#drive-in racking system

[dalviesystems]

How to Choose the Right Mezzanine Floor Installers for Your Warehouse

Choosing the right mezzanine floor installers for a warehouse is a critical decision that can significantly influence the efficiency and functionality of the space. A mezzanine can maximize storage capacity, create additional office space, or facilitate better workflow. However, the success of these benefits hinges on the quality of the installation. Thus, understanding the key factors that contribute to selecting the right professionals for the job is essential for warehouse managers and business owners alike.

Understanding Your Warehouse Needs

Before diving into the selection process, it is important to assess the specific needs of the warehouse. Each facility has unique characteristics that must be considered. For instance, the height of the existing structure, the weight capacity required, and the purpose of the mezzanine all play crucial roles in determining the best type of installation. Warehouse managers should conduct a thorough analysis of the space, taking measurements and identifying potential obstacles that could hinder installation.

After identifying these needs, it becomes essential to look for mezzanine floor installers who have experience in handling similar projects. A contractor with a proven track record in the specific type of mezzanine required will be better equipped to navigate challenges that may arise during the installation process. This is where research comes into play. Reading reviews, asking for references, and checking the installers’ previous work can provide insight into their reliability and quality of service.

Evaluating Installer Qualifications and Experience

When it comes to hiring mezzanine floor installers, qualifications and experience should be at the forefront of the selection criteria. It is advisable to look for installers who are certified and adhere to industry standards. This not only ensures compliance with safety regulations but also reflects a commitment to quality workmanship. Experienced installers will bring a wealth of knowledge to the project, capable of anticipating challenges and offering solutions that a less experienced contractor might overlook.

Moreover, the installation process should be handled by professionals familiar with the specific materials and technologies involved in mezzanine construction. An installer with a diversified portfolio that includes various types of mezzanine systems will likely have the expertise necessary to address the unique demands of each project. This breadth of experience can be the difference between a successful installation and one that leads to costly mistakes.

Importance of Customization and Design

One of the key advantages of mezzanine flooring is the ability to customize the design to fit the specific needs of the warehouse. This means that the mezzanine floor installers should not only be skilled in construction but also in design. They should work collaboratively with the warehouse management team to create a structure that maximizes space efficiency while aligning with operational workflows.

A good installer will offer a range of design options and be willing to adapt to changes in layout or function as required. They should also understand the importance of integrating the mezzanine with existing systems, such as lighting, HVAC, and fire safety measures. This holistic approach to design ensures that the new mezzanine floor not only fits within the warehouse but enhances its overall functionality.

Safety and Compliance Considerations

Safety is paramount in any construction project, especially in a busy warehouse environment. The chosen mezzanine floor installers must prioritize safety measures throughout the installation process. This includes ensuring that all materials used are up to code and suitable for the intended use of the mezzanine. Additionally, the installation team should follow strict safety protocols to protect both their workers and the warehouse staff during construction.

Moreover, compliance with local building codes and regulations cannot be overlooked. A reputable installer will be familiar with the necessary permits and inspections required to complete the installation legally. This not only helps avoid fines and project delays but also ensures that the newly installed mezzanine will pass all safety inspections, providing peace of mind for warehouse operators.

Post-Installation Support and Maintenance

The relationship with the mezzanine floor installers should not end once the project is completed. A reliable contractor will offer post-installation support and maintenance services to ensure the longevity of the mezzanine structure. Regular inspections and maintenance checks can help identify any potential issues before they escalate into costly repairs.

Furthermore, some installers may provide warranties on their work, which can be an essential factor in the decision-making process. This warranty serves as a safeguard against defects or problems that may arise after the installation. A commitment to ongoing support can significantly enhance the overall value of the investment in the mezzanine floor.

Conclusion

Selecting the right mezzanine floor installers for a warehouse is a multifaceted process that requires careful consideration of various factors, including the specific needs of the facility, the qualifications and experience of the installers, customization options, safety compliance, and post-installation support. By taking the time to evaluate these elements, warehouse managers can ensure they choose a contractor who will deliver a high-quality, functional mezzanine that enhances their operational efficiency.

For businesses looking for expert guidance and top-notch installation services, partnering with a reputable company like Dalvie Systems can provide the assurance needed for a successful mezzanine project. Their commitment to quality and customer satisfaction makes them an ideal choice for any warehouse needing mezzanine floor installation.

[eurorackjsc]

The Drive-In Racking system is an excellent solution for maximizing warehouse storage in high-density environments. Designed for storing large quantities of similar products, this system allows forklifts to drive directly into the rack structure, enabling deep storage of pallets in lanes. With no need for individual access aisles for each pallet, Drive-In Racking optimizes space by allowing more goods to be stored in a smaller area. It’s ideal for industries with high-volume, low-rotation products, such as cold storage and food processing. Eurorack’s Drive-In Racking is built to handle heavy loads while ensuring stability and safety.

[storewellshelves]

Optimizing Storage Solutions with Drive-In Racking in UAE - A Focus on Storewell Shelves UAE

Introduction: In the dynamic landscape of warehousing and storage solutions, the UAE has witnessed a significant surge in demand for efficient and space-saving storage systems. One such innovative solution gaining prominence is Drive-In Racking. In this blog post, we will explore the benefits of Drive-In Racking in the UAE context, with a special focus on the offerings by Storewell Shelves UAE.

Understanding Drive-In Racking:

Drive-In Racking in UAE is a specialized storage system designed to maximize warehouse space by eliminating aisles. Instead of traditional rack configurations, this system allows forklifts to enter the storage lanes, providing direct access to pallets stored on both sides. This unique design ensures high-density storage, making it an ideal choice for businesses dealing with large quantities of homogeneous products.

Benefits of Drive-In Racking in the UAE:

Space Optimization: Given the premium on real estate in the UAE, Drive-In Racking offers an efficient solution by maximizing the use of available space. The elimination of aisles means more pallets can be stored in the same footprint.

Cost-Effective: With the ability to store more products in a smaller space, businesses can benefit from reduced operational costs. The cost per pallet position is significantly lower compared to traditional racking systems.

Ideal for Bulk Storage: Drive-In Racking is particularly suitable for businesses dealing with bulk quantities of similar products. It is commonly used in industries such as food and beverage, manufacturing, and cold storage.

Increased Throughput: The direct access provided by Drive-In Racking enhances the efficiency of inventory management. Forklifts can easily maneuver within the storage lanes, leading to quicker loading and unloading times.

Storewell Shelves UAE: Tailoring Storage Solutions to Your Needs Amid the growing demand for innovative storage solutions in the UAE, Storewell Shelves UAE has emerged as a reliable provider of Drive-In Racking systems. With a commitment to delivering high-quality storage solutions, Storewell Shelves UAE stands out in the competitive market.

Customization: Storewell Shelves UAE understands that every business has unique storage requirements. Their Drive-In Racking systems can be customized to accommodate specific pallet sizes, weight capacities, and storage configurations.

Quality Assurance: Ensuring the durability and reliability of their products, Storewell Shelves UAE adheres to international quality standards. Their Drive-In Racking systems are built to withstand the rigors of heavy-duty storage operations.

Expert Consultation: The team at Storewell Shelves UAE comprises storage experts who can provide valuable insights into optimizing warehouse layouts and selecting the most suitable storage solutions for your business.

Conclusion: As businesses in the UAE strive to enhance their storage capacities while minimizing operational costs, Drive-In Racking emerges as a compelling solution. Storewell Shelves UAE, with its commitment to quality and customization, proves to be a trusted partner in meeting the evolving storage needs of businesses across various industries in the UAE. Investing in Drive-In Racking in UAE from Storewell Shelves could be the key to unlocking a more efficient and space-conscious storage strategy for your business.

Contact Us:

Mobile Number (+971) 56 3848680 (+971) 56 8576009 Tel : (+971) 6 5643021

Email info@storewellshelvesuae.com suresh@storewellshelvesuae.com

Office Address Industrial Area Jurf-Ajman-U.A.E

[sw5w]

Multi-Troop Transports

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:48:40

[camaraindustries]

Revolutionizing Storage: The Advantages of Push Back Racking Systems

Push Back Racking Systems have transformed the landscape of storage and inventory management, offering an unparalleled efficiency in maximizing warehouse space. Unlike traditional racks, Push Back Racks can store up to six pallets deep, boosting storage capacity by 25-30% more than selective racking systems. This leap in efficiency is achieved through an innovative design: pallets rest on wheeled carts that glide along inclined rails, enabling deep storage without necessitating multiple aisles.

See More: https://camaraindustries.com/revolutionizing-storage-the-advantages-of-push-back-racking-systems/

[mayuri-manufacturer]

Compactor Storage Systems Manufacturer In Pune – Max Space

Max Space Racking Systems is a leading compactor storage systems manufacturer in Pune. Explore our space-saving solutions for efficient storage. In a world where efficient storage solutions are paramount, Max Space Racking Systems emerges as a trusted compactor storage systems manufacturer in Pune, India. Compactor storage systems are a vital component of modern storage solutions. They offer a space-saving and highly organized way to store a wide range of items, from documents and files to goods in warehouses and distribution centers.

[metalstoragesystems]

Visit us: https://www.metalstoragesystems.com/warehouse-pallet-racking-system.php

Phone: +91 9845103088

Mail: info@metalstoragesystems.com

[norrisjpg]

── ☆ tea talks & torn paper

════════════════════════

series: my kind of woman, LN⁴

content: swearing, max & pietra being adorable, soft lando, relationship advice, torn pages, unspoken feelings and a little bit of tension

pairing: lando norris x fem!oc

rora's thoughts: hi everyone, ever so sorry i went quiet on you all! i was having a bit of an unmotivated era and literally gave up on life itself! but, i've had a mental reset and i'm ready to get back at writing again. so, i really hope you enjoy this one, and welcome to the world of my kind of woman!

════════════════════════

LILY’S FRIDAY AFTERNOON wasn’t supposed to look like this. 

her small suitcase had been packed, outfits meticulously chosen, and nervous system prepared for a full-on media blitz at the book launch she’d been anticipating for weeks. but, when the publishing company had abruptly postponed the event due to some sort of logistical complication, lily had found herself with an unclaimed weekend and a non-refundable train ticket to oxford.

“so, you’re sure you don’t want to reschedule this book launch thing?” the brit piped up from the couch. 

“it’s not reschedulable, you knob.” lily rolled her eyes as she placed her once-packed shoes back on the rack. “the whole thing was canned.”

“what a shame,” pietra teased, walking over to the couch and flopping down next to her boyfriend. “i was really looking forward to my saturday night voice notes about how some sweaty guy grabbed your ass.”

“thankyou p.” the younger fewtrell gave her a deadpan look.

“so welcome.” the girl grinned.

“the offer to come with me and p is still there,” max said breezily. “if you want it, of course. it’ll be fun, he has like ten spare rooms, and you haven’t seen him in ages.”

“you’re not giving me much time to think about this.” she frowned, zipping the suitcase back up.

“because i know you, el.” her brother replied. “you’ll just be in your flat all weekend, reading something sappy and avoiding socialisation – or god forbid, you spend it with harry.”

“hey, leave harry out of this – and maybe i like being a recluse.”

“oh, we’re going golfing too, so pack some golf-friendly clothes.” he pointed out, trying to think of any other things she should know. “and lando has a hot-tub, and a sauna, and a gym… actually just pack for everything.”

“does he even know i’m coming?” she asked, still contemplating whether she should just bale on her not-certain plans already.

“he’s lando, he’d probably forget even if i did tell him.” max shrugged casually, earning a hand to the shoulder from pietra.

“lily, it’ll be fine. lando likes you, you like lando. it’s not like he’s going to make you sleep on the driveway – so you’re not uninvited, just a… nice surprise.”

“okay, i’ll come, when are we leaving?” lily sighed, wheeling her case toward her bedroom. 

max checked his watch, “in thirty.” 

• • • •

THE BACKSEATS of max’s audi were surprisingly spacious, allowing lily to stretch her legs out across the seats, and lean on the pillow she’d brought with her. the spine of her latest read was pressed against her knee, a good girl’s guide to murder printed neatly in black and red on a white background. she’d been meaning to read it for years now, but she’d never quite gotten around to opening the front page – so this was a good excuse, an hours drive to get stuck in.

invested in the teenager’s journey, she had neglected to notice that max had indicated down a tree-lined driveway, and that lando’s surrey pad had come into view – sleek, modern lines softened by ivy-covered walls and warm yellow lights pouring from the interior. 

lando and lily had known each other since they were fifteen, meeting at one of max’s karting races. he’d been awkward and geeky, gushing over engine types and tyre wear, but always sweet and polite with her, if a little nervous sometimes. but the last time she’d seen him was almost a year ago. he’d filled out (obviously, formula 1 drivers aren’t exactly stick-like), and he was charming, making her laugh with well-polished wit and the same immature humour she’d grown to love in their childhood. he’d been effortlessly kind, gentle, sweet in an undemanding way that didn’t make her feel like she had to perform. 

“i still feel weird showing up unannounced.” lily mumbled as she closed her book and carefully placed it into her bag. 

“as my wonderful girlfriend said, just a delightful surprise.” max quoted pietra, shutting the driver’s side door. 

she grumbled something in response, walking around toward the boot of the audi, intending on hauling her suitcase out of the vehicle – but it was short-lived, because the subject of her worries stepped out of the front door with a wide grin on his face.

“hey lovebirds.” lando chimed, skipping down the front steps like the child he was – and not quite noticing the other girl stood behind the car. 

the driver gave the pair a quick hug, “how was your drive?”

“lily wouldn’t stop stressing out about the fact that you didn’t know she was coming.” max blurted, making his sister poke her head out from the rear of the audi.

“hi lando.” she waved with a small, sheepish smile. 

if he wasn’t already smiling, he was practically beaming now. lando’s features softened and lit up at the same time, and he laughed softly, quickly heading toward her. 

“hi lala.” the mclaren driver said quietly, casually embracing the girl as if he’d been waiting for this day – his hoodie smelled like cedarwood and lemon, and it assaulted her senses like a homely candle. “how’ve you been?”

“i’ve been good, thankyou.” she smiled. “you?”

“never better,” lando nodded, gaze flitting over her features as he spoke. “let me get your stuff.”

“it’s okay–” she was cut off by lando easily picking her bag up. “thankyou. you’re sure you don’t mind me crashing here for the weekend?”

“are you kidding?” the brit laughed, “you’ve just improved the guestlist.”

pietra looked at max, raising her eyebrows in that same way she always did, earning an eye roll from her boyfriend. the couple (code for max) grabbed their bags, and then the two of them headed into the house. 

“come on, you can pick your room.” lando nodded, reaching up and closing the boot, before gesturing for her to follow him into the large building.

inside, the house was as chaotic as she’d remembered, but in a more, subtle, i’m an adult now, way. the shoe-shelf by the door was dishevelled to say the least – all of his most-used shoes were on there, just randomised and not in pairs at all. her shoes actually looked out of place, paired neatly and placed next to the strangely organised rack. there were a few pillows on the bottom of the staircase, with an untouched basket of clean washing next to the bannister.

pietra was flopped on the couch like it was her own, with max complaining about having no space and trying to find something to watch on the ridiculously large tv.

“so why’d you end up coming?” lando asked as he carried lily’s suitcase up the stairs. “not that i’m unhappy you’re here.”

“the book launch i was going to got cancelled.” she explained with a shrug of her shoulders. “i wasn’t really looking forward to it anyway. they sent me an early release, didn’t bother to read it.”

“brutal.” the driver laughed, glancing back at her briefly.

“honestly?” lily continued. “i wasn’t in the mood to be charming to strangers.”

“and you are now?” lando queried as they entered the spare room next to his. 

“you’re not a stranger, and define charming.” she laughed.

“exactly what you’re doing now.” he replied coolly, his gaze trained on her for a little too long.

“lando, why do you have four tubs of peanut butter and no bread?” max yelled up the stairs. 

“they substituted my nutella and i forgot about bread.” lando groaned, turning to shout.

“still the same.” she chuckled.

“i’m evolving, slowly.”

“i noticed,” she teased. “you used to live on toast and protein bars.”

“bagels and protein shakes now, i’ve upgraded. very adult.”

“impressive.”

their eyes locked again, and for a second, the faint noise of max and pietra chatting downstairs faded to silence. it was the kind of moment lily had always brushed past before – innocent enough to ignore, but heavy enough to remember. she looked away first, thanking him for carrying her bags and letting her stay.

“you’re always welcome here, lala.”

• • • •

BY TEN O’CLOCK, max was flat out on the sofa after a debate about which premier league team had the best looking players, and pietra had rolled her eyes at her boyfriend so many times she was sure they were going to get stuck there. pietra retired to the other guest bedroom, and lando bidded the younger fewtrell goodnight, before she herself slipped away to her room, the soft click of the door punctuating the quietness of the house.

she wasn’t tired.

restless was a better way to describe her demeanour, the kind of restlessness that came from a long day of travel, too many not quite finished thoughts, and the underlying buzz of something unspoken. maybe it was lando’s nostalgic warmth, maybe it was the glance she caught between max and pietra when lando greeted her, as if they knew something lily didn’t.

she wouldn’t call what happened sleep, moreso closing her eyes for a couple hours and pretending too. so, at five o’clock in the morning, the pull of alertness won, dragging her out of bed and quietly downstairs to the kitchen. 

she padded down the stairs in her hoodie and shorts, expecting silence – but the kitchen light was on, but dimmed.

pietra sat at the counter, sipping from a ceramic mug, her body angled toward the sliding glass doors. outside, the early morning sky stretched wide and pale, clouds tinged with gold and papaya.

“oh, morning.” lily grumbled, not sure if she was pleasantly surprised by the lack of solitude or not. “how come you’re up?”

“not really that tired.” pietra shrugged, sighing softly as she sipped more of her coffee. “how are you and harry doing?”

“yeah, we’re okay, i guess.” lily said, sounding slightly unamused. “we’re just casual, you know?”

“you deserve something that isn’t casual.” she responded. “and look i know it might be a bit random to you, but have you considered lando?”

she laughed, quiet and a little shook. “lando? no way, he’s max’s best mate.”

“but he’s so sweet to you, not like he is with anyone else.”

“he’s nice to everyone.” she brushed it off, like she always did.

“you’re allowed to like someone who’s good for you, you know? no matter who they are.”

she was about to reply, consider pietra’s suggestion, when the pad of heavier footsteps interrupted her train of thought. “oh, good morning.” lando yawned.

“morning lan.” lily smiled, the nickname slipping off of her tongue. 

“morning lando.” pietra replied, glancing at the man. 

he was in the navy quadrant hoodie, looking too soft to be real, hood pulled up and curls sticking out everywhere. on his legs were a light grey pair of shorts, with some matching navy socks on his feet. he looked pliant, adorable even. 

the three of them sat in comfortable silence, lando knowingly sliding a hot cup of tea, with two sugars and a splash of milk, over to lily wordlessly, earning an appreciative smile from her. he hopped up onto the counter next to her, watching the sunrise with the two girls. lily watched a bird land on the balcony fence, wings sharp against the morning blush – admiring the way it could freely come and go whenever it wanted.

“you remembered,” lily smiled after swallowing a mouthful of the warm beverage. “my tea, that is.”

“i have a good memory.” the driver smiled, gently nudging her shoulder with his own. “two sugars with an obscenely small amount of milk.”

she laughed, quiet and real, glancing at him and noticing the faint traces of sleep on his face, in the forms of shallow lines and dishevelled eyelashes. his curls looked ridiculously soft, and when he ruffled them after taking his hood down, she briefly appreciated the beauty of his new hair. 

the way he leaned a little closer to her when she smiled didn’t go unnoticed, instead reluctantly swept away from her mind like the rest of the thoughts he brought with him.

• • • •

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, lily was sat on a deck chair on the patio, nearing the end of the first book in the trilogy. she was so deep into the plotline that she didn’t notice lando creeping up behind her until it was too late. 

when his hands squeezed her shoulders abruptly, she slammed the book shut and pulled on one of the pages near the end – tearing the paper almost clean out. she quietly noticed, he didn’t.

“lando!” she groaned, gently thumping him on the head with the paperback. 

“you ready for my cooking, miss fewtrell?” he asked, hands still on her shoulders, softly holding and rubbing his thumbs over them now. 

“call the fire brigade now.”

“hey! that was one time.” he laughed, resting his chin on top of her head and looking down at her book. “what’cha reading?”

“something you’re clearly too illiterate to read the title of.” she deadpanned, putting the book under her chair and going to get up.

he laughed, genuine and real, for the first time in a while. “so rude – i’ll make you sleep on the drive.”

“who would keep your ego in check then?” lily shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows with a teasing laugh.

a couple hours later, the group were full and max was pretty sure he had chronic indigestion from trying to see how many chips he could eat in thirty seconds. 

lando was out on the deck, making sure he hadn’t left anything out there, when he spotted the white and red book underneath a patio chair. en-route back to the house, the driver flicked through a few pages, his gaze immediately landing on the ripped page near the back – and he quickly realised that he was at fault for it. he didn’t say anything when he handed the book back to her, not yet.

• • • •

MONDAY MORNING came around too quickly, and lando left before the other three did, having to head out early to japan early for some media stuff. he’d hugged her, longer than he did the other two, even whispered a sweet ‘see you soon, lala’ in her ear as he’d pulled away.

she wasn’t actually sure when he’d done it, she’d been with him practically the entire weekend. but when she’d returned to the room she was staying in, with the intention of packing up her stuff – there was a neatly wrapped and strangely-shaped package on the foot of the double bed, clad in brown paper with a small white bow on the top left corner. 

‘sorry about the book. and sorry i didn’t scare max instead. had some help from p too - L’

lily stood there for a few minutes after unwrapping the entire holly jackson series, heart swelling, and the scent of the perfume she’d been wanting but could get curling around her like a spritzed embrace.

outside the window, the wind brushed the trees.

and somewhere deep in her soul, something had begun to change.

════════════════════════

taglist: @verogonewild @tvdtw4ever @shawnscurlz @f1fantasys @hescrush @stonesylove @irisesinthegarden @unfuckwitabella @mayax2o07 @curlylando

i do not give permission for my works to be re-written, re-published, or published on any other platform.

© norrisjpg 2025

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Back a Ways Part Two

Part One | Part Three

Notes: I lied it's going to be three parts but part three is also getting posted tonight so y'all don't have to wait

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Surgeon!Reader

Length: 3.7K

Rating: M

Warnings: Fluff; angst; yearning; cursing; slow burn

Summary: "Why would Jack disapprove? Matter of fact—” Everett folds his arms on the table, “Why would Jack care?” 

What the hell can you tell Everett? That it’s just a feeling, a hunch? That the way Jack eyed you when you were talking to Dana had been nearly as intimidating as the only time you went against his direct orders when you were a resident? 

u can come over

It’s as close as your brother gets to issuing invitations these days. From what you can gather, Everett only sees people a couple of times a week—your parents, and Jack, and a few of the friends he made at the academy. He’s never been the most outgoing guy, but he’d grown more and more reclusive since he’d been honorably discharged. The traumatic brain injury that he’d sustained while serving had only made the scope of who he dealt with on a daily basis even more narrow.

Everett has never tried to explain to you what had happened while he was on active duty. Jack has only made you privy to a thing or two, but you know that he doesn’t want to betray your brother’s confidences. 

Pulling up to Everett’s house and seeing Jack’s car in the driveway almost makes you drive away. You haven’t seen him since Dana ratted you out about Wilkins in the ER; haven’t spoken to or texted him since then, either. You consider it as the car idles, your hands twisting on the steering wheel. It’s possible that neither of the guys know you’re out there. Everett likes to have visitors out on his back patio when they come over—having too many people in his house makes him feel ‘penned in.’ 

But, this is the first time in months that Everett has given you the green light to see him. 

You grudgingly pull your car into the parking space in front of his house. You use the spare key to get into the house, kicking your shoes off as you look around. The living room is neat as a pin—mail is stacked on the living room table, sorted into two piles; the couch looks like it hasn’t been sat on for weeks; there’s not a speck of dust in sight. 

You look down at your shoes, considering putting them properly on the rack with the others…And then leave them on the floor by the door. It’s a minor show of protest in the face of Everett’s near-compulsive need for order. He’d always been an oddly neat kid, and his time in the military had cemented a hatred for any hint of mess. You reach out, pushing one of the pillows over on the couch before you head into the kitchen.

The coffee pot is nearly empty, and looking into his cabinet, you see two of his mugs missing. You begin to brew a fresh pot before you turn, walking down the hall to the back patio. You peer through the window, catching sight of the back of your brother’s head, and Jack sitting across from him. 

You know that the movement has caught his attention when Jack’s focus flickers to you. His gaze doesn’t hold for long as he meets Everett’s eye again, reaching for his mug. You consider going out, but hell—you’ve had a long night, and you don’t think you can face your brother without coffee in your system…Maybe something stronger. If you remember rightly, Everett tends to keep whiskey in the cabinet. 

-- 

“You gonna hide in here all morning?” 

You roll your eyes at the question, not bothering to turn as Jack sidles up to you at the counter. 

“It’s been five minutes—and I was making more coffee.”

Jack grunts, bracing his hands on the cool formica. You let your eyes sweep over his hands, savoring the heat of him next to you. 

“...He doing okay?” 

“The same.” 

“Mm,” You nod.

“A little better, maybe.”

“Oh?”

“Sure.” Jack turns, tucking his hands into his pockets as he props his hips against the counter. “You know he’s dating someone?” 

It surprises the hell out of you, and you don’t bother to hide it.

“Really?” 

“Mhm. Something else the two of you seem to have in common these days.” 

It’s a fact, but it feels like an accusation. A hundred answers sit on your tongue—David is a nice guy, someone who understands what you do (but so is Jack); you haven’t been out with anyone for a while, you’re just shaking the dust off (when was the last time Jack went on a date?); you can’t just twiddle your thumbs and wait for a man that will never see you that way—

“Jeez, Queenie—The hell did you do?” 

His tired question snaps you out of your spiral, and before you can ask what he’s talking about, he’s stepping out of the kitchen and neatening the nudged pillow. You watch, amused, as he reaches down, putting your shoes away properly. 

“Everett needs some mess in his life," You insist. "It’d be good for him.” 

Jack grunts as he straightens. “Last thing I need is the two of you at each other’s throats all morning.” 

“All morning is a stretch. I’m probably not staying long.” 

“No?” His hands tuck back into his pockets as he joins you again. You eye the counter as he faces away from it, picturing his hands pressed there just a moment ago. You’ve thought of those hands a lot of other places—on your hips, sliding under your shirt—

“Night shift getting to you?” He plies.

He doesn’t realize he’s offered you an easy out. You nod, raising a hand and scrubbing it across your eyes for emphasis. Jack grunts in sympathy. 

“How’s it been?” 

“You know how it is.” 

“...Yeah.” Jack nods, shifts beside you again. “You ever regret it?” 

“Regret what?” 

“Switching to surgery.” 

Your brow furrows, a frown pulling at your lips. It’s the first time Jack has spoken to you about your decision, years since you’d sat him down and told him that you’d be switching to a surgical residency and needed his support. 

“No. Not once. I…” You trail off, trying to nail your thoughts down as you turn to lean back against the counter. “Being in the ER isn’t for me, Jack. I never got my footing.”

“You kidding me?” 

“No, I’m not, and I wasn’t—”

“Queenie—” 

“No, Jack. I don’t want you to bullshit me. Not about this.” 

Jack is quiet for a moment. You can see the steady waggle of his head as he shakes it, hear him draw in a deep breath. 

“I liked it better when you were down where I could keep an eye on you.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you can’t stop your rush to get a better look at him. Jack’s head is bowed slightly, lips pursed into a thin line. He doesn’t look at you as he adds:

“When you came to the Pitt, I promised your brother I’d look out for you.”

You just manage to stifle a deprecating, humorless laugh, staring blankly at the cabinet across from you. Of course. 

 “You’ve made too many promises to that man, Jack. Hell, he’s my brother, I don't even heed him like that.” 

“....It’s different.” 

And you can’t argue with that. You have a love-hate relationship with your brother, give the man shit, but he and Jack went through hell together. The worst that you had to face with Everett was a united front when he’d broken one of your mother’s favorite vases, and you’d recognized the abject terror on his face (you’d been able to convince her that it had been the dog; Everett had bought your silence with three months’ worth of his allowance money). 

“Yeah,” You nod, “It is.” You nudge his arm with yours. “If you’re really that worried, you could come up and see how I’m doing sometime.” 

“Right, with the mountain of free time I have.” 

“You take bathroom breaks occasionally, right? Come take one upstairs. They can do without you for a couple of minutes.”

“Maybe you come back down, see how you do.”

“What’d I just say about the ER?” 

“That was before. You were a resident back then, Queenie. Your instincts are different now, your knowledge is stronger, your reflexes are faster.” 

Your mouth works wordlessly for a moment before you shake your head, pushing out a disbelieving laugh. 

“Why won’t you let this go?” 

“Because it drives me nuts that you don’t see what I see.” 

“And what’s that.” 

“A brilliant, capable doctor—and a badass.” 

His gaze sears yours and you freeze, caught in the intensity that he watches you with. You don’t blink; you’re not entirely sure that you’re even breathing. Jack shifts, and your heart thuds as he turns to face you more fully. He takes one step, and then another, until he’s so close that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, smell the crisp scent of his body wash.

“You’ve always had it, Queenie,” He murmurs, “But you never gave yourself any goddamn grace.” 

Your mouth works wordlessly as you flounder for a reply, stunned heat creeping up your neck and sweeping across your face. Jack’s eyes seem to flicker in focus between your eyes and your mouth, and in the split-second that you’re certain you’ve caught him looking, the world goes still, and quiet.

And then you hear the click of Everett’s back door closing, snapping you out of your fantasy and spurring you to whirl away. You take the coffee pot up with an imperceptibly shaking hand, curling the other tightly around your mug. You laser-focus on it as you pour, forcing yourself to hone in on it—not on your brother’s footsteps, or in the way that Jack is still watching you. 

“Thought I heard your voice,” Everett comments. You hum, non-committal, and lift the coffee pot.

“Figured I’d make a fresh pot before coming to say hello. Want some?” 

Everett nods, setting his mug down beside yours. He waits patiently as you fill it, stands still as a stone, and huffs a curse when a dribble of coffee lands on the counter as you lift the pot back up a little too quickly. You take a step back, biting back a bratty chuckle as he rips a paper towel off of the roll to swipe it up.

You glance toward Jack, expecting to find a gentle, chastising smile—but Jack’s expression is closed off, jaw set as he watches Everett clean up. He can’t be mad at you for that, can he? It was barely three drops worth—Everett will be over it by the time he swipes it up. 

“C’mon,” Everett urges. “Let’s go outside. Less for you to mess up out there.”

You push off of the counter, grumbling, “Don’t bet on it,” As you stride out ahead of them. 

--  

As visits with Everett go, this one is far more stilted than usual. Typically, if both you and Jack are there, it’s an easy enough go around—smooth slides between talking about the Pitt, Everett complaining about his neighbors, Jack ribbing him about some op that went well when they served together—round and round you go.

But this time, neither you nor Jack are making much of an effort to engage with one another. Everett is left to act as the conversational conduit, and for a man with a penchant for keeping his mouth shut, the morning crawls by at a snail’s pace. Jack heads out before you do—stands and shakes Everett’s hand, promises to see him next week, to call sooner.

When his gaze flickers to you, you force yourself to study the bottom of your coffee cup, turning it from side to side and eyeing the few drops left.

“…See you at the Pitt.”

“Yeah.” It’s all you can muster. You can’t even bring yourself to meet his eye and give him a small smile as you say it. Jack’s footsteps retreat; the door opens, closes behind him. And after a few minutes of silence, Everett lets out the weariest fucking sigh you’ve ever heard.

“Alright, what’d he say.”

You look up then, frowning at the question. Everett’s brows tip up as he waits for your answer. You flounder, shaking your head.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t seen you so closed off around the guy since you decided to change your residency—and even that wasn’t as bad as whatever the hell this was.”

You slouch down in your seat, setting the coffee cup back down. 

“Jack didn’t say anything.” Except rattle the hell out of you and trick you into thinking he was staring at your mouth. “I’m just in my head about something. Sorry, Ev.”

He grunts, leans back in his seat. “...Wanna talk about it?”

It’s your turn for your brows to lift in surprise. 

“Wow, I didn’t realize I was that off.”

“Yes or no,” Everett presses. You consider for a moment before you shake your head. 

“It’s not…I have a date with a surgeon that I work with.”

“Okay,” He shifts in his seat as his brow furrows. “What’s that got to do with Jack?” 

“Just got the sense that he doesn’t approve.”

“That bothers you?” Disbelief is rife in Everett’s tone, and you can’t blame him. You haven’t put so much stock in his opinion—but it’s not the same. “What’s the guy like?”

“David? He’s—” You flounder. “Nice, I guess. Smart, quick…He’s got really nice eyes—”

“I don’t need that level of detail.”

“He’s a good guy.” 

“Then why would Jack disapprove? Matter of fact—” Everett folds his arms on the table, “Why would Jack care?” 

You let your eyes lower to the table, your hands wringing in your lap. What the hell can you tell Everett? That it’s just a feeling, a hunch? That the way he eyed you when you were talking to Dana had been nearly as intimidating as the only time you went against his direct orders when you were a resident? 

“He probably doesn’t. Guess I’m just reading into things.” 

“Well whatever it is, talk to him—and soon. Two’a you will put me off having visitors over again.”

“Except for your new girlfriend?”

It’s Everett’s turn to go quiet, and your smile widens. It’s so rare that you’ve been able to catch him out. 

“You gonna tell me about her?” You prod. 

“...Next time,” He musters, adding, “It’s early,” Before you can argue. You purse your lips, considering.

“Don’t wanna jinx it?” 

“Something like that.”

“I respect that.” 

“Good. Now get the hell outta my house before you spill any more coffee on my countertop.”

-- 

It’s in the spirit of air-clearing. In a quiet moment at the top of your fifth night shift, you grab a Twix from a vending machine and head down to the ER. You expect a quick word, a drop off, maybe a smile to send you on your way with reassurance. 

You don’t expect to get roped into two cases in a row—an arm fractured in a car accident, and a stab wound. Any hope of ducking out after the first case is dashed when Jack just nudges your arm and directs, “Let’s go.”

You don’t even have to think. Following him is automatic. And as the two of you run through routine questions, diagnoses, criteria, you realize that you forgot how good this feels—not the rush of the ER, but Jack’s steadiness; his closeness; his encouragement. 

As you peel off your gloves and leave Shen to stitch up the patient, you find Jack giving you an approving nod. 

“Well handled, Queenie.”

“Thank you.”

“You come down here just to prove my point?”

You can’t help your eye roll as the two of you pump hand sanitizer into your palms and work it in. 

“No,” You lean on the denial as you follow him to his desk. “I came to give you this.” You fish into your pocket for the Twix, holding it out. Jack’s lips quirk with a smile. 

“You tryin’ to butter me up for somethin’?”

You were trying to cover off for the foul mood you managed to put Jack in while you were both at Everett’s, but the cloud that had hung over his head during that visit seems to have dissipated. 

“Nope,” You pop the ‘p’, “Just figured I’d take a minute to pop down and annoy you.” 

“Well,” He rips the packet open, drawing one of the Twixes out, “You only managed half.”

“Excuse me?”

“You came down, but you haven’t managed to annoy me. The opposite, actually.” 

“Really.” 

“Really.” Jack holds up one of the Twix in range of you, and waits, his eyes steady on yours. You can’t help the wicked little thrill that runs through you as you lean in, taking a bite of it. His smile widens as you chew, and as he raises the Twix to take a bite for himself. 

“Hey, there you are!” 

The sound of David’s voice makes you straighten u, turning to spot him just a few feet away. 

“Oh, hey,” You greet, swiping a bit of missed caramel off of your lower lip. “What are you doing down here?” 

“I’m heading out, but Princess said she saw you heading down here.”

“And…Here I am.” 

“Yeah.” David’s gaze darts to Jack before he met your eye again. “We still on for tomorrow morning?” 

“Mhm,” You nod.

“Sweet. I’ll be here at 7:30.” 

“Cool.” 

David nods again, seeming to meet Jack’s eye and give him a small wave before leaving. You turn back to face Jack, folding your arms on the desk as you try to meet his eye—but Jack seems laser-focused on the computer in front of him. The Twix is gone—shoved to the side, behind his keyboard. 

“I should head back up,” You manage after a moment, straightening up. “Try not to have too much fun down here without me.” 

Jack gives a soft hum, a nod, a murmur of, “Will do.” 

You let yourself linger for just a second longer before heading to the elevator, stomach twisting with the feeling that you had somehow managed to annoy him after all. 

-- 

Going back down near the end of your shift feels like kicking the hornet’s nest, but whatever it is that annoyed him, Jack’s surely had a chance to sufficiently cool off, right? 

You duck into the restroom once you’ve changed out of your scrubs, giving yourself a quick once-over. You’d promised to meet David downstairs for your breakfast date, but truth be told, you're beginning to regret agreeing to seeing him that morning. Not because of the way Jack had acted (at least, not completely), but you are tired as hell. You should’ve held off until you had a day off. 

You glance back at the sound of the door opening, offering Dana a weak smile. 

“Clocking in?” 

“Mhm,” She hums. “Clocking out?” 

“Yep.” You take up your bag, patting her shoulder. “Have a good shift, lady.” 

“Go get some rest. You look like hell.” 

You chuckle softly, teasing, “Always the charmer.” 

The ER is bustling as busily as ever as you step out onto the floor, looking around for Jack. You spot him coming out of North Two, and damn yourself for hesitating when he catches sight of you in his sweeping gaze. You meet him in the middle, tucking your hands into your pockets as you fight the urge to reach out and pick a piece of lint off of his shirt. 

“Doing alright?” 

He nods, casting his gaze over your shoulder. You turn your head, following his gaze, and see David waiting for you by one of the exits. You swallow thickly, turning back to face Jack. 

“I have to go.” 

"Have to?" There's a sharp lean to the way he asks, a resolute tension tightening his handsome features. It's harsh; new to you in a way that's rattling. The judgement in his tone catches you off-guard, and your hands curl into fists in your pockets. 

“I’m going to.” 

“Well, that’s something different, isn’t it.” 

Your mouth works wordlessly as your mind races. You raise a hand to signal David to give you another minute when he calls out to you, unable to draw yourself away from Jack when he looks so goddamn disappointed in you. 

“What has crawled up your ass lately?” You hiss. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’ve been so—” You wave a hand toward him, “You keep shutting me out—”

“You shouldn’t keep Wilkins waiting.” 

Your head jerks back like the man’s just slapped you, and Jack’s jaw tightens as he averts his gaze. You push out a stunned, affronted laugh, shaking your head as you step back.

“Wow—”

“Queenie—”

“No. No, you’re right.” You turn away from Jack without another word, forcing a smile onto your face when you make eye contact with David. 

“Sorry about that.” 

“Nah, s’okay. You, uh—” His eyes dart over your shoulder to where you left Abbot. “You ready to go?” 

“Yep!” You chirp. You refuse to turn around, to see if Jack is still standing there. For once, you don’t try to shut the rest out, to check if he’s watching. You just move forward. And when David’s hand settles on your lower back to guide you outside, you resolve yourself to have a good time. 

--  

You have never been on a more awkward date in your life. 

The conversation just doesn’t flow. When you and David are working together, there’s banter, there’s ease, but when you’re alone and there’s no one between you on a table, it’s like there’s this…block. 

You chalk it up to the fact that you’re so tired you could cry, that your sleep schedule is all out of whack. And sure, that’s a factor, but you just can’t get Jack out of your fucking mind. You know that the stilted nature of your conversation with David isn’t helped by the few times that you’d checked your phone. But Jack has hardly texted in months, so why should today be any different? 

The date ends with knowing smiles, teasing, “See you at work”s before you get into your cars. You buckle in, wave at David as he drives off, and then just sink back in your seat, staring at your steering wheel.

When the tears prickle your eyes, you tell yourself that you’re just overtired—that you need a nap, and some good coffee (because the coffee from the bad cart was watery and flavorless). You push the tears back, shaking your head. Nothing about the date was worth crying over. You’re still in the parking lot at work for christ’s sake. 

Just get yourself home. You can have a nice cry in a hot shower. 

Last Part

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; 

@winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 ; @cannonindeez ; @gabsgabsvaz

@rhaelintoo ;

[lorelune]

(alpha sae x omega reader // hurt/comfort // WC: ~1.9k // minors dni)

sae wakes up alone.

it's late, early morning, probably. he doesn't bother checking his phone, the relative silence of the cityscape outside tells him enough. your bedroom nearly pitch black. aside from faint light slipping in from under the door of the en suite bathroom, the room is still and the corners shadowy.

sae doesn't enjoy waking up alone.

it feels wrong, these days. like he's missing a limb. the other side of your bed is empty and almost cold. the duvet and sheets are pushed down to the foot of the bed in a rumpled pile. your scent is all over the apartment, this room, and especially this bed, but it's still too faint. without you in this bed, it's too faint. it's unnatural for it to be so faint, this later at night— early in the morning, when you should be tucked into his side as you belong.

sae peels himself out of bed enough to sit up, rubbing at his cheeks. he thumbs over the (oh so controversial) claim bite on the base of his throat. the etch of your teeth laid into him forever. it's a romantic gesture, at least you think so. your thinking has rubbed off on him— at least a little.

sae already knows where you are. he's known since the moment he realized you weren't beside him where you'd be.

his nose guides through the dark, padding lightly and carefully across the hard flooring. he pauses in front of the door to the ensuite. your scent, distressed and louder than it should be in sleep, curls out from the room in waves.

the door to the ensuite opens almost silently.

the only light in the room pours off from a little nightlight, plugged in near the sink. it's some round cat-like character you think is very cute but sae thinks is kind of stupid looking, but sae loves you, and would do anything for you, so he loves the nightlight just as much as you do. it's nights like tonight where is very grateful for its slowly morphing rainbow of colors, pouring out over the space, just enough that sae can see you across the room.

'maladaptive omegan behaviors' weren't something sae was very familiar with, prior to seeing you (accidentally), courting you (intentionally) and mating you (very intentionally). he'd maybe heard the term tossed around in passing and on social media, but he never dug further into it. he didn't see himself taking a mate, so it didn't seem worth knowing about, especially since most of his peers were alphas just like him.

when you started letting sae into your nest, he had to learn quickly.

omegas with rough upbringings, whose mothers had difficult or traumatic pregnancies, and those with chronic physical illness often developed these behaviors. dysregulated systems, desperately trying to regulate themselves in the way that were taught— which is to say they were often taught incorrectly or not taught at all. it spawned into lists of behaviors associated with diagnosable criteria that sae could, if asked, probably recite from memory.

low scent production and a lack of scenting instinct. bite risk. inflamed scent glands outside of heat cycles. isolation drive and the subsequent isolation sickness.

the dysregulated trait you struggled the most with, though, was the maladaptive nesting behavior.

you lay in the large bathtub, curled up tightly into a ball, your forehead near your knees. thrown over you are an assortment of unused blankets from the nearby linen closet and towels dragged down from the nearby warming rack. sae knows that some are still probably damp, given you shared a shower before bed. your head is only supported on your folded hands. you look very sad and very small.

sae hates to see you like this.

he knows you can't help it. you've explained to him before, that sometimes— this just happens. you wake up in a cold sweat, panicked, and— you just can't be where you are in that moment. you struggle to describe the specific feeling, what drives you. it frustrates sae, because he needs to understand to help. but he never holds it against you (how could he?) even with what you are able to give him, sae gleans a little more each time you choose to confide in him.

slowly and gently, he reaches out to run a few fingers over your temples. you barely flinch, probably half-awake.

"baby," he says softly. his own voice surprises him on these nights. he never knew it could become so soft and entirely yours.

you're quiet for a moment, before turning into your damp nest. "... hi."

"not feeling so good?"

"'s fine now." your words slur with exhaustion. you've had a big week, you both have, between games, travel, and the media circus you somehow put up with. "go back to bed, sae."

"you know the rules." he scratches along your hairline. "not without you."

there's room in that bathtub for the both of you, if you refuse to leave. otherwise sae will sleep on the bathmat. he doesn't care.

something about the size of the bathroom and the depth of the bathtub makes you less scared. that's hard to emulate on a king-sized bed, no matter how well you make your nest and how long you fuss over it.

you glare at him, a little wet in the eyes, before hiding back in your makeshift nest.

he could, theoretically, reach over the lip of the bathtub and extract you himself. and he could probably hold you tightly enough and long enough that you feel safe, even in your nest that doesn't. he's your alpha, that's his job, one he likes—

but that's also not what he wants to do.

sae does lean over the edge of the bath and press his lips to your hairline before leaving you there.

see, you do this often. often enough that sae has poured through articles and reddit posts between rewatching his own matches to look for ways to help. to ease. it's not— in his nature, this type of helping. if not having you near is like missing a limb, learning to help you with your maladaptive behaviors is like exercising a underused one.

sae found a particular reddit post that seemed promising. a product recommendation that was out of budget for most folks, but sae has too much fucking money, and if his money isn't good for this, then what is it good for?

he knees down beside the bed and pulls out a parcel.

it takes him a moment, two, ten, to wrangle it out of the package. it's a frame of sorts, made of a metal-like, lightweight material. it comes with a set of straps too. the metal pieces come dissembled, and once assembled, become two poles and connecting between them. he deftly secures one pole to each of the posts of your bedframe with the straps, pulling them tight and taut so the poles are flush. the connecting bit spans between the bed posts, high, taller than sae if he were kneeling on the mattress. the frame itself rises over the top half of the bed, and slopes with another set of support poles to the bottom.

over it, sae hangs a sheet, one he's been scenting himself in secret, knowing that this exact event would occur. it drapes down over all sides of the bed, making enclosure, yet airy space. there's a string of LED, no heat lights that came with the frame that he strings along the outside, dappling the inside of the space in warm light.

sae is an alpha, so he doesn't have the same sense for nestmaking as an omega would. he does try, because he loves you, and fluffs up pillows and rearranges things to look more inviting. he only goes to get you when he is certain things are as good as he can get them.

you're sleepier when he fetches you from the bathtub, easier to coax out with the promise of a glass of water and skinship. you don't fight him, even on night's when the need to hide here is more violent and panic-inducing for you. the trust you give sae is implicit and seemingly endless. it is important that he covets it.

presenting you the frame, draped sheet, and cute lights, you blink at the structure.

"... a fort?"

"it's called a nest hide."

"who calls it that?"

"reddit."

you snort and press your nose into his bicep. you're all wrapped around of of his arms, clinging to him. he thinks, if you asked him a few years ago if he would like this kind of thing, he would've said no. deadpanned because he couldn't imagine ever enjoying this much contact with anyone casually. now, however? he craves it with you so much, that he hasn't gone to a single away game alone for god knows how long. his teammates tease sae about how you have him wrapped around you finger, and he doesn't fight them on it. it's true; he is.

you both clamor into bed, your nest, you first and him second, after allowing you to adjust the nest accordingly. it doesn't take you as long as it did earlier in the evening. you lean over the edge of the bed and pick up a forgotten friend, a plush of the same pudgy character as the nightlight. you set it next to fluffed pillows and preen.

your scent has bloomed, stronger than it was, more content. he can tell you're still tired, so tired, and your scent reveals your exhaustion easily.

"c'mere?" you tell him, once you're done, extending a hand to him.

sae takes your hand, he always will.

it's easy then, to settle together under your mutual favorite blanket, a soft knit thing sae's grandmother made for you after sae's claim became public knowledge. she thanked you for 'finally making that boy settle down some' which sae didn't agree with at the time, but now he does. you've domesticated him a bit, and he wouldn't trade that for much at all.

you lay, facing each other, as sae stretches to shut the string lights off. in an instant, you're completely wrapped around each other. your forehead it cushioned against his chest, his arms around your waist, legs tangled. it's so good. far better than a bathtub.

"... thank you, sae," you say, softly. half-spoken into the his bare chest, and half into the still of your shared.

"there's nothing to thank me for." he huffs a little, just enough that you laugh lightly. "i like making sure you're comfortable."

it's as simple as that. it's always been that simple with you, and you make things easy to be simple. it's a privilege, he has come to realize.

"well, you're very comfy." you hum, voice wavering with sleep. "still."

as a final act, before you fall properly and fully asleep until sae deigns to wake you the next morning, you lay a kiss over his claim bite scar. your scents mingle, mix, and roll over the space. you're— so very good at drawing such a fragrance out of him. sun-warm, earthy, all him. it tangles with your own.

he thumbs over your own scar, once he watches you fall asleep, peaceful and as hale as you can be, and safe, and thinks that he'd do far more than built some little safe haven for you, if he could. if he needed to, he'd move the world.

sae lays a kiss on your forehead, nuzzling there, with only quiet night song of the city to witness his most vulnerable affections.

[lay-z]

🎀 Day 16 – Driving home for Christmas

A continuation of 🍷 Day 8 – Dinner time, which means it’s set in the same universe!

Synopsis: When Christmas comes around again, it’s Kyle this time around who asks his Captain if he can come over for dinner.

Pairing: husband!John Price x wife!Reader x Kyle Gaz Garrick Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | Kyle's POV; curvy!pregnant!Reader (some physical descriptions); dom!Price; hurt/comfort; breeding kink; pregnant sex/pregnancy kink; objectification; threesome; unprotected sex; choking; fluff/aftercare

Word count: 3.2k

↳ back to ��🏼 Masterlist ☃️

Kyle feels like he’s having a very vivid déjà-vu. 

When he raises his fist and knocks on the heavy cedar wood door, flashbacks of last year’s Christmas Eve are triggered and playing in front of his inner eye as he glances up at the Christmas lights and decorations adorning Price's large house.  

Flashbacks and memories that leave his face burning despite the biting cold nipping at his skin and, admittedly, his cock stirring hotly in his chic beige pants. 

He hasn’t seen you since the summer, roughly five months ago, when Price had invited the team and Laswell for a barbecue in his backyard. The moment you'd stolen him away for a quick make out session in the laundry room after the Captain, standing by the grill, had given his blessing with a curt nod, was the last time someone else had touched him intimately.  

And now, Kyle still catches himself having a desperate wank to the phantom feeling of your delicate hand wrapped around his throbbing prick and your wonderful lips against  his sensitive neck, whispering sweet praises into his ear like you did way back in the laundry room in your perfect house all while your husband (and his boss) knew what was happening. And every time, Kyle spills his load all over his own calloused knuckles with a pathetic whine, wishing they were yours instead.

Oh, bloody fucking hell, he’s such a goner for you. 

His jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth, swallowing thickly; dark eyes zeroed in on the front door while his other fist tightens around the expensive bottle of red wine he brought for you. 

Kyle checks the time on his Rolex. 17:56 p.m., punctual as always. 

He tugs on his winter coat before adjusting the front of his pants once more; uncomfortable to stand in front of the threshold of another man’s house, obviously bricked up for said man’s wife before he even gets the chance to say his greetings. 

When the door opens eventually, Kyle’s heart is already thudding harshly against his ribcage with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, though it stutters briefly when he is greeted by Captain Price’s mug instead of yours. 

“Garrick,” the older man greets curtly, steel blue eyes flickering to glance past the Sergeant briefly.

And Kyle knows that look too well, knows his Captain is being extra vigilant for some reason, sweeping the perimeter, even though it’s his own estate and if someone else were to be around, his security system would surely pick up on it. Still, due to their jobs and shared experiences, both men know to never get too comfortable.

Eventually, Price opens the front door wider and steps aside in a non-verbal invitation, “Good to see you, Sergeant.” 

“Thank you, sir. Likewise,” Kyle replies, straightening his shoulders as he walks into the entry hallway past his Captain, who immediately closes and locks the front door behind them once more. 

The house smells heavenly, like freshly baked cookies, spices and some kind of roasted meat, mixed with the natural smells of your home. It's a concoction of scents that nearly leaves Kyle feeling both nostalgic and yearning. 

“Bird’s in the living room, lad,” Price says with his usual gruffness yet underlying care as Kyle hangs up his coat on the vintage rack. “I know she’s been looking forward to seeing you again.” 

And Kyle has been looking forward to see you, too. More than he’s comfortable to admit. 

“Here,” Kyle says, offering the bottle of red wine for the other man to take with his chest puffed out proudly, because he remembered that like a good, obedient soldier would. “You told me she prefers red.”  

He watches in confusion as his Captain’s eyes crinkle in the corners, crow’s feet appearing as he looks at the bottle in the Sergeant's hands in what can only be described as amusement before accepting it eventually with a gruff chuckle and a firm clap on the younger man's shoulder. 

“Aye, lad, that’s very thoughtful of ya.” 

Kyle does find you in the living room, wearing a tight black knitted dress, curled up in the loveseat in the corner next to the old bookshelf that looks quite Cold War-esque and the large, classically decorated Christmas tree, with a pale blue hardcover book in your lap and a steaming cuppa on the small side table next to the sofa. 

Even without the fairy lights illuminating you from behind, you look radiant, like you’re glowing from the inside out, and something in his heart aches, deep behind his chest – something dangerous and exhilarating that takes his breath away momentarily. 

Once you notice the familiar, young man standing frozen in place in the open doorway to the living room, your eyes light up, a breath-taking smile spreading on your lips. “Hello, soldier,” you chirp and bookmark the page you’re on before closing the book.  

“Hello, princess.” He replies softly, cheeks heating up even more at the sound of your voice greeting him so happily.

And while Kyle tries and fails to catch the cover and title of the book as you put it aside, he does notice the way you untuck your tight-clad legs from under yourself with a soft groan before heaving yourself up and out of the loveseat with a sudden struggle which he doesn’t quite understand. 

His brows furrow in concern, attentive eyes scanning your body as you adjust your dress around your shoulders. “How have you been?” He asks, taking a few measured steps towards you. 

“Oh,” you giggle softly, eyes twinkling with mirth and that familiar gentleness as you watch Kyle approach, “I’ve been… well.” 

Then, you make a tiny gesture that makes everything click into place for the Sergeant at once. You caress the top of your belly lovingly while supporting it with the other, and suddenly, Kyle notices the prominent bump that was initially concealed by the black fabric of your dress and the veil of his metaphorical rose-coloured glasses. 

His heart nearly stops in his chest, auburn eyes widening comically and he stops dead in his tracks while something strange starts happening in his brain, like its most primal and savage parts are being stimulated for the first time in his life.

“Congratulations,” Kyle manages to say, cracking a smile, though his voice is too rough, too breathless for his own liking. “You look lovely, sweetheart.” Breathtakingly beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. He could go on, but chooses not to.

You’re pregnant. Pregnant. Very, very pregnant, and fertile.  

And it is all Kyle can focus on for the rest of the evening. He’s embarrassingly hard during dinner, while he watches his rough and tough, stoic Captain dote on you like the loving husband he is. Everything makes so much sense now, too; why Price had taken more leave in the past couple of months than he ever has in his whole bloody career, giving up more responsibilities to Ghost, his second-in-command, and being even more secretive and guarded about his personal life. 

The longer he stays and is forced to watch the happy couple, the more envious he becomes.

It’s a mean feeling that takes root in his heart, poisoning it slowly like the black plague; squeezing and mocking all while he can simply blame himself, because he was the one who’d asked to come over this time.

He wasn’t invited which makes him he’s an intruder, and it’s starting to show in the way Price keeps whispering sweet nothing’s into your ear while he sits next to you on the loveseat in the living room, after moving back there once dinner was finished and the table was cleared. Now, Kyle can only watch how his Captain coddles his gorgeous wife; kissing your temple and rubbing his big hand over the swell of your pregnant belly possessively, as if his Sergeant isn’t currently sitting in the armchair right across from you.

Kyle realizes begrudgingly and with a stabbing ache in his heart that the times, when his Captain would let him have a small taste of heaven, of you, are over. It’s too sudden, too soul-crushing, like a band aid ripped away too swiftly and taking bits of hair and scabs with it, though it should have been foreseeable from the beginning.

It wasn’t supposed to last, anyway.

His heart clenches painfully as he makes the rash decision to simply slip away, leave you two be while he will go on his merry way to drown his sorrows and loneliness in some cheap liquor. And when Kyle catches the sound of your soft giggles once more, elicited by Price who nuzzles into your neck affectionately in a way that has Kyle’s cock chuffing even worse, his legs start developing a mind of their own and he stands up from his seat at once.

Of course, it only catches their attention and an awkward silence ensues. 

The Sergeant clears his dry throat, shifting on his feet uncharacteristically insecure. “I should head out,” he announces, glancing down at his expensive watch. It’s barely past 8 p.m. “–while I can still drive.” He adds with a forced chuckle. Kyle made the conscious decision not to drink as much as last year in case you–No, no he really shouldn’t go there. 

However, before Kyle can say his thanks and bid his goodbyes, you and Price share a look that the younger man has seen before, and then the Captain gets out of the loveseat with an old-manly grunt.  

“Nonsense, Garrick,” he objects gruffly, making a dismissive hand gesture as he walks past Kyle over to his vintage liquor cabinet. “We’re having another drink.” 

Then, there is the distinct sound of clinking glasses, the unscrewing of a bottle and the gluck gluck gluck of liquid as said glasses are filled while Kyle furrows his brows, glancing over his shoulder at his Captain’s broad back before his eyes shift back over to you, sitting oh so prettily as you blink up at him with your beautifully bright doe-eyes and another tooth-achingly sweet smile before you shift and go on to push yourself up from your seat. 

And right when Kyle wants to rush to your aid, Price stops him by clasping a hand over his broad shoulder, offering a glass full of strong, amber liquor as he leans in to murmur into Kyle’s ear in a way that makes his skin pebble with goose bumps: “Isn’t she gorgeous, lad?”

Yes, yes, you’re gorgeous. Bloody perfect.

Especially now, sprawled out on your marital bed in the master bedroom while Kyle watches you get eaten out by your husband as if the latter is feasting on his last meal.

Your radiant body arches and stretches on the mattress; all soft lines and feminine curves while your round baby bump keeps drawing his gaze in like the most beautiful sight Kyle has ever been allowed to see. Your breasts are larger; your nipples and areolas a shade darker in contrasts to your glowing skin, and he can’t wait to trail his fingertips along the faint stretch marks along your hips and up your belly. It’s mesmerising. You are mesmerising, absolutely breath-taking.

The whole situation feels much more intimate than the first time last year, too, when the Captain had talked you into fucking the stress and sadness out of his Sergeant’s system, and then the stolen moments of sweet passion that had followed in between whenever he was lucky enough to see you. Always just you and Kyle while Price had given his blessings upfront. Now, though, now the latter is actively participating, and Kyle is trying to figure out his role in this. Less an intruder, but still not wholly part of it all, he figures.

The cries of pleasure which your husband is eliciting from you, eventually pull Kyle out of his stupor and he watches as you shudder and tremble with another intense climax before you mewl and paw at Price’s shoulders with panting breaths, trying to either nudge him away or get him even closer, and the latter pushes himself up on his elbows before sitting back on his haunches, still fully clothed while Kyle was ordered to strip down to his underwear.

“Please–” You whimper and hiccup breathlessly in a way that makes Kyle wince when his cock throbs and twitches painfully in his boxer briefs.

Price chuckles as he licks your arousal from his lips before bringing his hand up to wipe at his mouth. “Use your words, m’love. We’ve already been through this so many times, no?”

You nod eagerly as you swallow thickly, and Kyle can see the gloss of tears in your eyes. He wants to kiss them away, needs to keep overstimulating you all the same to coax more of those saccharine sounds from you, determined to make more memories he can feed on to get him through another year, most likely longer (perhaps forever), of withdrawal from you.

“Garrick,” Price barks and makes a sharp gesture with his hand before scooting away from between your legs, creating more space. “You’re going to fuck my pregnant wife now.”

Kyle’s stomach drops into an open pit for a split second, though the clear order given by his superior does make his heart rate exhilarate and his cock leak even worse in his underwear. His eyes flicker nervously between Price and you, until you reach your hand out to him with half-lidded eyes, a sweet smile and small nod.

And it’s all the encouragement Kyle needs, before he answers with a curt, determined: “Yes, sir.”

However, when Kyle reaches for the condom he’d placed on the nightstand buoyantly, Price clicks his tongue in disdain. “No need for that, lad,” he assures him, “not this time.”

Then, you chime in so sweetly, telling him that it’s okay, that you want to feel him without any barrier, and Kyle’s brain blanks as he positions himself on his knees between your legs; caressing and groping your supple thighs, a full-body shudder wrecking through him at the first touch of your skin after months of being deprived of it.

He grasps his cock at the base, drags his weeping cockhead through your pretty, glistening folds, coating his length in your syrupy slick while gripping your hip with his other hand before guiding his thick tip to your entrance and pushing in slowly, feeling your velvety walls clench and squeeze around him while he sinks his cock deeper, and then, all the air rushes from his lungs with a drawn-out, breathless groan as Kyle finally comes home again.

“That’s it.” Price’s voice coos gruffly, and Kyle can feel the mattress shift behind him before warm, calloused palms trail along his toned sides and settling on his waist with a tight hold, and his dark eyes widen in surprise as he stares down at you, gorgeously spread open and taking his cock like you were made for him, too.

This definitely never happened before, Price joining in like this, but when you continue to mewl for more while nudging the heel of your bare foot into Kyle’s backside urgently, he’s too far gone to think properly; all reason and restraint melting away like candle wax, leaving nothing but pleasure rather than the pain he’d endured for the past year.

“She feels incredible, doesn’t she, Sergeant?”

It’s a rhetorical question, because Kyle is already gritting his teeth, muscles coiling, trying not to cum already as he bottoms out inside your gummy channel. You do feel different. Hotter, slicker, sweeter, utterly intoxicating, and Kyle doesn’t know if it’s the fact he’s not wearing protection or if it’s your pregnancy making your pussy even more addictive.

He nods anyway, holding eye-contact with you. “Yes, s-sir. Fuck–!”

And then, Price pushes Kyle’s hips forward at once, thrusting the younger man’s cock deeper into your fluttering cunt, making you and the Sergeant moan and yelp obscenely in unison while your plump tits jiggle tantalisingly. “Then fuck her properly, Sergeant. She needs it… and so do you.” He growls into Kyle’s ear; rough beard scratching over heated, sensitive skin.

Price tells Kyle to fuck you, but it’s obviously the Captain who’s setting the pace here; guiding and pushing his Sergeant’s hips as the latter fucks you desperately yet carefully while his own clothed and throbbing cock ruts against the younger man’s bare, plump ass.

Kyle can barely hold himself together after months of loneliness and touch-starvation, and the absolute overwhelming feeling of being buried inside you now, hearing you moan and cry out his name while the full weight of his Captain’s powerful body is pressed flush against him; he’s heating up, front to back, sweat trickling down his neck as one of Price’s mammoth hands snakes up his chest, squeezing his pec harshly before curling around Kyle’s throat, putting pressure on his Adam’s apple. 

“Oh, fuck, – Cap–” Kyle gasps and pants, and his head lolls back against Price’s broad shoulder, short-circuiting with new sensations while his dark lashes flutter; hips still grinding deeply and fast-paced into your dripping cunt until your gummy walls convulse and squeeze him rhythmically as your climax seizes you, making you cry out in ecstasy in a way Kyle hasn’t witnessed before while his own pleasure boils over, and he grips you feverishly with both hands, long fingers digging into the fat of your thighs while Price’s hot breath ghosts over his sweat-slicked skin.

“That’s it, Gaz,” he murmurs, squeezing Kyle’s throat tighter and cutting off more of his airflow, “–fill her up, lad. Breed her good.” 

And Kyle does as he’s ordered; eyes rolling back into his skull, crying out despite the pressure around his neck as his cock pulses and shoots several thick ropes of cum into your eager cunt; vision blurring as he comes harder than he has in what feels like forever.

Much to his surprise, once his mind has come off its post-orgasmic high, the aftermath isn’t as strange as Kyle anticipated as soon as Price had gotten involved.

His eyes are closed, his cheek resting above your naked chest, mindful to not put any unnecessary pressure on your sore breasts, while he listens to your steady heartbeat, his warm palm resting on your baby bump, stroking his thumb over your skin absentmindedly.

“Did it kick yet?” Kyle asks curiously, his voice slurred with exhaustion. “The uh… baby, I mean.”

“Yes,” you answer, laughing softly as you continue to scratch your fingernails along the curve of Kyle’s shoulder blades, feeling his skin pebble with gooseflesh. “I think he’s sleeping now after all the commotion,” you giggle, “– just like his daddy.”

As if on cue, Price’s snore cuts through the tranquillity, curled around you on your other side protectively. Kyle snorts softly before letting out a soft sigh, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He's always dreamed of having a boy.

[camaraindustries]

Drive-In Racking System | Drive-Through Racking System I Camara Industries, Inc

Drive-In Rack and Drive-Through Rack Systems are Ideal for high-volume, low-SKU applications . Lane depth can reach over 10 pallets deep and are a practical way to redeem pallet efficiency by using this high density storage system method. Contact Camara Industries, Inc to learn about our cost-effective drive in racking systems and start improving your storage capacity!

[mayuri-manufacturer]

Design & Manufacturing of Racking System in Pune | Max Space Rack

At Max Space Racking System, our expertise lies in designing and manufacturing high-quality racking systems in Pune. We are dedicated to optimizing your space and streamlining your operations for maximum efficiency.