pope. you've never called him pope. always andrew. or andy. that makes him mush.
anything but pope. pope is dangerous. pope is a pawn. pope is at his mother's beck and call. pope isn't good. pope isn't good enough for you.
but andrew? it's a name he rarely hears around his family. but he hears it from your lips, when you hold his face and kiss him. andy, like he's something sweet. like he's deserving of love.
pope is dangerous. andrew is yours. andy is whispered in the dark while he's between your thighs and you're gripping his hair so damn tightly that it makes him whimper.
andrew is devoted to you. wholly and entirely. even without the ring on your finger (stashed in his underwear drawer. you'd say yes, you'd told him so many times before that you'd say yes. he just feels so undeserving), he's so damn devoted to you. like a dog at your beck and call, ready to bite and tear at anybody you want him to.
he needs to be close to you, for his own sanity. he wants you late evenings, after smurf has him doing something. your hand resting on his cheek, a comforting touch even if you think you're doing so little. he wants his name whispered from your lips. andy. not pope. andy.
all of my twitter feed is now shawn hatosy and omg im trying not to get weird about this man. he looks so good i need him though like. the way im in heat over the pics ive found
This face. Hair mussed, sweaty, mouth agape, focused gaze. This is what he looks like when you are on your knees, lips wrapped around him. One of his hands in your hair, one cupping your cheek, his thighs trembling as he tries to stop himself from fucking your throat. Telling you how good you are doing, how pretty you look gagging on his cock.
Jack Abbot x fem reader. Everyone at the Pitt didn't know that they were married nevertheless having kids together. So when she brought their child to the Pitt because there's no one to watch them, it wasn't much of a surprise since they all knew she was married and had a kid. Jack having a different shift from her didn't exactly help. Everyone there loves the kid and only when Jack came for his shift, they knew the truth. Do however you see fit. Sweet, family time, suggestive, shock. Thanks!! :))
No one at the Pitt thought it was strange when you showed up with a kid on your hip.
Because everyone already knew things about you—just… not the right things.
They knew you were married.
They knew you had a kid.
They just didn’t know who.
“Okay, you’re gonna sit right here,” you murmur, setting your child down on one of the empty chairs behind the nurses’ station. “No running. No touching anything sharp. No stealing pens—”
“I don’t steal pens,” they say, already reaching for one.
You narrow your eyes. “That is literally a pen in your hand.”
“…borrowing.”
“Mm-hm.”
Trinity is the first to notice.
“Well, hi,” she says, crouching slightly to your kid’s level like this is the best part of her day. “Who’s this?”
“My kid,” you say, already logging into a computer.
Trinity blinks. “You just—bring that up like it’s normal?”
“It is normal.”
“To you,” she mutters, but she’s already smiling again, attention fully stolen. “Hey, I’m Trinity.”
Your kid eyes her, then offers their name like it’s a trade.
Deal accepted.
Within ten minutes, the entire department is aware.
Because of course they are.
Victoria brings snacks.
“I don’t know what they like, so I brought options,” she says, setting down… way too much.
“You’re going to give them a sugar rush,” you warn.
Victoria shrugs. “Worth it.”
Dennis is immediately on babysitting duty.
“I can watch them,” he says, already crouched beside your kid like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment. “I’m great with kids.”
You raise a brow. “Are you?”
“…I will be.”
Samira leans against the counter, amused.
“You just casually have a whole child and never thought to mention it?”
“I mentioned it,” you say. “You all just never asked follow-up questions.”
“That feels like a trap.”
“It was.”
Even John gets pulled in.
He walks past, stops, looks at the kid, then at you.
“…you made that?”
“Biologically, yes.”
He nods slowly. “Huh.”
A beat.
“They look cooler than you.”
“Get out.”
It settles into something oddly normal after that.
Your kid perched behind the station, occasionally wandering but always ending up back with one of them—being entertained, bribed with snacks, or questioned like a tiny celebrity.
Everyone loves them.
It’s chaos.
But it’s good chaos.
The only person missing—
is Jack Abbot.
Different shift.
Bad timing.
Normal.
You don’t think about it much.
Until—
The doors swing open a few hours later.
And he walks in.
Jack’s halfway through shrugging on his coat, already scanning the department, already slipping into work mode—
when he sees you.
Then—
your kid.
He stops.
Dead.
Across the station, your kid spots him first.
Their entire face lights up.
“Dad!”
Silence.
Immediate.
Total.
Every head turns.
Slowly.
Painfully.
In sync.
Jack doesn’t move for half a second.
Then—
he exhales.
Like he knew this was coming eventually.
Just… not like this.
Your kid is already running.
You barely have time to say, “Hey—” before they launch straight at him.
He catches them easily.
Of course he does.
Like it’s muscle memory.
Like it’s nothing new.
“Hey,” he says, softer now, all the sharp edges gone. “What’re you doing here, huh?”
“No babysitter,” your kid says, completely unbothered. “Mum brought me.”
Jack glances up.
At you.
There’s something in his expression.
Half amusement.
Half oh, this is going to be a conversation.
Behind you—
no one breathes.
“Your kid calls him dad,” Trinity says slowly.
“Sharp observation,” John mutters.
Samira’s eyes narrow. “Wait.”
Victoria looks between the two of you.
Dennis just looks betrayed.
You sigh.
Because yeah.
There’s no easing into this now.
“Surprise?” you offer weakly.
Jack huffs a quiet laugh under his breath, adjusting your kid on his hip.
“Thought we agreed to tell people eventually,” he says.
“We did.”
“This is one way to do it.”
“You weren’t here,” you point out.
He raises a brow. “Convenient.”
“YOU’RE MARRIED?!” Trinity finally explodes.
There it is.
“Yes,” you and Jack say at the same time.
“How long?!” Victoria demands.
“Long enough,” you say.
“How did we not know?!” Dennis adds.
“You never asked,” Jack replies calmly.
“That feels illegal,” Samira mutters.
John crosses his arms, looking deeply unimpressed.
“I knew something was off.”
“You did not,” you shoot back.
“I didn’t,” he admits. “But I feel like I deserve credit anyway.”
Your kid, completely unfazed by the unraveling of your coworkers’ reality, pats Jack’s cheek.
“I had snacks,” they inform him.
“Yeah?” Jack says. “Who gave you sugar?”
Every single person points at Victoria.
“Traitors,” she says.
Jack looks back at you.
There’s that look again.
Soft. Familiar. Yours.
“Next time,” he says quietly, “we coordinate shifts.”
You snort. “Next time we get a babysitter.”
“Also that.”
Around you, the chaos continues.
Questions. Accusations. Mild outrage.
But none of it really matters.
Because your kid is in Jack’s arms.
Like they belong there.
Because they do.
And now—
finally—
everyone else sees it too.
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