Annie (remus version)

FUCK JKR TRANS WOMEN ARE WOMEN | 26 | she/her | this is a side blog, i follow back from thatonefuckinbird | kinda just whatever the fuck i’m reading

[crescenthistory]

also, if you will be donating to trans rights charities to combat the harm of JKR specifically, make sure you donate to UK based charities — they are the ones that will be actively and directly fighting her, so they are the ones who need funding to match hers

examples are: trans legal clinic, trans kids deserve better, akt, mermaids, galop

[lostalioth]

Perlah and Princess finding younger nurse reader’s old modeling photos. Jack Abbot and Dana ask them what’s going on and they show them the photos. Jack’s already existing crush on her grows more and he starts acting weird with her at work and she wonders why. He finds the photos for himself and eventually asks her out and maybe things get spicy ;))))

— ᴍᴏᴅᴇʟ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ ʙᴀʙʏ ༘˚. ᵎᵎ

→ warnings: jack abbot x fem!reader, 2.2k wc, smut, pervy!jack, nicknames [baby, sweetheart, honey], unprotected or protected sex you can choose lowkey, I just forgot to write about the condom…

→ a/n: i didnt know what type of modelling pics you meant exactly so my brain went the underwear modeling izzie stevens to pay your way through school modeling pics. which lead to well you’ll see.

If Jack thought you looked pretty in scrubs at work and the occasional casual civies after shift is over, he is now convinced you look like an actual angel in the photo he is currently staring at on Princess’s phone.

They were supposed to be doing hand-offs, you know that thing he’s normally very diligent about, he had just barely walked through the doors of the hospital before he sees Perlah and Princess huddled together by the nurse’s station. Now this wasn't an odd sight by any means but the absolute shock on their faces was what slightly alarmed him to begin with. It apparently alarms Dana just as much because she is waking up to them alongside Jack, — “Whatever has you twos jaws damn near on the floor better be good” she scoffs softly. “Supposed to be trading off patients with night shift or better yet clearin’ beds” The mother hen Dana is as always keeping her pittlings in line.

Without another word, Princess spins her phone in her shock and there sits the photo that now almost has Jack’s jaw being the one nearly on the floor but he has to stay professional, even if he is looking at the most beautiful thing on earth right before his eyes. It looks to be an old professionally taken photo of you, all dolled up, hair done and you're wearing what looks almost like a nightie, it’s sheer and black and Jack thinks if he stares any longer he’s gonna have to change both his scrub pants and his underwear. Better yet or his heart is gonna give out from how damn hard it’s thumping against his chest.

Now Jack is by no means a prude but god does he really hope the whole PTMC and their mothers haven't seen you like this, he knows how fast the rumor mill runs with Princess and Perlah at the front lines.

“How- How um” he attempts to get out but his brain apparently can’t currently form any words, if he thought his little pathetic crush he had on you was bad before. It's worse, so much worse now. He thinks his heart is about to thump right out of his chest at the sight of you, the sight of you rounding the corner headed their way now in fact. Dana ever his savior chimes in. “Should the two of you have this picture? How did you get it anyway?” she questions a bit harshly.

“Princess” you hiss out at her as she spins her phone back hiding it in her chest. “You weren’t exactly supposed to show people” you explain and Jack swears he hears you mumble “Especially” as you nod your head his way. Perlah fades out of her own shock and begins arguing or scolding Princess in Tagalog, not that Jack understands any of it as they walk away. You let out a sigh and start explaining, “Uh yeah i sent it to her, I was complaining to Princess about rent and she mentioned her student loans and i told her that i sort of un conventionally paid my way through nursing school so i didnt have any and well” you gesture towards the two still arguing nurses going about their duties now.

Jack's mind is still on the photo as he stares at you, his eyes scanning your body. He can’t help his thoughts drifting to think of what kind of bra or panties you had under your scrubs, if they were lacey or just basic black, he prays lace. His cock doesn't seem to mind either option however as it twitches at the thought. He thinks he hears you and Dana talking back and forth but his brain is still not exactly working. “Gotta find Robby, hand-offs and all” he grumbles out a bit rough as he walks away in some direction, any direction that's away from you before he starts leaking in his boxers.

Which is about how it goes the whole rest of the shift. Him walking away from wherever you are, he works alongside you when you’re the assigned nurse but during down time if he can see you walking his way he’s spinning and walking whatever direction beside yours he can. You’re not stupid you notice he’s acting weird and avoiding you, you know it’s because of the picture, you think however it’s cause he’s judging you. What you don't know is, Jack goes home and by some miracle through internet snooping and stalking your following, he finds the photographer and furthermore his end goal — the picture, more than just one in fact.

If Jack fists his cock with the modeling pictures pulled up on his phone that morning he got home and subsequently that night before his next shift, well that's between him and the four walls of his apartment.

You were already ready to end Jack avoiding you by the next shift, pulling him aside in the ambulance bay before he could even walk inside, you had practically jumped out at him like a bunny he didn't have time to turn away.

“I didn’t take you of all people as the judgemental type Jack, I did what I had to pay my way through school” you start immediately ranting at him, his chest starts to ache as he registers the genuine hurt in your eyes as you are snapping at him. “Sweetheart-” he starts as if to explain himself but is cut off as you continue. “I don't appreciate you avoiding me and judging me because of it, I'm not proud of it but it happened and it helped, I would however appreciate you not telling anyone else” “Never” he responds quickly and gruffly, more jealously lacing his voice than intended. You nod and mumble “Thank you” as your tense shoulders drop, the fire leaves your body.

“I was never judging you honey i just-” he starts and stops shaking his head. “You what jack?” you prompt with a manicured hand on his forearm, heat flooding his face at the contact and what he has decided in the last few seconds he’s about to do. “It’s just I-” clearing his throat and looking up he starts again.

“I like you, a lot actually and seeing well you know only made it worse, never meant to make you feel judged” before you can let his confession sink in he’s speaking again in quick succession, because he’s scared to hear what he is expecting to be a rejection. “And I might as well ask ya’ now but will you let me take you out on a date sweetheart?” he braces himself for a polite no to leave your lips but instead they crash against his and so does your chest against his when you throw your arms around his neck.

He hums into the kiss in surprise but also in content as he kisses back, his eyes fluttering shut, slipping a hand around your waist and pushing at the small of your back to press your whole body against his. “This is a yes if you couldn’t tell-” “yeah yeah i got it baby” he cuts you off and deepens the kiss not ready to pull away just yet, his hands sliding from your waist down to grab a handful of your ass.

“Oh finally!” Dana exclaims as the sliding doors open, her words startling the two of you apart. “Knew i’d have to win one of these damn bet pools yet” She smirks and pats abbot on the shoulder and shoots a wink your way before heading off to the other end of the ambulance bay pulling out her lighter and cigarettes as she walks. Safe to say moment ruined but you and Jack turn back to look at each other and both erupt into laughs.

Jack's not as nervous on the date as he expects and he’s a perfect gentleman. Picking you up at the exact time he said, bringing you a bouquet of your favorite flowers that he definitely didn't learn when overhearing a conversation between you and Perlah. He opens the car door for you, even buckling you in with a kiss to your forehead before getting in his side, opening the door to the restaurant, one he picked because he knows they serve your favorite food. A fact he learned one night you were working a double and were starving, so you know a less weird way of learning something about you. But sense meeting you, Jack had succumbed to stealing all the little facts he could get about you in anyway he could.

The date goes perfect, even more than expected when Jack ends up spread out laid back on your albeit a little small for a man his size bed. All he was expecting tonight to get was a goodnight kiss, but this, you naked as the day you were born on top of him, is much, much better.

Jack’s just about if not more bare than you, His nice dress shirt, pants and boxers are discarded on your bedroom floor next to your pretty black dress and your lacy bra and panties (he did in fact sort of guess right, you wear black lace). His prosthetic is also off, not discarded but leaned up against your nightstand, when he sat down on your plush bed he groaned and rubbed at where it met his thigh and ever the observant girl you are you asked if it was bothering him. Jack, ever the man to avoid being a burden told you not much, you then offered to take it off for him. Who’s he to say no to a pretty girl pretty much asking to take off his pants?

Turns out he underestimated just how intimate it would feel to have you strip him of not just his clothes. He will admittedly deny tearing up slightly or excuse it as relief when you took it off.

“Jack~ you feel s’ good, fuck! S’ big” you moan out as your hips buck forward, your back arching when his lift up to meet you, his cock dragging against your velvety walls. “Fuck honey! You feel amazing holy fuck, youre already killing me here baby” he grunts out as his grip on your hips tightens, his eyes can’t chose between watching the way your face contorts in pleasure when his tip hits that spongey spot deep inside you just right or watching where your bodies are connected and gazing in awe at how your pussy is practically swallowing his cock. “She’s such a greedy thing baby, she's engulfin’ my cock and still aching for more huh?” he coos, bringing his thumb to rub circles on your clit. You clench down around him at the action and bounce even harder up and down his cock. “Wanted this- wanted you so long fuck!” he groans out as his head falls against your silk pillow below him. You hum out in a high pitch nodding your head as if to agree with him. “Ridin’ me so good honey” he coos. “Fuck- Jack im- m’ gonna cum” you whine out, your eyes screwing shut in pleasure as your hands reach down behind you, grabbing at his thighs, your hips speeding up. He speeds up his toying with your bundle of nerves and a smirk blooms on his face as a sneaky thought enters his head.

You're so blissed out on top of him that you miss one of Jack’s hands leaving your body and him leaning over to grab his phone off the nightstand. “Yeah honey? Gonna cum f’ me?’ he mocks softly using your whiney tone of voice, it has your hips faltering lightly as you get closer and your cunt clenching down on him harder. “Fuck- she’s milking me sweetheart, wan’ me to cum with you?’ he asks though he thinks he’s about ready to cum that second with how enthusiastically you nod your head before throwing it back, a mantra of yes’s spilling from your parted lips.

Lifting his phone just in time he takes a picture capturing your body and face screwed tight in euphoria as your high crashes into you.

“Cumming- m’ cumming- shit” you squeal out. “There we go honey, cum for me sweetheart, ive got you” he mumbled out in a soft tone as your legs started shaking lightly where they rested either side of Jack who isn't far behind you, his hips buck up against yours as your pussy squeezes his release out of him. Your hips rock against his softly as the two of you come down, his thumb slowly stopping the circles on your clit and coming to rest on the side of your thigh. You finally open your eyes to find Jack’s phone aimed at you, your eyes go a little wide with surprise. “Come on, model for me baby huh?” he coaxes, thrusting up into you as his cock is softening inside you, but gives a small twitch at the movement.

You squeal a little and giggle before doing a silly dramatic sexy pose on top of him by pushing out your bare chest and making a fake orgasm face. He takes the photo and another when you're mid giggle before striking another fake mid orgasm pose. “Oh sweetheart, I know that one’s fake, got the real one right here” he chuckles and flips his phone to show you the picture of you he took mid real orgasm. “Jack” you squeal and swat at his chest.

→ a/n: half assed proof-read, i meant for this to be short but apparently i cant do under 1k and yet i feel like i don’t like this and i rushed the smut…anyway it’s 2 am maybe i should sleep.

[redd-blushing-roses]

U + ME = <3 (forever)

word count: 5.4k

pairing: (med student) michael robinavitch x reader

summary: two med students. a late night. and a reminder that love sometimes lasts in ways that you never expect.

warnings: none really; silly fluff. although reader is a little bit of an airhead (in an endearing way I hope) and robby has some ruminations about his mom. also jack is here because I say so 😌

notes: Is this kinda dumb? maybe. do I like it anyway? yeah. what can I say, I'm a lover girl at heart! I've been trying to write a Robby fic for some time and something just clicked when I saw the ER version of noah wyle.

and, of course, if you couldn't tell, this is highly inspired by olivia rodgo's song u + me = <3!!!

enjoy reading :)

------------------------------------------------------

April 19, 199-

“Hey! Robinavitch!” 

There’s a loud pounding against the hard wood of Robby’s door, the dorm wall shaking slightly. Poorly taped posters and the pages of dog-eared medical books strewn about flutter as the little plug in fan turns, blowing cool air into the hot dorm. The cramped twin bed creaks as Robby shifts, cracked headboard rocking slightly with the reminder he'd broken the frame last semester. 

Cheap university furniture. 

You let out a muffled groan against Robby’s lips, his hot fingers trailing a map against your neck, an elbow buried into his navy sheets as he keeps his weight off of you. Your jean clad hips press up into his sweats and Robby groans. 

Feels just like heaven. 

Robby kisses you fervently, like he couldn't get enough. He supposes it was true. Or maybe he was just desperately avoiding the chem study packet calling his name. 

“Robinavitch!”

Your fingers thread through his long hair, lashes fluttering open slightly as the knocking sounds again, louder. 

Although Robby is less sure it's knocking at his door and not the clashing drums of the cd he's blasting; a throwback mix he’d gotten one of his roommates to burn for him. 

“Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you?

That I'm in love with you?”

Robby feels you slowing down beneath him, your face turning slightly from his. 

“Robby.”

“Hmm,” he hums, chasing your kiss swollen lips, the scruff of his facial hair scratching against your cheek, dipping into the crook of your neck to ravage your shoulder. You giggle beneath him, pink polished nails digging into the cut up sweatshirt he was wearing. 

“Robby- Michael.” That gets his attention. He pushes himself up, hair falling over his forehead, his necklace hanging loosely from his neck.

“Yeah?” You smile dreamily up at him, still caught up in the haze of his cologne and the heat of the room. 

“I think there's someone at your door,” you point a manicured nail at the big wooden door, the brass handle currently jammed with a wooden chair beneath it. He turns, big brown eyes raking over the band poster falling off by one corner plastered on its backside, the messy pile of sweats and jeans bunched in the corner, the cd player still blasting. 

Robby makes a show of pausing. He shakes his head and turns his back slowly towards you, grinning. 

“I don't hear anyone.” 

“But-”

“Hey Robby! Come on man.” 

“Think you're hearing things.” You laugh sweetly, brushing his long hair away from his face, holding it gently in place. 

“I’m not Mr. Resident advisor. I think your students need you.”

He huffs. “They can wait. I’m busy helping you study,” he mumbles against the crook of your elbow.

“Robby, we stopped studying, like, an hour ago. And I’m helping you study.” 

“No, come on. We moved on to anatomy, remember?” You giggle, moving to sit up.

Robby doesn't let you, straddling your hips, head tilted playfully as he runs a hand through his long hair. He'd been growing it out this semester. His facial hair too.

Because it was the style and the last time Robby had tried to trim it himself he’d nicked his ear so bad he wore a bandaid for a week.

Or maybe it was because you had mentioned something about liking guys with a beard-

“You're killing me with that floppy hair of yours,” you grin. Robby gives you a look, mouth pulling into a sad little pout. 

“My hair’s not floppy.”

“It is a little,” you giggle. “I like it though. Very Brendan Fraiser.”

“Oh yeah,” Robby’s brow raises, laughing. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling him back down by his sleeveless sweatshirt. Robby hums amusedly as you run your hand over the scruff of his cheek. You blink up at him, eyes darkening a bit as you trail the plane of his bare shoulder, goosebumps erupting over the line of his bicep. He chuckles.

“Thought you said there was someone at the door?” 

“I don't hear anyone now,” you smile. 

Robby kisses your cheek. Then your chin. The crook of your neck. He trails down, your hands threading through his hair again as he moves downward- 

“ROBBY I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!” 

Robby shoots up, hips twisted as he watches the doorknob rattle. You whine, eyes narrowing in annoyance at the door.

“Okay. Okay okay, maybe there is someone at the door.” You give him a look, pushing him towards the edge of the mattress. Robby hops off the bed, pulling up his sweats as they slide low on his hip. 

He gives you a cheeky grin as he saunters over to the door, moving the chair blocking the lock. You grin from the bed, jean clad legs still tangled in his sheets, the sleeve of your tanktop sliding off one shoulder. 

Robby unlocks the door, and cracks it open, an arm coming up to block the space. He frowns as a familiar looking auburn haired MS1 lets out a relieved sigh.

“Finally man. I’ve been knocking for like five minutes.” Robby sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“What is it? It’s late.”

“I forgot my key.” Robby gives the kid an incredulous look.

“You forgot your key? Again?”

“Yeah. Me and a couple of the guys were at the library s- studying and I thought Sammy had his key so I left mine…” The kid rambles on and Robby sighs. Studying was obviously the poorly veiled code word for smoking… if the smell coming off his clothes and the glazed look in his eyes was any indicator.

“Okay okay- Abbot! Stop talking, geez. You’re gonna make me kill myself with your rambling.” 

“Sorry. Oh shoot. I didn’t realize you had your girl in here.” Jack cranes his neck, peering over Robby’s shoulder. Robby glances back at you, your hand lifting in an embarrassed little wave from the bed.

Your girl. 

Robby hadn't realized people perceived the two of you that way. Like you two were a set. Not just two students who made out and occasionally slept in each other's dorm. The inbetween something with no real stipulation. 

You had both agreed on that first night out together that it was just casual. Nothing tying you down, no big expectations or anything. Robby was cool with it.

He knew you'd been burned by one too many boyfriends before to want to be tied down by something concrete. You knew he had bad habits and liked a gentle escape if needed.

But your girl. 

He liked the sounds of that a little too much for a guy who refused to put labels on anything. 

You laugh, “Hi Jack.” 

“Hi,” Jack grins, stumbling a bit in the doorway as Robby slips his shoes on. “Woah.” 

Robby sighs again, grabbing the dorm masterkey from where it was laying on his dresser and shoving Jack back out the door.

“I’ll be back,” he calls over his shoulder. “Hey move it.”

“Thank you so much brother.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

------------------------------------------------------

When Robby gets back to the dorm, he’s greeted with silence. The cd long run its course, the fan no longer humming softly. The lamp is shut off, the orange glow of the hallway the only light, casting deep shadows across the room.

It’s the first thing Robby notices as he stands in the doorway of his empty apartment.

You’re gone.

Not completely, of course. There are still remnants of your existence lingering. Little touches that remind Robby you do in fact exist and aren’t some beautiful figment of his imagination.

The sheets of his bed have been straightened, the pile of books now stacked neatly on his desk; messy laundry tucked properly into the hamper. There are still little pieces of you: a few pink highlighters and gel pens strewn about his desk, a scrunchie left on his nightstand, a picture of you and him pinned to Robby’s corkboard. It still smells like you. Your fruity bubblegum and sweet bath and bodyworks spray.

Robby scratches the back of his head as he shuts his door, trying not to think about the fact you'd slipped out while he was gone. Sure. Plenty of girls had done the same before. Hey, even he had done it too. Irish exits and promises to see each other again left unfulfilled. 

But you didn't do that. 

You always said goodbye. 

Robby hates the way he keeps thinking about it. Like it meant something.

So what? He didn't care. You could leave without saying goodbye. It wasn't like you two were very serious anyway.

Robby throws the key back on his dresser, chucking his shoes back into the closet and flops onto his bed, face down. 

He doesn't know why it's bothering him so much. Why he feels the familiar tightening of his chest, the worry crawling like maggots in his brain. Robby lays there in the dark. 

And then the phone rings. He sits up, startled by the loud sound echoing from his nightstand. He crawls over the bed, reaching and picking the phone up from the receiver. 

He was expecting a call from another locked out student or someone needing maintenance to come unclog brownie batter out the drain. 

“Robinavitch here-”

“I forgot to tell you goodbye!” 

Robby’s face softens as he realizes it's you. He'd recognize your voice anywhere. He's surprised you're calling, so much so he doesn't catch what you're saying. 

“What?” Robby chuckles, just happy to hear you again. 

“I just left. I didn't even give you a kiss or anything.” 

“That's alright.”

“Did Jack get to his room alright?”

“Eventually. Although he was so stoned out of his mind, I don’t think he’d know his left foot from his right.” He hears you click your tongue on the line, sighing. 

“The life of the party. A shame he’s got to be sent away."

“Yeah.” Robby listens as you move around on the other side of the line. Something clatters and he hears you settle onto the bed.

“I’m really sorry. I should have kissed you goodbye.” 

“It’s okay, really. I think we’ve made out more than some couples do their entire marriage.” 

“Marriage?” You laugh. “You thinking about marrying me already, Robby?” 

The question is innocent. Coy in your own sweet way. Robby grins widely, glad you couldn't see the blush blooming across his freckle strewn face. 

“Maybe,” his voice cracks in spite of the joking tone he uses. You giggle. 

“Good. I really like you, you know. A million times better than the other boys who've tried to suck face with me.” Robby makes a face. 

“That's kinda a crude way to put it.”

“Just saying. They don't deserve to be remembered as anything more.” 

Robby laughs, picturing your cheeky smile. The way you’d shrug. He gets that tight feeling in his chest again and swallows thickly. 

“I know. I like you a lot too.” 

“Like, ‘want to get married’ a lot?” Robby rolls his eyes. 

“We're only 23 sweetheart. Isn't that kinda young?” 

“I’m planning on getting married by 25 Robby. I think I told you this, didn't I?” 

“Yeah. You did. But I'm barely making it through med school as it is. And you can't even remember where you parked your car half the time. You want to get married?” 

“Well yeah. You always remember where my car is. We're made for each other.” Robby laughs, a hand running down his face amusedly. Your next words hit him hard. Right in the chest.

“I don't think I’d ever want anyone else Michael.” 

There's a seriousness beneath your teasing tone. Robby thinks he almost stops breathing. Then you laugh. 

“But maybe you're right. Oh! Actually I almost forgot. I left you a little something.”

Robby clears his throat, trying to recover from that. 

I don't think I’d ever want anyone else Michael

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. It's just a little note. Something silly.”

You were always leaving little things for Robby to find. Poorly folded gum wrapper hearts in his jean pockets or post its on his car dash. Robby thought it was endearing in spite of the way his friends made fun of him for keeping them. 

“I’m sure it's not silly. Where?” 

“In your study packet.” Robby laughs. 

“Okay, where?” He repeats. You laugh. 

“Well, you gotta actually read the material to find it.” 

“Wow. You have no faith in me, do you?” 

“I do!” You protest. “I believe in you Robby. But you can't be a great doctor if you don't know the difference between the dermis and epidermis.”

Robby smiles. 

“You think I’m gonna be a good doctor?” 

“A great one. Yeah.” 

“Thanks.”

You're quiet on the other end for a moment. And then you yawn. 

“Okay enough mushy talk. I seriously have a test I’ve got to study for.” Robby chuckles. 

“Okay. goodnight hon.”

“Goodnight Micheal.”

He’s about to hang up when you add two little words. “Love you!”

The line clicks.

Robby holds the phone to his ear for a moment longer, heart clinging to those two little words. His chest tightens again, the unfamiliar feeling blooming in spite of the way Robby was trying to push it down. 

The phone clicks against the receiver with a gentle sound, the bed creaking as Robby lays down on his back. He stares up at the popcorn ceiling trying to ignore the overwhelming elation rising through him. 

Which is stupid, he immediately thinks.

It probably means nothing. You guys aren't serious like that. Not serious enough to be joking about marriage late at night at least. 

Robby knows you know about his not so pretty dating history. The long list of girls, the endless streak of letting good love slip away. He knows he's overheard your girlfriends remind you to take it slow. To remember Robby has a bad habit of leaving. 

Not being the one left. 

Robby knows people change. People come and go. He's had plenty of people leave his life. People he cares about. People he’s wanted. 

He knows things probably won't ever stay the same. 

Robby can be honest himself: he's got commitment issues. He can thank his mom for that. He sometimes likes to blame all his worst parts on her. His quick temper, his bossy nature. The need to always be right, to be needed. 

Robby knows you were joking about the marriage thing. Of course you were. 

But no one's said ‘I love you’ like that and not meant it. 

Not to him at least. Without any hesitation or doubt. Without burden. 

You said it like it was a habit he didn't even know you’d formed. Like the two of you had unknowingly grown into something more than casual dates. Something more than two med students who’d bonded over a rough emergency department rotation and less than productive study sessions. 

Something softer and sweeter. 

The thing Robby tried so hard to stop himself from wanting. 

It unraveled something deep inside him. A truth he had been trying to keep at bay for a while now. Because the truth was he did want that. To be your one and only. 

He wanted a marriage. He wanted kids. He had this vision, this dream, of being the dad someone could be proud of. The doctor who would show off his family in pictures around his office, who’d come home from blood and gore to the sounds of laughter and life. 

And yeah, maybe a part of him had begun to picture you as that person. Maybe you had begun to bleed into his dreams; the laughter brightening into your high pitched squeal, the pictures shifting into someone with your face. 

Robby doesn't even realize how long he's been lying in the dark thinking until he hears the hall lights blink out, the sign curfew was officially in place. His fingers clench around the star hanging from his necklace. 

This was stupid. He shouldn't be thinking things like that. Overly romantic and head over heels kind of thoughts that you'd see in movies. 

Life didn't work like that. Robby knew that better than anyone. 

But you’d said goodbye. You said ‘I love you’- 

Robby scrubs a hand over his face letting out a deep breath. 

“Just forget it.” 

He gets up, turning on the lamp and settling heavily into his desk chair, half heartedly picking up his textbook. Robby flips open to the marked page, fingers threaded through his hair as he tries to pay attention to the words on the page. They swim before him. 

It was just infatuation. The biological reaction to receiving attention. 

He didn't… 

You were just a fling. A casual date he’d move on from after a few months. Right? 

Robby pauses, counting how many months the two of you had actually been hanging out together.

 The number is a lot more than a fee.

“Urgh, forget it,” Robby lets out again with frustration, tossing the study packet onto the floor. He watches as the packet flutters to the ground in a crumple. As a pink flashcard slides out and onto the wood floor. 

Robby stands, crouching to pick it up. That's right. You had said you’d left him something. He picks the sturdy card up, frowning as he tries to read what it says. 

He moves back over to the lamp, tall frame scrunching close to the poorly lit bulb. The card glows a hot pink beneath the light, your sparkly pen glittering. 

U + ME = <3 

Oh God. 

------------------------------------------------------

It’s early the next morning when Robby realizes he’s totally and completely fallen for you. Literally.

He crashes onto the floor of your dorm room, his long leg catching on the ledge of the window as he tries to sneak in.

Your roommate sits up in her bed, a confused and sleepy look crossing her face as she blinks at the two of you. Robby gives her an embarrassed wave, grunting as you hold out your hand. 

“I got it, I got it.”

“Let me help you Robby,” you giggle as bend down. He lets you pull him up, giving you a flushed smile as he takes in your cotton sleeping shorts, the big band tee you'd stolen from his closet swallowing your frame. Robby presses a kiss on your cheek in thank you and moves towards the bed on your side of the dorm. 

“Sorry Amy,” you whisper, nudging her apologetically. She swats your hand away, rolling over. 

“Just wake me before the exam is supposed to start.” You giggle an ‘alright’, turning back to Robby as he fidgets with the tasseled ends of your pillowcase. 

“What’s up? I thought we were meeting up after class?” 

Robby looks up at you, still high off the adrenaline of running halfway across the big courtyard to your dorm. 

“I just…” 

The words are suddenly lost on his tongue. 

The speech he'd been practicing in his room, late into the morning. He'd been pacing a hole in his wood floors, clutching that pink flashcard in his hand as he went over what he wanted to tell you. 

He knew he had to tell you.

He knew he had to ask you. 

If you wanted to be something more. Something that came with a label and commitment. 

But for a guy like Robby, who'd never even spoken an “I love you”- not even to his grandma who'd taken him in- the task suddenly seemed monumental. He supposes it was. 

“What?” You ask, giving him a curious look. “Are okay? You look terrible.” 

Robby lets out a puff of air, chuckling quietly as you cup his scruffy face. You've got that assessing look on your face, like you've already nailed down the clinical eye doctor’s need to have. 

“I didn't get much sleep last night,” he finally says. 

“Oh. Were you really worried about studying?” You frown. 

“Um, I didn't do much studying last night.” 

“Robby,” you croon in a chastising tone. He shrugs. 

“I have a photographic memory. Remember?”

“Uh huh. Yet you keep forgetting where your shirts are,” you grin, caressing the familiar edge of a shirt he had definitely stolen back from the laundry hamper.

“That's cause you steal them,” he pinches your side. You laugh, quieting when your roommate throws you an angry glare. 

“So… why'd you come here?” 

“Um,” Robby looks over at your roommate nervously, mumbling quietly, “I wanted to tell you something.” You frown. 

“Huh?” 

“I- I wanted to tell you-” You lean in closer, trying to hear him. Robby is so nervous he can barely get his voice above a whisper.

“Take me?” 

“No-” but your eyes are already lighting up and you let out a surprised gasp. 

“Wait, are we gonna get breakfast?!” Robby blinks. “That's what you were gonna say, right? You want to take me to Starbucks. A pre exam coffee?” 

You're bouncing on the balls of your feet, clearly excited about the prospect of a caffeine pick me up and sugary pastry. Robby gives you a resigned smile. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that's what I was gonna say.” You squeal and throw your arms around him. 

“You're the best guy a girl could ever have! I gotta go change and then I’ll be right out.” 

Guy. 

Not boyfriend. Because Robby and you had agreed: no labels. 

“Yeah sure,” Robby nods, watching as you flounce over to your closet pulling out an outfit and running to the bathroom. When you shut the door he lets out a deep sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face. 

Maybe this was better. He had time to work up the confidence to actually say what he wanted. Besides, maybe it wasn't appropriate to ask someone to be your girlfriend while their roommate was snoring five feet away.

When you come back out of the bathroom, the traces of sleep gone and smelling like toothpaste, you give Robby another concerned look. 

“Are you sure you're okay?” 

“Yeah,” he nods. A little too quickly. You grab your backpack, giving him a look over your shoulder. 

“You know you can tell me if something’s wrong. Right?” 

“Why would anything be wrong?” Robby’s shoulders tense. Was he really that obvious? You smile, reaching out, your fingers brushing against the backside of is hand. The hand clutching his necklace. 

“You're holding your star. You only do that when you're anxious.” 

He hadn't even realized he was doing it. Or that you noticed that about him. 

“I’m okay. Let's just go get your coffee. Okay?”

“Okay Michael,” you say softly. “But, go out the window. I’m not getting fined if someone catches you.”

------------------------------------------------------

The little round table you'd picked out is cold beneath your arm, the metal surface creaking beneath your elbow as you lean on it. Your leg bounces beneath the chair, the smell of roasting coffee beans and something like caramel filling your senses. 

You watch Robby as he stands in line to order, his hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatshirt, eyes darting around the place nervously. 

Not that he'd admit it. 

He had been unusually quiet on the drive over, knuckles white against the wheel, jean clad thigh tense against the leather seat.

You tried to talk a bit. About how you wanted to get into a pedes rotation soon. If you could bribe Amy into switching textbooks with you because hers was nicer and not stained with lipgloss and coffee. 

But you’d given up after the third “hmhmm” from Robby. 

Which was fine.

You didn't mind listening to his radio, perpetually stuck on an old 70s rock station, and tracing your name on the car seat leather. 

A part of you wondered if it had anything to do with your phone call last night. You had really been laying it thick. Bringing up marriage. Saying you loved him. 

Of course it had been. How could it not.

You sigh at the table, resting your chin in your hand as Robby orders, his hand coming up to scratch the scruff on his jaw. 

You always had this problem. Getting attached too fast. Catching feelings in spite of telling yourself it was casual.

All your girlfriends had warned you. Take it slow. Don't get involved. They had rolled their eyes when you had told them Robby had asked you out. Reminded you Robby had never held a decent relationship for more than a month. 

He was a known flirt. A guy who liked to sleep around for fun. 

But he wasn't like that with you. He was funny and caring. Yeah, you guys agreed to be casual. You knew what you were signing up for.

You had been friends before that, student doctors bonded after a joint rotation in the emergency department; study partners and theater hoppers and restaurant critics and the occasional partygoer. It didn't seem like that big of a leap.  

To blur the line of friendship… with additional benefits.

But some nights, when Robby held you in a too small dorm bed, you felt like it could be something more. 

Maybe that's why you had said it. Because you'd always been upfront about your feelings. No matter who it was. All your ex boyfriends knew. They would scoff and roll their eyes if they had heard your phone call. Because of course you were talking about marriage. Of course you’d gotten attached. You always did catch feelings easily.

Robby often told you about how he felt when he first met you. How he’d asked you out to dinner after an awfully rough shift. 

“Hey. You wanna get some real food? Not the tuna melts they serve here?” 

“Robby, you know you could take me anywhere and I’d be happy.”

He liked to tell you how that had made him laugh. How you seemed so carefree. Still smiling after a terrible day. 

It made you feel special. Like he noticed the little things you hadn't even thought to think of. 

Sometimes you felt like you were getting ahead of yourself when you thought of things like marriage or being a thing. Something that came with a label. With expectations. 

And Robby-

You jump in your seat as the chair opposite you scrapes against the floor, Robby taking the seat. He chuckles as you yelp and give him a wide eyed look. 

“You okay there?”

“Just thinking,” you smile. “Got my banana bread?” 

“Of course,” he nods as he sets down your loaf slice in front of you. “The coffees are gonna be another minute.” 

“Doesn't your black sludge take like three seconds to pour into a paper cup?” You're already tearing into the slice of ooey gooey bread. It's good. Warm and nutty. 

Robby shrugs, fingers drumming against the metal surface. 

“I don't know. I’m a doctor, not a barista. And it's not sludge. Black coffee is perfectly fine for sustainable gut health.” 

You shrug. “I still think you're gonna give yourself an ulcer. Especially with the way you worry about things.” 

Robby lets out a breath, running a hand through his long locks. He doesn't say anything, just smiles. 

Oh boy. 

Maybe you shouldn't have said anything last night. At least, not on the phone. You always did this. Made things more complicated and crossed lines you’d clearly drawn for yourself. 

And now you were spiraling over a piece of banana bread about a boy you really did love instead of worrying about your exam later- 

“Here.” Robby sets a cup down in front of you. You hadn't even heard him get up. “This one's yours.” 

“Oh. Thank you-” you reach out to take the cup, the thick paper cup warm beneath your hold. Your heart beats a little faster as Robby’s fingers bump into yours, his index finger nudging into the flesh of your thumb. 

He smiles at you crookedly, eyes bright with anticipation. You take the cup-

“Hey. Did they write something on here?” You turn it slightly, noticing the thick black sharpie peeking beneath your fingers. 

U + ME = <3

You laugh with surprise, almost forgetting the little flash card you’d left Robby last night. Mostly as a joke because you knew the little things you made him always got a laugh. Or a smile. 

But mostly because it was true. And because you’d seen the way he secretly pockets the things you make him, like they were something special. 

You smile at the cup, another laugh slipping out.

“Aw Robby. You got my note! It looks so cute on-” you trail off as you turn the cup more, seeing he’s made an addition. 

U + ME = <3 (forever) 

You look up at him, his mouth pressed together in a nervous line, brown eyes staring, waiting for you to meet his gaze. It shouldn't feel like this monumental thing. But it does. 

And the way he's looking at you makes you suddenly nervous. 

“Robby-” 

“I, um,” he swallows thickly, hands flexing around his own cup. “I- truthfully I couldn't sleep last night because I was thinking about our conversation. About us.”

“Us?” 

“Yeah,” he nods. “When you said… you said you loved me.” 

You swallow thickly, suddenly feeling a bit like a young school girl. Your heart pounds and you have to remind yourself not to get your hopes up. To stay realistic-

“Did you mean it?” His question only furthers your hope. The earnestness behind it. The golden glint of his deep brown eyes. You nod.

“Yeah. I meant it.” 

“Okay. Good.” You chuckle, brows drawing confusedly. 

“Robby, what's this about?” You gesture towards your coffee, finger hovering over the Forever.

“I- well I have a question I need to ask you.” 

“Oh.”

Robby swallows thickly, laughing nervously. 

“I know we agreed to be casual, no labels. And I know you said you weren’t exactly looking for someone to be your, um,” Robby’s hand moves, frowning as he searches for the word. 

“To be my forever?” You offer shyly. Robby freezes. And then he nods. “Yeah,” you swallow thickly. Robby lets out a shaky breath.

“I know it’s not what you were looking for. Or what I was looking for. But after our talk on the phone last night, I realized… I realized I might like you a lot more than just being my sleeping buddy.” 

“Study partner,” you smile. Robby laughs.

“Right. Although we said no labels.”

“Right,” you look away, flushing.

“Anyway,” Robby clears his throat, hands shaking against his coffee. "I really like spending time with you. Talking and studying and everything else. You’re funny and pretty and smart and… and everything a good doctor should be.”

That makes you feel warm inside. Being called a good doctor. Maybe more so than being called pretty. Of course you were pretty.

“And I wanted to know if you’d like to be something more. If you’d like to by my girl-”

“YES.” 

He looks up at you in surprise, mouth hanging open.You can feel your ears go red, you hide behind your hands.

“Did I say that way too fast?”

Robby laughs, loud and genuine. 

“I- No I think it was just the right amount of enthusiasm.” You smile shyly, peeking out from your fingers. He’s smiling at you fondly, the tension gone from his shoulders. He’s still got the embarrassed flush on his cheeks, the stupidly cute smile on his face. 

“Good. That's good. Forever huh?” You look up at him. 

“Well, I don’t think it’d be appropriate to ask you to marry me.” You laugh loudly.

“No. No, definitely not. I’d have to gently let you down. Tell you we skipped a few steps.”

“Yeah,” Robby scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, I’m definitely not ready for that.”

“What made you think you were ready for this?”

“Being your boyfriend?” You nod and smile. You liked that. Robby nudges your leg beneath the table with his sneaker.

“Something Jack said.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He pauses, and then leans forward, inches from your face. “And how could I not let the girl who said she loves me go without her knowing I feel the same.” 

You go soft at that. Your heart melting. You bridge the small gap between you, noses brushing as you press a gentle kiss to his lips. He deepens it, the table creaking beneath him as he leans further, cupping your face. 

You’re pretty sure the coffees have gone cold. You’re almost positive the exam you had to take had already started. But one thing you knew for sure was that you loved Robby. 

You loved Michael Robinavitch. And you think you would always.

Forever and ever and ever.

------------------------------------------------------

Did you catch the lyric references? ;)

thank you for reading! if you're interested in reading more of my works for the pitt, here is a link to my masterlist :)

[s-writing-s]

𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝? ⚕ 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

summary: it's halloween, and you and jack show up in matching costumes without intending to.

tags: fluff

word count: 900+

a/n: the main D:M? storyline is not finished yet, but i need a little time off to write other things and figure out how to end the story in a way i'm satisfied with, so here's a little blurb written in the D:M? universe instead. it's set in the past before the main storyline begins but can also be read as a separate piece. hope you like it! <33 thank you to everyone who sent in costume ideas—there were so many i liked, but this ultimately felt like it fit trouble's character best :DD

Diagnosis: Married | Masterlist The Pitt | Masterlist Main | Masterlist

"So..." Princess grins, leaning against the bar beside you. Her pink dress swishes around her ankles as she flicks a blonde curl over her shoulder. Dressed as Princess Peach, she looks exactly the part, while Perlah, dressed as Mario, has disappeared somewhere into the crowd—Halloween at its very finest. "Hard launching, huh? I like it. Very fitting for you."

You take a sip of your drink, the sweet and fruity liquid going down easy. "Huh?"

Princess's gaze shifts toward the entrance, and you follow it just in time to see Abbot step through the door.

Shit.

He's dressed simply in a navy shirt and dark jeans, with a peaked cap and a pair of handcuffs hanging from his belt. It's a low-effort costume by most standards, but it's still very clear what he is.

A police officer.

Unfortunately, he's also the other half to your costume—a robber.

Your costume had required considerably more effort than his. You're in a black-and-white striped dress, thigh-high socks and heels that had already started to hurt. And to make it even clearer, a little black mask covers half your face, while a cute bag of "money" sits on the counter beside you.

You immediately look away, hoping Princess didn't notice your gaze trailing over his body. "We didn't plan it," you tell her, taking another sip.

Her eyebrows rise sceptically, and then she smirks at you. "If you say so."

"We didn't." The fact that you repeat yourself only makes her smile wider.

"Sure," she shrugs. "But you still look cute together."

Before you can protest, her attention catches on something—or someone—across the room. "Ooh. I see something I like." She wiggles her fingers in a wave and disappears into the crowd.

You sigh and prop your chin in your hand. Sure, Abbot is attractive. That isn't exactly breaking news. That navy shirt should have been boring, but with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms and muscle stretching the fabric across his shoulders, it is anything but.

But attractive didn't mean compatible. Attractive didn't mean cute together. Attractive definitely didn't mean—

"A beer, please." His familiar voice cuts straight through your thoughts.

You glance up.

Abbot is standing beside you. "Is it that boring here?"

"What?"

He gestures toward your slumped posture. "You look miserable."

A laugh escapes you. "I'm not miserable. Just had a long day." You finish the last of your drink and slide the empty glass toward the bartender, asking for another. Then you narrow your eyes at him. "So. You decided to steal my costume idea?"

His mouth twitches. "Your costume idea?"

"Yeah."

"This is one of the most classic Halloween costumes in existence."

"I don't know," you say with a shrug. "Feels like you copied me."

"Considering I got here after you, that's a difficult accusation to defend against."

"You know, that sounds like an admission of guilt."

He huffs a laugh. The bartender sets his beer down, and he takes a sip before replying. "You sure you didn't get the wrong costume? You'd make a fine policewoman with the way you're questioning me."

You grin. "I'm sure I would, but," you lift the bag teasingly, "this is so much more fun."

His eyes meet yours over the rim of the bottle. "Not that fun if I catch you immediately."

"I'm faster than you think."

His gaze drops briefly to your heels, then back to your face. "In those?" he hums.

"Yes," you lean forward. "I could outrun you in these."

A laugh rumbles low in his chest.

"I could. Or I could just hide."

"Sure, sweetheart." He lifts his beer. "But I spotted you the second I walked in."

"How?"

He leans in slightly. "I know a repeat offender when I see one, Trouble." His gaze flicks over your costume as he shrugs. "And there's the whole outfit, I guess."

You snort despite yourself.

For a second, neither of you looks away. Heat creeps up your neck. You break eye contact first, reaching for your drink.

"So... Why did you choose to go as a cop?" you ask, twirling the straw between your fingers.

He sets the bottle down. "I didn't. It's Robby's costume, but he got stuck at work. Threatened me that if I didn't wear it, he wouldn't cover any of my shifts ever again."

The mention of Robby makes you frown. He'd been nearby when you'd discussed costumes with Princess and Perlah, but there was no way he'd heard the conversation from across the hub. And even if he had, the matching costumes had to be a coincidence.

You are not willing to consider the thought that Robby is crushing on you.

You are even less willing to examine what Abbot means by Robby covering for him—cause it almost sounds like Robby did it, so Abbot could be here tonight, but that can't be right.

Abbot nudges you, once again interrupting your thoughts. "I think it's clear who would wear it better, though."

Your stomach does something irritating. "Oh my god."

"What?"

"You're so full of yourself." You swat his shoulder.

The gesture has absolutely no effect. His arm barely shifts beneath your hand. "Who said I was talking about me?"

"Robby, really?"

"Or Robby." He looks at you expectantly.

His intention lands a second later.

Your breath catches. "Oh."

A knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "But I do look good, right?"

You roll your eyes and lean back against the bar, fighting a smile. Unfortunately, the smile wins.

[kooksandpearls]

garrett graham ❄︎ hydration based situationship.

pairing – garrett graham x nursing student!reader summary – the emergency department is busy enough without garrett graham showing up with fresh ice and boyfriend behaviour. warnings – fluff, nursing clinical/ED setting, hospital setting, teasing, situationship denial notes from me – this was so fun to write hahahah!! thank u for the request, anon!! <3 also not rlly proof read properly – sorry babes! word count – 1k

navigation – masterlist |

The ED nurses figure her out by day three, which feels deeply unfair, because she’s spent three days trying to be professional, helpful, and invisible enough not to get eaten alive by the pace of the department.

It isn’t that Renee and Tasha are unkind. They’re the opposite, actually, which is somehow worse for her emotional stability. 

Renee has the sharpest eyes she’s ever seen and the patience of a saint until someone touches her trauma cart, at which point she becomes the kind of woman men instinctively apologise to before they know what they’ve done. 

Tasha wears pink compression socks with little ghosts on them and can talk down an agitated drunk, prime tubing, bully a resident into rewriting an order, and explain cardiac rhythms to a student without making her feel like her skull is full of soup. They are, in every possible way, terrifyingly cool. They’re also nosy as hell.

“So,” Tasha says, two hours into the shift, while restocking gauze like this is casual and not the fifth time she has circled back to the topic since Tuesday. “The curly-haired one from the other day.”

She doesn’t look up from the chart she’s pretending to understand on the computer. “Logan?”

Renee snorts. “Baby, don’t insult me. The other curly-haired one.”

She clicks into the wrong tab and immediately has to back out. “Garrett.”

“Mhm.” Tasha’s voice goes warm with victory. “Garrett.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Renee leans one hip against the counter, unimpressed in a way that makes her feel twelve years old and badly prepared for a spelling test. “Nobody asked.”

“You were about to.”

“I was about to ask if he always looks at you like that.”

Her face heats fast, crawling up from the collar of her scrub top into her cheeks in a way that makes the whole nurses station feel suddenly overlit. “He doesn’t look at me like anything.”

Tasha hums. “Oh, sweetie.”

“Don’t oh, sweetie me in an emergency department.”

Before Tasha can answer, the automatic doors sigh open near triage, and the morning rush shifts around the sound. A kid crying into his mother’s shoulder. Someone coughing behind a mask. The steady slap of sneakers on linoleum. She glances over because movement has become part of her peripheral nervous system now, and then her whole body does something stupid and bright before her brain catches up.

Garrett’s standing just past the triage desk in a Briar hoodie and athletic shorts, hair still damp at the ends from morning skate, one hand wrapped around the handle of her enormous cream Stanley tumbler like it’s evidence in a crime scene. He scans the department once, all broad shoulders and easy posture, and then spots her behind the nurses station.

His grin arrives first.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Renee says quietly.

She ignores that with every ounce of dignity she has left, which isn’t much, because Garrett’s already walking over with that loose athlete confidence like hospitals are just another place he can move through if he smiles politely enough.

“Hey,” he says, stopping on the public side of the desk. He lifts the cup a little. “You left this in my car.”

“Oh.” She looks at it, then at him, and the ridiculous rush of relief in her chest is so embarrassing she wants to smack herself with a clipboard. “That’s okay. Thank you. It’s been kinda crazy this morning, I hadn’t even noticed I didn’t have it.”

“Yeah, I figured.” His eyes move over her face, quick but not casual. Like he’s checking the placement of all her pieces. Hair coming loose near one ear, badge twisted sideways, pen mark on the inside of her wrist, the faint tightness between her brows she didn’t know was there until his gaze softens at it. “Didn’t notice until I got back in the car after skate.”

“You drove all the way back here for my water bottle?”

“It’s a big water bottle,” he says, like this is a normal defence. Then his mouth tips. “Didn’t want you getting thirsty.”

Behind her, Tasha makes a sound so small it barely counts as a sound. It still makes her want to dissolve into the floor.

She reaches for the tumbler, and Garrett’s fingers brush hers around the handle, warm and familiar and devastatingly nothing. “Thanks, Garrett.”

He doesn’t leave right away. He stands there for one second too long, chewing at his bottom lip like there’s something else sitting behind his teeth. The grin thins into something almost nervous, which is absurd on his face and somehow worse than the flirting.

“I, uh…” His eyes flick briefly past her, toward Renee and Tasha, then back. “Am I still coming over tonight?”

Her stomach dips, enough to make the noise of the department blur at the edges. “Yeah. Yeah, around eight?”

Garrett nods, the relief in him tucked down quickly but not quickly enough. “Sounds good.” His smile comes back softer this time, aimed right at her mouth before he remembers himself. “Bye, baby.”

“Bye,” she says, because her body has decided to betray every defence she’s ever built.

He leaves grinning.

The second the doors close behind him, Renee turns very slowly to look at her. Tasha already has one hand pressed to her chest like she’s just witnessed a proposal in curtain three.

She points at both of them. “Stop.”

“That’s your boyfriend,” Tasha says.

“He’s not.”

“That man brought you a forty-ounce hydration appliance before noon.”

“We just sleep together.”

Renee blinks at her. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious.”

“Baby,” Tasha says, far too gently. “I have been married twice and divorced once and I’m telling you right now, men do not drive across campus with a Stanley cup unless they’re in love or being held at gunpoint.”

“He had morning skate nearby.”

Renee lifts her brows. “Was the morning skate in your cupholder?”

She opens her mouth, finds absolutely nothing useful, and closes it again.

Tasha pats the counter once, deeply pleased. “Not your boyfriend. Of course.”

Renee nods, already walking away. “Real casual. Very low stakes. Hydration-based situationship.”

She looks down at the Stanley in her hands, at the little smear of Garrett’s thumbprint on the lid, and hates that she’s smiling before she can stop it.

to be notified when i post new fics, follow @kooksandpearls-library and turn on notifications! i no longer use a taglist for garrett fics.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

drunk reader and flirty karaoke

This one is on the shorter side, but bite size can be fun too

Summary: Garrett’s sister makes questionable decisions during karaoke night and sort of exposes her and Dean’s secret Warnings: drunk!reader, secret situationship

After an hour, the three raspberry margaritas you had chained with Allie were starting to hit and the karaoke stage was calling your name. You debated for a long time which song to pick. Ariana Grande was calling your name, but you didn’t master the whistle note. You almost chose something from Taylor Swift’s immense catalogue, but went for the latter’s Eras Tour first act instead. 

Hannah and Allie cheered as Jules announced you as the next performer. 

You walked up the small stage, trying to not stumble on the way, and took the mic. The music quickly began and you had to suppress your giggles. 

‘’I get wet at the thought of you,’’ you sang, the first line echoing in the diner. ‘’Being a responsible guy. Treating me like you're supposed to do. Tears run down my thighs.’’ 

You continued singing and fully committing to your flirty little act as you searched for Dean in the crowd. He hadn’t called you in over a week, so you wanted to remind him of what he was missing. It was much easier than to call him first. 

Needless to say, Dean hadn’t expected that. One second he was watching some sophomore butcher a classic rock song on karaoke. The next, you were up there in your figure hugging corset top, mic in hand, and singing like Madona’s Just like a prayer music video. 

His pants may have tightened the moment those first lyrics left your lips. 

‘’A little respect for women can get you very, very far. Remembering how to use your phone gets me oh so, oh so, oh so hot. Considering I have feelings, I'm like, "Why are my clothes still on?". Offering to do anything, I'm like, "Oh my God".’’ You bit your finger in a flirty way as you locked eyes with Dean, then flipped your hair. 

It was a blessing that Garrett had left for the bathroom because he would not have liked your performance. At all. Especially who it was intended for. 

‘’I get wet at the thought of you.’’ You pointed at Dean who was shaking his head amusedly, flirting right at him through every line like an open challenge wrapped in sugar and sass. ‘’Being a responsible guy. Treating me like you're supposed to do. Tears run down my thighs.’’ 

You kept your gaze on him through the chorus, swaying dramatically to the music. 

‘’I get wet at the thought of you. Being a responsible guy. Treating me like you're supposed to do. Tears run down my thighs…dancebreak.’’

And you really did take a dance break, taking Allie’s hand and dancing with her and then moving to Hannah, the two girls equally tipsy. 

Logan whistled low under his breath beside Dean, his eyes following your moves. ‘’Damn. Didn’t know little Graham had it in her.’’ 

Tucker hit Logan’s shoulder. ‘’Don’t let G hear that if you want to stay in the team. You know what he said about her.’’ 

══════════════════

Off Campus taglist: @f1rewhiskey @formula1-motogpfan @schinug @skyesthebomb @mads-writes-vibes @harls-sturn @fangirl93 @parker-barnes-af @thedarkqueenofavalon @kootiestillidie @taliescapes @kmc1989 @glndacore @aestramjackson @ilocuras24 @daiiverse @themarvelousbee @Hagarsays @leilareads58

[lacyydollette]

₊  ֹ  ˖  FWB!DEAN FINDING YOUR CALENDAR ᱺㅤㅤ   ୨౿ 

one thing about dean di laurentis was that this man had no sense of privacy when it came to you.

pussy so good he wanted to know everything about you, see everything there was.

changing? he’s there looking you up and down appreciatively with a glint in his eyes.

showering? great, he’s bringing a chair and keeping you company.

on an important phone call? he’s begging and promising to behave and be good and not bother, only if you keep sitting in his lap and don’t leave.

a busybody, nosy parker is what he is. an annoying one.

he’s in his usual element, post-practice, with his naked chest and blond hair all wet, moving around your room trying to keep himself busy because you need to finish your essay that’s due tomorrow, and you threatened that if he came near you or even touched pinkies, he would be on a sex ban for three whole weeks.

that got him to sober up real quick and leave you alone.

he’s moving his snooping onto your dresser, touching all your photos in there, some trinkets, books you’ve stacked, your jewelry, opening your pajama drawer but your quick to whip your head and glare at him because you could feel his evil amusement at the sight of your panties in there, from afar.

and seeing that look, he innocently smiles at you before shutting the drawer and moving on to checking out the top one.

was it mentioned that you told him he’s also not allowed to speak?

you just have so much to do, you’re stressed and you’re grouchy, and if he even utters a word your gonna take it out on him.

shit, this was real productive and you’re actually almost done. maybe you should threaten him like this more often—

you stop typing when you hear his overdramatic gasp at the sight of something he’s holding as he flops onto your bed—the said something is the fucking calendar you’ve shoved at the bottom of your mess-you-need-to-get-rid-of pile.

“shit, give that back,” you groan as you leave whatever you were doing behind and lunge on top of him onto your bed, desperately trying to grasp it from his hands, but the idiot just shoves it under his fat ass.

it was a funny, diabolical inside joke between you and one of your closest friends, hence the calendar was gifted to you on your birthday as a joke.

“i thought we weren’t allowed to speak?” he teases, with a hand protectively on your hip keeping you from squirming in his lap, the other folded behind his head like he’s laying on a beach.

“dean—”

“baby—”

“dean!” you slap his chest, trying to pull on his blonde strands.

“ow, ow, fuck—fine, if you want it, get it yourself.” he pulls his head back from your grabby hands. jesus, that hurt.

you groan and curse him as you try to move his bum aside to grab the calendar from underneath him.

massive fail.

moving your tactic to wanting to shove your hand to get it, but just by looking at his overly smug face you know he’s gonna make it weird.

you’re left with no choice but to roll him to the side of your bed with as much force as you can, which makes him actually get you down as well, putting his whole weight on top of you, blocking your body from any movement, but not before taking your calendar with him before you can even grab it.

“why are you the way you are. lord.” you try to shove him off you, but with two hands holding both your wrists in one, he laughs while opening the calendar page by page with the other hand.

“now what do we have here, hm?” he says way too cheerfully, completely ignoring your “i wanna bury you alive at the moment” face.

he reads out crazy, diabolical positions for all the twelve months, giggling like a schoolgirl when he sees your fuming expression, and then having the audacity to add an “oooh, we could try that?” in between just because it makes you thrash against him like crazy.

“are you done?” you deadpan, completely unimpressed.

dean flips one more page like he’s conducting serious research, then hums thoughtfully. “mm. no, actually, i think i’ve just found our summer schedule.”

you stare at him in disbelief. your one hundred percent sure he was dropped as a baby.

he beams in return.

you try like really try to stay annoyed, but the sheer stupidity of him sprawled on top of you, soaking your bedsheets with his delicious smell, holding a ridiculous calendar like it’s a sacred book. . it cracks something.

he’s so stupid.

a small snort slips out before you can stop it.

dean freezes before pressing knowing he’s accomplished his goal of distracting you. “wait—was that—” his eyes light up, “—was that a laugh?”

“shut up,” you mumble, turning your face away, but now your shoulders are shaking.

“oh my god, it was,” he gasps, delighted, dropping the calendar somewhere behind him like it no longer matters. “i did it. i fixed her. i cured the grumpiness.”

“you bring out the grumpiness in me, there is no way that could be fixed in your presence,” you mutter, still smiling, the stress of your essay long forgotten as you stare at his sparkly eyes and flushed cheeks as he leans in for a kiss, laughing into it, making you full-on laugh now.

you kiss him messily, with your teeth clinking, totally uncoordinated, giggling like you’re drunk, and he’s just happy you’re giving him that.

he’s just happy you’re giving him even an ounce of your attention.

jesus, that sounds pathetic, but this boy has been gone for you since day one—sue him if he just wants to soak in all the moments with the love of his life (even if she might not know that).

masterlist

[land0sc21]

" 𝙀𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙊𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙔𝙤𝙪 " ݁˖✶⋆.˚

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐢 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫! 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: Dean was sweet enough to tag along with you to an away tournament in Colarado, as your 'lucky charm.' Between takings strolls, meeting horses and sneaking out to stargaze together — the trip quickly became quite a memorable one

a.n: super super fluffy! Just watched s1 of Life with the Walter boys so I got some influence from that. Dean acts like a sweetheart in this fic <3

Dean leaned against the wall outside the conference room where your team had just finished it's evening meeting. Hands tucked in the pockets of his navy blue jeans as he struggled to stay warm. It was fall time in Colorado — so the air was much chillier than back at Briar U's Campus.

"You done?" He asks. Immediately pushing himself upright. Now more awake after seeing you. Considering he had zoned out for a while.

"Yeah." You respond. Letting out an exhausted sigh. Yet you couldn't help but smile when Dean stuck out his arm for you to hold onto. Speaking with an amused tone as you take the offer willingly. "Well aren't you a gentleman?"

Which Dean returns with the tip of his camel brown cowboy hat. His response being in the form of a well versed midwestern accent. "Anythin' for you doll."

The away tournament had brought your team to a small town in Colarado. Surrounded by rolling hills and open stretches of countryside. The hotel sat on the edge of town, far enough that the stars would be visible at night without light pollution.

You walked together towards the elevators while the two of you had a hushed conversation. When you make it to the ground floor, Dean glances around to spot your coach before in the quiet hallway before lowering his voice to speak to you. "Wanna sneak out?"

Despite his intentions — you had doubts ofcourse. It's Dean we're talking about. You loved him, but the man lives and breathes for trouble. You narrowed your eyes at the blonde suspiciously. All while he tried to feign his innocence with a tired, boyish grin. "That look usually means trouble."

Dean hesitates but still gave you an answer that didn't sound too convincing. "Maybe."

You had no time to argue with him because he was already tugging you gently down the hallway. Leading you towards the side exit of the hotel as your nerves start to kick in. "This is a terrible idea."

"Actually." He says, with a pause. Holding the door open for you with a polite grin and a glint in his eyes. "It's one of the best ideas I've had all day."

As soon as he does. The crisp, cold air hits your face almost immediately. In contrast to the toasty warm heat from the hotel lobby. There before you was a wild, untouched, beautiful piece of land that was just begging to be explored. Mountains with their bluish grey peaks in the distance softened by the glow of the summer haze. A vast area of pine forests that carried their scent in the breeze — sharp and earthy.

You stood there taking in the view before Dean breaks your trance. Instead, he makes you follow him down a trail that leads away from the hotel. A dirt path that disappeared between fields beyond the parking lot. Dark and peaceful beneath the night sky.

You held his caloused, yet warm hand carefully. He held yours, tight and firm so that you wouldn't fall as he helps you walk on a wooden fence. "If coach finds out -"

"She won't find out." Dean intercepts quickly. But in a reassuring tone. Despite that, you couldn't help but worry. And Dean could see it in your face as it contourts from relaxed to concern. "But if she does."

Dean hums then gives you a shrug. "Then I'll tell her I kidnapped you."

It should've been a serious answer but it makes you snort instead. Which Dean took offence to. "That won't help."

"Ehh who cares. Her star player deserves a break anway."

You wanted to protest but his comment makes you smile. Considering he disguised it in a form of a compliment.

The further you walked away, the more you could hear from the nature around you. Not the sound of trucks and cars on the mainroad, no teammates laughing in neighbouring rooms and no tournament pressure.

Just the sound of crickets, the gentle fall wind and Dean's warm hand in yours to guide you. He gives a gentle squeeze before finally breaking the comfortable silence. "You nervous for tomorrow?"

You hesitate in your step and licked your lips out of habit when you were nervous. Dean helped you down onto the ground before you spoke. "Uhh to be honest? Yeah. I am."

Dean doesn't let you dwell on it so he coerces you to look at him with a finger tucked under your chin. "Hey look at me — You'll be fine."

"You don't know that - " You pushed back with an exhasperated sigh. Dean stops you midway through your sentence. The teasing expression now gone. "You've worked your ass off all season." He says, his gaze softening. "Besides — if anyone should be nervous. It's the girls from the opposing team. Especially when they see how scary you are on court."

His comment alone makes you roll your eyes at him playfully before letting out a breathy laugh. The path wound through tall grass that brushed against your legs and beneath the grove of aspens.

Hand in hand, you walked along the weaving river banks. Sunlight reflecting off it's surface, giving the water the impression of liquid gold. The steady rush of the current became a comforting sound in the background. As you two conversed all the way.

A little further down the path. You spotted horses grazing behind a wooden fence in a ranch. The team had visited that same ranch earlier that day before practice but didn't get to spend too much time with them.

Dean notices your lingering gaze and follows it. And without questioning it, he gently tugs your towards the herd. Several lifted their heads when you and Dean approached them.

"Looks like they're excited meet you too." Dean jokingly whispers beside your ear. Making you smile sheepishly, while he moved behind you. As one chesnut mare wandered close, her ears flickering curiously.

"Hi pretty girl." you say softly. Reaching out to let the horses head stretch her neck towards you. With Dean resting his chin above your head to observe the innocent gesture.

After a while, you hear him sigh. His arms now wrapped around your waist and face buried into the crook of your neck as he mumbled with his eyes closed. "Well... Looks like I've been officially replaced."

A smile tugs at your lips as you groomed the horses mane with the brush given to you. Soon putting it away to give attention to your childish boyfriend instead. Turning your head slightly to look at him as he cracks one eye open when he feels your fingers brush through his tousled blonde hair. His cowboy hat now rested on your head as he had given it to you back at the trail. "Don't be jealous."

Dean lets out a small laugh and then grumbled with a hoarse voice. "Too late."

You were about to protest again but then felt the horse nudge your shoulder. In turn, making Dean prove a point rather dramatically. "See? She's stealing your attention right now."

"You'll survive." You argued. With Dean letting out a dissatisfied hum when you kiss his cheek in an attempt to cheer him up. A second horse soon approaches them. And to your surprise. It immediately shoves it's nose into Dean's hair, letting out a soft neigh.

You burst out laughing as both horses now had the couples attention. Dean pulls away from your embrace, but only for a moment so he could stand by your side. He then stares up at the horse before it nudges his chest ernestly. "Sir."

"Sir." He repeats once more as the horse ignores him and he nudges again. Much to your amusement as you held back a laugh. Watching the cream coloured horse and your seemingly bothered boyfriend, interact sweetly. "Hey — you're invading my personal space."

He does eventually give in as the horse's charm began to rub off on him. Opting to scratch his forehead with a defeated laugh. "There. Satisfied?"

"You two seem to be getting along." You comment while the chestnut horse is fed oats from a bag. Dean blows out the hair from covering his eyes. "Uhh I dunno. I feel like he's extorting me."

Time passes by rather peacefully. Basking in eachothers presence as the two of you stood there petting their noses and making small talk with dusk drawing near.

Neither of you wanted to leave. So you and Dean found a quiet clearing beside the river. Then, a thought comes to his mind. A rather naughty one. "You trust me right?"

You should have known this was coming by the way he was looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes. Now standing ankle deep in the freezing cold river. You laughed and blocked his attack as Dean splashes water at you with malice. "Dean!"

"What?" He says innocently, throwing his arms up in the air. Though the boyish grin on his face completely gave him away, while you scoffed. Within seconds, the two of you were engaged in a full scale water fight. Darting between smooth river rocks and laughing so hard that neither of you could breathe properly.

At one point Dean lifts you off your feet from behind when you tried to escape. Laughing softly beside your ear when you struggle in his grasp. "Got you ~ I dunno why you thought running away was an option."

"Huh." You scoffed. "Maybe because someone attacked me out of nowhere." You sassed back, which Dean couldn't really argue with. "Uhh. Fair point."

He sets you back down on your feet, both of you soaked, smiling and out of breath from the spontanious moment. The sun was sinking lower behind the mountains. Illuminating your features with a warm light when Dean brushed a wet strand of hair behind your ear. With an affectionate gaze. "There you are."

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at the simple gesture. But that's what you loved about Dean. He makes you feel noticed and adored.

Soon after, he sets down a blanket that he brought with him from his backpack. The grass was soft to the touch when Dean pulls you down to join him, sitting down together. His cologne invading your senses as he pulls you into his side by your waist. Darkness arrived slowly, the air growing cooler with every passing minute.

First came the evening stars, scattered sparingly across the deepening midnight blue sky. Away from the city lights, the milkyway stretched overhead looked brighter, clearer and more captivating than you had expected. You were speechless ofcourse, and Dean notices. He tucks you into his side as you stare up in awe, whispering softly next to you. "This — is why I snuck you out."

"It's beautiful..." you whispered back. Totally captivated by the spectacle above. And ignoring the fact that Dean was staring at you instead in a dazed manner.

"It is." He mumbled quietly, thinking you wouldn't hear. But you do. Your cheeks warm, because when turn your head to speak to him. His face was enticingly close, nose bumping against yours. Lids heavy as he flashes you a playful grin, with his dimples making an appearance. Still, you try to keep your cool. "You're not seriously talking about me. Are you?"

"What else would I be referring to." Dean muses as you let out a scoff. Yet your heart hammering against your chest would contradict your reaction otherwise. "You know what I'm talking about."

Dean knew. But he still chose to mess with you. Soon pivoting the conversation to something else. " You know why I came on this trip to watch you play?"

"Why?" You asked quietly.

"Because I get to watch you do something you love."

You were once again, speechless. Warmth blossoming in your chest from his confession. His jacket keeping you warm around your shoulders. The stars reflecting in his ocean blue eyes. "And because I get to spend time with you."

He leans in, long lashes tickling your skin as he does so. Lips inches away from yours making you hold your breath in anticipation. Dean paused, fluttering his eyes open only see yours was still closed. Most likely waiting for him to make a move.

"Cute..." he'd whisper softly, a finger tracing your warm skin as you internally screamed. This man was either making fun of you or was being a tease, no inbetween.

"I hate you," you'd whisper, growing frustrated at his antics. He found your little ouburst amusing as he flashed you a cheeky grin. Before pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, whispering softly. "I know you don't mean that..."

You admire him for a brief moment. Feeling the light stubble beneath your palms as you cupped his face with your hands "You're right. I do love you. Even if you're a stupid ass sometimes."

The way the words so easily escapes your lips makes Dean smile. A genuine smile since he was getting used to it. His eyes flickers towards your lips. He hesitates ofcourse, wanting your permission first. At this point,

Dean was pleading with his eyes for permission to kiss you. His breath heavy against yours as his nose gently nudged yours, eyes flickering towards your lips. "Can I?"

"Yes," you mumbled in a breathless way. And with that, his lips engulfs yours.

Dean groaned into the kiss from pure satisfaction. Chapped, yet soft lips moving effortlessly against your plush ones. Slow and intent.

Time stopped for a moment. Like it always does whenever you were with Dean. Embracing eachother beneath the endless Colorado sky.

[mattsmadness]

Girl Code | Dean Di Laurentis

while making out with your boyfriend in the girls bathroom - you can’t help but get invested in Allie Hayes boyfriend drama.

a/n: I saw this idea on tiktok and couldn’t get it out of my head

The lock on the girls’ bathroom stall door was flimsy, but right now, you couldn't care less.

Dean Di Laurentis had you pressed firmly against the graffiti-covered wooden panel, his hands gripping your hips with an urgency that made you feel like you were the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth. He was giving you that devastating, laser-focused attention that usually made your brain completely short-circuit. His lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate heat, tasting like mint and pure trouble, and your fingers were tangled deep in the ridiculously soft, thick hair at the back of his neck.

You were completely, utterly lost in the moment—right up until the heavy exterior door of the bathroom swung open with a violent, echoing thud.

"I mean, seriously! Who does that? OMG! I'm dating a beige wall! A literal load-bearing pillar would have more personality!"

The voice was loud, sharp, and dripping with theatrical tragedy, bouncing off the porcelain tiles.

You froze, your lips instantly parting from Dean’s. You strained your ears, but there was no sound of a second person entering.

No rustle of a jacket, no responding hum.

Just pure, unfiltered, solo pacing.

Dean groaned against your mouth, a low, needy sound of protest, and tried to nudge his way back in. "Ignore her," he mumbled, his breath hot against your jaw as he trailed a line of kisses down to your neck, desperately trying to salvage the mood. "She's just... yelling at the mirror. Let her yell. People do it all the time."

"No, because it’s an actual crime against womanhood!" the voice continued outside, punctuated by the aggressive, rhythmic thwack-thwack-thwack of the paper towel dispenser.

Allie Hayes was fully, completely alone, pacing the length of the sinks and projecting her voice to the ceiling like she was playing to the back rows of the theater department.

"He didn't just forget our six-month anniversary. He suggested we celebrate it by going to a guest lecture on microeconomics. And this breakout? Oh my god, the breakout. My skin is violently protesting my life choices, and nobody is even here to witness my ultimate demise!"

Your eyes snapped open.

Wait.

Allie Hayes? Alone, spiraling about microeconomics, and destroying her skin?

"Babe," Dean whispered, his thumbs stroking the bare skin just beneath the hem of your shirt, trying everything in his power to reclaim your attention. He leaned back slightly to look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark with frustration.

But as he pulled back, you couldn't help but notice that your signature, highly pigmented red lipstick was smeared spectacularly all over his lips, his chin, and a little patch right near the tip of his nose. He looked like a gorgeous, extremely intense, deeply frustrated clown.

"Hold on," you whispered, gently but firmly pressing a hand against his chest.

"What? No, don't hold on, keep doing exactly what we were doing," Dean pleaded, shifting his weight to crowd you back into the corner of the stall. "She's literally talking to nobody. Do not engage crazy, babe. She doesn't need you. I need you."

Allie Hayes did infact need someone to prove she wasn’t crazy.

That someone became you the second she walked into the bathroom needing emotional support.

"The skin barrier is a delicate, fragile ecosystem!" Allie’s voice wailed from the sink area, followed by the dramatic sound of her slapping both palms against the marble counter. "If I use one more harsh acne wash, my entire face is going to slide off into the drain!"

That did it.

You were a girls' girl first, and a girlfriend second. You absolutely could not sit by and let a sister commit cosmetic suicide in an empty bathroom.

You shoved Dean back with a surprising amount of force. He blinked, stunned and breathless, as you slid the deadbolt open and stepped right out of the stall, smoothing down your shirt.

"Okay, first of all," you said, stepping up to the sinks and instantly startling Allie halfway out of her skin. "Stop using whatever acne wash you're currently using immediately."

Allie spun around, clutching a crumpled paper towel to her chest, her eyes wide with shock. She looked incredibly stressed, a tiny, barely visible spot on her chin being the apparent source of her absolute agony. "Oh! Oh, thank god, a real person. I thought I was going to have to start debating the tiles."

"I was in the stall, and I couldn't sit by and let you destroy your moisture barrier," you said, completely shifting into best-friend-therapist mode, leaning your hip against the counter. "What's the boyfriend's name again? The microeconomics guy?"

"Sean," Allie groaned, instantly accepting you as her savior. She gestured wildly to her outfit—a stunning, perfectly styled vintage leather jacket over a sleek, dark top and tailored pants that made her look like she belonged on a chic European film set. "Like, look at this outfit! I put this together last week, felt amazing, and he genuinely asked if I was wearing it because I ran out of laundry detergent for my regular jeans. He has zero appreciation for personal style. None! The man thinks khakis are a personality trait."

"Grounds for immediate execution," you declared, shaking your head in solidarity.

"Right?! And it gets so much worse," Allie continued, fully on a roll now that she had an actual audience. "He’s already mapping out his post-grad life and just assumes I'm moving to Vermont with him. Vermont! I don't want to live in the middle of a maple syrup forest! And when I remind him that I have auditions in New York and a theater degree to finish, he literally patted my head. He patted my head, you guys, and called drama my 'fun little phase.' A phase! It's the career I am actively pursuing!"

"Oh, absolutely not," you said, crossing your arms, completely invested in the drama. "The disrespect to your craft is wild. And let me guess... that total lack of passion carries over into other departments?"

Allie let out a miserable, soul-crushing laugh, throwing her hands in the air. "Oh, you have no idea. The sex is so vanilla it makes actual vanilla seem exotic. It is completely, devastatingly dull. It’s like he’s following a maintenance manual from 1950. No spice, no spontaneity, just... scheduled, mechanical maintenance. I have to mentally check my grocery list just to get through it."

You couldn't help but wince in pure, deep sympathy. You glanced back toward the stall, where Dean was now standing in the doorway, looking thoroughly disgruntled. His arms were crossed over his chest, his hair was a messy nest from your fingers, and his lips were entirely painted in your bright red lipstick.

In that moment, you felt a massive wave of gratitude for your current situation. Say what you want about Dean Di Laurentis being a dramatic, attention-seeking hockey player, but the boy was a literal god in bed. He was creative, completely attentive, and absolutely feral for you.

He didn't do vanilla; he did breathless, back-arching, lose-your-mind intensity. The idea of having to mentally check a grocery list while someone was touching you made you want to shudder.

Allie deserved so much better.

"Oof. Yeah, you need to run," you told Allie, shaking your head. "Life is way too short for boring sex and a guy who treats your passion like a high school hobby."

Dean stepped up next to you, attempting to plug himself back into the equation. He leaned down, trying to catch your eye, his voice dropping into that smooth, gravelly register he usually used to get exactly what he wanted. "Hey. Come on. I have great taste in outfits. I support the arts. And I definitely don't do vanilla. You can check out my complete lack of a grocery list back at my place." He gave you a slow, heavy wink.

It was totally ruined by the giant smudge of red lipstick right on the bridge of his nose.

"Dean, babe, shush, the women are talking," you said, waving a hand dismissively at him without even breaking eye contact with Allie. "Allie, listen to me. You need to ice that breakout tonight. No picking, no harsh scrubs. And as for Sean, you need to give him the 'it's not me, it's definitely you' text. You’re way too vibrant to be hidden away on a beige wall in Vermont."

"You are so right," Allie said, her eyes beaming as she looked at you like you had just handed her the secrets to the universe. "Wow, having an actual conversation is so much better than talking to the mirror. Hey, I’m actually heading over to the diner right now to grab a mountain of fries and continue this rant with carbs. Do you want to come? You can tell me more about this skin stuff and help me draft the breakup text."

You looked at Allie, then looked at Dean, who was currently staring at you with wide, puppy-dog eyes, silently begging you to remember that he was a desirable man who had been promised a make-out session.

"You know what? I would love to. Let's go get fries," you said, hooking your arm firmly through Allie's.

"Excellent," Allie said, matching your stride. She glanced back at Dean one last time, biting her lip to hide a laugh. "Uh, Di Laurentis? You might want to hit the mirror before you go outside. You look like you got into a fight with a Sephora counter and lost miserably."

"I did lose," Dean muttered, thoroughly defeated. He slumped against the marble sink, watching in absolute disbelief as you and Allie began walking toward the exit, completely locked in conversation about the merits of hyaluronic acid.

"Bye, baby! Text you later!" you called out cheerfully over your shoulder just as the heavy bathroom door swung shut.

The door clicked into place, leaving Dean entirely alone in the fluorescent light. He turned slowly, staring at his own reflection, rubbed a hand over his berry-red lips, and let out a long, exhausted sigh.

"I hate microeconomics," he whispered to the empty room.

[jalenspuckbunny]

fallen, head over heals i’ve fallen ˛ε♡з¸

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ໑ৎ hiii! first time writing for logan kind of nervous. but ive been patiently waiting on a request for him so i am very excited to write this! i think this might be my longest fic so far, let me know if it’s good please. based on this request, my requests are open <3

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ໑ৎ pure fluff, friends to lovers, idiots who are in love but don’t realize it, everyone sees it but them

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ໑ৎ john logan x fem!reader

trying to navigate a campus is harder than you intended. everything that you learned from orientation has suddenly went out the window the first day of classes.

you look down at your phone as you continue walking in the direction that seems the best. your body collides with another person, sending the both tripping back.

“holy shit, im so sorry,” you say as you dust yourself off looking up at the person you ran into.

“no, you’re fine, it’s me who should be apologizing,” the mystery man says as he gives you a gentle smile. “if you don’t mind me saying this but you look kind of lost, do you need help?” he offers.

“god, thank you so much, im looking for this lecture hall,” you point towards your phone, he leans over slightly to see where you’re pointing.

“oh! i’m also heading to that one, i can walk you if you don’t mind?” he looks back at you, once you nod he smiles and starts leading you both towards the lecture hall.

“i’m john logan by the way but please call me logan,” he says after a couple of minutes of silence. you tell him your name and you two strike up a conversation about you guys’ major and different hobbies and such.

once you guys arrive to the lecture hall, he sits down in a row and you decide to sit in the row behind him. not wanting to bother him seeing as you already bumped into him.

as the lecture is beginning to start, you feel a tap on your knee, looking up you see logan looking at you with an ashamed look.

“sorry to bother you but do you have an extra pen i could use?” he asks. you smile before grabbing a extra pen from your pencil pouch. you hand it to him.

he gives a relieved smile, “thank you so much,” he says as he grabs the pink inked pen out of your hand, your fingers brushing against one another slightly.

the lecture ended after a long hour and a half, you’re packing up your stuff when your pen gets returned on your desk with a note attached to it.

might seem weird in which you can totally say no but can i have your number? - logan.

you smile as you look up at logan whose now standing in front of you, his back towards the professor.

“of course you can have my number,” you reply as you grab his phone which is now outstretched to you. you put in your number, handing his phone back to him.

“thank you,” he smiles as he grabs his phone back from you. “i hope to see you around more outside of this class, but only if you want too,” he says nervously.

you laugh at his nerves, “if this is your way of asking to be friends then i accept logan,” you say as you stand up, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

he lets out a soft chuckles as you two walk out of the classroom together.

that was over two years ago. and you and logan have gotten extremely close like to the point of where there are few times people don’t see you two together. or don’t automatically assume you two are dating.

you guys claim you’re just best friends but you two act and look like a couple.

if you two are sitting on the couch, your legs are in his lap and his head is resting on your chest while you play with his hair or if you’re sitting at malone’s together, his arm is around your shoulder or even if you’re simply just standing up, his arms wrap loosely around your neck and you hold his arms.

safe to say no one’s convinced, hell you two aren’t even convinced to the point where you both stop denying it.

currently you’re at the hockey house in logan’s bed, in his hoodie which is another thing you get told isn’t normal best friends things but anyways you’re currently studying for a quiz you have tomorrow.

or at least you’re trying too, logan is currently bugging you about taking a break.

“please, you’ve been staring at the same paragraph for like 20 minutes, you might as well talk to me if you can’t focus,” he pleads from his desk chair.

“well, i could focus if someone named logan didn’t bug me every five minutes about being bored knowing we have the same quiz tomorrow,” you bite back with no malice.

he laughs as he gets up, closing your textbook and places it on his nightstand.

you go to open your mouth to rebuttal but he quickly places his pointer finger on your lip. “shh i think an hour break from studying will not harm your grade, pretty,” he says as he removes his finger from your lip.

you groan as he pulls you up into his arms, hugging you gently as he kisses the top of your head.

“if i fail tomorrow, im blaming you john logan,” you mumble against his chest as you wrap your arms around his waist.

he chuckles against you, pulling back from the hug. “i highly doubt you’re gonna fail my little overachiever,” he teases, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the stairs.

you both walk down the stairs, hands joined together in which the hockey house is surprisingly quiet for a thursday afternoon.

letting go of your hand once you both round the counter, you jump up on the counter, swinging your legs as logan rummages through the fridge and freezer.

he grabs cookies and cream ice cream he keeps stocked just for you, grabbing a spoon from the drawer. closing the freezer door and the drawer door.

you part your legs as logan stands in between them. “you love me,” you say as you reach for the ice cream and spoon, opening the container and eating some of it.

“no actually i keep it stocked just for myself,” he says sarcastically as he places his hands on either side of your hips.

you give him an unamused look as you take some of ice cream on the spoon and place it in his mouth. before placing the lid back on the ice cream and placing the ice cream aside.

“does it bother you that people call us a couple?” he asks, placing his hands on your waist.

“no, it doesn’t, does it bother you?” you ask cautiously, silently wondering where this is coming from and where this conversation is going.

“no it doesn’t, but part of me wishes you were mine,” he says slowly as he looks down at your lap.

you take your hands and move them to his face, softly gripping his jaw. “are you telling me that the john logan likes me?” you ask softly.

he groans as he drops his head to your chest as you move your hands to the back of his neck, “i thought i made it quite obvious, i mean we’ve done everything but kiss,” he says against you.

you think for a moment before pulling his head up so he’s looking at you. “well how’s this for an answer,” you say before connecting your lips together.

the kiss is slow but meaningful, his hands tighten around your waist as he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter. your hands are tangled in his hair, softly scratching his scalp with your nails.

as good as the kiss was, you two were interrupted by dean, garrett, and tucker walking in on you two.

“holy shit,” garrett says as he drops his bag by the door.

“fucking finally,” dean sighs out like a hardworking father of four.

you two breakaway with smiles, logan lifts you off the counter and into his arms as he makes his way out of the kitchen and back in the direction of his room.

once you finally get into his room, he kicks the door shut before placing you on his bed. connecting you twos lips once again briefly before peppering kisses all over your face, earning giggles from you.

he pulls back from you, “so, can i officially call you my girlfriend?” he teases.

“babe, i think ive been yours since freshman year,” you reply as you pull him back down for another sweet but loving kiss.

[gaptoothluv]

Little Black Dress

pairing: steve harrington x fem reader summary: it’s Eddie’s birthday this weekend, and you desperately need a new dress. your boyfriend, Steve, is more than happy to help you find the perfect one. it’s totally not his fault that he can’t keep his hands to himself. wc: 5.7k warnings: explicit 18+ (minors dni), established relationship, public sex, exhibitionism, fingering, oral (m recieving), choking, creampie, nipple play, praise, use of slut, unprotected p in v, loverboy steve an: the picture included is not related to the fic at all! there's no descriptions of the reader, just the dressing room ;)

“Yeah man, that sounds great. We’ll definitely be there.” You heard Steve’s voice muffled through the wall from the corridor, turning your head over your shoulder to glance at him as he wandered through the entrance to the kitchen. “Nine o’clock? Yeah – yeah, we’ll see you then.”

A soft smile appeared against your lips at the sight of him in his white pyjama t-shirt and his grey plaid pants. This particular morning was a Friday, one of which you both had the day off work. You’d spent the morning in bed together, letting the sunlight wake you up. Now you were making you both breakfast, the perfect start to the perfect day. 

He pushed his thin framed rims up his nose as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line, catching the smile you offered him and flashing you a small wink. A warmth crept to your cheeks as you turned back to the stove, pushing the spatula underneath the eggs to flip them over. 

You and Steve had been together for a long time now, almost four years to be exact, but everyday you spend with him feels like the first day you met. You met at a party one September, and you never looked back. The two of you moved into your own place in Forest Hills half a year ago and the place was finally beginning to feel like home. Especially when you had mornings like these.

“Alright, Ed. We’ll see you later then. Cool. Bye, man.” Steve clicked the phone off and placed it on the receiver that sat on the counter in the kitchen. He was quick to cross the room, his large hands finding your hips with ease as his lips found your shoulder.

“Who was that, baby?” You spoke gently, your head tilting automatically as his lips dragged across your skin to press against your neck. His hands squeezed the flesh on your sides gently before he murmured against you. 

“Eddie. Having people round tonight for his birthday, I said we’d be there.” His voice was muffled gently, leaning back to press one last kiss against you before pulling away from you to cross the kitchen to the cabinet where your plates lived. 

“Tonight?” Your eyebrows furrowed gently as you grabbed some salt from next to you, sprinkling it across the pan before looking over at Steve. “That’s kind of late notice, dunno if I even have anything to wear.”

Steve grabbed the bread from the breadbin, twisting it out of the packaging and shoving it into the toaster before leaning his back against the kitchen counter. He turned himself to look at you, letting out a small laugh at your concern. “You have plenty of things to wear, honey. What about that blue skirt you got last week?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, twisting your fingers around the knob to turn off the flame beneath your pan. “I don’t wanna wear that. I want something–” You took your teeth between your lips as you thought, your gaze turning to the toast that had just popped up from the toaster. “Something sexy.”

A scoffed laugh left Steve’s lips as he turned to grab the toast, buttering each slice before placing them on their retrospective plates. He passed you a plate and you scooped an egg on top of it, and the same with the other. You guys were two parts of the same machine, everything you did working in tandem together perfectly. 

“You have sexy clothes, babe,” He laughed again, leaning over to press a kiss against your lips as he took both of the plates from you and walked them over to the dining table. “But if you wanna go to the mall, we have nothing else to do today.”

A soft gasp left your lips as you hurried after him, “Really? But you hate the mall, baby.”  your hand reaching out to softly rub against his hip as you slipped by him to sit in your designated seat. Even though you had a decent sized dining table, the two of you always curled up at one end with your chairs as close together as possible. 

His shoulder shrugged gently as he sat down, waiting for you to sit next to him so he could pull your chair a few inches closer to him. “I don’t love the mall, but I love you.” He grinned down at you as you caught his eye, leaning in to catch your lips in a sweet kiss before speaking again. “I’ll go anywhere with you, you know that.”

You hummed gently at his words, your hand lifting to his shoulder as you leant up to brush your lips on his cheek gently. “We’ll be in and out, baby, super quick. I promise.” Your fingers laced through his atop of the table, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before using your other hand to lift up your toast and take a bite. 

He grinned down at you before taking a bite of his toast, offering you a loud, impressed groan muffled by the bread. “Goddamn, this is so good, baby.” He leant down to you, catching your lips with his despite both your mouths already occupied, earning a small laugh from you. 

“It’s just eggs and bread, baby.” You murmured against his lips after swallowing your bite. His hand left yours to snake around you to grab at your hip, his hand smoothing over the cheek of your ass before giving it a small squeeze. 

He took your upper lip between his, deepening the kiss with ease as his body held you as close as he could despite the slight gap between the wooden chair. He pulled his lips away, pressing one last kiss to your cheek before speaking. “Well, they’re the best eggs and bread I’ve ever had.”

“Shut up and eat your breakfast, Steve.” You laughed softly with a small shake of your head, turning your attention back to your meal as his eyes lingered on you, stealing one last kiss to your cheek before following your very unstrict order. 

Steve drove the two of you to the mall a few hours later after the two of you happily finished your breakfast and got ready for the day. Every evening, and any mornings that the two of you shared together you were basically glued to the hip. You’d eat together, shower together, brush your teeth together, if either of you had to bring work home, the other would happily sit and help, even if you had no idea how to plan a lesson plan for Steve’s gym class. 

Friday afternoons meant the mall was alive with people, this one typically being especially busy. You and Steve were on your fourth store now, and you’d not had any luck yet. You’d tried on too many dresses and skirts to count, your arms beginning to grow tired from tugging your shirt on and off. 

“It’s okay, honey. I’m sure I can find something in the back of my closet, let’s just go home.” You spoke gently as your fingers laced through his, your other hand slowly rubbing up and down his arm. 

You knew Steve wasn’t a fan of the mall as he’d told you about the fire at the Starcourt Mall years earlier. The two of you avoided coming here all together, but Steve knew that you loved to go shopping – and he’d do anything for you. 

As you looked up at him, you watched his throat bob gently before he spoke. “Baby, honestly it’s fine. Let’s have a look in here, and if there’s nothing in there we’ll have a look through the closet together, hm?” He asked you, his fingers squeezing yours before leaning down to press a kiss against your temple. 

You hummed into his touch gently, offering him a small nod before letting him guide you into the store next to you. As the two of you made your way around the store, both of you picked up different garments for you to try on. Everything you picked up was a burst of colour and fabric, something fun and loud in comparison to Steve’s slightly more risque choices. 

“What?” He frowned as he held up a small black dress to you over the clothing rail, glancing down at it before looking back at you. “You said you wanted something sexy.” 

“Something sexy, sure. That’ll leave nothing to the imagination.” You snorted a small laugh through your nose as you rounded the rail to him. You ran your fingers over the soft fabric, giving it another look over before looking up at Steve.

He looked happy to be here with you, he’d be happy anywhere if you were with him. But you still had a small flicker of guilt in the back of your mind that you’d been dragging him around with you all afternoon when he’d rather be anywhere else. 

Your fingers slipped up the dress to take the hanger from him, lifting yourself up to press a kiss to his lips before brushing past him toward the changing room. “C’mon then, I’ve got like three to try on, I’ll be quick.” 

Steve was quick to follow behind you, catching up to you with a small jog. As you made your way into the small corridor of the changing rooms, you noticed there was a free one right at the end with a small chair sat in front of the red curtain. 

You hooked your handbag off of your shoulder, setting it next to the chair before turning to Steve. “Will you be okay here? I’ll just be – there.” You pointed at the changing room only a few feet from the two of you, and Steve only laughed softly down at you. 

“I’ll be fine, baby,” He spoke as he pressed a kiss to your temple before slumping down in the seat with a grateful sigh, his hand motioning to the small room in front of him. “Now go, I’m expecting a fashion show.”

You smiled softly at his words before pulling the curtain back and disappearing into the tight space. There was a small bench on the back wall with hooks on the top of it for your clothes, and two mirrors on each side of you. You hung up the three dresses you’d chosen, a mid length pink plaid dress, a red satin floor length dress with a haltered neck, and Steve’s little black dress. 

You could hear Steve from the other side of the curtain humming along to the song that was playing over the speakers, earning a small laugh from you. You pulled your shirt over your head, gently placing it on the bench next to you along with your skirt that you shimmied out of. 

The pink dress was cute, something you’d definitely see yourself wearing in the summer but not necessarily for the occasion of Eddie’s party. You lifted your arm to do the zip up the side before pulling back the curtain, taking a step out to give Steve a twirl. 

“Wow. That’s gorgeous, you look stunning.” Steve preened as you spun for him, his smile widening as he leant back in his seat. He even brought his hands up to offer you a small clap, you took a few steps backward to look over the dress in the mirror. 

“You sure you like it? I mean, not for Eddie’s party obviously.” You glanced over at him and he was automatically nodding. His palm splayed across the denim on his knee as his fingers tapped against the fabric gently. 

“Absolutely. You look like a really cute picnic blanket.” His comment earned a laugh from you, shaking your head as you pulled the curtain shut again to change into the next dress. 

“I didn’t know picnic blankets could be cute, Harrington.” You called out as you pulled down the zipper and pulled the pink fabric over your head. 

You hung it back in its place before taking down the red dress, it was definitely out of your comfort zone as it was rare that you’d ever have an occasion to wear a dress this fancy. The fabric pooled at your feet as you pulled it over your head, the satin clinging to your body in all the right places. You smoothed it over with your hands as you looked it over in the mirror before pulling back the curtain to show Steve.

His eyes were looking down the corridor, quickly turning to you at the sound of the rings of curtain clicking together. His eyes widened as they feasted over you, his lips parting gently as you stepped out from the dressing room. 

“Holy shit,” He mumbled, you watched as his eyes took in every inch of you in the red fabric. He was quick to stand and cross the small distance to you, his fingers wrapping around yours and twirling you slightly as he let out a low groan. “Oh my God, you look so beautiful.”

Your smile widened under his gaze, stepping closer to him once he’d spun you back into place. His spare hand was quick to find your lower back, the pads of his fingers rubbing the soft fabric between his fingers before his hand trailed to find the curve of your ass and giving it a small squeeze. 

A gentle gasp left your lips at his touch, your hands lifting to his chest as your teeth sank into your lower lip to hold back a smirk. “Steve,” You glanced over your shoulder to look down the corridor of dressing rooms before looking back up at him. “Someone might see.”

His shoulder shrugged gently as he pulled you closer to him, his other hand holding the back of your head to tilt your head up to him so he could press his lips to yours. You were quick to melt against him, the feeling of his lips capturing yours is something you’d felt thousands of times by now, but your knees still went weak every time. 

“Let ‘em see.” He mumbled against your lips, taking a moment to deepen the kiss as you felt his tongue press against you. You were quick to let him in, letting his tongue take control over yours before you pulled away quickly with a small gasp. 

Steve groaned at the loss gently, his forehead dipping to your shoulder as you glanced around you again, your hand patting against his chest gently to get his attention back on you. “One more dress, and we’ll be done.” 

He lifted his head to look down at you, giving you a small nod as he reluctantly pulled himself away to sit back down. You watched as his hands pulled the front of his jeans down slightly, shaking your head as you disappeared behind the curtain again. 

The red dress slid off your body with ease, picking it up from the floor to hang it up on the hanger next to the pink dress. You looked at the black dress for a moment, it definitely was out of your comfort zone. The fabric was buttery soft and delicate between your fingers, but very different to anything you’d ever worn before. 

You were quick to pull it on anyway, and you were slightly taken aback by the reflection in front of you. Like the red dress, this one hugged you in all the right places but somehow exaggerated all of the parts of your body that deserved to be seen. You twisted from side to side, your eyes catching the way the dress moved with you.

You pulled the fabric back slowly, but this time you didn’t step out. You watched the colour drain from Steve’s face at the sight of you, the sound that croaked past his lips as he tried to speak. He just swallowed thickly, leaning forward slightly in his seat and nodded at you. 

“Is it okay?” A small smirk grew against your lips at his reaction, your hands running along your sides before turning around to give him a view of the back. You pulled your hair over your shoulder and leant your hand against the back wall over the bench, leaning forward slightly to exaggerate the short length of the skirt. “It’s not too short?”

You glanced over at Steve over your shoulder, his elbow had moved to his knee and his palm covering his mouth as his eyes revelled at the sight in front of him. The small peek of your underwear in front of him was short circuiting his brain, he just nodded gently. “It’s perfect, baby. You look perfect.” 

“It’s not too tight?” You turned back around to him, your hands sliding up your body until they reached the curves of your breasts. You glanced down at your hands pushing your tits together, squeezing them gently before looking back at Steve. “Do you think it’s too tight, baby?”

A small sigh passed your lips as your nipples hardened under your touch, your finger catching against it through the fabric. He shook his head gently, slowly leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. “Nothing wrong with tight, honey.” 

You looked up at him and caught the smirk that was now present across his lips, a smirk you’d been on the receiving end of more times than you can think of. “Good to know, baby. I’ll get changed then we can go.” You just nodded gently, lifting your hand up to the zip on the side of the dress before pulling the curtain shut. 

Before you could get the dress off, you heard the curtain shift behind you and all of a sudden there was a warm presence behind you. A tight gasp leaving your throat as Steve’s front pressed tightly against your back, his hand splaying at your stomach as his lips found your neck with ease. 

“We’re not going anywhere, not yet.” He mumbled against your skin as his teeth grazed your skin, your eyes fluttering shut as your head fell back against his shoulder. His hand rubbed against your stomach, his other hand coming up to cup your breast through the fabric of your dress. 

“Steve,” You whispered, pushing your hips back into him until you felt his hardened cock press against your ass. Your head lifted to look into the mirror in front of you, giving you a perfect view to watch Steve ravish you in the small space. “We can go home, baby. We’ll be home quickly.”

He shook his head gently, lifting his head from your neck to catch your eyes in the mirror. His gaze dropped to your breasts as he pulled the hem of the dress down, your tits spilling out of them. “Fuck. I can’t wait until we’re home, baby,” The two of you watched as his fingertips circled your nipples, twisting it gently as you panted under his touch. “I need you now.”

You were quick to nod, bringing your hand up to paw at the breast he was neglecting. A stifled moan left his lips as he watched the both of you playing with your tits, pressing your ass against him in desperation to feel more of him. 

His hand released your wrist and slipped down the front of your dress, pulling up the hem to reveal your underwear to the two of you. “Oh, honey. Look at you, you’re a mess already.” He whispered as his fingers ghosted over the wet patch that had gathered on your panties, earning a small moan from your lips. 

“Shh, baby,” He cooed in your ear, bringing two of his fingers and latching them into your mouth as his lips found your neck. “Suck on them and be quiet baby, you don’t want anyone knowing what I’m doing to you in here, hm?”

You were quick to shake your head as your lips parted to take more of his fingers between your lips. He sighed in pleasure at the feeling of your tongue getting to know each inch of his finger, just like you would his cock. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, honey. Such a needy little slut.” He whispered against your skin, his hand moving from your breast to the band of your panties. He quickly pulled them down your thigh, moving his hand to the other side so he could get you out of them as quickly as possible. 

His hand ran up your leg as you stepped out of your underwear, pulling the hem of your dress up to your waist. His fingertips grazed over your stomach as he watched in the mirror as your legs parted for him, leaning into him as you sucked on his fingers with ease. “Look at you, so needy. You want me to touch you, baby? Want me to touch your tight little pussy?”

You were quick to nod and hum around his fingers, your hands wrapping around his wrist that he was keeping you quiet with. Your eyes dipped in the mirror as his hand slid down your body, his fingertips pushing through the thatch of hair that sat atop your cunt. 

A hungry grunt fell past Steve’s lips into your ear as he pushed his middle finger through your slit slowly, his eyes watching intently as your swollen lips parted for him with ease, glistening under the warm bulb of the changing room. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” He grumbled into your ear, his lips dipping to suck on the sensitive spot beneath your ear that he’d discovered on your second date and always comes back to. Your hips rock into his hand as his finger slowly makes its way through your folds, taking his time to spread your wetness through you. “I think you like this, me playing with you and anyone could hear. But you’re being a good girl for me, hm? Nice and quiet.”

He lifted his eyes to watch your reaction as he slipped a finger inside of you, his own breath hitching as your pussy clenches around him as soon as he enters. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth to twist around your nipple again, his eyes flickering between watching your nipples glisten with his spit beneath his fingers or watching the way his finger is curling inside of you. 

“Steve–” You croaked out, your head falling against his shoulder as your hand flew down your body to steady his hand between your legs. He shushed you quietly, pulling his finger out of you and adding his ring finger to spread your pussy open for him. 

“Shh, baby,” He whispered, biting on his lower lip gently as he pushed two of his fingers inside of you with ease, his thumb circling your clit. As a loud gasp left your lips at the feeling, his hand that was toying with your breast was quick to clamp over your mouth. “You gotta be quiet for me, okay? Just let me take care of you. You’re so fucking wet for me, honey, fuck.”

You moaned into his hand, your hips rolling up onto his fingers with each thrust into you. You nodded softly as your hand wrapped behind you, grabbing onto his waist to hold yourself up as his fingers curled against your wall, hitting your g-spot with each thrust. 

Steve could feel your pussy tightening around his fingers, he pulled his hand away quickly from between your legs to slip them into his mouth. You watched as he sucked your arousal off of himself before his hand fell from your mouth, you fell forward slightly at the loss of him helping you up, your hand coming up to the mirror in front of you as he grabbed onto your hip, rubbing your ass back against his erection. 

His fingers popped out of his mouth before he pulled you back up against him with ease, his hand slipping back down between your legs as he rubbed your inner thigh softly. “You wanna come, don’t you baby? I can tell, you have that look in your eye.”

His hand cupped your pussy as he spoke, his finger grazing against your slit as he watched you nod quickly. “Please, Steve, I– Fuck.” You tried to rut yourself down on his hand, desperate for even the slightest of touch. 

Steve’s hand that was holding onto your hip slipped up your body to wrap around your throat, his touch was always gentle but the sensation rushed another heat between your legs. “You’re so desperate, aren’t you? This tight little cunt is begging for me, I can feel it.” Two of his fingers pushed through your folds again, his smirk widening as he watched your hips roll into his touch. 

“Fuck me then, baby. Please, I need you.” You managed, your voice still at a whisper but you aren’t caring half as much as you were ten minutes ago. Steve nodded gently as he caught your eye, turning his lips to press a kiss against your shoulder before pulling himself away from you. 

You stumbled against the mirror at the loss of him holding you up, taking the moment to catch your breath as you looked over your dishevelled reflection. Your breasts spilling out the top of the dress that’s hooked around your waist, sweat beading across your hairline until your attention is drawn to the sound of Steve unzipping his jeans. 

With that, you look over your shoulder to see Steve sat on the bench with his jeans and his boxers pushed past his knees, his cock heavily resting against his stomach as his right hand is slowly pumping around himself. You watch as his thumb slides over his tip, rubbing his precum down his length as he visibly holds back a moan. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” You mumble at the sight in front of you, and before you know it you’ve already dropped to your knees in front of him. And before he can protest, your hand is wrapped around the base of his cock. 

Your eyes are glued to his as you lift his cock to run your tongue from his base up to his tip, quick to wrap your lips around him and slowly bob your head. His fingers gathered your hair into his hand as he breathed deeply through his nose, his hips rocking up into your mouth with each inch you sink further between your lips. 

You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’d gone down on Steve, but every time you seem to forget how big his cock feels in your mouth. You’re reminded now when his tip hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag around his length which earns a moan to slip past his lips. 

You push through, nuzzling your nose against the hair at the base of his cock as your hands steady yourself at his thigh. You feel his grip pulling you back slightly, your hand wrapping around him as you pull yourself off. “You okay?” You manage, wiping the back of your hand across your mouth before leaning down to take his tip between your lips again. 

“Shit– Baby, I’m gonna come. You’ve gotta stop,” He whispered softly through his teeth, his shoulders leaning back against the wall. You huffed gently but complied, pulling your lips off him but keeping your hand wrapped around him as you rose from your knees. “I wanna come in that tight little cunt, ‘s that okay?”

You were quick to nod, lifting your knees to either side of his thighs on the bench so you were straddling him. Your hand slipped from between his legs to hold his shoulders for support, leaning forward to press your lips against his as you whispered back. “Go on, baby. Fill me up, right to the brim.”

He sighed into your mouth, his hand steadying at your lower back as the other wrapped around his length. He pumped himself a few times before guiding himself between your legs, he pulled his lips away from yours to look between your bodies as he pushed his length through your folds. “Fuck,” He grunted quietly, looking up at you as his tip pushed against your clit, earning a tight sigh from you. “You’re such a little slut, begging for me to fuck you in the changing room for anyone to see. You like that, don't you?” 

You nodded quickly, slipping your hand down to his chest to push yourself up slightly so you could watch the pornographic scene he was creating between your legs. “Please, baby.” You sighed as he continued to push himself through your folds, his grip on you tightening as he settled himself at your entrance. 

Both of his hands dropped to your waist to lower you down onto his length, the feeling of Steve finally opening you up completely being too much for you to handle. Your forehead dropped to his shoulder, your eyes squinting shut as he lowered you slowly. “I know, baby. You’re being such a good girl for me, just a little more.”

Considering you didn’t come before, you were already close to the edge when you finally managed to take all of him inside of you. You lifted your head to look down at him as his grip on you tightening, beginning to bounce you on his cock. 

Your hand clasped over your mouth as his hips started fucking into you, your other hand gripping at his shoulder to steady yourself as you started moving your hips in tandem with his. As you started taking control, one of his hands lifted to move your hand from your mouth and steady you by the back of the head.

He looked into your eyes, the sound of your skin slapping against his each time he bottomed out inside of you filling the changing room. He pulled your lips to his, swallowing your moans before mumbling against you. “You’re so fucking beautiful. This pussy was fucking made for me, wasn’t it? You’re all mine. I wanna hear you, baby, please.”

“I’m all yours, baby,” You whined against him, your pussy clenching around his cock at his praise as you feel every inch of him inside of you. Each thrust hitting the gummy spot inside of you that brings you closer and closer to your climax with each thrust of his hips. “I’m gonna fucking– Fuck, I’m so close.” 

“Yeah? Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock, please, baby.” He spoke against your lips, his hand slipping from your hip to circle his thumb over your swollen clit. His teeth took your lower lip hostage as the two of you breathed into each other, losing track of where one begins and the other ends. 

The pressure between your legs builds as he pulls his lips from yours to dip to your chest, taking your nipple between his teeth. Your fingers slip through his hair, tugging on it gently as you feel yourself let go. You’re trying your hardest to hold back your moans as you come around his cock, “Fuck– Steve, oh my God.”

He moans around your breast as he feels you come around him, looking back up at you to watch as you ride out your orgasm. He grabs onto your hips again as he fucks up into you, “I love you so fucking much, baby.” He mumbles through his teeth, watching you as your head dips between your bodies, your eyes glued to the mess you’ve made around his cock. 

Your eyes snap back up to his as you feel his length twitch inside of you, your hand slipping from his chest to wrap around his neck gently, just holding yourself steady. “I love you, Steve. I love you so fucking much, come for me, please.”

You feel his load spill inside of you as he looks up into your eyes, his lips crashing against yours as he rides out his own orgasm. His cock painting your walls as he sucks on your lower lip as his hand rubs at your hip, his chest heaving against yours as his cock twitches inside of you. 

He pulls his lips back from yours to look up at you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear as he breathes out heavily. “God, I’m so in love with you.” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth as a small, soft laugh leaves your lips. 

“I’m so in love with you, baby.” You speak gently as your hands steady at his shoulder as you slowly lift yourself off of him to sit beside him on the bench, looking down between your legs at the mess the two of you made. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

Steve chuckles softly, noticing your gaze. He bites down on his lip as his eyes dart around the small space, leaning down to the floor to grab your discarded panties, his hand settling on your knee as he uses your underwear between your legs to clean you up. 

You can’t help but let out a small laugh as he does, using your soaked panties to clean you up, but your heart swells at the action. Your gaze lands on the black dress strewn against your body, your fingers finding the zipper on the side and pulling it down as you glance up at him. 

“I guess I have to buy the dress now, huh?” You whisper softly, catching Steve’s eye as he turns to look up at you. A small snicker leaves him as he nods, leaning over to press a kiss to your lips before helping you pull it over your head. 

Your hand grabs your shirt hanging on the hook behind you, tugging it over your head as Steve stands and adjusts himself back into his jeans. “You know, I think Eddie would understand if we skipped out on tonight.” 

“Oh yeah?” You smirk up at him gently, standing up to step into your skirt, shimmying it up over your hips before settling your hands on his waist gently. You lifted yourself up on your toes to brush your lips against his, whispering gently. “But I wanna show off my new dress.” 

His hands brush through your hair gently, sliding them to hold the back of your head steady as he smirks down at you whilst giving you a small nod. “Alright. An hour, then I’m taking you home and ruining that little black dress all over again.” 

[moonstoneandmoonlight]

welcome to pelican town! | stardew valley farmer!steve

when steve’s grandfather died, steve hadn’t been expecting a lot. a watch maybe or some of his old suit jackets. the very last thing steve had been expecting was to inherit a whole damn farm.

and sure, the farm needed a lot of work and sure—mayor lewis was a little annoying but steve was looking forward to a challenge and a distraction from all that had happened in hawkins.

on his fourth day after moving onto the farm and into what could only be described as a glorified shed, he went to pierre’s general store to buy more parsnip seeds. he had decided to start simple despite knowing cauliflower’s would probably sell for a lot more, steve just wanted an easy first harvest. he also still didn’t really have any idea what he was doing.

“are you the new farmer?”

steve nearly drops all of the packets of parsnip seeds he had been holding.

“shit! yeah, i’m steve—”

he turns to greet whoever it was who had scared the life out of him but he’s a little lost for words when he sees you. because you were so damn pretty.

“steve,” you repeat with a kind smile before you tell him your name. “it’s good to meet you steve. welcome to pelican town.”

steve smiles back at you, something funny happening in his gut when he thought about how much he liked your name and your smile.

“happy to be here,” steve says and now that he met you—he meant it.

dividers by @anitalenia

[bluetimeombre]

J OVER MY HEART

synopsishi again(im gonna be so annoying with this). i had some voices whisper into my ear about a shared tattoo with jack abbott and wife(pediatrics doctor?) reader? reader and jack having two tattoos. one that everyone would see and the other where only the two of them would. and what if, their marriage is like not known to everyone except for Robby and Dana(?hehehe) request!

warningstattoo talk? general hospital stuff, language, making out, smut-ish

authornotein honour of tom holland and zendaya coming back to screen soon i dedicate the tattoo's to them. i had soooo much fun writing this, i can't believe i'm slowly moving into being a jack girlie. ignore the fact that Jack is for some reason in day shift. this one's for @expreissionism

The first time the Pittlings made the connection they thought nothing of it. Some ink swirled around the skin of two doctors wasn't anything, many of them had tattoos themselves.

Doctor McKay had the sort she got in collage and regretted, Robby had one or two that meant something to him, that he'd find himself tracing in times of despair. Doctor Santos had lost count of how many she had and what they all meant.

Javadi herself was pretty terrified at the idea of putting a sharp needle to skin. She was afraid of the permanence of it. The pain.

And her mother finding out.

That was until she spotted yours.

“You have a tattoo,” she noted standing behind you, paying close attention to how you examined the boy in front of you.

You nodded like you weren't trying to listen close down your stethoscope as you asked the boy to breathe in, listening at his back. “I do.”

“That's... really cool,” she said.

You smiled, small. “Thank you.”

Javadi watched your wrist move and arm flex as you put the stethoscope back around your neck, holding onto it either end. She'd called you down for a pedes case but was finding herself distracted by the beauty of the ink on you.

There were hard strokes of black and lighter ones, all drawn around in swirls that came together to make a sun. She thought it looked like the sun from tangled- one of her favourite movies. But you were a grown woman. Maybe you liked the movie as much as she did.

Javadi shook off the idea as you stood, telling the parents what you found. A small crackle in his breathing but as he'd been down with a flu and fever it might not mean anything terrible. Kept for observation and some blood work was ordered before the two of you were slipping away.

“What does it mean?” asked Victoria, hot on your heels as you walked to the nurses station. “The-the sun, I mean? Not crackles in the chest, I-I know that.”

You chuckled, tapping in to chart. Although you worked floors above on the pedes ward, your vintage disney top under the lab coat representing that, you were down enough on emergency and trauma cases to be a familiar and welcome face.

“Oh, you know,” you said, balancing your elbow on the table and checking on the ink. Your lips quirked at looking at it. “Just a little sun, for brightness and stuff.”

Javadi thought it was fitting. You were a sunshine person, hopeful and kind, like a ray of light in the depths of hell she called the ED. She supposed it came with the job, having to be the hope for the sick children.

Everyone down the Pitt could afford to be miserable, with a good enough excuse in working in the emergency department. You were with kids, helping them and their parents through anything minor to the worst days of their lives.

“Kinda, look to the light, kinda thing?” Victoria asked.

You slowly glanced up at her, finding a new perspective. “Yeah. I like that take.”

“Well, well, well,” said a hoarse voice coming closer to the two of you.

Beyond Javadi you looked past her.

Jack Abbot casually strolled over, hands behind his back, arms pulled in tight muscles and freckles in his dark scrubs. “You know, you're down here so often anyone would think you're after a Pedes attending job.”

You rose a brow, challenging him. “Are you offering?”

“Oh yeah, anything to keep sunshine down here.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, leaving Javadi to look between the two of you. She hadn’t realised the two of you knew each other so well.

Sure, you were the first everyone went to for a pedes case but how often was that?

“Sunshine! That’s funny,” said Javadi, standing between the two of you

Jack rose a brow. “It is?”

“Yeah- yeah,” she said with a clear of her throat. “Cause’- she has a sunshine tattoo.”

Jacks lips quirked up to a smirk. “Really?”

You leaned over the counter, chin resting in the palm of your hand. “Yeah. Got it some time ago.”

“Is it somewhere PG-13?” He asked.

“Well to know that you’d have to buy me a drink first.”

“I plan to.”

The two of you shared a smirk.

Suddenly, Victoria thought she was stuck in the middle of something.

It was Whitaker who discovered it next.

He was working with Abbot and Shen on a patient in trauma one, still waiting for the feeling in his feet to return to him after a twelve hour shift. But he wanted to see this patient through first, even if he could have left now the night crawlers had swept in.

He was shooting an x-ray for the guy in a car crash, checking his ribs after being found pressed up against his steering wheel.

Somewhere else you were stitching up his young daughter.

“The car came from nowhere,” fretted the patient, wincing with every breath. “I swear- I swear!”

“Don’t you worry, sir, we’re gonna get you sorted,” assured Jack, peeling off his jacket and replacing it with a vest.

“Is my- is my daughter okay?”

“She just needed a couple stitches,” said Denis.

Jack stretched up, moving the x-ray machine over the patient. “Don’t worry, your daughter is in the best hands. They lumped you with the second best, I’m afraid.”

The patient gave a huff of a laugh that evidently hurt more than anything.

“Okay… shooting!”

Everyone without a vest backed away.

It was at that moment as Jack hovered shooting the x-ray that Whitaker got his first glance at some ink peeking out from his wrist. His watch hid most of what Denis could make out as a tattoo but he thought it strange that Robby should have his own tattoo also typically hidden behind his watch.

Robby and Jack always called themselves brothers, from their years of friendship and shared experiences in the Pitt.

He just hadn’t realised they were that close.

The x ray was quickly done and the machine pushed away as everyone focused on stabilising the man.

A couple broken ribs, a severely bruised chest.

An OR was free to check on any internal bleeding, get the chest sorted.

The doors pushed open and you walked in, a maybe eight years old propped on your hip, little arms hugging around your neck.

Jack’s lips tilted up at once. “Second visit in one day, upstairs must be boring.”

“Well we do like to call this place the circus,” you teased. “This is Mr Peters daughter, she wanted to check in on her daddy.”

Jack tugged off his gloves and Whitaker watched as he approached you and the little girl. “Your daddy is doing fine, he’s strong. I reckon just as strong as you. He’s gonna go upstairs for a closer look but you can go with him, if you like?”

The girl hid her head closer into your shoulder, mumbling something that Whitaker could just about make out.

“Will you come up with me?” She’d asked you.

You bounced her gently. “Course. Upstairs is where all the fun is anyway.”

Jack hummed. “Hm. She has the best candy too.”

Whitaker watched the young girls eyes light up.

As a team from surgery came to drag the father away you followed behind with the daughter in arms, Abbot and Whitaker following out and taking a moment to watch the crowd dissapear.

“Did good in there, Whitaker,” said Abbot, the both of them tearing off their gowns and gloves.

“Thanks,” he said. The both of them went separate ways. Oddly enough, Jack was following in the steps of the team that took up the man and his daughter.

Doctor Robby wondered over, sliding into his seat. If even one of his day shift was left, so was he. It was his own morale code to not go till everyone on day had, Denis was learning.

“Hey,” greeted Denis. “You know I had no idea you and Abbot had matching tattoos.”

“Huh, yeah...” said Robby of absent-mind as he watched the computer. It took him a second to register what he was saying and look up. “Wait, what did you say?”

Suddenly Whitaker felt like he'd said the wrong thing, seeing his attending look over his glasses at him. Maybe nobody was supposed to know? Maybe it was super personal? Or it was a stupid drunk choice they were both trying to forget and he'd just brought it up.

“Oh god, I didn't, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-”

Robby scratched at his beard. “Jack and I do not have matching tattoos.”

“Oh.”

“What made you think that?” he asked. “Did someone... say something?” there was something akin to mischief in his eyes, alight.

“No! No! I just- I saw something that looked like a tattoo under where he keeps his watch, and I know you have one there too. Or- well- don't know but I've- I've seen-”

“Yeah, yeah I've got one there,” said Robby, looking back to the computer bored. “So does Jack. His is a moon. Mine's something to do with my grandmother.”

“A moon? Oh.”

Somewhere beyond Whitaker, past his shoulders, Victoria passed by, catching the conversation.

A moon on one. A sun on another. Interesting.

Samira was only looking for her patient when she found a shirtless Jack Abbot hiding behind the curtain with you standing behind him.

Both your heads shot up when the whirl of the curtain pulled back.

“Oh. I'm sorry,” said Samira. She was only momentarily shocked at Jack shirtless, SWAT gear discarded in the corner and the typical pedes case worker standing behind him, working on a bad obviously over eighteen.

Jack tried to shrug his shoulders but came away wincing. “S'alright.”

“Have you guys seen my patient?” she asked, going on to describe him.

“No, sorry. This room was empty,” you said, rolling a q-tip along Jack's shoulder blade. “Anything you need help with?”

Samira deflated, taking a seat on the chair in the corner of the room. She was feeling sorry for the patient she couldn't get to in time she didn't realise the look you and Jack shared, one of mutual agreement of apprehension.

“What happened to you?” Samira asked.

“He got shot,” you said.

“You were shot?”

Jack made a 'pfft' noise at the two of you. “Shot at. It was nothing. Hardly a graze.”

You scoffed, reaching over for some bandage and applying it to the wound. “I'll be the judge of that.”

“You my doctor now?” asked Jack.

You bit back a smirk. “Someone has to be.”

Samira had worked with Abbot a handful of times, you maybe more on cases with children that required delicate matters. She never realised the two of you were close enough to tease. Close enough that you would be the first person he runs to for help.

Curious, Samira walked around Jack, standing on the other side of his bed as you showed her the wound.

“Oh. Ouch.”

“See?” you said with a raise of your brows.

Jack's freckled arms crossed over his chest in protest.

“You have a chart?” asked Mohan.

“No,” you said. “We're keeping this off the chart.”

Samira nodded, lips quirking. We?

“Don't need the paperwork from the hospital,” said Jack. “Got big plans tonight, can't have paperwork getting in the way.”

“Big plans?” asked Mohan.

Jack hummed in affirmation.

With your careful bandages around his shoulder he stood and reached for his shirt on the side.

It wasn't just a quick glimpse Samira got of where another tattoo lied. It was a long look as Jack made work at pulling over his navy shirt overhead. At the ache in his shoulder you helped pull it over him and he didn't object, he let you help him like it was natural.

But just under his armpit, on the side of his chest there was a clear stroke of black ink in the curves and strikes of a letter. Just one simple there, no bigger than a finger nail next to his heart.

“All good to go solider,” you said, rubbing his un-injured shoulder.

“Thank you, Doc.”

You smirked. “Don't go straining yourself this evening.”

Jack chuckled, low in his throat. “I make no promises.”

It was only when watching the two of you leave that the hole in her heart for her own devoid love life sung with something other that sorrow. With hope and joy. It was only when she noticed Jack's hand linger on the small of your back as he leaned into say something to you that she realised the slope of the letter at his chest matched the very first letter of your name.

A week later and slowly Samira was forgetting the whole thing. Not forgetting the patient that had ran out on her but forgetting the state she found Jack in, forgetting how you helped him and the letter etched into his skin.

She hadn't told anyone either, because what business of others was it.

It wasn't even hers.

Maybe Jack knew someone in the army had the same initial as you. Maybe it was his mothers name. It didn't have to be yours. It was only seeing him shirtless, seeing you with him that had her thinking of you, she was sure.

But a week later she was brought back to that room.

“Woah- what happened to you?” Robby chuckled as you walked through the ED, a mixture of bodily fluids over your scrubs.

“Emergency c-section, twins,” you said. “I had no time for a gown.”

Robby's smile creased as you squelched closer. Your blue scrubs, typically a baby blue, was dyed darker due to blood, amniotic fluids and what he guessed might have been urine. “They didn't call OB?”

“OB was busy, apparently.”

“Apparently?” he asked, tablet in hand as he followed next to you as you walked to the scrub bin. You walked, arms slightly raised to not let them drop. Robby walked close but not close enough to touch the mess of you.

“Someone in OB has it out me.”

“Evil ex?”

“Yeah, one of yours,” you teased.

“Ouch.”

“I'm cranky.”

“I can tell.”

Santos and Samira were on a case together but stopped when they got a look at you. “Woah, what happened? A pile up?”

“Don't ask,” you grumbled.

From behind you Robby mouthed 'twins' and both knew not to say anymore.

“You know we have gowns for such messy procedures,” said Trinity.

You flashed her a grimace. “You're funny, Santos, must get it from this guy,” you said, slapping Robby in the chest as you stood in front of the scrub bins. However, as an official upstairs pedes resident you didn't have authority for more scrubs. “Is Jack around?”

“No,” said Robby, tapping his own ID cared on the pad and getting you an order of scrubs.

“Thanks.”

Samira wondered, briefly why you asked for Jack when it was probably easier to find some woman for your size. Like herself, for instance.

But in seconds you were pulling off your scrub top, leaving you only in a bra. Your scrub pants were next but you had a thin pair of leggings underneath. No one batted an eyes, except maybe Robby who cleared his throat and turned away, hypothetically hiding you behind his back.

“Thanks again, Robby,” you said, gaining his new scrubs.

“No problem,” he said, leaning over to you. “But you can bring this up to Jack,” he added in a mummer that Mohan just caught.

As you reached up, pulling the scrub top over you Samira caught it again. It was a smaller trace, a think line but there with no doubt.

A simple J in black ink in almost the exact spot as Jack had one of his own.

“Is that-” Mohan didn't get the words out before your scrub top was pulled over, swallowing you from Robby's scrub.

Robby and you looked to her as you pulled on the pants. “What?”

They were all looking at her, expectantly.

“No, nothing, it was nothing.”

“Okay, then.”

But now there was a knowing in there. That she didn't believe in coincidences, not when they were etched into skin.

“You look lovely.” Jack crept up behind you, his voice falling upon your ears with his head quick over your shoulder. He was like hot breath on a glass, there and gone the next second.

You understood why. Knew it had been easier to keep it quiet when things were fresh, yet, things had moved on from new and simple a long time ago and neither of you made to say it. Did you get a banner? Make a public announcement? You had no idea how to do it.

Keeping it on the low was all you knew how to do.

And anyhow, it made things far more exciting.

“Thank you,” you said, passing him a quick smile.

Jack hummed, crowding next to you at the station, leaning an arm on the counter and looking you up and down. “You'd look even better in scrubs that were mine.”

Your eyes rolled. “They're Robby's-”

“Robby's-” he scoffed, shaking his head.

“I had a messy C-section and it was this or several bodily fluids.”

“I'd have rather bodily fluids,” he said.

You hummed. “You think that but then you see me and you'd think different.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You turned your attention onto him, knowing he wouldn't give it up till he had it all. It was something about Jack and un-divided attention, he thrived on it. Giving it to you, or taking it from you. He needed it like sustenance. “Think wet. Think baby fluids that should be in a body on me. Think blood. And probably puke on there somewhere too- I don't even know how.”

“And I bet you still looked beautiful,” he said.

“I wouldn't be so sure about that,” you chuckled.

“I would.”

His hand crept up to your ribs, holding there. As if he was anaesthetic himself, his touch was soothing.

He held over where your initial of his name was, just as you did with him where yours was. It still felt fresh though the ink was imbedded into skin for almost a year now.

It was the soft knowledge of carrying each other closer than you already did. Working in the same building wasn't enough, falling asleep next to each and waking up next to each other wasn't enough but the soft initial of each others name might just have been.

Even if it weren't romantical (which it certainly was) the two of you had at least always respected each other in the work setting. It was a bond running deeper than blood, than respect, than love.

Something the people hadn't come up with a word for yet.

Robby passed by the two of them. “I thought you two were being discreet.”

“We are,” you said, you and Jack turning to face Robby as he took his space behind the nurses desk.

“He's all but holding your breast,” said Robby.

“Physical exam,” Jack shrugged. “And I thought I told you to stop making moves on my woman.”

Robby held up his hands in surrender. “I don't want any funny business in my scrubs,” he warned, s sharp look past his glasses at the two of you.

Jack quirked his lips, pretending his innocence. “We'll change into mine.”

You smacked his shoulder.

“Hey,” said Robby, leaning on the counter next to you as if you were all gossiping nurses and not different attendings in your own rights. “You know, Whitaker thinks we have matching tattoos,” he said, nodding to Jack.

You laughed, tilting your head down.

“Oh yeah, I have an R over my heart,” he teased.

Robby scoffed. “Yeah and I got a J on my-”

You looked pointed at them both. “Don't you have jobs to get to?”

Robby surrendered and headed off, making himself busy.

Upstairs would need you soon enough too, there was only so much time you could leave your pedes ward alone. Your hands were gentle on Jacks, squeezing lightly.

Meaning to let go, Jack squeezed and pulled you back.

“Jack? Woah- what- where are we going?”

His thumb worked up and down the back of your hand as he dragged you off. He found an empty room, checking the room before closing the door and pulling the curtains around.

“Jack!”

His hands found their ways up Robby's shirt on your body, pulling at the skin of your waist and drawing you in till he was kissing you, open-mouthed. It was as if he hadn't kissed you that morning, hadn't stole a make out in the car before heading in, hadn't text you in his spare five minutes that he wasn't thinking about you.

He grinned into the kiss, licking into your mouth.

As bad as it was, stealing a kiss in an empty exam room, your hands wound up to his hair, tugging at the strands. Your body curled into his as his hands moved from under your shirt to over, pulling at it.

“Take this off.”

Biting back a smirk you pulled it off you as Jack leant down to kiss at your neck. He bit and sucked, dedicating time to one mark that would be a tattoo on your neck.

Jack was obsessed with marking you, considering you tried you best to be secret.

This wasn't very secret.

“Jack,” you moaned, own hands clawing at his shirt.

He pulled back long enough to toss his off. “When we're done here... when I've made you come on my fingers,” he uttered next to your ear, breath hot. “You're gonna put my scrub top on, you understand?”

Your lips pursed and nodded.

Jack pulled back enough, lips ghosting yours. “Yeah, baby?”

“Yeah,” you whined.

“Yeah.”

His lips crashed into yours again with fire like need. Hie entire body moved over yours, hands steady on your hips to bring you in. You were stumbling around the room, trying to find a wall or bed.

“God,” Jack whined at your lips. “I could eat you.”

He kissed down your neck, over your chest and leant to press a kiss over his initial. He'd been there when you'd gotten it done, as you had when he got his. The two letters in each others hand writing.

Jack came back up and kissed you again before the door sprung open.

“Room three's open why's nobody-”

Jack jumped in front of you like jumping in front of a bullet for you, his arms fell on either side of you, caging you in behind him.

A woman was sat on a gurney, eyes wide at the two of you.

Dana was leading the charge, Mohan, Whitaker and Santos following and eyes falling wide, jaws agape at the sight of you.

Robby walked past, shaking his head and- taking one look at Jack- decided it wasn't a HR nightmare he could deal with.

“We were just...” said Jack, hesitating. “Doing a physical.”

Dana smirked. “I'll say.”

“Sorry, we'll just-” you apologised.

The two of you fumbled with scrub tops but Jack still found enough time in the mess to pass you his own scrub top and take Robby's himself. In sheepish moves the two of you moved by the group, catching only a couple words.

“Did you see those tattoo's?” said Samira.

“Each others inititals, right?”

“How longs this been going on for?”

Jack threw his arm over your shoulder, bringing you in close and peppering a kiss to your forehead. “Guess we told them, huh?”

[jetblackashx]

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 orbiter // part five - the game.✦݁˖

it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.

throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realises he's left you behind.

⤷ aka off campus social/text au! - garrett graham x fem!reader

series masterlist

--

This was a test. The universe was testing you, and you were very quickly reaching your limit.

The sounds of the hockey rink warm-up were echoing in your head. You’d spent most of the night zoned out and moving like a zombie as your friends dragged you through the typical pregame rituals. 

There was so much on your mind between Garrett, the creepy text messages you kept receiving, and the mockery that your social media had become. Being close with Garrett and the hockey team overall meant you’d had your fair share of attention from campus. You never really fed into it, but despite that, you were being fed to the wolves right now.

LOGAN stretched across your shoulders in broad patch letters, a noticeably different feeling to the typical GRAHAM you’d become so used to.

“Are you gonna mope all game, Bug?”

Beau was lucky you loved him so much.

“Sorry,” The apology is half-assed as you say it. “Just not-”

“In the mood to watch your best friend pick a different girl in front of your face, even if it’s not real?” He finishes the sentence for you with a bit of a smug smile forming on his face. You huff a laugh as Allie settles in the seat next to you with her newfound snacks. As much as you’d tried to avoid it, your heart just wasn’t into faking being happy or excited right now. 

“Everything will work out,” Beau reassures when he notices the uncertain look in your eyes. Dean had obviously filled Beau in on the tension slowly filling the house. “It’s Garrett. You two never stay upset at each other for long, and you always work everything out.”

The lights in the arena dim to show the pre-filmed media of the player introductions. You shout in support when their names are called over the speakers, and others around you do the same. 

The first two periods go by quickly. Almost too quickly for how close the game is. A tied score and high tensions make for a riveting watch for the crowd, but it’s different for you. Tension makes for aggression, and aggression often leads to injury when it comes to hockey. This is where things got messy. Messy in a way that ends with bruises, concussions, and injuries that last for more than a moment.

You’re already on the edge of your seat, leg bouncing steadily beneath you. Garrett moves across the ice with ease, guiding the puck around defenders like they’re merely flies annoying him. Various play calls are called back and forth as the teams navigate their opponents.

Garrett manages to get a shot that bounces against the net almost too easily. The cheering that follows is familiar.

The image of Garrett getting slammed against the plexiglass as a fight breaks out is not.

You’re on your feet in seconds, gaze landing on the pile of players as they gather in the area to either fight back or pull him out. You’re trying to catch sight of the familiar names and numbers that mean so much to you, but it’s a mess of colors and referees. 

The crowd is shouting with excitement, but your heart is pounding in fear. Time seems to pass slowly as the referees fight to break up the conflict, eventually pushing players back to their respective benches. 

You’re cursing under your breath and immediately scan the bench only to find three sets of eyes already looking in your direction. With their helmets off, it’s easy to recognize Dean, Tucker, and Logan amongst their teammates as everyone watches the ice with a murmur.

The pit in your stomach hurts as one of the officials makes a signal toward Briar’s side, and you want to throw up when Coach Jensen takes to the ice with the athletic trainer behind him. 

Body moving before you know what you’re doing, you’re pushing past Allie and Hannah to escape the row of seating. Autopilot kicks in, and suddenly, you’re navigating the hallways with ease until you’re down where the players and officials are permitted.

The security guard moves to stop you, a stern look on his face. You're already preparing some crazy reason to let you back. He’s interrupted, though, when Coach Jensen turns the corner and catches sight of you.

“Let her through.”

You’re bypassing the security guard without an apology, your mind set only on getting eyes on Garrett and calming the sickness in your heart.

--

"No, fuck that! I'm fine, let me back out."

You hear Garrett before you see him as Coach Jensen leads you past the locker room to the athletic trainer's office. You're greeted with the sight of all 6'1 of Garrett Graham lying on a padded exam table, ice pack pressed against his head with a distant look in his eyes.

While you're relieved to see him awake, you know there's a reason behind the comment you'd just overheard. Half of his gear had been involuntarily pulled off so they could actually see how bad the injury was.

He looks up at the footsteps, and the second he sees you, his entire expression changes. Like someone had flipped a switch. You watch the tension fade from his shoulders, a deep breath leaving his lips as he lets himself lie back against the cushioned table beneath him.

You moved closer automatically, ignoring the handful of adults in the room. The trainer is asking questions that you're not really listening to, and Garrett reaches for your hand before you even stop walking. Your fingers slip into his, and the grip tightens.

"You're okay?" The question came out quieter than intended.

"I'm fine." Garrett squeezes your hand again, trying to act like he isn't closing his eyes to avoid the sharp overhead lighting.

The trainer's assistant huffs, effectively pulling your attention in her direction. She's young, probably a Briar student herself if you had to guess. She gives a hesitant smile. "He is absolutely not fine."

"I'm literally right here."

"You have a concussion."

"A suspected concussion."

"You forgot the score."

Garrett makes a wounded expression, his fingers tightening around yours. "We were winning."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you and Garrett finds himself smiling simply because you are.

Coach Jensen watches the interaction with a bemused look, though neither of you sees it. He's whispering a few words to the staff, who are quick to leave the room in search of what comes next for Garrett's concussion and to get back to the active game.

Garrett tilts his head to the side to keep as much lighting from his face as possible while he meets your gaze. And then his eyes drop to the jersey you're wearing.

Logan's 22 sits where his 44 should be, and Garrett hates how much he notices. He knows this was his fault, that it was his idea for Hannah to take his spare today. But he didn't think it would hurt this bad either. The first game in years that you don't have his jersey, or his letterman jacket, or anything Graham on while he's on the rink.

For some reason, seeing it up close makes it worse, which is ridiculous. Because Logan is one of his best friends, and it's just a jersey, you can wear whatever you want.

"Logan?"

Part of you wants to bring up the other night. To say how there's no right for him to get that tone with you when you saw him cuddling Hannah. And then you stop because Garrett's not your boyfriend, and you have no means to get jealous of his relationships with other girls.

Your lips press together as you glance down at the fabric he's staring at so intently. There's so much you could say, but your heart is still sore in your chest from the other night and watching him get slammed into the glass moments ago. "Change of pace, huh?"

But Garrett can't stop staring at the 22 stitched across your chest. He can't scrub the image of Hannah in his 44 out of his head. He can't stop thinking about this weird, twisted feeling he got every time he looked up and didn't see his number across your frame.

"Yeah, sure. Change of pace."

[heartsandheadcanons]

⋆.𐙚˚Guilty Pleasure 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

────୨ৎ────

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: boyfriend!john logan x bookworm!reader

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: where Logan uses your lap as a pillow whenever you read.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Pure fluff, sickeningly sweet. Established relationship. John Logan being husband boyfriend material. Let me know if I missed any!

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 230

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: hi beautiful!! I’m new to writing fanfiction, and I’m so excited to continue writing!! Requests are always welcome ♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ now playing ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

-THE SHADE by Rex Orange County-

01:43 ━━━━●───── 03:50

⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻

ılıılıılıılıılıılı

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

────୨ৎ────

John Logan has a guilty pleasure.

He loves hockey. He loves partying with his friends and laughing at them when they act like idiots. He loves doing handiwork and the satisfaction of fixing things. But what he secretly loves most, is when he can lay on your lap and watch you read.

He could watch you read for hours. He loves seeing that little furrow between your brows that you get when you’re super invested in a story. When you gasp when a plot twist comes along, or when you laugh at something funny. You actually scared him once when you started crying. At first he thought it was because he did something, when in reality you were actually crying because of how sweet the love interest in your book was being to the main character. You definitely threw him for a loop that day.

But what he absolutely adores? Is when you absentmindedly play with this hair while you read. He swears you have some sort of magical powers with the way his brain quiets when you run your fingers through his hair. He has never been more grateful for the fact that he has great hair genetics until now.

You’re his own personal safe space and he will always be grateful for the fact that he can come to you after the good and bad days, to lay with you.

[rollerskategirl]

summer mornings with robby…

the sun was barely even up and you felt robby shift beside you. you stirred, shutting your eyes tight as you fell out of your rem cycle. your legs were sore, moving around under the comforter as you pulled the sheets closer.

the night before was… a lot. robby had a particularly bad day at work, which prompted you to encourage him to take it out on you, per usual. it was hot and heavy rounds, which he was even surprised he could pull off.

you hadn’t done much the day before, but your sleep schedule was highly trained into the later hours of the evening and the later hours of the morning. who could blame you, though— summer.

not that you were a light sleeper, but something in you head rang an alarm for robby’s absence. your arm swung up and down the sheets, feeling the suddenly cold folds and wrinkles of cotton.

you remember falling asleep while rubbing your hand up and down the hair on his torso, from his chest to the swell of his belly. you were making some joke out of it, but it ended it up being really soothing. his hand over yours was the last thing you felt before the lights went out on you.

lifting your head, you peeked over your shoulder to see that the sun hadn’t even surfaced the windows yet. robby’s alarm clock had a bright red 5:53 shining at you.

“robby!” you groaned before stuffing your head back in the pillows.

“yeah, sweetheart?” you heard the sound of his electric toothbrush buzzing as he padded back into the bedroom from the en suite. he was undoubtedly scrubbing over his teeth harshly, like his life depended on it.

popping your head back up, you peeked at him again. he was blurry from a distance and still in his boxers. his hairy tummy spilling over and hair damp from the shower, he came slightly closer to the bed.

“too early.” you complained, gesturing for him to get back in.

“go back to bed then, honey.” he said before you groaned again, throwing the duvet over your head.

you didn’t realize that you had fallen back asleep. you were cocooned under the sheets, snug and comfortable. you didn’t want to move until you realized you were about to lose robby for twelve hours (likely more).

robby was sitting up in his scrubs at the edge of the bed, checking his phone, when you perked up. rubbing your eyes, his back facing you came into focus, as did the alarm clock. 6:20.

“morning, baby.” you sighed, reaching your arms out to him. your body lazily drooped over the mattress to meet his backside as your arms slung over his shoulders.

“morning, gorgeous.” he mumbled, leaning into you. his hand anchored onto your forearm. he had his glasses perched on his nose, turning his head over to attempt to see you. “i was thinking about waking you up to say goodbye, but ‘s early for you. go back to bed.”

you kissed the back of his neck with a tired whine, “uh, uh. want you.”

“got work, sweetheart.” he put his phone down as your arms grasped together.

you pulled your legs up to wrap around his waist. tiredly, you hoisted yourself onto his backside. you shifted around until you got comfortable, body practically crawling up his. you settled as you strapped to his back. resting your chin on his shoulder, you kissed him on the cheek.

“what’re your plans today, baby?” robby asked, looking at you as you squeezed your legs around him. he reached a hand to ruffle your hair.

“gonna go swimming at liv’s.” you mumbled, shutting your eyes. “uv’s eight today.”

“don’t forget sunscreen. i got the one you like… smells like bananas?” he said, brushing your hair out of your face. you peeked an eye at him as he spoke. “it’s in the hallway cabinet with the towels.”

“thank you, doctor.” you gave him a wide smile before leaning in for a kiss. his beard brushed your chin as you did so, and you could taste coffee on his mouth.

“doin’ anything else?” he asked, reaching his arm around you to pull you into his lap. his hand squeezed your waist as you maneuvered your legs over him.

you got comfortable on his lap, the small of your back fitting into his arms. your legs hung off his thigh and onto the bed. your side against his torso, his warmth radiated onto you and his hands found your skin.

slinging your arms around his neck, you looked up at him as you settled, “lunch and maybe some shopping.”

he grinned down at you as you adjusted his glasses up his face.

“well, of course.” he nodded, hand going to hold the side of your face. “you gonna send me pictures, baby?”

“of the pool or lunch or shopping?” you smiled

“i think you know the answer to that.” he chuckled, surfacing a hand over your thigh. “better see some charges on my card today.”

“you know me.” you yawned, resting your head in the nook of his neck

“you should get some rest. got a big day ahead, sweetheart.” he placed a kiss on your temple.

been thinking about crawling up robby’s back lately… like i wanna jump him affectionately? idk. is this beautiful life too much to ask for?

[sunnydilaurentis]

injury prone | found family au ⋆˚࿔

summary: in which a weekend without garrett goes from quiet to chaotic after one badly timed misstep.

notes: thank you for this request, i loved writing it! thank you all truly so much for engaging with this au series, it makes my heart so full <3

✩.* found family fics!

✩.* found family masterlist

ꪆৎ

logan had spent most of thursday pretending the weekend wasn't bothering him, which immediately told everyone that it absolutely was. whenever logan insisted something wasn't a big deal, it was almost always a very big deal.

he was just terrible at admitting it.

you knew grace had offered to go with him, of course she had, but he had shut down the idea almost immediately.

not because he didn't want her there, because he did. if this had been any other weekend, any other trip, grace would've been in the passenger seat without question.

this visit was different however, this was family, an incredibly complicated family.

old wounds. the kind of thing logan preferred to keep compartmentalised. he didn't want grace seeing that version of him yet, the one carrying years of frustration and complicated hurt.

grace, because she knew him better than most, hadn’t pushed. she recognised this wasn’t something he was ready to let her into yet.

garrett was different.

garrett already knew that part of logan’s life. he’d met his father before, knew his brother, had seen enough over the years to understand exactly why weekends like this left him anxious.

so when garrett quietly offered to go with him for the weekend, nobody had been surprised.

least of all you.

you stood beside garrett's jeep before he left, arms folded loosely against the cold as logan finished throwing the last of their bags into the backseat.

your boyfriend turned towards you, his expression softer than usual, like he still felt guilty about leaving.

you smiled before he could say anything. "drive safe."

he moved closer, his hands settling instinctively on your waist, like it was second nature. "we will."

your voice drops briefly, softening. "and let me know how everything goes, okay?"

his expression shifts slightly, he knew exactly what you meant. logan, his dad, the entire reason for the weekend trip.

"just… keep me updated."

a small smile pulled at his mouth. "i will, baby. promise." you lean up, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away.

"i love you."

his mouth curves immediately. "i love you too."

before properly stepping away, one of his hands slide upwards, fingers curling gently beneath your chin. you feel your breath catch in your throat.

"garrett-"

he tilts your face up slightly, kissing you properly. it's soft at first, gentle, but deliberate, like he had absolutely no intention of letting you get away with only kissing his cheek goodbye.

your fingers instinctively curl into the front of his hoodie as he continues to kiss you. warm, unhurried. familiar enough to make your stomach flip.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead brushes yours, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks almost immediately.

hot. impossible to hide.

even now, after all this time, your boyfriend still has an effect on you. garrett's mouth twitches, a smirk gracing his features. he was amused.

"much better, y/n."

you stare at him, completely flustered, your cheeks turning a shade of deep crimson red.

"you're impossible, graham."

garrett's grin widens at your words, looking far too pleased with himself. his thumb brushes once against your jaw before he finally steps back, still smiling.

"so," he says casually, like he hadn't just completely ruined your ability to think straight, "what are your plans for this weekend?"

you laughed softly. "allie mentioned a new restaurant she wants to try."

"oh yeah?"

"yeah. i think we're doing that tomorrow night."

garrett nods. "that sounds like it'll be good fun."

you smiled. "i think tucker and dean are coming too."

he blinked, then narrowed his eyes slightly. "damn."

you laughed. "what?"

"they're getting invited to girls' night before me?" his tone was teasing, clearly playful.

you grinned. "well dean invited himself."

"of course."

"and tucker somehow heard restaurant and decided he was included."

garrett huffed out a laugh, "that tracks."

suddenly the passenger side door opens. logan climbs out, clearly having forgotten something. you watch him head towards the backseat, shoulders slightly tense despite how casual he looked.

you glance at garrett. "one sec."

he already knew where you were going, of course he did. he’d seen the shift in your expression the second logan climbed out of the car.

you crossed the short distance towards him, calling out. "logan."

you didn’t overthink it, just stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him. logan looked surprised for half a second before relaxing into the hug. his arms came around you easily. brief, warm, steady.

when you pulled back, you offered him a small, encouraging smile. "good luck. i’ll be thinking of you."

you watch as something softens in his expression, some of the tension easing almost immediately.

"thanks, y/n."

quiet. genuine. after a second, he adds, softly, "that means a lot."

a small smile graces your features in response before you nod your head in the direction of garrett. "try not to let him mope too much while you're away."

logan snorts. "you're talking about garrett?" he glances over your shoulder, his gaze landing on your boyfriend. "he's already halfway there, y/n."

garrett scoffs from behind you. "okay, relax."

you laughed, and just like that some of the tension had eased. logan, still smiling to himself, climbs into the passenger seat of the jeep. when you return to garrett, he pulls you in without hesitation. one hand at your waist, the other warm against your jaw.

"call me if you need anything."

you smile. "garrett."

"i'm serious."

"i know."

his thumb brushes once across your cheek, gently, before he presses another kiss to your lips. slow and unhurried. like he had absolutely nowhere else to be. when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests briefly against yours.

"see you sunday."

you smile. "see you sunday."

-

it was saturday night and the six of you were downtown for dinner. the restaurant was small and crowded, tables packed close together, the air filled with the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses. one bottle of wine shared over dinner somehow turned into three and by the time plates had been cleared, everyone was a little softer around the edges.

not drunk. just pleasantly warm, looser.

your cheeks were slightly flushed from the wine, laughter coming easier now, your body relaxed in the kind of way that only happened around people you trusted completely.

the warm summer air felt soft against your skin.

the streets are busy. students spill out of bars and restaurants in loud groups, music drifts from open doorways as cars crawl slowly past. somewhere down the block someone is laughing so hard it echoes.

everything feels easy, comfortable.

the girls are walking ahead of dean and tucker. all four of you linked arm-in-arm. allie's on one side, sabrina's on the other, while you and grace are in the middle, arms linked tightly together while she tells a story that’s becoming increasingly dramatic.

you’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe. dean and tucker trail a few steps behind, watching on, clearly amused.

tucker huffs out a laugh. "well, they’re definitely tipsy."

dean glances over, noting you all laughing amongst yourselves. "just slightly."

tucker snorts in response. "grace has managed to tell the exact same story three times."

up ahead, grace is talking with her entire body. you’re leaning into her shoulder, laughing helplessly, your cheeks pink, eyes bright, happy.

dean feels himself relax a little watching you. for the first time all weekend, you don’t seem to be worried about logan and garrett, about the situation inevitably unfolding with his dad.

then allie suddenly lets go. "wait, we should grab some dessert!"

sabrina agrees, her voice laced with enthusiasm. "yes! let's go to the place we always go to."

the four of you drift towards the curb. still talking. still laughing. still linked together, until grace lets go of your arm for half a second.

you step around allie. dean sees it happen. the tiny misstep, the slight wobble. your heel catches awkwardly on the edge of the curb. maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s grace making you laugh so hard you’re barely paying attention.

or maybe you’re just distracted.

dean doesn’t know. he just knows the second your balance shifts, his stomach drops.

your ankle rolls, hard. the angle is wrong, really wrong. pain flashes across your features immediately, so quickly that it almost doesn’t look real.

your gasp cuts through everything. sharp. shocked. then suddenly, you’re falling.

"fuck."

dean is moving before he even realises he’s moving. allie freezes. grace gasps. sabrina drops her phone. tucker swears.

you hit the pavement hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs, one hand immediately flying to your ankle as the pain begins to sink in. dean reaches you first. one second he’s several feet away, the next he’s kneeling in front of you.

"y/n."

his voice is calm, steady. the exact opposite of how he feels.

"hey."

your eyes are squeezed shut, breathing uneven. one hand grips your ankle. you look stunned, winded.

"i’m okay." you manage, feigning a small smile in encouragement.

dean snorts softly beside you, "that’s a lie."

you correct yourself. "i’m mostly okay."

"still a lie."

you laugh in response but it comes out strained, tight with pain. you try standing, dean’s hand immediately closes around your arm in an attempt to steady you. for one second you look okay, then your foot touches the ground and your entire face drains of colour.

"nope."

the word leaves instantly, followed by a sharp inhale, your whole body folding around the pain. dean catches you before you can stumble again. his grip on you is firm, steady.

"okay."

the calm voice again. "let's not do that."

you glare at him, offended. "great advice, di laurentis."

"glad you agree."

"i’m serious."

"so am i."

dean watches the way you try not to make a big deal out of it. the way you’re still trying to laugh through obvious pain. the way your breathing keeps catching every time you move, every attempt to stand cut short by pain.

and just like that, something in him snaps. he’s done. done watching you pretend you’re fine. done listening to you insist you can walk. before you can react, one arm slides behind your back, the other hooking carefully beneath your knees.

your eyes widen as realisation courses throughout your body.

"dean-"

suddenly you’re off the ground, securely in his arms, being held carefully. your arms instinctively loop around his shoulders.

"dean."

his expression doesn’t change. "no."

you blink. "no what?"

"no arguing."

"i can walk, i swear."

dean raises an eyebrow in response, clearly disagreeing. "you literally cannot, y/n. i just watched you try."

"i can hop."

"absolutely not."

"this is embarrassing."

"i don't care."

you let out a disbelieving laugh. "this feels incredibly over the top. i promise, i can walk it off."

you glance around, noticing a few people looking your way, their expressions openly curious. heat rises to your cheeks, whether from embarrassment or the wine, you aren’t entirely sure.

"people are staring."

dean adjusts his hold slightly, making sure your ankle stays completely still. his voice stays flat, entirely unbothered. "let them."

allie immediately points at you. "y/n, stop."

you look at her. "allie-"

"no." her tone softens a little, but the stubborn look stays firmly in place.

"you’re not putting any weight on that ankle."

"i'll be careful."

allie stares at you, clearly unimpressed. "you almost passed out trying to stand."

"that is incredibly untrue."

"is not."

you pause. "slightly untrue."

allie folds her arms. "you literally went white."

you sigh. "i hate all of you."

"good," dean says flatly, already walking. "because you’re not walking." that earns a snort from tucker as he appears beside you, one look at your face enough for his expression to soften.

"he’s right."

you sigh, feeling betrayed. "not you too."

tucker offers a small shrug as a brief smile graces his features. "garrett would kill all of us if we let you hobble to the car."

a breath of laughter escapes you, because it was true, he would.

"see?" tucker says quietly. "for once y/n, just let people help you."

your grip loosens slightly on dean’s shoulder, the fight leaving you. your head tips lightly against his shoulder as he carries you towards the car. allie walks closely beside you, grace and sabrina trail behind. tucker already moves ahead to unlock the doors.

dean keeps his focus on one thing only. getting you to the car safely without letting your injured foot touch the ground once.

you eventually make it to the car. allie climbs in beside you immediately, your head resting gently against her shoulder. dean starts the car, and then his phone rings.

tucker looks down at the contact that appears on the screen, immediately grinning.

garrett is calling...

of course. dean answers immediately, putting him on speaker.

"hello?"

"why did allie just text me saying y/n ate shit?"

silence. allie’s eyes widen.

"sorry," she says quickly. "i just thought he’d want to know."

dean pinches the bridge of his nose just as garrett’s voice comes through again.

"dean. is she okay?"

the panic is immediate. raw, completely undisguised.

dean sighs. "she’s okay."

"put her on."

"garrett-"

"put her on."

dean turns, handing you his phone.

"hi."

silence.

"baby." everything softens instantly just from hearing your voice.

"i’m okay."

"allie said you couldn’t walk." allie raises both hands in defence. "because she couldn’t. i was just filling you in."

garrett’s voice comes through immediately. "thank you, allie."

"you’re welcome, garrett."

you send her a look, before mouthing the word 'traitor' jokingly. she simply smiles in response, her eyes gleaming with slight amusement.

you sigh. "anyways, i’m okay. i just tripped. it was silly."

garrett is quiet for half a second. "what did you trip on?"

you blink. "what?"

"what did you trip on?"

"the curb."

silence.

"...just the curb?"

"yes?"

"how?"

the entire car loses it. now that everyone knew you were okay, that this was painful but not serious, the absurdity of the situation finally started to sink in.

you were embarrassed, bruised, and deeply humiliated, but okay.

everyone could now fully appreciate the fact that you had somehow managed to seriously injure yourself by losing a battle against a curb. allie doubles over laughing, sabrina snorts, even dean lets out a short laugh from the driver’s seat. you drop your head into your free hand.

"oh my god."

garrett sounds genuinely baffled. "baby, that curb was just sitting there."

you glare at the phone. "thank you garret, that’s really helpful."

allie's laughter stifles. "tell him about the heels."

your head snaps toward her, "allie." it's too late. you already knew from the silence on the other end that garrett heard.

you sigh. "it was the heels."

a beat, then garrett groans. "it’s always the goddamn heels."

you can’t help it, you laugh. a second voice appears faintly in the background. it's logan, clearly already tired of hearing garrett spiral.

"leave poor y/n alone. you’re interrogating her."

"she’s hurt, logan."

your laughter softens into a smile, some of the tension in your chest eases. "i’m okay."

he’s quiet again. when he speaks, his voice is softer now, gentler. "does it still hurt?"

you glance down at your ankle. it’s swollen now, already bruising. "yeah. a little."

garrett exhales slowly. you know that exhale. the one he does when he’s worried but trying not to let it show.

"i hate being this far away."

your chest aches, you know he does. you know every protective instinct in him is screaming right now.

"i know. but i promise i’m okay." you smile softly. "i’ll probably survive." that earns a quiet huff of laughter from him.

garrett's voice sounds once more. "dean?"

"yeah?"

"thanks."

"for what?"

"for carrying her."

dean frowns slightly. "how do you even know i did that?"

garrett is quiet for half a second, clearly debating whether he should elaborate. "allie sent me a photo."

dean’s head immediately turns to face her, a shocked yet amused smile gracing his features. she offers an unapologetic one in return, feigning innocence. "what? he was stressed."

sabrina snorts from the back. you groan softly. "there’s a photo?"

"multiple," garrett says, sounding far too amused now. dean rolls his eyes, teasingly, despite garrett not being able to see him.

"anyways, photo evidence aside, i’m serious."

"stop."

"dean."

"garrett."

"thank you for taking care of her."

dean’s grip tightens briefly on the steering wheel. if things were reversed, garrett would’ve done exactly the same thing, without hesitation, every single time.

dean exhales. "yeah." his voice softens, just slightly. "always."

✩.* taglist; @05gwyn | @alwaysclassyeagle | @casiiopea2 | @nexisphere | @imstressed17 | @legendarychrattgirl | @ethanthequeefqueen | @wiishies | @legendarychrattgirl | @tabisswag | @corvusmorte | @mariiibash | @stevesxwhore | @choppedpartymuffinwinner | @flannelshirts-and-fingerguns | @leilareads58 | @nikfigueiredo | @archxve | @s0ftdr1nks | @persasseajackson | @avengersheart | @brxght-world | @plants-w0rld | @hamilronweasley | @dyslexicepicfan | @livformadrid | @cosmosnkaz | @behindthescreenobsessed | @mothericraveviolence57 | @purplerainx1 | @dancerbailey3