summary: a little girl from the PTMC daycare keeps finding her way to the ED. Jack allows the girl to stick around because he finds her mom very attractive and wants to see her again.
tags: unrealistic negligence of an early education facility, (the hospital would have been on lockdown irl this little girl wouldnt have made it off the floor)
little miracle masterlist
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After the midnight rush of DWIs, the night slows down enough for Abbot to catch up emails and on the computer. He types away in the draft and schedules each of them to come in all at 8am and every 30 minutes after. Admin likes to waste his time so he likes to give them a head ache too.
As he continues, just in front of the nurse's station, he sees a little girl wandering past. She was very small, probably preschool age. Her hair in a ponytail and was dawned in a matching pajama set. She must have come in with her mother and ended up lost. Hopefully someone— a nurse— will help her back to the respective room. He then grabs an tablet and goes to one of the North side rooms to discharge a patient.
After he escorts the patient through the triage doors he passes the Pediatric room and notices the little girl from before. She stands by the wall and traces the mural of the woodland animals. She hums a nursery rhyme in a similar tune to "Mary Had a Little Lamb."
Abbot stands at the door and looks in either direction. He looks in either direction then Dr. Ellis quicksteps past him. "Hey Ellis, do you know if any patients are missing a kid?"
"A kid?" She backs up and looks in the room, "Definitely not. Should I get security?"
"Not yet. I'll find out more. Go ahead." He dismisses her and enters the room.
The girl hears his foot steps and looks up at him curiously. "Hi."
"Hi, I'm Dr. Abbot. What is your name, sweetie?"
"Miracle." She turns back to the fox on the wall.
"What a pretty name." He kneels down beside her on his good knee, "Are you here with your family?"
She shakes her head, "I'm here all by myself."
Abbot purses his lips in worry, "Oh yeah? How did you get here?"
"The elevator." She smiles, "I remember the fox from last time and came down all by myself."
"The elevator…" He thinks for a moment. He notices on her chest as a name tag. Similar to his badge was a photo of Miracle and the words PTMC childcare center. Miracle was not a patient or a child of one but a child of an employee at the hospital. He lets out a sigh of relief, "Well, this is a long way from where you belong isn't it?"
Miracle shrinks and clasps her hands together, "I didn't mean to."
"It's okay, sweetie but we'll need to take you back. Don't want your people to worry right?"
"Uh huh." She nods, "My mommy works in the hospital. She helps really sick people."
"You know, I do that too." He smiles, "Why don't we go sit somewhere and call your mommy? Let her know you are okay."
"Okay!"
Abbot stands up and holds out his hand for the girl to hold but she instead holds up both of her arms with the expectation of him to pick her up. He smiles and obliges, carrying her back to the main nurse's station. "I think I know where some stickers are that you can have. Do you like stickers?"
"Yeah!" She squeals.
Miracle had a smile that could melt the coldest hearts. As they walk, she rests her head on Abbot's shoulder. He tries to steel his resolve but his heart swells at the feeling of her little head on his shoulder.
"Oh my, who is this little one?" Lena smiles at the girl.
"This is Miracle. She is a long way from the daycare upstairs."
"Oh Geez. I heard the bathrooms are broke down on their floor so they have to go to a different one." Lena says, "No wonder this little lamb got lost." She pinches the little girl's cheeks. An infectious giggle comes from the girl as she squirms in Abbot's arms.
He sets her down on a stool and takes a look at her tag. It had her full name on it with a phone number underneath. He recognizes it as the ICU floor. He dials it on the office phone.
A soft woman's voice answers in a quiet tone, "ICU?"
"Hi, this is Dr. Abbot here in the ED. I have a sweet little girl named Miracle down here lost from the daycare."
"Oh my god." He can hear the woman panic. Faintly, she tells her colleague, "Thank you Dr. Abbot. I will be down in just a moment."
Before he can respond the line goes dead. It must have been Miracle's mother on the phone, "Good news, Miracle. Your mommy is on the way."
"What about my stickers?" Oh right…
He snaps and opens a random junk drawer and finds some stickers in the bottom. "Here you are."
She takes them from him and rips off one and places it back on his hand. He smiles down at the sticker.
Just a moment becomes a long while as Abbot and Miracle wait. Although young, Miracle was able to keep herself entertained at the desk. She ran out of stickers and Abbot's arms and face had run out of surface area. His staff laugh and take in the adorable sight of Abbot with the little girl.
"Miracle! Oh thank god, you're still here."
"Mommy!"
Abbot whips his head around and feels his heart leap out of his chest. You come flying down the stairs and jog over to the nurse's station. He can't take his eyes off of you as you come around and pick up your daughter.
"What were thinking coming down here all by yourself?"
"I wanted to play with this fox on the wall."
You shake your head and move your eyes to Abbot's sticker riddled body. "Hi… you must Dr. Abbot."
"You'd be correct." He holds his hands behind his back, "Miracle was keeping me company down here."
"I can see that," You giggle, "You have discovered her obsession with stickers. Sorry."
"Not a problem. Anything to keep her entertained."
"I appreciate it. I really do. She has gotten into this adventurous stage of wandering off and I can barely keep up. I'm glad you were able to keep her occupied." Your smile was just as criminal as Miracle's.
"She's welcome back anytime." He waves it off as he tries not to stutter under your sweet gaze.
"Alright then. Say bye to Dr. Abbot, Miracle."
"Bye Dr…. Abby." She giggles.
"Dr. Abby? You're so silly." You tickle her side then you look at him again, "Bye Dr. Abbot."
"Bye Dr. Abbot." Miracle waves as you carry her back up the stairs to the daycare center.
Abbot watches you go with a longing look. He looks down at his arms and chuckles before he starts to meticulously peel them off. It takes a few minutes to do, a few of the stickers leaving a mark.
He thought that would be the last time he would see you and Miracle. The next night, he looks in the Pedes room longingly before continuing on his way back to the hub.
He stops short just a few feet. Then backtracks and looks into the break room to find a familiar figure. Little Miracle was squatting down in front of the vending machine looking through the slot in the bottom.
"Hungry?" Abbot enters the room.
Miracle sheepishly withdraws from the machine and clasps her hands together. A tell that she did when she thought she was in trouble. She looks at the machine then back at Abbot.
"It's okay." He holds his hands out to her. She approaches him quickly and jumps into his arms. He lifts her and rest her on his hip. "It's a bit late for a sugary snack. How about… some goldfish?"
She nods quickly. He smiles at her and opens one of the pantries where some small snacks were available. He grabs out a package of goldfish and hand them to the little girl. Then he takes her back to the nurse's station.
"Little Lamb!" Lena smiles when she see the little girl then the smile turns shit-eating, "She's taking a liking to you, Abbot."
"She was just hungry. She probably saw the vending machine from the last time she was here." He sets Miracle down on a stool. "You are real sneaky, aren't you?"
Miracle shakes her head as she smirks. She continues to eat her crackers without a word. She was very cunning for her age. Able to get away from the daycare staff and get down to the ED without arousing suspicion of being alone. You must really have your hands full with her.
You were a single mother working as an ICU nurse. You transferred from an ICU clinic out of state due to your toxic ex, Miracle's dad. You had taken the job at the PTMC due to their 24 hour daycare program. You were able to spend time with your daughter during the day and without support at home, she would need to come to the hospital to sleep for the night. It was only a few nights a week so it was hard not to pass up.
Not that Abbot knew your situation. It wasn't like, after that night he met you, he asked one of the medical assistants about you during an ICU transfer.
He picks up the phone and dials the ICU line. "ICU?" It's you again. Speaking softly. A mental image pops up in his mind of you speaking that way to him in the morning.
"Uh, this is Dr. Abbot in the ED."
"Hi, are you looking for a bed?"
"No, actually, I have Miracle down here. She seems to have gotten away again."
"You're joking…" You grumble. You mutter to your coworker again. "i've gotta go… the ED… Miracle… yeah again… unbelievable i know…Are you still there Abbot?"
"I am."
"I'll be down in a minute. I am so sorry. See you soon." You say defeated.
"See you…" The line goes dead and Abbot turns his attention back to Miracle.
She spins on the stool without a care. She finished her goldfish while he was on the phone. He grabs an office chair and sits beside her, "Miracle, your mommy is on her way."
She beams at him, "Yay."
"Do you come down here because you like when you mommy comes to pick you up?"
Miracle shakes her head, "My mommy picks me up all the time. I like when you pick me up and we play."
He leans back, "I see. But Miracle, your mommy and I are busy working. We can't play all the time you know that, right? It's night time and you need rest. So while we work, you sleep."
"But I can only see you at night time. Mommy said so."
Abbot chuckles, "What did your mom say?"
"You work night time at the hospital so that means we can only see you at night time. We can't come in the day time."
"Do you ask to see me in the day time?"
She nods. "You are fun to play with."
"You are fun too." He boops her nose, "Do you like to draw?" She nods rapidly. "How about you draw something for us to put up back here?" He grabs some printer paper and some colored pens from the cup of supplies on the desk.
"You draw too." She hands a pen to him.
"I'd love to sweetie but remember what I said? I have to do my work. It's so I don't get in trouble. Ms. Lena will keep an eye on you."
Miracle pouts like a kicked puppy. It tears Abbot's heart to shreds to look at. He bites down on his bottom lip before looking away. Be strong, be strong, he repeats the mantra as he walks away.
It doesn't take long for him to return though and at the same time that he is back at the nurse's station you come jogging down the stairs. "Hello again," He smiles at you.
"Hi," You return the smile and look at Miracle, "She is going to become a permanent resident by the end of the week down here. C'mon little mama."
Miracle jumps from her stool and hides behind Abbot's legs. "No."
You let out a huff and smile awkwardly, "Heh, Miracle, sweetie it's time to say goodbye to Dr. Abbot."
"No." She grabs onto him. She touches a part of Abbot's prosthesis, she hesitates then moves to wrap both her hands around his other leg.
"God, this is so embarrassing." You mutter then you look up at Abbot, "I'm sorry, she is cranky at this point."
"That's okay." He chuckles, "How about I walk her with you to the daycare?"
"Oh, no it's fine. I'm sure they need you down here being the shift attending and all." You tighten your lips. You didn't mean to reveal that. You may or may not have asked a medical assistant about him during an ED transfer.
"It is not a problem. It's Lena that keeps this place running." He turns to Miracle, "If I come with you will you be good for your mommy?"
She nods rapidly and holds her hands up to him. He picks her up and smiles at you, "Shall we?"
"We shall." You lead them to the elevator. As you enter, you hear Miracle whisper to Abbot.
"What happened to your leg?" She cups his ear to whisper but she wasn't too discreet as you still heard her question.
"I got hurt in an accident. My leg was no good so they gave me a new one." He whispers back.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not anymore." He shakes his head, "I eat good and take care of myself to be big and strong." He tickles her side, making her giggle in his ear.
You can't help but smile. His patience with your daughter warmed your heart. It was something about him treating her like a small person and not a nuisance unlike someone you once knew. She was disrupting him at work but he didn't let it bother him. He seemed to enjoy it, actually.
As you walk back to the daycare, you notice Miracle has gone quiet. You look over and see she had fallen asleep on Abbot's shoulder. "That girl is something else." You shake your head.
"She gives you a run for your money." Abbot whispers.
"You have no idea." You sigh, "She has not been infatuated with anything ever until she met you. I've never heard her speak about someone so highly after meeting them once."
"So she says. She told me, she stays awake to play with me."
"All day, non-stop. 'Mommy, you should invite Dr. Abbot to our house to play.' 'Mommy, Is Dr. Abbot at the hospital yet?' 'I got a booboo, Dr. Abbot should help.'" You laugh at yourself then notice Abbot smiling at you. You avert your gaze and stop at the Pre-K door. "This is her." You scan your ID and open the door for Abbot.
He lays her on one of the cots with the other kids. You tuck her in and kiss her forehead. You apologize to the staff and they apologize too. The bathrooms should be finished by tomorrow so hopefully this is the last time Miracle elopes.
You walk with Abbot back to the elevator, "I really can't thank you enough, Dr. Abbot."
"Miracle is a sweetheart. Just as much as I left an impression on her she's left one on me." He holds his hands behind his back as he walks.
"Hopefully, this will be the last of her hijinks and my blood pressure will lower." You take a deep breath. Abbot purses his lips as his heart wilts. You stop in front of the elevator, "This is where we part ways. You've gotta go down and I've gotta go up." You hit the down button, "I'll take the stairs."
"I'll see you around?" He steps on to the elevator.
"At this rate? I'll be seeing you tomorrow." You joke.
You joke but Abbot hoped that it was a promise.
The next night, Miracle appears again. Abbot makes his rounds when he finds her curled up on the couch in the family room. He almost didn't catch her this time if it weren't for the door being propped open by the janitors. He enters the room quietly and sits beside her.
He rubs her back as he tries to rouse her from sleep. The little girl rises out of her ball like state and crawls into his lap and rests on his chest. He sighs and continues to rub her back and rocks her side to side. He pulls out his hospital phone and dials the ICU.
"ICU?" A firm voice speaks. It definitely wasn't you, "Hello?"
"Yes, hi, this is Abbot down in the ED. I've got Miracle down here and was wondering if her mother was available to pick her up."
"Uh…unfortunately she is unavailable at the moment. Are you able to keep an eye on her for some time? She is tending to a patient at the moment. I will pass along the message as soon as I can." There was a wobble of nervousness in the nurse's voice. It was always life or death in the ICU.
"Yeah, I can. Just let her know when you can." He hangs up the phone and continues to rock her. When he knows he has spent too much time he will carry her to the hub.
"Lena, occupy Central 6 for me." He points to the sleeping girl in his arms, "Her mom might take a minute."
"You got it." She opens a tablet and fills in some random information to occupy the room on the status board.
He lays Miracle on the gurney and tucks her under the covers. "Thank you for making me so special." He whispers to her then shuts out the lights and leaves the room closing the door. Through out the hour he keeps an eye on her.
You come down the stairs looking disheveled. Your eyes were puffy, it looked like you had been crying. Abbot approaches beside you and rests his hand on the center of your back, "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, sorry, where is Miracle?" You sniffle.
"Right in here." He leads you into Central 6. You lower the rail on one side of the gurney and pull up a chair to caress Miracle's face as she sleeps. He can see tears fall indiscriminately from your eyes. "Is everything okay?"
You let out a chuckle, "Is everything ever okay in our departments?" He sighs and pulls up another chair to be beside you. "Just before I come down here, every time, I've had to stabilize a patient, or at least try. A different person each time and afterward I'd come right down here and see the smile on my daughter's face like everything is okay. I have to act like I haven't just witnessed the scariest thing 5 minutes before coming to get her. I don't have to brave it when she's at daycare. In my mind, she seems worlds apart from the madness. Safe. I freak out thinking about her down here. What she might see. As if I didn't just watch someone die minutes ago." Abbot hears your voice waver as you speak but you laugh again, "But even still, with you, she is safe. She's so comfortable in your arms like she's known you her whole short life. You make it look so easy." You lean back in your chair and sniffle, "It makes me think I'm not cut out for this."
"Woah, that is a severe overstatement." He leans forward and takes your hand, "Had you not told me, I would have never known what you've done before coming down here. The first time you came down, you had this infectious smile on your face. And Miracle ran into your arms, you didn't falter for a second. Scooped her right in your arms. If you were scared you never showed it. You are her world. She knows you're there for her. You make it look effortless"
You look down at his hand on yours. He gives it an affirming squeeze. It's warm to the touch. "I bet you say that to all the single mothers." You bite back a smile and pull your hand away.
"Usually when they're here they are preoccupied with… you know an emergency?"
You giggle, "Really? None have made a move on you?"
"I fear that is day shift only. At this time of night, I only get the drunks playing grab ass." He sighs.
"Oh poor you," You rub his shoulder. "And here I thought you were like this dangerous and sexy combat medic that flirted with all the moms."
"Dangerous and sexy?"
"The other nurses on my floor say that, at least."
"So you talk about me to other people."
"I had to. I have to make sure the men in my daughter's life aren't dirt bags." You shrug, "They said you were a flirt too. Any defense?"
"I'm playful." He surrenders, "It's only to liven up this dreadful place."
"Right." You purse your lips into a thin smile, "Well, I should probably be taking her back to the daycare." You remove Miracle from the gurney and rest her on your hip, "You have a good rest of your night, Dr. Abbot."
He follows you out of the room, "I hope my playfulness hasn't scared you away from coming back to work."
"Only time will tell, I guess. Maybe I'll consider transferring to the ED and have some fun with you down here instead. " You shoot him a playful wink. He licks his bottom lip as he watches you walk to the elevator and back upstairs.
"She's got you whipped." Ellis shakes her head.
"Both of them do." Lena smirks, "Forget a work wife, he's got a whole work family."
"It's not like that." He waves them off, "Miracle is a troublemaker and her mom—"
"Is the hottest nurse you've ever laid your eyes on?" Ellis cocks an eyebrow, "You're not the only one with eyes, Abbot."
He averts his gaze to the status board, "Do you have anything better to do right now, Ellis? How does triage for the next hour sound?"
"Sounds like I should keep my mouth shut and get back to work." She leans over and mutters to Lena, "See how defensive he got. Whipped."
It had been a week since Miracle's escape attempts. The bathroom in the daycare was up and running again so there was no way for her to escape. Abbot stares at her drawing she had left behind. He missed that little rascal. He missed you too.
When things get slow enough, he decides to try and take a trip up to the daycare to check on Miracle. It was possible that she was sleeping but just seeing her would keep his spirits high. He tells Lena he's going to be out for a few minutes and hits the elevator button.
When the doors open his eyes widen in surprise. You stand there with a smile on your face and a look of surprise yourself. "Hey, I was just coming down to look for you."
"Oh? What for? Patient transfer?"
"No actually," You beckon him onto the elevator, "Miracle is having a hard time sleeping and misses her friend Dr. Abbot. I was wondering if I can steal you for a few minutes to put her to bed." You hit the button for the daycare floor, "Is that okay?"
"Uh yeah… I was actually going to head there."
"Felt a disturbance in the force, Jedi?" You chuckle.
"I just wanted to make sure she was alright."
"You've spoiled her." You say, "Now she can't live without you. It was inevitable, she's imprinted on you like a little duck. You are her mama now."
He laughs. It's a hearty laugh that warms your chest. You can't help but laugh too. The two of you walk out of the elevator side by side and enter the daycare. Miracle lays in her bed and beams when she sees the two of you from the window.
You both enter and sit beside her bed. "Okay, Miracle, this is a one time thing. Dr. Abbot can't come and go whenever you want while you're here." You explain as you tuck her in, "But he did say he missed you too."
She grins at him, "Do you still have my picture, Dr. Abbot?"
"I do. I look at it everyday." He grabs her hand and squeezes it tight.
"Maybe because you miss me we can play not in the hospital." She pouts.
You purse your lips and nod, "Maybe… But Dr. Abbot is super busy—"
"If your mommy says it's okay, I would be more than happy to."
You swivel your head at him in surprise, "You would?"
"Sure," He shrugs, "We can all play together outside of the hospital."
Your face is cooking as he speaks. Was he saying what you think he was saying?
"But that is for your mommy and I to talk about. You, little one, need to sleep." She nods and shuts her eyes. Your eyes are still on him. He notices and smiles, "Did you want to talk about that now?"
"Uh no I just… thought…"
"I was too sexy and dangerous? Or did you still believe I am too playful?"
You bow your head in defeat, "I guess I did."
After Miracle falls asleep the two of you leave. "I am going to be honest. I fully believed that this would be the last we saw of each other. We would go our separate ways, officially." You confess.
"I knew that wouldn't be the case after second time Miracle came to the ER." He chuckles, "I'd find a way to see you again."
"So were you the one sabotaging bathroom maintenance?" You giggle, "If you wanted to meet with me so bad you could have asked. Like you asked Edgar about me."
"You found out about that…" He winces.
"My good looks get me my way up there." You tease, "I'm kidding. When I asked about you he told me you had done the same. So I asked for more information."
"That's when you got the sexy and dangerous thing from."
"Yes, you are really stuck on that." You nudge him, "Don't believe it."
"I just like the way it sounds coming from you. You believe it."
"I do not."
"For a moment you did. In your mind, there was an image of me next to those words."
You cover your mouth as you refrain from laughing out loud, "Alright, what's it going to take for you to not bring that up anymore."
"When are you free?" He asks, "We can go somewhere and have breakfast after work? Or lunch? Go to the park for Miracle."
"Breakfast sounds good." You take out your personal phone, "How about you put in your number and I'll let you know."
"Promise?" He takes your phone and puts in his number
"If I don't you can put me on blast by calling the ICU and bug me. They all need something juicy to keep them entertained." You smile as he hands back your phone, "But I like you. So I won't keep you waiting too long. How does 10am tomorrow sound?"
"Sounds like a deal."
The two of you stop short of the elevator. You bite your lip before leaning in and kissing Abbot's cheek. "This is where we part ways." You hit the down button, "I'll take the stairs. See you at breakfast."
Abbot's cheeks burn as he watches you jog up the stairs. He tries to control his smile in the elevator as to not tip off the others to his glee. He didn't need them spoiling his fun just yet.
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thank you for reading! likes, comments, and reblogs always appreciated!
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summary: getting pregnant is a lot harder than expected. so is trying to surprise your husband. but, thankfully, you get some good news just in time to catch him off guard. if only you'd paid a little more attention, then you might have seen his surprise coming.
warnings: age gap (r is mid 30s, jack is 50), established relationship, afab reader, reader is an attending, domestic bliss, arguing but it's basically foreplay, cursing, teasing (not the sexual kind), infertility and ivf mentions, anxiety, jack truly is the best husband in the world, pregnancy (DUH), ultrasounds, getting blood drawn but it's very vague, cockblocked by robby, my best attempt at humor, friendly competition, they're still trying to surprise each other, oral sex (f receiving), face sitting, jack abbot EATS, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (what's the point if she's already knocked up), prone bone, mentions of semi public sex, nearly having semi public sex, mentions of oral sex (m receiving), like really heavy on the breeding kink even though reader is already pregnant, he's lowkey a little mean but its hot
an: ok I love Shawn, but my biggest fear would be my kids coming out ginger. idrk why, but the idea of carrying a child for 9 months, only for it to come out with orange hair is a little horrifying. sorry to all the gingers out there
this is early, but I got too excited and couldn't keep it to myself
vaccinate your kids
Sitting at the dining room table with pancakes, eggs, and bacon piled on your plates for a 4pm breakfast, both of you still cozy in your pajamas, you’re starting to think it might have all been in your head.
Your husband of 4 fucking years had no idea that you’d been scheming all this time, trying to surprise him.
Tickets to the AC/DC reunion tour 2 years ago? Nope, he’d seen the confirmation email pop up on your phone, not that you’d known that at the time, when you’d let him borrow it to call his own (he tended to lose his pretty often). He’d then casually remarked a few days later he couldn’t wait to go, leaving you sputtering over a chart, wondering how in the world he knew as he walked away.
Then there’d been the bronco. The old, broken down, sage green bronco, parked a few streets over that he kept casting longing glances at, followed by ‘what I wouldn’t give to fix that up.’
Jack had never been one to splurge on himself, but you had been itching to find him a hobby that didn’t include being shot at, so you’d bought it, hurrying home to make sure there was space to park it in the driveway. The former owner would be dropping it off in an hour.
But then, 30 minutes later, Jack walked through the door, dropping a kiss to your cheek, thanking you for the car. You’d wanted to scream.
What you didn’t know was that Jack had finally given in, dropping by the neighbor’s to see how much he wanted for it, only to find out his darling wife had already gotten it for him.
But the absolute worst, by far, had been right before your wedding. Jack was sweet and rather sentimental, preferring memories and photos to material objects. So, you’d decided to start a scrap book. It was a little girly, and you’d worried he wouldn’t love it as much as you did, but you still went ahead with it. You’d filled it with all the pictures the two of you had taken over the first 3 years of your relationship, with the last decorated page dedicated to your engagement party. The book was barely a quarter full and you’d practiced a sappy speech in the mirror about filling the rest of the pages over the rest of your lives.
And everything had gone according to plan. You worked on it in secret for weeks, and as far as you knew, he was none the wiser.
But then, as the two of you sat in bed the night before your wedding, just before you were going to show him the damn book, Jack had simply looked up from whatever western novel he was reading and very nonchalantly asked if you were ever going to let him see your scrapbook. When asked how he knew about that, he simply shrugged and said, “I pay attention.”
You still gave your sappy speech, watched his eyes shine with unshed tears, and let him lay you down and fuck you one last time as your fiance.
And as you laid out these examples, explaining the steps you’d gone to to keep the secrets, Jack simply sat there, slowly chewing his bacon while his eyes screamed ‘this woman needs help.’
“-but I finally did it,” you were smug, alternating between cutting your pancakes into smaller bits and gesturing wildly with your cutlery. “I finally managed to actually surprise you!”
Your eyes strayed to the box, still open on the table, your IUD shining in the late afternoon sunlight. You’d done it. He had been totally, 100% caught off guard. It was straight out of left field, he’d never seen it coming.
“I was suspicious.”
That was all he said, eyes still focused on you, lips quirking up as he took a bite of his eggs.
All you could do was sit in wide eyed silence for a moment.
“Bullshit you knew,” you were starting to spiral, wondering where you’d slipped up. Maybe someone had snitched? But no, only Joan knew about your plan and she’d never have given you up.
The bastard shrugged. “You said you were cramping-”
“That is a totally reasonable comment from a woman in her 30s with a uterus.”
“Yeah,” he laughed under his breath, pointing at you with a strip of bacon. “But you brought up your IUD. You should have just said your stomach hurt, ‘cause then I asked Robby if you were doing ok.”
You hadn’t even told Robby about your plan and he still fucked it up.
You groaned, head dropping into your hands.
“And he said you disappeared for an hour to get a ‘pap smear’,” the grin on his face as he made the air quotes had you wanting to throttle him. “So I asked Tina from Obstetrics if you were ok. She said she had no idea. Apparently, you spent an hour in an exam room with Joan.”
“You called my fucking gynecologist to confirm my alibi?”
“I didn’t know it was an alibi,” Jack’s shoulders were shaking with the laughter he was holding in. It was starting to become infectious. You couldn’t stop the smile slowly creeping onto your face, despite the niggling irritation. “At the time, I was just checking on my wife, being the wonderful husband that I am. So imagine my surprise when there is not a single record of your little visit anywhere.”
“Oh, so you got Tina to break HIPAA for you?”
“Sweetheart,” his eyes rolled ever so slightly. “I am your emergency contact, your boss, your husband, and the only person you put down on your HIPAA release form.”
“Robby’s actually my boss,” was your only counterpoint, and even as you grumbled it out, you knew it was weak.
“Yeah, when he’s not having a nervous breakdown,” Jack snorted, picking up his coffee to take a sip.
“But that doesn’t mean you knew,” you redirected. Robby’s mental state was the absolute last thing you wanted to discuss during your 4 day long husband’s birthday/attempted conception weekend.
“Mmm no, I never said I knew,” Jack leaned back, legs spread and posture relaxed as he looked across the table at you.
“Ok, fine you didn’t explicitly say you knew what I was planning. You just heavily implied you did.”
“I did not imply anything. I said I knew you spent an hour alone in an exam room with your best friend who is a gynecologist and that you were keeping something from me,” his eyes darted down to the box, tracing over its contents. “I had some suspicions, some good, some bad, but I didn’t know. Not then.”
“What do you mean ‘not then’?” You sat up straighter in your chair. The oversized, decades old West Point t-shirt that had once been his slipped off your shoulder. You tugged it back into place, choosing to ignore how his eyes immediately snapped to the tiny bit of skin that had been exposed in favor of your interrogation.
Jack shrugged, his eyes avoiding yours. “I didn’t know then.”
Your brow furrowed into a glare. You very rarely had any success trying to intimidate your husband, but now it seemed like he was trying to hide something.
“Jack Abbot tell me what you knew and when you knew it. Now.”
He let out a breath, shaking his head as he grabbed his coffee mug again. You watched him drain the rest of the lukewarm liquid, eyes tracing the movement of his throat as he swallowed. He set the mug down gently, eyeing you like you might start swinging the butter knife still in your hand.
“Alright,” his arms folded over his chest, those obnoxious biceps of his straining against the plain black t-shirt he wore. “I knew you had some sort of-” He paused for a moment, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “Gynecological… something going on.”
You snorted, shaking your head and gesturing for him to go on.
“I knew you were planning something last night because you insisted on making dinner, and we usually go out for birthdays.”
“Ok, but that’s not-” He leveled you with the look that made residents want to wet themselves in fear. After years of living with him, though, all it made you do was sigh in resignation and sit back in your seat, allowing him to continue.
“And then you wouldn’t let me touch you,” you had to agree, that was a little suspicious. The two of you weren’t exactly known for being able to keep your hands off each other for very long. “So I knew something was up.”
“I never would have guessed you were going to quite literally give me your IUD,” once again, his eyes found the box. “You got me there, but I figured whatever you were planning probably had something to do with that.”
“So I did surprise you,” you were immensely satisfied with yourself. After all these years. After all these attempts, both big and small, you'd finally succeeded with probably the biggest surprise.
“You surprised me, yes,” Jack’s smile was twisting into something wicked. “I definitely was not expecting you to hand me your contraception and beg me to knock you.”
Your cheeks flushed at the reminder of exactly how last night had gone. “I did not beg.”
“Oh you most certainly did,” his forearms rested on the table, body shifting forward as he pinned you beneath his hungry gaze. “It was only a matter of time. I’ve known you wanted a kid for a while. You haven’t been exactly subtle, sweetheart.”
“I haven't been subtle?” Your eyes were wide as you looked at him in disbelief. “You haven’t been subtle, Jack.”
“Yes I have,” he was frowning now, that smug smirk melting off his face. “I kept that shit to myself.”
“Ok, yes, you didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to,” you placed the cutlery down on your forgotten plate, too engrossed in arguing to focus on your pancakes. “It was painfully obvious!”
He was shaking his head, mouth opening to counter, but you pressed on.
“You were practically salivating when we babysat my nephew! You literally have to be dragged away every time we get a peds case at work and you damn near get hearts in your eyes whenever I hold a baby,” there was no way he could deny any of this, and the look on his face was telling you he knew it, too. “When I told you my IUD was starting to act up, you were practically begging me with your eyes to get rid of it!”
“Begging you,” he was shaking his head. “With my eyes?”
“Yes, with your eyes.”
“Ok and what about you?” He was going on the offensive now, gaze sharpening.
“What about me?” You were leaning forward now, too. The both of you face to face across the table, meals completely forgotten.
“What about that one time we had the 6 month old with pertussis and the antivaxxer mom?”
You vividly remembered that incident from about a year ago. You’d went off on the mom, yelling about how, if this beautiful child was yours, you’d have never put her in danger over something so selfish. Jack had to drag you away, locking you in the on-call room to cool down while Ellis talked the mom down from leaving AMA.
You’d avoided any more punishment than a stern talking to from Gloria, but you’d been taken off the little girl’s care team. It had been an embarrassing outburst, but you didn’t regret it. Maybe you hadn’t gone about it in the right way, but everything you’d said had been correct and you still stood by that. Hopefully, your very loud attempt at shaming the woman had done the trick.
“I just wanted what was best for my patient,” you looked away. That wasn’t the sole reason for the incident, and you both knew it. The way your voice had broken as you’d yelled, ‘if she was mine’ was telling. And so were the tears in your eyes that night as you’d cried to Jack about the poor little girl, sobbing about how you could never put your own child in danger like that.
“Yeah, ok,” Jack didn’t push anymore, but his smirk was back, albeit softer at the edges. “And what about that time you got down on your knees for me in the on-call room after we had that kid with the broken leg?”
That you did not have a good excuse for. In your defense, your birth control just meant you couldn’t get pregnant. It did not stop you from ovulating, or suffering through the related side effects, including the irresistible urge to climb your husband like a tree any time he did something remotely attractive.
And in this case, you were in the middle of that particular part of your cycle. Watching him put the cast on the 8 year old girl who’d fallen off her bike hadn’t been what got you going. No, instead, it was the way he talked to her, calming her down and getting her to chatter about her favorite things. He gave her his undivided attention, wholeheartedly and enthusiastically talking about ponies and unicorns and fairies.
All of that had your mind drifting, imagine that it was your little girl he was talking to. In your mind, you were home, watching your husband talking to a little girl with your eyes and his (formerly) ginger curls.
Imagining him, just how incredible of a father he would be, had that fire that had been simmering just beneath your skin all day exploding into an inferno. So, the first chance the two of you had, you’d yanked him away, pulling him into a private room and dropping to your knees.
“Yeah, I remember that,” your blush was back, gaze dropping to the plate still sitting in front of you.
“Do you remember what you said before you sucked the soul out of my body, 15 feet away from our coworkers?”
Your whole body was on fire, embarrassment and desire warring just beneath the surface. Maybe you could tempt him back into your bedroom, distracting him from whatever this conversation and degraded into.
“C’mon, baby,” there it was, that insufferable, cocky tone of voice that told you Jack knew exactly how you were feeling. You refused to look up. “Tell me. What did you say to me right before you begged me to cum down your throat?”
“I said-”
“Look at me.”
You swallowed hard, peaking up through the curtain of your hair to face your husband. He was relaxed, sitting back in his seat, legs spread wide beneath the table. He was smirking, looking every bit the flirtatious bastard you knew him to be.
But his eyes were dark and hungry, chest rising and falling suspiciously faster than simply sitting down to eat breakfast warranted.
“I said,” your eyes were locked on his, entranced by the way his pupils slowly expanded. “‘You’re so good with kids.’”
“What else did you say?” He cocked his head slightly.
“‘It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.’”
His smile grew even more salacious. “That’s how I knew you wanted me to knock you up.”
You shifted in your seat, your sleep shorts feeling much too damp for comfort. Jack knew, his eyes tracking the movement hungrily.
You stood, stepping away from the table and starting down the hallway towards your bedroom as you called over your shoulder, “Yeah, well, you haven’t gotten me pregnant yet.”
Jack was hot on your heels in an instant.
The next 7 months of your life were spent in a seemingly never ending cycle of frustration, pleasure, irritation, and competition.
You hadn’t gotten pregnant after Jack’s birthday weekend which, while expected, had still been a little disappointing. The two of you were doctors, you knew that your body needed time to reset after removing your contraception.
For 7 months, you’d taken a test every Monday morning when the two of you arrived home, and every Monday morning that test was negative.
Jack, once again living up to his title as World’s Best Husband, gave you the control. When you’d broken down 4 months in without any sign of a baby any time soon, he’d held you close and told you he’d do whatever you wanted. He said it was your choice, if you wanted to go through testing, to give IVF a try, if you wanted to stop trying for a while.
You’d said no to all of them, apologizing for the tears. So many other couples tried for so much longer. It had only been 4 months. It was too early for the interventions or to give up. You were being dramatic.
“We’re not other couples,” Jack had said. “Don’t compare our journey with this to theirs. It’s not one size fits all, and there’s no time limit on this.”
He’d calmed you down and you’d resolved to not let it get to you. You’d agreed to stop taking a test once a week, too. You had time. If things were still stagnant around the 9 month mark, the two of you would do fertility testing and then, if necessary, try IVF. You’d agreed to stop taking a test once a week, too.
Jack had agreed, kissing your head and telling you that now that you had a gameplan, things would go smoothly. He also reminded you just how enjoyable the trying process could be, even if you hadn’t gotten the results you wanted yet.
During the time since his birthday, you’d been busy with more than just work and baby making. You’d made it your mission to try and surprise him again. He’d caught on quickly, and the two of you had entered a little war of sorts.
There’d been no official rules of engagement established, no conversation about exactly what was going on, but there seemed to be a mutual agreement on what did and didn’t count. The diet coke you were craving that appeared on your station was too small and didn’t count. Neither did the sandwich you’d made in secret before work and left on the break room table with his name on it.
But the new set of woodworking tools you’d left on his workbench in the garage did. Except, he’d shown you the screenshot of the order confirmation email he’d taken days before when you’d gloated that he hadn’t expected that.
“Shouldn’t have left your email logged in on my laptop, sweetheart.”
The dress you’d been eying last week when the two of you went out definitely counted, given the price tag in the hundreds. You were happy when it appeared in your closet, and even happier when you got to tell him you’d known since he’d bought it 3 days ago.
“Not really a surprise when you buy it from a boutique my friend owns, handsome.”
And so, here you were, 3 months post break down, 7 months post birthday, plotting the biggest surprise of them all.
You hadn’t taken a pregnancy test since, hoping that by ignoring it, you could subconsciously encourage it to happen. Maybe if you stopped putting the pressure of weekly tests on yourself, it’d be a little easier.
And by god, you were a genius.
You’d waited until you were at work, not trusting yourself to keep the fact that you’d taken a test a secret if you had to sit through your ride to work with Jack. No matter the result, you knew he’d be able to tell. And you had a pretty good feeling about this, given the fact that your period was just under 6 weeks late
But Jack still tracked your cycle. When your period hadn’t come, not long after you’d cried in his arms, you decided not to say anything. You felt a little shitty when you had to fake a period, but you had seen how the constant negatives were weighing on him. You wanted to be absolutely sure when you told him. And you’d truly planned to tell him earlier.
And then time had gotten away from you. And your desire to win whatever competition you had with him was too strong to ignore.
So, when you finally found a free minute, you retrieved the small plastic package from your locker, tucking it into your scrub pocket with a lie about it being that time of the month on the tip of your tongue. But no one stopped you or even batted an eye as you scurried from the lockers to the private restroom.
You did your business as fast as humanly possible, praying you’d be able to have the 5 minutes you needed for it to process before the usual ED chaos pulled you back in.
The two pink lines on the test were so dark they were almost black. You could barely contain yourself, fighting to keep the happy tears at bay as you pocketed the evidence.
When you slipped out of the restroom, you made a beeline for Lena.
“Hey, what’s open?”
She looked up at the board. “Uhh, South 7 should be empty by now.”
“Great,” the smile on your face was much too wide for 2am, even among your nocturnal coworkers. “Meet me there in 5 with a phlebotomy kit.”
Before Lena could ask questions, you were off. You’d been gone for a bit, so you needed to pop your head in on your patients before you could disappear again.
As you made your rounds, quickly checking in on your (thankfully) light caseload, you could see Jack on the other end of the ED. He was surrounded by residents and med students, all of them listening intently. You couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying over the ever present din of beeping and coughing, but it seemed to be some kind of lesson instead of idle chitchat. Robby had been getting on him lately about actually teaching the students at the teaching hospital.
You wanted to stop and stare, but you had an urgent appointment to attend to.
Lena was already in South 7 when you ducked in, shutting the door and sliding the curtain closed behind you.
“I thought you were putting a patient in here,” Lena’s arms were crossed. She looked thoroughly unimpressed.
“I am,” you stripped off your jacket, hiking up your long sleeved undershirt as you moved around her to take a seat on the edge of the bed. “Me.”
“You?”
“Yes, me,” she was still standing there, staring as you got yourself situated. “I need my blood drawn.”
“Oooookay,” slowly, she started setting up. “And why exactly is that?”
Your smile was still much too wide, perhaps a little manic. “I’m pregnant.”
Lena’s irritation morphed to shock and joy. Her smile matched yours as she picked up the pace, rapidly moving through the motions.
“Am I correct in assuming we’re keeping this from Dr. Dad?”
You laughed, nodding as the happy tears you’d held back in the bathroom started to make themselves known. Lena attached the tourniquet, quickly and masterfully finding a vein and beginning the draw. “I want to be absolutely sure before I tell him.”
“You don’t have to lie to me, sweetie,” she detached the vial, scribbling ‘Jane Doe’ along with the date and time on it. “I know this is about the surprises.”
So maybe the rest of the department had started to catch onto the war waging between you and Jack. In your defense, when you decided to vent to Ellis about your latest surprise attempts, how were you supposed to know she would immediately tell Shen, who would then tell everyone who’d give him the time of day?
“Ok yes, fine,” you pressed the bit of cotton she handed you onto the lightly bleeded puncture. “Maybe that’s a very small part of it.”
“Uh-huh,” Lena didn’t believe you, but that wasn’t important. “I’ll let you know when the results come back. I’ll even fast track it since I’m feeling generous.”
“Love you!” You called as she left the room.
Despite the rush, the results still didn’t come back until almost 5 am. Very positive. You were pregnant, about 9 weeks along.
But you were torn. How exactly were you going to tell Jack?
The longer you knew, the more likely he was to find out, either from you slipping up or from one of his many sources, and you couldn’t have that. You needed to do this fast. There was no time to plan out some grand reveal, so you settled on something simple.
After handoff, you pulled him away from the mingling shifts.
“Hey, before we go, can you come look at something with me?”
“Yeah,” Jack looked a little confused, but he followed you. “What’s up?”
“I just want you to take a look at these labs I got for a patient real quick,” you led him back into South 7, the room still open. Quickly, you flicked through tabs on your ipad to your results. “Here.”
Jack looked even more confused as his eyes tracked over the tablet. “Elevated hCG, probably 9-10 weeks.”
You didn’t say anything, keeping your face painfully neutral as you waited, even though you were practically vibrating on the inside. He was smart, you were sure you wouldn’t have to spell it out for him. Any second now he’d realize.
He looked between you and the tablet for a moment, before his lips parted in an ‘O.’
“I see,” you really didn’t think he did, given the lack of emotional response. “Have you told her yet?”
“I think she knows, Jack.”
“Ok…” He still looked perplexed, glancing around the empty room. “Then where is your patient?”
“Jack…” you buried your face in your hands. This was not how you pictured this going.
“What am I missing, sweetheart?” He set the tablet down, closing the distance between you. “Pregnant patient, 9-10 weeks along, probably t-”
“They're my labs, Jack,” you dropped your hands, looking up to watch as his face froze. Tears started welling in your eyes. “I’m pregnant and I’m trying to surprise you.”
He stayed frozen for a moment, eyes scanning your face, before he was dragging you into a bone crushing hug. His hand slid into your hair as your arms wrapped around his waist and your face was buried in his shoulder.
“Holy fuck, baby.”
Your laugh was wet. It didn’t go exactly how you imagined, but Jack’s shaky exhales told you he was just as affected as you.
“I can’t believe it,” his face was buried in your hair.
“We’re having a baby,” you couldn’t stop your voice from breaking, emotion too thick to keep it together. “We’re gonna have a kid.”
“Sweetheart, a ba-” Jack pulled back, something you didn’t catch washing over his face. His hands cupped your cheeks as he looked down at you. “Lie down.”
“What? Why?” You were confused about why he was so rudely interrupting your moment.
“I wanna see them.”
You don’t spend almost a decade with Jack Abbot without being able to tell when he’s up to something, and you can clearly tell he’s thinking something he’s not saying out loud. But both of you are emotional, evident by the shimmering of his eyes, so maybe he just really wanted to see the new life you were carrying.
“Ok,” you moved back, settling on your back on the gurney. As you pulled up your top, untying and lowering your pants ever so slightly, Jack pulled a stool and the ultrasound over. He waited until you were comfortable before he squirted a generous helping of the gel over your lower stomach.
“I know you looked at your results,” both of your eyes were glued to the screen as he used the wand to spread the gel around, moving too quickly for you to see anything yet. “But I don’t think you really looked.”
Your attention shifted, focusing on him. “Jack, what-”
“There,” he pointed at the screen.
You looked back, freezing for a moment as you took in the sight before you.
There, blatantly displayed on the screen was a small shape that could only be described as a white bean, surrounded by black space. You could see what looked like tiny little limbs, branching out from the bean, alongside a clearly defined head.
Being a doctor had prepared you for this sight. You had seen many ultrasounds during your years through school and residency and now your tenure as an attending. You’d even seen this exact situation before, many times, in fact. But seeing it in your own womb was wiping every coherent thought from your mind.
Beside the first bean, tucked in its own protective black space, was a second bean.
“Surprsie, baby,” Jack’s smile was smug, but his eyes were still wet.
“What- how did you-” Your words failed, mind scrambling as you tried to process the reality of your situation.
“Your hCG was too high,” Jack pressed the capture button, moving the wand around to get multiple angles. “Before I realised you were showing me your labs, I thought you were trying to tell me your patient was having twins.”
Reluctantly, he removed the wand, wiping down your stomach as you blinked at him. Jack guided you to sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. You felt like you were in shock, the whole world moving around you in slow motion as your mind struggled to process everything that had happened in the last few hours.
And then Jack popped the bubble, snapping you out of the fog that had come over your brain.
“So, I guess I won your little surprise competition.”
“You absolutely did not,” you slapped weakly at his chest as he stepped between your spread legs to place his palm over your stomach.
“No?” The corners of his mouth were twitching up. “What’s more surprising than being pregnant? Being pregnant with twins.”
“I grew them,” your hand covered his, lacing your fingers together.
“Yeah, you did,” he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. His hips were perfectly placed to brush your core over the slight bulge hidden by his scrubs. It wasn’t fully hard yet, but you could feel the heat of it leaking through the thin material keeping you apart.
“So I won,” your breathing picked up as he gently ground against you.
“I’m pretty sure I’m the winner here,” his hand not on your stomach tangled in your hair, tilting your face up until your noses brushed. “I fucked you so good, I put two in there.”
“That’s the real surprise here,” Jack’s grip on your hair tightened causing a gasp to slip from your lips
“You saying I don’t usually fuck you good enough?”
His voice was low and dangerous, almost a growl. His hips pushed forwards, pressing his length against the seat of your pants.
“Woah!”
The two of you jerked apart when the curtain rings and a shout shattered the tense atmosphere. Robby was standing there, half turned away with a hand over his eyes.
“Not in my hospital, please!”
“Robby, I-” You struggled to come up with a good excuse. Jack didn’t share your concern.
“Cockblock.”
You slapped his arm. Thankfully, he had muttered it under his breath and Robby had either not heard him or had chosen not to comment.
“I know you two live in a very nice house,” Robby peaked through his fingers, deeming it safe to remove his hands now that the two of you were a few feet apart. “Please, keep your marital activities there.”
“We were kind of having a moment, here,” Jack was turned away from him, likely hiding his rapidly shrinking hardon. While he was looking away, he printed the photos from the ultrasound machine.
“Have your moment at home, ok?”
“Sorry, Robby,” you stood, trying to fight the blush tinting your cheeks.
“At least your wife has a sense of decorum.”
“Truly my better half,” Jack laid a kiss on your temple after he collected the pictures, turning his attention solely to you. He handed you four strips of photos. “Here, I made one for you, one for me, one for the fridge, and one for the book.”
“Thank you, Jack,” you pulled him down into a kiss that was work safe, the barest brush of yours against his.
“Holy shit,” both of you remembered Robby was in the room when he noticed the photos. “Is that-”
“Yes,” Jack’s hand on your back pushed you forward, moving you around Robby. “Now, excuse us. I’m going to go have a few moments with my wife.”
“Jack!”
“Jesus Christ. Too much information, brother."
The car ride home had been silent. Jack was staring at the road, jaw tense and knuckles white, all while you couldn’t look away from the strip of photos in your hands. You’d probably committed all the details to memory by now, but your eyes were glued to the glossy black and white images.
You were mesmerized, transfixed. All you could do was look at your two little beans.
Aside from the lack of a period, you hadn’t had any of the stereotypical first trimester symptoms. It felt unreal, like there was some sort of disconnect. Logically, you knew that those two beans from the pictures were inside you, growing and developing. But physically, you didn’t feel it. There was no bump yet, no morning sickness, nothing visible or tangible besides these photos in your hands to mark you as pregnant.
So you clung to them, never once looking up at your surroundings until Jack was opening the passenger side door, helping you down and out of the cab of his truck.
“I’m really pregnant.”
You were the first to break the silence that had settled over the both of you.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Jack set both of your bags down on the kitchen counter while you stood, eyes flicking between the photos and him. “You really are.”
“We’re fucking having fucking twins.”
“You’ve got to work on that potty mouth before they get here,” he walked towards you, his hands settling on your hips as his chest pressed to your back. His chin hooked over your shoulder as he looked down to gaze at the print outs once again.
“Jack,” your hands fell to your sides as you spun in his grip. “What the fuck are we going to do with twins? I was already nervous about having one kid at a time, but 2? How the hell are we-”
“Hey,” calloused hands found your cheeks, stopping your panicking and squishing your lips shut. “I’ll tell you how we’re gonna do this.”
He was walking you backwards, into the hallway and across the threshold of your bedroom.
“We’re gonna take it day by day. We’re gonna listen to our guts, follow our instincts,” he guided you to sit on the end of the bed before he was kneeling between your legs. Those big hands of his reached up, peeling your scrub top and undershirt over your head. “We’ll take some time off work, probably 6 months once they’re here, and then we can go part time.”
“But what about money-”
“You know as well as I do that we do not need to worry about money,” his fingers deftly unhooked your bra, sliding it from your shoulders. Those same fingers found the drawstring of your pants, undoing it and slipping them down along with your underwear. You lifted your hips to help him. “Between what we’ve saved so far and my pension and disability, we don’t ever have to go back if we don’t want to, sweetheart.”
“I’m not ready to quit yet,” your fingers ran through his hair as he spread your legs a little wider. Soft kisses were pressed to the skin of your inner thighs.
“Then you won’t. Like I said, day by day,” he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. “Now, can I eat you out or do you want to keep talking about our finances?”
“Eat me out, please Jack.”
You hadn’t noticed the growing heat between your legs, too focused on your nerves and anxiety. But when his tongue swept through your folds, a jolt of fire shot up your spine, quickly drawing your attention solely to your husband and his mouth.
“Fuck,” his arms wrapped around your thighs, yanking you even closer to him. You fell flat against the mattress. “You taste even better than usual, baby.”
Jack ate you out like a man starved. He was everywhere, dipping his tongue inside your entrance, closing his lips around your clit, his teeth dragging over your outer folds. There was little finesse. He knew the exact right buttons to push to get you right over the finish line. He’d timed it once or twice. The record was 5 minutes and 37 seconds.
But at this moment, it wasn’t about getting you there. He was savoring you, exploring every nook and cranny he could in a desperate attempt to get even more of the sweetness between your thighs on his tongue.
“Gonna have to keep you pregnant 24/7 if you taste this good when you’ve got my kids in there,” one of his hands came up to spread over your abdomen, right above your navel. He pressed down at the same time he slid two of his fingers inside of you, all the way down to the knuckle.
Your back arched, a pathetic whine of his name leaking into the air.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Jack’s voice was low and rough, the vibrations traveling through your body as he refused to lift his head. “I’ll give you what you need.”
The shift from him simply exploring and savoring your taste to a concentrated effort to make you cum is jarring. One moment he was languidly licking over you with the flat of his tongue and the next his lips were sealed over your clit, sucking while his fingers curled upwards to slide back and forwards against your g-spot.
“Jack! Fuck!”
He didn’t respond, his focus solely on giving you the most pleasure he could, as fast as he could.
It was intense. Like he had poured gasoline onto the heat growing between your legs, turning that fuzzy, warm flame into an inferno. His movements threatened to drag you over into oblivion much faster than you had anticipated.
“Oh fuck, Jack,” your voice was high pitched and breathy while your body writhed, just barely held in place by his hand still flat over your stomach. “Fuck, I’m close!”
And then, right as you were about to tumble over the edge, he stopped. Jack pulled back, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
“What the fuck?” You were panting, trying to school your desperate and flushed features into a glare.
“Oh I’m sorry,” Jack looked dangerous in the low light of the bedroom. He stood, towering over your almost limp body, the limited light seeping in from the blackout curtains and shining from the dim lamp on the bedside table outlined the sharp edges of him. His jaw dusted with slight silver stubble, the muscles in his chest and arms that tensed and shifted as he crawled over you.
His hand tapped at the outside of your thigh, urging you silently to scoot up until your head lay among the pillows and his body and settled between your legs. You realized he was still fully clothed while you lay beneath him, completely naked.
“That was looking suspiciously like I was making you feel good.”
Your head dropped back with a groan. “You’re still on that? It was a dumb comment. You know you make me feel better than anyone I’ve ever been with, Jack.”
“I certainly know that,” his fingers spread wide over your breast, squeezing the flesh before shifting and rolling your nipple between two rough fingertips. You let out a high pitched sigh as your back arched, practically presenting your breasts to him. “I just think you might need a reminder.”
“Then take off your clothes and remind me,” your hands tangled in his curls, dragging his face to yours. When your lips met, it was desperate, both of you falling into a fast and needy rhythm. His tongue darted out, tangling with yours while his hands continued to squeeze at and caress your breasts. You could feel the hard length of him grinding against your inner thigh.
And then Jack was pulling back, pushing up to rest on his knees between your spread thighs. You couldn’t help but admire him as he stripped his shirt off, eyes glued to the freckles dusting his shoulders and pecs.
“Enjoying the view?” He cocked one eyebrow at you, throwing the shirt off the edge of the bed as he unfastened his watch.
“Oh I most definitely am,” something fluttered in your stomach as he leant over you, reaching to place the watch on the nightstand. You knew he was doing it on purpose, but you couldn’t find it in you to complain as you watched his muscles stretch and flex.
“Mmm, me too.”
Jack settled back on his knees, those big hands sliding over your thighs. He looked ravenous, his eyes tracing over every inch of your bare skin, especially lingering on your chest as it rose and fell in time with your heavy breathing.
“I think you should sit on my face.”
Your breath hitched, core clenching at his words. As tempting as it was, you were aching for him. You needed to feel him deep inside of you.
“I think you should fuck me,” you countered. It was playing dirty, but you couldn’t help yourself as you stretched your arms above your head, arching your back and hooking your legs around his hips. “C’mon Jackie.”
As he dropped down over you, one of his hands caught your still outstretched wrists, pinning them to the blankets. With the other hand he dug his fingers into your hair, not pulling, just holding tight to the strands.
“I want,” his lips kissed the corner of your mouth before he was moving down to mouth at where your carotid hammered away. “You to sit on my face. Think of it as my reward for winning the surprise-off.”
“You didn’t win-” your protest ended in a bitten off moan when his hips ground against yours, your clit pressing right against his head through the thin fabric he still wore.
“Yes I did.”
Your world blurred and tilted as Jack flipped the two of you. He landed on his back, leaving you scrambling to catch your balance as he pulled you up his chest. His hands were insistent from where they held your ass, yanking you up and over his face before you could stop him.
And then he was pulling you down. The hands on your ass encouraged you to rock and grind against him while his tongue plunged inside of you.
You cried out his name, hands shooting out to grab the headboard as the heat from before returned full force. Jack didn’t let up, using every dirty little trick he’d learned over the years to get you close. He didn’t delay or try to keep you on edge, his sole focus was on making you cum.
His tongue shifted and he tilted your hips, drawing circles around the bud with his tongue while his fingers slipped back inside you.
“Holy shit!” You were rocking against him, panting with the force of the orgasm rising deep in your pelvis. “Fuck, please. Just like that!”
He groaned into you, and that pushed you over the edge.
Your legs shook and your head dropped back. You didn’t try to hide the moans and whimpers you released as you pulsed around his fingers. The sensation washed over you, sending sparks flashing behind your closed eyelids while you rode it out.
When he finally let you go, it was a miracle you didn’t kick him in the face. You collapsed into the sheets beside him, panting and twitching with aftershocks.
“Does that qualify as ‘good enough?’”
“Fuck you, Abbot.”
Your eyes were still closed but you heard him getting up. There was the rustling of his pants, followed by the telltale snapping of the fastenings on his leg. You listened to his sigh and the thunk as it was leant against the nightstand.
And then he was sliding over you again and your eyes opened.
He was smiling down at you, eyes full of so much love it floored you. To see his devotion to you sparkling in his blown pupils in the comfort of the home you shared was overwhelming.
“I love you,” your fingers carded through his messy curls before your palm settled over his cheekbone.
“I love you, too.”
He kissed you then, slowly and softly, simply letting the two of you get lost in it. As you did, your legs came up to wrap around him and his forearms settled on either side of your head.
It was only when the bare length of him was brushing through your folds that you broke the kiss.
“Wait,” your breathing was labored. “Flip me over.”
“No, I want to see you,” Jack was trying to pull you back into a kiss as his length continued to rut against you, but you dodged it.
“And I want to get fucked laying on my stomach before your kids make it so I can’t.”
He laughed, shaking his head as he sat back up again to give you room to twist around. When you got comfortable he grabbed a pillow.
“Up,” his hand pulled at your hip and you lifted, giving him room to slide the pillow underneath, just enough to prop you up slightly. Your hands folded underneath your chin, waiting for him to get himself situated.
“Your ass looks fucking incredible like this.” Jack straddled your thighs, pinning them together. His hands came up to grab and squeeze at your ass, pulling the cheeks apart to glide his length in between.
The first press of him against your dripping entrance had you biting your lip. He always felt so big in this position, like he was actually rearranging your guts when he bottomed out.
“Ah fuck,” he sounded breathless when he pushed the head in. “You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart.”
“Jack please,” you tried to push back against him but his hand landed on your upper back, keeping you pinned.
“Gotta give me a minute,” he was breathing hard, biting back a groan when you squeezed around him. “Gonna cum too fast if you do that.”
You gave him a minute. Well, you tried to. You just needed him, desperately.
“Jack Abbot if you don’t fuck me, I swear to god I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” He was finally - finally - sliding the rest of the way inside, pushing until his hips met your ass. “You’ll find someone else to fuck you? You won’t let me touch you for a week?”
You were too distracted by the full length of him sliding home to answer. Your hips were grinding back, as much as you could while he still held you still. The shifting movement had your clit grinding against the pillow as well.
“C’mon, don’t make empty threats.” Jack’s body lowered over yours. His chest pressed into your back, pinning you even more firmly into the mattress and stopping your movements. “Tell me what you’ll do if I don’t fuck you how you need.”
“I-”
You were interrupted by his first thrust, a deep grinding motion that had his tip pressing against that space just below your cervix. One of his hands was slipping between you and the pillow, palming your mound. His fingers parted around where his length was beginning to slide in and out, never pulling more than halfway out before thrusting back in.
“F-fuck…”
“S’that what you needed, babygirl?”
He pulled back slightly until the pads of his fingers were brushing against your clit, rolling and stroking over the bud with every shift of his cock deep inside you.
“Yes, Jack, yes!”
Jack buried as deep into you as he could with every thrust. Your mind was going fuzzy with pleasure. Fully surrounded by him like you were, it was impossible to focus on anything except how he made you feel. His chest was pressed against your back, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, and his free arm was curled over your other shoulder, holding your breast.
“Shit, please tell me you’re close, baby,” his fingers sped up against your clit and his hips were losing their rhythm.
“Yeah, Jack, please!”
All you could do from where he held you was grind back and forth, alternating between chasing the pleasure from his hand and his cock. Both sensations were yanking you closer to your orgasm. You could feel it welling in your bones and pooling in your stomach.
“Fuck I want you to cum with me,” Jack was grunting as humped into you. “Please sweetheart. Wanna feel you.”
Who were you to deny your husband what he wanted?
The noise Jack made when your walls started to squeeze and pulse around him was obscene. It was long and drawn out, rough around the edges and broken as he thrust in and stayed. You could feel his length twitching, the wet hot heat of him unloading deep inside you.
All the while, your own hips were twitching and jerking, pinned in place by his body as your eyes rolled back. The orgasm ran you over, leaving you gasping and whimpering into the sheets as you fought to catch your breath. It felt electric, zapping up and down your spine in increasingly weaker pulses until you collapsed into the bed.
“Jesus,” Jack pushed himself off you, pulling out slowly. Both of you winced at the separation.
You let yourself lay there, blissed out and half aware as Jack moved about around you. His crutches squeaked against the floor as he went into the bathroom, but he was back before you knew it with a wet wash cloth. His movements were gentle as he cleaned between your legs.
“That’s good enough. C’mere,” you pushed his hand away, scooting back to make room for him underneath the covers.
“Alright,” he chuckled. There was a rather gross sounding wet splat, presumably the wash cloth landing on the tile of the bathroom floor and then Jack was pulling your back against his chest, spooning you.
You made a mental note to pick that up tomorrow.
“You may have surprised me today, and maybe I lost the surprise-off,” Jack’s words were quiet, muffled slightly by his lips pressed to your hair as he held you tightly. One of his hands rested over your stomach. You were already starting to drift off, exhausted by the emotions and physical exertion of the day. “But I’m still the biggest winner because I have you, and these two little ones.”
alright, i'll be the one to say it. ao3 and tumblr becoming "mainstream" did so much damage to the community and the writers. i have seen loads of videos and posts about:
1. people hating on writers and fics. writing is something we do for free and for fun. if you stumble upon a fanfic that isn't necessarily your cup of tea or you just don't like, scroll. dont read it. literally leave their page. you don't know if this could be the author's first work that they're so excited about, you dont know if the language they're writing in isn't their first language, you dont know that the writer could be a literal teen and loads of other reasons. fanfictions don't HAVE to be perfect. you write what you want to write because we do it for fun and enjoyment and we want to share that to the world. seriously, what is the wrong with that?..
2. x reader consumers getting WAY too entitled. the number of tiktoks i've seen that say "i run a strict program when it comes to reading fanfics." girl you aint running shit. this is FAN FICTION you're reading. F A N F I C T I O N. there is no denying that most fanfiction writes are beyond talented but just because you read one fanfic that exceeds your expectations doesn't give you the right to talk down on others that don't. people have their own personal writing style, their way of doing things and you talking shit on that isn't right.
at the end of the day, we are all humans, reading and writing is what we do and what we're meant to do. and for you to talk shit about a person WRITING is so insane. we are humans. not some robots that you can tell what to do so you can consume it.
i've seen so so many authors take down their fanfics and losing all motivation to write because of a hate comment. DONT LIKE DONT READ‼️
and to every author reading this, this community values your work and your contribution. we love u and, please, never let anyone's negative words have an effect on you.
summary: in the middle of the worst e.r. shift of your whole career, you catch your not-quite boyfriend, shirtless, in an empty room with another resident. (6.4k)
contents: established relationship/friends with benefits, jealousy (mohabbot take five real quick), angst, hurt/comfort, kinda canon divergent 'cause i wrote this when the spoilers dropped a few weeks ago cw for s2 spoilers, physical assault (a la dana in s1), panic attacks, mentions of blood and medical procedures, mentions of patient death, brief mentions of grief, brief mentions of not eating due to stress n sadness, allusions to smut 18+ (MDNI)
The lamplit room is filled with Jack’s exclusion from it.
You writhe beneath the mussed blankets, still buzzing from the remnants of your orgasm, and watch his shadow move beneath the crack of the bathroom door. You’re still filled by him, still leaking a mixture of him onto the stained sheets below, and yet you find yourself missing him, anyway.
He does not seem as grieved by the distance as you are. He sobered almost instantly from his own orgasm and promptly slid off your body, without another word or a kiss of reassurance shared between you. He’d slipped his prosthetic back on and made a beeline for the adjoining bathroom — where he has been for some minutes now, just pacing, and leaving you to stew in the worry of what you had obviously done so wrong.
“Do you wanna order food?” you call into the quiet, reaching for your phone on the nightstand beside you. You miss once, then twice, with hands still tingling from a soul-ascending pleasure. The screen fills the dim room with a blue-white light that makes you squint until your tired eyes adjust.
“What?!” Jack shouts back, muffled from behind the door. The hissing faucet shuts off to a slow drip.
“I said, do you—” You cut off your yelling when the bathroom door squeaks open. Jack appears in the doorway, now dressed in the t-shirt and jeans he’d arrived in. He’s shadowed momentarily by the light behind him until he switches it off again — then he’s painted a dim golden color as he walks back into the bedroom for his shoe.
You hold the thin sheet to your bare chest and shift further up the headboard, bending your knees to accommodate his body when he sits on the edge of the mattress to tie his laces. Your eyes soften, waiting for him to look back at you.
He never does.
More quietly, you tell him, “I asked if you wanted to order food. ‘Cause I don’t really feel like cooking right now and, depending on what you want, we should probably wait to order ‘cause Love Island doesn’t come on for another hour, and—”
Jack’s scruffy chin brushes the thin fabric of his shirt as he turns his head slowly to look at you. There’s a distance in his eyes that cuts you off, like you’re a quick fuck that doesn’t know when to stop talking, like he’s waiting for you to stop so he can get away.
“I think I’m gonna head out now, actually,” he tells you, then returns to knot his laces.
“Oh…” you hum, half-breathless, and pretend his foreign dismissiveness doesn’t tear your chest in two. “Are you… Are you okay—?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs and rises from the mattress. “I’m fine. I just— Need to get home.”
You follow him with wet eyes as he rounds the bed for the opposite side, where his phone and wallet sit on the nightstand and his branded rucksack rests on the floor. “Well, do you want me to wait to watch it with you? ‘Cause then I have to text Princes and tell her not to spoil it for me in the morning—”
“Go ahead,” Jack shrugs, with a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, as he slides the camo strap over his broad shoulder. “I think I’ll survive a week without it.”
Your frown deepens at his joke.
“Did I do something?” you wonder in a meek voice that makes his chest ache.
“No,” he scoffs. “Of course not. Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know…” you murmur shyly, shifting on the mattress and grimacing slightly when the sticky sheets cling to your thighs. “You never leave right after we have sex, so I— I didn’t know if, maybe… It wasn’t good for your something, or if I said something—”
“No, it was great—” Jack interjects, but cuts himself off quickly thereafter, like he was about to say something he shouldn’t.
The word ‘honey’ was about to roll off his tongue the way it always does when he’s talking to you, but it feels wrong to say it now, for a reason he still can’t name that threatens to strangle him all the same.
“I just gotta go now. Okay?”
At a loss for what else to do, or what else to say that might make him stay, you just nod with a sad smile. “Sure…”
Jack leaves with a polite nod — like the sex was some sort of mindless transaction he’s thanking you for and not something you’ve done quite regularly for the past several months. He doesn’t speak another word to you when he walks out, and doesn’t look back at you once when he shuts the door behind him.
You stew in his absence and forget to eat.
Your tired body functions the following day on nothing but heartache and half a granola bar.
You drown in the bustling emergency department, and in the void of the white screen ahead of you, where you try and fail to do your charting. You can’t quite garner the strength to use your hands, much less use your brain to put letters on the screen that’ll just look like alphabet soup to you anyway. You’re stuck idling in the emptiness inside of you, where your heart withers along with your stomach.
Robby watches from afar, studying you as he flits between patients and residents requiring his attention. He has, self-admittedly, quite the soft spot for you — because you’re the smartest person on this floor and the most sensitive, too, which makes for a great doctor but very often the saddest person you’ll ever meet. He waits for you to correct yourself before he has to step in, and potentially make your day worse than it’s obviously already going.
You don’t move for six minutes straight.
He timed it.
“What is going on over here?” Robby wonders slowly, leaning over the top of the desk and peering down at you with a pair of stern brown eyes.
You blink rapidly to clear the haze of rumination from your vision and shrink into your cushioned seat like a scolded child. “Charting…” you answer with an unconvincing waver in your voice.
“Looks like it,” Robby scoffs with a hint of a smile that gets lost in his greying beard. He taps the desk with his palm and stands to full height again, nodding his head and urging you to follow him. “C’mon. Walk with me.”
He saunters off in the opposite direction of the work station, taking a tablet that Dana hands to him as he goes. It takes a long moment for his words to compute, and you scramble to your feet when he throws you an expectant look over his shoulder. You fall into step with the older man as he drags his glasses from the shirt pocket of his black scrubs.
Robby sets the black frames on the bridge of his nose and wonders aloud with his gaze turned to the screen in his hand, “What’s going on with you today, kid?”
“It’s nothing,” you shrug dismissively, sticking close to the man’s side as you weave within the crowded hall.
He flashes you an unenthusiastic glare in return. His eyes dart between your furrowed brows, to your anxiety-bitten lips (where your teeth dig into the delicate skin even now), to where you wrench the hem of your long-sleeved undershirt into trembling fists. Whatever it is, it’s very clearly not nothing.
“I’m not asking to be polite, kid,” the older man tells you, firm but not entirely unkind. “I can tell something’s wrong, and it’s affecting your work, so— Just tell me.”
You swallow hard and struggle to find the courage to speak, or to meet the man’s gaze as your eyes dart everywhere but back at him.
“It’s about your friend…” you confess in a sheepish murmur that gets lost in the droning of the bustling E.R.
It takes Robby a moment or more to catch your meaning.
“Jack?” he presses, because he knew the two of you were seeing each other, but not that it was quite so serious to warrant the off-day you’re having now. He makes a mental note to ream Abbot out for it the next time he sees him — ‘cause he can’t have any of his residents upset, least of all you.
You nod with an averted gaze. “He’s just… been off—”
“He’s always off,” Robby scoffs.
“Well, not with me,” you tell him, foreignly firm in your quiet argument. “And now he’s not talking to me, and I have no idea what I did…”
“Well, knowing Jack, you probably didn’t do a damn thing,” Robby concedes with a heavy sigh and flashes you a sympathetic look as you turn the corner. “Just give him some time, alright? He’ll come around. He always does. For now, you’ve got a patient in 8 that’s asking for you—”
Before you can make a guess on who it is — though you think you already know the answer — a strong hand wrenches suddenly around your wrist.
The man’s fingers are warm, calloused, and unwavering against your delicate skin. Your heart lurches into your throat at the sudden panic as your chin snaps towards the man towering over you. He’s tall, bearded, rugged, and so angry he’s red in the face.
“I have been waiting out there…” the man starts, taut voice wavering with a withheld fire. “…For four hours. When the hell am I gonna see somebody?”
“How did you get back here?” is the first thing you think to squeak out, because you vaguely recall McKay sending him back to Chairs after taking his vitals some time ago.
Robby steps in then, cutting between you and the stranger to urge him backward and away from you. You rub at your tender wrist when the man’s brutal touch is gone.
“We’re seeing the sickest patients first, sir. So count yourself lucky you aren’t back here,” Robby explains in an even voice, sounding much calmer than he really feels. “But touch anybody in here like that again, and you won’t be seen at all. Got it?”
The man caves with a heavy breath and with his weathered palms splayed in surrender. “I was just asking a question, man…”
“I’ll handle it, boss,” Ahmad cuts in, rushing towards the three of you after catching sight of the altercation from down the hall. He steps between the two of you and the angry patient and ushers him back toward the waiting room.
“Don’t touch me,” you hear the man spit, but complying anyway.
“Trust me, man,” Ahmad quips. “I don’t want to.”
It takes you a long moment thereafter to catch your breath.
It was certainly not the first time you’ve been grabbed by an unhappy patient, and it would certainly not be the last, but you can never quite get used to the fear. The panic is slow to ebb from your veins, even as the man is escorted back to Chairs. You find him sneering silently at you when you catch his eyes, moments before the door shuts behind him.
Robby steps into your tunnel vision, ducking down to meet your gaze with dark eyes glimmering with worry. “You alright, kid? Did he get you?”
“I’m fine,” you answer on muscle memory and muster a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I’ve seen my fair share of assholes, Robby. Today, even.”
“Well, yeah,” the man scoffs playfully. “You’re with Abbot— I’m sure you’re an expert at dealing with assholes by now…”
By all accounts, you were not supposed to have favorites at the PTMC. And you didn’t really; everyone who stepped foot into the E.R. got the same level of medical care from you — even the assholes. But Louie Cloverfield was different, special. He was the first patient you ever saw as an R1, and when he kept coming in, and you kept picking up his cases, he became your patient.
If Louie was in, and you were on shift, you were the one tending to him. Always.
So, you stay by his side when he loses his pulse, even when the rest of the E.R. reduces to the inevitable chaos of the afternoon rush — even when you know the rest of your co-workers could probably use your help out there now — even when you know there’s nothing more you can do for Louie to keep him alive.
Sweat beads on your forehead as you kneel at his bedside, pounding firmly at the man’s chest in a feeble attempt to keep his heart beating. You’ve lost feeling in your arms now — they’ve gone from aching, to burning, to utterly numb — but your attempt at resuscitation never stops, not even as dark crimson blood spits from his breathing tube; the clearest sign of blood in his lungs.
Robby watches from the back of the room, keeping a close eye on you and the bodies donned in camo outside the window — as the TEMS unit treats a trauma patient across the way, with Jack Abbot among them. He catches the man glancing around the crowded E.R. for a moment, peering over passing heads for a glimpse of you, before the work inevitably drags him away.
Robby knows you have not yet noticed Jack’s presence.
You’ve got the sort of tunnel vision you always get in a crisis, when you refuse to move on until you’ve helped the person in front of you first — which has undoubtedly made you the very backbone of the PTMC patient satisfaction score, though at a detriment to yourself perhaps. Because you never know when to stop; and then, when you inevitably have to, you’ll always find a way to blame yourself for it.
“Three minutes since the epi,” you hear Perlah say, over the sound of your pounding heartbeat in your ears.
“Hold compressions,” Robby commands.
You stop on instinct, and feel the ache done into your bones. You exhale heavy breaths as you wipe sweat from your brow with the back of your gloved hand, careful to avoid the drops of blood spotted there. You feel like your chest is tearing in two when that same, menacing beeping sound fills the air.
“Aystotle,” Robby sighs. “Resume compressions.”
“Give me another amp of epi— and more suction,” you say through panted breaths, situating your palms back over the older man’s sternum. You look past the rogue flyaways falling over your eyes and the nurses crowded around you, peering at Robby with a determined but no less pleading gaze. “What do we do? Should we— Should we give PCC?”
Robby shakes his head with his arms crossed over his chest. “No, it’s too late for that…” he hums sympathetically. “And he’s not an ECMO candidate, so—”
“Well, can you tell me something that we can do?” you snap, harsher than you mean to.
Robby only softens further, dark eyes going tender around the edges as he tells you, “There’s nothing else we can do for him, kid…”
“Robby,” you whimper, flinching like he’s hurt you, but never once stopping your compressions. “C’mon. Please, we can— We can think of something— We still have two more rounds of epi, maybe it’ll—”
You exhale a punched-out breath, like not being able to save Louie hits you like a fist to the stomach. Your aching arms tingle with numbness when you part from the unconscious man. That wretched beeping fills the air once more, ringing through your ears and pounding skull.
“12:07,” you hear Robby announce the time of death, as Perlah’s soft hands grasp gently at your shoulders.
“C’mon. I’ll clean up,” the woman tells you, sniffling. “You take a second.”
“I’m fine,” you shrug, half-strangled, as you slip the bloodied gloves from your half-numb hands. You blink back burning tears as you walk them to the trash.
“You’re not,” Robby murmurs, head bowed to meet your averted gaze. “And that’s okay. Just take a second.”
You remind yourself to breathe — in for seven beats and out for eight — as the muffled exam room breaks away into the chaotic E.R. The rest of it becomes a blur in your tunnel vision, and the calls for concern turn to inaudible slurs in your ears.
“Whoa… you okay?” you only vaguely hear Trinity ask as you storm past the work station.
“Fine,” you squeak on instinct, despite the obvious.
“Oh, yeah, he totally croaked in there,” Ogilvie murmurs, as though to gossip with her, but forgetting to be subtle about it.
“Do you ever think before you speak?” Santos quips. “Or is the stupidity genetic?”
Your heavy eyes search for an empty room to duck into, to at least muffle your screams before you cry in front of everyone. There is no patient in the bed in Central 15, so you burst into that one, still struggling to catch your breath.
Your much-needed inhale gets caught in your chest at the sight you find in the corner of the room — Jack Abbot, stripped off his shirt and wiping blood from his stomach, with Samira standing just behind him, tending carefully to the scrape on his back.
Your sneaker scuffs the tile as you still suddenly in place.
The sound of your sudden presence makes them freeze, too. Their heads dart in your direction, gaping with wide eyes and parted mouths as if you’d just caught them doing something terrible. In a way, it feels like you have.
It feels like you’ve stumbled upon some achingly tender moment between them, of which you had been deprived for some time now — because even when Jack was with you, he was a thousand miles away. You wonder if, maybe, a part of him wanted to be here — with Samira, perhaps — and if that’s why he had left you so abruptly last night, as if it had only occurred to him then that you were no longer what he wanted.
You wouldn’t have blamed him for it, if that were the case. You just wish he would’ve told you before now, so it would feel like less of a white-hot knife lodged into the center of your sternum to find him this way.
“Sorry,” you just barely manage to choke out, though it gets lost in a whimper as you fight back the urge to cry.
Jack’s scruffy chest pinches with worry at the crack in your fragile voice and the visibly frazzled sight of you, all wild-haired and glassy-eyed. It hurts him far worse than the wounds burning red-hot on his pale skin now.
“What happened?” he asks, greying brows lowered in concern.
Samira stills with her soft fingers on Jack’s broad, freckled shoulder, touching him with a tenderness he hasn’t let you give him in some time.
“Are you okay?” she wonders, soft with a worry that is always sincere coming from here, but finds you more like a slap in the face just now.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answer on muscle memory, then sniffle as you shake your head at yourself. “I’m not, actually— I don’t know why I said that— Louie just died. Pulmonary hemorrhage. And I was just looking for an empty room to cry in, I didn’t mean to… to interrupt…”
“You didn’t,” Jack assures you, parting from Samira to take a step closer to you.
It takes quite a lot of strength from you to turn away from him, instead of leering at his shirtless form or cowering at the gentle look in his light eyes. “I-I’ll see myself out,” you stammer hopelessly. “Sorry…”
You just barely hear Jack calling your name before the heavy glass door shuts behind you.
With nowhere else to go, and not willing to face the embarrassment of walking back the way you came, you make a beeline for the ambulance bay. The automatic doors part for you, and the cool air outside takes your breath away a second later.
Your chest hitches as you inhale a sniveling breath, trying and failing to regulate your breathing. You stand at the edge of the curb with one hand balled into a fist and one hand clutching your aching chest. Your heart’s telling you that you’re having an embolism and you’re about to keel over at this very moment; your brain’s telling you that you’re just having a panic attack and you need to suck it the hell up.
“Hey,” a man calls from further down the sidewalk.
Your head snaps in the direction of the familiar voice. You tense at the sight of the man who had grabbed you earlier, and your aching heart forgets to beat when you see him storming over to you. You find he’s wearing a smile on his bearded face when he’s close enough, but it looks more cynical than kind.
“You’re the nurse who got me kicked out earlier, aren’t you?” he asks.
You don’t have the breath or the bravery to correct him now.
“I’m sorry, sir…” you sniffle, wet-eyed, and turn away. “It’s just… It’s been a long day, okay? I didn’t mean for you to get escorted out. You just scared me, that’s all. I’m—”
You turn to face him again when he’s standing ahead of you. But before the words of an apology can spill from your mouth, his weathered fist collides with your nose.
You hear a sharp crack, a wet whoosh, and then the dull slap of your body hitting the pavement. You grimace when the back of your skull meets the concrete, and struggle to blink away the black spots from your vision.
The very first face you see is Langdon’s, though you’re not quite sure how long it’s been since your eyes have closed — a few seconds, maybe, or several minutes. You’re still lying on the rough pavement when you come to, with Frank’s gentle fingers brushing the hair out of your eyes with one hand and shining his penlight into your eyes with the other.
“There you are…” the man coos. “What happened to you out here?”
You hardly hear him, like he’s speaking to you from underwater. You answer him with a question of your own, lifting your trembling fingers to the dull throbbing sensation in your nose.
“Is… Is it bad?” you wonder aloud, half-slurring. You grimace first at the wet feeling on your cupid’s bow, then at the bright scarlet blood staining your fingertips. You whisper, voice breaking. “Ow…”
“Whoa, careful there…” Mel wavers, rushing from behind Langdon to help you when you try to sit up on your own. She crouches down beside him and takes you by the elbows in a pair of gentle hands. She squints behind her glasses when your inhale rattles in your chest. “Did you fall on your back?”
“Did somebody hit you?” Langdon presses from her other side, bushy brows lowered in worry.
“Wow…” you mumble, blinking hard, and wincing when you taste blood in your mouth. “So many questions…”
Mel and Langdon share a panicked look you don’t see.
“Yeah, c’mon. Let’s go,” the older man sighs, urging you up by the elbows and steadying you when you sway softly in place. “Come with me…”
“I can walk,” you protest through your ragged breaths, and through the blood dripping from your cupid’s bow and into your mouth. You pull your arm out of his grasp when the strength to do so returns to you, and stagger the rest of the way to the entrance until you regain your footing. “Just… Be normal, alright?”
“Right…” Langdon scoffs and fights back the urge to laugh — because you obviously have no idea how you look right now, with the lower half of your face all covered in blood, as if you’ve just been rescued from a bar fight. There’s hardly anything normal about that.
You try to be, anyway, as you stroll through the crowded E.R., hoping to be blanketed by the chaos inside. Everyone’s too busy charting or rushing to patients to notice your being there. You’re five or more steps away from making it to the bathroom when Robby’s eagle-eyed stare locks in on you from behind his computer.
“Jesus fucking Christ…” the older man blurts, sliding off his glasses and rising from his chair. He abandons his work without a second thought and rounds the workstation to rush to your side.
“I’m okay,” you tell him with a dismissive wave of your hand, pressing onward even when you hear his footsteps nearing you. He stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder and steps in front of you to block your path.
“What the hell happened to you?” he wonders aloud, looking past you to Langdon and Mel as he drags a pair of gloves from his scrub pockets.
“We found her like this,” Frank shrugs.
“I told you to take a break, not get into a bar fight.”
“Ha-ha,” you monotone, then flinch when it hurts to smile. “Ow…”
“Who did this, huh?” Robby asks, cupping your bloodied face in his gloved hands. He runs his fingers over the back of your head first, to make sure you have no wounds there, before pressing his thumbs gently to the apples of your cheeks. “It wasn’t that asshole from before, was it?”
“I didn’t see him,” you lie through your teeth.
“Any trouble seeing? Any double vision?”
You shake your head against his hands, then inhale another rattling breath.
“Did you fall on your back?” he asks you then.
You nod once.
“What about a headache?”
“I always have a headache,” you answer. “I’m fine, Robby. I just need to get cleaned up—”
“Look at you— You’re not fine,” the man snaps. “Now, c’mon. You’re coming with me.”
You have no choice but to follow him when he wraps a firm, gentle hand around your arm, ushering you to walk ahead of him. You ignore the looks and calls of concern from the coworkers around you, except for Mel’s voice, which comes from behind you.
“Should I find Dr. Abbot?” she wonders aloud.
Your head snaps over your shoulder to look at her, and it makes your vision swim.
“Absolutely do not do that,” you answer, a little harsher than you mean to.
“O-kay…” she stammers and trails off.
“In here,” Robby urges, swinging open the door to the nearest empty room. He keeps a steady hand on your back to keep you stable and turns back to Mel before he follows you inside. “Find Abbot,” he tells her.
You lie on your back on the hospital bed while Robby does an impromptu exam. He presses the cold chestpiece of his stethoscope to your skin and listens to your breathing until it evens out again, from where the air had rushed out of your lungs after the fall. He finds your pupils both equal and reactive, and your nose free from swelling or cracking — “Nothing that mother nature can’t fix,” he says, and takes to cleaning you up instead.
“These beds are so hard,” you murmur, shifting uncomfortably with an icepack pressed to your nose, which Princess had brought by some minutes ago. “We should really get new ones in here. How are patients supposed to be comfortable in these?”
“Yeah, I’ll go tell Gloria,” Robby scoffs, dabbing at your nose with a wet wipe. “I’m sure she’ll get right on that…”
He parts from you to chuck the red-tinted napkin into the bin at his side and waits for you to laugh at his stupid joke. You stay silent. You don’t even give him a pity giggle, and you always, at the very least, give him a goddamn pity giggle. His brows furrow in a mixture of confusion and concern.
“Can I ask you a stupid question?”
“Better than anyone I know, Dr. Robby…”
“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, reaching for another wipe with a gloved hand. It’s freezing against the burning skin of your neck as it dabs it gently there. “Why didn’t you want me telling Abbot about this, huh?”
“Because he doesn’t care…” you mumble cynically, almost inaudibly so.
“Oh, c’mon,” Robby scoffs. “Even you don’t believe that.”
You don’t. Not really. You know Jack cares, if only because it’s in his blood to do so. His basic human empathy is what made him such a good doctor. You just aren’t sure that he cares about you in the way you thought he did — in the way you wanted him to — and you’re not quite sure how to voice that to Robby now.
“He’s busy right now,” you answer instead, still half-hidden behind the icepack. “Too busy for me, and I don’t wanna bother him, so… Just drop it.”
Robby flashes you a sympathetic smile that you don’t see as he swipes at the last bit of blood from your skin. “I know he may not act like it, kid, but he does care about you.”
“You’re right,” you mumble. “He doesn’t act like it—”
Jack Abbot bursts into the room like a red-hot flame through a burning house. His broad chest heaves with panted breaths beneath the thin navy shirt he wears in place of his tactical gear, though his camo pants still sit heavy on his waist.
His wild eyes scan your form. “What the hell’s going on in here?” he blurts.
You glare at Robby from behind the icepack. “I hate you.”
“Yeah, I know…” the man sighs, dropping the crumpled wipe into the trash beside him.
“What happened?” Jack presses, more firmly this time.
“Nothing,” you murmur shyly, unable to meet his gaze when he towers at your bedside with his hands on his hips. “It’s not the first time someone’s swung at me—”
“Yeah, but it’s the first time it’s been this bad. Bad enough that someone had to come get me,” Jack argues, made a bit harsher with the concern pinching at his chest. His head whips over his shoulder. “Who the hell did this?”
“Some guy from Chairs, I think,” Robby shrugs. “Name’s Driscoll. Ahmad’s already handling it. He’ll deal with the police.”
“Good,” Jack nods, firm in a way you’ve always adored about him. He was inherently resolute where you were perpetually indecisive. It mostly came in handy when you struggled to figure out what to eat for dinner, not usually in situations like this. “‘Cause we’re pressing charges on this asshole, alright?”
“Honestly, Jack, I don’t care what you do…” you sigh. “But my head is really starting to hurt, and I really don’t feel like handling this right now.”
“On it,” Robby nods, taking the hint and stalking out of the room. He shuts the curtains after him and dims the light as he goes. The noise of the Pitt muffles again when the door closes behind him, leaving you and Jack alone in the not-quite-silence and the not-quite-dark.
“Here. C’mon,” the man urges suddenly, motioning with his chin. “Make room for me.”
“What?” you ask, eyes squinted in confusion as the man turns to sit on the edge of the twin-sized bed, adjusting his prosthetic to swing it over the side.
He gives you an expectant look over his shoulder. “Scooch,” is all he says, in a strangely strong voice despite the very silly command.
You shift on the thin mattress despite your better judgment to make room for him. Jack urges his right leg up first, then his left one second. He settles in beside you and urges the railings up to keep him from falling off the side. You try to do the same, though you possess a lot less strength with only one hand than the man beside you.
Your breath catches when he reaches over you with a strong hand, helping you lift the barrier the rest of the way.
“Thanks…” you mumble, half-shy.
“Don’t mention it,” he huffs politely, with one arm on his stomach and the other curled around your shoulders, keeping you close to accommodate both your bodies on the twin-sized bed. He smells of sweat and musky cologne and antiseptic. It takes everything in you not to melt into his warmth. You remain tense beside him, feeling slightly strange in his hold in a way you never have before.
“I’m sorry about, Louie—”
“You don’t have to do this—” you blurt simultaneously.
His head snaps over to you. He has to jerk his scruffy chin back to look at you properly from the dwindling proximity between you. His eyes dart between your averted gaze and the slowly melting icepack you fidget with like a stress ball.
“Do what?” he asks.
“I didn’t mean to walk in on you and Samira, okay?” you confess quietly, ‘cause any octave higher, and your voice will start to shake. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to make it a whole thing, you know? So you don’t have to come in and pretend to be all nice just because you think I’m upset, ‘cause I’m not.”
(Your rambling is hardly convincing in the matter, but he makes no mention of it.)
“Okay. I hear you,” Jack murmurs gently, always so patient with your rambling, even though he can only halfway comprehend it a lot of the time. “But I’m still not sure what Mohan has to do with this—”
Honey, he wants to say, but doesn’t allow himself.
“If you want to be with her, that’s okay— Or if it’s just because you don’t wanna be with me, that’s okay, too,” you explain in a strangely even voice. “But I wish you would’ve just told me, instead of bailing on me last night—”
“I didn’t bail on you—”
“—So then I wouldn’t have to catch you and Samira doing…” you trail off, face screwed. “Whatever the hell you were doing back there.”
“Catching us?” Jack echoes with a laugh you can feel rumbling against your shoulder. “That would imply we were doing something worth getting caught. She just walked in on me while looking for her patient, that’s all.”
“Yeah, well…” you hum, gaze averted to the icepack in your lap. “It seemed pretty intimate…”
“It wasn’t.”
“More intimate than you’ve been with me,” you argue sheepishly.
“Well, not to be crude here, but…” Jack trails off with an audible smile in his voice. “We literally had sex last night.”
“Yeah, and you left,” you spit, turning to look at him for the first time since he stormed in. You wear a wet look in your glassy eyes and a bruise blooming on the bridge of your nose. “And I cried myself to sleep about it. Which means I didn’t get to watch Love Island, which means I forgot to eat, which means I’m running on fumes on what has arguably been the worst shift of my whole life.”
You take a much-needed breath when the words are gone from your mouth.
Jack does not jump immediately to defend himself. He knows he doesn’t deserve it now. He just lets himself stew in your fiery words instead, so you know they’ll have a real impact on him before he responds.
“You’re right,” he sighs after a few long moments. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head at his apologetic tone. “Just don’t… Don’t be so mean, you know? If you don’t wanna be with me anymore, why can’t you just say?”
“Because I do want to be with you,” he answers, weathered features screwed in offense. “How would you ask me that?”
“Because you aren’t acting like it—”
“Because I almost told you that I loved you,” Jack blurts suddenly, in a stern tone of voice that snatches the breath from your lungs. He swallows hard and continues. “Last night, I mean, when we… I almost said it… Because I felt it, but then I… I realized I hadn’t said that to anyone since my wife passed, and it freaked me out.”
“But…” you start in a broken whisper. “Why does that have to be such a bad thing?”
“‘Cause it makes me feel guilty,” Jack answers. “The way I love you makes me feel guilty, like I’m abandoning her. And I… I don’t know what to do with all that… grief.”
You feel your heart aching, for the third or hundredth time that day. You notice Jack’s right hand hanging on your shoulder, how his fingers fidget anxiously there, and how his left hand scratches at the rough fabric of his camo pants — made overwrought by his confession, and unsure what to do with it now.
“Why don’t you just give it to me?” you wonder quietly, then shrug at the confused look Jack gives you a second later. “Your grief, I mean. I can take it. You know, make it a little more bearable for you. So you don’t have to carry it all on your own.”
The softness of your words knocks the breath from Jack’s lungs.
The corner of his mouth quirks in a wavering smile as he blinks burning tears out of his eyes. “Jesus, we're a couple of goddamn sad sacks, aren’t we, honey?” he scoffs a sad laugh and runs his free hand down his scruffy face.
Your lips twitch upward, feeling giddy but fighting it. “That’s the first time you called me that in two days…” you observe distantly.
“What?”
“Honey.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m sorry for that, too…”
“Don’t be sorry,” you repeat, this time with a smile. “Just— kiss me or somethin’…”
“Gladly,” Jack says with a wider grin.
You tilt your chin up to meet him halfway when he leans down to kiss you. His nose bumps into the side of your bruised one, as your hand reaches for his wounded shoulder. You flinch against each other in tandem.
“Ow,” you whimper.
“Ouch,” Jack winces. “Shit, honey— Sorry.”
“Are you okay?” you ask with a sympathetic scrunch to your features, cupping his scruffy face in your delicate hands. “I haven’t checked in on you yet, I know you’re hurt—”
“I’m fine,” he assures with a shake of his head, leaning instinctively into your touch. “I got a little banged up, but… I’m good now.”
“Promise?” you whisper, swiping an eyelash from his cheek with your thumb.
“I promise. I'll tell you about later,” he nods once and smooths his calloused fingers across your temple, looking at you with a tenderness you’ve been craving all day. “What about you, honey— Are you okay?”
You inhale sharply through your bruised nose and nod on a slower exhale.
“I will be,” you answer honestly for the first time all day.
Summary: After a violent patient attack leaves you critically injured, Jack is forced to confront what it means to almost lose the person he loves.
Word count: 12k+
Warnings: patience violence, severe injury, angst, fluff
A/N:
read part 2 here
hey guys !! i’m genuinely so excited to finally post my first jack abbot fic, and i’m so excited for you guys to read it 😭
because tumblr hates me and this fic apparently exceeded the block limit, i had to split it into two parts <3 but i really hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed emotionally ruining myself while writing it.
anyways !!! thank you so much for reading, and please be nice this is my first time writing for the pitt/jack hahahah. if i used any medical terms wrong, my apologies 🫶
English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.
Happy reading xxx
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.
The rain had started sometime before dawn.
By the time you merged onto the interstate, the entire city looked washed out and miserable beneath sheets of gray rain and smeared headlights reflecting across wet pavement. Your windshield wipers moved at full speed and still barely kept up with the storm. The coffee sitting untouched in your cupholder had gone cold nearly an hour ago, though you were honestly too exhausted to care anymore.
The overnight shift had turned into fifteen hours instead of eight after two trauma admissions arrived back-to-back near the end of the night, and now every muscle in your body ached with the kind of exhaustion that settled deep into your bones. You genuinely could not remember the last time you slept more than four uninterrupted hours.
Traffic slowed suddenly ahead of you.
At first you assumed construction or flooding because of the weather, but then smoke curled upward through the rain and your stomach dropped immediately.
Cars sat mangled across three lanes of traffic at impossible angles. One SUV had spun into the median while another sedan looked almost folded around the back of a delivery truck, its front end crushed so badly it barely resembled a vehicle anymore. Hazard lights blinked weakly through the storm while people stumbled across the interstate in shock.
Your body moved before your brain fully caught up.
“Oh my God.”
You were already unbuckling your seatbelt before the car completely stopped.
Adrenaline sliced straight through your exhaustion hard enough to make your hands shake as you reached for the trauma bag in the passenger seat. Rain hit you instantly the second you shoved the door open, cold water soaking through your clothes within seconds while distant screaming echoed somewhere through the storm.
Someone yelled that a driver was trapped.
Another voice screamed for a medic.
A woman near the shoulder sobbed hard enough she could barely breathe, blood running down the side of her forehead while a man beside her stood completely frozen, staring blankly at the wreckage like his brain had stopped processing reality altogether.
You were already running.
“I’m a doctor,” you shouted over the rain. “Move back and give me some room.”
People listened immediately.
The trapped driver looked somewhere in his forties, pinned awkwardly behind the wheel of the crushed sedan. Blood streamed from a scalp laceration down the side of his face while the airbags hung deflated around him. His breathing came too fast beneath the sound of rain hammering against twisted metal, panic beginning to sharpen around the edges of every inhale.
You crouched carefully beside the shattered driver’s side window, ignoring the glass biting through your scrub pants into your knees.
“Hey,” you said, forcing calmness into your voice despite the adrenaline roaring through your chest. “Can you hear me?”
The man blinked slowly toward you, dazed. “Think so.”
“Good. That’s good.” You adjusted the flashlight between your fingers while quickly checking his pupils. “What’s your name?”
“Leon.”
“Okay, Leon. I’m Dr. Y/L/N.” Your voice stayed steady automatically, years of emergency medicine taking over before panic had a chance to settle in. “Don’t move your neck for me, alright?”
A shaky breath of laughter escaped him. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Despite everything, you smiled a little.
“You’re doing great,” you assured him quietly. “Stay with me.”
And he did.
His eyes kept finding yours every few seconds like you were the only stable thing left in the middle of the chaos.
Your hands moved automatically after that.
Pressure against the head wound. Monitoring responsiveness. Keeping him conscious and talking while you assessed what you could from outside the vehicle. Rainwater mixed with blood beneath your fingers while traffic backed up for what looked like miles behind you, headlights glowing dimly through the storm.
Leon kept looking at you every few seconds like you were the only stable thing left in the middle of the chaos.
“You work at the PTMC?” he asked weakly after spotting the hospital logo embroidered onto your soaked jacket.
“Unfortunately.”
That got a real laugh out of him, brief and pained but enough that relief loosened slightly in your chest.
“You always this calm when you see a car crash?”
You let out a tired breath through your nose. “No. I’m panicking beautifully internally.”
That made him laugh again.
Patients relaxed faster once they laughed. It was something you learned early in residency, fear loosened the second people felt human again instead of helpless.
So you stayed with him.
Even after the paramedics arrived.
Even after they started finishing the extrication, peeling back what remained of the driver’s side door while rain poured endlessly over the wreckage.
You stayed crouched beside him talking him through every step because shock was already creeping in around the edges of his expression, and every time panic threatened to overwhelm him again, his eyes found yours immediately.
“You’re okay,” you kept saying quietly. “Stay with me. You’re okay.”
The interstate blurred around you in streaks of red brake lights and flashing hazards. Rain soaked through your jacket and scrubs completely now, damp fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin while your hair stuck to the back of your neck. The adrenaline that had carried you through the crash scene was already fading, leaving behind an exhaustion so heavy it felt physical.
An EMT looked up from the stretcher and did a double take.
“Dr. Y/L/N?”
You snapped back into focus automatically.
“Male, approximately forty-two. Restrained driver. Brief LOC reported by witnesses. GCS fifteen currently. Complaining of left-sided rib pain. Possible concussion. Neuro status intact for now, but keep an eye on him.”
The EMT nodded once while adjusting the cervical collar. “Got it.”
They moved quickly after that, securing straps, checking vitals, loading equipment through the rain while Leon tracked every movement with the wide-eyed focus of someone trying very hard not to think too much about what had almost happened.
Your knees ached from kneeling on broken glass. Your hands had started trembling slightly now that nobody urgently needed anything from you anymore.
But you stayed beside him anyway.
Leon caught your wrist weakly just before the paramedics closed the ambulance doors.
“Hey.”
You looked up immediately.
His face looked pale beneath the blood and rainwater, eyes glassy with pain and adrenaline, but there was something steadier there too.
Gratitude maybe.
“Thank you for taking care of me.”
The words landed somewhere deeper than they should have.
You swallowed hard before giving his hand one quick squeeze.
“Yeah,” you said softly. “Of course.”
For a second, you just stood there breathing.
The interstate still smelled like gasoline and smoke. Somewhere farther down the road another paramedic shouted instructions while tow trucks crawled through the rain toward the wreckage. Traffic in the opposite lanes slowed almost to a stop as people stared through fogged windows at what was left of the crash.
“You riding in with us?” one of the EMTs asked.
You glanced once toward your abandoned car still trapped in unmoving traffic nearly half a mile behind the accident scene. The thought of trying to get back to it right now felt impossible.
“Yeah,” you answered tiredly.
The ambulance doors shut behind you a second later, sealing you inside with the sharp smell of antiseptic, wet clothing, and adrenaline.
Leon talked for almost the entire ride to the hospital.
Nervous talking.
The kind trauma patients did when they were scared enough to fill every silence because silence meant thinking too hard about how close they came to dying. You’d seen it hundreds of times before. Some people cried. Some got angry. Some went terrifyingly quiet.
Leon talked.
So you let him.
He rambled about his job, about his daughter’s soccer game this weekend, about how his wife was going to kill him for wrecking the car because they still hadn’t finished paying it off. Every few sentences his voice shook slightly before he forced another joke out anyway.
You stayed beside him the whole ride, monitoring pupils and vitals while keeping him talking just enough to assess mental status without making it obvious you were doing it.
“You always pick up patients on the highway on your day off?” he asked weakly at one point.
You let out a tired breath of laughter. “Only the lucky ones.”
That earned another shaky smile from him.
The ambulance doors burst open, paramedics already rolling the stretcher down the bay entrance while rainwater dripped steadily from the wheels onto the floor.
By the time the ambulance rolled through the bay doors at The Pitt, you were freezing hard enough your teeth almost hurt. Your scrubs were soaked completely through, your shoes squelching against the floor while trauma staff moved around you in organized chaos.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Santos called across the ER the second she spotted you climbing out of the ambulance bay. “Always a pleasure seeing you this early, Iron Woman.”
You groaned immediately.
You earned the nickname after accidentally mistaking a patient for Robert Downey Jr. during a twenty-hour shift.
To be fair, the goatee had been identical.
“Dana,” you called immediately, falling into step beside the stretcher. “What’s open?”
Dana barely looked up from the nurses’ station. “Trauma Two’s clear.”
“Perfect.” You pushed damp hair back from your face before glancing toward the department. “Whitaker, Javadi, you’re with me. Perlah, can you help set up Two?”
Perlah nodded immediately and disappeared ahead of the group while Whitaker grabbed gloves from the wall dispenser on his way past.
“You look cold,” Whitaker informed you conversationally.
“Thank you,” you replied flatly.
Javadi appeared beside the stretcher while all of you pushed through the trauma bay doors together. “What happened?”
“Restrained driver, approximately forty-two,” you answered automatically. “High-speed MVA during the storm. Brief LOC reported by witnesses. GCS fifteen on arrival, complaining of left-sided rib pain and worsening headache. Possible concussion.”
“Vitals stable en route,” one of the paramedics added while helping transfer Leon onto the trauma bed.
Whitaker immediately started attaching monitors while Javadi pulled supplies from cabinets with the frantic efficiency of someone still trying very hard to look calmer than she actually felt.
Then Jack looked up from the computer station.
And somehow, in the middle of the packed emergency department, everything softened slightly around the edges.
You caught the exact moment recognition crossed his face. The exhaustion behind his eyes shifted immediately into concern as his gaze moved slowly over you. Soaked scrubs, blood smeared across your gloves, rainwater dripping steadily from your hair onto the floor beneath you.
Jack crossed the trauma bay almost immediately.
“You okay?” he asked quietly. “What happened? I thought you went home.”
His voice grounded you in a way almost nothing else could anymore.
Maybe it was because he always sounded calm even during chaos. Maybe it was because after years together your body recognized him before your brain consciously caught up. Or maybe it was simply that exhaustion hit harder the second somebody else arrived to help carry it.
“I’m fine,” you answered automatically while stripping off your soaked gloves and replacing them with clean ones. “Probably need a head CT.”
Jack’s expression tightened instantly.
“For you?”
You blinked at him before realizing what you’d said. “What? No. For the patient.”
Behind you, Perlah had already started cutting away Leon’s soaked shirt while Whitaker attached cardiac leads to his chest.
“BP’s holding,” Whitaker called.
“Sinus tach at one-ten,” Javadi added while checking another monitor. “Probably pain and adrenaline.”
“Good,” you answered automatically before stepping back beside the bed.
“Where’s Robby?”
“Overdose in Four,” Dana answered from the doorway.
You nodded once and reached for your penlight again, checking Leon’s pupils carefully while rain continued tapping faintly against the ambulance bay doors behind you.
Santos wandered into Trauma Two looking personally offended. “Why does huckleberry and crash get invited? I can help.”
“You can stand there and look pretty while actual doctors save lives,” you shot back immediately.
Santos gasped dramatically. “Dr. Abbot, your girlfriend is bullying me again.”
“She bullies everybody,” Jack muttered.
But there was no heat behind it.
His eyes lingered on you a second too long.
You knew that look by now.
Jack had spent years in emergency medicine learning how to bury concern beneath sarcasm and exhaustion, but you still caught it every time. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes. The slight tremor beginning in your hands now that the adrenaline was wearing off. The way your shoulders sagged whenever you thought nobody was looking.
“You’re freezing,” he said quietly.
“You are correct. I am freezing.”
Without another word, Jack pulled his hoodie off the back of the nurses’ station chair and draped it carefully around your shoulders before you could protest. It was still warm from him, smelling faintly like coffee, antiseptic, and the cologne he only remembered to wear maybe twice a month.
Something in your chest tightened stupidly at the gesture.
Behind him, Santos gagged theatrically. “Oh my God. Romance in the trauma bay. I’m going to throw up.”
“Go chart something,” Jack said flatly.
Whitaker looked up from the monitor leads. “Actually, I think it's very sweet."
“You’re all miserable,” you informed them while pulling the hoodie tighter around yourself.
“No,” Javadi corrected while checking Leon’s blood pressure. “You two are just aggressively in love in public.”
Jack looked genuinely offended. “Aggressively? I don't get it."
Despite yourself, you laughed softly while stepping back toward Leon’s bedside.
Leon noticed the interaction immediately.
“That your boyfriend?” he asked weakly from the trauma bed.
“Husband to the emergency department,” you corrected while snapping fresh gloves on. “Boyfriend in real life.”
Jack rolled his eyes while typing orders into the computer. “Don’t encourage her, Leon.”
Leon grinned despite the pain. “You guys are disgustingly cute.”
Under the brighter trauma lights, bruising had already started blooming dark purple across his ribs beneath the rain-soaked skin.
“Headache worse?” you asked while checking his pupils again.
“A little.”
“You nauseous?”
“Not yet.”
“Good,” you answered. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Javadi palpated carefully along his left side while Whitaker adjusted the blood pressure cuff.
“There’s something strangely comforting about you people,” Leon admitted weakly after a moment.
“You say that now,” Javadi muttered.
That earned another tired laugh from him before he winced sharply afterward.
“There it is,” you said softly. “Still joking. Good sign, buddy.”
There was something oddly comforting about patients who stayed conversational. After years in emergency medicine, you learned to appreciate moments where humanity still existed between procedures and bloodwork and trauma assessments.
Sometimes those tiny conversations mattered almost as much as the medicine itself.
Jack stepped beside you while reviewing Leon’s vitals, his shoulder brushing yours briefly in the cramped trauma bay. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, damp fabric, and rainwater now that Leon’s soaked clothing had finally been cut away.
“You should change,” Jack murmured quietly while adjusting one of the monitor leads. “I got this, baby.”
You barely glanced at him, still focused on the chart. “Don’t worry. I’ll survive.”
A tired look crossed his face immediately.
“That’s usually what people say right before passing out.”
You shot him a look over your shoulder, though exhaustion dulled most of the energy behind it. “You’re dramatic.”
“You’ve been awake how long now?”
“Eighteen hours.”
Jack stared at you flatly. “That’s not comforting.”
“You stopped at a major accident scene after an eighteen-hour shift?” Javadi asked incredulously.
You shrugged slightly.
And that alone made Jack’s jaw tighten, because that was exactly the kind of thing you always did.
The adrenaline carrying you through the crash scene had almost completely faded now, leaving behind exhaustion so heavy it felt physical. Your wet clothes clung coldly to your skin beneath Jack’s hoodie while every muscle in your body ached now that the immediate crisis had passed.
Jack exhaled softly through his nose before lowering his voice.
“You don’t always have to run yourself into the ground trying to save everybody.”
The words landed harder than they should have.
You focused instead on adjusting Leon’s blanket over his chest, smoothing the fabric carefully just to give your hands something else to do.
Jack knew you too well by now to push after saying something like that.
That was part of what made loving him dangerous sometimes. He noticed things you worked very hard to hide from everybody else.
He noticed the way your hands trembled after bad trauma calls once the adrenaline wore off. How you skipped meals without realizing it during difficult shifts. How every patient death stayed with you longer than you ever admitted aloud.
Jack had spent years in emergency medicine learning how to compartmentalize just enough to survive it, which somehow only made him better at recognizing when you weren’t doing the same.
His hand brushed briefly against the small of your back as he moved toward the monitors again.
“Don’t worry, Leon,” Jack said easily while checking the cardiac tracing. “You’re in good hands.”
Leon looked toward him before his gaze drifted back to you.
“I figured that out already,” he said softly. “She stopped on the interstate for me.”
You glanced up from the chart, slightly surprised by how steady his voice sounded now despite everything.
“You didn’t have to do all that,” Leon continued quietly.
You shrugged lightly, pushing damp hair away from your face. “Part of the job.”
“Maybe,” he answered softly, still watching you carefully. “But most people would’ve kept driving.”
Something warm and uncomfortable settled low in your chest at that.
Most patients never saw the moments in between all of this. They saw calm voices and steady hands. They saw competence because that was what they needed from you in moments like these.
They never saw the aftermath.
The exhaustion. The panic doctors swallowed in real time just to keep functioning. The way people occasionally locked themselves in supply closets for thirty seconds after bad cases just to breathe before walking back out like nothing happened.
But Leon had seen you kneeling beside twisted metal in freezing rain with blood on your hands while traffic screamed past only feet away.
He’d seen the human part too.
And somehow that felt far more exposing than expected.
Before you could answer, something shifted.
Subtle.
Small enough most people in the room probably would have missed it entirely.
But after years in emergency medicine, your body noticed changes before your brain consciously caught up.
Leon’s breathing changed.
One second it was slow and uneven with postictal exhaustion.
The next it caught strangely in his chest.
His eyes lost focus somewhere over your shoulder while every muscle in his body tightened beneath the blankets all at once.
Your stomach dropped instantly.
“Leon?”
Jack looked up from the monitor station at the exact same moment Leon’s entire body stiffened violently against the mattress.
“He’s seizing!”
Everything exploded into motion.
The seizure hit hard and fast, violent enough that the entire trauma bed rattled beneath him. His back arched sharply while his arms convulsed uncontrollably, knocking equipment sideways as monitors erupted into sharp screaming alarms throughout the room.
“Clock started,” Perlah called immediately.
“Two minutes on the seizure pads,” Whitaker added while grabbing suction.
“Turn him,” you ordered.
You and Javadi moved together automatically, carefully rolling Leon onto his side while his body continued jerking violently beneath your hands. Blood appeared at the corner of his mouth where he’d bitten through his tongue while every breath came in horrible choking gasps between convulsions.
“Airway’s clear,” Javadi said quickly, though her voice still sounded tight with adrenaline.
Across the room Jack was already pulling medication from the crash cart while Dana called CT from the doorway ahead of transport.
Then finally, slowly, the seizure broke.
Leon’s body slumped heavily back against the mattress drenched in sweat while ragged breaths tore unevenly from his chest. The room fell briefly into that strange silence that always followed emergencies, where everybody still moved quickly even though the worst part had passed.
For now.
“Let’s get a CT stat,” Jack said immediately.
You nodded once, trying to ignore the tremor beginning in your hands now that the adrenaline spike was crashing again.
“I’ll stay with him until transport.”
Jack hesitated.
Only briefly, but long enough for you to notice.
Something unreadable crossed his expression while his eyes flicked from Leon back toward you.
Concern maybe.
The same quiet tension he always carried after particularly violent trauma cases.
“You sure?” he asked softly.
You frowned slightly. “Yeah.”
Whitaker glanced briefly between both of you like he noticed something too, but before he could say anything Dana appeared in the doorway again.
“Trauma Three needs help now.”
Jack’s jaw tightened.
His fingers brushed briefly against your wrist before he stepped away toward the hallway, disappearing almost immediately back into the noise and chaos outside the trauma bay.
The room quieted afterward.
Machines beeped steadily while rain tapped faintly against distant ER windows somewhere down the hall. Whitaker and Javadi had already been pulled into another room, leaving you alone beside Leon while he lay motionless in exhausted postictal confusion.
You dimmed the overhead light slightly before adjusting the blanket higher over his chest.
“Hey,” you said gently when you noticed him beginning to stir. “You’re okay. You had a seizure.”
No response.
His eyes stayed fixed upward, unfocused and confused.
Postictal.
You had seen it hundreds of times before. Disorientation. Confusion. Agitation sometimes. Patients waking terrified because their brains had not fully caught up to reality yet.
Your shoulder ached dully now that exhaustion was settling deeper into your body again. You reached absentmindedly for the chart at the foot of the bed, mentally running through differentials and imaging priorities while waiting for CT to call back.
You missed the shift in him by less than a second.
One moment Leon lay motionless against the mattress, the next his eyes sharpened violently.
Not recognition.
Fear.
Pure terrified instinct.
Your stomach dropped.
“Leon—”
He surged upright before you could finish the sentence.
His hand closed around your throat with terrifying force, slamming you backward into the cabinet hard enough to knock the air violently from your lungs. Pain exploded across the back of your skull as your head cracked sharply against metal.
“Leon!”
The sound came out broken and strangled.
But he wasn’t seeing you.
That was the horrifying part.
His eyes looked completely wild now—unfocused, terrified, empty all at once. Pure neurological panic stripped entirely of recognition.
For one terrible second, training overrode fear.
“Leon,” you gasped desperately, grabbing his wrists instinctively instead of striking him. “Listen to me. You’re in the hospital. You’re safe.”
Nothing reached him.
His grip tightened harder around your throat.
Air stopped.
Panic slammed through you instantly now, sharp and animal and overwhelming in a way you almost never allowed yourself to feel. Your vision flickered violently while you clawed uselessly at his hands, trying desperately to drag in even one full breath.
You needed help.
Safe word.
Your mouth opened automatically.
“H—”
Nothing came out except a rasp.
Leon shoved you backward harder, your skull slamming against the cabinet again hard enough that white exploded across your vision.
The hospital safe word.
You just needed to say it.
“Hula—”
The sound collapsed into another strangled gasp as his fingers crushed tighter against your airway.
Your lungs burned.
Tears blurred your vision from pain and lack of oxygen while movement echoed faintly somewhere outside the trauma bay. People were still moving through the ER completely unaware of what was happening behind the curtain.
Your body was weakening fast.
You forced one shredded breath into your lungs and screamed:
“HULA HOOP!”
The entire department reacted instantly.
The trauma bay doors burst open hard enough to slam against the wall while voices shouted over each other.
Hands grabbed Leon, trying to drag him backward while he fought wildly in blind confusion and terror.
But before anyone could fully pull him away, he shoved you violently across the room.
Your shoulder struck the edge of the cabinetry with a horrible crack before the rest of your body collapsed hard onto the tile floor.
Pain tore through your arm instantly, sharp and wrong enough it barely felt real.
You couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
The room blurred violently while alarms screamed overhead and people shouted your name somewhere nearby.
And through all of it, through the pain and chaos splitting apart around you, your brain found one thing instinctively.
Jack.
You thought about the way he always found you in crowded trauma bays without even trying. The way his hoodie still smelled faintly like coffee and antiseptic around your shoulders. The quiet brush of his hand against your back only minutes earlier.
You wondered irrationally if he was going to blame himself for leaving the room.
That thought hurt almost as badly as the pain itself.
Your eyes slipped closed just as the world dissolved completely into noise.
Jack was halfway through finishing a chart when he realized he had not seen you in several minutes.
He looked up automatically, scanning the department for you out of habit more than anything else. Usually he could spot you immediately no matter how crowded the ER became. You moved quickly when you worked, sharp and focused and impossible to miss once he knew what to look for.
But you were nowhere.
“Hey, Javadi,” he called while signing off medication orders. “Have you seen Dr. Y/L/N?”
Javadi looked up so quickly, like she was a deer caught in headlights. “Uh… no,” she answered quickly. Too quickly. “I haven’t seen her since I left Leon. Sorry.”
Then she disappeared almost immediately toward another patient before he could ask anything else.
He pushed himself upright from the workstation, the familiar ache radiating faintly through his prosthetic. Long shifts always made it worse. The socket rubbed raw after enough hours on his feet, especially during busy trauma nights when he barely sat down.
Normally he ignored it.
Right now he barely felt it at all.
“Dana,” he called, already moving toward the nurses’ station. “Have you seen Y/N?”
Dana barely looked up from the chart she was reviewing. “Pretty sure she’s still with Leon. Why?”
Jack turned the iPad slightly toward her. “They haven’t gone to CT.”
That got her attention.
Her eyes flicked quickly toward the tracking board before settling back on him. “They’re probably backed up upstairs.”
“Maybe.”
But something still felt wrong.
Dana sighed softly. “Jack, she’s a big girl. She can handle herself.”
He knew that.
God, he knew that better than anybody.
You were one of the strongest people he had ever met. Smarter than most attendings twice your age. Calm during trauma activations that made residents freeze completely. You handled combative patients, pediatric codes, catastrophic MVCs, and grieving families with a steadiness that still amazed him after all these years.
But that feeling in his chest would not go away.
Dana pointed down the hallway. “I actually need you in Central Fourteen. Chest pain rule-out and Dr. Garcia wants another set of eyes before she calls cards.”
Jack exhaled through his nose, still staring at the tracking board.
“Right,” he muttered distractedly. “Yeah. Okay.”
He turned reluctantly toward the direction of Central Fourteen, adjusting his pace automatically as the prosthetic clicked softly against tile beneath his scrub pants. Fatigue had settled deep into the joint hours ago, making his gait slightly uneven now that the adrenaline from earlier trauma activations had worn off.
Then he heard it.
“HULA HOOP!”
Everything in his body stopped instantly.
The voice was barely recognizable.
Raw. Ragged. Strangled around obvious pain and panic in a way that made every hair on the back of his neck stand upright immediately. For one horrible second his brain refused to process it properly because it did not make sense. Not your voice. Not like that.
And then recognition hit him all at once.
The hospital safe word.
Trauma Two.
Jack’s heart dropped so violently it almost hurt.
No.
The thought hit him before anything else.
No no no.
Adrenaline detonated through his bloodstream hard enough to make him dizzy.
Then instinct took over completely.
“No,” he breathed aloud, already moving before the word fully left his mouth.
He pivoted so sharply pain shot violently through his prosthetic, the sudden turn grinding pressure through the socket hard enough that under normal circumstances it would have staggered him. But right now he barely felt it beneath the sheer overwhelming panic flooding his system.
Fear swallowed everything else whole.
Not the controlled fear he knew from trauma medicine. Not the clinical kind that sharpened your focus during codes and mass casualty calls.
This was different.
This was personal.
Jack shoved past a stretcher hard enough that the wheels screeched across tile while people all around him started reacting at the exact same time. Nurses turned toward Trauma Two instantly at the sound of the safe word. Dana’s head snapped upward from the nurses’ station. Santos was already running before half the department fully understood what was happening.
But Jack got there first.
The curtain outside Trauma Two jerked violently as shouting erupted from inside the room. Monitors screamed overhead loud enough to echo through the entire department while equipment crashed hard against the floor somewhere beyond the drapes.
“Get him off her!”
The words barely registered through the roaring in Jack’s ears.
His pulse was so loud now it drowned everything else out.
He hit the doorway hard enough that the curtain ripped halfway off the track as he shoved inside.
And then he saw you.
Lying on the floor.
Motionless.
For one horrifying second his brain simply stopped functioning.
You were crumpled unnaturally against the tile beside the cabinets, one arm twisted wrong beneath you while blood streaked across the side of your face from where your head had struck something hard enough to split skin open. Jack noticed everything all at once in the brutal hyperclarity trauma doctors developed after years in emergency medicine.
The bruising already forming around your throat.
The abnormal angle of your shoulder.
The way your chest barely moved.
And somehow that was the part that terrified him most.
You were not moving enough.
Leon was still screaming somewhere nearby while Ahmed and two nurses fought to restrain him against the opposite wall, his face wild with postictal confusion and terror. Somebody was yelling for sedation meds. The entire trauma bay had dissolved into complete chaos.
But Jack barely registered any of it.
Because you were on the floor.
And you were not getting up.
Something inside his chest seemed to cave inward violently.
“Oh, honey.”
Then he said your name, and the sound that came out barely resembled the steady, composed voice Jack used during traumas and codes and every impossible shift the hospital threw at him.
This was different.
There was no clinical calm left in him now.
Only fear.
Pure terrified fear.
He dropped beside you so fast pain tore sharply through his prosthetic as his knee hit tile, but he ignored it instantly. His hands shook hard enough he almost missed your carotid pulse the first time he checked.
Then finally.
There. Weak, but there.
Relief hit so hard it almost made him nauseous.
“Oh my God,” he whispered shakily, one bloodstained hand cradling the side of your face carefully while the other pressed against your neck searching for injuries. “Hey. Hey, stay with me. Come on.”
You did not respond.
Jack’s stomach turned violently.
Training forced itself back online in fragmented pieces despite the panic threatening to choke him alive. Airway. Breathing. Circulation. Neuro. He assessed automatically even while his brain screamed at him that this was you beneath his hands.
His eyes flicked instantly toward your throat again and rage flooded him so suddenly it nearly stole his breath.
Finger-shaped bruises were already darkening against your skin.
He hurt you.
The realization nearly made Jack physically sick.
“Jack,” Dana’s voice cut sharply through the chaos as she dropped beside him. “We need to move.”
But Jack could barely hear her.
Your eyelashes fluttered faintly for half a second before falling closed again and something inside him broke completely at the sight.
“No no no,” he whispered frantically, brushing damp hair away from your face with shaking fingers. “Stay awake. Baby, stay awake for me.”
His voice cracked hard on the last word.
That terrified him almost as much as the sight of you bleeding on the floor.
Because Jack Abbot did not lose composure.
Not during traumas, not during mass casualties, not while pronouncing deaths.
But right now panic was tearing straight through him so violently he could barely breathe around it.
And for the first time in years, he had absolutely no idea how to separate being a doctor from being the man who loved you.
“What the hell happened?”
Robby’s voice cut sharply through the chaos as he pushed into Trauma Two with Mohan directly behind him, but for half a second, both of them stopped cold.
The room looked catastrophic. Leon was still fighting violently against security near the far wall, his movements frantic and disorganized while Santos shouted for more sedation. Equipment littered the floor around the trauma bay, overturned trays and scattered supplies crunching beneath people’s shoes as alarms screamed overhead loudly enough to make the entire room feel claustrophobic.
And in the middle of all of it, you were lying motionless on the floor with Jack kneeling beside you.
Blood streaked down the side of your face and disappeared beneath the collar of his hoodie still hanging around your shoulders. Bruising had already started darkening visibly around your throat, ugly fingerprints blooming beneath the fluorescent trauma lights, while your left arm rested at an angle that made Mohan’s stomach immediately drop.
“Jesus Christ,” Mohan breathed.
“Security’s got the patient,” Dana snapped, already dropping beside you with Santos. “Probably postictal aggression after the seizure. He went after her.”
Robby moved instantly after that, years of trauma medicine overriding shock the second he reached your side. “Get her on a gurney now. C-spine precautions. Santos, I need vitals. Dana, page CT and tell them we’re coming immediately. Mohan, get me neuro and ortho on standby.”
Everybody moved except Jack.
He stayed frozen beside you on the tile floor, one hand still cradling the side of your face like he physically could not force himself to let go.
“Jack,” Robby said.
No response.
Jack was staring at you with an expression Robby had never seen on him before. Not panic exactly. Worse than panic. Helplessness, maybe, like his brain had short-circuited somewhere between doctor and boyfriend and now could not figure out how to function as either.
“Jack,” Robby repeated more firmly.
That finally seemed to pull him back enough to blink.
“She isn’t breathing right,” he said hoarsely, voice rough enough it barely sounded like him anymore. “He had her by the throat. Her head hit the cabinet, probably. Possible LOC. Shoulder’s definitely dislocated, maybe fractured too.”
The words came out clipped and automatic, pure trauma assessment forced through panic, but his hands were still shaking.
Dana and Santos carefully slid a backboard beneath you while Mohan cut away the remains of the hoodie around your shoulder to assess the injury better. The second the fabric moved, Jack saw the full extent of the bruising spreading across your throat, dark purple already beneath your skin.
“He squeezed hard enough to leave petechiae,” Santos muttered quietly while examining your neck. “Shit.”
You stirred weakly then, letting out a broken sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper as Dana stabilized your shoulder. Jack moved instantly at the sound.
“Hey,” he said, voice softening so fast it almost hurt to hear. “Hey, don’t move. You’re okay.”
Your eyes fluttered halfway open for barely a second before unfocusing again.
“She’s awake,” Jack breathed.
“For now,” Robby answered grimly while checking your pupils with a penlight. “Possible concussion. We’re not ruling anything out yet.”
Jack knew that tone. It was the same one they all used when things might be much worse than they looked initially.
Around them, the room was finally beginning to settle into controlled chaos instead of outright panic. Security had Leon restrained now while Santos pushed sedatives through an IV line with tight, controlled movements. Leon’s terrified shouting dissolved into confused, exhausted mumbling as the medication began taking effect.
“He didn’t know what he was doing,” Mohan said quietly, mostly to fill the horrible silence hanging over the room.
Jack did not answer. Rationally, he already knew that. Postictal aggression, neurological confusion, severe agitation after seizure activity. They had all seen it before. But none of it mattered right now, because every time Jack blinked, he saw your body hitting the floor again.
“On my count,” Santos said firmly while positioning herself near your head. “One, two, three.”
They lifted you carefully onto the gurney, and the second they moved your shoulder, a sharp cry tore from your throat despite your barely conscious state.
Jack physically flinched.
Robby looked at him immediately. “Jack, I need you with me here.”
But Jack still looked frozen. His prosthetic locked slightly as he stood too quickly, pain shooting sharply through the joint while exhaustion and adrenaline crashed violently together inside his body. Normally, he compensated automatically for it. Years of physical therapy had taught him exactly how to move through pain without thinking.
Right now, he barely noticed it. All he could see was you strapped to a trauma gurney instead of standing beside one, and somehow that felt profoundly wrong in a way his brain could not fully process yet.
Dana squeezed his arm briefly as she passed him. “She’s alive,” she said quietly, firmly enough that it sounded almost like an order. “So stay with us.”
Jack swallowed hard, then finally nodded once.
The second the gurney locked into place beside the trauma bed, the room shifted fully into trauma mode. Controlled chaos. Fast hands. Sharply clipped orders. Monitor alarms blending into the constant noise of the ER outside while everybody moved around you with the kind of practiced coordination that only came from years of emergency medicine.
“BP dropping,” Santos called from the monitor station. “Ninety-two over fifty-six. Heart rate one-forty. Pulse ox ninety-four.”
Robby swore quietly under his breath before stepping beside the gurney. “Dana, I need another large bore IV. CBC, CMP, coags, type and screen, lactate. Full trauma panel.”
Dana was already moving before he finished speaking.
Mohan carefully stabilized your cervical spine while Perlah adjusted the collar more securely around your neck. Blood stained the side of your face now, dark against pale skin beneath the fluorescent trauma lights, while bruising continued spreading visibly across your throat.
“She’s tachycardic from pain and adrenaline,” Mohan said quickly while palpating carefully along your ribs and clavicle. “Left shoulder deformity obvious. Could be anterior dislocation, maybe proximal humerus fracture too.”
“She hit hard,” Dana added grimly while cutting away the sleeve of your scrub top completely. “Look at the swelling already, poor baby.”
Jack forced himself closer finally, though every instinct in his body screamed at him to stop looking entirely.
Your shoulder looked wrong. Not subtly wrong, catastrophically wrong. The joint sat visibly displaced beneath skin already darkening with bruising while your arm rested protectively against your torso in unconscious guarding. Even barely responsive, your body was trying to protect the injury.
“Y/N?” Robby called firmly while shining the penlight into your eyes again. “Hey, stay with me.”
Your eyelids fluttered weakly, and your lips parted slightly before a small broken sound escaped you, more pain than words.
“There you go,” Dana said softly. “That’s good, hey sweetie.”
Jack swallowed hard. Normally those words would have sounded clinical. Routine. Hearing them about you made him feel sick.
Robby’s fingers moved carefully along your scalp before stopping near the back of your head. “She’s got a laceration here. Probably where she hit the cabinet.”
“How bad?” Jack asked immediately.
Robby looked up briefly. “Needs staples. I’m more concerned about intracranial bleed.”
Jack felt the room narrow sharply around him as his brain supplied every possibility instantly. Subdural. Epidural. Contusion. Diffuse axonal injury. Years of trauma medicine suddenly felt less like a skill and more like torture because now he knew exactly how bad this could become.
“BP’s still dropping,” Santos called sharply.
“Hang another liter.”
Dana connected fluids immediately while Mohan checked your abdomen carefully for rigidity and tenderness.
“She guarding?”
“Little bit.”
“Could just be pain response.”
“Or internal injury,” Robby answered grimly.
Jack closed his eyes briefly. Only twenty minutes ago, he had been teasing you for refusing to change out of wet scrubs. Twenty minutes ago, you had been standing beside him alive and exhausted and rolling your eyes at him. Now you were strapped to a trauma gurney while your coworkers discussed possible brain bleeds.
The trauma bay doors pushed open again.
“What do we have?”
Garcia entered already pulling gloves on, clearly expecting another routine consult before her eyes landed on the gurney. Then she froze.
“Is that...?”
Nobody answered immediately because suddenly saying it aloud made everything feel horrifyingly real.
Garcia moved closer automatically, surgical instincts taking over even while shock still flickered visibly across her face. Her eyes swept quickly across your injuries, taking in the bruising around your throat, the unstable shoulder, and the blood matted into your hair.
“Oh my God.”
Jack looked away sharply at the sound in her voice. He could handle panic, trauma, blood, failed resuscitations, and catastrophic injuries. But he could not handle hearing pity directed at you.
“What happened?” Garcia asked quietly.
“Postictal assault,” Robby answered while reviewing your vitals. “Patient seized after MVC. Became combative during recovery.”
Garcia’s jaw tightened immediately. Her eyes flicked briefly toward Jack, and somehow that made everything worse. Everybody in the hospital knew about the two of you. Not because either of you talked about it much, but because some things became obvious after enough years working together. The way Jack unconsciously searched for you in crowded rooms. The way your voice softened around him even during impossible shifts. The way both of you somehow always ended up side by side during difficult traumas without discussing it first.
And now everybody was watching him try not to fall apart while you lay bleeding in front of him.
“Y/N,” Garcia said gently while stepping closer to assess your airway. “Can you hear me?”
Your brow twitched faintly at the sound of your name.
“Good,” she murmured softly. “Stay with us.”
Jack finally moved closer again until he stood directly beside the gurney. For a second, he just stared at you. Really stared. At the bruises darkening beneath your jaw, at the trembling rise and fall of your breathing, at the blood drying against your temple.
Then very carefully, he reached down and took your hand.
Your fingers twitched weakly against his palm almost immediately.
Tiny movement. Huge relief.
“Okay,” Robby said firmly, forcing the room back into focus. “Let’s move. I want CT angio head and neck immediately. We’re ruling out intracranial bleed and carotid injury.”
Garcia nodded once beside him, already assessing your airway with practiced hands. “Neck swelling’s getting worse.”
Jack saw it too now that she said it aloud. The bruising around your throat had spread darker beneath the fluorescent lights while swelling gathered visibly beneath your jawline. Every breath you took sounded wrong now. Wet. Shallow. Strained enough to make every survival instinct in his body start screaming.
“Pulse ox is dipping,” Santos called sharply. “Ninety-one.”
“Jaw thrust,” Garcia ordered immediately.
Dana repositioned carefully at your head while Garcia leaned closer, studying the bruising around your airway with growing concern. “She may need to be intubated before CT if the swelling progresses.”
The word hit Jack like a physical blow. Intubated. His brain immediately supplied images he did not want. Ventilator settings. Sedation drips. ICU monitors. Neurological checks every hour.
“No,” he said automatically before he could stop himself.
Everybody looked at him.
Jack swallowed hard immediately, realizing too late he had said it aloud.
Robby’s expression softened slightly. “Jack.”
He hated the way Robby said his name right now. Carefully. Like he was one bad second away from falling apart completely.
“I know,” Jack muttered quickly, dragging a shaky hand down his face. “I know.”
But he didn’t. Not really. Because his brain kept splitting violently between two impossible realities. One side of him catalogued injuries automatically. Airway trauma after strangulation. Possible cervical instability. Hypoxia. Concussion. Internal bleeding. Shoulder fracture-dislocation. The other side could barely process the fact that you were lying here at all.
Your breathing suddenly hitched sharply.
Jack’s head snapped toward you instantly.
Your eyes fluttered weakly before opening. Confusion crossed your face immediately while you tried weakly to move, but pain flashed across your expression so fast it made Jack physically tense.
“Don’t,” he said immediately, stepping closer. “Baby, don’t move.”
Your gaze drifted slowly around the trauma bay like you were trying to understand where you were. The bright lights. The people surrounding you. The monitors beeping overhead. Then finally, your eyes landed on Jack.
Relief flickered there instantly. Small. Barely there. Enough to nearly destroy him.
“Hey,” he said softly, gripping your hand tighter without realizing it. “Hey, I’m right here.”
Your lips parted slightly, but nothing came out at first except a weak breath.
Jack leaned closer immediately. “What?”
Your brow pinched faintly in confusion.
“...Leon?”
The room went quiet for half a second.
Even now, barely conscious and injured and terrified, your first instinct was still the patient. Something inside Jack cracked painfully at that.
“He’s restrained,” Robby answered gently before Jack could. “You’re safe.”
Your eyes shifted again, slower this time.
“Hurts,” you whispered faintly.
Jack looked immediately toward your shoulder. “I know,” he said quietly, voice finally cracking despite how hard he tried to control it. “I know, sweetheart.”
Garcia’s eyes flicked sharply toward him at the sound. Jack almost never lost composure at work. Not like this.
Robby swore quietly under his breath. “We tube here or risk losing it in CT.”
The room shifted instantly again. More movement. More urgency. Dana reached for airway equipment while Santos prepared sedation meds with visibly tighter movements now. Mohan adjusted oxygen flow quickly while Garcia moved toward the head of the bed.
Jack felt suddenly frozen all over again.
Your eyes moved back toward him weakly, panic beginning to flicker beneath the pain now that you were awake enough to understand pieces of the conversation around you.
“Jack,” you whispered hoarsely.
His chest tightened violently. “I’m here.”
Your fingers curled weakly against his hand.
“Don’t...” Your breathing hitched painfully. “Don’t leave.”
That finally broke him.
Because you sounded scared. You, the person who stayed calm during pediatric arrests and mass casualty incidents and catastrophic traumas that made residents physically sick afterward.
Jack leaned down immediately, pressing his forehead briefly against yours despite the blood and chaos surrounding both of you. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered shakily. “Okay? I’m right here.”
Then your heart rate spiked sharply.
“One-fifty,” Santos warned.
Your oxygen dipped again.
“Eighty-eight.”
Garcia looked up instantly. “That’s it. We’re securing the airway.”
Panic flashed visibly across your face, and Jack felt your hand tighten weakly around his.
“Hey,” he said immediately, brushing damp hair carefully away from your forehead. “Look at me, sweetheart.”
Your unfocused eyes found his again.
“You’re okay,” he whispered, even though his own heart was pounding hard enough to make him nauseous. “Just keep breathing for me.”
Garcia stepped beside him carefully. “Jack,” she said quietly. “I need room.”
And suddenly he realized there was nothing else he could do. No medication to order. No procedure capable of fixing this himself. No trauma protocol separating him from the overwhelming terror flooding his chest.
All he could do was let go of your hand and watch other people try to save you, and somehow that felt worse than anything he had seen in his entire career.
And somehow that felt infinitely worse than any injury he had seen in his entire career.
The intubation blurred together afterward in fragments Jack knew would probably stay with him for the rest of his life.
Garcia’s voice turned sharp and clinical the second she stepped fully into procedure mode. “Etomidate ready?”
“Ready.”
“Succinylcholine?”
“Ready.”
“Pulse ox?”
“Eighty-seven and dropping.”
The room moved quickly around you after that. Packaging tore open, monitors screamed softly overhead, and Santos pushed medications through your IV with controlled precision while Dana stabilized your cervical spine at the head of the bed.
Jack stood rooted beside the wall, feeling completely fucking useless.
He had watched hundreds of intubations in his career. He had performed them himself during impossible traumas, with blood filling airways and families screaming outside the room. Usually, the procedure grounded him. Medicine always grounded him because medicine made sense. Algorithms. Protocols. Airway, breathing, circulation. Find the problem and fix it.
But this was you, and suddenly none of it felt clinical anymore.
Your eyes found his one last time before the sedatives fully took effect. Fear still flickered there beneath the exhaustion and pain, but so did trust. Complete trust. The kind that made his chest ache violently because you were still looking at him like he could somehow fix this.
Then your body relaxed beneath the medication.
Garcia moved immediately. “Going in.”
The room fell quieter for a second except for the ventilator alarms and the sound of Jack’s own pulse hammering violently in his ears. He watched Garcia guide the laryngoscope carefully while Robby monitored your vitals from beside the bed.
“Visualized.”
“Tube.”
“Advancing.”
Jack swallowed hard enough that it hurt.
You looked so small suddenly. That was the thought that kept repeating in his head while he stared at your motionless body beneath trauma lights that suddenly felt much too bright. You had always seemed larger than life somehow. Loud when you wanted to be. Brilliant. Sharp-edged. Impossible to intimidate. The kind of doctor residents followed instinctively because even during disasters, you carried yourself like you could handle anything thrown at you.
Now you were lying completely still while somebody else breathed for you.
“Tube’s in,” Garcia confirmed.
Relief swept through the room instantly, subtle but collective.
“End tidal color change confirmed.”
“Breath sounds bilateral.”
“Secure it.”
Dana taped the ET tube carefully into place while the ventilator connected with a soft mechanical hiss. Your chest finally began rising in slow, controlled breaths afterward, steady and artificial and horrifyingly impersonal.
Jack hated the sound immediately.
The ventilator transformed you from injured into critical in a way his brain could no longer avoid.
Robby was already moving again. “Okay, we transport now. I want CTA head and neck, cervical spine imaging, chest CT, trauma series. Somebody call ortho and tell them she’s likely got a fracture-dislocation.”
“She’s still hypotensive,” Santos warned while adjusting fluids.
“Pressure?”
“Ninety systolic.”
“Hang another liter.”
Everything continued moving around him after that, but Jack could barely process any of it fully anymore. The room had narrowed into snapshots burned violently into his memory. Blood staining the collar of your scrub top. Finger-shaped bruises spreading darker around your throat. Your hand slipping weakly from his when they rolled the gurney toward the doors.
He followed automatically beside the bed while they rushed you toward imaging. His prosthetic protested immediately beneath the sudden pace, sharp pain radiating through the socket with every uneven step, but he barely registered it now. His entire body had narrowed itself into one singular instinct.
Stay close. Do not lose sight of her.
Hallway lights blurred overhead while the gurney rattled violently across tile. Nurses moved aside instantly when they recognized who was lying on the stretcher, and somehow that silence hurt worse than panic would have.
People stopped talking when they saw you.
A respiratory therapist physically froze near the elevators before whispering, “Oh my God.”
Jack looked away immediately. He could not handle watching other people realize how bad this was.
Then suddenly, he was left standing alone in the hallway.
The silence hit him all at once.
He stared numbly at the closed doors for several long seconds before finally turning back toward Trauma Two because he genuinely did not know what else to do with himself.
By the time he returned, the room was mostly empty again. The chaos was over. Only the aftermath remained.
One overturned tray still sat abandoned near the wall where it had been kicked over during the struggle. Wrappers and syringes littered the floor beside shattered plastic packaging while a monitor continued beeping pointlessly beside an empty bed.
And blood.
Your blood was still everywhere.
Jack stopped walking.
For a second he just stood there staring at it. Tiny streaks across the tile floor. Smears against the cabinets where your head had hit. Dark fingerprints dried against the bedrail.
His stomach twisted so violently he thought he might actually throw up.
Because the only thing left of you in this room now was blood.
Not your laugh echoing across the nurses’ station during overnight shifts. Not your sarcasm when Santos annoyed you on purpose. Not the warmth of your body curled against his after impossible shifts when both of you were too exhausted to even speak properly anymore.
Just blood.
Jack looked down slowly at his own hands. There was still dried blood caught beneath his fingernails from where he had held your face trying to keep you conscious. More stained the sleeves of his scrub top in dark rust-colored smears that made his chest tighten painfully every time he looked at them.
You were intubated upstairs while trauma surgeons searched your brain for bleeding.
The thought cracked something open inside him.
If he had stayed. If he had trusted his instincts. If he had checked sooner.
“Jack.”
Dana’s voice came softly from the doorway behind him.
He did not turn around immediately. For a second, neither of them spoke while she took in the scene around him. Dana had worked in emergency medicine long enough to understand what trauma aftermath looked like, not just physically, but emotionally too.
Jack looked wrecked. Not outwardly hysterical. That almost would have been easier. Instead, he looked hollowed out from the inside.
“You should sit down,” she said gently.
“I’m fine.”
The answer came automatically, immediate and empty.
Dana almost sighed because they both knew it was complete bullshit. She stepped further into the room slowly, careful with him now in the same way people approached trauma patients who had not realized how badly they were injured yet.
“You’re shaking.”
His hands were trembling badly now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, small uncontrollable tremors moving through his fingers no matter how tightly he clenched them into fists.
“I left her,” he said quietly.
Dana’s expression softened immediately. “Jack.”
“I left her alone with him.”
The guilt in his voice nearly hurt to hear.
Dana moved closer. “You could not have predicted postictal aggression escalating like that.”
“But I should’ve checked sooner.”
Jack laughed once under his breath, but there was absolutely no humor in it. Just panic and exhaustion and guilt twisting together so tightly he could barely breathe around it anymore.
“She sounded scared,” he whispered roughly. “Do you know how bad it has to be for her to sound scared?”
Dana’s chest tightened painfully because she did know. Everybody in that hospital knew how terrifyingly calm you usually were under pressure. You were the person comforting other people during disasters. The doctor residents looked for during bad traumas because your voice never shook.
But tonight it had.
Dana stepped directly in front of him then and reached up without hesitation, gripping the back of his neck firmly enough to ground him.
“Listen to me,” she said softly but seriously. “She is alive.”
Jack swallowed hard. “She squeezed my hand before CT.”
“Then hold onto that.”
His eyes burned immediately at the words.
For a second, he looked terrifyingly close to falling apart completely.
“She was looking at me like she thought she was dying.”
Dana’s face crumpled slightly at the crack in his voice because Jack Abbot almost never sounded fragile. Not after everything life had already put him through.
But this was different.
This was you.
“You know her,” Dana said quietly. “You know how hard she fights.”
Jack closed his eyes briefly because somehow that made this hurt even worse. He did know. He knew the exact stubborn determination living inside you, the way you worked through exhaustion and grief and pain because your body physically did not know how to stop caring about people.
And suddenly, the idea of losing you felt so catastrophic he genuinely could not imagine surviving it.
When you woke up, the first thing you felt was pain.
Not sharp at first. Not localized enough to understand. Just heavy.
A crushing ache spread through your entire body like every bone had shattered somewhere deep beneath your skin. Awareness dragged itself slowly upward through layers of medication and exhaustion while fluorescent hospital light glowed faintly red through your eyelids. For one blissfully empty second, your brain stayed blank enough that you did not remember anything at all.
Then your chest tightened violently around the ventilator tube lodged in your throat.
Panic hit instantly.
Your eyes snapped open as your body reacted on pure instinct, trying desperately to fight the foreign object forcing air into your lungs. The movement sent agony ripping through your throat and jaw so violently it nearly knocked you unconscious again. A horrible choking sound escaped around the tube while pain exploded across the side of your head hard enough to blur your vision immediately.
The monitors beside your bed erupted into sharp alarms.
Then suddenly Jack was there.
He moved so quickly the chair beside your ICU bed nearly tipped backward onto the floor. One second the room felt empty and terrifying and unfamiliar, and the next his hands were hovering carefully near your face like he wanted to touch you everywhere at once but was terrified of hurting you more.
“Hey, hey, don’t fight it,” he said immediately, voice low and urgent. “You’re okay. Breathe with it.”
You could see his mouth moving. Could see panic written all over his face.
But you could not hear him properly.
Everything sounded distorted beneath the ringing in your ears, voices muffled and warped together like you were trapped underwater. The ventilator hissed rhythmically beside you while your chest rose mechanically against your will, and the sensation was horrifying enough to send another wave of panic crashing violently through your body.
Jack kept talking anyway.
You recognized the cadence of his voice more than the words themselves. Calm. Steady. But underneath it there was something rawer now, something desperate he usually hid much better than this.
Your entire body hurt.
Your throat burned every time the ventilator pushed another breath into your lungs. Your jaw ached violently from the intubation while your left shoulder throbbed with deep nauseating pain that radiated all the way down your arm. Even breathing hurt despite the machine doing most of the work for you.
Then memory came back all at once.
The trauma bay. Leon seizing. Hands crushing around your throat. Your head slamming violently against the cabinet. The floor.
You started crying before you even realized it was happening.
Tears slipped silently sideways into your hair while panic clawed straight up your chest hard enough to blur your vision again. You could not stop shaking. Every instinct in your body still screamed danger even though logically you knew you were safe now.
Jack’s entire expression broke the second he realized you were crying.
“Oh, baby,” he whispered hoarsely.
At least you thought that was what he said.
He sat carefully on the edge of the chair beside your bed before reaching for your hand, avoiding IV lines and bruises with practiced gentleness. The second his fingers touched yours, you grabbed onto him desperately enough that pain shot violently through your injured shoulder again.
You did not care.
Jack was here.
And somehow that meant alive. Safe.
Your grip tightened harder around his hand while your breathing turned ragged around the tube again. Jack immediately leaned closer, his thumb brushing shakily across your knuckles while he tried to calm you before you exhausted yourself further.
“It’s okay,” he murmured softly. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Only then did you really look at him.
And God.
He looked awful.
Dark bruising sat beneath his eyes like he had not slept once since this happened. His hair looked messy in a way that suggested he had spent hours dragging anxious hands through it, and there was something hollowed out in his expression now that made your chest tighten painfully.
You mouthed the question anyway despite the ventilator.
What happened to you?
Jack watched your lips carefully before understanding finally crossed his face. His throat worked once visibly while emotion flashed so openly across his expression it almost scared you more than the pain itself.
He still looked terrified.
Even now.
Instead of speaking, he carefully turned your hand over in his and began tracing slow letters against your palm with his thumb.
Patient attacked you.
The memory crashed back completely after that.
The pressure around your throat. Leon’s empty unfocused eyes. Your body hitting the wall. The terrifying realization that he genuinely did not recognize you anymore.
You jerked violently on instinct before you could stop yourself, panic surging through your bloodstream so fast your vision blurred instantly while the cardiac monitor erupted into another wave of alarms beside the bed.
Jack reacted immediately.
“Hey, hey, look at me.”
You could not fully hear the words, but you knew his voice. Knew the shape of it. The desperation underneath it.
Your breathing turned frantic around the ventilator while terror clawed violently through your chest again. You remembered thinking you were going to die. Not abstractly. Not distantly.
Really die.
And for one horrifying second, lying in this ICU bed unable to speak or breathe on your own, that feeling came rushing back all over again.
Jack kept one hand wrapped tightly around yours while the other hovered uncertainly near your face. He looked like he wanted to pull you against him and protect you from everything all at once but knew touching you too much would only hurt you further.
Your eyes darted weakly around the ICU room instead. Machines. IV poles. Bandages. Your leg elevated and immobilized beneath blankets. Soft restraints loosely secured around your wrists so you would not accidentally pull the ventilator tube out while disoriented.
You felt trapped inside your own body.
The panic became unbearable.
Then your eyes landed on the PCA pump beside the bed.
Jack noticed immediately.
His entire face fell.
“Baby…”
You reached weakly toward the button anyway with trembling fingers.
Jack looked absolutely shattered watching you press it. Not angry. Not disappointed.
Heartbroken.
Because he understood immediately what you were doing.
You could not stop the fear. Could not stop the pain.
So you were choosing unconsciousness instead.
Medication flooded slowly through your bloodstream almost immediately afterward. Warmth spread outward in gradual waves, softening the sharp edges of panic first before the pain finally began loosening its grip around your body. The terror still lingered somewhere deep beneath everything else, but it no longer felt sharp enough to suffocate you alive.
Your grip weakened slightly around Jack’s hand as exhaustion dragged heavily at your eyelids again.
Jack stayed exactly where he was.
You could barely keep your eyes open anymore, but you still saw the way he looked at you while the medication slowly pulled you back under.
Completely devastated.
Like watching you choose sedation over consciousness hurt him almost as much as the attack itself.
Your fingers twitched weakly against his palm before your eyes finally slipped closed again.
The last thing you felt before unconsciousness dragged you under completely was Jack lifting your hand carefully toward his mouth and pressing one shaking kiss against your bruised knuckles.
The second time you woke up was somehow worse because this time you stayed conscious long enough to understand what had happened to you.
Pain existed everywhere now.
Not sharp anymore. Not even severe enough in one specific place to focus on. It had settled deeper than that, heavy and constant, wrapping itself around your entire body until even breathing felt exhausting. Every inhale pulled painfully against bruised ribs while your jaw throbbed in slow aching pulses that spread all the way into your skull. The medication dulled the edges enough to keep panic from swallowing you whole again, but not enough to make you forget.
Nothing let you forget for very long.
Garcia stood beside your ICU bed when your eyes finally opened again, flashlight moving carefully across your pupils while monitors hummed steadily around the room. The overhead lights had been dimmed sometime while you slept, leaving everything washed in pale blue-gray shadows that made the hospital feel strangely unreal.
“Hey,” Garcia said softly the second she noticed you were awake. “Welcome back.”
Your hearing still came and went in fractured bursts after the concussion. Some sounds arrived painfully sharp while others disappeared completely beneath the relentless ringing inside your ears. Voices felt warped and distant, like everybody speaking stood underwater somewhere far away from you.
You blinked slowly toward the doorway and spotted Santos hovering there awkwardly holding a bouquet of flowers that looked aggressively stolen from the hospital gift shop. Half the stems bent sideways beneath crinkled plastic wrap while one of the price tags still dangled visibly from the bouquet.
You stared at them for a second before a weak breath of laughter escaped you despite the pain immediately punishing the movement.
Santos looked so relieved at the sound she nearly seemed close to crying herself.
“You scared the absolute shit out of us,” she said quickly, like humor was the only thing keeping her from saying something genuinely emotional instead.
The ghost of a smile tugged weakly at your mouth.
Garcia stepped back after finishing the neuro assessment while Santos moved a little closer to the bed, still clutching the flowers awkwardly against her chest.
“Abbott threatened like six people,” she muttered after clearing her throat.
Your eyes shifted toward her slowly.
“He almost went through security trying to get back to Leon.”
Your stomach twisted instantly.
Leon.
For one horrible second you saw him again exactly as he looked before the attack happened. Pale and exhausted beneath ambulance lights while rain hammered against the windows around both of you. Laughing weakly through pain. Asking if you were always that calm. Looking at you like you were safe.
You swallowed hard against the sudden nausea crawling into your throat.
“What happened to him?” you asked quietly, each word dragging painfully through the ache in your fractured jaw.
Santos’ expression changed immediately. The sarcasm disappeared first. Then the humor.
“He’s okay,” she answered after a moment, voice softer now. “Physically, I mean.”
You closed your eyes briefly.
Santos hesitated before continuing more carefully. “He doesn’t remember anything after the seizure started. Robby thinks it’s the postictal state mixed with the head trauma.”
The room fell quiet after that.
Not awkward quiet.
Heavy quiet.
The kind that settled directly into your ribs and stayed there.
Because the worst part was that you believed her completely.
You knew exactly what postictal violence looked like. You understood the neurological confusion, the blind panic, the total loss of recognition that sometimes followed severe seizures. Rationally and medically, every part of your brain understood exactly what had happened inside Trauma Two.
But emotionally, it still hurt in ways you did not know how to untangle yet.
A strange grief wrapped itself around the fear sitting inside your chest because less than an hour before the attack, Leon had been sitting beside you in the back of an ambulance talking about his daughter and his wife and soccer games and stupid jokes while rain pounded against the windows. You remembered thinking he seemed kind, the sort of patient who apologized too much for being in pain.
You had liked him.
And then suddenly he became the person who nearly killed you.
Emergency medicine was cruel like that sometimes. One second somebody was human to you. The next they became trauma.
Santos stepped closer quietly before squeezing your foot gently through the blanket. “We’ll come back later, okay?”
You nodded weakly.
After they left, the ICU room felt unbearably quiet again. Machines hummed softly around you while rain tapped faintly against distant windows somewhere beyond the hallway. Pittsburgh looked gray outside the narrow ICU window, the city blurred beneath another storm rolling slowly across the skyline.
You drifted in and out for hours after that.
Sometimes nurses came in to check vitals and neuro responses. Sometimes transport arrived to wheel you toward imaging. Sometimes you only woke long enough to register pain before medication dragged you under again.
Then sometime deep into the night, consciousness returned slowly enough that you realized somebody was sitting beside your bed.
Jack.
At first you thought he was asleep.
His head rested bowed carefully against your hand where it lay on top of the blanket, broad shoulders slumped forward like exhaustion had physically crushed him downward into the chair. The dim ICU lighting softened the edges of him enough that for one brief second he looked strangely fragile.
Then you noticed he was shaking.
Your heart cracked instantly.
Jack was crying.
Quietly. Almost silently. But hard enough that his shoulders trembled every few seconds beneath the dim blue ICU lights.
The sight hurt worse than any fracture in your body.
You had seen Jack exhausted before. Angry. Burned out after impossible shifts and mass casualty nights and pediatric codes that left entire departments emotionally gutted afterward.
But you had never seen him like this.
Very slowly, ignoring the pain shooting through your ribs and shoulder, you lifted your fingers weakly toward his hair.
The movement alone was enough.
Jack lifted his head immediately.
His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed beneath exhaustion so deep it looked painful. There was stubble shadowing his jaw now like he had not even thought about himself since this happened, and the healing cut near his cheekbone stood out harshly beneath fluorescent light.
Destroyed.
That was the only word your exhausted brain could find for the way he looked.
Jack Abbott was always the steady one. The person everybody else leaned on during disasters because he never seemed to break no matter how catastrophic things became around him.
Until now.
“I should’ve stayed.”
The words came out rough enough they barely sounded like him at all. Raw. Torn open somewhere deep inside.
You frowned weakly despite the pain. “No.”
“I knew something was wrong.”
“You couldn’t know.”
“I did.”
Jack stood abruptly then, pacing once across the small ICU room before turning back toward you like he physically could not force himself to stay still anymore. His prosthetic clicked sharply against the tile beneath his scrub pants while one trembling hand dragged hard through his hair again.
“I left you alone in there.”
“Jack.”
His face crumpled so suddenly it stole what little breath your bruised ribs could manage.
“When they pulled him off you...” His voice broke completely for one horrible second before he forced himself to continue anyway. “You weren’t moving.”
Your own eyes filled instantly.
Jack pressed shaking fingers hard against his mouth, trying desperately to regain control of himself and failing anyway.
“There was so much blood,” he whispered finally.
The confession hollowed the entire room out around both of you.
You reached toward him carefully despite the pain.
Jack moved back to your bedside immediately this time, like he physically could not tolerate distance from you anymore, and leaned down slowly until his forehead rested carefully against yours.
For a long time neither of you spoke.
Machines hummed softly around the room while rain tapped gently against the windows again. Jack’s breathing still shook every few seconds no matter how hard he tried controlling it, and you realized with sudden aching clarity that he had been holding himself together by force ever since the attack happened.
Probably for everyone else.
For the department.
For you.
Until now.
Finally, through the ache in your jaw and throat, you whispered softly, “You saved me.”
Jack closed his eyes immediately like the words hurt almost as much as the memory itself.
For a long moment he did not say anything at all. His forehead stayed pressed carefully against yours while his breathing shook unevenly every few seconds, and you realized suddenly that he was trying very hard not to completely fall apart in front of you. The effort of it sat visibly in every tense line of his body, in the way his fingers curled tightly around yours like letting go might physically destroy him, in the way his shoulders remained rigid even now like some part of him still expected another disaster to happen the second he stopped bracing for it.
“You almost died.”
The words came out so quietly you nearly missed them beneath the hum of machines surrounding both of you.
Jack pulled back just enough to look at you again, and the expression on his face made something ache deep inside your chest because he looked terrified still.
Not panicked anymore. Not frantic.
Just deeply, genuinely terrified in a way you had never seen before.
“I couldn’t get to you fast enough,” he admitted roughly, eyes fixed on your face like he needed constant proof you were still here. “I heard the safe word and I ran, but by the time I got there...” His throat tightened visibly. “You were on the floor.”
You swallowed painfully.
Bits and pieces still came back in flashes more than complete memories. Leon’s hands around your throat. The cabinet slamming against the back of your skull. The overwhelming certainty that your body was beginning to give out beneath you.
Then Jack.
Your eyes drifted slowly across his face now, taking him in properly for the first time since waking up. The exhaustion. The fear. The sleepless hollowing beneath his eyes. He looked like somebody who had been surviving on adrenaline alone for far too long.
“You did get to me,” you whispered carefully.
Jack laughed once under his breath, but the sound cracked painfully in the middle. “Barely.”
“That’s not true.”
His jaw tightened immediately.
You knew that look. The same one he got after bad outcomes. After losses he carried around long after everybody else moved on. Jack had always been harder on himself than anyone else could ever be, especially when the people he loved were involved.
And God, he loved deeply.
Even when he pretended not to.
You shifted your hand weakly against his, ignoring the ache radiating through your shoulder and ribs.
“Jack.”
His eyes lifted back to yours instantly.
“I’m here.”
Something inside him seemed to break completely at those words.
Jack lowered his head again, pressing one trembling kiss carefully against your bruised knuckles before holding your hand against his chest. His heartbeat pounded hard and uneven beneath your fingers, fast enough that you could still feel the leftover adrenaline vibrating through him.
For a while neither of you spoke again.
The ICU remained dim and quiet around you while rain continued tapping softly against the windows outside. Nurses’ footsteps echoed faintly somewhere down the hallway, distant enough that it almost felt like the rest of the world existed somewhere very far away from this room.
Your eyelids had started growing heavy again by the time Jack finally spoke.
“You scared me,” he admitted quietly.
The confession sounded small somehow. Honest in a way that made your chest ache more than the injuries did.
You looked at him for a second before squeezing his hand as tightly as your exhausted body would allow.
“I know,” you whispered.
Jack nodded once, eyes never leaving your face.
Then very carefully, like he was handling something impossibly fragile, he leaned closer and pressed a kiss against your forehead while exhaustion slowly began pulling you back under again.
This time, when sleep finally took you, Jack’s hand never left yours.
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pt.2 bf!rafe x h2o reader camera roll + lil blurb scenarios 
Rafe took you to meet his parents and it went well. so well that later that night he finally let loose and drank to much wine.
You had plans with cleo to go shopping.She texted you over 30 minutes ago that she was getting ready.You had already been ready because you had a dentist appointment earlier that morning. you decide to just head over to cleo’s and wait for her for finish getting ready. Her dad lets you in and send you up to her room you open the bathroom door to reveal why cleo still hadn’t been ready..
It’s almost 11pm you said you would go out with Sarah by 10 but fell asleep. you get an incoming face-time call from “Sarah💕”…
You and Frank tie the knot and he's taken quite a liking to his new title.. and yours
Warnings: husband!frank x wife!reader, protective!frank, feisty!reader, PinV, smut, MDNI, 18+, pwp, lots of plot, semi-healed frank, encounter with a-hole side character, lots of cute fluff, oral (m receiving), lowk breeding kink, lowk cumplay, lots of use of the word wife lol and husband but that’s kind the whole premise of this
w.c: 4.5k
—
It was the perfect little ceremony, perfectly you and Frank. Small and intimate, in the backyard of your home. The closest people to you both gathered to watch you and Frank officially tie the knot.
In the few days after you notice how Frank loves using that word more and more. “Wife” it rolls off his tongue with so much pride.
He’d be on the phone to someone and you hear him say “gotta check with my wife” or “yeah I’ll drop my wife off then I’ll come” and how he would always emphasise the “my wife” each time. It made you chuckle a little when you’d look up at him with butterflies in your tummy. You’re not sure if it was the 'my' or the 'wife' or both words strung together that got you all giddy but everytime you look up at Frank you’d always see that big dumb grin on his face when he says it.
You also notice how Frank is just a little more… well, Frank. Outside of the house he was more protective, he hovered more, he was always there, more..yours and you were more his - if that was even possible. He made sure everyone around him knew it too. His hand always on your hip or around your waist, the glint of the wedding band on his finger ever present.
Inside the your home it was much the same, you and Frank still doing the same things you liked doing for each other. Like the way you made and packed his lunch every night and how he would always bring you your night time tea a little before you’d both head off to bed. But it all felt a little more intimate. Realistically you both knew a ring wouldn’t change how much you both loved each other. Ring or no ring you knew you were his forever and he was yours.
There was juuuuust one thing that had changed a little. A minor thing really - Frank was being so gentle in bed. You loved it, you did - it was slow and sensual and passionate.
But god you needed him to demolish you. He had you feeling like such a desperate little thing, you were almost ashamed.
Here he was - your loving husband making sweet sweet love to you, making you see stars every time. But you wanted the depraved version of him. The one that would sound like an animal when he'd pound into you. The way he would let his base instincts take over, how his pupils would blow wide when he’d fuck you so hard you could barely speak.
You weren’t sure why marriage had changed the way he was in bed. Maybe he was just feeling a little more ‘sentimental’? And this is how he could show it since you knew he wasn’t a big “words” guy when it came to this stuff.
You’d heard the horror stories of people who get bored of each other after they get married and have robotic mechanical sex till they eventually stop all together but stay together for the sake of staying together. But it had only been a couple of weeks, surely he wasn’t bored.. right? You tried your best not to spiral. No, you’d just try a different tactic - maybe it was a short term thing anyway.
What you didn’t know was that, Frank was trying really really reeeeally hard to not break you. He was still counting all of his lucky stars that by some good grace of the universe he was given another chance at this life. A life with you, as his wife - another chance to start over. When he was on top of you, pumping in and out of you he just needed to show you how much he loved you, how grateful he was that you had given this to him. And this is how he thought he could, by making love to you, slow and sweet. But when he would see the little piece of gold on your ring finger there was something that would start clawing deep in his gut. You were his, his wife he was your husband and fuck he just wanted to claim you over and over again.
But he wouldn’t fuck this up, is what he told himself. So he relented, slowing himself and his brain down. Little did he know that under the surface of your soft moans and cries was that side of you that needed him in that carnal, animalistic way.
🌀🌀🌀🌀
It's a Sunday afternoon and you both make your way through the grocery store, Frank steering the trolley and you linked on his arm. “Want that sub for lunch tomorrow?” You ask him with your eyes moving down your list checking items off. “Whatever’s easy honey” he hums, scanning the isle and the people walking through it as he usually does.
“Wanna make what you want baby” you reply pouting up at him. He looks down at you with a smile pausing before he continues “yeah subs good, thank you sweetheart” he says kissing away the pout on your lips. You smile as you walk forward to grab the baguettes you know he likes. When you turn to walk back to him he’s already there, right behind you. Like he can’t leave any room for someone else to get near you.
“Okay, all done I think” you chirp, checking off the last item on your list. When you look up you see Frank chuck a bag of chocolate covered pretzels in the full trolley. You look up at him confused “I ain’t driving back when you complain about not having a ‘sweet treat’ ” he chuckles, sandwiching the last two words between his air quotation marks. You roll your eyes but laugh anyway as you walk towards the registers.
It’s a Sunday afternoon so you’re not surprised that the line is long with everyone else doing the weekly prep grocery run, but it’s a little more full with the self serve registers not working. “Shit! I forgot the milk” you sigh in frustration “can you get it pleeeease we’re almost at the front frankie” you plead unnecessarily because he’s already moving. “Oh we need 2!” You call out to him “yes ma’am” he laughs as he weaves out of the line and disappears.
You’re smiling to yourself when you turn back. Triple checking again if you haven’t missed anything. When you look up you’re one person away from the register. You move to the front of the trolley to start piling items onto the conveyer belt when you see a man cut in front of you with a hand full of groceries.
He pushes your groceries that you had already placed down back and places his own down in front. “Uhh, excuse me? Did you not see the line?” You pipe up - annoyed. “Calm down lady I only got a few you got a whole trolley get over it” he drawl’s dismissively.
And honestly, sure if he had just asked politely, you would have absolutely let him go in front. But talking to you like that and telling you to ‘calm down’ ooooh no no no, you were not going to let that slide.
“Yeah, and if you had just asked like a normal person I would have let you, but since you wanna be an ass then go wait in line like everyone else” you retort, rolling your eyes at the fact that you had to teach common decency to a grown man in a grocery store line.
“What are you some fuckin bored housewife? Got nothing goin on so you gotta pick fights with people in the supermarket” he laughs arrogantly before he turns back around “what happened don’t get fucked enough?” he smirks looking over his shoulder.
Your nostrils flare as your mouth opens again to retaliate but in the blink of an eye all you see is the back of Franks hoodie. He slams the cartons of milk down on the conveyer belt. Staring down at the poor excuse of a man in front of him.
“Talk to my wife like that again and I’ll break your fuckin jaw - I suggest you listen to her and get your shit and go wait in the back” he grunts out like a bull ready to run at a red flag. You look down and see his hands twitching as they close and open. You pray for the guys sake that he doesn’t open his mouth and say something stupid. He looks up at Frank, his mouth opens as if he’s about to reply before he closes it. Atleast he’s got some sense you think to yourself.
He picks up his items and tries to move around Frank to go wait at the back of the line before Frank side steps and blocks him again. Frank tilts his head down, bringing him nose to nose with the man, chest puffed out, teeth clenched with his muscles around his jaw feathering out.
“And trust me, she gets fucked reaaaal good - the next time you so much as think about my wife like that you don’t get a warning, got it?” He growls out through bared teeth, in a decibel low enough for only the man to hear.
The guy doesn’t even say any thing he just gives Frank a hurried nod before scampering away.
After he disappears out of sight Frank turns to you, his eyes scanning your features. “y'alright?” He asks concern and curiosity in his tone, you nod as you stack the rest of the groceries on the conveyor. “what happened ?” Frank asks wanting to hear from the beginning. “He cut in, was a dick about it so I told him to fuck off” you shrug as if it was no biggie. A small smirk breaks out across franks lips
“that’s my girl” he laughs before grabbing the back of your head and kissing your forehead.
You stood there, a mess between your legs watching him to pay for everything as you try your best to not drop to your knees for him in front of everyone right there and fill your mouth with him. God you felt heated - he’d called you his wife before, sure, multiple times. But not like this, not laced with this much possession and protectiveness behind it. His wife, Frank Castle’s wife.
🌀🌀🌀🌀
On the ride home you give Frank a play by play of what happened. He’s listening intently with one of his hands on the steering wheel and the other intertwined with yours. “And THEN he LAUGHED, can you believe it?! Ugh asshole” you huff, finishing your recount. Frank is quiet as he spins the wedding band on your finger “fuckin jagoff, shoulda knocked his teeth out” he mutters, annoyed at himself.
“and then what? spend the night by myself while my husband sits in a jail cell” you say flatly, staring up at him with a pointed look in your face.
You catch the little smile on his face “your what?” he asks, squeezing your hand a little. You smile, pulling his hand up to your lips “what? My husband” you say in a playfully singsong-y way as you kiss the top of his hand.
He places his hand back down, palm wide on your thigh “yeah that’s right, your husband” he chuffs, squishing the meat of your leg as he pulls up into the driveway, not missing the way your legs squeeze together a little.
God he’s so cute, your heart swells when you look at him - the big bad punisher - gleaming from ear to ear at the title he gets to wear now - your husband and he’s never been more proud.
You hop out of the truck, and grab Franks keys. In the years of being together you’ve learned - there’s simply no use trying to help bring the bags in, he won’t let you. So you unlock the house and hold the door open for him instead as he lugs everything inside like a pack mule.
🌀🌀🌀🌀
After helping pack everything away Frank retreats to the couch. He sinks into the plush sofa as he clicks on the TV. Pushing himself further into the seat as his legs splay out wider while he gets comfy. You’re watching him from the kitchen as you start prepping veggies for the week to make life easier for yourself after work.
You keep getting distracted as your eyes keep floating up to him. He just looked like the perfect seat for you, the want still there between your legs. Growing more ravenous at the way he was just sitting here. One arm propped behind his head watching whatever game replay was on the TV. With his big meaty thighs spread wide, one foot resting on the coffee table.
As you continue to wash and prep for the week you keep thinking back to the store. The almost growl he had in his voice when he called you his wife. The way he was infront of you in a heartbeat, like an immovable wall not letting anything touch you. You try to ignore the sticky mess in your panties as you dry your hands off.
You grab a cold beer from the fridge, crack it open and pad towards him. He looks up at you then at the beer in your hand outstretched towards him “s’this for?” He asks with a curious smile on his face as he takes it from your hand.
“Just cos” you hum with an innocent little smile as you straddle him.
“I got the best wife huh” he says taking a quick swig of the beer as he places the it down on the side table to run his hands - cold and wet with the condensation of the bottle - up your legs, skimming just under your dress and resting on the curve of your ass.
“Hmmm yeah you do” a breathy laugh leaves you as your hands slide up his chest and around his neck. You lower your lips down to his, kissing him slow. Before pulling away ever so slightly “hey, thank you.. for today” you whisper looking into his eyes, your tone more sincere than before.
He looks between your pupils “for what baby?” He asks confused
“Just, y’know the store, being you, being my husband” you smile kissing the tip of his broad nose.
He smiles again that proud one “say it again” he asks, voice a little more soft. You laugh into him “my husband” you coo, emphasising the my. You feel his hips shift up at the word when you lean back down to kiss him.
He wraps one arm firm around your waist as the other slides up your back, his hand cradling your head. He deepens the kiss and you feel his tongue open your mouth up further. You comply, easily.
You feel that mess in your panties as your hips push down on him, feeling him harden under you. You feel his shaky exhale into your mouth when he feels the way your hips are grinding on him. He can’t help but rut his hips up into you. A small sigh leaves your mouth as your hands trail down his torso to rub firmly over his hardening length causing a sharp hiss to escape franks throat which you swallow in your mouth.
You wiggle your hip back a little to pull his half hard cock out. Keeping your eyes locked on his as you spit a string of saliva straight down that lands right on his tip and trickles down. You see Franks eyes grow wild when you wrap one hand around his cock, smearing your spit before you start pumping his cock up and down. The action pushing your tits together between your arms "s-so fucking pretty baby" he exhales lowly his eyes falling down to your tits then back up to your eyes.
"take your shirt off frank" you almost order, not without a flutter of your lashes of-course. He doesn't even respond with words, just quickly ripping his shirt over his head and throwing it behind the couch.
"so fucking pretty" you whisper teasingly in his ear mirroring his words. But he was, just so. fucking. pretty. His pretty big chest, littered in his pretty scars that your tongue and lips had spent hours upon hours running over as he told you the stories of most of them.
You give him one last kiss before you lift your hips up and sink down on the rug in front of him between his legs.
“Baby-wh-what are you doing” he exhales out sharply
“Shh, just want my husbands cock-keep watching the game” you smile as you hook your hands around band of his jeans and pull them down. His eyes still trained on you still, you see the little furrow in his brow and the twitch in his nose at the word.. husband as he lifts his hips to help you pull them off.
Your eyes fall down to his pretty cock, hard and beading with that delicious pre-cum. Your tongue darts out licking your lips, hungry for it. Leaning forward you like a stripe up the vein that runs from the bottom of his shaft up to the tip and lick up the pre-cum before wrapping your lips around him.
"g-gggod baaby" he drawls, his head falling back on the couch. You start bobbing your head up and down. Humming around his cock as you savour the taste of his cock. The vibrations causing his hips to twitch.
You look up at him, his cock in your mouth and see his heaving chest his fists balled tightly by his thighs like he doesn't know what to do with them. He looks down at you through hooded lids, mouth slightly agape as he watches you slobber over his cock.
Your cheeks hollow out as you suck his cock , pushing him further down your throat. Frank starts breathing deeper, you see the muscles in his abdomen tighten. You bring your hands up and place them over his balled fists and caress up and down soothing him before picking them up and placing them on the back of your head.
You pull your mouth off him, eyes locked on his, tilting your head to the side as you start placing little kisses from the bottom of his shaft up. Franks hands start to card through your hair, sweeping it out of your face before lightly keeping them at the back of your head as he holds you hair. "its ok frankie, use me" you whisper sweetly as you take his cock in your mouth again and push it down do the back of your throat causing you to gag a little. "oh-fuck honey" he grunts, hips twitching up as you feel his grip tighten - his resolve starting to form tiny cracks.
You bob up and down a few more times before you feel Frank gently push your head further down, you smile a little around his cock - your pussy crying tears of joy, so proud of your big man for using you. You guzzle his cock down as Frank pants above you, holding you in place as he fucks your mouth gently before you feel yourself being pulled off him. You look up at him, lips still glistening with your saliva and his pre cum.
Both of your chests heaving, breaths deep and heavy "need your pussy baby p-please" Frank pants out reaching forward he scoops you up lifting you as you wrap your legs around him. His lips are on yours in an instant, your tongues tasting each other, the kiss so desperate it’s like you both need each other more than air.
Frank walks you both back into the bedroom and drops you down before climbing on top of you. And like he cannot handle a split second of not being connected you his lips are on you, kissing and licking down your neck as his hands grab your dress to pull it off you.
He starts kissing lower before he feels your hands grab his face "baby please I need you" you pant "but bab-" he starts before you cut him off, as much as you love the feeling of his tongue licking through your pussy you need him, inside of you, desperately. "frank-please" you beg and he concedes. The first crack in the wall, and you see glimpses of your animal coming back.
He kisses back up to your lips, and you feel his hands pull your panties down, you bring your legs together for him to peel them off your legs before you spread them wide for him again to settle between them.
Your hands run up his big arms, hooking behind his neck to pull him closer down to you. "you sure baby?" he asks softly, looking deep into your eyes. "y-yyessss frankie-baby please" you whine as you grind your hips up and down his cock. Frank groans when he feels your soaked pussy slick up the shaft of his cock.
He kisses you deep as he lines up his tip right at your entrance and pushes in slowly. "christ-youre so fuckin warm and wet baby, all this for me?" He groans as he fills you to the hilt. You moan into his mouth "mhmm all for you frankie" you mewl at the stretch of his thick leaking cock.
He starts moving in and out of you in long slow strokes. You feel the drag of his heavy cock through your walls as he splits you open. "feel so fuckin good baby" you hear frank muttering to himself above you. Your eyes flutter open as you look up at him, at the way his eyes are screwed shut, with his teeth gritted like he was still holding himself back. Your hands run up his tense veiny forearms, one caged on the side of your head and the other fisted in the sheet beside you.
Your mind thinks back the bob in his throat and the shift of his hips when you called him your husband, and a bright idea comes to mind to help him let go.
You reach your hands up and cradle his big face and he opens his eyes "c'mon baby, be a good husband and fuck your wife" you coo, trying your best to hide your cheeky little smile between your kiss on his lips.
and Frank absolutely looses it - the wall of restraint bursting open as he literally whimpers dropping himself down to you pressing your bodies close, wrapping his brawny arms around you tight before he starts hammering his cock into you - rough and deep.
"goddamn it-fuck-" he breathes heavy before kissing you hastily. All tongue and teeth "my little wife wants to get fucked huh that it?" he rasps between kisses.
He's fucking into you so hard that you cant even form a full sentence "uh-fu-ck-yess-puh-lease" is all you can pant out with each brutal thrust forcing your body to jut up with your breathy whimpers between each syllable as tears prick through your waterline.
He thinks back to that mans comment and a small part of his brain wishes he was here to see just how good he fucks you."what kind of husband would I be huh, not giving my wife what she asks for" he grunts, like he was trying to fuck the title all the way deep inside of you. You look up and see that hunger set ablaze in his pretty brown eyes. There he is, your Frankie that you missed so much.
You feel that coil tightening fast deep in your belly at his eyes, pussy drunk on you. The way he's growling as he shoves his cock deep in and out of you pushing the air out of your lungs with each harsh thrust. "ffffuuuck m'gonna c-come baby-god-f-fill me up frankie-please-wanna b-be so full of my husbands cum" you cry out into his mouth.
'yyyyeeahh? god baby-gonna fill ma fuckin wife up-fuck-gonna be so fuckin full of me huh, my good little wife, my beautiful fuckin wife" he hoarsely whispers into your mouth like he’s chanting a prayer to whichever god gave him you.
"mmmfuckk baby, please please please i'll be such a good little wife for you-please-cum inside of me frankie" you whine out before your cunt starts clamping around his cock. Your words and your slutty little pleads send him over the edge "yeahyeahyeah fuck im cummin honey-christ-so fucking deep baby" frank grunts out like an animal as he slams his cock into you - your walls pulsing as you milk his creamy sticky warm cum out "you feel it baby? Yeah? So fuckin full honey thatsss it gonna take it all yeah? my pretty wifes gonna take it all” frank all but whines out. His arms wrapped tightly around you keeping you there like his little fleshlight as he fills you full of his seed.
Frank swallows your moans and mewls as your body writhes in his hold as you come down from your high. You feel Franks full weight drop on top you, crushing you a little but you welcome it as you tighten your legs and arms around him. He litters kisses down your jaw and neck while continuing his lazy rut of his hips.
You feel the the sticky mess between where the both of you are connected and smile. You feel franks heart hammering away in his chest as you run your hands up and down his upper back. You run your hands through his hair as you feel his lips dot kisses up your neck.
“Missed you baby” you coo gently
Frank lifts his head up to look at you “been right here honey” he says a little confused. “Missed you, like this” you clarify with a cheeky little smile. “Yeah? Missed fucking you like this” he says somewhat shyly as he presses a kiss on the side of your head.
“Why’d you stop?” You ask hesitantly after a moment of silence. He looks down at you for a beat before answering “I don’t know baby, just wanted to show you how much I love you” he says so sincerely it makes your heart bloom and he smiles at the way he feels you pulse around his length, still sheathed inside of you.
“Baby you show me every day how much you love me, you don’t have to hold back… I thought you were getting bored of me already..” you say that last line a little lower.
Frank looks at you like you’ve grown three heads “bored of you? Sweetheart, there is no version of me in any universe that would ever get bored of you” he coos placing another gentle kiss on your lips. “Where am I gonna find someone else who likes fighting with guys in grocery stores huh” he jokes a little and “shuttt uuuup” you smile.
He gives you another kiss before he sits up and pulls himself out of you. His eyes fall down to your cunt, hypnotised by the way his cum oozes out of your hole. He runs his hands up your thigh, and you see the way his softened cock starts twitching back to life at the sight of you.
“What is it?” You ask him nudging him with your foot. “Hm nothin, you just look so pretty when you’re full of me” he says breaking out of his trance.
"gonna get a towel honey" he sighs as he attempts to get up. You pull him back down to the bed and climb on top of him "I don't think we're done yet frankie" you whisper licking up his neck.
"you're gonna fuckin' kill baby" he says in a low chuckle and a slap on your ass before flipping you on your back. You hit the bed with a shreik as you laugh "let me clean you up a different way then huh, heard you got a his & hers special between your legs" he says, voice laced with mirth as he snakes his hand down and runs two of his thick fingers through the mix of the both of you and pushes his fingers inside of you making you moan. “Gotta taste it myself baby, see what all the fuss is about” he whispers as he makes his way down your body.
Yeah you both had a bit of catching up to do.
—
a/n: I hope you guys liked this!! 🫣 lmk if yall wanna see more of husband Frank! Also this is like a semi healed version of Frank that lives rent free inside my head xx
(Sorry for any grammatical errors, I did proof read but I also have really bad period cramps rn and my brain was struggling)
a/n: this is all @chvoswxtch's fault. you know what you did, babe! whispering in my ear like a slutty little devil…
summary: briefly glancing around the vacant space before taking a seat at the counter, there you spotted none other than the regular customer that you, for lack of better words, had an embarrassingly massive crush on.
warnings: frank castle x diner waitress!reader, smut, mutual pining, kissing, public sex, clothed sex (the uniform stays on, hehe), dirty talk, size kink (the return of mr castle's canon coke can cock, hallelujah), manhandling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, spit kink, oral, fingering, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie
word count: 3643
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
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A soft hum vibrated quietly in your throat as you cleaned out the table in the corner where the last remaining customers had just departed from, leaving you all alone in the dark diner as the rest of the small staff too had gone home at this late hour since next to no one ever frequented the establishment in the time slot before closing.
After wiping down the table, the interior dimly illuminated by mostly just the neon lights scattered around the walls as well as the big one out front that glimmered through the windows, you then balanced the dirty plates out into the kitchen. Though when you sat the dishes down by the sink, the chime of the door out front found your ears.
However, when you twisted your neck to glance out of the wide hole in the wall, that divided the kitchen from the dining area, to spot the individual who had just entered the low-lit diner, the gentle melody that warmed up your chest promptly seized from your lips as your eyes began to widen.
Briefly glancing around the vacant space before taking a seat at the counter, there you spotted none other than the regular customer that you, for lack of better words, had an embarrassingly massive crush on.
You still remembered two months back when the gruff-looking man had first set foot into the diner. It had been like you’d been transformed into one of those wooden dolls where you press a button at the very base and its legs just collapse.
You still weren’t sure if it was a gift or a curse that the establishment had swiftly grown into a regular spot for him to frequent, seeing as you now spent most of your days either eye-fucking him from a distance as he sat in your section, or stumbled over your words as you tried to take his order. You’d even dropped all of his change one of the times he’d paid, sending the coins clanging across the linoleum floor, only for him to duck down and join you on the ground, the simple kindness sending such a shiver down your spine that you had crashed your skull up into the table like the true stumble fuck you felt like whenever he was near.
And when you finally managed to force your feet to shift, the advice, that one of your coworkers had recently given you on your little predicament, echoed quietly on your lips as you exited the kitchen, “okay, be bold... be bold…” in a feeble attempt at hyping yourself up.
Your fingers dipped into the pocket of the little apron tied around your waist, fishing out a small notepad and pencil, before you neared the spot he sat at.
“Hi, Frank,” you uttered, offering him a smile as his eyes flickered up to settle upon you.
“Evening, sweetheart,” he exhaled, the surely meaningless term of endearment that he had begun to drop into your short chats over the past few weeks still caused your ragged breath to hitch.
“You’re up late,” you briefly glanced to the round clock on the wall before reuniting your gaze with his unwavering one.
Tilting his head, the corners of his lips twitched slightly as he murmured, “yeah, well at least I’m not still stuck at work.”
“Touché,” you clicked your tongue against your teeth and wiggled the pencil in your grasp before asking, “so, what can I get you tonight?”
“Just some coffee,” his head nodded slightly as his gaze briefly averted, “and keep it coming.”
“Coffee as usual,” you slipped your notepad back into your pocket, “you and your endless cups of coffee, okay… perhaps I should just start pouring automatically whenever I see you come in, like it’s pavlovian or something.”
“Well,” his tongue fleetingly flickered out to wet his slight smile, “it would save me the breath, not having to ask for what I want if you just give it to me straight out of the gate.”
Heat promptly rose in your cheeks as your dirty mind played tricks on you and warped his words. Clearing your throat lightly as you swiftly choked on a tiny giggle, “uhm, yeah–, so, uh…” you stared down at the counter, though quickly darted them away when his hands that rested there began to distract you as well and make you that much more dizzy, “just the coffee, nothing else?” you uttered hazily as you then twisted around to snatch up the half-empty pot behind you and fill up a mug for him.
“Just the coffee,” he drawled quietly like a gentle crackling fire behind you.
“You sure?” you tilted your head as you spun back around and slid the cup across the counter towards him, “it’s Friday night. Why not go crazy and treat yourself to a piece of pie or something.”
Gliding his fingers into place around the warm mug, his eyes fluttered back up to capture your own, “I’m good, thanks.”
“Really? You don’t even wanna hear what the options are?” your teeth gently dug into your bottom lip, “I made them all myself, fresh this morning…”
Blinking back at you a moment, he then bowed his head as he gave in, “alright, sure, why the hell not.”
“Well,” you propped down your forearms on the counter directly across from where he sat, “there’s rhubarb pie with a meringue topping,” you uttered softly as you leaned against the table, slowly inching closer and closer to him, “there’s apple if you’re into the classics,” your gaze licked him up as your heart hammered in your chest like it was trying to escape, “and then today’s special, cherry pie…”
“Cherry, huh?” he hummed as he stared back into your eyes, even as you gradually tilted closer. You knew that if he dared to let his unwavering gaze stray, he’d surely be able to look straight down the neckline of your uniform from how you bent over the counter.
Dipping your vision down to his lips, you dreamily sucked in a breath as you added, “with extra whip cream on top…”
A smirk bloomed on his lips as an exhale then slipped from his lungs, “well how ‘bout that…”
The next thing you knew, it was as if your brain shut off completely as you then found yourself closing the short distance between you two and crashing your lips against his own. The kiss was short and rather clumsy before you then regained your senses and pulled back just as quickly as you had dived in.
“Oh my goodness,” you swiftly gasped as your hands soared up to briefly shield the lower half of your face, “I’m sorry, that was–, I shouldn't have just–, out of the blue without–,” you stumbled over your own words, “I'm sorry, please don’t tell my boss, I really need this job–”
But then, before you could crumble before him, Frank suddenly seized both sides of your face and pulled you back in for not only a kiss, but one that made your feeble attempt pale in comparison. Melting completely under the scorching warmth of his lips, you damn near crawled straight across the counter to scramble into his lap. However, when he finally withdrew, the kiss somehow seeming both as if it had stretched out an eternity, as well as only feeling like the blink of an eye, you stumbled slightly, and if it hadn’t been for his palms that remained on the sides of your jaw, you surely would have taken a nosedive right in front of him.
“Fuck…” you dizzily blinked back at him as only his hands cupping your features in a gentle grip kept you upright, “how–… how are you even better at that than I imagined?” your jello-like knees wobbled beneath you.
“Oh, you’ve spent a lot of time daydreaming about me kissing you,” he chuckled softly, “have you?”
“Well,” you sucked in a ragged breath as you noticed how the dull throb he always triggered between your thighs worsened, “it’s not just that my brain has been thinking about ever since you first came in here…”
“Oh yeah?” he shared your breath as his fingertips slowly strayed into your hairline, “what else has that pretty little head been thinking about, huh?”
And as the corners of your lips twitched into a smile, you gathered up the courage to utter, “…how about you come back here and I show you instead?”
With a soft smirk on his lips, his fingers then slipped from your face before he rose from his seat. Panting, your eyes tracked him as he took his sweet time making his way around the long counter to stand on the same side as you.
Tangling your fingers in his dark shirt as soon as he came in reach, you yanked him to you till his lips crashed against your own once again. Though the ravenous kiss didn’t last too long before you then tilted away as your legs began to bend and you sank down on the ground before him. You still stayed so close to him that your cheek pressed up against his thick thigh as you blinked up at him, a question twinkling in your eyes as your fingers slowly clawed closer to his belt.
But before your lips managed to part in order to ask for permission, Frank caught on and, as he breathlessly gazed down at your kneeling frame, offered you a nod.
Your mouth fell apart in an airy giggle as your stunned eyes widened at his girth that sprung forth as soon as you tugged down the zipper of his dark jeans.
It was soft, rather timid but sweet, as you began to pepper pecks along his length, smiling against the hardness as it twitched at your feathery touch before you soothed it with your glistening tongue.
And though you had a hard time ripping your gaze away from his cock, it more often than not drifted back up to Frank’s own stare as he leaned back against the counter.
When your lips eventually were stretched around his cock and drool was gurgling up your efforts as you bobbed your head, his fingers gently found your hair as his hips stopped resisting the greedy thrusts they craved in order to bury his dick further into your warmth.
A low growl rumbled in his chest when your sweet mouth became too much for him to bear, and he swiftly plucked you back up onto your feet. Spinning you both around till the counter pressed against the small of your back, he then picked you up and planted you on the edge of the tabletop.
Pressing your lips to his own, you then purred against his tongue as his touch wandered down your frame and disappeared up under the dress of your uniform to discover the soaked state of your panties beneath. To you, his fingertips fluttered over your covered core for way too long till he finally yanked the cotton to the side to sweep his touch directly against your aching pussy.
“Holy fucking shit,” you panted as he finally rolled your puffy pearl beneath the rough pads of his fingers, and you had to tilt away from his kiss a moment to reel in the ecstasy. Your nails dug into the back of his neck as you arched your back, though a smirk only bloomed on Frank’s features as he gazed back at your blissed-out features.
“You like that?” he uttered huskily, still so close that he shared your breath.
“I–, fucking–, yes!” you panted before reuniting your lips with his own just as a whimper crawled its way out of your lungs.
Soon his pinkie and forefinger flexed against your centre as the ones in between methodically pumped in and out of your pussy, caressing your velvety walls till you were on the verge of exploding.
But instead of unravelling and creaming all over his thick fingers, you gasped, “wait,” as you painstakingly yanked his touch out from beneath your skirt, “I-I need you inside of me, please, I wanna feel you, I can’t wait any longer,” a dizzy pout quivered at your lip as you begged. Answering your prayer, Frank then slid you off of the counter and spun you around for the curve of your ass to arch back against him.
“Then do it,” his deep voice tickled the shell of your ear as he slid a palm down over your frame before finding your clit once more in a rub that caused your eyes to roll, “go ahead, take what you want, sweetheart,” he uttered, encouraging your fingers to reach back to grasp his girth.
His digits kept on drawing patterns over your puffy pearl as you then slowly slipped his fat cock inside, “f-fuck…” you whined shakily as your eyes fell shut, your whole body freezing up for a second as your cunt clenched around the bulbous tip of him, struggling a moment before relaxing around his size and letting him in.
You felt his lips flutter against the side of your neck as the hand he didn’t have slotted between your trembling thighs, floated up around the curve of your ass, spreading his hand wide across it as he gently gathered up the skirt of your uniform to grant himself a peek of how you stretched for him.
“Atta girl, that’s it,” he groaned as you slowly began to move and fill your pussy up further, “you got it, sweet girl,” his own hips all the while staying locked and letting you control the pace, “keep going.”
Though it didn’t take long after you’d picked up a desperate rhythm, bouncing your ass back against him, that your upper body gave out, bending down over the counter and melting against it as you finally came undone, your loud moans echoing throughout the empty diner.
And though your greedy efforts tried to keep going through your high, your shaky movements still degraded into trembling rocks as you slowly tilted back against him till your sensitivity began to fade away. However, when Frank finally began to move, his palm first gliding up along your horizontal spine before he let himself go, a crinkle found your brow as your body jostled against the counter at each zealous thrust he offered you, his heavy balls smacking against your buzzing clit each time he bottomed out and the tip of him kissed the deepest parts of you.
However, as you fought to keep your eyes open and one of your hands fluttered back to claw needily against one of Frank’s belt loops, your hazy gaze suddenly snapped open as you spotted the figure out on the dark street that came marching directly towards the front door of the diner.
“Shit!” you yelped before you shakily shot up and, in your panic, shoved Frank down behind the counter before the patron could enter. Smoothing down your uniform as the door chimed, your eyes were wide as you squeaked, “hello,” doing everything in your power to seem completely normal and not let your stare stray down to the man hiding by your feet, his throbbing cock still glistening with your juices.
“Hi,” the elderly man offered a tight-lipped smile before glancing around at all of the empty seats and uttering, “are you still serving pancakes?”
And though in actuality you weren’t still serving breakfast at this hour, your mind swiftly short-circuited as you felt Frank sneak a hand up under your uniform, “s-sure, but it’ll take a bit,” you breathed shakily as his touch teasingly traced the mess between your thighs, making you shiver with each light pet, “it’s just me working here right now.”
“Oh, that’s alright, I don’t mind waiting,” the customer murmured, though just as he did, you sucked in a sharp breath as the gruff man kneeling beside you let himself tilt closer and grant himself a brief taste, momentarily parting your petals with his tongue as his nose nudged against your pearl, lapping ravenously at your leaky hole that still quivered for his cock, before his mouth then soared up and captured your clit, wasting no time to suck down on it making your entire frame jump jaggedly at the dizzying sensation.
“A-alright,” you puffed unsteadily as you watched the stranger take a seat in a far-off booth, “I’ll be right back,” you murmured and lightly shoved Frank’s head away from beneath your skirt before you shakily made your way into the back.
Clutching a hand over your chest as you tried to catch your breath, you didn’t get the chance to glance over your shoulder before you felt Frank catch up to you after he’d snuck into the kitchen as well.
“You are terrible,” you whispered through a hazy giggle as he pressed a brief kiss to your cheek, his beard still glistening from the greedy taste he’d offered himself.
“Oh, you have no idea,” he exhaled before you caught onto his shirt and dragged him around the corner with you, into the pantry at the very bottom of the kitchen.
Twisting you around to face him, he kissed you once more, though it only broke when he plucked you up off the ground to sit you up on the steel table that stood between the many open shelves, all brimming with dried and canned goods.
Slotting himself in between your legs, he stole one last peck before his fingers enveloped his girth and offered it a silky stroke. Glancing down between your thighs as you began to shimmy your dress back up, his thumb hooked in the gusset of your panties before it could stray back into place and cover you back up.
Letting a dollop of spit drop from his lips and down upon your glistening pussy as he continued to stare, he uttered gravelly, “you want it?” before he tapped the hefty weight of himself against your puff.
“Yes,” you panted as you too blinked down at how he dragged the bulbous head of his cock through your folds, teasingly tracing the seam of your cunt and making you squirm beneath him.
“Oh, yeah?” he tried to make you beg for it, flicking his hardness crudely against your clit, “tell me how bad.”
“So bad,” you whined as his teasing swiftly became too much for you to bear, “please, Frank,” you nearly felt yourself drool as your eyebrows knitted tightly together, “just shove it back in.”
Huffing out a short chuckle, “okay,” he then took your breath away as he didn’t just slide the tip back inside, but instead slammed the entirety of his length back inside, burying himself completely in your haven, “like that?” he smirked as you struggled to breathe.
“I-I–,” your eyes fluttered as your fingers soared up to dent his shoulders, “o-oh god… that’s so much…”
“What?” he grinned as he tilted closer to you for his nose to ghost against your own, “I thought you said you wanted it,” he murmured cockily before pulling all of the way back out, “is it too much dick for you, huh?” your dripping essence clung to his girth as he slipped out and some of your desperation even dribbled onto the tabletop below.
“It’s–, shit,” you tried to keep up with his dizzying game, but your molten mind just wouldn’t let you, “Frank, please just fuck me. I can’t–, I–, urgh!” a shrill moan promptly escaped you as he then sank back inside, making your eyes roll in your skull as he swiftly slipped into a slow yet rough rhythm, “f-fuck… thank you…”
Smiling against your breathless lips, he uttered, “god, you’re cute…” before his hips snapped against you, offering you long and deep strokes that made it tough for you both to last much longer.
Though once you’d both tumbled over the edge, your cunt choking his cock and milking him for all of his worth, the slow and smouldering kisses that drew out over your lips eventually faded as he slipped his length out of you.
Blinking back at him, your eyes widened slightly in gentle puzzlement as he then sank down before you and began to clean up the mess you’d both turned you into, holding your gaze and eating you out till you had no other choice but to clamper a palm over your mouth to keep quiet as he made you cum one last time.
Hand slipping from your lips as you fell back onto your forearms and caught your breath, you scarcely saw as Frank then rose back up to his full height, his lips briefly dancing up the length of your thigh on his way back up, before his gaze caught sight of the row of pies lined up on a nearby shelf. They were all mostly gone, though what was left was covered by a layer of cling film.
Stretching out an arm, he ducked a finger beneath the plastic that covered the last remaining piece of the cherry one and then brashly dipped his digit into the crimson berry filling, before bringing it up to his lips to suck it clean, the display of which somehow making your sensitive core throb once more for him as he let his tongue lap up the greedy taste he’d granted himself.
As his lips let go of his finger with a pop, a hum rumbled in his broad chest, “that’s good,” before his eyes flickered down to his digit and he twisted it into a different angle to lick up the remaining pie filling. Though as he savoured every last drop, his dark eyes flickered back to capture your stare as he then added with a soft smirk, “but I think I prefer the one that you gave me…”
after all the pain you endured during your delivery, SUKUNA refuses to ever let his wife go through it again
★ based of that one scene in "when life gives you tangerines"
11 hours, 34 minutes, and 34 seconds. then 40. then more. sukuna counts them all without meaning to, like something wired too deep into him to stop. each second stretching, dragging, carving itself into his bones as time refuses to move fast enough.
his eyes burn, raw and unforgiving, a kind of ache he’s never known. not even in those long, merciless nights bent over a laptop back in his college days. this is worse. dark circles bruise the skin beneath his eyes, lashes still damp.
he sits rigid in a cheap, dark blue hospital chair, one that creaks every time he so much as breathes too deeply, yet he hasn’t moved from it in hours. maybe longer. his body feels locked in place, but his mind drifts, slipping in and out of a dull haze until the sound of a door jolts him upright again, sharp, alert, feral in the way his gaze snaps toward it. every time without fail. his hands rest on his knees, fingers twitching, trembling despite himself, nails pressing into fabric as if grounding himself is the only thing keeping him together.
the baby is fine. he knows she is. he’s checked too many times for anyone to comment on without risking the look he’d give them. each visit ends the same way: standing on the other side of the glass, large hand pressed flat against it, breath fogging the surface as something unfamiliar tightens in his chest. he doesn’t stay long. he can’t. not when you’re not there.
everything in him had gone cold— no, empty the moment they rushed you away. the world had narrowed down to the sight of you on that bed, face twisted in pain, your fingers clutching his with a strength that spoke of fear you rarely ever showed. and he had felt it too, sharp and suffocating, coiling tight in his chest in a way he couldn’t fight, couldn’t control.
then a clipboard had been shoved into his line of sight, a nurse speaking too quickly. “mr. ryomen, you need to sign this form in case the baby—”
“my wife.”
his voice had cut through hers without hesitation. not loud nor panicked. just final.
for a moment, everything had stilled. even you had looked at him, eyes wide despite the pain. He hadn’t even looked back at the paper.
“i choose my wife.”
after that, they had forced him out, the doors closing between you with a finality that made something ugly claw at his ribs. since then, all he’s done is wait, endless, suffocating waiting, counting seconds like they’re the only thing he has left to hold onto.
people came. of course they did. gojo, loud and insufferable even in a hospital, arms filled with gifts that cost more than necessary. geto, calm, offering congratulations that barely registered. toji lingering off to the side, megumi in his arms as he tried, awkwardly, to show him the newborn through the glass, jin nearby with itadori and choso, their presence filling the hallway with low conversation and quiet excitement.
sukuna acknowledged none of it beyond a glance at best.
because none of it mattered.
not the gifts, not the voices, not the child he had already seen and silently loved.
the only thing on his mind was you.
his wife.
“mr. ryomen?”
his name lands and something in him snaps taut and slack all at once. sukuna is on his feet before he’s fully aware of moving, the chair scraping faintly behind him. the sudden shift makes his vision tilt for a second, exhaustion catching up, but he steadies through it, jaw set, legs carrying him forward even as they threaten to give.
“she’s awake, everything is stable. you may see her now.”
that’s all he needs.
the door barely has time to open before he’s through it, pace quick, bordering on reckless, yet each step feels impossibly heavy as the weight of the past hours clings to him, refusing to let go. the sterile white of the room greets him, too bright, too clean, and then—
you.
everything else falls away.
you’re laid against the stark sheets, small in a way he’s never seen you before, exhaustion carved into every line of your face, the aftermath of something brutal and beautiful all at once. you look fragile. spent. human.
and still— still you’ve never looked more perfect to him.
his chest tightens, something sharp and overwhelming lodging itself beneath his ribs as his eyes lock onto yours. they find him easily, soft despite the fatigue, a faint smile ghosting over your lips as your hand lifts, barely reaching for him.
“my love…” your voice is hoarse, worn thin, and it nearly undoes him.
he closes the distance in seconds, dropping to his knees at your bedside without care for anything else, large hand immediately enclosing yours as if to confirm you’re real, warm and alive. here. he brings it to his face, pressing slow, reverent kisses to your knuckles, your palm, your wrist, lingering like he’s trying to memorize the feel of you all over again.
something wet slips against your skin.
“ryo…?” your voice is softer now, concerned, your fingers twitching as if to pull away, but he doesn’t let go not out of force, never that, but out of something far more desperate.
he tightens just enough to keep you there, head bowed, shoulders trembling in a way that doesn’t belong to a man like him.
“there…” his voice catches, rough, uneven, breath hitching as the memory crashes back; your face twisted in pain, the sound of it, the helplessness of being torn away. his brows pull together sharply, grip faltering for a second before tightening again. “there won’t be another.”
he presses another kiss to your skin, slower this time. like sealing a vow into you.
“there won’t be another,” he repeats, quieter, but no less absolute.
you blink at him, caught off guard, and then despite everythin a soft, breathy laugh escapes you. “don’t be stupid, ryo.”
his head lifts just enough for you to see the way his expression twists, raw and unguarded, eyes rimmed red, lashes clumped.
“i don’t—” his breath stutters, voice breaking in a way he doesn’t bother to hide, “—want to see you like that again.” his hand curls into the sheets beside you, gripping the fabric tight as if grounding himself, “not like that. not ever.”
you soften instantly, both hands coming up carefully to cradle his face, guiding him closer despite the way he resists for half a second.
“did you see her?” you murmur, thumb brushing beneath his eye, catching the dampness there.
he nods, quick, almost eager despite everything, leaning into your touch without thinking. “i did… but—” his voice drops, “i wanted to see my wife.”
“oh, ryo…” you pull him closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, and finally his lips; soft, lingering, tasting faintly of salt.
he exhales against you, eyes closing briefly, forehead coming to rest against yours as his hand finds its place around yours again, unwilling to let go.
“there won’t be another,” he says, quieter now. final.
you study him for a moment. at the fear still lingering beneath the surface, and the love that outweighs everything else, and your expression softens into something certain.
“okay,” you whisper, brushing your nose against his. “there won’t.”
★ it's 2:49am i should fucking sleep but i finally got the idea how to write this and i had to
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Oh, JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH would get sooo pissed hearing "Is your wife your whole personality?"
He genuinely stopped mid-bite of the roast chicken with gravy and rice, a lunch you cooked for him, from a container where you put it, sitting in his freshly-ironed clothes that you ironed this morning.
"Tha fuck that's supposed ta mean? I can't talk 'bout ma wee bonnie wife? Ye'll definitely be single foreva, wanker."
The new recruit opened his mouth, trying to find any logical explanation to his assumption (but really just a stupid question), but Johnny just gave him his middle finger (the same one that was in your pussy the same morning).
You are his whole personality. Because why the hell no?
friends with benefits! zoro who swore this would be a one night thing. he told you it was just a drunken hook up, nothing more. little did he know, it became an arrangement, a means of exploring yourselves on a deeper level.
fwb! zoro who told you it was just practice, every time you kissed. you believed him, despite the way your bodies ended up tangled together. each makeout session - or 'practice', because that's all it was, right? - grew longer and more heated. his tongue dragging against yours, his lips sloppy and rushed. it felt good though, mainly because it was him.
fwb! zoro who made a habit of showing you how a lady should be ate out. his tongue delving in and out of your folds, his nose bumping your clit. he sucked away at your sensitive nub, letting his fingers curl in you as he practically made out with your pussy. he swore you'd make sure a man never ate you out the wrong way, teaching you how good you should feel.
fwb! zoro who lets you watch him train, taking in the way his muscles contract. he told you it was just so you could spot him, but you knew it was more. his eye always lingered on your body, your hands often stay too long when correcting his form. you knew he didn't need his form corrected, he just acted like he did when you were around.
fwb! zoro who swore he would never cum in you. at least, that's what the original plan was. he had made a habit of pulling out, cumming onto your thighs or stomach - arguably his two favorite spots on you. he was nasty, often licking up his own release, kissing your skin tenderly. eventually, he got to lazy, claiming your "pussy felt too good" and that "she's begging for my cum". you didn't mind the feeling, letting his release in you. it felt good, having zoro lay on top of you, not pulling out just yet.
fwb! zoro who never left a hickey on you. he didn't want the crew to know - after all, this was just experimenting, right? seeing what each of you liked, getting better acquainted with your sexual preferences. it was hard to find hookups when you were always at sea, even harder to find someone to settle down with. you and zoro's arrangement made that dilemma a bit easier to deail with.
fwb! zoro who kept a pair of your panties in his room. 'the laundry got mixed up, i guess' is all he said. you knew it was his way of making a tiny claim on you, a hidden way of leaving his mark. he was filthy, enjoying the way they smelt of you, the feel of them gliding on his shaft. he knew it was wrong, yet he didn't care.
fwb! zoro who told you he loved you one night, his brain mushy from the sake and the feel of you wrapped around him. he had your legs around his waist, his tip pressing so deeply and sweetly in you, you swore you were seeing stars. you brushed his comment off as drunken nonsense, but he meant it. deep down, he wanted you, just you.
fwb! zoro who was growing restless of this silent stake, restless of sanji and brook's comments on you. tired of the way people looked at you whenever the crew made a stop. he was sick of how men flirted with you at the bars, not wanting to give away the nature of your relationship, or the depth of his feelings towards you.
fwb! zoro who swore he remembered every curve of your body, the feel of your lips on him, the way you tighten around his cock when he pants out your name.
fwb! zoro who wanted nothing but you, yet stayed silent. he didn't dare let you know how attached he was to you. zoro intended to take these feelings to the grave, even if it killed him in the process.
A/N : I don't know if this was exactly what you wanted but I hope you'll like it anyway ! Sorry if there's a few mistakes, English is not my first language and I was kinda tired writing this but it was really great to write ! Let me know if you'd like a part 2 !
As you were busy taking orders in the little restaurant you worked in, you heard the door open and turned your head when you heard a bunch of people talking loudly. There were five people now standing at the entrance of the restaurant and you thought that they made quite an interesting group.
As you looked at them, your gaze was immediatly drawn to a young man, a boy that stood among them, wearing a strawhat that covered brown curls. He had a huge grin on his face and was scanning the place, probably looking for a free table.
You stared at him for a few minutes, completly forgetting that you actually had work to do and that part of your job included welcoming new customers.
You hadn't met many people in your life, since you never had the opportunity to leave the small island where you lived, but this young man was probably the cutest you had ever layed eyes upon. There was just something about him that made you impossible to look away.
The brown haired finally turned his head in your direction and you were met by beautiful brown eyes, sparkling with joy and something else you couldn't quite put a name on. The boy had lost his smile and was now looking at you with such wide eyes that you started to feel weird. Your hand tightened on your notebook as your felt your cheeks starting to flush.
A green haired man nudged the straw hat boy who immediately broke eye contact. Your looked away and took a deep breath as if you breath had been taken away.
You opened your notebook, deciding that it was time to go back to work and went to the counter to pass the new orders to your colleagues. You still felt a little weird because of what had just happened but you decided to ignore it and to look around for more orders to take.
You noticed that the only new customers in the restaurant were the group with the strawhat boy.
Your heart started to race when you saw him sitting at the table a few meters away from you, talking cheerfully to his mates. Were you actually going to approach him ? Yes, because it was your job. Why were you so nervous about this anyway ?
You took a deep breath as you made your way to the table and once again your eyes met with the boy, making you instantly blush.
"Hello, what-what can I get for you ?" you asked, looking at him and trying not to show that you were actually very flustered.
The more you looked at him and the more familiar he felt to you. It was a weird feeling but it was actually very nice.
The boy had opened wide eyes and was staring at you without saying anything.
"I didn't know he could stop talking." the green haired man said sarcastically.
"Luffy ? The waitress is talking to you." said a girl with orange hair.
Luffy. So that was his name. You didn't know why but hearing his name felt like music to your ears and you couldn't help but smile a little.
Your cheeks flushed even more as you kept looking at the boy in front of you, who seemed to be totally lost in his thoughts.
He was really beautiful.
Luffy blinked and got back to reality, but he still looked at you like no one had ever looked at you before. His gaze felt warm and gentle, but also very intense.
"Were going to take a bit of everything." he said with that same smile he had earlier, but this time it was clearly addressed to you.
A warmth started spreading through your whole body and you couldn't help but smile back at him, also a little surprised by his request.
His smile felt warm in your heart and somewhat familiar. He really did have a beautiful smile.
Your eyes simply couldn't look away as your thoughts started to race in your head. You had never felt anything like this before.
What was happening to you ?
"Someone's hungry." you replied after a few seconds, both amused and surprised to see that he had ordered the whole menu.
The boy smiled.
"I'm the future king of the pirates so I need to eat enough food !" he said with that same smile plastered on his face.
Future king of the pirates ? That was really ambitious but you thought it was actually endearing. He had dreams and goals and you thought that it added to his charm. And just by looking at him, you just had the feeling that this boy was capable of doing anything.
"I'll get you plenty of food, don't worry mister future king of the pirates." you said smiling.
His eyes widened at the nickname and you could swear that you saw his cheeks turned a little pink.
Wasn't he adorable ?
You decided to look away and took the orders of his friends, before walking away.
You stopped and leaned against the counter of the bar, trying to regain your composure. You heart was beating like crazy and you just couldn't stop your racing thoughts. Your mind was still thinking about Luffy, that beautiful stranger you had just met and exchanged a few words with.
You felt like you were going crazy but most of all, you felt like you were falling in love.
tags. [sfw] established relationship, fluff, self-indulgent.
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Couldn't give less of a fuck about PDA. It is normal back home. And, not only that, why would he feel ashamed of taking care of his partner? Iñaki will have his hands on you 24/7. Resting one of his big hands on your leg while he is driving, carrying you in his back, hand holding, those never ending side hugs as you guys walk together, kissing. You name it.
If there's a dance circle at a party, you can rest assure your boyfriend is in the middle of it. Karaoke night? He will sing his heart out with you.
Home-made micheladas while you watch a match on TV. And takis.
Iñaki loves to gossip with your aunts at family functions and play with the kids. Naturally, everyone loves him.
Well raised, he opens doors for you, helps around at your folk's house, and if they speak Spanish, will never stop tratandoles de ‘usted’.
He absolutely adores the process of learning everything about a place’s culture before travelling there. Food, traditions, the language, anything.
He loves annoying you with lame jokes
Or embarrassing you by being extra corny in public.
If you request something from him, or ask for any type of favor, he will complain about it like a child, only to double what you asked for. When you mention it, Iñaki will deny it entirely, arguing that he ‘doesn’t know what you are talking about’
You are not a particularly good cook, but you honestly began to feel a bit guilty about your boyfriend making all the household meals. And knowing his insatiable appetite, and constant cravings, you decide something needs to be done. So, you secretly start taking online courses. Of course, you are very secretive about it, a bit embarrassed about the fact that you even needed to learn how to do basic stuff like white rice.
One time he accidentally caught you in the middle of a session. Your face felt heated as he snorted at you and giggled. When you finally gathered the courage to look up at him, you saw that his big brown eyes were a bit watery, with a sweet smile on his face.
When you go in for a peck, the bastard will occasionally stick his tongue out to lick your face. You always make a big fuss about it, feeling grossed out, as he laughs and reprehends you ‘Hun, I’ve licked far worse’
You love doing his eyebrows. And he loves resting his head on your lap, feeling your fingers tracing around his face when you do the mapping, smelling your sweet perfume as you chat away and whisper songs.
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Notes. Guys, I'm back, and I feel like a different person lmao. But I will keep writing and taking requests! I'll probably write a lot about one piece, tho!
As always, I hope you have been taking care of yourself and others! I've been trying to do so as well. -Sidey xxxooooooooo
luffy deadass never heard of the term ‘kinks’ or ‘fetish’ before so if you’re that type of blunt person to ask if he has any he’ll just stare at you with his round bug eyes and say “huh? what’s that?” he isn’t sexually experienced at all, he didn’t even care about sex till he got together with you!
But the second something makes him feel good? He’ll be like “Woah! shishishi, I like that! Do it again!!” he’s super intrigued and 100% down with it, with zero shame.
Luffy is so instinct-driven and emotionally raw, he’s not shy but he’s also not super articulate when overwhelmed, so when he’s close to his climax he’s not saying anything that coherent, but instead making lots of moans and whimpers, maybe he’s muttering your name or just random babbles like “ahh.. feels s’good...”
he’d be super vocal but in that unfiltered way, like his brain is just fried and he's running on pure luffy instinct, if he does speak it’s stuff like “you’re s’warm!” “ ‘m gonna cum—”, “i—shit!”
Yes he whimpers, especially if he’s really needy or sensitive or it’s been a while, little breathy “mmn..--” noises or desperate panting. Luffy also has ABSURD stamina.
if you moan “captain” it’ll make luffy stop moving for a second, eyes widened as he genuinely gets caught off guard with it, “h-haaa.. you said—..” “ahh fuck.. say it again!” and he’ll thrust into you even faster.
Post-climax, Luffy probably pants a little, grins stupidly, kisses you all sloppily, and then goes, “wanna go again?” he does rounds, not a one-and-done, and if you look worn out, he’d blink all concerned and innocently like “Huh? You tired already?” meanwhile he’s still hard or getting there again in like 20 seconds.
he might not realize he can’t just keep going nonstop, especially if you don’t stop him, he’d just keep going and based on how good you sound and feel and how flustered you look, if you get overstimulated, He’s clinging like “Wait, wait, wait, just one more time, I promise—!” with those big puppy eyes, and maybe a little pout if you say no, but he’ll respect your decision nonetheless.
Luffy asking for sex would be the bluntest, most unfiltered, most luffy-ass thing you’ve ever heard, no buildup, just honesty. He’ll likely say “Hey, wanna have sex again?” , “I wanna be inside of you.” Zero shame, 100% enthusiasm, it’s like he’s asking for meat. He'll also just bluntly say “y/n, i’m horny.” like it’s the most normal thing to say out loud ever.
Luffy would be insanely into oral sex, who thinks he isn’t? the way he could gobble down meals made for 20 people with ease? of course he’s going down on you and snugly burying his face between your thighs, he isn’t stopping when you cum for the first time either.
he’d treat oral sex like it’s his new favorite thing to do when he’s not eating meat or napping on you. Luffy doesn’t ask, he announces his intentions, like saying “ ‘m hungryyy.. I wanna taste you y/nn...”, “Can I eat you?? Please??”
Luffy says it way too loud, with no shame, and if you’re the really shy type, he can already sense if you want his greedy mouth on you. So he's already heading down before you can stutter out yes like “too late, I’m doin’ it!”
Luffy gets so into it. he’d be all sloppy, his eyes fluttered close in bliss while he messily works his tongue all over your sex, licking and sucking, slurping and putting his tongue everywhere, you’ll be all slick with wet saliva down there from how much greedy this man is. He wouldn’t miss a single spot, he’s sucking hard and hungry like it’s warm juice from a fresh steak.
if you try to squirm or move your thighs—well, it’s pretty much impossible since luffy would already have his stretchy arms wrapped around both of your thighs at least 3 times, keeping your thighs wide open for him as he thrusts and swirls his tongue deep inside you, shamelessly moaning against your sex as he devours you whole.
If Luffy received oral sex, for the first time he’ll start off confused, you get down there and he’s like “oi.. whaddya doing?” he doesn’t fully get it until you start. Immediately he’s loud and shocked, “ah, y/n!”, “ooh.. yeah, mm.. keep goingg..” Luffy isn’t a silent receiver at all.
execpt, when you suck him off you better pray you could hold your breath for awhile, luffy goes all in—he’ll move his hands down to grab your head and guide you to take his cock more deep in your mouth, thrusting in your wet cavern. He’ll make your eyes water up and make you drool all over him from how he’s fucking your mouth like it’s your sex, making sure his tip hits the back of your throat each time.
and when he climaxes, he always does it inside your mouth, he wouldn’t vulgarly tell you to swallow it all but he will moan out from the way you swallow down his thick load, his hips twitching, fingers tight in your hair as his cock throbs in your mouth.
the moment he’s inside you it’s like you turned his brain off, he moans, might bite your shoulder on instinct, “aahh… shit, s’tight.. you’re squeezin’ me so much!” he might start thrusting a little too fast too soon because it just feels so good, his rhythm wouldn’t be gentle, he’s thrusting messy and hard in you. He’s primal as hell and his stamina is insane but his brain? focused completely on his and your pleasure.
He doesn’t do proper foreplay, but if you consider making out with him all sloppily and him moving his hands down your body to squeeze your hips and grind against you then sure. Luffy isn’t the type to tease or make you wait, he’s pretty impatient, and very instinct-driven, so if you two are going to have sex it’ll be straight to the point.
He’s touchy and clingy, he’s gripping your hips, hugging your waist and clinging like a koala mid-thrust, “nghh, don’t move–aahh!” As he moans either by your ear or above you, focusing solely on the pleasure and tightness.
he sometimes bites you, when fucking into your sloppy sex luffy would groan and bury his face in your neck and unconsciously sink his teeth in your skin. Biting you while he ruts into you without thinking, as if he’s trying to hold you down with both his mouth and his hands—which are holding your hips in place.
Luffy will 100% stretch out his dick with his devil fruit abilities to make it more longer, either when you want to or if he wants too. The first time ever doing it, it blew his mind at how tighter you were, how much it felt like you were milking him so he’s always down to make himself bigger for your and his own pleasure, sometimes he doesn’t even announce doing it—you’ll feel it though.
If you ask him to use his haki during sex (Armament) to experiment, he’ll do it. Hardening his cock and pounding roughly inside of you, it’ll feel more intense for both of you (especially you)
if you ask him to use conquerors haki, he would blink at you and be confused at first like “wait, are ya sure?” But he’ll try it out with you 100%. (And it’ll result to you being completely brainfucked.)
He doesn’t like wearing condoms, he understands it but doesn’t like how it prevents him from feeling the full-pleasure of you, he wants—needs to feel your wet walls tighten around his cock, he needs to feel the way your body hug him from how he slams into you. He does whatever his instincts say.. and they’re always screaming to cum deep inside.
If you complain about him coming inside he’ll just pout and whine before apologizing (but then will do it again) if you’re serious though he’ll wear a condom, he’s not the type to pull out. He never pulls out during sex—he can’t bring himself too, if he needs to cum then he’s doing it.
Luffy doesn’t call you any petnames or say anything vulgar during sex, the only things he’ll be blabbering about is how good it feels and how you feel, how wet you are, or how tight you feel around him. He’ll curse and moan out your name while thrusting into you, but he wouldn’t explicitly speak about your parts or talk dirty, luffy just wouldn’t do that.
Luffy doesn’t prefer one specific position or has a favorite one, he just wants to be inside you no matter the position, every single position or any type he’ll 100% do. Whether it’s missionary, or him pushing your legs up and against your chest, doggystyle, cowgirl, you laying on the bed and him standing behind you, or him pinning you against the wall. He just wants to feel your warmth squeezing around his cock till you both can’t take it anymore.
Post-sex, he is SO proud of himself, he’ll have a big shameless grin, probably letting out hearty laughter as he’s covered in sweat, laying on his back with his arms behind his head, beside you like “That was awesome!!”
“We should do that again. Like, right now.”
Also after sex, luffy sleeps like a baby. full on drooling and snoring as his eyes are closed in complete bliss, though, he’ll be clinging onto you too. His arm stretched around your waist like a cobra to keep your warm body against his own, he would either have your body half on him while his arm is draped over you, your face rested against his chest, or his own face buried against your neck as he spoons you from behind.
it’s not always just sleeping, if you both did a quickie, or if luffy is still all active and energetic, he would pull his shorts back up, wrapping his yellow sash around his waist and tying it while he turns his head to look at you, full grin on display. “c’mon, let’s go eat now!” he’ll say it out loud like he didn’t just fuck your brains out, but the main point is that he’ll never leave you alone afterwards no matter what.
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Summary: Luffy just wants your attention, and the one thing he might like eating more than food, is you.
CW: 18+, smut, oral (fem reciving), squirting, use of the word babygirl. no use of y/n, use of the word cunt
Word Count: 1.5k
Song: Eat it - Megan Thee Stallion
Authors Note: In honor of season 2 coming out today! I wrote this in like 30 mintues so if there are any major mistakes i'm sorry! Anyways I hope you enjoy this and remember to let me know if you have any requests! xoxo
“Please baby…., pleaseeee, pretty please with a cherry on top!” the curly haired man squeaks.
“Luffy” you gawk out at the man in front of you, practically begging for your attention.
“What can possibly be so important right now that you have to interrupt me while I’m trying to document our last voyage” you scowl at him. You’re not really mad but there are times when Luffy gets so worked up that you need to tell him to dial it down.
You can tell that your tone got to him because he looks a little defeated which, if you knew Luffy, never happens.
“I….I just wanted your attention” he replies back to you and god you feel like an asshole. Your sweet, perfect, golden retriever boyfriend who quite literally looks at you like you’ve hung all the stars in the sky for him just wants your undivided attention.
You let out a sigh “I’m sorry luffy, Nami has been on me for not finishing this sooner and I guess I just got a little stressed. I didn’t mean to snap at you. You have my full attention as of now” you smile at him, hoping he can feel how genuine your words are.
As soon as the words leave your mouth he sports a suspicious looking grin on his face “you know what’s good for stress release?” he asks while moving closer to where you had been standing. Moving a piece of hair behind your ear he whispers “coming on my tongue”.
Your legs practically give out when you hear the dirty words leave his mouth. Despite giving off the innocent energy that he shows the world, Luffy has never been afraid to tell you exactly what he wants, and that includes what he wants in the bedroom.
“We…,we can’t, it’s the middle of the day. Everyone is up, what if they need you? Or worse, they hear us!” You gasp out, trying to hide the way your thighs just squeezed together to fight the urge to jump on him.
“C’mon babygirl, you know you want to. When’s the last time we’ve gotten to do this? I promise I’ll be quiet, and if you get too loud, I’ll cover your mouth. You can’t tell me you don’t want me to eat that pretty pussy. I want to, been craving it all morning” to seal his words, he places a light peck on your lips.
And god how can you say no to that? He’s not lying, you do want him. You always want him. And if he’s offering, you might as well take him up on it.
“Fine, but we have to stay quiet and try and make it quick, I would be mortified if anyone found out we were doing this right now!” you say as you grab his hand and drag him to your shared bed. You don’t even need to look back to see that he has a wicked grin on his face.
“I can make you come in minutes with my tongue, don’t doubt me” he winks as he lays you down and shimmies off your shorts and underwear. Not bothering to take off your top.
You can feel your heart sped up at the thought of your body being the only one exposed. It’s nerve wracking but also extremely hot. The fact that he wants to take care of your pleasure with nothing in return makes you unbelievably wet.
Positioning himself on his knees, hands flat on the bed he places soft kisses on the tops of your thighs, darting his tongue out ever so slightly and licking wet lines across your flesh.
Your breath hitches at the foreplay, Luffy now’s how to work you up. To get you to the point where you are begging for him, and before you practically yell at him for more, you feel his body shift so that he’s on his tummy and kissing the inside of your thighs.
“Luff, baby, please” you rasp out, wanting to feel his tongue on you
“Please, what babygirl?” He smirks up at you
“Please eat me out, want your tongue” you whisper, still aware that anyone could be listening.
He doesn’t respond to your request verbally but he does blow a woosh of cool air directly on your cunt. Then licks a long stripe up your pussy.
The contact makes you gasp, you want to close your thighs but his hand is practically prying them open.
Fuck you wisper and bite your lip, looking down at the messy locks of hair in between your thighs. His tongue is now circulating the bundle of nerves at the top of your cunt. Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head when you feel his lips wrap around your clit and suck.
One hand flies to your mouth to cover the noise that wants to come out and the other tangles in his hair, hoping he gets the hint to keep sucking on your clit.
He does, his sucks powerful and all encompassing. You feel so so good, he eats you out like a man starved. In the back of your head you think the one thing Luffy might like more than food is eating your pussy.
He alternates between sucking your clit and licking all over your cunt, making a mess of himself. You can see his pretty brown eyes looking at you and this makes you moan. The fact that he’s so entranced by you, makes your blood boil in the best way possibles
You feel his tongue enter your opening and you have to bite down on your fist to stop yourself from screaming. He’s practically drowning in your wetness, marveling in, the glimmer in his eyes show how much he likes it.
“Are you going to come for me, baby girl?” He questions, eyes looking up at you. His lips and chin shiny from your juices.
Nodding you tell him “I’m so close baby, just a little more” and it’s true, you are close but you never want this to end.
He smiles at you and dives back in, licking your clit like his life depends on it. You feel the familiar coil in your tummy start to tighten but also an unfamiliar sensation in your pelvis, a sort of pressure that almost feels like you have to pee. Before you can say anything, Luffy is flicking his tongue fast over your clit and you can’t even utter the words that you are going to come before you feel yourself clench down on nothing and a waterfall of liquid squirting out of you.
You have to be screaming, eyes closed shut, toes curled. Waves of intense pleasure coursing through you. Luffy continues to lick you through your intense orgasm.
When you finally come down from your high you look down at your boyfriend mortified, you just fucking squirted all over his face and moaned so loud that the entire ship heard you.
Opening your mouth to apologize, Luffy lunges up and kisses you. Hot, wet, and messy. You can taste yourself on him.
He’s panting when he talks “fuck that was so hot, did you know you could do that?” He questions.
“No I didn’t. I’m so sorry Luffy, that was so embarrassing. You just made me feel so good” your hands are now covering your face.
Prying your hands away Luffy shakes his head “No, no, no, absolutely not, that was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, do you know how hard I am right now. I’m going to want to make you squirt every time now”
You smile at him, really a man as good as Luffy could never make you feel embarrassed. He moves to grab a towel when there’s a loud knock on the door.
“Yall done in there? Lunch is ready. Seems like you both are going to need some extra energy” Sanji yells out following it up with a laugh.
You let your head hit the backboard with a sigh “we are never going to live this one down are we” you ask
“Nope! But hey, at least they know how good I can make you feel” Luffy says excitedly, not giving a care in the world that all his best friends know what you guys were doing.
Honestly it was only a matter of time before they heard you. Next time you would be more prepared. Maybe it was time to invest in some better sound proofing.
summary: this man has a breeding kink , ur always preggo and others notice
tags: 18+ , MDNI , breeding kink , pregnancy
a/n: LAWD THAT PIC OF HIM HAS ME GOING INSANE . i swear i typed this with 2 hands
theme: all mine .
The marui was quiet except for the sound of waves outside and your soft gasps.
Tonowari had you on your back, legs hooked over his forearms, hips already flush against yours. He didn’t rush tonight. He never did when he wanted to feel every thick inch sink in slow.
"Another one," he murmured low against your throat, voice rough. "I want to see you round again. Swollen with my child."
You moaned, fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders. "I'm barely done raising the last one…"
"Good." He rolled his hips deeper, deliberate, letting his cock drag along every sensitive ridge inside you. "Means your body knows how to take me. Knows how to grow them."
He liked saying it out loud. Liked the way your slick walls fluttered and squeezed every time he talked about filling you up. His breeding talk always made you drip, always made you clench so hard he had to bite back a groan.
He pulled back just enough to watch his thick length slide out, shiny with your wetness, veins standing out, then pushed back in to the hilt. Slow. Heavy. Making sure you felt the fat head nudge your cervix, the stretch burning sweet.
"You're still so tight," he growled. "Even after all these babies. Still gripping me like you’re starving for my seed."
Your head tipped back. "Tonowari-"
“What is it?” He cooed, slowing his pace just to tease you. "You don’t want another one?" His shallow short thrusts turned into slow deep ones, grinding the base against your clit each time. He liked seeing you squirm for your release.
You whined, hips trying to chase him, but he held you pinned with that easy strength.
"I asked you a question," he said, lips brushing your ear. "Do you not want it? Or you want me to breed you full again?"
Your nails scraped down his back. "Yes-Eywa, yes. Please."
Tonowari groaned low in his chest and finally gave you what you both needed. His hips snapped forward, burying every thick inch to the root over and over. The wet, obscene slap of skin on skin echoed louder than ever, your slick coating his balls with every thrust.
He hooked your legs higher, spreading you wide so he could grind right against that swollen spot that made your toes curl and your eyes roll.
"Look at you," he rasped, eyes locked on where your pussy stretched around his girth, lips puffy and glistening. "So perfect. Made for this. Made to carry my seed."
You were trembling already, so close from the slow build-up. Every brutal thrust punched the air out of your lungs.
"Gonna-gonna come," you gasped.
"Not yet." His hand slid between you, thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing firm, relentless circles. "Come when I fill you. When you feel me spill deep."
His command made you fall over the edge.
You shattered around him with a broken cry, walls spasming hard, milking his cock in tight, greedy pulses. Tonowari cursed under his breath, thrusts turning erratic and sloppy. He pressed his palm flat over your belly again, like he could already feel the life he was about to force inside.
"Take it," he growled. "All of it."
He came with a rough shudder, hips locked tight against yours as his cock throbbed and pulsed, flooding you with thick, hot spurts. You felt every heavy rope coat your walls, felt the warmth spread deep. He kept grinding in slow, filthy circles, working his cum even deeper, making sure nothing escaped.
He didn't pull out for a long minute. Just stayed buried to the hilt, breathing hard against your neck, one hand still cradling the flat plane of your stomach.
"Stay still," he murmured. "Let it take."
You laughed weakly. "You say that every time."
"And it works every time." He kissed the corner of your mouth, smug. "Doesn't it?"
Sure enough, after a few long months, your stomach has shown a plump swell. Proof of his work done good.
You walked slower to the water now, hand resting low on the round swell that pushed against your top. No hiding it anymore. The curve was clear, proud.
The aunties smiled soft when you passed. One reached out, brushed gentle fingers over the bump like it was sacred. "Another strong one,” she whispered. "Does he not keep his hand off you?"
A blush crept up your neck, and you wanted the sand to swallow you. "Ah-well you know!" You said too fast, clearly flustered.
Whispers spread like ripples. Another baby. Again. The Olo'eyktan's mate, always carrying. Tsireya giggled at the remarks. Aonung looked like he wanted to hurl.
"He keeps you full," an elder said to you, voice quiet but warm. "The clan is blessed."
You ducked your head, smiling shyly. "As am I."
"Good." She touched your arm. "A chief needs heirs. And you… you wear it well."
That night Tonowari found you in the marui, moonlight spilling through the weave.
He knelt behind you without a word. Big hands slid under your top, palms spreading wide over the swell. He pressed his lips to the back of your neck.
"Look at you," he murmured, thumbs tracing slow circles. "Carrying my child again. So beautiful."
You leaned into him, breath catching when his fingers dipped lower, teasing.
"Still sensitive?" he asked, voice low.
"Always," you whispered.
He chuckled, dark and pleased, and turned you carefully onto the mats.
He settled between your thighs, careful now, mindful of the bump. But his eyes burned the same.
"Gonna keep you like this forever," he said, sliding in slow, deep. "Round. Full of me."
You gasped, hands finding his shoulders.
He moved gentle this time. Long, rolling thrusts.
"Mine," he breathed against your skin, kissing the stretch marks like promises. "All mine."
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