Just Me Bri

Just a girl who writes fan fiction 29

[thatsthatbridepresso]

Masterlist

**Special thanks to @josephs-quinns for my header, love you!**

7:00 AM Series (Complete)

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Wife/Nurse!Reader

7:00 AM Part One

7.00 AM Part Two

7:00 AM Part Three

7:00 AM Part Four

7:00 AM Part Five

7:00 AM Part Six

7:00 AM Part Seven

7:00 AM Part Eight

7:00 PM Series (WIP)

Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Wife/Nurse!Reader

7:00 PM Part One

7:00 PM Part Two

7:00 PM Part Three

Home Short Series (Baby John Doe series)

Dad!Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Mom!Reader

Baby, Please Come Home

Home

No Place Like Home

Home is Whenever I'm With You

You Are Home To Me

Saving Daddy a Hug

Where Love Made Room

Not Just Another Patient (Requested)

Calling Dad-Dr. Carter (WIP)

John Carter x Nurse!Reader

Part One

Part Two

Stars, Stripes, and Scars Series (WIP)

Jack Abbot x Nurse!Reader

Stars, Strips, and Scars Part One

Short Blurbs

Pulse Points (Dr. Robby x Plus size reader)

On Call For You (Dr. Robby x Plus size reader)

[thatsthatbridepresso]

Then There Was Three

Rating: Fluff

Warnings: mentions of morning sickness, pregnancy, death, etc. If I forgot anything, let me know!

Weeks turned into months after Baz died and Catherine disappeared. Smurf was still in jail, leaving you and Pope to take care of Lena while trying to keep life moving forward.

Somehow, despite everything, your pregnancy was progressing exactly the way it was supposed to. You’d made it to the first couple of doctor’s appointments. The baby was healthy, growing right on schedule, and every appointment brought a little more relief than the last.

Unfortunately, the morning sickness had other plans. 

It was the one symptom that refused to let up. Most mornings started with a mad dash to the bathroom, and even on good days, the constant nausea lingered in the background like an unwelcome guest. By now, you were more than ready for it to give you a break. 

This morning was no different. 

You barely made it to the bathroom before dropping to your knees in front of the toilet. Your stomach twisted painfuly, leaving you gripping the edge of the seat as another wave of nausea rolled through you. 

Between it all, you heard footsteps behind you,

Pope appeared in the doorway almost instantly, his expression tightening the second he saw you.

“Shit.”

You heard him kneel beside you and felt his hand gather your hair away from your face. He held it carefully at the nape of your neck, keeping it out if the way while you were sick. He carefully rubbed your shoulder.

Neither of you said much at first.

You were too busy trying to breathe through the nausea, and Pope seemed content to simply stay there beside you.

When the worst of it finally passed, you slumped back against the bathtub with a groan.

“I am so over this,”, you muttered. 

Pope handed you a washcloth he’d apparently grabbed from somewhere along the way.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Looks awful.”

You let out a weak laugh before pressing the cool cloth against your face.  “That’s very comforting, babe.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “Just being honest.”

Despite how miserable you felt, the small smile on his face made it easier to laugh. 

Pope stayed crouched down beside you, his hand settling against your shoulder for a moment. “The baby’s okay, though.”

You glanced over at him. 

He eyes were fixed on the floor as he said it, almost as if he was reminding himself as much as you. 

“Doctor said everything’s okay.”

The knot in your chest loosened lightly. 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “The baby’s okay.”

Pope nodded once. 

Then, after a brief pause, he reached over and brushed a few loose strans of hair behind your ear.

“Good.”

It was a simple word, but coming from him, it carried all the worry he’d been holding onto since you had told him you were pregnant. He wasn’t good at talking about those things. He never had been.

You took your free hand and rubbed your small bump that had seemed to already pop. Especially for ten weeks. 

Pope’s eyes followed the movement.

For a moment, he just stared at your stomach before reaching over and resting his hand there himself.

The gesture was gentle almost hesitant. 

His palm spread across the small curve beneath your night gown, his thumb moving in slow circles.

You watched his expression soften.

“Think you’re getting bigger already,” he said quietly.

You snorted. “I’m ten weeks, Pope.”

“I know.” 

“I’m probably just bloated.”

“Maybe.”

Still, as he sat on the bathroom floor beside you, refusing to leave until he was sure you were feeling better, you didn’t need to say anything else. 

Once you were sure everything was over, you reached over and flushed the toilet. Hopefully, that was it for today.

You leaned back against the bathtub for a moment, letitng out a tired sigh. 

Pope was still beside you. “Think you’re done?”

“God, I hope so.”

He stood up first before offering you a hand, helping you to your feet. Once he was sure you were steady, the two of you headed towards the kitchen. 

You had another doctor’s appointment later that morning while Lena was at school. Pope was coming too. 

Pope had been to every appointment so far.

The kitchen was quiet except for the sound of the coffee maker and the cartoon Lena had left playing in the living room before school.

Pope moved around the room with surprising ease, pulling toast from the toaster and setting a glass of water down in front of you.

"Eat something."

You made a face. "Everything sounds terrible."

"You gotta try."

You took a reluctant bite of toast while he leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest.

Over the last few months, mornings like this had become normal.

Pope making sure Lena's backpack was packed.

Pope checking homework.

Pope standing outside her bedroom door reminding her to brush her teeth.

Pope helping her tie her shoes because she insisted he did it better.

Sometimes you caught yourself watching them together.

Lena didn't seem afraid of him anymore.

She followed him around the house. Asked him questions. Sat beside him during movies. If she had a bad dream, she knocked on your bedroom door.

Yours.

And Pope's.

The realization still surprised you.

Somewhere along the way, the two of you had stopped simply taking care of Lena.

You had become family.

The doctor's office was busy by the time you arrived.

Pope sat beside you in the waiting room, his knee bouncing lightly.

He always got nervous before appointments.

You reached over and squeezed his hand.

"Everything's okay."

He nodded once.

"Yeah."

But his fingers tightened around yours anyway.

When the ultrasound technician spread the cool gel across your stomach, Pope immediately moved his chair closer.

The room dimmed.

The screen flickered.

The technician smiled as she moved the wand across your stomach.

"Well," she said after a moment, "there's your baby."

You smiled.

Pope leaned forward.

Then the technician paused.

She looked back at the monitor.

Moved the wand again.

Your stomach suddenly twisted for an entirely different reason.

"What?" you asked.

The technician's smile grew.

"Actually..." she said. "Here's your other baby."

The room went completely silent.

You stared at the screen.

Two tiny shapes.

Two flickering heartbeats.

Your eyes widened.

"What?"

"Looks like you're having twins."

For several seconds neither of you spoke.

The only sound was the rapid thump of two tiny hearts filling the room.

You looked at Pope.

He hadn't moved.

His entire body had gone still.

The color had drained from his face as he stared at the monitor.

"Pope?" you whispered.

He swallowed hard.

"Two?"

The technician nodded. "Two healthy babies."

You laughed suddenly, tears already filling your eyes.

"Oh my God."

Pope was still staring.

His eyes had become distant, somewhere else entirely.

Julia.

You knew it immediately.

His hand slowly came to rest over yours.

He looked back at the screen.

Two babies.

Two heartbeats.

A set of twins.

For a moment, you could almost see the little boy he used to be standing beside his sister.

The sister he'd lost.

The person who had known him before everything became complicated.

His eyes became glassy.

"You okay?" you asked quietly.

He nodded once, though it looked difficult.

"My sister..." he said softly.

You squeezed his hand.

"I know."

The technician lowered the volume of the heartbeat monitor, giving the two of you a little privacy.

Pope finally looked at you.

"We’re having twins."

A tear slipped down your cheek.

"Yeah."

His gaze dropped to your stomach.

For the first time since you'd known him, he looked completely overwhelmed.

Not scared.

Not angry.

Just overwhelmed.

He reached down and rested his hand against your stomach.

"Two babies," he whispered.

Then after a long moment, his voice became even quieter.

"Julia would've liked that."

Your throat tightened.

You covered his hand with yours.

"I think she would've too."

When the appointment finally ended and you walked back toward the truck, Pope stayed unusually quiet.

You worried for a moment that he was shutting down.

Instead, as he opened your door for you, he asked quietly,

"Think Lena's gonna be excited?"

You looked up at him.

There it was.

The first thing he'd thought about after the shock.

Not himself.

Not the money.

Not the fear.

Lena.

Your family.

You smiled.

"I think she's gonna lose her mind."

For the first time all morning, Pope smiled too.

A small one.

But real.

And somehow standing there beside him, with ultrasound pictures in your hand and the thought of three children waiting for you at home, the future didn't seem quite as frightening.

It just felt full.

The drive to Lena’s school was quieter than usual.

The ultrasound pictures rested carefully in your lap, your thumb tracing over the blurry images for what had to be the hundredth time.

Two babies.

You still couldn’t quite believe it.

Beside you, Pope kept one hand on the steering wheel while the other rested against your thigh. Every few minutes his fingers would tap once against your leg before going still again.

You knew him well enough to recognize it.

He was thinking.

Maybe too much.

The truck rolled slowly into the school pickup line, the familiar sight of the building and the sound of kids shouting in the distance doing little to settle the strange mix of emotions hanging between you.

Lena would be out any minute.

You and Pope sat in silence while the line inched forward. He glanced toward the front doors more than once, jaw tight, shoulders set like he was bracing for something.

Finally, the bell rang.

A wave of children spilled out onto the sidewalk, backpacks bouncing, voices rising all at once.

Then you saw her.

Lena came jogging out with her backpack hanging halfway off one shoulder, her hair a little messy from the day. The second she spotted the truck, her face lit up.

She climbed into the back seat with practiced ease and dropped her bag beside her.

“Hi.”

“Hey Lena.” you said, turning around to smile at her.

Pope glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

“Hey.”

She looked between the two of you immediately, her expression shifting.

“What’s wrong?”

You blinked. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

Lena narrowed her eyes.

“You both look weird.”

Pope made a face. “I do not look weird.”

“You do.”

You laughed despite yourself, and that only made her suspicious.

She leaned forward between the seats.

“Did something happen?”

You exchanged a glance with Pope.

Neither of you had actually discussed how to tell her.

Lena looked between you both again.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No,” you said quickly. “Come here.”

She climbed forward onto the middle seat, settling herself with her knees tucked under her.

Pope stayed quiet beside you, unusually still.

You took a slow breath.

“Remember how we told you the baby is getting bigger?”

She nodded.

“The doctor did another ultrasound today.”

Her eyes widened.

“Did you see it?”

“We did.”

“Is it a boy?”

“We don’t know yet.”

She looked disappointed for all of two seconds.

Then she noticed the photographs in your hand.

“Can I see?”

You handed them over.

She studied them very seriously.

“I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

You smiled.

“That’s okay. Most people don’t.”

Lena looked up.

“So what happened?”

You reached for Pope’s hand.

“The doctor found out something surprising.”

“What?”

You smiled.

“There’s two babies.”

Silence.

Lena blinked.

“What?”

“Two babies,” Pope said quietly.

She looked back at the pictures.

Then at your stomach.

Then at Pope.

Then back at you.

“Inside there?”

You nodded.

Her mouth slowly fell open.

“Two?”

Pope gave a small nod.

For a second you worried she might become upset.

Instead, she sat back against the seat and stared at you like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

“That’s so many babies.”

You laughed.

“It is.”

Lena thought very hard.

“Do they know each other?”

You blinked.

“What?”

“The babies.”

She pointed toward your stomach.

“They’re together. So they know each other already.”

The truck went quiet.

Pope’s expression changed.

Lena continued, completely unaware.

“They’ll always have somebody.”

Your eyes immediately found Pope.

He was staring at her.

His breathing had gone shallow.

Because she didn’t know.

She didn’t know that Pope had once had that too.

A person who had been beside him from the very beginning.

A twin.

A sister.

Someone he lost.

Lena looked up at him.

“Uncle Pope, weren’t you a twin?”

The question hung in the truck.

Pope was quiet for so long that you almost answered for him.

Finally, he nodded.

“Yeah.”

Lena’s face softened.

“Where is your twin?”

His eyes lowered.

“She died.”

Lena’s expression changed at once, the same sadness that had settled into her after losing Baz crossing her face.

“Oh.”

Pope swallowed.

“Your Aunt Julia.”

Lena thought about that for a moment.

Then she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him as best she could from the back seat.

Pope froze.

He looked down at her small arms around him.

Slowly, almost uncertainly, he rested his hand against her back.

Lena’s voice was muffled against his shoulder.

“The babies can know her too.”

The tears came before you could stop them.

Pope closed his eyes.

His chin lowered slightly, and for the first time since the doctor’s office, some of the grief in his face seemed to loosen.

Because sitting in that truck was the family he’d never believed he would have.

A woman carrying his children.

A little girl who had chosen him long before either of them realized it.

And somewhere in the future, two tiny heartbeats waiting to come into the world.

When Lena finally pulled away, she looked up at him.

“So that’s three kids.”

Pope blinked.

“What?”

She pointed at herself.

“Me.”

Then your stomach.

“And the babies.”

You opened your mouth to correct her.

To tell her she wasn’t yours.

That she had had parents.

That things were complicated.

But Pope spoke first.

His voice was quiet.

“So that’s three.”

And Lena smiled as though it had never been any other way.

That night, after dinner and homework and Lena insisting she needed to draw pictures for both babies, the house had finally gone quiet.

Two stick figures sat taped to the refrigerator.

One had curly hair.

The other had no hair at all.

Lena had labeled them Baby One and Baby Two.

Pope hadn't taken them down.

He'd stood in front of the refrigerator for almost a minute looking at them before walking away.

You found him later outside on the deck.

The ocean was dark, the waves rolling steadily against the shore below. The porch light cast a soft glow over him as he sat in one of the old chairs, his elbows resting on his knees.

He hadn't spoken much after putting Lena to bed.

You slipped outside and wrapped a blanket around your shoulders.

Pope glanced over.

"You should be inside."

"You should too."

He looked back toward the water.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

The silence between you had never been uncomfortable.

Eventually, you reached over and took his hand.

His fingers immediately threaded through yours.

"You've been thinking all day."

He nodded slightly.

"The twins?"

Another nod.

You waited.

Pope wasn't someone you rushed.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.

"Julia and me..." He swallowed. "It was always us."

The waves crashed below.

"We were kids. If something happened, she was there."

He stared out into the darkness.

"Then she wasn't."

Your heart ached.

Pope rubbed his thumb against your hand.

"I couldn't help her."

The words came out rough.

Honest.

Years of guilt packed into five words.

You turned toward him.

"Pope—"

"What if I screw this up?"

He finally looked at you.

The fear in his eyes nearly broke you.

Not fear of diapers.

Not money.

Not babies.

Fear of losing them.

Fear of failing them.

The same fear he'd carried his entire life.

You moved from your chair and carefully sat beside him.

"You won't."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

He shook his head.

"My family—"

"Isn't your fault."

His eyes dropped.

You gently placed his hand against your stomach.

Against the place where both babies rested.

"They aren't going to grow up alone."

His thumb moved slightly.

"They have each other."

You covered his hand with yours.

"And they have you."

He didn't answer.

"So does Lena."

Still silence.

You smiled softly.

"And unfortunately for all three of them, they have me too."

One corner of his mouth finally lifted.

"Poor kids."

You nudged his shoulder.

"Rude."

For a few minutes you both sat there listening to the ocean.

Then quietly, almost too quietly to hear, he said:

"I used to think I wasn't supposed to have this."

You looked over.

"A family."

His eyes were fixed on the dark water.

"I thought people like me didn't get one."

Your throat tightened.

You leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Good thing you were wrong."

Before he could answer, the sliding door suddenly opened.

Both of you turned.

Lena stood there in oversized pajamas, clutching her stuffed rabbit.

Her hair was sticking up in every direction.

Pope frowned slightly.

"What are you doing awake?"

She rubbed one eye.

"I had a bad dream."

Without hesitation, Pope stood.

Lena immediately reached for him.

He picked her up effortlessly, settling her against his chest.

She rested her head against his shoulder.

Half asleep already.

"Bad guys?" he asked quietly.

She nodded.

"I don't like them."

Pope kissed the top of her head.

"They're not here."

She looked at him sleepily.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Lena seemed satisfied with that.

Then her eyes drifted toward your stomach.

"Are the babies sleeping?"

You smiled.

"I hope so."

She thought about that.

"Can they hear us?"

"Maybe."

Lena looked very serious.

She leaned toward your stomach.

"My name is Lena," she whispered. "I'm your big cousin but we can be more sisters and brother. "

The three of you went completely still.

Lena yawned.

"And Uncle Pope is nice even if he's weird."

You burst out laughing.

Pope looked offended.

"I'm not weird."

"You are a little weird," you said.

Lena nodded against his shoulder.

"See?"

For the first time all day, Pope laughed.

A real one.

Quiet and surprised.

The sound seemed to settle something inside all of you.

He looked down at Lena.

Then at you.

Then at your stomach.

Three kids.

One little family that none of you had expected.

The ocean rolled steadily in the distance as Pope carried Lena back toward the house, his hand reaching behind him until his fingers found yours.

And this time, when he held on, he didn't let go.

[thatsthatbridepresso]

Second Chances

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, p in v sex. **IF I FORGOT ANYTHING LET ME KNOW.**

Summary: Sammy Bryant didn’t think he deserved a second chance at happiness. Not after Tammi. 

His ex-wife walked out on him for her photography instructor, leaving behind nothing but arguments, and enough emotional baggage to last a lifetime. For a long time, Sammy convinced himself that maybe she had been right—that maybe he was the problem.

Sammy sat at his desk finishing paperwork at the department while his partner, Nate, occupied the desk across from him. The station had never been quieter, giving him a rare chance to catch up on reports before heading home.

Not that his mind was on paperwork. 

Most of the guys at the department had practically thrown a celebration when he’d finally divorced Tammi. According to them, Sammy and Tammi went together about as well as fire and gasoline. 

Nate had been especially vocal. 

“You deserve somebody who actually makes you happy,” he’d told Sammy more than ocne. “Somebody who wants the same things you do.” 

Turns out Nate had been right. And maybe he was tired of Sammy spending so many nights on his couch. 

The sound of his phone vibrating against the desk pulled him from his thoughts. 

The moment your name lit up the screen, a smile tugged at his mouth. 

“Hello?”

“Sammy,” you whined softly. 

His smile widened immediately. 

“Yes, baby?”

Across the room, Nate glanced up and smirked. 

Sammy shot him a warning look that clearly said don’t start. 

Nate only looked more amused.

“When are you gonna be home?” you asked.

Sammy leaned back in his chair and sighed. “As soon as I can.”

God, he wanted to be home. 

There was nowhere else he’d rather be than curled up beside you on the couch or stretched out in bed with your head on his chest. But duty called, and unfortunately, paperwork didn’t fill itself out. 

There was a brief paused before you spoke again.

“You might wanna hurry,”

The teasing note in your voice immediately caught his attention.

Sammy’s eyebrow lifted. “Oh yeah?”

Nate was already grinning now, clearly listening despite pretending not to.

“And why is that?” Sammy asked.

A soft laugh came through the phone. “Because I’m wearing that little thing you like.”

Nate immediately barked out a laugh from across the room. 

Sammy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

He was never going to hear the end of this.

Not with Nate sitting right there. 

And definitely not from a man with three kids who could recognize exactly where this conversation was headed. 

“You called me at work to tell me this?”

“Maybe.”

Across the room, Nate narrowed his eyes. 

“And why would you do such a thing?”

“Because,”you began innocently, “I thought maybe we could work on that thing we talked about.”

Sammy’s smile faltered.

His heart squeezed. 

A year ago, the thought of having a family felt like something that belonged to somebody else. Something he’d missed his chance at. 

Then you came along. 

You’d never laughed when he admitted he wanted kids someday. Never made him feel folish for dreaming about a house full of noise and little feet running through the halls. 

Instead, you’d started pointing out tiny sneakers in store windows and arguing over baby names like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“That thing, huh?” he asked, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face. 

“Mm—hmm.”

“You’re talking about a baby.”

Across the room, Nate immediately dropped his head into his hands. “Oh, come on.”

Your laughter rang through the phone.  “Yeah.”

Sammy leaned back in his chair, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. 

For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel like something so far out of his reach. It felt likke it was waiting for him at home. 

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, your laughter still dancing through the phone.

Sammy shook his head. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

“I do. Lucky for you.”

A scandalized gasp came through the phone. 

“Samuel Bryant.”

The warning in your voice only made his grin wider. 

“I’ll see you when I get home, baby.”

“Don’t take too long.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Your voice softened. 

“I love you.”

The words still hit him every single time. Not because they were new.  

Because he knew you meant them.

“I love you too.”

After another round of goodbyes, the line finally went dead.

Sammy stared at his phone for a moment before setting it down on the desk. 

The silence lasted all of three seconds.

Nate let out a low whistle. 

“Oh, you’re gone.”

Sammy didn’t bother looking up. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Gone. Finished. Done for.” Nate pointed at him with a pen. “You got that stupid smile.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

Sammy tried to focus on his paperwork. 

It didn’t work. 

Nate laughed.

“Look at you. Couple years ago you were sleeping on my couch, eating stale cereal out of the box, and swearing you’d never get married again.”

Sammy grimaced. 

“I was going through a rough patch.”

“Exactly.” Nate agreed. “You were one country song away from becoming a cautionary tale.”

Sammy rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You spent six months sleeping on my couch, surviving on takeout, and staring into space like you were filming a heartbreak documentary.”

Sammy immediately regretted giving Nate so much material to work with.

Nate was still laughing when a couple detectives walked through the bullpen.  One look at Sammy’s face and they knew something was up. 

“What’s got him smiling?”, Sal asked. 

Nate didn’t hesitate. “He’s trying to make a baby with his wife.”

The room erupted. 

“Oh my God.”

“Seriously?”

“Bryant!”

Sammy dropped his head into his hands.  “You’re all children.”

“No,” Nate corrected. “We’re adults. You’re the one trying to make children.”

More laughter followed. And for once, Sammy didn’t even mind it. 

Because in a few hours he’d be home. Home to the woman who loved him. 

The next couple of hours dragged. 

By the time he finally clocked out, the sun had long since disappeared below the horizon. Nate followed him into the parking lot. 

“Remember,” Nate called as Sammy unlocked his truck. “If she gets pregnant, I’m taking full credit.”

Sammy laughed despite himself. “Goodnight, Nate.”

“Night, daddy.”

“Oh, screw you.”

Nate’s laughter followed him all the way to his car. 

The drive home felt shorter than usual. Maybe because his mind kept drifting back to your phone call. The way you’d laughed. The way you’d said I love you.To the fact you wanted the same things he did. 

The closer he got to home, the lighter he felt. 

A feeling he still wasn’t completely used to. 

For years, coming home had meant tension. Arguments. Walking on eggshells. Wondering what kind of mood Tammi would be in. 

Now?

Now it meant you. 

The porch light was on when he pulled into the driveway. 

A smile immediately tugged at his lips.

You always left it on for him. 

Sammy grabbed his bag and headed inside. 

The moment he opened the front door, the scent of your candle drifted through the house. Something vanilla. Something warm. Something that smelled like home. 

“Baby?” he called.

A grin spread across his face when heard your voice.

“In here.”

He followed the sound toward the living room. 

Then stopped.

For a second, he just stared.

You were sitting on the couch, a movie playing quietly in the background. And sure enough, you were wearing that little thing he’d spent the entire evening trying not to think about. 

A silk and lacey purple night gown that barely left anything to the imagination. 

His jaw nearly hit the floor. 

You looked up from your spot on the couch. “Took you long enough.” 

Sammy shut the front door behind him. “I got here as fast as I could.”

You laughed. “Uh-huh.”

His eyes wandered over you again. 

“Baby.”

The warning in his voice only made your smile grow. 

“What?”

Sammy dropped his bag by the door and crossed the room. 

“You knew exactly what you were doing when you called me.”

“Maybe.” you bit your lip.

“Maybe?”

You squealed when he scooped you up off the couch. 

“Sammy!”

“I spent six hours getting laughed at by Nate.” 

“And whose fault is that?” you teased, looping your arms around his neck and hooking your legs around his waist.

“Yours.”

Your smile softened as he looked at you. For a moment, neither of you said anything. 

Then Sammy leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or teasing like the phone call had been. It was warm and familiar, the kind of kiss that made his shoulders finally relax after a long day. 

You smiled against his lips, and he couldn’t help kissing you again. 

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. 

“Missed you,” he murmured.

You smiled at him before giving him another soft kiss. 

“I missed you too.”

A soft laugh escaped him before he buried his face against your shoulder. 

Just holding you made something inside him settle. 

The stress. 

The exhaustion.

The weight he’d been carrying all day. 

Gone. 

You softened immediately, one hand sliding into his hair.

“Long day?”

Sammy nodded. “Yeah.”

Your fingers combed through his hair. “You’re home now.”

Three simple words. But they hit harder than they should have. You’re home now.

For most people, it probably wouldn’t have meant so much. But for Sammy, it meant everything. 

Because it was the first time in a long time, home wasn’t a place. It was you. 

“I’m glad.” Sammy hummed. 

You both shared another kiss. 

You broke the kiss and Sammy drew in a shaky breath. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

Your brow furrowed slightly.

“About what?”

His hands settled under your thighs. 

“The baby.”

The teasing smile on your face softened immediately. 

“Oh.”

Sammy looked down for a moment before meeting your eyes again. 

“Nate won’t ever let me live it down.”

That earned a small laugh from you.

“But….” He swallowed. “I just wanted to know if you meant it.” 

The room fell quiet. 

The movie continued playing in the background, forgotten. 

You reached up and brushed your thumb across his cheek. 

“Sammy.”

Something vulnerable flashed across his face.

The kind he rarely let anyone see.

“Of course I meant it.” you said softly. “I want a family with you.” 

He smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “And I was serious about working on it tonight.”

Sammy swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt his cock twitch in his pants. “You’re not too tired?”

You giggled lightly. “Are you?”

“No,” he confirmed. “Hell no.”

He began kissing you again, this time deeper and more desperate than before. You sank into his touch as you deepened the kiss. One arm stayed looped around his neck while the other raked through his soft curls. 

“Fuck,” Sammy breathed between kisses. “Need you now.”

“Then take me,” you whispered, hovering your lips against his. 

Sammy didn’t waste time. He immediately headed towards the bedroom. He was careful not to bump you into the walls as he continued kissing you, the soft sounds filling the house. 

Sammy softly laid you down on the mattress. He was standing over you, beginning to frantically undo his tie. He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling slowly. You sat up lightly, one hand on his chest. Your touch was soft as you brushed over his chest, beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt. He closed his eyes as each button popped.

“Shit,” Sammy choked. 

This was everything he had imagined and more. Tammi had never made him feel this way before. Sex with her was rushed—and everything revolved around her. But with you? It was different. It meant something. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” you cooed, looking up at him.

He let you remove his button up one arm at a time. 

His eyes opened lazily. “You know what’s wrong,” he choked.

“Tell me,” you pressed, throwing his shirt to the floor before running fingers down his abdomen, hands hooking in his belt buckle. 

He grunted and you felt his cock grow harder under his pants. 

“Need me that bad, baby?”

“Yeah—fuck, yes.”, he grunted. 

“Aw,” you purred. “Already so hard for me and we’ve barely started.” 

Sammy’s heart was pounding so hard he was afraid it might burst. You bit your lip, smirking up at him with a devilish grin as you carefully undid his belt. The sound of metal clanked together. You desperately undid the button and zipper of his slacks next, revealing the band of his plaid boxers. 

He grunted lightly in response before his hand found your hair, raking his fingers through it, and putting it behind your ears. 

His cock was growing harder and more desperate by the second. And just thinking about putting a baby in you made it worse.

You lightly raked your nails against his bare skin causing him to grunt while a wicked smile spread across your face. You grabbed the waist of his pants and jerked them down roughly. He did his best to help you, and stepped out of them lazily. His brain was already short-circuiting.

All that was left was his boxers. 

“Wanna take these off?” you looked up at him, breath hitching at the sight of him coming undone. 

He swallowed hard. “Yes,” he whispered. “Please.” 

It was cute how touch starved he seemed. Or maybe it was the fact that with you, there was love involved.  You nodded lightly as you pulled at the elastic of his boxers, slowly sliding them down from his hips. 

Sammy bit his lip, holding back a moan as he felt his cock spring free. He knew you were smiling from ear to ear, satisified with the effect you had on him. 

“Aw, Sammy,” you cooed lightly. “just what are we gonna do with you?”

Sammy groaned lightly in response as he finished taking off his boxers and threw them across the bedroom. “Let me fucking put a baby in you.”

Your eyes widened in response. “Oh yeah? How bad you wanna do that?” 

Sammy swallowed, “So fucking bad.” His thick, broad hands brushed over your shoulders. “It’s all I’ve thought about today since you called.” 

You swallowed in response, voice barely above a whisper. “Put a baby in me, Sammy.”

With that, he gently pushed you back on the bed, climbing on top of you. He began kissing you slowly before his hands brushed over the silk material of that sexy little night gown you had decided to wear. He finally found the bottom hem of it, hiking it up your thighs. 

He broke the kiss, nuzzling his nose against your neck as he pushed your night gown up to your abdomen. You swallowed lighlty, holding onto his shoulders. 

Your skin felt soft under the touch of his rough calloused fingers. Even though Sammy mostly spent his time down at the station, he was often called out to crime scenes. Not to count the time he had spent on patrol before becoming a detective. 

“No panties?” His eyes widened.

You bit your lip in response. “I told you I wanted you to come home so we could make a baby.” 

He grinned so hard his cheeks hurt. “Let’s get this off.”

You leaned up enough for Sammy to pull the night gown up and over your head. He gently pressed his body back against yours before his lips crashed into yours. You laid down against the weight of him. 

How had he managed to get so lucky? 

“How wet are you?” 

He brushed his finger along your thigh before shoving one hand between your legs, slipping two fingers inside of you. You gasped lightly. Sammy smiled, removing the fingers almost immediately causing you to sigh under his touch. 

Your pussy was warm and inviting. Sammy desperately needed his cock inside you. 

His fingers glistened in the low light of the bedroom, covered with your wetness. “So wet and ready for me, aren’t you?”

You closed your eyes, swallowing before nodding slowly. “Mm-hmm.” 

Sammy bit his lip. “Were you being a naughty girl and playing with yourself before I got home?”

Your eyes fluttered open, a lazy smile spreading across your lips. “Maybe.”

Sammy chuckled lightly to himself. “You really want this, don’t you?”

Your eyes were glossy. 

You hummed in respnse. “Mm-hmm.”

You watched as Sammy brought his fingers up to his lips. He slowly brushed them against his lips before opening his mouth and inserting them inside.  He ran his tongue over them, the sweetness of your juices hitting his tongue. 

“Shit,” he huffed. “So fucking sweet.” 

Your breath hitched. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” he confirmed. “Could make a meal on you.” 

He couldn’t wait anymore.  He needed you. He was hungry, starving for your touch and to be inside you. Wasting no time, he adjusted himself. 

Sammy was above you, straddling himself between your legs. You closed your eyes, breath hitching as you felt his hard cock brush your inner thighs. 

“Sammy,” you moaned lightly, biting your lips.

He chuckled lightly. “Yes, baby?”

“I need you.”

“Need me where?” he teased back, leaning down to nuzzle his nose in your neck. 

The sweet scent of your perfume mixed with your natural pheromones entered his nose. He began to place soft kisses along the line of your collarbone. You mewled under his touch, hands coming up to find his dark curls. 

“I need you inside of me,” you barely whispered. “Please.”

There was need laced in your plea. He felt his cock twitch at the request, a soft hum escaping him and vibrating against your skin. 

“Does my baby girl need fucked?”

You felt your stomach knot, teeming with desire. 

“Yes.”

Sammy chuckled seductively. “All you had to do was ask.” He smiled. “All you ever have to do is ask.”

He kissed a trail up your collarbone and neck until he reached your lips. He reached down for his cock, blindly beginning to line himself up with your entrance. Sammy eased himself inside of you in an attempt to give yourself time to adjust to him. You let out a loud moan, beginning to drown in pleasure. He felt so good stretching you out. 

Sammy wasn’t small. He was actually very well-endowed. He was thick and heady. 

“Is it okay?”

“Mhm,” you breathed. “More than okay.”

He smiled. “That’s really good, baby.”

Sammy started to move inside you, picking a steady rhythm. Your eyes fluttered shut briefly, focusing on his movements inside you. Sammy focused on you, one had resting on your belly while the other traced your thigh. 

Soft groans of pleasure filled the room, Sammy drowning himself in you. 

“How bad do you—want a baby?”, he choked. 

The question almost caught you off guard. 

“So bad, Sammy.”  Your voice was barely above a whisper, need and desire over taking you. 

“Yeah?”, he hummed, slamming into you. “Want my baby inside you?”

You smiled, a soft sigh leaving you. “Yes.”

“God,” he swallowed. “You’re gonna look so cute with a bump.” 

His breath was hitched. 

“Gonna look so sexy carrying my baby.”

You felt your stomach twisting into knots. “I will?”

He nodded breathlessly. “Of course, baby.” 

You felt yourself begin smiling so much your cheeks hurt. 

“And gonna look so pretty—so beautiful holding our baby,” Sammy continued as he bucked his hips, pushing himself so deep inside you that he hit your g-spot causing you to gasp lightly.  “Can’t wait—for it—baby….”

“Me—either.” You choked, words caught in your throat. 

“Fuck—baby, keep talking like that and I’m not gonna last long.” He whimpered through a smile. 

“Maybe I don’t—want you to.”

“Fuck baby—fuck.”

Sammy was getting close, his chest heaving as he grabbed onto the headboard in a poor attempt to steady himself and bring himself back from the edge. He let out several breathy obscenities before you gently traced his bare, freckled shoulders and pulled him down to your level to kiss him. He closed his eyes, moaning into the kiss. 

He felt your nails trace his biceps before scraping down his back. The sensation sent him into overdrive. Sammy tried to protest through moans but he didn’t want you to stop at all. He was just trying to keep himself from cumming so soon. 

“Baby,” he whined in between kisses. “I feel like I’m gonna cum.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m close too.” 

Sammy’s hips began to falter as he continued to fuck himself into you. He needed this—he needed you more than ever. Your brain was beginning to turn to mush. You were beginning to feel lightheaded, almost a little dizzy and knew was was about to follow. 

“Sammy,” you whined. “I’m gonna—cum.”

“Cum for me,” Sammy’s voice broke. “Please, cum for me.” 

“I’m—cumming right—now, Sammy….right fucking now…..” 

You felt yourself hit your climax, the muscles in your pussy clenching tightly around his cock, muscles throbbing as you came. The lightheadedness came next, the rush of your orgasm washing over you. Sammy continued to slowly fuck himself into you, helping you ride it out. With blurry eyes, you looked up at him. 

“That’s a good girl—fuck, that’s perfect, baby…..”

You smiled as your chest heaved up and down. You felt his cock twitch and pulse inside you, responding to your orgasm. 

His orgasm was barreling down and you could tell. 

You brought your hand up to his face, brushing a stray curl back. “Our baby’s gonna be so cute.”

Sammy laughed lightly, feeling himself losing it by the second. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you continued, catching you breath. “If we have a little boy, he’s gonna be handsome just like his daddy.”

He quickly realized what you were doing. “Fuck, baby. I can’t—I can’t go much longer.”

You smiled to yourself, proud of the fact that you could make him come undone like this. 

“He’s gonna have your eyes, your curls.” You brushed through Sammy’s hair, the glossy film of afterglow in your eyes. “He’s gonna break hearts.”

Sammy closed his eyes. “Shit.”

“Mhm. You’re gonna be an amazing daddy.”

That did it. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” Sammy moaned. “Gonna put a baby in you…..”

Sammy fucked himsefl into you one last time before his hands gripped your thigh. His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing and pumping deep inside you. You smiled as Sammy tried to catch his breath, chest heaving up and down. Sammy’s eyes met yours and you both began smiling before he leaned down to kiss you. 

It was soft and full of love. There was silence in the room besides both of your breathing.

Sammy took a moment to take you in. He loved how fucked out you looked after sex. 

“I love you.”

He kissed you again. 

“I love you too.”

He stayed inside you for a few minutes. 

“Just making sure this is gonna take.”

You smiled, laughter threatening to escape you. “We can keep trying.”

Sammy smirked too before warning you that he was going to pull out but you still whimpered at the loss of contact. He fell in bed beside you, exhausted between the weight of his job catching up with him and from the amazing love making he’d just shared with you. 

He pulled the sheet and comforter over the two of you before gathering you into his arms. You nestled against his chest, the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the faint salt of sweat, grounding you in the steady warmth of him. His fingers drifted lazily through your hair as you listened to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat and breathing. 

Taglist @willbereturningshortly

[thatsthatbridepresso]

The Thing

Rating: pretty fluffy

Warning: mentions of Robby's trauma, death of his mentor, other than that I think it's pretty clear!

It had been a few months since Robby had taken his sabbatical. Ever since the pandemic—and especially after losing his mentor, Dr. Adamson—something in him had changed. The man you knew was still there somewhere, but he had become quieter, harder to reach. He'd built walls around himself, shutting everyone out, including you.

It had put a strain on your relationship. For a while, it felt like you were trying to understand someone who no longer wanted to be understood.

While he was gone, life had continued without him. It wasn't easy. There were days when you caught yourself reaching for your phone before remembering there was no one to call. But as the weeks turned into months, you slowly learned how to live without him. It still hurt, but with each passing day, it became just a little easier.

But Robby was back.

And somehow, despite everything that had happened, the two of you had found your way back to each other.

He was different. Lighter somehow. The grief was still there—you knew it always would be—but it no longer seemed to weigh him down the way it once had.

The two of you were talking again. Laughing together again. Spending your days off together, going on dates, and falling back into the little routines you'd missed more than you cared to admit.

It wasn't like picking up where you left off.

It was something new.

Something softer. Stronger.

And somehow, it felt even better than before.

Your coworkers had started to notice.

Especially your charge nurse, Dana.

The moment the two of you walked through the hospital doors together, smiling and laughing over something only the two of you understood, she smirked to herself.

It had become hard to miss.

You were dating your attending physician, Dr. Robby, again.

And judging by the way the two of you looked at each other, neither of you was trying very hard to hide it.

Things were different between the two of you now.

Life felt lighter.

Robby did, too.

He smiled more. Laughed more. The weight he'd been carrying for so long no longer seemed to rest so heavily on his shoulders.

You loved seeing him like this. Every laugh brought out the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, and somehow, they had become one of your favorite things about him. They were a quiet reminder that he was finding reasons to smile again—and you couldn't help but smile right back.

The shift was finally winding down.

It had been one of those days where no one had stopped moving for more than a few minutes.

The biggest excitement had come just a couple of hours earlier when a mother rushed into the emergency department in active labor. She'd progressed far too quickly to make it upstairs to Labor and Delivery.

There hadn't been time.

"You're doing great," Robby reassured the exhausted mother, his voice calm despite the controlled chaos surrounding them. "I know it hurts, but I need one more good push."

You stood at his side, already anticipating what he needed before he had to ask.

"Gauze."

You placed it in his outstretched hand.

"Suction."

It was there a second later.

The nurses moved around the room with practiced efficiency, but it felt as though you and Robby had slipped into your own rhythm—the same one you'd shared long before everything had fallen apart.

Another contraction hit.

The mother cried out, gripping your hand so tightly you were certain she'd leave bruises.

"That's it," you encouraged with a reassuring smile. "You're doing amazing. Keep looking at me. You've got this."

"I can see the head," Robby said. "One more push."

The room collectively held its breath.

With one final cry, the baby's shoulders slipped free, followed by the rest of his tiny body.

For the briefest second, everything went still.

Then—

A loud, unmistakable cry filled the trauma bay.

Relief washed over the room.

Robby couldn't help but smile as he carefully lifted the newborn into his hands.

"Well," he chuckled softly, glancing toward the tearful parents. "Congratulations."

He looked down at the squirming little bundle before announcing with a grin,

"It's a healthy baby boy."

The room erupted into relieved laughter and happy tears.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, exchanging a quick look with Robby.

He caught your eye for just a moment.

It wasn't a grand gesture. Just a small smile that reached the corners of his eyes.

One that said we did good.

You smiled back before turning your attention to wrapping the tiny baby in a warm blanket and placing him gently against his mother's chest.

The new parents stared down at their son in complete awe, their tears quickly giving way to laughter as the little boy settled against his mother's heartbeat.

Moments like these made even the hardest shifts worth it.

You had already slipped on your coat and grabbed your bag after giving report to the night shift nurse taking over your patients.

Across the nurses' station, Robby was finishing up with Dr. Abbot, the attending covering the night shift. They exchanged updates from the day, going over a few lingering cases before Robby finally signed off.

It always took him a little longer to leave than it did you.

Leaning against the counter, you found yourself watching him without even realizing it.

Dana noticed immediately.

She walked past with a knowing smile, bumping your shoulder lightly as she did.

"You gonna keep staring at him," she teased, "or are you actually gonna let the poor man finish?"

Your cheeks warmed.

"I wasn't staring."

"Oh, honey," Dana laughed, glancing over at Robby before looking back at you. "You haven't stopped smiling at him since you got here this morning."

You rolled your eyes, trying—and failing—to hide your grin.

Before you could think of a comeback, Robby looked over, catching your eye from across the nurses' station.

"There he is," Dana said under her breath. "Look at that. He smiles every time he sees you."

Sure enough, the corner of Robby's mouth lifted into an easy smile.

"There," Dana said, satisfied. "Case closed."

You couldn't help but laugh.

A few moments later, Robby slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way over to you.

"What are you two talking about?" he asked.

"Nothing," you and Dana answered in unison.

Dana smirked.

"Have a good night, you two."

There was just enough emphasis on you two to make you laugh again as Robby reached for your hand.

Together, the two of you headed toward the exit, finally leaving another long shift behind.

The cold hit the moment you stepped outside.

Fresh snow blanketed the parking lot, and with every breath, little clouds of white drifted into the night air. The hospital glowed behind you, its lights reflecting off the untouched snow.

As you walked toward Robby's car, your shoulders brushed every now and then, neither of you in any hurry to get there.

Lately, you'd been staying over at Robby's place more often than not.

It hadn't been something the two of you had planned. One night had turned into a weekend, a weekend into a few nights a week, until eventually you found yourself leaving a toothbrush in his bathroom and a change of clothes tucked into one of his dresser drawers.

Things were becoming serious again.

Only this time, it felt steadier.

Like the two of you weren't trying to go back to what you had before, but were building something even better together.

"How was your day?" Robby asked with a smile, even though the two of you had spent most of it together.

You laughed softly.

"You were there for almost all of it."

"I know," he said, opening the passenger door for you. "I still want to hear about your version."

1

"How was your day?" Robby asked, smiling as though he hadn't spent most of it right beside you.

You looked at him with an amused grin.

"Seriously?"

"What?" he shrugged as he unlocked the car. "I like hearing you tell it."

A laugh escaped you as you climbed into the passenger seat. The warmth from the heater slowly chased away the chill that had settled into your bones.

"It was busy," you admitted, buckling your seatbelt. "I think half the city decided today was the day to visit the ER."

"Mmm," he hummed in agreement, pulling out of the parking space. "You're not wrong."

"But..." A smile tugged at your lips. "Getting to help deliver that baby made up for all of it."

Robby glanced over at you before turning his attention back to the snow-covered road.

"You were incredible in there."

You blinked.

"I was just doing my job."

"So was I." He smiled. "Doesn't mean I can't tell you you were incredible."

Your cheeks warmed despite the cold lingering outside.

"You always know what I need before I ask," he continued. "Half the time, I reach for something and it's already in my hand."

You looked down, suddenly very interested in the sleeve of your coat.

"I've worked with you long enough."

"It's more than that."

His voice was quiet, sincere.

"I trust you."

The words settled between you, carrying more weight than either of you expected.

After everything the two of you had been through—the distance, the hurt, the months apart—they meant more than a simple compliment.

You reached across the center console and slipped your hand into his.

"I trust you, too."

His fingers intertwined with yours without hesitation.

For the rest of the drive, neither of you said much.

You didn't need to.

The quiet wasn't awkward anymore.

It was comfortable.

The kind of silence that only came when you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

Home was a welcome sight by the time you pulled into Robby's driveway.

The snow crunched beneath your boots as he came around the truck, opening the passenger door before offering you his hand.

"You know I can get out by myself," you teased.

"I know," he said with an easy smile. "Humor me."

You slipped your hand into his anyway, letting him help you down.

Before either of you made it to the front door, he gently tugged you back toward him.

"What?" you asked, a smile already forming.

"I forgot something."

"Oh?"

He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss against your lips.

"There," he murmured. "That's better."

You laughed quietly, shaking your head as he unlocked the front door.

Things felt right.

Comfortable.

Like home.

Later that evening, after the two of you had finished dinner, you stood at the sink washing the dishes while warm water ran over your hands. The television hummed softly from the living room, filling the house with a familiar kind of background noise.

You were rinsing the last plate when you felt Robby step up behind you.

Without a word, he slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest.

You smiled to yourself.

"I was wondering how long it'd take you."

He chuckled, the sound low against your ear.

"You looked too peaceful to interrupt."

He rested his chin lightly on your shoulder before pressing a lingering kiss just below your ear.

"You smell good," he murmured.

"So do you."

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

The dishes could wait.

The laundry folded on the couch could wait.

Right now, it was enough to simply stand there together, wrapped up in the quiet of the evening, grateful that after everything life had thrown at you both... this was where you had ended up.

"I've been thinking," he murmured against your neck.

You smiled, continuing to rinse the plate in your hands.

"Oh?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"About?"

He tightened his arms around your waist just a little.

"We should do the thing."

You laughed softly.

"What thing?"

He rested his chin on your shoulder, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"We should have a baby."

The plate in your hands nearly slipped.

You turned around to face him, searching his expression for any hint that he was joking.

He wasn't.

"You mean that?"

His smile softened.

"I do."

For a long moment, you simply looked at him.

There had been a time when you weren't sure the two of you would ever find your way back to each other. A time when the future you'd imagined together had felt impossibly far away.

And now here he was...

Talking about building one.

"I've never stopped wanting that with you," he admitted quietly. "And, honestly, I'm getting older. I don't want to keep putting it off if this is what I want anymore."

You blinked, your heart thudding a little harder in your chest.

He gave a small, almost shy smile.

"Watching you in the ER today, helping deliver that baby... it just kept sticking with me. You were so calm, so steady, so gentle with her. You'd make a great mom."

Your breath caught.

"And," he added, his voice dropping into something softer, more playful, "you'd look cute with a baby bump."

That pulled a startled laugh from you, your cheeks warming instantly.

He smiled wider at the sound, clearly pleased with himself.

"I mean it," he said, brushing his thumb along your waist. "You'd be adorable."

You shook your head, still smiling, still trying to steady the sudden rush of emotion in your chest.

"I just... I wasn't in a place where I could be the man you—or a baby—deserved."

You reached up and cupped his cheek.

"But I am now."

A smile spread across your face before you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I'd like that," you whispered. "I'd really like that."

Relief washed over his features, followed almost immediately by the biggest smile you'd seen from him in months.

"Yeah?"

You laughed through happy tears.

"Yeah."

He leaned down and kissed you, slow and unhurried, like he wanted to savor every second.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

"I think we'd make good parents.."

You smiled.

"I think we'd make great parents."

[thatsthatbridepresso]

Uhhhh think I just got a good Robby blurb in my head

[thatsthatbridepresso]

Sammy Bryant Teaser

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

**maybe no one asked for this but I decided to post a teaser. I will post the entirety of the fic as soon as I’m done writing it. I start a week’s vacation Tuesday. My work schedule has been so horrible this week along with finishing my last week of my bachelor’s classes and moving onto my masters.**

Sammy Bryant didn’t think he deserved happiness. Not after Tammy.

His ex-wife walked out on him for her photography instructor, leaving behind nothing but arguments, and enough emotional baggage to last a lifetime. For a long time, Sammy convinced himself that maube she had been right—that maybe he was the problem.

Sammy sat at his desk finishing paperwork at the department while his partner, Nate, occupied the desk across from him. The station had never been quieter, giving him a rare chance to catch up on reports before headinh home.

Not that his mind was on paperwork.

Most of the guys at the department had practically thrown a celebration when he’d finally divorced Tammy. According to them, Sammy and Tammy went together about as well as fire and gasoline.

Nate had been especially vocal.

“You deserve somebody who actually makes you happy,” he’d told Sammy more than ocne. “Somebody who wants the same things you do.”

Turns out Nate had been right. And maybe he was tired from Sammy spending so many nights on his couch.

The sound of his phone vibrating against the desk pulled him from his thoughts.

The moment your name lit up the screen, a smile tugged at his mouth.

“Hello?”

“Sammy,” you whined softly.

His smile widened immediately.

“Yes, baby?”

Across the room, Nate glanced up and smirked.

Sammy shot him a warning look that clearly said don’t start.

Nate only looked more amused.

“When are you gonna be home?” you asked.

Sammy leaned back in his chair and sighed. “As soon as I can.”

God, he wanted to be home.

There was nowhere else he’d rather be than curled up beside you on the couch or stretched out in bed with your head on his chest. But duty called, and unfortunately, paperwork didn’t fill itself out.

There was a brief paused before you spoke again.

“You might wanna hurry,”

The teasing note in your voice immediately caught his attention.

Sammy’s eyebrow lifted. “Oh yeah?”

Nate was already grinning now, clearly listening despite pretending not to.

“And why is that?” Sammy asked.

A soft laugh came through the phone. “Because I’m wearing that little thing you like.”

Nate immediately barked out a laugh from across the room.

Sammy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He was never going to hear the end of this.

Not with Nate sitting right there.

And definitely not from a man with three kids who could recognize exactly where this conversation was headed.

“You called me at work to tell me this?”

“Maybe.”

Across the room, Nate narrowed his eyes.

“And why would you do such a thing?”

“Becuse,”you began innocently, “I thought maybe we could work on that thing we talked about.”

Sammy’s smile faltered.

His heart squeezed.

A year ago, the thought of having a family felt like something that belonged to somebody else. Something he’d missed his chance at.

Then you came along.

You’d never laughed when he admitted he wanted kids someday. Never made him feel folish for dreaming about a house full of noise and little feet running through the halls.

Instead, you’d started pointing out tiny sneakers in store windows and arguing over baby names like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“That thing, huh?” he asked, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face.

“Mm—hmm.”

“You’re talking about a baby.”

Across the room, Nate immediately dropped his head into his hands. “Oh, come on.”

Your laughter rang through the phone. “Yeah.”

Sammy leaned back in his chair, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel like something so far out of his reach. It felt likke it was waiting for him at home.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, your laughter still dancing through the phone.

Sammy shook his head. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

“Unfortuntately.”

A scandalized gasp came through the phone.

“Samuel Bryant.”

The warning in your voice only made his grin wider.

“I’ll see you when I get home, baby.”

“Don’t take too long.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Your voice softened.

“I love you.”

The words still hit him every single time. Not because they were new.

Because he knew you meant them.

“I love you too.”

After another round of goodbyes, the line finally went dead.

Sammy stared at his phone for a moment before setting it down on the desk.

The silence lasted all of three seconds.

Nate let out a low whistle.

“Oh, you’re gone.”

Sammy didn’t bother looing up.

“What are you talking about?”

“Gone. Finished. Done for.” Nate pointed at him with a pen. “You got that stupid smile.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

Sammy tried to focus on his paperwork.

It didn’t work.

Nate laughed.

“Look at you. Couple years ago you were sleepign on my couch, eating stale cereal out of the box, and swearing you’d never get married again.”

Sammy grimaced.

“I was going through a rough patch.”

“Exactly.” Nate agreed. “You were one country song away from becoming a cautionary tale.”

Sammy rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You spent six months sleeping on my couch, surviving on takeout, and staring into space like you were filming a heartbreak documentary.”

Sammy immediately regretted giving Nate so much material to work with.

Nate was still laughing when a couple detectives walked through the bullpen. One look at Sammy’s face and they knew something was up.

“What’s got him smiling?”, Sal asked.

Nate didn’t hesitate. “He’s trying to make a baby with his wife.”

The room erupted.

[thatsthatbridepresso]

Anyone want a snippet of my Titus fic while we wait for Sammy?

[thatsthatbridepresso]

So I’ll probably be able to post Sammy in the next few days. My work schedule is shit and I’m finishing my last weeks of my college classes before moving to my Masters program. Also, I don’t want to rush the steamy stuff that’s happening in this fic 🫦

[thatsthatbridepresso]

I do these a lot but I don’t care.

Which should I write first?

More Robby (miss him truly)

More Abbot

Titus Danforth

Sammy Bryant

Voting ended onJun 16

[thatsthatbridepresso]

And Still, I'm Not Leaving

Rating: 18+ MATURE THEMES.

Warnings: mentions of murder, mental health issues, depression, suicidal ideation?, being in love with a criminal lmao. If I forgot anything, let me know.

**I will continue this probably and maybe even write the ending of the series in my own way and it will probably HURT LIKE HELL.**

Neither you or Pope knew how long it had been happening. He had been so busy running jobs with his brothers and getting the skate park off the ground he hadn’t notied anything was wrong. 

Not until the power went out. 

He’d come home, tossed his keys on the counter, and headed for the microwave to heat up some food. Instead, the dark display blinked bakc at him, the clock flashing an unfamiliar time. 

Then there was the cereal box. 

It was turned the wrong way. 

He was particular when it came to keeping things clean and orderly. Some people might’ve called it obsessive, but to him, it was simply the wya things were supposed to be. After parties at Smurf’s, while everyone else slept off hangovers, Pope would be outside picking up beer bottles, sweeping the patio, and taking trash to the curb.

Nothing was ever out of place.

Until now.

And now, he was spiraling.

“Can you relax?” you asked, stepping up behind him and rubbing your hands over his tense shoulders.

A heavy sigh escaped him. 

Pope glanced toward the sliding glass doors before dragging a hand over his face. “A cop’s tailing me.”

“Let’s make sure first, okay?” you said softly. “No spiraling until then.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

If you were being honest, the thought of Pope ending up back behind the bars terrified you. 

Baz was gone. Smurf was gone. 

That only left Pope, Craig, Deran, and J. 

And if Pope went back to jail—prison this time, more likely—you had a feeling he wouldn’t be coming home for a very long time. 

The worst part is you knew exactly what he was capable of. 

You knew what happened to his sister-in-law. 

You knew Smurf had put the idea in his head, twisting and manipulating until he couldn’t tell where her voice ended and his began. Somehow, she always found a way to get inside his head, to convince him that whatever she wanted was the only choice he had.

Smurf might have been dead, but the damange she’d done to Pope was still very much alive.

“What if they know I killed Cath?”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” you said, meeting his gaze. “But until we know what this is, you’re not going to sit here and convince yourself it’s already over.”

“There was this woman,” he said quietly. “She told me she was looking for Taylor. I spent half the day driving her around town, helping her look for him.”

A bitter laugh escaped him as he looked away.

“I should’ve known she was a fucking cop.”

“Andrew.” You said his name firmly, waiting until his eyes found yours. “Stop.” 

He held your gaze for a moment before giving a small nod. “Okay.”

Little did you know, he barely slept that night.

He spent most of it lying awake.

Sometimes he turned away from you, staring out through the blinds. Other times he lay on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. And when neither of those helped quiet his mind, he turned toward you and watched you sleep soundly beside him.

Sleep never came easy when he had this much to lose.

The next day, Pope headed straight for the skate park.

The moment he spotted Taylor, he made a beeline for him.

“Tell me what the hell is going on,” he demanded. 

Taylor barely had time to react before Pope was in his face, his patience already gone. Every sleepless hour from the night before had only made him more agitated.

“Because if you’re keeping something from me,” Pope warned. “you’re gonna start talking. Right now.”

Eventually, Taylor cracked.

He admitted he’d been talking to a cop—a detective who had been pretending to be his mother the entire time.

Worse, he confessed that she had broken into the Cody house herself. The power outage. The things being moved around. Every little detail had been carefully orchestrated to get inside Pope’s head and make him paranoid. 

It had worked. 

Pope didn’t tell you any of it, but by the time he left the skate park, he’d already decided to take matters into his own hands. 

Unfortunately for him, the detective was one step ahead. 

When Pope finally confronted her, she made it clear she knew exactly what he’d done to Catherine.

The words hit him like a freight train.

For a moment, everything around him started to fall away. The noise. The anger. The plan he’d spent all night obsessing over.

Gone.

His entire world shattered with a single confession. 

That’s when Pope finally came clean to his brothers and nephew. 

He told his brothers, Deran and Craig, as well as J, the truth about what happened to Catherine. 

The confession landed exactly how you’d expect. 

J took the news better than anyone else, remaining surprisingly calm as Pope explained everything. Craig, on the other hand, was so shaken that he got up and left. Deran didn’t say much at all. Instead, he closed the bar down early and crashed there. 

That was the moment it felt like the family started to come apart at the seams.

In the days that followed, J reached out to an attorney for advice. After hearing the situation, the attorney told them the best thing Pope could do was turn himself in for the assault chargers involving Taylor. 

If he was going to be investigated, cooperation would work in his favor.

At least, that was the hope.

Both you and Deran went with Pope to the police department the day he turned himself in. The attorney was already waiting when you arrived.

The entire walk inside felt surreal, as if you were watching someone else’s life unfold instead of your own. No one said much. There wasn’t anything left to say.

When the officers moved to handcuff him, Pope turned and looked at you. 

Just looked at you.

The sight of those handcuffs around his wrists felt like a punch to the chest.

You couldn’t breathe. 

Couldn’t think.

You watched as the officers began reading him his Miranda rights, but the words barely registered. Their voices faded into the background, becoming nothing mroe than distant noise. Your mind drifted somewhere far away, disconnecting from the reality unfolding in front of you.

Because if you let yourself fully process what was happening, you weren’t sure you’d survive it.

Deran stepped closer and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a gentle side hug. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmyred, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “This isn’t forever.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to.

But as you watched Pope disappear further into the police station, it felt impossible. The officers continued speaking to him, explaining his rights and the next steps. Pope listened quietly, his expression unreadable. 

He knew the drill. 

He’d been through this before.

The moment they tried asking questions, he gave them the only answer they getting.

“I want my attorney.”

And that was that. 

No explanations. No excuses. No conversation.

Just silence and a lawyer.

The way he’d learned long ago. 

But everything changed when the detective managed to get him alone. As soon as they placed Pope in the interrogation room, she started pushing. She laid photographs across the table. Photographs of Catherine.

Or what was left of her.

Years had passed since her death. The woman in the pictures was gone, reduced to little more than skeletal remains. 

Pope tried not to look. Tried not to react. 

The detective noticed. And she pressed harder.

She told him that if the case went to trial, Lena could end up being involved. That one day she might have to hear every detail of what happened to her mother.

Worse, she implied Lena could be forced to see the photographs. 

The thought alone made him sick.

She claimed she knew you had known about Catherine’s death all along. That you helped keep the secret. That she could charge you as an accessory.

It was a bluff.

At least, Pope hoped it was.

But sititng there, staring at those photographs while the detective threatened the two people he cared about most, certainty became a lot harder to hold onto. 

For the first time since turning himself in, he felt the walls beginning to close in. 

And he confessed.

After evwerything—the attorney, the warnings, the promises to keep his mouth shut—he admitted to killing Catherine.

You didn’t know what had happened inside that room. 

You only knew something was wrong the moment the detective walked back out.

She was smiling.

The sight of it made your stomach drop.

Beside you, Deran immediately straightened.

“When is he coming home?” he asked.

The detective’s smile never faltered. “Oh, he’ll be spending the night with us.”

A knot formed in yourt throat.

“Why?” Deran demanded.

The detective glanced between the two of you.

“Because he confessed to murdering Catherine Belen.”

The words hit like a ton of bricks. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. 

No.

No, no, no.

Pope wasn’t supposed to talk.

He knew better than that.

You could barly hear anything over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his attorney’s expression darken. Furious didn’t even begin to cover it. Without another word, he stormed past the detective and disappeared down the hallway to speak with Pope. Leaving you and Deran standing there in stunned silence.

On the way home, you let go.

It didn’t happen all at once, but slowly—like something inside you finally gave out.

Deran kept one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally reaching over as if he wasn’t sure whether to touch you or leave you alone.

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying to pull you back from wherever you’d gone. “We’re gonna figure this out.”

You didn’t respond immediately. 

Not because you didn’t hear him.

But because you weren’t sure you believed him. 

You didn’t remember pulling into the Cody driveway. You didn’t rememeber the car coming to a stop or Deran helping you out of your seat. 

One moment you were staring blankly out the window, and the next you were standing outside on the patio. 

Everything in between was a blur.

The second you stepped ont he patio, J was on his feet.

His expression tightened as he looked past you, as if expecting Pope to come behind you. 

“Where’s Pope?” he asked.

Deran’s eyes found yours first.

When it became clear you weren’t going to speak, he let out a quiet sigh and explained everything to J. 

For the rest of the night, Deran did everything he could to make sure you were okay. 

He brought you food at one point, setting the plate down beside you and gently encouraging you to eat. You never touched it.

Mostly, you sat alone in the bedroom.

Sometimes you stared at the wall. Sometimes at the empty space beside you on the bed. 

Everytime you looked at it, your chest tightened. 

Pope was supposed to be there.

Instead, he was sitting in a jail cell.

Eventually, you crawled beneath the covers and curled into his side of the bed, clutching one of his pillows to your chest. 

It still smelled like him.

That was your breaking point. 

The tears came harder than before, and sometime during the early hours of the morning, you cried yourself to sleep. 

At least, what little sleep your aching heart allowed. 

You weren’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, you stopped caring whether the sun rose and the day began. 

Life was beginning to lose its purpose.

Without Pope, everything felt meaningless.

The days blurred together. The house felt too quiet. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t have him in it.

Deran grew so concerned about you that after a few days, he started dragging you to the bar with him. He claimed he needed the extra help, but you both knew that wasn’t the real reason. He just didn’t want you sitting home alone.

Deran and J wasted no time making arrangements. Whatever favors needed to be called in were called. Whatever money needed to change hands did. 

One way or another, they were going to make sure Pope was taken care of on the inside. 

The morning of the visit, you almost backed out.

You’d spent days barely holding yourself together, and now you were expected to sit across from Pope and see him like this.

Behind glass.

Like a stranger.

Like a criminal.

Deran noticed your hesitation the second you walked into the kitchen.

“You ready?” he asked.

No. 

Not even clsoe.

Still, you nodded. 

The drive to the jail passed in a blur. Deran tried making conversation a few times, but neither of you had much to say.

The reality of where you were going sat heavily between you.

By the time you arrived, your stomach was in knots.

The correctional officer led you through a series of locked doors before stopping in front of a visitation room. 

Rows of thick glass divided the room in half.

Telephones hung from the walls on either side. 

Your chest tightened. 

This was real.

Pope was really here.

The officer directed you and Deran toward a pair of chairs. “Wait here.”

You sat down. 

Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Minutes ticked by. Then the door on the opposite side opened.

You breath caught. 

Pope stepped into the room. 

For a moment, nobody moved.

He still looked good. Hair still dark and curly. He might have been a little thinner. 

But something was missing from his eyes. 

Something defeated.

The sight of him nearly broke you. 

Slowly, he lowered himself into the chair across from you. The glass separating you felt a thousand miles thick. You stared at each other. Neither of you knowing where to begin. 

Eventially, Pope reached for the phone.

You did the same. 

The second his voice came through the receiver, your eyes filled with tears. 

“Hey.”

His voice was rough. Like he hadn’t used it much. 

You swallowed hard. “Hey.”

A sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Neither of you spoke for several seconds. You were too busy looking at him. Memorizing him. Trying to convince yourself he was actually sitting there.

Pope glanced down at the floor. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words were barely audible.

Your throat tightened. 

“Andrew—”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

You felt tears spill down your cheeks. 

On the other side of the glass, Pope looked just as miserable. 

He lifted a hand and placed it against the glass barrier.

Instinctively, you mirrored the gesture. Your palm pressed against the glass directly across from his. 

So close.

Yet completely unable to touch him. 

The reality of it shattered whatever composure you had left. 

“I miss you,” you whispered.

Pope closed his eyes. 

For a second, he looked like the words physically hurt him.

When he opened them again, they were glassy. 

“I miss you too.”

Behind you, Deran quietly looked away, giving the two of you whatever privacy he could. Because for the first time since Pope had been arrested, you were finally together. 

And somehow, the glass between you made his absene hurt even more. 

Pope looked away first, his jaw tightening as he stared down at the phone in his hand.

"How's Lena?"

The question came softer than everything else, like it cost him something just to ask.

You swallowed before answering.

"She's okay."

Pope's eyes searched yours immediately.

"Yeah?"

You nodded.

"She's still with the foster family."

A flicker of emotion crossed his face.

"They take good care of her, Andrew. She's got friends there. She's doing well in school."

Pope listened quietly.

You knew how hard that decision had been for him.

"I went to see her last week," you continued gently. "She's happy."

For a moment, he looked down at the phone in his hand.

Then he nodded.

A small, sad smile touched his lips.

"Good."

His voice was rough.

"That's good."

The smile disappeared as quickly as it came.

"She shouldn't have to deal with this," he muttered.

"Andrew—"

"She already lost her dad." His voice cracked. "She lost her mom. Smurf. Now this."

He swallowed hard, struggling to hold himself together.

"I don't want her dragged through court."

Your chest tightened.

"They told me what the detective said," you whispered.

Pope let out a humorless breath. "Yeah."

His eyes finally lifted to yours.

"They would've brought Lena into it. Put her on a stand. Made her hear everything."

A tear slipped down your cheek.

"Andrew—"

"I can't do that to her."

The words were final. Unshakable.

"I won't."

Silence settled between you, heavy and suffocating.

Then his gaze shifted, sharper now.

"Same goes for you."

Your breath caught. "What?"

"They were already talking about you," he said, grip tightening on the phone. "Saying you knew. Saying they could charge you."

"It doesn't matter," you said quickly.

"It matters to me."

That was the first real crack in his voice.

"It matters."

His eyes shone now, held too much in them.

"I already ruined enough lives."

"No," you said immediately.

"Yes."

The word came out rough.

"Lena," he said quietly.

"J. Craig. Deran."

Then, almost barely audible—

"You."

Your heart broke at that.

You leaned closer to the glass.

"Look at me."

He didn't move at first.

"Andrew."

Slowly, his eyes lifted.

And when they met yours, you felt everything inside you tighten.

"I love you," you said softly.

The words hung in the space between you, heavy and absolute.

Pope's breath hitched.

His eyes closed for a second, like it physically hurt to hear it.

When he opened them again, they were glassy.

"I don't deserve that," he whispered.

"That's not your choice," you said.

Your hand pressed harder against the glass.

"And I'm not going anywhere."

A tear slipped down his cheek.

You swallowed hard, voice shaking but steady enough to hold him.

"I love you, Andrew."

This time, he didn't argue.

He just looked at you like he was trying to memorize the sound of it.

Like it was something he might lose again the second he blinked.

Slowly, he lifted his hand and pressed it to the glass over yours.

And for the first time since he'd been locked inside those walls, he didn't look completely alone.

[thatsthatbridepresso]

You guys are gonna hate me but I want to write Sammy Bryant

[thatsthatbridepresso]

And what if I wrote Pope Cody in prison and the reader dealing with it? What then?

Would all read?

YES

No

Voting ended onJun 13

[thatsthatbridepresso]

Now I’m debating make Pope a twin dad????

[thatsthatbridepresso]

I need to write some of my Robby Robinavitch.

I miss him.

[thatsthatbridepresso]

Quick…..for science…..since people agree Pope Cody deserves his own family. Would he be…..

A boy dad then maybe a daughter

A girl dad

Voting ended onJun 10

[thatsthatbridepresso]

Monsters and Mountain Men

Rating: Read warnings below!

Warnings: really just tooth-rotting, sweet fluff. A small warning alluding to sex at the end and having another baby but other than that, it's soft.

Author's Note: This idea came to me very late and even though I am busy with a shit work schedule this week and college, I had to get this out of my head. I was also insired by the latest pics of Shawn 🤪 Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! For my besie @josephs-quinns

Between raising a daughter and working nights as an ER attending, Jack Abbot rarely had a moment to himself. Yet no matter how long the hours or how heavy the exhaustion settled into his bones, he always made time for his daughter and you. Somehow, he never stopped showing up. Today was no different. 

After twelve relentless hours at PTMC, Jack was running on little more than caffeine and stubborn determination. Yet as he stepped out of his truck and looked toward the warm glow of the house, a small smile tugged at his lips. He knew exactly what was waiting for him on the other side of that door. 

With a tired sigh, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and grabbed the stainless-steel tumbler that had carried him through the night. Empty now, it swung lightly from his hand as he climbed the front steps. With his free hand, he fished around in his pocket until his fingers found the familiar shape of his key. 

He eased the key into the lock and slipped through the front door as quietly as he could. Chances were you and his baby girl were still asleep, and he intended to keep it that way. The house was peaceful, and after the chaos of the emergency room, he found himself reluctant to disturb it.

He dragged a hand down his face, feeling the coarse stubble that had taken over his jaw over the last few days. Shaving had fallen somewhere near the bottom of his priority list.

Easing out of his tennis shoes, he left them by the door and carefully set his backpack beside them. The house was quiet, the kind of peaceful silence that only existed in the hours before the rest of the world woke up.

He crossed the hardwood floor on silent feet and slipped into the kitchen. Setting his tumbler in the sink, he winced at the faint metallic clink that broke the stillness, then paused to listen. When no movement followed, he continued on, relieved he hadn’t disturbed anyone. 

He decided a quick shower downstairs was in order before making his way upstairs. Then he’d crawl into bed beside you, burying himself in the familiar comfort of your arms and the scent of your shampoo before exhaustion finally claimed him. It had become a rountine neither of you ever spoke about, but one he looked forward to after every shift. 

In a few hours, you’d wake before he did. You always did. While he caught up on the sleep he’d sacrificed all night for strangers, you’d keep your daughter occupied downstairs, filling the house with breakfast, cartoons, and quiet laughter so Daddy could rest a little longer. 

As the hot water poured of him, Jack felt some of the day’s weight begin to slide from his shoulders. Twelve hours of chaos, fluroscent lights, and life-or-death decisions swirled down the drain along with the soap and sweat. 

By the time he shut off the water, the knot between his shoulder blades had loosened, if only a little.

He grabbed a towel and dried himself off, the familiar scent of fresh detergent clinging to the fabric. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

You always made sure the towels smelled good. 

Dressed in a pair of sleep pants, he paused in front of the mirror and studied his reflection. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and several days worth of stubble covered his jaw,. 

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath.

He looked exhausted.

Worse than exhausted, really. Worn down. Like the last few weeks had caught up to him all at once. 

It felt worse than when his daughter had first been born. At least back then, there’d been a reason for the sleepless nights. Tiny cries at three in the morning. Bottles. Diapers. The indescribable joy of holding his little girl against his chest. 

This?

This was just work. Endless, exhausting work. 

He decided—one again—that shaving could wait. Another day. Maybe two. At this rate, he might accidentally end up with a beard. 

The thought made him huff out a quiet laugh.

Leaving the bathroom behind, he made his way upstairs, careful to avoid the creaky spots he knew by heart. The house remained silent around him as he climbed the staircase and headed down the hall toward the master bedroom. 

The door was closed.

Of course it was.

You always slept with the door shut. Whether it was for privacy, comfort, or simply habit, he wasn’t entirely sure anymore. He’d stopped questioning it years ago. Now the sight of the closed door waiting for him at the end of a long shift felt oddly comforting—a small sign he was finally home. 

He took a deep breath as his hand settled on the doorknob. Turning it carefully, he eased the door open, mindful not to disturb the peaceful scene he was certain awaited him on the other side. 

As the door cracked open, you came into view.

You were curled up on your side of the bed, buried beneath the blankets, your hair spread across the pillow.

A smile immediately tugged at Jack’s lips.

Then his gaze shifted, and the smile grew.

Nestled beside of you was your four-year-old daughter, fast asleep and sprawled halfway across the mattress as if she owned it. One tiny hand rested against your shoulder, her favorite stuffed animal trapped beneath her arm.

Of course she’d ended up in your bed.

She must have wandered in sometime during the night after another bad dream or a sudden need for Mommy cuddles. 

The sight alone was enough to melt away what remained of the exhaustion clinging to him. After twelve hours spent dealing witht he worst moments of other people’s lives, this felt like stepping into a different world entirely. 

His world.

Jack quietly crossed to your side of the bed and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. His fingers slopped through your hair, brushing a few stray strands away from your face. 

“Hey, baby,” he murmured. 

You let out a sleepy hum, your eyes still closed.

“Mornin’,” you mumbled. 

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You awake?”

“Barely.”

Your hand drifted up, finding his jaw. The moment your fingertips brushed the rough stubbe there, you paused.

A sleepy frown crossed your face.

“Ow.”

Jack snorted. “Ow?”

You rubbed your thumb against his jaw again. “Your face is scratchy.” 

“I just got home.”

“Mhm.” Your voice was thick with sleep. “And still haven’t shaved in days.”

He laughed quietly. “Is that a complaint?”

“It’s an observation.”

Your eyes fluttered open just enough to look at him. “A very, sexy concerning observation.”

Jack shook his head. “It isn’t that bad.”

“It absolutely is.” You yawned. “You kissed me and I thought a cactus had attacked my forehead.” 

That earned a geniune laugh from him. 

His gaze drifted down to your daughter, curled uop between the two of you, her stuffed rabbit tucked tightly against her chest. 

“What happened here?”, he whispered.

You glanced down at her, your expression immediately softening. “Bad dream.”

His smile faded into concern. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Came into our room around two in the morning crying about a monster in her closet.” You brushed a hand through your daughter’s messy hair. “I checked three times, but apparently sleeping with Mommy fixed everything.”

A sleepy chuckled escaped Jack. “Sounds serious.”

“Oh, extremely serious. The monster was apparently ‘this big’.” You held your fingers a few inches apart. “Terrifying stuff.”

He smiled, watching his daughter sleep peacefully now.  “My poor baby girl.” 

Careful not to wake her, Jack leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. 

The moment his stubbel brushed her skin, your daughter scrunched up her face in her sleep and let out a displeased little whine. 

“She was okay after a few cuddles.” You glanced back up at him. “Though she did steal your side of the bed.”

Jack looked at the little girl sprawled diagonally across the mattress and huffed a laugh. Her tiny hand came up and rubbed the spot on her forehead before she burrowed deeper into the pillow, still fast asleep. 

You immediately bit down on your lip, fighting a laugh.

“Even she thinks it’s scratchy.” 

Jack groaned. “She’s four.”

“And yet she still agress with me.”

“I will shave soon,” Jack sighed, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Mhm.”

“I will.”

“That’s what you said three days ago.”

Then your hand found his jaw again. “I do mean it, though.”

Jack looked back at you. “What?”

“The stubble.”

A sleepy smile curved your lips.

“It’s sexy.”

His chest warmed instantly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, almost makes me want another one of these with you.”

You nodded towards your daughter. 

“Maybe we can arrange that. Later.”, he laughed before kissing you on the lips. 

“But seriously,” you began, breaking the kiss. “If it gets much longer, our daughter is gonna start introducing you as a mountain man.”

Jack laughed hard enough that he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from waking her.

“Now come to bed, mountain man”, you whispered, lifting the comforter for him. “Before you fall asleep standing up.”

Jack carefully climbed beneath the blankets, trying not to disturb his daughter. The moment he settled in, she instinctively scooted toward him in her sleep, throwing a leg across his waist.

You snorted. “Looks like she missed you.”

Jack wrapped an arm around her tiny frame and smiled, careful to kiss her hair this time. “Missed her too.” 

There was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. 

[thatsthatbridepresso]

Just wanna write fan fiction but I have responsibilities like working and going for my masters 🫩