Trigger Warning: Age gap (no mention just know it was there), implied sexual content, slight makeout scene but not really, Jack being completely unfazed, barely checked
Word Count: 1.3k
Summary: After needing a certain attending to get you asleep, you’re caught by your roommates.
——————————————————————
It’s late.
You shouldn’t call him, you shouldn’t even text him.
It’s his day off and the last thing you want is for him to miss out on the couple hours of sleep he may get. But you couldn’t sleep. Not without him.
You had been dating Jack Abbot for 6 months now, however the relationship had to be kept secret considering he was one of the attendings at your work place. No matter how hard you tried you had been accustomed to sleeping so much better whenever he was by your side.
This was slightly difficult for you considering you were currently living with Trinity and Dennis, who were to say the least some of the nosiest people you would ever meet. Therefore you could hardly ever go to Jacks without being interrogated by the pair, and Jack could never come to yours because they have no problem waltzing into your room.
Tonight though, no matter how hard you tried to let sleep take you it wasn’t the same. You end up just grabbing your phone of the nightstand, and with hesitant fingers you clicked on his contact.
Jack <3.
It rang. Once. Twice.
“Hunny?” Came a gravelly voice from the other end of the line. You could tell he had just woken up as you could hear him rustling around in his bed and by the gravely and low tone in his voice.
You bit your lip sitting up and contemplating whether you would just pretend that it was a butt dial and let him get his sleep. But that voice, you could imagine he was sitting there topless with slightly tousled hair. Those salt and pepper curls.
You made up your mind there that you had to see him, so you spoke into the phone. Softly but fast at the same time, a sense of guilt rushing over you. “Hi i’m so sorry to wake you but i can’t sleep, i need you to come over. Trinity and Dennis are home but it’s okay we will just-“
He stopped you from going down an even bigger tangent with just a couple words “Honey it’s okay, i’m coming now”. Then he hangs up, ruffled noises coming from the other line. You figure he’s getting out of bed, or rather fishing around for his prosthetic.
Soon enough your phone lit up with a notification from Jack. He was at the door.
Trying your hardest to go unnoticed by your other roommates who were sleeping, you carefully made your way from your room to the front door. Pulling it back without making a sound you see Jack standing there just as you had imagined. No top, silver curls slightly disheveled, and freckles adorning over his large biceps.
You immediately pull him in, unable to resist and in point of a second your lips met. You hands going to the back of his neck to play with the salt and pepper curls that form at the nape of his neck. His hands start at your waist and slowly migrate to your ass. However he’s pushing you back ever so slightly, but when you look up at him with those big doe eyes he regrets pulling away and is ready to take you then and there.
You rest your head on his chest mumbling “sorry, i know we can’t.” Jack pulls you in closer, kissing the top of your head, pulling you to the bedroom almost silently.
Once you get back into the bedroom you push Jack down onto the bed, straddling him. You lean in to brush your lips against his while he mumble “thought you said you couldn’t sleep” through a chuckle.
You swat him and hop off his lap to get into the bedroom almost silently. He sits there with sad eyes, missing the contact he had once had.
With a sigh he pulled off his prosthetic and leant it up against the nightstand. Pulling the covers over himself he pulls your closer to him. You back flush against his plush stomach.
In a mater of seconds you asleep.
——————————————————
The next morning
The unwanted light of the morning sun flushes through the curtains and you turn your back, wanting to sleep that bit longer. A solid arm comes round your waist at the feeling of movement to pull you closer. Jack’s not awake, it’s a reflex. You had noticed he does it after your second week together, you had figured it was an anxiety thing but were too shy to ask.
With the sun still filtering into the room it’s hard to go back to sleep, however what makes it the most challenging are the two roommates pounding on your door.
Trinity and Dennis.
Oh shit.
However it’s too late for you because the pair are now pushing open your door to see a half naked Jack Abbot and you. Slightly sitting up trying your hardest not to wake Jack as you know how much he needs these hours.
Jack is laying on his front, face smushed onto the pillow. For a second you prayed that they wouldn’t know and they would turn straight back around to walk out. If only you could be that lucky.
With Dennis’s shocked expression and Trinity practically blurting out “Jack Abbot?!?” you knew the time had come.
You felt Jack stirring beside you and you just dropped your head, bringing your knees up to you chest hugging them tightly. Jacks gravelly voice came out through the room clearly not aware that your roommates where now occupying the space. He groaned and moved his arms to try find you, eyes still closed “Honey”.
The laughs that erupt from Trinity and Dennis make the man open his eyes and begin to sit up. When he sees the two standing at the door way he shakes his head “would you two get out, i’m trying to sleep”.
Your head shot up at the tone of his voice, as if he didn’t care that two of the med students at his workplace had just found him, and attending, in bed with another med student. The pair too seem shocked and are unclear of what to do next. Both deciding to back out of the room, shutting the door behind them.
You as usual are still freaking out. You know this won’t get further than the department but this can be career ending for you. However, Jacks complete calmness on the topic make you relax as he wraps his arm loosely around your torso with a husky “lie down honey”.
The one where Jack Abbot accidentally knocks up Robby's little (step)sister in his final year of college.
warnings: this blog is 18+, mdni! this fic deals with pregnancy, discussions of abortion and medical complications, explicit sexual content, slut-shaming (not by jack), reader is robby's step-sister, they are not related biologically, and reader's appearance is not described at all. in this chap - nothing really, just the obvious pregnancy
main masterlist // supercut of us masterlist
The bed is well and truly cold by the time you come to.
It takes a second to orient yourself - for last night to come crashing back to you. Jack, his hands, that stupid cowboy hat, the way it felt when he-
You cut yourself off.
This isn’t the start of something. Absolutely not. You were looking for a quick fling to get over Seth, and you found one. Jack made it very clear he wasn’t looking for anything either, and you’re not about to beg him for more.
If your paths cross again organically, then that would be another thing entirely.
You reach for your dress, and take a second to look around his room as you try and gather your bearings. It’s a lot cleaner than some of the frat rooms you’ve spent time in.
There are textbooks stacked on the desk instead of empty beer cans. A chemistry textbook sits open beneath a notebook full of cramped handwriting and highlighted diagrams. Another book - something biology-related - has so many sticky notes poking out of the pages it looks like it's growing feathers.
You hadn’t thought Jack was lying last night when he told you he was pre-med, but you certainly hadn’t thought he was serious about it. You figured he was probably some trust-fund kid who was going to get daddy to buy his way into medical school.
Jack apparently doesn’t fit into Cornell’s usual stereotypes.
He’s not a selfish prick the way most of the hockey team is. He’s also not a moron either - not by a long-shot. You know his music taste is pretty refined - on one date, after telling a guy that The Doors were your favourite band, he’d looked at you like you’d grown a second head.
Needless to say, there hadn’t been a second date.
And he’s funny. You’d laughed more last night than the entirety of summer. You think potentially more than your entire relationship with Seth.
God, you need to get a grip. You look around the room, almost praying to find something that’ll ruin the spark for you. Maybe a list of all the girls he’s slept with, or some Playboys under the bed. Some mouldy food perhaps?
Anything to get him off your mind.
You pull your dress over your head and glance around again.
The walls are covered in hockey.
Photos pinned to a corkboard. Team pictures from what looks like every stage of his life. A tiny kid missing his front teeth. A gangly teenager holding a trophy. A more recent photo where he's standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a group of teammates, grinning like an idiot.
There's a shelf lined with medals and a couple of plaques.
Your gaze lingers on a more recent picture - a slightly younger Jack’s first year on the Cornell hockey team. It looks familiar, and suddenly you realise why, heart sinking. Your step-brother Michael stands right by his side, smiles wide as the team poses for the camera.
Fuck.
You’d thought that the hockey team would be safe from Michael’s claws given that he’s been at medical school for the past three years. The last thing you want is to have slept with one of his friends.
While technically a step-brother, your mom met his dad while she was still pregnant with you. With your biological father out of the picture, the Robinavitch family very quickly became your own. Michael’s father is the only father you’ve ever known.
In all ways but blood, he’s your brother.
He’s the entire reason you’d ended up at Cornell. You’ve always wanted to grow up to be like Michael. Even if he’s grown a stupid beard, and goes by Robby these days.
His single piece of advice to you when you’d started college was to run a mile from anybody on the college’s sports teams.
Basketball? Bad.
Football? The worst, if Robby is to be believed.
Hockey? Good guys, but not boyfriend material. Steer clear at all costs.
Maybe they were just teammates. You have lots of group photos with people you don’t even like, much less consider a friend.
Jack seems like the kind of guy who would be friendly to just about everyone. But it could have just felt that way because he was trying to get into your pants. He could have a playbook of flattery, and you’re simply the most recent sucker to fall for it.
You realise with a snort that you don’t know much about Jack at all.
Which, to be fair, was intentional.
The whole point had been not getting to know each other. He could be
No strings. No personal questions. No expectations.
For all you know, he's seeing someone back home. Or maybe he's the sort of guy who never stays single for long. Maybe there are half a dozen girls on campus who'd roll their eyes if they heard you were thinking this much about him.
You wouldn't know.
All you know is that his name is Jack.
He plays hockey.
He's pre-med.
He’s a fan of classic rock - particularly Led Zeppelin and the Eagles, but he’s also partial to some eighties punk.
You don't know if he has siblings, or if he's close with his parents.
You move toward the desk, spotting a framed picture tucked beside a lamp.
Jack stands with a woman who shares the exact same smile. Must be a mother, though she looks pretty young. Upon further inspection, his mom is in a lot of the photos. For someone who spent half of last night pretending he didn't care about anything except having a good time, Jack seems surprisingly sentimental.
Maybe because you'd spent all of last night mentally filing Jack under Fun-Mistake. Good-Lay-Who’s-Definitely-A-Bit-Of-A-Whore.
Not Son-Who-Keeps-Pictures-Of-His-Mom-On-His-Desk.
You force yourself to look away.
This is ridiculous. You have to get out of here. At the desk, a notepad sits beside a cup full of pens, and your eyes catch on it just for a second.
You could leave your number.
Not for a date. Just to say ‘hey, that was good sex and we should do it again sometime. I’m not clingy, nor am I looking for a boyfriend, but you’re hot and I have a pushy ex.’
As soon as your brain catches up with your thoughts, you realise how pathetic you sound.
You’ve spent your entire college career avoiding becoming a stereotype. You’re not a stuck-up teacher’s pet because you get good grades, you’re not a stoner because you’re in a rock band, and you’re certainly not a Puck Bunny because you want to fuck a hockey player.
You grab your boots, and try to get the hell out of there. The frat house is mostly empty this early. For that, you’re grateful. A couple of people linger in the kitchen, nursing coffees and hangovers, but thankfully, nobody pays much attention as you head for the front door.
You slip outside.
The morning air is cool against your skin. A welcome change from the heat of Jack’s bedroom.
You don’t have a class until lunchtime, but band practice starts in forty-five minutes, and you’d like the shower before braving the heat of the Cornell Music Building.
The campus is dead at this hour, just empty brick paths and ivy before the mid-morning rush. Your boots click on the concrete, locking into the tempo of the bassline you keep looping in your head. It’s a new composition, one that you’re pretty sure goes with Jesse’s latest favourite drum-fill.
You hadn’t really meant to join a band, but when Jesse Van Horn is your next-door neighbour in freshman year, it’s hard to avoid the music.
Half the floor hated him, because he had an acoustic drum-kit set up in his room, and had no qualms about practicing at seven in the morning before his classes.
You didn’t ever mind.
Alarm clocks didn’t do the trick for you, but Immigrant Song sure did. Eventually, Jesse’s roommate had packed it in, found somewhere else to live. Meanwhile, you and he were becoming closer every day. You’d pass records back and forth, and roll your eyes over student housing politics.
When your roommate started allowing her boyfriend to practically live with you both, it had been a natural decision. One box at a time, over a week, you moved into Jesse’s spare room.
Despite the rumours, it’s never been sexual - you’re both walking proof that men and women can, in fact, just be friends.
You started jamming together, before he’d finally proposed that a band could earn you some extra cash. Outside of tutoring, you didn’t have any other income, so money got tight fast.
The only issue was that you absolutely refused to sing in front of a crowd. It’s not that you couldn’t - you’ve always had quite a nice voice, especially for folk, but the idea of singing solo in front of crowds made you want to cry.
Besides, you’d argued, you needed a guitarist anyway. You’d just find someone who could sing and play.
Jesse had placed a couple of ads across campus, and you got a lot more interest than you were expecting. Your answer came in the form of Nick Bradley - a biology major who could shred like Slash.
He agreed to sing too, as long as you’d do harmonies and take lead occasionally.
Like Fleetwood Mac, except none of you were sleeping together.
Now, a year on, you’re pretty successful. Good enough to get booked for a lot of the parties around campus, and a Saturday night slot at the local bar.
You’re still living with Jesse this year, in an apartment just off-campus, while Nick lives two streets over with his girlfriend Princess.
Were it not for Seth, you’d be having the time of your life.
Your first college relationship, you’d met Seth at a party in your first month of being at Cornell. He was a freshman too, but a business major, and loved the sound of his own voice.
Of course, at the time, he was hot, and paying you considerable amounts of attention. You were hooked.
Your entire relationship was cyclical - you’d date for a few months, and then have a huge blowout fight, and break up. You’d both sleep with other people out of pettiness, before he’d come crawling back a month later.
Much to all your friends’ chagrin, you always took him back.
This is the longest you’ve ever been separated since you first met.
It had happened over summer - an incident in New York City which had resulted in you sobbing down the phone, and Robby driving three hours in the middle of the night to come to your rescue.
You’re determined the break is sticking this time.
The cold walk back to your apartment finally wakes you up. You drop your keys on the counter, shed yesterday's clothes, and step into the shower. The hot water cuts through the smell of Jack's cedarwood cologne and the leftover stuffiness of his bedroom.
Ten minutes later, you're out and dressed in fresh black jeans and a beat-up band tee. Cream. You tell yourself it’s a total coincidence, and not because it’s a Clapton band. Your hair is still wet, but with five minutes until your practice starts, Jesse is ushering you into his car without pause.
*****
You think about Jack at random intervals throughout the day over the next few weeks.
When you're walking to class.
When you see someone wearing a hockey sweatshirt.
When a cowboy hat appears in the background of a TikTok, embarrassingly.
But thinking isn't the same thing as doing. And you've managed not to do anything.
No Instagram searches. No asking around. No stalking fraternity pages. No investigating.
Which means you're doing great.
Objectively.
You haven’t seen him around campus, but you figure that’s to be expected, given he’s pre-med and on the hockey team. You wouldn’t wish either on your worst enemy, much less both. Thankfully, Seth has been a complete non-entity too.
Maybe you’ll be able to live your entire Junior year in peace.
You're walking back from class with your phone wedged between your shoulder and ear while Robby complains about med school.
Again.
Apparently today's crisis is pathology.
Yesterday's crisis was anatomy.
Tomorrow's will probably be something equally horrifying - he’s no longer allowed to tell you any stories that involve burns, toe-nails, or eye stuff, but you're sure he'll find something else that makes you feel sick just hearing about it.
"I haven't slept in two days."
You snort. "That's healthy."
"I hate you."
You hadn’t realised that Robby going to med school would somehow be your problem too. When your parents are sick of him whinging, they send his calls your way.
"Do you know how many pathways there are for clotting?" He asks.
"No. Why would I know that? I’m pre-law."
"There are too many."
"Okay."
He groans. "I'm serious."
"Congratulations? I don't know what you want me to say to that, to be honest."
There’s a pause, and you can just imagine him rubbing his neck, regretting calling you entirely. "You don't care."
"I care deeply about many things. Clotting factors? Unfortunately not one of them. Why aren’t you moaning to Noelle?"
"She’s sick of it," He replies, sounding so miserable that you almost want to laugh.
“Just think about all the money you’ll be making.”
“Yeah, in like fifteen years.” Without taking a breath, Robby launches into another story about one of his professors, and you half-listen as you weave through campus.
Then he mentions hockey. "Honestly, sometimes I miss the team."
Your stomach does an immediate, traitorous flip. It’s been approximately two hours since you last thought about Jack, and the reminder is not a welcome one. It’s a battle to keep your voice neutral. "Yeah?"
"Not the practices,” He clarifies immediately.
"Obviously."
"Or the conditioning."
"Also obviously."
"But the guys."
You bite the inside of your cheek. You don’t care about Jack. You shouldn’t ask anything else. Change the subject, and…. "Do you still talk to any of them?"
You immediately regret it, but it’s too late.
Fortunately, Robby doesn't seem to notice the odd cadence in your tone.
"Some of them."
You hum. "Who?"
He pauses. “Most of us are scattered now, but I talk to some of the guys on the current team. You know, one of them's applying to med school right now.”
"So?"
Robby laughs. "So?"
"Yeah."
You adjust your bag higher on your shoulder, wondering if you should just fake bad service and hang up.
"Lots of people apply to med school."
"Not while playing a college sport."
"Oh."
"He asked me to look over his application."
Your grip tightens on your phone. "That's nice."
"I know. I’m a nice guy." Robby sounds genuinely pleased. Which is odd. He's usually much stingier with compliments. "Actually, his application's pretty solid."
You stare straight ahead.
Heart beating a little faster. “Must be smart, then.”
“Everything okay?”
Curse Robby and his insane perception skills. “Uh, yeah - just thought I saw Seth.”
Immediately, Robby’s in dad mode. “Don’t go near him.”
“I’m not! Jesus, Mikey - what do you take me for?”
“You don’t want me to answer that.”
You want to be offended, but you’re mostly just glad the conversation isn’t on Jack anymore. “Screw you.”
“Love you too!”
*****
The bathroom tile is freezing against your forehead.You trace the grout lines with your eyes, trying to focus on anything other than the rhythmic, violent heaving in your stomach. It’s 4:00 AM, six weeks since term started, and you’re currently paying the price for the sketchy food truck tacos you ate after last night's gig.
Your throat burns, tasting like stomach acid and cheap tequila.
This cannot be the rockstar life everybody is so desperate for.
You groan, pulling yourself up onto your knees to lean over the toilet bowl again. Your body shakes, a cold sweat breaking out across your neck and back. Every muscle in your core is tightly knotted, exhausted from the last two hours of purging.
You reach up and flush, the loud roar of the water echoing painfully in the quiet apartment. Jesse’s the heaviest sleeper you’ve ever met - there’s no way he’s waking up from a couple of retches.
You wake up on Friday morning convinced you're finally over the worst of it. The constant, violent nausea has faded into a dull, low-grade ache, and you manage to keep down half a bagel and some black coffee. Robby informs you that sometimes food poisoning takes it’s sweet time clearing up.
By Sunday, you can't lie to yourself anymore.
You’re still exhausted. The smell of the deli on the corner makes your stomach violently drop, and you spent twenty minutes this morning dizzy on the bathroom floor just from standing up too fast. It’s not a stomach bug.
You decide eventually that you can manage a trip to the grocery store for some crackers and ginger ale, in the hopes of filling your stomach a little.
Standing in the chip aisle, you glance over at the bakery counter. A woman is standing there, waiting for a loaf of bread. She’s wearing a soft knit sweater, and one of her hands rests naturally over a very obvious, rounded baby bump.
Your heart stops.
You can’t be.
You’re on the pill, and Jack used a condom. Statistically, there’s got to be no chance of that happening.
Panic floods your chest, hot and sharp.
You drop the crackers and sprint two aisles over to the pharmacy section. Your eyes scan the shelves frantically until you spot the boxes. You grab a digital two-pack, not even looking at the price, and tuck it flat against your stomach beneath your denim jacket.
You keep your head down, eyes darting left and right. The campus grocery store is a minefield; the last thing you need is a classmate, or Seth, or even Jack himself seeing you.
Running the three blocks back, the plastic bag crinkles loudly against your thigh. Your hands shake so badly that you drop your keys on the concrete before finally forcing the lock.
Jesse is on the couch, a laptop open on his knees and a half-eaten slice of pizza in his hand. He blinks up at you, surprised. "Hey, did you get the-"
"Bathroom," you choke out, barging straight past the couch. You don’t look at him, keeping the plastic bag bunched tight against your side.
"Whoa, okay. All yours," he mutters, turning back to his screen.
You throw yourself into the bathroom, slam the door, and click the lock. In the sudden quiet, your breathing sounds deafening. You rip the box open, tearing the cardboard with your fingernails until the two plastic sticks tumble onto the counter.
You’re on the pill. Jack used a condom.
You repeat it in your head like a mantra, trying to block out the terror pressing down on your chest. You read the instructions on the crumpled paper, the tiny text blurring. Wash hands. Remove cap. Hold the tip in the stream for five seconds.
You go through the motions on pure autopilot, your fingers icy cold.
When it's done, you lay the stick flat on the edge of the sink, turning the digital screen face-down against the white porcelain. You step back, gripping the edges of the counter until your knuckles turn white. On the side of the plastic casing, the tiny hourglass icon starts blinking, counting down the three longest minutes of your life.
You can’t be pregnant. You still have two more years of college, and then law school. How the hell would you do that with a baby?
Especially when the father is someone you don’t even know?
When you finally build the courage to turn the test over, you think you might cry.
“Shit,” You curse. “Shit, shit, shit!”
No amount of staring makes the line disappear, and you can feel tears start to prick at your periphery when a knock sounds at the door. “Everything okay? You’ve been gone forever.”
You swallow heavily. “Fine, Jess.” Looking back at the very positive test, and the words that flash on the screen.
summary: a night out with some coworkers after a medical conference leads to you accidentally texting your attending about how hot you think he is.
word count: 4.6k
contains: smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, reader is a doctor, no use of y/n.
a/n: i know nothing about being a doctor or going to medical conferences but i tried my best here. If something is disgustingly inaccurate plz let me know :)
If you were being honest, you hated these things. Conferences, galas, all of it. You loved being a doctor, it was your life’s passion after all, but it was the incessant obligations outside of the hospital— the networking, the dressing up, the horrid small talk with other doctors— piled on top of your already packed schedule that had you dreading this particular medical conference more than usual.
There was one small silver lining, at least. This time, you had friends.
You’d only begun working at Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center a few months ago, looking for more of a challenge after spending the past few years of your career in dermatology. You didn’t hate it, per se, but you felt deep in your bones that you were meant for more high stakes work.
Not only did the job suit you better, but the people did too. Sure, you’d met some nice people in dermatology, even met your best friend there, but working in the ER surrounded you with people much like yourself. Adrenaline junkies.
Unfortunately, adrenaline junkies and medical conferences did not mix.
That’s how you found yourself at some dodgy dive bar down the street from your hotel the last night of your conference with two of your coworkers, Trinity and Victoria. The three of you had been bored out of your minds at the last lecture of the day, where some old pretentious man droned on and on and onnnnn about medical research that was about 25 years outdated. You really needed a drink.
“Okay, I know we agreed on vodka crans, but I got us green tea shots too. My treat, alright? I fucking need a shot after whatever that lecture was,” Trinity explains as she returns from the bar, setting three drinks and three shots down on the center of the table. You were able to snag some seats in the back corner of the bar, thankfully, because the last thing you want to deal with is any more people today.
“Oh god, it was horrible, wasn’t it? I was just about ready to rip my hair out. Didn’t think that guy would ever stop talking,” Victoria replies as she reaches for one of the shots.
The three of you clink glasses, tapping them down onto the wooden surface of the table before knocking them back.
“God, that’s fucking good,” you wince, the alcohol burning at the bottom of your throat.
The night continues in a cycle of work gossip and ordering vodka cranberries for the table. By the time you guys are leaving, you’re thoroughly buzzed.
You walk back to the hotel together, arm and arm, when you get back onto the topic of work. Feeling a little more truthful than usual due to the alcohol coursing through your system, you decide to tell your friends about an awkward moment you had during one of your shifts last week.
“Oh it was awful, you guys. I was assisting Dr. Abbot with a perforating GSW and he asked me to hand him hemostatic gauze, and I dropped the package all over the floor trying to open it. I’m talking gauze everywhere. I had to rush to get a new one, my hands were shaking like hell when I gave it to him,” you ramble. “And the worst part? He noticed. Pulled me into one of the on-call rooms afterward to ask what was up with me. I was horrified.”
Victoria furrows her brows, and Trinity slows her steps until the three of you are standing still in the middle of the dimly lit sidewalk.
“What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?” you ask, confused.
“Sorry, you were nervous?” Victoria questions.
“I didn’t even know that was possible for you,” Trinity admits, shock displayed on her face.
“I mean, yeah. If you guys had been there, you’d understand. The whole room was tense, you could hear a pin drop,” you explain.
“Don’t think that’s how I’d describe the Pitt, but okay,” Victoria concedes, falling back into step toward the hotel as you and Trinity trail close behind.
“Y’know, I don’t think it was the GSW that had you all worked up. I’ve seen you in action. You’re not one to falter, especially not like that. I think maybe a certain night shift attending has you all hot and bothered,” Trinity prods, landing a playful punch against your shoulder.
Victoria whips her head around at that. “Oh my god. That’s totally it!” she squeals. “Are you guys hooking up? I’ll be soooo jealous, he’s a total silver fox.”
Heat blooms in your chest and creeps up to your cheeks. You’re suddenly very, very hot.
“Jesus, no. I’m not hooking up with him. I’m not even into him, not like that. I can promise you he’s not what made me nervous,” you ramble. “We work a high stress job, it’s normal to make mistakes. And that’s all it was, a mistake,” you babble on, hoping your friends won’t pick up on the fact that you’re lying straight through your teeth.
While the part about not hooking up with him is true, you can’t deny the fact that you definitely have feelings for Doctor Jack Abbot.
It’s all his fault, really. From the start, he was charming. Good at conversation. Never made you feel less than, despite being the newbie of the department.
And it definitely didn’t help that he looked like that. Salt and pepper curls that framed his angular face which was dusted with freckles. Wrinkles around his eyes and mouth that made themselves known when he smiled. Biceps that bulged underneath his scrub top sleeve, which was far too tight considering the size of his muscles.
It got worse once you guys fell into a rhythm, able to work in tandem. Sometimes you didn’t even need words. It only took one look at each other for you to know exactly where he needed you, how to best assist him with a procedure.
If it wasn’t a look, it was a touch. A gloved hand overtop yours, guiding you on where to make an incision. A warm, large hand braced against your back as you intubate. A pat on the shoulder after you successfully stabilize a patient.
But undoubtedly, the worst part was the way he spoke to you. Whether it be a “Nice work, Kiddo,” after a particularly stressful chest tube placement, or a “What’s goin’ on up there?” with a featherlight touch to your temple when you were lost in thought. It was like he could sense what you were feeling before you’d even figured it out for yourself.
Clearly, whatever feelings you have for Dr. Abbot are written all over your face, because Trinity and Victoria seem wholly unconvinced.
“Okay, well if you’re not hooking up with him, then you should be. I’ve seen your dynamic, there’s some clear tension between you guys, babe,” Trinity argues as you finally approach the doors of your hotel.
“Yeah, that’s not happening. Even if I wanted it to, which I don’t, there’s no way he’d be into it,” you explain, the warmth in your cheeks only growing.
Victoria lets out a dramatic sigh as you make your way through the hotel lobby toward the elevators. “And I thought I was clueless.”
“Sorry?” you ask, pressing the button for the elevator. It dings and the doors open, the three of you piling in. You quickly push the button for floor three. You want to escape this situation as fast as possible, if you’re being honest. Your emotions are too heightened from the drinks to be having this conversation right now.
“If you can’t see it, there’s nothing we can do to help you,” Trinity replies. “Anyway, it might not be the brightest idea to sleep with a coworker. We all know how that went for me…”
“Oh Trin it wasn’t that bad. At least she doesn’t work in the same department,” Victoria remarks, then gestures vaguely at you. “Imagine if this hypothetical hookup with Abbot really did happen. She’d have to work with him all the time and he’s her attending. Now that’s bad.”
You groan. “Gee, thanks guys. I feel really supported right now.”
“So you do want to sleep with him then?” Victoria quips.
“No! My god, you guys. I’m done with the conversation,” you exclaim. The elevator finally reaches your floor and you waste no time stepping out into the warmly lit hallway.
“Well, I’ll see you both bright and early tomorrow. Still want to get coffee before the airport?” Trinity asks as she fumbles with her keycard outside of her room door.
Victoria, one door down from Trinity, follows suit in swiping her card. “Sure, how’s 7:00 sound?”
“Works for me, see you guys tomorrow!” you reply with a smile and a wave, making your way down to the end of the hallway to your room.
It hits you as you struggle to get your door unlocked that you’re a lot drunker than you thought. Not enough to warrant a hangover, but inebriated enough that you stumble toward your bed as you kick off your shoes.
After taking a much needed shower, washing away the grime of a long day, and putting on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, you cuddle up into bed and check your texts.
There’s multiple from your best friend, Jackie. The one you met when you worked in dermatology.
Jackie: girl i haven’t heard from you all day
Jackie: is the conference terrible
Jackie: so glad i don’t have to go to those lol
Jackie: is dr hottie there at least
You chuckle at her messages. Of course she’d bring him up. She’s the only person you’ve confided in about your attraction to Dr. Abbot, and she’s become obsessed with him ever since. Even gave him that ridiculous nickname.
You swipe back to check your other notifications, reading a text from your mom and watching a Tik Tok that Trinity sent you from her room before you finally go back to reply to Jackie.
Unfortunately, in your inebriated state, your finger slides on your screen and deletes your text chain with her.
“Shit!” you exclaim. At least you remember what she said. You quickly click the “New Message” button and start typing out her name.
j… a… c…
You click on her contact and begin typing.
You: sry i’ve been busy but yes the conference was shit
You: got drinks after im a ltitle drunk lol
You: and yes dr hottie is here thank god
You: i sat behind him during a talk this mornign and had to fight urges to run my hands through his sexy silver hair
You: i didnrt do it tho. i am brave
Sighing, you shuffle in bed so you’re no longer sitting up against the headboard but laying on your side. You reach toward the nightstand and flick the lamp off, filling the room with darkness.
Well, the room is dark until your phone buzzes on the mattress next to you and the screen lights up, emitting a soft glow.
Rather quickly, it buzzes again. You reach for it, expecting Jackie’s replies. While it’s not very late, she’s a night owl through and through, so of course she’d answer you immediately.
Instead, you see two notifications from… Jack Abbot? The only times you’ve ever texted him were about coming in early or that one time you’d forgotten your sweater in the break room and asked if he could hide it in one of the cabinets until your shift the next morning. Why would he be texting you at 11:00pm on a night you were both off?
You unlock your phone and click into your text thread with him.
Jack: I think you meant to send those to someone else.
Jack: I’ll try and sit farther away next time. Wouldn’t want my hair distracting you.
You shoot up in bed, breath catching in your throat. Immediately, your chest is on fire. There’s no fucking way you sent those messages to him.
You: oh my god
You: im so fuckign sorry
You: i was trying to text my friend
Jack: It’s OK.
You: its not
You: its extremely unprofessional
You: im so so sorry
Jack: Stop apologizing.
Your breathing still hasn’t calmed down. You’re mortified. How are you ever going to face him again?
For a minute, there’s no other reply. You debate texting him again, but what could you even say? “I’m sorry I think your hair is sexy”?
Instead, you try to focus on calming down. Everything will be fine. You can blame it on the drinks, even if you’re not really drunk. He won’t know that you’re lying.
Your eye catches on the three little dots at the corner of your text thread. He’s typing again. A lump forms in the base of your throat.
Jack: Where are you?
Confused, you type out a reply.
You: my room
You: why
Jack: How much did you drink?
You: not much
You: a few vodka crans with trinity and victoria
You: im mostly sober now
It wasn’t necessarily a lie. This interaction definitely sobered you up.
Jack: So you’re OK?
You: yep
You: safe and sound
Jack: Good.
Jack: Dr. Hottie, huh?
You: oh god pls dont remind me
You: im mortified
Jack: Don’t be.
Jack: Are you in bed?
Your eyebrows furrow at that last message. At first it seemed like he was just checking in on you, making sure you weren’t stranded and drunk at some shady bar. But what kind of question is that?
You: yes
Jack: Send me a picture.
Eyebrows knitting together in confusion, you open your camera and take a photo of the foot of your bed. You can make out the shape of the chair in the corner of the room and the TV mounted to the wall. You go back to your texts and send him the photo.
You: [1 attachment]
You: see
You: exactly where i said i am
Jack: No, a picture of you.
Oh.
With shaking hands, you swipe back to the camera app, this time flipping it so it’s front facing. You snap a photo of yourself, angling the phone so it captures your face and part of your torso.
You examine the photograph, taking in the pouty expression on your face and noting the way your tank top rides up at your stomach, exposing your midriff. Considering you didn’t put on a bra, you can see the faint outline of your nipples through the thin material.
Without overthinking it, you send him the picture.
You: [1 attachment]
Jack: Jesus.
Jack: You always sleep like that?
Feeling bold, the remnants of your night out still coursing through your veins, you type out a reply.
You: no
You: i usually sleep naked
You: but that feels a bit too exposing for a hotel
Jack: Fuck, sweetheart.
Jack: You have no idea what you’re doing to me.
You: send a pic
You: i wanna see
Heat pools between your legs. There’s no way this is happening. You’ll wake up tomorrow and realize you dreamt up this entire conversation.
An image from Dr. Abbot comes through.
Jack: [1 attachment]
He’s laying in his hotel bed in nothing but his underwear. You can’t see his face, but his chest is on full display. God, his muscles were something else.
But the real star of the show is his bulge, straining hard against the fabric of his boxers. One of his veiny hands rests atop it, and you can’t help but notice the wet spot pooling where his erection sits.
Fuck.
You hold your phone in one hand and slide the other one underneath your shorts and panties, rubbing slow, methodic circles against your core. Your phone pings with another message.
Jack: What’re you doing now?
You: touching myself
You: are u
Jack: Fuck, yes.
Growing warm, you kick the bedsheets aside. Your hand continues to circle, pressure building deep in your belly.
You: wish i could see u rn
Jack: [1 attachment - 0:21]
Oh, God.
Suddenly, everything starts feeling a little too real. You should not be doing this. He’s your attending. You’re sacrificing your career, everything you’ve worked so hard for, for what? One meaningless night?
But the way your hand is creating friction against your clit combined with Jack’s messages have you too horny to care, if you’re being honest.
Nervously, you click play on the video.
You almost regret doing it.
But you can’t look away from the sight of him pumping his cock up and down in the dim lighting of his hotel room.
It’s long, longer than you were expecting. And thick.
You watch as he drags his hand from the base up to the head, uses his thumb to circle the precum that's built up at the slit, and then works it up and down his length.
If the sight of that wasn’t enough, the sounds he’s making have you groaning into your pillow. He’s practically growling, the noises coming ragged from the depths of his throat.
You can’t even think straight, you’re so desperate for more. For anything. Without even thinking about it, you open your phone camera again and start recording.
It’s nothing special, considering how worked up you are. You really can’t even see much since your shorts and panties are still on.
You film as your hand moves underneath the fabric a few times, breathy moans escaping your lips. You pull it out slowly, showing off the sticky mess left on your fingers for the camera.
You: oh my god
You: thats so fucking hot
You: [1 attachment - 0:14]
You: this is how badly i want u
There’s no response for a minute, and you worry that you went too far. Maybe he realized how fucking crazy this whole situation is. Because that’s exactly what it is. Crazy.
Before you can begin to spiral too hard, your phone buzzes in your hand.
He’s fucking calling you.
You let it ring a few times, working up the courage to answer.
With a shaking hand, you click accept.
He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can hear his heavy breathing and the sound of something wet in the background.
“How are you doing it?” he mumbles into the phone, abruptly.
“What?”
“How are you touching yourself? Tell me.”
“Oh, I’m– I’m rubbing circles on my clit,” you can barely make out the words, feeling embarrassed.
“Oh fuck,” he groans. “Slip a finger in.”
“Jack, I–”
“Fuck, I need you to,” he begs. “Please do it for me, Kiddo.”
“O-Okay,” you stutter, lining up your middle finger with your entrance and sinking it in. You release a moan at the sensation, pumping your finger in and out a few times before adding another.
“God, that sound. You sound so pretty when you touch yourself. Can you hear me? Hear me pumping my cock? It wants you so bad, Sweetheart. You have no idea.”
His words make you shudder, more needy sounds escaping from your throat. The sound of his hand working against his length combined with his breathy moans have you bucking your hips into your hand.
“I want you too,” you whimper.
“What’s your room number?” Jack grunts.
“What?”
“I can’t do this. Knowing you’re right down the hall. What room are you in?”
You blink.
“302.”
The line clicks.
He hung up.
You stare at the dark phone screen in front of you, fingers coming to a stop under your panties.
What the actual fuck just happened.
Is he coming here? Like right now?
Suddenly, there’s three sharp knocks at the door. You readjust your panties and shorts and nervously make your way to the door, fumbling to open it because of how hard you’re shaking.
As you expected, Jack Abbot stands in front of you clad in a white t-shirt and a pair of sweats. He’s using his crutches, didn’t even waste time putting on his leg. His left foot dons one white sock. No shoe.
Just looking at his face makes the ache between your legs grow. His skin’s coated in a thin sheen of sweat, curls sticking to his forehead. His breathing is uneven, chest heaving against the tight fabric of his shirt.
Without a word, you open the door wide enough to let him through and he wastes no time heading directly for the center of the room, placing his crutches against the nightstand and sitting on the edge of the bed. You click the door shut and lock it.
“C’mere,” he whispers.
You take one step toward him. Measured, careful. Then another.
“Jack, I don’t know if we should…”
“Fuck, don’t say that. Would you just come here?” he growls.
You move closer until you’re standing in front of him. He reaches for you, placing his broad hands on your hips and tugging you closer to him, between his thighs. His thumbs move back and forth against your hip bone.
“Do you want this?” He asks, quiet.
“Yes.”
“Then let me make you feel good. Please,” he murmurs, pulling you even closer so he can press open mouthed kisses to the base of your throat and down your chest.
You moan into his touch, hands coming up to tug his hair.
“Is it as good as you imagined?” he teases.
“Sorry?”
“Running your hands through my ‘sexy silver hair’? Your words, not mine.”
A laugh escapes from his lips and you groan, dropping your head on top of his so he can’t see how horrified you are.
“Yeah, I’m going to regret that text for the rest of my life.”
Jack brings his hands up from your waist to the back of your head so he can pull you back to look at him.
“I’m not,” he says, maintaining such an intense eye contact that you begin to tremble underneath his gaze. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about it. Your hands in my hair. Your mouth on me. How you’d sound when I fuck you,” he whispers, leaning to continue sucking marks on your chest, just above the neckline of your tank top.
You moan at his words. If that’s the case, you should’ve been fucking him for months now.
Something snaps inside of you, and you give up on holding back. You want this. You can deal with the repercussions tomorrow.
You bring your hands down from his hair to his shoulders and push him back slightly on the bed so you have enough room to climb on top of him, straddling his thighs. He moves his hands back to your waist, keeping you stabilized against him.
“Hi,” you whisper.
“Hi,” he responds, breathless.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Fuck, please.”
You dip your head down and hover your lips over his, inches apart. You can feel his warm breath fan over your mouth as he exhales.
Fed up, Jack closes the distance, connecting his lips with yours.
And fuck, he tastes good.
You whimper into his mouth, quickening your pace, desperate for more.
The sound you make causes his grip to tighten around your waist, his kisses becoming sloppier. He darts his tongue out, seeking entry to your mouth.
You swirl your tongue against his and he releases a deep, guttural groan. Your bodies move together, hips grinding over the bulge in his sweatpants.
Between frantic kisses, he manages to lift your tank top over your head, pulling back only to admire your bare chest.
“Been dreaming about these,” he admits, taking his right hand off your hip to palm at one of your breasts. “They’re even better than I imagined.”
You throw your head back as he rolls your nipple between his knuckles. He dips his head and uses his mouth to suck on the other one, and the sensation has you rocking your hips even harder against him.
“So fucking sexy,” he breathes as he swirls his tongue around your nipple. You dig your nails into his shoulder, overwhelmed by his hands and mouth.
He kisses his way back up your chest and neck until his lips connect with yours again, hand still squeezing at your breast.
“Can I taste you?” he groans into your mouth.
You nod against him and he takes that as permission to lift you from his lap and toss you on the bed next to him, head hitting the pillow. You giggle at the sudden movement, Jack crawling above you to keep peppering your lips and jaw with kisses.
He pulls back so he’s sitting on his haunches and fiddles with the waistband of your shorts. Slowly, he peels the fabric down your legs and tosses them aside. He pushes your knees apart so you’re spread for him, ducking his head to kiss his way up your thighs.
“Jack, please,” you beg.
He places a few kisses over the lacy fabric of your panties before he pulls them to the side, face to face with your dripping center.
He licks one slow, agonizing stripe up your core, causing you to buck your hips up in the air.
“Fuck, you taste so good, Kiddo,” he mumbles into your cunt, lapping up the wetness that’s gathered there. He takes his time sucking and kissing at your clit, dipping his tongue into you, building you up to your first orgasm.
“Jack, I–I’m gonna come,” you whine, teetering over the edge.
“Let it happen, Sweetheart. Want you to come on my tongue.”
His words send you over the edge, riding out your orgasm against his mouth as he keeps swirling his tongue inside of you. He continues to leave soft kisses against your sensitive clit as you come down from your high.
Once you’ve settled, Jack kisses his way back up your stomach and chest until you’re face to face.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” you admit, still in shock.
“Me neither,” he whispers, brushing a stray hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear.
“I need you inside of me,” you breathe against him, desperate.
“Fuck, okay.”
Jack makes quick work of removing his shirt and sweatpants, then drags your panties down your legs, exposing you fully to the cool air of the room.
He strips himself of his boxers and pumps his length a few times with his hand, adjusting his position so he can line up with your entrance.
He pushes forward, seating himself inside you down to the hilt in one fell swoop. You moan loudly at the feeling of him, how he fills you entirely.
“Oh God, Jack,” you mumble.
“You okay?” he asks, hesitating to move.
“Yes, God, yes. Please move.”
With a grunt he begins working himself in and out of you, setting the pace. The head of his cock keeps hitting that spongy spot deep inside you so hard that it’s making you see stars.
“Fuck, Jack, just like that,” you babble, clawing at his back to stabilize yourself against his frantic thrusts.
“Jesus, Kid. You feel so good,” he mumbles into your neck. “I’m not going to last. Where do you want me?”
“Inside, do it inside,” you beg.
Those words alone are enough to make him falter, his pace becoming uneven and sloppy as he releases thick spurts of cum inside of you.
The warmth of his release combined with the feeling of his dick twitching inside of you has you hitting your peak, coming again with a garbled moan.
Exhausted, Jack collapses on top of you, head still nuzzled into your shoulder. The two of you are panting heavily, chests heaving against one another.
After catching his breath and leaving a trail of kisses beneath your ear, Jack lifts his head so he can look at you.
Summary: You’re doctor Robby’s younger daughter, and you are waiting outside for him in front of the ER. As usual he doesn’t make it out of work on time. So, instead you’re greeted by his best friend, Jack Abbot.
Contains: Daddy issues, absent father, dads best friend, age gap, forbidden, almost getting caught, couch makeout session, dry humping, hand kink, words like “kiddo”, Abbot drives a truck, desperation, praise kink, fingering
One thing you hated was the fact your dad worked in the ER. Especially the ER in Pittsburgh that never seems to get a break.
You wait on a bench outside of the noisy hospital. Ambulances rolling in and out every now and then. Your hands are tucked away in your dad’s green coat. You sniffle as your nose runs from the cold. It grows numb at the cold breeze.
You didn’t mind waiting in the cold though.
Every time the sliding doors open you can’t help but glance up in hope it’s your dad. Each time it’s someone different; some familiar faces but it was never your dad.
The sliding doors open once more, your eyes flick up, and to your surprise it’s a more than familiar face.
"Dr. Abbot?" You say, almost like it was a question.
"You waiting up for your dad?"
You scoot over on the bench as he inches closer. He just has on black scrubs, a grey shirt under, and a stethoscope wrapped around his neck.
"Yeah." You kept your response short.
With a soft grunt he sits down next to you. He leans back a bit and his legs spread open slowly in a manspread you can’t help but notice.
Your eyes flick away quickly.
"Robby is going to be held up a bit tonight." His tone makes you worry. Your eyes flick to his.
"Should I be worried?" Something in your stomach twists.
"There was a car pile up on the freeway tonight. Some of the local hospitals computer systems went down, so they had to transfer them over." He explains.
"He’s been in there for almost twenty-four hours." You mumble.
"You know how your dad is, kiddo."
Kiddo.
"The sun is rising practically, and I see the night shift doctors going home." You point at the night shift doctor who has a Dunkin' drink with him everyday, leaving.
"I know you’re upset-"
"Upset? Yeah, I hardly get to see my dad because his second home is a hospital for crying out loud." You shout angrily.
Abbot seems taken aback at your frustration, but he understands. He places a hand on your knee and gives it a squeeze.
"I get your frustration — I do. Your dad just works hard," Abbot tries to defend your dad.
You shake your head, "But when do I get a say when I want to see my dad."
You squeeze your hands into a fist, they’re tucked away in the long sleeves of your dad’s coat. You feel the tears of frustration starting to rise in your eyes. You bite your lower lip to try to stop anything from escaping but it’s hard with the cold air smacking you in the face. A tear escapes and so does a hushed sniffle.
"Hey, hey, woah," Abbot turns to you and you refuse to look up at him. "These tears aren’t worth it."
He grabs your face and his calloused hand glides against your cheek. Your eyes flinch at the touch. His hands are surprisingly warm. His thumb brushes away a tear under your eye.
"How did you get here?" Abbot asks you.
"I took the bus." You sniffle.
"I’ll text Robby that I’m taking you home today, okay?" You feel your heart rate increase at the idea of being in Abbot’s truck, just you and him, going to your house.
You nod and wipe away the tears from your face, "Okay." You softly say.
The car ride felt like it was the longest car ride. The soft hum of the engine, and the smell of the cars heater blowing in your face. You can tell his truck is a little older. It is a nice rustic red, and it suits him. Everything Abbot has or does suits him.
He pulls into the driveway of you and your dad’s house. Your own car, a 2016 Volkswagen Beetle, which broke down on you about a month ago, sits peacefully next to his truck.
"You took the bus but you have your beetle?" He points to your red beetle.
"She broke down on me last month. I think something’s wrong with the transmission. Dad was supposed to take it to the shop last week, but he got busy."
As usual.
"I can always take it into the shop. I know a mechanic who could probably get her back up and running." You can’t help but smile.
"You’d do that?" Your eyes flick between his.
With a soft nod and a smile that you can’t help but stare at, "Of course. I’d do anything for you, kiddo."
Your heart skips a beat and you can feel your palms grow sweaty. Your stomach twists and turns like you have to throw up.
"You should come in," You blurt out.
Abbot looks surprised, "You want me to come in?"
"I mean, dad wouldn’t like you to not come in. You drove me here you must be hungry or thirsty or — something." You ramble a bit.
Abbot chuckles at you and shakes his head. He reaches for his key fob and turns off his truck.
"Okay, I’ll go inside." He rests his hands on his legs.
His black scrubs fit nicely on his body. It squeezes around his legs and his black shirt accentuates his biceps.
You guys get out of the truck and you take out your key. It’s on a keychain with a picture of you and your dad, a small stuffed bunny, and a red heart. The keys jingle and you fumble a bit trying to unlock your door. You can feel Abbot staring at the side of your face and at the lock.
Once you get the door open you are instantly greeted by your cat Cinnamon. She’s a smaller tabby cat, and she rubs against your legs. She doesn’t hesitate to go to Abbot next. Rubbing on his black scrubs; her fur clings to it.
He leans down to pick her up. He lays her on her back and she purrs loudly. He takes his middle and ring finger and begins to pet her gently in the stomach.
"Such a pretty girl," He hums and rubs her fur slowly.
You lick your lips and swallow the lump forming in your throat. Your eyes can’t help but focus on his veiny hands and the thickness of his two fingers rubbing your cat.
He sets her down and when he gets back up he softly groans.
You blink out of whatever fantasy you were playing in your head.
"Are you thirsty?" You ask and walk over to the kitchen.
"Coffee would be great," He nods.
"Coffee after doing the night shift?" You tease and he huffs as he sits down on your sofa.
"Coffee is like water to me now, kid."
"You realize I’m nineteen. I’m not a kid," You glare at him.
"I know, I know. I just like saying it," He smiles.
You put the pod of coffee into your Keurig. It begins to rumble as the water starts to heat up. You awkwardly stand in the kitchen not knowing if you should go over to the couch or not.
"Don’t be so uptight in your own home," You flinch at the husky voice and look over at Abbot.
He pats the cushion next to him and hesitantly you begin to walk over. You stand in front of him and his head tilts up to look at you. You sit down slowly next to him. You can feel his eyes on you; watching your every move.
You guys sit in silence, you can hear your heart beating loudly. You’ve been around Abbot many times but this one time you’re with him alone.
You notice him bringg his hand up, and it finds your leg. He places his hand on your leg and brings your chin over his lap.
You watch him.
He knows you’re watching.
He slides his hand up to your chin slowly — rubbing your skin. Shivers run up your spine at his warm hands caressing your legs.
He turns his head and his eyes lock with yours.
You swallow.
"Abbot," you say almost breathlessly.
"Yes?" His voice is deeper than before.
You lean in more, your butt pressing against his thigh. Your legs are now both over his lap, but you’re not sitting in his lap — yet.
"Keep going," you say. "Please."
His eyes flick between yours. Something new lights in them and you can tell he’s enjoying this as much as you are.
You lean in to his neck as he continues to stroke your legs. You get a smell of his musk that makes him smell more like a man. You place a soft kiss on his neck and his hand halts on your chin.
You pull away and look up at him.
"Kid," Abbot begins.
His hand reaches out for your cheek. His thumb traces your bottom lip as he holds your face. A breathy gasp escapes between your lips. You stare up at him; he licks his lips slowly. Before you left him finish his sentence you place your mouth on his. His breath gets caught in his throat, but he doesn’t fight the kiss. His mouth wanders yours; his tongue protruding the entrance to your mouth. Your tongues fight against each other.
You find yourself now straddling him. Your hands are on his broad shoulders, squeezing and pulling on his shirt. The more you two kiss, the more you want.
He breaks away from you. You’re both breathless and he stares into your eyes. You can feel your lips are swollen but you don’t mind.
"Kid, we shouldn’t have done that." He says.
"But I wanted it to happen," You whisper.
He tilts his head back a bit and you bite your lip. You inch towards his face again and he doesn’t mind. You place another soft kiss on his lips. You can feel the heat from his breath on your lips. His breath smells like peppermint, and you can’t help but crave it.
Your tongue glides along the bottom of his lip, and slowly you rock your hips forward. With the movement of your hips you can hear him grunt in your mouth.
Everything around you disappears. All you can focus on is the feeling of your pussy slowly grinding against his growing hard on, and the way his breathing grows erratic against your mouth.
"Fuck," He groans.
He stared at you intensely through hooded eyes. You rock your hips and a shot of pleasure shoots through you.
You lean forward a bit and your head meets his muscular shoulder. His hand slides into your hair and the fingers that were once petting your cat were now racking through your hair.
You let out a muffled moan into his shoulder at the feeling of your cunt grinding and his hand roughly playing in your hair.
"Keep going," He encourages through a groan.
You press down harder and roll your hips. Your breath hitches softly.
"Yeah," He breathes. "Just like that."
You moan again at his words.
"What would your dad think?" He whispers. "Him coming home and seeing his daughter grinding against his friend, huh?"
You whimper in response.
You lean back and look at him. Your chest heaves up and down.
"I want more," You gasp. "Jack, please."
"Jack, hm?" He moves his hands down onto your thighs and up to your hips.
He squeezes and massages them slowly.
"What more do you want?" He asks.
"Touch me, anything, please." You beg.
"Touch you?" His hand slides closer to the button of your jeans.
He rubs his finger around the button. You watch the way his index finger slowly does circles on the piece of metal. You feel yourself pulsing at the idea of his fingers doing that to you.
He unbuttons the button and glides down the zipper. He can see your pink lace underwear you’re wearing. His thumb glides against the silky underwear and he looks up at you — looking for an answer.
"Please," you beg. "Touch me."
Without anymore hesitation he slides his hand inside of your underwear. You let out a mixture of a gasp and a moan as his index finger slides up your wet folds and runs over your clit, slowly. You rub is back and forth in a slowly flicking motion. You moan and tilt your head back a bit and rock your hips forward.
"You think you can take my fingers?" He wraps his free hand around your neck and tilts your head back to look at him.
You bob your head and he gives a smirk.
Slowly he pushes between your folds and slides his index finger inside of you. You squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling of his finger going in. A mixture of pain and pleasure rush over you. His index finger slides in and out slowly but his thumb finds its way down back to your clit. In a motion you fingers you and rubs circles on your clit.
"Look at that," he hums. "Such a good girl."
You moan loudly at the way he’s treating you and the words he speaks. You can feel the nerves bundling up and the pleasure becoming intense on you.
"Oh God," You whimper. "I’m going to cum." You moan out.
"It’s okay," He reassures. "I got you; cum for me."
With those words, it felt like an explosion hit you. Your body trembles as you reach your climax and you let out a loud moan. You bite your lip and collapse onto his shoulder once again. He pumps his finger slower inside of you until all that’s left is your body twitching.
You sit up and catch your breath. You two are both breathless and you can’t help but smile. Jack cracks a smile back at you.
He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing gets out as you both hear the sound of keys entering the front doors lock.
You jump off Jack’s lap and zip up your jeans. You quickly tuck your hair behind your ears and glance at Jack once more. You notice him adjust his dick in his scrubs before the door opens.
"Hi dad," You blurt out.
"Hey sweetie," Robby sets down the keys in the bowl by your door and he walks over and kisses your forehead. "Sorry I’m home so late."
"It’s fine," you say. "Dr. Abbot kept me company."
Summary: You meet an older guy at the club after your friends leave you, and the night takes a turn. You think you’ll never see this mystery man from the club again, but turns out he’s not as much as a mystery as you thought.
Contains: Clubbing, drinking, Mel and Santos are your friends, blowjob, blowjob in bathroom, abbot dances with you, cum in throat, rude abbot lowkey, abbot calls you sweetheart, praise, POV switch
Being young has its perks: you’re young, in shape, you don’t have wrinkles, and you love to party.
Your hips sway with the music that bounces off the club walls. Purple lights beam down into the dance floor. You hold your martini in the air as you get low to the floor and rise back up. You’re out on a girls night and it’s the one night that you love.
“Girl we’re so tired,” Santos groans at you.
You giggle at her, “This is the one time you wear heels out and you’re tired at 11pm.”
“That’s a valid reason to be tired.” She argues.
“Santos and I have a shift early in the morning anyways.”Mel butts in.
You frown, “You guys are really going to leave me?”
“Sorry, girl, but we have to.” Santos shrugs.
You pout, as usual.
“You have fun. Find someone to dance with, you’re only young once.” Santos nudges your arm and smile.
“You guys have a good night. I’m going to the bar to get a shot,” You point to the bar with a few stragglers and walk away from Mel and Santos.
You sit on the bar stool and watch as the bartenders shake up whatever mixture people ask for. You sip on your martini and look around. You watch as some men dance on the floor with women or their friends; nobody seems to catch your eye.
You sigh in defeat and finish off your martini. You didn’t even get the shot you wanted because all of the bartenders were busy. Grabbing your clutch you turn on the barstool. As soon as you stand up you bump into a hard shoulder.
“Oh, i’m so…” you trail off as your eyes wander up from the blue shirt clinging to a chest, to a peppered beard, and finally to his eyes.
“…sorry,” you finish your sentence.
You take in the man in front of you who is decently taller than you. He has broad shoulders, some wrinkles that suit his face, and peppered hair. You can’t help but lick your lips at the sight of this man.
“You’re fine,” His voice is rough and deep. It makes your heart shudder.
“Can I buy you a drink?” You blurt out.
This makes the fully look down at you. His eyes sweep over your tight black dress; that hugs your body so nicely. Your breasts are on display in a way that isn’t too much, but just enough to catch the attention you crave. You notice how his eyes land your lips that are lathered in glittery pink lipgloss. Something in you wants to just get your hands all over him.
“How old are you, sweetheart?” He leans in more so you can hear him.
Your nose takes in his manly scent, a woody smell mixed with a sort of musk. It’s enough to make a woman drool.
“Old enough to be at a bar,” you fire back.
This makes him laugh.
“So, twenty-one?” He cocks his head a bit.
“No.” You fold your arms. “Twenty-two.”
“Mm.” He hums.
“Sure, we can have a drink.” He agrees. “But i’m buying yours.”
He points back to the barstool you were once sat at, and you slowly sit down. He comes around and sits on the stool next to you. He props his elbow on the glass counter and turns to face you.
“What makes you want to buy me a drink?” He asks.
Bold.
“I like what I see.” You simply say.
“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours trying to read your intentions. When simply your intentions are to see what’s under his clothes. Not that hard, right?
“I’m always honest—“ you realize you don’t have his name.
“Jack.” His deep voice makes your mouth water. Every time he talks it’s like music flowing into your ears.
“Nice to meet you, Jack.” You repeat his name.
He stares at you for a moment and then looks away quickly as a bartender passes by. He raises his hand to stop them. The bartender trails back before skipping over us and is ready to take our order.
“Whiskey neat and she’d like—“ he points to you to say your order.
“— A strawberry martini, please.” You smile.
“Whiskey neat and a strawberry martini, gotcha.” The bartender walks away to make out drinks.
Jack finally lets out a laugh and your eyes flick to him.
“What?” You ask. You feel yourself beginning to smile.
“A strawberry martini at a club?” He chuckles and shakes his head.
“Oh, cause whiskey neat isn’t as basic as it gets.” You playfully roll your eyes and he looks at you amused.
“You’re interesting.” He admits.
Your cheeks heat up. You feel yourself growing shyer but also more confident. The way your conversation has been flowing so far makes you want to talk more — do more.
“Am I?” Your leg slides to his bar stool. Your black heels slides against his pants, and rubs against his leg.
You both stare at each other in the eyes as you slowly move upward with your foot. It’s near his kneecap, he is already manspreading slightly.
“You’re a real tease, y’know?” He licks the bottom of his lip. His eyes never leave yours.
“I know.” You hum. “It’s more fun that way.”
Before you could continue your drinks arrive. You quickly bring your foot down and something in you feels annoyed you had to. You take a sip of your drink quickly. The strawberry taste fills your mouth and the burn of the alcohol goes down your throat slowly.
You stand up and grab his larger hand. His fingers are large, his hands have some wrinkles, but they’re manly and calloused.
“Let’s dance.” You smile and try to bring him to his feet.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, sweetheart.” He shakes his head.
“You’re right — it’s a wonderful idea. Up you go.”
You raise Jack to his feet and have him trail behind you. He stays close; making sure he won’t lose you in the crowd. You find yourself back on the dance floor with purple lights.
You begin to slide your hands up your body. Jack stands there and watches you dance. You shimmy your waist side to side and he can’t look away. You look up at him and run a hand through your hair. You grab his hands and bring them to the air. You turn your body to where your butt is how against his crotch. Exactly what you wanted. You sway your hips against him and he drops his hands quickly to your waist.
You got him exactly where you wanted.
You guys sway to the music. Your butt rides up against him and he puts his head to your neck. You feel his tongue flick out and lick against you. You softly gasp. Your arm lifts and your hand wraps around his neck. Bringing him close to you. Your head turns to look at him. Your eyes wander all over his face and find their way to his beard, and then his lips.
You turn around and wrap your arms around his neck. Slowly you stand on your tip toes, and find your lips on his. Your tongue slides out against his and his hands squeeze your hips. You’re both hungry for it. His hand slips past your lips and to your ass. He slides his hands over your dress fabric and gives you a soft squeeze on your ass. You moan in the kiss at the feeling.
Quickly, you break away. Gasping for air.
“Let’s take this somewhere else,” You breathlessly say.
The club music begins to drown out as the bathroom door slams shut. The lights are dim in the bathroom — nobody is in it. Only thing inside are beer bottles, condom wrappers, a pair of red laced underwear tucked far off into a corner, and you and him.
His thumb traces your bottom lip as he holds your face. You walk backwards until your back is against the cold marble sink. A breathy gasps escapes between your lips. His head tilts to the side and before you know it, his lips begin to cover yours. His mouth wanders yours; his tongue protruding the entrance to your mouth. Your tongues fight against each other.
You grip his broad shoulders feeling all over his arms and then his back. His body heat is radiating against your touch. The shirt he wears clings just right to his body.
You break away from each other and breathlessly near your ear he whispers, "I want to fuck you so bad."
You wrap your arms around his neck and lean back to look him in the eyes. Your eyes flick between his.
Confidence runs through you, “so do it."
He shakes his head letting out a breathy laugh, "not here, not now."
He leans forward to go back in, but you put your hand over his mouth; blocking him from moving any further. Your hands grip the counter or the sink. You bite your lip slowly and without a second thought your knees begin to fold.
"What are you doing?" He sounds intrigued but surprised.
"If you can't fuck me—we can at least do this." Now fully on your knees your hand slides up his thigh. Slowly making its way to the buckle of his jeans. He watches you with every move you make.
You pull his jeans down and your eyes look at his black boxers. You get his jeans to his ankles and look back up at him. Leaning forward, your mouth goes over the black cloth and he lets out a shaky breath. Your tongue laps over the tent forming in his pants. Your fingers slide up his shirt and you tuck the other inside the boxers, pulling them down.
His cock hits your lips and you lick your lips. The taste of salty pre-cum floods your mouth. You grab his shaft and begin slowly jerking him off. You run my palm over his tip and push it back down making his dick slightly wet with pre-cum. You kiss his tip and open your mouth slowly. His head goes past your lips and he groans. You look up and watch him tilt his head back slowly.
You push your head further down and his dick goes in slowly. Slowly, you begin to bob your head up and down, going back to the tip and pushing your head down to halfway of his shaft. You look back up and he's now watching. His hand tucks some of your hair behind your ear and he places his hand on the back of your head. He tugs and pulls on your hair. You guys don't break eye contact.
“Fuck,” He grunts. “What would someone say if they came in and saw you on your knees like this, huh?”
You squeeze your thighs together as the pulsing in your core grows stronger.
"Taking my cock so well," You begin to bob your head up and down faster and his breathing grows shaky.
"Shit, I'm going to cum," He manages to groan out and he pushes your head down onto his dick; making you gag a bit. His load shoots into your mouth, filling it with warmth and the taste of salt. You didn't want to swallow it, but you did.
You pull off and he catches his breath, "Sorry, I didn't mean to cum in your mouth." You wipe your mouth and get back up.
"It's okay," you say. "I liked it."
You two stand in silence for a moment, and he rubs the back of his neck.
“Well, I should get going. This didn’t happen, right? One night stand kind of thing.” He awkwardly says.
Your stomach turns for some reason and you nod, "Yeah, obviously. Secret safe with me." you smile.
With that, he leaves you standing alone in the club bathroom. Leaving you horny and also angry.
The ER is busy. As always. Jack rubs his eyes and leans back in his rolling chair. Letting out a dragged sigh.
Mohan walks by quickly, “Hey, Mohan!” She halts at the male calling her name.
She turns on her heels to face Jack and she cocks her head a bit, “What’s up?”
“Before I leave for the day, I need that head CT for the lady in room four, please, and stat.” Jack says.
He folds his arm and glances up, and back down. Suddenly, he looks back up. He notices Mel, McKay, and Santos are huddled up.
“What’s going on over there?” Jack flicks his head to the girls.
Mohan turns and looks at the group, “Oh, one of Mel’s and Santos friends came by to bring them coffee.” She explains and her face displays a bright smile, “She got me one, too!”
Jack shakes his head at her and takes this chance to walk over to the girls. Jack claps to get their attention, “Alright, ladies, back to—“
He pauses at the unfamiliar but very familiar face. He looks at you in the eyes, and it looks as if he saw a ghost.
“Mel, who is this old guy and why is he standing here?” You ask your friend.
“He’s a night shift attending! You can’t say that,” Mel’s cheeks flush and she shouts at you.
“Oh, he is?”
“You guys may continue.” Jack blurts out and walks away from you guys.
pairings: ex!michael ‘robby’ robinavitch x reader, jack abbot x talent agent!reader
summary: you’ve made a name for yourself as an agent for a big actress. when she gets into an accident, you’re forced to face your ex boyfriend and his flirtatious best friend.
word count: 3.6k
warning: heavyyy making out, dry humping 😝, praise kink, jealous!toxic!robby, medical inaccuracies, flirting, use of ‘little girl’ once, random oc i created for plot purposes, reader is very . euphoria s3 maddy perez coded .
note: eeek i love writing jealous fics HEHE i had sooooo much fun writing this ! honestly id be very open to writing a pt 2 but let me know what you guys think ! i’m like one fic away from just writing smut atp …………
a young woman’s scream echos the PTMC,
“Somebody call my agent!” she cries in pain as she enters through the ambulance bay,
“Rochelle King, 24 years old, vehicle hit her going 30 miles. Sounds like she was launched about nine feet. BP is one forty over ninety, heart rate one ten” the paramedics say as Doctor McKay and Doctor Robby approach the gurney,
“Hi Rochelle, we’re gonna get you some pain meds as soon as we can. Can you tell me if you’re experiencing any dizziness or nausea?” McKay starts as they enter trauma two. from a distance Victoria and Joy watch in disbelief,
“Is that Rochelle King?” Victoria says walking over to trauma two to get a quick peek. Joy follows quickly behind,
“Whoever it is, they’re a patient. One of you find out who her agent is or whatever she needs,” Dana calls out to the two med students. Joy walks to the desk begrudgingly. “Who the hell even is she?” Dana asks Joy as she takes her phone out to find the correct phone number,
“Seriously? She just won an Oscar for that Audrey Hepburn biopic? She’s in Pittsburgh filming for the new X-Files reboot,” Joy looks at her unimpressed as Dana blinks, still confused. Joy passes her phone over and Dana’s eyes widen in surprise as she stares at the headshot of you. she hasn’t seen you in years and you were almost unrecognizable. there’s a new look in your eyes, a less naïve and more ambitious look that only those who knew you previously would notice. Dana hands the phone back to Joy,
“Call her, let her know we have her actress here.” Dana leaves and sees Robby leaving trauma two. She speeds over to him, just as he’s taking his plastic gloves off,
“How’s our Hollywood star?” Dana starts.
“Her?” Robby turns around looking back at Rochelle as they pull her gurney out.
“What, you didn’t see that movie she was in? She won an Oscar for it.”
“Nope, I’m too busy saving lives here to watch anything.” Robby looks up at the patient board to see who’s next,
“Yeah, well the agent she was screaming about? Her agent is your ex-girlfriend,” Robby looks at Dana with panic before shaking his head, concealing his initial fright with a straight face. “You’ve got about four hours left, Robinavitch, I’m sure you can handle her until Abbot is in.”
Robby’s palms run up his face in agitation. of course, right as his shift was on its last few hours, he’s forced to face you. it felt like an impending doom that the universe sent him for all his mistakes he made while with you.
“I refuse to sit here any fucking longer and wait for you! I can’t believe I gave up my life for this… I be should in school, making a name for myself but instead I’m in fucking Pittsburgh playing housewife to you!” you yell with hot tears rushing down your face, voice cracking as you struggle to finish your sentence. Robby stands in the middle of your shared living room, hands on his hips, quietly taking all of it. he looks as if he’s disassociated from the conversation, waiting for it to be over so he can move on with his night,
“You done?” Robby says with a mildly condescending tone.
“Yeah, actually, I’m fucking done.” you walk to your shared bedroom, throwing clothes into a bag, rushing to get out. Robby doesn’t put up a fight, he simply sits on the couch, throwing his legs up on the coffee table. he’s been through this before with you. he doesn’t think you’ll get far and thinks it’s only a matter of time before you come running back. you needed him to survive, or so he thought. you took everything you could and bought a plane ticket heading west, never looking back. since then, you’ve been untraceable (though it’s not like he went looking for you anyways).
the sound of heels clicking against the linoleum floors snaps him out of the memory. you enter the ER dressed in a clean, well tailored designer outfit, carrying a matching bag with all sorts of papers poking out. your heavy eye makeup matches your blown out hair and minimalistic jewellery. you had your phone to your ear, quickly shutting it off as you approach the workstations,
“Dana!” you say with your arms open, embracing her. Dana squeezes you tightly in response. you look wildly different from the last time Robby saw you. if you passed him in the street, he wouldn’t be able to recognize you but there was something about your new look though that Robby wasn’t entirely buying. he felt as if he could see right through your alleged act, how could you mature so quickly from being someone who used to be so dependant on him?
“Hey kid!” Dana says as she pulls away, her hands still gripping your forearms. “Look at you! All grown up!” you smile big at her, relishing in her kindness,
“Thank you! Listen, I’m here for my client, Rochelle King?” in the corner of your eye, Robby approaches,
“She’s resting.”
“Robby, long time no see,” you say, adjusting your posture so you’re standing a bit taller now. Dana slowly backs away as she watches you try to keep your composure. Victoria and Joy’s heads poke up in interest, observing from not too far away. “You know, I asked them to take her to Westbridge, but apparently PTMC was much closer.” you say, trying to take the opportunity to get a quick jab at him,
“We put her on some pain medication and are waiting on her CT results back in case she has any symptoms of a brain bleed. She’s got a concussion, an ankle fracture and some pretty bad road rash, but she’s lucky to be alive.” you nod at his diagnosis,
“So where is she?” Robby stretches his arm out, guiding you down the ER,
“Robby’s ex is Rochelle King's agent?” Victoria asks Dana,
“And if she is, he fumbled. Hard.” Joy continues.
“Don’t you two have patients to check on? Chop chop, let’s go!” Dana claps her hands, breaking up the scene.
the curtains inside the ER room are closed and security stands in front of the room. before Robby opens the door he turns to you,
“Did I get a chance to say that you look amazing?” Robby says quietly, making sure only you could hear.
“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming?” your eyes squinting slightly in suspicion.
“But between us, I’m not buying it,” you scoff at his caveat.
“You can convince Dana and the rest of this ER that you’re a big Hollywood agent, but deep down you’re still a little girl, scared to live without someone taking care of her twenty-four seven.”
“Unbelievable. You’re still so self-centered as always, Robinavitch. You really can’t believe that I actually made a life for myself after you.” you shake your head in shock and disappointment before entering the room. Robby follows close behind.
“Hi!” you say softly to Rochelle, something about the tone of your voice makes Robby’s heart ache, it’s reminiscent of the way you used to speak to him when he’d come home from a rough shift,
“Miss King, we’d like to keep you overnight for observation while you wait on your results back. We don’t suspect any brain bleeding at this time but we’d like to just monitor you in case anything comes up.” your client stays quiet, nodding at the new information,
“That’s all, thank you Doctor Robby.” you dismiss him, keeping your eyes on Rochelle. you give her a soft smile as you grab her hand. you don’t care to look at him, or give him any attention besides what’s necessary. you’re technically still working, and you weren’t going to let your ex get in the way of that. Robby watches as you pull out papers from your bag before exiting the room.
maybe Robby will be okay with you here. an hour has passed since he dropped you off in the ER room and there’s three more to go before he can clock out and hopefully never see you again. through the ambulance bay, Jack arrives early than usual, camo backpack slung over his shoulder,
“What’re you doing here? You don’t come in till six usually.” Robby says as he double checks his watch for the time,
“Yeah, I’ve got a SWAT friend coming in for a wound check up, figured I might as well just come in and do it myself.”
as if the universe's timing couldn’t be worse, you come out of your clients room and walk over to Dana,
“Hey Dana, are there any issues with ordering food to the hospital? My client refuses to eat anything right now unless it’s a protein smoothie.” from a distance, Jack sees you chatting with Dana,
“Is that who I think it is?” Jack chuckles in amusement, “Didn’t think this place couldn’t get worse for you, brother.” Robby sighs as Jack gives him a sympathetic pat on the back.
“She’s an agent for some big actress who got into an accident today. I’ll give you the rundown in a bit.” Jack stares, scanning you from head to toe. with your clothes fitting in all the right places, accentuating your waistline and hips, he can’t help but stare.
“She looks good.” Jack says, testing the waters.
“Yeah? She’s all yours if you can handle that.” Robby jokes. it’s the first genuine laugh Robby has had all day but Jack keeps a straight face, taking his statement seriously. you feel the burning gaze of the two men as Dana passes you a sticky note with the hospital's info. your eyes meet Jack’s first, cracking a big smile on your face. he looks a bit older than the last time you saw him, and damn has time done him well. his salt and pepper hair, deep wrinkles around his eyes, if you were put in a room with him, you aren’t sure how you’d act.
“Hi Jack!” you say throwing your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body against his. Jack wraps his arms around your waist, leaving his hands there as you pull back.
“Hi sweetheart, long time no see. You look beautiful.” sweetheart? beautiful? Robby thinks.
“It’s what happens when you leave Pittsburgh, what can I say?” you say using your fingers to flaunt your face, letting out a giggle.
“Heard you’re here with some big actress? You live in Hollywood now?” Robby’s head tilts as he looks at Jack in confusion.
“Yeah actually, it’s been great. I’m a talent agent to a few actors and I’m in town for a bit while we film a reboot for a series.” you beam, proud of how you’ve established yourself.
“Yeah? Well you gotta tell me about it over drinks sometime while you’re here.” Robby couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. did Jack not remember all the times Robby had complained to him about another fight you two had? or that time Robby had to sleep on Jack’s couch?
“If you’ll excuse us, we have jobs to do.” Robby says as he interrupts the moment. Dana raises her eyebrows from a distance, catching Robby’s attention. you finally look at Robby,
“Good, so do I.” you say quickly looking back at Jack, giving him a wink. Jack shakes his head as he watches you walk away. he knows you’re trouble, and he’s willing to bet everything on you. as Jack heads to his locker, Dana quickly pulls Robby aside,
“What the hell was that? That poor girl has already been through enough of your bullshit.” Robby puts on an innocent face as Dana interrogates him,
“This is an ER, not a speed dating event and we have work to do,”
“Real professional of you, Robby. I almost believe you.” Robby walks away as Dana finishes her sentence. three more hours, just three more he repeats to himself.
𝜗ৎ
the room is quiet in comparison to the ongoing chaos outside in the ER. you type away at new emails before a soft knock at the door that awakens your client,
“Come in.” she mumbles, shuffling around in the bed. Jack and Robby enter the room together as you push your laptop aside.
“How’re you doing Miss King?” Robby starts as he examines her vitals. his eyes quickly glancing at you before bringing his full attention back to the patient. she groans in response, “Hurts.” she mumbles. while Robby slowly begins unraveling her bandages, Jack puts his hand on your shoulder softly,
“You doin’ okay?” you nod in response. the gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by Robby or Rochelle,
“Wounds look like they’re healing okay, no signs of infection so far. Your CT scans came back good as well so no risk of internal bleeding,” Robby turns to Jack who is standing beside you, “Let’s up her pain meds and keep an eye on the wound tonight. Should be okay to discharge by the morning.” as Robby makes his way out of the room, Jack quickly turns back to you again,
“You let me know if you need anything, got it?” you nod in silence again as he follows the other attending. as the door shuts, your client turns to you,
“What was that?” she says, eyebrows raised and with a smirk similar to a cheshire cat,
“It’s nothing, he’s a friend– an acquaintance even. I’ve known him for a long time,” you say as you pull your laptop back out. she doesn’t break her disbelieving stare, waiting for you to confess, “You’re high on pain meds, go back to sleep.”
“I might be high, but I know when a guy is really into you like that,” you shake your head as she turns over, “Plus he’s hot! My god, should I go for older guys? Honestly, and I mean it respectfully, if you don’t jump on him, I will!” you laugh at her drug induced ramble, trying your best to keep things professional.
just as you’re about to respond to another email, your phone begins buzzing. you’re quick to step out of the room and rush towards the ambulance bay exit. like a puppy, Jack’s eyes trail after you as you dash out answering the call,
“You know I was kinda joking when I said she was all yours?” Robby says sliding beside him,
“Were you? What happened to never wanting to see her again?” Jack challenges,
“All I’m saying is that I don’t believe she’s changed and I don’t think you should either.” Robby says with his hands up in surrender,
“Well I’m willing to be the one to find out.”
Robby shouldn’t feel threatened by Jack’s determination. he deemed that he was over you long before your relationship ended and yet he hated every time Jack made a pass at you (and even more that you were eating it up).
outside, the red light of the ‘Emergency’ sign above illuminates you,
“I promise you, if you don’t change that stunt team and you don’t do another pass at cast and crew safety, you’ll need to find another actress and we both know you’re in too deep to do that at this stage,” Jack walks outside to see you pacing back and forth. the click of your heels fill the silence while you listen to whoever you have on the phone, “Great, I’ll have that contract sent to you shortly, thank you.” you shut your phone off letting out a deep breath. Jack waits until you’ve had a second to decompress before approaching,
“Everything okay? Saw you running out the ER, just thought I’d check on you.” you spin around to see Jack with his hands behind his back slowly walking towards you. he stops at a safe distance standing beside, looking out at the nearby road with you.
“Yeah, producers just wanna know when they can start filming her scenes again, it’s nothing really.” your tense shoulders drop as it becomes quiet again, cars passing by filling the silent void,
“Y’know, I missed seeing you around.”
“Really? I thought I was a mess back then. I feel like my terrible decisions showed that.”
“Like being with Robby?” you huff in amusement as Jack’s question.
“Yeah, kinda. But it led me to meeting you…” there’s a brief pause, “And Dana,” you add. seeing Jack after years of being away has made you feel something you haven’t felt in a long time. when you left for LA, you refused to wear your heart on your sleeve again and being around him has brought something out in you.
the way he’s checked on specifically you multiple times since arriving, the interest he has in the life and career you’ve built, and let’s not forget how much more handsome he’s become. you don’t feel like he’s making you smaller being around him, he embraces your change. he treats you like an adult and like someone who is capable,
“The last time I was in Pittsburgh, I didn’t really know what I wanted. I just blindly followed a man who was essentially leading me nowhere.” you turn to face Jack. he mirrors your movement standing closer to you now,
“Have you figured out what you want now?”
“Yeah, I have.”
𝜗ৎ
thirty minutes left, Robby kept repeating to himself. thirty more minutes and he could finally go home, escape the sight of you, escape Jack’s attempts at flirting and repress any resurfacing feelings or memories he had of your time together.
though, he couldn’t help but remember the way you used to laugh when you rode on the back on his Bonneville, or the little scream you let out when he would pick you up and spin you around after coming home. he tries to keep busy to avoid any old feelings resurfacing but he can’t help it when the last four hours have been spent watching you openly flirt with his best friend,
“Princess, have you seen Jack?” Robby asks,
“You could try triage? I think he mentioned something about a wound check for a friend?” Robby flashes a thankful smile and heads over. he just needs to brief Jack on one more patient then he’s out of there.
in the nearby supply closet, Jack pushes you against the wall kissing you desperately as if he’s waited years for this exact moment. you moan as Jack takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. his knee pushes your legs apart and settles in between, allowing you to gently grind yourself against him. he slowly begins kissing down your neck,
“Fuck.” you moan lowly as he marks the sweet spot on your neck. Jack quietly shushes you and puts his hand on your mouth,
“You’ll be my good girl and stay quiet, right?” you nod vigorously, his hand staying on your mouth, following your nodding movements. “Yeah, you’re my good girl.” he kissed and marked your neck, desperately wanting to show everyone he’s yours.
Robby’s head pops in triage, doing a quick pass and even going towards the lobby to see if Jack is around. still nowhere to be found, Robby runs up the stairs towards the rooftop next.
Jack slowly undoes the buttons of your top as he kisses up your neck again, making his way back to your lips. he hovers over them for a second whispering,
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, wanted you.” he kisses you again, struggling with the buttons of your top. your fingers run through his grey curls, stopping at the roots to gently pull and tilt his head away from yours. A quiet groan slips from him at the loss of contact with your lips,
“Tell me how long,” you whisper with a seductive smile. Jack smiles back as he looks down at you, hands still in his hair,
“Since the second I met you, I didn’t care that you were Robby’s, I always knew you’d end up here with me,” he confesses. “And I’m not letting you go, I’m not making the same fucking mistake.” you pull him back in again for an even deeper kiss than before.
“Robby!” Doctor McKay calls out from a room. Robby dreadfully turns around. fifteen minutes he reminds himself as he walks over,
“I can’t find Abbot and I need an attending’s opinion on this.” as Cassie goes to unravel a bandaged wound, Robby turns to grab some disposable gloves before seeing the box is empty,
“Hold that thought, let me grab a new box of gloves.” Robby says turning around to head towards the supply closet. Robby turns his head left and right, looking around as he heads towards the closet, still unable to find the night shift attending. he couldn’t have gone far, not when he should be doing his usual nightcrawler huddle with the night shift now.
the supply closet door swings open. forcing Jack to stumble away from you. your eyes meet first with Robby’s whose eyes quickly dart to Jack’s. his lips are sticky with your lip gloss, and his short grey hair is somehow sticking in every direction possible. something about the thrill of being caught by Robby makes you lick your lips and beam a vicious smile at him. he looks back at you mortified, unable to determine if he should start yelling in anger or just close the door and pretend nothing happened. maybe this is your cue to leave and check back up on your emails and missed calls and texts. Jack and Robby turn to watch you pull a small rectangular paper out of your pocket, pressing it to Jack’s chest,
“I’ll be in town for a little longer.” you say, walking out of the closet back to the assigned room of your client. Princess watches you from a distance as you smooth your hair out and redo the buttons on your shirt. she quickly turns to Perlah to relay what she just witnessed.
Robby stands in the closet doorway still, hands on his hips as Jack looks at the small business card. one side is simply your first and last name on a sleek blank background. on the other side is your phone number and a small description at bottom:
you always thought you were a person of logic and restraint, but running into Jack Abbot after all these years has you fighting your desire for your ex boyfriends uncle.
genre: jack abbot x reader, age gap, forbidden romance, ex's uncle, mutual pining, jack fell first, smut 18+ nsfw
(a/n: when i tell you the reaction to this fic is the craziest i've ever gotten...like the most notes and comments i've ever had on a series. holy shit. thank you guys SO much for reading. I hope you enjoy!)
pt. 1
Your ex dropped the bag of chips onto the counter and he started walking toward Jack, his face twisted in a sneer. "You just couldn't wait until we broke up. " he snapped.
He reached out and shoved Jack’s chest, but Jack didn’t move much. The force only shifted him back a fraction of an inch, his body like a solid wall compared to his nephew's.
"I think I should go," you whispered, your fingers white knuckled as you pulled the towel wrapped around your body even tighter.
Jack’s head snapped toward you, his eyes instantly softening. "Please don't go."
But your ex piped up before you could even draw a breath to answer. "Yeah, maybe you should go." he mocked.
You watched his face, seeing the gears grinding behind his eyes, the bitterness curdling into something truly foul. You could see the exact moment he decided to say it.
"Whore," he spat, the word dripping with venom.
Jack didn't hesitate. He surged forward, his large hand snapping out to grab the front of his nephew’s shirt. With a single heave, he shoved him backward, pinning him hard against the wall.
“Apologize.” His voice was terrifyingly calm.
“Fuck you.” his nephew hissed, though his bravado was visibly shaking.
Jack didn't argue. He simply hauled him an inch off the floor and re shoved him into the wall, the thud echoing through the hallway. “Apologize to her. Now.”
He left the threat open ended. He didn't have to say or what. Whether the implication was I’ll beat your ass or I’ll punch your lights out, the intensity in Jack’s eyes was enough.
“I’m sorry.” the younger man muttered, his voice small. He couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes, staring instead at the floor.
Jack didn't offer a rebuttal. Keeping a firm, white knuckled grip on the front of his shirt, he practically hauled his nephew toward the front door and out to his car, intending to see him off the property for good.
When Jack reached the driver’s side of the car, he finally let go of the younger man's shirt with a dismissive shove.
As Jack turned his back, intending to get back to you in the house as quickly as possible, his nephew spoke. The vitriol was gone, replaced by a defeatedness.
“I'm not even... fuck, I don't know," he started, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck, his shoulders slumping. "I'm not even that mad, Uncle Jack. We weren't right for each other. It’s just..."
Jack turned back, his eyes only slightly less fiery than they had been in the living room. He waited, his silence demanding the truth.
"It’s just I felt like I knew this whole time," his nephew admitted, finally looking Jack in the eye. "You two. There was something there that we never had. And I feel some sort of vindication seeing what was always swirling around in my head was true."
Jack watched him open the car door, staying silent as the admission hung in the air. He didn't offer a denial or an apology for the feelings that had clearly been transparent for years. Instead, as his nephew climbed into the seat, Jack stepped forward, putting a firm hand on the door window to keep him from closing it.
"I don't care how mad or upset you are, you never speak to a woman like that. You understand me? And definitely not her. Not ever."
His nephew didn't argue. He simply nodded. Jack stepped back, his arms crossing over his bare chest as he watched the car pull out of the driveway and disappear down the street.
…
Of all the people in the world you could want, it had to be Jack Abbot.
It had to be the man who was quite possibly the catalyst for the messiest situation you’d ever been in in your life.
You were just pulling the strap of your bag over your shoulder, ready to bolt before the reality set in, when Jack stepped into the room.
He didn't look angry anymore. He looked resolved.
As you tried to step past him, Jack moved with a surprising quickness, cutting off your path.
"No."
Before you could protest, he was backing you against the wall. His hands delicate as they came up to cup your face.
The kiss he gave you was slow and sweet, but deliberate with purpose. You opened up for him, allowing his tongue to swipe against yours, and you melted into him completely, the bag slipping from your fingers.
"You’re not going anywhere." he said against your skin, peppering kisses along your jawline that made your knees weak. "Not when I finally get to have you. Not after all this time of waiting."
Jack led you to the living room, tumbling down onto the sofa, and you immediately moved to straddle him.
Your hands ran up his bare chest as you dove back in to keep kissing, your heart hammering against your ribs. Jack’s hands continued their exploration over you, sliding down your back to rest firmly over your ass, just as they had in the pool.
He gripped you, pulling you closer, and you pushed yourself down to grind against him.
You could feel him, hard and heavy underneath you, leaving no doubt about how much he wanted this.
"It’s embarrassing, the amount of times I’ve thought about this," you whispered.
Jack let out a breathless laugh against your neck. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, that it would be ten times more embarrassing to tell you how many times he’d sought release in the shower at the mere thought of you. Even now, having you here for real, feeling your weight and your warmth, his cock was thick and pulsing, the reality of you almost too much to bear.
Jack’s fingers made quick work of untying your swim bottoms. He undid one side and watched the fabric pool down, his gaze fixed on the way it exposed just a little bit of the top of your pussy to him.
He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. "Can I?"
You didn't trust your voice, so you just nodded, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle a moan. You lifted yourself slightly, allowing him to push the damp fabric to the side, fully exposing yourself to him.
He watched in awe, his breath hitching as he looked at how wet you were, sitting right there on his lap. The sight seemed to unmoor him all at once.
"You're so wet" the words barely a whisper.
It was clearly wild to Jack, almost incomprehensible, that you were this ready for him. He looked at you like you were a miracle he didn't deserve, the thought echoing in his mind that you could be this turned on for an old man like him.
“You’re so beautiful.” He dragged his palm slowly down your leg and then back up, his hand coming near your center. He used his thumb to lightly graze against your pussy, and the sensation was enough to make you tilt your head back and moan. You couldn’t help it, keening into his touch, your body instinctively needing the friction, needing his fingers inside of you.
Jack nearly lost his composure seeing the evidence of your desire on his hand. Slick and sticky, practically calling for him to make you messy.
He wasn't going to make you beg for it. No, he was going to give you everything.
He’d give you the world if you asked.
Your hands reached up to brace yourself on his firm chest as he sunk one finger into you. The relief was immediate, and you couldn't stop yourself from practically riding his hand.
Jack’s eyes were wild as he reached up to untie your swim top. One swift pull had the material falling away, your chest fully exposed to him in the dim light.
When his lips connected with your nipple, he didn't stop below, continuing to pump his finger inside of you. Eventually, he added another, using his thumb to expertly stroke your clit.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Ride my hand. Feel good?” he asked, looking up at you. He watched as your breasts moved slightly with every movement of your hips as you ground yourself against his hand.
“So good, Jack. Going to come just from your fingers,” you managed to gasp out.
Jack felt a surge of pride he hadn't felt since his younger years. The wide gap of time since he had last been with someone wasn’t lost on him.
In truth, he’d been nervous about getting back into this. But with you sitting on him, writhing and looking like the most beautiful thing on this earth, his doubts evaporated.
He knew he could please you. He’d make you come as much as you wanted tonight and forever.
He felt you starting to pulse around his fingers, your body tightening as you rode out your high. When the waves finally subsided, you leaned down, resting your forehead against his, your breath hitching. You placed a shy, soft kiss to his lips before whispering, “Need to feel you inside of me. Need you to fuck me, Jack.”
…
Jack’s room was exactly as you’d imagined. It was filled with dark wood, a vintage rug lay under the bed, a single book rested on his nightstand. It was all so domestic, so him.
You leaned back, propped up on your elbows as you watched him discard his swim shorts. You had lost the rest of yours somewhere on the frantic walk from the living room.
As you trailed your eyes down, you kept catching on the little details of his body you had always wondered about. The freckles sprinkled across his chest continued past his pecs, with a few here and there on his stomach. He had a thick happy trail that held a few grey hairs throughout, but the main thing you had always wondered about had you gulping, growing hot and honestly a little worried.
"You're so big." you said, letting your thoughts slip out. "I'm honestly not sure if that will..."
Jack didn't let you finish. He pushed you back until you were laying flush against the bed. "Going to get you ready, sweetheart. You'll take me so well. I know it."
He trailed kisses all the way down your body, stopping to pay special attention again to your nipples, palming whichever one wasn't in his mouth. He placed the sweetest kisses against your hips before coming to rest comfortably between your legs.
The first swipe of his tongue was enough to make you arch up, pushing yourself more into his face. You looked down, and the sight would be seared into your brain forever.
Jack spreading your pussy with his fingers, sucking and licking at your most sensitive spot.
"You taste so good." he moaned against you as he kept licking. "Fuck, I don't think I'll ever get enough of this."
You truly believed him, considering he made you come two more times.
You thought you would be spent, that you would need to tap out, but you desperately needed to feel him inside of you.
As he made his way back up the bed, you reached down to line him up with yourself. Jack thought he might come just from the sight of your hand wrapped around him.
He swiped the head of his cock against you, watching with dark eyes as your swollen lips began to sheath over him.
Jack sank into you, and the stretch was far from pain. It felt so good, so intense in the best way possible. The fullness of him was a perfect fit that made your breath catch in your throat. When he finally bottomed out inside of you, he stayed there for a beat, his forehead resting against yours as he anchored himself within you.
"You take me so well. Like you were made for me."
That got you squirming underneath him, your hips instinctively seeking some sort of friction to match the heat blooming in your core. Jack let out a groan, responding to your movement by pulling out and sliding back in slowly, before pulling out again and setting a steady pace.
His stroke game was insane.
He fucked into you as if he had been doing it for years, somehow knowing exactly what you liked, every tilt of your hips and every gasp.
"You’re fucking mine. You know that?" he said, watching as you took his cock so well.
He leaned down, his mouth seeking yours.
"I’m yours, Jack. Always have been." you managed to breathe against his lips, the confession proving something that had been quietly growing for so many years.
Jack leaned down, his sweat slicked chest pressing against yours, anchoring you to the mattress. His hands slid under your hips, lifting you to meet every deep thrust.
"Look at me" he rasped. "Everything I have, it’s all yours. Always."
You felt the first spark of your climax ignite, a white hot wave that started where you were joined and surged through your entire body. You arched your back, your fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders as you called out his name.
Seeing you come, hearing his name on your lips as you shattered, was the final straw. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he surged into you one last time, his own release hitting him.
For several long minutes, neither of you spoke; the only sound was the slow return of your breathing to normal. Both blissfully undone.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb tracing the line of your lips.
"I'm never letting you leave this bed."
…
One Year Later
Trinity and Dennis were leaning against the nurse’s station, watching from a distance as you handed Jack a coffee. The way he looked at you didn't go unnoticed by the staff.
"So, that's y/n." Trinity said, arms crossed. "I’ve been trying to figure out the lore there.”
Dennis leaned in, lowering his voice. "Word is, she was his nephew’s girlfriend first."
Trinity’s eyebrows shot up. She paused, letting the information sink in, then let out an appreciative whistle.
She shook her head, looking genuinely impressed. "Wow. Abbot’s got game. I didn't think the old man had that steal your girl energy in him."
Jack caught the tail end of the whispering and as he walked away he couldn’t repress the flare of satisfaction that surged through him.
He adjusted his stethoscope, a faint, smug tug at the corner of his mouth.
WHEW okay the tag requests went crazy. i apologize if i missed you. tumblr gets weird and stops populating the accounts after i've done a few and so i have to trust my eyes and vibes that i'm putting them in correct lmao. and if you didn't specifically request to be tagged, i took that as you were just casually commenting. which i love too so no worries!!
☆ SUMMARY: Jack Abbot is a boob-guy through and through, so much that you sometimes wonder who he’s here for— you or them. You decide to mess with him and tell him you're getting a breast reduction, and his reaction is not what you expected.
☆ CONTAINS: Younger, fem!reader (doesn’t even have to be younger tbh), established relationship, boobs and suggestive content.
☆AUTHORS NOTE: This was actually so fucking funny to write, like I’m writing about titties. Based on this request. Special thanks to anon for requesting this, I was starting to take myself and my writing way too seriously and you reminded me to just have fun while doing it instead! A short one for now, but other fics to come soon!
☆ PAGE DIVIDERS BY: @sweetmelodygraphics
The mirror reflects the sight of you while you adjust the straps of the top you’re wearing, sighing for the umpteenth time as it flops right back down into that unflattering angle again as soon as you let go.
Everyday it was a new struggle– if your best bra didn’t work with the outfit, the outfit itself had to be scrapped. Online shopping was a no go– you’d learnt your lesson when the stores started charging you for the amount of returns you’d done, never keeping anything because of your fucking boobs.
As much as they were a pain in your back– literally– Jack always made sure to show his appreciation for his favorite assets of yours— or, at least one of his favorites.
It was brains, beauty and then boobs.
Jack loved your fucking tits.
If it wasn’t evident in the way he’d tell you, it was evident in the way he’d touch you.
You’d more often than not wake up with his large hand pressed under your shirt, cupping your chest. Other times, the first thing he does when coming home after a rough night at work is bury his face between them, muffling his groans as the heavy weight of his tired body pushes you deeper into the couch.
When you’d be cooking dinner for the two of you before he’d head to work, Jack would wrap his arms around you, voice low as against your ear as the two of you talk about anything and nothing at all, while letting his hands wander aimlessly– just needing to feel you before he lost himself for 12 hours–and in the end, always landing on the same place.
Your chest.
It wasn’t even in a sexual way most of the time, only that his hands needed to be on you at all moments, and why wouldn’t he indulge in the feeling of your soft, pillowy tits if he had access to them?
He'd be insane not to.
You can hear him turn off the shower from where you’re standing in your bedroom, a sudden idea sparking in your mind. Why not torture your poor, loving, sweet boyfriend?
The door to the bathroom opens just as you finish planning your evil trick– the steam curling around Jack’s frame as he steps into your room, crutches beneath his arms. Unfortunately, he’s wearing his boxers, but his salt- and pepper curls are still damp, and you hungrily watch as a drop of water trickles down his freckled back– the farmer's tan he’s sporting making him even easier on the eyes than usual.
There’s nothing hotter than a working man, especially if that man is Jack Abbot.
He sits down on the edge of your bed, using a towel to dry his hair, and you force yourself to tear your gaze away again, setting your plan in action.
Another sigh, this time louder and more dramatic. You run your hands down the side of your body and watch through the mirror as Jack’s eyes land on you, that focused look whenever he’s with you on his face again, and clearly trying to figure out what was going on with you.
“You okay, honey?” he calls out from where he’s seated, and you don’t respond, just continuing to stare at yourself in the mirror.
You hear the mattress creak and turn around just in time to get a final view of his toned skin— right before his shirt covers the sight, and then watch as he leans back against the headboard.
Walking over to where he’s sitting, you perch yourself on the edge of the bed first, and within seconds he’s grabbing you by the wrist, pulling you closer, then deciding that it’s still not close enough, and finally tugging you into his lap, your legs on each side of his hips as you straddle him.
A surprised laugh escapes you at his actions, and Jack relaxes further at the sound, hands rubbing up and down the side of your waist, the look in his eyes warm and filled with relief once he sees you smile.
Unfortunately for him, you can’t have that.
You grab his hands, pulling them to a stop and to rest between you as you look down, avoiding his gaze.
“Jack, I need to talk to you about something,”
Jack nearly has a heart attack. Though instead of letting it show, he simply gulps and nods, before he realizes you’re not looking at him. Clearing his throat, he speaks up.
“Of course honey, what’s going on?”
You let the silence stretch just long enough to make him nervous, shifting in his lap.
Jack’s hands, which had gone still under yours, start to tense slightly, his thumbs brushing against your fingers like he’s trying to comfort you, but you know it’s more to ground himself.
“Hey…” he murmurs, softer now, leaning forward a bit to catch your line of sight. “You’re scaring me a little,”
You almost break right there,
But you press your lips together, forcing a small, conflicted sigh as you shift in his lap again, your gaze still downcast.
“It’s just…” you start, hesitating on purpose, “I don’t think this is working anymore,”
Jack freezes, and you feel his body tense beneath you.
His grip on your hands tightens just a fraction, like he’s afraid if he lets go you’ll disappear.
“What– what do you mean?” His voice is careful now, fragile in a way you don’t hear often.
You finally glance up at him, just enough to see the way his brows have drawn together, the way he’s already watching you, searching your face for answers he’s not sure he wants.
Letting go of his hand, though it was harder than expected since he wasn’t trying to let go of yours, you motion vaguely towards yourself– more specifically, your chest.
“They’re just too much,” you explain, a defeated look strewn across your face, before you continue, “I think I’m going to get a breast reduction,”
If he wasn’t sure before, he was definitely sure now– Jack was having a fucking heart attack.
“That’s, uh–” he begins, then laughs nervously, “That’s a pretty big decision honey– are you sure about this?”
Please say no, please say no, please say–
“Yes,” you say, nodding your head adamantly, “I’ve probably never been more sure in my life,”
The silence that follows nearly has you breaking character and admitting to everything. Jack looks absolutely defeated, a far away look in his eyes.
“...I understand,” he says after a very long moment of silence, finally looking back at your face, “If that’s what you want, it’s what you should do. Always, honey,” Jack finishes off with squeezing your hands, then they settle on your waist again.
“Thank you,” you say weakly, and despite it just being a joke, it felt good to know he’d understand you and go along with your wishes if it ever came down to it.
Well, now you just felt stupid. Your mouth opens, and you’re just about to fess up when Jack speaks up again, a small frown on his face.
“Can I say goodbye to them?”
You stare at him. Jack stares back at you, gaze unblinking.
A sharp laugh bursts out of you, your head dropping forward as your shoulders shake, any attempt at composure completely gone.
Jack flushes, flexing his jaw as he looks away.
“Don’t laugh, honey– I’m serious! If they’re going away I at least deserve a proper goodbye–”
His words send your further reeling, and you slump against his chest when you calm down, struggling to catch your breath.
“Jack–”
“Please? Just one last squeeze and I’ll–”
“Jack!” you exclaim through laughter, cupping his face to stop his rambling. “I was just kidding,”
Jack blinks at you, face completely blank for a second as he tries to figure out if you’re telling the truth or just messing with him.
Then he groans, dropping his head back against the headboard again with a dull thud.
“Unbelievable,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “You are actually unbelievable,”
You’re still giggling, leaning into him now, your forehead brushing his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d–” another laugh slips out, interrupting your sentence.
Jack feels his lips twitch despite everything, and he would be lying if he didn’t say he was relieved you were just joking. Even if he had just embarrassed himself– at least his girls weren’t going anywhere.
All three of them.
Huffing, he flips the two of you over, smirking at the small yelp you let out when he’s suddenly hovering above you, lips inches away from yours, yet not touching. His hands slip beneath your top, brushing against the underside of your chest.
You feel your heart race faster, cheeks turning red as you arch into his touch.
“Jack…” you begin, only to bite your lip to stifle a sound when he fully cups it, his large hand squeezing it gently. His nose brushes against yours as he breathes harder into your mouth and says;
“I think I know how you can make it up to me,”
☆END NOTE: This took me less than an hour to write, because...let's just say I was inspired.
Balancing your final year as a resident while raising a five-year-old is hard enough. Co-parenting with your ex Michael Robinavitch? That’s a whole different challenge.
warning/tags: smut, minors DNI, porn with plot (lots of plot), age gap (but reader’s age isn’t disclosed) jealous!robby, co-parenting, Robby is sooo girl dad coded, attempt of slowburn, they're down bad for the other, inadequate medical terms, longing, unprotected piv, pussy eating, fingering, handjob, creampie, multiple orgasms
“Robby,” you repeated for the millionth time, staring at the way his focused eyes stayed glued to the computer screen. “Robby, are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Your words went in one ear and straight out the other. His attention was completely locked on the patient charts, as if the world had temporarily ceased to exist.
You let out a quiet sigh, then reached over the nurse station counter, fished a latex glove out of the open cardboard box, and with a quick movement, snapped it right against his back.
“Ouch!” Robby exclaimed, finally jerking his gaze away from the screen. He rubbed the spot where the glove had stung him, looking equal parts surprised and betrayed. “Why the hell did you do that?”
“Because I’ve been trying to talk to you!” You fought to keep your voice from snapping, though the frustration was definitely leaking through. “Did you call the bouncy castle people already?”
He nodded, leaning back in his chair with a groan. “Yeah, already did. They’re charging me two hundred extra for switching from the unicorn castle to the capybara one with less than a week’s notice, by the way.” He tried to sound annoyed, but it didn’t quite land. Michael loved his daughter far too much for that. If he had to build a goddamn capybara bouncy castle with his own two hands so she could have whatever she wanted in the entire world, he would do it without hesitation. Instead of irritation, his expression softened into something almost endearing, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was fighting back a smile at her latest demand.
“And you’re paying for it without complaining because you’re a great father,” you said matter-of-factly, unable to hide the fond smile tugging at your own lips. “Remember, the party’s at three. You still good for setup?”
Robby exhaled through his nose, the sound almost a laugh but not quite. "They're delivering the capybara monstrosity at one-thirty. Said they'd set it up in the backyard." He rubbed a hand over his jaw as if he was remembering what other arrangements he’d made. "Also confirmed the balloon guy with a helium tank, should be there by two."
You nodded, feeling the relief you always felt whenever Robby managed to take care of everything. Co-parenting with Robby has always been like this, efficient, practical, and competent. No missed pickups, no forgotten appointments. He'd never once let your daughter down, even when work tried to swallow him whole.
"And the cake?" you asked because you can't help it, even though you knew the answer.
He gave you a side-eye, the one that said do you even have to ask? "Chocolate with vanilla buttercream, extra sprinkles. Pickup at two-fifteen, I'll swing by after my shift ends, already talked to Shen and he’ll cover for me.”
Five years ago, you were a fourth-year med student rotating in this very department, terrified of screwing up in front of the mighty Dr. Robinavitch. Then Dr. Robinavitch slowly became Dr. Robby to you… and eventually he was just Michael when you were moaning his name under the weight of his body in his bed.
What you and Robby once had was simple, and you both liked it that way. It was the comfort of each other’s company after a brutal shift when neither of you wanted to be alone. No strings, no labels, no complications of being a real couple. No whispered rumors in the hospital about Robby seeing a med student outside of work. No pressure on Robby’s well-known inability to commit to anything more than passionate sex at night and coffee in the morning.
But simple things didn’t always stay simple, especially not when two adults knew exactly how risky it was to keep skipping protection, and neither of you ever felt much enthusiasm about pulling out. “Fuck, this is the last time, Michael,” you’d said more than once, breathless and frustrated. “Why are you nagging me?” he’d reply with a half-smirk, still catching his breath. “I had every intention of pulling out before you wrapped your legs around me like that.”
And that’s exactly how, six months after the first night you slept in Robby’s bed, you found yourself staring at the most terrifying sight you’d ever witnessed in your life: two pink lines on a plastic stick.
The conversation that followed was painfully awkward. You told Robby you were pregnant, and Robby, being who he was, decided it was time to put on his big boy pants and play his cards right. Life had handed him something he never thought he’d get, a baby, a real chance at a family. So he did what any traditional man would do in his position: he settled with you.
You’d moved into his house, and Robby and you had settled into a routine, not as two people who casually slept together on lonely nights, but as partners, and soon-to-be parents.
Robby took you to every single appointment. He insisted on every test to ensure his child’s safety, blended you the best prenatal smoothies, disgusting carrot-and-spinach concoctions that made you gag but that he swore were just what you needed, and even pushed hard for you to take early maternity leave. But of course, you refused, determined to finish your last year of med school before the baby arrived.
The day your daughter was born was the happiest day of Robby’s life. Even now, it still brought him to tears whenever he thought about it, the moment his entire life changed forever, the day he met his greatest love, his reason to keep going, to keep living, to try harder every single day.
But even as Robby put in his best effort to be a boyfriend, it didn’t take long for the fantasy to crumble. It wasn’t all sunrays and paradise, and after endless long shifts in the ED, endless diapers, and all-night cries that never seemed to stop, you were both running on fumes. It became painfully clear, day after day, that the only reason Robby had decided to settle down with you was because he’d gotten you pregnant.
You could see how unhappy he was. He barely spoke a word to you when he got home from work. He’d just sit on the couch with distant, lost eyes staring at the wall like he was the most miserable person alive. The only times he laughed or smiled were in the presence of his daughter. You couldn’t help but feel crushing guilt for trapping him in a relationship he never truly wanted. Robby had longed for a family and for company, but once he had it, he didn’t know what to do with it.
That’s why, after five months of fights and desperate trying, you decided it was time to do the most noble thing you could: let him go. Set him free instead of keeping him trapped beside you in a pretend marriage he’d only started because he was too considerate to let you raise his daughter alone.
Hannah Robinavitch had never once envied her friends whose parents were still married. She never got sad or asked why the three of you couldn’t just be a normal family. Because she already knew you were one, a little different from the others, maybe, but still a family nonetheless. And having separate parents actually had its perks. It meant two houses, twice as many birthday presents, and two different vacation destinations every single year.
Sunlight slanted through the tall maple trees lining the backyard fence, painting patterns across the grass. Your yard was huge, the short green grass always perfectly maintained, and the swimming pool sparkled with crystal-clear water that seemed to catch every ray of light. It was the kind of house you could never have afforded on a resident’s salary in a million years. But Robby had made sure you and Hannah had it anyway the moment the two of you decided to part ways and break up. He’d never blinked at the money when it came to his daughter. If giving her (and you) the nicest possible place to live during your half of the week with her, in a safe, beautiful neighborhood full of every comfort meant making his baby girl happy, then he would do it without hesitation.
Because fuck, Robby was such a good father. The kind who puts his little girl first and everything else second. He finally had a real reason to take days off work and actually go on vacations. He finally had something to look forward to, a future worth living for: taking care of his daughter, watching her grow up, teaching her things, just being needed by this helpless little angel who still demanded he check under the bed for monsters every single night.
You’d read once that when it came to having children, women should look for a man who would make a good father, not necessarily a good husband. Because love could run out. People broke up. They got divorced. But a child was a lifelong commitment. And you’d won the lottery with Michael, even if sometimes you still wished he could have been as good a partner as he was a father.
The enormous capybara-themed bouncy castle Hannah insisted on dominated the grass as screams of delight and the rhythmic thump-thump of small feet echoed from inside it. All her kindergarten friends chased each other in circles as their parents clustered near the patio tables, drinking iced tea and making polite small talk about preschool and summer camps.
You were on snack duty, refilling the chip bowls, and right on cue, the side gate swung open. Robby stepped through, wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt rolled to the elbows, the sleeves catching on the muscles of his forearms, revealing Hannah’s name tattooed on his wrist.
He was carrying a large gift box wrapped in shiny silver paper with a bright red ribbon tied around it. The second Hannah’d spotted him, the entire backyard might as well have disappeared.
“Daddy!” She launched herself down the slide so fast the inflatable nearly tipped. She was sprinting with her bare feet on the grass before she even landed properly.
Robby dropped to one knee just in time to catch her as she collided into his chest like a missile. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her clean off the ground for a second, even though she was getting too big for it. She squealed and buried her face in his neck.
“You came! You came!”
“Wouldn’t miss it, babygirl.” He set her down but kept one hand on her shoulder. “Happy birthday.”
She was s already eyeing the box. “Is that for me?”
“Depends.” He raised an eyebrow. “You been good?”
“Super duper good! Ask Mommy! I only ate two cupcakes and I shared my shovel in the sandbox with the other kids!”
You caught his eye over her head, and Robby gave you the tiniest smirk, yeah, he knew “two cupcakes” was probably an undercount.
“Guess it’s yours then.” Robby set the box on the grass, and Hannah attacked the paper. A brand-new bike glints in the sunlight, purple with whitewall tires, training wheels already attached, and even a little bell shaped like a flower.
Hannah froze for half a second, then let out a shriek that made half the parents jump. “A BIKE! Daddy, a BIKE!”
She flung herself at him again, hugging him so hard he had to brace himself. He laughed again, softer this time, and rubbed a hand over her back. “Figured it was time for you to have some riding lessons.”
“I can ride it now? Right now?”
He glanced at you for a quick check-in, the way he always does when big decisions happen, and you nod once.
“Yeah, angel,” you said, walking over. “But helmet stays on, and daddy’ll hold your seat until you’re steady.”
Hannah was already trying to climb on, so Robby steadied the bike with one hand, using the other to guide her foot to the pedal. She wobbled the second her weight hit the seat, but she was grinning so wide it looked almost painful.
Robby shot you another look and then crouched beside Hannah again. “Ready?”
She nodded furiously, and Robby started walking her forward, keeping one hand on the seat, the other hovering near her shoulder to steady her in case she fell. She pedaled hard, poking her tongue out in concentration. The bike lurched, straightened, and lurched again. Robby kept pace easily as you watched from the patio steps. The man who once told you, half-asleep after a fifteen-hour shift, that he wasn’t sure he knew how to be anyone’s dad, was now the same man who walked backward in front of a wobbling five-year-old, talking her through every turn.
“Push harder with your right foot… there you go. Look where you want to go, not at the ground. Yeah, just like that.”
Hannah laughed when the bike finally held a straight line for more than three seconds, and Robby let go of the seat, just for a heartbeat, and then grabbed it again when she tipped.
“I did it! I almost did it!”
“You’re doing it,” he corrected her, encouraging like he’d read in so many parenting books. “Keep going.”
They made a loop around the bouncy castle. Parents pulled out phones to snap pictures of her, and someone even started clapping, making Hannah beam like she was crossing a finish line. You felt eyes on you, Robby’s, briefly. He didn’t say anything, but the look told enough: we made this kid. Look at her.
After another lap, he slowed her to a stop near the bouncy castle. She was flushed and sweaty, but utterly triumphant. “Can we take the training wheels off?” she asked immediately.
Robby exhaled a laugh. “Tomorrow, maybe. Today we celebrate the fact you didn’t eat pavement.”
He ruffled her hair, then stood, brushing grass off his jeans. Robby walked over to you, watching Hannah show off her new ride to anyone who’ll listen.
“You good?” He asked you. “You’ve been running this circus solo all afternoon.”
“I’m fine. Exhausted, but fine.” You paused, then added softly, “She’s having the best day. Because you’re here.”
He looked at you then, and something about his eyes reminded you of the way he used to look at you when you were falling asleep on his couch with a newborn between you. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
Hannah zoomed past again, ringing the little flower bell. “Five,” he muttered, almost to himself. “How the hell did that happen?”
You didn’t have an answer, you just stood there beside him, your shoulder almost brushing his, watching your daughter ride circles around the backyard.
Two hours later, you were cutting slices out of the chocolate cake while Robby stood right next to you, handing them out to the sugar-desperate kids swarming the table.
You passed another slice to Robby. He took it from your hands, brushing his fingers against yours for a brief second.
“You know, I didn’t see Vet Guy over here,” he said, pulling on a dramatically disappointed face. “Bummer. I was really hoping to finally meet the guy.” You decided to ignore the sarcastic, obviously ill-intended comment. Robby, never one to let silence win, kept going. “I suppose he was busy. Did he have a labradoodle to give a haircut?” He let out a loud, self-satisfied chuckle that rumbled into a deep “Ha!”
“That’s a pet esthetician, you know?” You mumbled, aggressively slicing the knife through the cake. “Vets don’t do haircuts.”
“Oh, you’re right,” he mock-apologized, not even pretending to drop the subject, not when he had weeks’ worth of jokes lined up. “Then I guess he had some high-risk procedure. Open-heart surgery on a hamster, maybe?”
“You’re hilarious, Michael,” you said with your biggest deadpan face. “How long did it take you to come up with that one?”
“Oh, I have plenty more where that came from,” he replied, grinning. “Do you even call him Doctor? I mean, vets aren’t even real doctors.”
“Of course they are!” you shot back with sudden, exaggerated respect for the veterinary profession, purely to piss him off.
Vet guy was nice. You’d met him at the hospital after he came in with a nasty dog bite on his leg. You’d tended to the wound while he respectfully flirted with you, not too hard, not desperate or aggressive, but just enough to make you feel seen. He asked genuine questions about you, shared funny stories from his own job, and somehow managed to pull real smiles out of you even after a brutal shift.
When he asked for your number, intending to take you to what he swore was the best Thai restaurant in Pittsburgh, you’d hesitated. You didn’t need more distractions from residency and motherhood. But Dana had insisted you accept. She said you needed to spend time with adults outside the hospital, to do something just for yourself, and to let yourself be treated nicely for one night. Secretly, you knew she was cracking up at the way Robby’s jealousy flared every time Vet guy flirted with you, the way he clenched his jaw, cleared his throat, and rolled his eyes like a petulant child.
You’d gone out with him a couple of times. It was fun. He was a gentleman, smart, funny, handsome, the type of man most women would be thrilled to stumble upon. But then your stupid, stupid brain did that awful thing it always did whenever you started seeing someone new: it compared him to Robby. Robby would’ve ordered that. Robby would’ve said that. Robby would’ve done that. As if your brain had never gotten the memo that you and Robby had broken up. That it hadn’t worked. That you were supposed to be looking for a guy who wasn’t like him at all.
“Oh, please. WE are doctors. They’re frauds.” Robby scoffed. “What’s that guy’s biggest life achievement? Getting vomited on by a dog?”
“You’ve clearly thought a lot about a guy I’ve only gone out with like two times,” you offered him your fakest smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the one dating him, not me.”
Robby’s expression, which up until that moment had been mocking and sleazy, changed completely. His smile flattened into a thin, straight line, and his eyes turned serious. “Funny,” he mumbled as he handed another slice of cake to a waiting kid.
“And to answer your question, no, I wasn’t gonna bring some random guy I had dinner with a couple of times to my daughter’s birthday. You know me better than that.”
He didn’t say anything else. Robby knew you were right, you weren’t the type of person who introduced someone new into Hannah’s life unless it was truly serious. But behind all the mockery and cheap jokes, there was something dangerously close to jealousy. The thought of you deciding another man was better than him, more worthy of your time and interest, the idea of Hannah ever having a stepdad, of him no longer being the only male figure in both your lives… it infuriated him.
Was he an asshole for wanting to keep you all to himself when he had no right to demand to be the only man in your life? Maybe. Was he stupid to pretend that a gorgeous, smart, and amazing woman like you would stay single forever, living on the memory of what you two once were, waiting for him to finally grow a pair of balls and give you what you deserved? The same thing he’d had every chance to give you years ago, but had been too scared to reach for, letting it slip away Definitely.
As the party came to an end, kids hugged, and parents collected backpacks and stray shoes, mumbling thank yous to you and Robby.
You stood by the gate, waving and promising playdates. Robby was on Hannah duty now, helping her say goodbye to each friend, crouching so he was eye-level, reminding her to say “thank you for coming.”
Most of the crowd thinned out quickly, a few stragglers lingered, one of them was Ethan, father of Mia, one of Hanna’s closest friends from the four-year-old room. Divorced last year, or so the gossip went. Nice enough guy. Tall, with an easy smile. He was hanging back near the patio table, helping stack chairs while his daughter ran one last lap around the bouncy castle.
You walked over to grab the last of the empty cups. “Great party,” he said, straightening up. “Hanna’s in heaven. That bike was a killer gift.”
“Thanks. Robby picked it out.” You smiled, tossing cups into the trash bag. “She’s been begging for one since she saw the big kids riding at the park.”
Ethan nodded, lingering his eyes on your face for a second. “Smart move.” He paused, then added, softer, “You pulled this off like a pro. Solo hosting a kindergarten party? Respect.”
You laughed lightly. “Not entirely solo. Robby’s been here all afternoon.”
“Yeah, I saw.” His tone was casual, but there was a flicker of curiosity there, maybe appraisal. “You two seem… good. Co-parenting goals and all that.”
“We manage,” you said neutrally.
He stepped a little closer, dropping his voice like he was sharing a secret. “Listen, if you ever want a break from… all of this. I just… figured it might be nice to talk to someone who gets the single-parent thing.” He smiled warmly. “Mia talks about Hannah nonstop. Be good for them to have more playdates. And for us to… catch up. Maybe you could give me some tips for this whole co-parenting lifestyle.”
It wasn’t subtle at all. The way he held eye contact a beat too long, the slight lean, the casual brush of his hand against yours when he handed you a stray napkin. You felt heat creepong up your neck. It wasn’t interest, exactly, just the awkward awareness of being seen that way.
You opened your mouth to deflect politely. But before you could, behind you, a voice cut in.
“Ethan, right?” Robby was there suddenly, casual as anything, holding Hannah’s new helmet in one hand. “Mia’s dad.”
Ethan straightened, his smile faltering only a fraction like he’d been caught red-handed. “Yeah. Hey, man. Good to see you.”
Robby nodded once. “You too.” He flicked his gaze to you, then back to Ethan. “We’re starting to clean up over here. You need help finding her shoes? Think they’re by the slide.”
Ethan blinked, then laughed it off. “Nah, we’re good. Just saying goodbye.” He looked at you again. “Think about what I said, okay? No rush.” He waved, called for Mia, and headed toward the gate.
You exhaled slowly, but Robby didn’t move. He was quiet for a long minute, then: “Sooo. Ethan.”
You snorted as you started gathering stray plates from the patio table. “Yeah?”
Robby followed, picking up cups without being asked. “Seemed chatty.”
“He’s friendly.”
“Very friendly.” Robby stacked the cups. “Animated, even.”
You glanced at him. His face was neutral, almost too neutral, a sign of how secretly annoyed he was. “Robby.”
“What?” Innocent. It sounded too innocent.
“You’re being nosy. First with vet guy, and now again.”
“I’m making conversation.” He set the stack down. “Guy was all secretive talking in your ear. What’d he want?”
You laughed despite yourself. “None of your business.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”
“Not bad. Just… standard divorced-dad. He wanted to organize some playdates. The usual.”
Robby nodded slowly, like he was filing that away. “Huh.”
You waited, but he didn't elaborate. Instead, he picked up a stray balloon string, winding it around his fingers. “Guy’s got some nerve. Hitting on you in the middle of our kid’s birthday party.”
Our kid. He didn’t say it possessively, just as a fact. You turned to face him fully. “Jealous, Robinavitch?”
He met your eyes without flinching. “Curious,” he corrected. “Big difference.”
“Sure.”
He didn’t deny it. “Anyway,” he said, his voice back to normal without the edge of jealousy in it. “I’ll help deflate that monstrosity in the yard before it blows away. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”
After Robby had helped the bouncy castle guys, he hauled the last of the folding chairs back to the garage and carried out three trash bags without being asked. He stepped back into the kitchen through the sliding door. “Hannah's out cold,” he said, keeping his voice low so he didn’t wake her. “Tried to get her to brush her teeth, but she rolled over and kept sleeping.”
You laughed under your breath. “She’ll be up at six tomorrow demanding to ride the bike again.”
“Good luck trying to talk her out of it.” You felt the weight of his gaze as he pushed off the counter. “Anyway, I should head out. Early shift tomorrow.”
You turned the faucet off, drying your hands on a dish towel. “Thanks for everything today. Seriously. She had a great time thanks to you.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Thanks to both of us. We’re a good team.”
You walked him toward the front door. At the door, he stopped, with one hand on the knob as he turned back to you. For a second, he just looked, not at your face, but at all of you.
His eyes started at your bare shoulders where the thin straps of your sundress sat, tracing the line of your collarbone, then they dropped deliberately down the front of the dress. You felt suddenly aware of every inch it covered, and of every inch it didn’t. Robby lingered his gaze on your waist, the flare of your hips, and the hem brushing just above your knees. Then lower, to your legs, and back up again, slower this time, until he met your eyes.
There was heat in the way he looked at you, nothing subtle about the way his eyes roamed your body. It was the look of a man who was remembering exactly what you feel like under his hands, what you tasted like, what sounds you used to make when he was inside you. The kind of look that said he wanted to back you against the nearest wall, hike that dress up around your waist, and fuck you until the only thing either of you could hear was your own breathing and the wet sound of skin against skin.
He didn’t say anything, there was no need for words. Your mouth went dry as the heat coiled in your lower belly, the same way it had many nights before. Five years since you stopped sleeping together. Five years of boundaries, separate beds, separate lives. And still one look was enough to make your body remember.
He exhaled through his nose, almost an incredulous laugh, “Happy birthday to her,” he said quietly, nodding toward the living room. “We made something good.”
“Yeah,” you managed to say, your voice coming out softer than you meant it to. “We did.”
The weeks slid by in the same rhythm you’d grown accustomed to: long shifts at the hospital, trying to be a present mom whenever you weren’t buried in charts, and the handoffs with Robby at your house.
It was a Saturday afternoon, the day of Hannah’s ballet recital. You arrived a little early because she had been buzzing about it for weeks, her first real performance after long months of practice. Plus, you appreciated every rare opportunity life gave you to wear something that wasn’t scrubs. You’d gotten your hair done, put on soft makeup, slipped into a nice dress and high heels, and for once you felt like a whole different person. Someone confident. Someone who could take on the world.
You loved Hannah. You loved being a mom. But sometimes you missed the person you used to be before all of this. You missed being seen as more than just “Mom.” You missed conversations with adults that didn’t revolve around kindergarten, tantrums, or pediatric appointments. You were still young, and even though you’d always been mature for your age, you’d had to grow up fast the moment you became a mother. You had never imagined yourself with a child before you even became a doctor. You certainly hadn’t pictured managing residency at the same time you were raising a tiny human being.
But even if life hadn’t turned out the way you’d once planned, you didn’t regret any of the decisions that had brought you here in this auditorium, about to watch your daughter’s ballet recital.
You spotted Robby near the front row, saving seats for the two of you. When he saw you, he stood, waving you over with a half-smile. “Hey,” he said as you slid into the seat beside him. “She’s backstage, losing her mind. Kept asking if both of us were coming.”
You laughed softly, settling your purse on the floor. “Wouldn’t miss it. Was she nervous?”
“Not one bit. She made me practice clapping in the car.” He glanced at you, his eyes lingering a second longer than necessary. “You look nice.”
You couldn’t avoid feeling the heat creeping up your neck, but you brushed it off. “Thanks. You cleaned up nice, too.”
Before he could reply, the lights dimmed, and the ballet instructor, a woman in her sixties, welcomed everyone, and then the curtain slowly parted.
There she was. Hannah stood front and center in her pink leotard and tutu, her hair,the same brown shade as Robby’s, pulled into a slightly lopsided bun secured with a sparkly clip. She immediately scanned the audience, spotted the two of you sitting side by side, and her whole face lit up like sunrise. Forgetting every rule about staying still, she waved at you both with both hands.
The routine was equal parts adorable and chaotic, little arms waving with enthusiasm, a few spins that turned into giggles, and tiny dancers bumping into one another. But when it came time for her part in the middle, Hannah nailed it, twirling with maximum concentration, poking out her tongue slightly the way it always did when she was trying her hardest.
You were grinning so hard your cheeks ached as you recorded the whole thing on your phone, careful not to miss a single moment. Beside you, Robby was doing the same, leaning forward in his seat like he was afraid to miss even one second of his little girl shining under the stage lights.
When it ended, the room erupted in applause. You and Robby were on your feet first, clapping loud enough to drown out half the parents. Hannah beamed, blowing kisses at the audience, then bolting offstage the second she was allowed.
Backstage, Hannah launched herself at you both at once, her arms around your legs and Robby’s in a group hug.
“Did you see me twirl, Mommy? Daddy, did you see?”
“We saw everything,” Robby said, scooping her up in his arms. “You were the best one up there, angel. Hands down.”
“You were perfect,” you whispered, leaning to place a big and loud kiss into her hair. “So proud of you, baby.”
Hannah tugged at your hand. “Can we get ice cream? To celebrate?”
Robby raised an eyebrow at you as if awaiting to see what your answer would be, and silently hoping it’d be a yes.
You smiled. “Ice cream sounds perfect.”
He set Hannah down on the floor, then crouched so she could climb onto his back. She wrapped her little arms and legs around him tightly, her favorite perch. With a soft grunt and an easy smile, Robby straightened up, carrying her like she weighed nothing.
The three of you headed for the exit together. You walked beside Robby, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his every few steps, but neither of you pulled away. There was something about the way the three of you looked, almost like a picture-perfect family to anyone glancing from the outside. It made your mind loosen the reins on old fantasies: how different life would have been if the three of you had managed to make it work. If being together had been a choice made out of love instead of obligation, the only option he felt he had at the time.
God, how much you still wished things had worked with Robby. What wouldn’t you give to see him truly happy to be with you, instead of miserable the way he looked every time the two of you came home from a long shift.
The ice cream shop had a neon sign flickering “OPEN” in red letters, sticky vinyl booths, and the widest variety of ice cream flavors you’d ever seen. Hannah insisted on extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce on her cone. She was perched between you and Robby on the bench seat, swinging her legs and recounting her ballet routine for the third time.
“I did the spin and everyone clapped SO loud! Did you hear it, Daddy?”
“Loudest ovation in the room,” Robby said, wiping a streak of chocolate from her cheek with his thumb. “You owned that stage, babygirl.”
You watched them as you ate your strawberry ice cream cone drizzled with hot fudge. It was uncanny how much Hannah looked like Robby, like he had been cloned into a tiny, feminine version of himself. The same soft brown hair, the same big, puppy-brown eyes that were easily the warmest you’d ever seen in your life. Eyes you could never say no to, because one single look from them melted your heart every time.
She was already slowing down, the adrenaline from the recital and the sugar rush from the ice cream finally catching up with her. Her head rested heavily against Robby’s shoulder as she munched the last bites of her ice-cream, her little eyelids starting to flutter.
The walk home was only ten minutes, but Hannah's steps turned sluggish halfway there. Robby scooped her up without a word, and she curled against his shoulder as she’d always belonged there, tucking her head under his chin as she fisted her little hand on his shirt.
At your front door, Hannah was completely out, her rosy cheek smooshed against Robby’s collarbone, with her mouth slightly open. You unlocked the door quietly and stepped inside.
Robby carried her upstairs like she weighed nothing. You followed, watching the careful way he lowered her to the bed, tugged off her ballet slippers and pink tutu, and pulled the covers up.
Downstairs again, you were suddenly aware of how quiet the house was without her chatter filling it. He stopped a few feet away. “She’s wiped..”
“Yeah.” You smiled. “She had a big day today.”
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “And you… in that dress. You’re punishing me. You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Robby.”
He didn’t back off. Just looked at you in the same way he did the night of the birthday party. Tracing his eyes over the neckline of the dress, the way it hugs your waist, the bare skin of your breasts.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you said, but your voice came out quieter than you intended. As if part of you didn’t really want him to stop. You longed for the validation, for knowing you were still the woman who drove him insane, the one who made him feel things no one else could, his soft spot, his weakness.
And for Robby, you still were. Until this day, you were the only one who could bring out the most vulnerable side of him. It wasn’t just the physical part, though God, your body drove him insane. He could still feel the ghost of your skin against his every night when he closed his eyes. It wasn’t the sex either, though in fifty-four years of life he’d never found anyone who felt quite like you did, anyone who made him feel so many things, who woke up the most primitive, most virile part of him.
It was simply you. Your strength when you carried a pregnancy and still worked your ass off for your career. Your quick mind and the way you could deliver a witty comeback that put him in his place when he deserved it. Your competence, something he found extremely attractive, both at work and as a mom. And watching you raise his daughter with a patience and love only you could give, loving her so fiercely with every bone in your body… it made him feel things he’d never felt before.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to eat me alive.”
He huffed a half-laugh as he stepped closer. “Can’t blame a guy for looking.”
You swallowed, using all the self-restraint you had in your body to stop yourself from jumping into his arms. “Every time we’re close like this, I have to remind myself why this is a bad idea.”
He tilted his head. He knew you too well, he could see how much you were trying to be strong and how much you wanted it too. “And why’s that, exactly?”
“Because we tried. We crashed. We hurt each other. We’ve got a kid now, it’s not just us we gotta think of, but her. And we’ve got a good thing going on, we’re good at this.” You gestured between you. “At being her parents. At not screwing it up. Adding… whatever this is… risks that.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then: “Don’t think. Just do what you want.”
You stared at him. “Is that your new motto? ‘Don’t think, just do it?’”
He took another half-step, close enough you could smell the mint from his ice-cream on his breath. “One night,” he said. “Doesn’t have to mean more. Doesn’t have to change anything tomorrow. We used to be so good together. You remember that? Because I do, I remember it every single night.”
Your pulse hammered in your throat, a rhythm that matched the sudden heat blooming in your belly. You remembered it too, every vivid and overwhelming detail.
The kind of chemistry you and Robby had in bed had been like nothing you’d ever experienced before. The way your bodies responded to each other was like they were made for it, instinctive, almost frightening in its intensity. Every single touch felt magnetic and electrifying, sending sparks racing across your skin even from the lightest brush of his fingers. The way he knew exactly how to unravel you, and how you could do the same to him. You had both cried out in pleasure every single time, sounds that echoed in the dark of his bedroom, your bodies slick and trembling, chasing that peak until the world narrowed down to nothing but the two of you.
It was the kind of fire you only find once in a lifetime. But you couldn’t do it.
You couldn’t risk setting that fire loose again and burning down the delicate, carefully manufactured system you had built together. For Hannah’s sake, you needed to keep Robby exactly where he was: your co-parent, your reliable partner in raising your daughter, not your lover anymore. One wrong move, one night of giving in to the pull that still crackled between you, and everything could crumble, the peaceful handoffs, the shared birthdays, the stability Hannah thrived on. You refused to gamble with her sense of security just because your body still remembered how perfectly he once fit against you, how his voice sounded when he fell apart because of you.
“Of course you’re horny. You just want a quick fuck. I should’ve known.”
His expression flickered, showing a little of something that looked like hurt in his eyes. “Come on. It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?”
“Okay, fine. Maybe I do want sex,” Robby admitted, “but come on, don’t pretend you don’t want it too. You remember how much fun we used to have.”
He found your waist, pulling you gently against him. You gasped softly as he slid his palms lower, cupping your ass through the fabric, possessive squeezes that send sparks straight through you. He massaged your flesh deliberately, pressing his thumbs in just the right spots, drawing you closer until you were flush against his chest.
“God, I want you,” he murmured against your ear. “So fucking much. Always have. Always will, probably.”
He dug his fingers a little harder into the curve of your ass, kneading the soft flesh with confidence. You were so close that you could already feel the hard outline of his cock pressing insistently against your lower stomach. He was hard for you, just from being this close, just from a few lingering touches. It took every ounce of willpower you had not to give in, not to reach down and palm him over his pants until he groaned into your mouth the way he used to.
“Keep your hands where I can see them, Robinavitch,” you warned, trying to sound threatening. It came out breathy and weak instead. You couldn’t fool anyone, least of all him. You wanted this, maybe even more than he did.
“You don’t want my hands where you can see them,” he replied with that stupid, cocky tone he always slipped into when he knew he had you right where he wanted you. “You want them in places you can’t see. You haven’t forgotten how good I am with them, have you? Nah… some things these hands did to you are impossible to forget.”
You bit your lip hard to stop yourself from smiling. Cocky motherfucker.
Finally, with the last scrap of self-control you could muster, you pushed him away. “You had your fun. Time for you to leave.”
“I was barely starting to have fun,” he said with a wicked smile as he took a step back, rubbing one hand over his face. “You, cruel, cruel woman.”
“You’ll live,” you muttered. “Go chase some nurses. They love you. Well… the ones who don’t actually work with you do.”
“You hurt me,” he exclaimed dramatically, pressing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “I don’t have any nurse to chase. And even if I did, nobody could compare to us. You know that.”
“You broke things off with the last one?” you asked in mock surprise, playing dumb. “What was her name? Nora? N… Natalie?”
You knew Robby had had his fair share of affairs throughout the years, nothing too serious, nothing that ever deserved a real conversation, and definitely nothing meaningful enough to introduce to Hannah. Still, it stung. You couldn’t exactly throw it in his face, you’d gone out with people too. But you wished the asshole would keep his flings away from the hospital, away from the place where you had to watch him flash those stupid little smiles and do his little shoe-lace trick for whatever nurse had caught his eye this month. The same way he’d once done it for you.
“I won’t answer to those accusations against me,” he said, shaking his head with a low chuckle. Robby stepped closer again and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Have a good night. I’ll see myself out.”
You couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips as you watched him walk toward the door and finally leave the house. Five years later, and your body still caught fire whenever his hands were on you. Five years later, and you still loved your silly arguments and the way he could make you laugh even when you were pretending to be mad at him. Five years later… and you were still deeply enamored with Michael Robinavitch.
The clock on your nightstand glowed 2:17 a.m. when the first cry cut through the dark.
It wasn’t not the usual sleepy whimper or the “I had a bad dream” whine. It was a sharp sound, followed immediately by the unmistakable sound of vomit hitting the floor.
You were out of bed before your brain fully registered it, rushing down the hall. Hannah’s room light was already on, and she was sitting up in bed, with the bedsheets twisted around her legs, her face shiny with sweat, and her eyes glassy because of the tears. There was a small puddle of bile on the rug beside her, and another streak down the front of her pajama top.
“Mommy—”
“I’m here, baby.” You dropped to your knees beside the bed, lifting your hand to her forehead. She was burning, her skin hot enough to make your palm sting. “Oh, sweetheart.”
She leaned heavily into you, her body trembling as another wave hit her. This time it was dry heaves because there was nothing left in her stomach to bring up. You lunged for the small trash can under her desk just in time, holding it steady beneath her chin while your other hand gathered her soft brown hair back from her face. With gentleness, you rubbed slow, soothing circles on her back, murmuring the same comforting nonsense you always did in moments like this.
Your voice stayed calm and steady for her sake, but inside, your mind had flipped into full doctor mode, racing through the mental checklist at lightning speed. Fever. Persistent vomiting. She had been fine at bedtime, tired from her long ballet practice, a little sniffly maybe, but nothing that had raised any red flags.
“Mommy… tummy aches,” Hannah mumbled weakly.
Your heart clenched so hard it hurt. You scooped her up immediately, blanket and all, and carried her to the bathroom. You ran a washcloth under cold water, wrung it out, and pressed it gently to the back of her neck, hoping the chill would bring some relief. Then you offered her a small sip of water from the cup on the sink. She took it obediently, but almost instantly spat it back out, coughing and whimpering.
Reaching out for the thermometer from the medicine cabinet, you grabbed it and slipped it under her tongue, holding her close while you waited for the beep. 103.8. You managed to get a dose of Tylenol into her, but she could barely keep it down, her whole body shuddered as she fought the nausea, and her teeth chattered from the fever chills as she curled into you even tighter, shaking hard.
Helpless, that’s how you felt, completely helpless. And as a mother, feeling helpless was the worst torture imaginable. You were a doctor, and yet here in your own house, with your own child, there was only so much you could do. The cold washcloths weren’t bringing her temperature down fast enough. The medicine wasn’t staying in her long enough to work. Nothing seemed to help.
You couldn’t stand seeing your baby like this: so pale, so tired, her usual bright energy drained away, her little body trembling in your arms.. In this moment, more than anything, you wished Robby were here. Robby would know exactly what to do. He always did. He’d take one look at her, assess the situation and figure out what was wrong with Hannah right away. He’d fix it the same way he fixed dozens of people every single day in the pitt.
You sat on the edge of the tub with her in your lap, rocking her slowly, trying to keep her calm while you dialed Robby.
He picked up on the second ring. His voice was rough with sleep, but instantly alert when he realized you wouldn’t be calling this late at night if there wasn’t something really urgent going on. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Hannah’s sick. Fever’s 103.8, she’s been vomiting for the last twenty minutes. Won’t keep anything down. She’s shaking.”
There was the rustle of sheets and the immediate creak of a bedframe on Robby’s end. He was already moving, even half-asleep. You could practically see him sitting up in the dark.
“Okay,” his voice came through the phone. “Did you give her Tylenol?”
“Yes.”
“Motrin too? You should alternate if the fever’s that high.”
“I only have children’s Tylenol here,” you answered. “Motrin’s at your place.”
There was a brief pause, then a quiet “Okay… okay. Alright.” You heard him exhale slowly, the sound of fabric shifting as he moved. “Cool clothes? Cold washcloth on her neck or forehead?”
“I’m trying the cloth right now, but I’m not seeing any changes. The fever won’t come down at all.”
“Are you hydrating her? Give her small sips of water, tiny amounts so she doesn’t throw it right back up.”
“I am,” you said, glancing at the half-empty cup on the bathroom counter. “She’s spitting most of it back up. She can’t keep anything down.”
Another pause stretched between you. Even for a man who could keep ice-cold composure during the most chaotic live-or-die codes in the ED, something in Robby’s voice betrayed how uneasy he really was. You heard the rustle of clothes being pulled on quickly, then the unmistakable jingle of keys.
“So, fever’s still not budging?” he asked.
“Not yet. She’s miserable, Robby. Keeps saying her tummy hurts, and the dry heaves are getting worse. She’s shaking so hard her teeth are chattering.”
You heard loud, hurried footsteps crossing his floorboards, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing with a firm sound.
“Take her to the ER. Now.” There was no hesitation left in his words. “I’ll meet you there.”
Your stomach dropped. “You think it’s that bad?”
“I think 103.8 in a five-year-old who can’t keep meds or fluids down is worth getting checked. Could be viral, could be something else. Better be safe.”
You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “Okay. I’ll get her dressed. We’re leaving in five.”
“I’m already in the car. Text me when you’re on the road.”
He hung up, and you moved fast, changing Hannah into fresh pajamas, wiping her face, and wrapping her in the softest blanket she owned. She was listless now, her soft head lolling against your shoulder as small whimpers left her lips every time the nausea rolled through her again. You grabbed her insurance card, your wallet, a spare change of clothes for her, and the little stuffed unicorn she’d been sleeping with every night.
You placed Hannah in her car seat, with her blanket tucked around her. You buckled her in carefully, kissing her hot forehead. “We’re going to see the doctors, okay? Daddy’s meeting us there. You’re gonna feel better soon.”
She just nodded with her eyes half-closed. The drive to the hospital was only fifteen minutes at this hour through the dark and empty streets. You kept one hand on the wheel, and the other reaching back to hold hers. She was quiet except for the occasional gags into the bowl you’d wedged beside her seat.
You pulled into the ambulance bay lot, killed the engine and unbuckled Hannah. She was burning up, her usually light body now felt heavy and limp because of the fever. You wrapped the blanket tighter around her and lifted her carefully into your arms as you hurried toward the sliding glass doors.
They whooshed open, and Lena, the night-shift charge nurse, looked up from the desk. Her face immediately softened with concern the moment she recognized you.
“Hey… oh, honey.” Her voice dropped gently. “Is that Hannah?”
“Fever hit 103.8 at home,” you rattled off, shifting your daughter’s weight higher on your hip, trying to keep your voice steady, as if you were presenting a case, not describing your daughter’s symptoms. “Persistent vomiting, abdominal pain. I gave her Tylenol twenty minutes ago, but no improvement at all.”
Lena nodded briskly, already waving you over. “Bay six. We’ll get vitals right away.”
“Who’s on tonight?” you asked, walking fast down the familiar hallway. “Shen?”
“Dr. Abbot. I’ll send him your way as soon as he’s free.”
“Oh, thank God,” you exhaled, the relief hitting you so hard it made your shoulders sag for a moment. If there was anyone in this entire hospital you’d trust with Hannah besides Robby, it was Jack, Hannah’s godfather. You still remembered the day Robby had asked him to be his daughter’s godfather. The way Jack’s eyes had filled with tears, the two men pulling each other into a tight hug like brothers, like two men who were the only ones who truly understood the weight of this life, the long shifts, the losses, and the rare moments of hope like that one. Abbot had promised right then that he’d always have her back, no matter what.
You were halfway down the hall when Robby rounded the corner. The second his eyes landed on Hannah in your arms, his entire expression shifted to fatherly fear.
“Hey, angel,” he said softly, stepping close. He brushed a gentle hand over her back. “Mom said you’re not feeling good, huh?”
Hannah managed a weak, cracked little “Daddy…” before turning her face back into your neck, hiding from the bright lights and the unfamiliar sounds.
Robby flicked his gaze up to yours, doing that assessing scan he always did, checking not just Hannah, but how you were holding up. “You okay?”
“Fine,” you whispered, though your voice trembled as the tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Just… scared. I hate seeing her like this. She’s never been this sick.”
He nodded once. “I’ve got her.”
You handed her over without hesitation. Hannah clung to him immediately, wrapping her small arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder like he was her safe place. Robby carried her the rest of the way into the bay. He laid her down gently on the hospital bed, keeping one hand resting protectively on her stomach while the other smoothed damp strands of hair off her forehead with tenderness.
One of the night-shift nurses stepped in right away and rechecked her temperature. “It’s up to 104.1 now.” Her oxygen saturation was still holding steady, but she was clearly dehydrated, her lips cracked and dry, her eyes a little sunken, her usually rosy cheeks pale.
A couple of seconds later, Abbot strode into the bay, sweeping his eyes over the scene: little Hannah lying on the bed, Robby standing guard on one side, you on the other.
“Hey,” Abbot said, pulling Robby into a quick, one-armed brotherly hug, clapping his back once, and giving you a nod. “Heard our girl was here. Sorry, I was tied up with a gunshot wound, perforated lung. It’s chaos tonight.”
“She’s been throwing up everything, couldn’t even keep the Tylenol down,” Robby reported, giving the facts the way two attendings would, except this time his voice carried an edge of helplessness he rarely showed. He wasn’t the doctor tonight. He was the father. “Fever’s up to 104.1. We should get an IV going, more Tylenol, Zofr—”
“I’ve got this,” Abbot interrupted gently but firmly, keeping his tone calm and reassuring as he stepped closer to the bed. He looked down at Hannah with the softest smile, dropping his voice into that sweet, playful tone he saved only for kids. “Hey, Hannah Banana… we’re gonna get you feeling brand new before you even realize, okay?” He offered her a warm smile and the gentlest pinch on her cheek.
“Uncle Jack…” she mumbled, her voice cracking pitifully as another wave of nausea rolled through her.
The nurse started the IV in her tiny hand. Hannah cried out at the poke, a heartbreaking whimper that twisted something deep in your chest. Robby was right there, holding her other hand tightly, talking her through it in that calm voice he used with every scared kid who came through these doors. “Just a little pinch, angel. You’re being so brave. Almost done… that’s my good girl. Daddy’s right here.”
You stood on the opposite side of the bed, holding her foot gently in both hands and rubbing soothing circles over her ankle with your thumb, as if your touch alone could somehow absorb her pain and make it yours instead.
“We’ll keep her under observation for a while, wait for the fever to come down,” Abbot told you both. “I’ll come back in fifteen to check on her again, but she’s in the best hands tonight with the two of you right here.”
“Thank you, Jack,” you said quietly with gratitude. He gave your shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze before stepping back.
“Thanks, brother,” Robby added right after you, his hand never leaving Hannah’s hair.
Robby didn’t leave her side for even a second. He didn’t glance at his phone, didn’t step out to grab coffee, didn’t let himself get distracted by anything else. He stayed right there, anchored to the bed, resting one large hand gently on Hannah’s forehead, occasionally stroking her damp hair back from her skin. Every few minutes he’d lean in and murmur soft, ridiculous nonsense to her sleeping body, telling her she was tougher than any superhero, that the doctors here were the absolute best because they all knew her dad, and that meant she was getting the royal treatment, the best care in the house. You watched him from the corner of your eye. Even after everything, this was still who he was when it mattered most: steady, devoted, completely focused on the tiny human you’d made together.
The hours dragged, and eventually, after the second round of meds, Hannah’s fever finally started trending down. It had dropped to 100.7, and for the first time all night, some color began creeping back into her pale cheeks as her chest rose and fell more peacefully under the blanket.
You and Robby were slumped in the two chairs pulled up beside her bed. Robby broke the silence first. “I know what you’re thinking. You did everything right.”
You let out a shaky breath, staring at Hannah’s sleeping face. “Maybe I should’ve brought her sooner. She would’ve gotten better faster.”
He shook his head slowly. “You waited until it was warranted. You’re a doctor. You know the signs.” He reached over without hesitation, covering your hand with his on the shared armrest. His palm was warm and grounding in a way that made your throat tighten. “It’s just viral. She’s gonna be okay.”
Without thinking, you turned your hand over beneath his and laced your fingers through his, holding on tightly. For a moment, you didn’t care what it meant, or what anyone walking past the bay might think if they glanced in and saw the two of you like this, exes, co-parents, sitting together holding hands. The exhaustion of the night had stripped everything down, and right now, all that mattered was that Hannah was improving and Robby was here.
“Thanks for coming,” you whispered, even though you knew the words weren’t really necessary. Robby would drop everything and be anywhere either of you needed him, that had never been in question.
“Always.” He brushed his thumb slowly over your knuckles, a gentle motion. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
By the 6 a.m. check, Hannah’s fever had already dropped to 99.8. The IV fluids had done their job, and she hadn’t vomited anymore, even managed a few sips of apple juice without it coming right back up.
She shifted under the blanket, blinking up at you both. “Mommy? Daddy?”
“Hey, sweetheart,” you whispered, leaning forward to brush her hair back. “How’s your tummy?”
“Better,” she mumbled. “Did uncle Jack cure me?”
“He did.” You smiled, feeling a wave of relief flood through you. “You’re doing great now.”
Robby reached over, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “Morning, angel. You scared us.”
She managed a tiny smile, then winced. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He kissed her temple, lingering there for an extra second. “Just glad you’re feeling better.”
Jack came back a moment later for a quick exam and a review of vitals and labs, thankfully nothing alarming. Viral gastroenteritis, most likely, with a febrile response.
“Thanks for curing me, Uncle Jack,” Hannah said softly with that radiant smile that could melt absolutely anyone in seconds. “You’re the best doctor ever.”
Abbot grinned widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at her. “Well, thank you, Hannah Banana. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”
Robby cleared his throat dramatically from the other side of the bay, crossing his arms. “Second best,” he corrected, raising an eyebrow at his daughter.
“Second best,” Hannah agreed immediately, turning that same sweet, dimpled smile toward Robby now, like she was bestowing him with the highest honor.
“Don’t worry, Hannah,” Jack said, leaning in conspiratorially and lowering his voice as if sharing a great secret. “I won’t tell your dad that you actually think I’m the better doctor.” He glanced sideways at his best friend with a mischievous glint. “A man with a fragile ego like him couldn’t take it.”
Robby let out a low, genuine chuckle, shaking his head. “Is she clear to go back home?” he asked, his tone shifting into something more serious, though the corner of his mouth still twitched. “See? I’m asking for your professional opinion and everything.”
Jack nodded, glancing once more at the monitor readings before looking back at both of you. “I’d say she can go home. Fever’s trending nicely downward, and she’s keeping fluids down now. Just keep checking her temperature regularly to make sure it stays down. If she starts vomiting again or the fever spikes back up, bring her straight back, but you two already know that better than most.”
Robby stood, stretching his back with a low groan. “I should head out,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Shift starts in thirty. Gotta change, grab coffee, pretend I’m human.”
You looked up at him, still holding Hannah’s hand. “You’re going in?”
He shrugged, like it was obvious. “Someone’s gotta run this place. You—” He nodded toward Hannah, then you. “—should take the day. Go home with her. Get some sleep, keep an eye on her. She’s fine now, but she’s still wiped. And you’ve been up all night.”
You opened your mouth to argue, out of pure habit, mostly. The words were already forming on your tongue, something about not wanting to burden the team, about pulling your weight like everyone else. But they died the instant your eyes landed on Hannah.
She was curled up small on her side in the hospital bed, the blanket tucked around her shoulders. You couldn’t stay away from her, not today. The thought of leaving her for twelve long hours, of being stuck in the ED while she was at home, possibly starting to feel worse again without you to notice the fever creeping back up made your stomach drop. You wouldn’t be able to focus. You wouldn’t feel at ease for even a second. Every patient you saw would be overshadowed by the constant fear that Hannah might need you and you wouldn’t be there to catch it, to bring her right back in.
And honestly… part of you simply wanted the day off. You wanted to take her home, wrap her up in her favorite blanket, and spend the whole day curled together on the couch. Just the two of you. A Disney marathon playing in the background while she rested her head on your chest and you stroked her hair.
So instead of arguing, you closed your mouth and let the silence settle. The decision had already been made the moment you looked at her.
“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Okay.”
Robby nodded, satisfied. He leaned down to kiss Hannah’s forehead again. “I’ll come by after shift to see how you’re doing.” He straightened and hesitated for half a second, then reached out and squeezed your shoulder, brushing the side of your neck, just once, before he pulled back. “Text me updates. I’ll turn off silent mode.”
“Will do.”
He lingered for another beat, like he didn’t quite want to leave the room, then turned toward the door. “See you later, angel,” he called softly to Hannah, who was already drifting again.
“Bye, Daddy,” she mumbled, half-asleep.
He gave you one last look, longer than necessary, before slipping out into the hallway. You exhaled slowly, while Robby and Jack handled the last few details with the nurse, you gathered Hannah’s things.
Home sounded like the best idea you’d had in hours. If there was one thing you truly hated about this life, it was how little time work left you to be the kind of mom you desperately wished you could be. Residency had already demanded so much, and motherhood had taken the rest. Every free moment you managed to carve out, you longed to spend it with Hannah. You didn’t want her to grow up one day and feel like you had missed it, like you weren’t there for the special moments. You didn’t want her to remember a childhood where her mom was always rushing, always tired, always halfway out the door.
By the time you pulled into your driveway, Hannah was already dozing in her car seat again. You carried her inside and laid her gently on the couch. The house felt wonderfully quiet after the night chaos of the ED. You changed into new pajamas, made her a nest of pillows and her favorite fuzzy blanket, then crawled in beside her, pulling her body against your chest. She stirred just enough to wrap one arm around your waist and mumble, “Mommy, will you stay today?”
“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Today is just us.”
The rest of the day unfolded slowly. You started with her favorite movie, Encanto, because she never got tired of singing along to every song, no matter if she was just recovering. Hannah curled up with her head in your lap, as you gently played with her hair while she hummed to the songs.
When the movie ended, you made a simple lunch together, something easy on her stomach, a bowl of oatmeal with bananas and strawberries. She only ate half, but she kept it down, earning praises from you. After lunch, you moved on to Moana. She sat cross-legged on the couch, wrapped in her blanket like a burrito, occasionally lifting her head to point at the screen and say, “Look, Mommy, the ocean! Can we go to the beach too?” You laughed softly and pulled her closer, letting her rest her cheek against your shoulder.
Robby’s shift ended late, as usual, and by the time he signed out, he was bone-tired, but the pull to check on Hannah overrode everything else. He texted you: Just got off. Coming by to check on her. You home?
Your reply wasquick: Yeah. She’s asleep. Door’s unlocked.
He let himself in quietly, finding you on the couch where you were curled up with a blanket. “Hey,” you whispered. “She crashed about an hour ago. Fever stayed down all day, no more vomiting.”
Robby exhaled, shrugging out of his jacket and walking over. “Good. That’s good.”
You nodded toward the hallway. “You want to peek in on her?”
He did, already heading to Hannah’s room. She was sprawled on her stomach, with one arm flung out and her stuffed bunny tucked under her chin. Her breathing was deep and even, Robby stood in the doorway for a long minute, just watching her chest rise and fall.
When he came back to the living room, you’d poured two glasses of water and set them on the coffee table. He sank onto the couch beside you, close enough that your knees almost touched, far enough to keep the boundary.
“She looks so much better,” he said quietly. “Color’s back.”
“Yeah.” You tucked your legs under you, pulling the blanket tighter to your body. “I was terrified last night. Thought… I don’t know. Worst-case scenarios kept running through my head.”
He nodded. “Me too. When you called, my heart stopped for a second.”
You took a breath, then another. “You’re a great dad, Robby. You know that, right?”
He glanced at you, surprised by the sudden moment of honesty. “Trying to be.”
“No. You are.” You met his eyes so he could see how much you meant every word that left your lips. “I always knew you would be. Even back when… everything was a mess. When we were still figuring out how to be parents instead of just two people who accidentally made a kid. I saw it in the way you held her the first time. You stepped up. Every single time.”
He looked down at his hands, rubbing his thumb over a callus on his palm, like he didn’t know how to take the compliment.
“We might not have planned her. But Hannah got the best possible dad out of the deal.”
Robby swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement of his throat. His voice came out rough when he finally spoke. “I’ll always be grateful to you for that. For giving me her. For making me a dad when I didn’t even know I could be one. When I didn’t even know if I wanted to be alive.” He exhaled, sounding almost like a laugh without humor. “I look at her sometimes and think… how the hell did I get this lucky? She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s fearless. And half of that’s you. But the other half… I get to be part of it. Every day. Because of you.”
The air between you thickened, it was full of years of shared history, good, bad, messy, beautiful. “I still love you for that,” he said quietly. “Not like… not trying to cross lines. Just… I’ll always have love for you. Because you gave me the best thing in my life. And you trusted me with her. That means more than I could ever express.”
“I know. I feel the same way.” You rolled your head to the side, trying to loosen the knot that’d been building since last night. The motion made your neck crack loudly, and it pulled a wince out of you.
Robby lifted his brow. “You okay?”
“Just the couch napping. My neck’s killing me.”
He didn’t hesitate, standing up right away. “Come here.”
You did hesitate for half a heartbeat, long enough to consider the offer. You were too tired to argue, and you knew how good Robby’s hands were, so you stood up from the couch, then turned so your back was to him. He stepped in behind you, close enough that you felt the warmth of him before his hands even touched you.
He settled his fingers on your shoulders first, pressing his thumbs into the muscles along the tops of your traps, working in slow circles. You couldn’t help dropping your head forward on a soft exhale, closing your eyes as the pressure hit exactly where you needed it.
“God,” you murmured. “You’re still really good at that.”
He huffsed a quiet laugh against your hair. “Muscle memory.”
Robby moved his hands, working down the column of your neck, tracing the tense line on either side of your spine, then out across your shoulders again. You melt into it without meaning to, dropping your shoulders and slowing your breath as the ache unwound thread by thread.
For a minute, it was just that: his hands on your shoulders. Then he slid his palms lower, intentionally, until they settled at your waist. He pulled you back gently, just enough that he had your back pressed against his chest.
He brushed his lips along the side of your neck, teasingly soft at first. Then, firmer in a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear.
Your pulse jumped immediately at the contact of his lips against your skin. “Robby.”
He didn’t stop. Another kiss, lower this time, along the curve where neck meets shoulder. He tightened his hands on your waist, slipping his thumbs under the hem of your top, grazing your bare skin.
“This is a bad idea,” you whispered but it came out unsteady.
Robby moved his mouth over your skin. “Then why does it feel so good?”
You didn’t have an answer, you couldn’t think of one that made sense. He kept going, trailing kisses along the side of your throat, sliding one hand up your side, splaying his fingers across your ribs, the other staying firm at your hip, holding you against him.
You tipped your head back against his shoulder in instinct, and he took the invitation, kissing the exposed line of your throat. Robby drifted his hand higher, brushing the underside of your breast through the fabric. Your hands came up in response, half to stop him, half to hold on, and they landed on his forearms, gripping them.
He murmured against your skin. “Tell me to stop.”
You didn’t stop it. Not one single part of you wanted to. Maybe if you weren’t so bone-deep tired, physically drained from years of resisting him, of constantly convincing yourself that you didn’t want this, that you weren’t aching for this every time he got too close, you might have found the strength to push him away again. To remind yourself of all the careful boundaries you’d built for Hannah’s sake. To remember why this was dangerous.
But right now, none of that mattered. Right now you needed Robby. You needed his warmth, you needed his touch, those large, capable hands that knew every inch of your body better than anyone else ever had, or ever would. You needed the intoxicating pleasure only he could ever give you, the rumble of his voice in your ear, and the way he could make you forget every careful reason you’d built to keep him at arm’s length.
The resistance you’d been carrying for years suddenly felt too heavy to hold anymore. In this quiet moment all you wanted was to let go. To stop fighting the pull that had never really gone away. To let Robby remind you, just for tonight, how good it felt to be wanted like this.
Under your shirt, one of Robby’s hands cupped the swell of your breast through the fabric of your bra. He traced slow circles over the peak, teasing the nipple into a tight point, making you arch without meaning to, and he rewarded you with a soft bite at the curve of your shoulder.
“Fuck,” you whispered, the curse slipping out before you could stop it.
Robby exhaled a rough laugh against your throat. “There she is.” He sounded proud of getting this reaction out of you, of remembering your body even if it’d been years since the last time he’d touched you.
He palmed your other breast now, both hands working in tandem to knead your flesh, brushing his fingers back and forth until the friction through your bra was almost too much. Your nipples ached, already feeling oversensitive, and every pass of his fingers sent heat straight between your legs. You could feel him behind you, his thick cock rigid, pressing against the small of your back through his jeans. The size of him, the heat of him, the way he rocked forward just enough to let you feel every inch, made your thighs clench.
You should stop this. You knew you should. But your hands were already reaching back, curling into the fabric of his shirt at his hips, holding him closer instead of pushing him away.
He growled with approval, leaving one of your breasts to slide his hand down the front of your body. He was slow, giving you every second to say no.
“When was the last time someone fucked you the way you deserve?” he murmured against your neck, slightly tightening his fingers once he reached your thigh, dangerously close to the waistband of your shorts.
You stayed silent, like part of you didn’t want to admit the truth. Robby didn’t pull back, he kissed your neck again. “Tell me, baby. When was the last time you were properly fucked? Deep and hard like I used to… Until you couldn’t think straight?”
You swallowed once, then answered honestly, barely above a whisper. “I haven’t slept with anyone since the last time we were together. About four years ago.”
Robby stilled completely. He lifted his mouth from your neck like he was waiting for the punchline. “You’re joking.”
You shook your head. “I’m not.”
He stared at you for a moment, processing the new information. Then he let out a slow, disbelieving breath. “What about those guys you’ve dated? The vet? That other guy a year ago, what was he? An engineer? What about him?”
“Two dates, maybe three at most with any of them,” you said quietly. “Never went further. Never slept with any of them. Being a mom and a resident… there’s no time. Between Hannah’s schedule, shifts, studying, and trying to keep everything together, sex just wasn’t a priority.”
Robby tightened his jaw, and a fix of emotions flashed through his face, surprise, heat, and a fierce kind of possessiveness. “Fuck,” he muttered. “You can’t just tell me you haven’t been fucked in four years and expect me to act like it’s nothing.”
Before you could respond, he dipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, then under the elastic of your panties. “Four years. Four fucking years without anyone touching you the way you need. Without anyone filling this perfect pussy. I’m gonna leave you so fucking wet and satisfied when I’m done with you tonight. You’re gonna be ruined for anyone else after this.”
There was no hesitation now. He parted your pussy with two fingers, finding you already slick with arousal, your lips swollen, and he dragged his digits up through your folds in one long stroke, making your knees nearly buckle.
“Jesus,” he whispered against your ear, already sounding wrecked. “So fucking wet for me.”
Robby circled your clit, it was light at first, his touch feather-soft, just enough to make your hips jerk. Then it turned firmer, pressing down in tight circles the way he always knew you liked. The exact pressure, the exact rhythm. Muscle memory for him too, apparently.
You tipped your head back against Robby’s broad shoulder, fluttering your eyes shut so you could focus entirely on the intense pleasure flooding through your body. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his fingers worked you open with precision.
He kept his other hand on your breast, tugging your bra down roughly so he could give your nipples the attention they craved. He rolled the sensitive peaks between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and tugging in perfect time with the slick strokes between your legs. The dual sensation was devastating in the best way, making your pussy clench and flutter around nothing.
He slid one thick finger inside you, stretching you carefully, opening you up with a patience that drove you insane. When you pushed your hips back greedily, silently begging for more, he added a second finger, sinking them deeper. You were so tight, clenching hard around the intrusion, and Robby let out a guttural groan against your ear, like the feel of you was almost painful for him too.
“Still so fucking perfect,” he rasped with want. “Fuck… the way you grip me. Like you never want to let go.”
He curled his fingers deliberately, hooking them forward until he found that spongy spot inside you that made your vision flash white for a second. A broken moan tore from your throat as he started stroking your g-spot with every thrust. The sound was loud enough that you both froze for half a heartbeat, listening for any noise from upstairs. The house stayed quiet. Hannah was still fast asleep. Robby didn’t waste another second, he resumed his movements, going deeper now, fucking you steadily with his fingers while his thumb kept the pressure on your clit.
Robby alternated the pace just to torment you, slow and deep, then faster and harder, then dragging it back to that torturous slow rhythm again. Teasing you right up to the edge without ever letting you fall over it.
You rocked back against his hand, chasing the pleasure, chasing him. Every curl of his fingers and every swipe of his thumb made your clit throb and your walls flutter around him. You were soaking his hand, the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping pussy filling the quiet room.
Your breathing turned ragged. Small and desperate sounds slipping out despite your best efforts, whimpers, half-moans, his name once or twice when he hit the spot just right.
He kissed your neck again, sucking lightly and then soothing with his tongue. Robby couldn’t stop his hips from rocking against your ass in shallow thrusts, matching the rhythm of his fingers, allowing you to feel how hard he was, painfully so.
Your thighs started to tremble. The coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter. You were close, so close, and he knew it, still remembered how your body shook, how your pussy pulsed and clenched when you were about to let go.
“Come on,” he murmured against your ear. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.” He pressed his thumb harder on your clit, and crooked his fingers again, stroking that spot in quick pulses. “Let me feel you cum. Please, baby, I want it so bad.”
It hit you like a wave. As you orgasmed around his fingers, your back arched, throwing your head back against his shoulder, opening your mouth on a silent cry that turned into a choked moan when the pleasure finally broke. You came hard, shuddering and clenching around his fingers. He had to tighten his arm around your waist to keep you upright when wave after wave of pleasure hit you, until your legs felt like liquid.
Robby’s arms stayed locked around you for a long moment after you came down. Slowly, he turned you in his arms until you were facing him. Your legs felt unsteady, so he steadied you with his hands on your waist.
When he lifted the hand that was inside you, the one still slick and shining with you, he brought it to his mouth without breaking eye contact with you.
Robby licked his fingers slowly, first one, then the other, dragging his tongue flat and thorough, tasting every bit of you.
“Fuck,” he murmured, humming as if the taste of your slickness pleasured him. “Still taste the same. Sweet. So goddamn good.”
Heat flooded your face, your chest, everywhere. You couldn’tlook away, the sight of him, with his lips wet and his eyes locked on yours, while he savored you like that, made your core clench again. It felt so aching and empty without him inside you, and you desperately needed to be filled again, to feel the stretch of his cock impaled inside you, to have his weight over you while he made you feel owned.
The words slipped out before you could think them through. “Fuck me, Robby.”
His mouth curved almost predatory. The words he’d longed to hear for so long. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He leaned in until his forehead rested against yours, allowing you to feel his hot breath on your lips. “Ask nicely.”
You narrowed your eyes with defiance even through the haze of want. “Go to hell.”
He laughed, the same laugh he used to give you in stolen moments years ago, when you’d push back just to watch him unravel. “Still stubborn,” he said, almost fond. “Good to know some things don’t change.”
Robby didn’t hesitate. In one smooth motion, his hands were under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, nd your arms around his neck, as he carried you up the stairs. His mouth found your neck again on the way, kissing and nipping while he navigated the familiar hallway in the dark.
He pushed open the door to your bedroom with his shoulder, kicking it shut behind him, and turning the lock with a click. Robby set you down on the edge of the bed but didn’t step back. He stood between your spread thighs, looking down at you with an expression that made your stomach flip.
“Fuck… I feel like I’m dreaming,” he cupped your face, stroking his thumb over your cheeks. “You, here, letting me touch you again after all this time. After everything.”
Then he was on you, Robby climbed onto the bed, his knees bracketing your hips, and pressing you back into the mattress with his weight. He crashed his mouth down on yours in a desperate kiss while he ran his hands over your body.
He groaned like a man starved, staring at your chest. “These tits… God, I missed them.” His mouth descended immediately, devouring you with almost frantic need. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue roughly around the peak before he sucked it hard, hollowing your cheeks. He kneaded the other breast, digging his fingers in, flicking and pinching the neglected nipple until you arched off the bed with a loud moan. He switched sides, licking and biting, sucking marks into the flesh like he wanted to claim every inch. His stubble was scraping deliciously against your skin, making you whimper and thread your fingers through his brown hair, holding him to you.
He was almost desperate in the way he worshiped your body, groaning against your skin, grinding his hips down against your thigh so you could feel how painfully hard he was. “So fucking perfect,” he mumbled between sucks and bites. “These tits were made for my mouth. Look at how pretty they look. I love sucking on them… fuck, baby.”
You were panting, pushing your chest further into his face as pleasure shot straight to your cunt. Robby spent long minutes there, alternating between teasing licks and rough hungry suction, until your nipples were swollen, sensitive, and glistening with his spit.
Then he started moving lower. His mouth trailed wet kisses down your sternum, over your stomach, pausing to nip at the soft curve just below your navel. He settled between your spread thighs, pushing your shorts the rest of the way down to bunch around your ankles. For a moment, he just stared at the damp spot on your panties with eyes full of lust.
“Look at you,” he rasped, his hot breath right against your dripping pussy. “You’re making such a big mess for me. You ruined your panties… so fucking soaked.”
He leaned in and mouthed at your pussy over the thin fabric, pressing kisses along your slit, dragging his tongue slowly from your entrance up to your clit through the soaked cotton. He sucked gently on your clit through the material, making your hips jerk. Then he pulled back just enough to blow cool air over the damp spot before diving in again, licking broad stripes, nipping at your folds, mouthing at you like he was trying to taste every drop of your arousal through the barrier.
You moaned louder, with your thighs trembling around his head and your hands fisting the sheets as he teased you mercilessly. Robby hooked his arms under your thighs, holding you open while he continued the torturous worship of his mouth. Every time you tried to grind harder against his mouth, he pulls back slightly, keeping you right on the edge, whimpering and desperate.
“Robby… please…” you gasped, but he only groaned against your pussy and keept teasing, determined to drive you insane before he finally gave you what you both needed.
He looked up at you from between your thighs, gleaming with satisfaction. Robby hooked two fingers into the thin cotton at your hip and ripped. The sound of fabric tearing filled the quiet room. You only had a second for the cool air to hit your bare, dripping pussy, because right away Robby’s mouth was on you, aggressive and devastatingly skilled.
He devoured you like a man who’d been starving for years. There’s no gentle buildup or teasing licks. He buried his face between your thighs with a hunger that bordered on feral. He drags his tongue broadly, giving you flat strokes from your entrance all the way up to your swollen clit, lapping up every drop of your arousal like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
He groaned deeply into your pussy, the sound was filthy. “Fuck, baby… you taste even better than I remembered,” he said against your folds before diving back in.
He ate you out with aggression, swallowing your clit into the heat of his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves before releasing it with a filthy pop. The sudden loss of suction made you whimper, only for him to immediately flick the tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit as his stubble scraped against your inner thighs with every movement of his head.
Robby alternated between deep licks that plunged his tongue inside you, fucking you with it in slow strokes that had you dripping down his chin, and tight suction on your clit that made you curl your toes hard.
Every time you tried to muffle your moans, he only doubled down, sucking harder, licking deeper, devouring you like he’d been dreaming about this exact taste for years. He gripped your ass, spreading you wider for his mouth, holding you firmly in place so you couldn’t escape the assault of his tongue.
“Oh my God… Robby—” Your voice cracked as he flicked his tongue rapidly over your clit. “Fuck, right there, don’t stop, please don’t stop…”
He ate it like he loved it. Like he needed it. His hands weren’t idle either. One arm banded across your lower stomach, holding you down when your hips started bucking too wildly. The other hand reached up to palm and squeeze your bare breasts, making you moan louder.
You pushed up onto your elbows, desperate to watch him. The sight was both obscene and intoxicating, Robby’s head buried between your thighs, his shoulders flexing as he worked, eyes closed in pure bliss while his mouth devoured your cunt. His jaw was moving with every lick and every suck, his lips and chin already shiny with your wetness. When he glanced up and caught you watching, his eyes darkened even more.
He pulled back just enough to spit directly onto your swollen pussy, a thick glob of saliva landing right on your clit. The warm sensation made you gasp, asd he watched it drip down your folds for half a second before he drove back in, spreading the spit with his tongue, mixing it with your own slick until everything was messy and glistening.
“God, look at this pretty pussy,” the words came out muffled against you. “So fucking wet for me. Been waiting four years to taste you again.”
He continued his relentless assault on your clit, and you couldn’t look away. The sight of this strong man, completely lost between your legs, eating your pussy like it was his favorite meal, was almost too much.
“You’re so fucking good at this… shit, your mouth—” A broken moan escaped you when he sucked hard on your clit again. “I’m gonna… I can’t! Robby, I’m close already…”
Your second orgasm built fast, and it crushed over you without mercy, making you bow your back off the bed, tearing a broken cry from your throat as the pleasure peaked. Robby didn’t let up for a second, he sucked your nub harder, drawing the orgasm out until it felt endless.
Your vision whited out, tears spilling down your cheeks as the pleasure rolled through you while he kept licking you through it greedily.
You sobbed his name, “Robby… fuck—oh god,” as your body shook uncontrollably, clamping his thighs around his head when the intensity bordered on too much.
He finally eased off only when your cries turned into overwhelmed whimpers, your body limp and trembling on the bed. But even then, he didn’t pull away completely. Robby continued placing soft kisses to your folds, licking up every drop of your release like he couldn’t bear to waste any of it. His hands soothed your thighs, rubbing circles while you came down.
Robby lifted his head, letting you admire his lips and chin glistening with your cum between your spread thighs. “Four years… and you still taste like heaven.”
When he finally started kissing his way up your body, his mouth was soft, reaching your mouth and kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He pulled back, hovering his face above yours. “You okay, baby?” he asked with an edge of worry in his tone, cupping your cheek with one hand, brushing away a tear. “Talk to me. Was that too much?”
You managed a shaky nod, still catching your breath. “I’m… fine. Just… holy shit, Robby.”
He chuckled softly, pleased with himself after seeing the effect his mouth had on you. “You’ve got the most perfect pussy in the world, you know that? So fucking pretty when you cum. And look at the mess you made…” He glanced down between your bodies at the soaked sheets, a proud and filthy smirk tugging at his mouth. “You still soak everything when I eat you out. God, I love how wet you get for me.”
Your voice came out breathy, needy, honest in a way you haven’t been with him in years.You were finally embracing what you truly wanted. “I need you, Robby. All of you. Please.”
Something possessive flashed in his eyes. He didn’t make you ask twice this time, just sat back on his heels and stripped in a rush, yanking his shirt over his head, then shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs in one impatient motion. His cock sprang free, looking every bit as thick as you remembered it, with the head already flushed in a dark red, leaking precum.
He was rock-hard, with the veins standing out along the shaft, curving slightly upward the way you loved, because it hit your g-spot so easily. He knelt between your spread thighs, pressing his into the mattress, and looked down at you with hunger. “Stroke it a little,” he asked you. “Let me feel your hand on me first.”
You sat up just enough to reach him, wrapping your fingers around his impressive length. He felt hot in your palm as you gave him a firm stroke from the base to the tip, swirling your thumb over the leaking head to spread the precum. Your touch made Robby groan deeply, twitching his hips forward into your touch.
“Fuck… It’s so big,” you whispered, locking your eyes on the way your hand looked around him. “I need it so much, Robby. I’ve missed this cock. Missed how full you make me.”
He watched your hand move, his breathing growing increasingly ragged with every stroke. “Slow, baby. Just like that. Real slow.” His voice was strained, like he was already fighting not to cum from your touch alone. “Shit, I’m close already. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this… your hand feels too fucking good.”
You kept stroking him slowly, twisting your wrist on the upstroke, squeezing just the way he’d always liked. Robby's head fell back for a moment, a moan rumbling in his chest, before he looked down again, watching your tits move with each stroke, watching your slick pussy still glistening from his mouth, waiting for him.
He reached down and gently took your wrist, stilling your hand. Then he shifted forward, gripping the base of his cock and rubbing the thick head up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your wetness. The pressure against your clit made you whimper.
Robby leaned over you, bracing one hand beside your head, the other still holding his cock against your entrance. He locked his eyes onto yours. “Should we.. uh… grab a condom?”
You didn’t even hesitate, spreading your legs wider for him, sliding your hands up his arms to grip his shoulders. “I’m on the pill,” you whispered. “Go raw. I want to feel all of you.”
A deep groan escaped him as he notches the head of his cock right against your entrance, pressing just enough to tease the stretch without pushing inside yet. He cupped your face with his free hand, brushing your lower lip while he held himself right there, waiting for the moment he finally sank into you after four long years.
When he finally pushed forward, you felt the blunt pressure increasing, letting you feel every inch as he sank into you. You both moaned at the same time, he was thicker than you remembered in the haze of memory, and the stretch was intense, bordering on overwhelming after so long without anyone inside you. Your walls parted around him, fluttering and clenching as he slid deeper, inch by slow inch, until his hips were flush against yours and he was buried to the hilt inside you.
The fullness was perfect, almost too much, pressing against that deep spot that made you curl your toes instantly. “Fuck… baby,” Robby groaned, dropping his forehead to yours for a second. “You feel… Jesus Christ. So tight. So fucking wet and warm. I missed this pussy so much.”
He stayed still for a heartbeat, letting you adjust, both of you just breathing each other in after four long years. Then he started to move. The first thrust was slow and deep, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with a wet sound. The second was a little harder. By the third, he’d found a steady rhythm, long and powerful strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. The drag and stretch were incredible, every time he bottomed out, the head of his cock kissed that deep place that made sparks explode behind your eyes.
“Oh my God… Robby,” you moaned, already trembling, and he’d just started. “You’re so fucking deep.”
It felt amazing for both of you. For you, it was like waking up after years of numbness, every nerve lighting up, pleasure flooding your body in waves with every thrust. For Robby, the groan that left him is guttural, almost pained with how good it felt to finally be inside the only place that’d ever made sense in his life.
His hips snapped forward harder, the slap of skin on skin filling the bedroom as he fucked you with measured strokes. You were trying so hard to stay quiet, bringing your hand to your mouth to bite down on the side of it, muffling the moans that kept trying to spill out. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, then fluttered them open again. Robby was watching you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, flicking his gaze between your face, your lips parted, eyes glassy with pleasure, to your tits bouncing with every thrust, and down to where your pussy was stretched wide around his cock.
He watched himself disappear inside you, the shiny wetness coating his shaft every time he pulled back, your folds clinging to him greedily. “Fuck, look at that. Your pretty pussy taking me so well after all this time. Stretched so tight around my cock… making such a mess on me.”
You bit harder into your hand as a particularly deep thrust made you whimper loudly. Robby’s rhythm started to pick up, snapping his hips with more force, the perfect angle to hit your spot inside you over and over, making you clench around his length.
“Shit… right there,” you whimpered. “That spot… fuck! I can feel every inch. God, I’m so full.”
“Stop squeezing like that,” he groaned, almost pleading, tightening his grip on your hips. “You’re gonna make me cum already if you keep clenching around me like that. This pussy is too perfect… so fucking good. Feels like heaven. I’ve dreamed about this for years… being buried inside you again.”
He leaned down and captured your mouth in a messy kiss, swallowing your muffled moans, before he suddenly gripped the backs of your thighs and lifted your legs, hooking them over his broad shoulders. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and the next thrust punched the air out of your lungs as he bottomed out completely, pressed his hips tightly against your ass, grinding his cock against that deepest spot.
“Oh my god—Robby!” You gasped against your hand, rolling your eyes back. “Like that! Like that… Please don’t stop.”
He fucked you harder now, making the bed creak softly beneath you. “So perfect,” he panted between thrusts. “You feel so fucking perfect. This body… these tits… this tight little pussy squeezing me. I missed you so much. Missed fucking you like this.”
He slid a hand between your bodies, finding your swollen clit with his thumb and rubbing firm circles in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation was pushing you toward the edge fast.
“Cum for me, baby,” he growled. “I want to feel you cum around my cock. Let me feel it.”
When the pleasure started cresting, your words turned into fragmented, needy whimpers.
The combination of his deep strokes, the pressure on your clit, and the overwhelming fullness after four years was too much. Your third orgasm of the night crashed over you even harder than the other two. Your back arched violently off the bed, a broken cry tearing from your throat despite your teeth sinking into your hand. Your pussy clamped down around him like a vice, pulsing and fluttering rhythmically as waves of intense pleasure ripped through you.
Robby groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he felt his own impeding orgasm approaching. “That’s it—fuck, yes—milk me, baby. I’m cumming—”
He thrusted deep one last time, burying himself as far as he could go, and finally allowed himself to cum. You felt the thick pulses of his seed as he filled you up, rope after rope of cum flooding deep inside you, so much that you could feel it spilling out around his cock where you were stretched around him. Robby kept grinding his hips against you through his orgasm, drawing it out, making sure every drop stayed inside you as long as possible.
He stayed buried deep while you both came down, breathing hard, your bodies slick with sweat. Your legs were still over his shoulders, your pussy still gently fluttering around his softening cock.
“Four years,” he whispered hoarsely against your lips. “And you’re still mine.”
An incredulous chuckle rumbled out of his chest, utterly satisfied. His brown eyes were in disbelief, like he genuinely couldn’t believe he just got to be inside you again after all this time. The lines around his eyes crinkled deeply as he smiled. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured, sounding a little husky fro the exertion. “I can’t believe I just got to be inside you again. That was… fuck. That was the best fuck of my life. Better than I remembered. Better than anything.”
He stayed there a moment longer, savoring the connection, before he finally pulled out of you. You both groaned at the loss, a thick of his cum leaking out of you onto the already-soaked sheets. Robby rolled off you and onto his back beside you, reaching out with one arm to pull you against his side
He turned his head to look at you, brushing damp strands of hair off your forehead with gentle fingers. “How was that for you, baby?” he asked softly. “Tell me. Was it okay? Did I hurt you at all?”
You huffed a small, tired laugh against his collarbone. “You already know the answer.”
He hummed, but didn’t let it drop. “Say it anyway.”
“Robby.” You tilt your head back just enough to meet his eyes. “Stop fishing for compliments. You already know exactly how good it felt. It was amazing. More than amazing. I don’t even have words for it. I came so hard I— God, I needed that.”
He smiled again with a satisfied grin, and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Good. That’s all I wanted, to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”
As the afterglow started to fade, and reality started to creep back in… the sleeping five-year-old down the hall, the careful co-parenting boundaries you’ve both worked so hard to maintain. You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him.
“You should get going now. It’s late. Hannah will be up early, and I don’t want her to wake up and find you here. It might make things weird or confusing for her.”
Robby let out a genuine laugh, rolling onto his side to face you fully. “Oh, so that’s how it is? You use me to break your four-year celibacy, three orgasms, mind you, and now you’re kicking me out?” His eyes sparkled with humor, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Cold, woman . Real cold. I give you the best, and only, dick you’ve had in years, and this is the thanks I get? Straight to the door?”
You couldn’t help but laugh with him, swatting lightly at his chest. “I’m serious. You know how she is. If she comes in here looking for me in the morning and sees you in my bed, she’ll have a million questions. Or she’ll think we’re back together and get her hopes up. We can’t do that to her.”
He propped himself up on one elbow, too, mirroring your position, still grinning that cocky grin that made him look ten years younger. “Three orgasms,” he repeate, holding up three fingers like he was making a point. “I ate that pussy until you were crying and shaking, then fucked you so deep you saw stars, and now I’m being evicted? Harsh, really harsh. I feel so used right now.”
“Robby,” you said, trying to sound stern but failing as another laugh bubbled up. “Come on. You know I’m right.”
He sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the pillow but keeping one arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer so your bare breasts pressed against his chest. “I don’t want to go. Not yet. I want to stay here and cuddle you. Just hold you for a while. I promise I’ll leave early tomorrow morning, before Hannah wakes up. I’ll set an alarm, sneak out. She’ll never know I was here. Please, baby. Let me stay. I missed this. Missed holding you after.”
You hesitated, chewing your lip. The warmth of his body against yours, the beat of his heart under your palm, the way he kept tracing circles with his fingers on your lower back… it all feels dangerously good.
He sensed your wavering and leaned in, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, then to your lips. “You’re perfect,” he murmured between kisses. “So fucking perfect. The way you took me tonight, the way you came for me… You made me feel whole again. Nothing in my life has ever compared to this. You and Hannah… you two are the best things that ever happened to me. Being inside you again, hearing you moan my name… it reminded me how much I still need you. How much I’ve always needed you.”
He tightened his arm around you, pulling you fully against his chest so you were tucked into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. Robby slid one of his legs between yours, tangling you together under the messy sheets. He kept kissing you, your forehead, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, then back to your mouth in lingering presses.
“I mean it,” he whispered against your hair. “You made me the happiest man alive when you gave me Hannah, but nights like this… being with you like this… it completes something in me. I feel alive. Whole. Like the missing piece finally clicked back into place. No one else has ever made me feel this way. No one else ever could.”
You melted into him despite yourself, and the night passed in fragments of deep sleep, the kind you haven’t had in years. Robby’s arm stayed across your waist the whole time, with his fingers splayed over your stomach like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. His chest rose and fell against your back in an even rhythm, and the snoring… God, the stupid snoring you’d missed so much.
You woke slowly, first to the weight of him, then to the ache between your legs, the reminder of last night still dried on your inner thighs. You felt him stir behind you as consciousness returned. You could practically hear the smile before you even turned your head.
When you did roll over, he was already looking at you with his eyes half-lidded, sleepy, and crinkled at the corners. And yeah, there it was, that stupid and contented grin spreading across his face like he’d just won the lottery.
“Stop smiling,” you muttered. “You’re creeping me out.”
He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, didn’t even try to dial it back. If anything, it got wider. “Can’t help it,” he said. “Woke up next to the most gorgeous woman in the world. Kinda hard not to smile about that.”
Heat climbed up your neck despite yourself. You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off. “Flattery at six a.m. is a cheap move, Robinavitch.”
“Fuck,” he breathed, roaming his eyes over your face like he was seeing it for the first time. “Look at you.”
He dropped his gaze appreciatively, taking in the messy hair spilling across the pillow, the sheet tangled around your bare hips, the faint marks his mouth left on your collarbone last night. He reached out, tracing one with his thumb, gently.
“Don’t even think about it, Michael,” you warned him. You’d had your fun last night. It had been amazing, even better than you remembered sex with Robby ever being. But it had been one time. One stupid lapse of judgment, one moment of weakness that couldn’t repeat itself again. You couldn’t let it. Not when the delicate balance you’d fought so hard to maintain for Hannah was so stable. You refused to risk your daughter’s sense of security just because your body still craved the man who used to know every inch of you better than anyone else.
Robby snapped his eyes back to yours, looking equal parts hungry and amused. “You know how I get when you call me Michael.”
“Last night was a relapse. I was tired, and… Emotional. Not happening again today. Not happening again ever, as a matter of fact.”
“Yeah?” He laughed before he shifted, rolling you onto your back in one smooth motion. His body came down over yours, caging you under his weight. Robby braced his forearms on either side of your head, his knees bracketing your hips. “You sure about that?”
You pushed at his shoulder. “Robby… get off.”
He stirred above you, lifting his head. For a moment, he didn’t move, but you kept pushing, gentle but insistent, until he finally rolled off you with a sigh and propped himself up on one elbow.
“All of this… It was a mistake,” you sat up and pulling the sheet up over your bare chest, suddenly too aware of your nakedness.
Robby reached for you instinctively, but you shifted away, scooting back against the headboard. “Why?” he asked. “It felt fucking amazing for both of us. You know it did. We’re good at this, we’ve always been good at this.”
You shook your head, the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way your bodies still fit together like they remembered every single time before… it made your resolve weaken. “You know why not. I can’t just think about ourselves anymore. We have to think about Hannah. We can’t hurt her. We already crashed once, and I’m not putting her through big changes, through the uncertainty, the chance that everything falls apart all over again.” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “I know you, Michael. In a month you’re going to regret this. You’re going to need space, and your head won’t be in the right place for commitment. I won’t do that to her. I won’t do that to any of us.”
Robby sat up fully now, the playful morning haze completely gone from his face. “It’s different this time. The first time… everything was happening all at once. You know how fucked up I was… After Covid, after… everything that happened. Having to take care of the whole ED… I was drowning. I couldn’t be what you needed. But I’m not that man anymore. You know I’ve changed. You’ve seen how much being a father changed me.” He leaned forward slightly. “I want you. I want this. I want the family. I want the commitment.”
You swallowed hard, and for one dangerous moment, you let yourself imagine it, waking up like this every morning with his warmth beside you, the three of you as a real family, lazy weekends and shared dinners and Hannah running between you both. The picture was so beautiful it hurt, but reality settled back in fast.
“You should go,” you whispered, looking away toward the window so he wouldn’t see the tears gathering in your eyes. “We shouldn’t keep talking about this anymore.”
Robby exhaled, running a hand through his messy, sleep-tousled hair. “It’s not fair.”
You let out a bitter little laugh. “A lot in life isn’t fair, Robby. You know that better than anyone else.”
He watched you for a long moment. The silence stretched between you until he finally swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. You stayed under the sheet, trying not to watch the familiar way his muscles moved as he gathered his clothes from the floor and got dressed.
When he reached the bedroom door, he paused, turning back to you with that half-smirk that you knew meant trouble. “You can try, but I know you can’t stay away from all of this for too long. I’m a real catch.”
You couldn’t help the tired laugh that escaped you. “Goodbye, Michael.”
He gave you one last long look full of affection before he slipped out of the room and down the stairs. The sheets still smelled like him, your skin still remembered his hands, nd you were left alone with the echo of everything you wanted but couldn’t let yourself have.
PART TWO HERE
A/N: Oh my god, I finally wrote something!!!😭 I’d had this idea sitting in my brain for so long, and the other day I finally felt the urge to start it. After about a week, and using all the free time I have between work and college, I actually managed to finish it. Finally something with a bit of plot, lol.
I really hope you enjoyed this idea! I’d love to write a second part, but with my schedule… that could be anywhere from two weeks to a year from now. It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, so it’d be really nice to hear your thoughts, if you liked it, your favorite parts, anything really🫶🏻
