P1nkBite

2007 babe

[p1nkbfang]

Introduction

Im Gigi, born in 2007 (19), autistic, and this is where i reblog my fav fics/oneshots.

fandoms: The pitt, COD, The last of us, obx, jjk, The boys, Criminal minds, Elvis, Marvel, DC, alice in borderland.

English is my second language.

[zenfries]

Why are there so many packages₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Pairing: bf skz! x reader

Genre: fake text, funny, chaotic

Context: you did a little online shopping and now your boyfriend is concerned on how many packages showed up

Hyung Line Maknae Line

Chan ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

Lee Know ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

Changbin ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

Hyunjin ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

Writers corner ݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

Hello friends I know I said I was gonna post the rest instagram stories but these have been marinating in the back rooms for days but that’s it for today but tomorrow I’m going to spam post the rest instagram stories so we can get back to the other stuff this isn’t proof read and I have been fighting with autocorrect while doing these and I lost so look the other way if you see a mistake but see you tmr baiii💋💕

[p1nkbfang]

my shopping addiction against the world

[dolloebaby]

too late dr robby x f!reader

robby thinks he’s bad for you. too old, too rough around the edges, too damaged to be around a young, beautiful, budding doctor as yourself. so he ends it, unaware of your pregnancy, unaware of your grief until you face a medial emergency in the middle of the ED.

dr robby x f!reader

rating. 18+

wc. 3.3k

synopsis. robby thinks you’re too good for him, too pure and optimistic… young. he decides to cut you loose, allow you to flourish without him dragging you down. that is, until he faces the idea of losing you forever.

tags/warnings. MDNI, TW MISCARRIAGE, mention of blood, needles, medical inaccuracies, robby is very conflicted, robby thinks you’re too good for him, breakup, lots of angst, reader and robby are deeply in love, reader is devastated, grief, power imbalance, improper coping mechanisms, early stage pregnancy, detailed miscarriage, reader is significantly younger than robby, age gap, female pronouns, female anatomy, afab reader

requested? yes

A/N. enjoy <3

as you stare down at the positive test in your hands, the overwhelming urge to be sick in the toilet you’re currently sat on tugs at your stomach.

your fingers tremble around their hold on the stick, eyes beginning to burn as your vision grows foggy.

“you still good in there?”

samira.

you swallow harshly, sucking in a breath that gets lodged in your chest and sits there like a permanent reminder that this is real. reluctantly, with sweat starting to dot across your nape, you swing the stall door open.

the brunettes brows pinch as she pushes off the adjacent wall, arms crossed as she takes a few steps forward. then her expression shifts, more steady than yours but sharing a similar panic.

“shit.”

“yeah.” you sigh, hoping the continuous, deep breaths will calm the way your pulse has become erratic.

“was this intentional?” you can tell by the hesitant look on her face she most likely knows the answer, she just wants it confirmed to her. you’d roll your eyes if you weren’t so busy nearly hyperventilating, sniffing as the accumulation of tears has caused your nose to run.

“no.”

“do you want this?”

“i don’t know,” children, it’s a conversation you’d never had. you’d been focused on your career for years now, something so very important and overall time consuming you’d never stopped to really think about it. did you want kids? even if you did, it wasn’t the right time, you were still an R2, your life was constantly hectic, “i’ve never put much thought into it.”

“how will you tell him?”

your eyes squeeze shut. that was the first thing that came to mind when the two lines appeared. how would he react? would he lash out at you? no, he wasn’t that kind of man, you knew him better than that.

“will you tell him?”

your eyes snap open at that, gaze darting up to land on samira who’s looking at you with an expression that makes you want to shrink. sympathy, she was a sympathizer after all.

“of course i’m gonna tell him,” even if you wish it was all just a dream, and any second you’d wake up and it would all have just been-, “but what if he reacts badly?”

samira hums, like she’d thought of that as well, shifting from one foot to the other.

“honestly, i don’t know how to answer that for you, but what i’ve seen, he’s a pretty good guy,” somehow she always knows what to say, and you appreciate her words, “plus if anything happens, you still have me. and mel, and pretty much everyone, you’re well liked.”

you laugh softly, wiping at a tear that escapes your eye.

“you’re just saying all that to make you feel better.”

samira smiles.

“doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“thanks, seriously.” you stand, capping the pregnancy test and pocketing it before passing samira to wash your hands. your eyes meet your own in the mirror, soap lathering as scalding water runs over your palms. the warmth is a decent distraction from hoping no one will notice your now puffy cheeks and wet lashes.

samira raises her brows at you through the mirror.

“will you be okay?” you’re not sure how to respond, hands gripping the edge of the sink counter. your eyes meet hers.

you decide to just nod.

“hey, can we talk?” you jog up to where robby stands in the ambulance bay several hours later, hands in his jacket pockets. he turns to you as you stop beside him. there’s a look on his face you can’t place, maybe fatigue, something you’ve seen countless times before and yet different.

“yeah, we need too,” those words throw you a bit off balance, and suddenly you’re anxious that maybe he found out before you could tell him, “and fortunately, i have a minute.”

“great, um,” you falter, heart rate picking up as you glance down at you sneakers, “it’s kind of important.”

robby looks at you again, this time however, you see a hint of concern behind his rough exterior, one he doesn’t hide but is picky with who gets to witness it. although just as soon at it appears, his face falls blank, forehead lines deepening as his brows furrow.

he motions for you to speak, an action so unlike him you stumble over your words.

“oh, uh, you go first, mine will kinda need a conversation,” you grimace at the way you stutter, so foreign to you yet so human in your worries as the attending in front of you just stares, “seriously, tell me.”

your smile is brief, full and bright as the man takes a deep breath, the corners of your mouth falling in tandem with your heart as his next sentence renders you speechless.

“we need to end this.”

what.

you pause, taken aback.

“what?” robby sighs at your response, turning away from you and shaking his head like he didn’t say something that’s left you nearly gasping for air even while outside.

“i’m ending it,” and you feel a sting across your face as if you’ve been slapped, accompanied by a painful throbbing in your chest, “our relationship, fling, whatever you’d like to call it.”

fling? is that how he saw it? sure he said relationship first, but to throw out that other word? is that really all it’s been to him?

“i love you.”

“mmm it’s mutual.” is giggled as you’re perched in his lap, nuzzling into his scruff as he nurses a scotch.

“that’s what you wanted to tell me?” it’s like your senses can’t process this information, the incessant buzzing in your head growing as the seconds tick by.

robby nods, lips forming a tight line.

“i think it’s best to end this before it gets too serious, before my sabbatical.”

your knees wobble, eyes blinking rapidly as tears begin to form.

“how’d you find me?” the sun sets beyond the horizon.

“would you believe me if i told you i looked in every room?” robby walks up beside you, shrugging off his jacket at the sight of a shiver running across your arms. the smell of the anti septic and his cologne invade your nose as the fabric is draped over your shoulders.

you laugh, face suddenly warmer.

“do you offer your jacket to all your residents?”

he smiles, crooked and real.

“only the ones i look in every room for.”

you can feel the test in your pocket, practically burning through the cotton of your zip up as you stand unable to even move.

“oh, okay,” is all that comes out at first, choked up and coming out less assertive than you had intended, “that’s.. really how you feel?”

you miss the way robby glances at you, the look he gives you as you stare down at the pavement, blinking back the glossiness to your eyes.

“yes.” it’s definite. almost like he’s been thinking about this for awhile, and yeah, he’s been a bit withdrawn lately but you wouldn’t have expected this.

your teeth sink into your bottom lip, fingers fidgeting against your jackets hem, the pitter patter of rain begins against the overhang.

“can we talk about this?” you plead, taking a step towards the man.

“ambulance is en route,” that’s all he says, like he can’t be bothered to discuss the bomb he just dropped, “now isn’t the time.” ouch.

“alright,” it’s not alright, and you think you might be sick all over the pavement, “i get it.”

you don’t.

you want to demand an explanation, grab his arm, beg him to tell you why and then convince him to stay.

maybe it’s the hormonal shift, maybe the way the rain has begun to come down harder. but you just want to summon the courage, something so suddenly broken in you just wants to cower away and lick your wounds.

you ignore the throbbing in your chest, the way your body sways at the fear setting in, and you simply turn, and walk back inside.

“she’s an R1?” brows raise.

“about to be on year 2, she’s-,”

“and you’re her superior?”

robby listens to your footsteps fade into the distance, until the doors shut and the howl of wind against the weather leaves him in silence.

his eyes focus on a pebble beside his shoe, watching it roll as he kicks at it. his eyes shut, head leaning back as the sound of sirens grow near. his hearing makes the distant screeching somewhat fuzzy, eyes suddenly snapping open and body lurching forward.

he holds a closed first to the front of his mouth, inhaling deep breaths to calm the way bile has risen in his throat. he swallows it down, sweat dotting his forehead as the gravity of the silence around him sinks in.

he inhales again, this time slightly choking on the air.

his head shakes, face pulling into a pained grimace.

“fuck.”

he kicks the pebble again, this time sending it halfway across the parking lot as the ambulance pulls up.

“i can’t take this.” robby is compelled by your tone, the way your voice is heavy and desperate. he steps closer, body heaving unsteady breaths as you don’t move away.

his hands raise to his hair, ruffling the short brown locks. he sighs, a noise that pulls a sound of complaint from your throat.

“don’t, don’t act like i’m imagining things,” your voice is quiet, almost so much so robby nearly misses it, then your confidence seems to dim, “but… just tell me i am, and i’ll back off.”

his eyes snaps to yours.

“back off?” you shrink beneath his gaze.

“yes, i-,”

“you think i want that?” you’re unsure if that’s rhetorical, you almost laugh.

“michael,” you’re exasperated, “i’m asking you!”

the breath he takes is fast and shallow, head cocking to the side.

“it’s exactly that.”

you falter.

“sorry, what is?” you’re flushed warm to your ears as the man takes another bold step into your personal space, your back gently coming in contact with the wall behind you. you gasp at the startling contact, jaw shutting seconds after when a half bent arm is pressed beside your head.

then he’s leaning in, so close you can practically feel his bodies warmth, feel his breath across your face. he smells like cheap break room espresso, hand sanitizer, that heady musk of someone who’s been on their feet all day. every breath you take is just robby, it’s everywhere, all around you.

“you.”

you lick your lips, trying not to tremble at the way his eyes follow the movement of your tongue.

“you greeting me in the morning like i haven’t spent another sleepless night thinking of only you,” you feel something throb behind your ribs, “always so sweet to me, too good for what i deserve.”

you want to correct him, place a hand on his cheek and tell him that’s not how you see it. not at all. but before you can move against your outwardly nervous hesitation, he’s lifting one of your hands and placing the palm firm against his sternum.

you can feel the way his heart is beating, it’s fast, skipping a beat as your touch presses to him.

“you’re not imagining anything.”

you smile, fingers digging into the open zipper part of his navy zip up, pulling him down to meet your lips. his hands come up to cradle the sides of your face, fingers rough and calloused against your delicate skin.

your spine sparks with tingles as one of his hands drops to caress your back, holding your body steady against his.

as you pull away, you can’t contain the soft laughter that follows.

“i was wondering when you’d say something.”

“are you.. okay?” trinity is staring at you like any minute you’ll fall over.

“yeah,” and she’s not wrong on that assumption, considering the slightly slurred way you responded, “totally.”

the totally is choked up as vomit rises in your throat, lips shutting tight as you squeeze your eyes shut and place your forehead against the nurses station. trinity scowls, stepping back.

you sigh against the cold counter, not bothering to think about any germs you’re currently pressing your face against. your knees shake, joints burning as you stand.

a chart is handed off above your head, groaning as the back of someone’s hand presses into your forehead.

“you’re hot.” cassie.

“thanks.” is muffled.

you can practically feel the eye roll.

“kid, your temperature.” the redhead smiles down at you, removing her hand from your face.

“wait, you’re sick?” dennis walks up, eyeing the board as he does.

“she’s definitely coming down with something gross.” trinity retorts from her position still a yard or so away, looking at you like you’re a ticking time bomb of contagion.

it’s probably morning sickness, you think.

“fuck off,” you snap, well, as tough as you can despite the crack in your voice and the shiver down your spine, “i’m not contagious, trust me.”

the three of your colleagues watching your utter misery exchange looks as they hold back laughter.

“where’s the ducklings?” trinity refers to joy and oglivie.

“um, probably causing problems i’ll have to clean up.”

the clock ticks, the board updates.

chaos unfolds within mere seconds.

heavy footsteps echo as dana runs towards the little group thats accumulated.

“we’ve got a mvc 5 minutes out, it’s all hands on deck,” she’s rushing, going through all the paces of preparing for a massive trauma, her rapid gaze slows as it focuses on you, her brow quirks, “is she alright.”

cassie pulls a face, glancing down at you as more commotion fills the ED.

emma runs past carrying too much gauze, nearly slipping on the floor as she rounds a corner.

“i’m fine,” you able yourself to stand, holding back tears as a wave of pain shoots down your midsection, “totally fine.”

you briefly scan the ED, eyes landing on samira who’s saying goodbye to an older patient. she turns, eyes immediately landing on you as if she knew she was in your sights. her brows furrow, face growing taut with a look of concern you’ve seen on her many times before. she mouths a ‘are you okay?’ and you nod, a slow, steady motion as to now further nauseate yourself.

you attempt a smile, the curve dropping the second robby walks around the corner in a conversation with abbot.

“we need to talk.” you finally managed to get robby alone, albeit it’s the break room, but it’ll have to do.

he says your name, and it practically tears your heart in two.

“i can’t do this right now.” you want to scoff at his words.

“well when can you, especially considering you’re leaving tonight off to god knows where.” he’s been avoiding you for days, 3 whole days of acting uncomfortably professional whenever you interact. and can’t exactly confide in anyone about the breakup, no one even knew the the relationship to begin with.

excluding samira, and at least you could rely on her.

“its like you can’t even look at me,” you gesture towards him, watching how he evades eye contact, “case and point.”

“i have a patient to check on.”

“we always have patients to check on.”

robby stands, making his way to the door, still without glancing at your face.

“michael-,”

he says your name in a way that has you inhaling deeply, heart picking up and eyes growing glossy. you suck it up, it’s now or never.

“please, just listen.”

maybe it’s a stroke of luck, or maybe he’s just decided to pity you, but it’s a chance the minute his eyes meet yours.

“i’m pr-,”

“robby, we need you.” javadi pauses in the threshold, eyes wide and panicked. you don’t hesitate to step aside, making space for robby as he casts you a look you can’t quite read right before leaving.

there’s blood streaked across the white, tile floor. footprints trailing away from it, wheel tracks where gurneys had been moved. there isn’t much time to worry about that however as your hands are currently busy giving compressions.

you’re breathing heavy as you do so, trying to ignore a drop of sweat that dips through your brow and stings your eye. it’s cold, the ac is on high, you can feel the cool air on the back of your neck. although it’s doing nothing against the heat your body has built up.

you inhale, the thick smell of iron entering your nostrils and practically coating the inside of your mouth.

something tugs at your gut, then lower, a dull sensation rapidly beginning to cramp painfully.

“16 gauge bore iv going in,” that’s abbot, he’s to your right and although he’s inches away you think it could also be miles, your vision blurs, the sounds around you fade into a indistinct hum, “… .. ….”.

you think you hear your name, body faltering slightly as you miss the count of the compressions.

it’s louder, more demanding.

you blink, tasting lemon as your uterus attempts to tear itself from the front of your stomach when,

“are you alright, doctor,” is followed by your name, direct and mildly, by your own standards, irritated, “if you can’t manage-,”

“sorry?” you blink, heaving through what feel like failing lungs as sweat coats the back of your scrub top.

there’s so much motion in the patient room, blood dripping to the floor, attendings jumping in where they can, two med students huddled in the corner, langdon is across from you, eyes wide as he looks you up and down.

“are you alright?” you swallow at the question.

“yes.”

al-hashimi nods, diligent as ever but trusting in your resolve.

you decide against your prior answer.

“actually, no, someone take over.”

abbot is swift to take your place, casting you a concerned glance as you almost lose your balance taking a few steps back.

the pain roars, stabbing, crawling into your bones and planting itself.

you lean forward, willing yourself to take in air, not allow any more lack of oxygen to make the situation worse.

“what do we have in here?” robby.

he walks in, clearly rushing to gather any useful information as he snaps on a pair of gloves. you can’t even look his way, the slightest movement shooting aches across your lower body. you go to lean your back into the wall behind, rest your head at his heavy it’s grown, when something akin to pure agony rips through your midsection.

you let out a pained gasp, catching the divided attention of your fellow colleagues.

you hear robby speak, something questioning and worried. it doesn’t register, only the faded buzzing of the world around you as it all goes hazy.

“it’s extremely inappropriate.”

robby startles at the unexpected voice of al-hashimi behind him.

“excuse me?”

“your relationship.” she’s blunt, eyes focused on the way robby looks rather perturbed. he clears in his throat.

“it’s also not up for public opinion,” he states, arms crossing, “we don’t need to get personal to work well alongside each other.”

“she’s in her twenties.”

robby feels something in him sink a little. it’s a fact he knew, obviously, one that had kept him from you at the start.

“and she’s allowed to make her own des-,”

“i’m not done.” she doesn’t smile, in fact she looks more serious than he’s ever seen the woman.

“i had a friend in residency, same situation,” she beings to narrate, “but there was a serious power imbalance, and when he went down, he brought her with him.”

robby swallows, eyes casting towards his name badge.

“it’s inappropriate for a reason, and that feeling you have? it’s also for a reason.” she concludes, watching robby shift. he doesn’t look uncomfortable, more in a state of conflicting thoughts racing around his mind.

“food for thought.” her grin is tight and practiced before she walks away.

your vision goes black before you can think to brace for the fall.

end of part one

requests are open!!

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[ofthepitt]

You're you. Michael Robinavitch

Warning: This fic contains one silver-haired ER doctor having a full-blown existential crisis in a mall after being called “oldie,” one wife ready to throw hands over anyone making her husband feel less lovable, and one tiny daughter who sees absolutely nothing except “my papa.” Expect emotional insecurity hidden behind tired smiles, soft domestic comfort, grocery shopping with zero budget limits, mirror scene vulnerability, forehead touches, sleepy midnight cuddles, and a five-year-old accidentally healing generational male insecurity with one sentence.

Michael’s off days always carried a different kind of atmosphere inside the house.

Softer. Slower.

Not because he suddenly stopped being a doctor the second he clocked out of the hospital because honestly, you didn’t think that part of him would ever fully turn off but because on days like this, he tried so hard to belong entirely to you and Aria.

And you noticed it in the little things first.

Like how he stayed in bed longer that morning instead of immediately reaching for his phone. How he lazily pulled you closer against his chest when you tried getting up too early. How he buried his face into your shoulder and muttered a sleepy, “Five more minutes,” in that rough morning voice that always weakened your knees a little.

Then there was Aria.

The second she climbed into bed between both of you, Michael’s entire attention shifted immediately.

“Papa,” she announced very seriously while sitting on his stomach. “Mama says your ponytail skill is ugly.”

You burst out laughing instantly from beside them.

Michael looked deeply offended.

“Excuse me?”

“You make me look like broccoli yesterday.”

“You did look like broccoli,” you added helpfully.

Michael narrowed his eyes at both of you.

“I’m being bullied in my own home.”

Aria giggled loudly when Michael grabbed her dramatically and buried his face into her tummy until her squeals echoed across the bedroom.

The morning continued like that afterward; warm, messy, domestic.

Michael making breakfast while wearing sweatpants low on his hips and glasses sliding slightly down his nose because he refused to put contacts in on his days off. Aria sitting on the kitchen counter kicking her legs while demanding pancake shapes that made absolutely no sense.

“I want bunny pancake!”

“You had bunny yesterday,” Michael pointed out while flipping another pancake.

“Okay… dinosaur bunny pancake.”

You snorted into your coffee.

Michael looked at her silently for a moment before sighing like the burden of fatherhood was simply too heavy.

“…I’ll see what I can do.”

And somehow, ridiculously, he actually tried.

The pancake looked horrifying.

Aria thought it was beautiful.

After breakfast, the three of you got ready to head out to the mall. Nothing extravagant. Just errands. Groceries. Things for the house. A few things Aria needed for preschool. Some skincare you’d casually mentioned running out of three weeks ago that Michael somehow remembered better than you did.

Unfortunately for you, Michael’s off days also triggered another problem.

His spending habits.

More specifically

His inability to say no to you and Aria.

“Michael,” you sighed while watching him casually toss another dress into the cart for Aria. “She does not need this.”

“She likes strawberries,” he replied simply, like that explained everything.

“It has strawberries on it,” Aria defended immediately from inside the cart.

“She already has clothes with strawberries.”

“But not this strawberry.”

Michael nodded once. “Exactly.”

You stared at both of them with betrayal.

“This family enables each other.”

Neither of them even looked guilty.

If anything, Michael looked amused.

And honestly? Watching him like this always did something dangerous to your heart.

The way he walked beside the cart while absentmindedly rubbing Aria’s hair every time he passed her. The way his large hand settled automatically on your lower back whenever crowds got thicker. The way he kept reaching for your hand for absolutely no reason other than he liked touching you.

Even while grocery shopping.

At one point, you stopped to compare prices between two products.

Michael glanced once.

Then immediately grabbed the more expensive one.

You frowned. “Michael.”

“What?”

“This one is cheaper.”

“You like the other one more.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is to me.”

Then he leaned closer slightly, voice lower near your ear.

“I work hard so my girls don’t have to stare at price tags.”

Your face warmed instantly.

“Stop saying things like that.”

“Why?” he smirked faintly. “It works every time.”

Unfortunately, the mood shifted later.

Subtle enough that Aria didn’t notice.

But you did.

The three of you had just walked out of another store when someone suddenly called his name.

“Michael?”

Michael turned first, confusion briefly crossing his face before recognition replaced it.

“…Daniel?”

The man laughed immediately and walked forward, pulling Michael into a quick one-armed hug.

“Holy shit, man. Look at you.”

You stood quietly beside Michael while they caught up, and it was strangely nice watching this older version of him interact with someone from a completely different chapter of his life.

College stories.

Old professors.

Complaints about work schedules.

The exhaustion of getting older.

At one point Daniel looked toward you and Aria.

“And this is your family?”

Michael’s expression changed immediately.

Softened.

His hand rested instinctively on Aria’s head, fingers sliding through her hair carefully.

“My daughter,” he said first, his voice gentler without realizing it. “Aria.”

Daniel blinked. “You have a whole kid now?”

“A very spoiled one,” Michael corrected.

“I heard that!” Aria protested immediately.

Daniel laughed loudly at that.

Then his attention shifted to you.

“And your wife?”

For a second, Michael looked at you.

And there it was again.

That look.

That impossibly soft look that still made your stomach flip even after all this time.

“My wife,” he repeated simply.

Not your name.

Not an introduction.

Just my wife.

Like that title alone already carried too much pride.

Everything stayed warm after that.

Easy.

Until Daniel checked the time and sighed.

“Damn, I gotta go.”

“Yeah, us too.”

They exchanged another quick hug before pulling apart.

Then Daniel grinned teasingly.

“Bye, oldie.”

Michael rolled his eyes instantly. “Fuck off.”

“I’m kidding!” Daniel laughed loudly, already walking backward away from your family. “Take care, old man!”

Michael shook his head with a quiet snort.

But afterward…

Something changed.

Not obviously.

Not enough for anyone else to catch immediately.

But you knew him too well.

At first it was just the silence.

Michael became quieter while walking beside you.

Still present physically but mentally somewhere else.

Aria would show him things excitedly, and he’d react a second too late.

“…Papa, look! Bluey bag!”

Michael blinked like he’d been pulled back into the moment.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, baby. Cute.”

But his smile didn’t fully reach his eyes.

Later, while you were waiting for coffee, you caught him staring at his reflection in the dark window of the café.

Not casually.

Not absentmindedly.

Really looking.

At his face.

At the gray in his beard.

At the lines around his eyes.

At the tiredness sitting heavier on him lately.

And suddenly Daniel’s joking “oldie” comment replayed itself loudly in your own head too.

Oh.

The realization settled heavily in your chest after that.

Throughout dinner, Michael stayed attentive enough not to worry Aria, but you noticed every little thing now.

The way he touched his beard more often.

The way his eyes lingered on younger couples walking by.

The way he smiled automatically at your jokes but seemed distracted immediately afterward.

And Michael had always been like this sometimes.

Quietly insecure.

Especially about his age.

Especially with you.

By the time you got home and finished putting Aria to bed, the feeling in your chest had turned into full worry.

You changed into your pajamas quietly afterward before heading into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

That’s when you saw him.

Michael stood shirtless in front of the sink wearing only his briefs, one hand gripping the edge of the counter while the other slowly moved over his beard.

The bathroom light was unforgivingly bright.

It highlighted every silver strand threaded through the darker beard he used to complain about trimming. The faint wrinkles near his eyes. The exhaustion etched into his features after years of stress, sleepless nights, responsibility.

His stomach wasn’t as firm as it used to be years ago either.

And the saddest part?

The way he looked at himself.

Not with vanity.

Not even frustration.

Just… quiet disappointment.

Like he was mourning a version of himself he thought he was supposed to stay.

You didn’t speak immediately.

Instead, you walked slowly toward him until you stood right behind him.

Then gently, carefully, you wrapped both arms around his waist and rested your cheek against the warmth of his back.

Michael startled slightly before relaxing once he realized it was you.

For several long seconds, neither of you spoke.

You simply stood there together in front of the mirror.

Looking at him.

Looking at the man you loved.

The man who still made Aria laugh until she snorted milk through her nose.

The man who still reached for your hand in his sleep.

The man who stayed awake through fevers, nightmares, sickness, breakdowns, exhaustion without ever making you feel alone.

“You’re thinking too much again,” you murmured softly.

Michael let out a quiet breath through his nose.

“…Am I wrong?”

Your brows furrowed immediately.

“About what?”

He looked at himself again.

“I’m getting older.”

The way he said it hurt your heart.

Not because it was true.

But because he sounded afraid of it.

You tightened your arms around him slightly.

“So am I.”

“It’s different.”

“No,” you whispered gently. “It isn’t.”

Michael laughed softly then, but there was no humor in it.

“You don’t see what I see.”

“Then tell me.”

His jaw shifted slightly.

“The gray hair. The wrinkles. The stomach.” His voice lowered more. “I don’t look like I used to.”

You stayed quiet for a moment before speaking carefully.

“Michael… do you know what I see when I look at you?”

His eyes flickered toward yours in the mirror but he didn’t answer.

“I see the man who held me after labor when I cried because I thought I wasn’t doing enough for Aria.” Your voice stayed soft and steady. “I see the father who slept sitting upright in a hospital chair because our daughter wouldn’t stop crying unless she was on his chest.”

His throat moved slightly.

“I see the husband who still buys my favorite snacks even when I forget mentioning them.” You pressed another kiss lightly against his shoulder blade. “The man who works himself to exhaustion just to make sure the people he loves are safe.”

Michael lowered his eyes quietly.

“And every gray hair?” you whispered. “Every wrinkle? It just means you stayed. It means you lived. It means Aria got more years with her papa.”

Silence filled the bathroom afterward.

Heavy.

Emotional.

Michael’s breathing slowed slightly beneath your arms.

Then finally, quietly

“You really still look at me the same?”

Your chest ached instantly.

You moved around him then, standing directly in front of him before reaching up and holding his face gently between your hands.

“Michael,” you said softly, firmly. “I have never once looked at you and wished you were younger.”

His eyes closed briefly.

“I look at you and thank God you exist.”

Something fragile flickered across his face then.

Vulnerability.

Relief.

Love.

He leaned forward slowly until his forehead rested against yours, his hands finally settling around your waist tightly.

And when he hugged you afterward, it felt desperate in the smallest quiet way.

Like he needed to be reminded he was still loved exactly as he was.

Later that night, the bedroom stayed dark and peaceful.

You slept curled against Michael’s chest, one leg tangled with his while his arm stayed wrapped securely around your waist beneath the blanket.

Even half asleep, he still held you close instinctively.

Then sometime in the middle of the night

The bedroom door creaked open softly.

Tiny footsteps shuffled across the floor.

Michael stirred first, eyes barely opening before immediately softening.

Aria.

Still sleepy.

Still holding her bunny plushie by one ear.

Her hair was a complete mess, cheeks warm from sleep, eyes barely even open properly as she climbed onto the bed clumsily.

Without a word, she crawled directly toward Michael.

Half onto him, honestly.

One tiny leg over his stomach while she snuggled against his side like she belonged nowhere else.

Which she didn’t.

Michael let out the quietest sleepy laugh.

“Hey, baby…”

Aria rubbed her face against his chest tiredly before whispering in the softest little voice imaginable,

“I love you, Papa.”

Michael’s entire expression softened instantly.

Then Aria added sleepily,

“You’re my papa.”

Not complicated.

Not poetic.

Just certain.

Absolute.

Like in her little world, there was nobody better to belong to.

Michael swallowed hard before wrapping his arm tighter around her automatically, pulling her close while keeping you tucked safely against his other side too.

Three people tangled together under warm blankets.

And in the darkness, with his daughter asleep against him and you breathing softly on his chest

Michael stopped seeing gray hair.

Stopped seeing wrinkles.

Stopped seeing age.

Because all he could feel was love.

Please do not copy my work. If you enjoy it, I’d really appreciate your support by liking and reblogging instead of reposting or copying. Thank you for respecting my writing and giving proper credit. 🤍 xoxo, offthepitt.

[asmodazed]

ℭ𝔥𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔶𝔞 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𐦍༘

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: yes yes another headcanon another character, who cares will I stop. Probably not untill someone requests anything other then headcannons so uh yeah here's our cat, cunning, charismatic neurosurgeon 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐚

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

✭ 𝐈𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 I think that Chishiya as a person is very observant we've seen this in multiple games like the 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 and the 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 he notices things that other would miss

✭ 𝐈𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 this guy has trust issues because he knows how easy it is to be manipulated so he doesn't share much about his personal life to others

✭ 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 I think that as a partner Chishiyas act of love is gift giving, because as he works in the medical field it'll be hard to spend time with his s/o so I think he'd get you stuff you say in passing like clothes or books just to show he notices and cares

✭ 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 I think out of the cast he remained good friends with Arisu as his therapist and fellow medical field worker that they would often get after work drinks together

✭ 𝐏𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 I can't imagine Chishiya having many friends, I can see him being relentless in studies due to his structure and family pressure but he seems like a library kid

✭ 𝐈𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 his house is covered in books and he has two cats called Tetsu and Chiaki that he's allergic too but adopted anyways

✭ 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 He stayed in his own house after his first game and quickly adapted into the lifestyle of borderland but instead of farming or hunting, nope he just went into other peoples houses and stole food and stuff to build his diy projects

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: yes this is extremely short bug I'm currently injured and can't write as much. I'm trying to be more consistent with my posts so I can start getting 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 and even create a masterlist and tap into other fandons but for now this is all ౨ৎ

[p1nkbfang]

i love this

[vividxpages]

Jack would never be the kind of boyfriend who waits outside of the store on some bench, collectively staring at his phone with a bunch of other bored guys who are waiting for their girlfriends to finish up shopping.

He's carrying your bags and purse for you so you'll have two free hands while browsing. And he actually looks out for clothes you'd like too, he's not even carrying his phone with him. He just needs his card and one of your scrunchies on his wrist because he knows you're likely to sweat inside of the changing room later.

He's silently collecting the clothes you're picking on his arm, occasionally dropping some of his choices on there too.

There's also a smol water bottle tucked into his back pocket which shouldn't even fit but somehow does and makes you stare at his ass way too often. He can't have his baby girl get thirsty and have no refreshment close.

He loves how you gasp when spotting a pretty summer dress or cute heels! You get so giddy and walk away from him fast, but he never loses sight of you, not once.

Jack's favorite thing to shop for is underwear or bikinis.

Because for that, you always need his opinion and he slips behind the curtain of the changing room, backing you up against the big mirror while dropping the bags and taking a reaaally good look at you.

"Jesus, baby...you're so fucking beautiful." while his hands roam over your waist, his thumb slipping just past your cute flimsy bottoms.

"Don't you think it's too short?" Aw, you're blushing. Jack is so fucking hard.

"Too short for what? Our private pool at the air bnb with no one except us there? No, baby, it's alright." He kisses your forehead, his hand caressing your underboob that peeks out from the bra top. "You'll gonna look fucking hot, I can barely contain myself now, do you know what you'll do to me once we're on vacation?"

That bashful smile is gonna kill him.

Even more than the cute bikini on his girl.

[p1nkbfang]

i just got done shopping for bikinis...

[hyvnesangel]

showing skz your nails ft : skz

⚘( ၴႅၴ summary : showing skz your nails but they’re a lil distracted by the background

cw : suggestive, boob and ass pics, chan calls reader a brat, mentions to oral (m! receiving), mentions to a strip tease, reader stole hyunjin, seungmin, jeongin’s card LMAO

kitty talks : i love these lil smau’s omg also this is how i show my new nails #cuntress

wc : 16 ss

chan :

lee know :

changbin :

hyunjin :

han :

felix :

seungmin :

jeongin :

taglist :

@stryscribbles @bakapd003 @sids-gifts @itzkaitlynm @v3n7s @brivip @b4echo @kloversung @klarkapascal @itslorena03love @lostinmymind-daydreaming

[violetsnowdropp]

Another One

Warnings: non really proofread lol, pure smut, gynaephilia? needy asf reader who needs multiple orgasms, totally not referring to myself i hope im not alone

Brendon had already forced two orgasms out of you on his cock, and munched on 3 before that on the sofa. Panting and cock still twitching inside of you after painting those gummy walls white, his hands planted on your hips as the ringing in his ears cleared up. Before he knew it, you were rocking your hips again, needy and whiny, eyes still closed as you arched and grounded down on his softening cock.

“W—Woah, woah, baby,” He gulped, his voice cracking briefly, “You need a break—” Really, he needs a fucking break.

All he got in response was a bratty whine, “I need another..”

“Sweetness, I can’t— I need a minute,” He pants, eyes wide and genuinely shocked. This must’ve been your fifth orgasm, you have more to give him? He’s not gonna say no, but his cock felt like it was on fire.

“Bren, please!” You wailed, hands planted on his pecs, scratching lightly across the dark hairs. “I need more, Bren…”

He continues to catch his breath, managing to get you off his cock and below him, slotting between you trembling thighs and parting those puffy lips. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for you, he couldn’t let his sweet girl go unsatisfied just because he needs 5 minutes to get hard again. Big hands drag up and down your thighs, callouses rough against your soft skin, planting sensual kisses down your inner thighs until he meets your messy pussy. “S’okay, sweetness, i’ll take care of you, hm?”

He’d gently kiss down your puffy lips, unfazed by his own seed drooling from your overwhelmed hole, kissing your clit before taking a big stripe of his fat tongue. Finally, relief…

You felt like velvet on his tongue, tasted even better. He could live and die against your cunt. So warm and beautiful, something so incredible and sensitive that could give life, and he was giving you pleasure. Fuck, he didn’t think he could fall more in love with you. Or your pussy. He licked up greedily, stroking under your button repeatedly and watching your face contort in pleasure, devastating moans leaving your throat — because he knew your body better than yourself, which felt dangerous cause you could never make yourself cum as good as he made you — and gently sucking on your nub as he pushed two thick fingers inside you, stuffing you full and keeping his seed inside. Just in case. He just earned himself a surprised, choked gasp and a desperate moan as he massaged at that precious spongy spot where only his fingers could reach. That paired with his attentive tongue nearly making out with your clit made you feel a bit dizzy, clenching around his fingers and tugging on his dark curls, begging in any way you could since words didn’t matter to you any longer.

His head ducked slightly, slipping his tongue in beside his fingers and nudging your clit with his beautiful nose, panting like a dog from your taste. Tangy, sweet, so very you and he couldn’t fucking get enough of it. He only groaned in encouragement when you wrapped your thighs around his head, heels digging into his scapulas as he sent you barreling into your release, accompanied by a shattering cry after a heedful suck on your clit.

He rested against your inner thigh when you came down, panting harshly and resting your head sideways on the pillow. He was too busy admiring your pretty face to see your hips bucking again.

“..One more?”

[crashingcryptid]

What if the reader fell asleep while on Konig's dick. Like they were riding him (he was moving them for them) and they already had their face against his chest, but all of a sudden they just slump a bit more. What would he do?

"Liebling?" König nudges your head with his nose, chuckling when you let out the softest snore. He knew you were already tired when you started pawing at his cock. He told you that you would fall asleep, but you had begged, whined so so sweetly for him to 'just fuck me, please -"

Of course, he had to give you what you asked for. "Oh, you poor sleepy thing." He coos as he cups your ass a little more firmly, leaning back on the couch. "Your Dad always has to take care of everything for you, huh?"

He bounces you quickly, careful not to jostle you around too much. "That's alright... I love taking care of you." You let out the softest little moans when he hits that sweet spot inside of you, face twisting sleepily. Even in your sleep, you sucked him in, squeezing around him tight until he came deep inside you.

"Sleep well, little one. I'll keep you warm in my lap."

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Now here’s Robby x short!reader

“Well, well. It’s a dead man walking!” You quip as Robby heads toward the hub.

He snorts and shakes his head at you, “Isn’t a little too early for your shit talk, Smalls?”

“Never too early, Gigantor,” you reply back with a smirk.

He hums and leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips, “Morning.”

“Morning. If you can’t tell, I’m a little delirious.”

Robby chuckles, “You don’t say?”

“I can’t wait to be back on day shift and sleep like a regular person!”

“Hey! I thought you liked being a Nightcrawler,” Jack says as he circles around the hub.

You shrug, “You guys are built different.”

Both Robby and Jack both chuckle. Robby then asks Jack, “You treatin’ my girl okay, Abbot?”

“She’s a trooper…when she’s not being an annoying little shit.”

“…I’m not afraid to steal your prosthetic and beat you with it, Abbot.”

Jack chuckles, “So much fire in such a tiny body.”

You go to launch at Jack and Robby holds you back, “Alright, honey. Ease up. We’re gonna do hand offs and then you can go home. There’s food waiting for you when you get there.”

“Yay!” You hug your partner and then go finish up checking on your patients.

Both Robby and Jack’s eyes follow you. They shake their heads in disbelief.

“She’s like a gremlin.”

“Careful, if you get water on her, she might multiply,” Jack murmurs, clapping a hand on Robby’s shoulder and guiding him to the South wing.

[p1nkbfang]

my 147cm self loves this

[loves-alibi]

listen to me.. rabbot throuple with chubby!robby and chubby!reader (gn!reader) (tw: lots of body stuff! dont read if that's triggering! no toxicity just miscommunications...)

So, Jack is fit. Fit as fuck, if we’re being perfectly honest.

Now, Robby’s always had that natural skinniness that comes with being an abnormally tall young man. His metabolism was like a party trick. In med school, he could pound back entire pizzas without even being bloated in the morning.

But that was in his twenties. Robby’s now in his fifties, and his metabolism left him sometime around thirty-five. In his thirties and forties, he tried to keep a pretty balanced diet, but after getting in a relationship with Jack and then you, it became a lot harder to keep off the pounds.

Relationship weight, Jack said when Robby pointed it out one night. It’s a good thing.

You’ve put on a little weight too since joining them, but you’ve always been a bit bigger, softer. It's always been something you were conscious of, but it hasn't been a problem really. You're healthy, active from working in the ED, eat well, and have taken to hitting the gym with Jack when you can/want.

At the end of the day, your bodies are what they are. Sure, Robby gets a little insecure sometimes, and maybe you get frustrated when you notice that your favorite pair of jeans are fitting differently, but your bodies don't determine anything more about your life than how you look. No sadness. No hatred. Sure, Jack is in some of the best shape of his life, but that doesn't have to mean anything for his partners.

Or, so you both thought.

It's a passing comment that starts your shared spiral. You're looking over old photos with Robby. Jack had the photo album made for your third anniversary as a trio. It's sweet, touching, and you like to browse through it from time to time.

"Look at this," Robby gasps, pointing at a polaroid photo. It's from your first holiday party at PTMC, four months before you joined Jack and Robby's relationship. In the photo, the men have their arms slung over your shoulders, both of their faces pink with cheer (and the spiked eggnog that Dana brought), you're beaming at the camera, while they're looking at you.

"Oh my gosh," you coo. As you do, Jack wheels into the room. You turn, lifting the album so he can see over the back of the couch. "Jack, baby, look!"

"Wow," Jack whistles. "Look at how skinny you two were."

And that's it.

When Jack wheels himself out of the room and into the study, you and Robby freak out. You mull over his words, what he meant by them. Sure, you both have gained some weight over the years, and Jack is as trim as ever, but is he seriously put off by it? Why wouldn't he say anything? How long has he felt like this?

You don't know who was the one to first suggest it, but the conversation comes to one simple conclusion: you both need to lose weight.

It's so fucking stupid, so wrong for you both to put so much effort into changing yourselves for him, but you and Robby are just so terrified that Jack's just going to wake up one day and realize that he's not attracted to you anymore. That he can do better.

You start dieting. Robby starts hitting the gym with you and Jack. In two months, you and he lose a collective seventeen pounds. You two are proud of yourself, maybe not thrilled to be putting so much effort and thought into your weight and restricting yourselves, but still proud.

Enter Jack.

He’s so worried about you and Robby. Jack starts cooking dinner, giving you and Robby larger than necessary portions because why are his partners suddenly losing weight? Even if it's just a few pounds, Jack is freaking out.

He cuts back on going to the gym, starts sleeping in and begging you guys to stay in bed longer with him. It works a few times, and then you and Robby start getting up anyways to go to the gym without him.

Finally, after you and Robby lose another five pounds each, Jack decides he cannot allow this to go on any longer.

It's like an intervention. Jack has you and Robby sit on the couch and he sits right in front of you two in his chair. With tears in his eyes, he barely manages to ask, "Why?"

Needless to say, you and Robby are confused. You ask Jack to elaborate, and he does. He rants for what feels like an hour about how you and Robby are starving yourselves (you're really not, but Jack isn't ready to hear that yet), how heartbroken he is to see you guys shedding so much weight, and that you shouldn't feel the need to change your bodies unless you want to.

And that's where he loses you two.

It's you who speaks up. Actually, you really yell at Jack, who just sits there slack-jawed as you say you're only doing this because Jack made the comment about how you gained weight.

Now Jack, poor, poor Jack, is confused, because what comment?

You have to explain it to him, word-for-word. Even then, Jack is confused. He remembers seeing the picture. He remembers commenting on how skinny you guys were, but in what world does that mean you need to lose weight?

You're about to yell at him when Robby, sweet Robby, playing peacemaker for once in his life, makes Jack explain himself. Jack, looking like a lost puppy, says how much he loves your bodies and how off-putting it was to see that picture, where you two looked, quote, so unloved.

"Unloved?" You blink at him, "Jack, are you fucking kidding?"

"What?" He asks, genuinely confused.

You're about to open your mouth again, but Robby puts a hand on your thigh, "Baby, I think what we're trying to ask is– you prefer us now?"

"Well, not now," Jack shrugs. "I prefer you before you guys started dieting, but definitely not in that photo." He pulls a face, "God, you were so skinny."

So begins the staring contest. Jack's eyes flick from yours to Robby's as you both stare at him. Robby looks amused, while you look ready to kill him.

Jack finally asks, "What?"

"We thought you were fat shaming us, asshole!" You yell.

"Oh," he blinks. Realization hits him like a train. "Oh no!"

After about ten minutes of profuse apologies, Jack makes sure to show his partners just how much he loves their bodies. And that night, as Jack plants himself right between the two of you, your bodies warm and soft against him, he thanks fucking God that he doesn't have to lose all this.

[loves-alibi]

hold my hand when i say chubby alpha!robby (f!reader)

For alphas, size is a big part of identity. It's a leftover biological urge to be large, be able to protect an omega from possible threats, specifically other alphas. It's their biological imperative to put on as much muscle mass as they can.

Omegas also tend to have an underlying bias towards larger, muscular alphas.

Enter Robby, an alpha who was never very good at putting on muscle in his younger days, which lands him here: a middle aged, chubby man. Sure, he's tall and has a decent amount of muscle, but most of it is buried under fat. When people look at him, they don't think he's buff, they think he's chunky.

As if that's not bad enough, Robby has his sights set on an omega. The same omega that Jack is pining after.

Day after day, Robby has to watch as Jack hits on you, pulls out all the stops. Robby doesn't stand a chance. He doesn't even try because, the thing is, you seem to like Jack. You laugh at his jokes, accept the coffee and pastries he brings you every morning before he goes home. If there was any alpha in this department that you'd go after, it's Jack.

Or so Robby thought.

His shift has barely started when Robby finds Jack shuffling awkwardly away from you with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs. Robby doesn't even need to ask what happened before Jack spills.

"I asked her out," Jack says like it's the only explanation needed.

Robby blinks. If Jack asked you out, then why does he look so upset?

Unless...

"She said no?"

Jack nods, "Didn't even think about it."

Apparently, Robby is a glutton for punishment, because he pats Jack on the shoulder and says, "Don't worry, brother. I'll go talk to her."

"Good luck," Jack grumbles, already retreating to the lockers.

Robby doesn't need to do much looking. Your scent alone, strong even despite the scent patches you wear, is easy enough to follow. Robby finds you charting, typing away and looking too nonchalant for someone who just turned down a perfectly fine alpha.

"Hey there," Robby says, pretending to read over your chart. "How's it going?"

"If he sent you here to change my mind, it won't work."

Robby bites back a smile. You're a strong-headed omega, always have been. "I offered to."

"What a mensch."

He chuckles, “Dr. Abbot’s a good guy. You should give him a chance."

"I know." You shrug, not even pausing as you type up the chart, "But I'm not interested."

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s too… uh,” you clear your throat, shaking your head. “Not my type.”

Robby snorts, “What, too muscular for you?” His words are sharp and mean, an unfair projection of his insecurities onto you.

“Actually,” you chuckle nervously. “Yeah.”

Robby doesn't remember much of the rest of the day, his mind is too busy turning your conversation over in his head.

What omega doesn't like a muscular alpha? Maybe you prefer someone skinnier, someone like Mohan. Or maybe Garcia, still muscular, but much leaner than Jack. That must be it, Robby decides. Surely you just prefer a leaner alpha.

Robby accepts that as the truth. Just like before, he resigns himself to keeping his distance, telling himself there's no world in which you'd go for him.

How wrong he is.

You're frustrated, to say the least. You've been working at PTMC for the last three years, and each and every day you've been here, it's been a struggle not to throw yourself at your attending and beg him to claim you.

You drop every hint. You push your scent when you see him outside of work. You always pour him a coffee when you're in the staff lounge (with two cubes of sugar, even though he's a stubborn alpha who lies to everyone and says he prefers it black). Hell, you told him that you don't prefer musclar, cut alphas and still this man doesn't understand that you want him.

For fuck's sake, you've stolen a sweatshirt from him for your nest. That was last fall, and while the scent faded quickly (thanks to the fact that you spend every single heat with your face buried in it, imagining that it's him), the idea of returning it has on multiple occasions made you cry.

Finally, you decide to confront him. It's two days before your heat and you're sick and tired of dropping every goddamn hint that Robby is your walking wet dream. If he's not going to court you, then you just have to take matters into your own hands.

You corner him by the lockers. You've already taken your scent patches off for the day. Typically, you wait to do it until you're finally home, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Robinavitch," you bite. You're caging him against the lockers, "Put in for PTO starting Tuesday."

Robby gulps. His pupils are blown, the brown of his eyes almost entirely disappeared thanks to the scent of pre-heat flooding his senses. He stutters, "W-Why?"

"My heat."

"I don't see why I need to–"

"You're spending it with me," you say like it's law. Frankly, it might as well be. You know that with this option on the table, Robby would be remiss to pass it up. "Unless you have a problem with that," you add, just to see him panic.

"No! No! I–" Robby blinks. What'd you give to know what he's thinking right now... "I haven't courted you."

You scoff, "Yeah, believe me, I know. This is your chance to make it up."

"Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent. I'm sick and fucking tired of waiting for you to wake up and make a move."

"But I'm..." Robby clears his throat. Quietly, he finishes his thought, "I'm fat."

"Good," you say quickly, because the thought of making him feel bad for his body makes you ill. In no word will you allow him to be insecure about one of the hottest parts of him. "I look forward to seeing your fat self in my nest."

Robby's jaw drops. You smile.

"I'll text you my address." Ignoring the obvious tent in his pants, you wink, "See you soon."

[thatsthatbridepresso]

Red, White, and Positive

Rating: 18+ MATURE THEMES.

Warnings: mentions of medical procedures, medical terminology, nausea, vomitng, (you know where this is leading without spoiling it lol), age gap relationship, attending and nurse relationship. IF I FORGOT ANYTHING LET ME KNOW!

I think this may need a conclusion 🤔

***Dedicated to my bestie @josephs-quinns***

Part of you thought you were still dreaming when the alarm began to beep—sharp and insistent—from the bedside table. His bedside table. Jack exhaled softly and slapped it silent.

“Time for you to go already?” you murmured, voice thick with sleep as you rolled toward him. A quiet chuckle. 

“Yeah. Gotta head out. I’m helping downtown with the SWAT team.” 

You suppressed a sigh. Jack had volunteered as a SWAT physician—something you’d never quite made peace with. It put him in harm’s way, more than he already was. But you’d learned not to stand between him and the things that steadied him. He said it helped with the PTSD. Said the adrenaline kept the worst of it at bay. “

And you’re working tonight?” you asked, stifling a yawn.

 “Yeah.” 

For once, you weren’t. The plan—if things stayed quiet—was to meet him later, catch a few minutes of fireworks. A fragile plan at best. He was the night shift attending, after all. 

Jack pushed back the covers. 

“Jack.” You reached for him, fingers closing gently around his arm.

“Yes, baby?” 

“Please—be careful.”

 Even half-asleep, your tone carried weight. He stilled. For a fleeting second, he wished he hadn’t volunteered. That he could stay right here, in this bed, with you—until duty called later, on his own terms. 

“I will,” he said quietly. “You know I will.” 

He leaned in and kissed you, slow and deliberate. 

You exhaled. “I just worry.” 

“I know.” 

Another soft kiss. 

“I’ll be careful.” 

Reluctantly, you let him go. He rose from the bed, reaching for his prosthetic. You watched as he fitted it into place, movements practiced and unthinking, then stood and stretched. Sleep was already slipping further out of reach. Not with where he was going. Not today. You lay there, silent, as he pulled on camo pants and a black t-shirt, then reached for his shirt. 

“I love you,” he murmured, bending to press a kiss to your head.

You looked up at him, catching his lips before he could pull away. “

I love you too.” Then he was gone. 

The bedroom felt too large without him. Too quiet. You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling fan as it turned in slow, endless circles. Round and round. 

After a minute, your stomach shifted uneasily. Another minute, and the room tilted just slightly. You closed your eyes, pressing a hand to your abdomen. Maybe it would pass. It didn’t.

 The nausea surged, sudden and sharp, your mouth flooding with saliva. Oh, shit. You threw the covers aside and stumbled out of bed, moving quickly—too quickly—toward the bathroom. 

Barely making it, you dropped to your knees and flipped the lid just in time. Your body heaved, the burn rising fast, tearing through your throat as you vomited what little your stomach held. 

Not much. 

You hadn’t eaten much the night before. You hadn’t been able to, lately. You coughed, bracing yourself against the porcelain, waiting. Another wave hit—harder, faster. Then again. By the time it passed, you were left with nothing but dry heaves and shaking breaths. 

Finally, it stopped. You slumped back against the cool tile wall, eyes closed, letting the chill seep into your skin. It helped. A little. A stomach bug, maybe. Something you picked up at work. The ER was a breeding ground for that kind of thing. 

When you could stand, you forced yourself to the sink and glanced at your reflection. 

God—you looked awful. You grabbed a washcloth, ran it under cold water, and pressed it to your forehead as you made your way back to bed. The sheets were still warm from him. Maybe sleep would fix it. 

You weren’t sure how long you were out when your phone started ringing. You groaned, fumbling for it. “Hello?” 

“Jesus Christ, you sound like hell.” Dana. 

“I feel like it,” you muttered. 

Even through the phone, the ER was unmistakable—voices layered over one another, distant alarms, the constant hum of controlled chaos. 

“I’m guessing this is a bad time to ask you to come in?”

 You hesitated. “Is it that bad?” 

Dana exhaled. “Yeah. Our charting system’s down. Two nearby hospitals got hit with cyberattacks, so IT pulled us offline.” 

“Analog, huh?” You dragged a hand over your face. 

"Yeah. And we could really use the help.” 

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, pausing to steady yourself. The dizziness had dulled, but hadn’t disappeared. “I’ll be there,” you said. A beat of silence.

“Seriously? You sure?” 

“Yes. Don’t ask me again, or I might change my mind.

” Dana laughed softly. “Fair enough. Be careful coming in.”

“I will.”

 You ended the call and sat there for a moment, exhaling into the quiet. Then you pushed the covers aside. Time to go. 

Getting ready went more smoothly than you expected. The nausea that had wracked you earlier had faded to a faint, unsettled flutter low in your stomach—easy enough to ignore if you didn’t think about it too much. Still… it had been happening more often. Always in the mornings. Always on your days off. 

By evening, it vanished as if it had never been there at all. You paused for a second, hand lingering absently against your abdomen, brow faintly furrowed—then shook it off and reached for your uniform. No time to dwell on it now. 

You hesitated as you brushed your hand down your uniform, a stray thought tugging at the edge of your mind. You were probably just late. Stress did that. Long shifts, bad sleep—nothing unusual. You pushed the thought aside and kept moving. 

Grabbing your purse, you stepped outside—and were immediately hit with the thick, suffocating heat. A typical Fourth of July in Pittsburgh. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed—ambulances, police, all bleeding together into one constant, urgent noise. 

You found yourself straining to separate them, as you might somehow recognize which one belonged to Jack. Your chest tightened despite yourself. You pushed the thought away. He was fine. He had to be. 

Halfway to PTMC, you slowed. The thought from earlier—the one you’d brushed aside—pressed back in, harder this time. Mornings. The nausea. The way your appetite had shifted. The way your body just felt….different. 

You stopped on the sidewalk, exhaling slowly. There was a CVS pharmacy just up the street. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you turned and went inside. The blast of air conditioning made you shiver as you stepped in from the heat. Fluorescent light hummed overhead, too bright—too clinical. You moved quickly, waving past aisles you didn’t register, heading straight for the section you knew by heart. You’d walked friends and co-workers this before. Countless times. 

Just never yourself.

 You hand hovered for a second before you grabbed a box for a pink and white stick that would decide your fate—then another, just in case—and made your way to the register. You kept your gaze down, heartbeat loud in your ears, as if anyone here might know. 

Minutes later, you were back outside, the small plastic bag looped tightly around your fingers. Sirens were still going. Jack. Your grip tightened. You turned toward PTMC and picked up your pace; the weight of the bag suddenly felt heavier than it should’ve been. 

The waiting room was already overflowing by the time you stepped inside—voices layered over one another, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder. It was going to be a long evening. You offered a quick smile to Lupe at the front desk before swiping your badge and slipping past the secured doors into the chaos everyone called The Pitt. 

The noise hit you immediately—phones ringing, voices overlapping, monitors chiming in uneven rhythms. You moved through it on instinct, weaving between frequent flyers, rushing nurses, and a handful of unfamiliar faces—day shift staff you rarely crossed paths with. “

Well, hey there, stranger. Fuck, am I glad to see you.” Dana rounded the desk and pulled you into a tight hug. A little too tight. 

Your stomach protested immediately, a sharp flicker of nausea twisting low. You forced a small laugh, carefully easing back before it had a chance to show on your face. 

“Wow. Don’t I feel special?”, you managed, your breath catching as you eased back, one hand briefly brushing your stomach. 

Dana didn’t look away. Her eyes moved over you slowly, deliberately, as if cataloging every detail—and filing it somewhere for later.

 “So,”, you said, steadying your breath. “where do you need me first?”

“There’s the turncoat.” You turned at the familiar voice, already smiling as you found Dr. Robby’s smirk. He pulled you into an easy side hug. You stiffened for just a second, then relaxed when he didn’t squeeze. 

“Easy,” you teased, easing back. “At least buy me dinner first.” 

He smirked. “Wow. I see Dr. Abbot’s charm is finally starting to rub off on you.” 

His gaze flicked over you half a second longer, like he was looking for him in you. “Should I be worried?”

 You elbowed him lightly. “Just because he’s my husband doesn’t mean he’s rubbed off on me.” You said, lifting your fingers in quick air quotes. 

“Sure,” Robby chuckled. “Keep telling yourself that. I’m just saying you’ve started sounding suspiciously like him.” If you weren’t at work, you would’ve flipped him off and kept walking.

 All the chaos, the noise—and somehow you didn’t notice Dr. Ellis until she was right there, slipping through the crowd in her casual summer wear. She had her deposition today. “

Hey,” she said, slowing as she reached you. A small, familiar smile tugged at her mouth, but her eyes flicked over you more carefully than usual. “What are you doing here on day shift? You look like you lost a bet.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Dana said they needed some reinforcements since the charting system is down.” 

Her mouth curved, but her gaze lingered on you a second longer than the joke required. 

“Reinforcements huh?”, she said lightly. “You look like you’ve already been recruited and overworked.” You grabbed a paperchart. 

“Wow, Ellis.”, you groaned. “Way to make a girl feel special.”

Her smile lingered, but her eyes stayed on you a moment longer than the joke required. “You’re doing okay, though?” she asked lightly, like it wasn’t a big deal either way. 

“I’m good,” you said, a little too quickly, offering a brief smile. “Just need some caffeine and a slower patient load. You working tonight?”, you asked, already moving on, eyes dropping to the chart in your hand. 

“Yeah, gonna try to go in an emtpy room and catch some sleep before the shift tonight.” 

You nodded. 

“Get some rest.” Ellis nodded. 

“I will.”

 With that, she was on her way to find a quiet space to sleep for a few hours. She had her deposition today regarding the child who had measles. Mel was also up for her deposition and wasn’t handling the anxiety very well. You could tell by the crunched up look on her face when you asked how she was. 

“Hey, we got a police officer, incoming trauma.”, you heard Robby behind you. 

“Coming.” 

There were patients everywhere—lined along the hallways on stretchers, slumped in wheelchairs, all waiting for beds that hadn’t opened upstairs. 

“Should be here any minute.”, you said, grabbing supplies with praticed efficiency. 

All you could do was a take a steadying breath and hope Jack was okay— wherever he was , whatever he was walking into. The ER doors burst open. You barely had time to register the movement before the stretcher came through—and then your breath caught. 

Jack. 

He was at the front, focused, already working—one hand sealing the bag valve mask, ventilating the police officer strapped to the stretcher. 

“Intubated neck wound,” he called out, voice sharp and controlled. “Sats not great. We were diverted here. Is there a trauma room open?”

Your brain caught up a second too late.

“Trauma one,” you answered, a little too quickly. 

He glanced up—just for a second.

A double take. His eyes flicked back to yours—just for a second—quietly asking what the hell you were doing here, on day shift of all things. You gave him a faint smile—small, quick—later. 

“What’s the story?”, Robby asked as he snapped on gloves, instantly falling into a quiet, repetitive rhythm like he was on autopilot.

“My buddy, Officer Hiro, high velocity GSW,” Jack said, not missing a beat as he worked the bag. “He’s getting harder to bag. Warehouse robbery gone sideways.”

No one needed to say anything else. Dr. Santos, one of Robby’s residents, jumped in to help. 

You moved in with them automatically, helping transfer Hiro from the ambulance stretcher to the trauma bed. Hands working in sync. Muscle memory already taking over. 

Jack turned briefly to the other police officers who had followed them in. “You guys wait here,” he said, firm but calm. “We’ll take care of him, I promise.” 

Then he glanced back at Robby. “I thought you left us already for the open road?”

Robby huffed a quiet laugh, not looking up from his work. “And miss seeing you in uniform?”

You rolled your eyes, a small smirk tugging at your lips despite everything. 

“You should see me as a flight attendant,” Jack mused in response.

“Did you do this intubation?” Robby asked, all business again. 

“Under active fire, yeah.”

Jack almost cursed himself after he revealed that bit of information. Your face went pale, stomach turning over immediately. 

He seemed to realize it a second too late.

Your stomach flipped—sharp, sudden. The room tilted slightly, your face draining of color as you forced yourself to stay focused.

Not now. Your stomach twisted—whether from the lingering nausea or the thought of Jack working under active fire, you couldn’t tell. 

Either way, you shoved it down. You didn’t have room for it. Not here. 

“Uh oh,” Robby drawled, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Don’t think the missus knew that one—”

He stopped.

Your expression had changed. 

Jack’s head snapped toward you, his glare shifting instantly from Robby to something sharper.

“Are you serious?” Santos chimed in. 

“I go in with the team in case there’s an injury,” Jack said, clipped, already half-distracted. 

“That’s badass.”

The word barely registered. 

“You okay?”, Robby asked easily. 

“Yeah,” you said, the word coming too easily—smooth enough that you almost wondered if either Robby or Jack would catch the lie threading through it. 

“Dr. Santos, let’s make sure these lungs are up. Could you see the chords?”, Robby asked, already turning his attention back to your husband.

Jack let out a faint, humorless breath. “Yeah, there was a great view, but it was hard to pass after I cleared them.”

“Hey guys—his sats are down to eighty-five,” you cut in, quick and steady, steering the focus away even as your stomach continued to churn. 

The room began to stretch at the edges, voices thinning, Robby, Jack, and Santos seeming to drift farther away. You gave a small shake of your head, forcing the blur back into focus.

“Dr. Santos, what could cause respiratory failure in an intubated patient?”

“There are a lot of possibilities,” she said, a hint of impatience creeping in. 

“Think DOPE.”

Santos nodded. “Displacement, Obstruction, Pneumothorax, Equipment failure. Good lung sliding, no pneumo.”

“It’s displacement,”, Robby cut in. “Okay, that’s a transected trachea.”

“Pulling out. Bag him.”, Jack ordered, his attention fixed on Hiro—deliberately fixed there, because the alternative was looking at you and confirming what he already suspected: something wasn’t right. 

He didn’t know what. Only that you were off.

You stepped in without a word, taking over the bag, freeing their hands. The motion was automatic, practiced—something to anchor yourself to. 

“But if you intubate again, won’t it just come straight out of the wound?”

“Yep, exactly. So we’re gonna need another plan.” Jack’s response was clipped. 

“Sats down to eighty-three percent,” you called, swallowing hard against the nausea rising again.

“Yeah, he’s not moving any air,” Robby agreed. “Okay, I need a neonatal mask.”

“Neonatal?”, Santos echoed. 

“Yep.”

The confusion flickered across her face, but she didn’t hesitate. She moved to the pediatric crash cart, pulled a drawer open, grabbed the mask, and had it hooked up to oxygen in seconds. 

All four of you watched the monitor, waiting. 

The number climbed. 

“Sats up to ninety-eight,”, you said, a quiet breath slipping out—relief tangled with the persistent churn in your stomach. Not gone. Just…waiting. 

“Neonatal mask is working,” Jack said, a faint smirk touching his mouth. 

“Santos, finish the FAST.”

Jack was already moving, drawing up two syringes with the ease of muscle memory. 

Santos glanced at him. “What—what are you injecting?”

“Lido with epi. It’ll clamp off any bleeders,” Jack answered, not looking up. 

“We need some skin hooks. Four Shiley?”

Jack made a low sound of dissent. “Mm. I don’t like the curve of a Shiley.”

“I didn’t know you were so picky,” Robby shot back, an edge in his voice.

“Santos, take a break. Help me cut down a 6-0 ET tube,” Jacks said, redirecting the room with practiced ease.

The rhythm shifted instantly. 

Before Santos could respond, another voice cut through the noise—cool, edged. 

“What’s going on here?”

A woman stepped in, already gloved, already assessing. “You have a field medic assisting you?”

You didn’t miss the tone—thinly veiled, sharp enough to catch. 

Robby didn’t even look up. “Dr. Abbot is an attending, and he’s also a SWAT physician.”

“My buddy Hiro here is in bad need of an airway,” Jack added, unconcerned, his focus fixed on the task. He held the tube steady, tapping a precise spot with his finger. “Cut it right here.”

Santos moved quickly, scissors flashing under the harsh trauma lights. 

“We can do this,” Dr. Al-Hashimi said, her gaze settling on Jack—measured, appraising.

But you knew that look on your husband. The set in his shoulders, the quiet narrowing of his focus. He wasn’t handing this off. 

“No, no—I got it,” Jack said, not unking, but immovable. A flicker of recognition crossed his face. “You must be Gloria’s new hire.”

“Yes. Dr. Al-Hashimi.” She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Well, I’d like to shake your hand”, Jack replied, adjusting his grip on the modified tube. “But my tube is ready.”

A faint pause—almost humor, almost not. 

“And if I could find and secure the distal trachea, we have a shot at this.”

“Okay,” she nodded, pulling her gloves snug, stepping closer to the monitor. “I’ll keep an eye on the sats.”

The numbers glowed steady—for now. 

“Excuse me,” you said, the words slipping out before you could dress them up, soften them. “I’ll be right back.” 

Your stomach lurched hard, the warning no longer subtle. Cold sweat prickled at the back of your neck, the edges of your vision threatening to blur again. 

You didn’t wait for permission. 

“In the middle of a trauma?”, Dr. Al-Hashimi questioned, the disbelief clear, cutting through the controlled urgency in the room.

Jack’s head snapped up. 

“Hey.” It wasn’t loud, but it cut clean through the room. His eyes flicked to you—quick, assessing—then back to her, sharper now. “She said she’ll be back.”

His jaw tightened just slightly. 

“We’re covered.”

It wasn’t a discussion. 

His gaze found you again for half a second longer this time—checking, tracking before he forced himself back to the task in front of him, hands steady even as something in his posture shifted, coiled tighter than before.

As soon as you cleared the doorway, you were moving fast—so fast, purposeful, just shy of a run. The noise of the emergency room fell away behind you, replaced by the hollow rush of blood in your ears. 

Your mouth flooded, sudden and unmistakable.

There was no time.

You shoved open the door to the staff bathroom, the fluorescent lights too bright, too sharp against your already swimming vision. You didn’t check if anyone else was there—didn’t care. 

You banged a stall door open. You barely got it shut before you dropped, knees hitting the cold tile harder than you felt. One hand braced against the wall, the other dragging your hair back as your stomach finally gave way. 

It was quick, violent—your body forcing out what you’d been trying to suppress since Jack opened his mouth.

When it passed, it didn’t really pass.

You stayed there, crouched low, breathing uneven, the taste bitter and clinging. A thin sheen of sweat cooled too quickly against your skin, leaving you chilled. 

For a moment, the world narrowed to the sound of your own breathing and the faint hum of the overhead lights.

Not now, you thought again—but it had already happened.

Sliding down fully onto the floor in front of the toilet, your back met the cool wall of the bathroom stall, and for a moment, you just sat there, breath uneven, vision still slightly blurry at the edges.

The bathroom hummed faintly—pipes, ventilation, the distant echo of the hospital beyond the door—but it felt sealed off, like another world entirely.

And then your mind caught on something it had been avoiding.

What if you were pregnant?

The thought didn’t arrive gently. It landed fully formed, sharp enough to make your stomach twist again. 

You’d explained it away before without even realizing you were doing it—nausea after long shifts, stress, increased sleepiness, the chaos of the ER bleeding into everything else. Even the missed period had been easy enough to dismiss. Easy enough not to look at too closely. 

But now it all made sense.

The nausea. Vomiting. Fatigue you couldn’t shake. The time you hadn’t wanted to calculate. 

Classic pregnancy symptoms. Too classic.

Your hand tightened slightly in your hair as you stared down at the tile, trying to steady yourself as if focus alone could make the thought disappear. 

The two boxes of pregnancy tests still sat in the CVS bag at the nurses’ station. The plan was simple. Wait until tonight. Get home. Breathe. Take one in private, where the result wouldn’t have to compete with alarms, trauma bays, or Jack being shot at while trying to help a police officer. 

But that version of the day already felt distant. 

Now, crouched on the bathroom floor with your pulse uneven in your ears, “later” didn’t feel like a choice so much as avoidance with a schedule. 

Your stomach tightened again, though this time, it wans’t just nausea.

Maybe you needed to know. 

Not tonight. Not after another hour of wondering. Not after another shift spent calculating symptoms you couldn’t ignore. 

Now. 

The idea settled in with uncomfortable clarity, pushing against every other thought until it was the only one that stayed put.

You closed your eyes briefly, exhaling through your nose, as if that could steady anything at all.

Then you opened them again.

And stood.

You flushed the toilet, exited the stall, and made your way to the sink.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, the thought had just started to settle into something tangible when the bathroom door creaked open again.

You froze instinctively, one hand braced against the sink as you tried to pull yourself together—too late for dignity, too early for explanation.

Footsteps paused just inside.

“Santos?” you said, surprised, voice rougher than you intended.

She didn’t answer right away. 

Instead, she took the sight of you in—the posture, the pallor still lingering in your face, the way you were clearly trying to recover from something your body had already finished doing. Her gaze flicked briefly toward the stall, then back to you, measured and unreadable in the only way seasoned clinicians managed. 

“I figured I’d find you here,” she said at last, arms crossed like it wasn’t speculation at all.

You swallowed. “I’m fine.”

Santos gave a quiet, almost skeptical huff—not unkind, just unconvinced. She stepped closer, lowering her voice instinctively as if the walls might be listening. “You don’t have to sell that to me.”

Your stomach dipped.

She leaned lightly against the counter across from you, arms folding, casual on the surface—but her eyes stayed sharp, focused.

“Fine doesn’t look like this,”, she added. “You’re glowing even though right now you feel like shit.”

Silence stretched between you.

The words you were trying not to think about pressed harder against the edges of your mind, suddenly less private than they had been five minutes ago.

Santos tilted her head slightly. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

Not accusatory, not prying. Just aware.

You hesitated too long, biting your lip. That was enough.

Her expression softened a fraction, as if something clicked into place that she’d already been circling. 

“I’m not going to say it out loud for you.” she said quietly. “But I think you already know what I’m thinking.”

A pause.

Then gentler: “You should probably take those tests sooner rather than later.”

“That obvious, huh?” Your voice came out thinner than you meant it to, a shaky breath of a laugh slipping through as you wiped the corner of your mouth. 

Santos didn’t smile, not really—but her expression softened at the edges.

“The CVS bag kind of gives it away,”, she said gently. Her gaze flicked to you again, steady and clinical in the only way another doctor could be. “Does Dr. Abbot know?”

“No,” you said quickly.

The world landed heavier than you intended.

For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the bathroom vent above you, distant and indifferent. 

Santos nodded slowly, like she’d expected that answer too. “Okay.”

Not judgment. Not surprise. Just acceptance of the facts as they were. 

Then, after a beat, she added more quietly. “Then you don’t have to decide anything about telling him right at this second. But you probably do need to know if you are or not.”

Her eyes held yours for a second longer.

“You don’t have to do this part alone,” she said, matter-of-fact, like this was just another step in a protocol she’d run a hundred times before.

The words hung longer than you expected them to.

You didn’t answer. Not right away.

Instead, your gaze dropped to the sink, the faint streak of water left. Something small and ordinary in a moment that felt anything but.

“I was going to wait,” you sighed finally, quieter now. “Until after I got off.”

Santos didn’t rush to fill the silence.

“That makes sense,” she said simply. No judgement. No insistence. Just an acknowledgement. 

You exhaled through your nose, a poor attempt at control that didn’t quite hold. “It’s just….I can’t tell if I’m overreacting or if I actually—” You stopped, swallowing hard. The rest of the sentence refused to form clearly.

Santos pushed off the counter a little, closing the distance by half a step—not enough to crowd you, just enough so you didn’t feel like you were talking into open air. 

“You’re not overreacting,”, she said simply. “You’re doing what every woman does when they suspect they might be pregnant.”

That earned a faint, humorless breath from you.

“Great,” you murmured.

“It’s pretty common,” she said. Then, a little dofter. “If it helps as a doctor, I think there’s a good chance you’re pregnant.”

The reminder set heavily but not unkindly.

Somewhere down the hall, a distant overhead page crackled to life, muffled through the walls. The hospital didn’t care what you were doing in here. It never did.

Santos glanced towards the door, then back at you. “I can grab the bag if you want. Or I can stay here while you do it. Your call.”

That landed differently than everything else had.

Not pressure. Not urgency. Just options.

Your hands tightened slightly at your sides as your stomach twisted again, not just nausea this time, but something sharper underneath it.

“Okay,” you said finally, barely audible. Then a little steadier. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Santos nodded once, already moving towards the door. “I’ll be right back.” 

The door clicked shut behind her. And suddenly, the bathroom felt too quiet. Not empty—never empty in a hospital—but it stripped down to the essentials: ventilation, flickering fluorescent light, the distant pulse of alarms that belonged to other rooms, other problems. Not yours. Not yet.

You stayed where you were. Your legs felt steadier than you expected, but your pulse didn’t match. It kept catching on itself, fast and uneven, like it couldn’t decide whether to brace for relief or impact.

A minute later—maybe less—the door opened again.

Santos reappeared with the CVS bag in hand.

She didn’t say anything right away. Just stepped in, set it gently on the counter, and looked at you.

“Alright,” she said softly. “One step at a time.”

The CVS bag sat on the counter like it weighed more than it should/

Santos didn’t rush you. She stayed where she was, giving you space that somehow still felt like company rather than distance.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Your fingers hovered over the edge of the bag for a second too long before you finally opened it. The crinkle of plastic sounded far too loud in the small bathroom. Inside, the two boxes were exactly as you remembered—impersonal, clinical, indifferent to what they meant to you.

You exhaled through your nose.

“Right,” you muttered, more to yourself than her.

The box and unpackaged test shook in your hands as you headed to the stall once more. The instructions were almost unnecessary. You’d read them before. Still, your hands weren’t quite steady as you tore the package open. 

Santos patted the door to the stall lightly. Not leaving, just giving you the illusion of privacy in a room that didn’t really allow for it. Her voice stayed low.

“You don’t have to talk while you do it.”

That helped more than it should have.

Minutes passed in fragments: the sound of you urinating, the faint rustle of paper, the sterile plastic clicking into place. You tried not to think about timing, about outcomes, about what Jack would be doing right now if he knew—

No. Not yet.

You came out of the stall, holding the pink and white test before setting it down on the counter, face down.

Then waited.

The silence stretched in a way that made every second feel intentional. 

Santos didn’t look at the test. She looked at you.

“You want me to check it?” she asked gently.

Your throat tightened. You nodded once before you could talk yourself out of it. 

She reached forward, calm and efficient, like she was reading any other result in any other chart. But there was a softness in the way she paused before turning it over.

A second.

Then another.

She didn’t say it right away.

She just looked at you for a second longer than before.

Then, carefully, quietly. “It’s positive.”

The words didn’t echo. 

They just settled.

Your breath left in a slow, uneven exhale. Not shock exactly—more like your body had been bracing for impact and finally let go.

Santos stepped a little closer, voice still steady. 

“Okay,” she said. “We’re going to figure this out. But first—are you alright?”

And for the first time since you’d walked into that bathroom, the question actually felt like it mattered more than anything else in the room. 

“I’m pregnant….with Jack’s baby.” Your lips trembled as the words left you, the realization that your suspicion had been confirmed.

[thykingdoncome]

his best girl

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | masterlist | ao3

rabbot x reader, park x reader, shen x reader, ellis x reader, langdon x reader

summary: You're Robby's favorite reward. When his staff earns it, he doesn't hesitate to offer you up. A month is a long time for you and for those around you to go without.

|| smut MDNI 18+, free use kink, cuckholding, a lot goin on in this chapter, overwhelmed!reader, fingering, mentions of spanking, flirting, groping (consensual), the men of the ED are handsssyyy!, lil moment where we might run into some dub con (reader wants but knows she cant have), praise kink, cuck!robby, dom!robby, jack watches, cockwarming, kissing, riding, orgasm denial (yeah, still), m!masturbation, lil glimpse of posessive!jack abbot, non canonical timeline || a/n: lots of different things going on in this chapter. If you start to feel overwhelmed, thats the point :) also, like... im sorry if its terribly edited. plz lmk of any mistakes! wc: 15k sorry I never stfu

A month was a long time.

For the first few weeks you mostly stayed home for your own sanity.

Robby left you to your own devices rather than dragging you through the halls and chaos of the emergency department. And you knew it was for the better this way. Away from temptation, from complicated feelings. You got to focus on him—your connection, and the rebuild.

When he'd come home exhausted and worn from a shift with new grayer hairs and deeper creases carved beside his eyes, you'd greet him with an eagerness that embarrassed you sometimes. He sought you out the same way you did him—needing to be close, needing to clear your minds and just touch and kiss and give. And take.

You felt a little like you were starting to go crazy from the lack of release. Dysregulated, maybe. Because it wasn’t like Robby had stopped touching you altogether. No, he still came home and made you feel wanted. Still kissed you until your thoughts went fuzzy, still got his hands on you whenever he could, still fucked you deep into the mattress just how you liked. But it was everything after that started to get to you—the being brought right up to that heightened edge only to be left there over and over, your body not understanding why it never got to finish.

Even your own thoughts began to betray you. You’d be standing at the sink with your hands in warm dishwater, staring down at a plate you’d already scrubbed clean, thinking about him coming up behind you and bending you over the counter. You’d be folding laundry and suddenly lose the thread of what you were doing, a pair of his boxers in your hands from the dryer, your mind filling in some awful, humiliating little fantasy about getting stuck in there and him finding you, taking advantage of the position. The kind of crazy shit that college boys usually searched on porn sites. And it only made the mess between your legs pulse worse, ache worse, until you were hot and flustered and taking cold showers halfway through the day just to reset yourself.

And still, the line was always in the same place. Every single time you thought Robby might finally give in, might finally give you the relief you begged for, he wouldn’t. Instead, he’d leave you twisted up with frustration, blinking back tears while he held you against his chest and brushed your hair out of your face, telling you it was for your own good.

And you had agreed—at least for the first week.

By the second, you were counting days.

By the third, you were becoming a genuine menace.

The second he walked through the front door, you were on him. You’d hear his keys hit the bowl by the entryway, the sound of his shoes being toed off, and you’d already be making your way across the house. Some evenings he barely got a chance to set down his bag before you were climbing all over him, hands in his hair, mouth on his, pressing yourself against him with no patience left in you at all. Other nights he’d drop onto the couch with an exhausted sigh and find you halfway onto your knees before he’d even gotten comfortable.

And Robby knew. He had to know how crazy it was making you. Some little devil on your shoulder told you he was enjoying it, enjoying you being so insatiable, so needy for him all the time, following him from room to room, touching him whenever he got close enough, getting short with him when he made you wait.

Because that had started happening too. The attitude.

The little huffs of annoyance you'd never made before when he spoke to you, the muttered comments under your breath, the way you’d roll your eyes before you could stop yourself and then freeze because you knew he’d seen it.

He'd taken you over his knee so many times in the past few weeks, your bum was almost always sore. And, of course, it only made you wetter too. His voice would drop into that low, hoarse place it got when he slipped into his natural place with you, telling you to count, telling you to take it, telling you that pretty girls still needed to use their manners. Your face would be buried in the couch cushion, holding back your moans as you did as he said. And even when he'd slide his fingers into your sopping folds when he was done, that part still felt like punishment too. How sensitive you'd become, how needy and desperate it all made you.

Sometimes you wondered if he'd keep the torture going past the one-month mark, if he'd decide he was having entirely too much fun watching you unravel. But you trusted him, and he never played games with that trust. You knew you'd get your release soon.

Because you missed everyone. And he knew you missed them. He'd sometimes be deep inside you, sawing his hips so that his swelling cock kissed your cervix, his lips on your ear, his arms wrapped tight around you and he'd ask who you missed most. Was it Park and his big dick down your throat? Did you miss Langdon's sweet kisses? He knew your favorite things about his residents—about the staff. So he'd pluck at them like strings, asking you questions that made your eyes roll back as he drove his cock in and out of you.

And yes. Yes, you missed all of it. How Frank's kissing alone would turn you into a puddle, his mouth so pillowy and tasting like Red Bull. And Brendon. How sweet he was, how somehow he managed to make you feel cared for and desired at the same time. How there seemed to ve a version of him only reserved for you, one that always knew exactly what you needed to shut your brain off and make the rest of the world disapear for a little while.

You missed Jack too. Though you often shoved that thought far, far away.

But other than the sex, you just missed them. The others, too. Mateo, Shen— who hadn't seen in a while. You missed your friends. Dana, Samira, Trinity and Mel.

Maybe that's what you needed. A night just with friends. A girl's night out.

So you texted them. A group chat made up of residents, interns and med students. Mel, Trinity, Joy, Victoria, Samira, Parker. Even Dana and Emma.

And that's how you ended up here at Space Bar, with a colorful cocktail in your hand and pink and green and purple back lights flooding the bar with music thrumming through the speakers.

"What the hell kinda place have you dragged us to?" Ellis shouted over the music beside you at the bar as she pulled up a stool. When you looked over, her skin reflected the multicolored glow of lights, her pretty almond eyes on you. You watched as she tried to school her expression into something flat and deadpanned, but the twitch of her lips and the amusement in her gaze gave her away.

"Good to see you too, Parker," you teased, knocking your shoulder against hers. "And it's a cocktail lounge. V needs to get a taste for real drinks, not just the shit beers at Bob's on karaoke nights."

To your right, Victoria smiled, rolling those big brown doe eyes at you from beside Joy and Emma.

A handful of them had actually managed to get the night off, all of you packed shoulder to shoulder at the corner of the colorful bar. You listened while stories bounced back and forth about recent impossible patients, insane cases they saw, the attendings giving them shit. Whatever fresh disasters had happened in the weeks you were away from it all.

"Trinnnn—" you groaned when you spotted Santos coming from the door with someone trailing behind her, "I said it was a girl's night!"

She pouted back, throwing her head back onto her neck as she replied, "He's like a lost puppy—follows me everywhere, I swear."

Dennis came walking up, sheepishly standing away from the group, "I can…uh, go home."

"No, no, don't be silly," you said, smiling and grabbing his wrist to tug him closer, "How's Amy and the baby?"

He blushed, a deep red staining his cheeks, "She's good. Theo too."

You saw Trinity roll her eyes beside you as she flagged down the bartender and ordered them drinks.

"So, where's Yoyo tonight?" you asked.

She didn't answer, but shot a look at Dennis, who looked at you a little apologetically and said: "Touchy subject."

"No, no!" Trinity exclaimed, "It's cool! I actually like being her little squeeze toy on lonely nights!"

Her elbows hit the bar with a thunk, and she thanked the bartender for the drinks, handing one to Dennis, and then added when she saw the two of you grimacing at each other: "Please stop with that loooook. It's fine. Really."

It was a little quiet for a moment, awkward, uncertain. You wished you'd never asked.

"So when are you gonna tell us the reason you've been gone for a while?" Ellis asked beside you. You were grateful for a change in subject, but when every set of eyes flit up to your face, it made your skin burn hot.

"I've just been home, hanging out." you explained.

Ellis's brows shot up, a mock frown tugging her lips downwards, "No reason for the absence?"

"I just—I was taking a break."

"From…?"

"From the little reverse harem you got going on with Robby, right?" Trinity asked, the annoyed look long gone, now replaced with a shit eating smirk as she sipped her lime green drink.

You nearly choked on your own beverage, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Guys—" Mel cut in, two hands wrapped around her sprite, "I don't think it's really our business—"

"Wait, you and Robby…?" Emma asked shyly, her mouth open, the pieces of her hair that hung around her face swinging as she looked around the group.

"Duh," Joy said dryly, "Where have you been, Em?"

"Oh my god…" you groaned, your stomach flipping.

"What?" Trinity quipped, "we're all just wondering about your little Twilight love triangle—the Ddward Jacob of it all. Will she, won't she with Abbot…Spill, girl."

You agonized with a long sigh, "Trin…"

"So just guys?" Ellis asked beside you. Your eyes found hers again, a funny look in them as she sipped from her drink.

"So far…yeah…" you muttered, not even trying to discern what that look meant.

"So it's true about you and Langdon?" Mel asked, eyes wide behind her glasses. "I've learned to not listen to the rumor mill but—"

"Wait wait wait—so Robby shares you?" Dennis cut in, big blue farmer boy eyes widening. "With who?"

"I don't know really know if I'm feel comfortable telling you guys—"

"Mateo?" Victoria blurted. Several heads immediately turned toward her.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"V!" Joy laughed, the neon lights of the bar reflecting in her glasses as she shook her head in deep amusement and pity.

The heat in your face climbed straight into your ears, you could only stare into your drink, stirring it around. The bright pink color suddenly looked very unappetizing as your stomach churned.

But then Joy's head stopped shaking, and she was looking at you differently now, as if your silence was answer enough.

"Oh my God," she breathed, eyes widening.

"Okay, wow," Dennis laughed nervously.

"That's a yes." Trinity chuckled. "I mean, I'll admit Mateo does have great hair."

You refused to look any of them in the eyes, your throat tightening up as heat blazed across your face and down your neck.

"Woah, what happened here, Pittlings?" you heard a familiar voice from behind you, a set of hands steadying your shoulders. Dana. You let out a breath you were holding tight in your lungs.

She squeezed once before looking around the group, and when you looked up, you saw her eyebrows climbing higher with every face she passed over.

"Why's everybody look like they're waitin' for sentencing?" she asked. "I leave you's alone for five minutes and suddenly it looks like somebody confessed to a murder."

"Sorry, D. Just trying to get to the bottom of some very interesting dynamics," Trinity said with a smile.

"Oh, I'm sure they're very interesting. And also probably none of your business." she said, eyeing the others.

A few groans went up around the table.

"Mm-hmm." She pointed at them. "The amount of nosy packed into one corner of this bar oughta be studied."

"You'd wanna know too!"

"I absolutely do not," Dana snapped without missing a beat. "I know enough already, more than I need to about all of yous."

That earned a laugh from around the bar, everyone's tension easing a little.

"Now," she said, standing up straighter, "Benji's home with the kids and I get one night out a week. So who wants a shot?"

"I'll go…put some music on the juke box." you said, sliding from your chair in humiliation.

You walked across the bar to the touchscreen jukebox slowly. It wasn't a far walk, but it felt long. You counted every uneven step, the ground feeling like it might as well open up beneath you and let you fall into the earth. You wouldn't mind. You tried to collect yourself with deep breaths, reminding yourself that it wasn't really a secret—what you and Robby were. But still. You didn't expect the subject to be pounced on you like that with your friends, your sex life being mapped out like a differential.

 As you stood in front of the glowing screen, you scrolled aimlessly through the song list, though none of the names really processed as they passed beneath your fingertips. The music still thrummed through the speakers, vibrating up through your toes. You could still hear the group talking and laughing from across the bar, and your hands began to sweat a little, wondering if they were still talking about you or—

"Hey."

You startled, looking up to see Ellis. She leaned up against the bright neon jukebox, the violet and blue lights catching along her cheekbones, her pillowy lips, the heavy hood of her eyes. They looked softer than usual, blurred a little by alcohol, her mouth pulled into a small frown.

"Hi," you replied.

"I'm sorry about… that. I should've known better around Jealous little Javadi."

You shrugged, "It's fine."

"And Santos, too. Girl's got awful bedside manner."

"I said it's fine."

Ellis clicked her tongue and tilted her head, trying to catch your gaze when you looked back at the screen. "Look at me."

You did.

She studied your face for a long moment, and you found yourself doing the same. Her expression tightened slightly as she looked you over. Her big almond eyes moved across your face, lingering here and there before she stepped a little closer.

"I'm sorry." she said again, but with more earnestness. "Dana was right, I was being nosy. I should've minded my business, should've asked in a different way."

She was leaning close enough now that you could smell her perfume, her body wash, or maybe it was just her. Shea butter and coconut, something warm underneath that had you leaning toward her before you even realized you were doing it, trying to place it.

"You're a good girl, you know." she continued, and your stomach gave a strange little twist at the casual way she said the pet name. As if she knew.

"Thanks." you murmured, feeling the heat creep back up your neck. You meant to look away from her, to break whatever spell had pulled between you as she studied you closer, but you just… couldn't. Something was off, and it was making your belly flip a little as the two of you stared at one another.

"So how does it work?" she asked.

"How does what work?"

"You and Robby."

She turned a little so she was leaning in fully, as if creating a wall between you and the rest of the room.

You gnawed at your lip, your fingers absently scrolling through the songs. You tried to focus on the screen again, but your eyes kept drifting back to hers.

"You can tell me," she murmured, her lips parting slightly. "I can keep a secret."

"I know."

Your brain kept lagging a little on how close she'd gotten, on how open her features were as she looked at you. She didn't bother hiding anything, her hair pulled back, her eyes searching yours, her lips a little parted. It had your lungs struggling to catch a full breath.

"Usually, um, the…well, Robby will…"

What was wrong with you? Why couldn't you form a full sentence?

Her lips pulled into a little quirk of a smile, as if she knew why entirely. "What will Robby do, hm?"

You took in a deep breath, "Sometimes he lets me pick, sometimes it's more like… a reward system. For… whoever…"

"Oh?"

You nodded, "Like when…" god, your face was so hot, your thighs pushing together without realizing, "When Frank did the cervical reduction a couple months ago… he um, came to see me after."

Ellis's eyes had gone very heavy now, and you watched how they dropped from your eyes to your mouth. "And?"

"Well, he and I—" you swallowed thickly.

"Oi!" you heard from across the bar.

Both of you sprung back from one another.

Dana was calling from across the bar, both hands raised in the air.

"You two doin' shots or what!?"

The next day, you were fucking tired.

Not physically. Well, okay, maybe physically too. A little hungover and very dehydrated, but mostly tired in the particular way that came from having too many thoughts bouncing around your skull with nowhere to go.

Last night had turned out to be fun, eventually. Once everyone got the memo that you and their attending's sex life was not a topic for public discussion, thanks largely to Dana and Ellis glaring people into submission whenever the conversation started drifting back in that direction. You'd stayed out late, came home tipsier than you'd expected, and fell right into Robby's orbit when you'd returned. He'd been up waiting for you, reading over charts with his readers low on his nose, a mug of coffee gone cold beside him. One look at him and whatever resolve you'd had about going straight to bed had evaporated. It hadn't taken long before he was gathering your hair into his fist while you eagerly worked your lips down his cock.

But this morning, you were just exhausted. Robby had headed to the Pitt for his early start on his bike, the weather a beautiful late-summer cloudless sky. But you just couldn't take any more long days stuck in the house like this.

So you headed for the pool.

Robby didn't live in an HOA community because it was fancy or for the oversized houses. He lived in one for the sheer convenience of it. A clubhouse with a gym, lawnmowers that were on a regular schedule, snow shoveling taken care of. And the poolhouse was beautifully kept, just a short walk down the block past neatly trimmed hedges and identical mailboxes, and you headed there with nothing but a towel, a coverup, and a book tucked beneath your arm. Your sunglasses kept the glare from your eyes as you pushed through the gate and made your way across the concrete deck before dropping onto an empty lounger.

It was quiet for a weekend morning, and you were grateful. For a while, you did absolutely nothing. You stretched out beneath the sun, letting the warmth sink into your skin while you worked your way through a few chapters, occasionally looking up whenever someone splashed into the water or the gate clicked open. Eventually the heat became too much, and you wandered down the concrete steps into the shallow end, sighing as the cool water climbed your ankles, your calves, your thighs. You floated around for a bit without much purpose, letting your thoughts drift peacefully in and out of your head, the cold water soothing.

By the time you climbed back out, your hair damp around your shoulders, you felt marginally more human.

While you sat up and lathered on more sunscreen, you saw a family enjoying the pool on other side, a woman in the water with her children while a man lay stretched out on a lounger nearby.

Looking at you.

You stared back, recognizing him, your stomach doing a little excited jump.

You smiled to yourself, snapping the bottle of your lotion closed and standing up. You didn't bother with the cover up, or the towel.

"Good morning, John," you said as you approached, stepping beneath the shade of his umbrella.

He looked up at you over his sunglasses, dark eyes full of mirth.

"Hey, hot stuff."

You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. John Shen and his family lived in the same community as Robby, just a few streets down. A friendly face you didn't get to see often, but it was always a treat when you did. Shen had a way about him that made people instantly comfortable. Cool without trying to be, calm to the point that some people thought he cared about absolutely nothing. Somehow, he never seemed stressed, even at work. While everyone else in the ED ran themselves ragged, Shen drifted through the day with an easy smile and a shrug. And an iced coffee.

Shen held out his hand, and you stepped in a little closer. His palm settled against the sensitive skin on back of your calf, the contact making your blood surge a little.

"Did you come from the hospital? Or did you have off?" you asked, hyper aware of how his fingers caressed your skin.

He nodded, "Came from work just a couple hours ago, figured I'd come down and enjoy the nice day while they last. Swear I can feel the chill of autumn creeping in."

"Don't tease me." you said, "I, for one, can't wait."

"Of course you can't, crazy woman." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth while his hand ran up, cupping behind your knee. "You always say that, then spend all winter complaining you're cold."

You laughed, shaking your head. Your gaze landed on his wife and children in the pool.

"How's Gwen?" you asked.

 All three of them were splashing around together, their laughter carrying across the water. She glanced over, spotted you standing with her husband, and immediately smiled before lifting a hand. Shen and his wife had an interesting relationship, one that allowed both of them to have their cake and eat it too, so to speak. He told you the first time he'd come into the exam room that his wife didn't mind if he occasionally saw you while he worked, and he didn't mind if she had her own time with one of the other dermatologists at her practice.

You waved back. When you looked down again, Shen's hand had found its way to the back of your thigh.

"We're good," he said. "Kids look like they're trying to drown her, but she's good."

You smiled down at him wider.

"Where've you been?" he asked then, looking up at you.

"Home, mostly." you said, your teeth digging into your bottom lip.

"Mm." he hummed, thumb brushing against the top of your thigh, close to the crease of your leg. "Robby said you're taking a break."

The thought of Robby apparently discussing your month long restrictions with the rest of the residents and attendings sent a strange little flutter through your stomach. Despite how ridiculous, your thighs pressed together automatically.

A smile appeared on Shen's face almost immediately as he glanced down between your legs, noticing the shift. His hand slid up higher, until it just brushed the hem of your bathing suit. "Miss you, it's been a while."

Your hand suddenly shot out, having to grip his bare shoulder to hold yourself up as his hand slid up to cup your bum, the tips of his fingers sliding just under the damp fabric of your suit. He squeezed the sensitive flesh in his hand, making you gasp and your knees wobble.

"Do you miss me, hot stuff?"

You nodded, pressing your lips together firmly.

"Cat got your tongue, huh?" he teased, his fingers pressing a little firmer. He had such a nice smile, charming and coy as he felt you up. He barely reacted to how sensitive you were to his wandering hand, but when your eyes dropped to his lap, you saw exactly how he felt. His swim trunks had gone noticeably tighter, a bulge stretching the fabric that made your mouth water.

"Y-yes," you managed, trying very, very hard not to let out the moan that threatened to escape when he slid his prodding fingers along the seam of your lower lips. "Miss y-you too."

"I'm sure you do," he cooed. "Can feel just how bad."

Your fingers dug into his shoulder harder, your teeth latched into your bottom lip as you let your eyes close a little when his middle finger pushed just so at your entrance.

"Too bad you're grounded. I can think of so many fun things we could be doing right now, hot stuff."and then his smile brightened in wattage, and he was pulling his hand away. "S'just a shame, isn't it?"

"Johnnnnn," you whined, stamping your foot before playfully smacking his shoulder. "You tease—"

He chuckled at that, bringing his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean as his shoulders shook, already glancing back down at the paperwork in his hands.

"As tempting as you are, hot stuff, I'm not trying to get my ass kicked by Robinavitch. Now go be a good girl and say hi to Gwen."

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself as you turned and headed toward the pool. You heard his voice call out behind you:

"Hate to see you go, love to watch you—"

You crouched by the water, scooping up a handful and splashing it directly at him.

Robby: have to stay long. do you want to come in

The text from Robby had your stomach tightening immediately as you read it from your spot on the lounge chair a little while later, both of Shen's kids planted beside you and chatting your ear off about their summer holiday plans for Disney World. You nodded along dutifully as they argued over which park was best, but your attention snagged on the screen in your hand the second his name appeared.

You: im at the pool right now

A speech bubble appeared and disappeared while you waited, your toes curling against the warm plastic fabric stretched across the chair. You tried to focus on what Mia was telling you about Epcot, but your attention was already wandering. It always did when it came to Robby.

Then, another text from Robby: leave the suit on. come in.

"I'm sorry, you guys, I gotta go," you said, pushing yourself upright.

Both kids immediately started protesting while you laughed and bent down to hug them goodbye.

"Seriously, John, if you ever need a sitter." you said as you stretched your arms around him.

"Careful," Shen called after you as you turned to embrace his wife. "You keep saying that and we're actually gonna start taking you up on it."

Both he and his wife thanked you and hugged you goodbye, and a few minutes later you were gathering up your things and heading out.You didn’t even bother going back home or changing, knowing full well Robby loved you in your little skimpy swim suits and cover ups—sometimes more than a lacy lingerie set.

An hour later, you were walking into the ED, the AC blasting hard enough to raise goosebumps along your arms. You rubbed your hands over them as you crossed through the entrance, waving hello to Lupe at the desk. She buzzed you through without issue, and you tossed quick greetings toward Ahmad and Mike as you passed.

In the chaos of the emergency department, something felt off immediately. Though, it seemed to be dying down. Voices carried in as they shouted over one another, people burst in and out of doors while the phone rang. Monitors chirped, ranging from steady and level to chaotic fits of panic. You caught a glimpse of Samira disappearing into a trauma room with Langdon behind her with Mel and Whitaker on their heels.

Dana intercepted you before you made it halfway to the charge station.

"Hey, angel. I'm sorry. Did Robby call you in?" She hooked an arm around you and immediately started steering you toward the back hall. "As happy I am to see you, it's a bit of a mess right now."

"What happened? Is everyone okay?"

"Incident at Kennywood. Rollercoaster."

"Oh, god."

Dana grimaced while squeezing your shoulder. "Yeah."

As she turned you down a hall, she added: ""Listen, I'll stick you in a room for now. Things are settlin' down, but it could still be a while before he gets free."

"Yeah, yeah of course, D." you said.

You'd barely made it around the charge station before somebody called Dana's name from across the department.

"Shit."

"Go," you said immediately. "I'm good. I'll find my way."

"North five, angel." Dana said, pointing your way ahead. You nodded, and started walking.

Every room seem occupied the further back you went, stretchers lining the walls and IV poles clustered near doorways. It wasn't as bad as some disasters you'd heard of—Pitt Fest for one—but still. It looked rushed, blood still on the floor of an empty trauma bay. Every room seemed to hold a different injury. Teenagers with broken bones and lacerations. Parents hovering anxiously beside hospital beds. A little girl clutching a stuffed rabbit while a nurse wrapped gauze around her arm.

The emergency department always had a strange feeling to it. Grief and relief lived side by side here. In one room somebody cried. In the next, a family laughed so hard you could hear it through the curtain. It made your chest ache a little harder the further you got.

"Hey, you."

You turned at the breathless voice and found Langdon hurrying toward you, already tearing off the disposable surgical cover he'd thrown on for trauma.

"Hey. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah—" He ran a hand through his hair before letting out a tired breath. "Well, no, actually, not really. But it will be."

"That's good." you said, and you were surprised to see him still following you as you kept walking. "Frank, go check on your patients, I'm good—"

"You know, I missed seeing you around here, baby."

The words stopped you—the pet name specifically had your tummy twisting a little—and Langdon guided you toward an empty strip of wall tucked away from the main traffic of the department, just enough privacy to steal a conversation.

"Don't tell me you've been neglecting your patients over a withheld reward again, Frankie."

His dimple appeared first, deepening into one cheek before the rest of the smile caught up, still a little breathless, shaking his head down at you. "No, never."

You smiled back up at him. It felt almost normal again, like it hadn't been over three weeks of you being kept away.

"Robby said you uh…"

"Yeah." you murmured, your smile slipping.

"Takin' a break from all of us then?" he asked, something amused in his pretty blue eyes.

"Just for now." you said, a little teasing lilt in your voice. "Don't worry, I'll be back soon."

"You're back now." he said, tilting his head down at you. "Does that mean…?"

You shook your head.

"Okay," he said easily, with a sort of half nod, his eyes never leaving yours. "Okay, I'll back off then. Good to see you though, baby."

Something in your chest pinched. Maybe it was because you'd spent the last month mostly at home. Maybe it was because seeing everyone again had reminded you how much of your life existed inside these walls. Or maybe you just really had missed him. Whatever the reason, you didn't let him get far before you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his middle.

"Miss you too, Frankie." you murmured into him, "always."

His arms settled around your shoulders almost immediately, pulling you in while his cheek pressed lightly against the top of your head. You felt the vibration of a chuckle thrum through him before he was gently pushing you away, "Careful, I'll start thinking you have favorites."

"Maybe I do." you grinned up at him, your eyes a little hazier than before, your skin warmer as you felt his long, lean body against yours. God, you really did miss him. The flirty, the easy affection. This was all familiar to slip back into with him.

"Don't make me want to kiss you," he murmured, squeezing you against him again. "I could get in big trouble."

A laugh threatened at the back of your throat. "Yes you could," you said softly.

You stood there with your neck craned back, looking up at him beneath hooded eyes while his blue gaze wandered across your face. His dimple deepened when he smiled. He looked exhausted. Hair slightly disheveled, scrubs wrinkled. There was dried blood on one sleeve he'd probably forgotten about hours ago. Still so pretty. So Frank.

For one second, you thought he might actually give in as his head bent down lower, his eyes dropping to your waiting mouth. But then—

"Langdon! We need you in trauma two!" Perlah shouted down the hall. Langdon glanced up, blinking back to reality, and slowly let you go.

 "I'll see you around, baby. Be good!" he called as he started backing away.

"Bye," you murmured. You lifted a hand in a lazy wave, watching him disappear down the hallway long after he'd stopped looking back.

You felt a little thrown off course from your run in with him, your blood taking a moment to run smoothly, your heart settling. The cool air that rushed into your chest made your chest squeeze, your nipples under the thin bathing suit harden. You inhaled deeply but found it hard to catch a full breath. Fuck, you were screwed if you didn't find an empty room.

Finally, you turned on your heel, north five back in your sights.

But then—

"Bunny?"

You looked to your right and found Brendon Park stepping off the elevator.

Tall was almost an inadequate word for him. Even from halfway across the hallway, he seemed to take up space effortlessly, broad shoulders filling the opening as the elevator doors slid open. The second he spotted you, his attention locked on completely. His gaze swept over you from head to toe, taking in the swimsuit cover-up, the sandals, the just dried hair, and whatever conclusion he reached made something tense in his face.

His long strides carried him toward you quickly.

"Hey—" you started, and he was bending down before you could say anything else, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

"How are you? What're you doing here? Were you at the theme park?"

"What?" you asked, still trying to catch up with the speed of the interaction before glancing down at yourself. Right. You could almost look like you came from a theme park. "Oh. No, no— I'm okay. I just came from home."

The relief that crossed his face was immediate, his shoulders dropping slightly, some tension leaving him as he glanced around the department. He sent a glare to a passing doctor you didn't recognize before turning his attention right back to you.

He stepped forward into you.

You stepped back.

His brow furrowed slightly, concern still written all over his face as he looked you over again, checking for something you'd somehow forgotten to mention. The movement felt almost unconscious on both your parts. Brendon kept drifting closer, drawn in by equal parts worry and affection, and you kept retreating beneath the weight of that honed gaze, your brain already struggling to keep up.

He did it again, and again, until your hips pressed into the sharp edge of a table, a little gasp coming from your mouth as he loomed over you closer still.

“Brendon—” you said, and as he leaned down again to try to catch your lips again, you turned quickly so your back was to his chest instead. It didn’t help. If anything, it only made you more aware of how much space he took up, the broad width of him filling in behind you, his shoulders so expansive they cut off the hallway on either side. He'd always been big, big enough to overwhelm, but usually it was so easy to forget because he was so careful with you. His touch was gentle, his voice gentler. Today though—he felt too big for his own good. All that focus of his predatory stare had your heart in your throat. Maybe because you knew how easily you'd give in. It had been so long, after all.

With your back turned, hips pressing into the empty desk, you closed your eyes. The wood edge dug into your skin as he crowded closer. You shivered when you felt his strong nose brush through your hair as he bent his head, tracing slow along your neck and around the shell of your ear, inhaling.

"What's goin' on with you, bunny?" he murmured. "You're trembling."

You gasped when his lips pressed against the tender skin behind your ear, your back arching before you even realized it. Heat pooled hard, throbbing painfully between your legs, your thighs tightening together for some kind of relief while you gnawed at your bottom lip hard enough to hurt.

"N-nothing's wrong," you tried to say, but it came out thin and desperate. "I—we—I can't umm…"

It was too much, too overwhelming. Too many people touching you when you weren't allowed to do anything about it.

"Can't what, bunny?" he said softly, voice so low it sent heat down your spine, his nose tracing the shell of your ear now. "Can't just talk, hm?"

You shook your head a little. His mouth started trailing down your neck, making goosebumps rise over your skin, your nipples beneath your bathing suit top pebbling even harder and your knees wobbling.

"But I've missed you, bunny."

The words went straight in your stomach, heat coiling, core fluttering. You sighed shakily, and then he stepped even closer, and you felt him—hard beneath his cotton scrubs, pressing into the curve of your lower back.

"Oh, fuck," you whispered. "Brendon, I really can't—"

"You don't have to do anything, Bunny," he whispered back, though his kisses had already turned hungrier, firmer against your skin as they went down your neck onto your shoulder. "How've you been, hm?"

"Mmm... I've been... okay..." Your thoughts were starting to slide apart, softening so quickly you couldn't quite hold onto them.

"You smell so good," he muttered, completely ignoring your answer. "Smell a little like desperation. Robby been takin' care of you, sweet girl? Been so long since I've seen you."

Your breath stuttered. "I've been..." You forced yourself to inhale deep, trying to get oxygen back into your brain while he pressed his hips slowly against you from behind. The pressure made your core ache harder. You caught yourself trying to lean away from him just to think straight. "I've been grounded."

You felt the sharp burst of breath against your neck, almost a laugh.

"Grounded, huh?" His teeth scraped lightly against the crest of your shoulder. "What's that like?"

Your face burned. You wondered if Robby hadn't told him, or if he was just pushing all the right buttons. "No, um..." You swallowed hard. "I'm not allowed to… finish. Or be shared."

Brendon went still for half a second.

Then, finally understanding, he leaned harder into you with a low growl that sounded punched out of him.

"Is that right?" he said, and you could tell his teeth were bared, shark-like, before you even spared a glance over your shoulder. "Robby doesn't want his best girl feelin' good anymore?"

"No, it's not—not that—"

Your words broke apart when his hands slid around your hips. Big hands—warm and heavy. His fingers rubbed slowly into your skin just above the waistband of your shorts and it felt so good your stomach tightened painfully around it. You could already feel how wet you'd gotten, slick heat pooling fast between your thighs, you could've sworn you felt it starting to run down your leg.

His hands didn’t stay still for long, and fuck, they felt so good. Your mouth opened in a quiet gasp when they dragged up your front, over your stomach, beneath the loose fabric of your cover-up, his palms broad enough to make you feel held and handled at the same time. He slipped a hand of them under one the little flimsy triangles that covered your breasts, and your lungs caught. His own breath was heavy in your ear, hot and uneven against your skin, the outline of his cock pressing insistent against your back while his fingers wandered and squeezed at you.

You could hardly keep up with your mind or your body,

Your thoughts catching on how you were not supposed to be doing this, on the rules, on the fact that this was Brendon Park with his hands under your clothes, while your body arched back into him anyway, little gasps and whimpers slipping out before you could swallow them. Because it had been so long. Because it had been torturous, missing these big hands on you, missing the thick heat of him pressing into you, the way he touched you like he’d been thinking about it for weeks.

And then, his hands continued their wandering back down your stomach. And then, to your horror and complete and utter pleasure, one of his hands slipped beneath the elastic of your waistband.

"Brendon—"

"Let me check on you, bunny," he whispered, breath heavier now. "Just wanna make sure you're okay. I've missed you."

His palm slid lower beneath the lining of your bathing suit until it settled heavy against your pubic bone, and then his fingers, thick and rough with callouses, dipped carefully into the soaked seam between your legs.

"Fuckkkkk," he exhaled, like the word got dragged right out of his chest with a moan.

Your hands flew to the desk, palms flattening against scattered papers while your head dropped forward in defeat. You were grateful no one was passing by behind you, that the hallway somehow had been deserted the past few minutes. You didn't want to imagine what this looked like.

"Oh my god," you whimpered.

He was barely touching you. And yet, just the pads of two fingers circling slow through the slickness of your folds and the teasing around your clit was enough to make your brain turn to mush and your legs so weak so you could hardly stay standing.

"You're so wet I bet my cock would slide right in this pussy," he muttered, voice strained and wrecked despite the filth of his words, his hips dragging against your lower back harder in a grinding motion.

Park's fingers slid further, cupping your wet mound and prodding your entrance, his palm creating pressure for your clit, and the sharp pulse of pleasure nearly made you cry out. You had to bite into your lip hard to keep yourself from moaning at the contact, the constant ache you'd been left with cracked apart into sparks that shot all the way up your spine.

"Oh god, Brendon—"

You spread your legs obediently when his knee nudged between them.

"You don't have tell Robby, baby," he breathed against your neck. "Let me take care of you."

But hearing Robby's name again snapped through the haze hard enough to make your stomach twist.

 You stood upright so fast you felt dizzy from it. You grabbed Brendon's wrist and pulled his hand from your shorts, turning around to face him with your chest heaving. Despite how equally desperate he had seemed, he pulled away easily at your insistence.

"Brendon," you started, struggling to catch your breath, "I can't, I'm sorry."

He stared down at you, eyes blown dark with arousal, chest rising hard beneath the fabric stretched over his shoulders. You could still feel his thick length in the tent of his scrubs against your belly, could still see his mouth swollen from kissing at your skin. You held onto his thick hand for a moment in between the two of you to stop him. It glistened with arousal along his two fingers.

And just when you opened your mouth to explain, you heard a voice from the end of the hallway.

"Well, hello."

You turned, and your stomach nearly fell to the floor.

Black t-shirt stretched across heavy muscle. Graying curls mussed at the front. Narrowed hazel eyes fixed on Park, his jaw set so hard beneath the shadow of stubble his muscle twitched.

"Abbot." Brendon said curtly, not moving from where he stood with his chest up against yours, his eyes honed in like a predator's.

Jack walked forward, until he was only a couple paces from you. His gaze bounced around your face, then up to Brendon's. There was a faint curve to his mouth, something cheeky and almost amused, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"All okay, sweetheart?" Jack asked when his eyes found you again.

You nodded, suddenly very aware of how close Park was, of warm skin, his heart hammering in his chest up against yours. The way neither of your bodies hadn’t quite calmed down. You could only imagine what this looked like—your mouth parted and heaving, Park's chest pressed up against you.

 "I was gonna grab coffee from Dunkin'." Jack said, "You wanna come?'

You looked between him and Brendon then, uncertain.

"We were having a discussion, Abbot." Brendon then said sternly.

Jack smiled, a charming dimple creasing one of his cheeks, though there was still something in his gaze—something intense and sharp that you'd never seen before. "And I'm sure it was very enlightening."

There was a stiffness to the both of them now, even as Jack shifted his weight from foot to foot, his hands in his cargo pockets. The way Brendon wouldn't move, the way Jack's smile twitched when he looked between the two of you.

"C'mon, sweetheart," Jack offered, pulling one hand from his pocket and beckoning you.

Park's arm immediately slid around your middle, pulling you against him even harder. You looked up at him, suddenly the intensity of his nickname rang true— he looked scary, serious, his face darkening as he looked over at the attending.

"She's fine, Abbot, we were just talking."

When you glanced at Jack, all amusement fell from his face.

"Brendon," you murmured, sighing and looking back up at him.

You lifted your hands up into his chest, sliding them up until your fingers gently pressed into his face, turning it towards you. You saw him soften immediately as his eyes landed back on you.

You rose up onto your toes and kissed him softly on the mouth. You could feel his arm tighten even more against you as he breathed you in, his shoulders dropping. When you finally drew back, his mouth followed yours until you fell back onto your heels.

"Not today, okay?" you murmured, wiping some of the chap stick from his top lip, "I need to sort a few things out first. But I promise, you'll be the first to know when things are back to normal."

He sighed, and threw a mean glare at Jack once more before loosening his grip, though his hands stayed on you, guiding you down.

And finally, when he turned away, it was not without lingering his hands on you for as long as possible—his hands slid down your arms, holding the tips of your fingers as he said, "See you around, Bunny. Be good."

You smiled as you watched him go.

And then, turning around with a long exhale, you looked at Jack.

You'd never seen him look like that before.

There was no smile waiting for you or easy charm, no teasing remark halfway from his mouth. Instead, his brows were set low over his eyes, his jaw still tight like he was close to cracking a molar. He stared down the hall where Park had vanished, his gaze fixed on the empty stretch of tile and fluorescent light with an expression you'd never seen on his face. Mean. You didn't think you'd ever seen Jack Abbot look mean before.

"Jack?"

He shook his head and inhaled sharply, gnawing at the inside of his lip like he was trying to stop himself from saying something he knew he shouldn't. When his eyes landed on you, you watched them travel over your face, down your form, and back up again before he jerked his head toward the main ED.

"C'mon."

When you reached him, his hand settled lightly against your back, guiding you a few steps away from the flow of people moving through the department, toward the wall where a computer on wheels sat parked with its screen dimmed and a Esme was organizing a linen cart.

"I—um—I'm supposed to go meet Robby."

Jack paused. He looked down at you for a second, and suddenly you were far too aware of how close he was standing, of the heat of him even through scrubs, of how the space between you wasn’t really space at all. God. You hated this. You hated how seeing him still did this to you, how your heart immediately started acting up, how three weeks apparently hadn’t been enough time for your mind or your body to understand what you'd done was wrong. That you shouldn't want it again.

"Robby's in a trauma," he said.

"Yeah, I'm..." You swallowed. "I'm gonna go wait for him in North Five."

"Okay."

"Okay..."

You started to turn away.

The whole interaction felt wrong. Just wrong. Three weeks ago you'd been tangled up in each other in a way neither of you had planned for, and now it felt like neither of you knew what to say, how to say it. How to be in each other's presence and not think about it.

"Hey."

You’d only gotten an arm’s length away before it stopped you, and when you turned back, he was still standing exactly where you’d left him, his shoulders squared, his jaw set. He let out a slow breath through his nose and took a few steps closer, one hand settling on his hip while he looked you over.

"Are you okay?"

"Are you?" you asked, your voice maybe a little too defensive.

His head tipped back slightly, eyes never leaving your face. You worried for a moment that he'd give himself trismus with how much he was clenching the muscles of his jaw. He seemed to be weighing the answer, deciding how much of it he wanted to give you. "Been better."

"Yeah, same." you sighed.

Jack looked at you a little closer now, and it made your breath shorten. You wished he wasn't so handsome. You wished being this close didn't remind you of a month ago in the back of his truck, memories of your face in his chest with tears in your eyes, him kissing you, both of you crossing a line you even though you knew better. You wished you could forget how easy it felt with him too.

"You seem…" he began. "Was Park being—?"

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I’m just feeling really… I don’t know.” You sighed again, your hands coming up to your face, palms pressing against your cheeks, trying to steady yourself, but the overwhelm kept building anyway, tight in your throat and at the base of your neck, your heartbeat too fast and too loud. “It’s fine.”

“Some of us have been… a little restless, I guess,” he said, voice low, his head dipping as he looked at you, his gaze staying on your face in a way that felt careful instead of hungry. “Three weeks is a long time.”

"Yeah," you huffed sarcastically, "You're tellin' me."

He looked at you a little funny.

"I gotta go but… I'm fine. I guess. Yeah. Thanks…um… Jack. I'll see you."

"Okay, sweetheart. See you."

Luckily you didn't have to sit alone in your thoughts for long.

Robby found you in north five soon enough, and even though he looked exhausted—even though the crease between his brows was deep and feathered and his eyes had that look of a long, awful day full of cases he'd remember for life—he still smiled when he saw you.

"Hi, honey," he sighed, and opened his arms for you to fall into.

You went to him, your hands sliding up around the back of his neck, rising to your tiptoes so you could tuck your face into his chest, and he let out a breath that sounded like it had been stuck in him for hours. His arms wrapped around you and held you, swaying a little back and forth in place, his weight shifting in the muffled quiet of the exam room.

For some reason, some sixth sense, some thing that had been learned after all your time with him, you knew this was what he needed. He was particular about touch outside of this—he didn't accept hugs from most, or even a high five. He kept his praise quick and detached with his staff typically with a simple thumbs up or fist bump (though, you knew there was one person other than you who was the exception to that). But with you… it was like you were the only touch that was safe for him to fall into.

And though you craved touch, not even just from him but from everyone you knew—a hug with a friend, a hand on the small of the back, a bumping of shoulders in comradery, and the explicit kind too— there was something deeply sentimental about the touch from Robby's hands. When the two of you fell into each other, it formed a nucleus from the outside world. Nothing else existed now that he was here and holding you. The noise of the day outside the four walls of the exam room simply paused.

You felt his nose sink into your hair, inhaling, "How are you."

"M'okay," you murmured. "You?"

"Yeah." he said softly.

You squeezed him a little tighter.

After a moment, you said: "Robby?"

"Yeah, honey?" he asked.

"I feel like I'm going a little crazy."

He pulled away, only enough so he was still holding you in his arms but able to look down at you and study your face. His brows pulled together for a long moment while he did, assessing for anything really wrong. You felt his thumbs rubbing back and forth over the sheer fabric of your cover up.

"How so?"

You shut your eyes, breathing deeply, trying to collect yourself. You weren't sure why, but you felt almost like you wanted to cry. When you opened them again, Robby's eyes were still focused on you, his expression full of careful attention.

"I feel like I've barely been here an hour and I'm just so—" you shook your head, releasing your hands from his neck to cover your eyes, pressing your fingertips deeply into the sockets. Bright galaxies burst across your vision, and you inhaled again, steadying the whirring of your brain as you tried to think of the right words. "Everyone is being so sweet, trying to take care of me—"

"—take care of you?"

"—but I just feel so fucking overwhelmed, and I don't know how to tell them that I can't—"

"—they should already know to leave you alone—"

"I just want to go home, but I also really don't—because I miss everyone—but still—" you snapped, "I just want to stop feeling so fucking crazy."

"Okay, breathe, please—" he said, his hands sliding from your back to your shoulders, soothing up and down on your skin.

You opened your eyes again, letting your hands drop, sucking in a shaky breath and looking up at him.

"First of all," he said, his voice low and soothing, "I'm sorry I called you to come in on such a crazy day. I… I selfishly thought of having you here, wanting you after all this bullshit and I didn't think about the others seeing you."

"Well, they saw me." You shrugged. "I even ran into John at the pool with his family."

Robby tilted his head, "Did Shen—?"

You shook your head, "We just said hi, that's all. He said he didn't want to get in trouble. Langdon said so too."

Robby nodded, "Good, good."

"But I miss them." you murmured, your eyes wide and watery up at Robby.

"I know, honey."

"And…" you hesitated, but knew it was better to just tell him. "I feel like you're getting such a good fucking deal out of the past few weeks and I'm not. I feel fucking crazy, Michael."

He sighed, squeezing your arms a little tighter, his face with an expression of knowing that you don't want to hear. "Do you know why we've been doing this the past few weeks? Denying you?"

You let your head fall back on your neck with a little groan, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I went behind your back, I crossed a boundary. And it's fine, I understand—I just didn't think my body would be so fucking wound tight like this—"

"Okay, I hear you, c'mere," Robby cooed immediately, gently guiding both of you to the hospital bed in the center of the room.

You went without thinking about it, shuffling across the mattress until he could pull you into him. It dipped beneath your combined weight as he settled you on his lap, one arm wrapping securely around your waist while the other came up to cradle the back of your head. You let yourself sink against him completely, legs falling open around the large breadth of his body—hips to hips, chest to chest, your face tucked into the side of his neck where his skin was warm from a long day. His fingers slipped into your hair automatically, fingertips scratching lightly against your scalp while the steady rise and fall of his breathing moved beneath your cheek.

"Okay," he murmured, pressing his mouth briefly to your temple. "Tell me more."

"No, because—" Your voice caught unexpectedly. The burn seared in your throat even worse than before, your eyes prickling, your chin wobbling in a way that only made you more frustrated.

"It's so stupid." You swallowed hard. "You're here saving fucking lives and actually doing something, and I'm sitting here complaining because people..." A humorless laugh escaped you. "People like me too much."

The laugh that left him was soft, so fond that it made you want to hide your face even further. "Oh, honey."

You pushed your lips together to keep yourself from really beginning to weep, croaking out: "Don't laugh at me."

"I'm not laughing at you."

"I know." you admitted, inhaling a deep, shaky breath.

His hand continued moving through your hair, smoothing it back from your face before trailing down your spine in slow strokes.

"I understand what you're saying," he said gently. "But let's not compare apples to oranges, okay? Somebody else's problems don't make yours disappear. If something's upsetting you, it's upsetting you. I want you to tell me these things."

You let out a long breath into his shoulder, your body settling a little heavier against him, his heartbeat steady under your cheek, something you could focus on. His fingers kept moving, combing through the strands at the nape of your neck. For a few minutes, it was just this. His arms around you, your tears drying, your breath coming back to you.

He felt you begin to relax against him and then, his voice gentle and a little raspy: "I have an idea. I know you've been a little pent up, huh? Feeling a little overwhelmed?"

He had a certain way to his voice, a lilt that could always lull you into feeling comforted and yet completely wrapped around his finger. There was a gentleness to him, a softness, a patience. So much so that even without the special set up— the shampoo and the body wash and perfume or even braid in your hair—it had a funny way of making your brain turn to mush when he sounded like that.

You nodded.

"Can you come up a little for me, honey?"

You could do just about anything when he spoke to you like that.

His hands slid beneath your thighs and guided you higher against him, pulling you closer so your chest was up against his clavicle, your nose brushing up into his hair. You breathed him in automatically, the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with hospital and the lingering traces of a shift that had gone on far too long. Beneath you, you felt him shifting, heard the quiet rustle of fabric and the metallic sound of a zipper being tugged down.

The realization of what he was doing sent a fresh wave of heat through you. You began to whine a little at the feeling of it. Of him, against your thigh, his member warm and throbbing.

God, you felt so fucking desperate.

"Think this'll help us both relax a little, hm?" he murmured against your arm.

You nodded feverishly, and his mouth brushed your shoulder with a soft kiss in answer while his hands worked patiently. He helped you out of your cover up and your shorts, untying your bathing suit bottoms since your coordination seemed to have abandoned you entirely. You lifted your hips when he needed you to, shifted your legs where he guided them, letting him take care of the details while your forehead rested against the pillow.

"Aw, honey," he cooed, "you're soaked."

You whined a little more, petulant and impatient for him.

"Okay, okay," he soothed, "I know." And as he brought you back down into his lap, inhaling with a hiss through his teeth, the blunt head of his length pressed at your entrance. "Nice deep breath for me, honey."

You did as bid, and then, on your long sighing exhale, he pushed into you completely. Robby let out a low, strained groan that dragged up from his chest, his head tipping back against the thin pillows as his grip tightened at you. Your mouth opened in a gasp around his neck, a mewling whine falling from your lips.

"Ohhh…" you sighed, wriggling your hips a little to get him even deeper.

"Sh, sh, no moving—" he croaked lazily, his hands going to your hips to still you. "Just stay like that."

Your mouth, opened and wanton, found the side of his neck again, kissing and dragging, wet and searching, your tongue pressing along the line of his carotid while your teeth caught lightly at the skin there. He tasted like sweat, like his aftershave, his skin sensitive and thin around his beard. He hummed appreciatively at the feeling.

"Okay, now tell me what's goin on," he finally said once the two of you settled in. He didn't move his hips, but you could feel the involuntary twitching of his cock inside you every now and then. You were wet enough that it spread everywhere, slick between your thighs, warm where it gathered and slipped down over his balls that fit snug against you and dampening the sheets beneath. It made you ache for movement, for more, your walls clenching around him in want, but you held still, your hands gripping at him instead.

You let out a gurgled sound, your lips swollen and tongue still laving at his neck.

"What, are you suddenly too cock drunk to have a conversation, honey?" he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"Feels… sooo… mmm…" you hummed, the words trailing off as your legs tightened around his on the bed without thinking, the shift pressing you down on him, forcing him deeper. The reaction was immediate—both of you letting out a louder sound this time, your breath catching while his grip snapped tighter, his hands closing hard under your ass, fingers digging in deep enough to sting.

"No. Moving." he gritted out.

"Yes, Robby," you sighed obediently, the name slipping out soft against his skin.

He hummed pleasantly again.

"Tell me what…" you started, but your voice drifted, your mouth still pressed to his neck as your thoughts slipped, the feeling of him filling you pulling your focus under again, your body tightening around him in small, needy pulses you couldn’t quite control. "...What happened with your day."

You felt a little boneless on top of him, your kisses becoming slower, more gentle, until you were only pressing your lips into his beard. He let out a long breath, his hands easing their grip, sliding up your back, then back down in slow passes, smoothing over your skin.

"There was a bad incident at Kennywood."

"Dana told me," you murmured, your eyes blinking open a little, your voice quieter now as you listened, trying to stay with him.

He nodded against the pillow, his jaw shifting under your cheek. "It’s always… the worst when…" He paused, breath catching slightly, like he had to push the rest out. "When it’s kids."

You nodded, understanding.

"I don't wanna talk about my day," he suddenly said, though his voice was still low and gentle, "I wanna hear about yours."

You shook your head, closing your eyes again. You moved a little on the bed.

"Stop squirming so much, honey, I know what you're up to—"

You smiled into his neck. But then you heard his pager go off.

He groaned under you, his head tipping back as he reached blindly toward the bedside table, fingers fumbling for it before bringing it up to his ear. "Robinavitch, I'm busy—oh—hey."

You resumed your soft, leisurely kisses to his neck, praying he wasn't being called out into the fray again. He felt so warm, so good here. You felt so full and content, your mind still hazy and soft, lips swollen and warm against his skin.

"Yeah, hang on—" He pulled the pager away from his ear, turning his head so his mouth brushed against your hair. "Honey—"

"Mm?" you hummed, your lips still moving against his throat.

"It's Jack."

That snapped the rubberband of your brain back to yourself, eyes opening immediately, your head lifting back and your body going still on top of him.

"It's okay, it's okay—" Robby soothed quickly, one hand coming up to steady you where you’d pulled back. He shook his head a little, his expression holding. "He wants to know if he can come check on you. He said you had a hell of a day."

Your brows pulled together as you looked down at him, your hands planted on his chest, the feeling of him connected to you more heightened as you sat back on top of him.

"And… you’re…okay with that?"

His jaw tightened a little, the muscle jumping beneath his beard, but it didn’t settle into anything sharp this time. Something else passed through his face instead, quieter, held in check. "Yeah, it's okay."

You stared at him for another moment, unmoving.

"I promise," he added, his thumb brushing once along your hip. "But if you don’t want him to come in, it can just be me and you."

You worried your lip between your teeth, your gaze dropping briefly to the pager still in his hand, then back to him. There was a small, stretched pause before he lifted it again and brought it up to your ear instead.

You watched him the whole time, and he only nodded when it touched your skin. You didn't take the phone from him, only let him hold it up to you.

"Jack?" you murmured.

"Hi, sweetheart."

His voice was soothing through the device, rough and hoarse and sultry—Robby's lips twitched, not naive to the feeling of your body reacting to the sound of it. You pictured him just as you saw him a little while ago, though in your minds eye, his face had softened, his shoulders were dropped, that intense look long gone.

"Hi," you whispered, "Are you coming in to say hi?"

"Only if you want me to."

Your eyes flicked back to Robby, searching again, and he gave you another small nod, steady this time.

"Okay."

Robby took the pager back, bringing it to his ear again, his gaze not leaving your face. "North five," he said. "Don’t let anyone follow you in."

There was a beat, a quiet exchange on the other end you couldn’t hear, and then Robby lowered the pager, setting it back onto the bedside table without looking away from you.

"C'mere." he said, pulling you into him once again.

You went easily, folding into his chest, your arms tucking in between you where there was barely space, your cheek settling against him. A million questions ran through your head, but they felt quieted by Robby's arms around you, his lips at the top of your head. The way you couldn't help but notice his length swelling more inside of you.

Only a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

Robby reached for the hospital blanket without moving you too much, dragging it up and over your back, tucking it around your hips with one hand while the other stayed firm around you.

"Yeah," he called.

The door opened, and with it came a brief rush of noise from the floor—voices, monitors beeping somewhere down the hall, the squeak of shoes—before it cut off again as the door clicked shut.

"Hey," came Jack’s voice from across the room.

You lifted your head slightly from where it had been tucked into Robby’s neck, turning just enough to look over your shoulder. Jack stood near the door in his the same clothes, black t-shirt pulled tight across his chest and arms, cargos sitting low on his hips, his stethoscope looped around his neck, badge clipped at his belt.

Robby looked at him without expression, merely acknowledging him, before his attention dropped back to you. "I’m gonna let him come say hi, okay?"

You nodded against him. You didn’t see it, but you felt the shift in Robby as he looked up, giving Jack a small nod, a subtle tilt of his head that brought him closer.

Jack’s steps weren’t loud, and you felt him before you saw him, the space beside the bed changing, his presence close enough that you didn’t have to turn to know he was there. His hand came to your back, so broad and warm, and calloused even through your sheer cover up, moving slowly over your shoulder blades, back and forth in an easy rhythm.

"You doing better now, sweetheart?" he murmured.

"Mhm," you hummed.

"D'you tell Robby about your day?"

You shook your head. There was a pause that hung for a second, quiet but noticeable as the two of them looked at each other over you.

"Do you want me to tell Robby?"

You hesitated, your fingers shifting where they rested against Robby's chest, and then you nodded again. You didn’t have it in you to say much—your mouth parted like you might, but the words didn’t come, your focus slipping instead. Your body stayed tuned to both of them, fully aware of Jack there now, of the shift he brought into the space, but you didn’t let the nerves of a changing dynamic pull you away from that soft space in your mind you'd found only moments before. Your eyes moved between them briefly, a little slower, a little softer, before dropping again, your lashes lowering as you settled against Robby.

"S’okay, honey," he said beneath you, his hand coming up to smooth your hair back, tucking a piece behind your ear. "We can talk about it in a little. I wanna show Jack how good of a girl you are first. Is that okay?"

You tightened your hold again. You felt quieted, pacified by Robby's comforting hold, your brain still a little fuzzy despite the other presence in the room.

"She okay?" Jack asked.

"Oh, yeah," Robby answered knowingly, his voice low, that same rough gentleness in it as his hand drifted down your back again. "She gets a little overwhelmed sometimes. This helps." He glanced up at Jack. "Go grab the stool, I’ll show you."

You heard Jack move, the roll of the stool’s wheels against the floor, the faint creak as he settled onto it somewhere beside the bed, though you couldn’t see exactly where. You glanced back anyway, just enough to catch him watching you, a small smile pulling at his mouth when he caught your gaze.

"I’m gonna talk to Jack now, okay, honey?" Robby murmured close to your ear, his lips brushing your hair as he spoke. "If you have anything to add, you can. Don’t worry about being shy."

Your thoughts felt even slower now as your focus narrowed down to the way your body sat on his, your legs still spread around his hips, the stretch of him inside you constant and full. When he pulled the blanket back, the air hit your skin, cool against the warmth you'd created, and it made everything feel heightened for a second before it settled back into that same hazy heat. Beneath you, you felt him react again, a slow swell, a small pulse that made your stomach draw tight.

Jack swore under his breath when the blanket dropped, and you watched him through heavy lids as his gaze lowered, fixed between you and Robby, on the place where you were joined.

"She's a good girl, brother." Robby said seriously.

"Yeah," Jack said, the edge in his voice gone quieter, more focused. "Yeah, she is."

"Jack." Robby’s tone shifted when he said it—flat, deliberate. There was a pause as he waited until Jack looked at him fully before continuing. "I want you to understand what you’re asking for."

Jack's jaw tightened a little at that, his expression a little more serious.

"This isn't just fucking around for fun." Robby said with a tightness to him, carefully stern. "It's a dynamic that only works because what’s underneath it is solid. Because at the end of the day, this what actually matters."

Jack didn't say anything.

"Her and I work because we want the same things," Robby went on. "Trust, for one. There’s no wondering where the line is, no second-guessing it. And when something crosses it—" his eyes flicked to you for half a second, then back, "—we deal with it."

Jack's lips pursed. You squirmed a little in Robby's hold, but he went on anyway.

"There are rules her and I both follow. She knows she can trust me, and, though it may look different to the outside, she has all the control here."

"Even if you give the okay?" Jack asked, more direct now.

Robby nodded, "The only way this works is with her okay. She is the one letting me make that call. She gives it all to me, and tells me when she wants things or doesn't. She's a good girl because she willingly hands me the responsibility to take care of her, to know her best, to understand and let her be exactly who she is without question."

You weren’t sure why, but again, your throat began to tighten. You closed your eyes, pressing your face into Robby’s neck, disappearing there. It was strange, hearing them talk about you like that, like you weren’t right there between them—but it didn’t feel bad. If anything, it settled somewhere deeper, somewhere steady and comforting. You'd never heard Robby explain your dynamic to anyone, it was just something that came to be between you, something that both of you understood and needed. Even through hours of conversation, of open talks of wants and needs and dreams and desires, you'd never heard it put like this before.

"Do you remember, a few years ago, when…"

"When you planned that ego-death trip to Head Smashed In?" Jack said, a quiet amused note to his answer.

Robby nodded slightly beneath you. You’d heard about that before, it was right before you knew him, before any of this.

"I don’t think…" he started, his hand moving slow up your back, then settling there firmly again. "I don’t think I could’ve come back from that and been where I am now without this. Without her."

Your grip on Robby tightened. His arms came around you a little tighter too.

"I’m telling you all this, Jack," he went on, his voice steady again, "because if you want in, you need to understand it’s not just about getting your rocks off—"

"—I never said that was—"

"I know. But you also need to understand its not about stealing her from me, either." Robby cut in, the words heavy, as if said through bared teeth. It made you squirm again in his hold, your body clenching down and him twitching inside of you, the place between you so wet and sensitive and swollen it made your hips begin to tingle.

But then Robby’s words finally clicked in your head, and you lifted your face from his neck, pulling back just enough to look between them. "Wait—"

"I’m not looking to steal anything," Jack went on, shaking his head, his voice rougher now, less smooth than usual. "I want— fuck…" He broke off, dragging a hand down his face, fingers pressing over his mouth before he dropped it and leaned forward, elbows braced on the bed, his head dipping for a second.

You shifted again, sitting up a little more, your chest pulling away from Robby’s as you reached for Jack, your hand sliding into his hair without thinking. He reacted right away, his hand coming up to hold yours there, pressing it lightly against his head, still not looking up, his grip steady like he didn’t want you to pull away.

But when he did, the look on his face almost made you cry in earnest. There was so much there—a yearning, a loss, a sadness. And yet, so much want it made your chest feel like it cracked in two.

"You're… joining us?" you asked softly.

He took the hand you had in his hair and brought it down, guiding it to his face until your palm cupped his cheek, the rough shadow of his beard dragging lightly against your skin.

"Is that something you’d like to try?" he asked, quieter now.

You nodded, your thumb moving along the edge of his cheekbone before you could stop yourself. And when you did, he turned his face fully into your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm, his lips warm, lingering as his eyes stayed on yours before they slid back to Robby.

"I saw Park cornering her today," he said, the words coming out a little tighter, "It made me feel insane. How do you… how does that part work?"

Robby let out a small breath through his nose, something almost amused under it, even as his hand stayed firm at your side.

"I mean, right now, it pisses me off," he said plainly. "Because he's supposed to know better. They're supposed to ask first." Robby said. There was a dry edge to it, an annoyance even as his cock jumped inside of you. Then his attention came back to you. "What did he do, honey?"

You gnawed on your lip, and Jack rolled the stool so you could see them both at once. He sat on Robby’s right, angled toward the bed, his forearms braced on his thighs as he looked up at you. And from that angle, being split over Robby's member that was pulsing and swelling, feeling both of their eyes on you, it had your stomach clenching.

"Oooh—" Robby choked slightly, his hands tightening at your hips to hold you still, his grip still firm as he felt the change in you. "What is it?"

You smiled a little, reaching forward now for Jack, your fingers carding through the top of his graying hair, pushing it back. "I like this view."

Both of them chuckled a bit at that. But Robby's hands tightened on your hips again, "Tell me about Dr. Park, honey. It's time we talk about it now."

You let your hand fall from Jack’s curls, both of your palms coming to rest flat against Robby’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing under your touch.

"He… um…" You glanced at Jack, then back to Robby, your fingers curling a little in Robby's shirt. "We ran into each other in the hall, and he was worried I was at Kennywood too. But then he—." Your face went warm. "He said he missed me, he starting touching me—" You swallowed, eyes dropping for a second. "I think I just got overwhelmed."

"Do you miss him too?"

You bit your lip hard enough it hurt, your eyes dropping for a second before you went on. "Yes. But... I don’t know if it’s just because it’s been so long."

Robby nodded once, not interrupting, just watching you.

Jack hadn’t moved, his gaze fixed on you.

"He… he tried to—um—finger me—"

The word caught on the way out of your mouth, your voice hitching as Robby’s hips jerked up under you sharply. The movement made you gasp, your body tightening, your hands pressing harder into his chest.

Jack’s eyes flicked between you both, trying to take it all in—the dynamic, the shift of the room moment by moment.

"I didn’t let him," you rushed on, your voice thinner now. "He touched me and I was—I was getting so close too fast, but I couldn’t—I knew you’d be mad. That I was grounded."

"Grounded?" Jack asked, his brow pulling slightly.

You nodded. He looked to Robby, and Robby answered without looking away from you.

"After your little run-in," he said, calm, measured, "we adjusted things for a few weeks. Other than the no sharing, she's not allowed to finish."

"Fuck." Jack whispered.

You didn’t even realize you were moving at first. It was small, almost unconscious—your hips shifting against him, a slow, shallow rock that dragged him deeper each time. It built gently, the light press of your clit against the thatch of hairs at the base of him creating a delicious friction. Your body leaned into it before your mind caught up, your breath starting to change as it settled into a rhythm. Robby didn't seem to want to stop you this time, he just let you gently rock back and forth.

"How did it feel, honey?" he croaked, his eyes changed to a narrowed, hungry gaze as he watched you. "Having Park's fingers on you after so long?"

"Felt so good," you whispered, "too good."

"Fuck." Jack said again, but this time, it was hoarse with a thick arousal. "When I saw…" he went on, swallowing thickly. Your eyes flickered to him.

"I only saw you after the fact, but his fingers were—they were wet and I didn't realize—" Jack's hand was on his lap, tightening around the inside of his thigh. You licked your lips, rocking your hips harder against Robby now.

"I kissed him too, Robby—I'm sorry—" you moaned out louder now, pressing down harder, chasing that friction now as Robby's hands pushed you down onto him further, his lip beginning to curl back.

"I wanted to punch him." Jack growled.

You gasped, mewling at the feeling now, Robby's cock punching deeper inside you as he dipped his hips and pushed back in.

"Seeing you up against Park like that, all pushed into him—fuck—" Jack groaned, tightening his hand on his cargo pants where you could see a little stain of precome through his pants. "Robby, brother—pull down her—"

He didn't even have to finish the sentence before Robby was reaching up and yanking the little triangles of your bathing suit aside, your breasts falling, nipples peaking at the cold air. The fabric cut into your skin around the globes, so they were more pressed together as your mouth hung open, watching both of them through heavy lids. Jack groaned in what almost sounded like pain as his hand tightened around his growing bulge.

"Take it out—" Robby commanded to the attending, "Do it—"

Jack didn't hesitate, He unzipped his cargos, pushed them down to just the mid thigh, and pulled his thick cock out.

"I see what you meant, honey—" Robby quipped with a breathless little smile as he punched up into you again. "When you said he felt big—"

Jack let his head fall back onto his neck a little, but his lips quirked into a breathless little smile, "You two—you two gossiping about me?"

You nodded, "I told him you felt so big inside me, Jack, how good it— your cock—oh god," you mewled.

Your features pinched together at the feeling of tightening in your spine, hips beginning to cramp.

"No, no, no—honey—don't you fucking dare—" Robby demanded, his teeth bared up at you.

"What?" Jack whimpered. You watched his wide grip wrap around his throbbing shaft, the glistening bead of arousal growing at the reddened tip. He used it, sliding the slick with his thumb over the head of his cock while he watched you bounce on Robby.

"She wants to come—" Robby said, though it was mean, a groan, a chastising.

"Fuck it, let her—"

"No—" Robby growled.

"Pleaseeeeeeeee…" you mewled, tears beginning to blur your eyes so you could hardly see Jack, how his jaw unhinged and his body slumping over as he fisted his cock faster.

"No." Robby barked, even as his thrusts became uneven. "Hold it."

Your face pulled into a wailing grimace, the pain in your belly, your spine, of holding it back.

"Breathe, sweetheart, just breathe—" Jack soothed, coming back to himself a little, his voice hoarse and desperate and yet soothing, "easier if you don't tighten up so much, just breathe through the feeling, it's just a wave—"

You did as he said, pulling in a deep breath, trying to force your hips to settle, to loosen, and Robby’s eyes widened as he watched you. Then he was groaning low, pushing you down onto himself with one last thrust. Oh, fuck, that’s so good— he moaned, his voice breaking as you felt him fill you with long ropes of thick, hot, spend, your thighs starting to shake from it.

You heaved in long, slow breaths as you whined from the denial, your eyes locked on Jack as he worked himself faster, his mouth parted, breath coming rougher. But instead of folding in on himself, he shifted, pushing his knees wider, leaning back in the chair just enough to hold himself there, his body straining. The noises he made were shallow, deep, a desperate string of curses, of your name.

"Come, Jack, please—please come for me—" you begged, your voice catching as your hips started to move again over Robby.

"God, doesn’t she beg so fucking pretty?" Robby said, breathless, his hands coming up to push your breasts together in his broad hands.

"Yes, God yes, oh fuck—oh fuck—look at me, sweetheart, that's it, look at me when I—" Jack moaned, but the words cut off into a long, strained groan, his brows pulling tight as he came, thick spurts hitting your thigh and his hand, his fist working himself through the overwhelming euphoria.

All three of you were full of breath for a long moment, your hips still tight with the loss of any relief. But you sighed dreamily still, drawing your finger through the milky come along your thigh. Both of them watched you in silence as you lifted it, your lips closing around your fingertip, sucking the salty spend clean. You pulled it out with a small pop, glancing between them with a faint, sheepish smile at the way they were staring.

"Jesus," Robby huffed.

"Yeah." Jack responded.

And then, like it caught up to them all at once, Jack pushed up from the stool, grabbing a few paper towels, wiping his hand off quickly before tucking himself back into his cargo pants. He zipped up, turned back, and stepped in closer again, holding out the towels just as you started to lift yourself from Robby’s lap.

"Thank you," you said softly, taking them.

He didn’t step away. If anything, he closed the space, his hand coming to your elbow, steadying you as you shifted, your legs still a little unsteady. Behind you, Robby moved too, rolling off the bed, one hand still at your side. For a second, both of them had their hands on you at once: close, warm, grounding as you settled back down onto the bed, the paper towels tucked beneath you.

As you sat there, feeling the slow, sticky release from between your legs, you looked up at them. They were looking at each other now, something silent passing between them. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

"So…" you began.

Both of them looked at you from either side of the bed.

"Is this like… going to be normal? How is this going to work?"

Robby sighed, looking at his fellow attending. Both of them still were wordless as they watched each other, as if sizing the other up even after your shared moment.

"Oh, I know," you said, softer now. Your hands came up, one to each of them—Robby back in his black hoodie, the fabric worn and soft under your palm, and Jack’s bare arm, warm under your fingers. They both looked down at you then, both of them a little quieter, a little more open than you were used to seeing. You looked back at Jack.

"Why don't you come for dinner?" you said. "Maybe next week?" Your eyes flicked to Robby. "Would that be okay?"

Robby made a sort of frown, thinking.

But it was Jack who spoke first, "That sounds great, sweetheart."

"And for now, let’s just… go on as normal. Think about what we actually want. We can just… take it slow."

Jack tipped his head down a little, a small smile pulling at his mouth. "That sounds nice." He came closer to you, brushing a kiss to your temple, but you caught him before he could pull away, your hand coming up to his face, your fingers settling along his jaw, holding him there.

When you glanced back to Robby, you saw he was smirking now, watching the two of you with a renewed light ignited behind his eyes.

You looked back at Jack once again, and your focus dropped to his lips.

"I think I deserve a real kiss goodbye," you said softly. "Don’t you think, Robby?"

Robby let out a quiet laugh, folding his arms across his chest. "I think you do. She was such a good girl, after all, Abbot."

Jack huffed a breath of a laugh, his mouth twitching before he leaned in the rest of the way.

"Anything for our best girl." he said, before pressing his lips to yours.

end note (so not to have spoilers): so much love and adoration for my friend court (@pearlessance) !!!! thank you for letting me pluck the idea of split custody from your beautiful brain!

thank you so much for reading!!!

🏷️ @realwhoreforfictionalmen, @kittymeowmeow17, @viviandarkbloom11, @kneelforloki, @kitkatrina, @dugiioh, @ineedbooksandoldermen, @spookyscaryfish, @dugiioh, @ineedbooksandoldermen, @spookyscaryfish, @anthropsych, @shawnysimp, @1-800-bobcut, @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing comment below if you'd like to be added!

[p1nkbfang]

Ellis parker the posibilities

[bleghbarbie]

omg can we pls have more rabbot dynamic where jack is soft and robby is rough… ♡

꣖ mdni ꣓ 💬 .. ꕤ * .ﾟ had this fic idea titled ouchies, but ill jus put it here <3

when jack isnt around, u ask robby if ur loud whines and squeals are annoying in bed. it had been on ur mind for a minute, but u were too nervous to ask jack. but maybe u shouldve..

“no, baby. u know we love ur little noises.. lets us know weve still got it at our ages,” he chuckled at u. “if u feel like ure being too loud though.. maybe bite down on ur finger? see if that works?”

nd jack is pissed when u try it for the first time. jack has u on ur front, lifting his weight up by his arms. robby tapped out on the side, gently stroking himself while watching. but when u suddenly go quiet, jack is confused. “whats she doin?” he asks a nervous robby. “where are my pretty noises? sweetheart..?” he gently pulls u back to see ur knuckle in ur mouth.

nd for some reason, he knows it was robby’s idea. ud never just do this. he pulls the finger from ur mouth, rubbing at the teeth indents. “whys she biting her fucking finger?” he calmly asks robby.

“it was the first thing that came to mind. she told me she thinks shes too loud, which she isnt,” he rushed out, “told her that. i just said..”

jack cuts him off, “im not hearing an answer. why did u tell my baby to hurt herself?” he grows impatient, turning ur head into his chest, not letting robby look at u. he doesnt get to. he went too far. not touching isnt enough, jack doesnt want u two interacting for as long as he deems necessary.

“why do u think she came to me instead of u right now? u get all bossy and strict. i gave her a suggestion. never told her to bite hard, just enough to muffle the sounds.”

jack tilts his head down, murmuring to u, ignoring robby. cant deal with the man. “did he tell u that, sweetheart? he specify how hard to bite? i know u need detailed instructions, so did robby do that?”

u blink up at him for a second, nervous to tattle on robby. but.. u did bite too hard. u werent too sure what to do. so u guessed, nd u bit down hard. u really do need specified instructions..

u hide ur face back in his chest, shaking ur head against him. nd jack already knew the answer. jack was looking at u as he spoke, stroking ur face, pressing kisses against u. he directs his words at robby, “u think thats okay? would u like it if u were hurting? i dont know what was going through ur head when u told her that. dont think u were even thinking. i want u hard and frustrated for a straight week. u dont get to look at her, cant touch yourself. u get fuckin’ nothing. dont do that again. i wanna hit u upside the head, ’m so mad at u.”

[starofhisheart]

Happy pride to those 5 seconds where Charlie Swan thought Jacob was coming out to him in the most insane way possible

[va1-kyrie]

🕯 🕯 🕯

🕯 May you have the 🕯

🕯 absolute thirstiest 🕯

🕯 of thirst dreams of 🕯

🕯 whatever fictional 🕯

🕯 character you’re 🕯

🕯 hyper-fixating on at 🕯

🕯 the moment 🕯

🕯 🕯 🕯