hooded eyes at the way you take him so well. It's lewd—down right pornagraphic the way you sound. You feel yourself stretch around him, chest rising and falling as he kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans as he begins to move his hips. 

He’s slow at first—calculated, like he’s thought long and hard about each stroke. His hips find a rhythm that makes your mouth fall open and leaves your mind blank, only one thing running through it—Frank, Frank, Frank. 

Your hands fall from his back onto his soft sheets, scrunching them up in between your fingertips. Frank leans back and grabs your thighs, throwing them over his shoulder before pressing his torso into yours. You gasp at the change in angle. Suddenly, with each thrust he reaches deeper and deeper, grunting each time his thick head brushes against the spongy part in your walls, enthralled at the way it makes you moan. 

His pace feels unrelentless and unforgiving. For a man whose admitted to liking you and respecting you so much, he sure fucks you like he doesn’t. It only brings you closer to the edge.

You watch his face in a haze. The way his lips part slightly, the small beads of sweat that have gathered on his forehead due to the physical activity, the way those piercing blue eyes that you love so much suddenly look pitch black with lust. 

He reaches his thumb down to circle your aching clit, biting his lower lip as he watches your back arch, pushing your tits into his face. He wants this burned behind his eyelids forever, buried alongside him in his grave. 

Your high pitched whines and hics let him know you're close again. He feels the way your walls clench around him, gushing out your arousal with each slam of his hips. You move your legs down to wrap around his hips, linking your ankles together to pull him impossibly closer to you as he continues to pistol into your pelvis. You cum unexpectedly, like a white hot blaze bubbling in your stomach, shooting down your veins before you even realize it's happening. It renders you speechless. Tears prick the sides of your eyes as Frank works you through it, his encouraging yet incredibly sexy voice whispering praise in your ear. 

When you come down from your high, you feel the way his hips stutter. Their movements, once precise, now feel erratic and dangerously close to finishing. You watch in amazement as his eyes squeeze shut. He grows louder and louder, slurred words leaving his lips as he tells you how good you’re doing, how nice you feel, how he could fuck you forever. His hips slam and eventually stall, a growl making its way into your shoulder as he releases his warm load into the latex of his condom. 

Your fingers find the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck as he pants above you. You two laugh gently before Frank’s arms give out, leaving him to lay on top of you. You bear the weight of his body for the light neck kisses he gives you in return. Something tugs at your heart. The moment is slow, hazy in the best way. It's yours to share and hold. 

When he finally pulls out of you, you whine at the loss of contact. You could have stayed like that forever. With Frank, forever. 

“I know,” he whispers. He can already read your mind. 

He walks to his bathroom and is gone for a moment, discarding his condom and cleaning himself up slightly before wetting a washcloth to wipe you down as well. It’s warm and comforting as he cleans up the mess you made between your own thighs, a mixture of the condoms pre-given lube and your own arousal. 

When you hear the start of his shower, you smile softly. It feels so domestic, like what you’ve always craved with Frank. Like what Chad never gave you. 

He helps you up off the bed, cracking another joke about you slipping as your legs try to find some balance. All you can do is give him an annoyed look before his lips are on yours again, dragging you from his room to the shower. 

You fall asleep in his arms afterwards. You're dressed in an old shirt of his, a pair of his boxers clad on your lower half. His sheets smell like you and him. You two speak softly about what this all means, how long you’ve wanted this, how much Frank has needed you. About how he’ll never let you go now that he has you, and no Chad is changing that. 

You kiss him gently. A thank you, an I’ve missed you, and an I love you seemingly all said with one small peck. 

Frank doesn’t fall asleep immediately. You’re slumped against his chest, softly breathing in and out as his fingers curl against your lower back. From here, Frank begins to memorize the slope of your nose from up close, the fluffiness of your eyelashes that flutter occasionally. He’s thankful for this moment of peace. He always wants this, he realizes. You, in his arms. His ring on your finger. Your toothbrush next to his. The smell of your shampoo on his scrub tops that will no doubt distract him. 

He drifts off thinking of his rule that he followed dutifully for a long time. He’s still following it as far as he’s concerned. He knows he’s not supposed to have favorites, and he doesn’t.

Well, except for you. 

//

likes, comments, reblogs, and follows are always appreciated :)

[lemonpeppermintstickshift]

im so sorry guys im in the middle of a huge move rn and have had no time to write! 😖😖 i promise the frank fic is coming soon!

[miracle-and-wonder]

I hope Frank Langdon has a nice first day back at work today.

[sidelinesss]

it's the 4th of july, welcome back frank langdon

[syrenki]

your daughter is a pleasure to have on the dashboard

[pittrabbit]

crush.

warning: mostly pwp, some angst but happy ending for pope, f2l, age gap implied, afab reader, p in v sex, comfort sex (??), havent watched the show but fucking hate baz, unprotected sex, reader is kind of depraved about pope but who isnt, breeding kink kind of, etc etc etc.

summary: the aftermath of overhearing that conversation between pope and baz

word count: 4.1k

note: i have never actually watched animal kingdom other than edits and clips on twitter here and there. aaand i also messed up the timeline of the show (cath's death, etc), but fortunately this is fanfiction and i can do whatever i want yay!!

➽──────────────────❥

you hadn't meant to be there at that moment. it was a chance thing, mostly a mistake. you hadn't even caught most of the conversation, just the brunt of it. but that had been enough to make you see red.

you had been aware of baz and pope's unspoken rivalry ever since you'd known them. it was a badly kept secret, knowing about baz's treatment of andrew, and of andrew's obvious infatuation with cath. the latter used to make you jealous. you had watched andrew from afar, watched him watch someone else. but that wasnt enough to make your interest in him fade away.

it was understandable at first. you were a little younger, just a little nuisance cath brought around sometimes. it made sense to you why he'd focus on someone else.

even when andrew's eyes were on someone else, you remained in his orbit somehow. this, unfortunately, meant remaining in all of the cody's orbits, but it proved worth it if it allowed you to be in his vicinity. you'd seen him be treated as the black sheep, be alienated and rejected in all walks of life. you'd had a front row seat to his infatuation with cath and julia, to his own mother's infatuation with him, to his hardships with his mental health, being seemingly the only person to realize that he'd always been a victim of his environment.

he never really took note of you. being a friend of cath's only really took you so far when it came to the cody's. your presence wasn't appreciated by smurf, nor was it ever really acknowledged by anyone other than baz and the occasional sleazy comment thrown your way after you'd grown past that awkward adolescent age — all comments made while cath wasn't around. the few times your favorite cody paid you any mind, you could never tell what was going through his head. maybe you were just the closest thing he could get to cath. maybe that's why you'd sometimes catch him looking your way, those intense eyes penetrating you without any hint of emotion towards you.

when andrew went to prison, you had been the only one who seemed to be affected by it. cath seemed relieved to have a breather from him — something which made you irrationally frustrated. the rest of his brothers, and even his mom, appeared indifferent to his absence. you stopped showing up as much while he was gone, though you still remained a present figure, wanting a chance to be there for andrew whenever he came back. you'd even resorted to writing letters to him in prison, wanting to provide him with the comfort and care he'd been unfamiliar with back home. despite his lack of responses, you'd made it a point to write him twice a month, a little more disheartened every passing month in which you didn't get a response.

but it all proved worth it when he came back.

it had been unexpected, his return. there was no warning, no announcement, he'd just shown up at your place.

he'd been awkward, that intense eye contact finding a place on your arm, your shoe, anywhere but your eyes as you opened the door for him.

you'd welcomed him with a sigh of relief and a hug, one which was not responded at first. but when you pulled away, a pair of muscular arms had wrapped around your waist, a gruff mumble of 'thank you' breathed against your shoulder. he didn't need to clarify what he meant. you knew.

the two of you stuck by each other a lot more after that. he was still closed off, still unable to stop his eyes from wandering to cath every once in a while. he was still breaking you little by little, but you'd take anything he gave you, even if this was as much as you'd get. at least his eyes were on you more often now.

he'd sleep over at your place any time coming back to smurf's felt like too much. would let you patch up his injuries after any job that left him too rambled up. he'd even leave you flowers by your door every so often, never saying they were from him, — a fact confirmed by cath, another recipient of said flowers — only ever looking away when he'd spot them in a vase inside your living room. he'd be insistent in driving you home, always opening and closing doors for you in a manner that'd have you blushing if you felt he meant it as anything other than platonic civility.

things were the same between the two of you. the same, but you could swear there was a little something more hidden in there.

you hadn't meant to be there when the tensions between andrew and baz came to a crescendo. you were only stopping by to check on andrew, a habit you'd never been able to kill.

what you caught had only been the end of the conversation. it was the usual screaming match that happened more and more every time those two were around each other. baz had always hated andrew's behavior towards his wife and daughter. andrew had always hated baz's treatment of catherine and lena. it was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. it was just too bad you'd caught its peak.

"pope, no one will ever have a kid with you. ever"

those had been baz's words.

you could see how they stung. from the corner behind which you'd hidden behind upon hearing the screaming match, you could see any remaining hope or felicity leaving andrew's eyes.

andrew had put up with a lot throughout his life, death, pain, betrayal, but you could see that that realization had been the worst of it all — the realization that no one would ever love him in that way, that no one would ever be his, that no one would choose him first.

it was wrong. you knew better than anyone that baz's words had been wrong, and that andrew's belief of those words had been just as incorrect.

you left after that.

it wasn't your place to interrupt. you were too angry to. you knew that any rendition of coming for andrew's rescue at that moment would've just made things worse for him.

so you went home.

you paced around your living room for an hour, angry, chanting every insult you could imagine under your breath. baz had made you angry through the years, but never to this extent.

and predictably enough, your lonesome anger was interrupted by a knock on your door from the one person who had any more right than you to that anger.

you ushered him in, grabbing his hand and taking him to the living room without a word. obediently, he followed.

"why'd you leave?" was the first thing he asked when once you sat him down, interrupting your breathless offer for a drink or some food. hospitality first.

you'd been trying to stall, wanting to talk about it, offer him some comfort, but unknowing of how to breech the subject without cornering him. it seemed like he didn't hold the same reservations. you hadnt even realized he had seen you at his mother's house.

"you, uhm, you saw me?"

"yeah."

"sorry, i- i didn't want to interrupt. i didn't-"

andrew reached over to an open bottle of beer you'd been nursing before his arrival, sipping it without a second thought.

"you heard all of that?"

you took a place next to him on the couch. knelt on top of it as you faced him. he continued to face forward, paying way more attention to your beer than to yourself. he was embarrassed, probably even hurt and mortified. this wasnt a conversation he wanted to have, yet he was having it with you. he wanted to dig the knife deeper, to hear someone else confirm his suspicions — that no one would ever want him, much less a shared lifetime with him.

"andrew..."

"he's right, you know?" another sip. "cath isn't my wife. lena isn't my kid. no one would ever put themselves through that misery." now a full gulp of beer.

"andrew, that isn't true."

"the hell it's not."

he was making you angry, you couldn't pretend otherwise.

it was obvious to you why andrew would have such a low self-esteem. it wasn't a secret that he hated himself, that he was self-destructive due to a variety of reasons, but that the leading one was a complete absence of self-love.

and you? you took that shit personally. specially when other people fed into it, giving him even more reasons to hate himself.

"listen to me, andrew" you took the beer from him, setting it on the coffee table, your knees now pressed against his thigh, "no — look at me, andrew."

that got his attention.

"you're going to listen to baz? deadbeat, cheater, man-whore, baz?" you scoffed. "the guy whose kid you've been taking care of? god, andrew, you've been more of a father to lena these past few months than baz has been her whole life!" you rasped out.

andrew sat still beside you, semi-wide eyes looking up at you with a shocked expression you'd never quite seen on him before. but you kept going.

"he's wrong. you know that he is. he's projecting his stupid insecurities onto you. baz could never be half the man that you are, andrew." you continued. "lena is so lucky to have you in her life, someone who actually cares about her well-being, and looks out for her, and treats her with care and compassion. and even cath! baz has never once cared for her in the way you do. he doesn't deserve either of them."

your eyes were frantic by now, but you couldn't stop yourself from continuing.

"any woman would be lucky to have your kid, andrew. anyone would be lucky to have you in their life, to be your person, to be the one to give you a kid. i- i wish that i could make you understand that."

your big rant ended there. the momentum wore off when you realized you were giving yourself away way too much.

your feelings for andrew had been one of the many badly kept secrets among the cody's. except that andrew was the only one unaware of it, never once picking up on why you always showed extra interest in him.

he sat there, mouth slightly agape as he looked at you, hands fisted on his lap and eyebrows furrowed in either confusion or frustration, you couldn't really tell.

you swallowed, not knowing what to say anymore. it was unlikely that he believed any word you'd said. his self-esteem was broken down enough that any words of compassion would be useless to him. that, and the fact that he probably didn't want to hear those words from anyone other than cath. what worth did they have if they came from you?

"andrew, i-"

"would you?"

"would i what?" your heart was going a mile a minute. his voice was broken, harsh. he was sitting up straight now, body turned towards you and eyes penetrating you with what looked like anger to you.

you weren't scared of him. you had never been. but in this moment, you were terrified you'd given yourself away. that you'd ruined what he believed to be a friendship, something that could provide him with stringless comfort unlike every other relationship in his life.

"would you-" he cleared his throat, "would you feel lucky? to- to have my kid?"

it was blunt, almost cutting, just like everything else with andrew. and it knocked the wind out of you.

instead of stammering a response, of looking away as you always did when you were teens and you happened to catch his attention, you decided to double down. you stared directly at him, resting your full weight on your knees as you lowered yourself to his eye-line before responding.

"yes."

andrew continued to look at you, swallowing before attempting to speak again.

but you didn't let him.

once again, you took initiative, grabbing onto both of his cheeks and pulling his face towards your own, your lips wrapping around his.

there was no hesitation nor shyness in the kiss. any previous hesitation between the two of you was completely forgotten as you lost yourselves in one another.

he returned your kiss, pulling you to straddle him, closing any remaining amount of distance between you. he inhaled deep between kisses, almost as if he were recalibrating, making sure he was real, that this was real.

you sighed his name against his lips, making him groan in return. his hands were shy, parked on your waist and not wandering any further. it had only been a few minutes, but it was already driving you insane.

between you, your hands made their way to his trousers, toying with their hem and sneaking under his shirt, causing a shudder and another groan to leave him.

"kid, are you- are you sure?"

"are you?" you pulled back a bit. "what about-" you couldn't help but hesitate. "what about cath?"

he shook his head, hands tightening on your hips in a possessive manner. "i don't care about her right now. just want you."

"but-"

but his head dipped, lips now on your jaw, on your neck, all the way down to the bare skin exposed by your tank top.

"please." he pleaded at you. "want you. want everything with you. no one cares about me like you do."

and that was enough to break any remaining resolve in you.

you kissed him again, groaning into his mouth when his hands dipped under your shirt, now flat on your back and pulling you as close as humanly possible. the kiss was wet and nasty with zero finesse to be found. there was a chorus of wet sounds and muffled moans in your living room, only interrupted by the ruffling of clothes and the slight squeak of your couch when you couldn't help yourself but grind your hips against his.

"fuck." he breathed out, forehead against yours.

your lips still chased his, tongue finding his open mouth and sneaking its way inside.

"take me to bed, andrew." you mumbled against his lips.

the groan he let out at that was primal, very unlike the usually quiet andrew you knew. next thing you knew, large hands were splayed under your thighs, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist as he got up and headed towards your bedroom. your hands were needy, feeling him up as you continued to kiss at his neck and jaw all the way to your bed.

softly, he laid you down on the bed, waiting for you to scoot to the middle before crawling his way to you. his eyes were an odd mixture of soft and predatory while yours looked up at him with need.

again, he kissed you, one hand behind your head to bring your lips to his as he adjusted himself atop you.

"say it again." he rasped, hands finding your waist again, needy fingers bunching at your tank top in attempts to feel your skin, eyes shyly finding the bare skin there before looking back up to your eyes.

cupping his cheeks, you pulled him close, kissing his lips softly, slowly before looking into his eyes and going an extra mile with your response.

"i want your baby, andrew."

he looked pained at your words. but you were unable to really say anything else before he lunged at you with another kiss, making you fall back against the bed as he licked into your mouth. his hands went crazy, grabbing and pulling at every inch of your skin. the needy desperation in his movements proved obvious by his lack of ability in actually taking off your clothes, pulling at the hem of your shorts to feel up your legs rather than pulling them down altogether, dragging off the straps of your tank top and bra instead of throwing your shirt off, all done just to feel a little bit of extra skin.

meanwhile your hands functioned a bit better than his own. within moments you were able to throw off his shirt and pull down his pants low enough to cup his dick, suddenly stopping his abrasive movements.

"fuck-"

"god, andrew, i want you so bad." you panted into his lips. "get this off, please. i need-"

"anything. i'll do anything for you." he groaned before pulling your top off, lips instantly attaching to the newly freed skin until his lips found the barrier your bra created.

your hands gripped at his hair, pulling when he began sucking at the fat of your breast, close enough to the areola to have your eyes rolling back, "fuck, andrew..."

his own eyes rolled back at the feeling, seemingly in love with the feel of your fingers digging into his scalp.

unwilling to stop there, his hands snuck behind you, undoing your bra with surprising ease and groaning yet again at the sight.

"you're perfect." andrew sighed, not allowing you to react before his lips wrapped around your nipple, moaning against it as if he were the receiver of the pleasure.

"i need more. please, andrew, i need-"

"i know. i'll give you everything, i promise," he mumbled against your other breast, still refusing to stop putting his lips on you.

your hands dragged down his back, legs wrapping around his waist and attempting to pull him down on you, hips raising from the bed to try and roll against his. taking pity on you, andrew ground his hips against yours, earning himself a whine from you at the feel of his hardness digging against your cunt.

desperate, you made work of your shorts on your own accord, awkwardly removing them from underneath him as he continued kissing at you, sucking hickeys into your skin like some horny teenager, hands now reaching down to your hips and digging at the skin there like puddy.

"andrew, god, fuck me. please." you whined once more, slightly embarrassed by the desperation in your voice.

this finally got andrew to respond to you, hands undoing his own pants the rest of the way, freeing himself of his boxers in the process.

you eyed him with absolute depravity in your eyes, biting your lip at the sight in front of you, the thick muscle throughout the entirety of his body, the girth of his dick, the beads of cum squirting at his tip, the flushed hue of his skin and the sweat making him glisten as he hovered over you.

"you're perfect, andrew, fuck."

his hand went to your chin, tilting it and removing your eyes from his body, turning them to face his gaze instead, "look at me."

you hummed, wide eyes staring at his own (fighting an impossible battle to not let them stray down to his lips for the hundreth time).

"i'm going to give you a baby. do you understand that?" his voice was raspy, pained, eyes facing the same battle as yours as they ventured to your lips, to your breasts, to the space between your legs.

nodding numbly, you bit your lip, tilting your head towards his lips, "please."

"tell me you want it."

"i do. i want it. please- want- want your baby, andrew. want everything with you."

with one last groan, he closed the distance again, one hand coming to his cock while the other laid you back down. dragging his dick up and down your slit, he sighed at the feeling.

finally, he pushed in, making your eyes roll back for the millionth time, and sigh out his name.

"fuck." he groaned at the feeling, stilling inside you. "i love you." were his next words, almost missed due to his lips' proximity to your skin.

your hands dug into his hair again, pulling him even closer with a moan, "i love you so much, andrew. a-always have."

"i know." he mumbled, hips beginning to move, "i love you." he repeated. "you're everything to me."

those were his last words before picking up his speed, hammering into you as your legs wrapped around him, pulling him flush against your skin.

"you're mine now. do you understand?" he huffed, lips glued to the skin of your shoulder.

"i'm yours, andrew, i'm- fuck! — i'm yours, baby."

your hands dragged red lines down his toned back, marking him equally yours. his shoulder was your next victim, getting marked by your teeth as you bit into the skin there when he thrust particularly hard.

and he loved it, groaning out a pained moan of your name when you bit at him, hips stuttering and hands gripping your hips in a bruising manner.

"you feel so fucking good." he growled directly into your ear. "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

that had you reeling. had you tightening up around him, your body completely in tune with him and his words. he was all you'd ever wanted, all you'd watched and waited to have.

the idea of having a baby with andrew crossed your mind many times in the past. they were mostly teenage daydreams of a ring, a house, a honeymoon somewhere far away from home and a lifetime for the two of you completely separate of the mess that always surrounded andrew. you had dreams of saving him from the misery that his family brought along, to finally have him look your way and give him everything you had to offer.

you never thought things would go so out of order, that you'd so easily open your legs for him, not a single thought of using protection on your mind and allowing him to do with you as he pleased — as you'd repeatedly begged.

and in this moment you wanted that more than anything. you wanted that baby in you. to have andrew cum deep inside you time and time again, to try endlessly until it finally took. you wanted to lock him up in your home, hide him from everyone who'd ever hurt him, who'd ever betrayed him and keep him safe between your legs.

you'd give him a baby, tie yourself to him for the rest of your lives. the thought of swelling up for him had you tightening around his cock, thinking of every night you'd lay in bed buried in his arms, being the one constant in his life and the reason for his peace.

you knew he'd be perfect for you. that he'd protect you and your baby with his life. you knew that he'd be loyal, would become infatuated and obsessive and addicted, and it just made you so dizzy in all the best ways.

andrew seemed equally desperate for that future, for that ownership over the rest of your life. he rammed into you with an animalistic desperation as his peak approached, grunting unintelligible praises hidden among curses at the unimaginable pleasure.

"cum for me. i'll give you everything, just cum for me." it was the closest thing to begging you'd ever heard from him. the sincerity dripped in his words.

and how could you not lose your mind at that? how could you not when he was staring down at you, mouth agape and eyes locked on your lips, perpetually thirsty for more of you.

you pulsed under him, eyes rolled back and back arched with your breasts pressed up against his chest, the hardness of his muscle further stimulating you throughout your high.

by the time you came back to earth, andrew was a man possessed, drilling into you with a desperation you'd never seen. he made sounds you'd dreamed of, gasping and groaning incoherencies. his grip on you would've been painful had you not been addicted to the feeling of him, to the sight above you.

"cum for me, baby." you sighed, one hand coming up to pull softly at his hair while the other turned his face to look straight into your eyes. "look at me when you cum. get me pregnant, baby. wanna see you when it finally takes."

with one final grunt of your name, you finally felt that warmth inside you. he stilled, shoving himself as deep as possible with a broken gasp, hips spasming weakly against yours.

he made sure not to let himself fall on top of you once he'd filled you to the brim, dropping himself next to you instead. but he didnt allow any distance between you, bringing you to his side with one strong arm, humming when you yelped at the sudden movement.

as if by nature, you nuzzled into his chest, kissing the skin there softly while your hands scratched at the skin of his abdomen with affection.

"you're mine, andrew."

his hand went down to your stomach, rubbing at the skin as if his seed was already implanted in there, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"yeah? well, you're mine too."

➽──────────────────❥

and she did get pregnant with twins and one was a girl and one a boy and they got custody of lena and they got the fuck out of there and andrew finally got his happy ending and everyone cheered yay!!!!!

[pittrabbit]

under the skin.

warning: stalkerish andrew, reader is super sweet and obsessed with andrew, andrew is a freak and obsessed with reader (yayyyy), sort of bubbly reader, pope's pov, smut, p in v sex, dry humping, extensive foreplay, body worship, oral (f and m receiving), masturbation (male), voyeurism, perverted behavior (we all cheered!!!), etc etc etc.

summary: pope hadn't meant to catch a glimpse through your window, but after the first time, he just couldnt stop.

word count: 14.3k

note: this might be a little ooc since ive only watched like three episodes of animal kingdom. it was supposed to be like 7k words but it got away from me..

disclaimer: pictures are NOT indicative of reader's appearance. iirc there are no descriptors other than having hair and being an able bodied afab!!

➽──────────────────❥

andrew didn't know about you until now.

hadn't been made aware of your existence on any letters, any calls, any visits — not that there were many of those.

he'd just come back from prison. it wasn't as if he could keep up with whatever happened in his neighborhood during his absence. he was observant, though. observant enough to know that you were new. that you hadn't been here before he got arrested, much less throughout all the years he had spent growing up in this house.

for years, he'd seen people come and go from the house next door. it wasn't an optimal place to live, not with the extracurriculars he and his brothers got up to, and not with the visits they'd sometimes receive.

no one ever lasted there more than a couple of years, always fleeing the house after a while and leaving an empty space behind.

andrew never cared much for that place. he'd never cared much for any of its temporary inhabitants either. he'd spent most of his childhood too busy being reckless to notice the people next door. he spent it alienated, targeted, chasing after people he shouldn't have, people who either left him too early or simply didn't care for him. he had no time to look next door.

when he left, he couldn't remember who was there last. he hadn't noticed, hadn't cared. but when he came back? that's when his attention was piqued.

things weren't too different when he came back. the usual occupants were still there. j was a new addition, but he couldn't really bring himself to pay too much mind to him. he was still recovering mentally from all those hours of solitary, all that time with julia in mind, with the memory of the last time he'd seen cath.

but even those thoughts left him when he came back home.

his home was empty when he got back. it wasn't surprising to him that no one had been there to receive him. he was a ghost to them, the unpredictable force no one dared come too close to — other than smurf, which andrew began to feel conflicted about after the stint that landed him in prison, after the pathetic lack of visitation during his stay in said prison.

alone in his house, andrew had time to wander, to look and find any differences he missed during his absence. by nature, he cleaned up the things he found out of place, fingers wandering here and there without much thought.

that was how he came to stand before the window in his room that led to next door. a window leading directly into another window, only with two sets of blinds separating the clear view from one to the other. but the blinds next door were drawn at that particular moment, and andrew's just so happened to be peeking through (courtesy of his fingers creating a gap).

it was the unfamiliar movement that had caught his attention. he hadn't originally meant to look in that direction, but the lack of blinds gave him a perfect view of whatever was going on over there, drawing his eyes directly to the window.

that's when he found you for the first time.

a girl, mid twenties, maybe, throwing a tight-fitted top over her head as her body swayed lightly to what andrew could only assume was music playing from your side of the wall. you were distracted, worryingly so. it would've been easy for anyone to sit there, spy on the pretty view, do something dangerous with it — unlike andrew who just sat there, blank look on his face as he studied you. he couldn't help but frown at the thought of you doing this every day, bra-clad and ignorant to whoever could be lurking outside your house.

andrew grew even more worried when he realized he enjoyed the sight. he stood there for far too long, watching you go through your entire morning routine, privileged enough to see you get changed, do your hair, do your bed, clean up any stray clothes off the ground and finally close your curtain (which seemed to be taking place of the customary blinds). andrew was fast enough to remove his fingers from the gap he'd created on his blinds before you could take a look at the peeping tom next door. he wasn't particularly new to this type of behavior, but he didn't know you well enough to have you think he was a weirdo — everyone else thought so already, he didn't need to add another person to the list. much less someone he was already finding himself infatuated with.

he sat back on his bed, hands on his knees and back straightened as he looked in the direction of the window. he thought about you then. wondered who you were, how long you'd been there, whether craig had already gotten his hands on you yet or if maybe andrew stood a chance.

he shook his head after that last thought.

all his neighbors growing up had been families. the usual nuclear unit; mom, dad, son, daughter, maybe a dog. it was never anyone your age. it was rare around these parts to have people past their twenties living at home with their parents. andrew was one of the exceptions, constantly living under smurf's thumb (whether that was his choice or by force was still a debate rumbling in his head). the economy wasn't good enough for someone in their twenties to be able to afford such a house either. he wondered if maybe you were married, but recalled a lack of ring on your finger.

this gave him some sort of hope.

of what, he didn't know. but the weird feeling in his stomach was there. he'd only felt this way about a few people in his life — cath, julia, smurf when he was a child.

he had no reason to believe this would go any differently, but one thing was for certain; he'd go back to that window tomorrow morning.

➽──────────────────❥

andrew found himself at that window every morning that week.

his homecoming was put aside to focus on his new interest — you.

he found that you'd adopted the habit of getting dressed with your curtains fully drawn (you'd seemingly removed the blinds altogether, opting for some frilly curtains that matched the decor of your room). this was a dangerous and irresponsible habit, one that he frowned upon despite the hypocrisy behind his enjoyment of watching you.

although he never did anything with the illicit sight you provided him with, he still felt a slight pang of guilt in his chest at watching you without your permission. no one had been habiting his room for the past three years, it was likely you felt no risk of anyone watching you get dressed. but now he was here, panting at the sight, not knowing what to do with it.

andrew never touched himself to your sight. he didnt use his imagination to think about you while in the shower nor late at night when he found himself alone in bed. days went by where he had to slap the thought out of his head, nails digging into his hand as he balled his fists to prevent himself from staining the thought of you.

a few days passed until he learned a bit more about you. there was no need for him to ask, as you were a popular subject among his brothers. craig had apparently been trying to get you out of the house and into one of their parties, had also even attempted to just get you free for one night, but you always rejected his advances.

this proved conflicting for andrew.

on one side, he was relieved to know craig hadn't gotten his hands on you, hadn't tainted you yet. on another, if his brother didn't have any success at garnering your attention, would he even have a chance?

andrew grew antsy within two weeks of being home. he had enjoyed your presence for the entirety of his return thus far, but he wanted more. he was yet to hear your voice, yet to meet your eyes or interact with you in any way. he wanted you to at least know of his existence. this would feed his need to have you, right? he'd been able to satiate his infatuation with cath and julia by the sheer act of having them in his orbit. he was sure that a single word from you, a smile, a look, would give him enough to survive.

➽──────────────────❥

andrew found his chance one sunny afternoon. it was a thursday after having arrived from some unnecessary outing with his brothers. he was in a mood, but it was alleviated as soon as he spotted you out in your driveway, hands occupied by multiple paper bags, way too many for a girl to carry home on her own.

with his brothers having already rushed inside, andrew talked himself into making his way to your trunk, meeting a fessed up version of yourself as you attempted to carry all four bags all at once, putting them down and picking them back up a few times to reaccommodate them in an arrangement that'd allow you to carry them all in a single trip.

as he walked closer, he heard a few sighs of frustration from you, some curse words under your breath. he took in your voice then, breath lost at the sound of it. it wasn't like he'd imagined. he hadn't been able to come up with a fitting voice for you, but he decided in that moment that its intonation was the perfect fit.

it made him falter, your voice. it made him rethink walking over to you. the likelihood was that he'd be met with some form of rejection or disgust. he was used to causing unnerving feelings in people. something about how intense he was, how quiet and blunt he could be. he didn't want to ruin the nice, sweet image he'd built of you in his head by facing you and finding disappointment once more in his life.

andrew rarely had good days. and although this wasn't a particularly good one, he didn't want to make it worse.

"oh, hi."

he hadn't realized that he had blanked until your voice interrupted his thoughts, now at full volume. standing a few feet away from you, he played with his hands, eyes widening slightly when he realized there was no way back now.

"can i help you?" you asked, tone even. eyes looking him up and down briefly. no sign of dislike just yet.

"can i help you? with your bags?"

your expression showed concern, head tilted in question before smiling lightly at him. it stopped his heart for a few seconds.

"yeah? that'd be really nice of you, actually."

he walked over to you, hands stretched forward to take the bags. when you went to hand him one or two, he went past you to grab all four. it was an easy feat for him. his build was more capable of the task than yours. in return, you let out a surprised 'oh, thank you!' and smiled even wider.

leading him into your house, you gestured at him to come in when he faltered at your door, keys already out and door opening to let him in. you let him in first, closing the door behind him before leading him to the kitchen counter where he could drop the groceries on.

before you could thank him, he spoke up again.

"can i help you put them away?"

again, he was blunt, direct. perhaps he was even a little unnerving to you (he usually was to everyone else), but you didn't react to it. you only faltered slightly before smiling once again (and killing him in the process) and saying that yes, that'd be very nice of him.

andrew was a natural at this. he was the only person in his household who ever took care of such things. organizing, cleaning, keeping things in place; they were all things he did as second nature. he enjoyed order, went a little crazy without it. there was no need for you to tell him where everything went, as he just needed a look through your pantry to know.

"you're andrew, right?"

he was kneeling in front of one of the cabinets in your kitchen as you asked, back facing you. you reclined your body weight against your counter, watching him as he organized your things. you tried to help at first, but he stopped you with an almost muted huff, taking on the task on his own.

"yeah. how'd you know?"

"your room is right across from my window."

you said it as if there were no implication behind it, no hidden meaning.

had you seen him? had you seen him see you?

"i broke my blinds when i first moved, so i can kinda see into your room when you open yours." you explained. "i rarely ever draw my curtains, so i've seen you a few times. also saw a picture of you one time your brothers invited me over."

he got back up when he was done, hands folding the paper bags and setting them on your counter. he looked down at his hands as he did so. as if his secret would be given away if he looked into your eyes.

when he didn't respond, you continued.

"i hadn't seen you until now. did you just move back home?"

"yeah."

"from where?"

"you don't wanna know."

you took a few steps forward, landing yourself on the counter opposing to the one you'd been leaning on. now you were side by side with andrew, but your body remained tilted towards him, attempting some sort of eye contact that he'd been avoiding.

"try me."

he sighed, weighing his options.

he could lie to you. the same way he'd lied in prison, said cath and lena were his, acted as if he had some semblance of a proper life outside of those four walls. he could skip the ugly details about his life, make you believe he was normal.

or he could be honest, try and see if you'd still think he was the nice guy offering a neighborly hand when he saw you struggling.

"i was in prison."

silence. you didn't react. he wasn't facing you, but could still see no reaction from his peripheral.

he felt some light pressure on his arm, a soft grip. it was meant to be comforting, but all it did was draw some goosebumps out of him.

"well, welcome home, andrew."

you walked away after that, putting away the paper bags he'd folded and saving them for future use.

it was casual, with no hidden weight behind it. as if he'd just told you he came back from some business trip, not been forced into confinement due to some dubious crime.

"thank you for the help, by the way. haven't felt exactly welcome since i moved in. you're the first person to help me out."

"how long have you been here?"

"only a few months."

"you, uh, you live alone?"

he was trying his hardest to not be obvious. he was never sure what things were appropriate to ask, or what could possibly give him away. he wanted to be nonchalant and controlled, just like baz, but he couldn't help the thousands of thoughts running through his mind at every waking moment.

you nodded. "yeah. my uncle knows the owner of a few properties around the area. got me a good price."

that eased his mind. you lived alone. which meant you were available. or at least not married. he'd make sure to find out whether you were actually available or not. he had meant to do so before, but he wanted an introduction before he went around following you, inserting himself into your life without your knowledge. at least now he knew you. now he had an opening.

"that's good."

"yeah. if you ever need anything, just stop by." your smile was genuine, he really believed that. he had to look away again, embarrassed to smile back (even if his lips were tugging upward on their own).

"just don't tell the rest of your family." you then said. it made him look back at you, confused.

"why?"

"just ... i'm pretty sure craig propositioned himself to me when he invited me over. then your mom stopped by with some pie my first week here, said to stay away from her sons. not in those words, but, you know."

he knew.

he was surprised you knew too. smurf was pretty amazing at keeping things between the lines. at saying a thousand words with a single sentence. the fact that you caught onto that with one single meeting surprised him. it usually took people a little more to realize smurf was working against them behind the scenes. her threats usually went unnoticed to the average ear.

"what about me?"

you giggled then. giggled. he had pulled a giggle out of you.

usually, he would've assumed the laughter was directed at him, not shared with him, but there was an ease surrounding you that told him you wouldn't laugh at him. that you were nice, soft. that you were exactly what he needed.

"i'll make an exception for you."

and that was the first time andrew heard those words.

➽──────────────────❥

against his best attempts, andrew continued watching you every morning.

sharply at 7:30, you'd get up, open up your curtains for some light, and do your usual routine. it had been three weeks since he had come back, making it twenty-one days in which he'd enjoyed the sight of you getting dressed every morning.

thus far, your eyes hadn't met as he watched you. andrew had a constant fear that you'd turn around, find that small gap between his closed blinds and spot him, peeping at you like some fucking pervert. but you never looked. you acted as if your open window wasn't an invitation for anyone to come and watch the slight sway of your hips as you listened to music, nothing but some small panties covering your form as you undressed and re-dressed yourself.

but the reality was that no one but andrew could see you. your room gave the perfect view to whoever inhabited andrew's room. he knew that you knew this, but he could only assume that you weren't aware that he was hiding behind those closed blinds, the ones that always remained closed, only ever seeing the sun when his two fingers would create a gap small enough for his eyes to take in your form every morning.

although andrew continued to watch you behind your back, he also began stepping out of his comfort zone. watching you from afar would never get him anywhere (he'd learned this the hard way, seeing any possibility with cath slip through his fingers after years and years of just watching). he needed to make himself some sort of presence in your life.

and for once in his life, he was lucky enough that you seemed to be perceptive of it.

after that first time meeting you, he continued to help you with your groceries, practically spending all his free time awaiting to hear your car to park on your driveway, doing his best to act nonchalant when he strolled out of his house and headed over to the driver's door of your car. he even started to go the extra step in opening the door for you and holding your hand as you got out.

that small bit of contact could've kept him going for months. your hand in his, his thumb aching to caress the back of your hand. it was a quiet intimacy he couldn't describe. he wanted more, he was just unsure of how to get it without scaring you away. his mind went crazy thinking of how the rest of your skin would feel against his. images of your nude body flashed through his mind every time he saw you. the incessant need to see you at your most vulnerable, at your freest state, it overrode any sort of guilt he felt. he wanted you in ways he couldn't even understand.

he even found himself distracted by such thoughts any time he was around you, no matter how short-lived his visits to your home were.

it was partially his fault, really. andrew was always too lost in his head to relax enough to stay. he always assumed you wanted him gone, that he probably gave you the same discomfort he had a tendency to give others.

he wanted you to be the one exception.

"are there any fun places around here?" you asked one day, interrupting the war inside his head.

he had somehow let his guard down enough to accept your offer of a drink. after helping you put away some dishes, he accepted a tea from you, taking a seat on your couch right next to you.

there wasn't much proximity, but he still felt alert. he couldn't stop overthinking when he was around you.

"there's, uhm, the skate park. the beach." he responded after shaking his head of all his thoughts.

"is that it? i thought you grew up here."

he shrugged. "i like to skate. i like the beach."

"you skate, andrew?"

"yeah. always have."

you smiled at that, head leaning back against the recline of the couch, tilted towards him. "wanna teach me?"

his eyes widened a bit.

no one had ever really cared about his skating.

granted, he was an off-putting figure at the skate park, always making sure he had the ramp to himself, wanting everyone away from him while he did as he pleased. but a deeply buried part of him had always ached for someone to share that interest.

more importantly, was this an invitation?

"oh, uhm, you wanna learn?"

your shoulder nudged his, completely missed how he stilled at the contact.

"yeah. it'd be fun. you don't wanna?"

if you were teasing, he couldn't really tell. he didn't want to make you think he wasn't interested — he was. way too interested.

"no, no. yeah. i wanna. do you- you wanna go now?"

"now? yeah, sure. let me get changed first?"

you stood up before he could respond, making your way to a part of your house he was yet to see in person. he knew you were likely doing the same routine he'd seen every morning. and as he sat there, he felt himself flush at the thought. knowing you were just a few meters away, being the vision he'd had the privilege of witnessing for the past month, it made him groan internally.

you came back out pretty quickly after that, donning some shorts short enough to require some extra effort to get him to look away from the bare skin. it was hot in california, but god, it had never proved to be as much of an issue to him as it did in this moment.

the smile you gave him was as bright as every other. you were happy to be hanging out with him, happy to extend your hand and uselessly pull at him to get up, both of you knowing he could get up on his own but accepting the contact anyway. he had to look away from you every time you did this. every smile of yours was met with the sad excuse of a lip curled upward and eyes running away from yours.

but you didn't seem to mind, still holding his hand as you walked out of your house and made your way to your car.

as if it were second nature, andrew took the keys from you, silently insisting to drive as he led you to the passenger seat and opened the door for you.

"you're always such a gentleman, andrew." you giggled then, no objections from you any time he did such small favors for you.

andrew took note of every act that got a smile or a giggle out of you. occasionally he'd even get some flushed cheeks, some shy eyes looking away from his. those were his favorites. they made him feel like he had everything a man could wish for.

when you arrived to the park, andrew was a little embarrassed.

people knew him around there, knew he was a little off, a little strange. they were intimidated by him and his ability to keep everyone off his space while he was there.

this was one of the only places where he was happy (your house had been recently added to the list). he hoped it'd remain that way after having you here with him.

you'd waited in your car before leaving so he could pick up a few of his skateboards, giggling once again when he brought over one of his old helmets from high school, even throwing in some extra protection for your elbows and knees.

andrew couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart when you put them on as soon as he walked you over to his favorite ramp. you liked this; being with him. you looked giddy, excited to be there, not once letting go of his hand as he led you there.

"so, you any good at this, andrew?"

for once, he chuckled. a surge of confidence took over him.

"want me to show you?"

you nodded excitedly, not paying any mind to how people walked away as soon as they saw andrew coming, now standing at the sidelines as he climbed on the ramp.

andrew laughed as he made his way up and down the ramp, smiling when he looked to the side and found you cheering for him, small claps formed by your hands and tiny gasps whenever he'd perform a trick. he was on top of the world then, never having had anyone express any sort of genuine pride towards him.

the mixture of adrenaline from the speed, the wind hitting his face combined with the pride he felt from having you there, having everyone witness his girl cheer for him — it did things to him.

he finished after a while, making his way back to you and jumping back slightly when you took both his hands in yours, jumping excitedly as you praised him.

"oh my god? i didn't think you'd be that good! show me how to do it? please?" you were like an excited kid, talking a mile a minute while he let you sway his hands with yours.

fuck, he was losing his mind. he didn't know what to do with someone so sweet, so untainted. you were sheer perfection to him in that moment.

"let's start with something a little safer first."

he set your skateboard down on even ground, standing behind you as he led you on top of it. you lacked confidence in your balance, so he knew he'd have to stay near you. he was more than fine with that.

"shit, don't let go, andrew." you said when you almost slipped as you first settled a single foot on the board. "i'm too scared to put both feet on the board. you're gonna have to hold me."

"it's okay. i'll hold onto you." he promised, hands settled on the backs of your elbows as he held onto you.

from behind you, he could smell your shampoo. it took everything in him to not lean in and nuzzle his nose into it. that floral lavender scent was addictive. your skin was so soft under his fingertips, and your scent was too alluring for any man to resist.

another pang hit his chest at knowing that you were his in this moment. any of the usual spectators at the park could see him with his pretty girl, not knowing you weren't exactly his just yet. but he could pretend.

"wanna try going a little faster?" he walked behind you, aiding the small skips you made by using one foot to slowly push you forward while the other remained stagnant on the board.

"yeah, just — put your hands on my waist. i need more support."

you said it so casually, reaching behind you and placing his hands around your waist as if the feel of skin your crop top gave him wouldn't make him a dead man walking. he breathed deep through his nose, fingers caressing the skin there softly before squeezing, signaling for you to begin moving.

the angle was awkward by nature. you couldn't really teach someone to skate one-on-one without having to hold onto them like this. at least not if you wanted to aid them in the way andrew did.

this was mostly for show. you weren't really skating as much as you were being softly pushed by andrew. but fuck, he couldn't stop smiling. the sound of your laugh practically forced his own laughter to come out. he was on cloud nine.

"i suck at this." you giggled after your third stumble (andrew had no complaints about those; they gave him a chance to grip your waist, prevent an actual slip from happening). "but you're a fun teacher."

"thanks. you're- you're fun to teach."

after a while of this, you were finally confident enough to skate a little on your own. and against his better judgment, andrew let go of your waist, keeping a small distance as he watched you skate short intervals on your own.

as he watched, one of the regulars at the park came up beside him, watching you along with him, some guy he'd exchanged words with once or twice. andrew was so enraptured by you, he didn't notice the added presence until he spoke.

"who's the girl, man? never seen you this happy before. girlfriend?"

andrew didn't remove his eyes from you as he answered.

"yeah." he lied.

the guy patted him on the back. some sort of congratulations for bagging you, he guessed.

"woah, congrats, man. that's a fine thing you got there. how long?"

andrew looked past you being called a 'fine thing.' nothing could ruin his good mood.

"a month." another lie.

"shit, and you've been keeping her to yourself, huh? this your what, third date? fifth?"

"first." the first bit of truth, — or half-truth.

"first date at a skate park?" the man grimaced. "dude you gotta take her to some nice restaurant."

andrew withdrew his eyes from your form for the first time, confused as he looked to the guy next to him.

"y'know. fancy food. some table on the corner. no loud music, so you can hear each other. dark ambience. maybe a walk on the beach right after. she might take you home after that." the guy elaborated, speaking with an ease of expertise that made andrew feel like an idiot.

was that how things were supposed to play out? that's what girls liked, right? this was his first time really doing something like this. and you had asked him to take you to a place he liked. had that been some sort of test? maybe you'd been baiting him into asking you out, tired of his brooding presence in your home unbagging groceries with nothing of interest to provide.

"hey, man. just ask her tonight. she's in a good mood. she'll say yes for sure." the guy kept going after andrew's prolonged silence.

andrew simply nodded, his gaze finding you again.

he stood there watching you as he thought things over.

there was a high chance you only saw him as a friend. you hadn't shown any indication of wanting anything more. today had been the most you'd given to him. the touches of your hands and your insistence he stay close, were those hints towards something more?

andrew swallowed, unsure of what his next move should be.

➽──────────────────❥

"i had a lot of fun tonight, andrew."

you held his hand in yours then. your fingers were smaller than his, dwarfed by the encompassing hold of his hand. everything about you was soft, softer than he'd ever felt. your hands were too delicate for him to hold, yet he dreaded letting go.

after a while at the park, you headed back home. andrew was sure that'd be the end of it, but when he went to walk over in the direction of his house, you stopped him. your hand reached his own, apparently a new favorite pastime of yours, shyly pulling him back in and suggesting you go for a walk by the shore. he couldn't have said no even with a gun to his head.

"me too."

andrew kept overthinking it. he could ask you out right there and then, have a real first date with you, make it so what he said back at the park wasn't a lie. but this had never worked out for him before. no one had ever stayed before — no one he wanted to stay, anyway.

the two of you had known each other only for a little while. the surface hadn't even been scratched yet when it came to knowing you. you seemed to enjoy him as he was. he couldn't understand how or why, but he continued riding that wave.

in his head, he could see everything with you playing out already. he was already thinking of putting money aside for a ring, of what it'd be like to have a lena of his own. one with his eyes and your hair. everything was moving a mile a minute, way too fast for a nice girl with a bright future like you. he could think of keeping you all to himself, having a repeat of today over and over again until you were grey and old, growing wrinkled together in a pretty house by the beach.

"andrew. did you hear me?"

"sorry, what?" he looked back at you when you stopped walking, taking note of how, even then, you didn't let go of his hand.

he'd grown too into his thoughts. this happened often, but it was usually met with some insult, a loud reiteration of his name, — pope, not andrew — never with the sweet concern found behind your eyes.

"i asked if you'd like to have dinner with me sometime."

for the first time, you looked unsure. instead of the steady eye-contact you always held with him, your eyes wandered off. they went from his own, to your intertwined hands, to the white sand beneath your feet.

andrew swallowed, his grip faltering slightly as he tried to process what you'd just said. he felt unseemly as he stared at you. english felt foreign to him at that moment, no word in the language could leave his lips. and the usual glimmer in your eyes dimmed more by each passing second.

"i- it's fine. you don't have to-"

"yes."

"oh? really?" you looked confused for a second before lighting up again. "you're gonna have to choose the place, okay? take me somewhere you like." your usual confidence came back almost immediately. your fingers squeezed his, cheeks puffing up with joy when he squeezed back.

and again, you gave him the choice. his comfort seemed important to you. you never said it, never put it into words, but you looked at him like you had an innate care for him.

"okay. i'll- is sometime this week okay?" he promised.

he'd never seen a smile as intoxicating as the one you gifted him with then.

he provoked excitement in you. it made him lose his breath.

that night, he came home, completely over the moon. his cheeks hurt from forcing a smile back. he had to rush into his room, avoid any sort of interaction with any lurking members of his family. there was no way he could hold back his excitement, no way he'd be able to lie about the reason for his giddiness if he were prodded about it.

rushing into his room, he slammed the door behind him, heading over to his bed and sitting at its edge, hands coming up to cover his face. he was flushed, warm at the cheeks and almost pained with how strong his emotions felt at that moment.

after calming himself down for a few moments, he walked over to his window, blinds closed as per usual. it was nighttime, so looking to your window would've been useless. your curtains were always drawn by then, but he already missed your presence. even if it proved useless, his fingers took the usual trip to the blinds near the top of the window, opening the small gap that allowed him a look outside.

a small gasp left him when he peeked out, finding your curtains still drawn open. and past your window, he found you, beginning the process of undress.

he realized then, he'd been out with you all day. you hadn't been home to close your curtains as you usually did every day at sundown. you'd been at the skate park then, spending far too many hours together and arriving home well into the nighttime. like him, you must've been spent by the time you made it into your room, not caring for your open curtains at such a late hour — who could possibly be watching you, anyway?

who, other than andrew?

he felt dirtier than he ever had as he watched you that night.

those clothes he'd seen you wear earlier in the day, they were no longer hugging your body, instead making their way off as you took them off piece by piece. once you got down to a lone piece of clothing, andrew's breath grew so heavy. he feared you'd be able to hear him past the glass of his own window. he panted at you like an animal in heat, unable to control himself as his free hand reached down to his pants, making its way under the material of his boxers before he could stop himself.

your back was facing him, tiny panties contouring the shape of your ass. your back was bare, offering andrew the life-ruining sight of your freed skin. his hands had graced a clothed version of your back, itching to feel the skin underneath as he held onto you back at the park. as he wrapped his hand around his dick, he could only imagine what it'd feel like if he could touch it now.

he breathed deep and heavy, swallowing back any groans as he watched you make your way around your room in nothing but your panties, readying your room so you could head to sleep. he knew he had to hurry and get himself there as soon as possible, to use the sight to his fullest advantage before you made your way under your covers.

you moisturized your body, making him green with envy at the lithe way in which you touched your own body. it was an innocent touch, he knew this, but the sight still made him suffer with insatiable desire.

his hardness was painful as he worked himself at a punishing pace. he was aggressive with it, hand wrapped tightly around himself, thumb teasing the tip every so often, imagining how softly you'd touch him if you were in his place. the mere thought made him sigh, it made him close his eyes and groan to himself.

any shame left him when his orgasm finally washed over him. his eyes were closed now, his hand away from the blinds and any sight of you fully gone now. his release stained his boxers, but he couldn't find it in him to care. the image of your naked skin was imprinted in his brain. the imagined feel of your touch and of your body were all he could think about.

when guilt finally found him, he washed it away. he spent an hour under the stream of the shower in penance over what he'd done to himself in your name. he could imagine the disgust you'd feel at knowing of the way in which he'd used your body without your permission. as much as he had tried to avoid it, his infatuation turned to lust. he wanted you in mind and spirit, but he also wanted you carnally.

he went to bed with this thought in mind, only falling asleep after endless hours of reliving the day's events. the memory of your laughter calmed him, but the thought of your future date made his heart accelerate with foreign nerves.

➽──────────────────❥

the following two days repeated a similar routine.

you'd been working double shifts those days, meaning that your date had no chance of taking place as of yet. however, andrew had no complaints. he couldn't. not when he still got a front row seat of you taking your time in dressing yourself each morning.

after that first time touching himself to the irresistible view you provided him with, andrew became insatiable.

he kept touching himself the following two days. not only did he touch himself as he watched you, but he couldn't help but let his hand find its way between his legs in the shower, before going to sleep, all with the memory of your body in mind. he knew what you smelled like now, knew what the skin of your midriff felt like under his touch, had become familiar with the curve of your breasts under your shirt. his imagination made up for the rest.

everything in his mind was just a replay of you and every moment in which he'd laid eyes on you.

it wasn't only your body he thought about. his mind circled back to everything else about you. you were the sweetest girl he'd ever met. he felt guilty being on the receiving end of your kindness, felt undeserving of your smiles and of the privilege to keep you company. you were a form of salvation andrew had been unfamiliar with, and with one single look he had become addicted.

he had the misfortune of not being able to see you outside of his imagination for those two days, but he decided to spend the rest of his free time on something productive — he'd find the best place for your date.

it had to be perfect. he had to make sure that it was, that he got another smile out of you, another giggle accompanied by those flushed cheeks that made his fingers flex with frustration at not knowing what to do with all the emotions fluttering within him.

on the third day, andrew was finally able to see you again, now for an extended period of time. it was daytime then, and he knew you had a day off. maybe he'd taken the liberty of finding out where you worked, doing the math and figuring out when you'd be there, when you wouldn't. but he didn't do anything more with that information. he just needed it for peace of mind.

knowing you were off, he decided to go on a limb, to see if maybe you'd be happy to see him unannounced.

last time he'd done something like this, he got called a weirdo by baz, got a few creeped out looks by cath and a sinking feeling in his chest like he'd fucked up somehow.

but that still didn't stop him from doing the same for you. with a fresh bouquet of flowers in his hands, he walked the steps to your front door and stood there expectantly before knocking on your door.

"andrew?" you opened the door halfway, only opening it all the way after realizing it was him on the other side of it.

"hi."

the flowers were up to his chest, unmoving until you acknowledged them. he wasn't sure how to do this in a way that didn't feel standoffish.

"are those for me?" there was some hesitancy in your voice. as if andrew could've gotten them for anyone who wasn't you.

he matched your hesitance in lifting his arm up, offering the flowers out to you with nothing more than a nod and an almost muted 'yeah.'

"oh, andrew. that's so sweet of you." you grasped them immediately, pressing them to your chest before digging your nose in them to smell them. you giggled afterwards, making pope realize any risk had been completely worth it if this had been the result.

"did you wanna come in?" you offered.

he shook his head. "just wanted to give you those. and uhm ..."

he considered chickening out. the two of you hadn't seen much of each other (or at least you of him) in the past few days. he wasn't sure if a date was still what you wanted. you'd never even called it a date. thinking back to it, this could've just been you trying to make friends since you were new in town, not wanting to engage with him in anything further than a friendship. craig had insinuated as such when he caught andrew coming back from the beach after seeing you off a few days ago.

"yeah?"

and you were still smiling, still keeping a tight grip on your flowers as if they'd just become some priced possession.

"can i take you out tonight? for our date?"

bashfully, you looked down at your feet, but andrew could still see a smile on your face. you flushed slightly, which seemed like a good sign to him.

"i was scared you'd forgotten." you said when you looked back up at him. "not nice to keep a girl waiting like this, andrew."

he chuckled dryly. "i'm sorry. that's what the flowers are for. can i pick you up tonight?"

nodding, you reached out to him, flowers in one hand as you opened your arms out to him and gave him a hug. andrew stiffened at this, not having expected it without any warning. from the nonexistent distance, he could smell your shampoo, get a whiff of that perfume he'd smelled on you just a few nights ago. he could've stayed there forever, had it not been for you pulling away.

"and that's for the flowers." you teased. "i'll be waiting for you, andrew."

andrew fell in love with how you said his name. you made a point of saying it often, always with a dulcet intonation intertwined with the syllables. it was never said in anger, not even once in anything remotely monotone. it was an exciting word for you, always slipping out between smiling lips. and now it felt like a promise, something for him to hold onto until he could see you again tonight.

as he made his way back home, he tried to fight the smile off his lips. his hands were balled into fists, attempting to fight back the strong emotions he was feeling at that moment. it was a mixture of excitement and nerves. he still had many things to do. he needed to go confirm that the restaurant was perfect, that there was a perfect table on some dark corner, no loud music, needed to buy some button-up you may like, one that had a collar you'd want to touch and readjust when you saw him. it'd have to be blue, the color of your vintage car and of your nails the day he'd first seen you. you liked that color, so maybe if he wore it you'd like him a little more too.

➽──────────────────❥

the date had been a blur.

andrew had been on high alert the whole time, not knowing how to respond when he picked you up and you'd kissed his cheek with no hesitation, grabbing onto his hand as you called him handsome. he'd been equally as clueless when you stretched your hand across the restaurant table to hold his hand halfway through dinner. much less did he know what to do when it came to be time for dessert and you exchanged your seat across from his to sit next to him at the booth, head leaning on his shoulder and arms wrapped around one of his, suddenly being fed spoonfuls of the tiramisu on the menu you'd squealed over.

he'd never been on a date. not like this, at least. he wasn't sure how he was meant to react when you seemed so happy to be there, as if he was doing you a favor by gracing you with his presence.

he wasn't used to inducing happiness, not to receiving it or to giving it.

taking you home had been a blur too, walking hand by hand as you swayed your interlocked hands and made your way to your house. there, you paused at the door, turning to him with a smile. andrew returned it, smaller, shier, but there. your hands went up to play with the collar of his shirt, complimenting how handsome he looked tonight once more and making him look down at his feet bashfully once again.

"do you wanna come in?" you asked, head tilted and a sly grin on your face.

he nodded, flinching a bit when you gripped his hand once more and dragged him inside.

inside, he stood there, still as he looked around and took in the place. he wanted to become familiar with everything, to have this place feel like home to him as much as it did to you.

his thoughts were halted, though, as you grabbed his attention once again. you had turned back to lock the door, now taking a few steps towards him. you stood close, what would be too close for comfort if you were anyone else. but andrew wanted you close. he wanted you on his skin, wanted to breathe in your oxygen despite how fast his heart began beating at your proximity.

the room was silent, but andrew's heart was beating so loud he was certain you could hear it. he was anxious to see what you'd do next, but even more so to make a move of his own. when your hands lifted to lay on his chest, he sucked a breath in, hoping the hard beating of his heart would go unnoticed.

but it didn't.

"are you nervous, andrew?"

"yeah."

"do i make you nervous?"

"it's not you that makes me nervous."

you leaned in a little more, eyes dropping to his lips for a millisecond before turning back up to his eyes.

"do you want me, andrew?"

the way you said his name made him dizzy. even more so than your question. he couldn't breathe at that moment, fighting every urge to put his hands on you, keeping them stilled at his sides, knuckles white with the strength it took to hold back.

he nodded, breathing out when your hands began trailing up his chest, finding his shoulders and then the back of his neck.

"i've liked you since the moment i saw you." it was said almost as a whisper. your hand went up to his freckled cheek, thumb running atop his cheekbone softly.

"really?" his voice was even more muted than yours. he couldn't believe himself.

you nodded, now one step closer to him. your nose touched his, your breath mixed with his own. his hands hovered on your waist, not brave enough to touch, but silently begging to. his eyes were droopy, landing straight on your open mouth, thirsty for a meeting of lips.

"you're all i think about these days."

he whimpered silently. it was almost mute, but he knew you heard it. the tension in the room was too heavy for him to feel embarrassed over it. his body vibrated with want for you.

andrew didn't know what to say. speechless, he kept breathing against you. you panted against each other, spent despite your love affair barely being at its beginning.

the two of you remained at the entrance of your house. you hadn't made it far before you'd stopped him from walking further into your home, hand holding his and pulling him close without any warning.

slowly, you caged him to the wall, approaching him with slow steps until there was no room for him to run — not that he'd ever consider it anyway. still, he flinched when your hand trailed down to his jaw, thumb on his chin, angling his head so his lips would finally meet your own. you did most of the work, enticing him by lifting up your chin so your lips would touch.

it was soft at first. just a simple peck, separating immediately after, but keeping your lips close enough to touch. again, you pecked his lips. you did this a few times, always slow in pulling away and always keeping your eyes hooded enough to zero in on his lips.

you opened your lips at last, trapping his bottom lip between yours and sucking at it. this began a series of heavy kisses between you, tongues finding each other and sucking messily at one another. your hands pulled at the strands of his hair, pulling him closer as if to prevent the kiss from ever ending. you sighed into his lips any time he'd lick into your mouth, practically forcing him into holding onto you and pulling you just as close. he moaned and whined any time you pulled at his bottom lip, head trailing back so you could drag it with you and make him follow your kiss. he'd flinch sometimes, head moving back at how forward you were with your kiss. but you'd chase him every time, hands pulling his head so your noses would knock together and your lips would trap his tongue, holding it hostage as you sucked on it.

andrew's skin burned, he itched with desire for you, head completely empty as you had your way with him. he whined shamelessly when you trailed down to his jaw, kissing your way to his neck and sucking at the skin there, clearly uncaring of any marks you'd leave behind. he felt bad for how strong his grip on your waist had become, but he needed the support. his eyes were closed, rolled back behind the lids as he received every one of your love bites. he wanted them in visible places, imagined himself walking around shirtless, wearing them with pride knowing that you'd marked him as yours. he'd never been anyone's — not by his own will. but he found himself wanting to strip himself of everything other than you.

"i want you." he breathed. "please."

andrew didn't allow himself to want things frequently.

he was a well-oiled machine. obeyed orders when given, did what he had to do, always. but wanting? that was foreign to him. he hadn't been allowed to want, only to provide — whatever that meant at any given moment.

but with you, he wanted to want. he needed to try, at least. he felt safe with you, like that constant risk of rejection was completely forgotten. part of that fear still slipped through his words, but he couldn't help himself in wanting you, in expressing such desire.

"i'll give you anything you want" you breathed into his lips, barely touching. far but still close enough for your breaths to mingle.

he kissed you again then. his mouth was open, a groan leaving his lips upon the contact. your hands gripped his hair, insistent on pulling him as close as you could bring him. small hums of pleasure were released into his lips, licked and sucked by his tongue, vibrating against him in a way that had him recalibrating, readjusting to the foreign feeling of desire.

"need you closer." you moaned, tongue occupied with his own. "touch me."

his hands had been practically stagnant on your waist, now pulled at and encouraged to travel up and down your body. he went greedy with it really fast, squeezing your every curve, pulling you inhumanly close and grunting when you'd try to mold yourself to him. even chest-to-chest, groin-to-groin wasn't enough, he needed your bare skin on his, to let his tongue run down every inch of your body.

despite his urgency, he was still soft and intimate. he kissed your bottom lip, trailing down to your chin and your neck before lowering himself down to your covered chest. the thin straps of your dress didn't offer much coverage, allowing andrew to see your hardening nipples from underneath the material. his nose trailed after them, lips agape as he breathed against them, hesitant in closing around them until a sigh of desperation left your lips from above.

his tongue came out first, shy in wrapping around your nipple through the material of the fabric. he dampened it, sucking through it and taking in the vibration of your moans. your hand lost itself in his curls, running your fingers through them and softly pushing him closer to your chest.

eventually his hands gripped at your hips, not taking a handful, but letting his fingers take hold of the surface of the plush skin he found there. he wasn't sure how much he could touch you, how far he could take it before the other shoe dropped. even as you sighed so seductively into the air of the room, andrew remained with a seedling at the back of his mind telling him that this could all end at any second.

that's when you read his mind once more, always sensing even the slightest move to falter his actions. pulling at his head, you brought him back to your lips, pecking them softly a handful of times before looking straight into his eyes. yours were heavy with need, troubled in keeping your gaze on his eyes as they kept dropping to his lips.

"do you have a condom?"

he shook his head, remorseful.

"that's okay." you pecked his lips. "will you let me take you to bed?" it was whispered again. it seemed like you shared his fear. like if you acted on a whim, made any sudden movements, that it'd all be over.

he nodded, letting you take his hand and lead him into the master bedroom of the house. there, he couldn't help but stop at the entrance, looking over the room through which he'd been watching you all this time.

you stopped when his stilled hand pulled you back, turning to look at him over your shoulder. his eyes weren't on you, though. they were looking at your room, taking in every painting on the wall, every piece of furniture, the vanity in which you'd get ready every morning. andrew was well acquainted with everything in your room, recognizing every stuffed animal he could see from his window. every memory of you naked in your room came rushing back to him, causing him to swallow and for his fingers to squeeze yours unknowingly.

after a few moments of his silence, you spoke up again, getting his attention. you'd taken a few steps towards him, now standing face-to-face, your hands letting go of his in favor of settling on flat on the muscle of his chest.

"ever thought you'd be on the other side of that window?" you whispered, fingers trailing to the ends of his hair, drawing goosebumps in their wake.

"w-what?" his eyes, alert, landed on yours. you were too close for him to focus his eyes on you, almost going cross-eyed. but your eyes were distracted by his mouth, his ears, his neck, every single one being traced by your fingers.

you nodded at him, pressing one gentle kiss to his chin, then one to the corner of his lips, then to his cheek, pressing a few soft kisses in between words.

"my room? you've seen it before, haven't you? this morning? yesterday? a month ago?"

he felt lightheaded. his fingers flexed again, itching to touch you but feeling as if he did so at this moment, that softness in your voice would leave. you knew what he'd done. you were mocking him, likely playing with him as some form of punishment. but he wanted you so badly he was willing to take it — he needed you so much that he was scared to not even get this much from you.

"w-what? you-"

"shh. it's okay, baby." you whispered against his ear, chest now pressed to his and hands digging into his hair, pulling him in to rest his head on your shoulder. "did you like the view?"

dragging your hands down his body, they traced at the hem of his shirt, fingers teasing as they trailed up the expanse of his abdomen from underneath his shirt. your movements were slow and calculated, making him falter and his breath stutter.

he shook his head. not at your question, but at himself.

"n-no, i-"

"no?" your nails dragged down his chest softly. your tongue traced the shell of his ear. "i was hoping you'd do something about it. come knocking down my door or maybe sneak through my window."

he groaned at the thought (though maybe also at the way you sucked at his neck at that moment). his hands turned a little greedy by then, digging into your hips with a grip strong enough to keep you hostage if you so tried to leave.

"you knew?" he asked uselessly.

"since your first week back."

"i ... i'm sorry."

but you shook your head, your nose shifting against his cheek and nudging him so your lips would meet. kissing him a few times over, you licked into his mouth, swallowing his sigh of pleasure.

"it's okay, baby. i knew you were watching. just wanted your eyes on me" you sighed into his lips, whining when he opened his, licked your tongue bravely. "took way too long to seduce you."

you'd said it as a joke, as a lust-filled jest to relieve some of the heavy desire in the room. but andrew couldn't take it. he couldn't handle knowing that the feeling had been mutual, that you'd orchestrated a plan to get him hooked, get him panting like a dog, chasing after you in silence until he could finally push himself into making a move.

he thought about the self-control he exerted those first weeks, the repentance he'd felt at simply watching you, at the itch within to keep you all to himself. the day he finally touched himself to your body, he'd gotten on his knees and hoped you'd forgive him one day, not knowing that had been exactly what you wanted.

"i liked it. watching you." he admitted, swallowing back any shame.

you responded by cupping his cheeks, holding him far enough so you could look into his eyes. your thumbs held onto his cheekbones, gentle in your touch.

"do you wanna see it up close?" you whispered as you leaned in for a kiss, swallowing his groan in return.

"can i?"

"come here."

you reached down to pull at his hand, walking him over to your bed and gently pushing him onto a sitting position. he sat there, back straight and hands on the top of his thighs. there was a furrow to his brow. he wasn't sure what to do, how to react. inside, he was losing his mind. his eyes kept begging to reach every inch of your body, but the confident smirk on your face convinced him to keep his eyes on you.

reaching the hem of your dress, you pulled it off in a single move, leaving you in just some panties. your shoes came next, thrown off with no finesse. andrew watched every move like a hawk, fingers digging into his clothed legs and pulling at the material harshly. there was a heavy weight on his chest, he felt like he couldn't breath properly, panting at the sight like a rabid dog.

seemingly enjoying his reaction, you giggled, straddling him on the bed, hands on his shoulders before leaning down to stick your tongue in his mouth. static, his hands remained on his sides, not daring to place them on your hips until you dragged them there.

"is it as good as you remember? the view?"

"you're perfect." he groaned, hands now hovering, but still not brave enough to touch the now bare skin.

you turned soft for a moment, staring into his eyes and leaning down. "you are too, andrew."

before he could grunt some sort of disagreement or denial, you kissed him again, pushing him to lay down on the bed. his arms wrapped around your back, pulling you against his chest and groaning into your mouth. when you began to grind against him, he sucked on your tongue, humming at the way you moaned his name into his lips.

greedy, your hands reached south, finding the hem of his shirt before tickling the skin underneath it, itching to remove it. andrew sighed at your touches, pondering as to whether or not to help you undress him, but having the feeling of the skin of your back win that battle. his hands reached down to your ass, grabbing, pulling at the fat there and pushing you up against him as his hips reached up in attempts to grind into yours.

"off."

"what?"

"all of it."

andrew was nothing if not obedient. unwilling to displease you in any capacity, his hands went straight to work, awkwardly working his clothes off while you remained on top of him. there were a few accidental shoves of elbows, some bitten lips, perhaps one or two limbs trapped in fabric, but the reward for his nudity had been immediate.

andrew had never been on the receiving end of such ravenous lust, of such thirsty eyes staring him down and threatening his ruin in the most appetizing of ways.

demanding hands ran up and down his back, trailing to his front and tracing his stomach, his abs, his pecs, fingers running through every ridge and making him shudder through every second of it. his head found its rightful place resting in the crook of your neck, head turned to the side to breathe tiny gasps into your skin. andrew's knuckles remained white with the effort it took him to take in all your touches. it was an unfamiliar feeling, to have his entire being traced and memorized with such amorous touches.

he'd never been on the receiving end of infatuation, nor had he ever been quite good at being the giver of it. yet he was sitting there, his own fingers shyly reaching your hips again just so he could have a tiny taste of your warmth. you were greedier with your touch, shameless in getting your feel of him.

it was when you began trailing down his body that andrew broke himself out of his trance. when he felt the wet kisses go from his neck down to his chest, his abs, reaching his hips, his thighs, and ending at his cock.

his head was already being licked and sucked at before he could react. he was rarely one to be caught off guard, but the deep groan leaving his lips was enough indication to show just how much he'd lost himself in your affections.

you were on your knees as he laid back on the bed, legs settled on the ground from the side of it and back arching slightly when your tongue would sneak out and trace his slit in between sucks. your hands took whatever your mouth couldn't, following the rhythm of the bobs of your head. occasionally you'd pay attention to his balls, causing his hands to itch to hold your head and keep you there. but he couldn't bring himself to even try and take any control of the situation. he was willing to let you call the shots, let you run things however you wished if it meant he would be on the receiving end of it all.

his mind was fuzzy within minutes, fingers flexed as they gripped at the frilly sheets under him, hips doing their best to stay still and endure the torture your mouth provided without forcing himself further inside its wet warmth. his groans and huffs were muffled to the best of his ability, sometimes through sheer willpower, while occasionally by biting the back of his hand. the only other sound in the room was the squelch of your mouth as you played with him.

but then there were your own sounds.

looking down at the very first vibration against him, he found your eyes almost completely rolled back. your lips were pursed and releasing tiny gasps and cries around his dick. he could mostly feel the vibration of your sounds, but if he really tried, he could hear the tiny little whines you let out as you engulfed him. that, coupled by your nails dragging red lines down his thighs, made him groan in defeat.

because you were enjoying this. you were moaning louder by the passing minute, desperation taking over as you sped up your movements, nails digging so hard into him he was sure those marks would prevail for days on end. he could've come like this, could've given in and had the image of his cum being drained by your lips, could've ruined his own life with such an image imprinted in there. but he couldn't bring himself to be selfish when it came to you. he needed to atone for every soft demonstration of selfless affection you'd given him — he needed to make you feel as good as you did him, and then by a tenfold.

when he pulled you away from him, he was met with a petulant whine. pope wasn't one to laugh much, but it did almost pull a chuckle out of him to see how needy you were at that moment. he felt the same way, was just not secure enough to show it.

"nooo." you whined once you were back to straddling him, eyes meeting once more. "wanna make you come."

your eyes were heavy, lips swollen and wet with a mixture of saliva and pre cum. you weren't 100% there, clearly drowning in desire (just as he was, he was just better at hiding in plain sight). he exhaled deeply, mouth opening and closing a few times, wanting your lips on his own more than anything at that moment.

"you first."

you whined again. huffed, even. your lips met his again after that, needy, messy, wet and nasty. you wanted to give him a taste of himself, to show him what had you so obsessed past the point of critical thinking. and god, he adored it. he never imagined enjoying the taste of himself (and to be frank, he didn't), but he was convinced he'd swallow poison if it were delivered by your lips. a mess of teeth, tongues, bitten lips and bumping noses, but it created the most mind-numbing kiss he'd ever exchanged. his mind was so gone that he lost all reservations he'd had before and allowed his hands to be overcome with greed for your body. every inch was squeezed, pulled at and manhandled. he didn't care if he left you with bruises the next day (he would later, but for now he just wanted to melt into your skin, and this seemed like the closest way to do so).

as gently as he could manage, he flipped you over, hands wrapped around your frame, holding you against him and ending up above you. he wanted to copy your earlier actions, to kiss and lick every inch of your body until he had you wrecked under him. it wasn't that he wanted power over you, but he wanted to take every thought aside from him out of your head. just like you'd done from the moment he met you.

his lips trailed your jaw, unsure of where to start his mission. they eventually landed on that crook between your jaw and your neck, latching there and sucking a mark he knew you wouldn't be able to rid yourself of any time soon. he felt bad marking you, but a sick part of himself told him that this way he'd make sure anyone who saw them knew you were his — including you.

his hands held you still under him, legs straddling you and ensuring you wouldn't attempt to grind at him from underneath (which you were actively trying to do). when he landed on your chest, he sighed at the fat plush he found there, dragging his teeth down the skin until they came to contact with your areola and eventually your nipple. he hummed at your sigh of relief, wrapping his lips around it and sucking, nibbling at it and eventually pulling at it with his teeth. the same was done to your other nipple, receiving a handful of his hair being pulled at in a manner he could only describe as painful, but that felt like bliss at that moment.

it didn't take long for him to accomplish his mission, to make you grow desperate beneath him as he kissed every inch he could get his lips on. greedy, your hands dragged down his back, providing yet another space of his body that would be gifted with your marks. he groaned into your skin, returning the favor by filling your body with splotches of red and purple.

when he reached south, he took a detour from the part he'd been craving to taste the most, instead reaching the inside of your thighs and tasting the skin there. he held your legs open against your petulance to close them around his head (which he would've gladly accepted had it not gotten in his way).

andrew never thought himself to be a greedy man until this very moment. never knew he could be allowed to want to this extent, to take and get his fill and then go for some more. being rewarded for his greed was an entirely different concept completely foreign to him, receiving the breathiest moans of his name the closer he got to your middle.

and when he finally reached it, — nosing his way to your cunt, breathing in deep and shameless, your back arched, pressing yourself up against him and pushing his head down simultaneously — that's when he really lost all reservations. he dug in, fingers gripping the skin of your thighs as he pulled them apart to give space for his venture. licking from top to bottom, he landed on your clit, tip of his tongue running circles, figure 8's, his initials over and over again until your wails were so loud he knew that craig would be awoken from his nap next door due to them.

"andrew, i- fuck." you attempted.

multiple times you tried moaning out some sort of sentence, but he'd lose himself even more in you every time, taking a single syllable out of you as a challenge to ruin you far enough so you wouldn't be able to form a single word.

he groaned into you, shaking his head side to side as he licked and sucked at you, tongue going south to prod at your hole and lick away at your juices. feeding off your whines, he dug himself closer, his nose now digging into your clit as he licked into your hole.

"i'm- i'm almost there, shit. please don't stop. please please, shit, please, baby. i need-"

he blanked out the rest of your pleas. they all went straight to a corner of his mind he rarely ever visited. and there they would remain for the rest of his life, accompanying him the next time he felt deserving of your sweet whiny voice begging for him.

as you continued to cry out his name, your orgasm built up, taking over you unexpectedly as your legs clamped around his head, muffling your shrieks of his name. andrew could not have this — no, if his name was leaving your lips, he needed to be able to give it his full attention. he continued to hold you open, straining his arms as you subconsciously fought against him. the pleasure was too much for you. you writhed and cried and shook on the bed, making it hard for andrew's hips to continue to occasionally grind against the side of the mattress as they'd been doing from the moment he got his tongue on you.

he said nothing as he pulled away, instead kissing your ankle before trailing his way back up your body with his lips just as he'd traveled his way down. ignoring the hardness between his legs, he straddled you, lips curling up slightly when you pulled him down to your lips with haste.

nothing was more enjoyable to him than your taste, nothing but your own tongue trying to lick its remnants out of his own. pulling at his hair, you held him against you, greedy in the same way he'd been between your legs.

"you taste so good." he mumbled. "d'you like it?"

"mhm" it was high pitched and distracted, anxious to get back to his lips. "felt so good, andrew."

your legs wrapped around his middle, pulling his center closer to your own and grinding up.

"want more." you licked into his mouth as you said it.

"yeah?"

you nodded, hands antsy. he could feel your desperation for him in various ways. from your hands to the wetness between your legs, he knew you were genuine about your need for him, for his touch. he couldn't understand why you needed him, but he needed you so badly in return that he was unwilling to question it.

"condom?" he remembered from earlier. "i don't have one."

"like this. i'm clean. promise."

he nodded along, offered a similar affirmation before finally sneaking his hand between you. he was so pent up he groaned at his own touch, body shuddering when you whispered encouragement in his ear.

"oh, andrew." you sighed when he dragged himself up and down your slit. it made a squelching sound. it made him groan how you tried to squeeze around him when he passed by your opening. your body was begging for him; so were you.

andrew was no stranger to carnal pleasure. but it was never more than that — carnal. it was always a quick affair. in and out, a simple exchange of temporary pleasure. he'd never had anyone look at him the way you did at that moment. never had anyone's eyes widen and eyebrows furrow as they looked up at him, hands gripping at his shoulders as if they'd die if he dared pull away. that was only you.

he entered you at last, groaning an expletive that barely made its way out of his lips. you gripped him like you dreaded ever letting him leave. he was trapped inside you, and he was happy to be.

"fuck, andrew, you're perfect."

just like him, you were breathless. your mouth was agape, chin tilted up and silently begging for another kiss.

he didn't fuck you fast and hard. this wasn't some exchange; it was a beginning. he'd have time to let his carnal desires take over some day in the future (seeing as you were his now — you hadn't discussed it, but he knew). today he needed to show you how he felt.

never one good with words, andrew let the hammering of his hips speak for him, let the wet kisses pressed against your skin tell you how he already felt like he was in love. he'd had a taste of your kindness, your sweetness, your affection, and suddenly he couldn't imagine getting by another minute without it.

"you're perfect." he corrected.

you grunted lowly, your heels pressing into his ass to push him closer. when he followed your direction, giving you more and more, your cries of his name rewarded him. you gasped and choked around the two syllables that formed his name, sometimes replacing it for an expletive or for a 'baby' or a whiny praise for how good you felt.

andrew felt like he'd explode. praise wasn't his forte, but the whispered words of affirmation couldn't stop leaving his lips as he interrupted your wet kisses with them. he was even worse at receiving it, but his ears still blushed a deep red when you'd cry his name with a specific intonation that had him reeling, or when you'd scream how good he felt inside you.

you were heaven around him, made him forget about every piece of hell he'd been dealt with up until this moment. it all felt worth it now. it all made sense if this was what god had sent down to him for atonement for his suffering. greed kept growing within him as he enjoyed you, gasping when you'd squeeze around him every time he hit that spot that made your eyes cross.

"w-wanna cum. fuck, andrew. please, wanna come. want y-you to come with me."

his head fell on your shoulder. fuck. he could barely hold back when you sounded so broken for him. his hands gripped the back of your legs even tighter, pulling your back off the bed and carrying most of your body weight against him as his hips lost control. his strength had finally proved useful for something other than destruction.

"yes, oh, god, and-andrew! i'm right there."

"do it." he huffed. "do it with me."

your orgasm came first, slightly unexpected as you lost yourself under him. andrew couldn't handle it, couldn't withstand the sight nor the feeling of you melting into him. your orgasm dragged his out of him, making him let out an embarrassingly broken groan he'd tried but failed to muffle with your skin.

in that moment andrew decided that you were his. as you gasped and cried out his name, nails digging crescent moons onto his shoulders, andrew knew that this was a forever thing.

it was too soon, he knew this, but that'd never stopped his feelings from materializing. he'd known from the moment he saw you that he'd be infatuated upon the first touch. and now, having gone beyond his wildest thoughts, he knew he'd be addicted to you forever.

the soaked velvet of your walls spasmed around him, making him never want to leave that space between your legs he'd marked as his own. no part of you would ever belong to anyone else, and andrew would make sure of it. a sick part of him hoped that this first time would be enough to tie you to him forever, recalling the lack of condom as he felt every fiber of yourself wrapped around him.

he knew these were sick fantasies that would likely scare away anyone else. but not you. tilting his head up, he met your eyes, blown out as your orgasm seized.

and with just one look he knew you were just as sick for him as he was for you.

➽──────────────────❥

"you have a lot of scars."

"yeah."

"i'm sorry."

you turned your body closer to his. your hands had been shyly tracing over the many scars on his torso, some on his arms. it felt gentle, your touch. andrew had no hesitation in letting you touch him, knowing you were incapable of causing him any sort of pain.

still, he felt inadequate.

he didn't want to explain his scars. wanted to hide them and prevent you from ever knowing what had brought them on. he was afraid of what you'd think, how you'd look at him if you knew what he truly was.

"for what?"

"i'm not sure." you mumbled. "just hate that you've ever been hurt." you leaned down then, kissing the spots on his chest you'd just been tracing. when you were done, you squirmed your way back to his eyeline, pecking his lips softly, slowly.

"i'm not hurt now."

"yeah."

there was comforting silence between you after that. his arms continued to hold you against him, your hands now wrapped around him rather than exploring his body.

he hesitated for a moment before breaking the silence, swallowing as he did so.

"i'm sorry about watching you through your window."

you didn't respond at first. the two of you just laid next to each other, with him only receiving a hum in response as your nose dug into his chest, breathing him in.

"i'm not."

"did you ... did you do it on purpose?"

"not at first." you responded. "but then i saw you roughhousing with your brothers through the backyard and, i dunno, i just liked you."

"why?"

it was incomprehensible to him. he knew people were scared of him. that one look was enough to get people turning their backs on him, uncomfortable with his mere presence. it used to bother him at some point, but he'd grown so used to it by now that he'd forgotten it was possible to find someone who didn't feel that way about him.

"i just like you."

you said it with a kiss to his chest, a soft scratch of nails to his stomach and what almost sounded like a purr as you cuddled into him. all were signs that you found comfort in his presence, something which andrew was afraid to get used to.

but you made it so easy. you made him want to curl up against you and breathe in the flowery scent of your shampoo. and so he did just that. he laid next to you, tracing nonsensical shapes on the skin of your hip as you fell asleep in his arms.

the next morning he'd wake up nuzzled into your chest, hands already awake and running through his hair, comforting him in a way he'd never been before. he'd lay there and wonder if he could make this a reality.

he wondered if he could pay off your lease and take you away.

➽──────────────────❥

idk what that ending bit was but lets pretend reader is a little dumb and already in love with andrew and they run away together forever yayyy

[lemonpeppermintstickshift]

YUMMMMMMMMM OMG

[flofaiiry]

slim pickins ; jack abbot x reader

❝ a boy who's nice that breathes, i swear he's nowhere to be seen ❞

synopsis: a tipsy reader confides her boy troubles to jack, then realizes maybe one of the good men she's been waiting for has been in front of her the whole time. (it's him, he's good men.)

warnings: fem!reader, swearing, alcohol, age gap (unspecified, but jack tells her she's young & calls her 'kid'), reader referred to as a lightweight, reader is on birth control, explicit smut, jack is a consent king, fingering, oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v (don't do that!!), jack is capital L large, praise, finishing inside

wc: ~3.6k

note: i wrote this in one sitting because the idea just hit me like a TRUCK. this is so self indulgent i cant believe i wrote this but i also love it so much so i hope you enjoy!! as always feedback is super appreciated!!!

"it's just... it's like they don't exist! and if they do they've got a girlfriend already, and who can blame them? i'd scoop up the first decent guy i could lay my hands on too!"

jack listens somewhat intently as you continue on your tirade, downing the last sip of the cocktail you've been nursing. you catch the bartender's attention to ask for one more. "don't worry about it. you're young, you've got time. you'll find someone."

"really?" you pick up the freshly made drink placed in front of you and take a larger then necessary sip, gulping almost half of it down in one go.

"yes, really."

you squint, "i'll believe it when i see it." you down the last of the drink like it's a shot, placing the glass down with an emphatic thunk. jack slides it away from you. "i think you've had enough," he says, matter-of-factly. you frown, "i've only had two." he shrugs, "sure, but you're kind of a lightweight." he's got a teasing glint in his eyes as he flags down the bartender, passing him a credit card.

you take the hint and start to rummage through your purse, searching for your wallet. "don't worry about it, i got it." he says, taking his card back from the bartender. "oh! um. thanks!" you smile. he returns it and you can feel your cheeks heat up.

just the alcohol, right? right.

he nods towards the door, "come on, i'll drive you home." you shake your head, "oh no, i can't ask you to do that, i'll just call an uber, it's really no big deal."

"5th and king right? it's on the way, don't worry about it."

you're not quite sure how he knows your address. you probably mentioned it in passing one day, or in a conversation he overhead, but either way, it definitely doesn't help to lessen the warmth in your face.

you nod, "yeah, 5th and king. thanks." jack notices the way your smile goes from polite to genuine. he nods towards the door again, pulling his car keys from his jacket pocket, "let's go."

you walk next to him to his car. hands in your pockets to hide the way you're fidgeting with a hair tie between your fingers.

the drive to your place is relatively quiet, but not silent, not awkward. he asks you when you work next this week, you ask what made him buy this car.

it's comfortable.

before you know it, he's pulling into the parking lot of your building. he reverses into a spot and does that hand-on-the-back-of-the-seat thing that makes every girl go crazy.

you smile at him, "thanks for the ride." your hand finds the door handle, lingering there for a second. "and for listening to me rant about the shitty men of pittsburgh."

he smiles. "happy to be of service."

you swear if you weren't on birth control that smile alone could knock you up.

"i guess i'll see you tuesday then," you click the door open, however reluctantly. he nods, "yeah, see you tuesday."

you step one foot outside the car before you hear his door swinging open too. you look at him across the top of the car, the tiniest hint of confusion on your face. he just shrugs.

"door to door service."

you laugh. has he always been this attractive? or is the alcohol in your system right now making you see things. it's gotta be the alcohol. right? has to be.

he walks up to the building with you, pulling the door open for you.

when did men stop doing this? opening doors for women. when did chivalry die?

it isn't until you hear a familiar laugh that you realize you said that out loud. damn. you really were a lightweight. two little drinks in and you've already lost your filter.

"sorry, i just mean-" you say quickly, trying to recover yourself. he just shakes his head, "i know what you mean."

that smile again. you swear you could melt into a puddle right now. a mix of embarrassment and confusing, sudden attraction doing you in.

you walk in and turn down the hall towards your apartment. jack follows close behind.

"how long have you lived here?" he asks, following you down the winding, dimly lit hallway. "about three years, i think? it's nice. a little dingy, but it's close to work, and grocery stores and stuff like that." you shrug.

"it's got character." he clarifies. "yeah," you exhale, "character."

you arrive at your door. unit 105. you shove your hands into your pockets to find your key, pulling it out along with the attached string of souvenir keychains.

you slide it into the lock and twist, the familiar clicking sound telling you it's open. you place your hand on the doorknob, tentative, before turning to face jack.

"thanks again, for tonight." he smiles. god he has got to stop doing that. "don't mention it."

"no, really, i probably sounded like a bitch going on and on about my... guy troubles. anyone else would have left halfway through so, thanks."

"don't worry about it," he locks his eyes onto yours. "you're a good kid, you'll find a... what was it you said? a real man?"

you laugh.

yeah, like you?

his eyebrows twitch.

shit.

out loud again.

your hand flies to cover your mouth, "oh my god, jack i am so sorry i cannot believe i said that out loud! oh my- i am so. sorry. i'm so embarrassed, i-" he can't help but laugh, "it's fine, i-"

"no! oh my god, it is so not fine, that is so unprofessional of me, i can not believe i just said that," you're gesturing awkwardly now, trying to somehow apologize for your lack of filter.

he takes your hand in his.

"hey," he says, giving it a small squeeze. "it's fine, really. i'm-" he laughs, eyes finding your gaze again.

"i'm flattered." you take a deep breath. a tiny tinge of embarrassment leaving you finally.

when you're standing here like this, so close to him, his eyes on you like this- christ- him holding your hand. you wonder if he's always been like this. if he's always had eyes this endearing and perfectly hazel, hands so warm and calloused, but not rough.

if he's always been this... pretty.

sure he's conventionally attractive anyone could see that. but in this moment it's different.

he's not just attractive. you're attracted to him.

"can i kiss you?"

he raises his eyebrows just the tiniest bit. "you mean to say that out loud?"

you nod. he just stares at you for a second longer. "i'm sorry- that was stupid, i'm probably-"

you're cut off with his lips on yours, and you swear your legs almost give out.

you take a stumbly step forward, and press one hand on his chest to balance yourself, while also leaning more into the kiss.

it's slow at first, tentative. but it's enough, god, it's more than enough. one of his hands slides up your body to rest on the side of your head, gently pulling you away and resting his forehead against yours.

both of your breaths are slow and heavy.

"we don't have to-" he whispers, giving you an out.

"please."

his next exhale is quick. the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he pulls your lips back into his, this time more sure. you swear you almost moan into his mouth.

he doesn't say anything. doesn't laugh, like other men might, doesn't make a joke about how desperate you are. he just absorbs the sound, and if anything lets it fuel him.

his tongue easily slips into the mix, hand travelling down to your waist and pulling you against him.

you snake your hands up his back and lace them into the little hairs at the top of his neck. not tugging, just there. the pads of his fingers press into your lower back, steadying you to walk half a step backward towards the door.

his free hand shoots out to feel for the doorknob, twisting it once he finds it then pushing open the door. he moves it back to your waist as he ushers you both into the apartment.

"bedroom?"

"first door down the hall." you say, barely pulling away long enough to do so.

god, you can't get enough of him.

you make your way towards it, jack's eyes cracked open just enough to make sure he doesn't send you back-first into a wall. when you finally reach the room, jack eases you back down onto your bed, brushing your hair from your face & crawling on top of you.

"you sure you want this? i don't want you to feel taken advantage of or anything- i know you had something to drink earlier."

you cut him off with a kiss, slow and sure. "i had two drinks jack, at most i'm a little tipsy. i'm sure as hell sober enough to know i want this though."

"you sure?"

"i want this, jack. please. i want you."

with that, he kisses you again with a heat that's new to this whole encounter. a hunger.

his lips part from yours, beginning to trail from the side of your mouth, to your jaw, and then starting their descent down your neck. he doesn't rush, but doesn't take his time either. he spends no more time than necessary sucking the tiniest of marks into your skin.

his hands roam down to the waistband of your pants, tugging your tucked shirt out from underneath it, then sliding beneath the material to your stomach.

he pulls away form your neck and takes his hands out from under your shirt and begins unbuttoning the shirt you're wearing

you're thanking whatever gods are out there for making you wear a button up to the bar tonight.

he makes quick work of the buttons, greedily pushing the material aside to reveal your bra. it's simple, nothing extravagant. it's not like you were expecting to go home with jack abbot tonight.

but nonetheless, jack thinks you look perfect. and he makes sure you know it.

"god, you are so beautiful." he says, voice ragged before he dips his head back down to kiss along the newly exposed skin of your chest. hand sliding up your body to palm over your breast.

though it's through the material, it feels so good.

he moves a hand under your body and toys with the clasp of the bra.

"can i?" he pauses to look up at you nodding eagerly, "yeah, please." you breathe.

with a single movement he's released the clasp and is pulling the material off of you in another. "did i tell you you're beautiful?" he says again, practically ogling at your bare chest.

you smile, "you may have mentioned it, yeah."

he returns it, before dipping back down to kiss along the swell of your breast, then the skin between them. your head tilts back into the pillow just the tiniest bit at the sensation.

his hands now finally travel down your body to the waistband of your pants, messing with the button and zipper there. he leaves one last mark on your chest before pulling away to give it his full attention. he undoes them quickly, and slides the pants down your legs, tossing them idly somewhere in the room and revealing your basic underwear.

again, not like you were expecting any action tonight.

he kisses your lips again, one hand remaining between your legs, pressing just shy of where you needed him the most over the thin material of your underwear.

you can't stop the way your back arches the slightest bit at the sudden feeling, the way you exhale into his mouth. he pulls away from the kiss to move himself down the bed to position himself between your legs. he hooks his fingers around the black material and pulls the panties off of you.

you're fully exposed to him now, your cunt glistening from the lead up. jack can't help but smirk, running a single finger from bottom to top, pressing down slightly when he reaches your clit.

your hips rock into him at the touch, one of his hands pushing you back down into the mattress while the other slides a finger inside you with absolutely no resistance.

"oh my god," you breathe upon his entrance.

you're so wet, so ready that jack almost immediately adds a second finger. he watches for your reaction, and takes the way your breath hitches and your eyes fall shut as a signal that you liked that.

he dips his head down between your legs, pressing a barely there kiss against your clit before jetting his tongue out over it, making you whine.

"god- fuck, jack," you say, breathy, "feels so good."

he just hums against you, the vibration adding a new layer of pleasure as if his fingers and mouth weren't enough. somewhere along the line, the soft licks and kisses to your clit turn into sucks, the pressure causing the knot at the pit of your stomach to grow.

his fingers curl up into you, against that one spot that makes you see stars. your head rolls backwards into the pillows, sharp exhale leaving your lips.

you clench around his fingers, desperate for even more. jack takes the hint, you feel him grin against your pussy before pressing the tip of his tongue, hard, against your clit.

one of your hands finds it's way into his hair, gently tugging at the curls, the other grasping at the sheets for dear life.

he pulls away from your core for a moment, but only a moment, and only to say what you think is probably the hottest thing a man has ever said to you.

"come for me baby, come on. wanna feel you cum on my fingers."

dear lord.

as quickly as he pulled away his lips are back around your clit, licking and sucking at it like it's his full time job, fingers pumping mercilessly in and out of your soaking cunt as he draws you towards your orgasm.

you breathing gets reckless, your hand tightens around the curls of his hair and your eyes cinch shut as you come. your jaw falls open but no sound leaves at first, until a choked moan makes it's way out. a sound jack wishes he'd just recorded.

jack's mouth and fingers don't stop. not immediately, not until you're well over the peak of your orgasm. he slows down just enough that the pleasure doesn't stop, but doesn't overwhelm you either.

after you've come down from the high he presses one last kiss to your clit before standing up between your legs at the foot of the bed.

your breathing is ragged. chest heaving up and down as you clench involuntarily around nothing. jack's hands travel to his belt, undoing the clasp and pulling it off before shoving his pants down to his ankles and stepping out of them.

he takes a step over to you, your eyes having a hard time staying on his face and not the hugely obvious bulge in his boxers. "condom?" he says simply.

you nod, "yeah, there should be one in the top drawer here." he walks over to your night table, crouching slightly to open the top drawer. he pushes the items around looking for the familiar square packet but doesn't see anything.

he tilts his head. "nope, not in here." you sit up in the bed, eyebrows furrowed. "no? i swear there should be some. maybe try the bottom drawer." you watch him close the drawer before opening the one beneath it. it's empty safe for a book or two. he shakes his head, "nope."

"seriously? i could've sworn i had."

"get that much action?" he teases, sliding the drawer shut and standing up.

you almost cackle. "no, i get so little action that i didn't even know i was out."

he smiles, walking over to where his pants lie taking out his wallet and flipping through it briefly.

"i mean... i'm on the pill if that's- i don't know, a peace of mind? i don't think i have anything, fuck, i cant even remember the last time i was with anybody."

he closes his wallet, seemingly unsuccessful in his search. he looks up at you, "you sure?"

"yeah," you nod. "i mean if you're not comfortable with it, obviously we don't have to, i just- i'm okay with it." you clarify.

he smiles, putting his wallet back into the pants pocket and dropping it back onto the floor. "yeah, okay." he takes a step towards you then hooking his fingers into his boxers and pulling them down.

it's embarrassing but you cant help the way your eyebrows raise at the sight of him.

"anybody ever teach you it's not polite to stare?" he teases.

you look up to his eyes, noticing the stupid smirk on his face. "yeah- sorry, just. wow."

he laughs, "wow." he repeats, the tiniest hint of mocking present in his tone as he crawls back over you.

"oh, shut up." you say, pulling him down to kiss him.

mouth still on yours, he positions his cock at your entrance. the feeling of his tip ever so gently brushing at your clit causing your breath to catch in your throat. lips never ceasing against yours he starts to push inside of you.

the stretch is unlike any you've ever felt before. it's almost painful, but it feels too damn good to call it that. your walls adapt around his length as he slowly buries his cock inside you.

after a few seconds he's fully inched his way inside you. he doesn't move- not yet, just keeps kissing you to ease the tension, lips slow and passionate against yours.

you're practically panting now, the pleasure all consuming.

jack traces his lips down to your neck again. "you okay? ready?" he asks against your skin.

you nod, eager as ever. he picks up his head to look at you, "words, pretty girl."

"yes, jack. please fuck me, need it so bad." you breathe out, still nodding as you lock eyes with him. he smirks and it's like a switch has flipped inside of him. he gently pulls out of you before snapping his hips back against you again. his every thrust is controlled, measured to bring you the most pleasure possible.

the grunts and breaths leaving him are nothing short of sinful, and the soft noise of his hips hitting yours flood into the room amongst your whimpers.

"you like that?" he asks, and there's no answer you could give other than, "god, yes." the way he fills you just right, the way he's looking down at you, the way he kisses your lips and neck every now and then... jack abbot has got the formula down pat.

"faster, please jack. need more," you whine, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush to your body.

"yeah?" he tilts his head. cocky bastard.

you nod quickly. "yes- god, please."

with a smirk perfectly matching his earlier tone of voice jack obliges you, increasing his pace and earning a moan from you.

"yeah, keep making those noises for me. good girl."

good girl. the word replayed your head, and you're pretty sure it would loop on and on for the rest of your life. (not that there was even a slight problem with that),

when the familiar knot builds back up in the pit of your tummy, you find yourself clenching around jack, earning a sharp inhale from him.

"you keep that up, i won't last much longer."

he moves his hips relentlessly, every thrust taking you closer to your second orgasm. " 'm so close, jack, please." you breathe, hands practically raking down his back. you're sure your nails will leave marks.

jack doesn't mind.

"yeah? gonna come for me?" you nod quickly. "yes. god, yes, so close." you whine, earning another smirk from jack. that smirk is going to be burned into your retinas for years to come.

"come for me, pretty girl. show me how good i make you feel, huh?"

his pace doesn't let up. not when you're moaning his name, or clenching around him and suddenly he's the one seeing stars.

one, two three more rocks of his hips into you and you're falling apart. orgasm tearing through you so hard you're practically tearing up from the pleasure.

"good girl, just like that." he coaxes, beginning to lose his own control now. your nails dig into his back as he continues to rut into you.

" 'm close," he says through grunts. "so close i- where do you want it." he says quickly

"inside, please, need to feel you." you breathe, still coming down from your own high as jack is roaring towards his at full speed.

he nods, hearing you tell him to come inside of you snaps the last thread of his control, and with a groan he's spilling inside you, filling you up.

you roll your head back into the pillows at the feeling, legs instinctively tightening around his waist to pull him deeper into you as he comes.

"god- fuck." he whispers, hips stuttering as he finishes. a few more lazy thrusts into you, then jack is pulling out. breath catching in both of your throats at the loss of contact. jack rolls off of you, flopping beside you on your bed. your symphony of labored breathes the only sound filling the room.

"wow." you exhale.

"yeah." he agrees. "wow."

"that was-"

"yeah. it was."

you laugh, rolling over onto your side to face him. he turns his head to look at you. his earlier cocky smirk replaced with a genuine smile.

"still think there are no good men out there?" he teases, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face.

"eh, maybe just one."

this is so horny and self indulgent i am so sorry (no im not)

as always my inbox is always open for feedback / requests / ideas / thoughts. i would love to hear what u have to say!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[discokicks]

so frank and risky are finally together but she can’t go back to work the next day because of robby’s orders. what’s work like for frank? does he find the betting board?

shut uuuup this is my first ever ask like this i am so excited bc ooooo this is how that morning after/langdon's shift goes in my head thank u for this

pairing: frank langdon x reader (no use of y/n, nickname use)

content/warnings: continuation of my flight risk fic, implied sexual content and innuendos, swearing, batner, the pitt staff have a gambling problem and bet on langdon/reader, fluffy ass fic

word count/rating: 3k, pg-13

read flight risk here!

Frank’s alarm is an unwelcome sound at the ungodly hour of five-thirty in the morning.

You wake to it at the same time as he does. While you’d fallen asleep in his arms, you’d separated throughout the night, you on your side and he on his stomach. Though, his arm remained draped over your waist, as if he hadn’t wanted to be too far away from you.

Despite the way this makes your chest warm, it doesn’t make you any happier to be up at this hour.

The last couple of years of consistent morning shifts had your internal clock set to be alert and ready by seven, but still, this is pushing it. Your apartment’s relatively close to the hospital, and you’ve perfected your morning routine in such a way that it allows you to get out of bed by six at the earliest. 

You’re about to complain about the alarm, but the second he realizes that you’re awake, he groans into the pillow he’s claimed as his. He reaches over to your bedside table, turning the alarm off with a huff. His arm curls beneath your side when he returns, pulling you into him so that your back is against his chest.

“You set your alarm for five-thirty, you psycho?” you mutter through the dark. “What is wrong with you?”

Frank’s forehead knocks against your shoulder. “I’m bad at getting up.” His voice comes out in a low rasp. “Especially when I’m kept up past my bedtime.”

His arm tightens around you as you tiredly chuckle. “That was not my fault,” you say. “You started it. Both times.”

“Whatever,” he mutters, too tired to come up with a better response. He goes quiet, and for a moment, you think he’s fallen back to sleep. But then, he asks, “You think it’d be a bad look if I called out?”

“Incredibly bad,” is your immediate reply, and you hear him groan again. The sound vibrates against your neck, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “It’d be suspicious, too. Calling out at five-thirty on my day off? We might as well walk in together with this giant hickey on my neck.” You feel him smile against your shoulder at that, and you elbow him in the gut. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound very sorry at all. 

If your eyes were open, you would have rolled them. “Whatever,” you repeat. “There’s a Red Bull in the fridge if you want it.”

You feel him inhale sharply, then squeeze you a little tighter. “That might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Laughing into your pillow, you say, “Get up and do whatever it is you need to do to justify waking up at five-thirty.”

He presses his lips to the place where your neck and shoulder intersect. “I just need to shower,” he says, leadingly. “Got some time to do some other things.”

“Nice try,” you say. You have to slap his hand away as it creeps down the curve of your hip. “You woke me up early on my day off. Suffer the consequences.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and while you can’t see his face, you can picture him pouting. Then, “I won’t make you do any of the work,” he tries.

“Langdon, get out of my bed and go do your job.”

He grins at the laughter that’s accenting your voice. “Oh, man. Not the last name. You are serious.” You feel his chest rise and fall in a dramatic sigh before he gets up. “Fine. I’ll go shower. Alone.”

“Have fun,” you say through a yawn, unbothered as you pull your comforter closer to you.

Within the minutes of him showering, you’ve fallen back to sleep, and while there’s a piece of Frank that wants to wake you up to say goodbye, he decides against it. You needed to rest up. Instead, he got himself dressed in the clothes you’d lent him, pulling the sweatpants down so they looked less like floods on him. He snags the zip-up sweatshirt he’d discarded on the floor the night before, zipping it up as he walked to your kitchen to grab the Red Bull you’d promised him.

In lieu of waking you up again, he simply presses a soft kiss to your forehead, smiling to himself as the corner of your lips twitched up in your sleep. That might have been better than a goodbye.

He gets to the ED on the earlier side, a slight skip in his step despite the bags under his eyes. Collins is already in, chatting quietly with Ellis, who already looks ready to clock out. They both eye him suspiciously as he walks in, taken aback when he sends a smile toward them as he greets them. He barely greeted people in the mornings, let alone smiled at them.

When Langdon’s gone, walking in the direction of the lockers, the two attendings exchange a glance. Collins bites back a smile, nodding at her friend. “Give me a minute. I’ll report back.”

“You better,” Ellis says, staring off in Langdon’s direction in awe. “Because no fucking way.”

Collins finds him taking off his sweatshirt at his locker, unassuming of the shitstorm that’s about to be unleashed on him. Before he can grab the spare pair of scrubs he keeps in his bag, he’s being taken by the arm and pulled into the (thankfully) empty on-call room beside them. 

When Langdon gets his bearings, he finds himself staring at Collins and realizes that she’s the one who’s kidnapped him. He rips his arm from her grip. “What the hell?”

Collins’s eyes are accusatory and excited. “You slept with Risky.”

Frank blinks at her in surprise, mouth opening and shutting like a fish. “Wha—? What are you talking about, I—?” He’s convincing nobody with the way he’s stammering, but he genuinely has no idea what to say. He wasn’t expecting to be caught and interrogated so immediately— if at all. “W-What the hell makes you think that?”

“You mean besides the fact that you’re walking around this place like a guy who just got laid?” Frank’s expression shifts from surprised to unimpressed within a nanosecond. Collins glances at the shirt he’s wearing— your shirt. “Unless you’ve recently transferred and became ‘Mass Gen’s Number One Resident,’ I’d—”

He nearly rips the shirt he’s wearing off to look at it. Lo and behold, without realizing it, last night you’d thrown him the oversized shirt that your best friend throughout your Mass Gen residency had made for you for your birthday during your intern year. He’s already drafting the text he’s about to send you in his head.

“—Say you were wearing her shirt,” Collins continues, biting back a smile at how red his face has gotten. “Which, you know, I have to commend you guys for how progressive that is. You’re wearing her clothes, I mean—”

“We don’t believe in gender norms,” Frank all but snaps, and finally, Collins starts to grin at him. 

“We?” she asks with a raised brow.

Hiding his face in his hands, he sighs something long and heavy. Wearily, he asks, “Would you believe me if I said we were just hanging out and I wanted to get out of my scrubs?”

“After the way you practically skipped out of here last night to give her her badge?” Collins shakes her head. “Not a chance.”

He has to refrain from groaning. “Heather, c’mon. It’s so early, I can’t—”

“I’m not asking for details. Because trust me—” She shivers, making an audibly disgusted sound. “I don’t want them. I just need to know how close I was for the pool. I’ve got a reputation to maintain and if I lose, I—”

Langdon interrupts her by sticking out his hand. “Hold on,” he says in disbelief. “You’ve all been betting on us?”

Collins gives him a look. “You’ve been here for four years. You know how this place works. Of course, we’ve been betting on it.”

He stares at her in shock. They had been fucking betting on you two? For how long? And how long had they seen something that you two hadn’t?

He really should have anticipated it. Everything at this godforsaken hospital turned into a bet. Every single thing. Whether it was how many times Gloria would come to badger Robby per week or the good ole foreign body parlay, nothing was off the table. They had a secret, under the table bet about when Collins and Robby were going to get together, for fuck’s sake.

He didn’t think you two were as obvious as they were, but… yeah. Maybe he should have expected this.

While everyone kept things respectful, every single staff member found a way to get in on these. Each one of his coworkers had a gambling problem. 

And I’m the fucking addict, Langdon thinks.

He isn’t even able to get his question out when he asks, “How long have you been—?”

“Since you got back and started acting all weird and smiley around her,” she answers. “Risky might have been blind to it, but shit, you were so obvious.”

“Obvious?” he grunts. “I was not obvious, I—”

“I’ve been working with you for years, Langdon. And she’s one of my best friends. I know you both.” She shrugs. “It was obvious to me. Everyone else, too, but mostly me.”

He runs a hand down his face, eyes shutting in exasperation. “What’s the parlay?”

“Month, week, who made the first move, and location of that first move,” she says. At the look he gives her, Collins shrugs. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t be all over this if you weren’t involved.”

She’s got him there. But still, he mutters, “You guys have no fucking sense of boundaries.”

‘Nope,” she says. “None. Now spill.”

He stares at her for a moment, knowing he’s been fully, one-hundred-percent caught. There was no hiding from it. The evidence was right in front of her, and he wasn’t exactly the best liar. The only more compromising position he could have been caught in is if she’d found you two hooking up in the on-call room. 

Fuck. You were going to kill him.

Langdon sighs, taking all of the air in the room with him. He can’t look Collins in the eye. 

“October, yesterday, parking lot—” He shifts uncomfortably. “—I made the first move.”

Collins’s eyes widen. “Yesterday—?” she nearly shouts. “You mean this literally happened—”

“Could you please be louder?” Langdon hisses, eyes flashing to the door. Collins puts a hand over her mouth, hiding the wide grin on her face. “I don’t think the triage patients heard you.”

“Last night?” she whispers excitedly. “It happened last night?”

He goes through the five stages of grief right before her eyes. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Yes. It happened last night.”

Collins raises her hands in victory, quietly celebrating as Langdon stares at her, unimpressed. “I knew it,” she cheers. “I was dead-on. You two are so predictable, my God.”

Langdon gapes at her. “You got the whole parlay?”

“I just made it,” she replies. “I said it would happen this week. If you two had waited one more day, Mel would have won.”

“Mel? She—?” He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest like a child. “That traitor.”

The smile hasn’t left Collins’s face. She grabs hold of his shoulders and shakes him around. “Thank you,” she says. “Thank you for finally doing something about your crush on her, and thank you for doing it yesterday.”

“You’re buying me and Risky lunch with your winnings,” he mutters. “Ridiculous people.”

She waves him off before she grows just a tad more serious. “While I’m happy that you stopped being a coward and made a move—” She ignores Langdon’s glare. “—I don’t know what your intentions are, but—”

His expression softens. “My intentions?”

Collins raises one hand back to his shoulder and squeezes it lightly. “I don’t know how serious you are or what you two are planning on doing with all of this,” she rephrases, “but please… be careful with this. Don’t hurt her. She’s had some tough luck with her relationships and I…” She shakes her head. “If she’s finally open to someone again, I don’t want her to get burned again.”

Langdon nods, absorbing her words. “You talking about what Klein did?”

“Uh, yeah.” She seems marginally surprised that he knows. “Did she—?”

“She told me last night,” he sighs. “What a fucking asshole.”

Collins nods slowly. “So, then you know.”

“I know,” he confirms. “And not that it’s any of this team’s business—” He sends another glare Collins’s way and she rolls her eyes. “—I’m… really trying to make this work. This isn’t some sort of one-off thing. She’s been…” He trails off, trying to come up with the right words. When he finds them, they’re not as poised or eloquent as he wanted them to be, but they get his point across. “I’m not going to fuck this up.”

It seems to satisfy Collins enough. She sends a soft smile his way. “Good.”

Before the conversation can close, Langdon is speaking up once more. “Can you—” His voice comes out weaker than he wanted, but he can’t help but feel a little shy about all of this. “Please don’t tell anyone about this. You live knowing that you won and were right, but we’re trying to keep things… slow. We don’t want the whole team freaking out about it. So, just… keep this between us. Please?”

Collins stares at him for a minute before whistling lowly. “Two pleases from you within twenty seconds,” she muses, reveling in the way he shifts uncomfortably. “That’s a record for you, Langdon. You must be serious.”

She doesn’t know if she’s ever heard him sound more sure when he says, “Yes. I’m very serious.” He lets out a deep breath. “About all of it.”

The earnestness in his voice catches her off guard. But it also makes her believe him. 

For once, Collins figures she can let him off easy.

“Fine,” she says, smiling softly at him. The sigh of relief he releases is something that can actually be heard from triage. “It’s between us.”

“Thank you,” he replies.

“But I’m not buying you lunch,” she continues, pointing at him. She starts to walk toward the door to exit. “All that money is mine.”

Langdon rolls his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Just don’t say anything.”

Before Collins leaves, she turns to face him. “I’m happy for you two,” she says, and she really does mean it. He glances up to meet her gaze. “You both deserve a win. I’m glad you woke up and realized it before it was too late.” He wants to thank her again, but Collins is eyeing him in a way he doesn’t love. “She yelled at you for ruining her date, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” he huffs. “Tore me a fucking new one.”

“Good.” She shakes her head at him, muttering to herself as she walks out. “Asking me if he was obvious and how I knew he liked her after that shit yesterday, are you kidding—”

The door shuts before he can hear the rest of it, leaving him alone in the on-call room, in your shirt, heart racing a million miles an hour. 

By the time he’s got his bearings and is freshly dressed in his spare scrubs, he’s texting you, fingers flying at an alarming speed.

6:54: collins already found us out. there was a pool going for when we’d get together. she won.

He’s surprised when a minute later, his phone vibrates in his pocket and your name appears on his screen, but he figures that internal clock you’re always going on about had woken you up.

WHAT????? HOW

and of course. those assholes WOULD

but HOW DOES SHE KNOW 

He shakes his head, typing his response as he walks into the ED. 

my shirt let her know i was mass gen’s #1 resident

Your response is immediate, and your texts arrive in an urgent succession.

FUCK OFF 

NO

I GAVE YOU THAT ONE????? I DIDN’T EVEN REALIZE

I AM SO SORRY OH MY GOD

but also… wearing my shirt to work? what are we doing langdon where is the logic

most likely to succeed my ass

Langdon audibly scoffs, the small smile on his face growing as he writes back, and you’re the one who gave it to me. that academic achievement award is screaming from the back of your closet

IT WAS DARK YOU DICKHEAD

I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT I WAS GIVING YOU

collins isn’t going to tell anyone, right?

i swore her to secrecy. we’re good

oh thank god

that’s so embarrassing i’m so sorry

it’s okay. you’ll make it up to me

oh? will i??

He doesn’t notice Dana approaching him as he hovers near the nurses' station, and the sound of her dropping a chart beside him makes him jump out of his skin. 

“Who’s got you smiling like this early?” she asks, eyeing the phone he almost dropped. 

He stares at her, at your text on his screen, and then back at her. He simply shrugs. “Just a friend of mine.”

Dana hums, and it’s clear she doesn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth. “Right,” she replies. “There’s a laceration in South Four that needs to be tended to. You can start there instead of texting like my sixteen-year-old.”

He gives her a look, but still does as he’s told. “On it,” he says, turning in the direction of South Four.

She chuckles as she watches Langdon leave, smirking as he sends his last text and slips his phone into his pocket. 

“Tell Risky I say hi,” she says to herself, shaking her head fondly. "You smitten little bastard."

READ FLIGHT RISK HERE!

[lemonpeppermintstickshift]

real footage of me reading this. mags you eat it up every time!! one of the best to ever do it

[lemonpeppermintstickshift]

this new langdon fic will be out by sunday even if it fucking kills me. mark my words!!!

[francislangdon]

The Pitt 1.08 — “2:00 PM”

[mateo-diaz]

frank langdon + wordle

[bambicest]

[lemonpeppermintstickshift]

THE TOP OF HIS BOXERS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

[kingofthepitt]

doctor hierarchy in season one (The Pitt 2025-)

[lauraneedstochill]

“The Pitt” characters + tumblr posts that are definitely about them part 1 (original posts: x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x) (part 2, 3, 4, 5)