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youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 months ago

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Gravity Part One

Part Two

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

Notes: Welcome back to another accidental three-parter. Not beta-read.

Rating: M

Length: 5.6K

Warnings: Yearning (a frickin lot); slow burn; coworkers to friends to lovers; angst; fluff; canon-typical medical chat; fluff; POV switches a couple of times; Reader is roommates with Ellis; Jack 'Prolonged Eye Contact' Abbot

Summary: Abbot didn’t make you uncomfortable, per se. But the nerves that had welled around him during your first few weeks at the Pitt had never really gone away. If you were hard-pressed to examine and classify your feelings, you would (grudgingly) sort them into the mild to moderately romantic category. You blamed him for that entirely.

It wasn't fair, of course. He was handsome, knowledgeable, charming when he wanted to be. He was an amazing physician, an excellent teacher. And it wasn't his fault you had a bit of competency kink. Abbot had never made you feel anything but valued—and nervous.

Besides, it was embarrassing to admit that you had a crush on a man that you’d hardly looked in the eye for the last few years.

It started when she was an intern.

Jack was fully aware of his tendency toward strong eye contact. It helped him make sure he was fully getting a point across when he was guiding residents in the ER—so long as their focus wasn't meant to be elsewhere.

He managed to meet her eye fully exactly twice—and maybe it was odd, but Jack could remember both times clear as day.

The first one was her first day at the Pitt, when she’d shook his hand, introduced herself with a nervous tremor in her voice. Her palm had been a little sweaty, and cold, but her eyes had held his.

The second had been a week or so later, the first time she’d lost a patient. He’d clapped her on the shoulder, reassured her that there was nothing more she could’ve done. He’d tacked on, “Don’t let it happen again,” and he’d been kidding—but she had balked, ducked her head, apologized, and hurried away.

She had rarely met his eye since then.

At first, he’d figured that she was shy, and that she’d grow out of it. Then, he’d thought that maybe she was more reserved at work—some people simply kept their personal and professional lives separate.

But those notions had been disproven time and time and time again: when she palled around with her fellow residents; when she watched and communicated with Walsh attentively; when the senior resident that was clearly hitting on her leaned just a little too close for Jack’s liking in the staff room.

She hadn’t backed down from a single one, hardly batted a damn eyelash.

But any time she spotted Jack, her eyes would lower or dart away—to the floor, to her hands, to a chart, to the sandwich cart, to a counter.

Now, Jack was not a man to take these things personally, but after all these years, it stuck in his craw. He didn’t think about it most days, had learned to take it in stride, found ways to work with it. It had never caused a hold up during a procedure, or in the event of an emergency. She was always active in communicating with him, she just…Never looked at him.

“You’re going to burn a hole through her head.”

Jack hadn’t realized he was staring until Lena said so. He glanced toward the nurse, eyed her knowing smile, and redirected his focus to the computer in front of him.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

Lena snorted, turning back to the desk as someone approached to ask her a question.

Jack only half-listened, unable to help his eyes drifting toward her again. She was hunched over her own computer, and seemed to be fighting back a smile at something Shen was saying. Another comment or two from Shen, and then her chin was tipping up, a bright smile on her lips as she held Shen’s eye.

Jack huffed a soft laugh through his nose at the sound of Shen’s cackling laugh, and it was like watching ripples in a pond—her head tipped, her brow furrowed, and her eyes darted in Jack’s direction. The smile flattened when she caught him looking, her focus lowering to her keyboard as she hurriedly straightened. She seemed to point to the charge board, mutter something, and turned on her heel, striding away with purpose.

Jack couldn’t help a swell of petty disappointment. What the hell was that? There was no way she’d heard him laugh. It was like she’d sensed a disturbance in the force. Jack shook his head, trying to refocus on the chart.

Did she panic because he had been smiling? Had he been staring at her as long as Lena implied? Did he look like some dirty old man?

Jack pushed off of the desk, eyeing the charge board with purpose. Whatever it was that made her skitter away like that—well. He’d forget it by tomorrow.

“Hey. You headed in?”

You glanced back, doing a double-take at the site of Ellis standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Uh—Yeah, just packin’ a few snacks. You need anything?”

“I got something to ask you.”

“Sure, what’s up?” You turned to face her, folding your arms expectantly. In the entire time you and Ellis had been roommates, you’d never seen her look concerned like this—and she usually didn’t bother trying to be delicate when broaching a difficult subject.

“Parker, what is it?” You pressed.

“Is something going on between you and Abbot?”

Your brow furrowed, mouth falling open as if to answer—but what the hell kind of question was that?

“Excuse me?”

“You and Abbot, what’s going on?”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“You sure?”

“I think I’d know if something was happening between us, El. Where the hell did this come from, anyway?”

“Shen said the two of you were weird yesterday, that Abbot looked at you and you bolted. And—” She shrugged, “You kinda always seem like that. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened yesterday! I realized I needed to go check on a patient, I’d just gotten their results back.”

“And all the other times?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ellis gave you a long look before she relented, holding her hands up in surrender with a mutter of, “Alright.”

“Great.”

“If you insist—”

“I do insist.”

“But you know what they say about people who protest too much.”

“Cap it, Hamlet. You on tonight?”

“Yep,” Ellis nodded.

“See you in there.”

“If you wanna wait, I’ll drive you.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” You shifted your bag onto your shoulder. “The walk is good for me.”

“We’re gonna be on our feet for the next twelve hours.”

“I like a warm-up,” You insisted. “See you in there.”

Slow and steady, that was how you left the apartment—even steps, a measured pocket-pat-down at the door to make sure you had your phone, keys, wallet, ID badge…And then you were out the door.

Out the door, and down the stairs, and cursing under your breath as you stepped out onto the street. Where the hell did Ellis get off, asking something like that? Implying that something could be going on between you and Abbot? You hardly spoke to the guy. Hell—you felt like you barely said more than two words to the man that didn’t have anything to do with work. The implication that the two of you had something going on was categorically insane—and it twisted your gut up in a knot.

The closer you got to the Pitt, the worse the feeling got, until it was bordering on nausea. You stopped a block away, drawing in a deep breath and puffing it out between your lips, trying to shake yourself of the feeling. Damnit, why’d you let Ellis get in your head that way?

You drew in another steadying breath as you started forward again, trying to shake the nerves out of your hands. This shift was going to be fine—as seamless as the ones before it.

“You doin’ okay?”

It was a fair question asked by the last person you wanted to hear it from. The shift had been hell. Patient after patient seemed to have some hitch. You were slower to respond when Abbot asked you questions, prompted you. It was only made worse by the feeling of Ellis and Shen watching every goddamn interaction.

Now, the test results were back for the patient you were least looking forward to seeing. The patient herself was sweet, but you were getting nowhere with her overbearing husband answering nearly every question for her.

You pushed yourself to straighten up.

“Fine,” You insisted flatly. “Thanks.” You straightened fully, hesitating as you heard him take a step away. “Actually—”

It was out of your mouth before you could stop it. You saw Abbot go still in your periphery, and your hands flexed around the iPad in your hands.

“I’m having trouble getting answers from a patient—a woman with a head injury. She said she slipped and whacked it, but based on where the cut is...I don't think it's possible. And her husband’s an overbearing ass. I’ve got a bad feeling about him.”

“Abusive?”

“I think so. Could you run interference?”

“Sure. You have one of those pens, one of the—”

“I always keep a couple in my pocket.”

She steeled herself before she went into the examination bay. Jack had seen her do it time and time again when she could. He wondered how it steadied her, savored the way that she closed her eyes for a split-second, drew in a deep breath, and then slapped a smile on before pulling the curtain back.

"How are we doing in here?"

Her chipper tone did nothing to reveal the concern that she'd shared with him moments ago. Abbot followed close behind, taking in the young woman laying in a hospital gown on the bed, and the man standing just beside her at the head. Abbot took another step toward the bed, then stopped as the woman seemed seemed to shrink back, attempting to make herself smaller.

"She's fine." The man's voice was gruff in his insistence, his hand curled into a fist just by his wife's head. Abbot's eyes skated across the bruises and scrapes to the knuckles there, his own hands wringing behind his back as he took another step closer.

Jack saw her glance back toward him before she gestured, "Dr. Abbot, this is Nick and Amanda Alpers. Mr. and Mrs. Alpers, this is Dr. Abbot. He's the ER's foremost expert on head injuries." An easy fib, and it seemed to be a necessary one.

"Aren't you all trained on the same shit?" Nick grumbled. Abbot took a couple of steps closer, taking in the slight matting of hair on the wife's head, the dark clotting of blood.

"We all have our own experiences that inform how we practice," Abbot passed easily, taking one more step. "Mrs. Alpers, would it be alright if I examined the—"

"It's just a scrape, really!" The insistence was hurried, and left the poor woman in a squeak. Abbot forced a small smile, giving a conceding nod.

"May I examine the scrape?" He conceded.

Amanda's eyes seemed to dart to Nick for permission, and only after a hefty sigh did Nick wave Abbot closer.

He couldn't help but note the way his fellow doctor rounded the bed, caught on the slight flurry of her questions as he gloved up.

"Are you feeling any pressure?" He asked, gently parting the hair to get a better look at the bloody, raised bump on her head.

"N-no. No more than usual—I mean! No more than anyone ever usually feels," Amanda hurried to answer. Abbot's eyes lifted to the doctor on the opposite side of the bed just in time to see her fingers tightening around her iPad.

"Any sensitivity to light, sound...?" Abbot went on, drawing his penlight out of his pocket and shining it from one eye to the next.

"Nn-nn."

"Hm."

"If that's all, can we go?" Nick groused. "Already been a waste of a night."

Abbot straightened, sizing Nick up. He waited for his fellow physician to say something, but—Nothing. He looked at her, certain she was eyeing the chart, but realized immediately that it was a mistake. Her eyes were right on his, widening pointedly as they darted to the creep beside her. Abbot cleared his throat, doing his best to focus on the patient—though he knew he'd be tucking that look away for himself.

"Nick, can I have a word?" He asked, gesturing toward the nurse's station.

"What for?"

Abbot pushed a short breath out through his nose as he rounded the bed, taking even steps so as not to raise the brute's hackles.

"There are some things that I'd like to discuss with you. Things that, you know," He nodded, "Women shouldn't hear."

Watching understanding wash over Nick's face made his stomach turn. It was a wonder the man had brought his wife to the ER at all if that was the attitude he held.

"We won't go far?" Nick pressed, though he was already moving.

"No, no," Jack insisted, following him out, "Just a few feet." He gave her one last look, and a quick nod before tugging the observation curtain closed behind them.

The knot that had formed in your stomach only tightened, but it wasn’t for your own nerves or panic anymore. You didn't like letting her go, hated seeing her leave with him. Abbot came to a stop beside you, and for a moment, the two of you just watched Nick steer Amanda out of the ER.

"What'd you say to him?" You asked.

"Distracted him with football."

"I didn't know you watched."

“Sometimes. She take the pen?” He asked.

“...Yeah.”

“It’s a start.”

“Might be too little, too late.”

“She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

“You think so?”

“Sure.”

“...I gave her my number, too.”

You saw Abbot’s head turn toward you, and you froze, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” It should’ve been more of a scold, but you could’ve sworn his tone was tinged with admiration.

“I know.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.” You turned away from Abbot. “Thanks again for distracting him.”

“...No problem. Will you tell me if she calls?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, turning to look at the board. “Hope she does—and soon.”

“Was that all that was bothering you?”

“What?”

“You seemed a little off earlier. Just making sure everything’s okay.”

Well, Abbot always was the observant type. It was one of the things that made him such a good doctor. You shouldn’t have been offended by his question, but in that moment, his concern was as unwelcome as Ellis probing had been just a few hours before.

“Just one of those days—nights,” You corrected, “You know.”

“Take a couple minutes, get some air.”

“I’m alright.” And before you could stop yourself, you gave him a grateful smile before turning away. In truth, you weren't entirely sure where you were headed to—you’re more distracted by the fact that you’d met the guy’s eye more in the last twenty minutes than you probably had in the last two years.

“Here.”

“Thanks,” You took your beer as Ellis set it down and settled into the seat across from you. “John on his way?”

“Yeah,” She nodded, “And uh…Don’t kill me, but he’s bringing someone.”

You frowned, shaking your head as you waited for her to explain. Ellis didn’t elaborate, merely tipped her brows up. It only took a second for you to put the pieces together, and you groaned, sliding down in your chair as nerves flooded your stomach.

“Parker—”

“It’s just a coincidence!” She took in your unimpressed glare, corrected, “Mostly a coincidence. We always ask, he almost never says yes. It’s as hard to talk him into coming out as it is to talk you into it. Besides, it’ll help!”

“There’s nothing here that needs helping.”

“It’s slowing things down—”

“When has it ever slowed anything down?”

“Last few shifts, he’s waited for you to look at him when you answer and nothing. It’s making shit weird. We leave that messy personal bull for the day shift.”

“I’m not—This isn’t messy, it’s just—”

“You barely look at the guy. We all notice it.”

“He’s so big on frickin’ eye contact, like,” You glanced around the bar, “It’s intimidating.”

“Intimidating?”

“Yeah.”

“Intimidating.”

“Yes! I barely even like making eye contact with you, but I live with you, so it’s mostly unavoidable.”

“You love it.”

“Sure. Who wouldn’t want to be adopted by the meanest lesbian in the ER?”

“I thought that was Garcia.”

“No, she’s the meanest lesbian in surgery.”

Ellis’ smile widened before she perked up, waving at someone behind you before she leaned in just a touch.

“Just be yourself, be cool.”

“Pick one.”

“You know, I bet he thinks you hate him.”

“What?” You hissed, “Why would he think that? And—Why would he give a shit, plenty of people hate their boss. Not that I hate him, I don’t, just—”

“Hey!” Shen’s voice cut over your nervous chatter, and you couldn’t stop your knee-jerk reaction of turning to look at him—and spotting Abbot just a couple of steps behind. Shen patted you on the shoulder, settling down beside you as Abbot rounded the table. Your eyes glued to your beer instinctively as he shrugged out of his jacket, sitting down beside Ellis. And you thought you’d just managed to be subtle enough—until both Shen and Ellis kicked you lightly under the table. It took everything in you not to kick back, instead lifting your head to meet Abbot’s eye, plastering a small smile on your lips.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” There was a little lean to his lo, a friendly tease that you felt like you hadn’t earned. And there was eye contact—heavy, steady eye contact as he folded his arms on the table. You tried to ignore the traitorous little flip in your stomach as you hurriedly lowered your eyes to the table, picking your beer up and taking a swig to try and drown the flurrying butterflies.

“We miss anything good?” Shen plied. Ellis shook her head.

“We were just talking about renewing our lease.”

“I forgot you two were roommates,” Abbot commented. Ellis must’ve told him, and you couldn’t fathom why he’d remember.

“What’s the verdict?” Shen asked.

“We’re gonna stick,” You reported as you looked at him. “Rent is going up, but, like, barely…Barely.”

“And the location is too good,” Ellis tacked on. “Half an hour to the Pitt walking, fifteen minutes by car—utilities don’t suck, either.”

“Decent space,” You added, “And allows dogs—if this one goes through with getting a dog.”

“I’m still in research and development.”

“Aren’t you allergic?” Shen nudged your arm.

“Yeah, but not deathly. And if she picks a breed that doesn’t shed much and has a low can f 1 gene—”

“I want to adopt from a shelter—”

“So I’ll probably be moving out as soon as that happens,” You teased, “Because god knows she’ll wind up with a mutt.”

“And sublet?”

“Sure, John. You can move into my room, I’ll move into your place. Even trade.”

“I don’t know about that—”

“Better rent, better location.”

“You won’t mind being further from the Pitt?”

“Nah,” You shrugged, “I like a long walk.”

“Sure does,” Ellis rolled her eyes, “I don’t know anyone that spends more time just wandering around on their days off.”

“Is it a crime to enjoy being outside when the sun is up?”

“You ever think of switching to day shift?”

Abbot’s question caught you off-guard—it was like you’d fallen into such an easy rhythm with Ellis and Shen that you'd almost managed to forget that he was there. Your fingers tightened around your beer as you forced yourself to meet Abbot’s eye again.

“Not once.”

It was the truth, and it made Abbot’s smile widen in a way that felt dangerously vindicating. Unnerving quiet wrapped around your shared gaze, and Ellis clearing her throat was what finally snapped you out of looking at him.

“So, hey,” Shen jumped in, “Did I tell you guys about my latest acquisition?”

“Jesus fucking christ,” You muttered over Ellis’ low whistle.

“Another ebay war?” She asked.

“Not a war, an easy buy,” Shen insisted, “You know, for—”

“Yeah, your shank bank, we remember,” You insisted, smile pulling wide as both Abbot and Ellis’ laughter catches from that side of the table. “That weird-ass collection of antique medical equipment—fucking medical history nerd.”

“I keep them as a display!”

“Must really get ‘em going on a date night. Nothing hotter to a woman than rusty scalpels,” You batted back, nudging Shen’s shoulder with yours. You didn’t mean to catch Abbot’s eye on your way back to looking at Ellis again. And this look didn’t hold for as long as the one before it—but it was just long enough to reawaken the butterflies, even as Shen insisted,

“This one isn’t even rusty!”

As you turned in for the night, Ellis teased you, insisted, “See, it wasn’t that bad.”

You didn’t argue, because she wasn't wrong—it wasn’t the worst way to spend an afternoon out. But it was…Different.

Your aversion to Dr. Abbot’s attention had started your first week at the Pitt, when he’d stuck close during an intubation. He hadn’t been breathing down your neck, but his steady focus had made you so damn nervous. You were used to your attendings being just a little scattered, torn in six different directions. And other matters had vied for Abbot’s attention, sure, but he hadn’t heeded them until the patient was in the clear.

You’d started to avoid his gaze after that, and it had just become second nature. Avoiding eye contact turned into avoiding him during the quiet moments of your shifts, which turned into a patient-treatment-only conversational focus. Abbot consulted on your cases, made recommendations, listened to your rationalizations.

When he did insist on meeting your eye, you gave him just a long enough look to show that you’d heard him, but never anything more. You’d avoided palling around with him, even though you palled around with your fellow residents, and with other attendings—but you were comfortable with them.

And Abbot didn’t make you uncomfortable, per se. But the nerves that had welled around him during your first few weeks at the Pitt had never really gone away. If you were hard-pressed to examine and classify your feelings, you would (grudgingly) sort them into the mild to moderately romantic category. You blamed him for that entirely.

Besides, it was embarrassing to admit that you had a crush on a man that you’d hardly looked in the eye for the last few years.

You could understand how Abbot may’ve thought you didn’t like him—if he really thought that. But he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who needed everyone to like him. It probably helped, sure, but you were positive that your countenance had never caused a slow-down or a hitch in the ER, no matter what Ellis said. You were just focused—and since when was that a bad thing?

Either way, today had been kinda…okay. You’d made nice with Abbot, made eye contact multiple times without Ellis or Shen kicking you in the shins again. Whatever wound up happening, you’d tried, and they couldn’t take that away from you, right?

You settled in bed, letting your eyes slip closed, drawing in a deep breath to relax yourself.

For all your initial irritation, Ellis was right—it wasn’t that bad.

But it didn’t stop Abbot’s warm gaze from lingering behind your eyelids when you closed them, and it couldn’t keep the mirthful roll of his chuckle from playing through your mind as you tried to drift off.

You decided to make it a little experiment, approach it as something that you could train yourself out of. Seeing him over drinks had laid the groundwork—and you had managed to look at him twice a few shifts ago, hadn’t you?

You went into your next shift determined to look Abbot in the eye three times.

You only managed it once when you passed him by the board—a glance and a small wave.

The smile that he returned flustered you so much that you nearly walked into the sandwich cart, and it scared you out of looking at him for the rest of the night. As a matter of fact, it scared you out of it the next shift, and the one after that.

You talked yourself out of the whole foolish endeavor. You’d managed to work with Abbot perfectly well before, why change things now? Especially when looking at him seemed to awaken something girlish and fluttering inside of you—and you couldn’t afford to be girlish and fluttering at work.

She was doing it again.

Jack had thought they had turned a corner after Shen and Ellis had invited them all out together, but things seemed to be moving in reverse. It had gone beyond sticking in his craw—it was almost nagging at him now, and worse now that he knew what the full force of her focus was like. It was easy to brush off before, but these days Jack was hard-pressed to admit that he felt something in him wilt whenever she avoided his eye.

She was making a meal of it now, focused stalwartly as she instructed Javadi on setting a bone. He’d seen her head tip in his direction a couple of times, but she’d always given her head a little shake before refocusing. Was the shake for Javadi? For him?

“...You didn’t hear me, did you,” Ellis asked, forcing him to refocus. He had heard her—and he could feign that his silence had been fueled by contemplation. He turned away from the treatment bay, arms folded across his chest.

“See if the OR can take Mr. Tosches yet," He instructed. "I don’t want him down here too long. You follow up with the raccoon kid?”

“That’s my next stop.”

“Perfect, thanks.”

“Sure—Hey, are you coming by this weekend?”

That weekend. He’d been dodging giving Ellis an answer for the last couple of weeks. She’d invited him to the last four get-togethers at the apartment, but he’d never made it to one, either because he was working, or because he just wasn’t in the mood to socialize.

He wasn’t sure he was in the mood now, but…A fleeting smile flashed through his mind. They’d seemed to come easier to her when they were away from the hospital. And his therapist had been nagging him about leaving the house more…

“Yeah,” He nodded. “Yeah, I can make it.”

Ellis didn’t cover her surprise well, but her, “kay, sweet. I’ll text you the address," Told him that she was just as surprised by his answer as he was.

Abbot nodded, casting another glance toward the treatment bay before turning away fully. It was just an experiment, he told himself. He would see if her smiles for him came easier outside of work, or not at all.

If it was not at all, he’d let it go, once and for all.

“Is there any coffee?”

The question made you freeze in front of your cabinet. Your eyes darted through its contents, but you didn’t take in a damn thing. He was in your kitchen. He never came to these things, why the hell did he come to this one?

“Uh—” You turned, looking around your kitchen as though you’d never been there before. “It’s um—Yeah. Right there. It might not be hot, though. I can turn the pot back on.”

“I’ve got it.”

“You're on shift tonight?”

“Mhm.”

You nodded, turning back to the cabinet. Hell, what did you open it for? Goddamn, but you came in here looking for something—You huffed, shoving the cabinet door closed as you scrubbed your hand across your forehead. He wasn’t allowed to do this, he wasn’t allowed to make you feel this out of sorts in your own damn kitchen.

“Everything alright?”

“You know, I feel like half the time you talk to me, you’re asking if I’m okay.” It was out of your mouth before you could stop it, and embarrassment sprang up the second it did. “I should, um—You need a mug, don’t you,” You muttered, turning to the other cabinet, and glancing back toward the living room when you heard a swell of laughter. Damnit, but Ellis sent you into the kitchen for what? Napkins? Napkins would be in the cabinet.

“Well forgive me for being concerned when one of my best residents seems to spend half of her shifts avoiding me.”

You whirled around, too stunned to do anything but meet Jack’s eye. The steady contact seemed to catch the both of you off-guard. Your mouth worked wordlessly for a moment as your mind reeled. What the hell could you say to that? Well—what would you say if you were talking to Ellis or Shen?

“...Just one of your best residents?”

Abbot’s brows lifted, his lips quirk with a smile, and your stomach filled with that girlish fluttering again.

“You’re certainly not avoiding me now.”

You press your mouth together, gaze instinctively dropping to the floor.

“I don’t avoid you at work, either. I’m just—” You turned back to the cabinet, reaching into it for a mug. “I’m focused when I'm at the Pitt.”

“Seem to be focused right now, too.”

“Do you want a mug for your coffee or not?”

“Oh, that old excuse.”

“Fine, drink it from the pot. That’s Parker’s machine, anyway. She’ll kill you.”

“She wouldn’t. We’re short-staffed as it is.”

“Well, that’s true.” You crossed the kitchen, holding the mug out. And, though you knew the answer, you asked, “Do you need milk or sugar?”

“No.”

“Alright.” You turned, reaching for the cabinet by the coffee machine. Maybe it was something in there.

“...You don’t really think I avoid you," You plied, unable to stop yourself.

“Certainly avoid looking at me.”

“Focused.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re fine to look at.”

“Oh?”

“Good—Good to—” No, nothing in that cabinet. Check the next one. At least, you needed to get a few feet away from Abbot before you said anything else stupid. “You’re fine.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“...Look at me.”

It was so firm that you went still in front of your cabinet again, hands on the knobs, doors half-open as your heart leaps into your throat.

“Excuse me?”

“We’re not at work, you can’t need to be that focused. If I’m so fine to look at, look at me.”

Your fingers flexed around the knobs, palms growing sweaty.

“Ellis asked me to grab something for her and you’ve already distracted me enough.”

“Is that so.”

“You can be very distracting sometimes.” For fucksake. What was it about being alone with this man that had your head so horribly scrambled?

“I suddenly feel like I oughta apologize,” He commented.

“I feel like you’re making fun of me.”

“A little.”

You scoffed out a laugh, your nerves only worsening when you heard Jack take a few steps closer, saw him lower his coffee onto the counter beside you.

“It won’t take long,” He reassured, raising his hand to close one of the cabinet doors. “One quick look.”

You drew in a deep breath, planting your hand on the counter and turning to face Jack with wide eyes. You were prepared to stare at him pointedly—but you faltered at the look on his face. His eyes were softer than they had any right being. They searched your expression, sweeping over your nose, across your cheeks, to your lips, and up again—as if he was seeing you for the first time.

“...See?” He murmured. “This isn’t so bad.”

You struggled to swallow, throat dry; your face was flooding with heat. If this was a cartoon, you were certain that your heart would be beating out of your chest.

“No,” You finally managed, shaking your head a little, unable to tear your eyes from his, “No, it isn’t.”

Jack’s smile widened as he leaned against the counter a touch, fingers skimming against yours. And you knew that you ought to look away, go ask Ellis what she sent you into the damn kitchen for in the first place, but you couldn't bring yourself to move.

“You just gonna keep staring at me, Jack?” You murmured. His brows jumped slightly at the use of his first name, lips quirking with a smirk.

“You’re staring, too.”

“Making up for apparently avoiding you.”

“Very kind of you.”

“Do what I can.”

Maybe it was better that he was looking at your face, anyway—if he looked down, he might see the goosebumps sweeping up your arm from the gentle sweep of his fingertips against yours. It felt pathetic to get so worked up from such a simple touch. Goddamn, did he look at everyone like this? Did everyone feel like this when he looked at them? There was no way—if it was, nothing would ever get done at the Pitt.

“Hey, did you find the Triscuits?”

Ellis bottle snapped you out of the trance-like stare, and you whirled away from Jack like he was trying to set you on fire. The Triscuits, son of a bitch, that was what you were sent to look for.

“I just—I just saw them,” You fumbled, pulling the cabinet open again.

“My fault,” Abbot spoke up. “I asked for some coffee.”

“You’re on tonight?” Ellis frowned, and you were relieved to hear her come deeper into the kitchen. “I thought you were taking the day.”

“We had two call outs. Matter of fact, I should get going.”

You glanced doggedly back toward Jack, watching him pick his mug up and take a deep swig. You busied yourself with poking through the drawer beneath the cupboard, vaguely catching Abbot saying his goodbyes to Ellis in the background. Jeez, did the Trisuits fucking evaporate?

You glanced toward the mug as Jack set it down in the sink, and, against your better judgement, met Jack’s eye when he turned to look at you.

“Thanks for the coffee.”

“Sure,” You nodded. “Have a good shift.”

“Good luck finding those, uh…” He glanced toward Ellis. “Triscuits?”

“Uh-huh,” She nodded. “Thanks for coming, man.”

“Have a good night.”

You listened to his retreating footsteps, marked the opening and closing of the door…And tried not to die from complete mortification when Ellis tapped your shoulder, then pointed out the box of Triscuits where it was sitting on the counter.

Next Part

Tag list:

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

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

@millllenniawrites ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ;

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @artsymaddie

@winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

#Jack Abbot x Reader #Jack Abbot x You #Dr Abbot x Reader #Dr Abbot x You #Jack Abbott x Reader #Jack Abbott x You #gravity

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asxgard · 2 months ago

Text

Handprints | [3/3]

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x pregnant wife!doctor!reader

Previous |

Summary: The birth of your first child and all the little moments that you cherish with your husband.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: I’m honestly enjoying this Robby and Reader, so I might do something with them/inspired by them. Let’s see where season 2 takes us👀

This one got away from me, but I had a lot of fun writing it!

Word Count: 4.4k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content

Warnings: afab!reader, established relationship, pet names (my love, sweetheart), mild angst, comfort, fluff, birth scene (nondescript), postpartum, mentions of a prior panic attack, therapy, Mother’s/Father’s Day, vague smut (minors dni!!!!), Robby getting good things because he deserves it

not beta read

Langdon returned in the last few weeks of your pregnancy, rolling into the Pitt with something to prove. He wasn’t as cocky as he had been, but he threw himself headfirst into the chaos of it all — which worried you that he would only fall back into his addiction.

Michael had put strict rules in place for him after he was done rehab — random urine tests, he needed sign offs for most of the drugs he could prescribe, as well as having him attend NA meetings. You could see plainly that even if Frank succeeded in all of that, Michael would need so much time to trust him as he once had. You didn’t know what had transpired between them during that shift, not really, but Frank had let your husband down majorly.

Most in the Pitt might not have known he had been stealing the drugs from patients, or the ED, but with one glance at you and it was clear Frank knew that you knew about it. How could you not? You were Michael’s wife, his one true confidant in the mess of it all.

Frank sucked up to you, maybe thinking it would be an easier way to soften Michael’s heart to him again. Brought you a muffin from the cafeteria when he saw you hadn’t eaten, pulled a stool over to your computer so you could sit, even taking the meaner or nastier patients from your plate. All with a smile. All with a humility you hadn’t seen in awhile.

You appreciated the gestures, but it did little to help gain your trust back.

“It’ll just take time,” you said to Langdon one afternoon. “He won’t trust you again if you take the easy way out.”

He seemed to consider it. “And you? When will you trust me again?”

You turned away from the computer screen to look at him, “Pass all your drugs tests. Show me that coin you get after one year in the meetings. Don’t fuck with my patients again. Then we’re square.”

He gave a curt nod, “Okay, I can do that.”

You smiled softly at him, “I hope so, Frank.”

Due to your large bump, you were not frequently in the trauma room, not wanting to risk bumping into anything or anyone. Like usual, you stuck to triage and the non-critical patients. Michael wanted to keep your stress and adrenaline levels down, which you accepted with little pushback. He also ensured you always sat down to have lunch, even pulling himself away from the chaos long enough to eat with you when you demanded requested it.

If he was going to make sure you ate, you were going to make sure the same.

It was roughly lunchtime when the cramping started, starting as just a mild sense of discomfort before edging closer to moderate pain. Braxton Hicks contractions, you thought, seeing as you were only in your 38th week. You had been getting them periodically since starting your third trimester, but they never got any worse than mild.

Dana found you hunched over the nurses station, trying to take slow, even breaths. The cramping had gotten substantially worse, edging closer to you not being able to think properly.

“Honey?” Dana called your attention.

You took another deep breath through your nose and out through your mouth. “It’s nothing, I’m okay.”

“You and your husband, I swear to god.” She let out a long breath before raising a careful eyebrow at you, “How long has it been going on?”

You hummed, thinking, “I don’t know, noon?”

Dana grinned at you, “Looks like you’re about to have this baby, kid.”

Your eyes widened, “What? No. I still have two weeks.”

“Babies come when they’re ready, not when you are.” She chuckled.

You groaned. Adam, you really had to make an appearance now, huh? Couldn’t have waited a week and a half for when I started maternity?

You clenched your teeth, “Where’s my husband?”

“I just saw Robby head into Trauma-1.” Frank said as he passed, eyeing you warily. “You okay?”

“Baby Adam just decided he didn’t care about the plans I had, no biggie.”

“You better get used to that.” Frank said with a laugh.

You only rolled your eyes at him, trying to catch your breath after the contraction. You watched as Frank ran to grab Michael from the trauma room, and you mentioned to Dana it might be smart to call in someone to cover until the end of your shift. In one fell swoop, two ED doctors were about to be unavailable.

You tried not to feel guilty.

Michael exited Trauma-1, hiding his annoyance of being pulled away well enough, before he spotted you. His eyes flashed before he was jogging over to you, hand immediately going to your back.

“Sweetheart?” His cool mask had slipped, the one that kept everything between you two mostly professional while you were at work.

You squeezed his hand, “Adam has decided he’s ready to meet us.”

Michael’s eyes widened, gaze flickering between your belly and your face. “What?”

“Contractions edging closer to five minutes apart, for about a minute. They’ve gotten worse since noon.”

“Noon?” Michael yelled, though not at you, glancing at his watch. “It’s nearly five! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We were busy.” You said, “I thought it was just Braxton Hicks, like it’s been all month.”

“We were busy.” Michael echoed, tone disbelieving. “You were seriously—”

You hushed your husband as another contraction hit, clutching his hand tightly.

It felt like mostly a blur after that. You had gotten up to Labor & Delivery a little bit later, and Michael called a friend of yours to go get your go bag and baby bag to bring to the hospital.

As the contractions got closer, so did your desperation.

“Why did you do this to me, again?” You panted. “Jesus Christ, just get him out of me.”

Michael grinned at you, “Last I checked, you were the one begg—”

You swatted him away like he was nothing more than an annoying fly. “Michael Robinavitch, don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking mildly amused, though he tried to contain his grin.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said a few minutes later, after another contraction, kissing your hairline.

“Trade with me?” You asked with a sly grin.

He chuckled, “I would in a heartbeat.”

You made a small noise in the back of your throat, trying to catch your breath, using the techniques you had learned in birthing classes.

“Now you say that.” You said, closing your eyes. “Wish you had said that before I went into labor.”

Michael kissed your forehead and rubbed circles onto your back. “Tell me what you need.”

You hummed, “I think I want to walk around. Might help.”

He helped you from the gurney to your feet, holding you steady. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned on him for support, swinging your hips from side-to-side. After breathing through a particularly bad contraction, Michael helped you walk back and forth across your room.

You breathed through each of them, taking them one at a time and trying not to get overwhelmed with how far you still had to go. Michael was steadfast beside you, nearly intuitively understanding what you needed when you needed it. Cold washcloth, soft caresses over your shoulders, squeezing your hips together while you leaned over the gurney, whispering encouraging words to you, or holding you close when the pain subsided.

“You’re so amazing,” he said, tone soft, standing behind you and swaying with you while you breathed in and out, arms wrapped around you. “You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart. Strongest woman I know. I love you so much.” He kissed your neck, moving to your jaw and then your cheek.

You hummed in acknowledgement, though you kept your focus on breathing through the contraction.

A few agonizingly slow hours later and you were ready to push. You felt ready to cry, clutching Michael’s hand with a grip that rivaled a vice. He soothed you, kissing your forehead.

“You’ve got this. Push when you breathe out, come on,” he encouraged.

Part of you wanted to kiss him. The other wanted to throttle him.

During the next contraction, that was what you did, breathing out as you pushed. Slow, controlled, powerful. It ripped through you and you screamed.

You had once wanted to be dignified during your labor. You worked at this hospital and these people were more-or-less your colleagues, even though you did not always work with them directly. The thought of remaining composed now made you want to laugh.

“Alright, he should be out on the next push.” your OB told you, looking over to Michael. “Would you like to do the honors, dad?”

Michael’s eyes got glassy, though he looked at you. “I’ll stay right here if you need me to.”

“It’s okay,” you breathed out, mustering a smile. “I know you want to.”

He kissed you, before moving to assist your OB with delivering your son. Thankfully, she had been right, and it only took one more push before your son was in Michael’s arms.

Adam Robinavitch was finally here.

You cooed at him softly when he was laid on your chest, though he cried loudly — clearly upset to be anywhere else but your womb. You could hardly blame him, but you felt overwhelming joy finally holding him in your arms. Tears leaked from your eyes, a warmth cascading through your insides at the sight of him, at the feeling of his tiny hand on your skin.

Michael had his hand on your head, stroking your forehead softly with his thumb. His teary eyes remained, looking between you and your son with a soft smile on his lips.

Adam gurgled on your chest, making small noises to highlight his displeasure. You kissed the top of his head before letting your head fall back onto the pillow, letting out a long sigh of exhaustion.

“I love you.” You said, blinking through your fatigue to look at your husband.

“Thank you.” He whispered back to you, big brown eyes soft and warm as he held your gaze.

You raised an eyebrow.

He smiled, kissing your forehead. “For this life. For loving me. For giving me a chance. For bringing our son into the world. I don’t know why you decided to take a chance on an old guy like me, but I’ll forever be grateful that you did.”

Tears blurred your vision and you blinked them away, “Oh, Michael. I’m so grateful it’s you. Even before I knew it, it was you. It always has been.”

He kissed you tenderly, whispering ‘always will be’ against your lips.

—

Postpartum was no joke, and add in being new to motherhood? You were in the trenches. You were thankful Michael had gotten a decent amount of time off to be in the throes of it with you, but at times, it still felt like you were drowning.

You tried not to feel guilty when you knocked out on the couch or turned in early, leaving the brunt of night shift to Michael. He was an ever faithful partner, and never even flinched when you felt he was shouldering too much of it. All he asked was that you rest, heal and spend time with Adam.

He took time in the mornings for himself, even started seeing a therapist via Zoom and you could see it helping. His shoulders seemed lighter and it created healthier habits for when he went back to working.

Michael’s first shift back did not come home with him, though you knew it was not likely to always be that way. Not when harder patients hit, or major casualties, but you hoped the things he was learning in therapy would help him whenever that day came.

You were rocking Adam back and forth, trying to get him to fall back to sleep, humming a lullaby softly. You caught movement out of the corner of your eye, and you turned your head to see Michael standing in the doorway, tired smile stretching across his lips.

“Hey, my love,” you said lowly, trying to keep your voice quiet so as to not stir your baby, who still would not fall asleep. “How was your shift?”

He gave a small shrug, “I’ve had worse.”

You raised a careful eyebrow at him, but didn’t push. “I think Adam missed his daddy.”

Michael stepped into the room, walking until he was beside you, looking at your son in your arms.

“Yeah?”

You made a small noise of agreement, moving to hand him over. As he stirred, Adam opened his eyes to look up at his father, their eyes complete mirrors of each other. It was undoubtedly one of your favorite features that he had inherited from Michael.

“I think he likes your lullaby much more than mine, actually.” You said, kissing the top of your son’s head.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true, is it buddy? No, mommy’s lullabies are the best.”

Despite having a tough day of your own, your heart warmed. You leaned your head on Michael’s shoulder, staring down at Adam and rocking side-to-side with Michael’s movements.

Perhaps this was a healing all its own, in the quiet of your son’s room, just the three of you.

—

Mother’s Day came shortly after you got off maternity leave, and while it was nice to return to work, you missed Adam. It was nearly painful. But all your co-workers made it feel like a second home.

Dana and McKay were happy to swap baby stories with you, while Langdon attempted to give you and Michael tips. You seemed more receptive to it than your husband was.

You had decided that for your first Mother’s Day, you wanted the day off to spend with your son. Michael also ensured he had off, and let you sleep in. It was peaceful to wake up to a quiet house.

Michael brought you breakfast not long after you woke, and you showered him with kisses in gratitude. It really was the little things.

“I have a full day planned,” he told you, sitting beside you in bed, sipping a cup of coffee. “Slow morning, then when you’re ready, we’re gonna go out.”

“Out?” You questioned. “Care to be more specific?”

A sly grin formed on his face. “Nope.”

You scoffed, but you were smiling.

Sometime after noon, Michael was packing a lunch bag while you got changed, curious to see what he had planned. He got Adam ready, and you met him at the car with an eyebrow raised. He only smiled at you.

It was easy enough to guess what he was up to once you pulled up to the park. It was a beautiful spring day, and you enjoyed the little things — a picnic in the park with your family of three was perfect. Not too complicated, or required too much effort from you, and it was simple enough that you weren’t worried about Adam fussing too much.

You relaxed on the picnic blanket, enjoying the feeling of the sun on your skin, the warmth sending a happy buzz through your system.

Adam was only four months, but he took in the world around him eagerly. He was beginning to roll over with only a small amount of assistance, and he clapped his hands when he was excited, babbling nonsense.

It seemed like such a short amount of time since he had been born, but he was already beginning to grow far too quickly for your liking.

Michael kept Adam entertained while you read a bit, before you ate together. Michael really had quite the spread, aside from the sandwiches, he also had fruits and cheeses and crackers and your favorite chocolates.

“This is exactly what I needed.” You told him. “Thank you.”

Michael raised an eyebrow at you, “You think this is it?”

“Oh? Do tell.”

He only smirked.

You discovered when you got home that Michael had hired a babysitter for that night. He said he wanted to take you out to dinner, and an excitement thrummed through you. You and Michael had barely had any alone time since Adam came into your lives, and while you enjoyed all the time you got with your son, you knew a night out with your husband would be good for you.

The restaurant he had picked? It was where you had had your first date.

A quaint little Italian place, and you nearly cried when you pulled up to it. It was not fancy or lavish, but it meant the world to you.

“Thank you for today.” You said, sipping your drink, trying not to cry in the middle of the restaurant.

He grabbed your hand on the table and ran a thumb over your knuckles. “You deserve it, sweetheart. You’re the best mom Adam could ever ask for, and I always want you to know how much I appreciate you.”

Your face heated, suddenly feeling sheepish.

Conversation flowed easily, and it was nice to be able to feel normal again — not just a mom, or a doctor, just you. It made your chest feel lighter. The topic eventually leaned back to Adam, and the fact that you missed him.

“We can take dessert to go.”

You smiled in relief, “Yes, please.”

On the ride home, you intertwined your fingers with Michael’s.

“So…any thoughts on another one?” You ventured quietly, a teasing smile on your lips.

Michael choked on an intake of air, “What?”

You laughed, “Eventually. Maybe. I don’t know. Just popped into my head.”

“Give a guy a little warning next time.” He chuckled.

“Consider yourself warned.”

He squeezed your hand, “Do you want another?”

You shrugged even though he was looking ahead at the road. “I don’t know. Adam’s still so little, but he’s also already so big, you know? I already miss how little he was. I wouldn’t be opposed in a year or so, but I wouldn’t be upset if we just stuck with one.”

“So…possibly another?”

“What do you think?” You asked instead of answering.

There was a long pause, and then a sigh, “I’m not getting any younger, I’d like to watch Adam grow up, go off to college. If we decided to, I wouldn’t want to wait too long.”

“So possibly another?”

You could hear the smile in his voice, “Possibly another.”

—

Father’s Day came with another day off, Michael wanting his first to be spent at home as well. You knew these kinds of holidays might need to be sacrificed in the future, so you were grateful that at least your first of each would be spent at home.

Knowing Michael, you knew he wasn’t one to want much fanfare, so you planned most a day in. From breakfast and lunch, to a few nice things to grill for dinner. It was mostly about spending time together, and you were happy to supply it. The details of his present sat in a card on the dining table, a cabin rented in the Poconos to fish with enough room for Jack and Jake to tag along (both had already agreed).

The day turned into a well deserved relaxing day, though you could see how much Michael was enjoying spending some time off with his family.

After dinner, you handed Michael the card, Adam in your lap. You bounced your legs, making car noises with your mouth, making him giggle and clap. You heard Michael open the card and silently he read over it.

“Jack and Jake already took off, and I worked something out with your shifts, you’ll be all set.”

He blinked at you before he was out of his seat and kissing your face, making you giggle. Adam squealed in your lap, clapping more eagerly while he babbled at his dad.

“This is…thank you.”

“You haven’t taken any time to go back up there in a really long time.” You shrugged, knowing he used to try to get away more frequently earlier on in your relationship. Sometimes you tagged along, but you thought a boys weekend away was just what the doctor ordered (you, you were the one who ordered it). “Soon you’ll have to bring Adam with you.”

Michael grinned, looking down at his son. “You’ll love it, I can show you how to…”

You watched Michael excitedly explain fishing to your son, who watched him with big brown eyes, mesmerized.

You put Adam down to sleep sometime later, before joining your husband in the living room. You curled up next to him.

“Thank you for today…it was very needed.”

You kissed his cheek, “You’re an amazing father, you know that? I’m incredibly thankful for you.”

He pulled you closer and kissed your head. You turned in his grasp and kissed his lips, moving into his lap to kiss him deeper. Michael responded instantly, one hand going behind your head and the other going to your hip.

The first time you had been intimate after giving birth to Adam had been a process riddled with your insecurities. Michael kissed his way through each one and took his time, like he was relearning your body. It took an incredible amount of pressure off your shoulders, and you revealed in his touch.

Your hands moved from his chest to his hair, tongue licking along his bottom lip. His grip on you tightened, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Warmth pooled in your abdomen, and you moved your leg to straddle him.

His fingers ghosted over the skin of your hips, making you shiver. He moved a hand up your torso, grabbing at your flesh and you moaned into his mouth. You moved your hips down to find some sort of friction. A groan echoed low in Michael’s throat, and the sound set you on fire.

Michael had you up and on your back on the couch in a swift motion, settling between your hips. You pulled at the hem of your shirt until he helped you pull it over your head. He kissed down your neck and across your torso, moving lower until your head buzzed with pleasure.

You felt like your body was thrumming under his touch and you lost yourself in it. It wasn’t long before all of your clothes were scattered across the living room, Michael back between your hips.

He whispered his love for you against your skin, and proved it with each slow drag of his hips, until you were a moaning mess under him, a blinding heat overtaking your senses. He was everywhere, feeling so full of him, tears falling from the corners of your eyes, blissed out and overwhelmed with all the warmth swirling around in your chest.

Michael came with a few low grunts, groaning against your throat before pulling you into a rough, sloppy kiss.

You ran your hands over his shoulders, panting with him, foreheads touching. You leaned up to languidly kiss his lips again. He brushed a thumb across your cheek. He kissed along your cheek and nose, the hairs of his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle. You lightly pushed him away.

“Get off me, old man.”

An eyebrow rose, “Old man, huh? This old man can make you come again, if you—”

You laughed, “Get off.”

He moved his head in such a way that the softest touch of his beard ran along your neck and your face, making you squirm. The sensation was incredibly ticklish.

“Alright, alright, I yield. I yield!” You laughed again, turning your face away from him. “You’re not even that old anyways.”

He laughed and kissed your cheek, moving to sit back on his haunches. He looked down at you with a soft smile.

You raised a challenging eyebrow, “If you’re gonna keep looking at me like that, I might have to take you up on your offer.”

A sly grin spread across his lips, “Yeah? Thought I was an old—”

You reached up for him, “Just get back down here, Michael.”

He laughed, but complied.

—

A rare quiet morning was always a welcomed thing in your household, slow and lazy. With the hectic reality you both faced at work, you had begun to cherish these days. Adam on his playmat, you and Michael sitting on the couch eating breakfast and enjoying the company of each other.

When Michael came back into the kitchen from taking a shower, you had Adam sat in his highchair. You had a spread of paints and a canvas print sat on the dining table, a handful of newspapers protecting the wood from any mess.

Michael looked over it all with a face drenched in curiosity.

“Care to fill me in? What’s all this?” He looked over all the paints, raising an eyebrow at you. “This a new hobby, or something?”

You shrugged, “Not quite.”

He stayed silent and waited for you to elaborate, but you were messing with a few different colors, mixing them on a paper plate.

“Blue or red?” You asked.

“...blue?”

You handed him a paper plate with blue paint.

He stared down at it, “Do you want me to..?”

You looked at him and smiled, “Put your right hand in it.”

“Right, right. Of course. Logically, that was my next step.”

You chuckled, “I thought it could be a cute art piece for Adam’s room. Your hand, my hand and his in the middle.”

A softness warmed his face, and then he did as you asked. You pulled over the canvas print for him to put his now paint covered hand on. You handed him a damp paper towel when he was done. You dipped your hand into the red paint and copied your husband, so that your hands mirrored each other.

Adam seemed thrilled to be involved when you dipped his hand into the purple paint you mixed, placing his hand between both handprints you and Michael had left. You wiped his hand off and gave him a kiss on the head.

“It’s perfect.” Michael said in your ear.

You pulled him close, “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

You stared down at the little art piece of your handprints, your heart swelling at your little family you and Michael had carved out for yourselves. Even amidst the chaos, you had found your home.

“Always?”

“Forever.”

No matter what you two faced, you knew it was a promise you would both keep.

FIN.

All Dr. Robby content taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys @happyfox43

All The Pitt content taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph

Robby deserves only good things. This brought me back to the layout I did for A Lesson in Firsts and omg it was another great journey.

Damn, s1 of The Pitt is over. What am I going to do with myself?? Write a lot? Probably

Also?? Heartbeat has over 1k notes?? That’s insane, thank you guys so much🥺🥹

#the pitt #michael robinavitch #dr robby #michael robinavitch x female reader #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #the pitt x reader #asxgard writes #he’s so girl dad coded but oof I’m glad it was a boy to honor adamson #pregnant reader

1K notes · View notes

cherrygirlfriend · 3 months ago

Text

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or how reader made a friend in the most unconventional way.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another,, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ NOW A SERIES! i hope you guys like this! i'm considering making this into a series; if i do, i think i'd do it the same way this fic is, aka some narration but mostly 'chatting' between rafe and reader. anyway, let me know if you want it to continue!! i've been feeling down for a few weeks now, so something simple and fun like this was a good way to get back into the flow of writing.

i thought about making this a smau, but doing the chats like this feels more authentic to the 2000s chatroom experience y’know

you were sitting on your bed, your laptop open on a website called KildareUChats, a website that was apparently meant for the students of your university to be able to anonymously chat with other students, your friend having told you to give it a try, knowing that it’d be difficult for you to do in person.

you didn't really see the point of it; although your social circle was in no way huge, you were happy enough with it, really. never having been great with new people, you'd made three friends on your freshman year of college and simply stuck to them. it didn't help that whenever you tried to talk to someone new, it felt like someone was choking you.

but this was online. the person on the other side would never know who you are, and you'd never have to actually be face-to-face with them. your cursor moved to hover over the 'REGISTER' button, and you filled the page out with your basic information, name, school email, birth date... but when the website asked for a username, you couldn't help but purse your lips as you looked around your dorm room, from the fairy lights you'd hung up on walls that now glowed in a yellowish hue, to the several books stacked on the floor, to the dead roses on your desk...

but when your eyes landed on your nightstand, you spotted a book of poems by edgar allan poe, and your lips quirked up into a small smile. after you typed the name 'AnnabelLee' into the username field, a green check mark appeared next to it to signify it was available.

after setting a password, you were redirected to a page that said 'WELCOME TO KILDAREUCHATS AnnabelLee! CLICK HERE IF YOU WISH TO CONNECT WITH A RANDOM STRANGER!'. you clicked the button, your cursor turning into a circle for a moment as it loaded, before you were redirected to a chatroom with a pop-up.

KILDAREUCHATS IS CONNECTING YOU TO A STRANGER...

KILDAREUCHATS HAS CONNECTED YOU! REMEMBER TO TREAT OTHERS THE WAY YOU WANT TO BE TREATED <3 SAY HI!

you stared at your computer screen, biting into your lower lip. you had no idea what you were supposed to say; outside of the people you already knew, you were helpless when talking to people, the words always getting stuck in your throat, or vanishing from your mind. angel's white fur blended in with your white sheets as your hand moved to absentmindedly stroke her, the little cat purring in her sleep. but before your hand could dart out to type something on your laptop, a message appeared on the screen.

STRANGER: heyy

taking in a deep breath, you shook your head, as if shaking all doubts and worries out of it. the site was anonymous; that was the whole point. and your therapist told you, that for your social anxiety to get better, you should try go socialize. mingle. you took the bottle of cheap white wine you'd snuck into your dorm, taking a large swig straight out of the bottle before setting it back down, your hands flying to your keyboard.

YOU: hi :)

STRANGER: wsp?

YOU: ...wasp?

STRANGER: lmao no... what's up?

YOU: sorry, i'm not good with that kind of lingo haha. YOU: nothing much. i'm hanging out with my cat.

STRANGER: damn, do you have an off-campus apartment or something?

YOU: nope :) YOU: don't tell my ra.

STRANGER: shit you have a CAT in your dorm?

YOU: if you tell on me, i'm gonna have to hunt you down and kill you.

STRANGER: lucky for you this is anonymous STRANGER: and i'm not a snitch lmao STRANGER: so, what are you doing on this thing at 12am on a friday night? no hot parties?

YOU: honestly, i think i'd rather put a noose around my neck than go to a party. YOU: i'm just in my room drinking wine. decided to try this site after my friend suggested it. YOU: what about you?

STRANGER: damn, kinky STRANGER: i do have a 'hot party' to go to but i also have an essay due in nine hours and the prof already hates my ass

YOU: so you decided to not write your essay and instead procrastinate by chatting with some random stranger?

STRANGER: exactly! you get it STRANGER: if i even have my laptop in front of me, i'm counting that as me writing my essay

YOU: what's it about?

STRANGER: what kind of a role religion has when it comes to politics and shit

YOU: and let me guess, that's not a topic you enjoy studying in your free time?

STRANGER: you know me so well already

YOU: if it helps, i'm also studying. or, procrastinating studying. YOU: i have a chemistry exam on monday :(

STRANGER: ...and you're studying for it on a friday already? STRANGER: i just read for exams a few minutes before they start STRANGER: compared to me you're like a genius

YOU: eyeroll. YOU: and that's why you have trouble writing an essay! YOU: you're probably missing out on a keg stand at your 'hot party'.

STRANGER: i can't believe you're making fun of the art of the stand

YOU: you'll live.

STRANGER: how do you know? maybe i'm the god of the kegstand and every time a human loses faith in me, i grow weaker

YOU: are you? YOU: oh sacred frat god? YOU: shall i make an offering for you at your altar? would that appease your distaste towards me?

STRANGER: you shall

YOU: okay, how about these for an offering: YOU: a white claw, a buzz ball, a red solo cup with a strange mixture of different kinds of alcohols, and a vape pen?

STRANGER: those appease me much, mere mortal STRANGER: also mango-flavored juul pods

YOU: you're so weird.

STRANGER: says the person who's hanging with her cat on a friday night

YOU: how do you figure i'm a her?

STRANGER: oh please STRANGER: no man would disrespect the fine art of the keg stand

YOU: got me there, frat boy.

STRANGER: that's very presumptuous STRANGER: i could just be a tomboy

YOU: please. YOU: if you're a girl then i'm sasquatch.

STRANGER: don't worry, i don't mind a little body hair

YOU: i hate you.

glancing at the clock on your wall, you'd realized that thirty minutes had already gone by. you let out a small sigh, rubbing your eyes.

YOU: i should get going. i can't keep procrastinating.

STRANGER: already?

YOU: what, are you gonna miss me or something?

STRANGER: hey, if i get a pic of bigfoot i'm gonna be making millions, i just have capitalistic tendencies

YOU: fair point.

STRANGER: you should add me as a friend

YOU: you can do that??? i thought this was an anonymous chat.

STRANGER: yeah you can lmao why else would you need to set a username STRANGER: i'll just do it

and soon enough, a pop-up appeared on your screen, with the text 'STRANGER HAS REQUESTED TO ADD YOU AS FRIEND.' along with the buttons 'ACCEPT' and 'DENY'.

you pursed your lips, your finger lingering over the touchpad, first dragging it over the button reading 'DENY', before you let out a sigh, taking a large swig from the bottle of wine, moving the cursor to 'ACCEPT' and pressing it before you could regret it.

the pop-up was now replaced with another one, reading 'CONGRATS AnnabelLee YOU ARE NOW FRIENDS WITH MalachiConstant' and when you read the stranger's name, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. you clicked the red 'x' that closed the pop-up, and the word STRANGER in your chat logs was now replaced by MalachiConstant.

YOU: really? vonnegut?

MalachiConstant: what? i don't seem like the type to read?

YOU: just surprising!

MalachiConstant: says the girl with the hard-on for poe MalachiConstant: which isn't surprising at all

YOU: har har. YOU: goodnight, weird vonnegut frat boy.

MalachiConstant: goodnight, weird poe girl

YOU HAVE LOGGED OUT OF KILDAREUCHATS.

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ilium-ilia · 4 months ago

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kiss the skin that crawls

john price x fem!reader | the surrogate au | masterlist

part one: help wanted

It starts with the shattering of iron.

Manmade structures can only withstand the test of time for so long before nature swallows what was once hers. Arms growing, invading, reclaiming what was stolen. You’re very much aware that you are the problem as you stand in your bathroom, eyes glaring at your clogged shower drain, yet you only pity yourself.

Tree roots, the plumber says. Common with these old houses, an old cottage just on the fringes of nowhere and somewhere, something that was bequeathed to you when your granny passed. Its charm is quaint, though far from opulent, you took it in a heartbeat, excited to start your life as a true adult. Yet, after all these years, you’ve yet to find a partner to settle down with, or a job that pays you well enough to travel the world, and now you’re footed with a bill that reminds you just what it means to be an adult.

You pick up more hours at work—as many as you can from a remote position, anyway. Tapping away on your computer, trying not to shiver too much from your drafty windows, you chip away at the cost bit by bit. Eating away decay. Willing it away in an attempt to have your dream home. You tear down the floral wallpaper in your office and coat it with a shade of green that reminds you of old copper—a patina that lingers on your fingertips—all while pretending that the bathroom sink isn’t leaking half your wells worth of water. You pretend that your drops in the ocean make a difference; a ripple large enough to feel.

Of course, something else shatters.

Ancient windows crack. The gap between the front door and its frame is too big. Electricity and gas blows through your bank account worse than groceries. You’ve cut your hands on the logs you tried to chop for the fireplace. When winter bleeds into spring and summer, the heat is unbearable—stuck in a furnace that cooks you, tender flesh and all, you are dying in this home. Alone, working to fix every chip that cracks from the stones that build your house; you need something more. A breakthrough, a promotion, a favor.

Salvation presents itself to you on your third hour of browsing online forums and social media for odd jobs. Mind rotten from pyramid schemes and near slave labor, you almost miss the post entirely. Her name is Kate Laswell, and she has—perhaps—the oddest job of them all; a need for a surrogate for her and her wife.

Initially, your eyes gloss over the post. Pregnancy is exhausting, and with the state your home is in, the last thing you need to do is get pregnant—lumbering around, swollen like a balloon, attempting to make renovations on your dilapidating cottage. If you were at any other time in your life—more settled, steadier—maybe you’d seriously consider it.

All your qualms dissipate the moment you read the foot of the post.

Compensation starts at £100,000.

The zeros are almost more than you can count—more than you can comprehend. It burns into your eyes, urging your fingers to twitch. How anyone could afford to pay this much is beyond you, but you suppose children are expensive either way; certainly it’s nothing to this woman and her wife.

With that type of money, you wouldn’t even have to do the renovations yourself.

After an evening of deliberating, you blindly decide to shoot off a private message to Kate Laswell. Her profile is odd—void, and blank. No pictures, hardly any posts. You tell yourself it’s likely a scam, and you’ll receive some sketchy link back from her during some odd hour in the night, if you even get anything in response at all. Yet when you wake in the morning, that pictureless account has sent you a message in response:

We would like to speak with you in person. When can you meet?

Stupidly, you meet with Kate and Lottie Laswell the following weekend deep in the heart of London in the cozy embrace of a coffee shop that does nothing to settle your nerves. Caffeine is thick in the air, nestling in the weaving of your clothes, sticking to your hair and skin. Though you’ve never seen Kate before, you recognize her instantly. Her stern, straightforward gaze beams at you from beneath her mousy brown fringe the moment you walk through the door, prompting you to awkwardly wave in greeting before she motions you over to the table.

If Kate Laswell is the moon, then her wife, Lottie, is the sun. Her bright blonde hair scintillates, and it only grows in intensity in the sunlight that seeps through the perforated curtains drawn over the window on her right. Pale blue eyes framed by florid cheeks crease as you take your seat across from them, and you note the way she buzzes in her seat, hands politely folded on the table, manicured nails tapping against the wood grain at her fingertips. She tilts her head to the side, soaking you in, and her smile only widens.

“It’s so nice to meet you.” Her voice is pitchy—draws long and soft. She’s American, you realize. Southern, you think. Blinking in surprise, you return the gesture.

Though Kate is kind and cordial, she is much more business oriented than her wife. Once curt introductions are out of the way, she gets on with her questions. Her low, even tone and keen eyes have you sweating—this feels more like an interrogation than an interview. She asks everything about you, prodding the deepest part of you, poking your skin just to see how far she can push before you wince. Her questions about your health history and sex life come blunt, and it pairs oddly with Lottie’s airy giggles, but as the questioning drones on and you see more nods of approval from Kate, you find your nerves slowly mending themselves back together again.

Eventually the questions fade into something softer—easier to spit out. Tastier to swallow. They ask you about your life; the hobbies you partake in and the work you do. How your family is, and if you’ve been well. You tell them about the garden you attempt to keep in the flowerbeds lining the cottage, and the administrative tasks you do and the office you just painted. You try to avoid the topic of your home—the isolation, the exhaustion, the yearning—so you slap your life with buttercream frosting and pray it doesn’t melt under the heat of the conversation.

They indulge you when you ask questions about themselves, too. Lottie stays at home—has been dreaming of a child to dote after for ages—but she bakes for shelters and spends time volunteering at their local retirement home. It fits her, you think. Her bubbly attitude, the bright sheen in her pale eyes; a literal princess among mongrels. The patience of a saint, but with a wit sharper than most tongues you’ve seen.

“I work for an intelligence agency,” is all Kate says when the conversation points towards her. It’s stiff—firm enough for you to not question any further.

“So, what made you interested in being our surrogate?” Lottie cuts in, saving you the grief of backpedaling.

“Oh,” you chirp. Your explanation gets caught in your throat as a rosy heat settles at the base of your neck. Embarrassment. Evil, vile—you hate begging. Crawling, groveling. “If I’m being honest, really, it was… well, the payment…”

Kate nods in agreement, hands curling around her coffee mug, though the liquid has long since gone cold. “There’s no shame in that. It’s a big favor that we’re asking for, and we have the means to compensate accordingly.”

She reads you like a book, and despite all your flaws, welcomes you. It comforts you knowing how strictly professional this is—you have no skin in the game. Nothing to hold on to. You’re simply being a good person. Doing a good deed. Helping their dreams come to fruition. In turn, they help you with yours—an equal exchange.

“So, what made the two of you come to England?” you prompt, leaning back in your seat. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve noticed the accents. Did you two move here recently?”

“What, oh no,” Lottie giggles, hand floating in the air, waving as if pushing away the very notion. “Oh no, I don’t think I could ever leave Georgia.”

“The donor lives here,” Kate explains simply. “Figured it would be easier to coordinate with a surrogate who lived nearby.”

You nod, but it’s not enough to knock the confusion free from your brain. It’s visible on your face—your question. How you place two and two together; why would you need to be close to the donor?

Before your mind can wander too far into that hole, Kate interjects. “We like meeting everyone in person. To ensure that it’s done right.” Then, her hands release her mug. “But he’s an individual I’ve worked with several times before. He’s a good man. Someone I trust.”

“I imagine trust doesn’t come easy for someone in your line of work,” you quip.

Kate cracks the first real smile you think you’ve seen from her this entire interview. “You’d be right.”

“Oh, John’s such a great man. He’s been nothin’ short of sweet to us,” Lottie chimes in. As if suddenly remembering something, she begins to rustle through her purse until she successfully fishes out her phone. “We’ve been staying in a rental while we’re here—a beautiful thing—but we had some issues with the sink and cupboards and look! Fixed them right up for us, good as new!”

She turns the phone towards you, revealing the kitchen and attached dining room that lies in their rental. Scrolling through a few pictures, you spot the before and after of their mini house project, and you try not to turn green with envy. Unhinged cupboards quickly screwed back into place, water damage mopped clean and patched up, good as new—almost every issue that’s been plaguing you in your cottage has come and gone within a blink of an eye for them, all while you’ve struggled to gather the means and the skills to bestow such a fortune like that upon yourself.

Then, you see it—

—him.

There, in the back, leaning against the granite countertops, blue jeans sitting on his hips, this donor—this John—wipes his hands off on a tea towel with a tight lipped smile. Thick patches of dark, coarse hair line his arms in hatch marks, thickening towards the swell of his forearms as he dries his thick fingers off with cotton. His head is lowered as if in prayer, crows feet on display, obscuring the color of his eyes, but you see the way his trimmed beard lines his jaw and upper lip, how it blends into the inky locks of his hair.

He’s a large man—you note the way his iliac crest rests on top of the counter rather than beside or below it, a towering creature with a soft smile that stands out against his broad frame. Swelling biceps, flexing fingers—

“Such a beautiful rental,” you comment before your mind can wander any further.

The sharp corners of Lottie’s cupid’s bow flattens as she clicks her phone off, lips curling into a near-smirk. “We’re having dinner tomorrow night at our place with John. Just a little get together is all, but we’d love it if you joined. Might be easier to flesh out all the details with everyone together. I promise I’ll cook you up the best chicken pot pie you’ve ever tasted.”

Something tickles the back of your mind. It unsettles, wiggles, writhes where it shouldn’t. You feel how it crawls around on the inside of your cranium, slices through your brain and prods at the back of your tongue—it’s incessant. It urges you to speak before you can even think of the words. Meeting with donors—having the donors meet together...

Then your mind thinks of that number. The zeros make your head spin, jumbles it up enough that you don’t even bother to question the circumstance or terms and conditions before you’re nodding.

“Dinner sounds perfect.”

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | get early access to chapters here

#ilium writing #jp ilia #ktstc #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #captain john price x reader #female reader

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 3 months ago

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THE MIND OF A WEIRD BLACK GIRL

CHAPTER 1: "I'M JUST A GIRL!!!"

Platonic yandere!batfamily x Neglected weird black!reader

SYNOPSIS: You're not childish, are you?

CHAPTER 2

3:00 am. I should be dead asleep right now, completely unconscious, but tonight I couldn't help myself. I mean, who passes up an update on their favorite Tumblr fanfic? This fic has got me stuck at my desk for days on end. I keep telling myself that this is the last one and that I'm done, but then out of the blue, an ask pops up from the floodgates, and I'm back on my grind; no Kevin Gates. The blue rays of my computer screen glow against my dark skin. I can feel my eyes getting red and heavy. Another swig of Monster will keep me alive. One sip, and I feel my body tingle. That definitely wasn't good. I can hear my mom's words ringing in my head: "I saw a story on Facebook about a girl who drank so many energy drinks her heart stopped." She really needs to get off Facebook, and I really need to invest in some water. *Ping* OOOH, Leon Kennedy smut? Don't mind if I do! I laugh evilly to myself, clicking the fic with the pretty pink dividers.

*BEEP BEEP* "AHHH!!" I fall out of my gaming chair, my face hitting the cold floor. I rub my eyes that were under my glasses. I turn my head to see the screen of my alarm clock. FUCK! I'm late! I grab my school uniform and race to the bathroom. That's weird. I'm the first one here. It doesn't matter; take what you can and do what you need. I take a quick shower, put on deodorant and perfume, and stare at all my imperfections. My eye bags are getting bigger; that’s what happens when I watch 24 episodes of One Piece nonstop. Taking off my bonnet, I pray my hair cooperates with me now. I flat iron it until my arms go numb. I smell something burning. You know what? Just thug it out. Great, I look respectable. Grabbing my jacket, I run down the stairs. We really need an escalator.

Running into the dining room, I see everyone at the dinner table, no one in a hurry or rush. "Young master, would you like to join us?" The British accent of the old butler made me calm down, only for a millisecond. "Sorry, Al, but I'm late!" I grab a waffle off the table. "What in hell's name are you talking about?" the little devil speaks up. "Damian," his name makes my skin crawl. Ever since he got here, he's been on my back like white on rice. "None of your business, pipesqueak!" I glare at him. Still, my father's icy blue eyes shine on me like an interrogation light. I straighten myself. "Sorry to burst your bubble, [Name], but it's Saturday." I try to hold in an involuntary groan. Every time Tim speaks, it’s like he’s trying to correct me on something. I get it, you're smart; get a life. "I knew that," I huff, the fastest lie in history. "Then why were you running like a chicken that lost its head, and why are you all dressed for school?" Jason says sarcastically, sipping his coffee. His mug has a middle finger on the bottom; it seemed like it was pointing at me. Asshole.

"Well, I was just... whatever." Grabbing a piece of French toast, I go to sit down, but Steph's hand reaches out to cover the seat. "Sorry, [Name], this is Cass's spot." Oh, what is this, middle school? I walk to the other side of the dining table, but both Tim and Damian cover the seat. "This is for Dick." Oh, this is middle school. My blood is beginning to boil. "Great, I guess all the seats are taken. Thanks, team." I snatch a plate of pancakes off the table, walking up to my room. "Thank Allah! I can't stand it when she sits with us. She won't stop rambling about Power Rangers. She's so childish." I hear laughs coming from downstairs. Well, isn’t that just great? So much for a family breakfast. I eat in my bed. I’d rather doom scroll through Tumblr than talk to those losers—those really cool, strong, popular losers. I stare up at the Batman merch in my room. They’re all in order from Batman all the way down to Duke, the last member of the family. I used to find it weird having merch, shirts, and posters of them. I mean, they’re my "family." It’s just odd, you know? But I idolize them; even Damian—fighting crime, saving lives—all that crap. They're cool, but who knew cool people could be so cruel and mean? But let's be real; the family tree should've ended at Duke. I have no powers, no cool ninja training. I'm not smart or athletic. I sweat at the idea of running a mile. I get good grades, but I’m not Tim Drake-smart. I’m not even a Cass-level fighter. Hell, I don’t fight, period. The bottom line is, I’m "normal," as normal as a high school girl who likes video games, comics, anime, and cartoons can be. Other kids wouldn’t call you "normal," but in my family, I’m a saint compared to them.

But that's enough of that. I'm going downstairs to put my food away. Everyone’s gone, just Alfred in the kitchen cleaning up. "Hey, Al, where's everyone?" I say, putting my dish in the sink, then picking up a sponge, ready to help the old man out. "Oh, family outing." Family outing? "To where?" "To see a play, I believe, or a show. Maybe I saw tickets?" A show? "Don't you think it's too early for that stuff?" I reply, my hands getting wet with soap foam. "It's a long play; they had to get there early." Oh really, huh? "Was there a ticket for me?" "I'm afraid not." Oh, just great. Dad can buy tickets for his clan of kids, but not for his singular daughter? Fucking fantastic. My hands stop scrubbing the plate. "Oh cool." I didn't want to sound disappointed, but let's be real—I was. They always do things without me, and whenever I'm invited to things, it's out of pity—like a little kid your mom forces you to play with because she met the other mom, and now you guys have to be friends and hang out by pure association, even if you don't want to. I can see it whenever they're around—going to the theater with Steph, Cass, and Babs to watch some superhero movie, I shout out facts like crazy: "You know Spider-Man isn't allowed to drink any alcohol!" during the Into the Spider-Verse movie premiere. I could feel them rolling their eyes at me. Fake fans. Next time, they didn't invite me at all. Maybe I talk too much, or I’m too childish. I tried to invite Tim to play a fighting game with me. "The MHA fighting game? What are you, twelve? You're so childish, [Name]." He's acting like MHA is a bad anime. I went to their library with Jason once and picked up Percy Jackson. "Look, Jay, they have the whole series!" I looked down and saw him holding The Giver. Oh well, these are completely different books. "Can you try not to read something so childish? Grow up, [Name]." Oh yeah, only middle schoolers read Percy Jackson—it's not like he's a staple of my childhood or that I grew up with Vivra character designs of him, not at all. But it seems like a recurring theme: "You're childish, so, [Name]." "Grow up, [Name]." Maybe that's why I wasn’t invited. I'm immature and childish. Hell, even Damian’s more mature than me, and he's like 14. But I'm not childish; I'm just passionate and energetic, and I like things. I like a lot of things. Is it wrong to enjoy stuff to the fullest? I could never be nonchalant. If I can't show how I feel, then who am I?

"Young master?" "Sorry, Al, just deep in thought." I sighed. He patted my back gently. "You could spend time with me." "You don't mind?" "Not at all." At least there's someone who loves my passion. "You don't mind?" He shakes his head gently, so I spend Saturday with Alfred. It was mostly cleaning and listening to R&B. I never knew he liked Janet Jackson, but who doesn't like Janet Jackson? She's Janet Jackson! We were lip-syncing to Ginuwine: "So Anxious!" The house was clean; time to watch trashy TV—Dance Moms. It's our main show. "No! Why are they dancing like that? Horrible choreography!" I laugh. "You couldn't do better!"

"I have to run some errands; would you like to come?"

"Nah, I'll chill here, thanks, Al."

He pulled me into a strong hug despite his frame and then pulled me off the couch. "Get me something pretty, please!" I screamed out.

"Yes, young master!"

I giggled. If it doesn't burn my stomach in seconds, I don't want it. Flipping through the TV channels like crazy until I hit the news, I saw them all together without me in fancy clothes and coats, smiling at the camera. This was more than a play or a show; this was some kind of event, and they didn't think to bring me or tell me. They didn't think of doing anything to inform me, and the way they were smiling and talking, it was like they planned this all week, all month even. And no one even told me—they didn't invite me; they left me here.

"Dick, where's your little sister tonight?" said a reporter.

"Which one?!" Duke chimed in with a big smile.

"No, I mean [Name]," the reporter said, putting the microphone in his face.

"You know how she is. [Name] is just too childish sometimes."

Dick ran a hand through his hair, laughing. His blue eyes gleamed at the camera. Childish?

"Yeah, she can't go to events like this; she'd lose it," Steph barked out, making Tim chuckle.

"Yes, she's a handful; she wouldn't know how to act around these cameras."

Really, Dad, really? They're all laughing and making fun of me. The same words come up: "Childish," "Grow up," "Handful." I'm not that bad, am I? The final nail in the coffin: "She's so immature." From Damian? Immature? I'm not immature; I like comic books and collect figures and plushies and trading cards. I make cosplays and write fanfiction. That doesn't make me childish; I'm just passionate, that's all. I have passion. I care for the things I like, so what if they were made for little kids and boys to play on the playground? It doesn't mean I can't like it, doesn't mean I can't enjoy it, doesn't mean I can't handle a few cameras or a few mics.

Hot tears run down my face. "I-I I'm not childish! I can handle it! I can be a Wayne! I can grow up! I can!" Who am I trying to convince—me or the damn TV screen? I feel my body shaking. I rip the plug of the TV out of the wall, throwing it to the ground. I run upstairs to my room, seeing the Batman and Robin merch staring at me. "Childish? I'll show you childish!" I wipe the figures off my shelf; they hit the floor, smashing apart. The heads fell off and the wings of Red Robin's suit broke. I smashed the Lego Batmobile piece, scattering it everywhere. I ripped the posters off my wall. "Who's the handful now, huh, Bruce?" I stomped on the poster and snatched a Batman plushie off my nightstand. I took a mechanical pencil and stabbed it; the stuffing pooled out like blood. "I'm not a handful!" I threw it against the wall near Damian's action figures and Dick's.

"I'm not a handful!" I yelled as loud as I possibly could, my voice breaking. I flopped down onto the floor, my legs shaking. I could hardly breathe, staring at the mess all around me. I sniffled and wiped my face gently. I picked up the Batman plushie and pulled it close to my chest. "Sorry, Daddy."

@milkbean69

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@goodsoup19

@onceinamillionposter

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spookyscarydemonbabe · 4 months ago

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Lesson Learned

A/N- I wanted to do a little bit of a different take on his character, so i apologize if he seems a little ooc. He’s aged up in this story to being in his mid-20’s, i saw @cannibalvampir3’s drawing of him and i just… i need him biblically, he’s such a fucking loser 🙃 also, im a bit rusty when it comes to writing smut (like it’s been well over a year since i’ve written a full smut fic ESPECIALLY one of this length) so please give me some grace if it’s not absolutely amazing 🖤 this was the product on nonstop writing over the course of about 3 weeks so i hope you enjoy 💋

Summary- Once a week you’d come over to the Dickey residence to tutor Jane, and it would normally pass by without any interruptions. Unless her sad excuse of a brother decided to make an appearance. You try so hard to ignore him, but after an incident with a lost wallet you can’t help but want to make sure he knows where his place is. Although you haven’t decided if it’s beneath you, or on top of you.

Genre- Smut, 18+ content below the cut so minors be warned

Warnings- Reader has female anatomy, no use of (y/n), Bill has been aged up to his mid-20’s, mentions of drug use (marijuana), mentions masturbation (m + f), hair pulling, consent checks, tongue kissing, breast play, nipple sucking, panty sniffing, oral sex (m + f), handjob, p in v sex, missionary, loss of virginity (m), starts as hatefucking but turns into passionate lovemaking

Tag List- No tag list yet! Let me know if you’d like to be added 💋

Word Count- 14.3k

You looked up at that same beige front door you had to walk through every week, and sighed. Long. Your fingers moved up to massage your temples, just hoping that you wouldn’t leave with another migraine. Maybe this time he’d keep himself confined to the basement.

It had only been a few weeks since you’d started tutoring Jane for her English classes, and she was an excellent tutee. She was picking up on things so much easier whenever you explained them to her, her grades were improving drastically, and she had even gained more confidence with her own creative writing in her free time. The few short stories she had shown you were incredible for a high school sophomore. She was interesting and kind, someone so unique with her interests and she had quite the knack for making elaborate twists in her short stories. She was a very bright girl who you knew would strive for greatness.

It was her foul excuse of a brother that made you want to tear your hair out after every single session. You had no idea how someone as old as him managed to still be stuck in such a childish mindset.

Every time you came over he managed to get under your skin. You so badly wanted to snap at him, make him feel like the scum he is.

Every time he sauntered into the kitchen during your tutoring sessions in his dirty pajama pants, reeking of weed, sweat and no doubt whatever dried remains of himself he was too lazy to clean off. Every time you could sense his eyes on you whenever he wandered back and forth from his bedroom to the basement because he just so happened to remember he needed to reorganize his comics at that specific time. Every time you walked past his bedroom or the basement door and could overhear the overacted moans and groans coming from the girls on his computer screen, and eventually hearing one final whine of bliss from him. It happened so often, he had to have known you were there listening, you were so certain of it.

It was so infuriating.

Especially when you drove home after a long day of school and work, just ready to relax and indulge yourself in a little me time. Horror movie, a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, maybe an edible and of course a bit of stress relief…

Those seven inches of silicone in your bedside drawer felt so much more realistic when using your imagination. And every fucking time, whether you liked it or not, he’d be there in the back of your mind.

Christian Bale, the cute guy that works at the car wash, Bill. Heath Ledger, the hot librarian that smiles whenever you make a return, BILL. Brad Pitt, that one substitute teacher from senior year, BILL. Hayden Christensen, the guy from the mall food court that always gave you his discount, BILL. He was like a parasite that you couldn’t find the remedy for.

And fuck him for making you curious about the real thing whenever you saw him.

Whether you wanted it to happen or not, those thoughts arose from every little thing when he was around. Thinking about all those times you pictured your legs wrapped around his waist, his face contorted with pure bliss, his glasses nearly falling off from how fast he’s pounding into you. It’s like torture whenever he wanders into the kitchen and you can see the faintest bit of his torso and the trail of hair that moves from his bellybutton down to the waistband of whatever sweats he’s been wearing for who knows how long when he reaches to get a glass from the cupboard.

You clenched your eyes shut, shaking your head, trying to get whatever remnants of those thoughts out of the back of your mind. It wasn’t going to happen today.

You were so sure of that.

With one last deep breath, you reached over and grabbed your backpack from the passenger seat, pulling your keys from the ignition and putting them into the side pocket. You shut the car door and as you looked back up the driveway, it felt like you were being watched. You knew it was him, glaring at you from behind the dark throw blankets he used as makeshift curtains on the basement windows. Not even a full thirty seconds out of the car, and that pit of anger in your stomach started to bubble. He was terrible at trying to be secretive.

The back of your knuckles rapped gently on the front door, and a smile spread on your lips as Jane opened the door for you.

“Hey!” She said with a smile, stepping aside to let you in.

“Hey, how’s class been?” You asked as you stepped inside, walking into the dining room and setting your bag down onto one of the extra empty wooden chairs.

“Really good, actually! I got a 75% on that test I was telling you about, but I got a 90% on a surprise writing prompt.”

“That’s awesome! Did you get the test back? Maybe we can go over some of the things you missed?”

“Yeah, let me find it.”

Jane sat next to you at the table, pulling out the folder and a few notebooks she used for English class. As she was looking for her test you took it upon yourself to take out a notebook and a few various colored pens.

“So what did you write about for that prompt?” You asked as you were organizing your things on the table.

“Our teacher told us we could write anything, as long as it went along with one of the examples he gave us. I chose ‘Life or Death’, and I wrote about this guy whose wife died but he keeps going on as if she’s still there with him.”

“That sounds really cool! What was the twist you added? I know you can’t write a story without a good twist.”

“Yeah, I had him end up being her killer and he kept acting like she was there out of regret.”

“Wow, that’s a little dark, but I’d read it!”

Your friendly banter was interrupted by a snort coming from the other room. Of course he’d be there listening.

Bill had snuck his way into the kitchen, rifling through the pantry for what you could only assume was his second bag of chips for the day, and you could see the grin on his lips as soon as you turned to look at him.

“Yeah, so dark.” He said sarcastically to himself, rolling his eyes and trying to stifle a laugh.

“Shut up and get back to the basement, creep!” Jane shouted at him.

Bill made sure to take his time, looking back over to you and giving you a wink and a smirk before retreating back into the basement with the bag of chips in hand. You shot him a dirty look and quickly went back to trying to focus on Janes work instead of him.

“Sorry, you know how he gets.” Jane apologized, pulling her test out for you to look over as you made sure to listen for the basement door closing.

“It’s alright. Sorry you’ve got to live with him, seeing him once a week is all I can take…”

“I’m pretty used to it by now.” Jane shrugged, “Just ignore him, like always. I found that test.”

“Right! Let’s take a look…” Your eyes scanned the paper, looking over the few questions with the red marks next to them, “It looks like you’re really only having an issue with figurative language. I was the same way, I really only remembered similes and metaphors, but the other ones took a bit.”

“I’ve been trying to work on memorizing them, but for some reason they’re just not sticking…”

“That’s ok! That’s what I’m here for,” You opened up one of your notebooks and grabbed a pencil, “grab your notes from class, let’s look over it really quick.”

The next hour that followed went by without any interruptions, surprisingly. Jane was able to memorize everything for her next quiz, and she even let you read the short story from class to get some constructive criticism. She really had talent. Bill managed to keep himself quiet, for the most part. Save for a few times you heard him screaming at whatever video game he was playing on his monitor down in the basement.

“Let me know how that quiz goes next week.” You said to Jane as you finished placing the last of your notebooks into your backpack.

“I will! I’ll go over those notes again on my break at work today, I think the last of my homework shouldn’t take long after.” Jane stuck her notebook under her arm as you made your way to the front door, Jane grabbing her keys from the little bowl on the counter, you taking yours out from the side pocket.

“I’ll see you next week.” Jane said as she jogged over to her car parked on the street.

“Bye Jane! I hope work goes by fast.” You laughed, unlocking your car door.

“Thanks, me too.” She smiled, giving you one last wave before stepping into her car and heading off to work. It was so bizarre, seeing how well put together she was, and then to have an older brother that was so dull, so negligent to any kind of responsibility offered to him. You were grateful you only had to deal with him once today.

You couldn’t handle having those obscene, pornographic thoughts wriggle their way back into your mind.

At least it was over until next week, and you had the rest of the night to yourself. A movie sounded nice right about now, and maybe a few extra snacks were needed just in case the munchies hit again. As far as you remembered, there was still one last half of the joint your roommate gave you, and you didn’t want it to go to waste.

You reached over into your backpack and rummaged through the front pocket for your wallet, the same place it always went, and yet you couldn’t feel the faux leather against your fingers. Strange. The only other place it could’ve been in was the main pocket, but even then it was nowhere to be found.

“Come on…” You whispered to yourself as you tore through the bag, pulling every last notebook and pencil out to look for it, even going as far as adjusting your seats again to see if maybe it slipped through a crack somewhere, and still, nothing. You looked back up to that beige door and breathed slow, knowing that the only other place it could be was inside.

With him.

“God fucking dammit…” You said through gritted teeth, quickly opening the car door and slamming it shut as you made your way back up the steps. All that was on your mind was how quickly you wanted this to be over with.

Being around him with Jane wasn’t anything out of the norm, but you had never been alone with him.

Why would anyone want to be alone with him?

You sighed once more and knocked on the door, crossing your arms and waiting for a moment before it opened, Bill standing there with a cocky smirk on his face, his bloodshot eyes moving up and down over you, “Miss me?” He asked with his arms crossed, leaning on the doorframe.

You weren’t going to bother entertaining him with a response to that.

“I can’t find my wallet, can I look and see if it fell out of my bag in your dining room?”

He said nothing, but moved aside for you to step in.

You could smell the weed on him already, but shockingly that was the only thing you caught on him. Usually there would be undertones of sweat or him trying to mask the fact that he hadn’t showered in days by marinating himself in whatever body spray he found on the dresser, but his natural musk wasn’t all bad. It was odd, but not unwanted. He was in need of a shower anyways, it was certainly a rare occasion for him according to Jane.

You stepped around him, heading straight into the dining room and checking beneath the chair your bag was on. You waltzed around the table slowly, looking all over the rug beneath the table for it, but you couldn’t find anything resembling the black leather wallet. As you got onto your knees to check if it had fallen underneath the table, you sensed his hazel eyes on you once more, and glanced over to see him in the same stance he was in at the door.

His arms crossed, leaning on the wall, a shit eating grin on his lips and his eyes glued onto your ass as you stayed bent over in front of him. That pool of anger in your stomach started to boil.

“You know, you could help?” You glared up at him, annoyed.

“I could.” Bill shrugged, reaching his hand up to scratch at the patchy facial hair he had refused to keep up with, “I like the view better though.”

“You’re a pig.” You scowled at him, getting up from your position on the floor, “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” He scoffed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please,” You rolled your eyes, arms crossed over your chest as you stood before him, “you know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m here once a week, you’ve never bothered trying to have any kind of conversation with me, but somehow you manage to always find a way to piss me off.”

Bill smirked, looking down at the floor to try and stifle his laugh.

“Is this funny to you?” Your words were dripping with aggravation, and you knew that you should quit before it’s too late. He didn’t deserve your time. “Whatever, I don’t need your help…” You turned back to the table with another eye roll. Just feeling his presence there behind you was enough to make you snap, but god forbid you really did lose your wallet there. There’s no fucking way you’d give him access to your address, let alone your money with his bullshit spending habits.

“…Fucking loser.” You said under your breath. You just couldn’t help yourself.

Bills smirk dropped as soon as he heard you.

“What did you just say?”

The adrenaline pumped in your chest as soon as you gleaned from his tone that those two simple words got him so pissed he couldn’t end this without getting the last word. You wouldn’t let him get that satisfaction.

“Well if you heard me, then you heard that I didn’t stutter.” You turned back to face him, taking a step closer, “I said. You’re a FUCKING loser.”

How dare you challenge him like this. Girls don’t talk to Bill, let alone challenge his masculinity by telling him what he knew he really was. And it pissed him off even more when hearing those venomous words leave your lips it made the blood rush to his groin.

He took a step closer to you, trying his hardest not to show you that you were getting to him, but he was making it so obvious it was hard to not want to fuck with him.

“Fuck you.”

“That’s it?” You scoffed, not even trying to hold back your laughter, “You’re not even denying it, you know you’re a loser too, don’t you?”

He was seething, his face red, fists clenched as he kept them crossed tightly across his chest, and having to hold back from getting hard right then and there only made it so much worse.

Bill had only been challenged by the guys before, and that was one of the only major constants he knew he could handle. What he couldn’t handle, was change. He couldn’t handle the fact that he knew you were right and somehow he knew he deserved it. There was something in the way you said it that just clicked. It was true, you were right, and the fact that you looked so good doing it made him want you to tell him again.

“I’m not a loser.”

“Sure you are.” You took another step forward, peering into his eyes through his dirty frames, “And everyone knows it.”

Bill exhaled hard through his nose, quickly uncrossing his arms and reaching into the pocket of the oversized zip up he had slumped over his shoulders, pulling out your wallet.

“You want your fucking wallet?” He took a step back and threw it into the living room, “Go get it then, bitch. And then get the fuck out of my house.”

“I knew you had it you fucking asshole!”

You shoved him hard against the wall after it, though you didn’t expect it to bounce so far, and you certainly didn’t expect it to fall down the basement stairs. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” As you stopped to go down the stairs after it, you were appalled by the absolute mess of the place.

Dirty clothes all across the floor, empty soda and energy drink cans scattered over the various shelves and desks, garbage can overflowing with an excessive amount of tissues, the pullout bed on the couch looked to be the cleanest thing and even that was a mess. Thankfully it looked to only be covered with various comics and video game controllers, but the floor around it was covered in various tapes and their cardboard sleeves and wires from the game systems all set out in front of the TV.

As your eyes scanned the floor, you couldn’t spot the small leather square amidst the clutter. It was so close to being over, but now he was making this so much more infuriating than you anticipated, and right now all you wanted was for it to be over with.

You stomped back over to Bill, who was still rubbing his arm from when he hit the wall, and reached your hand up into his greasy russet locks and grabbed a fistful, yanking him over to the basement door.

“What the fuck?! Let go of me, crazy bitch!” Bill fought to get free from your hand, though it didn’t feel like he was fighting all that hard. He had at least a few inches on you, and yet he seemed so small when you pushed him around.

“Now you’re going to help me fucking look for it, asshole!” You nearly threw him down the stairs as you let go of his hair, wiping your hand on your shirt to get rid of the oily residue.

“Cunt…” Bill said under his breath, rubbing the back of his head as he looked over the ground, kicking away the trash and clothes scattering the floor.

“Shut up and look for it.” You groaned, taking the last steps down into the basement, not being able to help looking all over the walls at the various stacks of comics and tapes, along with the different pieces of horror and fantasy memorabilia, “Christ, is your room like this too? Don’t you ever clean up after yourself?”

“Well it’s my basement, so I can do whatever I want with it.” He replied, not even bothering to look up from the floor as he kept kicking around the junk in his way.

“Oh please, you’re lucky your mom hasn’t kicked you out yet with you leaving all this junk down here.”

“It’s not junk!” Bill yelled, finally turning around to look at you. You didn’t even flinch when he took a step forward, your arms crossed over your chest.

“What would you call it then? You don’t even take care of this stuff, those shelves are covered in dust and your comics and tapes are thrown all over the place, I thought nerds like you worshipped that shit?”

“Stop calling me shit like that…”

“Well, if you tried a little harder to be normal, I wouldn’t have to call you shit like that.”

“Fuck you!” Bill stepped forward again, trying so hard to intimidate you, but even he knew he had no idea what he was doing, “You don’t know me.”

“Oh, I know more about you thank you think I do. Bill Dickey, the 20-something loser that still lives with his mommy, spending all her money on your bullshit toys because you still can’t get a job, doing nothing but smoking weed and watching porn because christ knows you’ve never gotten close to getting your dick wet… I bet you haven’t even kissed a girl yet, and you’re how old?”

“Shut the fuck up!” He yelled, his face only inches away from yours as you scowled at one another.

He hated you so fucking much, and the fact that he knew everything you said was true only made the fire inside him burn brighter. You were right. He was a loser, he still lived with his mother, no job, never had a girlfriend, let alone have a girl be alone with him for as long as you have. He was done letting you push him around, or at least he thought he was.

“Make me, nerd.”

That was it. The one final twig thrown onto the fire that made him explode with rage, and you were the one unlucky recipient that got caught in the flames. He didn’t know what came over him then, he wanted to reach his hand out and slap you for daring to speak to him that way, but with one swift motion he grabbed your collar and pulled you close, closing the space between you as he pushed his lips onto yours.

You let out a surprised yelp as he yanked you towards him, and as his lips crashed into yours you had come to the very sudden realization that it wasn’t as repulsive as you expected it to be. His lips were dry, and he tasted of chapstick and a bit of citrus from whatever energy drink he happened to chug while he was down in the basement. But still, somehow the feeling of having him so close, your lips pressed together in a heated moment of hatred, just felt so right.

It was so strange.

With the sudden realization of your surroundings, your hand reached back up into his greasy hair and yanked him back again, tearing his lips away from yours, “What the fuck?!”

“What? You said ‘make me’ so I did,” He said so matter of factly with a smirk on his face, “and you didn’t hate it either. If you didn’t want it, you wouldn’t have let me.”

He was right. You did let him.

You let him kiss you, and god help you, but you liked it.

And fuck him for making you want that aching feeling back between your thighs.

“I’ll fucking kill you…” You pushed him back hard enough for him to almost trip over the dirty clothes on the basement floor, but all he could do was laugh as you stepped closer to push him again, “Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“I know exactly who I am, and you know too.” Even with you fuming before him, ready to clench your fist and punch him right where he deserved it, he still couldn’t help himself from being the asshole he was, “I’m the pathetic loser that everyone hates, and you just let me kiss you. And you liked it. Who’s pathetic now?”

Everything he said was true. He was pathetic, he was disgusting, he was a foul excuse of a human being, and there was some little part of you that wanted him so badly you couldn’t hide it even when you wanted to.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You know what? No.” Bill stood tall over you, stepping forward from where you pushed him back to lean over you with a smirk on his lips, “How about you make me shut up, bitch?”

With one final shove, Bills legs gave in as they hit the end of the pullout bed, falling back against it and propping himself up on his elbows.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You stood over him, hands on your hips, “Don’t think you’ve got something to hold over me just because i let you kiss me,” Another step closer and you would be in his lap, “I saw how hard you were trying to keep yourself from letting all the blood rush to your dick upstairs, you like being called a loser, and you know it.” The waves of emotion were starting to consume you. The tension was only making it more fun. “So I guess we’re both pretty pathetic…”

You climbed over him, your knees gently sinking into the cheap mattress as your hands quickly grasped his cheeks, pulling his lips back into yours. And this time he reciprocated.

You could tell that this was all so foreign to him, especially when you felt him start to harden in his sweatpants as you pushed your body into his. But he’d never admit that this was all new to him. Why stop a good thing?

As his arms gave in, he laid himself back onto the mattress, a gentle groan leaving his lips as his hands moved to hold onto your hips. The aggression you were holding inside for so long was finally able to be released, and without thinking your hips ground into him, smiling against his lips as you heard him try so hard to stifle the moan stuck in his throat.

He was right where you wanted him.

You pulled back ever so slightly, and you couldn’t help but giggle watching the way he leaned his head to keep your lips on his just a little longer. It took a moment to catch your breath after the intensity of your lips attacking one another, and all you could do was stare at him.

“What now?” Bill asked you.

You both knew exactly what you wanted, you couldn’t deny your bodies’ natural animalistic instincts, but to be giving into those feelings with each other is what got you so caught up. You didn’t like him, but you didn’t hate him either. And though he wanted to hate you still, something deep down inside was telling him that he couldn’t. Not like this.

“I don’t know…” You shrugged, one hand still gently cupping his cheek, “We could… Have you?…” The words were so clear in your brain but there was some kind of disconnect when it came to saying them. You knew he was a virgin, everything about him told you that, but were you really about to fuck him just to get it over with? Just to satisfy that itch that so many other boys in the past couldn’t scratch?

Bills eyes looked away from you, and as he shook his head you could see a mixture of anger and fear on his face.

You both knew you wanted it, and you wanted it bad, but there was that lingering feeling of hatred for one another still in the air mixed with the heavy air of lust and want for each other. You didn’t know if you hated each other, or if you hated yourselves for wanting each other.

“It’s up to you, I guess…” His eyes found yours once more, “But if we do, don’t think it means I like you.”

“And don’t think me doing this for you means I like you.” As you kept your position, straddled in his lap, you kicked your shoes off onto the floor, “Look. I’ll do you this one favor, but you have to do something for me too. I’m not just going to let you fuck me and not get anything in return.”

You felt him twitch between your legs, and the friction of the fabric between you wasn’t making it any better.

“Fine, like what?” He groaned.

“I’ll let you know when it’s over.” With one swift motion you quickly turned over onto your back, laid out on the dirty mattress, pushing aside the few comic books and tape sleeves still mixed up over the blanket and pulling Bill on top of you.

He sat up on his knees and looked down, smiling at the state you were in. Eyes glazed over with lust, cheeks tinted pink, and looking at you laid beneath him was a sight he never thought he’d see.

“Fuck it.” Bill growled, nearly tearing the oversized zip up off of his arms, throwing it onto the floor to be lost with the other various clothing items he couldn’t be bothered to wash.

He leaned himself back down over you, elbows next to your head as he pushed his lips back onto yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him held close as if he was going to tear himself away from you at any second.

As new as he was to it, Bill wasn’t a bad kisser. A little messy, and he certainly didn’t know when to stop himself, but he had wanted this for so long you were certain he was just happy to finally get these firsts done. For a twenty-something year old virgin, he was a good kisser. And you wanted more.

With each slow movement of your lips, you inched the tip of your tongue closer and closer to moving with them, and you could sense him tense as soon as he felt it against his lips. But he wasn’t going to deny you what you wanted.

He tried to mimic your movements, slowly bringing his tongue closer and closer to touching yours. He was an asshole, but you weren’t going to make him go past his comfort level. You waited and waited for that green light to push just a little bit further, and as soon as you felt the soft flesh against your lips you gave him access.

It was so much less aggressive than you were expecting. More curious than anything, like he was nervous to make any wrong moves. Your hands slowly reached up between your bodies, your fingertips gently caressing his neck before holding the back of it, gently moving through his hair and pulling him closer into you. The moment he picked up on your signal he took advantage of it, pushing his tongue past your lips and tangling it with yours.

You gently tugged at Bills hair, although this seemed to only encourage him further, twisting his tongue faster until you had to pull him away from you to catch your breath, the taste of him still lingering.

“I need to fucking breathe, dumbass…” You said in between breaths, your chests heaving. As your eyes opened you smiled seeing you were still connected by a thin strand of saliva on your lips.

“Don’t make a mess of yourself yet.” You moved a hand down from his neck and wiped at his bottom lip before carefully leaning yourself up onto your elbows. Bill moved with you, wanting to give you the space you needed, and sat up onto his knees. “Help me.” You ordered him, reaching your hands down to the hem of your shirt and pulling it off of your body, tossing it onto the floor.

All he could do was stare at your still bra-covered chest.

He’d stared at naked girls on a computer screen hundreds of times before, he’d destroyed countless issues of Playboy and even a few Heavy Metal comics, but finally seeing the real thing was a sight so intoxicating he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Bill!” Your shout took him out of his trance, “Help.”

“Uh…” His eyes scanned your body, eyes fixated on your breasts, trying his hardest to hold a complete thought together, “Help with what?”

“Getting this off.” You moved to sit on top of your legs, inching your body closer to him, your arms reaching out and gently resting on his sides. You pressed your body into his, pulling away your hair to give him a clear view of the little clasp on your bra. As he reached his arms around you, leaning his head over your shoulder to make sure he was doing it right, you could feel his hands shaking as he tugged at the clasp.

“God dammit…” He whispered angrily under his breath as he struggled to get it undone, “How do you get this fucking thing off?”

“Calm down,” You groaned, leaning your head up to kiss his jaw, your hands carefully moving beneath the hem of his shirt and slowly tracing your fingers along his bare torso. You could feel that his warm body wasn’t used to the foreign touch, “You’re a grown man, you can figure it out.”

Bill groaned and kept whispering to himself, aggravated by the little metal clasp that for some reason he just couldn’t figure out. As much as he didn’t want to, he listened to you, taking a deep breath and moving slowly, and to his surprise the clasps came undone without another issue. You felt your bra loosen around your shoulders and leaned back to pull it away from your body, letting the straps fall down your arms and tossing it away. And Bill couldn’t help but stare again. His arms fell to his sides as his eyes were locked onto your naked breasts, and you could tell when you looked at his face that this was something he had always dreamed of, but now that a half naked girl really was right before him he had no idea what he was doing.

You couldn’t help but smile at his state,

“You know, you’re allowed to touch me?” You said with a snicker.

As if he was waiting for your approval, his hands finally reached up and gently grasped onto the soft skin of your breasts, a quiet breathy moan left his lips, “Oh my god…” He whispered to himself, eyes wide as he gently massaged and kneaded the soft skin. You couldn’t help but smile up at him, so entranced already and all you had to do was take your shirt off.

Your hands grasped the hem of his shirt, tugging it up over his tummy to pull it away,

“Your turn.”

Without a second thought, Bill sat up and pulled at the loose t-shirt on his body, almost ripping at it as he threw it across the room, fixing his glasses after getting caught on the collar. You laid back, taking a slow breath as he towered above you, letting out a surprised gasp as his hands found their way back onto your body. Gently kneading the soft skin of your breasts, and as you looked up to his face you could see he was nearly drooling at the sight beneath him.

His hands moved to the side of your chest as he lowered himself onto you, moaning at the first bit of skin to skin contact he’d ever experienced. He couldn’t help himself from needing to know just how soft you felt beneath his touch. His hands quickly moved back to your chest and he carefully moved himself down your body, his face slowly lowering into the valley between your breasts, gently kissing the areas his lips could reach as he couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hips into you. You could sense his smile against your skin and you slowly lowered one hand into his hair, gently playing with the few strands at the base of his neck as the other one draped onto his back, your fingers tracing little patterns onto his shoulders.

You could hear him whispering to himself and softly giggled as he pushed his face further into your chest,

“So soft…” Bill whispered before slowly lifting his head from the space between your breasts, his eyes peeking up over his frames to see your face as he licked his lips, watching you gasp and lean your head back as they wrapped around a nipple and pulled ever so slightly. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud before pulling his lips off with a silent pop. Watching your face contort was only encouraging him further to get those intoxicating moans to leave your lips.

As he listened intently for the littlest sound from you, the corners of his lips turned as you took a deep breath and whispered a quiet, “Fuck…” to yourself. Your fingers gently tugging his hair were enough to make him dive in again, his lips leaning down to the other breast, kissing your hardened nipple before taking it between his lips and pulling, releasing it as you let out a breathy moan.

“You’re really good at that.” You complimented him as you tried to slow your breathing back down.

As he leaned down to kiss the other nipple, he looked back up at you, smiling,

“I’ve watched enough porn to learn a few things…”

“Gross,” You giggled, “that’s not something to be proud of, pervert.”

“Yeah?” Bill raised himself up onto his arms, his face hovering over yours, “Well you seem to like it…” He whispered, his lips softly pressing to yours just once.

You smiled up at him, your arms moving to hold the back of his head and move your fingers through his hair. Every word that came out of his mouth was repulsive, but with no prior experience he really knew how to use your body against you. And it only made you curious to see what else he could do to you.

“Have you learned anything else?” Your hands moved to his shoulders, gently pushing him further down your body as you sat yourself up. You carefully moved your body down to the edge of the bed, Bill moving himself down to kneel before you, his face turning redder by the second as his eyes stayed glued onto your face. His hands slowly reached up to rest on the outside of your jean-clad thighs, slowly moving them up and down.

“Like what?”

You shrugged, inching yourself closer and closer to the edge of the bed, your legs wide open as Bill sat between them,

“Maybe you can help me out of these and show me~” You smiled coyly, fingers reaching to the button and zip on your jeans, standing before him as his hands reached up, fingers looped in the belt loops as he tugged the hem down your thighs.

The sight of you in your little cotton panties was enough for him to make a mess of himself, and as you stepped out of your jeans he threw them across the floor and eagerly moved his hands to the hem of your panties before you quickly stopped him.

“Wait!” You head his hands gently as they rested on your hips and sat back down, legs open wide for him to settle his body between them, “Beg.”

Bills eyebrows furrowed in confusion,

“What?”

“Beg.” You ordered, leaning forward to get your face closer to his, teasing him with the thought that if you got close enough he could reach your lips again, “Tell me what you want.”

“No, I’m not begging you.”

“Fine,” You shrugged, getting yourself ready to stand and find your jeans among the mess, “if you don’t want it then-“

“No!” Bill shouted, holding your hips and guiding you back to sit on the edge of the bed, “No, no, I want it…”

“Ok then, tell me.”

Bill fought with himself for a moment. He wanted you, and he wanted you bad.

Everything in his heart was telling him that he couldn’t let you see him like this, watching him beg and writhe for you on the floor, but there was that little part of him that was so willing to do anything and everything you asked. He couldn’t take it.

“I… I want…” He never expected this from himself. He never expected himself to be so close so such a beautiful woman, her body almost fully exposed to him for his eyes and hands to wander over as he pleased. It was humiliating, but so endearing, “I want to eat you out… Please?”

You raised your eyebrows at how badly Bill sounded like he needed you, a smirk came to your lips as you leaned down and gave him just one quick kiss.

“Thank you. And thank you for saying ‘please’, I didn’t expect you to want it that badly…”

“Well, you said ‘beg’…”

You laid back onto your elbows, letting Bill move his fingers back through the sides of your cotton panties, slowly pulling them down your hips. He stopped himself just before letting them fall down your thighs and eagerly anticipated the exposure of your womanhood. He wanted to be able to enjoy himself.

You watched his face closely, and as he pulled off that last little bit of fabric you saw his eyes go wide. His chest was heaving, cheeks bright pink, and his lip quivering just as he slowly dragged your panties down to your ankles. You stepped out of them and opened your legs back up to give him access. All he could do was stare at your body, laid out before him for him to use as he pleased, but all he wanted was to make sure he was doing a good job.

“Fuck…” Bill growled, his teeth clenched, and he couldn’t help but go back to his perverse ways, grabbing damp fabric off of the floor and bringing it to his face, deeply inhaling your scent. Bill groaned, his eyes clenched shut as he breathed you in, and just seeing how drunk with lust he was getting from you only made it seem so much more than what it really was.

You may have hated each other before, but all sane thoughts had left your mind just seeing how drunk Bill was with lust. For a virgin, he really did know all the things that made you dripping wet.

And Bill could see that too.

He smiled to himself as he saw the littlest bit of light gleaming in from a crack in the throw blanket over the window and watched the way your pussy glistened for him. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it and he let your panties drop from between his fingers onto the floor, his hands moving to hold the outside of your thighs, slowly caressing the soft skin beneath his fingertips,

“Oh my god…” He said between heavy breaths, inching closer and closer to your core, so fearful and yet so exhilarated to finally taste the sweet fruits of his labor.

He was the reason you were this wet, he was the reason you were aching for some kind of contact to bring you further to the edge, he was the reason you were writhing with pleasure after every touch.

“Bill?” His eyes glanced up at you on the bed as you summoned him, “You ok?” You giggled.

“Yeah…” He nodded, his head dipping back between your legs, planting a trail of kisses up your inner thighs, “Just lay down.”

You did as he commanded, and as you slowly lowered yourself back onto the mattress you were hit with a wave of instantaneous pleasure as you felt Bills tongue curiously exploring your folds. It was impossible to choke back the string of whines and moans that escaped your throat, and you were done holding back.

He was being so slow and so gentle, being so agonizingly tender it made you wonder if he was doing it out of his own inexperience or if it was because he wanted you to be in excruciating bliss. As long as he kept his head buried in your thighs you didn’t care which one it was.

Second by second, Bill swirled his tongue faster, and as he devoured your sweet juices his hands moved from your thighs to your hips. He gripped onto you tightly, pulling your body closer into him, and you could feel the tip of his nose gently stroke your sensitive pearl. As your toes curled and you let out a yelp of pleasure, it only made him more curious as to what he could make you do for him just from unintentionally toying with the little bundle of nerves.

Everything beyond this point was purely experimental for him.

Bill opened his eyes and did his best to get a good look at you, but with your back arched ever so slightly it was almost impossible to get a good read on your body. He just did whatever felt right. One hand moved from your thigh, his fingers gently trailing up and over your hip, and for just a moment he slowly tore his mouth away from you.

You whimpered at the loss of contact, opening your eyes and prepared to sit back up on your elbows to make sure Bill was ok, but were quickly forced back down by the feeling of 1000 volts of electricity rushing through your body as his fingers found their way to your clit. You gripped the sheets between your fingers so hard you thought if you were pushed just a little further they’d tear, and Bill was using this all to his advantage. He liked how submissive you were to his touch, and every little sound that came from you only told him how good of a job he was doing.

“Fuck…” You groaned out as Bill brought you closer and closer to your release.

You couldn’t see it, but the smile on his lips stayed cemented as he dove back into you, licking long flat stripes with his tongue over your folds. All he wanted was the joy of knowing that of all people, he was the one pushing you over the edge. As he felt your hand slowly move over the top of his head, fingers intertwined in his hair and tugging so gently to keep him put, his eyes shut tight. He could already feel himself making a mess of his sweatpants, not being able to hold back how you were able to make him leak just from laying there and taking it.

“ ‘M getting close…” You whined out, your fingers tightening their grip in his hair and Bill quickened his pace, burying his face into your thighs and completely losing control of himself. The mixture of your own juices and his saliva were dripping down his chin, and he could feel your hips instinctively try to jerk back but he pulled you back into his tongue each time you felt your own body betray you by pulling you away from such bliss.

“Bill… Bill…” His name slipped from your lips like a prayer over and over again, and finally hearing you cry out for him was all he needed to help you cross over that threshold. With one final twist of his tongue he heard your cries of pleasure and pulled himself away, catching his breath as he stared up at you on the bed.

Eyes closed, face red, your lips were parted and trembling as you slowly relaxed yourself into the bed, taking deep breaths to slowly bring you back down from your high.

Bill grabbed one of the stray pieces of clothes from the floor and wiped your juices from his chin, smiling up at you as his head rested on your thigh,

“You’re a fucking mess…” He chuckled, slowly standing himself up from the floor.

You groaned as you sat up onto your elbows, pulling the rest of your body back onto the bed and giving your legs a rest from their wide open position. With one last exhale, you looked up at him with a smile on your lips,

“I guess you did learn a little bit.”

“Told you.” He said with an eye roll, reaching his hand out to help lift you to sit upright. You took it graciously and the feeling of his hand in yours lingered before pulling it back down to rest at your side. As your eyes moved down his body, you couldn’t help your cheeks turning pink upon seeing how hard he was from the bulge in his sweats. And he was bigger than you anticipated.

“My turn…” His hands grabbed onto the waistband of his sweats and before he could pull them down his hips you stopped him,

“Wait.”

“What? Are you ok?” Bill looked to your face for any sign of discomfort but when he saw your eyes, glazed over with lust, looking up at him he knew that you were just going to toy with him further.

“Let me do it?” You asked, your fingers looping into the waistband of his sweats and gently tugging, almost as if asking for permission.

A shiver went down Bills spine, and you could sense him trembling under your touch, but he looked to you and nodded. You kept your eyes on his as you slowly pulled the fabric down his hips, your eyes moving back down as you noticed him getting caught on the waistband.

A quiet giggle escaped your lips as you exposed his manhood, popping out of his boxers and bobbing just before your eyes. He wasn’t huge by any means, but he certainly wasn’t small. And with the way the last hour had gone you were hoping and praying that he’d be a perfect fit inside you. His body was shaking as you finished pulling the fabric down to his ankles and you moved your hands up to caress the top of his thighs as he stepped out of them, kicking them away.

Bill didn’t know if he should be exhilarated or afraid when he noticed your gaze lingering on his groin.

“What?”

“Hm?” You peeked up at him and flashed a quick smile before averting your eyes back to his cock, “Nothing.” Finally having the real thing there before your eyes only made those thoughts come back into your head.

All the nights you spent with that piece of silicone between your legs, twisting yourself into uncomfortable positions just to make it feel a little more real, having your roster of men flipping through your brain like TV channels, and Bill was at the end of every one of them. Without a doubt, he was always the last person that came to mind, the last person you’d ever imagine having you feeling the way you felt during those lonely nights, the last person that you thought of before you came each and every time. Even through all the hatred, all the bitterness, it felt so surreal to see that he was right there before you.

Your eyes glanced up to his and you knew exactly why he stood there trembling,

“Don’t worry, I like it.” You whispered before moving a hand up to gently hold it at the base, leaning in and gently planting a wet open-mouth kiss to the tip.

Bills body gave into your touch almost instantly, a whine escaping his lips as he felt your kiss and nearly fainted from the euphoria.

“Ohh fuck~” You giggled as he placed his hand onto your shoulder to balance himself,

“Sorry…”

“It’s ok.” You giggled, taking your hand away from his member, “Why don’t you lay down? I think that’ll make it a little easier for both of us.”

“Can’t I just sit?” Bill asked as he sat next to you on the end of the mattress.

“No, I’m already on this gross bed, I’m not getting on your disgusting floor.”

“It’s not that bad!” Bill looked behind him and tossed the few comics that were tangled in with the blanket onto the floor, “There, clean bed.”

“Sure, ‘clean’.” You giggled, “Just go sit against the back of the couch, it’ll be more comfortable that way.”

Bill did as you commanded, slowly moving himself until his back was against the dark sofa cushions. He breathed slow and opened his legs for you to maneuver between them and watched as you crawled towards him, his hands already gently holding the sheets just from watching the way your body was swaying closer and closer.

“Comfortable?” You asked as you nestled yourself between his legs, hands slowly caressing his thighs.

Bill nodded and watched you intently, and as one hand wrapped back around the base you leaned down and the tip of your tongue gently licked over his slit. His breath caught in his throat and you could feel his body tense beneath you. You tried your best to flip your hair over your shoulders but it was no use, and you looked up to him from his lap,

“You could be a gentleman and hold my hair back.”

“Sorry,” Bill said with a chuckle, his hands reaching out and gently combing back the hair around your face with his fingers, collecting it and holding it back for you, “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never done this shit before.”

You smirked up at him before licking his tip again, your eyes glancing up to his face seeing that he was torn between watching you or clenching his eyes shut in bliss. Slowly, you planted kisses all along his length, making sure to linger your lips over the head just to see how sensitive it was for him. As he finally let his head tilt back against the cushion, you smiled and gently wrapped your lips around the head, suckling gently as you listened to each and every noise that slipped from his lips. The moans, whines and whimpers coming from him were enough to make you want to keep your mouth wrapped around him for as long as he asked.

Your lips enveloped the tip, suckling gently before slowly taking more and more past your lips, making sure to keep a steady pace as your head bobbed up and down in his lap. Bills hand was still wrapped tightly in your hair, and he was making sure to not push your head down further and force it all down your throat, he was too eager and it felt too good to not want to fuck your mouth, but he was being a gentleman. It didn’t come all that natural to him, but he was trying so hard to make this enjoyable for you.

Little by little, inch by inch, you lowered your lips onto him to see how deep you could take him, and as soon as you found that perfect spot of comfort you pulled your lips almost all the way off before sliding them back down to the base, eating a dragged out moan from Bill. You couldn’t stop.

With every little sound he made it was only making you want it more and more, hollowing out your cheeks each time you went back for more to tighten what little wiggle room there was. You could taste him at the back of your throat, and even though it had been only minutes since you began you could sense he was close from the way his body tensed around you.

“F-fuck…” He groaned through gritted teeth, “I think I’m gonna cum…” Just then you pulled your lips off with a silent pop, catching your breath as you sat up. Bills hand loosened its grip on your hair and looked to you with confusion, “That’s not fair.” He said in between breaths, “I made you cum, didn’t I?”

“You did.” You said with a smile, wiping the little bit of saliva off of your swollen lips, leaning your body up and giving him a quick kiss, “But my hand moves faster…”

You stayed in your upright position in his lap, moving your legs around to straddle his thigh and give yourself a bit more balance as one hand wrapped back around his cock, the other moving to hold the top of the cushion next to his head. Your hand was slowly pumping up and down, keeping your eyes glued onto his cock and smiling as you saw how hard he was trying to hold himself back. The pre-cum that was overflowing from his tip was providing the perfect lubricant for you to move just a bit faster, the wet sounds echoing in the room in between every whine that came from Bill. His chest was heaving, head tilted back on the couch cushion with his eyes clenched shut just enjoying every second he could. Relishing in every moment that your hands were on each other.

Your grip tightened and the dragged out moan that left his lips was enough to tell you that you were getting him close. You pumped faster and faster, those little whimpers encouraging you each and every time to go back in for more just to hear them one more time. Hearing him writhe beneath your touch made your heart race, yearning to feel him so close to you once more, and you knew that moment would come after he did. And as you watched his hands gripping at the sheets to his sides, nearly tearing them from the frustration of holding himself back for you, you leaned your lips close to his ear and whispered,

“I want you to cum for me~”

You felt his hips jerk up into your hand as he groaned, his head leaning further back onto the cushion as he completely let himself become submissive to your touch.

“Come on, it’s ok,” You whispered to him, “cum for me i know you want to.”

His body seized beneath you, his hips thrusting upward into your hand and with a few final agonizing strokes you watched as Bill painted his tummy with long spurts of his seed. He looked down at the mess he made of himself and his face went red, leaning it back against the cushion as he caught his breath, a few strands of his greasy hair stuck to his forehead.

“I’m sorry…” He said between breaths, your hand moving up to brush the hair away from his face, “your hands are a lot softer than mine…” He smiled before closing his eyes, breathing deep to get his heart rate back to normal, “I didn’t cum too fast, did I?”

You shook your head and smiled, “No, you didn’t.” You giggled, “Did it feel good having someone else do it?”

Bill nodded his head and lifted it back off of the back couch cushions, his hand reaching up to hold your cheek and pull you in close, his lips meeting yours again in an embrace of passion, “So good…” He said between kisses, “so much better…”

It was odd. He was being so gentle, so tender in this moment that it was sending sparks through your body with every movement of your lips. You never would’ve expected this kind of loving nature from him, but having him hold you so close while his lips softly and slowly moved with your own made you want him more and more with every passing second.

Everything he had done since the beginning made you want him more and more as the seconds went by. Maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you thought. He may have been an asshole but he was constantly checking for your consent at every chance he could, not being to cocky even after talking a big game and being so gentle with your body when it was in his hands, and this little bit of tenderness he was showing you after making a complete mess of himself was the last little bit of convincing you needed to realize that whenever he popped up in the back of your mind during those lonely nights, is because you wanted him to be there.

You slowly pulled back and your eyes glanced down to his stomach, not being able to stifle your giggles,

“Now who’s made a mess of themselves?”

“Shut up.” He chuckled, “I couldn’t help it, you’re really good at that. I guess I’m not the only guy you’ve whored yourself out to, huh?”

“I’m not whoring myself out to you,” You said with an eye roll, reaching over and grabbing one of the stray shirts thrown onto the back of the couch cushions, handing it to Bill to clean himself up, “I’m doing you a favor. And the only reason I’m doing you a favor is because you’re going to do me a favor. Eventually.”

“Still not telling me?” He asked, sitting himself up and using the shirt to wipe up his mess, “You’re not going to try and make me ‘change my ways’ or some bullshit like that, right?”

You shrugged and leaned forward and gave him one last kiss,

“You’ll find out after I let you fuck me.”

Bill tossed the soiled shirt away and watched as you laid yourself out on the mattress, your hand reaching down between your legs to gently rub the sensitive bud he took advantage of, still so sensitive to touch. He quickly regained his stamina, climbing over you with a smile on his face, his body resting between your legs as his hands kept him propped up just above your shoulders.

“Really? You’re ready for it now?” He couldn’t hide his excitement amy longer, and you felt how quickly he hardened against your leg.

You nodded slowly reached your hands up, holding the back of his neck and pulling his face close to yours,

“Go slow. Be gentle. You do exactly as I say.” You ordered. Bill nodded and looked down between your bodies, maneuvering his hips down and watching to line himself up with your entrance before you stopped him, “Not now!”

“What?” He looked back up to you with his eyebrows furrowed, moving himself back away from your entrance as you asked.

“Get a condom, I’m not letting you cum in me.”

“Oh, right, uh…” His eyes wandered all over the basement, trying to remember if he even had any stored down there, or anywhere for that matter, “Shit…”

“You do have one, right?”

“Uh, yeah…” He sat up from between your legs and crawled down to the end of the bed, looking all over the dirtied basement trying to remember if Pete had left that little box he brought a few weeks ago, “somewhere…”

By this point you couldn’t deny your body what it had been aching for for weeks. You leaned yourself up and knelt next to him on the bed, your hand grabbing his jaw and turning his face to you,

“You better fucking have one, I need you to fuck me.”

As you let go, you could see the gears in his head turning, his eyes looking over every shelf and desktop for just the littlest flash reflecting off of the metallic packaging as you laid yourself back onto the mattress.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get one.” Bill hopped up from the bed and tried to remember where one could possibly be. He rethought that whole night trying desperately to think of where they would’ve been hidden.

The guys coming over for another ‘club meeting’, tackling one another over some bullshit regarding who’s kept who’s comic for longer, ordering way too much pizza using his moms credit card while they rewatched The X-Files for the millionth time, Pete talking about meeting some girl at a bar and how he was finally going to get lucky and brought out a box of condoms that he forgot about on the…

“Side table…” Bill whispered to himself as he quickly darted his attention to the cluttered table in between the couches arm rest and one of the various comic filled bookshelves.

He leaned over and pushed off the empty cans and mini chip bags, making sure not to accidentally knock over the dirtied ash tray with a half smoked joint still resting on the side, finally finding that familiar little box hiding underneath one of the empty video game cases. He smiled in disbelief, moving back to kneel between your legs as he struggled with the small cardboard box.

“Wow,” You giggled as you watched him try to hurriedly open the box, eventually relying on his teeth to tear the top away, “I’m shocked you actually had any down here, there’s no fucking way you were able to get a girl in bed. Especially in this filth.”

“Yeah? Well I got you down here, didn’t I?” Bill chuckled, tearing off one of the foil packets from the connected serrated edges.

“I guess you’re right.” Your eyes watched as Bill pulled out the condom, tossing the wrapper to the floor and slowly sliding the lubricated latex down the length of his cock.

Bill took one last deep breath before reassuming his position from before, his body resting between your legs, hands just a move your shoulders to balance himself over you, his cock hovering over your entrance. You adjusted your body beneath him, hands moving to hold his forearms as you looked up to him.

This was it. The moment you had stuck in the back of your mind for weeks, your body aching for him in ways even you didn’t understand, and it felt so surreal. All the times you spent glaring at him for even bothering to be in your presence, all the times you felt his eyes on you whenever he passed by, all the times he interrupted you speaking just to be able to get the last word in for whatever bullshit reasons he kept to himself, it all felt like it was for nothing. All for you to end up naked beneath him, waiting for him to fuck you senseless like you had imagined so many times before.

“Ready?” Bill asked, pulling you from your trance, and as he saw you slowly nod your head he turned his vision between your bodies.

Bill tried to control his breathing, inching himself closer and closer to your entrance and you could sense his slight hesitation.

“Bill?” You said quietly, his attention averting back up to you, “Are you ok?”

He was silent, but you could see the anxiety pooling in his eyes, so excited and yet so nervous to be doing the one thing he had always dreamed of. You weren’t sure what it was that made him so suddenly lose all confidence he seemed to have before, but if he was ready you’d make sure to help him stay ready.

“Nervous?” You asked, Bill nodding back slowly. “It’s ok to be nervous,” You smiled to help ease a little bit of the tension, your eyes meeting his, “do you want me to help?”

Bill looked back down between your bodies before giving you a little nod, your hand slowly reaching down to gently grasp his cock and guide it to your entrance, “Right here, you do the rest ok? And remember, slow and gentle, do as I say.”

“Right… slow and gentle…” Bill said quietly, taking one last deep breath before ever so slightly bringing his hips forward, watching your face for any sign of discomfort as he pushed himself into you, finally crossing that threshold.

You breathed slow, a shaky exhale leaving your lips at the first initial stretch, feeling him sink deeper into you. Bill took his time, soaking in the euphoria of your warmth as he pushed himself in deeper and deeper, trying so hard to hold himself back from cumming too soon again, all from the soft tightness of your walls squeezing around him.

It didn’t feel anything like what you were used to with anyone else.

The initial burning of that first stretch was nonexistent, your walls were consuming him so easily and every single moment of it was pure bliss. You could feel him sinking deeper into your body, his hips nearly pressed to yours and as you looked up at his face you could see how focused he was on making sure that this was good for you. His lip quivering, shaking breaths leaving his throat, and every few moments he’d look back up to you just to see if he was doing everything the way he was supposed to. When his eyes met yours he stopped, hips pressed to yours as he was fully sheathed between your legs.

As Bill peered into your eyes he felt as if he could feel your soul staring right back into his.

“You can move. Slow.” You whispered to him, getting a quick nod in response as Bills eyes went back down between your bodies, watching as he slowly pulled himself from you, only to push himself back in to the hilt.

When he heard a gentle whine escape your lips, he took it as a sign of good faith that he was doing well.

“Keep going…” You stuttered between breaths, your arms slowly wrapping around his shoulders to hold him as he hovered over you, your body moving with every slow thrust, “ohh fuck…”

Bill smiled to himself as he watched your face contort with pleasure after every gentle thrust, your moans and whines sounding like the most beautiful symphony he’d ever heard, and it was all for him.

“Can I… Can I go faster?” Bill asked, almost begging you to let him fuck you like he’d always thought about whenever he had his hand wrapped around his cock, but the overdone moans and groans that came from his monitor didn’t compare to the real thing.

You said nothing, only nodding to him as you let your body become consumed with the agonizing pleasure he was bringing you.

With every thrust Bill made he was inching you closer and closer to the edge, but you wanted to drag it out for as long as possible. Where was the fun in keeping it quick? All those months of nonstop hatred, the dirty looks and stares, the comments under your breath and the irritating way he would walk around you like he had you wrapped around his finger all because you couldn’t snap back. Why bother keeping it short when he was wrapped around your pretty little finger, making you a mess on his dirty basement sleeper sofa like you expected him to every lonely night that you were left with your thoughts.

As your eyes slowly opened hearing Bill trying so hard to choke back the moans you were dying to hear, it was almost as if he could see into your mind. He was towering over you, your bodies moving in sync with every thrust, his face red and his eyes clenched shut in bliss, it was almost cute to see how flustered you had made him all from giving him the one thing every pervert in his 20’s would’ve only dreamed of.

Bill let his fantasies get the best of him, suddenly remembering that he didn’t have to keep his eyes closed to think about all the dirty things he wanted to do to you. He didn’t have to use his imagination to pretend your warm body was there in his lap while he was sat in front of his monitor, thrusting into his hand and pretending it was you. With every noise that came from your lips, every creak that came from that shoddy mattress, every time he felt his body tingle with each push back into you only built his confidence more and more, and as he opened his eyes and looked down upon your figure beneath him he was consumed with a greediness that could only be satisfied by having you writhe beneath him, begging him to make you cum.

He carefully repositioned himself, adjusting his pace as he sat himself up onto his knees, his hands moving from beside your head to firmly gripping onto your waist, pulling your body into him each time he drove his cock back into you. Bill couldn’t help but let out the same bliss filled whines as he picked up his pace, looking down between your bodies as he watched himself fuck you into submission. He smiled as he let this newfound cockiness consume him.

“Look at me.” He demanded, your eyes slowly prying open and looking up through the frames nearly falling off the bridge of his nose from the gentle sheen on sweat on his brow, “Tell me how good it feels…” He groaned through gritted teeth, “Tell me how good it feels when I fuck you.”

“It feels so good… fuck~” You whined as you tried to keep your eyes on him, “It feels so fucking good… You’re the only person that’s made me feel like this…” Bill smiled wider as he watched you struggle to keep focused, watching the euphoria overcome you as he felt your walls start to tighten around him. He picked up his pace, his hands moving from your waist to your hips and guided one of your legs to hook around his waist, drilling into you.

“Use me…” Bill heard you whine out, watching as you were hit with a sudden burst of energy as the white hot burning in your core was getting brighter and brighter. With the sudden burst of adrenaline you leaned yourself up as much as you could, one hand holding your legs open for him as the other went behind his neck, pulling him closer to you, his forehead pressed to yours, “Use me until you can’t, please…”

You could feel the tears pricking your eyes, not being able to hold back the surge of emotions. No one had ever filled you with such pleasure, such passion, that it had made your body completely forget all functions. It was bliss. Pure, agonizing bliss. And Bill was the one to make you feel this way.

He moved one hand away from your waist and held the back of your neck, keeping you close as he felt himself start to get sloppy with his thrusts. Each push back into you was one more moment closer to release, and he could tell that meant for you as well as he felt your fingers gripping onto his hair.

“Oh f-fuck…” Bill groaned, not being able to hold himself back any longer, “I think I’m gonna cum… Are you close?”

You held onto him tightly, whimpering as you nodded to him, not able to make out the proper words as the excruciating ecstasy flowed through your veins. You knew it would take mere moments before you felt that rush through your body once more, and with a few final thrusts you gripped onto Bill tightly, eyes clenched shut as your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him in just one last time. With one final drawn out moan from him, his thrusts slowed as he filled the condom and carefully laid himself over you.

The silence that filled the room was a serene stillness as the two of you were tangled in each others arms, Bill still buried deep inside you as you caught your breath. You waited patiently for your orgasm to wash over your body, giving yourself time to recollect your thoughts and emotions before fully realizing what had just occurred.

You had sex with Bill Dickey, and it was the best you’ve ever had.

Slowly, Bill lifted himself off of your body and carefully pulled himself out of you, maneuvering himself to lay next to you on the sleeper sofa as he pulled off the filled condom and tied off the end. He tossed it into the full garbage can next to the arm of the couch and reached over to pull the dark throw blanket over your bodies. Maybe it was just instinct, but you curled up to his side, resting your head onto his chest as your breath finally slowed to a normal pace once more, the aching between your legs finally subsided.

“Fuck…” Bill said with an exhale, his arm slowly moving around your shoulder to hold you to his side, “You don’t mind if I smoke do you?” He asked as his eyes caught the ash tray on the side table, the half smoked joint still resting in it.

You smiled up at him and giggled to yourself quietly, unsure if you were shocked or not at the fact that that was the first thing he’d said to you after taking his virginity.

“No. Not if you share.”

He reached his other arm over, making sure to still keep you at his side as he grasped the joint with his fingers, quickly grabbing the lighter next to it. He brought the filter to his lips and lit the end of it, taking a deep inhale and slowly blew the smoke from his lips before passing it to you,

“Um, you know…” Bill started, keeping his eyes on his lap as his hand reached up to brush away the few strands of hair stuck to his forehead, “to be honest with you, I didn’t think I would really ever, uh… you know, do that, with anyone. So, uh… thank you.”

It was odd to hear him speak and not be repulsed by every word, but there was something in his voice that made it sound so sincere. He really never had the thought in his head that he would even get close to kissing, let alone sleeping with a girl, and yet it had all happened so quickly. His quick little ‘thank you’ wouldn’t seem all that honest to some, but after the time you had spent with him in that dirty basement, making him feel the way he never thought a woman would want to make him feel, you could tell he was being truthful with every word.

“Don’t mention it.” You said with a smile, holding back a chuckle to keep from choking on the smoke as you exhaled and handed the joint back to Bill.

“So am I like… your boyfriend now, or something?” He asked before placing it back between his lips.

“No.” You said with a laugh, finally looking up at him as he tapped the end of the joint into the ashtray, and oddly enough he looked quite good with his messy hair and the smoke billowing from his lips, “You are not my boyfriend.” You could see in his eyes that he was a bit hurt at your bluntness, but you smirked up to him as you took the joint from between his fingers and brought it back to your lips, “But, that did remind me of the little favor you owe me after doing all that for you.”

“Oh yeah, that.” He chuckled and looked down at you, “What do you want? I’m willing to be generous too, especially after how good it felt….”

“Oh thank you,” You rolled your eyes with a scoff and took one more puff before passing the joint back to him, “how kind.”

Bill shrugged with a smirk, blowing the smoke past his lips, “It’s the least I can do for you after doing all that porn star shit for me.”

Even after all your done for him, he just couldn’t help but go right back to his insufferable self immediately after. But, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t expect it. His type doesn’t change, unless given the right circumstances.

“For starters, you could be nice to me.” You inched yourself to sit up a bit more to look at him directly. “That would be nice, especially after all I did for you.”

Bill took another drag from the joint between his fingers before handing it back to you, blowing the smoke the other direction before turning his attention to you. It’s nearly impossible to try and ignore a naked girl asking for your attention.

“Alright.” He shrugged, “I could try it.”

“Thank you for trying,” You said with a laugh, taking a quick puff from the joint, “I’d like an apology first.”

“An apology?” He asked with a confused look on his face, lips curled like he wanted to laugh at the mere mention of an apology from him, “For what?”

“For what?” You scoffed, taking another quick puff and preparing yourself for the storm you were about to send his way, “I’ve had to go around you for the last few weeks and act like you didn’t piss me off because I was on the clock. I’ve had to ignore your gross comments and weird stares, I’ve had to ignore your incessant bothering during the times where I’m supposed to be teaching your sister, I’ve had to ignore the fact that every time I’ve been here you’ve caused me to leave with the worst taste in my mouth about you, and I just had sex with you. So I’d like an apology for the way you’ve treated me.” You offered the last hit of the joint to him, and watched him closely for a reaction.

Bill sat there silently for a moment, taking in every word you had just said as he took the last puff of the joint before asking it into the little ashtray on the side table.

You were right. He would go out of his way to annoy you, to make you feel like no matter what he could have his eyes on you while you were there because that’s all you were there for. For him to ogle and smirk at because you had to be there, for him to try and do whatever he could to get a reaction from you because at least then you had to interact with him. He was irritating and he was a slob and yet still, you had sex with him. You at the very least deserved an apology.

“You’re right.” He said plainly, looking down at you, “I shouldn’t have treated you like that, you didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”

It was nice to finally hear those honest words leave his lips, and you smiled up at him, thankful that he at least had the decency to understand the importance of it to you. Wether he wanted to apologize or not, he still did it, and he didn’t listen to anyone but himself. You must’ve put quite the spell on him.

“Thank you.” You leaned in close to him and gently kissed his lips, catching him blush as you pulled away, “And, since you were so nice about it, I think I have an offer you may like.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a smirk, his arm moving back around your shoulder to pull you in close, “Let’s hear it.”

“Well…” You smiled, looking away from him as your cheeks went red, trying hard to hide your flustered state, “If you keep being nice to me, I’ll keep having sex with you.”

“Really?” Bill asked with a smile, shocked you would even consider doing something like that again with him, but happy nonetheless, “Oh, baby, I’ll do whatever the fuck you tell me to do…”

He leaned over you again and pushed his lips to yours, holding your hip and pulling your body into his. You smiled against him but quickly moved your hand up into his hair and pulled him back,

“Not now!” You giggled, “I’m not going to make it that easy for you.”

“Sorry,” Bill laughed, pulling himself away but still keeping you close, “Then when’s the next time we can do this?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, “I’m back again next week, and if you can make a few changes by then I wouldn’t mind seeing your room~” You smiled, your fingers gently playing with the ends of his hair.

“I can do that.” Bill smiled, his cheeks still lightly tinted pink, “What kind of changes are we talking about?”

“Well, since you asked…” You smiled to yourself, ready to list off every little thing you could just to see if he could do it in only a weeks time, but even doing half would be enough for you. It would show at the very least that he was trying. “You could clean a little more, and that includes yourself. And you could stop eating all this junk and locking yourself away down here or in your bedroom like a hermit, I’m sure sunlight would do you some good. And maybe if you didn’t spend all your money, or your moms money, on all your comics and shit you might be able to afford a car. Or if you got a job-“

“Ok! I get it!” He shouted, not prepared to hear you list off item after item, “So I’ll just stop being me.”

“Hold on, I didn’t say that.” You looked back up to him and met his eyes through the black frames resting on his nose, “I’m not saying change every little thing about yourself, I’m just expecting you to act your age. I want to hear more about you, and I’d like for you to tell me about all the stuff you like, as long as you’re willing to hear about all the things I like. But, you need to start taking some responsibility.”

Bill nodded along as he listened, and though having to change his norms was something he considered only a second to torture, he was willing to do it. For you. Just as long as you kept up your end.

“Ok. I can try.” He said with a slight smile.

You couldn’t help but smile back and leaned your body up, giving him a quick but tender kiss before laying yourself back down onto his arms, “So, uh… How do I start?” Bill asked.

You nuzzled more into his body, his warmth and the scent of his natural musk helped soothe your body further as you relaxed into him,

“For now? Just hold me…”

“I can do that.” He said with a smile, allowing you a bit more space as his hand slowly moved up and down your shoulder.

You could feel him resting his head against yours, and you smiled as you felt his lips softly press to your forehead. As you lay there enjoying the moment, one last thought popped back into your head.

“Bill?” You asked him, not moving from your place at his body. He answered back with a quiet ‘hm?’ before you sat up and looked to him, your eyebrows furrowed, “Why did you have my wallet?”

#eltingville club #the eltingville club #bill dickey smut #bill dickey x y/n #bill dickey x reader #bill dickey fanfic #bill the eltingville club #bill dickey x you #eltingville bill #bill dickey x fem reader #bill dickey fanfiction #bill dickey fluff #bill dickey x yn #bill dickey

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covenofagatha · 4 months ago

Text

Practice makes perfect (Part 3)

A month later, will Agatha keep pretending like nothing happened?

Word count: 6.4k

Warnings: reader has a penis, cock cage, fingering, handjob, orgasm denial, degradation, semi-public sex

It’s a month later before you see Agatha again. Your internship ended, you’re back in school, and you haven’t had a good reason to stop by your dad’s work, despite really trying hard to think of one.

Until now.

He had called you that morning and barked at you to swing by his apartment and bring you the files he left on the kitchen counter as his new wife was busy shopping or screwing her personal trainer—you know either is just as likely.

So you walk the familiar path from the elevator to his office, very visibly scanning the room. People you worked closely with this summer raise their hand to greet you, but you completely ignore them because you only have one person on your mind.

You see her through the blinds on the glass doors to the office adjacent to your father’s, the lines on her forehead etched deep as she types something out on her computer.

There’s a twist in your stomach and a tightening in your pants as Agatha’s eyes flick up to meet yours and the memory of her cunt wrapped around your cock has your cheeks heating up furiously.

She looks completely unaffected; you could be anyone else from the way she gets back to work without a care in the world.

Except you can see a light flush in her face and it makes your cock twitch because you know she’s thinking about you too.

The morning after the last night in the Hamptons had been uneventful, almost like nothing had happened. You had woken up in Agatha’s bed and rolled over, fingertips sliding across to seek out her warmth, but she had already gotten out of bed. She came out of the bathroom, completely dressed and carrying her travel pack of toiletries, as you finally sat up and rubbed at your tired eyes.

Agatha whisked you out of bed, hissing, “Remember, this never happened.”

And that had been all.

Has she been reminiscing about fucking you every night since then? Has she touched herself while thinking about you? Has she been counting down the days until she sees you again?

You’d be embarrassed to admit that you’d done all three—many times. Agatha is your craving now, your addiction, and you need her more than the air you breathe at this point.

Your dad yells your name and you think you see the sliver of a smile on Agatha’s face. You quickly dart to his office and he doesn’t even so much as look up when you place the files on his desk.

“Took you long enough,” he says grumpily and you know that’s as much gratitude as you’ll get from him. Never mind the fact that you drove all the way back to the city and you have class in two hours just to bring him a few papers he forgot.

“I guess I’ll see you later?” you prompt, trying to stall for just a second so you can think of a reason to talk to Agatha on your way out.

He takes off his reading glasses and settles back in his chair, studying you. Finally, he waves a hand. “The fundraiser thing is this weekend. Why don’t you come to it? It’ll be good to have family there, you know, for morale. Maybe we can put you in charge of something—how about the bread?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course if he is going to give you any responsibility at all, it would be the thing that even a seven year old could figure out. “Yeah, that’ll be great, dad,” you say through tight lips.

He grimaces like he’s going to add something else but instead, picks up a magazine and holds it up to his face. You take the hint and scurry out of his office.

Even though you don’t have an excuse, you open the door to Agatha’s room anyway and poke your head in. She raises an eyebrow through her large, black glasses, unimpressed, and you ignore how it affects you.

“Can I help you?” she asks caustically, looking at you like you’re a piece of gum that got stuck on her shoe. Hot.

You step in and draw the blinds on the door before closing the others on the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that make her office seem like a fishbowl so no one in the cubicles outside can see in.

“Are you going to the thing this weekend?” you respond casually before strolling over to perch on the edge of her desk. She’s wearing a brown tweed coat over a blue shirt and black pants and her dark hair tumbles down her back.

The memory of grinding your cock between her tits flashes in your mind and you shift your weight to hide the budding erection between your legs.

Agatha doesn’t miss it, of course, and her gaze drops down before she scoffs. “Really? I’m surprised your cock hasn’t fallen off with how much jerking off you must be doing.”

She smirks at your muffled whimper and your pants grow tighter.

But Agatha’s caught off guard when you sink to your knees in front of her. You’re feeling dizzy and not thinking clearly at all and you just know that you need her so you start to crawl the last few inches to her chair when she sticks out a leg and stops you.

A choked gasp leaves your mouth—her short black pump is right against the bugle in your pants. “Agatha,” you breathe, looking up at her with heat in your eyes and mouth wide-open.

She simpers and presses harder, making you keel forward. Your mind goes blank.

“God, you’re insatiable, aren’t you?” she hisses and you nod brainlessly and hump up at her shoe like a bitch in heat. If anyone were to walk in right now, you would be caught in quite the compromising position.

Agatha grabs your hair and forces you to look at her, digging her heel into your cock and making you moan pathetically. There’s drool dripping down your chin out of the corner of your lips. The smell of her perfume and your sweat makes you drunk and you babble something nonsensically.

She pulls on your hair harder when you rut shallowly against her, small noises falling from your mouth, and if she keeps it up, you’re not going to last much longer.

“All it takes is one look from me and you’re tripping over yourself,” she snarls and you whine quietly, pawing at her shin. The look she gives you is lethal. “You need to learn to be patient and not be so fucking embarrassing.”

Your cock pulses and a stain spreads on your pants from the precum that spits out while you swear under your breath.

Agatha swiftly grabs your chin, pinching it so your jaw hurts slightly. “You know what I think would help a spoiled brat like you learn?”

“What?” you choke out, both excited and scared.

There’s a devilish glint in her eye when she leans forward until your noses almost touch. “A cock cage.”

The wind gets kicked out of your lungs and your ribs rattle with your sharp inhale.

“You—you’re going to buy me a cock cage?” you rasp and fuck, it’s going to be torture if you know anything about Agatha.

Her face contorts into something wicked. “And have that on my bill for this month? No. You’re going to buy yourself one so you can always remember just how pathetic you are.”

She dips forward, the knee on her outstretched leg bending, and reaches into your front pocket to pull out your wallet. You gasp when she moves her fingers and touches your cock lightly and you rock into her shoe again.

Agatha places it on the desk and opens the personal laptop before typing something in. You wait with bated breath, trying to control your pulsing cock, when she tilts the computer toward you and you groan.

It’s a sex toy website open to a page with about twenty different cages. You have to manually suck in air and push it back out because you’ve forgotten how to breathe automatically.

“Fuck,” you say, and is the room spinning or is that just the endorphins giving you a high unlike anything you’ve ever felt?

Agatha hums nonchalantly as she scrolls though, pausing every now and then and hovering the mouse over an option, but then shakes her head and moves on. You’re panting now and you wonder if she can feel your hot breath through the fabric on her legs.

She clicks to the next page and you see it the exact second she does—a purple, steel tube that gleams in the picture.

“This one,” she decides without even looking at you for your opinion, even though you would have nothing to say except yes, please.

She adds it to the cart and with each number of your credit card that she types in, you swear she presses her heel harder into your cock so by the time she’s done, you’re furiously grinding against her and so fucking close to coming. Your pants are a light blue color and there will definitely be a visible mark but you couldn’t care less.

You rattle off your address in a shaky voice and you hope, wish, pray that Agatha will take pity on you and let you come, either like this or maybe with more—her hand, her cunt, fuck, her mouth. You think you would die if she wrapped her perfect lips around your cock.

Your cock throbs again and she smirks before moving her shoe from side to side and making you keen at the friction.

“You’re incorrigible,” she sighs and your whimper is pitiful. “The cage will be at your place tomorrow. You will bring me the key and then you will wear it to the fundraiser and show me that you can be a good girl and keep your cock to yourself, got it?”

“Yes,” you gasp. You make a mental note to buy her a nice necklace to put the key on, just in case she wants to show it off. A physical demonstration that she owns you.

Agatha smiles sweetly and pats your cheek before placing the order and pressing hard against your cock one last time.

With a long moan, you come in your pants and Agatha just rolls her eyes.

—

The cage gets shipped to your apartment the next day and you chuckle at the thought of Agatha ordering it express to get it there that fast.

You take it out of the package, turning the cool metal over in your palm, and your cock already twitches. The key is small and gold and you salivate at the thought of it around Agatha’s neck, resting between her cleavage.

The second you had gotten home yesterday, you had ordered her a diamond tennis necklace. It had cost about half the median salary but you hadn’t thought twice before ordering it because it would be worth it to see the light catch the jewelry. She’s claiming you with this cage and you want to show that off.

Only the best for the woman who owns you figuratively, and now, literally.

You call her and put it on speakerphone, listening to the dial ring. You picture her in her office, smirking down at your contact card, and keeping you waiting until the last possible minute. You have to shift to hide the tent in your pants even though you’re the only one at your home.

“What?” she asks irritatedly when she finally picks up. Why does that make you harder?

Clearing your throat, you examine your reflection in the steel. “Um, it came in,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck, Agatha—”

“Put it on,” she orders swiftly and you gasp.

You get off the bed onto shaky knees and unzip your pants. Agatha stays quiet on the line and it feels like you should say something to break the silence, but you can’t think of a word to utter. Your cock throbs when you pull it out of your pants, already half-hard, and you slide the cage over yourself and lock it.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper at the cold constriction and Agatha chuckles. More blood flows south and then you wince because it hurts if your cock gets too hard.

“Good girl,” she hums and you bite down on your hand, hoping the pain distracts you from her.

It doesn’t.

“Agatha, can I please—can I please take it off?” you pant, submissive to a flaw because surely she can’t stop you from doing what you want.

But you want her permission, you need it. If you’re her good girl, maybe she’ll let you touch her again.

She muses and then laughs cruelly and you whine high-pitched. “No,” she says simply and you’re torn between obeying or ripping the cage off because of the agony you’re in.

“Agatha, please,” you try again, sounding even more pathetic and desperate because maybe she likes that.

It would seem that she does not. “No,” she spits out, sharper this time. “You are going to learn how to wait for something for once in your life. Keep it on from now until this weekend and I expect the key in my hand before the fundraiser. And maybe, maybe, if you listen, I’ll let you take your cock out.”

“How do you know I won’t just unlock it myself before then?”

She hangs up without answering because you both know that’s not going to happen.

—

Saturday, one hour before the annual fundraiser, you knock on Agatha’s apartment door.

“Just a second,” she calls, clearly not expecting you or she wouldn’t be so cordial, and you shift your weight to your other leg while you wait. In one hand, you have a bottle of wine and in the other, the box with the necklace and the key.

There’s a nervous feeling in your stomach—this feels like something real. In the Hamptons, it was a vacation that felt a world away. It felt removed from daily life and you had believed that what had happened with you and Agatha was merely a consequence of being away for a week and a much-needed stress reliever.

But this? Going to the event together with a chastity cage around your cock and the key to it around her neck?

What does this mean?

Agatha opens the door and you’re instantly in pain from the restricted hardening of your cock. She’s wearing a long red dress that dips low and shows off her cleavage and her hair is still in rollers, light make-up on her face.

She peers down at your black pants and you squirm. It had taken you forever to find the right suit to wear that would hide the bulge of the cage but you wonder if she can see it. Does she get the same thrill from it as you do?

She steps to the side and begrudgingly lets you in as you hand her the wine and the box. You saunter into the spacious living room, dragging a finger against the spines of all the books she keeps, as her footsteps traipse after you.

“Oh,” she breathes and you turn around to find her looking into the now-open box. The diamonds refract the light from the large windows onto her face and make her gray-blue eyes pop. Your breath catches in your throat.

“It’ll go with your dress,” you say hoarsely as she lifts out the necklace.

She regards you with something akin to fondness and she holds it out for you to take before spinning so her back is to you. You swallow roughly and reach it gently around her neck before clasping it and then lean down to breathe in her spicy perfume.

Agatha shivers at your hot air on her back and there’s a line of goosebumps that appears. You’re about to run your tongue over them when she faces you again and your eyes immediately drop down.

The necklace comes down under her collarbone and the key rests vertically on her sternum. You’d be dizzyingly hard if not for the cage but you wonder if she can see the desire obviously written on your face.

“Take it out,” she whispers and you move faster than you ever have to unzip yourself.

A hush falls over the already quiet room as you pull the purple metallic tube out of your pants. Agatha audibly exhales before squatting down to get a better look. You can see your reflection and hers in it and you don’t miss the dilation of her pupils.

She reaches out with a perfectly manicured finger and taps the metal three times. The vibrations travel through your cock and up your spine and your eyes water.

The last few days have been absolute torture—every single thing that reminds you of Agatha has gotten you hard. You’ve been getting erections now just at the sight of a dark-haired woman walking down the street because you think it might be her.

And now, she’s standing here, a hair away from your cock with the key to your salvation around her neck, and she’s not doing anything.

“Agatha, can I—can you please—”

She stands up and puts a finger against your lips and you groan dejectedly. You move to put your cock back in your pants but she tuts before pulling a small tube of lipstick from her purse that’s sitting on the couch. She bends back over to look at her reflection in the cage and carefully applies a rosy-red tint that matches the shade of her dress exactly.

“All good,” she says cheerfully and pats the metal, sending shockwaves through your body, before placing the tube of lipstick on the coffee table.

Agatha strolls into her bedroom where you’re not sure if you’re welcome, so you just pace out in the living room and try not to look too nosy as you snoop through the photo albums on the bookshelves.

“Ready to go?” she says, reemerging from her room, now with her wavy, dark hair flowing freely. You stare, stunned at how ethereal she looks, as she breezes by you. “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.”

You chase after her to catch her in the elevator and then without permission, you hop in her company car. The driver looks at you in the rearview mirror but doesn’t say a word. As the boss’s daughter, you can get away with pretty much anything.

Agatha taps her nails against her purse and looks out the window the entire way to the event center. Her silence—like she can’t even be bothered to talk to you—only has you shifting restlessly next to her, hoping to get her attention. You can’t stop staring at the key hanging around her neck and you need her to unlock you tonight.

You’d act up in an attempt to rile her up, but you can’t be sure that Agatha wouldn’t just throw the key in the Hudson River so that your cock will never get freedom or relief.

The thought of her condescending smirk as she draws out a I warned you makes your cock twitch painfully in its cage and you whimper. Agatha gives you the smallest of glances and you can see her eyes twinkling.

She’s fucking enjoying this.

You’re half-tempted to slide a hand up her dress to find out just how much, but once again, the fear of never being able to put your cock inside her ever again stops you. Damn her and the hold she has on you, but you also never want it to stop.

The driver pulls up in front of the venue, where the red carpet has been rolled out and you see your dad, step-mom, Rio, and a few other executive employees already being photographed. The fundraiser, a ball for the creative endowment fund your father started, is kind of a big deal in the city, just like him. Hence, he pulls out all the spots.

No one will ever be able to say your father isn’t a charitable man. No one except those who actually know him, that is.

“Go out that way,” Agatha murmurs and nods toward your car door. It’s on the other side so you won’t be as visible to the paparazzi.

You pout mockingly. “You don’t want everyone to see us walking in together? Come on, I’ll even hold your hand.”

Agatha snorts before running a finger along the length of the key—a reminder to behave. You gulp audibly and nod before sneaking out on the other side of the car.

Jogging around it, you make it just in time to watch the camera people turn around to find Agatha and you almost get blinded by the flashes. She gracefully glides through the crowds to pose against the company logo backdrop with Rio, who grins wolfishly.

You’re content to just ogle her—will any of the photos show that? You’d like to get it framed—when your dad calls your name. He beckons you forward and you try to shake him off, but he keeps insisting so you reluctantly give in and duck beneath the red stanchion to join him. You take a few pictures with him, with him and your step-mom, and then by yourself. There’s absolutely no reason you should have to take any by yourself, but your father requested it, much to your chagrin.

This is the one part of your life that you’re still not used to. The money, the cars, the penthouse—easy. But having thirty people take your picture that may or may not be on the front page of tomorrow’s paper? It’s a lot. Your dad used to always critique your smile or the way you stood or the way your shirt wasn’t tucked in just right and that left an indelible mark on you.

Even now, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re doing something wrong all the time when it comes to the press. What if your blazer is crooked? What if your hair is parted wrong? What if the bulge in your pants from the cage is visible? You feel nauseous at the thought of your dad reading a paper with that as the headline.

It feels like your skin is crawling and you think you’ve been posing for about three hours when there’s a warm presence against your shoulder. You tilt your head and smile a real, genuine smile.

Agatha tucks an arm around you and you gratefully curl into her, but not too much that it’ll get people talking. She’s been around your family enough to know what your dad can be like, but she’s never been this outward about being on your side.

“Chin up, eyes open, straight face,” she mumbles and you watch as she sets her face stoic. Her cheekbones are sharp enough to cut glass, the crook in her nose stands out on her side profile, and her eyebrows are neatly combed. You’re so distracted that you don’t even hear the clicks of the cameras until Agatha glances at you in her periphery and pinches your side.

You straighten up and hold your expression steady. There’s a few catcalls, but mostly encouraging whistles and you stand together for a few minutes like that until she pushes you along the rest of the way.

“Thank you,” you whisper, finally feeling like you can breathe again. She squeezes your side as an answer before letting go once you get inside.

The venue is spacious, with about thirty round tables neatly set up in front of the large stage where your father will make a speech. A luxurious sparkling chandelier hangs in the middle of the room. Waiters walk around with trays of hors d'oeuvres and champagne.

You turn to make a quip to Agatha about champagne and her tits but she’s not there. Scanning the room, you finally spot her talking to Rio while absentmindedly eating bruschetta. There’s something about watching her while she’s so focused and lost in the conversation that makes your cock twitch.

Not that that’s new.

She picks up a glass from a waitress that pauses next to her and raises it to her red lips for a sip. You wonder what it would be like to press your mouth to the lipstick stain she’ll leave behind—a fleeting, ghost of a kiss, but the only thing you might get from her.

You watch her move her hands animatedly around and her veins flex and your mouth waters. She’s doing something so simple and yet, your cock behaves the same as it would if she was touching you.

Agatha must feel your eyes on her because she suddenly looks over and meets your gaze. You keep staring unabashedly, waiting for her to scold you silently, but she just raises her champagne in a wordless toast. Your cheeks heat up and the cold metal hurts your cock.

She begins to fiddle with the key, sliding it up and down the glittering necklace and turning it over her fingers and it has you practically drooling.

A reminder that she owns you, cock and all. You don’t even care if she doesn’t see it like that because you do and that’s enough.

Your cock is pressing very uncomfortably against its confines, trying and failing to grow, and it’s making you want to scream. You can hardly take it anymore and you’re sure that if you don’t get relief soon, you might actually explode.

So you walk over casually and pause next to her, waiting for her to acknowledge you, but she’s talking to Rio. She doesn’t even look at you and you hate how hot her indifference is.

Agatha wasn’t so indifferent when you were eating her out a month ago, when you were grinding on her tits, when you were fucking her. And fuck—fuck, now you’re thinking about it and your blood rushes downwards so fast that you get dizzy and you grab onto Agatha’s arm before you can think about it.

She stops talking immediately and glares at you. Rio raises an eyebrow and you step away while clearing your throat.

“I just wanted to ask where you got your necklace from, Agatha,” you say, inwardly cursing when your voice squeaks.

Agatha gingerly touches two fingers to it. “Oh, this old thing? It was someone’s pathetic attempt at wooing me.”

A thrill runs through you. “Did it work?” You search Agatha’s eyes for something that tells you if you’re off-base. Rio is right there and the tension between you and Agatha is thick enough to cut with a knife.

Agatha softens. “Jury’s still out.”

Oh, fuck. If she keeps this up, you might start to think that she actually likes you.

Agatha straightens up and looks at Rio before gently laying a hand on her arm. “Would you excuse me? I need to go to the bathroom.”

Rio nods affirmatively and turns to you like she’s planning on starting a conversation, but your eyes are glued to Agatha as she sashays away. The way her hips sway in that dress that accentuates her ass perfectly…if you weren’t caged you would’ve needed to bring several back up pairs of pants.

She stops when she gets to the corner that the bathroom is on the other side of and looks back at you just briefly.

You freeze—is that an invitation?

There’s a pounding sound in your ears and it drowns out everything Rio is saying. You’re in a trance and you don’t even think you give an excuse before you trail after Agatha. Someone might be calling your name, your dad perhaps, but you brush it off and keep walking.

Agatha’s touching up her makeup in the mirror when you quietly shut the door behind you. There’s no one else in there and you quickly turn the lock. She meets your eyes in her reflection and scoffs before turning around.

“I bet you’re here with more of that pathetic pleading for me to let you come?” she tsks and that’s originally why you thought you followed.

But now, seeing her all dolled up and heavenly, you just want her. You step closer to her like you’re not in control of your own body before slowly reaching out and hiking up her dress, giving her plenty of time to stop you.

She doesn’t say a word, just keeps her eyes trained on the door like she’s still worried someone will come in.

When the fabric is bunched up at her hips, she leans back against the counter to make it easier for you to slide a hand between her legs. She’s wearing a pair of black, lacy panties and when you touch the gusset of them, you almost fall to your knees.

She’s wet. Almost completely soaked through. You whimper and she tries to keep composure as you begin sliding two fingers across her covered slit.

“Did you wear these for me?” you ask smugly.

“You’re pathetic,” she hisses without her usual malice.

“And you like this,” you say quietly, attempting to meet her eyes but she keeps looking away. Instead, you stare at her red lips as they curl. “You like having me in the palm of your hand? I bet you like that key around your neck as much as I do. You’re so fucking wet.”

She yanks on your hair and finally looks at you. “Then fucking do something about it.”

A flash of pleasure goes straight to your cock and you whimper as you push her underwear to the side. After a bit of fumbling, you find her clit and rub small circles and there’s a rosy red stain on her top teeth from sinking them into her lip. You watch in awe as her face contorts with pleasure.

You slide a finger down through her folds and slowly push it into her opening—her mouth drops open before she quickly snaps it shut, determined not to give you any satisfaction.

Too late, because your cock is straining against the cage and you wonder if anyone’s ever broken out of it before just from an erection.

A broken moan escapes her when you curl your finger up into her, pressing against the soft, spongy spot and you start a steady pace of thrusting inside her. Your other hand rests on the sink counter behind her, where both her hands are gripping like she’s resisting the urge to touch you.

You wish she wouldn’t.

“Fuck,” Agatha breathes when you fit another finger into her and your thumb slips against her clit with how wet she is. Her walls clench around you and draw you in and you pick up the pace, carefully watching her.

She feels you staring again and this time, her eyes flicker down to your lips before darting away. Your breath catches, your heart stops, and you start to lean in like she’s magnetic.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispers but she’s begun to move in too and your eyelids flutter closed.

Your brain goes white the second her lips touch yours and you reach your other hand up to cup her cheek gently. It’s just light brushes against each other at first and your fingers pause inside her to focus on her light olive oil and garlic taste from the bruschetta she was eating earlier.

But then she wraps both her arms around your neck, whispers “Don’t stop,” and slides her tongue into your mouth. Your hand moves to grip her hip and press her against the counter and she moans into your mouth.

It’s a mess of teeth and tongue and lips and you can feel her walls gripping you with a broken rhythm while you try to keep your pace from faltering. Your cock is positively aching right now but it’s the furthest thing from your mind when Agatha bites your lower lip. You whine and she swallows it and her nails rake down your back over your blazer.

She hikes a leg up over your hip so you can get further inside her and you’re rewarded with a high-pitched noise that you’ll still be reminiscing about on your wedding night. Her kisses get sloppier and she’s getting closer—you can feel it.

So you double-down your efforts, fitting a third finger into her and earning another moan, and rub at her clit hard.

Agatha spasms and comes all over your fingers, panting into your open mouth while you let her jerk against you. You keep fucking her through the aftershocks until she winces and breaks away to push at your shoulders and you slowly pull out of her.

Holding eye contact with her, you envelope your fingers in your mouth and clean them off. She groans and you take in her ragged state: mussed-up hair, lipstick smeared over her mouth, chest pink and heaving. You’re sure you look like as much of a mess as she does, if not more.

The adrenaline from getting her off is still pumping through your veins and you hardly even feel your own arousal until Agatha reaches down and unzips your pants with one smooth motion. You gasp and she chuckles as she reaches into your boxers to take out your cock encased in purple.

You almost see stars when she squats down again, parallel to earlier this evening, only this time, she grabs the key on her necklace. It’s hard to breathe when she inserts it into the lock and twists it. Even with the tiniest bit more room, you can feel your cock already growing and pressing against the boundaries of the lessened restraint.

She stands back up and motions so you tug it off your already-hardened cock and set the cage on the counter. You look at her with pleading eyes and her lip curls with disgust, immediately falling back into her role.

Agatha roughly grabs you and spins you so you’re facing the mirror. Your cock throbs freely when you see her red lipstick streaked across your own face—a reminder of her lips on yours that you don’t want to ever forget. Your cock bobs and spits a dollop of precum onto the counter and you imagine Agatha licking it off.

But instead, she drags her tongue up the palm of her hand, stands behind you, and reaches around to grip the base of your cock. You gasp loudly and she begins to stroke. Your stomach immediately tightens.

“You’re so pathetic, aren’t you?” she croons and your hips jerk forward. She lathers the mixture of her saliva and your precum up and down your length and you squirm. “You’d do anything I wanted, wouldn’t you? Put a cage around your cock because I suggested it? You’re fucking hopeless without me, aren’t you?”

You moan and rut into her hand. You’re already so close and the embarrassment at coming this soon only turns you on more because you know Agatha will humiliate you for it.

Except her degradation isn’t cutting as hard as it usually does. There’s heat in her eyes and it’s not just from you fucking her—it’s because she likes watching you like this.

“Look at what a filthy fucking slut you are for me,” she spits and grips your hair with her other hand to hold you still while speeding up her thrusts. Whimpers fall from your mouth, pleasure tingling from your cock to your lower back and up your spine. “Look at how I ruined you.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, this is all for you,” you chant, hands gripping the sink and her eyes capture yours in the reflection. The corners of her mouth quirk up. “Please, Agatha, I’m going to—”

She sinks her teeth into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, just another demonstration of how she owns you, and your cock explodes, pumping out strand after strand of cum into the sink. Agatha keeps stroking you while you grunt like a rabid animal and keep fucking her hand until your cock begins to soften.

It’s the first orgasm you’ve had in about four days and you slouch forward against the sink, careful not to get any cum on your suit, while you breathe heavily.

There’s the sound of heels clacking on the marble tile and then Agatha reaches between your arm and your body with a wet paper towel to wipe your mess off the counter and then turns on the faucet to clean the sink.

There’s a comfortable silence while you both tidy everything up. There’s a lipstick stain on the collar of your shirt that you don’t even try to get off. You wipe the perspiration off your forehead and with a different paper towel, she dabs at her lipstick that’s still on your mouth. It’s maternal and gentle and your cock gives another weak twitch before you stuff it back in your pants. She thoroughly washes the chastity cage before shoving it in her purse.

“That’s a one-and-done sort of thing, then?” you ask, almost worried that she’ll say no. Orgasm denial, when it comes from her as you’ve found out, is hot.

So you’re delighted when she shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I’m still not completely sure you’ve learned how to be patient.”

Your smirk is sly. “Can’t teach an old dog new tricks, can you?”

“Oh, I will,” she says determinedly and you think you should get extra credit for not reaching back into your pants and jerking off right now, like you suddenly feel the urge to do.

The only problem left is Agatha’s lipstick—it’s completely unsalvageable and she realizes that she left the tube at her apartment after she put it on for the first time earlier.

So she pulls her dress back down, sweeps her hair over her shoulders before tousling it a few times, and strides out into the hall. You hear her ask if she can borrow someone’s lipstick, surely the first person she finds.

She comes back into the bathroom a moment later and you watch transfixed as she applies it to the same lips that were on yours just a moment earlier.

“Let’s hope no one notices we’ve been gone for a while,” she murmurs.

But when you leave the bathroom, exactly three minutes after her so as to not raise suspicions, it doesn’t seem like anyone is the wiser.

And if someone realizes Agatha’s lips are painted nude instead of the rosy red they were at the beginning of the gala, the same rosy red that has stained your collar, they don’t say anything.

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7 @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #covsfics #practice makes perfect

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docrobinavitch · 2 months ago

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say goodbye like you mean it | part three

dr. robby x f!charge nurse!oc content: 18+ mdni, swearing, canon medical events, vague age gap (oc mid to late thirties) words: 6.1k PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR synopsis: while gwen and robby continue to explore their relationship, langdon returns to the pitt. gwen grapples with the feeling that robby means more to her than she does to him. a/n: hi guys thank you for the patience while i was traveling and thank you so much for all the love on the first two parts!!! i can't thank u enough for real. i love hearing your feedback so please do not hesitate, even anonymously. i had so much fun writing this part. there will be at least one more part, i will keep y'all updated.

“Dana,” Gwen frowned as she watched Dana walk toward the hub with a tray in her hand with three coffees, “I didn’t know you were on today.”

Dana handed her one of the coffees, “I’m not, but it’s… gonna get weird in here today. Thought you could use the help.”

Gwen sipped her coffee, but continued to watch Dana with confusion, “What’s going on today?”

Dana stared at her quietly for a moment, “It’s Langdon’s first day back. Robby didn’t mention?”

Gwen and Robby had been casually seeing each other for two months now. They acknowledged that they were seeing each other exclusively, but hadn’t defined the relationship otherwise. On top of that, they rarely saw each other on their off days. Right now, their relationship was mostly confined to after shift dinners and sleepovers.

To be clear, Gwen was okay with this, but she had wondered if Robby was intentionally keeping her at arms length. She hadn’t yet been brave enough to ask him about it. In truth, the sex was really good and she didn’t want to risk ruining it.

But here was a clear marked warning sign that he was, in fact, keeping things from her.

“Is Langdon a student, or?”

Dana sighed heavily, “Shit. I thought since the two of you were dating now he would at least be confiding in someone.”

Gwen flushed and looked to her computer screen, “Not sure you can call what we’re doing dating.”

Just then, Robby stopped by the hub, “Hey, how are we looking today?”

Gwen looked at her iPad while Dana handed him one of the coffees she had brought in, “ICU took two of our boarders during the night shift, we have one more waiting on an ICU bed and two waiting on psych.”

“Good,” Robby said, looking up at the board, “Any callouts?”

“Yeah, three.”

Robby whistled, “We doing anything about that?”

Gwen shook her head, “Nobody’s available to cover. There are less nurses on chairs today to accommodate.”

Robby nodded and then looked to Dana, “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here today?”

“Just here for emotional support captain, thought it might be a… challenging day.” Dana gave him a knowing look.

Robby’s eyes darted quickly from Gwen back to Dana before he gave her a sharp shake of his head, “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

Robby turned back to Gwen, “Rounds with me in five?”

Gwen nodded and then he was gone. She turned to Dana, “He seems fine to me.”

Dana laughed, “Oh, kiddo. Talk to me in five hours.”

***

Fifteen minutes later, Gwen and Robby walked in lock step around the ER while she got him up to speed. Again, he seemed fine to her, if a little more distant than usual, but the things Dana had said had stuck with her.

“Hey, um,” She stopped him with a hand on his forearm, “You’re okay, right?”

“Jesus,” He sighed, “Not you too.”

She dropped her hand, “Look, I don’t know what’s going on or who this Langdon is, but—“

“You’re right, you don’t know. So just stay out of it, okay?”

Gwen frowned at him and took a step back, “I’m going to need you to recalibrate your attitude.”

He began walking away from her as he caught the eye of Dr. Mohan who was flagging him down for a consult, “There wouldn’t be an attitude to recalibrate if you just stay in your lane. Please.”

Robby had never really been short with her in the entire time she knew him. For a second, she just stood there, staring after him. Finally, Gwen scoffed and turned to go back to the hub where a tall, lanky young doctor was talking to Dana.

“Dr. Langdon, this is Gwen Keating, our charge nurse.” Dana introduced.

Gwen gave a tight smile, “Nice to meet you, Dr. Langdon.”

Langdon frowned looking from Dana to Gwen, “You weren’t kidding,” He said slowly to Dana, “About leaving?”

“Serious as a heart attack, kid. But I’ll still be around helping for a while.”

“Man,” Langdon said, “Robby must be a wreck about it.”

“Nope,” Dana said, “Gwen here runs an even tighter ship than I do, right kid?”

Gwen was lost in thought, watching Robby work. They hadn’t spent much time talking about what it was they meant to each other, but Gwen had assumed he felt the way she did. That they could lean on each other, emotionally. The way she had leaned on him, confided in him about James. But now there was this doctor standing in front of her who very clearly was eliciting some sort of emotional response in Robby and he was responding by completely cutting her out.

“Hey, Keating.” Dana pulled her from her reverie, “You good? I don’t need you off your game too.”

Langdon had left the hub and Gwen watched as Robby’s eyes followed him, “Sorry, yeah, I’m fine, I just… You were right, about Robby. He’s off.”

Dana nodded slowly, looking over Gwen with concern, “Yeah, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

She sighed, “I know it’s stupid, I just thought… I thought he would’ve told me. If something was wrong.”

Dana smiled sadly, “Don’t take it personally, kid. He’s crazy about you.”

Gwen laughed, “Right. Yeah. I should go check on… some labs.” She said quickly, hoping she could drown out her thoughts with the work.

***

Gwen spent the next couple of hours attempting to be as far away from Robby as possible. Him being short with her earlier had her rethinking everything. Maybe she didn’t really know him at all. She really didn’t want to think about the fact that while she was pining over him, maybe it was all just about fucking for him. And then she felt stupid for caring. He had never implied it was anything else. Why did she expect more from him?

She walked from patient to patient, called the lab every hour, checked the board, answered all of the incoming EMT calls and directed where to put them.

“Hey, Gwen?” Samira walked up to her, “Do you know where Robby is?”

She shook her head, “Haven’t seen him.”

“Okay, I have to run to a different patient, but could you let him know the labs are back on South 7? Blood tests came back clean and negative EKG.”

“Yeah, of course.” Gwen said, and then Samira disappeared, “Fantastic.” She sighed.

Gwen made her way slowly through the ER, trying to find Robby while fielding calls and questions on the way. She finally found him in a room with Langdon, both of them had their hands on a patient who was struggling to breathe, if the alarms were any indication.

“Langdon, she’s been down for too long and we can’t see the vocal cords, it’s time to crike.”

“No, Robby, I can do it, I can—“

“Mateo, prep for a crike—“

“No, I’m close, Robby I swear—“

“Frank, hands off the patient—“

“Dr. Robby—“ Gwen started.

“What?!” Robby snapped.

The volume of his voice made her wince and Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose as she spoke, “Labs are back on South 7, everything came back clean, negative EKG. Dr. Mohan thought you should know.”

She heard Robby sigh heavily as she turned to go, “Fuck, Gwen, wait—“

“It’s fine,” She called back over her shoulder.

Very quickly, she made her way back to the hub, collapsing in a chair next to Dana.

“You okay, kid?”

She sighed heavily and swiped her badge on the computer to log in, “He is in rare form today.”

“And your sweet disposition has done nothing to soothe him?”

Gwen barked a laugh and popped a jolly rancher in her mouth, “Oh, Dana. If I was your last hope I am sorry to say that we are fucked.”

Dana patted the back of her hand reassuringly, “He’s had worse days. The day he kicked Langdon out was the same day as Pitt Fest. Now that version of Robby…” Dana whistled.

Gwen opened and closed her mouth, then looked at Dana, “Was Robby working during Pitt Fest?”

Dana watched her face, seemingly looking for any indication that Robby had told her something that he obviously hadn’t.

Gwen blinked and looked back at her computer screen, “It’s like I don’t even know him sometimes.”

“Be patient with him, kid. He’ll get there.”

Maybe that was true, that he’d finally trust her enough to tell her everything. That she wouldn’t be flouncing around this ER with everyone knowing she was sleeping with the attending regularly, but he didn’t think she was worth confiding in.

But more and more, and especially today, it felt like she was just a warm body to him and that was all she’d ever be.

***

“Mom and dad are fighting,” Santos said softly to Whitaker and Javadi as they looked at the board. Gwen had breezed past them just moments ago.

Whitaker frowned, “Robby and Gwen? About what?”

Santos shrugged, “Not sure, but they’re definitely off. I don’t think Robby’s looked for her since morning rounds. Normally he follows her around all day like a lost puppy.”

Just then Samira joined them, “Robby and Langdon are acting so weird.”

“Weird how?” Javadi asked.

“Like Robby is dying to deck him.”

“Oh my God,” Javadi said slowly, “Do you think Langdon was hitting on Gwen? I saw them talking earlier at the hub.”

Samira narrowed her eyes at Javadi, “I think it’s more likely Robby is still holding onto his anger with Langdon. They haven’t seen each other since… Since Pitt Fest.”

Santos smirked, “You have to admit though, it would be really funny to see Robby and Langdon fight over the same girl.”

Samira rolled her eyes, “You guys don’t know anything about adult relationships.”

“Why are half my doctors socializing around the board instead of treating patients?” Robby called, causing them to scatter immediately, “And where is Keating?”

“She’s outside, I sent her out for a little break.” Dana said, “What d’you need?”

Robby looked at her blankly, “Oh, uh, nothing. Nothing.”

Dana smiled at him knowingly, “She’s fine, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He nodded, “I wasn’t asking, but if I was, that would be helpful to know.”

“Right,” Dana said, “Frank’s looking for you in south twenty, he’s got a six year old, fever, lethargic, nothing on the labs yet. Dad’s getting impatient.”

Robby sighs and rubs at his face, “Yeah, okay.”

“How’s it going with him?”

He shrugged, clearly exasperated, “Fuck if I know.”

Instead of heading immediately to south twenty, he walked outside to the ambulance bay.

Gwen was leaning against the wall, a cigarette in her mouth.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Robby said, leaning on the wall next to her.

“I don’t normally, but I really needed one today. Dana let me bum one.”

“Oh good, I’ve pushed you to self destructive behaviors and it’s only been a couple of months. That has to be a new personal record.”

Gwen rolled her eyes, “Don’t flatter yourself. This is hardly the first time an attending has taken out their frustrations on me.”

He sighed and looked down at his feet, “I’m sorry I was short with you this morning, I’m just… Langdon and I have a lot of… unresolved… stuff.”

Gwen nods, “So I’ve heard.”

She feels him looking at her, knowing he’s waiting for her to look at him, to accept his apology. But she wasn’t feeling that generous just yet.

She puts out her cigarette and starts to head back inside, but Robby grabs her arm as she passes.

“Hey,” He says softly, “I’m trying.”

Gwen sighs, “You had months to tell me about Langdon, about Pitt Fest, instead I had to find out when I came in this morning. Everyone assumed I already knew. It’s embarrassing—“

“I didn’t mean to keep it from you, I just wasn’t ready to talk about it—“

“And are you ready to talk about it now? Because I still don’t know what’s going on besides the fact that every time Langdon walks by you, you look like you’re thinking about jumping him.”

He stares at Gwen for a few moments and then looks down, “I don’t…” He says slowly, “You don’t understand what it was like that day—“

“You’re right. And how could I understand if you never tell me?”

He closes his eyes, “I can’t do this right now.”

Gwen scoffs, “Fine, don’t bother. I’m sure one of the residents can fill me in. Seems to be the only way I get information around here.”

“Come on, don’t be like that—“

“You know, Robby, you told me once that this,” She gestured at the space between them, “Wouldn’t work if I didn’t talk to you. Does it not go both ways?”

He nodded, “You’re right. Look, I will tell you everything after the shift—“ Gwen’s already scoffing and trying to walk away, but Robby gently takes her by the shoulders to keep her in front of him, “What I will tell you is that Langdon’s ability to… disperse medications has been revoked.”

Gwen stilled and looked up at him.

“Anything he orders, a nurse gets it for him and gives it to the patient. Unless it is absolutely life or death emergent. In which case, at the end of the shift, as charge nurse I would ask that you double check all of his orders today to make sure everything is where it should be.”

She blinked at him, “Are you telling me this as your colleague or as your… friend?”

“Both, I hope.” He curls a piece of her hair around her ear and then follows the line of her jaw until he holds her chin,”I know I can be… difficult at times, but I really do care about you. I hope you know that.”

Just then Dana came through the double doors, “Robby, patient’s wife in North 13 is looking for you. Gwen, they need you in chairs, people are getting testy.”

They both confirmed for Dana that they’d heard, but they don’t move just yet.

“We’re okay?” Robby asked softly, and for the first time, Gwen thought she heard a note of fear in his voice.

“Yeah, I just,” Gwen bit her lip, “If things get bad for you today, you’ll come find me, right?”

He nodded and brought both hands up to cradle her face before softly kissing her.

It wasn’t like them to show affection at work, so Gwen was caught off guard by the kiss, but only for a second before she leaned in.

“Well, this is very touching,” Dr. Langdon stood at the ambulance bay entrance, Dr. King just behind him, “But some of us are trying to save lives. Robby, we need you now.”

They broke apart, not acknowledging Langdon as they headed back into work. Gwen didn’t notice the way Robby stared after her even when she disappeared through the double doors to the waiting room.

***

The yelling immediately upon entering the waiting room was jarring. Gwen helped security separate two teenagers and their parents, who were each threatening to press charges against one another. Luckily, it was one of the teens turns to head to the back anyway.

“Nicely done,” Mateo whispered as he ushered the family to the back.

Gwen sighed and then gave the room a quick once over. She spotted an older man sleeping on the far side of the room. Frowning, she began walking over. That was a lot of commotion to have slept through.

“Sir?” She said as she got closer, but no response. “Are either of you with him?” She asked the patients on either side, but they both shook their heads.

“Sir,” She said again and rubbed her fist against his chest in the hopes of rousing him, but still, no response. She pressed her fingers to his carotid. No pulse. “Shit. I need a gurney! Now!”

In a moment, Perlah was next to her with a gurney and two other nurses to help. They moved him onto the gurney and Gwen immediately climbed on top to start chest compressions.

“Somebody get a doctor, tell them we’re coming. Perlah, go get a crash cart ready.”

“Where are we going?” A nurse asked as they made it into the back.

“Dana!” Gwen shouted.

“Trauma one is open.” The relief Gwen felt at the sound of Dana’s voice was insurmountable.

“Can you get Robby?” Gwen asked, out of breath as she continued CPR.

“I’ll see if I can find him.” Dana said and then she was gone.

In moments, the man was hooked up to a cardiac monitor and Dr. Langdon flew in, “What do we got?”

“Guy from chairs, found him unresponsive. Unknown downtime, no pulse.” Gwen said.

“Hold compressions.”

Gwen pulled her hands up and winced as the monitor gave one long, monotone beep.

“Asystole.” Langdon said, “Resume compressions. Push epi.”

“Let me take over?” Perlah asked softly as Gwen resumed CPR.

“I’m okay.” She said, “Not yet.” In her head she was beating herself up for the fact that she had been responsible for assigning nurses to chairs. But as she assigned them this morning, there had been three call outs. She had made the decision to short chairs, rather than a bed.

And now this man was probably dead.

“Why the hell didn’t anyone catch this sooner?” Langdon said.

“We’re shortstaffed today—“ Perlah began.

“It’s my fault.” Gwen interrupted, “We had three call outs, no one on call. I thought we could manage with less nurses on chairs.”

“This is not your fault.” Perlah hissed.

“And did you run that decision by Robby first?”

This whole situation was ridiculous, bordering on comedic. Was she really being admonished by a resident right now? A resident who had been accused of stealing drugs from the hospital no less.

“I keep Robby informed of all my decisions.” Gwen said, breathless and sweating now from the CPR, “But he doesn’t get final say, I’m not a student. I manage the ER to the best of my ability with the resources given to me.”

“Well you’re doing a pretty shitty job of that, if this man’s any proof.”

“Dr. Langdon.” Perlah hissed.

“Hold compressions.” Still asystole. “Resume compressions. Push another round of epi.”

“It’s fine, Perlah.” Gwen said as she resumed CPR.

“It is not fine.” She said, “Langdon, would you talk to Dana like that?”

“She’s not Dana. And Dana wouldn’t have made this call.”

“Yes she would have and in fact she has made that same call many times. Things changed while you were gone, asshole. Get over it.”

“All that seems to have changed to me is that Robby’s sleeping with the charge.”

The air in the room crackled with tension as Langdon’s words settled around them. Gwen continued compressions.

“Hey man,” Donnie said finally, “Not fucking cool.”

“What?” Langdon said, “We’re all thinking it!”

The room erupted in chaos and shouting from the nurses and Langdon as Gwen continued compressions.

“Hey!” She tried to shout over the din, to no avail, “All of you, shut the fuck up!”

Finally, she was met with silence, “We have a patient coding here or did everyone fucking forget? Dr. Langdon, if you have a problem with my decisions we can talk about it with Robby when a patient isn’t fucking coding. The rest of you,” She looked to the nurses, “should know better than to rise to the fucking bait. Let him antagonize me all he wants, the patient comes first. And he’s still fucking coding.”

“Hold compressions.” Gwen sighed at the sound of Robby’s voice and lifted her arms from the patient. Still asystole. “Perlah, take over for Gwen. How many rounds of epi has he had?”

Gwen climbed off the patient, out of breath and muscles shaking.

“Two.” She heard Langdon say.

“Push one more. If there’s still no response, then call it.” He reached out for Gwen as she passed, “Gwen—“

“Uh-uh,” Gwen said, walking away from him, “Not now, later.” And she headed for the staff lounge.

***

Robby watched Gwen walk away, barely tempered rage brimming in his chest. He had heard what Langdon had said about sleeping with her and had been ready to physically haul out Langdon by his collar before Gwen got things under control. He was unfathomably proud of how she had handled it, but he suspected she was hurt despite what she had said.

“Dr. Langdon, a moment?” He said once Gwen had disappeared.

“Could you possibly walk me through why you’ve decided to piss off the nurses today?” Robby asked when Langdon was close enough. He was trying really hard to keep his rage in check around Langdon, but he worried this conversation might be the one to push him over the edge.

“The reason that man coded in chairs was because Gwen didn’t properly staff the waiting room. The most important job of the charge is to make sure all areas of the ER are properly staffed.”

Robby nodded, “And so you thought the appropriate response to that was sexually harassing her in front of her staff?”

Langdon gave a short laugh, “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

Robby closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, “Langdon, this is not the road you want to go down.”

“Why, because she’s your girlfriend?”

Robby glared at him before placing both hands on his shoulders and pushing him none too gently towards a private room.

As the door slammed shut, Langdon started speaking, “Robby, I—“

“No. You shut the fuck up, now.” Robby said firmly, “Regardless of any personal relationships, she is the charge nurse and you will show her the proper respect or so help me God, Frank, I will go to HR and recommend your expulsion from the residency program. They will not have any reservations considering I had to beg on your behalf to give you a second chance.”

Langdon paled considerably as Robby’s words sank in.

“Have I made myself clear?” Robby said quietly.

Langdon shook his head, “I—“ He sighed, “Yeah, you’re right, I don’t… I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Do you want to be here?”

Langdon looked up at him, “Yes, of course.”

“Then act like it.” Robby said, “And I expect you to apologize sincerely to Gwen and the rest of the nurses by the end of the shift. Understood?”

Langdon nodded, “Yes.”

***

When Robby walked into the break room, Gwen was sat on the floor, her iPad and stylus in hand, and an open Red Bull and potato chip bag at her side.

“North 7 and 15 have gone up to ICU, South 11, Central 3, 9, and 12 are being discharged or moved to the hallway.” She said without looking up, “North 5 responded to Narcan, he just needs to be monitored for a few hours before we can discharge.”

Robby lowered himself next to her, joints protesting as he did so. She wordlessly handed him her Red Bull as he did.

He took a sip and then grimaced, handing it back to her, “Never liked that shit. Tastes like artificially sweetened battery acid.”

She huffed a laugh, but still didn’t look up from the iPad.

“You handled that situation with Langdon really well,” He said softly, “I’ve spoken to him about it, shouldn’t happen again.”

“Okay.”

Robby stared at her, waiting for more, but she wouldn’t give it, “Do you… Want to talk about it?”

She sighed and finally looked up at him, “Do I want to talk about it? Let’s see… A patient coded on my watch because of my fuck up and a resident thought it would be fun to humiliate me for it while the guy was on the table because he doesn’t like that his daddy got a new mommy. Do we have time to unpack all of that, you think?”

Robby sighed, “A simple no would have sufficed.”

Gwen laughed, “Wouldn’t have been as fun, though.” Finally, she looked up at him, “I’m okay, really, mostly just upset at myself for not putting enough nurses on chairs.”

Robby shook his head, “You did the best you could with the resources given. Gloria needs to hire more nurses.”

It soothed her to hear him say her own words back to her, “I know that,” She shrugged, “Doesn’t make it easier to carry though, does it?”

“No.” He said quietly.

“Are you okay?”

He sighed, and then chuckled, “You’ve had a much harder day than I have.”

Gwen placed a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently, “It’s not a competition, Michael.”

His eyes traveled from the hand on his thigh to her eyes, “You are not allowed to call me Michael in the workplace.”

She smirked playfully, “Oh? And why is that?” She asked innocently.

He took her hand off his thigh and placed it on her own, squeezing and then leaning into her so that his hand slid to her inner thigh, “Because it reminds me of how you moan my name when you cum.”

He stood then and Gwen giggled and looked back to her iPad, “Thank you.” He said as he headed to the door.

“For what?”

“Distracting me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, but she was still smirking as he let the door fall shut behind him.

***

Gwen rubbed at the back of her neck as she reviewed some charts. Pain radiated from her shoulders, to her neck, to her head. She was prone to tension headaches, especially when under stress. And this had been a bad shift. Luckily, there was just over an hour left.

Just then, Perlah stopped at the hub and placed a white paper cup with two pills in it in front of her along with a blue gatorade.

“Langdon seems torn up about what he said earlier, but I say we let him sit in it for a while.”

“He apologized to you?” Gwen asked. Perlah nodded, “Good. What’s this?” She gestured to the pills in the paper cup.

“Ibuprofen.”

Gwen frowned, “How did you know I needed ibuprofen?”

“Oh, Robby asked me to get it for you. He said you should eat something, too. There’s pizza in the lounge, I can grab you a slice?”

Gwen looked around central until she spotted Robby, who was watching her out of the corner of his eye while Whitaker was talking to him. She smiled and tossed back the ibuprofen and took a sip of gatorade.

The corner of his lips tugged up into a smile and he gave her a subtle thumbs up.

“That’s alright, Perlah, I can get it myself. Thank you.”

Gwen takes the gatorade and her iPad with her to the lounge, hoping to finish scheduling for the next week before leaving.

When she pushes the door open, Langdon’s there, a piece of pizza halfway in his mouth. Weirdly, she feels as if she is intruding and immediately begins to back out.

“No, no, stay. Please.” Langdon says, “I was actually hoping to talk to you if you have a minute?”

Gwen eyes him warily, wanting to be as far away from him as humanly possible. Feeling disgusted with herself as she recalls what he said about her and Robby and then anger for feeling disgusted. Despite it, she takes a step in and lets the door close behind her.

“Look, we don’t have to do this—“

“Yes we do.”

Gwen smirked, “Why, because Robby said so?”

“No,” He said, shaking his head, “Because…” He sighed deeply, “The last time I was here, Dana was running everything and she was the only thing keeping everything together. Keeping Robby together. And then I come back and… you’re running the show and Robby actually seems like maybe he’s been sleeping through the night. I don’t really know why I lashed out at you, I guess it felt like, like my absence wasn’t noted or missed. I… I don’t know what I expected.”

Gwen watched him as he tried to work through it in his own head, and for the first time, she saw Robby in him. The overwhelming need to be needed and if he’s not needed, then what was the point of any of it? And seeing that piece of Robby in him, she felt herself softening to him.

“I was awful to you when that patient was coding and I’m so sorry. It wasn’t your fault. And… the comment about you and Robby was out of line and I promise it will not happen again.”

Gwen let the silence fall between them for a moment. “I appreciate that,” She said slowly, “And I get the feeling that maybe nobody has told you this yet, so I’m going to say it, though I realize it won’t mean as much coming from me: You’re needed here and you’re a great doctor.”

He huffed a laugh, “You’ve only known me for one shift, how would you know that?”

“Because Robby taught you.” She said softly, “He cares about you, you know? I haven’t known him very long and I don’t fully understand what went down between the two of you, but I’ve seen other attendings with their residents. If he didn’t care you wouldn’t still be here. I know he’s a bit prickly right now, but it’s because he cares. So don’t fuck it up, okay?”

Langdon gave her a small smile and nodded, “Thank you.”

Just then, the staff lounge door opened and Robby walked in, “Oh, shit, sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

Langdon stood, “No, I was just leaving.”

With Langdon gone, Robbie grabbed a slice of pizza and sat next to Gwen.

“How did you know I needed ibuprofen?” Gwen asked mildly as she pulled up the nursing schedule on her iPad.

“You have a tell,” He said between bites, “When you get a headache.”

She raised her eyebrows, “Oh?”

“You rub at your neck. Besides which, I’d been watching you wince and close your eyes in pain every couple minutes for the half hour before.”

She frowned, “I didn’t realize I was being watched.”

He tilted his head just slightly, “I’m always looking for you.” He said quietly.

Gwen felt the blood rush to her face and looked back at her iPad.

“Did you eat something?”

“Not yet—Hey!” The words were barely out of her mouth before Robbie snatched the iPad out of her hands and replaced it with a slice of pizza.

She glared at him while she took a bite and he watched, looking very pleased with himself.

“What were you and Langdon talking about?”

Gwen laughed, “I was wondering how long it would take for you to ask, though I don’t know why you’re pretending you don’t know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I was just curious.”

“Hm,” She hummed, “So you didn’t mandate that he apologize to me and all the nurses who worked that code earlier?”

He was quiet for a moment, “So he apologized then? That’s good.”

Gwen rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, “Go a little easier on him, okay?”

His eyes widened, “I go any easier on the kid I’ll lose my medical license.”

“I just mean… I think he’s beating himself up enough and he already feels insecure about the… change in organization. Makes him feel unnecessary and unwanted. He doesn’t need to feel that from you too.”

“You got all that from an apology, did you?” He huffed a laugh, “He was awful to you today and now you’re best friends?”

“No,” Gwen said softly, “He just… Reminded me of you a little bit when we were talking. And I am very forgiving.”

He smiled slightly, “What I’m hearing is that you like me quite a lot, then.”

She smirked and pushed her shoulder against his playfully, “Is that news to you?”

“Yes,” He says slowly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck self consciously.

Frowning, Gwen turns to face him fully, “Robby… You can’t be serious?”

He shrugged his shoulders dejectedly and looked down at his hands, “I don’t know, I… I know you do, I just find myself wondering every day… how long until I screw it up?”

Gwen opened her mouth as if to say something, but then the door opened.

“Sorry kids,” It was Dana, glasses perched on nose and iPad in hand, “We got a STEMI coming in five.”

Robby nodded and then turned to Gwen, “We’ll talk later?”

She nodded, and before he could stand, pressed a kiss to his cheek, her hand coming up to gently cradle the other side of his face. She scratched his beard lightly as she pulled away and he turned his face towards her, looking at her tenderly. It threatened to undo her.

“You’re okay?” She asked quietly.

“I’m good,” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, “See you out there.”

***

The end of shift had Gwen feeling like it had been a week minimum since the last time she left the hospital. When she stepped outside, the air was crisp and the moon was a faint, blurry sliver against the hazy clouds.

As she waited, eyes closed and face lifted for the breeze, a pair of warm arms twined around her waist. Seconds later, she was hit with the smell of fabric softener and antibacterial soap: Robby.

He pressed his lips to the spot between her neck and shoulder and she felt her body relax into him. Wordlessly, she spun in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest. He rested his head on her shoulder and they stood like that, intertwined, for a while.

“Thank you,” He murmured finally.

“For what?”

“For today. For being so understanding about the situation with Langdon. For…” He sighed, “Fuck, I don’t know. Liking me still.”

She pulled away just a bit to look at his face, “I don’t know what you’re so worried about, you’re still so charming even when you’re mean.” She teased.

He gave her a rueful smile, “You deserve better than that.”

She looked at him seriously, taking in his freckles and wrinkles, the curve of his nose. She didn’t know yet if she loved him, but she was sure that she could if he gave her the chance.

“Can I ask you something?” She said softly.

“Of course,” They began walking away from the hospital and he intertwined their fingers.

The way he had been so physically affectionate today was making her feel brave. Like maybe he thought this could be the real deal, too.

“Do you… See us having a future together?”

He quietly seemed to contemplate, staring straight ahead as they walked down the sidewalk towards her apartment. They hadn’t said it out loud, but Gwen thought this meant he intended to stay the night at her place, something that had become almost a tradition for them on Thursdays. They were both off tomorrow.

“I want a future with you,” He said, “More badly than I can remember wanting anything in a long, long time.”

He paused, but she could feel that he had more to say, so she waited patiently.

“I worry that I’m not capable of it, that I’ve always been a bad partner no matter how hard I try. And I don’t want to put you through that.”

“I want to try.” She said immediately, walking backwards in front of him so she could see his face, “I want you and I believe in this. In us.”

They had reached her apartment building and he smiled at her tenderly, “Okay, Keating,” He said, his voice rough and thick, he crooked two fingers under her chin and tipped up slightly so she was look at him, “But remember, you asked for this.”

Robby kissed her then, long and slow, his tongue lazily exploring her mouth. Her toes curled inside her sneakers as they kissed and when Robby pulled back, her face followed his, and he smirked smugly. Gently, he smoothed her hair down, cradling her head in his hands, “Do you want to hear about Pitt Fest?”

Gwen nodded, “If you’re ready.”

He bent their foreheads together, “I’m ready.” He said slowly, “But, uh, I know… Normally we go our separate ways on our days off. I was wondering if… If you don’t have anything going on if I could… stay tomorrow?”

Gwen smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, which he obliged, “I would love that.” She said softly into his mouth.

Smiling back at her, Robby led her by the hand inside and into her apartment.

PART FOUR

#mine #the pitt fic #dr robby fic #dr robinavitch fic #dr robby #dr robinavitch #michael robinavitch #dr robby x oc #dr robby x reader

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ce1estiall · 2 days ago

Text

different

warnings fluff

summary uconn!paige x fem!reader paige asks you a question about meeting you for the first time that seems to be taking over her head. masterlist.

celestial notes hey guys! quick fic i thought of right now. i’m going to work of chapter 3 of taste of love this week, but i need some ideas!! feel free to send any. enjoy!

“i got the sauce, can’t be compared

i am different, only one in the world

only one.” le sserafim - different

the library was at peace, only a handful of students studying. keyboard typing and scribbling filled the empty background noise.

your anatomy textbook stared infront of you, filled with different colors and side notes on the pages. your matcha you had bought earlier that day stood on the side, sweating. your computer glowed with different presentations that you were taking notes on. you were at a desk that had window views on the left side, there was a hallway and a door infront of your desk on the right.

you placed your earbuds in, putting on a lofi playlist from spotify as your kept going through the presentations on your computer, taking notes on important details. you heard the door open but decided to ignore it, until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“do you mind if i sit next to you?” a voice spoke. you took off your earbuds and turned around. paige bueckers was talking to you. a stranger she’s never met, talking to you out of the blue.

you were caught off guard. “oh yeah, sure.” you moved your backpack and some of your stationary supplies, allowing her to have some room on the desk.

paige placed her backpack on the side of her chair. “sorry if i interrupted a study session, i really didn’t mean to bother you.”

“i was just writing some notes, no worries.” you didn’t place your earbuds back in, having a feeling she was gonna strike up a conversation. and bingo, she did.

“you take anatomy? i have that class, but i feel like i’ve never seen you before.” paige asked curiously as she started to take her computer out of her backpack.

“i usually sit in the very back. i’m either here or in my dorm studying or reading books.” you say, sending paige a soft smile.

she smiled back. “bookworm i see, no shame.”

“none taken.” you chuckle. you grabbed your matcha and took a sip, the cooling sensation lingering down your throat.

paige pointed at the cup. “what’s that? green juice?”

you giggle. “not really. its matcha, green tea.”

“is it good?” paige asked curiously.

“well i love matcha, but some people don’t really enjoy the taste. that’s because they don’t add flavoring or sweetener.” you placed the drink back down and started highlighting in your textbook again.

“sorry if i keep sounding like a bother, but i’m kinda stuck on the assignment, do you mind helping me?” she asked. paige felt like she was taking up your time or interrupting you. however, you loved helping other people any way you could.

you spoke softly. “don’t ever think your a bother to me. i love helping people. of course ill help you.”

its now been 3 years since that interaction. you both are now seniors in college. she never left your side since that day, and even started sitting next to you in the back in anatomy.

paige asked you to be your girlfriend while you both were juniors, and you were the happiest you’ve ever been.

a soft knock rattled on your door, “come in!” you shouted. once you saw the blonde hair from the couch, you knew who it was.

“i had a feeling you were coming.” you said, springing up and running to give her a hug. paige rested your head on your shoulder, kissing your neck then your cheek, leaving a tingle after every one.

“missed you so much today, i’m exhausted.” she spoke. paige sounded tired, a tired you’ve never heard from her.

you cupped her cheek, “long day?” she nodded. her eyes temporarily lost her sparkle. you took her hand and guided her to the couch. paige laid down on you lap, you hands finding her scalp. you massaged small circles, hoping to give her some relaxation. “wanna watch a movie?” you asked handing her the control.

“nah, just wanna be here with you.” she whispered. she sounded like she couple fall asleep any minute, until a question popped up in her mind. “baby, can i ask you something?”

“anything.” you spoke back, raking her hair back from her face.

“how come when i first met you, you weren’t like a super crazy fan. like the one’s who would freak out when they see me or the ones who wait for my signature. you didn’t see me as a celebrity, you saw me as a person. why?” it sounded like a question she had for a while, but never brought herself to ask you. maybe she was scared for your response.

a wave of silence took over until you had your answer. “i knew about you, but i wasn’t like i guess a huge fan. i don’t know how to explain it. maybe its because i didn’t really know how basketball worked back then?” you said, giving a chuckle. “i just saw you as a unselfish curious person with a big heart, and that’s who i fell in love with. now, obviously i’m going to be your #1 fan, always.”

she turned her head to give you a smile. a smile that could make you warm instantly. you placed a kiss on her cheek.

“i like that. you’re not like the other girls i used to date. you’re…different.” she said, turning around to soak up the scalp massage you were giving her.

you paused. “what do you mean?”

paige sighed, her body language changed. you could feel the sadness on her. “all the girls i talked to wanted me for my fame or for them to only say ‘look, i’m dating the paige bueckers!’. and it hurt me back then because i thought i loved them. but that changed when i found you.” she got up and sat next to you, using your shoulder as a head rest. you rested your head alongside hers, feeling the warmth.

“and you still don’t like matcha.” you smiled, remembering her first impressions of it.

paige pouted. “yuck. its green and its bitter, i have no idea how you drink that stuff.”

“whatever your opinions are, i’ll still love you.” you gave her a small peck on the lips. “thank you for asking me that question, paige.”

#dallas wings #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn womens basketball #wnba #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x you #paige x reader

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allhandsonhotch · 3 months ago

Text

Yes, Coach! | A.H

pairing: married!soccer mom!reader! x soccer coach! hotch

warnings: reader is married.. her husband sucks tho! i hate my husband final boss. mentions of cheating, comparing incompetent husband to hotch? mentions of what shitty fathers do to their daughters. daddy issues in kids. pre relationship pining (if you close one eye and squint) reader wants hotch bad. i think that’s all? lmk if i missed anything! not proofread bc im lazy.

word count: idk this is so long tho

The early morning sun beamed on your face as you dragged your husband through the soccer field.

Your daughter Luci clinging to your other hand as she happily skipped towards her team, oblivious to the tension between her parents.

Brian— your husband was a pity excuse for a man in your opinion, he thought the world turned because he spun it— he thought he painted the stars with his ass and he couldn’t be a worse father if he tried. You practically had to force him off of the computer to get him here and he complained the whole way there.

You’d gotten into a fight that morning as well, you caught him talking to his secretary in a way that went far beyond professional and you (reasonably) had called him out on it.

Brian never cared though— he always thought you didn’t have the courage to find better yet every time he threw cash at you to get you off his back— you pocketed it in hopes of collecting enough to take Luci and leave him.

He was a lawyer, a very well off one and when you asked to have a job he’d told you no. Plain and simple he just said no. Of course it wasn’t his call but you were just 22 at the time, he was 45 you just assumed he’d had a reason to want it that way but as you grew up you realized it was nothing but an excuse to keep you helpless.

You set up one of the folding chairs you’d been forced to carry by yourself, feeling eyes on you from afar. “Sit here— im gonna take her to her team.” You spat, damn near shoving him into the chair and walking her over to her team. As you approached the team, you raised your sunglasses to rest on the top of your head, making direct eye contact with him.

Aaron Hotchner.

In all of his coaching glory.

When you couldn’t get Brian to coach Luci’s team, he had— alongside his colleague David, who you now knew as a famous author/ FBI agent.

His son Jack was Luci’s age, they went to the same school and you knew enough about him to know just how many people felt the same way you do.

He was your favorite fantasy. In your head he was perfect— a real man. He had everything Brian didn’t. He was a good dad— enjoyed helping out and he even brought the half time snacks.

“Luci! How are we feeling today?” Aaron’s enthusiastic voice boomed, once you stepped up to him. Luci giggled and wrapped her arms around his leg, your apologetic smile earning a chuckle from him. “I wanna play!” Luci cheered before running off to run drills with Jack and the other kids who’d gotten there early.

“How are you feeling today coach?” You chirped, which made Aaron roll his eyes. “Like it’s 7 am and I cannot wait for this to be over..” He said, his voice stoic. “Of course it’s Mr. FBI who gets stuck coaching little kids soccer..”

That made him grin, his tired eyes meeting yours once again. “Well it’s not like anyone else wanted to..” He chuckled, his gaze flickering over to Brian who was most likely texting his secretary.

“I could barely even get him here..” She groaned. That got his attention and his gaze snapped from Dave over to you.

Aaron’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but you caught it. He had that way about him—quiet, observant, always noticing the things people tried to hide. His eyes flickered back to Brian, who was still glued to his phone, oblivious to the way his wife stood here, exhausted and exasperated, practically begging for someone to just see her.

“He doesn’t seem very invested,” Aaron said carefully, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You huffed a humorless laugh. “Brian’s only invested in himself and his barely legal secretary.”

Aaron didn’t reply right away. He just studied you, as if trying to decide how far he could push before he overstepped. He must have settled on just enough, because his voice was softer when he finally spoke.

“You deserve better than that.”

Something about the way he said it made your throat tighten. Maybe it was the certainty in his voice, like it wasn’t just an empty platitude but a fact—one that he believed, even when you struggled to.

You forced a smile, shifting your weight uncomfortably. “Yeah, well… I can’t exactly afford to leave him— not yet anyways.”

Aaron’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, like he wanted to say something else. But before he could, Luci called out to you from across the field, waving wildly.

“Mommy, look!”

You turned just in time to see her send the ball flying into the net, her little face lighting up with pride. You laughed, clapping your hands. “Great job, baby!”

Aaron smiled at her enthusiasm, then looked back at you. “She’s got a good support system. That counts for a lot.”

You swallowed hard. You weren’t sure if he meant Luci or you. But either way, the weight of his words settled deep in your chest.

It was then that you wondered if maybe—just maybe—someone did see you.

You smirked, tilting your head as you let your sunglasses slide back down over your eyes, shielding the way they lingered on him. “You think so, Coach? That sounds a lot like a compliment.”

Aaron huffed a small chuckle, shaking his head as he crossed his arms. “Just stating the truth.”

“Well,” you drawled, shifting your weight onto one leg and allowing your hip to jut out just slightly, “I don’t hear it very often. So maybe you should keep talking.”

His eyes flickered to you, then briefly over to Brian—who was still hunched over his phone, completely uninterested in his own daughter.

“You’re married,” he reminded you, voice low but firm.

You let out a breathy laugh, tapping a manicured nail against your chin. “Legally, yeah. Happily? That’s debatable.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened. You could tell he was trying to stay neutral, but you saw the way his fingers flexed against his arms, like he was holding something back.

“Still,” he said, meeting your gaze, “It’s a line I don’t cross.”

You stepped closer—just enough that he’d notice, but not enough to cause a scene. “You ever think about it, though?”

His eyes darkened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He didn’t answer right away, but the silence between you was heavy, charged. You knew he was fighting something—whether it was you or himself, you weren’t sure.

Finally, he exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as if to clear it. “You should go sit down,” he muttered, nodding toward the field.

You grinned, leaning in just slightly before you turned on your heel. “Sure thing, Coach.”

As you walked away, you swore you could feel his eyes on you. And that? That was a win.

After a little while of watching the game you decided to move your chair closer to where Aaron was so you could watch Luci better and get away from your no good husband who hadn’t even acknowledged that you were back.

The second half of the game started, and for a while, you let yourself actually enjoy watching Luci play. She was fast—small but determined, her little legs carrying her across the field with everything she had. You caught Aaron watching her with something close to admiration, his arms crossed as he called out encouragements.

Then came the moment that made your heart swell. Luci went for the ball, trying to pass it to Jack, but another kid bumped into her, knocking her down. It wasn’t a hard fall, but she sat there for a second, fear written all over her face.

Before you could even react, Aaron was already moving.

He crouched beside her, his voice gentle but firm. “You okay, kiddo?”

Luci pouted, looking down at her scraped knee. “I fell.”

Aaron smiled, reaching out to brush a stray curl from her forehead. “Yeah, but you’re tough, aren’t you?”

She sniffled, then nodded.

“You wanna know a secret?” he asked, leaning in conspiratorially.

Luci’s big eyes widened. “What?”

Aaron’s expression turned serious, but there was a glint of something playful in his gaze. “The best soccer players fall all the time. It just means you’re trying your hardest.”

That got a small giggle out of her. “Really?”

“Really.” He stood up, offering his hand. “Come on, let’s show ‘em how tough you are.”

Without hesitation, Luci grabbed his hand, letting him help her up. She wiped her eyes quickly, then ran back into the game like nothing happened.

You felt something catch in your throat.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, Jack came up beside Aaron, looking up at him with a grin. “You didn’t tell me that secret.”

Aaron ruffled his son’s hair. “Didn’t need to, buddy. You already know you’re tough.”

Jack puffed out his chest, clearly proud.

Your chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with Brian sitting just a few feet away, ignoring all of it. You swallowed, blinking a few times before looking at Aaron again.

He must have felt your eyes on him because he turned to meet your gaze and for the first time all morning you had to tear your eyes from his.

You watched as Luci dashed across the field with renewed energy, her eyes constantly searching for the ball, her little legs moving as fast as they could go.

She practically lit up when Aaron spoke to her, the way she smiled up at him when he praised her, or even when he simply acknowledged her presence. It wasn’t the kind of admiration a child typically had for a coach—it was something more, something pure and you found yourself upset that you hadn’t noticed it sooner.

She adored him— in a way you were kind of scared of.

As Luci ran past you, her face flushed with excitement, you caught her eye and waved. “You’re doing great out there, lovey!” You cooed at her.

She barely even glanced at you. Her eyes were locked on Aaron, who was standing on the sideline, coaching Jack on positioning. “I’m gonna score, Momma! Watch me!” she shouted, her voice full of pride.

Your heart softened, the words sticking in your throat. You hadn’t seen her this alive in a while. Luci had always been a bright kid, full of imagination and energy, but there was something different about her when she was playing soccer and Aaron was around. He had a way of drawing out her best qualities—the things she sometimes got too shy to reveal.

You could see the way Aaron’s eyes softened as he watched the team, the way his face, usually so composed, broke into a small but genuine smile.

Luci and Jack scored goal after goal together and he watched with eyes full of pride. Luci thought they were for her but you knew it was mostly for his son Jack.

The thought made you sad— she hadn’t looked over at Brian the whole game, she didn’t even care that he was there.

You swallowed hard, a mixture of sadness and something else settling in your chest. You were happy that Luci had found something so fun that she adored but the thought of her forming an unhealthy bond with her soccer coach did frighten you a little.

Luci adored him. She looked up to him, trusted him, and believed in him in a way she never did with Brian. And, if you were being honest, you couldn’t blame her.

The realization hit you harder than you expected. For all the times Brian had failed, Aaron had stepped in—not just as a coach, but as a role model, as someone Luci could turn to without hesitation.

And as you watched them now—her running to make a play, him giving her a thumbs-up from the sideline—something inside you stirred. Luci’s adoration wasn’t just something normal; it was deep— it ran so incredibly deep that you didn’t know what you were going to do when the season ended.

Later, as the game wrapped up and the kids started to gather around for the final huddle, you leaned against the fence, your arms crossed as you watched Luci chatter excitedly with the others. Aaron was kneeling, talking to the kids about teamwork and how proud he was of all of them. Luci was practically glowing as she stood beside him, her eyes fixed on him like he was the most important person in the world.

You smiled softly, but there was a slight pang in your chest. All the parents— minus Brian of course made the tunnel for the kids, your hands reaching up and resting against Aaron’s as if they belonged there.

Once you all pulled away, Aaron gave everyone a high five and walked over to pack up the cones on the field while the parents started to leave.

Your eyes never left his frame besides to check on Luci who was playing with Jack.

You’d never been able to deny the kind of man Aaron was. He was strong, compassionate, and quietly self-assured, never forcing attention but always commanding respect.

Your gaze softened as you noticed Luci nudging Jack, her eyes wide as she whispered something to him. Aaron caught her at the corner of his eye, and his lips tugged upward into a soft, knowing smile.

You didn’t realize you’d been so obvious until you felt someone stand next to you. It was Aaron, of course.

“You know, she really looks up to you,” you said before you could stop yourself.

He glanced at you, a little surprised, then nodded. “She’s a good kid.”

“She’s crazy about you,” you added, keeping your tone light, but there was a tenderness in your voice you couldn’t hide.

Aaron’s gaze flickered to Luci, his expression softening as he watched her laugh with Jack, her whole face alive with excitement. “She’s got a lot of love to give if you let her..” he said quietly, his tone a little different than before, less professional and more personal as he glanced over at Brian who seemingly hadn’t noticed the game was over.

You could tell he meant it. His voice had a warmth to it now, a little more genuine than it had been earlier, when he was still trying to maintain that distance. The way he looked at Luci wasn’t just as a coach—it was something more.

“She loves you,” you repeated, your voice almost a whisper now.

Aaron shifted slightly, his gaze still on Luci. “She’s a special kid,” he said, his voice thick with something that sounded almost like affection.

There was a pause between you, the air thick with something unsaid. You felt the warmth of his words settle in your chest, but there was also something else—something that made your heart flutter. It was hard not to notice how much Aaron had come to mean to Luci, how much he’d become a part of her world.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to imagine a life where it wasn’t just Aaron coaching Luci—where maybe, just maybe, he was part of your life in a bigger way.

But just as quickly, you pushed the thought away.

Aaron looked back at you then, his eyes meeting yours in a way that made you feel like he saw more than just the surface. You swallowed, trying to keep your composure.

“I think she’s lucky to have someone like you around,” you said, your voice soft but steady, the guilt evident in your voice as you thought about every time you’d begged Brian to show her an ounce of care— Aaron had, and he was a stranger.

Aaron’s gaze lingered a moment longer before he cleared his throat, his usual stoic expression falling back into place. “I’m just doing my part,” he replied, but there was a slight edge to his tone now—something that told you he wasn’t entirely convinced by that statement.

You smiled, but this time it felt more sincere. “Well, we’re both lucky to have you around, Coach.”

Aaron didn’t say anything for a moment, but you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something that wasn’t just about the kids, about coaching, or even the game. It was about you, too.

He’d seen you every week for the past month, 4 nights a week. You were the only parent who helped run drills when Dave wasn’t there— you cheered on every kid, not just your own and when he asked you’d bring half time snacks.

Every conversation, every glance, every time you had unintentionally made his day better with your careless flirting and witty remarks.

“Come to lunch with me— this week, there’s this place by the office I’ve been wanting to try and—” His words caught you off guard but your expression didn’t waver, in fact you smirked, holding up your left hand to flash your wedding ring.

“Well as a very smart man reminded me— I’m married…” You trailed off, your tone playful as you stared at him, dropping your hand back down at your side.

Aaron’s eyes rolled for a moment before he spoke again. “Could’ve fooled me— here I thought you were flirting with me all this time.” He grinned and something about it told you that he didn’t do that often.

“Oh I was!” You giggled, using your hand to cover your mouth as if you were a child telling a secret. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not very happy in my marriage..” You whispered childishly.

“So you’ll come?” He asked hopefully which made you grin and nod. “Text me?” You smirked, before calling Luci and Jack over.

“Momma can we play at Jack’s house?” Luci asked innocently, her little voice tugging at your heartstrings like it always had. “Maybe next time— Daddy probably wants to go home and—” Luci pouted and you had to try your hardest to remain in control.

She had the tendency to use her cuteness to get what she wanted from you. “Next time okay?” You smiled sadly, grabbing her hand.

She grumbled, her expression dropping slightly. “I wish Jack’s dad was my dad too.” She frowned and just like that your heart had shattered. You sent Aaron an apologetic frown and picked her up.

“We’ve gotta go honey— say bye to Jack and Coach Hotchner..” You said shakily and reluctantly she did, and the two of you walked away, leaving Aaron and Jack behind and you hoped that someday you wouldn’t have to.

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