#that guy is three notes away from 40 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mercvry-glow · 1 month ago

Text

Stubborn love

parings. jack abbot x reader

summary. you take your son to pitt-fest, expecting to have a day filled with love and quality time. little do you know the universe has other plans for you instead.

warnings. gun violence, mass shooting, pitt-fest, hospital setting, reader and her son get shot, reader and jack are parents of a twelve year old boy, implied age gap (jack late 40s, reader mid/late 30s), medical inaccuracies, established relationship, hurt/comfort, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. I just keep outdoing myself guys, idk what to do with all this power I have. I'm trying a new thing out when it comes to scene switches so hopefully this isn't choppy and I hope you love this as much as I do! This was a request for the very special @pear-1206! as always I hope you enjoy and any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 7,200+

It was supposed to be a fun day for you and Owen—a little mother/son bonding time while Jack finally got some much-needed rest after a long string of night shifts. The plan was simple: spend the day at the festival, just you and your boy, then meet up with Jack later for a nice dinner.

You and Jack had talked it over, and now that Owen was twelve, you both agreed it was fine for him to go. Especially since you’d heard Robby and Jake would be there—it felt safe. Familiar.

“You brushed your teeth, right, baby?” you called from the kitchen, glancing toward the living room where Owen sat, controller in hand, eyes locked on the TV.

“Yeah, Mom!” he shouted back, not even turning around. He was clearly deep into whatever video game world he’d dropped into, and since he wasn’t in school today you allowed it.

You shook your head with a small smile, humming along to whatever song the Alexa was streaming. Duke, your rambunctious Boxer puppy—and one of Owen’s birthday gifts from last year—was currently attacking the already-worn kitchen rug like it had personally offended him. You nudged him with your foot as you rinsed a coffee mug.

“Leave it, bubba,” you muttered playfully. Duke gave a happy little bark and pounced again.

Just then, you heard the soft click of the front door, followed by the unmistakable sound of boots being kicked off and dropped in the entryway. You didn’t have to turn around to know it was Jack.

“Hey,” came his gravelly voice, low and tired, but warm. You turned to see him standing in the doorway, running a hand through his messy, silver curls, still in his black scrubs. His badge clipped to his pants and his stethoscope hung loose around his neck.

“And the graveyard king returns,” you said, drying your hands on a towel. “How bad?”

He groaned, stepping into the kitchen and leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Three codes. One stabbing… Had a vet come in,’” He said softly. “Didn’t make it.”

You sighed softly, wrapping your arms around his waist as he melted into you for just a moment. “I’m sorry baby, how about you go shower? We’ll be out of your hair soon, and you can get some much needed sleep.”

Jack leaned down again, this time kissing the side of your neck before pulling back. “You sure you don’t want to join me? I’m pretty sure the kid is glued to the TV.”

“Nope,” you said, gently pushing him toward the stairs. “You need sleep, and Owen has been dying to leave early and he definetly doesn’t get that from me.”

“Speaking of,” Jack called over his shoulder as he walked away, “Owen! Brush your teeth!”

“I did!” came the indignant reply, followed by the telltale sound of the controller hitting the floor as Owen finally got up.

Jack glanced back at you with a tired smirk. “Just making sure.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the dishes, smiling to yourself as Jack stalked off to go see his son.

It was shaping up to be a good day.

You had no idea how fast everything would change.

When you had officially gotten to Pitt-Fest a few hours later the air was warm, with a gentle spring breeze brushing your skin as you and Owen made your way from the parked car toward the heart of the festival. The streets were already buzzing with music, food truck smells, and early crowds. You smiled to yourself—this was going to be a good day.

Owen was practically skipping beside you, eyes wide as he took everything in. “Mom, look! They’ve already got the funnel cake truck open! Please, please can we get one now?”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Owen, it’s barely even lunchtime. Don’t you want to save that for later?”

He gave you that crooked, charming grin—so much like Jack’s—and you sighed with a smile. “Alright. One. And we’re splitting it.”

Within minutes, you were both sharing a messy, powdered sugar-coated funnel cake, your fingers sticky as you wandered past booths and rides. It felt good to unplug, to just be with your son. The chaos of life, Jack’s odd shifts, and your own never-ending schedule faded into the background.

“Hey—Jake!” Owen suddenly shouted, tugging your hand as he spotted someone up ahead. “C’mon, Mom!”

You glanced up, surprised to see Jake—The son of one of Robby’s exs, and a boy you had watched grow up—waving from a grassy patch near the basketball shoot-out game. For a moment, your eyes scanned the area, expecting to see Michael with him, like he said he’d be. Instead, you were greeted with the sight of someone else entirely: a nice looking young woman in a cropped denim jacket and oversized sunglasses, sipping something pink out of a mason jar.

Jake ran up to Owen, already mid-hug and mid-laugh, the two boys catching up like no time had passed.

“Hey Mrs. A!” Jake said brightly, a little too loud over the music. “Didn’t know you guys were coming!”

You blinked, confused, a light smile on your face as you gave the young man a hug. “I thought Robby was bringing you?”

“Oh—no,” he said, waving a hand. “He’s working today, I guess. We didn’t want the passes to go to waste, so he just said I could bring someone.”

“Jeez, he didn’t mention that when we talked yesterday.” you put a hand on your hip, thinking of all the ways you could scold the older man—maybe have Jack do it for you, he was “scarier” anyway.

Still, everyone looked happy. Owen clearly had his attention on the two older kids, laughing and as he tried to convince both Jake and Leah to come with him to the makeshift basketball court.

So you stayed chill.

“Well, I’m glad you guys are having fun,” you said, easing into a comfortable flow of watching Owen and chatting with Jake and Leah. “Well that’s too bad he couldn’t come, Owen was looking forward to seeing Mikey.”

“Totally, but you know how it is with him.” Jake said, glancing down at his phone before wandering off a few feet to take a picture of Owen and Leah playing.

You exhaled slowly, watching Owen light up when he made a shot, Jake clapping and ruffling his hair as his girlfriend cheered.

It wasn’t quite what you’d planned—but as long as Owen was smiling, you could roll with it. “Do you guys need any more money?”

Jake wandered over again, glancing up from his phone as he slipped it into his pocket. “Nah, we’re good. I’ve got some cash and Leah’s got that apple pay.” He grinned, nudging her playfully. “She’ll sell her soul for a blue slushie.”

Leah rolled her eyes but smiled. “Facts, but we’re all good for now, promise Mrs. A.”

You nodded, still watching Owen line up another shot with intense focus, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth like he always did when he was concentrating. You’d seen that same expression on Jack’s face a hundred times.

“He’s getting good,” Jake said with a little pride in his voice. “Kid’s got an arm.”

“He’s been practicing,” you said with a smile. “Jack set up one of those hoops in the driveway. He won’t admit it, but they have this little competition going.”

You laughed softly, relaxing just a little as the chatter and music of the festival surrounded you. The scent of popcorn and cotton candy floated on the breeze. For a moment, it felt simple again. Safe. Happy.

“I’m glad you guys came,” you added, genuine this time. “Owen would’ve been bummed if he hadn’t seen you guys.”

“Anytime,” Jake said. “Seriously. He’s like my little brother.”

Leah smiled, looping her arm through Jake’s. “He’s really the cutest.”

You watched as Owen ran off again, clutching a neon green basketball he’d just won, Jake breaking away from you and Leah to jog after him with mock dramatics.

“Dude, wait up! You're not even giving me a chance to shoot!”

Leah laughed and gave you a quick smile. “We talked about going over to bumper cars, would it be cool if we took Owen?”

You hesitated just a beat, glancing toward the vendor booths where more families were starting to trickle in. But Jake was a good kid. He always had been. And even if Leah was still new to you, she seemed to genuinely care about Owen’s safety.

You gave a small nod. “Just stay close, okay? And if you guys need anything at all—call me. I’ll be right here,”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jake said with a salute, already herding Owen and Jake in the other direction.

As soon as they disappeared into the crowd, you sank back down onto a nearby bench and pulled out your phone.

Two texts from Jack:

Tryin for another hour of sleep.

Love you.

And a photo from earlier that morning in the living room—Owen holding Duke and grinning like a maniac.

You smiled, heart tugging, and quickly switched out and tapped on Robby’s contact. It only rang twice before he picked up.

“What’s up,?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t you ‘what’s up’ me, Michael”

A pause. “Uh oh. What’d I do?”

“You bailed, Robby,” you said, but your voice was more amused than angry. “I told Owen you were coming. I told him he’d see his Unlce Mikey. You could’ve given me a heads up that Jake was showing up with his girlfriend instead.”

“Okay, first of all,” Robby said, unapologetic and teasingly, “I did mention I was thinking of coming in this week.”

“Yeah, but I assumed you wouldn’t, like you always do.”

He sighed. “I know, I know. I was gonna come for a few hours, but then the damn place turned into a warzone. Got six traumas in two hours and some poor intern—don’t even ask.”

You groaned, rubbing your temple. “Ugh, you men and your ER.”

“Right?” he said brightly. “Anyway, Jake really wanted to go, and he asked if he could bring Leah. I figured he’d be safer with you somewhere nearby.”

You narrowed your eyes, even though he couldn’t see you. “You pawned him off on me.”

“Nooo,” he said, clearly grinning. “I strategically aligned him with a responsible adult.”

“I’m not his mommy, Michael.”

“You might as well be his aunt, considering how much that kid loves you and Jack.”

You shook your head, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “You owe me.”

“Fine, fine,” he said with exaggerated suffering. “Family dinner’s on me next week, and I’ll buy Owen whatever overpriced plush nightmare he begs you for today. Deal?”

“Deal,” you said. “But I’m serious, next time give me a little warning before I walk into the teenage boyfriend-girlfriend babysitting arrangement.”

“Noted,” he said. “I gotta go—sounds like someone just puked on my staff, again.”

You snorted. “Good luck with that.”

He hung up, and you slid your phone into your pocket, glancing off in the direction Owen, Jake and Leah had gone. You could hear laughing—real laughing and it felt good.

You stood, brushing your hands on your jeans deciding it was time to go find the kids. You followed the path toward the bumper cars, weaving through groups of kids in matching school T-shirts and moms balancing drinks and phones. The sun was climbing higher now, casting a golden glaze over the whole venue, and the noise level had kicked up—music from the small stage nearby, the low grind of ride mechanics, children shouting and laughing, a vendor calling out about fresh churros.

It should’ve felt cheerful. Safe.

But there was a pulse in your chest that hadn’t been there earlier. Not panic. Not dread. Just… something. Like when a summer sky shifts ever so slightly and you know a storm’s coming, even if no one else has noticed yet.

You shook it off.

The bumper cars were up ahead, and you spotted Owen immediately—slightly crooked in the seat, steering like a maniac, laughter spilling out of him. Jake was driving the opposite direction, aiming like he was on a mission, while Leah leaned over the edge of the railing with her phone, filming it all and giggling.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and waved when Owen spotted you.

“Mom! Did you see that one? I spun Jake out!”

You grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “I saw, Baby!”

Leah smiled and came over to stand beside you. “He’s really good behind the wheel.”

“Just like his dad,” you said with a soft laugh, eyes still locked on the ride.

But then something flickered at the edge of your awareness—a man a few yards back, pacing near the ticket booth. Alone. Hood up despite the warmer weather. Not totally weird, but it pinged something instinctual.

You looked away, telling yourself not to start imagining things.

You were in mom mode.

You were overthinking.

Still, your gaze kept drifting back. The guy had stopped pacing now and was just standing there, hands shoved deep in his sweatshirt pockets.

You reached for your phone again, just a quick glance. Nothing more from Jack.

Beside you, Leah nudged your arm. “You okay?”

You blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, just… watching.”

“Totally get that. I get nervous watching people get on roller coasters. Like I know they’re strapped in, but what if—”

She cut herself off and shook her head. “Sorry. That probably didn’t help.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “I just… like to keep an eye on things.”

The ride ended, and Owen came barreling out of the gate, freckled cheeks flushed. “Can we do the tilt-a-whirl next?”

“Let me guess,” you said, ruffling his hair. “Jake and Leah want to do it?”

“Uh-huh!” he laughed.

“Alrighty, but I’m gonna join you this time. I can’t let you three have all the fun, right?” You squeezed Owen’s shoulder gently.

You glanced back in that direction they had walked and spotted them about twenty feet ahead, Jake with his arm draped lazily over Leah’s shoulder, the two of them laughing about something on her phone.

As you took Owen’s hand in yours, you looked back toward the ticket booth.

The man was gone.

You scanned the area, telling yourself it was nothing. Maybe he left. Maybe he was just waiting for someone. Maybe he was never looking at anyone in particular.

But your skin was prickling now.

The crowd was growing thicker. The music seemed louder, a little too chaotic. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay grounded.

No sirens. No screams. No reason to panic.

But still—you reached into your bag and made sure your phone and wallet were exactly where you left them.

A bit later, You were leaned against the wooden railing near the edge of the food truck circle, letting the scent of fried dough and grilled sausage fill your nose while you scrolled through the pictures in your phone.

Owen’s smile was huge in every shot—hoisting the giant stuffed dinosaur he had choosen over his head, standing triumphantly on a painted podium outside a carnival game, laughing mid-spin in a blur of motion next to Jake and Leah.

Your heart squeezed, warmth blooming beneath your ribs. It hadn’t been the day you’d expected, but maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe this was even better.

You chose your favorite one—Jake had crouched behind Owen with a goofy flex, and Leah was pretending to kiss Owen’s cheek while he squirmed away, red-faced and thrilled—and attached it to a new message.

We’re having the best time. Gonna let them do one or two more rides, before we head to the restaurant ❤️

You hit send, then slid your phone back into your bag and looked up—just in time to see Owen dart off toward Jake and Leah, who were lining up for the swings just outside of the food trucks.

You followed slowly, keeping them in sight but giving them space. The wind picked up slightly, carrying voices, music, and the metallic squeak of carnival rides. You rubbed your arms—goosebumps, despite the warm day.

Something felt off again.

You couldn’t place it. Not yet.

It wasn’t a sound or a flash—just that shift in the air, like the pressure had changed, like someone had cracked a door you hadn’t noticed before.

Then came the first pop.

You paused.

One loud crack, sharp and clean, like someone popping a balloon too close to your ear. Heads turned. A few kids were startled.

Another pop. Then two more.

Your eyes narrowed. Not fireworks. Not part of the festival.

The music from the central stage screeched to a halt.

Then the screams started. One. Then several. People began moving—first walking quickly, then running.

Gunshots.

Your throat closed around your breath. You turned wildly—where were they? Where was Owen?

“Baby?!” you shouted, pushing forward, weaving between bodies, looking everywhere. “Owen!”

Then—blessedly—you saw him. Near the swings, crouched low behind a bench, Jake in front of him like a human shield, Leah’s arm around both of them.

You sprinted. Didn’t think. Just moved.

When Owen spotted you, his face crumpled. “Mom!”

You dropped to your knees, pulled him into you with a force that knocked the air out of both your lungs.

“Stay with me,” you whispered, kissing his temple. “Don’t let go of my hand.”

Jake’s voice was shaking. “We need to get out of here.”

You nodded fast. “This way!”

And as the shots rang out again—closer, louder—you ran.

You didn’t look back.

You clutched Owen to your side, your arm curled tight around his head, forcing him to duck as you moved. Jake was behind you, shouting something to Leah—but the noise was too loud. Screams. Sirens now, maybe? No—just more shots, ricocheting in the air like firecrackers set loose in hell.

People were stampeding. You could barely think, barely see. Your only goal was to get to the back of the lot—to the edge near the petting zoo where the fence dipped and the parking field beyond opened up.

You turned a sharp corner, skidding in the dirt. “Almost there,” you panted. “Just hold on—”

A deafening crack shattered the words in your throat. You didn’t have time to scream.

Leah gasped behind you—then collapsed, dropping like a ragdoll with cut strings. You barely saw her hit the pavement, but Jake screamed.

“Leah!”

You turned just in time to see blood—too much—pooling around her chest. Her hand twitched, trying to reach for Jake.

“No, no, no,” he was shouting, dropping to his knees, trying to cover the wound, but it was—It was her chest.

She was probably already gone.

You wanted to go to them. You tried. But then Owen let out a shriek—piercing and ragged—and your body jerked like you’d been electrocuted.

You looked down.

Blood. Owen’s blood.

“Baby—”

His leg gave out and he crumpled. You dropped with him, hands flying to his side where the crimson stain was already spreading through his little T-shirt. Not the leg. Higher. Too high.

“No, no, no—look at me, look at me,” you begged, pressing your hands to the wound. “Stay with me, I’ve got you, it’s okay—”

Another shot. You flinched violently, instinctively curling over him as a sharp, white-hot pain tore through your side. It took your breath. Took your words. You tried to move and screamed instead.

Jake’s voice broke through—panicked, breathless. “Go! Take him—GO! I’ve got Leah—he’s still shooting—GO!”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. But you pulled Owen’s body into your arms anyway, teeth gritted against the blinding pain, and ran.

You didn’t see where Jake went. You didn’t know where the gunman was. You only knew you had to move.

People ran in every direction—ducking, diving, falling. You stumbled into someone, nearly lost your grip on Owen, then shoved forward again. The access road was ahead. So close.

Owen was crying weakly, clutching your shirt.

“Stay with me,” you rasped, your vision blurring. “We’re almost there. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

And then—

A fence. An open gap. You fell through it. Literally fell—knees buckling, your body slamming into the grass, but you kept him with you.

Dirt. Blood. Sirens now, real ones, screaming somewhere far too far away.

Owen wasn’t screaming anymore.

He was too quiet.

And Jack still didn’t know.

And you couldn’t feel your legs. Couldn’t feel much of anything but the sticky warmth of Owen’s blood on your hands, your shirt, your arms.

Your side throbbed violently, each breath more shallow than the last, but you didn’t let go of him—not even for a second. You cradled his face, kept pressing your trembling fingers to the side of his neck, checking—still there. Weak. Faint. But there.

“Owen, baby,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Come on. Open your eyes for me.”

His lashes fluttered. A faint sound, maybe a whimper, left his lips.

You dragged yourself upright, blinking through sweat and tears. The access road stretched out behind the fence, gravel and dust dancing in the air from the chaos erupting just beyond it. You could still hear screams. Distant shouts. Faint sirens that weren’t close enough.

Not fast enough.

“Stay awake,” you begged, your forehead pressing to his. “You can’t go to sleep, okay? You keep your eyes on me. Dad’s waiting for us. You’re gonna tell him about the dinosaur, remember?”

Owen whimpered again, a soft, slurred, “It hurts.”

“I know, baby. I know. But we’re gonna fix it. I promise—just—just keep talking to me, okay? Tell me your favorite ride. The best one today.”

His lips moved, barely audible. “The swings.”

You nodded, choking out a broken laugh. “Yeah? You were so cool. I saw you.”

A car engine revved.

You blinked.

A dark SUV skidded into view down the gravel path, braking hard just a few feet from you. The passenger door flew open.

Two strangers—one man, one woman—rushed out, eyes wide at the sight of you on the ground, covered in blood.

“Oh my god, Travis—” the woman gasped. “He’s a kid—he’s just a kid!”

“Help us,” you rasped, trying to lift Owen toward them. “Please—we need help..”

“We got you—we got you, hang on,” the man, Travis, said, already crouching to help lift Owen gently from your arms while the woman scrambled for the first aid kit in the back seat.

“No ambulances are getting through,” she muttered, already pressing gauze to Owen’s wound. “Too many people. We’ll get there faster.”

You tried to push yourself up, but your body screamed. Your side. Your leg. It was all catching up to you now.

“I can’t—” you whispered, dizzy. “I have to go with him—I can’t let him go alone—please.”

The woman looked up, eyes soft and certain. “You’re coming. I promise.”

Together, they got you both into the back of the SUV—Owen laid gently across your lap, your hand never leaving his.

The car peeled out, gravel flying behind it.

You looked down at your son. His hazel eyes were barely open, face paling. “Hey,” you whispered. “Stay with me. Almost there. You’re so brave, baby”

The gauze soaked through. Blood was on your arms, your stomach, your thighs—his blood—and the sticky warmth of it made you tremble.

His breath hitched. Too shallow. Too fast.

"You're okay, baby," you murmured, voice thick, trying to stay calm as your own side throbbed with a pain so sharp you could hardly breathe. “You're gonna be okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Owen whimpered faintly, the sound barely there. You ran your fingers through his curls, kissed his forehead, even though your vision was dimming at the edges.

“You're doing so good,” you whispered, your forehead resting against his. “You’re the bravest kid I know. Just stay with me a little longer, okay?”

The woman in the front passenger seat turned back to check on you. Her hands were still red from pressing on Owen's wound before the drive. “We’re almost there,”

“PTMC?” you croaked, not even caring how broken your voice sounded.

She nodded. "Yeah. That’s where we’re going."

You exhaled, one tiny shred of relief carving through the pain. Jack has to be there. Robby’s there.

If anyone could save him—it was them.

You gripped Owen tighter, your injured side screaming in protest. You didn’t care. You’d hold him together if you had to.

“I’m sorry,” the woman, who you still didn’t know the name of, said quietly, her eyes flicking to yours. “About the girl—your friend. The one who got hit before you ran. We saw her.”

You swallowed hard. Leah’s face flashed in your mind. Jake’s scream. The sound of her body hitting the ground.

“She was only seventeen,” you rasped, barely above a whisper.

No one said anything for a moment. The only sound was the roar of the engine and the panicked rise of sirens all around the city.

You felt the car lurch forward again as the driver turned onto the highway. You leaned back just a little, blinking up at the ceiling as your arms trembled beneath Owen’s weight.

"You're almost there," you whispered again, not sure who you were saying it for—Owen, or yourself.

And just like that—over the next rise—the skyline broke open.

PTMC loomed in the distance, lit up like a beacon. Like hope.

You closed your eyes for half a second, just to breathe, and then nothing.

The SUV barreled into the PTMC ambulance bay, tires screeching against the pavement. Dr. John Shen was already there, clipboard abandoned, gloves snapped on ready to assess the new victims. The back door of the SUV flew open before the car had even stopped moving.

A man leapt out, shouting, “Two gunshot victims—one kid, one adult!”

Shen was moving before the words finished. He ducked his head in, already scanning.

A boy—maybe eleven or twelve—was sprawled across a woman’s lap, his small frame slick with blood. His face was gray, eyes barely open, breath shallow. The woman underneath him was slumped, her arm still draped protectively around him. Blood covered her side and leg, a wound visible just below her ribs.

“Red tag!” Shen barked, pointing to the boy. “GSW to the abdomen—fading fast. Let’s move!”

Nurses swooped in. One of them reached to lift the boy, but Shen stopped them.

“Neck check first—don’t move him if there’s spine trauma!”

“Clear,” another nurse confirmed. “He’s bleeding bad—BP’s crashing.”

“Start a line in the bay. Tell everyone we’re coming in hot!”

Shen leaned in as the boy was gently transferred to a gurney. The boy groaned, a high, weak sound—and Shen breathed a sigh of relief. Still responsive. Barely.

Then he turned to you.

You were unconscious now, skin dull and damp. Pulse fluttered beneath his fingers—weak but steady. He checked your airway. No sign of obstruction, but there was clearly pain before you went under. Shen noticed the streaks of red down your arms—defensive wounds.

Clearly you protected him.

“Pink tag,” Shen said quickly. “Delayed but stable for now. Get her to Zone C—secondary triage. Start fluids and monitor LOC.”

One of the ER nurses glanced, “She doesn’t have an ID yet—came in under civilian transport.”

Shen nodded. “She’s the kid’s mother. Keep them in proximity—she’ll want eyes on him as soon as she’s conscious.”

He turned back to the gurney now flying down the hallway.

“Who’s taking him?” he asked.

A voice answered just ahead: “Me.”

Robby was already pulling on gloves as he met the team halfway to the trauma bay. His face went sharp the second he saw the boy, expression turning from clinical to personal in a flash.

“That’s Owen,” he said, voice low. “That’s Jack’s kid, is his mom with him?”

Shen’s eyes didn’t widen, but something about him froze for half a beat.“We’re rolling her in next, you’d better work fast,” he said, already moving to the next case rolling in.

Robby swallowed hard, glancing toward the second gurney now being wheeled away. His stomach twisted.

Robby shoved the bay doors open with his shoulder just as the gurney was wheeled in. Owen was barely conscious, his head lolled to the side, skin pallid and clammy. The heart monitor was already hooked up and showed a weak but present rhythm.

"Vitals?" Robby asked sharply, already snapping on a gown and grabbing the ultrasound probe.

"BP is 78 over 44 and falling. He's tachy—160s. Resps shallow, sat's at 90 on non-rebreather. GSW to lower left quadrant, exit wound in the back. Looks like bowel involvement, maybe nicked the iliac."

Robby exhaled tightly.

Stay focused.

Just stay focused.

"Owen?" he called gently, kneeling beside the bed as they worked. "Hey, bud. It’s Mikey. I’m right here with you, okay?"

Owen’s eyelids fluttered. His lips moved like he wanted to speak, but only a soft noise came out. Robby gripped his hand.

"You don't have to talk. Just stay awake for me. You’re doing so good."

"Two large bores in," one of the nurses confirmed. “Hanging fluids now.”

“Get type and cross, send for four units of O-neg and get trauma surgery on standby,” Robby ordered. “I want FAST up now—we’re wasting time.”

Robby moved quickly, scanning the belly.

“Free fluid,” he muttered. “Left side. That’s blood. We’ve got internal bleeding—he’s not waiting.”

“He needs the OR now,” one of the trauma residents said.

“No,” Robby snapped. “Not until he’s stable enough to make it there. Get Jack. Tell him—tell him it’s Owen.”

Everyone paused for just half a second.

“Do not stop working,” Robby barked, pushing the urgency into motion again.

He leaned over Owen, brushing damp curls away from his forehead. "You're strong, kiddo. You got that from both your parents. You're gonna pull through this, but you gotta stay with me, okay? Just a little longer."

Another nurse leaned in with a pressure dressing. Robby applied it himself, firm and fast. The bleeding had slowed a little, but it was coming from deeper in the gut. He knew what this looked like. And he knew it could turn fast.

The OR doors were already being prepped upstairs for him.

Robby’s hands didn’t shake—but his jaw was clenched so tight it hurt. He couldn’t let his mind drift, to what he saw when they pulled Owen out of that SUV. He didn’t know how bad your injuries were. He didn’t know if you were even awake yet.

But right now?

He had one job.

And that was to keep Owen alive.

The ER was fucking chaos. Codes left and right, everything in a constant movement, and the relentless hum of machines from all over. Jack was no stranger to this—he was in the pink zone, handling the more critical victims of the shooting. But despite his calm, practiced demeanor, his mind was anything but at ease.

He had been pulled in for the shooting response, already working through the wreckage, when he heard the news. You and Owen had been caught in the crossfire, though hopefully safe.

His stomach dropped at the thought.

Keep it together. They’ll be fine, he told himself.

But nothing about today felt fine.

His gloves were soaked in blood as he continued to check vitals, giving orders, and directing the chaos around him. His pulse was still high, but it wasn’t just from the workload—it was the fear gnawing at the back of his mind.

Where were you?

"Dr. Abbot, you’ve got a new Jane Doe over here," a nurse called out, snapping him from his thoughts.

He turned quickly, heart skipping in his chest. “What’s her status?”

"She’s stable, for now. GSW to the abdomen. Blood loss is moderate, went clean through. Civillians brought her in from the scene."

Without waiting, Jack followed the nurse toward the trauma bay. His mind raced, jumping to every conclusion.

Could it be you?

When they arrived at the bed he saw you —his wife, unconscious, blood staining your clothes and skin. Quiet and umoving, but the machines around you were steady.

His breath hitched.

“Get a line in, start fluids,” Jack barked, moving swiftly into action. His hands trembled as he checked your vitals, his mind moving a mile a minute.

Breathing was shallow, but there was still a pulse. The blood was too much. Too much to be a coincidence.

A nurse rushed past, checking on the other patients in the area, but Jack couldn’t tear his eyes from your figure. He reached out, brushing his fingers gently over your arm. It was warm, but the color drained from his face as he saw the blood pooling on the sheets.

“Vitals?” Jack demanded.

“Stable for now. She’s unconscious, but her body’s holding up,” the nurse answered quickly.

“Stay with her,” Jack ordered, his voice low and tight with barely-contained panic. “I need to know the moment her condition changes.”

He pulled back, trying to get his bearings, but the weight of the situation was suffocating. He couldn’t focus on anything else but you and he still had a job to do.

As he moved to step away, another nurse caught his attention, speaking in quick bursts. “Dr. Abbot, we’ve got another one going up to surgery—this one’s a kid, Dr. Robby said he came in with this Jane Doe.”

The word kid stopped Jack in his tracks.

His heart leaped in his chest, and his pulse roared in his ears. He took off without thinking, his legs moving as fast as they could.

Owen.

He rounded the corner to another trauma bay, hoping, praying it wasn’t too late. The sight of the gurney brought him to a halt.

They were already wheeling Owen inside, the boy unconscious, his body pale and covered in blood. A small part of Jack’s mind screamed to reach out, to grab him, but the doctors and nurses were already in motion, preparing to take him up to surgery.

He stepped forward, but Robby was already there, directing the team.

“Owen’s been hit pretty bad,” Robby said, his voice tight with concern. “We’ve got him stable for now, but it’s touch and go and we need to get him upstairs, Brother.”

Jack didn’t even get a chance to ask more. He could only stand there for a moment, his mind spinning, before he was called back to the pink zone.

His wife—his wife was still lying unconscious just down the hall. Owen was going into surgery, fighting for his life. And he was supposed to be the one in control. But right now, he was helpless, and he had to keep working. “Fuck this…”

“I know- I know this is horrible timing, but we still have people to help… They’re in good hands, you know that.” Robby placed a gloved hand on his shoulder, hoping it gave him some sembelence of comfort.

“If something happens to either of them…”

“I know…”

The world felt hazy, like you were waking from a dream—or maybe a nightmare. Your body ached, and your head throbbed with the sharp sting of exhaustion. You blinked your eyes open slowly, the sterile white lights above you blinding at first. The beeping of a nearby monitor and the faint scent of antiseptic filled your senses, grounding you back into reality.

You tried to move, but your limbs felt heavy, as if they didn’t belong to you. Then you remembered—the shooting. The panic surged back in waves. The flashes of gunfire, Owen, Jake, Leah…

“Owen..?” Your voice cracked, barely a whisper as you turned your head toward the sound of the soft shuffle of footsteps.

Jack was sitting next to you, his hand wrapped around yours. His face was drawn, hazel eyes dark with exhaustion but filled with an intense, unwavering focus. He hadn’t left your side.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, leaning forward. His voice was rough, as if he’d been speaking to you in his sleep. “Hey, you’re awake. Thank God.”

You blinked, trying to focus, trying to piece everything together. “Owen... where is he?” Your voice shook, panic still clawing at your chest.

“He’s upstairs,” Jack said, brushing your hair back from your face gently. “He’s in recovery, he’s going to be okay.”

You exhaled shakily, trying to absorb his words.

Owen’s okay.

He was alive.

You felt a strange weight lift from your chest at the thought, but it didn’t stop the rush of emotions from flooding through you.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “How... how bad was it?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, the corner of his lip pulling into a tight, controlled line. “You’re both lucky,” he said, squeezing your hand, his voice quiet. “You both took a bullet, but it’s not as bad as it could’ve been. Just some stitches, a lot of blood loss. You’re going to be fine. You’re tough.”

You closed your eyes, relief and exhaustion mixing together. Your body felt weak, but hearing Jack’s voice, feeling his presence, calmed the swirling storm in your chest.

“I don’t remember... I don’t remember much after we uh- we got in the car.” you said, frowning. The last clear memory you had was trying to get Owen to safety.

Then... everything blurred together.

“Hey,” Jack’s voice softened as he leaned closer, his thumb brushing over your knuckles gently. “You did everything you could. You kept him awake. You got him here.” He paused, his voice breaking just slightly. “You saved him.”

You blinked, the words sinking in. You had kept him conscious. You had gotten him to PTMC. It was all coming back in pieces. You wanted to apologize for not being able to do more, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breathing.

“Are Leah and Jake okay?” you asked after a moment, though you already feared the answer.

Jack’s expression darkened, and his grip on your hand tightened slightly. “Leah didn’t make it,” he said quietly, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “Jake is with his mom now though,”

You felt your heart ache at the thought. Leah had been so full of life, so young. And now, she was gone.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn’t help it.

Jack was quiet for a moment, rubbing gently over your hand in comforting circles, offering his own type of peace. “I know. I know, baby,” he said softly. “But we’re here. We’re here, and we’re gonna make it through.”

The words didn’t erase the grief, but they gave you a small thread of hope to cling to.

You turned your head, your eyes searching for Jack’s, and found them filled with that same unwavering strength that had always been there. The strength you needed.

“How’s he doing?” you asked softly, still wanting to know about Owen, even as your body begged for rest.

“He’s alright” Jack repeated, nodding slowly. “They’re keeping an eye on him, but the doctors are sure he’s going to pull through. Kids are strong, and he’s just like his mom.”

You smiled weakly, your heart swelling with love for your son and husband. For a moment, the exhaustion and the fear melted away, and all you could focus on was the fact that you had made it—together.

“You need to rest,” Jack said gently, his voice low as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll see if we can move you up to his room too…”

You nodded, your eyelids heavy. You let the warmth of Jack’s presence settle over you, a comfort you hadn’t realized you’d been craving so desperately.

“Love you,” you murmured, barely conscious as sleep began to pull you under.

“I love you, too,” Jack whispered back, his voice soft but steady.

And with that, you finally let yourself drift off, knowing Owen was safe and that they would be there when you woke up again.

Sometime later the hum of monitors and soft beeping were steady and low, like the pulse of the room itself. You sat upright in the wheelchair Jack had brought you in, a hospital blanket draped over your lap, your fingers laced with his. Just sitting here beside Owen was enough to crack you wide open inside—every breath a small miracle.

Owen was awake.

Groggy and a little pale, his eyelids fluttered half-shut as he blinked up at the ceiling, shifting weakly against his pillow. His little hand rested beside him, wrapped in a peds-sized blood pressure cuff, wires trailing from his chest to the monitor, a nasal cannula nestled beneath his nose.

Your heart squeezed at the sight of him. He looked so small. So young. But he was awake—and alive.

“Hey, baby,” you whispered, brushing your fingers gently over the back of his hand.

His eyes fluttered open a bit more at your voice, and he turned his head slowly toward you. “Mom?”

You choked on the word before it could leave your throat. You smiled instead, nodding quickly, leaning as close as your body would allow. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m here.”

Owen blinked slowly, his eyes finding Jack beside you. “Dad’s here, too?”

Jack stood from where he’d been crouched at your side, wiping at his eyes quickly as he walked over to the other side of the bed. “Hey, buddy,” he said, voice rough as he leaned down and kissed the top of Owen’s head. “Of course I’m here,”

Owen gave the smallest smile, tired and lopsided. “You came.”

Jack huffed a short, shaky breath and laughed gently through it. “Of course I came, I work here, dork.”

You looked between the two of them, your eyes misting over again. You reached out and touched Owen’s arm gently, your hand trembling with relief. “You scared me,” you said quietly. “You really scared me.”

“Scared me too,” Owen mumbled, his voice raspy. “But… I think I’m okay.”

“You are,” Jack said, looking at you. “The surgery went well. Robby’s keeping a close eye on you too.”

You nodded, your body still aching, your side wrapped and sore, but none of that mattered now.

Owen blinked slowly, brows furrowing as memories tried to catch up with him. “Where’s Jake? And Leah?”

You and Jack exchanged a glance—one of those heavy, silent ones you’d both learned to read over the years.

“Jake’s okay,” Jack said gently, sitting back down beside the bed, resting his hand on Owen’s foot through the blanket. “He’s gonna be just fine.”

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat. “Leah…” You paused, blinking hard. “Leah didn’t make it, sweetheart.”

Owen stared at you, his lip trembling just slightly before he turned his face toward the ceiling again, eyes glistening. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you.

You reached for his hand again, and he held onto you tighter this time.

Jack stayed sitting next to you while on the bed, his hands settling on your shoulders as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. You closed your eyes and let it settle in—the three of you in this small space, this quiet moment of stillness after the storm.

“We’re okay,” Jack murmured against your skin. “We’re okay now.”

You nodded, eyes fixed on your son, who was already starting to drift off again under the pain meds. The road ahead would be long—grief, recovery, healing—but right here, right now, you had each other.

mercvry-glow 2025

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atomicami · 3 months ago

Text

party of three

boyfriend’s mom!abby x fem!reader ft. sevika

- summary: after that unforgettable night you spent with your boyfriend’s mother, you make the decision to stay with him just to continue seeing her behind his back. the affair runs smoothly at first—until her best friend gets into the picture.

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, age gap (abby is 38, reader is 20, sevika is 40), reader is in college, abby and sevika are best friends, abby and owen are divorced, reader is still dating abby’s son, infidelity/cheating, threesome (f/f/f), softdom!abby 🤝 roughdom!sevika, fingering & oral (all receiving, r&s giving), strap on usage (r!receiving), abby and sevika take turns hitting it from the back, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, these two women basically own you tbh

- author’s note: you ask, and i deliver. here is the long awaited full version of this drabble that i posted a while back, it took me so long to get this one out for y’all but it’s finally here! now this fic can be read standalone but here is the previous part i wrote if you guys need a refresher. other than that i hope y’all enjoy it :)

(also special thanks to @sunflowerwinds for proofreading this fic for me, ily cherry girl <3)

You should have walked away after that. Any sane person would have. But instead, you stayed.

Not for him, but for her.

It was only supposed to be just a moment of comfort—neither of you had expected for it to grow into something stronger. But you couldn’t leave him, because it meant that you would lose her too. And that was something that you weren’t ready to do.

And frankly, neither was she.

So you stayed, just for the sake of seeing her behind closed doors. It was wrong, and you both knew it. But the moment she would touch you, the moment she would whisper your name like a prayer before pressing her soft lips onto yours—that’s when it felt right.

But what neither of you expected was just how easily someone else could slip into the space between you two—someone who understood exactly what you both desired.

It was like déja vu hit you once again—you sat in your car, parked in the driveway of Abby’s house once again, preparing yourself to go inside. The night was clear this time—a stark contrast to the gloomy thunderstorm that went on when you first showed up that night. It was coincidental, because ever since then, being with Abby made you feel just as calm and clear as the night sky.

You exhale, taking your key out of your ignition and grabbing your bag before getting out of your car. As you exit your vehicle, the sight of a parked black truck catches your eye—one that you haven’t seen before. It wasn’t Abby’s or Andrew’s, which could only mean that Abby had some sort of company. You didn’t give it a second thought though, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you make your way over to the front door. You ring the bell, and in an instant you can hear a familiar sound of footsteps approaching to answer it. It was almost as if you could sense Abby’s excitement from a distance—a feeling that her son hardly expressed when he’d see you.

The front door opens, and you’re greeted with the sight of Abby standing in front of her, a soft smile plastered on her beautifully freckled face. “Hey there, sweetheart.” she says, leaning in to give you a hug. “Come on in, Andrew is still getting ready but you can wait with us in the meantime.” She gestures toward the living room, and curiosity starts to pique your interest as your head peeks inside. Us? Who could she have brought over?

Once you enter inside, you’re met with the sight of an unrecognizable woman who was seated comfortably on the living room couch—broad shoulders, a sharp jawline, and a striking set of gray eyes. Her hair was at her jawline’s length which framed her facial structure beautifully, and the left side of her face was littered down with scars that made her olive skin stand out even more. A half empty beer bottle rests in her hand, and the low hum of the football game playing on the TV fills the room before Abby’s voice cuts through. “This is Sevika—she’s a close friend of mine.” Abby shuts the door behind you before walking over to the couch and looking over to Sevika. “Sevika, this is my son’s girlfriend.”

Sevika sets her bottle of beer down onto the coffee table. “So this must be the not-so-lucky girlfriend, yeah?” she asks before turning her head to Abby, to which she nods. “Hey there, pretty girl. Name’s Sevika.” she says, offering her hand out to you.

You blush at the name she gives you and reach out to shake her hand as you give her your name. Her palm had felt so large and warm in yours, almost like Abby’s, but maybe a little bit bigger. You let go of her hand and sit down on the love seat next to her, and you can’t but curiously look at her other arm, seeing that it’s entirely replaced with a metal prosthetic. Sevika catches your glance shifting and she looks down at her arm. “Oh, this?” she says, looking back up at you. “I lost it about a decade ago…car accident.”

“Oh,” You hesitate for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “That…that must have been really intense.” you say, your voice gentle.

Sevika simply shakes it off, leaning back against the couch. “It’s alright, I’m just glad to have made it out alive. Besides…” she pauses for a moment before continuing. “My other hand still works just as good.” she says with a wink. You got the joke behind that, of course. But what you didn’t realize was how well she was going to prove that point soon.

Abby sits back down on the couch next to Sevika, leading you to switch the subject. “So, how long have you two known each other for?” you ask them curiously.

“Since college,” Sevika replies, turning her head towards Abby. Abby’s gaze matches with hers, and she starts to chuckle while shaking her head, almost as if she was reminiscing a moment. “Yeah…I guess you could say she was sort of my…awakening.”

Sevika was in the process of turning her head back to you, but she turns back to Abby again and raises an eyebrow at her. “Sort of?”

Abby sighs dramatically and laughs as she playfully nudges Sevika’s shoulder. “Alright alright, she was my awakening. But it was just that one time way back then.”

Sevika hums, a smirk growing on her lips as she reaches over for her beer and takes a swift sip from it. “One time was sure enough to rock your world though.”

Abby rolls her eyes at her but she doesn’t deny it, and you can’t help but feel the heat creep up in the back of your neck—and between your thighs as their history piques your curiosity even more.

“We didn’t have much back then,” Sevika says, taking another sip of her beer. “But I was sure able to do my job without the parts that were necessary.”

The realization clicks in an instant. Your mind flashes back to the first night you spent with Abby—the way she touched you like she knew exactly what you liked, the way she pressed herself against you just right, just enough to make you fall apart and come undone underneath her…it was all so perfectly executed, so well practiced—maybe a little too well practiced.

She learned it from her.

Your gaze flickers over to Sevika, watching as she takes another slow sip of her beer, her expression unreadable. But there’s something there—something in the way she looks at you, like she already knows what you’re thinking. Like she wants you to say it out loud.

Sevika’s voice cuts through the air, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Tell me about you, pretty girl. You in school?”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning back slightly. “I’m in my third year now.”

“Halfway point, huh?” Sevika takes a sip from her beer, eyeing you with a casual but interested look in her eye. “You’ll be at the finish line before you know it.”

“Yeah, exactly, you say, nodding in agreement. “I still feel like I have so much left to figure out though.”

Abby chimes in from her side of the couch, grinning knowingly. “You’ve got time, sweetheart.” she says with a soft chuckle. “And you’ll do just fine.”

You smile, appreciating her reassurance. But before the conversation can continue, you hear footsteps coming from upstairs. A familiar voice calls your name—your boyfriend’s voice—and you feel a sudden shift in the air, the tension of the situation lingering in the back of your mind.

“Hey, babe!” Andrew calls out casually, the usual smugness laced in his tone as he did so. “You ready to go?”

Your expression falters in an instant, nose wrinkling up while your lips pressed together in a fine line full of grimace before you catch yourself and quickly shake things off. You let out a sigh as you stand up from the couch. “Yeah, let’s head out.” you reply flatly.

Sevika doesn’t miss it. Her gaze stays fixed on you as she observes your every move, the corner of her lips twitching into a subtle smirk as she did so. She doesn’t say anything as to not interfere, but she doesn't look away either, her gaze burning on you to where you could feel it from behind.

As you push yourself up from the couch, a sharp smack lands on your backside. Your body tenses instantly, irritation bubbling up inside you as you whip your head around. Andrew just stands there with that stupid grin on his face, completely oblivious—or maybe he just doesn’t care—about the way your jaw tightens, how your fingers curl into your palm in fists, fingernails digging into your skin as you hold back the urge to hit him away from you.

“Jesus, Andrew,” Abby says, shaking her head in disbelief. “Show some damn respect for her, will you?”

He simply shrugs, rolling his eyes in the most nonchalant way as if she was the one making a big deal about it. “Relax, Mom, it’s just a joke.” he shuffles his way over to the front door to head out. “C’mon babe, we’re already late to the party.” he says, opening the door.

You scoff behind his back, rolling your eyes. “That’s because you’re always so damn long to get ready,” you quietly mumble to yourself. Andrew was too stubborn to have overheard it, but you could hear a soft chuckle coming from Sevika, however you think nothing of it and move on.

Andrew steps out of the door and heads outside, and before you were about to follow him, a gentle tug on your arm keeps you from moving forward. You stop in your tracks and look over to Abby, who was rising up from the couch to shift closer to you. “Remember sweetheart, if he starts misbehaving tonight, you let me know, okay?” she says, giving you a wink.

A smirk crept up on the corner of your lips when she said that. You knew exactly what she had meant.

It took a while for you and Abby to have figured it out at first, but eventually you two decided on this particular arrangement—to stay with her douchebag son just to continue seeing her behind his back, and to let her know about any sort of trouble he’ll cause when he’s with you, because she can easily make it up to you without thinking twice. It didn’t matter how big or small the issue would be—if Andrew ended up upsetting you in any way, shape or form—Abby would be quick to take matters into the bedroom with you to apologize for her son’s actions. After all, it was the least she could do, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it herself.

You give her a smile, gently squeezing her hand in reassurance before she lets go. “I’ll be sure to let you know, Ms. Anderson.” you reply to her.

You say your goodbyes to Abby and Sevika before heading outside, closing the front door shut behind you. As you watch your boyfriend make his way over to his car, you can’t help but wish that he’ll screw up the night for you just so you can get a taste of his mother’s forgiveness later on.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☽⋅⋆ ──

Your wish was already coming true in an instant.

The party was in full swing, music blasting within the thin walls, voices blending into the atmosphere. The house completely reeked of liquor and cheap cologne, making you feel as if you were being smothered by the thickness of it. It’s only been an hour, and all you wanted to do was get out of here and go home.

You push through the drunken crowd, trying to squeeze through the tight gaps between bodies until someone accidentally stumbles and spills their drink on you. All you could in that moment do was sigh and just keep moving. Andrew had disappeared a while ago, leaving you stranded in a house full of strangers. Going to this stupid party was his idea to begin with—you didn’t know, or even care about anyone here. On the contrary, all you had really wanted to do on a Saturday night like this was to stay at home and lie in bed—particularly his mother’s bed.

After a while of searching through the packed household, you finally spot him slumped over on an old leather couch, a half empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers.

But he’s not alone.

There’s a girl draped over him, her manicured fingers lazily playing with the fabric of his shirt as she leans into him, whispering something in his ear. He doesn’t react much aside from a drunken chuckle as his head tilts to rest against hers. You’re not sure if he knows her—or even cares.

Your jaw clenches as a bitter taste fills your mouth, but you’re quick to take a deep breath to ground yourself. There’s no point in confronting him. It’s a waste of your time and energy, both of which can be used on something better. So instead, you pull out your phone as you turn on your heel, dialing Abby’s number in an instant.

The line barely rings twice before Abby picks up. “Hey there, sweetheart,” she greets, her voice warm enough to alleviate you from the chills that traveled through your body. “Is everything alright?”

You hesitate, glancing back at Andrew as he exchanges another drunken laugh between the girl beside him before turning back around. “Not really…Can you come pick me up, please?”

There’s a brief pause, and you can hear the faint chatter of the TV in the background followed by Sevika’s groans and protests over whatever that was happening on screen. You hear Abby hum softly before replying. “Of course, honey. I’ll be right there.”

You hang up, slipping the phone into your pocket. Despite how rocky the night began, at least now, it was about to end exactly how you wanted.

It didn’t take long for your phone to ring again, screen lit up with Abby’s name. You answer quickly.

“I’m outside,” she says, her voice steady but firm.

Relief washes over you just for a moment, until the sense of obligation quickly replaces it. You glance back over to the mess of a living room where Andrew is still passed out and sigh in annoyance. “Okay, um, hold on a second so I can get—”

“No.” Abby cuts you off, her voice quickly going stern. “I’m here for you, sweetheart. Just you.”

“But what about—”

“He’ll be fine.” She reassures you firmly. “I already called Owen to pick him up. I’m not gonna be dealing with that tonight.” She says it in a way that shows that her son was the least of her priorities tonight—that he was more of an inconvenience rather than a concern.

You pause for a moment as her words settle into your chest. You exhale slowly, glancing at Andrew one last time before opening the door. He won’t even notice you’re gone.

The cool night air hits your skin once you step outside, finally giving you a moment to breathe after being cramped in the thick air of the party for the past hour. As you look up, you’re welcomed by the sight of Abby leaning against the open passenger door of a black truck—the same black truck that was parked in her driveway not too long ago. You take a closer look, eyes widening when you see Sevika sitting behind the wheel with an amused look on her face.

The sight of the two women together sends a mix of relief and anticipation coursing through your veins. Abby’s expression softens once she meets your eyes. “There you are. I was starting to think I’d have to come in and save you myself.” she says gently, giving you a smile.

Sevika, on the other hand, simply jerks her chin toward the passenger seat. “Get in, pretty girl. Don’t wanna waste gas waiting on your sorry excuse of a boyfriend.”

You don’t hesitate. With one last glance at the house you’re leaving behind, you move toward the truck, letting the door shut on the night and on Andrew without a second thought.

You step up into the truck, sliding into the middle seat while Abby hops in behind you and shuts the door with a soft thud. The space that was once between them disappears in an instant now that you were there, pressed between Abby’s present warmth and Sevika’s quiet intensity. Abby’s hand meets with your knee in a gentle and reassuring grip—almost as if she’s done this before. You barely register the comfort of it before Sevika shifts in her seat beside you, the warm fingers of her human hand gently brushing over your bare thigh in the process. You assume it’s unintentional, but the heat that her touch leaves behind lingers on your skin, sending a slow shiver down your spine.

The rest of the ride back home is quiet, but the tension between the three of you continues to roar inside the truck. As Abby and Sevika exchange the occasional hum of conversation, you remain situated in their place between them, completely aware of every shift of their bodies. Abby’s palm stays warm and steady on your knee, giving you a strong sense of comfort. However, Sevika’s touches are more teasing, almost in a way that makes you wonder if she's doing it by accident or not. Her fingers brushing over your thigh when she adjusts the gearshift, her thigh pressing against yours when she stretches—it’s enough to make you think if she could be desiring the same thing right now.

By the time you arrive at Abby’s house, your pulse is unsteady, and your breath feels tight in your chest. The three of you exit Sevika’s truck and step inside, the warmth of the house settling around you. Sevika rolls out her shoulders as she picks up her jacket that was draped over the couch. “Well,” she exhales, slipping her other hand into her pocket. “I should probably head out.”

Abby hums, tilting her head slightly. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Sevika nods. “Thanks for having me over.”

She’s still standing close to you, her fingers briefly brushing over lower back as she shifts past you to get to the front door. Her touch was brief, yet intentional. You swallow as the heat starts to coil in your stomach. Before Sevika can take another step, you speak up, the words slipping past your lips before you could even second guess saying them.

“You should stay,” you tell her.

Sevika stops mid-step, and both her and Abby turn over to look at you. Abby raises a brow, an amused look behind her eyes, while Sevika lets out a quiet shuckle, shaking her head slightly. “Oh yeah?” Sevika muses, her voice low and testing. She shifts toward your direction, tossing her jacket back onto the armrest of the couch before pressing her weight against it. “You sure about that, pretty girl?”

The challenge in Sevika’s tone sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow dryly, your heart pounding in your chest, but you don’t back down.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice steadier this time. “Stay with us.”

And so Sevika stays. She even makes herself comfortable too��leaning back against the armrest, her arms now crossing over her chest like she belongs here. Abby watches her, then watches you, all with a subtle amused expression on her face as if she already knows where this is headed.

You should sit down. You should relax. But you don’t. Instead, you remain standing, the anticipation causing your skin to erupt in goosebumps. It’s Abby who makes the first move—slow and concentrated as she steps closer to you from behind. Her fingers slowly brush your arm before leaning in just enough for you to hear her command. “Come on,” Abby murmurs, tilting her head toward the hallway that leads to her bedroom.

Sevika doesn’t move right away. She just watches, an amused smirk growing on her lips as she shifts her gaze between the two of you. She then lifts her weight off the arm rest to step closer to you, just enough for you to feel the heat of her body radiating against yours, and for her metal knuckles to brush over your hip again. Except this time, it wasn’t accidental. “You lead the way, sweetheart.” Sevika says, gesturing you toward the staircase.

You don’t do it just yet. Instead, you take a couple small steps back, eyes flickering between the two women before taking each of their hands into one of yours. You cautiously walk backwards as you approach the staircase, hand in hand with each of them. Abby is the first to fall into step in front of you, while Sevika lingers just beside her, close enough for you to hear the faintest chuckle under her breath, as if she already knows exactly what’s coming next.

The three of you arrive at Abby’s bedroom, and Abby briefly lets go of your hand before opening her door to the two of you. You enter inside with her, Sevika following right behind before shutting the door with her other hand. While still holding Sevika’s hand, you use your free hand to grab Abby by the collar of her shirt and pull her towards you in a deep kiss. Sevika lets go of your hand as she watches the two of you, but you’re quick to sense the loss of her touch and you pull away from Abby to turn to her and give her a kiss as well. For such a rugged woman like her, you were surprised to discover how soft Sevika’s lips were on yours—the kind of softness that would have you melting into her for more. The hair on the back of your neck quickly stands once Abby approaches you from behind. She brushes your hair over your shoulder, and begins to plant soft kisses on your bare skin as her hands meet with the zipper of your dress. However, her hand stills for a moment when she notices Sevika pulling away from you. “You sure about this, sweetheart? Bringing me in?” she asks, her head tilting slightly. “Because once we start, I’m not gonna be going easy on you.”

Abby scoffs and rolls her eyes back at her. “Don’t listen to her, sweetheart.” she says soothingly. “We’ll go at your pace, yeah?”

You nod at the two women, looking back at Sevika in reassurance. “I’m sure. I want you both here.”

Sevika lets out a low chuckle, stepping closer towards you as her fingers graze over your waist. “We’ll see about that.”

Her words are followed by the sound of a zipper, and you glance over to catch Abby unzipping your dress through your peripherals, a subtly desperate look in her blue eyes as she does so. Once the zipper reaches the end, she slides the dress off your body until it hits the ground, the fabric now pooling at your feet as you stand there fully exposed in nothing but the black thong that rested on your waist and hips. Sevika’s eyes darkened at the sight of your breasts, then bringing her gaze down to the rest of your figure. “My God…” she whispers, tracing the fingers of her flesh hand down the curves of your breast, waist and hip. “You look like a goddamn work of art, pretty girl.”

Abby chuckles over Sevika’s reaction as she presses another kiss on your shoulder. “She sure is a keeper, isn’t she?”

Sevika hums, briefly glancing at Abby before back at you. “Can’t believe your kid isn’t giving this pretty girl the attention she needs, Anderson.” she pauses for a moment before continuing. “If she were mine, I’d be worshipping her every damn second she’s with me.”

Your cheeks heat up a little over Sevika’s praise, and you inch a little closer to her to bring your hands over to the hem of her shirt. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here with us now, Sevika.” you whisper back to her. Once your fingers meet with her shirt you attempt to pull it over her, to which she assists you in doing so. Sevika pulls the shirt over her head before tossing it to the ground, and you can’t help but fawn over her physique in pure lust. She was just as jacked as Abby, maybe a tiny bit bulkier, and her olive skin was littered with scars on her chest and torso. Despite how battle worn she resembled, it only made you more desperate for her.

You turn around to look over at Abby, chuckling once you also catch her admiring Sevika as well. You do the same with her, lifting her shirt up by the hem and tossing it over her, smiling at the ripped freckled physique you were familiar with seeing. A sudden squeeze on your hip startles you, causing you to glance back over at Sevika. “Sit behind Anderson, pretty girl.” She commands, jerking her head over to the bed. A subtle smirk grows on Abby’s face, and she brings one of your hands into hers as she follows you towards the bed. She then kicks off her shoes and discards her pants from her legs. You watch as she mounts onto the bed, accommodating the pillows before settling herself down, keeping the space in between her legs open for you to join her. You hesitate for a moment, glancing over at Sevika to see her tilting her head towards Abby with a smirk on her face. With that, your body instinctively follows along, kicking off your heels onto the floor before getting into bed and positioning yourself in front of Abby with your back against her chest. Sevika’s the last one to go in, settling herself on her stomach with her face already in between your legs. Her metal and flesh fingers trail up your thighs and hips to hook them underneath the waistband of your underwear, causing your breath to hitch at the contact. You press your palms on Abby’s thighs to lift up your hips, allowing Sevika to slide the underwear off of you in one fluid motion. Then, as if it were a reflex, your legs naturally spread themselves open right in front of her. Sevika lets out a soft groan, her gaze getting hungrier once they meet with the sight of your soaking wet pussy.

Sevika didn’t delay any longer after that. She’s quick to dive right in, her tongue licking a long, experimental stripe up your cunt. A soft moan elicits from your mouth over the sensation, followed by a whimper once Sevika tightens her grip on your thighs and yanks you closer to her mouth, her tongue continuing to lick slow strokes through your pussy. Abby leans over you and gives Sevika a gentle squeeze on her forearm, provoking her to slightly lift up her head. “Hey, be gentle with her, okay?” she murmurs, slowly loosening her grip on her before leaning back against the headboard. “She’s a sensitive girl.”

Sevika clicks her tongue and shakes her head, almost in a way that she might not be able to stick with Abby's directions. “Can’t make any promises on that, Anderson,” she replies, letting her flesh hand go from your thigh so she can run a finger through your wet slit. “Especially when she tastes this good.”

Without warning, Sevika inserts a finger into your soaking cunt. You initially jerk back at the sudden sensation, before slowly easing into it, your hole gently clenching itself around her finger. Sevika is quick to slowly pump her finger in and out of your pussy while latching her mouth back onto your throbbing clit, and as she does so, Abby trails her hands up and down your torso before pausing at your breasts, gently stroking and squeezing them as Sevika continues to eat your pussy out in a painfully slow, yet rough manner. Her lips wrap around your clit even tighter and her finger starts to harshly curl against your g spot, causing you to whine at the sudden pressure.

“Sevika, I said be gentle,” Abby reminds her from behind, gently caressing your breasts as she watches Sevika’s movements. “I told you she’s sensitive.”

Sevika grunts back at her, briefly removing her mouth off of your throbbing clit to speak to her. “Where’s the fun in that, Anderson?” she replies as she inserts a second finger into your soaked cunt, admiring how you squirmed and whined at her touch. “Look at how much she likes it…pretty girl seems to be enjoying herself from the looks of it.”

While Abby and Sevika may present themselves in similar ways, you realize that they are both completely different in bed. Abby was the gentle type, who’d always touch you and handle your body with care as if you were a porcelain doll that could shatter at any moment. Sevika, on the other hand, was the opposite. She’s been manhandling the hell out of your thighs and pussy for the past ten minutes now, as if you had now turned into a ragdoll that could easily be thrown around the bed.

But if there’s one thing the two women have in common…it’s that making you cum was going to be their number one priority.

“You okay, beautiful?” Abby purrs into your ear, gently planting kisses on the back of your neck as Sevika continues to finger your cunt. “Is Sevika taking good care of you?”

You nod with a whine, and while Abby took that as a valid answer, Sevika sure didn’t. Her metal hand gripped your inner thigh harshly, causing you to jerk back at her once more. “Answer her question, sweetheart.” she mused, her steel gray eyes staring you down.

“Y-Yes! Please keep going, Sev…” you whine back to her. Sevika hummed, bringing her gaze back down to your gushing pussy as her fingers continued to pump at its standard pace. “Such a pretty pussy, baby…it’s crazy how Anderson’s kid can get to taste this whenever he wants.”

“Yeah, about that…” Abby chimes in, stifling a laugh. “It’s just me who does that. Andrew always refuses to do it.”

Sevika scoffed and shook her head in disbelief, her fingers slowing down their movements inside you. “You’re fucking lying.” Her eyes shift back over to you. “She’s lying, right?”

You look down at Sevika with a straight face, slowly shaking your head. “I-It’s true…h-he never does…”

Sevika couldn’t help herself. She starts to laugh, still unable to wrap her head around it. “Jesus, Anderson, your kid is pretty stupid for that. Who wouldn’t wanna get a taste of this gorgeous girl?” She leans in and licks another stripe up your pussy, letting out a groan as she savored the arousal that caught on her taste buds. “She tastes like fucking heaven.”

“That’s exactly what I had told her.” Abby replied. “But what can I say? He’s self-absorbed just like his father, and I sure can’t fix his stupidity either.”

You whined as your pussy clenched tightly around Sevika’s thick fingers. It felt insane to think about it, but the fact that Abby and Sevika were talking shit about your boyfriend like this couldn’t help but turn you on even more. However, Sevika was quick to sense your actions as her gaze dropped back down to your pussy. “Did you just clench around me?” she asks, looking back up at you. Her fingers began to speed up a little now, causing a whimper to escape from your throat as you clutch onto Abby’s bicep. “Seems like she’s getting off on hearing us talk shit about her stupid boyfriend.”

Abby chuckles, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on your cheek. “It’s because she knows it’s true. Besides, she’s got two women right here who’s gonna give her all the pleasure her body needs tonight.”

Sevika smirks, using her metal hand to spread your thighs out farther for her. “In that case, you better buckle up, princess…because we’re just getting started.”

With that, Sevika’s fingers speed up into your pussy even faster. You’re caught completely off guard by the sudden action, jerking back against her once more only for your hips to involuntarily grind against her and for your cunt to clench around her fingers once more. Sevika chuckles and watches you closely, relishing over how willing your body has become for her touch. “Can’t believe you even let him touch you,” she says, shaking her head. “Bet a pathetic boy like him doesn’t even know what to do with you.”

Abby hums in agreement, pressing another kiss on your shoulder as she starts to roll your hardened nipples in between her fingers. “But it was never about my son, was it, sweetheart?” she muses, a subtle smirk growing on her lips. “You always did have a clever way of getting what you want.”

“That so?” Sevika grins back, her voice getting rougher as she looks at you. “Then maybe it’s time that you really got what you wanted.”

A third finger slides into you, and a cry elicits from your mouth at the stretch. Your hands fly down to Abby’s thighs, nails digging into her soft freckled skin as your own thighs instinctively close around Sevika’s hand. “S-Sev…t-too much…” you whine out to her.

Sevika simply laughs, shaking her head tauntingly at your direction. “Oh no, you don’t get to close out on me, princess.” she says, forcing your legs back open with her metal arm and folding them up to your chest. “You wanted me to stay, remember? So you’re gonna take what I give you.”

Her fingers move relentlessly after that, and her head dips back down to suck on your clit. You’re quick to reach your peak as the coil in your stomach gets tighter with each passing second. Abby tries to coo and praise you as she continues to softly kiss you and hold your breasts, but her gentle actions do nothing to sublimate the intensity of Sevika’s fingers ramming in and out of your cunt. The combined sounds of your pitchy whines and the squelching sounds of your pussy filling the bedroom were borderline filthy. You try to tell Sevika that you’re close, give her some sort of warning—but you just can’t get the words out of your mouth. Sevika lifts her mouth off your clit and replaces it with the thumb of her metal hand while the rest of her arm keeps your thighs pinned up, the cold metal causing the rest of your body to shiver. “What’s wrong, princess?” she grins, tilting her head slightly as she watches you struggle. “Can’t get the words out?”

“I…I—” you’re cut off with another whine as Sevika’s fingers continue grazing over your g spot. All you could do was whine and writhe under her grasp, clawing for some sort of escape from the stimulation. Abby releases one of her hands from your breasts and brings it up to your jaw, tilting it to face her. “It’s okay, beautiful. You don’t have to say it.”

Sevika clicks her tongue in disagreement, pushing her fingertips harder inside you—as if she was trying to make you struggle even more to speak to her. “C’mon, princess. Use that pretty mouth of yours for something other than whining.”

Abby rolls her eyes and shakes her head, pressing a slow kiss to your jaw as her soothing voice remains intact. “Shh, it’s okay. We already know what you need.”

Sevika groans as her gaze shifts over to Abby. “Yeah, but I still wanna hear her say it.” She looks back over to you. “Go on, princess…say it.”

Your voice feels lodged in your throat, more gasps and whines slipping from it until finally—you get the words out. Or—you try to.

“S-Sevika, I…I-’m gonna—”

But it was too late. The stimulation gets to your body before you could even get the words out of your mouth. Without warning, a stream of release spurts out of your pussy and soaks up Sevika’s arm and Abby’s bed sheets in the process. Your thighs tremble under her grasp, back arching off of Abby’s chest as your eyes flutter shut and the rest of your face contorts in pure pleasure.

An astonished look is spread across Sevika’s face, her movements still not faltering inside you as your cunt continues to spasm and squirt all over her hand. “That’s it, pretty girl…let it all out for us.” she praised, her voice in a low, wicked purr. “Fuck, she looks so beautiful like this. So fucking perfect.” Her eyes fawn over your contorted face, taking in the way your back arched, your tits thrusting out and your mouth open into a silent scream of ecstasy. As your orgasm begins to subside, your body goes completely boneless on top of Abby. Sevika’s flesh fingers quickly withdraw from your cunt while her metal arm loosens its grip from the backs of your thighs. With her fingers still coated in your release, she brings them up to her mouth to suck them clean, her eyes briefly closing shut as she savors your taste. When she pulls them away from her lips, her voice is now laced with satisfaction. “Sweet girl. Just like I thought.” She’s quick to dive back into your cunt, her tongue lapping quickly on the surface as she cleans you off from the rest of your release. Sevika presses a final lingering kiss against your inner thigh, smirking as she looks back up at you. “No wonder you had Abby wrapped around your little finger.” she muses as she sat back up. “Think I might just keep you for myself.”

Your breath is still uneven, body still pliant against Abby’s as the aftershocks pulse through you. You barely have the strength to meet her gaze, but once you do, the heat in your eyes makes your stomach flip once more. Abby’s fingers trace slow circles over your shoulder, keeping you grounded as you slowly shift back to reality. She then reaches over to your jaw, cupping it gently as her blue eyes search for yours. “Still with us, sweetheart?” she asks softly, to which you reply to her with a whiny nod.

Sevika watches the two of you intently, and amused look on her face as she watches your fucked out self. “Oh, she’s with you alright. But let’s see if she can keep up, yeah?”

Once you catch your breath, your head drags over to face Sevika, who was now kneeling with a dark grin on her face. “I…I can handle it.” you pant out to her.

Sevika lets out a chuckle, shaking her head in disagreement. “Oh, yeah? We’ll see about that, pretty girl.”

Abby scoffs, playfully glaring back at Sevika before looking back down at you. “Ignore her. She likes to pretend she doesn’t have a soft side.”

Sevika simply raises an eyebrow, smirking as she crosses her arms over her chest. “And you like pretending you don’t want me to ruin her.”

Abby just smirks back at her, but she tilts her head just a bit in thought—as if an idea had just clicked into place. Her fingers trail gently up and down your arm, her touch light as a feather in comparison to Sevika’s rough hands from earlier. “Sevika sure made you feel good, didn’t she, sweetheart?” she purrs, leaning in closer to you.

Your breath hitches at her question, only mustering up the energy to answer her with a small nod. Sevika scoffs and shakes her head, shifting her weight against the mattress. “Oh, come on—”

Abby cuts her off with a hum, almost as if she had expected that reaction from her. Her fingers tilt your chin just enough to make you look at her. “I think she deserves a thank you, don’t you think?”

Sevika scoffs once more, rolling her eyes. “Oh please, I don’t need–”

“Don’t need what?” Abby asks, tilting her head slightly in amusement.

Sevika exhales through her nose, crossing her arms over her chest as if she couldn’t care less. But her gaze flickers over to you, watching you carefully. You shift, mustering the energy to sit yourself up from Abby’s lap, your pulse still pounding in your ears. You wanted to do it, not just to thank her—but to see her fall apart. You wanted to see how Sevika’s composure can slip, to see just how deep that soft spot of hers can be, no matter how much she denies it.

The click of Sevika’s tongue shakes you out of your thoughts as she leans in towards you. “You don’t have to do that for me, sweetheart.” she says, her voice quieter this time.

You swallow, your lips parting slightly as your eyes stay fixed on hers. “I want to do it, Sev.” you murmur back to her.

Sevika’s jaw tenses, just for a bit—but the rest of her doesn’t falter as she raises an eyebrow at you, her smirk still plastered on her face. “...Yeah? Is that so?”

You nod in response, and Abby leans in from behind to press a kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my girl.” she murmurs softly, brushing your hair to your other shoulder. “Go on, beautiful, you know what to do.”

Sevika doesn’t stop you this time. She watches as you sit up and approach her, already prepared for you to lean in and give her a tender kiss. Her lips melt against yours, and her hand trails down to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, causing you to whimper softly against her. She pulls away to sit herself up against the headboard next to Abby, but impatience starts to fill you as your hands meet with the buttons of her jeans. You sense some shifting from above, and you look up to see that Sevika has discarded her bra off to the side. Your eyes widen at the sight of her breasts, large and enticing to your gaze. Your lips part open, and you lift up one of your hands from her jeans to hold her breast, gently squeezing it before leaning in to latch your mouth onto her nipple. Sevika lets out a low groan at the sensation of your warm mouth on her chest. She gently runs her flesh hand down your head and upper back before bringing it down to her jeans to unbutton them.

Your mouth quickly switches over to her other breast, but before you could give it the attention it was needing, a rough tap against your forearm brings you out of focus. You pull away from Sevika’s chest and bring your gaze down to her lap, gasping softly once you see the sight below you. A dark purple strap attached to her hips through a black harness, its length thick and protruding, showing a sign that it needed something to fill. Arousal starts to flourish out your cunt once more, dripping down your inner thighs as your mind wanders on how you could possibly be able to take something this big.

Abby lets out a sigh next to you and you look over to see her shaking her head in disbelief. “That is way too big for her, Sevika,” she says, her voice slightly laced with concern as she wraps a firm hand around the length to take a closer look at it. “You’ll break her with something like this.”

Sevika scoffed and shook her head in disagreement. “That’s what you think.” She brings her gaze back down to her lap and begins to unbuckle the harness. “But let’s save that part for later, yeah?”

You didn’t want to admit it, but Abby was right. Even though Sevika might know her way around any woman’s body, Abby was the one who knew yours the best. She knew what made you melt, what pushed you too far, how much you could handle—and she knew that this would be more than what you could take.

But Sevika was going to prove her wrong very soon.

However, she wasn’t going to be worrying about that just yet. Sevika finishes removing her strap and sets it down next to her before shimmying off her pants and boxers in one motion. You watch with a hooded gaze as her legs spread out slowly on the bed, your eyes darkening at the sight of her cunt. It was a sight for sore eyes—her brown folds were puffy, glistening with her own arousal, and topped off with a trimmed patch of hair as the overall musk of it filled the room in an instant. Sevika’s pussy elicited a primal hunger inside of you, and you’re quick to lie down onto the bed and settle yourself in between her thick thighs. Your head slowly dips in, tongue darting out to lick a slow and savory stripe up her cunt, your eyes closing in pure bliss as Sevika’s arousal clings onto your taste buds. A low groan slips from Sevika’s mouth, her body instantly going soft from your touch. Her hips lift slightly, instantly offering herself to you, silently begging for more of your mouth onto her aching cunt. Your lips move up to gently suck onto Sevika’s throbbing clit, and the two of you could have sworn that she let out a whimper. Abby simply chuckles as she watches the sinful sight of the two of you unfold in front of her. “Well, would you look at that? I think my pretty girl has you melting, Sev.”

Sevika shook her head, shifting around as she tried to maintain her composure underneath you. “Don’t flatter yourself, Anderson.”

Abby laughs at her, crossing her arms over her chest as her eyes flicker between you and Sevika. “Oh, I don’t have to. You’re doing that all on your own.”

Sevika narrows her eyes down at the blonde woman, her mouth opening to spit back at her only to be cut off by another soft groan once your tongue slides inside her cunt. Her jaw clenches in an attempt to restrain herself, but her body betrays her, hips twitching further against your mouth. A shaky exhale slips from her lips, her eyes darkening as her gaze snaps back down to you. “F-Fuck, just like that…Don’t stop.”

Abby shifts closer to Sevika to watch the two of you, continuing to spur Sevika on as she brings a hand down to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “You should see yourself, Sev. Maybe you do have a soft spot after all.”

Another low grunt escapes from Sevika’s throat as your tongue swirls around her cunt, the tension in her body continuing to betray her. She doesn't even bother talking back to Abby and brings her focus back to you, her human fingers tangling in your hair as her breath continues to stutter. “Keep going, pretty girl. Just like that.”

You moan softly over her praises, the vibrations from your mouth stimulating her cunt in the most exquisite way. Sevika groans at the sensation, her eyes snapping shut as she tips her head back against the headboard.

Abby continues to watch the two of you, admiring how you both became lost in each other’s pleasure as if it were a trance. Her gaze drops back down to you—your body splayed face down on the bed, eyes closed in complete bliss as your tongue continues to flutter over Sevika’s puffy wet cunt, getting a fresh taste of her arousal with every jerk of her hips. Then, almost instinctively—your back arches off the mattress, leaving your ass perked up into the air—and an idea sparking into Abby’s mind.

The two of you don’t even register Abby’s movements around the bedroom—the weight shifting on the bed, the sound of soft footsteps on the ground, followed by the sound of her nightstand drawer—raises no curiosity to you and Sevika whatsoever.

The weight shifts around the bed once more—particularly right behind you. You think nothing of it at first—until a sudden pressure begins to stretch into your cunt. You gasp, and your mouth briefly parts away from Sevika’s pussy, curious to find the source of this familiar stretch. You glance over your shoulder to see Abby kneeling behind, now fully nude with her strap buckled around her hips, the tip of it already teasing into your cunt. She keeps her hands firm on your hips, slowly pushing her strap inch by inch until it reaches the base. A low moan slips from your mouth once she bottoms out, the stretch of her cock filling your cunt already making you go dizzy. Abby smirks once she sees the already fucked out look that was spreading onto your face. “You should see yourself, princess. Looks like you missed having my cock in you, yeah?” she asks, to which you reply with a whiny nod. Without even warning you, Abby begins to slowly thrust her cock in and out of you, causing your eyes to roll back in pleasure.

The headspace didn’t last for long when a sharp tap against your cheek pulled you back from the fog that Abby’s cock had you drowning in. It’s not harsh, but firm enough to make your eyes snap back open, to remind you that there’s still someone else waiting on you. Sevika’s smirk is lazy, her eyes still dark with lust as her calloused fingers squish your cheeks, making your lips pout while it’s still glistening with her arousal. “Did I say you could stop, pretty girl?” she asks sternly, tilting her head slightly.

Your lips part open to respond to her, but Abby thrusts into your pussy once more, causing only a broken whine to come out instead. You shake your head at Sevika, and her grip loosens on your face just to move to the back of your head, fingers now tangling in your hair. “That’s what I thought.” Her hand begins to push your head back into her neglected cunt once more. “Get back in there, princess. I’m still not done with you.”

All you can do is oblige, allowing Sevika’s cunt to stuff your mouth while Abby’s cock stuffed your cunt. Once your tongue slides back inside her, Sevika takes full control of your mouth, keeping your face buried into her pussy as she fucks herself onto your tongue, desperate groans and grunts of pleasure slipping from her mouth with every thrust of her hips. She can feel every inch of your tongue, every flick and swirl sending shockwaves of ecstasy through her body. Her clit throbs as she grinds herself harder against your mouth, chasing the sweet release that was bound to happen at any moment. However, you also couldn’t miss the sounds that Abby made from behind either, the breathy pants and gasps escaping her lips as the strap deliciously rubs against her clit every time she thrusts it into your hungry cunt. Your body shifts back and forth between the two women despite the firm grips they had on you, practically using you as a toy for their own pleasure.

Sevika is quick to get close, her grip on your hair tightening, holding you firmly in place as she continues to grind her cunt, her low groans shifting into desperate cries with each passing second. Her strong thighs quiver on the sides of your head, her body tensing as you feel her rapidly approaching climax. Abby continues to thrust her cock steadily into your dripping pussy from behind, the obscene sound of her hips slapping against your ass filling the bedroom.

Your brain starts to feel like mush as you’re lost into the pleasure of the two women using your body for their own satisfaction. The sensation of Abby’s strap sliding in and out of your dripping cunt combined with the salty taste of Sevika’s arousal filling your mouth is almost too much for you to handle. You can feel your own climax building quickly as your walls start to tense and spasm around Abby’s thick length.

A string of incoherent moans and curses coming from above hit your eardrums as Sevika thrusts her hips further into your face, her pussy clenching as she hits the brink of her orgasm. With a loud cry of your name, her body goes rigid as she finally comes undone. Her pussy clenches once more around your tongue, gushing and pulsing as her release floods onto your mouth and chin. The intensity of her climax causes her thighs to brutally shake around your head, her fingers twisting almost painfully in your hair as she rides out the final shockwaves of her pleasure.

As Sevika recovers from her orgasm, she watches as Abby continues to pound you from behind, admiring how your face remained pressed against her crotch, eyes fluttered shut in pleasure as drool pools from your lips and onto her cunt while Abby’s strap fucked you deliciously. A mischievous idea sparks in her mind, and she signals Abby to stop. “Mind if I finish our pretty girl off, Anderson?” she asks, her eyes darkening towards the blonde.

Abby looks back at her, nodding in agreement “Why of course, you’re our guest of honor after all.”

You were too drunk, too fucked out to register the conversation between the two women. Until—Abby stops. She slowly begins to pull her cock out of you, and your mind slowly begins to shift back to reality. You start to whine as the loss, weakly pushing your hips back against her as a desperate sign for her to keep you full. Sevika simply chuckles as she gently lifts your head to push herself off the bed. “There, there, pretty girl,” Sevika muses, reaching for her strap on the bed and putting it on. “Anderson and I are just gonna switch places, yeah? But don’t worry, you’ll get your fill again soon.”

Abby slowly pulls the rest of her strap out of your dripping cunt before shifting aside to let Sevika take her place, the thick strap of hers bobbing obscenely as she settles in between your legs. Her gaze lingers on the immense length of Sevika’s strap, shaking her head in uncertainty. “Sevika, there’s no way she’s gonna be able to take this.” she reminds her.

Sevika simply scoffs and looks over to her, raising a confident brow. “She’s a big girl, Anderson. If she can be able to withstand faking it with your kid for this long, then she can handle me.”

Abby sighs back at her, unable to fight back with that statement. She moves closer to Sevika, and she allows her some space for her to settle next to her. “Well, in that case, let me help you break her in.”

A shiver starts to travel down your spine once Abby’s warm palms land onto the skin of your ass, slowly spreading them open to reveal the sight of your cunt, still dripping with your arousal, your clit throbbing while your hole clenches around nothing with a desire to be filled again. Sevika groans softly, bringing her flesh fingers to your puffy folds and spreading them open to get a better look. “Fuck, I’ve never seen a pussy this needy before.” She muses, angling her flesh thumb down to rub gentle circles on your throbbing clit, only for more of your arousal to drip out of your hole. A laugh elicits from her mouth at the sight of it, shaking her head. “And he really thought he was keeping you satisfied, huh? Poor bastard.”

With that, Sevika’s metal hand wraps around the shaft of her strap, aligning it with your entrance before she pushes the tip inside. Half of her length is quick to slide in, and it was no surprise to the two women given how soaking wet you were. A groan falls from your mouth once Sevika bottoms out inside you, your mind already floating from being so full of her.

Abby lets go of your cheeks and trails a gentle hand down your thigh, rubbing it soothingly as her gaze stays fixed on your face, scanning for any pain or discomfort you might express. Her lips part open to speak to you, but a firm squeeze on her forearm keeps her from doing so. “Hey,” Sevika murmurs, leaning close to her. “She’ll be fine, yeah? Look how good she’s already taking me.”

She gestures to Abby to lie back down on the bed, and she hesitates, just for a moment—but obliges. Abby settles herself on the bed in front of you, spreading her legs wide. You try to lift up your head, the weight of it feeling like a thousand pounds. A gentle hand is placed on your jaw as Abby lifts your head up and slowly guides you closer to her until your face is hovering over her glistening cunt. Before you could latch your mouth onto her, Sevika is already beginning to thrust her cock into you, causing a strangled moan to escape from your throat. Your mind is reeling, overwhelmed by the pleasure of being so used and filled by these two women. But you still obey nonetheless as you give in to Sevika’s thrusts and dive into Abby’s wet pussy. Your tongue lazily slides between Abby’s slick folds, stroking and swirling around her tight hole and her sensitive clit as you lose yourself in pleasuring her.

Abby’s head tilts back against the pillows, eyes fluttered shut in pleasure at the sensation of your mouth lapping onto her cunt. “O-Oh fuck, sweetheart…you’re d-doing so good taking me and Sev like this…” Abby’s fingers tangle into your hair, holding you firmly against her as she grinds her cunt against your mouth. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, spurring you on as you feel Sevika’s thick strap stretching you wide with every thrust of hers, her movements getting quicker and rougher with each passing second.

Sevika’s metal and flesh hands tighten their grip on your ass as she leans over your back, her muscular body pressing against you as her strap continues to plunge in and out of your dripping cunt with brutal intensity. “Fuck, pretty girl…Look at you, taking my cock while eating Anderson out like a good girl.” she praises, letting out a groan right when the harness hits on her clit. “I bet this is a hell of a lot easier than pretending to enjoy yourself with that useless boyfriend of yours, huh?"

A muffled whine was all you reply to her with as your mouth stays fixed on Abby’s pussy. Abby’s back arches off the bed, her moans and cries escalating higher as your tongue pushes her closer to the edge. “Fuck, sweetheart! Right there!” she exclaims, pushing your head further into her as she angles her hips against you. “D-Don’t stop, sweet girl, don’t fucking stop…”

Feeling both of them closing in on their releases, you try to fight through the haze in your mind and muster up the energy to double your efforts. Your lips tighten around Abby’s clit, tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive bud of hers. Your inner walls start to clench around Sevika’s plunging strap, your own climax quickly accumulating as she continues to stretch and fill your pussy in the most sensational way. “That’s it, pretty girl, come for us.” Sevika demands, reaching her flesh hand around to rub tight circles over your clit. “Let us hear what he was too pathetic to pull from you.”

Sevika’s final words were what pushed you over the edge. A scream of ecstasy erupts from your lungs, muffled against Abby’s cunt as your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your pussy clenches harshly around the strap, walls spasming as you cum all over the length, completely coating the purple silicone with your thick release as it keeps stretching you wide. Your body shakes and convulses between the two women, back arching in pleasure as your vision goes white, leaving you a writhing and whimpering mess. Abby’s own climax is quick to follow next, cumming a loud cry of your name as she grinds her gushing cunt into your face, coating your lips and cheeks with her release. You drink up every last drop of her in primal thirst, her thighs trembling between your head as her orgasm tears through her.

The two women hold you in place, using your trembling body as they ride out their highs, Abby eventually collapses back onto the bed, chest heaving, while Sevika leans over you, both of you panting and shining in sweat and arousal. As the haze of pleasure slowly subsides between the three of you, you find yourself sandwiched between them, your face still pressed against Abby’s twitching cunt while Sevika’s strap was still buried deep inside your fluttering pussy. You truly have never felt so thoroughly used, so deliciously satisfied—it was a sensation that Andrew could have never fulfilled.

The two women slowly loosen their grips from you, and Sevika eventually pulls out of you with a wet squelch. The strap slipping from your abused cunt followed by a final gush of your release, and the rest of your body goes limp and collapses onto the mattress once Sevika lets go of your hips. The weight of exhaustion settles deep in your limbs, the warmth of the bed and the lingering touch of their hands pulling you under. The last thing you feel before slumber consumes you is the soft press of lips—whose, you’re not sure—against your temple, followed by the distant murmuring of their voices as they move around you.

The room is much calmer and quieter by the time you stir awake. You’re tucked beneath a fresh set of sheets, and you realize you’re no longer bare once you notice one of Abby’s shirts was clinging onto you instead. A weight shifts beside you, and you look to the right to see Abby slipping into bed beside you, now comfortably dressed, her hand finding yours under the covers. Across the room, Sevika is still standing, her boxers back on as she searches around for the rest of her clothes on the floor. The two of you watch her intently, both tempted to do the same thing—to not let her go just yet.

Abby chimes in, sitting up just enough to face her. “You should stay,” she murmurs, voice thick with drowsiness.

Sevika sighs, picking up her jeans from the floor. “It’s late. I should—”

“It is late,” you repeat, voice softer and laced with sleep. You shift closer to Abby to make an open space for her as you meet with her gaze, your eyes heavy-lidded but certain. “Stay with us, please?”

There’s a brief pause. Her eyes linger on you, and for a moment, it seems like she’ll refuse—but then, the corner of her mouth twitches just a bit. She doesn’t want to admit it—not to Abby, not to you—but something about the way you say it, the way Abby's voice softens, makes her want to stay. She gives into it in an instant, letting out a low, amused grunt as she sets her discarded clothed back down. “Alright, I’ll stay. I can’t exactly say no to the two of you.”

Abby smirks, her hand brushing over yours. “We’ll make it worth your while, Sev.”

Sevika only shakes her head, her lips twitching into a smile as she removes her prosthetic arm and sets it aside before settling back into the bed. The warmth from her body pressed against yours as she gets comfortable, but there’s a gentle side of hers in the way she adjusts the covers, a quiet understanding in the way her human hand brushes over yours, just enough to remind you that she’s still there with you too.

And soon enough with Sevika’s steady presence beside you and Abby’s warmth wrapping around you from behind, the exhaustion takes over you once more. You fall asleep again, nestled between the two of them, safe in the soft rhythm of their breaths.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☽⋅⋆ ──

Later in the night, Abby stirs. The peacefulness of the house is interrupted by the distant sound of tires rolling over pavement, followed by the familiar footsteps approaching the front door. She’s out of bed by now, patiently waiting at the top of the stairs, curious as to who could be coming here this late. The door creaks open, and Andrew stumbles inside, still slightly drunk and disoriented as the keys jingle in his grip. Abby scoffs under her breath, shaking her head as she moves past him and heads to the kitchen for a glass of water.

It isn’t until she heads back up the stairs, cold glass now resting in her hand, that she hears him follow behind her. “Hey Mom, uh…where is she?”

She doesn’t answer right away, only peeks through the slight crack in her bedroom door. Inside, under the soft glow of the moonlight, you’re now curled up on your back beside Sevika, face peaceful, body relaxed in a way he’s sure he’s never seen before.

Andrew shifts around uncomfortably, rubbing at his neck. “She didn’t answer my texts, and her car is still outside.”

Abby turns over to look at him, raising a brow. “Maybe she finally had something better to do.”

His brows furrowed in conclusion, an uncertain look expressed on his face over his mother’s response. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Abby huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she takes a sip of her water before responding to him. “Don’t think too hard about it, Andrew. Just go to bed.”

She turns back to her door before he speaks again. “Do you know if she’s okay, at least?”

Abby glances over to him, then through the door again—at the way Sevika’s flesh arm rests loosely over your waist, at how you press into her warmth, both of you lost in deep slumber. The sheets are slightly rumpled where Abby had been lying before she got up, the warmth of her spot still lingering and waiting for her return. A small, knowing smile grows on her lips before she looks back at him. “She’s in good hands, Andrew.” she says simply. “Exactly where she’s meant to be.”

Without another word, she steps into her bedroom and shuts the door behind her, leaving him standing alone in the dimly lit hallway while she returns to where she belongs—where she’s also meant to be.

i’m not gonna lie…writing this fic drained me so much. but i hope it was worth the wait 🥲

requested tags 🏷️: @jinxvex @lucidfairies @valentinewife @willurms @jhyoos @thatgrlnany @sevikas-whore @brisaccount @iluvwomensm @halle5s @tohoko @blackdykegirlblogger @lenahhsworld @starrycherie @acidblum

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haztory · 13 days ago

Text

the lonely fight.

— masterlist | part one | part two — jack abbot x fellow f!reader; attending/fellow dynamic, age-gap (unspecified but reader is late 20s and up, jack is mid 40s), heavy plot, slow-burn, this is a crack/fluff followed by angst, alcohol consumption featuring the night shift team and team bonding exercises, more yearning, more wanting, escalation of tensions, city girl confronting jack's deep rooted issues, jack being a traumatized man — word count: 6.3k — summary: Karaoke night is supposed to be a morale boost for the team. It only escalates tensions even further for you and Jack.

It’s late into your shift on Wednesday when Ellis and Shen find you in the brief lull.

Saying the night has been easy is an insult, one you’re not keen on doling out without proper padding and a roll of sterile gauze clutched to your side, battle tested and ready for war. You’re down an attending, the three residents that were scheduled for tonight have been reduced to one, and two nurses have been cut early in the night due to budget constraints. Leaving only a skeleton crew to man the deck for the night.

You manage. You all do. With gritted teeth and the incessant propensity to keep moving.

Would manage even better in between putting your notes in for the girl in Room Three who got an earring stuck inside of her lobe if the network for the EHRs wasn’t experiencing a statewide slow-down. You’re one more loading screen away from punting the computer altogether when the two doctors brace either side of your work station. They settle next to you with a tired air—one not quite exhausted but close enough to know that they’re counting down the minutes until sunrise.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask the two of them, eyes locked on the buffering screen in front of you.

“We might have to go to paper.” Shen says.

Your eyes find him, quickly. “Who said that?”

”Richmond’s on the phone with admin.” Ellis says, leaning her chin into her palm. “They’re talking about it.”

You sigh, waving the white flag with the computer. “If they want handwritten notes, they’re not going to be up to standard and I don’t want to hear shit about it. I have three patients that need to get logged in and more that are going to come in soon.”

“Broken left hand. X-rayed. Fixed.” John supplies, dryly with a pantomime of his hand writing on paper. You snort in agreement. Shen bobs his head from side to side as he looks around the floor. “At least it’s quiet.”

Your head snaps to him just as Ellis’ falls into her hands and groans.

“What is wrong with you—“

“—do you ever learn—”

Shen shrugs you both off. “You guys are so superstitious.”

“We need a smarter attending on the floor.” Parker sighs, dragging her hands down her face. She looks at you, desperately. “How long before your boards, sunshine?”

You laugh at her, pitiful and flat. “Don’t count on me so soon. I’ve still got time.”

“We need more attendings who don’t play with God on the floor.” Parker pins an ugly stare at John, just as he shrugs in return.

“Jokes on you, Parker. I feel like I play with God everyday.” You tease, but you sympathy for her sorrow and continue, offering your answer as a means of consolation to her. “I take them in six months.”

Thing One and Thing Two nod slowly, digesting the words in what should be a passing understanding. But—there’s a look in their eyes. Too knowing, too conspiratorial, to be considered innocuous.

Your eyes narrow at them, “What?”

”What?” Parker parrots.

“Why do you guys have that look?”

John turns his head to Parker, then back to you. “We don’t have a look.”

”You’ll be here, right?” Parker ignores your question, giving her own. “After you pass?”

John seconds Parker. “Not going back to New York?”

”Or Florida?”

“No.” You tell them, skeptical at their line of questioning. Still, you give the truth. “Pittsburgh is home for a while.”

“It’s the winters, right?” John asks. “Keeps you coming back?”

Parker scoffs. “No, it’s definitely Eliza Furnace Trail. The smell of piss and shit, just addicting.”

“There’s reasons to stay.” You tell them, finalizing your notes on the system and returning to the home screen. A shadow moves in the corner of your eye, drawing your attention to it quickly. You spot Jack exiting North 10, speaking quietly to Anna Maria as the two head further into the hallway.

You turn your attention back to the Scooby and Shaggy, only to find them staring curiously at you. Then, with glib interest, you tack on, “And maybe it has something to do with you two.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Yeah, totally.”

Your laugh is light and the two smile knowingly. Peace settles in the air, complimented by the steady beeps of the machines in the examination rooms and the soft chatter across the floor.

Ellis clears her throat. “You’re coming, right? Friday night?”

You nod. “I am. Taking roll call?”

“Gotta make the reservation for the table.”

“Who’s going?”

“Us, Hilly, Anna Maria, a couple of people from day shift.”

“You guys ask any other attendings?”

“Basu’s doing a double, Robby gave a hell no, Walsh is on the fence and we’re fine with that. And we were going to ask Abbot, but—” Ellis’ voice trails off and she weighs her hand like a scale.

Shen cuts in, dryly. “We were hoping you would do it.”

Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum remain pointedly innocent even as your glare turns deadly on them.

“You both have to stop this.” You grit out. “Why me?”

“Because you guys got that weird telepathy thing going on.” Shen provides, simply. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He looks to Ellis for backup, which earns a supportive smile from her.

“He will give you the same answer that he will give me.” You insist for the hundredth time, punctuating the statement with an eye roll for emphasis on exactly how you feel about it.

They both stare blankly at you. Not that you blame them entirely. Try as you might otherwise, even you can hear the gentle deceit on your tongue when you insist on normalcy between you and the attending.

If anyone asks, it’s respect. Admiration, trust, and all the sister siblings of a well-meaning accord that force you to hold the man in high regard. Nothing more.

You keep the low pulse of hope and longing that toils within your stomach pointedly quiet.

“Just ask.”

“You guys are ridiculous.” You stand from your desk, deciding the moment has dragged on and you’d rather not be caught in the crosshairs of further investigation. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to check on my patients before Shen’s curse catches up to us.”

“Tell him we’ll cover the beer!” John calls after you as you make your way down the hall, conveniently in the same direction Abbot went down.

You wave your hand in the air, brushing the two of them off. “I know how to do it.”

They wait until you’re a safe distance away from earshot before turning to each other.

“Good work.” Parker tells John, holding her fist out to him. He bumps it in relaxed victory. “You adjusting?”

He shakes his head, his lips turning downward in a frown of intrigue. “Nah. I still think that it happens before the boards.”

“I’m switching to eight months.” Ellis supplies lowly.

“Why eight?”

“When she gets results back and passes, that’s when it happens. Abbot’s not going to fuck a fellow, too much of a power thing.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he’d fuck any fellow, but he’d make an exception for that one.”

“My money is on when she becomes an attending. Abbot would fuck an attending.”

“So… you’re saying I have a chance.” John says and Parker shoves his shoulder with a laugh.

—

Luck is something rarely afforded to the ED. It’s sheer will power that things manage to work, human perseverance and triumph even in the moments of clear sabotage as the unit is denied more staff, denied more resources, forced into a corner to fend for themselves with bare threads of patience and the bottom of the barrel that nobody else wants to touch.

The floor isn’t lucky that the number of people waiting for care is relatively tame at the same time that the hospital's servers are undergoing an update that’s halted everything in its track. Luck implies something good, something that changes the tides for the better. The floor is just coincidentally in the eye of the hurricane at the moment. One ambulance away from teetering over the edge and plunging the unit into the swirling winds and drowning rain.

Jack doesn’t count his blessings. That’s asking for fate to be tempted. He watches the time tick on his watch and waits. Listens for the distant sounds of thunder approaching, finding only the soft squeak of sneakers on the tile floor.

He hears you before he sees you. The familiar sound of your steps, the steadied pattern, the jingle of your badge against the swivel clip on your chest

He’s standing beside the rolling cart outside of North 15, having given up on any attempt at reviewing the team’s charting notes when the screen gave its fourth error message. You lean against the door frame, watching him.

“I talked to Richmond. We’re switching to papers.”

“Medieval times.” His expression flickers with disbelief, before smoothing into one of calm neutrality. His jaw clenches, tight for a second. “We’ve been through worse.”

“Don’t speak too soon. The psych eval that was about to get sent up just got delayed because they can’t get access to his medical history. Probably going to get worse for my other three that were ready for transfer to different units that also have their records in a system that is shut down.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” He meets your eyes, unabashed in his displeasure.

“I wish I was. I called, tried to strike the fear of God into Psych but those people aren’t scared of shit. They said it’s too risky.”

He scoffs. “If they really want to know risk, why don’t they come down and see how the other half lives?”

“That’s what I said. I was able to pull a favor with Ortho. On the record, they’ll accept four so long as we provide them with some form of medical history.”

He raises a brow, “Off the record?”

“They said they want a sticky note, minimum, but can be convinced for oral presentation as long as we’re available for any questions. I told Shen and Parker to choose the most important to go up. Just need your sign off.”

The still nonchalance cracks slightly. He smirks. Impressed. “Done. Good work.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re scary, you know that?”

“You like it.” You smile and he shakes his head slowly, but he doesn’t deny it. And you know then that you’ve caught him ripe enough to push further. “By the way, Shen and Ellis want to know if you’re going to the karaoke night thing on Friday.”

It draws a narrowed stare your way. “You their messenger now? That’s the third time this week.” His eyebrow raises, entirely unamused at the prospect.

You take his annoyance to be directed at the invitation. He’s concerned by the fact that the two doctors know to send you.

You push past it, giving it little thought. “Are you?”

“…No.”

You catch the hesitation. Brief, but there. “Why not?”

“I deal with this place enough, I don’t need it cutting into my day off.”

“C’mon. It’ll be good for morale.”

“If I wanted to be tortured I’d pick up a double, not sit and listen to you all scream at the top of your lungs.”

You hold your hands up in surrender, “Fine, be a grouch. If you happen to find yourself free on Friday night, we’ll be at Riley’s. Eight o’clock. I’ll be wearing a blue sweater and singing ‘Single Ladies’. Can’t miss it.”

Jack looks at you from beneath lashes. “Don’t do Beyoncé like that.”

You pull your head back in amazement. “I’m surprised you even know who Beyoncé is.”

He steps towards you, his hands falling to hold the stethoscope around his neck. His gait is slow as he crosses the small distance from the cart to the other side of the door frame. You can see how he’s favoring his left leg yet makes no betrayal of that on his face. “I’m not that out of touch.”

“Had me fooled. You’re allergic to fun.”

“Our definitions are drastically different.”

“And what do you do for fun, Dr. Abbot?” Your head tilts. He leans against the other side of the frame and folds his arms across his chest. Your eyes flick quickly to the sight, tempted by muscle and veins.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” His smile slants. Hung and crooked, like a crescent moon in the sky. It creases into his skin gracefully and the urge to bask in the luster that shines from the rarity of his smile surges within you tenfold.

“I would, actually. I’d like to know what you get into on your days off. Except for building furniture for sleeping people.”

He huffs a breath, his head tucking down to his chest. Not in embarrassment, but shyness at the reminder of his good deed performed by the other side of Jack Abbot. One revealed to you in parts, with his hand lingering on your back, his eyes fixed on you, and care imbued in the small things he does.

He peers his head out of the doorway, looking over the floor before meeting your gaze. He thinks, for a moment, before deciding that disclosing is low in some kind of risk.

“I run.”

“Really?”

“Yeah really. Good for the heart.” He bats.

“Bad for the knees.” You return.

“Good thing I’m already down one.”

You hum, amused. Delighted to know more. “What else?”

“I read.”

“Yeah? What do you read?”

Jack shrugs, blasé. “Whatever catches my eye.”

“Romantasy, right? You seem the type.”

“Is that the elf shit the nurses are talking about?”

“Faes.” You correct.

“Whatever the fuck that means. Pointy-eared weirdos frolicking in flowers.”

“God, you are old.” Your laugh is soft, gently reverberating through him and he finds himself leaning into it. Watching it, letting it wash over him like a warm sip of coffee on the long shift. A sweet relief. “I’ve got some good recommendations if you want them.”

“I don’t want to read fairy porn.”

“No, I save that for the people who will appreciate that. I’ve got some memoirs, good educational reads, fun stuff. We can start our own book club.”

“A book club?” He repeats, eyebrows raised on his face in disbelief. “Now who’s old?”

“Well, the difference here is that I go out and have fun while still embracing old people things.”

A message interrupts, then. It sounds over the intercom and both your attentions are called to it. It’s over as soon as it happened, one of the nurses announcing someone’s name and instructing them to see The Hub, but it’s the disruption to the easy rhythm. A reminder to you both in your respective yet silent realizations that there is a world outside of this moment—one that was easily forgotten, for a second.

You tap his arm, voice earnest as you appeal to him, just before either of you can be called to duty. “Come to Riley’s on Friday. I’ll let you pick what I sing.”

Jack shifts on his feet, settling his lean further against the door frame. His shoulders, broad and sturdy, sway before finding stillness again. “You’re stooping to bribery now?”

“This is part of my tactic. Warm you up, bribe you, profit.” You explain. “I’ll pull out all the stops if I have to, which includes giving you the first pick of my song.”

“Your tactic needs some work.” He cocks his head at you. “You shouldn’t give someone that much power. Could land you in big trouble.”

“And yet, I’m giving it to you.”

The banter stills. Halts completely, only the low hum of the fluorescent lights filling in the space.

It’s not the first time you’ve said something to that effect—a seemingly simple declaration. Spoken as easy as you breathe, as if you haven’t further fractured the barely held boundary that lies blurred and frayed between you two. This tiny truth of yours isn’t a simple compliment. They’re windows of implications into something deeper. Something more volatile that simmers under the warmth of your skins and behind each tease.

It happens, then. The inevitable, the familiar, the expected. The song and dance that has become so routine that escape seems futile.

The induction of the soft feelings. The confusing ones.

Jack stares straight into the fire, unconvinced that you don’t know what you’re doing. Unconvinced that he should walk away.

“Beer will be on Shen.” Your voice lilts into a song, a means to diffuse the tension.

“That’s a terrible idea.” He says disapproving, but there’s no malice in it.

“Whatever gets people to come.” A beat passes and you know that, at the very least, he’s considering the offer.

“Tell Shen and Ellis to stop making you do their dirty work.” He says quietly. You shake your head softly, suppressing the want to tell him that talking to him is the farthest thing from dirty work. It’s an easy task, one you look forward to most days.

“I’ll consider it.” You say instead. He nods, knowing that the two will keep going to you for as long as the affinity he has for you is as obvious as it feels.

“So…” You kick your foot out, tapping his leg gently, “Are you coming?”

His lips curl, slightly. “…I’ll see.”

“Good.” You move from your place on the door frame, inching backwards into the hallway. Back into the rush and chaos of a world that feels so far away from this little bubble the two of you made.

“By the way, Shen said the “q” word, so prepare.”

Jack sighs, heavy and annoyed. Luck and fate tempted once more.

“Does he want a black eye?”

—

The door to Riley’s opens with a squeal at 9:15 PM on Friday. The sound is drowned out entirely by the screams that erupt from the crowded establishment when someone’s voice tilts falsetto at the opening line of Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’.

Jack’s eyes look to the stage, only moderately surprised to see Shen delivering the performance of a lifetime. A bottle of beer is clutched close to the man’s chest as he hits notes only a prepubescent boy could to a crowd more than supportive of his endeavors, a red flush to his cheeks.

He wasn’t going to come.

A morning traffic jam that resulted in a six car pile-up on I-279 this morning led to a late exit for Jack which led to an even later morning trying to tackle all of the things he wanted to do for the day. Grocery shopping for meal planning, a stop at a supply store to fix the rubber seal on his leaky kitchen faucet, start his week’s worth of laundry, fit in some semblance of sleep in there (maybe). Top it all off with ESPN and a beer.

It wasn’t in the plan to come. It just didn’t fit.

…but then you sent a photo.

A picture of you seated at a table with a smile so bright it could single handedly illuminate the dark and dingy bar surrounding you. Parker sits to your left distracted by something off camera with John standing behind the two of you, a peace sign thrown up as he leans down to stay in the frame. And to your right, an empty chair. Your text saying: Saving you a seat!

So he came. Because the promise of free beer and a means to decompress after a shitty week of long and trying shifts was enticing enough.

(And because you asked, but he stomps out that answer like a low broiling fire needing to be put out.)

He finds you immediately in the surge. Blue sweater at the middle table and an empty chair beside you. Just like you said.

His steps are cautious, dodging moving bodies and his own discomfort as he zeroes you in his sight. He fits in beside you just as your hands raise upward shouting a song lyric with the singing group, sliding into the seat as if he just came back from the bathroom instead of making his grand entrance. You notice the movement, your singing faltering as you look to defend the empty chair from pilfering. Your hair is loose from the usual style you have from work, strands framing your face, your body relaxed from the alcohol you’ve no doubt been drinking. There’s a scrunch to your face as you look at him that immediately peels into one of joy when you realize who it is.

“You’re here!” You shout, your excitement bringing you closer to him. Your touch is liberal, spurred by the haze of drunken inhibitions. Leaning into him, your hands fall onto his shoulders, grabbing onto him as if you were afraid he would disappear. He lets you, watching amused as you fail to contain your elation. Affected, as you bleed into him.

There’s a dry resignation on his face, like he finds this to be equal parts burdensome and amusing. But he makes no move to put distance between you two. “I’m here.”

“Do you want a beer?” You shout over the noise, “Come on, I’ll get another one too!”

“How many have you had?”

You hold his gaze for a moment, smile turning sheepish. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s get you some water instead—” He moves for the pitcher of water in the middle of the table, grabbing a plastic cup sat beside it and filling it up.

“No! C’mon!” You grab onto his forearm, halting him from pouring anymore, “I don’t work tomorrow. Let me have fun.”

“You’re going to wake up nauseous and knee deep in regret tomorrow when you realize everyone’s recording you guys.”

“I don’t care.” You laugh, earnestly. “I don’t regret the things that I want, Jack.”

As his hand hovers over the pitcher, yours falls onto his arm nearest to you. Grasping onto the breadth and holding him tightly. Even in the slur of your words, he sees the honesty behind it. How intently you say it, mean it. Might mean something else behind it all, too.

“Come on.” You begin again, a siren song on your tongue perfectly heard even in the shrieks of the bar. “Grab a beer, have fun with us. With me. You held up your end of the bargain, I’ll keep mine.”

He looks over your shoulder, relieved to find that the table is too entranced by Shen’s glorious rendition of the ballad to be concerned with the intimate moment behind them.

“I haven’t gone up yet. You get to choose my song.”

Your eyes are warm, beautiful. And close. Too close.

“I was promised Beyoncé.” He says after a second, softer than the moment calls for, softer than he intended it to be.

You smile happily at him. “Beyoncé and a beer, coming right up!”

The soft feelings, the confusing ones, slip into the narrow space between you.

Despite it all, Jack is steady. Sipping casually at his Miller watching person after person head on the stage and make a fool of themself. It’s that steadiness that has you drawn to him. Not sloppily or messily, but just teetering past a point of buzzed and into the embrace of loose.

Your thigh touches his underneath the table mistakenly. Once, twice, four times. He presses back into you, comfortingly. You lean into him when you laugh, mutter the smart quip and teasing joke at a certain performance that he shakes his head at. His arm slings around the back of your chair, only slightly brushing against your shoulders.

And it’s easy.

“This is for you, Abbot!” Shen calls over the microphone an hour later, his face flushed red with his drunken stupor as he clutches the microphone like it's his last chance. The static from the speakers blows from how close he holds it to his mouth. “This is dedicated to that epic pericardiocentesis you did the other day that I’m still thinking about, you handsome man.”

The rushing piano of “I Need a Hero” plays and it’s the first time you see Jack’s shoulders shake from laughter as he raises a beer up to Shen. The song progresses to an ensemble as the team all shout the lyrics, their fingers pointing back to Jack at each proclamation of needing a hero throughout the song. And you swear, swear, that a flush rises up his neck at the lavish attention paid his way. His head tucks into his chest, and his eyes narrow like the sound of Shen’s voice is physically causing him pain but you can see it as clear as day.

He’s happy. And it dredges up a tingle in the depths of your heart that surges like a rushing tide you can’t hold back.

It soars even higher—feels even worse—when it’s your turn. Microphone shoved in your hand, dance moves pulled out as you sing about needing a ring on your finger and feeling Jack’s stare bore into you the entire time.

A smile, free, unabashed, admiring permanently fixed on his face.

—

“Someone get Mel home!” You call over your shoulder into the bar as you make your exit, the clock just creeping past midnight. Jack’s arm sits firmly around your waist, thick and corded as it supports and holds you steady. “I want her tucked in and sung to, precious girl.”

“Easy.” Jack’s voice is husky beside you and colored with a slight twinge of amusement. Startling, almost, as you’re reminded of how near he is. It’s rough and jagged and it flares a heat within you that has you whipping your head to look at him.

“Don’t want you spilling guts all over me.” He’s firm and warm next to you, a beacon of quiet strength. You’ve always known Abbot was broad from his forearms alone. Seeing it is one thing, feeling it around you? It’s something else entirely. Temptation sings for you to fall into him.

It’s hard to recover from it, taking much longer than you’d like to admit as your tongue feels thick in your mouth and your heart pounds in your ears. You blame that on the environmental circumstances of the night.

“Don’t forget, old man.” You poke just as his arm tightens around you. Your own hand falls to his wrist held right against the front of your stomach, falling in step beside him as he guides you through the bar’s parking lot. “I’m from the city. I can handle my alcohol.”

His interest is piqued, despite all well-meaning efforts to hide it. “I know. You don’t let anyone forget it.”

“Watch it. Don’t make me mad, I can take you if I need to.”

“Yeah? Gonna go for my ankles?”

“Oh please, this again—”

“You gonna slide across the floor again for my feet?”

“He was running away with a catheter in him. If I didn’t take him down it was going to be golden showers for all of us.”

“Yeah, but going for the feet puts you in the direct line of sight.”

“Alright, then next time you stop the meth head, Lieutenant Dan.”

“And get a mouthful of urine? I’m not kinky enough for that.” He says nonchalantly and you guffaw, your hand landing a smack at his chest. His walking slows as he approaches his truck towards the end of the parking lot. Shiny and well-taken care of, the car you remember him driving you home in before.

He guides you towards the passenger side of the car, loosening his grip on you as he fishes his car keys from his pocket. “All I’m saying is that the Giants missed an opportunity in their draft pick.”

Separating from him, you slump against the passenger door, watching him pull out the key fob. “If the Giants put me on the roster, we’re coming out with a ring every year, baby.” You hold your hand up for emphasis, pointing at each of your fingers. “You can kiss ‘Single Ladies’ goodbye.”

A beat passes. Jack’s eyes bore into yours. “Nevermind, let’s call the Steelers.”

You laugh echoes around the empty parking lot. A song on the wind, a hymn in an empty church as it bounces into the night. Your head leans back in joy, resting against the side of his car. Relaxed, easy, happy.

“Tonight was fun.” You hum. Jack nods, slowly. Carefully, guarded.

You see it, even in the sway of the uncountable number of drinks you’ve had that only makes you slightly unsteady—you see it clear as day. The way he is bobbing and weaving, ducking and side stepping a truth he’s not quite ready to admit yet. Not as though it’s a particular harrowing one. Your eyebrow flicks up, curiously.

“I didn’t know Shen had that in him.” He says, pointedly neutral.

“Neither did I. You must have brought it out.” You push. “Everyone was really happy to see you.”

A grimace pulls to his lips, small yet noticeable. It confirms a suspicion, then.

Jack Abbot can banter without issue. He can do the sincerity and the comfort when it comes to someone else needing it. But in this moment, cool, confident, and steady Jack Abbot actively avoids acknowledging a truth that implies something good about him—admitting that people wanted him around and that he actually had a good time.

“Someone just needed to make sure you guys didn’t burn down half of Pittsburgh. And drive your drunk ass home.” He demeans, disguises, dissuades.

Maybe it’s not that serious. Maybe it’s just a defense mechanism he uses when near drunk people, a release of a pressure gauge but for some reason you’re not having it. Blame it on drunken fixations, but they’re the heart of sober thoughts. You’re on the crux of something, inching closer and closer to the soft center of the man. Spurned on by little more than his continued dodging and the need to know, you ask. “Why did you come tonight?”

Surprise colors his features for a second before he schools it. “Morale boost.”

“For the team or for you?”

“Does it matter?”

“I think that you wanted to come out this whole time.” You dig. He stiffens, minutely.

“You promised ‘Single Ladies’. It was too good to ignore.” He says, stilted. Almost forced.

“No, before that. You wanted to come. You’re just using that as an excuse to justify it.”

“What are you trying to say?” His gaze turns stony, his voice curt.

His lips are drawn tight as he stares the particular Dr. Jack Abbot speciality into you. You should probably feel intimidated, should probably be scared into a dynamic of hierarchy between you two, should probably heed the warning signs that crease in his crow’s feet and settle in the lines of his small frown that tell you to stop where you stand.

You don’t. You stare back, equal in your press into him.

(Because you’ve seen the softness before, know it exists. It was only a few weeks ago that he drove you home, sat at your table, talked to you like it was the easiest thing in the world. Only a few months ago Jack made it a habit to start meeting you at each of your shifts with your coffee mug in hand, a quiet check-in in his eyes. Only a few days ago the two of you lost yourselves in the safety of a bubble built by the two of you in the midst of a chaos.

You know where the softness sits, you know it will keep creeping out.

And right here, right now, you can see how he tries to lock it away. Pretends that it doesn’t exist with all of the good in him.)

“I’m saying you’re allowed to want something for once, Jack.” You tell him, honestly. “You’re allowed to want, and to hope, and to have faith that for a moment something good will happen if you let it in. You’re allowed to want something and have it, because you deserve it.”

He says nothing. Only stares. A charged silence buoys between you two, lit only by the haziness of the street lamp. A warmed yet dulled light that casts a gentle halo around the suppleness of your face—soft and angelic as you peer up at him.

To anyone else, your words would be the ramblings of a drunken woman. Let off the tongue with nonsensical meanings. Prompted by nothing, and supported by whims. To Jack, it’s something else entirely. Not the once foreboding noose— the omen of the invitation, the threat of giving in. What he thought would be a long fraying rope beckoning for the sounds of his choking is replaced instead with you. Your hands, warm, and soft, and well-meaning that wrap around his throat and squeeze until his breath gets caught in his chest. Your nails digging in the skin in search of something he has long since buried. Fingers tenderly massaging out the truth, his reckoning, his undoing.

The in-between of your words isn’t hard to make out. Something good will happen if you let it in.

If you let me in.

He wonders if you know how close you are to getting to it. He wonders if he even knows how close it is to being released.

The night hums softly. Beckoning a closeness that is filled with a hostile tensity. Like peace and war, heat and ice, fusing into one. Becoming the energy that you both fuel. That something—the one that seems to follow you two when moments like this fall, when it’s quiet and the two of you acknowledge that the air feels weird—is here.

Loudly silent. Quietly screaming.

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” He gives, finally.

“Yeah. You are.” You huff out a breath. Then, with the familiar sound of a door being knocked on, you say. “I’m glad you came out. It made my night better, too.”

Your eyes flick down to his lips. His do the same. A question sits in the air.

Will you let me in?

He swallows, then makes his choice. Buckles the armor up his chest, shuts the door that has been creeping open all this time, that you’ve been pushing against. He locks it, keeps you barred on the other side.

“You gonna get in?” He asks, nodding his head to the car.

The air spoils as quickly as it was heated. Now cold and void with all of the things left unsaid.

You nod, simply. Leaving well enough alone. “Yeah. Okay.”

He opens the passenger door for you quietly, his hand hovering over you slightly as you step up into the seat, but he never touches you. You buckle yourself in, silent as he enters through the other side. Then he drives you home. It’s quiet, a suffocating, choking quiet, but neither of you make any effort to break it. The radio buzzes on the lowest volume, only barely filling the void.

You thank him for the ride when he gets to your apartment. He nods his head. You go inside and he watches until you're safely inside before peeling off on the road.

He pointedly tries not to think about anything the whole way home. Puts it onto the shelf, blocks it out, does everything to not remember how earnestly you looked at him, to not remember how you were the most beautiful thing he’s seen in a long time. But it’s his luck—the old funny thing called karmic fate that this night is the first night that he dreams of something other than the tense soundscapes of agony and grief that plague him and draw short bursts of sleep.

He wakes up with his mouth dry, sweat beaded on his temple, his heart pounding, and the phantom feel of a hand on his chest.

He dreamed of you. Eternal, effervescent, you.

Shrouded in the warm hazy light of a bedroom, your laugh on the wind. A quiet moment of serenity, peace. Enjoying the stillness of you two, basking in the feel of giving in before it transformed into something else. You, then, bare on a bed beneath him, your wistful sighs in the air of his room. A prayer on your tongue, the words that fuel his desire, unlock all that he’s kept held back and that’s released something he hadn’t allowed himself to yearn for. And he knows then that the door that was slightly ajar by your gentle hand, the one he so quickly and concisely shut earlier, has now been thrust open by a gust of wind from his exhaled shaky breath.

“Shit.” He thumps against his pillows in defeat, his hands rubbing at his face harshly.

He admits, here, in the dawn of his bedroom with sunlight slowly filtering in through the curtains, the long held truth. The guilt is tumultuous; roiling and biting. Shredding through his skin, through muscle and tendon and into the marrow of his bones as he realizes, harshly, violently, with a voracious sense of betrayal and fear—

—that he liked it. He liked seeing you in the after hours with your hair down and your smile effortless. Liked seeing you in something other than scrubs and liked hearing the squeal of your laugh. Liked the way you leaned into him throughout the night. Liked watching you, liked being watched by you.

Liked, liked, liked.

For the first time in years, he laughed—truly, belly achingly laughed— and the burden on his shoulders levied just as the lowlights of the bar fell onto the sweetness of your smile. In the sanctity of a spartan bedroom lingering with the last remnants of a life long lost and hollow of his own that aches to be filled, he admits it.

The familiar something that exists everytime the two of you meet has a name.

Want.

And Jack wants you.

All of you.

a/n: imma be real i don’t love this chapter but we need it before we get into the meat and potatoes. i was second guessing myself the entire time and then i remembered this is fanfiction so who CARES

this chapter was inspired by "the lonely fight" by mk.gee :)

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #the pitt x reader #jack abbot fanfiction #jack abbot x you #jack abbot x female reader #my writing #ask me and i'm there #jack abbot #jack abott #the pitt #the pitt fanfiction

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spaceyaemonds · 11 days ago

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pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: you see your mother face to face for the first time in years, and it starts with a rocky conversation.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23), unplanned pregnancy, this is very much centered around reader and her mom (jack is only mentioned in this part), mentions of a difficult mother/daughter relationship, and angst due to that, i think that’s it?? minors DNI.

notes: i have still been struggling with a bit of writies block for this series :( so i am sorry if this is not the best. i also couldn’t quite get the flow right for this part. initially, jack and reader met with her mom, and then met with jacks mom (and his sister showed up) but as i was rereading it and trying to wrap it up today, i felt like it didn’t make a lot of sense, so decided to split part 7 up where it’s reader and her mom, jack and his mom, then them both with readers mom, and then with jacks mom. also, i really projected my own issues with my mom here, so if it feels like the relationship makes no sense that may be why💀 i hope you guys aren’t too disappointed with this! unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc: 1.3k (ish)

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You and Jack both decided it would probably be best for you to speak with your mother on your own for the initial conversation. You, knowing your mother and all the snide remarks she’ll be giving, and him, taking your word for it that this is the best way to go about it.

So, after taking an entire day off of work to prepare for her coming, your apartment was spotless and a nice lunch had been made.

Every so often, you feel your girl kick at you from the confines of your womb.

You feel your heart rate pick up at the knock that sounds throughout the apartment.

“Okay, bug, let’s get this over with.” You mumble as you rub a hand over your stomach.

When you open the door, you force your eyes not to roll back into your head when she immediately pulls you into her embrace.

“Oh, baby,” She mumbles as she kisses the side of your head repeatedly.

“Hi mom,” You awkwardly rub her back.

When she finally pulls away, she keeps her hands on your shoulders as she looks you over.

She glances between you and your stomach twice, “Oh, wow.”

There it is. You scoff lightly before opening the door a little more to let her in.

Once the two of you are sitting at your dining table, you check your phone for any updates from Jack on how his conversation with his own mother is going.

Your mom huffs in annoyance, “You haven’t seen your mother in almost three years, and the first thing you do is get on your phone?”

You nearly laugh, but hold it back, “And whose fault is that? You came up with nearly any excuse you could to not come here for graduation last year.”

She narrows her eyes at you, and for a moment you feel sixteen again, but you hold her eyes.

“Well, then I’ll just say what I feel should be said then,”

“Oh, let’s hear it then,” You mumble out sarcastically.

“I think you should move home to raise the baby, with my help.”

Now you do laugh, “I’m sorry, what?”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “Baby, what exactly do you think is going to happen here?”

You open your mouth to speak, but she continues, “A man old enough to be your father got you pregnant. And sure, he’s here now. But what happens when she’s born, huh? And he decides he doesn’t want to be a father? Or worse, tries to take her from you?”

Tears well up in your eyes before you can even stop them, “This is why you came? To lecture me about my life and then force me to come home with you?”

To her credit, her eye’s soften slightly, “No, baby, I’m just worried. This is a big deal.”

“You don’t even know him! All you do when I see you is try to dictate my life.”

She looks taken aback, “Now-“

“No, it’s true. You resent me for one reason or another for not turning out exactly like you wanted me too,”

“I wanted a better life for you then the one I had! Is that a crime?”

You scoff, “You hated me!”

Her mouth drops slightly, “I could never hate you. You are my child,”

She lets out a shaky breath, “Life was hard for us sometimes, and you didn’t make it any easier on me. I never hated you. I wanted the absolute best for you, that is still all I want for you.”

“Then don’t come here trying to sweep me away or convince me that the father of my baby is going to try to take her from me!” You grit the last part out, because no matter how hard you try to deny it, it’s still a very real fear for you.

She looks at you, frown ever present, “I am sorry if it seems like that’s all I came here to do. It wasn’t my intention, even if that’s what I think is for the best.”

You just shrug, not having anything else to say to her.

The two of you sit in an awkward silence for a few minutes before you get up and plate the salads you made for lunch.

You eat in silence before she finally speaks up again, “Well, tell me all about it.”

You glance up, brow furrowed, “About what?”

“The baby. Her dad. Your life. Everything.” She has a smile on her face that transports you back to being ten years old, when she was your best friend and made you feel so loved and so invincible.

She must sense your distrust, because her face falls slightly.

“It’s a girl, I think I mentioned it, but if I didn’t. She’s a girl,” You smile when you talk about her.

You tell your mom names you’ve picked out, the types of food you're craving, which she tells you when you mention cravings similar to the ones that she had.

You tell her about work and your friends. She smiles, and though you know her, know that she doesn’t love you living in Pittsburgh and the path you’ve chosen, you can tell she is happy for you.

“And how did you meet Jack?” Your mom asks casually as she takes a sip of water.

You wince, “Um, a bar?”

She coughs, face turning red, “Was this a one night stand?”

You wince again. You’d kept the details out initially. Just telling her that you’d met a guy and gotten pregnant but you were trying to still get to know each other. Which wasn’t a lie.

“I mean, I guess you could call it that?”

Your face heats up under the judgemental look in her eyes, and it causes you to shrink in on yourself.

She stares at you a moment longer, eyes glancing down at your stomach and lingering, “Is he good to you?”

You look at her, a soft smile taking over your face as you talk about him, “Yeah. I mean he’s busy a lot, but he’s always here when I need him. Goes to the store to get snacks in the middle of the night and wakes up with me if I get sick.”

Your eyes get distant as your hand rubs your stomach, “He’s changed his whole life for her, for me, and I know it isn’t conventional or anything. And he and I are doing this all backwards but,”

You trail off, eyes focusing back on her, “I think this is a really good thing. Scary, like really scary, but I think it will turn out really good.”

She reaches across the table to grab one of your hands, “I know you’re an adult who can make her own decisions, and I know there is no one harder on you than me. Trust me when I say I know that,”

To your surprise, she lets out a shaky breath and tears start to fill her eyes, “I know this is the time in your life for me to let you do what you think is best but I just can’t help but still want to keep you safe, safe with me.”

You haven’t felt the way you feel right now in almost a decade. Your relationship turned sour and complicated around the time you started high school. She was tough, and though you don’t have any ill feelings in your heart over it, she was jealous of the life you had when hers was so hard.

Moving for college mended some of that, but not all of it, and the resentment still lingered, however small, even some today.

But hearing that? It’s either your inner child begging for her mom again, or the hormones from growing your own, but it makes your chest feel heavy.

You squeeze her hand twice, against your better judgement.

#the pitt x reader #jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbott x reader #dr jack abbot x reader #🐝 writes: the pitt #🐝 writes #ahhhhggg i can’t tell if i love or hate this #and i hate begging but i am begging for feedback guys😭😭 i am really struggling with the main story of this so literally ANYTHING #surprise pregnancy!jack abbot

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pedgito · 10 months ago

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𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It’s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah.

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!”

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety.

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets.

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home.

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows.

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong.

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look.

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things.

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow.

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines—feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself.

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though.

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown.

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.”

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light.

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know.

So, you do.

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t.

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you.

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think.

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you.

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate.

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier.

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts.

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?”

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you.

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.”

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout.

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking.

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright.

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression.

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind.

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight.

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself.

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach.

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan.

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fic #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #my writing #absolution

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pixiesndberries · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃, 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 —

a small series of Jujutsu Kaisen men as your husband !

☆ OUR STARS : Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Choso Kamo, Aoi Todo, Toji Fushiguro, and more !

━ REQUESTED BY : none

━⁠ WARNINGS : none

ෆ PIXIE'S NOTE ! : were back again at daily posting 🙏🏻 to my pookies who supported me, y'all made me giggle and kickin' my feet in my bed last night 👉🏻👈🏻 love lots!

GOJO SATORU, as your husband !

• Gojo being your husband is no different from being your boyfriend — he still gotta be that same person you dated few years ago, though he became more serious about situations and decisions because you guys are married but his goofy, annoying, clingy side is still there — I mean when he met you and been with you for like two weeks your caller name is already set as 'wifey'.

Gojo who totally acts like a mom when you leave for work, he is like a freaking HOUSEWIFE —

"honey!" he sings as he walks into the living room seeing you brush your hair Infront of the mirror, getting ready for work. "hmm?" you responded and quickly turns your head at him — he's wearing a this is what an awesome husband looks like apron which made you too stunned to speak, "I created a bento for you." he smiles as he hands out a nicely wrapped bento box which was really new to you because it's always you who keep creating bentos for him, usually when he leaves for a mission.

"thank you, honey." you say softly with a warm smile as you accept his bento that he specially created for you, he can't help but to feel like a love sick teenager seeing you smile like that. He officially takes the position of being a housewife 🫡

Gojo who couldn't stop talking about the future he wants with you like nonstop — this man would talk about having three million carbon copy of him with you and would name them after megumi, yuji, nanami and basically all of his friends, students, and dead relatives 🏃🏻‍♀️💨 — I FEEL LIKE HE GOTTA BE THAT TYPE OF PERSON.

Gojo always flexes you everyday and YOU are his hyper fixation — argue with the wall, he gotta be the type of man to say "she's my wife." randomly when he's talking to an old friend he haven't seen for a long time. HE WILL BE THE HUSBAND WHO YOU WILL SEE WEARING "I LOVE MY WIFE" TYPE OF SHIRT WITH THE UGLIEST FONT AND PHOTO TEMPLATE EVER. Once a person mentions your name he ain't gonna shut the fuck up.

I just know this marriage go'n be like Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively's relationship 🙏🏻 ABSOLUTELY RANDOM TEXTS FROM HIM, UPDATING YOU TOO MUCH.

2:32 pm

gojo : shitting at the mall cuz i don't have anywhere to shit on.

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : i miss you my wife, my beautiful wife.

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : your very handsome husband ❤️

2:40 pm

you : stop spamming me messages love, im at work 🙏🏻

gojo : why? is it turning you on 😏

you : that's a photo of your feet.

Gojo who became a seriously hands on person when you told him that you're pregnant — when he has missions with yuji, megumi, or maybe nobara and you told him that you're very tired to do anything today he will be like,"okay kids, I got to go I have important things to do." and dashed away before they could say something and mf arrived at yalls house within a second.

Gojo who cried when he carry his baby for the first time, he was sobbing like hell — girl dad? boy dad? BRO HE IS BOTH ‼️ "okay we'll name this one suguru and this one-" he is going to come up with the most ridiculous names, probably the worst one was his dead ancestor.

okay seriously, Gojo would be a full time dad after his children were born — he will always stay at home as much as he can, having twins isn't easy plus he's trying to help you with his full power and make sure you don't feel alone through this.

"gojo.." you grumble as you felt his presence disappearing next to you at bed, you open your eyes and sees he wasn't there which led you to stand up and start looking for him — you walk out of the bedroom and noticed that the twin's bedroom door was open so you check it out.

in your suprise, gojo was in the rocking chair with the twin's in his arms peacefully sleeping and he is snoring like hell. You can't help but smile seeing this moment, it warms you heart. You quickly grabbed your phone and took a quick photo, this is what you exactly wished for.

Gojo who couldn't stop posting you and his little angels and his fans are absolutely living for it, it's like his day wouldn't complete without posting cute photos of his angels and of course, you as well. Gojo is indeed a Facebook mom —

; gojosatoru

tagged : @y/n.instagram | fam time 🤍 !

liked by megumi.22 and 8,957 others

itaaa.yuji | I volunteer as a tribute to babysit them 🫡

nobaraaa | CUTIES.

shokoleiri.7 | adorbs

─ REBLOGS, LIKES, AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED FEEL FREE TO REQUEST!

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servicpop · 11 months ago

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NSFW ; BLACK , WHITE & GRAY criminal bottom m!reader x detective oc

warnings; age gap , degradation , hate sex , exhibitionism/infront of people (mentioned slightly) , hand cuffs , dubcon/noncon(?) , no after care

notes __ this idea has been sitting in my inbox for awhile but I've finally gotten around to it !

JUNE 19 1999 / 11:48PM

Red and blue lights colored the night skies; not even a slither of the moonlight slipped past the cover of the clouds. The bright yellow caution tape strapped around the fences of the home squealed when Callahan Marshall pulled them up to duck underneath them.

Officers on the scene scrambled to question him but were quickly shot down with the flash of his badge. They slowly retreated, allowing for the man to walk into the crime scene.

The rain had been unforgiving tonight, covering all traces of footprints that might have been left by the culprit in an attempt to escape. A scowl plastered Callahan's face as the stench of alcohol and smoke insulted his nose. The floorboards creaked underneath each step he took, whining with the burden of his weight.

"Careful, Marshall, we aren't too sure if the culprit even left. There's been no signs of escape." Callahan's eyes slowly met the ones that belonged to one of his co-workers — another detective. The other man visibly shuddered when Callahan's pitch-black eyes met his, deep circles tainted the bags of his eyes. A gruff noise was all he got in response before Callahan made his way through the home.

It wasn't a house belonging to someone particularly made up of money so why would anyone make such a mess out of it?

The rooms were left clean, untouched almost. Only a few drawers or cabinets were opened and a few appliances were out of place but no alarming indicator a robbery had happened. Callahan traced a finger along the countertops of the kitchen, looking at the dust that had been sweeped up. This house had been left like this for awhile, even before the culprit set foot in there.

A sudden clattering caught Callahan's attention and he turned his body to the other detective and police officers searching the house, "Did you knock something over?" "No sir, what did you hear?"

Callahan slowly approached the laundry room, twisting the doorknob with caution. He pushed the knob forward and the door swung open. It was hard to make out with the lack of light but Callahan saw a figure dart out the window. "Here!" He called out, alerting the officers before he walked up to the window, watching as the figure scrambled away. He wasn't worried though, the whole place had been surrounded by police patrolling the area.

You couldn't get far even if you tried.

JUNE 22 / 2:24PM

You got caught. It was about time you did.

You had spent the past few years doing various, sketchy jobs in the desperation for money. You lost your job not even three months into it and it had become harder and harder to find suitable jobs to spend the rest of your life slaving away at. You had no choice, it was either that or living off the streets with the local sewer rats as your only form of entertainment and friendship.

Now, you were stuck in an enclosed, dusty white room, sat cuffed to a metal table right in the middle of it with an annoyingly bright light dangling from the ceiling. It was the interrogation room. And the man you sat infront of you was none other than the 'greatest detective of our time' Callahan Marshall.

He was an older guy, probably pushing his 40s by now. You could tell from the way his brows were locked into a furrowing position and the stubble that graced his chin seemed lazily maintained. He also had quite the bit of hair on his arms, his sleeves loosely rolled above his elbows. You couldn't really tell what color his eyes were from how low he held his head and the light above you casted a deep shadow over his eyes, but through the darkness you concluded that they were a yellow-ish orange. Interesting.

"June 19." You flinched. It was expected that he had a deep voice but actually hearing it was different. His voice was coarse, gravelly like wheels crunching against a rocky trail and you could practically hear the amount of cigarettes he's smoked throughout his years of stress. "You were caught about and hour or two after police had arrived," Callahan sounded bored, mumbling his words.

Growing up, Callahan had always hated criminals. From watching bad guys on TV to coming home and seeing his parents dead on the floor and his house a mess from a robbery, Callahan devoted the past years to serving justice. His world was devoid of color, a black and white film on an old, vintage television.

"Did you steal from Mr Broadwood's home?" He pressed, leaning his forearms along the table. They were meaty, not extremely muscular but definitely built from casual hours at the gym. Could you even lie at this point? He was so sure with his words that even the fact that people were watching you from the two-way mirror comforted you from this man.

"No." And the cheap lie rolled off your tongue like it was sweet candy. He raised his eyebrows, unamused. Yeah he was definitely onto you. "So... these photos aren't you?" A confused look flashed across his face as he slid the printed images of your face in full view; it was painfully obvious that it was you. But your head seemed to shake side to side saying 'that's not me' like it was instinct. Callahan leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face as his head tilted back in annoyance. You could hear the prickly sound of his stubble scraping against the palm of his hand.

"I'll force it out of you if you don't fess up," His hand slammed down onto the metal table, causing it to rattle from the contact. "Fine, is force the only thing you cops know how to do?" It was only natural you acted this way. For all your life you've relied on cops to protect you and your loved ones, but each time you needed them the most, they turned a blind eye to you.

But, oil doesn't mix with water. Your two starkingly different perspectives caused conflict. With balled fists, Callahan stood up, the chair scraping against the floors with how abruptly he stood up. Before you knew it, a hand made its way to your hair. Callahan's thick fingers tangled in the strands and pulled your head back, eliciting a small yelp from you. He leaned in closer, looming over you with hate seeping from his pores.

"Tell me this isn't you," He growled, picking up the photos and shoving it in your face. In all honesty, you were focused on how damn close he was. His breath was fanning against the shell of your ear and if you concentrated enough, you could hear the short breaths he took. Callahan straightened his posture but never loosened his grip on your hair. He pulled your head back even further and peered down at you. "Dirty criminal," he muttered under his breath.

You swore it was just the adrenaline making you hard. There was no way you'd fall for a detective like him. So why did he have your face squished onto the table and your boxers pulled down just under the curve of your ass.

"This is what you wanted isn't it?" Callahan had one hand holding your head down and another on your waist, digging into your flesh. He found out that the more he dug into your waist, the more you'd whine and squirm against him. You couldn't deny his words though, something in you was so intrigued by Callahan. He got straight to the point, and he didn't try and fool you with kindness. But maybe you wished he'd be a little more gentle with you.

Your eyes shot wide open when you felt his tip circle your rim. You didn't even have to see it to know the size of it. Could it even fit? "Wait—" Your words were cut off as he thrust forward with no warning, letting his cock sink into your hole. The burning sensation of the stretch made tears bubble at your eyes, threatening to spill. A groan slipped from his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, "God you're too tight."

Callahan moved his hand from your head to firmly grip at your waist, leaning forward so his body weight would pin you down. His hips grinded against you, digging his cock deeper inside your warm body. "Spit it out, did you do it or not?" He grunted, beads of sweat trickled down his temples as he pounded into you repeatedly, watching your flesh ripple with each thrust. "You're leaking everywhere," He chided, snaking his hand to reach for your neglected dick, holding the tip in his palm.

Your wrists strained against the cuffs binding you to the table, the metal cutting into your flesh as you struggled. "I didn't— do it!" You managed to gasp between moans, your hair spilling out onto the table. "Oh really? You didn't do it huh?" He scoffed and his hand tightened around your weeping tip, stroking you off in time with his relentless thrusts.

"People are watching you through that mirror and through the cameras, your pathetic face is on view for everyone to see," Callahan leaned down to whisper in your ear, grabbing a fistful of hair to yank your head up, allowing your teary face to be on full display for the cameras. Fuck, that turned you on more then you would've wanted it to.

His head slung against your shoulder, an oddly affection gesture for how hard he was fucking you. "I know you're not innocent, but your fuckin' doe eyes pisses me off," Callahan's voice had gotten even rougher, and the anger was clear in his tone. He was just using you for stress relief.

Your thighs trembled and your body started to give out, the stimulation was too much for you. His cock kept abusing your prostate, grinding and rubbing against it so much that black stars seemed to cloud your vision. Your fingertips clawed at the metal table, trying to ground yourself as shameless moans came out of your throat. "You're so loud," He scowled, leaning back so he could admire your back in its full glory.

It got him off with the way you sucked him back in even if you seemed so stubborn to liking him. Watching his fat cock disappear into your hole was enough to make him groan. "You wanna cum? Admit it." It was like his dick was a truth serum, you found yourself blabbering, tears rolling down your pink cheeks as you spewed out the truth, "Fine, I did it, I did it, please— just—" A smirk plastered Callahan's face as he whistled, "Go ahead."

In a split second you found yourself spurting out white all over his hand, your back arched and your body convulsed in his grip. Callahan meant to pull out but you were sucking him in so much that he couldn't. He cursed as his orgasm crashed down on him like a wave, filling you up with his sperm before he could pull out. "Shit," he huffed, pulling up his pants before he stared at his cum dripping from your hole. It was still clenching around nothing, and Callahan couldn't help but feel a pang of responsibility for you, but he shook off those thoughts. His one duty was to protect the civilians, not empathise with criminals.

"I'm done here," He grumbled, picking up his things and leaving you slumped on the floor, still bound by the handcuffs on the metal table. He turned his head over his shoulder to glance at you one more time, feeling a strange uncomfortable sensation in his heart before he scoffed and walked out the doors.

He's never lost control like that with any other criminal.

BONUS ; IN THE OTHER SIDE OF THE INTERROGATION ROOM

"Kid looks like he's about to die," Alastair, a co-worker of Callahan, was assigned to supervise the interrogation, "Marshall sure is brutal," He sighed, standing up once he heard that Callahan was finished.

"At least his tactics work though, props to him," Alastair turned around to face the intern who was meant to learn from this experience. The poor boy had his hands covering his eyes.

"It's fine now, you stay here, I'll clean the guy up."

a/n ; i changed my layout !! Its alot easier now ^^; my previous one had so many symbols I had to copy and paste ,, anyways ! I finally wrote about him ♡♡ the original request(?) was a bit different so this is ooc of him but I will expand more on his story if you guys like him ! Also I introduced Alastair ,, maybe I can write a threesome with them sometime !! I've never done it before so who knows

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #mlm #oc x male reader #sub male reader #male reader #bottom male reader #male x male #male x reader #oc smut

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beautifulsenpai · 8 months ago

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— I WILL NEVER LET YOU LEAVE ME

possessive pro heroes x pro hero male reader

taglist. @kaminari1 @eeveedragonxd @xrisdoesntexist @forgetaho @clown-ace @charlie-2024

— chapter summary. trying to forget the all might incident, three u.a students were assigned to study under (name) with endeavor tagging along to “help” (name), but was he just there to only “help” or is there something more?

senpai’s note. wanna request a fic, or headcanons? look at requesting rules before requesting darling

chapter one

chapter two

hellish encounter

after that disturbing encounter with all might, (name) would constantly try to avoid all might whenever and whatever he could, but it was getting harder every day. it seemed like all might know where he was every time, and it was frustrating, finding new methods to ignore the retired hero. handling him, and his hero duties seemed a bit overwhelming. (name) wished he could talk to someone about this matter, either the other heroes or even his mother, but he doesn’t want to be a burden to his other comrades or a liar since he started this “being a hero” job a week ago, how can he be trusted when he barely joined? who were they going to trust, a beloved hero that worked for 40 years or a newbie?..

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🐷 ⋅ ˚✮ 🦙

it was the dead of night, surprised shouts and gasps interrupted the busy sidewalk as a suspicious man, wearing a black jacket with its hood over his head pushed them out of his way with a stolen purse in his hand, looking frightened, panting lousily as he continued running as if he was running away from someone. the man looked behind him, a smirk slowly began to plaster his face. (there’s no way those foolish heroes could catch up with me! how fast i am running, i wouldn’t be surprised that those heroes are still way behind—), the thief couldn’t finish his thoughts when he let out a yelp when a twining vine was wrapped around his ankle, and pulled him upwards, leaving him dangling in the air, trying to wiggle his way out of it, obviously failing.

(name) looked down below with a pleased smirk. he was following the crook at high speed while jumping from building to building. (name) walked towards the edge of the high building in a prideful manner, taking his time before jumping down. he landed on the ground with his feet with a thud without a scratch or a bruise. he dusted his arms from the filth that may have attached to him from the fall and the land. (name) waited for the others while he heard the man struggling to be released from the vines, but it wasn’t long for the others to arrive, and by “others”, he meant endeavor, and u.a students izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, and shoto todoroki.

izuku, katsuki, and shoto were assigned to study under (name) to learn a thing, or two. (name) was enthusiastic, and thrilled when he heard the news, that he would get to teach some talented u.a students about his ways, get to know them better, and even get to chat with them! he was even more delighted that he gets to work with endeavor, currently the number one hero. it was kinda strange for endeavor to volunteer to work with him since (name) had the chance to teach the three students by himself, but he quickly brushed it off since he thought endeavor wanted to be close to his son, so (name) happily let endeavor tag along.

back to the present, the four of them arrived shortly while (name) was waiting patiently, his hands behind his back, and with a closed-eye smile. the four arrived at the scene, and they didn’t seem out of breath or tired in the slightest. “pick up the pace guys! this is the third burglar i detained!”, (name) whined dramatically as he crossed his arms across his chest and turned away from the group. (name) pouted, “it seems that you’re all losing your grip, maybe you’re all too slow to join me..”, (name) stated with a sigh afterward, of course, what he was saying was a lie, he just wanted to make some jokes, and maybe play with katsuki’s head a bit.

“HAH?! WHAT DID YOU SAY?! I’M WAY FASTER THAN YOU, YA NEWBIE! DONT BE SO COCKY! I’LL PROVE IT TO YOU BY CATCHING SOME CRIMINAL, JUST WATCH!”, katsuki shouted at (name) with his eyes widened, and (name) swore that he saw smoke coming off his head. (name) didn’t get the chance to tell him that he was messing around before katsuki blasted himself away from the group in high-speed, leaving a trail of smoke behind him. the four of them stood there, watched how katsuki left the group. (name) chuckled nervously as he scratched the back of his head and sweat-dropped.

“i didn’t mean to rile him up like that..i was just messing around!”, (name) admitted as he turned towards the group. “don’t mind him, he’s always like this.”, shoto told him to make him feel at ease. “you are very quick mr. (last name)! the way you predicted where the thief was going is impressive!”, izuku gushed with a smile afterwards, his cheeks turned a bit pink from seeing splendid display. (name) eyes slightly widened, and his face turned red from such words said to him. he was not used to being praised from up close, and if he did, he would be red as a tomato, feeling over the moon.

(name’s) eyes shut tightly, he placed both of his hands onto his cheeks as he giggled flusteredly with his face still red as a tomato. “oh izuku! you’re so sweet! how could i end up being paired up with someone so delightful as you!”, (name) babbled with imaginary sparkles sparkling around him, he ruffled izuku’s hair and it made izuku cheeks turn red as well from the physical contact and the flattering praise while shoto stood aside, watching the two interacting. they had completely forgotten about endeavor, but endeavor didn’t mind, he was behind them not too far with his arms crossed against his chest while keeping a close eye on (name). he watched how his face turned red from the compliments that izuku said, and the silly gesture (name) made, he thought it was quite cute.

he knows he shouldn’t feel these romantic feelings towards (name), considering the age difference, but he couldn’t help it. the first time when he laid eyes on (name) when he was introduced into the hero lifestyle, endeavor knew that he was the most prettiest human being he encountered. it was wrong, so wrong. he was a married man with beautiful children, and the thought of loving someone more lovely than his wife just kept him up late at night, resulting in him losing sleep at times. can you blame the guy? endeavor was a bit irked about the deal that he made with the other heroes about sharing (name).

honestly, he could care less about the other heroes. all that he needed was (name), by his side, retiring as a hero to be a stay-at-home husband, was it so much to ask for? that dream cannot be fulfilled because of the others, well if they’re on board with that idea then maybe it’s not a lost cause. all they need to do is wait for the perfect opportunity to strike, but endeavor had little patience and even some of the other heroes did as well. well, i guess they had to wait, and let it all play out.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🐷 ⋅ ˚✮ 🦙

the police later on arrived to apprehend the criminal, thanks to (name’s) quirk and speed. they returned the stolen purse to the old lady, who thanked them all. after all that they tried to find katsuki by wandering around the city that was slowly turning empty from how late it was getting. they eventually found him, and katsuki surprisingly did capture a criminal who he later bragged to (name). that bragging turned into embarrassing mumbling from (name) ruffling his hair, and telling him that he always knew that he would with a kind smile afterward. now, they all walked through empty sidewalks, checking if there was any more suspicious activity. izuku, katsuki, and shoto were walking alongside each other, chatting while endeavor and (name) were behind them from a distance so that they wouldn’t hear the pro heroes’s conversations.

it was silent between the pro heroes while it was loud from the students. (name) was too nervous to strike up a conversation, staring down at the boardwalk with flushed cheeks from walking beside his idol while endeavor side-eyed (name), staring at his perfect features, paying close attention to him. (name) then decided to break the awkward silence, but on cue, his phone started ringing. (name) was a bit confused, his face blank as he reached for his pocket for his phone as endeavor watched him. (who would be calling me at this time?), (name) thought curiously. he checked the caller ID, and when he saw who it was, (name) wished he wouldn’t have checked. (name) narrowed his eyes, bit inside of his cheek and he didn’t know that he was clenching his phone tightly. as soon as he noticed that he was gripping his phone, he quickly loosened his grip, if he continued, he would have broken his phone on the spot.

(name) sighed, he silenced his phone and stuffed it back into his pocket as he continued walking, deciding to deal with this matter later. endeavor was curious about who was the one that called (name), and even more keen on why he reacted that way. to be honest, seeing him a bit grumpy was a tad cute. “are you alright?”, endeavor asked as he stared ahead with his cheeks slightly turning red, slightly embarrassed from asking. (name) looked up at endeavor with his mouth slightly open, after a couple of seconds, his eyes shut softly with a heart-warming smile. “yes, im fine!”, (name) answered cheerfully as he stared ahead as well as if he forgot what had happened. “who called you.”, endeavor asked, but it somehow sounded as if he demanded (name) for the answer, making (name) feel a bit uneasy but shrugs it off as he thought endeavor was worried for him. “honestly, no one important!”, (name) replied truthfully as he kept up his happy attitude. endeavor did not like that answer, now he was more eager on who was trying to call you.

(name) looked up at the skies, staring at how bright the moon was, the night air was warm, the stars sparkle and shimmer the night skies. he raised his wrist to check the time on his watch. “10:06..i haven’t realized how the time went by so quickly”, (name) realized that they’ve been out for so long that the students have missed dinner. (name) frowned at the thought as he thought of what he should do, he wanted to continue to stick around with the u.a students since they were amazing to hang with, izuku was such a kind and courageous kid, and shoto was a cold person but also a calm, composed and well-mannered boy while katsuki is not particularly kind and fiery but he’s also a hard-working and ambitious person. he gnawed the inside of his cheek, thinking of some idea. an imaginary lightbulb lit, and popped up on top of (name’s) head as he smiled from ear to ear as he thought of a brilliant plan.

it took endeavor by surprise when he saw (name) jog up to the boys and wrap his arms around the student's necks to bring them all close together, like a hug that katsuki seems try to pry his way out of with curses leaving his mouth but (name) had a strong grip around them, still having a smile on his face. “we should call it night boys, but soon after i treat ourselves a bite to eat, it’ll be my pleasure!” (name) suggested as he looked at each of them to see their expressions on what they think of the proposal. izuku sweat-dropped, “i-i don’t know, we don’t want to be a burden to you-”, “you won’t, i promise! come on, you’ll enjoy it! pleeaassee?”, (name) pleaded. izuku nervously smiled, “w-well, if you insist!”, izuku beamed, resulting (name) to smile as they both stared at shoto to know his answer. shoto shrugged, “i don’t mind.”, he spoke as the three of them turned to katsuki to see him still struggling to get out of (name’s) tight hold. “LET GO OF ME, DAMMIT!”, katsuki demanded as he moved his head frantically, but they all thought of it as him agreeing.

(name) shut his eyes, giggling, “yay! this will be tons of fun!”, he cheered as he brought them closer, causing katsuki to be even angrier. as they did this, endeavor stood by himself behind them with folded arms as his eyes narrowed, and eyebrows furrowed. he watched them with a bit of…jealousy? endeavor thought it was a bit absurd, he has no reason to be jealous of (name) nuzzling onto the students, but he can’t help but think that he should be the one that (name) was clinging to. he imagined a scenario, well it might sound silly to others but it sounded fantastic in his eyes, where endeavor was carrying (name) in a bridal carry after saving him from a villain. (name) would be nuzzling to him, crying happy tears, repeating how he “saved him”, and how much (name) “loved him”, that sounded like a dream come true. he realized that (name) and the kids walked off without him when he was busy daydreaming a delusional image before speed-walking up to them to catch up, endeavor must have been looking like a fool just standing there, dozing off.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🐷 ⋅ ˚✮ 🦙

the restaurant that (name) took all of them was an old-style japanese restaurant that claimed to always visit here with his mother when he was a young boy. none of them complained, the restaurant looked elegant and gorgeous. so, they all had an enjoyable time, sitting at a booth table, (name) let the students order whatever they desired, and all of them, including (name) ordered quite a lot. they continued to chat there, and (name) learned some things about each of the students. he learned that katsuki has musical talents, especially in drums, shoto has a small crush on a student from his class but feels embarrassed and has no need to tell anyone, which is reasonable, and even endeavor looked a bit grumpy when he heard shoto’s little secret. (name), izuku, katsuki, and shoto gossiped and talked as if they were friends, and (name) wished that was the case. he hoped that the students thought (name) was cool enough to be considered a companion to them.

they had all been at the restaurant for at least an hour, it had been too long that the three students were napping, shoto sat in the middle while katsuki and izuku were sitting on each of his side, izuku and katsuki were resting their heads on shoto’s shoulders. the sight was so cute that (name) quickly took a quick picture on his phone of the trio. the only people that were up were the workers, endeavor, and (name), it was noon after all, and frankly, people would normally be asleep at this hour. (name) glanced at the trio, and quietly giggled at seeing their cute drowsy faces, and had to stiffen a chuckle from katsuki drooling a little bit. (name’s) eyes were a bit droopy as his hand hovered over his mouth, yawning softly, i guess he was getting a bit tired as well. (name) grabbed hold of his cup of water before bringing it towards his lips, and taking sips of it. “have you dated anyone (name)?”, endeavor asked. (name) eyes widened as he gagged from his beverage, he quickly set the cup down and leaned over the table as he tried to cough as quietly as possible, well that question was out of the blue.

after (name) recovered, he gazed towards endeavor with his eyes still widened where endeavor was holding onto his own cup, staring at it. where did that question come from? they were nowhere near talking about that subject. there was no reason to lie, so might as well tell him the truth. (name) cheeks turned slightly red, his hands resting on his knees as his eyes were looking anywhere besides endeavor. “i-i have.. but it didn’t work out so i broke it off”, (name) answered as he took another sip from his drink out of shyness. endeavor’s eyes narrowed, and his hand clenched onto his cup after (name) confessed. in endeavor’s eyes, someone had already claimed (name) before him? someone showed him devotion and passion other than him such as holding hands, embracing each other’s warmth, and has (name) and his old affair partner had intercourse before? the thought of anyone at all fooling around under the sheets with (name) made a vein pop on his forehead and a bit of smoke started to arise from his head.

the awkward tension was broken when one of the female waiters sauntered over to where they were sitting with a tender smile on her face. she placed a cash tray with the bill from what they ordered on the table and slightly bowed at the two pro heroes before walking away. (name) reached out his hand towards the cash tray to pay for what they ordered but endeavor swiftly snatched it before (name) could take it, “please, allow me.”, endeavor requested, but how endeavor spoke sounded like a command as he brought out his wallet from his pocket. (name) was a bit surprised at endeavor’s sudden request, he was about to protest, wanting to treat everyone. endeavor noticed what (name) wanted to do, his brows drew together as he shot (name) a darkened glare with narrowed eyes, causing (name) to halt his movements and a shiver running down his spine.

something about that glare didn’t sit right with (name), he knew that endeavor was an aggressive and intimidating man, but that glare seemed off. It didn’t feel intimidating or hostile, instead, something more darker but (name) can’t seem to figure out what. (name) decided to back off and let endeavor pay for what they all ordered, feeling a bit baffled and somehow a bit frightened. endeavor’s face slightly softened as he saw (name) retracted. endeavor opened up his wallet and withdrew his lustrous black credit card from his wallet before settling his card into the cash tray, waiting for the waiter to come back. endeavor didn’t mean to intimidate (name). he refuses to let (name) pay for anything, not even a single cent. endeavor would rather spoil (name) when he finally gets him, spoil him with luxurious gifts, and cash, not letting (name) work a single day of his life and let him rest in his home as a house-husband, where he belongs.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🐷 ⋅ ˚✮ 🦙

the night finally ended for the two pro heroes and the three u.a. students. izuku, shoto, and katsuki went off back to u.a., to their dorms, and (name) was about to call it a night but endeavor insisted that he walk him home. of course, (name) was a bit bewildered again. it was a bit odd for a grown man who was a pro hero to offer to walk his colleague to his home. for some weird reason, (name) wouldn’t mind even though he was a grown man and was perfectly capable of walking himself home but he’s not sure if he wants to be around endeavor for a bit after endeavor shot him that stern glare earlier. but he doesn’t want to seem rude or unfriendly to endeavor, even after he kindly paid for everyone's meals that (name) was originally going to pay. so, why should he refuse?

the two of them were now walking side by side on the sidewalk, passing by other homes as it was silent between the two of them, (name’s) eyes were awkwardly glancing to the side as endeavor kept his eyes on (name’s) form, making sure the staring was subtle. the silence was killing (name), he desperately wanted to strike up a conversation but he still felt a bit uneasy about earlier, he still couldn’t believe that a pro hero was literally walking him home. (name) nervously fiddle with his fingers as he awkwardly glanced slightly to the side which endeavor thought his actions were sweet. (come on, say something! but how do I even strike up a conversation with him? what do I even say to him? should I ask about his kids or hero work?), (name) thought as he tried to figure out a topic to discuss with endeavor. (name) lets out a soft sigh as he finally dared to speak, “s-so, endeavor-”, “call me enji.”, endeavor interrupted. what. (name) was once again dumbfounded as he took a quick glance at endeavor with a raised brow.

(did I hear that right? endeavor is allowing me to call him by his first name? we hardly know each other and we’re already on first name basis?), (name) thought astoundingly. he never thought that endeavor would ever let him call him by his last name, let alone his first name due to endeavor’s persona. (name) was lost in his thoughts until he finally noticed that they were in front of his house. (name’s) house was a lovely traditional japanese mansion, just like enji’s. (name) stopped in his tracks and turned towards endeavor with his hands intertwined together and a small smile on his face. “w-we’re here! uhh- I appreciate you walking me safely to my home..”, (name) thanked endeavor shyly as he rubbed the back of his neck, he never had someone walk him home before so he didn’t know how to act. endeavor hummed in response as he took a glance at (name’s) residence.

he immediately noticed that (name’s) home was similar to his. endeavor thought that they both have something in common with their choice of residence, that’s a step closer to winning his heart. endeavor sighed lowly and gazed down at (name), his stern demeanor softening just slightly as his cheeks faintly blushed red. “well, I reckon that I’ll see you soon during some certain patrols..”, endeavor spoke. endeavor’s eyes closed as he slowly leaned down towards (name’s) height. (name’s) eyes went wide at endeavor’s actions, he quickly understood what endeavor was about to do. endeavor was about to kiss him. so many thoughts ran across his mind such as why endeavor was leaning down to kiss him? didn’t endeavor have a wife? why is endeavor about to kiss him if he has a wife? but (name) instantly backed away, bid endeavor a quick farewell and hurriedly went inside his house as endeavor watched. he was a bit bewildered from the sudden rush and how (name) instantly backed away from the inviting kiss. well, at least endeavor knows where he lives.