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So the thing is boobs really do be jiggling. If having breasts has taught me anything it is that the ladies frolic. I don't even have that large of boobs but every time I go down some stairs all I can think about is that stupid quote about boobing breastily down the stairs or whatever it is because God Damn.
But anime and video game boob jiggling is like. The most uncanny valley shit I've ever seen nine times out of ten. You would think people this horny about tits would have actually looked at some but I guess not.
What we really need is some pervert to compile the ultimate visual guide to boob bouncing physics that's just like 500 hours of meticulously organized videos of breasts of different size and shape and under different fabrics bouncing around from a wide variety of physical movements so horny game devs can finally get it right and I don't have to be creeped out by women who appear to have surgically implanted softballs in their chest under skin made of rubber bands.
Simon with a preme baby. You went into labor three months early, and your baby girl was whisked away into an incubator. Hooked up to machines that made Simon's stomach turn. You were exhausted, hand holding his loosely whenever you were somewhat conscious.
He watches baby girl as the days pass. She's covered in a thin layer of blonde hair, something to "keep her warm," the nurse had said.
"Some babies are born hairy, but it starts to fall out as they get older." She assured as she changed baby girl into a fresh diaper. "She's stable enough for you to reach inside, if you want." Simon was on his feet in seconds.
He washes his hands, puts on hand sanitizer, then washes his hands again. He couldn't live with himself if he got her sick. He places his finger gingerly in the palm of her hand, admiring just how small she was compared to him. She grips his finger in a tight vice grip that surprises him, a coo bursting from her as she holds him.
"You're my daughter, alright... You're fighting so hard, baby girl. Papa's here."
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Description: Alexa, play ‘manchild’ by Sabrina. Or, 3 times Jack notices the incompetency of your new boyfriend and gets annoyed, and 1 time he does something about it.
Tags/warnings: big age gap (r is in 20's and abbot is 50), "ive got tattoos older than you" gets said, yes he has tats bcos i said so, size diff, mentions of concussion, medical inaccuracies (idk shit), (1) allusion to reader having a choking kink (💀), r has a used to have a massive crush on him, made ellis a lesbian bcos ofc, abbot life's goal is to make fun of r's bf, flirting (so much), bit of yearner!jack & dom!jack vibes, gets dialogue heavy at the end, angsty fights & confessions, suggestive themes, mentions of sex, sexual innuendos, i use loads of em dashes (dont even compare me to chatgpt bcos im better), pet names: kid, kiddo, sweetheart
Note: tysm for the love on my first ff, it means the world to me. Writing something longer made me lose all objectivity, and I genuinely cannot tell if it's good or great or whatever. Please give me feedback (PERSONALLY). Again, I tried to keep r neutral but you might see mentions of r having hair.
Enjoy. This is for the ones with a competency kink. And for the ones who def wanted him to call you “kid.” and the ones who love silver foxes (get checked) (ur girl incl)
1
“I told him not to take me here,” you mutter to Jack, who's checking for tenderness in your neck, his thick fingers pressing against the side, while you try not to think of his hands on your neck in a very different context.
“Let him. Something the boy can do right, hm?”
After checking for initial symptoms — making you walk in a straight line, and balancing yourself on a single foot, you're subjugated to the very hands-on physical examination. You're suddenly wondering how other patients remain composed when Dr. Abbot touches them like this.
Well, usually, attending physicians don't do a history check or a physical exam, but this one does. For you. Probably because you're his staff.
Focus.
You clock into the reality, realizing the dig he made at your “boy.”
“Yeah, she didn't wanna come, I kinda dragged her here. I was like, ‘babe, it may just be a light concussion but you're a nurse, not a doctor’ so, like, thanks, doc. We needed the big guns,” proudly speaks Noah standing against the wall, checking time on his phone for the 5th time since you've been in this room.
Jack's jaw tightens and he shoots him a look so dirty, Noah actually takes a step back.
“Watch it, kid, if it wasn't for nurses, American healthcare would be even fuckin’ worse.”
Abbot looks back at you, and raises an eyebrow as if to say “really? him?”
You should speak up in your boyfriend's defense, something — anything — to wipe that perceptive look on Jack's face, the smugness he isn't trying hard enough to hide. You might as well be in your birthday suit right now, for how bare you feel. How bare you always feel in his presence.
God knows how much you'd actually like to be — no, you have a boyfriend. A perfectly handsome, competent, and a caring one.
Handsome. Not rugged.
Competent. Doubtful.
Caring. Well, caring enough.
“Doctor Abbot…” you begin, voice stripped raw, breath coming uneasy, when his index brushes right over your thrumming pulse.
“Focus on the examination. Tsk, thought we taught you better here. Well, I at least did. Don't you agree, nurse?”
The air leaves your mouth in a little puff, leaving your throat dry, your lips soon following. You need a glass of —
“Need some water? You've been here a while,” Jack asks, tone becoming gravelly and intimate, eyebrows drawing closer seeing how pale you look.
He immediately turns to Noah — hands leaving your neck — without waiting for a response from you. His voice takes on its normal cadence. “Hey, son, grab her a bottle, would you? Vending machine is at the end of the corridor. Thanks.”
His ‘Thanks’ comes out in a slow drawl that makes you squirm in your seat.
Your attending has not even fully turned back to you yet, when your partner speaks up, “Uh, bottle of what?”
“A Pinot Noir, perhaps. Which one do you prefer?” His eyes find yours again, brows raising in deep amusement. Is he getting a kick out of humiliating your boyfriend — and by extension, you?
“Uh…” noah looks utterly confused. You feel almost bad for him. Almost.
“Water, son. Get your girl a bottle.” Noah makes a move to leave, complying immediately to the doctor. Has he ever even listened to you so quickly? God, men are such dicksuckers for each-other.
“A chapstick while you're at it, maybe,” Jack mutters, trying to keep the humour out of his voice. Noah stops in his tracks again, clearly deaf to the sarcasm.
Jack huffs. “Just go.”
You honestly don't understand why he dislikes Noah so much. You've only been dating him for 3 weeks.
Well.
Noah did try to make a “romantic” gesture by coming to pick you up from your shift. Except, he arrived an hour early as a “surprise” and cribbed because you couldn't leave early. And he did just undervalue your job as a nurse. And…of course, an hour ago, he accidentally hit you your head with a football while he was showing attempting a trick.
As Noah leaves, Jack lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Don't worry, I'll get you a chapstick,” he says, staring shamelessly at your trembling bottom-lip before making a slow way up again.
“Penlight. Incoming.”
You've barely had time to react when a sudden light shone in your eyes. Your face instinctively tries to move back, only to be stopped by a feather-light touch on your jaw. Jack's finger retracts as soon as it comes, leaving you starved for more. More than just the pad of his index.
You hold still for him, letting him sway the torch alternatively between your eyes. When the light is kept back with a soft clink, there are no more distractions as he stands up straight again.
The creases in his scrubs only increase when he folds his arms over his chest.
“So.” You mutter, your gaze trying to find something interesting on the floor.
“Nick seems like a good guy.”
“Noah.”
“Right. We should thank Nick for bringing you here right on time. Wouldn't wanna lose one of our best nurses.”
You scoff at his words. Your feet are moving in a slow back and forth rhythm, your eyes fixated on them.
“Let's not say things we don't mean for good staff satisfaction scores.”
“If you're trying to insult me by implying I care about that shit, good job. I'm slightly more offended than the time you implied I am too old for karaoke." He's slightly rocking himself back and forth on the balls of his feet.
“Didn't imply, actually. I think I was pretty direct.”
A huff of laughter leaves his lips. You don't want huffs or sarcastic laughs. You want his full belly-laugh. His happy laugh that you've only seen Robby drag out of him.
“I don't care about staff satisfaction scores,” he lightly shakes his head for a moment.
“Yes, you just sai —”
“Only care about yours.”
That makes you look up at him again with widened eyes and parted lips. Little shit, off-handedly throwing around words that gives you butterflies.
Dead butterflies, of course, just like your affections on him. Former crush. Yes.
You quickly regain your senses to retort.
“Satisfaction with your services? If so, thank you for checking me for a concussion.” The formality in your words completely betray the flush creeping up your cheeks.
“Of course, what else?” You hate the way he says your last name. The way it rolls off his tongue. The way it reeks of intent, and not casualty.
The sharp noise of metal rings dragging across a rod brings you out of your trance. Nic — Noah emerges from behind the privacy curtain, a bottle of water clutched in his right hand, and a simmering cup of black coffee in left. “Got you choices, babe.”
You smile thankfully at him, perhaps more grateful for the distraction. You extend your hand, your pointer gesturing at the water. You don't feel the same electricity when Noah's fingers brush against yours in the hand-off.
Jack takes a step back. He nods at you. “Rest. Hydrate. You know it.”
"Mhm, no big brain activity, limited screen time, don't avoid if symptoms worsen."
"Impressive. How does a civvie like you know the drill?" he asks, eyes widening in mock-surprise.
"Oh, I'm very smart. Could've easily been a nurse at your hospital," you can't help but smile.
"Shame. I'm sure you would've been terrific."
He nods at your boyfriend next, “Nick.”
“Uh, it's actually Noa —” but Jack's right hand has already caught the edge of the curtain, swiftly pulling it out of his way, and disappearing shortly after.
“She prefers lattes, by the way.”
2
Bzzzzzzz
“Doctor Ellis, I didn't know you allowed your staff to bring phones in a trauma bay. I would've brought mine to play some music while we inserted a chest tube inside this man.”
Ellis only grunts, too focused on work at hand.
Your cheeks heat at Doctor Garcia's comment, feeling the loud buzz against your thigh for the nth time today.
“I'm sorry — ” you had only just begun when Dr. Abbot's voice cut in, deadpan and dry.
“Yolanda, you listen to music?”
“Doesn't everyone?”
“Yeah, well, normal people do. Why?”
Garcia's sharp glare to the attending does nothing to his demeanor. His hands — controlled, precise, and so fucking practiced — don't stop for even a fraction of a second.
“Not everyone can have eccentric hobbies like nude yoga, Dr. Rabbit.”
Nude yoga? Nude? You force your mind to not conjure up an image of that. Especially not with your attending — who you have used to have a schoolgirl crush on — as the main character. Or, you'll be the one on the operation table instead of observing, breaking out in hives.
“I'm sorry, Dr. Garcia,” you complete.
“Apologise to the man on the table; It's not my life on line. No matter how much I wish whenever I work with you boy scouts.” You always cringe at the bluntness in her tone, but it's worse when directly aimed at you.
“Easy, Garcia,” Jack commanded, tone instantly gaining its authority, pausing a moment to shoot her a look. Yolanda doesn't deter, and two of your most-respected, highly-competent seniors seem to engage in a silent eye-conversation. It ends with a twitch of Garcia's lips as she glances at you, and your attending muttering, “shut it.”
Huh, Strange.
***
The biohazard bin shuts with a snap, and you rub your clammy hands, trying to get the feel of rubber gloves off them. Trauma bays are always stress-inducing, no matter —
Bzzzzzzzzz.
You're about to kill someone tonight. It's gonna be your boyfriend. And you're gonna enjoy it. And you're gonna go online, talk about it, and watch a number of supportive women tell you, “I support your rights, but also your wrongs. You go, bitch.”
The constant vibration against your thigh, the baby crying in pedes, and looking like a fool in a trauma bay…you heave a sigh. Has the ED always been so bright? It's like the lights are directly in your eyes.
You hate loud. So much.
You un-pocket your phone, letting it unlock before you start typing furiously, your mouth instinctively murmuring everything you're typing. Your feet carry you forward, muscle memory taking you to a quiet corner, where you can peacefully argue. And bang your head against the wall, if you're lucky. But you're not sure if there's a staff discount at The Pitt. And frankly, you're already struggling with rent and groceries.
Look at you being fiscally responsible.
“Fuck, sorry,” leaves your mouth as soon as you accidentally collide with someone. A single calloused palm settles on your hip, steadying you.
Your lips part to say something, but no words come out. It seems the entirety of blood in your body has rushed towards your hip to greet Dr. Abbot's hand, before it retracts.
“Been apologising a lot today. Forgot your training or have you rejoined pre-school?” His body moves to your front, effectively blocking the view of rapid-paced staff, and people in wheelchairs and gurneys.
“Just…one rookie mistake after another.” Your body sags sideways, taking support of the wall. As if on instinct, his posture mirrors yours, his entire side leaning against the wall as well. You deposit your phone back in your pocket.
“For what it's worth, you started out not too long ago. You are, technically, still a rookie,” he speaks.
In this slow corner, the lights seem dimmer and noise quieter. Your shoulders drop just a bit. You're not sure if it's the location or him. Your bet is on location.
You wonder how you must look to the others, a junior nurse and the person with the most seniority on this floor, tucked away in a hushed hallway. What would they think of you? Certainly not co-workers.
Your lips curl in a tired, soft smile. “Trying to make me feel better again, sir?”
“Trying to tell you trauma surgeons have a permanent stick up their ass. Shen and I have bets on whether she lives in an ice castle or a secluded cave.”
Your smile grows bigger, and his eyes crinkle. “It's not just her. In fact, I admire women with a mean mouth.”
“Only women?”
“Men already are. I can't think of any situations where they'd need to be more mean.”
“I can think of a few,” his voice dips even lower, rocks coated in honey. Your eyes find the fluttering pulse on his throat, and travel up his face, to find his gaze fixated on your lips. He looks up again. Slowly. Not in a rush.
In this low-lit corner and his head tilted down to adjust to your height, his curls — salt and pepper and presumably soft — brushed his forehead, creating shadows across his face.
You clear your throat, trying to erase some of the tension. “It's Noah. You met him the other day, if you haven't forgotten."
“Oh, I tried.”
You click your jaw, “He's a nice guy, sir.”
“Uh-huh. Is he blowing up your phone? What's wrong?” His brows furrow in concern, and you find his worry comforting. You're about to open your mouth to explain —
“Did he forget his Roblox password?”
You slightly shake your head, looking down at his shoes. “You…Dr. Abbot,” you trail off, looking up at him again to see the corner of his mouth twitching, eyes wide as if he's seriously expecting an answer.
“How do you even know what that is? And no, that's not it. He…sprained his ankle, hewasdoingaparkourjump,” you mumble the last part as quickly as you can, cheeks heating and eyes wandering.
Jack pauses, expression caught somewhere between humour and exasperation, “Wow, didn't know your boy was still in middle school. Tell me, were you trying to find a boyfriend or a son?”
You throw your head back, a light groan escaping your mouth. While you rub your eyes, you feel your attending move. After a second, he has a bottle of water in his hand.
You give him a look of gratitude and hold your fingers out. But before passing it to you, he twists off the cap with ease. For a moment, you let yourself enjoy the sight of his biceps straining against his scrub top.
You empty almost half the bottle, throat working the liquid down, flushed under the heavy gaze of the man standing in front of you who is currently shamelessly oggling your neck. He's quick to take the bottle off your hands once you're done.
You mutter a quiet “Thanks.” He holds out his free hand forward. You shoot him a confused look, your fingers come up, hovering centimeters away from his palm.
Does he want you to hold…?
“Your phone, nurse.”
Your eyes blink, realisation creeping with a smudge of cringe, “Oh, that makes more sense. Yeah.” But the embarrassment is quick to vanish when you think about what he said.
“What? No. I feel naked without my phone on me.”
His eyes drop to your chest the moment the word “naked” leaves your mouth. You're not sure you've stopped blushing in the last 2 minutes.
“You're not a teenager.”
“Well, I love my phone like one,” you defensively say, standing up straighter. Your right hand moves towards your pocket to protect your mobile.
Abbot rumbles your last name like a warning, his husky voice settling low in your belly, and your traitorous hand is fishing the phone out without a conscious thought.
Before you can even hand it to him, he slightly bends, prying it out of your fingers.
“Now, I feel like a teenager,” you pout.
He uses her corner of your phone to tap against your nose, “Then don't make me go all authoritative on you again, kid.”
With that, he pockets your phone and walks away. You watch him twist the cap off the bottle again and drink directly from the mouth of it. The mouth you just had your own lips wrapped around.
Kid.
You need a chair.
3
“Okay, instead of using this job as an excuse for a sad dating life, how about you guys just admit…y'all got no game,” Mateo knocks back the last sip of his drink, making this very, very bold claim.
“First of all, nobody was talking about dating life. We were talking about sex. Forget dates, when was the last time any of you got laid?” Ellis asks, using her glass to gesture vaguely around the table, a few droplets falling on the wood.
Your shift was hell. Well, everyone's was. Really, every shift is hell, so this one was no different. The only thing was that today, everyone decided to grab a drink. Not in the nearest park, no. Instead, they're all here, the nearest bar that's open at a time when a person should be doing a morning walk, not shots.
You're tucked between Mateo on your left and Jack on your right, in a worn-out brown leather booth, with Shen and Ellis across the table.
“I don't feel comfortable talking about the personal details of my married life with my colleagues,” replied Shen, sadly nodding his head.
Jack's voice, raspy from his whiskey, cuts in, “Oh, shut it, Shen.”
“I'd say 6 weeks since we slept together,” Shen gave up quickly. A series of sympathetic groans and nods went around the table.
Mateo juts his chin towards Ellis, raising his brows. “Hooked up with someone last week. Left before she woke up,” replied the woman.
“Didn't know you were a player, doc,” laughs your fellow nurse, before his head turns to you. “And you? Come on, we're the youngest and hottest, we gotta rub it in their faces. Besides, you have, uh, what's his name...”
You laugh nervously, tracing the rim of your glass with your index. While everyone’s lazy and heavy-lidded all around, you feel Abbot's fervent gaze burning a hole into the side of your head.
“Noah. And hate to disappoint, but it's been some while,” you admit. Not being able to hold back any longer, you finally turn your head to the right. Not taking his eyes off you, your attending takes a long sip of his whiskey.
“How much is a while?”
This is inappropriate. Your attending physician shouldn't be asking you this, you're sure of it. But nobody but you looks alarmed.
“I would say…none of your business, doc,” you softly murmur, the liquid courage making your tongue sharper.
“And what about you Dr. Abbot?” Mateo jumps in again.
It's your turn to look at Jack with the same intense gaze. He doesn't take his eyes off you, “been a while for me too,” he mutters so low, like he's only referring to you.
You lose. You lose the staring contest and let your eyes fall back to your glass. Thank god, you have some of your drink still left.
“Why, is it…old man stuff?” Mateo asks, and your eyes widen at his question. You bite the inside of your cheek to hold back your laugh. Ellis's rich chuckle fills the quiet bar. You finally bring your cup to your lips.
“I'm an attending, Mateo. We're always at the very top of our performance. Here to serve well. In or out of trauma bays.”
Your drink goes down the wrong pipe, and you break out into a violent cough. Why would he say it like that? You're pretty sure you look like a tomato.
You feel a strong hand on your back, beginning to rub small circles through the thin fabric of your shirt. “Easy,” Jack whispers into your right ear.
Is nobody watching this?
You look around to see Shen, Ellis, and Mateo have deeply engrossed themselves in a completely different conversation. You wonder for a second if it's intentional.
His heavy hand stops rubbing, instead patting the small of your back softly and rhythmically. Your coughs start dying down, and you wipe the underside of your watery eyes with your knuckle.
“Have trouble swallowing, kiddo?” His voice is right next to your ear, every breath rustling a tiny bit of your hair.
Oh. Oh. OH.
“Think I need some air, sir,” you mutter, voice dried. You feel floaty, and it has nothing to do with alcohol.
Jack rises from his seat with a low grunt, “Think we're gonna step outside for a moment,” he announces.
You quickly follow suit and walk out after him before you can see anyone's expressions. You're pretty sure you hear Shen's giggle.
***
You welcome the morning chill that greets your face as soon as you step out, double doors falling shut behind you. You close your eyes, tilting your head upwards, and take a deep breath, easing the night's tension out of your body.
“Hot date yesterday?” You're quickly brought back to reality, turning sideways. Abbot has his hands in pocket and hair ruffled from the wind.
“Oh, uh, yes. How'd you guess?”
“You clocked in yesterday wearing something…different.” His eyes drop to your chest, before lingering on your lips, and then meeting your eyes again.
Your cheeks burn. You didn't realise he saw you in your fancy clothes. It was bad enough that you were running late, and worse that you didn't get to change before clocking in with your date outfit still on.
“Yeah. Noah took me to dinner. I just signed a new lease. I'm moving out of my current dumphole to another dumphole, but it's nearer to work. So.”
“Congratulations, glad to have you close.”
“Thanks, sir.”
A comfortable silence falls over for a minute before he speaks again, “was the place nice and quiet?”
“Hm?”
“Where he took you. Nick.”
“Ah. No. It's kinda trendy right now, so, super loud…” you trail off with a sigh. Jack keeps looking at you, as if wanting you to say more, as if finally expecting you to spill the truth out: Noah doesn't know you.
“Hm. Didn't peg you for a gold person, either.”
“What?”
He gestures with his chin towards your neck, where a sliver of chain is peeking out from under your shirt. A new one, gold colored, gifted by your boyfriend yesterday.
“I'm an anything person, really.”
Jack doesn't say anything, only waits. And this time, it works.
“Well, silver, if I had to pick. I like silver,” you speak, your voice bordering on a whisper.
Jack finally stops looking at you, and with that, you finally breathe. He casts his gaze towards the sky.
“I know.”
He says your name.
Your first name that he rarely says. Your heart stutters. Every bit of fresh air you inhaled seems to leave your lungs all at once. Instead, a family of butterflies — so fucking alive — have swarmed in there, rendering you speechless.
Please say my name again.
“I know, kid.”
“I'm not a kid, Jack.” For a second, you watch his eyes get darker. He takes a step closer to you. Then another.
You crane your neck to look up at him. Suddenly, he turns his back to you. One of his hands peeks from his side, and tugs at the lower back of his shirt, pushing it down by an inch or two.
You stand confused, until you notice faint black ink — now visible — just below his neck. You suck in a sharp breath.
By the time Jack turns towards you again, you're barely holding yourself up. He leans forward, his nose only inches away from yours.
“I've got tattoos older than you,” he breathes, “kiddo.”
Your knees turn to jelly. A sharp heat travels straight into your belly, increasing the buzz between your legs. Your lips part, teeth sinking into your plush lower lip.
You can only numbly turn your body towards the door as he holds it open for you. There's not a hint of teasing or smugness in his expression. There is something else, though.
Desperation.
You walk in through the gate, mind already trying to think of a reason to break up with Noah. Unfortunately, or fortunately, it finds plenty.
+1
“Oh, honey, just take this right now. The doctor has told your mom the rest. You're gonna be just fine!” You give your brightest smile to the 6 year-old girl, looking all sad and tiny on the gurney.
You stand up straight again, your back protesting. For someone still “young”, you definitely have an old-person back.
The mom gives you a thankful smile that still doesn't hide her tiredness, “Thank you so much.”
“She's gonna be alright, mom.” You flash one last smile and turn to pull the privacy curtain. When you step out, you see Lena, your charge nurse, and Jack in a conversation at the charge nurse station.
Lena calls out to you, “All done in there, hun?” You nod and give a thumbs-up. You expect your attending to say something, a joke, or even glance at you, but he doesn't.
Your heart sinks. After the morning at the bar, you went home and planned how to break-up with your boyfriend. On the other hand, Jack apparently went home and came up with, “10 ways on how I will ignore my co-worker who I occasionally flirt with on purpose.”
For the past week, there have been no lingering looks, no cornering you to check in, and no making fun of you.
No point in dwelling. You start going on about your usual business, entering through another curtain, all while the back of your mind still calculates how to leave Noah.
You had prepared your speech and your reasons. But then, Noah lost his job the same day you were planning to have the talk. And 2 days later, he was leaving to visit his parents in California. Shouldn't you just wait until after the trip? It will be so much easier.
Yes, you're definitely delaying it because it makes sense, and not because you're scared that Noah will absolutely take it the wrong way. He's been miserable lately as is, and while you were trying to be sympathetic, you couldn't find it in yourself.
Noah had always been unobservant and insensitive to your needs, not doing anything till he's told. All while, he expected it all from you — emotional support, moral support, and now, financial support. You saw nothing wrong with being “needy” but didn't you deserve the same treatment from him?
As you leave another exam room, still conflicted, you see Lena waving you over, the telephone receiver pressed against her ear. You quickly walk over.
Lena brings down the handset, palming the mouthpiece so the other person can't hear. “Sweets, it's your boyfriend, he's all panicking over something. Do you wanna take this, or should I make an excuse?”
The color from your face drains. This is humiliating, Noah calling at your work because he can't take care of himself. You quickly un-pocket your phone, tapping the screen awake.
9 missed calls from Noah.
“Uh, I'll take it. Thank you, Lena. Sorry too.” She gives you a sympathetic smile and hands you the handset.
“Noah, you can't be calling me at work.” You whisper into the mouthpiece.
“Babe, did you think I wanted to? I called your phone like 3 times, but you didn't pick it up. It feels like you're ignoring me.”
“It's because I am ignoring you. I am at a fucking hospital, working the emergency department,” your voice is straining with the effort to keep it low.
“Oh, I knew you'd throw your job in my face because I'm unemployed. You're a nurse, not a doctor, babe. See, I remember things.”
You take a deep breath.
“What do you want?”
“I locked myself out of my house. The locksmith will come by in the morning. Can you swing by and drop your keys? You know, I lost my license recently, and my ankle is still not good enough to take the subway.”
“No.”
“Jesus, I'm stranded, just be a good girlfriend for once.”
That sends you over the edge. You put the telephone down with more than necessary force, cringing when a few people turn to look at you.
“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes.
“You okay, kid?” Lena asks sweetly, coming to stand closer to you. You're only able to nod at her. If you open your mouth, your voice will break. When your charge nurse finally steps away, you clear your throat, and blink back your tears.
When you look up with clear eyes, there's Dr. Abbot standing about 20 feet away from you, in a conversation with a nurse that he's not listening to. Because he's looking directly at you.
You quickly move your head, “Lena, mind if I take 5?”
“Take 10, hun.” You flash her a grateful smile and start walking towards the supply closet.
You twist the doorknob and walk into what must be a 6×6 feet room, and close the door behind you. Your phone is still in your hand, clutched tightly enough to be used as a weapon. You open Noah's chat.
This isn't working out. When the locksmith figures out your door, pack my things in a box and leave them outside my door. Have fun folding your own bedsheets. I'm changing my Netflix password!
Your thumb hovers over the send button. Is the message too unkind? Too cruel for you? You drop the phone in your pocket, with the text still sitting there.
You force yourself to take deep breaths, pressing the heel of your hands against your eyes, turning around to face the organized racks.
“Fuck, fuck, fuc —”
The door slams open, and then shuts behind you, making you jump around, your hands falling to your chest.
“Jesus, Jack.”
“Did you forget your manners?” His voice comes out stern, low enough to drop the temperature of the room.
Your hands fall to your side. You're not in the mood for this. You don't want him in here, no matter how quickly your body is gaining color in his presence.
“What do you want, sir?” your question comes out breathless.
“You know, we pay you to work, not to hide in supply closets when you have fights with your childish boyfriend.”
“I asked Lena first, and I should be out in 5.”
“A patient can need you in 1,” he deadpans.
“Good thing there's Mateo and a bunch of fucking nurses already out there! I'm not the only one, sir,” you frantically wave your hands around, voice rising in pitch.
“Yeah, you're the only one yelling at your attending,” he leans back against the door, looking like he's enjoying a goddamn show. His calm pisses you off even more.
In your frazzled state, the true words spill out before you can filter them.
“Yes, my attending who has spent the last couple of days icing me out, keeping his distance, like I broke into his house and stole his leg.”
He's eyeing your motioning hands cutting through the air. You must look like the crazy one, while he stands there all frickin’ composed, his lips twitching.
“That's dark. And I'm your attending, nurse, as you mentioned. I'm not your boyfriend,” he shakes his head slowly like he's talking to a dog.
“I know that. Do you?”
“Oh, I know I'm not Nick,” he snickers.
“FOR THE LAST —” your voice booms throughout the small room before you stop yourself. You pinch your nose, chest heaving up and down.
Deep breaths. In and out. You're not the only two people in the hospital, no matter how much it feels like that.
Nurse, there's people that are dying.
“For the last time, his name is Noah,” you calmly say, voice shaking with the effort of controlling your pitch.
“Right, sorry. I just forgot because he forgot to fill his name out on your discharge papers when he brought you in. It's okay, children make mistakes like that all the time. Even when the forms are very easy to navigate, and the font size is very large,” Jack mocks, laughing sardonically.
“Why do you care so much?”
“Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart. I care about all my staff.”
Sweetheart.
“You're killing me.”
“Trauma bay 1 is empty,” he deadpans, shrugging his shoulders.
A humorless laugh escapes you. Oh, he thinks he's so funny.
“Staff. Is that what I am? Then why do you look at me differently than you look at others? Why do you catch me in the hallways? Why are you always seeking me out? Why have you not walked out of this —”
You flinch at the sudden motion, hand moving towards your temple where something just knocked against it. You look down, where a box maybe twice the size of your hand, lies on the ground.
The rack behind you is still vibrating from when your right arm collided with it 2 seconds ago. You shouldn't have been waving your arms around so much.
“Ow,” you mutter, the heel of your impacted hand rubbing your temple, and eyes downcasted at the box, looking at it like it personally wronged you. Which it did.
Jack quickly moves towards you, his left hand shooting up to take hold of your fingers that are kneading your head — same fingers that smashed against the rack — and brings your conjoined hands down.
“Careful. Are you hurt?” With only inches between you, he bends his head down to examine where you took the hit. His free palm brushes your hair back gently, and you shiver at the touch of his warm skin.
Trapped between your torsos, your hands are still joined, his thumb stroking against your knuckles to soothe any pain you felt on the impact.
“I asked you something, kid.”
You've lost your voice. You look from your connected fingers to his eyes.
And, oh.
His eyes have softened, looking at you with concern. This man sees lacerations, head traumas, hematomas, and fractures every single day. You've never seen him look this worried, and all for a pathetic clash that didn't even leave a bruise behind.
He switches positions with you, and suddenly, his back faces the shaky rack, his form protectively towering over yours. All of your body protests when he moves back, his hands dropping to his own sides.
“You can continue yelling at me now.”
In and out. Deep breath.
“Why have you not walked out of this room yet? And why have you kept me at an arm's distance?” you say but your voice is anything but loud, it's small and quiet, breaking at the end.
“As I said —”
“Stop, stop, stop. Stop, Dr. Abbot, and don't lie to me.” You instinctively take a step forward, closing all the distance again.
A pause.
“I really thought you were gonna break up with him. That morning, I thought you finally regained your senses, and were gonna cut off the dead weight,” he admits, running a hand through his hair.
“Jac —”
“Shut up and let me speak. I thought you were gonna end it with him, and you would come to the next shift looking happy and bright again. Just like you used to before you let that boy date you. You.”
His eyes are boring into yours, and he looks breathless and affected, so opposite to how he was just a minute ago.
“Me? What about me?”
He laughs humourlessly, “let's not fish for compliments. You know what you are. And if you don't, it makes me wonder what kind of limpdicks you have been with.”
You suck in a sharp breath, at a loss of words. Your cheeks burn, and your heart does a backflip.
He thinks that?
Jack turns around, so his back is facing you. Both his hands brush his hair back, and you can see the expansion and contraction of his back as he takes deep breaths.
“What if I had broken up? Nothing would've changed. It's not like you would've done anything. You would've continued to eye-fuck me across gurneys, and flash a smile once a day,” you speak up, voice rising in pitch again.
He turns back sharply, walking even closer to you, his chest colliding with yours.
“Oh, you know it's more complicated than that,” he retorts, eyes narrowing.
“What? You're my senior, you're older —”
He says your name. Low. Authoritative. You feel a traitorous sensation between your thighs.
“I'm not just older, I am old. Period. And I know just how old I am, because I feel it everyday when I strap my leg, and wake up with a new pain every day."
You don't know how to respond. Your gaze falls to his lips, and before you know what you're doing, you're withdrawing your phone from your pocket.
You take a tiny step back to make space, and tap your screen awake. It directly opens to Noah's chat, your message still sitting there in the type box.
You turn your screen towards Jack. His eyes move back and forth, reading your draft. When his eyes meet you again, they're intense, frantic, and what do you know…excited.
“Why haven't you sent it?”
“Because he's already going through a lot. He doesn't have a job, or a car, or…okay, I get it.”
Jack's fingers come up to grab your chin, holding it up. He looks like he's just had a shot of espresso and topped it off with another 3.
“Do it. Do it right now, in front of me, or you'll chicken out. He lost his job, his car, the next thing he loses is you. The one that's worth the most.”
With his breathless voice, taking the edge of desperation as every second ticks, you know you've lost. You bite your bottom lip.
His thumb moves from your chin, to your lower lip, freeing it from your teeth, “don't worry yourself over him.”
Deep breath. In and out.
You slowly look down at your screen, your thumb hovering over the little arrow.
Send.
You put the mobile back in your pocket and look up at Jack with hope, like a kid waiting for approval. Jack flashes you the biggest smile you've ever seen on him.
You did that. You.
“You did so good, sweetheart,” his thumb strokes your cheekbone, and you can't help but lean into his palm. You're high watching him smile, a similar one takes form on your lips.
He's so beautiful. He's the most beautiful man you've ever seen. He should be on TV, winning Emmy's for his grin.
But then you falter, “My…my minutes are up.”
“You can take another 5,” his face leans closer, and the tip of your nose kisses his.
“Patient might need me in 1,” you helplessly whisper, your breaths mingling.
“Well, consider me a patient, then. Your patient.”
You gulp. Your knees are growing weaker by the second and you can't stop staring at his soft lips. You let out a little pathetic whimper before lifting your chin, brushing your lips against his softly.
Fuck.
Your heart tries to escape your ribcage, palm operating with a brain of its own and landing right over his heart. His fluttering, excited, nervous heartbeat greets you, and your lips curve upwards.
Just as you try to move your lips against his —
“Not like this,” he murmurs against your mouth.
You let out an entirely pathetic whine, forehead crashing against his neck with a soft thunk. Your affectionate graze on his sternum turns into a punch — also, pathetic — and it makes him chuckle.
“How, then?” your mutter into his neck.
His arm comes around your waist, holding you up for him so you can let your weight go. His arm tightens as soon as he feels you melt.
“When I'll get you all the silver jewelry in the world,” he breathily replies in your ear.
“That's a lot.”
“What can I say? I like paying for things.”
His free fingers travel to the back of your neck, deftly working the hook of your golden chain with a single hand. You catch as the necklace falls down your chest, reluctantly taking your face out from his neck.
Note to self: Ask him what perfume he uses later.
“One hand, wow.”
“A lot of things I can unhook with one hand.”
He captures your wrist that you've held against his chest — index hatefully scratching, trying to harm him for not kissing you — and brings it to his lips.
He doesn't break eye-contact when he kisses the inside of your wrist. Then the middle of your palms, and finally the tips of your fingers.
You're grateful for his arm around your middle, otherwise you'd be on the floor, shrieking and screaming.
“Don't want to see that on you again,” he points with his chin towards your fist with the necklace inside it.
“Yes, doctor.”
He nods, heat swimming in his gaze. He finally extracts his arm from around your midriff, using it to pull out your phone from your pants and swiftly slipping it in his.
“No more worrying, hm? In return…” He empties his other pocket, taking out a set of keys. He brings your palm down from his face and puts them in it.
“Sit in my car at the end of the shift. You know which one. Turn the heating on, and wait for me,” he raises his eyebrows, awaiting confirmation.
“Yes, okay,” you gulp, closing your other fist as well. One holds your past, another, your future. Or, so you hope.
“Yes, what?” he asks, already side-stepping you and moving towards the door.
“Yes, doctor”
“Good girl,” he shoots you a wink, the door falling shut behind him.
Look at that, your 10 minutes are up.
I enjoyed writing this sm, and i hope you lovely people do too. again, feel free to glaze me in asks, comments, and dms. likes and reblogs appreciated much <3 i also need to know if yall blushed reading this, if yes, WHEN
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Johnny "I'm not looking for serious" mactavish who conveniently forgets to mention that he just wants a casual relationship until after the fifth date and constant texts. He wants someone to make him feel good on leave, doesn't want to be tied down by you, though. What he really wants is an interesting toy, though he doesn't feel bad about making you think he'd try for more if it keeps you around.
Vs
John "if yer not lookin' for marriage don't date me, love." Price who maybe falls in love too fast, but he always treats you with respect. Makes his intentions known from the start, he's too old to play around and be coy when he could be waking up next to you every morning. A real gentleman, the kind that puts previous boyfriends to shame.
....A fact that you happily rub in Johnny's face whenever you have to visit your fiance at his work.
Thinking about ghost who typically hates Halloween, right?
Shocking, considering the guy wears a Halloween decoration everyday, but he hates all the social interaction. Strangers knocking on his door, begging for sweets. He'd rather decorate for a day or two, enjoy his night alone, and call it a day.
So why is he going all-out to try and attract the most trick-or-treaters this year?
Because you're participating this year. You, the single parent across the street who he maybe-kinda wants to invite on a date but hasn't figured out how yet. Thus...decorating. anything to get a conversation started, right?
"Alright sweetie, go ahead and knock," ghost hears your voice across the door. He's been hovering since he spotted you and your daughter three houses down. Three knocks, and he opens the door–
"Trick or treat!!! Guess what I am!!" Your little one squeals, holding her bucket decorated like an acorn up to him.
"Sweetie, you need to wait for treats first–" you try to tell her, knowing she'll get tok disappointed and forget to get candy if the stranger can't guess.
Ghost takes one look at her and nods "proper weevil, innit. Good costume, kid."
"Yes!!! Yes I'm a weevil! You got it right!!" She yells, hopping in place in pure joy, cheeks no-doubt hurting from the force of her smile. Finally, she looks around at his house, then back up at you "can I go look at the big skeleton?"
"Yes, yes, go ahead." You smile at her, checking that no one's waiting. Thin about having little ones is you always beat the Halloween rush. Then, you smile at ghost "thank you. No one's been able to guess her costume, and she was about ready to quit."
"'S a good costume," ghost nods to himself, "she a fan of bugs?"
"Oh, it's all she talks about!" You laugh, that fond laugh all parents have for their children "she's in love with all things crawly."
"....oi've got beetles, if she wants to see 'em."
Which is how a bowl with a hastily scrawled "take one" is left on the porch, meanwhile your daughter is about ready to explode when ghost lets her hold Betty, his Hercules beetle.
"You wouldn't mind if she comes back, would you?" You whisper, both of you stood back while she stares in awe at his centipede enclosure "you're the first person able to keep up with her bug talk."
Ghost smiles. May not be the dinner date he was expecting, but somehow it's better.
Can you do a part 2 of cod men vs period pain simulator? It's just a few days after they were put through the simulator then suddenly their partner told them it's that time of the month again, how do they treat their partner now? Especially the ones who probably didn't thought of it much or didn't really care
(This is my first time ever requesting something and actually using the inbox, it took a lot of courage for me to send this, but I felt comfortable enough with you to request something. I really love your writing, I don't know if you'll do this, it's fine if you don't since you're probably busy with life and other requests. I hope you're doing well, stay safe and healthy)
(I'm sorry if this is too long, I got really nervous, and I apologize if I didn't follow the rules correctly, offended you in anyway, or any words I used wrong 🙏)
lol dw you did nothing wrong; i dont bite..hard
thanks for being so considerate and patient ik my posting schedule sucksss bc it's nonexistent by now but here it is!! apologies for any typos!
part 1 here
𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: How They Care For You While You're On Your Period
Sweets to the Sweet. Edmund Blair Leighton (English, 1852-1922).
If his sanity was barely hanging on by a thread when he used the period simulator for a mere 10 minutes he cannot bear to imagine the intolerable amount of pain that must be coursing through your body right this instant and is very surprised at how well you're holding up (holy run-on sentence)
Won't ever comment or even lightly joke about your snappy attitude, his mere presence perhaps is too annoying right?
He knew women had it hard, but he wasn't aware to the full extent of all the miniscule things that made the week of your cycle feel like a battlefield, or even worse he'd argue
Has much more than just sympathy for you, his understanding of your pain goes deeper and that blooms into empathy and that goes even further and turns into compassion; he shows this by bringing you snacks on his way home, even flowers seem like a nice gesture as they decorate your dim vision with colors
He knows this is not enough, during this time you tend to seek comfort in simple but thoughtful gestures, knowing he is the man filled to the brim with warmth just for you, he decides to also take a break with you and tend to you but most importantly; remain by your side
Ghost
Doesn't want to admit it out loud but he was greatly humbled by the period simulator, remembering how much the pain resembled that of hell he is more than ready to gentle when you tell him you're on your period
Before he wouldn't really do anything extra for you, perhaps you would ask for him to pick something up from the store and he'd go only for him to get the wrong thing or forget something from your list, he'd never understand why you would be upset at him over it, now he knows just how much something that 'small' can mean to someone who is experiencing the most uncomfortable yet slowest and agonizing pain
He thinks a lot more on how you feel; ruminating over every habit of his that could potentially inconvenience you, he washes the dishes he just used, picks up the laundry and without a second thought changes the bedsheets if you stain them
And perhaps the most important to you; he listens to you, nodding along as you rant to him and even offering you to rub your back if that helps alleviate some pain, you gladly accept his offer
Soap
I wanna be funny and say he turns into one of those guys who starts crying and gets super sad if they find out someone is on their period, "nooo periods MUST end" "eat this knuckle sandwich period cramps!"
"..." as you roll your eyes and are so ready to take a painkiller and put some white noise to doze off to
Albeit annoying as he constantly ask what you need, what he can do, and leaving food/snacks on your nightstand constantly he does get all the household chores done when you told him to (you figured he would be busy with what for some time and would leave you alone)
He tried cooking you something only for it turn out inedible, but the thought of him slaving over a stove stressing out makes you see it as a cute gesture, he stuck with making simple teas so at least he didn't mess that up lol
Turned the tv on for you, you were halfway through a cheesy romcom movie you were watching for the shiggles when you turned only to find him standing in the doorway completely absorbed in the plot, actually cried a lot at the "sad" breakup scene considering he wasn't the one with messy hormones
Gaz
Even before the whole period simulator thing he made sure you were stocked up on pads, tampons or whatever else you used for when that time of the month came, he thought you had it pretty good, a bit of mild uncomfortableness for a week of rest, right?
Well that period simulator sure enlightened him, he found out that it wasn't just blood dripping down there, it was a plethora of symptoms and feelings that came with it, he knew cramps were bad but not THAT bad, somehow feels guilty as if he were the cause of your pain
Like promised he does buy extra of your fav foods that can be easily made if he's not around, and when he is home he makes a bigger effort to ensure that the meals he makes for you are to your liking and won't disturb your stomach
Will immediately drop anything he's doing if he so much feels you tug at his shirt to cuddle, now he is a lot more sensitive to what you're feeling and understands that sometimes the best comfort he can provide is his warmth embrace
Roach
From last time he learned that sometimes eating can be a real chore when you're experiencing horrible cramps or headaches because of your period, sometimes the only thing you want to do is lie down, so he decides to invest in getting you comfortable and soft blankets, pajamas or any loungewear
He'll surrender his clothes a lot more often now if you really want, even buys those plushies that you can put in a microwave and they'll be super soft and cuddly and warm that you just melt into them, comes home with at least five of those btw
He canNOT cook an elaborate meal that you're craving, and he gets nervous when you were desperately wanting a snack only for the store to have it out of stock and he comes home with an alternative instead not knowing if you'll just ignore him or decide to bury him six feet under
Alejandro
He was very bad with the period simulator, to the point it's embarrassing for him to talk about it, but he is a lot more alert to whenever you're irritated or get in a bad mood because of the strong cramps and heavy blood flow for the first couple of days of your period
Any minor show of discomfort and he's more than willing to drive you home if you're out, even if he's not there beside you, you might just be texting him to complain about how bad your period cramps are and how you can't wait to get home and just crash into bed
Don't be surprised if you check his location to find out he's 10 minutes away already with a bouquet of flowers + your fav takeout place ready to come rescue you, and don't even try to make excuses about how you need to stay at work or finish running errands, he WILL do anything he can to ensure you don't worry about anything other than taking care of yourself right now
Rudy
You casually mention you just got your period as you leave the bathroom and enter the living room to sit next to Rudy again, you feel him tense from his spot on the couch and you look up from your phone to see him already hurrying to get up
"Where are you going?" and he explains how he's going to make sure you're stocked up on pads/tampons, make sure the laundry is done and your blankets are clean so he can start setting up your resting area
You're confused until guilt floods you as you remember how a week ago you had made him do the period simulator and he barely was able to handle it, you had done it for fun but looks like he was still recovering from that
Still, you let him pamper you extra this time and assure him he's doing great when he awkwardly stands not knowing whether he's doing things right or not, but every time he remembers how he failed the period simulator he knows it's 10x worse for you because you can't just turn the pain off, this is the real thing not a simulator and he feels as if he can't do much to make up for that :(
Phillip Graves
No longer laughs when an acquaintance complains about their wives' period pain but instead just hardens his jaw as he thinks what a bastard they are for not understanding how difficult of a time this can be for those with periods
Thinks about what gift to get you when your next period comes along, since he knows how your mood can be really down in the dumps, all those headaches, bloating, aches, and low energy you display are no joke and he only got to experience the cramps now imagine all that combined...
Doesn't complain about how tired he is or brush you off if you're having trouble sleeping and want to stay up watching or reading something, will try to stay up with you before eventually nodding off as you try waking him up because you want him to be present until you fall asleep
Barely raises a brow if you curse every five minutes because you stained your fave pair of shorts or get cramps, Lord knows how much he was cursing when he used the period simulator..
Makarov
May not express any words of comfort but man knows not to ask stupid questions and get you everything without you needing to ask him, decides to add a reminder to his phone whenever your cycle is about to start so he can have everything prepared
Whatever you want he will try to get you, if you want to go out and eat out he won't hesitate to take you but if you don't feel like eating out he'll order you food and will hire someone to take over the kitchen for you if you don't have the energy to cook due to fatigue
Doesn't tease or make remarks as before and decides to keep quiet whenever he notices you haven't been resting well due to body aches or constantly getting up to change your pad, he may not be good at verbally expressing these things but has the resources to make this time of the month a little easier for you
Keegan
Is a lot more patient but doesn't want you to remind him how snappy he got when he used the period simulator, you've never been so cranky considering you're dealing with the real thing but he doesn't like that you're laughing about it now
Now he makes sure to make it is priority to get anything you ask him to buy at the store, he used to be pretty forgetful but damn if that simulator taught him anything is that cramps are nothing to be joking about, he'll even order light meals to make it easier on your upset stomach
You've used up all your stretchy and comfortable pajamas but he stays on top of washing them to make sure you can wear fresh ones each time you step out of the bath, stocks up the pantry so you can freely raid it every night if you feel like it, he only makes sure to pick up the empty containers of cookies or half-eaten bags of chips the next morning
König
If you're raving about something he's learned to shut up and not open his mouth to offer any input unless he wants to be scrubbing floors for a week straight, does it either way because you can barely bend or move as your body aches, but at least he's gotten a laugh out of you when you walk by and see his big frame on his knees desperately trying but failing to get a stain off of the floor
If you mention in passing how you're bleeding more than usual or feel dizzy he won't hesitate to immediately ask if you need to go to the doctor, or wait maybe even to the ER?!
He's certain that if it were men who experienced period pain there would have been a permanent cure or a lot more support provided by now, tbh you think he's more dramatic than you've ever been because of the period simulator
Horangi
He used to drag you to the gym even when you were on your period just for you to accompany him, but after trying the period simulator he doesn't force you anymore, matter of fact you can stay home as much as you want and he won't bother you about it, you feel icky and just super low on energy to the point you can't get things done
He's learned to be more communicative and learn what you need help with so he can at least try and be supportive, he's surprisingly efficient and it takes a huge load off your shoulders
Remembers the pain he felt when using the period simulator and learns to help with mood changes if you're having severe cramps, doesn't force anything and holds back on his impulsiveness for your sake
Will never underestimate how much pain you can take to the point he's lowkey a little scared of your strength when he was falling apart whenever he remembers the stomach cramps..
Nikto
Did not easily forget the terrible experience of going through the dreaded period simulator, he remembers how helpless he felt even as he was twisting in pain as you made him experience level 10 of cramps, and he only shudders thinking how your body handles that on a monthly basis
Watches and observes you whenever you mention you're on your period, a few times now you've noticed him looking over at you every time you walk out of the bathroom after changing your pad/tampon, is he looking for signs of distress?... either way he's not risking asking you to do stuff for him
Gives you lotssss of space since you honestly don't feel like cuddling and especially not when you've already take painkillers and don't feel them helping at all
Although you do get chills when on your period so you might allow him to sleep next to you at night for extra warmth
I want to request COD men receiving a heartfelt letter from their lover while they are away for longer than usual (bonus if there's tears from their lover on the letter) (I hope that made sense)
(I apologize if I didn't follow the rules correctly, offended you in anyway, or any words I used wrong 🙏)
𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They Receive Your Letter
THE LETTER, (dated 1862) William Powell Frith (British, 1819-1909)
A man of his age and rank is no longer afraid of showing the obvious symptoms of missing his beloved, and the letter he received only go to amplify those already tender feelings
As he reads your letter over, it's not his voice but yours that resounds in his head, your hand moving the pen over the paper and stringing these sentences together, by the stroke of the ink he can tell on which lines you hesitated and which ones you wrote in a frenzy as if in a hurry to get them out of the brewing of your heart lest they fly away like a winged horse
He only wishes he could hear these words from you, to know what was the look on your face, or better yet to stare into those cherub eyes of yours and forget every responsibility ever, deep in your eyes you reflect what is dear in your heart and with your mouth you speak it
This letter is nothing but a small looking-glass through which he can catch a glimpse of you in
Ghost
A man like Simon who is usually so removed from his feelings when in company of others, feels his heart clench when opening your letter and feeling the now dried paper texture underneath his fingers where your tears have fallen and dried
He always came back, but somewhere within your heart you missed the warmth he reserved for you, and with words you conveyed those yearning feelings in this letter to him
You had not wanted to burden him, your hand hesitating as you wrote out the sentences, but you could not wait for a miracle to tell him how much his presence was missed by you
And he knew that your absence made his heart grow fonder as he lost himself in reminiscence
Perhaps he would not know of this pain of missing you if he had not known love at all, but then his heart would have been torn asunder, in place of those horrid feelings that plagued his early life; a light flicker known as hope warms him when in your presence
He keeps these concealed feelings pocketed alongside the letter; only taking it out to read when alone
Soap
In a previous hc I had mentioned how he would adore writing letters to you, exchanging them like how Napoleon wrote to Josephine at times, in a desperate manner and without pause
Was probably tracing your face with his finger on a photo he's folded and unfolded many times until he hears he's got correspondence, has a faster reaction time than when he receives orders and it lowkey annoys his superiors
If there is a windowsill nearby he prefers to read your letter while next to it, as he softly murmurs your written words to himself and with each line his grin grows wider until his eyes come across blurred ink where your tears have fallen
He can only twist the ring around his finger, fidget with it as his grin fades and a sense of guilt replaces the giddiness his heart had felt moments prior, he had promised a lifetime next to you, yet despite how cheerful and merry you had attempted to make this letter, your tears are inevitable proof of your pain
Gaz
Being incapable of wiping the tears left on this letter by you, he clenches his hands into fists as if holding all his feelings back from exploding into a tempest, his unspoken thoughts he would share with you at the end of each day go unheard
With this bubbling up within him, he has no choice but to shut it away and try his absolute hardest to focus on the little words he has from you, he stares at the letter long and hard as if it were a passionate poem in need of deconstructing and picking apart to examine
Rolling each of your words off of his tongue, he momentarily forgets the longing for you that is present in his heart, but as the words from your letter have been cast in the waters of his heart and sunk in, he feels the weight of your affections added to his
There is a stirring in his chest and if you were there you would see it in his eyes too, he flexes his hand as they become undone from the tight fist they were in earlier, no matter how much pressure he applies the empty feeling of your missing hand in his is still present
Roach
This anxiety carried within his chest was triggered by your absence, the letter you sent felt like a small ripple in a lake of memories of which he longed to submerge in, a flicker of your familiar form would flicker in his mind as he read your letter, holding it dear to him
The wear of the paper made it obvious this wasn't easy for you either, he wished to be by your side more than anything else in the world, if only wishing would grant him his wish of waking up beside you
He reads the letter once, twice, then a third and also a fourth time, after that he keeps repeating the words until he can mumble them to himself as a sort of comfort, but each time he chants your words he'll make sure one of his hands is in the pocket the letter is kept in
Assuring him that this letter is not imagined, you have truly sent it and are waiting for him
Alejandro
These letters he keeps with him as if secret incantations he recites when in his worst moments, he whispers your quiet declarations of love to himself, a beautiful melody in his ears he wishes to hear from your lips in place of his own
Will you call him delusional if he admits to sometimes recognizing your shadow casted on a wall as he imagines you writing this late at night when it's likely you do not sleep out of your heart yearning for him?
But a certain letter from you stays with him more than the others, in this one it seems you've scribbled in a frenzied, feverish sort of way compared to its much calmer and sweeter letter counterparts, the words had risen from your intense feelings at having to wait weeks after week with only a letter from him
For you it had felt like eternity and for him to have to realize that it is him to have caused you such pain, will it is rather unforgiveable and a grave sin on his part
Rudy
Lovers have no chance nor opportunity when it comes to expressing their tender feelings for one another, and in this cruel world that kept you from him, he held resentment for that which kept you apart, until that letter from your arrived
Your simple and honest words had a way of making the aching in his chest harder to contain, especially when he remembered how your eyes showed unshed tears as your parted, without asking him for the impossible you only place a hand upon his chest and your lips on his cheek
He gazes at the sky after reading your letter and is comforted by the fact that while you're at home, you're living and breathing under the same sky that overlooks the yearning of two lovers
Clutching the letter to his chest as he rests under a star-speckled sky, which shines brightly, he digs up memories of your face and voice to lull him into sleep because even if the stars aren't aligned in your favor at this moment so long as he remembers the warmth of your embrace and the sweet enticement of your voice then nothing else holds a bigger piece of his heart
Phillip Graves
He's used and even looks forward to reading how much you've missed him in the letters he receives from you, but it's obvious this letters is meant to convey a much deeper sensation, having unearthed the ugliness of what your reality is without him there next to you for such a long, extended period of time is opening his eyes and making him realize the truth
Haggard is the heart in matters of softness to the point that prolonged strain like this will start to wear even the strongest of patient lovers, you're falling into dark despair and sadness without being able to have him
You've fretted and worried beyond your capacity and your only wish is that these next few weeks that remain will fly by in a flash so that you may embrace his familiar form once again in your arms instead of relying on past sensations which are starting to feel like dreams instead, you want reassurance he is still around and for that he can't think of a solution other than wrapping things up to make it back to you safely
Makarov
A man who is so sure and confident in meeting your every need even when he is miles away falters for a moment upon reading your letter, it is obvious you have exposed your heart to him and that is something his eyes lock on to admire in astonishment
Like a timeless verse, the letter is something he spends a long time contemplating, he knows you understand his position and what being close to him implies for your relationship, yet the heart does not show mercy when not in presence of a kindred partner
Your feelings drift from the letter to his heart and take place there until he comes to understand the full extent how deep your feelings run, doing nothing when alone is frustrating enough for you to want you to spill your every feeling and thought onto paper
Keegan
Received your letter and stuffed it into his pocket, waiting for an opportunity to read it alone, and with barely contained restraint from now having heard you for weeks he tears open the letter and devours your sentences with his eyes as they travel across the pages
It's as if needles were being pinned into the tips of his fingers with the way he so slightly shook, he's got such levelheadedness to be carried away by simple follies
But this is no absurdity of his, for as strong as a man can be, in the soft inside of raw flesh he is nothing more but a thought formed out of dust and longing for his partner at his side
In your letter he can tell you've experienced a range of emotions; plunging headfirst into a strong sentiment of yours for having left you alone for so long, then how much you miss him, and finishing off with a threat of him better coming back
A laugh escapes him, deep from within his chest he can feel that painful affection only you can bring out; even when you're miles away
König
Frightened by the break of dawn which is inevitably to come, he clings to that wish of his to see you and for that sky to break soon, allowing him escape into your embrace, for that lonely sky to wave its' goodbye
You know the duty he carries is heavy and he takes it on with no complaint, you are sometimes pierced by the overwhelmingly deep meaning of this task he has, the resolution you carve into your letter reaches him like a severe flame upon opening the envelope
His fingers tremble upon tracing your dried tears across the paper like fragile scars, so pure yet strong are your honest words to him that they go through every part of his body and settle deep into his bones
He knows that if possible you'd want to share your fate with him if it comes to worst, you can't handle being without him and neither can he, wanting to trace your soft cheek with his rough fingers he attempts to wipe the dried tears on the paper
Horangi
The shrike flies east while the the swallow flies west; what a cruel, tragic separation of lovers that ripples across cultures no matter the era humanity is in, forever a pain that will be felt
Through many bitter days he remembers you, despite his letters to you convey none of that sadness it is still very much a present ache every day is further away from you, missing you in heartache
On one of your many lonely nights you write a letter to him, as your pen makes lines of ink across a page, two lines of tears also fall upon the paper; staining and engraving a feeling more powerful than any words you could've written
When your letter arrives safely in his hands, he internally wishes you would forgive his ignorance for he was not aware until now how much despair your heart was experiencing
You've given your love to him without regret, but while he had a fraction of a chance at controlling his fate, you could do nothing but spiral alone at home, and it's hard for a lonely shadow to form a pair
Nikto
Wishing you could whisper your feelings to the wind and have it carry them to him, you try your best to convey them as raw as possible in your letter to him, hoping this feeling reaches him you relay your desire to the moon
The night your letter finally is in his hands, a full moon is high in the sky and lets a sliver of her light through a window, it is that moonlight he uses to read your letter, it is as if the moon uses her magic and suddenly he has a clear vision of your facial expressions as you write the letter
Time is fleeting for Nikto but your resolution to show him the place you've reserved for him in your heart is strong, it has not yet been a lifetime for Nikto to understand the meaning of being loved but he feels the warmth of your words spreading across his chest
It is a strange, blooming sensation that scatters like leaves and reminds him of spring's reawakening
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Been thinking heavy of a psychic!reader and Nikto.
You grew up normal, your concerns boiled down to grades and the boy and girls you liked, but once you hit eighteen, that changed.
You always had an affinity for the spiritual, feeling things around you that you cannot see, but after becoming an adult, you began to realize all that is around you that the others can’t perceive. Your dreams became cryptic- scary even. Each night, when your conscious mind is gone, do you see the monsters and angels that reside over everyone. At first, you truly believed they were just nightmares, something your mind conjures up to deal with your past trauma.
Then, you see them when you’re awake.
A constant torture, a mental battle between you and the things you cannot see.
It all came to a head when Nikto walked into base. You were strong by now, your mental fortitude beyond anything anyone has ever seen. The U.S government needs you on their side, manipulating politicians and other world governments to suit their needs. Sent along the world without care for your stability, you find yourself in Germany. Your Colonel is a big mountain of a man, and he explains how other PMC’s will be brought to the base.
Spetznaz is another private militia that was hired to work alongside you and Kortac, their soldiers much more brutal and rugged than you’re used to. A fact that wouldn’t bother you- and it doesn’t- but what does.. Is the silent man that walks through the front gates.
Your knees almost give out, and you stand there for longer than what is normal. This man, one adjourned in black and secrecy, is a man you’ve seen before.
It was years ago, when you saw him for the first time. At that time- he was broken, more so than he is now. His face was bloodied beyond recognition, the skin on his body flayed and battered, the look in his eyes were vacant- scared.
You stood before him at that time, eyes and body rigid as you looked at the zombie.. He looked dead- the only evidence of him being alive were the short, shallow breaths he forces himself to take. His eyes were coated in blood, and only on past reflection do you register that he was looking at you.
Young and scared, you do what you believe is right- you try and loosen his restraints, tugging and pulling on the chains that keep him in place, only for your efforts to be futile.
You’re not there, not really.
Crouching in front of him, tears run down your face. The image of a man skinned and tortured lives freely in your mind.
You convince yourself it was a dream, that the blood and gore was a manifestation of your psyche. The man isn’t real. His pain isn’t real.
Until you see him.
His face is covered, his body adorned with black and secrecy, but you feel him. He feels the same as the man you found in your dreams all those years ago. That thought makes you feel sick. You believed it was a dream- that what you saw wasn’t real- but now, you know that it was.
``
Nikto felt you before he saw you. A perverted sense of safety melting in his mind, the same feeling he felt when the man he used to be was murdered. It felt safe. He knew it was you before he could deny the feeling, intrinsically he knew it was the girl that tried to pull him out- that tried to save him.
His eyes immediately snap to you- he doesn’t need time to think if it’s you or not. He knows it is.
You’re young- beautiful. You’re older, but it’s you. The same girl that saved him. Despite not being aware, your mind called for help. The day after you saw him, he was rescued- as much as he could be at that point. He knew it was you. You were his guardian angel. His reason for living. And now, knowing he wasn’t hallucinating you, he knows that you are meant for him. You are his angel, and he’ll spend the rest of his life showing you his gratitude.
You see him. But, he felt you long before your sight caught up.
A/N: I want to make this a series. If anyone likes the premise, please let me know!
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