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Anytime someone comments or reblogs this chapter I get so emotional I miss Bradley and Maggie’s letters 😭

Come Back [Chapter 11][Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC]

Summary: Eight years ago, Bradley Bradshaw was just a college boyfriend who broke your heart. Now, he’s back in your life after a coincidental reunion, and he’s adamant about starting up a friendship. Will it be possible to be just friends with Bradley, or is he inevitably going to end up ruining everything you’ve spent the better part of a decade rebuilding?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x OC [Nurse Maggie Brooms]

WC: 2.4K

Warnings: Cursing, angst, mention of death

Series masterlist

You hesitated, the letter heating up in your hand, as you sat in your car outside of Bradley’s house. 

The paper felt white hot and you wanted to drop it on the floor of the car, drive away and pretend you had never made the trek out to Gooseberry Lane. 

It was the middle of the day on a Wednesday, there was only a very slim chance he was home. Still, your heart pounded in your chest as you got out, making your way up the path to the front door. Yes, you had written the letter with the intent that he would read it. But you were afraid to see Bradley in person. Talk to him face-to-face. 

You still weren’t ready. 

Thankfully there was no movement on the other side of the door as you slipped the letter underneath. 

Back in the car, you leaned your head back against the head rest and took a deep breath, your heart still pounding. 

Leaving that letter felt like taking the first step back to him.

***

Dear Maggie,

Tell me something about yourself. Something that I don’t know. I’m desperate to learn about the woman that you’ve become. 

Do you still love banana cream pie, and sleeping during a rainstorm? Have you done any traveling over the last eight years? We talked about going to Paris and London together, and Hanoi in Vietnam. Did you ever make it to any of those places? If not, there’s still time. 

What do you like to do on a day that you’re not working? For some reason, I picture you having some kind of hobby, like a book club with the other nurses, or volunteering at an animal shelter. I wish I had more hobbies, honestly. But most of the time I can barely drag myself home from work, make dinner, maybe veg out in front of the TV for a bit before going to bed. It’s a lot of work, Mags, and coming home to an empty house makes it a lot less incentivizing to come home at all. 

Thank you for writing me back. I didn't expected you to. I read your letter six times back to back until my vision started to blur. 

You’re right. You were always right, even when it bothered me to admit it. You have a habit of always being correct and it would be infuriating if it wasn’t also one of the best things about you. You’re a natural leader. Always have been. 

I hate that you thought I left with no regard for how you felt. Like it didn’t kill me. Every step I took that night that took me further away from you felt like a knife was twisting itself deeper into my chest. 

You’re still the only woman who has ever said she loved me. You’re the only person I’ve said I love you to. I’ve never wanted to be loved by anyone but you. 

You told me a long time ago that sometimes people stay. The boy on the receiving end of those words was too afraid to admit that you were offering a lifeline. He thought you were just saying that because it was what you were meant to say in those types of situations. He didn’t realize that you meant it. He didn’t realize that choosing you would change everything. 

I took you for granted. I took your love for granted, Maggie. And I’m sorry. 

Now I know I promised a letter every day for the foreseeable future, and I’m sorry to have to backtrack on that promise. We just got word that we’re shipping off for a mission tomorrow, so this will be the last letter for a while. Not sure how long I’ll be gone. Could be a week, could be three months. If I get a chance to write, I will, I promise. Don’t worry about me, OK? Not that you would, but if you did just know that we’ll be fine. It’s the job, after all. 

I love you, Maggie Brooms. I’m not afraid to say it or shout it or morse code it or buy a light up sign that says it and put it in my front window for the neighborhood to see. Even if one day, maybe tomorrow, maybe in five years from now, you wake up and want to call it quits on me, I will still love you. I’m going to love you my entire life, no matter what. 

I promise to come home soon. It’s different when I know that you’re there, potentially waiting for me. You make everything so much better. 

Love, 

Bradley 

***

A week went by. And then two. No other letters arrived. You resorted to rereading the ones he had sent over the three weeks between your fight and when he left on the mission.

What kind of Christmas traditions did you have growing up? My parents always let me stay up until midnight on Christmas Eve and I’d get to open one present and sit by the fire and in the morning my mom would make chocolate chip pancakes. I still think about those pancakes every Christmas. 

***

Do you remember Professor Keller in the English department? How he always smelled vaguely of Cheez-Its and there would be little smudges of coffee on the papers he graded and handed back? I saw him a few years ago, when I went back to UVA for a visit. I was doing some Naval recruiting and he spotted me and instantly recognized me. I thought that was so funny because I had to rack my brain for a second to remember his name. And he’s probably had ten thousand students in his classes since we graduated, but he still remembered me. Makes you wonder who is just out thinking of you at any given time. 

***

I think I saw you, once, a few years back. At the time I didn’t know you were a nurse. You had scrubs on, and were getting into your car. It was the parking lot of a grocery store. The team had sent me out on a beer run on a Friday afternoon. I saw your hair and part of your face, before you turned and shut the door. It was like every single cell in my body started to hum at once. I felt like I was shaking from the inside out. I thought about running up to you. Part of me was so fucking desperate to see if it was you. But then the rational part of me said there was no way. It couldn’t be that easy to find you again after all these years. But then that stupid darts game. I shouldn’t call it stupid. If I hadn't bet Hangman that he could throw the darts after two shotskis and with a blindfold, he never would have missed. That dart never would have almost taken my eye out, Coyote wouldn’t have tackled Hangman, the three of us never would have ended up in your ER that Tuesday morning. It was fate, Mags.

***

There’s talk of a mission. You haven’t been through this before so I’ll give you an overview. I can’t tell you much. Just when I’m leaving. I won’t know how long I’m gone for, and I can’t tell you where I’m going. All I can tell you is that knowing you’re on the other side waiting for me is going to make this the hardest mission I’ve ever flown. I watched my mother grieve my father for years. I was too young to really understand when it happened. But I know that life isn’t easy. Waiting for someone who may or may not come home. 

***

I can’t believe we’ve spent years living in the same twenty square miles without knowing it. If I had known, all this time, how close you were, I never would have been able to stop thinking about it. I would have driven down every street, rang every doorbell, if it meant that there was a chance one day someone would open the door and it would be you. 

***

I’ve missed holding you in my arms while you sleep. You’re not a cute sleeper, Mags, sorry to break it to you. Your mouth hangs open a little, and you get this tiny patch of drool that pools in the corner, and your hair is always a mess because you never wear it in a braid or a bun to sleep. But guess what? You’re the most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen when you’re like that. I think I fell more in love with you every time I woke up next to you. You captivated me. 

***

What you didn’t realize the first night we met was that I had been watching you for weeks before that night. Not in a creepy, stalker way. We had intro to art history together that semester. I spotted you right away. Shiny brown hair, your easy laugh as you slid into a seat next to Kailey in the second row of the cold auditorium. The way you pushed up the sleeves of your sweatshirt and hunched over your notebook in deep concentration during the slideshow presentations. Anyway, I had spotted you weeks before you laid your eyes on me that night at Trinity. I watched you make out with Bernie Colemine that gross junior. Watched as he flicked his inexperienced tongue down your throat, saw you almost gag right there into his mouth. So I spilled that full beer down his back. It might have been the only shot I had with you. Despite what you thought, Mags, I was not as much of a player as you made me out to be. From that night on, you were the only girl for me. You showed up to my room and stripped down to your underwear and I swear I almost had a heart attack. It was one of the most difficult things I’d ever done not to touch you. My hands burned at my sides all night from the deep desire to run my fingers across every inch of your skin. Memorize you. Map you. Worship you. But I didn’t want to scare you away. A part of me has always been terrified of scaring you away. I know you like puzzles, Mags, but sometimes I worry that I’m one problem you just can’t fix. 

***

The team wants to see you again. Bob got all pink in the ears when your name was brought up and I have half a mind to tell him that you’re mine. But it wouldn’t be true, would it? I can’t stop you from dating Bob. He’s a good guy. Now if you got within ten feet of Hangman, that’s another story. Anyway, they liked you. Phoenix asked where my friend was the other day. They don’t know about our fight. They don’t really know the whole story. So what do you say, Mags? Come out with us again. I promise, I won’t let you get as drunk as last time. 

***

Twenty days after his last letter, you came home to see the corner of a new letter wedged inside the mailbox. You couldn’t pull it out fast enough, bending it in half trying to yank it free from the metal jaws of the letter box, swinging open the front door of your townhouse and tossing your purse haphazardly on the ground, finger already sliding under the seam of the seal. 

Dear Maggie,

We made it. I’m writing this letter on the carrier home as we speak, and I’ll drop it off the moment we hit land. 

That wasn’t an easy one. They never are, but seems like lately they keep getting worse. Every time I look around at the team we look older. Wearier. It weighs on us. 

I missed you. I wrote you a few letters while we were gone, but I never got a chance to ship them off, so I’m sorry about that. I’ll give them to you sometime soon. 

Sorry for the short note tonight. I’m exhausted, sweetheart. I wish more than anything that I could come home to you. Wrap my arms around you from behind, breathe in the smell of your hair. Do you still use rosemary and mint shampoo? I used to love that smell. 

I miss the way you feel in my arms. I miss the way the mattress would dip as you’d crawl in beside me. I miss the way you press your thumbs into my temples to rub away a headache. I miss the sound of your voice in the morning and the way you sigh when you think I’m being insufferable. I miss the fact that you butter your bread before making a peanut butter sandwich and the way that you insist on driving with the windows rolled down even when it’s cold outside. 

I realized on the carrier that I am so fucking lucky to have loved you enough to miss all of these things. You have no idea the hole you left in my chest, Maggie Brooms. 

I love you. 

Bradley 

***

Your fingers hit dial before you could even put the letter down. 

“Hello?” his voice was groggy, like he had just woken up. You looked down at the phone screen. It was almost midnight. 

“Bradley? It’s me.” 

“Mags?” You heard the rustle of sheets, like he was sitting up in bed. “Honey, is everything alright? What’s going on, why are you calling me?” 

You rolled your eyes, mostly to yourself. “Friends call, Bradley.” 

You had expected him to chuckle at the call back to your first friend date months before. But there was only silence on the other end of the phone. Then, “I don’t want to just be friends, Maggie,” Bradley said softly and you felt yourself gripping the phone tightly, your fingers wrapped around the edges. “If that’s what you want, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you need. But I want you. I want all of you. I promise I will do my best not to fuck it up this time. But God, Maggie, I want you to come back to me. I really do.” 

“I don’t want to just be friends either,” you admitted quietly. 

“No?” he asked, shock threaded through the word. 

You shook your head. “How soon can you be here?” 

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Can you imagine???

The Backup || Chapter 10

[Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader]

A friends with benefits AU

Overview: No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Chapter summary: In New York, Y/N decides what she finally wants in life.

Warnings: Cursing, angst

WC: 2K

Previous chapter here; masterlist here

[Please see note at the end, tag list is closed but please follow/turn on notifications for my library page @ereardonlibrary instead]

Three months later 

“Meet me on Sixth and Thirteenth?” You listened for the response and nodded to yourself before saying goodbye and ending the call. 

March in New York was a crapshoot weather wise. It could go from sunny and seventies to snowy and slushy overnight. You hadn’t realized how much you had taken San Francisco’s mild weather for granted until you left. 

You were different in New York. You worked long hours, sure. But you made time for yourself in a way you hadn’t in San Francisco. It wasn’t going to bars every night and showing up hungover to pilates. You walked along the High Line and you shopped at the Union Square Green Market and you made friends with an older woman who lived downstairs. You were practically the only person who ever moved to New York and learned how to slow down. 

As you stood huddled in your jacket on the corner outside the bagel shop, you looked around. Everyone was bustling. There was a sense of urgency with everyone in the city. It didn’t matter if you were going to get groceries or a pedicure or you were late for a meeting. Everything felt like an emergency.

You had tried to turn things around the moment you touched down at JFK. 

“Hey Sweets.” Javy rounded the corner, hands in his pockets, pressing a kiss to your cheek and grinning. “How’s it going?” 

“Starving,” you replied, opening the door. “Bagel please.” 

Ten minutes later, you and Javy left the bagel shop and were spat back onto Sixth Avenue. “Which way?” he asked. 

You cocked your head to the left. “Let’s go to the park.” 

The two of you made your way south toward Washington Square Park. It had become a regular spot, Javy’s office at NYU just around the corner, and only a few stops away from your apartment in Tribeca. 

“Phoenix called me yesterday,” you said as the two of you settled onto a bench on the outskirts of the park. 

“Oh yeah?” Javy peeled back the wrapping on his bagel. “What did she say?” 

“She’s moving.” You bit into a pickle. “Atlanta.” 

Javy frowned. “Georgia? Really?” 

You shrugged. “She got an offer for a new clinic down there and she’s excited.” 

“What about Bob?” he asked. “And Bradshaw.” There was a pause. “And Jake?” 

“Bob and Bradley are moving in together,” you replied. “And she didn’t say what Jake is doing.” 

“Have you talked to him?” 

You shook your head. “No.” 

“So he doesn’t know?” 

You looked up. “No.” 

“Sweets. You have to tell him.” 

“I blew it,” you whispered. “I ruined everything. No way would he want me now.” 

Javy put his hand on your knee. “If you still love him, he deserves to know.” 

***

You lifted one hand, knocking on the door. It swung open a moment later, Liam’s grin and tall figure filling the doorway. “Hey babe,” he said, leaning down and planting a kiss on your lips. “Come in.” 

You stepped inside Liam’s East Village apartment. It was warm and cozy, bookshelves lining an entire wall, windows overlooking Eleventh Street with a fire escape that you could sit on, bohemian-style chairs and worn blankets slung over the leather couch. It looked exactly like you expected it would look. 

As you swiveled around, Liam frowned. “Where are your bags?” 

“Liam,” you whispered. “We should sit.” 

He folded himself onto a chair and you settled into the deep leather sofa, hands knotted together in your lap. “Y/N?” he said, deep voice surrounding you. “What’s going on?” 

You looked up. “What do you like about me?” 

Liam frowned. “What? What is this about?” 

“What do you like about me?” you repeated. 

“You’re smart,” he said after a moment. “And nice.” 

You shook your head. “I am not nice.” 

Liam leaned forward. “Babe. What is this about?” 

“I like you,” you whispered. “You’re gorgeous and kind and smart and thoughtful.” 

“Thank you.” 

“But I don’t think you really love me.” 

His face darkened. “What does that mean?” 

“I don’t think you know me well enough to love me, flaws and all,” you replied. “I think you want someone to hold onto. And I was there. You’ve heard that saying, right? Women fall in love with the right man. Men fall in love with a woman when it’s the right time.” You leaned forward, taking one of his hands in yours. “I think this is the right time for you. I’m just not the right woman.” 

Liam’s face fell. You watched his features, so carefully etched into his perfect skin, droop with sadness. “I don’t think that’s true,” he murmured. 

“You deserve someone who loves you with their whole heart,” you said gently. “Not just a piece of it.” 

“So that’s what this is about? It’s about Jake.” 

“Yes,” you replied. “And no. It’s about him and it’s not about him. It’s about you thinking you love me. But one day, it might be in two months or two years or twenty years, you’re going to wake up and realize that I’m not the woman for you, Liam. I’m not who you’re meant to be with.”

“How do you know that?” he insisted. “How can you be sure we’re so wrong for each other?” 

“Because if it was right,” you whispered, “then I wouldn’t feel like this.” You stood up, reaching out, and he folded you into his arms. You rested your head against his broad chest, inhaled his familiar scent for the last time. When you finally pulled back, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his gently. He tasted like he had that very first time, but that was all. Nothing groundbreaking. “Bye, Liam.” 

You stepped away and headed for the door. A part of you expected him to try and stop you. But he didn’t. He was notably silent as you entered the hallway, the door shutting behind you. 

And that’s how you knew. In the elevator, you closed your eyes. If he had tried to stop you. If he had called out or grabbed your arm or done anything to try and convince you otherwise, maybe you wouldn’t have been right. 

You were never the person for Liam. You were a bandaid. A temporary fix. 

And he wasn’t Jake. 

***

“Floyd. Been a while. How’s it going?”

“The usual.” The sound of Bob’s voice floating through the phone brought a smile to your face. You missed his goofy smile, his crooked glasses, how he got a farmer’s tan wearing t-shirts at the beach on hot summer days. “Bradshaw is off with some chick he met last night.” 

You laughed. “So everything is the same.”

Bob paused. “It’s weird, you know,” he said quietly. “Without you guys here. Feels like something is missing.” 

“I miss you too.” You sucked in a breath. “How’s Jake?” 

“He’s, uh, in Texas.” You frowned into the phone. 

“Texas?” 

“He took a leave of absence,” Bob said. “Went to visit his grandmother at their ranch.” 

“When was the last time you talked to him?” 

“Two, maybe three weeks ago? Said he needed some space from the city.”

“From the city,” you whispered, “or from me?” 

Bob sighed. “You want the truth?” 

“Slice me open, Floyd,” you whispered. 

“He said the city is haunted by the ghost of you,” Bob said quietly. “That you’re around every corner. And even though he knows you’re in New York, a part of him always thinks you’re going to show up at his door.” 

Your heart crashed against your diaphragm. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?” 

There was a pause. Then, “None of us knew, Y/N. How he really felt.” 

“I had no idea,” you whispered softly. “I wish I had known.” 

“Would you have done things differently?” 

***

The air was warm on your skin. You stepped out of the rental car, hands brushing over your dress, nerves flooding every cell in your body. As you stepped up the massive porch steps, lifted one hand to the wooden door, you could feel your heart threatening to explode in your chest. 

The wait felt like minutes, hours. But only a few seconds later, the enormous wooden door slid open. 

Jake stood wearing a hat and a pair of jeans, his golden face drenched in sunlight and creased with shock. “Y/N?” he asked, squinting. “What are you—”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted. “I’m sorry I left and I’m sorry I pretended that what we had wasn’t real. Because it was. I was scared to let you in and I was scared to try and make it work because I didn’t want you to see who I really was and leave. But I’ve spent the last three months figuring out who I am by myself. I never moved to New York with Liam. I moved by myself. To figure out who I was, and what I wanted. And the one thing I realized is that nowhere will feel like home unless you’re there.” 

You stepped closer, Jake’s green eyes following you in silence. 

Tears crowded the back of your throat. “I love you, Jake. Not because I’m choosing between two lives. But because you’re the only person who has ever truly seen me and loved me and chosen me. You’re the only person who understands me, and the only person I want to spend all of my days with. I love you. I have loved you. I just was too stupid and stubborn to realize it.” A fresh flood of tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked up at Jake. “I’m packed. I gave up my apartment in the city. I’ll go anywhere you want. I’ll go back to San Francisco. I’ll become a Texan. I don’t care where I live. I spent three months figuring out who I am. But all I know is that I’ll never be happy unless I’m with you.” You paused. “Jake?” 

He opened his mouth to respond. 

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Been very MIA with fic updates, dealing with some personal and work things. Will be sporadic to update over the next few weeks as I'm traveling this weekend and next, so bear with me! xx

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Haha I want to quit and be a stay at home wife so fucking bad

Girlboss era is over

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💕

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Nine

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Ducky and Bob have a heart-to-heart after his accident

WC: 1.7K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

You were officially in your second trimester. Twelve weeks. 

You stood in the mirror, holding your hands against your lower stomach. There was a definitive bulge. More than gas or constipation or a food baby. 

A real baby. 

“Y/N?” Jake’s voice floated through the apartment. “I’m home.” 

“One sec,” you called out, pulling your loose shirt back down. You didn’t want him to see it. Even though the secret was out, you still felt like it was just for you to know it was there. In the kitchen, Jake set down a pizza and a bag of groceries. 

“I got dinner.” 

“I’m starving,” you replied, sitting down on a chair at the table and flinging the box open. “Hell yes.” 

He chuckled, leaning back against the cabinets, green eyes watching you greedily as you pulled a cheesy slice out, savoring it on your tongue. “That baby is going to be thirty pounds and twenty of it is going to be cheese.” 

“Shut up,” you replied between mouthfuls. “It’s your fault if they’re enormous. Isn’t that the man’s genes or something?” 

“I see you’re reading the pregnancy books.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Like you are.” 

“Actually, I am.” You looked up, squinting. Jake shrugged. “What? Not much to do during training when we’re waiting for a group to do their test flight.” 

“So you’re telling me Mr. Pilot sits around and reads What To Expect When You’re Expecting between top secret dangerous missions?” 

Jake took a seat across the table and yanked on a slice of pizza. “Pretty much.” 

“You’re not what I expected,” you replied sincerely. 

His eyes landed on yours. “You’re better than I expected.” 

A silence enveloped the room. “Jake—”

Your cell phone buzzed on the table. 

“Hello?” You listened intently for a moment, eyes widening. Jake’s gaze never left yours. “Thank you,” you whispered, pulling the phone away. 

“What is it?” he asked. “Y/N? Is everything OK?” 

“It’s Bob,” you murmured. “He’s awake.” 

***

Anxiety — heavy and damp — sat in your chest, curled around your stomach, clenching your insides. You took a deep, quivering breath, and pushed the door open. 

Bobby looked up, squinting from behind his large frames. He looked thinner, the effects of being in a coma for almost five days. 

Quietly, you stepped closer. “Hi.” 

“Hi Ducky.” 

You choked back a sob. “How are you?” 

“Terrible,” he replied and you frowned, looking over at the monitors. But nothing was beeping or going insane. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. Bob shook his head. “I’m fine, honey. I just messed up.” 

“Phoenix said there was nothing that could have been done differently. That there wasn’t even time to think.” 

He shook his head and grimaced. “Not about that. I don’t care about that. I messed up with you. With us.” 

“Oh.” Your voice trembled. “Bobby, I—”

“I love you, Ducky,” he said and you felt a tear slip down your cheek. “And I fucked it all up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s OK.” 

“It’s not,” Bob said. There was an exhaustion in his voice. “You needed me. And I did the opposite of what I should have. I spent my whole life trying to be a good brother. And the second you really, truly needed me, I pushed you away.” 

“You were mad at me,” you whispered. “I messed up everything you did to get me where I was supposed to go. I get it.” 

Bob shook his head. “It’s not my job to tell you what to do with your life, Y/N.”

“You’re just realizing that?” 

He smiled softly. “I’m a little behind.” Bob paused. “Will you forgive me?” 

“Always.” 

Bob reached out a hand and you took it. How many times had you held Bob’s hand in yours? You could count very few times when you were the one taking care of him. You reached down and pulled the hem of your shirt up, exposing your bare stomach. Bob’s eyes went wide as you pressed his flat palm against your warm skin. He could feel the raised curve of your expanding belly. 

“Promise me something, Bobby,” you whispered. He nodded. “You don’t leave us again.” 

Tears flooded his eyes and you pressed down against his hand, the two of you covering the bump with your intertwined fingertips as he sobbed. After a moment, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close. Bob’s fingers gripped you, hard, holding you so tight you thought he might never let you go. “I promise, Ducky,” he whispered into your ear. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Bobby.” 

***

You had an armful of books, leaning against the front door trying to undo the lock when it swung open unexpectedly and you tumbled inside. A pair of warm arms caught you midair. “Woah!” 

Jake pushed you to an upright position, one of his hands resting on your low back, the other pressed against your arm. “What are you doing carrying all of those?” he demanded, taking the books out of your hands and putting them down on the table. 

You rolled your eyes. “I work at a library, Jake. Don’t you think I carry around books all day?” 

“Guess I never thought about it,” he said. “But I don’t like it.” 

“You don’t have to pretend to be worried about me,” you huffed. 

“Who said I’m pretending?” 

The air in the room froze. You looked up at Jake. He had obviously gotten home only minutes before you because he was still wearing his flight suit, hair tousled and sweaty, some pieces matted to his forehead. It was unfair how good he looked when you were wearing practically a potato sack, the only thing that didn’t tug against your expanding stomach. You shook your head and put your tote bag down on the ground, whirling around to face him. “I think there’s some stuff we didn’t talk about when we moved in because of everything that was going on. So maybe we need to have that conversation.” 

Jake nodded and you two took a seat on the couch. God, the cushions felt good against your screaming back. How the hell you were going to do six more months of this you weren’t sure. “Alright, darlin’, I’m listening.” 

“That,” you said, raising a finger and he frowned. “Cute pet names.” 

“I can’t call you pet names?” 

“We’re roommates, Jake. Nothing more.” 

“You’re carrying my child.” His voice tipped as he said that last word. “You’re more than a roommate and we both know it.” 

“I’m just a girl who lives in the guest room,” you whispered. 

“Is that what you want?” 

You nodded. “I want you to live your life like you would normally. Date, even.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “You want me to date?” 

“Sure.” 

Jake squinted. “Are you going to date?” 

“Nobody wants me,” you replied and his face fell. “A pregnant twenty-three-year-old? Yeah, no, not the hottest commodity on the market.” 

“But if someone asked you?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.” 

Jake’s green eyes, normally so luminous, darkened. He nodded tightly. “Got it.” 

“You should feel free to date whoever you want,” you replied. “Phoenix, maybe.” 

“Nat? Seriously?” 

“Don’t act like you haven’t been there done that.” 

His eyebrows shot up. “She told you?” 

“Yup. Really get around, don’t you?” 

“Could say the same about you.” He looked up as the realization of what he had said crossed his mind. For a moment, the room was silent. Then you laughed, and so did Jake. 

“Fuck you,” you said, chuckling. “You’re a dick.” 

“It’s my unique draw.” 

“Well your pregnant roommate isn’t going to be much of a chick magnet,” you replied, standing up. “So I would go to the girl’s house, if given the option. I’ll do the same.” 

“Are you really going to fuck random guys?” Jake asked as you made your way toward the hallway and bedroom.

You turned. “I fucked you, didn’t I?” 

***

“Be careful you idiot!” 

Bob shot you a dirty look. “Aren’t moms supposed to be nice?” 

“Not a mom yet,” you replied, hands resting on your stomach for a moment before you slapped a hot cheeto out of his hand. “Doctor said whole foods.” 

He groaned. “Can I have Hangman stay with me instead? He might actually be a better alternative.” 

“You’re stuck with me for another day,” you said, leaning back onto the couch. Bob sat in a reclining chair across from you. 

“Ducky?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You scared?” 

“Terrified.” 

“I don’t know what’s crazier. That my little sister is going to be someone’s mom. Or that I’m going to be Uncle Bobby.” 

“Uncle Bobby,” you repeated. It sounded strangely familiar on your tongue. “It fits though.” 

“So you’re not mad at me?” he asked. 

You frowned. “Think this was the longest I’ve ever stayed mad at you in my life. Except maybe the time you donated my pony collection.” 

“I couldn’t have a horse girl for a sister,” he replied. “Besides, you were fifteen.” 

“Was not!” 

“Yes you were, because it was the same year I punched Mike Turner for kissing you on the front porch.” 

“God, that feels like ages ago.” 

“You were just a kid,” Bob replied softly. “You’re still a kid to me.” 

“I’m an adult, Bobby,” you whispered. “More adult than you.” 

“Hey!” 

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” 

Bob blushed. “No time, Ducky.”

“I’ve heard stories from the team.” You raised your eyebrow. “Apparently you’re a hot commodity at the bar.” 

“Don’t listen to anything Bradshaw says.” 

“Jake said it, too.”

“Really don’t listen to anything Hangman says.” 

“Are you happy, Bobby?” 

He frowned. “Does being in a relationship automatically make you happy?” 

“No,” you sighed. “But it’s better than being alone.” 

“You’re not alone, Ducky,” Bob said quietly. “You have me. And Jake, unfortunately.” 

You leaned back against the couch. “Yeah. I have you. And Jake.” 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@blue-aconite @withahappyrefrain @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @gigisimsonmars @xomrsalliej4787xo @myfaveficrecs @mycobrakai1972 @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @justanothermagicalsara @je-suis-prest-rachel @shanimallina87

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[ereardon]

Feel good story we love to see it!

[ereardon]

✨ Gary Johnson… the man that you are ✨

[ereardon]

She’s so disillusioned!!

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Nine

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Ducky and Bob have a heart-to-heart after his accident

WC: 1.7K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

You were officially in your second trimester. Twelve weeks. 

You stood in the mirror, holding your hands against your lower stomach. There was a definitive bulge. More than gas or constipation or a food baby. 

A real baby. 

“Y/N?” Jake’s voice floated through the apartment. “I’m home.” 

“One sec,” you called out, pulling your loose shirt back down. You didn’t want him to see it. Even though the secret was out, you still felt like it was just for you to know it was there. In the kitchen, Jake set down a pizza and a bag of groceries. 

“I got dinner.” 

“I’m starving,” you replied, sitting down on a chair at the table and flinging the box open. “Hell yes.” 

He chuckled, leaning back against the cabinets, green eyes watching you greedily as you pulled a cheesy slice out, savoring it on your tongue. “That baby is going to be thirty pounds and twenty of it is going to be cheese.” 

“Shut up,” you replied between mouthfuls. “It’s your fault if they’re enormous. Isn’t that the man’s genes or something?” 

“I see you’re reading the pregnancy books.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Like you are.” 

“Actually, I am.” You looked up, squinting. Jake shrugged. “What? Not much to do during training when we’re waiting for a group to do their test flight.” 

“So you’re telling me Mr. Pilot sits around and reads What To Expect When You’re Expecting between top secret dangerous missions?” 

Jake took a seat across the table and yanked on a slice of pizza. “Pretty much.” 

“You’re not what I expected,” you replied sincerely. 

His eyes landed on yours. “You’re better than I expected.” 

A silence enveloped the room. “Jake—”

Your cell phone buzzed on the table. 

“Hello?” You listened intently for a moment, eyes widening. Jake’s gaze never left yours. “Thank you,” you whispered, pulling the phone away. 

“What is it?” he asked. “Y/N? Is everything OK?” 

“It’s Bob,” you murmured. “He’s awake.” 

***

Anxiety — heavy and damp — sat in your chest, curled around your stomach, clenching your insides. You took a deep, quivering breath, and pushed the door open. 

Bobby looked up, squinting from behind his large frames. He looked thinner, the effects of being in a coma for almost five days. 

Quietly, you stepped closer. “Hi.” 

“Hi Ducky.” 

You choked back a sob. “How are you?” 

“Terrible,” he replied and you frowned, looking over at the monitors. But nothing was beeping or going insane. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. Bob shook his head. “I’m fine, honey. I just messed up.” 

“Phoenix said there was nothing that could have been done differently. That there wasn’t even time to think.” 

He shook his head and grimaced. “Not about that. I don’t care about that. I messed up with you. With us.” 

“Oh.” Your voice trembled. “Bobby, I—”

“I love you, Ducky,” he said and you felt a tear slip down your cheek. “And I fucked it all up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s OK.” 

“It’s not,” Bob said. There was an exhaustion in his voice. “You needed me. And I did the opposite of what I should have. I spent my whole life trying to be a good brother. And the second you really, truly needed me, I pushed you away.” 

“You were mad at me,” you whispered. “I messed up everything you did to get me where I was supposed to go. I get it.” 

Bob shook his head. “It’s not my job to tell you what to do with your life, Y/N.”

“You’re just realizing that?” 

He smiled softly. “I’m a little behind.” Bob paused. “Will you forgive me?” 

“Always.” 

Bob reached out a hand and you took it. How many times had you held Bob’s hand in yours? You could count very few times when you were the one taking care of him. You reached down and pulled the hem of your shirt up, exposing your bare stomach. Bob’s eyes went wide as you pressed his flat palm against your warm skin. He could feel the raised curve of your expanding belly. 

“Promise me something, Bobby,” you whispered. He nodded. “You don’t leave us again.” 

Tears flooded his eyes and you pressed down against his hand, the two of you covering the bump with your intertwined fingertips as he sobbed. After a moment, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close. Bob’s fingers gripped you, hard, holding you so tight you thought he might never let you go. “I promise, Ducky,” he whispered into your ear. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Bobby.” 

***

You had an armful of books, leaning against the front door trying to undo the lock when it swung open unexpectedly and you tumbled inside. A pair of warm arms caught you midair. “Woah!” 

Jake pushed you to an upright position, one of his hands resting on your low back, the other pressed against your arm. “What are you doing carrying all of those?” he demanded, taking the books out of your hands and putting them down on the table. 

You rolled your eyes. “I work at a library, Jake. Don’t you think I carry around books all day?” 

“Guess I never thought about it,” he said. “But I don’t like it.” 

“You don’t have to pretend to be worried about me,” you huffed. 

“Who said I’m pretending?” 

The air in the room froze. You looked up at Jake. He had obviously gotten home only minutes before you because he was still wearing his flight suit, hair tousled and sweaty, some pieces matted to his forehead. It was unfair how good he looked when you were wearing practically a potato sack, the only thing that didn’t tug against your expanding stomach. You shook your head and put your tote bag down on the ground, whirling around to face him. “I think there’s some stuff we didn’t talk about when we moved in because of everything that was going on. So maybe we need to have that conversation.” 

Jake nodded and you two took a seat on the couch. God, the cushions felt good against your screaming back. How the hell you were going to do six more months of this you weren’t sure. “Alright, darlin’, I’m listening.” 

“That,” you said, raising a finger and he frowned. “Cute pet names.” 

“I can’t call you pet names?” 

“We’re roommates, Jake. Nothing more.” 

“You’re carrying my child.” His voice tipped as he said that last word. “You’re more than a roommate and we both know it.” 

“I’m just a girl who lives in the guest room,” you whispered. 

“Is that what you want?” 

You nodded. “I want you to live your life like you would normally. Date, even.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “You want me to date?” 

“Sure.” 

Jake squinted. “Are you going to date?” 

“Nobody wants me,” you replied and his face fell. “A pregnant twenty-three-year-old? Yeah, no, not the hottest commodity on the market.” 

“But if someone asked you?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.” 

Jake’s green eyes, normally so luminous, darkened. He nodded tightly. “Got it.” 

“You should feel free to date whoever you want,” you replied. “Phoenix, maybe.” 

“Nat? Seriously?” 

“Don’t act like you haven’t been there done that.” 

His eyebrows shot up. “She told you?” 

“Yup. Really get around, don’t you?” 

“Could say the same about you.” He looked up as the realization of what he had said crossed his mind. For a moment, the room was silent. Then you laughed, and so did Jake. 

“Fuck you,” you said, chuckling. “You’re a dick.” 

“It’s my unique draw.” 

“Well your pregnant roommate isn’t going to be much of a chick magnet,” you replied, standing up. “So I would go to the girl’s house, if given the option. I���ll do the same.” 

“Are you really going to fuck random guys?” Jake asked as you made your way toward the hallway and bedroom.

You turned. “I fucked you, didn’t I?” 

***

“Be careful you idiot!” 

Bob shot you a dirty look. “Aren’t moms supposed to be nice?” 

“Not a mom yet,” you replied, hands resting on your stomach for a moment before you slapped a hot cheeto out of his hand. “Doctor said whole foods.” 

He groaned. “Can I have Hangman stay with me instead? He might actually be a better alternative.” 

“You’re stuck with me for another day,” you said, leaning back onto the couch. Bob sat in a reclining chair across from you. 

“Ducky?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You scared?” 

“Terrified.” 

“I don’t know what’s crazier. That my little sister is going to be someone’s mom. Or that I’m going to be Uncle Bobby.” 

“Uncle Bobby,” you repeated. It sounded strangely familiar on your tongue. “It fits though.” 

“So you’re not mad at me?” he asked. 

You frowned. “Think this was the longest I’ve ever stayed mad at you in my life. Except maybe the time you donated my pony collection.” 

“I couldn’t have a horse girl for a sister,” he replied. “Besides, you were fifteen.” 

“Was not!” 

“Yes you were, because it was the same year I punched Mike Turner for kissing you on the front porch.” 

“God, that feels like ages ago.” 

“You were just a kid,” Bob replied softly. “You’re still a kid to me.” 

“I’m an adult, Bobby,” you whispered. “More adult than you.” 

“Hey!” 

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” 

Bob blushed. “No time, Ducky.”

“I’ve heard stories from the team.” You raised your eyebrow. “Apparently you’re a hot commodity at the bar.” 

“Don’t listen to anything Bradshaw says.” 

“Jake said it, too.”

“Really don’t listen to anything Hangman says.” 

“Are you happy, Bobby?” 

He frowned. “Does being in a relationship automatically make you happy?” 

“No,” you sighed. “But it’s better than being alone.” 

“You’re not alone, Ducky,” Bob said quietly. “You have me. And Jake, unfortunately.” 

You leaned back against the couch. “Yeah. I have you. And Jake.” 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@blue-aconite @withahappyrefrain @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @gigisimsonmars @xomrsalliej4787xo @myfaveficrecs @mycobrakai1972 @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @justanothermagicalsara @je-suis-prest-rachel @shanimallina87

@rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me  @kmc1989 @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @bbyvanessaa  @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @boiolay @sometimesanalice @spinning-away @na-ta-sh-aa @bobfloydsbabe @kmc1989 @rosiahills22 @palepeanutponyshoe @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @mel119g @daggerspare-standingby @grxcisxhy-wp @mrsjobarnes @csmt-m @rockbottompunk-blog @joaquinwhorres

[ereardon]

Oh he was definitely hurt!! Lovin their dynamic so far!

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Nine

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Ducky and Bob have a heart-to-heart after his accident

WC: 1.7K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

You were officially in your second trimester. Twelve weeks. 

You stood in the mirror, holding your hands against your lower stomach. There was a definitive bulge. More than gas or constipation or a food baby. 

A real baby. 

“Y/N?” Jake’s voice floated through the apartment. “I’m home.” 

“One sec,” you called out, pulling your loose shirt back down. You didn’t want him to see it. Even though the secret was out, you still felt like it was just for you to know it was there. In the kitchen, Jake set down a pizza and a bag of groceries. 

“I got dinner.” 

“I’m starving,” you replied, sitting down on a chair at the table and flinging the box open. “Hell yes.” 

He chuckled, leaning back against the cabinets, green eyes watching you greedily as you pulled a cheesy slice out, savoring it on your tongue. “That baby is going to be thirty pounds and twenty of it is going to be cheese.” 

“Shut up,” you replied between mouthfuls. “It’s your fault if they’re enormous. Isn’t that the man’s genes or something?” 

“I see you’re reading the pregnancy books.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Like you are.” 

“Actually, I am.” You looked up, squinting. Jake shrugged. “What? Not much to do during training when we’re waiting for a group to do their test flight.” 

“So you’re telling me Mr. Pilot sits around and reads What To Expect When You’re Expecting between top secret dangerous missions?” 

Jake took a seat across the table and yanked on a slice of pizza. “Pretty much.” 

“You’re not what I expected,” you replied sincerely. 

His eyes landed on yours. “You’re better than I expected.” 

A silence enveloped the room. “Jake—”

Your cell phone buzzed on the table. 

“Hello?” You listened intently for a moment, eyes widening. Jake’s gaze never left yours. “Thank you,” you whispered, pulling the phone away. 

“What is it?” he asked. “Y/N? Is everything OK?” 

“It’s Bob,” you murmured. “He’s awake.” 

***

Anxiety — heavy and damp — sat in your chest, curled around your stomach, clenching your insides. You took a deep, quivering breath, and pushed the door open. 

Bobby looked up, squinting from behind his large frames. He looked thinner, the effects of being in a coma for almost five days. 

Quietly, you stepped closer. “Hi.” 

“Hi Ducky.” 

You choked back a sob. “How are you?” 

“Terrible,” he replied and you frowned, looking over at the monitors. But nothing was beeping or going insane. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. Bob shook his head. “I’m fine, honey. I just messed up.” 

“Phoenix said there was nothing that could have been done differently. That there wasn’t even time to think.” 

He shook his head and grimaced. “Not about that. I don’t care about that. I messed up with you. With us.” 

“Oh.” Your voice trembled. “Bobby, I—”

“I love you, Ducky,” he said and you felt a tear slip down your cheek. “And I fucked it all up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s OK.” 

“It’s not,” Bob said. There was an exhaustion in his voice. “You needed me. And I did the opposite of what I should have. I spent my whole life trying to be a good brother. And the second you really, truly needed me, I pushed you away.” 

“You were mad at me,” you whispered. “I messed up everything you did to get me where I was supposed to go. I get it.” 

Bob shook his head. “It’s not my job to tell you what to do with your life, Y/N.”

“You’re just realizing that?” 

He smiled softly. “I’m a little behind.” Bob paused. “Will you forgive me?” 

“Always.” 

Bob reached out a hand and you took it. How many times had you held Bob’s hand in yours? You could count very few times when you were the one taking care of him. You reached down and pulled the hem of your shirt up, exposing your bare stomach. Bob’s eyes went wide as you pressed his flat palm against your warm skin. He could feel the raised curve of your expanding belly. 

“Promise me something, Bobby,” you whispered. He nodded. “You don’t leave us again.” 

Tears flooded his eyes and you pressed down against his hand, the two of you covering the bump with your intertwined fingertips as he sobbed. After a moment, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close. Bob’s fingers gripped you, hard, holding you so tight you thought he might never let you go. “I promise, Ducky,” he whispered into your ear. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Bobby.” 

***

You had an armful of books, leaning against the front door trying to undo the lock when it swung open unexpectedly and you tumbled inside. A pair of warm arms caught you midair. “Woah!” 

Jake pushed you to an upright position, one of his hands resting on your low back, the other pressed against your arm. “What are you doing carrying all of those?” he demanded, taking the books out of your hands and putting them down on the table. 

You rolled your eyes. “I work at a library, Jake. Don’t you think I carry around books all day?” 

“Guess I never thought about it,” he said. “But I don’t like it.” 

“You don’t have to pretend to be worried about me,” you huffed. 

“Who said I’m pretending?” 

The air in the room froze. You looked up at Jake. He had obviously gotten home only minutes before you because he was still wearing his flight suit, hair tousled and sweaty, some pieces matted to his forehead. It was unfair how good he looked when you were wearing practically a potato sack, the only thing that didn’t tug against your expanding stomach. You shook your head and put your tote bag down on the ground, whirling around to face him. “I think there’s some stuff we didn’t talk about when we moved in because of everything that was going on. So maybe we need to have that conversation.” 

Jake nodded and you two took a seat on the couch. God, the cushions felt good against your screaming back. How the hell you were going to do six more months of this you weren’t sure. “Alright, darlin’, I’m listening.” 

“That,” you said, raising a finger and he frowned. “Cute pet names.” 

“I can’t call you pet names?” 

“We’re roommates, Jake. Nothing more.” 

“You’re carrying my child.” His voice tipped as he said that last word. “You’re more than a roommate and we both know it.” 

“I’m just a girl who lives in the guest room,” you whispered. 

“Is that what you want?” 

You nodded. “I want you to live your life like you would normally. Date, even.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “You want me to date?” 

“Sure.” 

Jake squinted. “Are you going to date?” 

“Nobody wants me,” you replied and his face fell. “A pregnant twenty-three-year-old? Yeah, no, not the hottest commodity on the market.” 

“But if someone asked you?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.” 

Jake’s green eyes, normally so luminous, darkened. He nodded tightly. “Got it.” 

“You should feel free to date whoever you want,” you replied. “Phoenix, maybe.” 

“Nat? Seriously?” 

“Don’t act like you haven’t been there done that.” 

His eyebrows shot up. “She told you?” 

“Yup. Really get around, don’t you?” 

“Could say the same about you.” He looked up as the realization of what he had said crossed his mind. For a moment, the room was silent. Then you laughed, and so did Jake. 

“Fuck you,” you said, chuckling. “You’re a dick.” 

“It’s my unique draw.” 

“Well your pregnant roommate isn’t going to be much of a chick magnet,” you replied, standing up. “So I would go to the girl’s house, if given the option. I’ll do the same.” 

“Are you really going to fuck random guys?” Jake asked as you made your way toward the hallway and bedroom.

You turned. “I fucked you, didn’t I?” 

***

“Be careful you idiot!” 

Bob shot you a dirty look. “Aren’t moms supposed to be nice?” 

“Not a mom yet,” you replied, hands resting on your stomach for a moment before you slapped a hot cheeto out of his hand. “Doctor said whole foods.” 

He groaned. “Can I have Hangman stay with me instead? He might actually be a better alternative.” 

“You’re stuck with me for another day,” you said, leaning back onto the couch. Bob sat in a reclining chair across from you. 

“Ducky?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You scared?” 

“Terrified.” 

“I don’t know what’s crazier. That my little sister is going to be someone’s mom. Or that I’m going to be Uncle Bobby.” 

“Uncle Bobby,” you repeated. It sounded strangely familiar on your tongue. “It fits though.” 

“So you’re not mad at me?” he asked. 

You frowned. “Think this was the longest I’ve ever stayed mad at you in my life. Except maybe the time you donated my pony collection.” 

“I couldn’t have a horse girl for a sister,” he replied. “Besides, you were fifteen.” 

“Was not!” 

“Yes you were, because it was the same year I punched Mike Turner for kissing you on the front porch.” 

“God, that feels like ages ago.” 

“You were just a kid,” Bob replied softly. “You’re still a kid to me.” 

“I’m an adult, Bobby,” you whispered. “More adult than you.” 

“Hey!” 

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” 

Bob blushed. “No time, Ducky.”

“I’ve heard stories from the team.” You raised your eyebrow. “Apparently you’re a hot commodity at the bar.” 

“Don’t listen to anything Bradshaw says.” 

“Jake said it, too.”

“Really don’t listen to anything Hangman says.” 

“Are you happy, Bobby?” 

He frowned. “Does being in a relationship automatically make you happy?” 

“No,” you sighed. “But it’s better than being alone.” 

“You’re not alone, Ducky,” Bob said quietly. “You have me. And Jake, unfortunately.” 

You leaned back against the couch. “Yeah. I have you. And Jake.” 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@blue-aconite @withahappyrefrain @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @gigisimsonmars @xomrsalliej4787xo @myfaveficrecs @mycobrakai1972 @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @justanothermagicalsara @je-suis-prest-rachel @shanimallina87

@rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me  @kmc1989 @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @bbyvanessaa  @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @boiolay @sometimesanalice @spinning-away @na-ta-sh-aa @bobfloydsbabe @kmc1989 @rosiahills22 @palepeanutponyshoe @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @mel119g @daggerspare-standingby @grxcisxhy-wp @mrsjobarnes @csmt-m @rockbottompunk-blog @joaquinwhorres

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Nine

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Ducky and Bob have a heart-to-heart after his accident

WC: 1.7K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

You were officially in your second trimester. Twelve weeks. 

You stood in the mirror, holding your hands against your lower stomach. There was a definitive bulge. More than gas or constipation or a food baby. 

A real baby. 

“Y/N?” Jake’s voice floated through the apartment. “I’m home.” 

“One sec,” you called out, pulling your loose shirt back down. You didn’t want him to see it. Even though the secret was out, you still felt like it was just for you to know it was there. In the kitchen, Jake set down a pizza and a bag of groceries. 

“I got dinner.” 

“I’m starving,” you replied, sitting down on a chair at the table and flinging the box open. “Hell yes.” 

He chuckled, leaning back against the cabinets, green eyes watching you greedily as you pulled a cheesy slice out, savoring it on your tongue. “That baby is going to be thirty pounds and twenty of it is going to be cheese.” 

“Shut up,” you replied between mouthfuls. “It’s your fault if they’re enormous. Isn’t that the man’s genes or something?” 

“I see you’re reading the pregnancy books.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Like you are.” 

“Actually, I am.” You looked up, squinting. Jake shrugged. “What? Not much to do during training when we’re waiting for a group to do their test flight.” 

“So you’re telling me Mr. Pilot sits around and reads What To Expect When You’re Expecting between top secret dangerous missions?” 

Jake took a seat across the table and yanked on a slice of pizza. “Pretty much.” 

“You’re not what I expected,” you replied sincerely. 

His eyes landed on yours. “You’re better than I expected.” 

A silence enveloped the room. “Jake—”

Your cell phone buzzed on the table. 

“Hello?” You listened intently for a moment, eyes widening. Jake’s gaze never left yours. “Thank you,” you whispered, pulling the phone away. 

“What is it?” he asked. “Y/N? Is everything OK?” 

“It’s Bob,” you murmured. “He’s awake.” 

***

Anxiety — heavy and damp — sat in your chest, curled around your stomach, clenching your insides. You took a deep, quivering breath, and pushed the door open. 

Bobby looked up, squinting from behind his large frames. He looked thinner, the effects of being in a coma for almost five days. 

Quietly, you stepped closer. “Hi.” 

“Hi Ducky.” 

You choked back a sob. “How are you?” 

“Terrible,” he replied and you frowned, looking over at the monitors. But nothing was beeping or going insane. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. Bob shook his head. “I’m fine, honey. I just messed up.” 

“Phoenix said there was nothing that could have been done differently. That there wasn’t even time to think.” 

He shook his head and grimaced. “Not about that. I don’t care about that. I messed up with you. With us.” 

“Oh.” Your voice trembled. “Bobby, I—”

“I love you, Ducky,” he said and you felt a tear slip down your cheek. “And I fucked it all up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s OK.” 

“It’s not,” Bob said. There was an exhaustion in his voice. “You needed me. And I did the opposite of what I should have. I spent my whole life trying to be a good brother. And the second you really, truly needed me, I pushed you away.” 

“You were mad at me,” you whispered. “I messed up everything you did to get me where I was supposed to go. I get it.” 

Bob shook his head. “It’s not my job to tell you what to do with your life, Y/N.”

“You’re just realizing that?” 

He smiled softly. “I’m a little behind.” Bob paused. “Will you forgive me?” 

“Always.” 

Bob reached out a hand and you took it. How many times had you held Bob’s hand in yours? You could count very few times when you were the one taking care of him. You reached down and pulled the hem of your shirt up, exposing your bare stomach. Bob’s eyes went wide as you pressed his flat palm against your warm skin. He could feel the raised curve of your expanding belly. 

“Promise me something, Bobby,” you whispered. He nodded. “You don’t leave us again.” 

Tears flooded his eyes and you pressed down against his hand, the two of you covering the bump with your intertwined fingertips as he sobbed. After a moment, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close. Bob’s fingers gripped you, hard, holding you so tight you thought he might never let you go. “I promise, Ducky,” he whispered into your ear. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Bobby.” 

***

You had an armful of books, leaning against the front door trying to undo the lock when it swung open unexpectedly and you tumbled inside. A pair of warm arms caught you midair. “Woah!” 

Jake pushed you to an upright position, one of his hands resting on your low back, the other pressed against your arm. “What are you doing carrying all of those?” he demanded, taking the books out of your hands and putting them down on the table. 

You rolled your eyes. “I work at a library, Jake. Don’t you think I carry around books all day?” 

“Guess I never thought about it,” he said. “But I don’t like it.” 

“You don’t have to pretend to be worried about me,” you huffed. 

“Who said I’m pretending?” 

The air in the room froze. You looked up at Jake. He had obviously gotten home only minutes before you because he was still wearing his flight suit, hair tousled and sweaty, some pieces matted to his forehead. It was unfair how good he looked when you were wearing practically a potato sack, the only thing that didn’t tug against your expanding stomach. You shook your head and put your tote bag down on the ground, whirling around to face him. “I think there’s some stuff we didn’t talk about when we moved in because of everything that was going on. So maybe we need to have that conversation.” 

Jake nodded and you two took a seat on the couch. God, the cushions felt good against your screaming back. How the hell you were going to do six more months of this you weren’t sure. “Alright, darlin’, I’m listening.” 

“That,” you said, raising a finger and he frowned. “Cute pet names.” 

“I can’t call you pet names?” 

“We’re roommates, Jake. Nothing more.” 

“You’re carrying my child.” His voice tipped as he said that last word. “You’re more than a roommate and we both know it.” 

“I’m just a girl who lives in the guest room,” you whispered. 

“Is that what you want?” 

You nodded. “I want you to live your life like you would normally. Date, even.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “You want me to date?” 

“Sure.” 

Jake squinted. “Are you going to date?” 

“Nobody wants me,” you replied and his face fell. “A pregnant twenty-three-year-old? Yeah, no, not the hottest commodity on the market.” 

“But if someone asked you?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.” 

Jake’s green eyes, normally so luminous, darkened. He nodded tightly. “Got it.” 

“You should feel free to date whoever you want,” you replied. “Phoenix, maybe.” 

“Nat? Seriously?” 

“Don’t act like you haven’t been there done that.” 

His eyebrows shot up. “She told you?” 

“Yup. Really get around, don’t you?” 

“Could say the same about you.” He looked up as the realization of what he had said crossed his mind. For a moment, the room was silent. Then you laughed, and so did Jake. 

“Fuck you,” you said, chuckling. “You’re a dick.” 

“It’s my unique draw.” 

“Well your pregnant roommate isn’t going to be much of a chick magnet,” you replied, standing up. “So I would go to the girl’s house, if given the option. I’ll do the same.” 

“Are you really going to fuck random guys?” Jake asked as you made your way toward the hallway and bedroom.

You turned. “I fucked you, didn’t I?” 

***

“Be careful you idiot!” 

Bob shot you a dirty look. “Aren’t moms supposed to be nice?” 

“Not a mom yet,” you replied, hands resting on your stomach for a moment before you slapped a hot cheeto out of his hand. “Doctor said whole foods.” 

He groaned. “Can I have Hangman stay with me instead? He might actually be a better alternative.” 

“You’re stuck with me for another day,” you said, leaning back onto the couch. Bob sat in a reclining chair across from you. 

“Ducky?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You scared?” 

“Terrified.” 

“I don’t know what’s crazier. That my little sister is going to be someone’s mom. Or that I’m going to be Uncle Bobby.” 

“Uncle Bobby,” you repeated. It sounded strangely familiar on your tongue. “It fits though.” 

“So you’re not mad at me?” he asked. 

You frowned. “Think this was the longest I’ve ever stayed mad at you in my life. Except maybe the time you donated my pony collection.” 

“I couldn’t have a horse girl for a sister,” he replied. “Besides, you were fifteen.” 

“Was not!” 

“Yes you were, because it was the same year I punched Mike Turner for kissing you on the front porch.” 

“God, that feels like ages ago.” 

“You were just a kid,” Bob replied softly. “You’re still a kid to me.” 

“I’m an adult, Bobby,” you whispered. “More adult than you.” 

“Hey!” 

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” 

Bob blushed. “No time, Ducky.”

“I’ve heard stories from the team.” You raised your eyebrow. “Apparently you’re a hot commodity at the bar.” 

“Don’t listen to anything Bradshaw says.” 

“Jake said it, too.”

“Really don’t listen to anything Hangman says.” 

“Are you happy, Bobby?” 

He frowned. “Does being in a relationship automatically make you happy?” 

“No,” you sighed. “But it’s better than being alone.” 

“You’re not alone, Ducky,” Bob said quietly. “You have me. And Jake, unfortunately.” 

You leaned back against the couch. “Yeah. I have you. And Jake.” 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@blue-aconite @withahappyrefrain @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @gigisimsonmars @xomrsalliej4787xo @myfaveficrecs @mycobrakai1972 @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @justanothermagicalsara @je-suis-prest-rachel @shanimallina87

@rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me  @kmc1989 @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @bbyvanessaa  @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @boiolay @sometimesanalice @na-ta-sh-aa @bobfloydsbabe @kmc1989 @rosiahills22 @palepeanutponyshoe @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @mel119g @daggerspare-standingby @grxcisxhy-wp @mrsjobarnes @csmt-m @rockbottompunk-blog @joaquinwhorres @xoxabs88xox @spinning-away

[ereardon]

My millennial self just fucking LOVES a chic messy bun day which is only something I whip out on Fridays when I have no client calls. It's giving sexy, off the shoulder top 2000s movie vibes

[ereardon]

Personal rant time:

I block probably 40-50% of the new followers I get on here because of one of the following: blank blog; ageless blog; serial liker who never comments or reblogs or interacts; and/or someone who has zero relevant content on their blog so I know they don't interact with anyone in fandoms i.e. just pictures of mermaids or Ted Lasso gifs.

I had someone who has been serial liking my things for probably a year slide into my library DMs after I blocked them. When I explained my reasoning for the above they said, "I don't post on here anymore. I have been reading your stuff for a while. I'd like to continue reading your content."

What about my rules of engagement don't apply to you?

I've gotten much more strict with blocking, so my follower count has barely moved in months and months. Maybe I come across as a bitch because of it. That's OK. I value quality over quantity. But all of this to say – you don't owe anyone your work. Creators here put in so much time and effort and see very minimal reward. It's OK to do what is best for you.

Thank you and goodnight.

[ereardon]

Almost done with the next chapter of Before I Knew, probably out tomorrow! xx

[ereardon]

I feel like this one shot gets the most random likes/reblogs every single week compared to any of my other fics? Do people just like soft Dad!Bob lol

More Than Enough [Bob Floyd x Reader]

A Single Dad Bob Fic

Summary: The first two times Bob Floyd ends up in your emergency room he’s a mess. You never expected him to return a third time. But when he does, it changes everything.

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC 

Warnings: Medical setting, blood and needles, cursing Word count: 4.4K 

Bob Floyd masterlist here

“We’ve got another one.” 

You sighed, lifting the hair from the back of your neck and fanning it before clipping your hair up and straightening your scrubs. “Be there in a second, Liz.” 

Your charge nurse nodded, waddling away from the desk and you pushed back from your chair, wandering down the hall, knocking lightly before walking through the door on the right. 

“Hi,” you said, grabbing the chart from the folder on the wall and stepping further into the room. “I’m Y/N, I’ll be your nurse today.” 

“Hi.” You looked up. His voice was deep and gravely and insanely sexy despite the fluorescent lights of the ER and the sterile aesthetics of the triage room. The patient on the bed had sandy blond hair that was combed back neatly and a pair of wire glasses that slid down his pert nose. His pink lips were curled up in a delicate, shy smile, large hands spread out on either side of his body. “How are you?” 

You laughed, skimming the clipboard chart one more time before setting it down near the sink. “Better than you, Mr. Floyd, by the looks of it. Says here you have a hook in your foot.” 

The man nodded, lifting his left leg and you saw it immediately: an old fishing hook sunken into the flesh toward his ankle. You grimaced while putting on a pair of gloves. 

“And how did this happen?” 

“Playing football on the beach,” he said as you poked at the skin around the hook. “Just stepped somewhere I shouldn’t have, apparently.” 

You nodded. “Well, Mr. Floyd–”

“Bob,” he said. 

You smiled. “Bob. I’m going to give you a shot for tetanus. We’re not sure where this hook has been, so better safe than sorry.” 

Bob winced as he watched you dip the syringe into the glass vial of medicine. 

You sat down on the rolling stool and reached out, pushing up the sleeve of his shirt from his upper arm, rubbing a circle spot with an alcohol swab. “So beach football. That sounds fun.” 

“I, um, I play with my team.” Bob closed his eyes as you slid the needle into his skin, pressing the depressor slowly. 

When you pulled it out, covering it with a fresh cotton ball, reaching for a band-aid, he kept his eyes closed. You patted his arm softly. “Mr. Floyd, you’re doing just fine.” 

His eyes shot open and he smiled, embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m a major wuss when it comes to needles.” 

“Most people are,” you said, examining his foot. “What kind of team? Like a rec league?” 

“Oh, no,” Bob said as you cleaned around the entrance of the metal hook on his foot. “My squadron. I’m in the Navy.” 

“Really?” You pressed down on the top of his foot, looking up at Bob. He caught your eye.

He nodded. “Aviator, ma’am.” 

“What’s that like?” you asked. Just as Bob opened his mouth to reply, you yanked on the hook, eliciting a sharp grunt from him. You shook your head with a sad smile. “Sorry, better not to see it coming.” 

“Think you’re right about that,” Bob said, his voice a little higher than before. 

You smiled sweetly up at him, pressing against the wound with cotton to stop the bleeding. Bob laid back against the bed, looking a little more pale than before. “Mr. Floyd?” 

“Bob,” he gasped. 

“Bob,” you repeated. “Are you feeling dizzy?” 

“Not a fan of blood, either,” he muttered and you looked down to see that blood had soaked through the cotton you were holding. You quickly switched it out.  

“Lay back for me,” you said softly, “and close your eyes.” Bob did as he was told and you wrapped his foot gently once the blood had stopped flowing from the wound. You ran the sink with cold water, dampening a towel and folding it up, placing it gently on Bob’s forehead. He sighed audibly. “There. Just try to relax, OK?” 

He chuckled. “Not a very good first impression, huh?” 

You smiled even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ve had worse.” 

Just as you were about to open your mouth and ask about his personal life, the door swung open and a beautiful brunette entered the room with a little girl on her hip. Your heart sank in your chest as she set the toddler down and watched as the toddler rushed to the bed. “Daddy!” 

Bob’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled brightly. “Hi Sugar.” 

“She insisted we follow you,” the brunette said. She was gloriously tan and chiseled, wearing just a black sports bra and a pair of small athletic shorts. She turned to you with a grin. “How’s our boy doing?” 

“He’ll be just fine,” you said, trying your hardest not to be jealous of this perfectly kind stranger who just happened to be the wife of your patient. But you also wanted to claw her eyes out and claim him as your own. 

“Daddy, you fainted.” The little girl had her hands on the sheets where she could reach and Bob leaned over, trying to scoop her up, but couldn’t quite reach her. 

“Here.” You crouched down next to the little girl. “Want me to help you get on your daddy’s bed?” 

She nodded enthusiastically and you smiled, lifting under her arms, plopping her against the sheets and Bob’s waiting arms. You watched as Bob enveloped her in his embrace, veins and muscles on his arms rippling as he held her tight. 

The brunette cleared her throat. “Floyd, I can take Andie home, depending on how long you’ll be here?” 

Bob turned to you. “Y/N?” he asked and you liked the way he said your name instead of nurse or hey you or even ma’am. “How long do you think?” 

“I just want to keep you here another fifteen minutes or so, make sure you’re reacting OK to the vaccination and you’re no longer a fainting threat, and then we can get your discharge papers completed. Won’t be more than an hour.” 

Bob nodded. “I’ll take her home, Nix, don’t worry about it.” 

The brunette put one hand on her hip. “You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. You want to stay with me, Sugar? Or do you want Auntie Phoenix to take you home?” 

Andie clung to Bob’s side. “I want to stay with you, daddy!” 

You caught the auntie part of the conversation. As you swapped out his gauze for a bandage you looked quickly. 

No wedding ring. 

Things were looking up. You smiled as the brunette leaned over, kissing the top of Andie’s head. “OK sweetheart, you can stay with your daddy. Floyd, I’ll check on you later. Bradshaw will drive you home, OK? He’s in the waiting room.” 

Bob nodded. “Thanks. Tell him we’ll be out soon.” Bob turned to you as Andie settled in his arms, her gaze already on the TV in the corner. “Sorry, that’s my pilot, Natasha.” 

“She’s pretty.” 

Bob flushed. “I, um, I was going to say the same thing about you.” 

You loved that he was flustered. In his arms, Andie stirred. “Daddy? How much longer?” 

“Just a little bit, honey,” he said. “Do you want to wait with Uncle Bradley?” 

She shook her head. “No, daddy, want to be with you!” 

“OK Sugar,” he said, looking up at you sheepishly. “Sorry, she’s three and a little antsy.” 

You waved one hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. She’s adorable.” You finished your note on his chart. “Well, Mr. Floyd, you’re going to be just fine. In about fifteen minutes, the floor nurse will come in and get you the discharge papers and you two will be free to go.” 

Just as you were about to turn on your heel, Bob’s voice caught you. “Y/N?” 

You turned. “Yes?” 

He looked down at Andie’s blonde head and then back up at you and sighed. “Um, thanks. For everything.” 

You smiled but it was thin. “Of course, it’s my job.” You waved. “Bye sweetheart.” 

“Bye!” Andie’s sugary voice rang out in the sterile room. 

You turned on one heel, flattening yourself to the hallway after shutting the door, letting out a breath. For a moment, you had thought he was going to ask you out. But of course he wasn’t. Who were you kidding? A gorgeous pilot with a daughter? He was surely off the market, even if he wasn’t wearing a ring. 

You opened your eyes just in time to see an incredibly beefy guy slide down the hallway, his brown eyes landing on yours. He grinned, white teeth, slightly crooked smile. Fuck, he was beautiful, too. What was going on? 

“Hi,” he said, stopping in front of you. “I, uh, I’m looking for Bob Floyd’s room?” 

You hooked a thumb to your left. “Right there,” you said. 

He grinned. “Thanks.” He didn’t make a move to leave. 

You pushed yourself off of the wall and nodded. “Anytime.” 

The mustache man followed you with your eyes as you walked away from the room, as far as you could get from the tiny little corner of the hospital that was inhabited by the most beautiful people you had ever laid eyes on within a ten minute span. 

Back at the nurse’s station, you collapsed into your chair. 

“I know that look,” Liz said, eyebrow raised. 

“What look?” 

She shook her head, grabbing for her water bottle. “Watch out, sweetie. There’s only one reason you could possibly look like that?” 

“And how do I look?” 

“Fucked.” 

***

You hadn’t been able to get Bob Floyd out of your head. That’s why, two weeks later, when he rushed into the ER in the middle of the night, you blinked rapidly, convinced that the night shift was melding with your subconscious somehow. 

“Hello?” he called out into the hallway and you rushed forward, noticing that he had Andie in his arms, her face pink with anguish. “She won’t stop crying and throwing up and oh my God, I don’t know what’s happening.” 

“Put her down here,” you said, leading them to a bed and drawing the drapes tightly. Andie rolled onto her side, clutching her abdomen. “Hi honey. I’m just going to take a look at your belly, OK?” She nodded, but continued to cry as you lifted up the hem of her pajama top, touching her distended belly gently as she cried out. You looked up at Bob. “It’s most likely appendicitis but we’ll need a CT scan to confirm.” 

Bob ran a hand through his hair. He looked much more disheveled this time and you almost wanted to sling an arm around him, pull him into a hug. He looked like he needed it. 

“Let me call down to radiology, we should be able to get her in immediately.” 

You stepped toward the phone on the wall, speaking quickly, eyes on Bob as he hovered near Andie’s bed, whispering softly in her ear. 

“Another nurse will come and take her down in a minute,” you said gently. 

Bob looked up. “Can I go with?” 

You shook your head and his face fell. “I’m sorry. But you’ll get to see her before she goes into surgery.” 

“Is there anything you can give her for the pain?” he pleaded. “I just, I don't know what to do.”

You nodded. “We’ll give her some medicine before the procedure and after.” 

A knock on the door stole both of your attention. “Mr. Floyd? I’m here to take Andie down to radiology.” A short nurse with her hair tied back smiled at the door. “Are we all set?” 

“Yes.” You looked at Bob and Andie. “It’ll only be twenty minutes, I promise.” 

He nodded, leaning over and kissing Andie’s head. “I’ll be right here, baby, I promise. Be good for me, Sugar.” 

“Daddy!” she cried and you saw how it gutted him. 

He swallowed the pain. “It’s OK, honey. You’ll feel better soon.” 

And then they were wheeling Andie’s bed out of the room and Bob collapsed onto the chair near the wall, head in his hands. You waited a moment before walking over, squatting down and pressing one hand to his knee gently. “Hey. She’s going to be OK, I promise.” 

Bob looked up and you saw tears in his blue eyes. He wiped at them. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing scarier as a parent than rushing your kid to the ER in the middle of the night.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you said softly. “I can’t even imagine.” 

“Do you have kids?”

You shook your head. “I don’t.” 

Bob sighed. “I never thought I wanted kids,” he whispered, like a confession. “And then Andie came along and she changed everything.” He paused. “She’s my entire world. I can’t explain how helpless I feel watching her in pain knowing it’s out of my control.” 

Your hand was still pressed against his knee. “She’s going to be alright,” you said. “I promise, nothing bad is going to happen.” 

“Thank you.” The two of you hovered there for a moment, eyes locked on each other. And then the door swung open and you stood up quickly. 

“It’s a ruptured appy,” the nurse said. “We’re taking her down to OR two.” 

“You have to let him talk to her first,” you said and Bob looked at you, surprised. “He has to tell her it’s going to be OK. She’s scared.” 

The nurse nodded hastily. “Fine, but do it quickly. Dr. Roberts is already scrubbing in.” 

The three of you trailed down the hallway to where Andie laid in a bed near the elevator, another nurse speaking with her quietly. Her eyes flicked to Bob immediately, widening with recognition and comfort. He reached out, stroking her hair. “Hi Sugar,” he whispered and you could hear in the pits of his voice how much he was holding back. “Listen, the doctors are going to make you better and when you’re done with your nap, I’ll be waiting for you.” 

“With a toy?” she asked, her voice light and soft.

Bob smiled. “Yeah, honey, with a toy.”

“Promise, daddy?” 

Bob nodded. “I promise. Be right here when you’re done, OK?” 

Andie smiled and Bob pressed a kiss to her forehead before she was wheeled down the corridor, through the double doors at the end of the hallway. He turned to you with sad, wide eyes. You were an ER nurse – technically, you needed to hand over Andie as your patient to the surgical team. You would go to the nurses station and finish the chart, have it signed off by the attendings who completed her surgery after it was done. But something about the frazzled way that Bob looked and how his leg had felt beneath your palm made you throw everything else to the side.   

“Come on,” you said, putting one hand on his arm gently. “Let’s get a coffee. It’ll be an hour or two.” 

He frowned. “You don’t need to see more patients?” 

You shrugged. It was three in the morning on a Tuesday. Only one bed was filled. “It’s quiet. They’ll cover for me.” 

“Are you sure?” 

You nodded. You didn’t want him to be alone. “Besides, I know where the good coffee is.” 

That’s how you and Bob ended up on the third floor doctor’s lounge sipping out of mismatched mugs, the sun still asleep beneath the blanket of the horizon. 

“So a pilot, huh?” you asked. “That must be exciting.” 

Bob smiled but it was quick. Tight. “Yeah.” He took a sip of coffee and looked up. “Actually, can I tell you the truth?” 

“Of course.” 

“People always say that and I always respond the same. Yeah, it’s exciting. Yeah, it’s cool. But the truth is, it’s fucking terrifying. Going up in jets every day not knowing if I’m going to be able to pick my daughter up from daycare later or not.” 

“So why do you do it?”

“Only thing I’ve ever been good at,” he replied. 

“That can’t be true.” Your eyes wandered over Bob’s strong hands, the way the coffee mug was engulfed by them. The wire glasses slipping down his nose. The way he carried himself. Like he was too much of a burden to compete for space in the room, even though there was no one in there besides the two of you. 

“Being a dad,” he said softly. “I’m good at that. I think.” 

“You are.” He lit up. “The way Andie looks at you? You’re her hero.” 

Bob put his coffee cup down. “You’re just saying that.” 

“You don’t know me,” you said, “but I don’t really make a habit of lying just to make people feel good about themselves.” 

He laughed. “So that’s why you became a nurse, huh?” 

“That and an oppressive need for academic validation. Plus I look cute in the uniform.” 

Bob smiled at you. “True.”

You blushed. In the dim light of the lounge, you could see Bob’s profile and he was even more beautiful than you had made him to be in your head. “So, Andie’s mom?” 

He shook his head. “She’s not in the picture.” 

“Sorry to hear that.” 

“I am, too,” he said quietly. “For Andie, not for me. We were never good together. Right now, I’m just trying to be enough. I’m doing everything I can, but I know that one day she’s going to grow up. And I am going to be useless when she comes home asking me to buy her a miniskirt or what dress to wear to prom or how to put her hair in French braids for some costume party.” He smiled at you sadly. “I just know that I won’t be enough.” 

“The fact that you’re already thinking of that tells me you’re more than enough,” you replied. “She’s lucky. And I’m not just saying that.” 

Bob chuckled lightly. His voice was deep and silky. “Do you give all your patient’s parents the VIP treatment?” 

“Nope,” you said, setting down your coffee cup and turning to where he sat in the leather chair next to you. “You’re special.” 

“Oh yeah?” Bob murmured, leaning forward over the arm of his chair, his face dangerously close to yours. “Why is that?” 

“Because–” Just then, your pager beeped. You leaned back and pulled it off your waistband. “It’s Andie’s surgery. She’s in recovery.” 

Bob jumped up, cheeks flushed. “And?” 

You smiled. “No warnings. It must have gone perfectly.” 

“Oh, thank God.” The relief coming from his voice could sooth a thousand wounds. 

You grinned. “I’ll take you down to her room.” 

As you turned to head out toward the hallway, Bob stopped you, his hand on your wrist, fingers circling yours. “Y/N, I–”

“I know,” you said softly, letting his hand slide into your own. “We should go, Andie’s waiting.” 

You understood what people meant when they said their ovaries were going to explode the second you saw Andie and Bob reunite in the post-op room. Her tiny face lit up as she watched Bob walk through the door, her little arms reaching for him instinctively. The way he cradled her head to his chest, patting her back softly, kissing her temple. There was a warmth spilling out into the room, radiating off of the two of them like an aura. You stood in the doorway as the sun crawled over the horizon and watched father and daughter reunite. 

After a while, you stepped up to the bed. “Hi sweetheart, heard you did great in there,” you said softly and Andie beamed. “I’m going to let you and your daddy get some rest, OK? Someone will be back in a bit to check on you.” 

“Bye!” Her small voice was like a thousand little violins. 

Bob turned to you, one hand still touching Andie, making sure she was there. She was safe. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said quietly. “Is this the end of your shift?” 

You checked your watch. It was six thirty. You had been off for thirty minutes. “Yeah, it is.” 

“I, um.” He looked down at Andie, her baby blue eyes tracking him. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow if we’re still here.” 

You smiled. “You two will be released by then, I’m sure.” 

“Oh.” There was something dejected about the way he said it. You shuffled from foot to foot. “It was nice seeing you again. Bob.” The way his name felt on your tongue. It was fuzzy and soft and you wanted to hold onto it for as long as you could. 

“You too, Y/N,” he said softly. 

You turned, heading for the door, before spinning back around, digging in your pocket, pulling out a tiny stuffed penguin on a keychain. Your niece had given it to you a few months ago for your thirty-first birthday and you had almost forgotten it was still in your pocket from where you had scooped it up earlier after it fell out of your bag onto the locker room floor as you were rushing for a code. “Bob,” you said quietly and he turned, eyes bright. You slipped the toy into his hand quietly so Andie wouldn’t see. He looked down then back up in surprise. You grinned. “You promised her a toy, remember?” 

His fingers lingered over yours before finally you pulled away, the heat of Bob’s stare warming you from your core like lava. “Thank you.” 

You smiled. “Bye again.” 

This time you did leave, your chest tight as you shut the door softly, turning down the hallway, putting as much space between you and Bob Floyd as you could. Because you knew that if you didn’t, you’d embarrass yourself. You’d run back into the room and beg him to take you out. To kiss you. To talk to you with a fraction of the love that he spoke to Andie with. That would be enough. 

It would be more than enough. 

***

It was the end of a long day. You sat down at the nurse’s station with a sigh, kicking your feet up on the desk, closing your eyes. Only a few seconds passed before someone was tapping your shoulder incessantly. 

Your eyes snapped open and you groaned. “What?” 

“You’re going to want to see this,” Kirsten said. She had one hand on her hip, head tipped toward the lobby area. 

“Bloody?” you asked excitedly. 

She shook her head. “You’re nasty. No, it’s better.” 

“If it’s not a bloody accident I don’t want it.” 

Kirsten rolled her eyes. “It’s better so just shut up, put a smile on that face and maybe puff out your boobs a little, you’re looking saggy.” 

“What?” 

She laughed as you stood up, fiddling with your scrub top, frowning as Kirsten pushed you around the corner toward the lobby doors. You stopped dead in your tracks. 

Bob Floyd stood in the atrium of the hospital, still wearing his green flight suit, blond hair perfectly combed back, wire glasses slightly askew. He had a bouquet of pink roses in his hands and a brilliant white smile when he spotted you. 

“Hi.” His voice wobbled a bit as you approached. 

“Hi back,” you said quietly. “I hope those are for me,” you said, gesturing to the flowers, “because you really need to stop showing up with emergencies, Bob Floyd.” 

He laughed, a throaty sound that eclipsed all other laughs in your memory. Now, anytime you ever thought of a laugh it would be like what Bob Floyd sounded like on a random Thursday evening. “Well it is the ER. Besides, how else would I be able to see you?” 

“You'd see me if you ever asked me on a date.” 

Bob flushed. “Well, that’s why I’m here.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

He nodded, thrusting the flowers out to you. “I, um, I wanted to ask you out the first time we met. But that didn’t really turn out like I planned. Practically fainting in front of you wasn’t what I had in mind.” 

You smelled the flowers. They were clean and crisp and you couldn’t remember the last time a man bought you flowers, let alone went out of his way to see you. You stepped closer. “It was kind of charming,” you admitted. 

Bob laughed again, that sweet chuckle that was quickly imprinting itself in your mind. “I’ll take it. So what do you say, will you go on a date with me?” 

“I don’t know, what can beat stale coffee in a doctor’s break room?” 

“What if I cook you dinner?” Bob offered and your eyebrows shot up. “What’s your favorite dish?” 

“Eggplant parmesan,” you said automatically. It tumbled out of your mouth. 

“Done.”

“So you can cook?” 

“No,” he said and you laughed. “But I can Google it.” 

“You’d go to all that trouble just for me?” 

Bob stepped in closer, reaching out one hand, tucking a chunk of hair behind your ear. His touch was warm and it practically electrocuted you with the fervor that started to course through your veins as his skin brushed against yours. Bob let his hand linger on the side of your neck, cupping you gently. “It’s no trouble,” he murmured. “Besides, Andie keeps asking about the pretty nurse who gave her the penguin doll.” 

You grinned. “Did she like it?” 

“She sleeps with it every night. But apparently, Mr. Penguin has requested that you come by the house to read him a bedtime story. So what do you say? Dinner and a book reading?” he asked. 

You locked eyes with Bob, nodding. “Is it weird to say I’m glad you got a hook in your foot and ended up in my ER?” 

Bob chuckled. “Is it weird to say I’d do it again every day if it meant I got to see you?” 

“Honey,” you whispered. “No need to stab your foot again. I’ll be at dinner any night of the week. Just say the word.” 

He held out one hand. You slipped your fingers into his. It was enough. It was more than enough.

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[ereardon]

Bobby stills that I very rarely see floating around (and if I do, the quality has been deep-fried)

These last two aren't "rare," but usually, the quality has been yanked out of them. I had the HQs on hand, so I'd might as well share while I'm here 💃

[ereardon]

[ereardon]

Would like the group to know that he's continued to be incorrectly rude with me (literally this is all his fault and he's tryna blame me and my entire team is rallying behind me) and he's so embarrassed he knows he fucked up he didn't even show up to our weekly call today ... SHAME

It’s 8 am on a Friday and a client is already getting spicy with me 🙄