[b3ach-bunn7]

✩₊˚.🕸️ NATURAL ✩₊˚.🕸️ ~ peter parker x reader

texts between you and your friendly neighbour (spiderman)

fluff, slight angst but it gets resolved, smau, strangers to friends, (no mj in this universe)

note: I love peter Parker I love spiderman

October 12th

8:32 am

Y/N: is this Peter from 12b?

Peter: Yes! Is this Y/N from 11b? 

Y/N: yes

Peter: Cool :D Is everything okay?

Y/N: no.

Peter: Oh

Y/N: I get that you might have stuff to do in the middle of the night EVERY NIGHT but can u be a little bit quieter plz???? 

Y/N: I work early morning and u wake me up nealey every day 😔

Peter: Oh shit 

Peter: Sorry I had no idea the walls are that thin

Peter: I promise I’ll be quieter

Y/N: thank u

Peter: No problem

October 14th

1:03 pm

Y/N: *image attachment*

Y/N: these from you?

Peter: Nice right

Peter: A little apology from your noisy neighbour 🌷 

Y/N: ass kisser 

Peter: OI

October 17th

8:06pm 

Y/N: hey do u have any spare quarters? I got laundry to do and I’m all out

Peter: Uh eyag jusy one scecond 

Y/N: ? 

Y/N: can we try again in English 

Peter: Sry gimme a min

Peter: I’ll meet u in the laundry toim in ten?

Y/N: yes I’ll see u in the laundry toim 

Peter: 🫩

October 20th

12:09am 

Y/N: what the hell happened to you 

Peter: Wdym?

Y/N: uhm ur face?? who beat u up 

Peter: Oh that

Peter: It’s nothing

Y/N: it’s definitely something 

Y/N: are you okay?

Peter: I’m fine don’t worry about me

Y/N: I am worried

Peter: Wow.. what a good friend 🩷

Y/N: let’s not get ahead of ourselves

Peter: It’s fine it doesn’t even hurt

Y/N: so macho and strong 

Peter: Ofc 💪 

October 22nd

11:34pm

Peter: Oh my god can u hear that

Y/N: LMAO YES

Peter: It surely can’t be that good

Y/N: nobody is good enough to make u scream that loud

Peter: Oh really

Y/N: gross

Peter: Are they gonna get an angry message too

Y/N: no those r just reserved for u

Peter: Oh wow

Peter: I feel so special

October 24th

9:44 am

Y/N: do u jog

Y/N: or gym or smth

Peter: Uh yeah to both

Peter: Why

Y/N: just wondering

Peter: Did my incredible physique and big muscles tip u off

Y/N: yeah they were so visible in ur juicy tracksuit

Peter: SHUT UP

Y/N: u just looked soooooo juicy

Peter: 🤬🤬🤬

Peter: Erase that from ur memory

Y/N: *image attachment*

Y/N: shall i erase this too

Peter: FUCK OFF

October 25th

9:23pm

Y/N: hey so I know this is last minute but

Y/N: I’m throwing Halloween party at my place if ur free 

Peter: Idk it’s kind of a long commute

Y/N: har har har

Peter: Ofc I wanna come 

Peter: Thank u for the invite!

Y/N: costumes not optional 

Y/N: I won’t let u in if ur not dressed❌

Peter: I’ll make sure I’m looking my best 

October 30th

7:09pm

Peter: *image attachment*

Peter: How’s my costume

Y/N: woah

Y/N: r u that Star Wars guy

Peter: That Star Wars guy???

Peter: U mean Kylo ren??

Y/N: yeah i never watched Star Wars sorry x

Peter: Girl

Y/N: don’t girl me

Peter: How have u not watched star wars??

Y/N: cause I’m not a big fat nerd

Peter: Right

Peter: R u busy tonight?

Y/N: I am not

Peter: Cool

Peter: I have them all on dvd we are getting through as many as we can tonight

Y/N: is this a threat

Peter: Yes 

October 31st

12:45am

Peter: Did u get home safe x

Y/N: gosh ur so funny

Y/N: the movies weren’t half bad yk

Peter: We got through two before you fell asleep on my shoulder

Y/N: YH sorry about that…

Peter: No worries x it was so cute when you drooled all over my shoulder

Y/N: die

October 31st

9:10pm

Y/N: are the flowers from you?

Peter: Guilty

Y/N: awwww u spoil me

Peter: Just a housewarming gift 

Y/N: most people brought beer

Peter: What can I say I’m a stand up guy

Peter: I like your costume 

Y/N: thanks!! It’s kinda hard to move around tho.. I assume iron man had a much easier time than I am

Peter: Yeah well his suit wasn’t made out of cardboard 

Y/N: unfortunately I cannot afford nanotech 

Y/N: are u gonna just text me all night or are u gonna come over and talk to me?

Peter: On my way ma’am

October 31st

11:09 pm

Y/N: bro this beer pong is getting serious u have to come look 

Y/N: wait did u leave I can’t find u anywhere 

Y/N: peter?

November 1st

1:02am 

Peter: Hey I’m sorry I had to leave so randomly 

Peter: Something urgent came up 

Y/N: a goodbye would’ve been nice 🥀

Peter: I’m sorry 😔 it was urgent 

Y/N: nah dw im just joking

Y/N: you okay? 

Peter: I will be once u forgive me

Y/N: sigh maybe I will if a pizza was in my lap and return of the Jedi was on my tv

Peter: Be there in fifteen 

November 3rd

12:47pm 

Y/N: what are u doing November 15th

Peter: Hmm probably nothing 

Y/N: would u like to come to friendsgiving hosted at my humble abode

Peter: friendsgiving?

Y/N: yeahh smth me and my friends do every year before the real thing

Y/N: and feel free to invite anyone u want as well 

Y/N: ur friend Frank? was that his name

Peter: Uh 

Peter: Idk about that but I’d love to come

Y/N: perfect 

November 4th

3:45pm

Y/N: are you not home?

Peter: No why

Y/N: I was gonna return ur dvds u forgot them at mine

Y/N: wait how did u leave I didn’t even hear ur door

Peter: Uh

Peter: I left quietly

Y/N: okay…

November 7th

11:47pm

Peter: Hey u up?

Y/N: uhm yeah 

Peter: Perfect

Peter: So by any chance do u know basic first aid? 

Y/N: I guess why

Peter: *image attachment*

Peter: Ur services would be greatly appreciated 

Y/N: BRO

Y/N: 😭😭😭 Peter wtf happened to u

Peter: I was

Peter: I got mugged

Y/N: mugged????

Peter: The streets are ruthless

Y/N: all those muscles and u didn’t fight back??

Peter: Hey u should see the other guy

Y/N: I’m sure he’s battered

Y/N: can’t believe u had to fight him alone

Y/N: god where’s spiderman when u need him

Peter: I know right!!!!!!

Peter: Can u come over now 💔

Y/N: alright I’m coming calm ur tits

Peter: My tits are perfectly fine thanks 

November 10th

5:45pm

Y/N: r these flowers gonna be a regular thing now?

Peter: Only when I pass by the bodega 

Peter: Which is basically everyday so yeah

Y/N: how thoughtful and kind🩷

Peter: Am I finally forgiven for being loud all the time 

Y/N: let’s not get ahead of ourselves here

November 12th:

6:34pm

Peter: Hey do i need to bring food to Thanksgiving 

Y/N: friendsgiving 

Peter: Yes friendsgiving

Y/N: and yes u have to 

Peter: Shit 

Y/N: can’t cook?

Peter: Yeah I live off protein powder lowkey

Y/N: LOL

Y/N: u have to bring smth tho… so u bette get in that kitchen 

Peter: Fine

Peter: If I make something tonight will u be my test bunny

Y/N: do i have to

Peter: Sorry babe u do

Peter: I’ll be over with the goods later

Y/N: are u gonna bring the food too?

Peter: Cheeky

November 14th

9:12pm

Y/N: yk u disappear a lot

Peter: I do?

Y/N: you do.. noticing things

Peter: Noticing what??

Y/N: shhhhhh

November 15th

6:07pm

Y/N: uhmmmmm is that Frank

Peter: Yes?

Y/N: wow 😍 u didn’t tell me how hot he was

Peter: Y/N.

Y/N: sooo is he single or what 🩷🩷🩷

Peter: Shut up 

Peter: He’s taken and about thirty years too old for you

Y/N: age ain’t nothing but a number

Peter: Ohhhh shit i just remembered he has to go home early actually 😔😔😔 Shoot!!

Y/N: LMAO

November 16th

7:12pm

Y/N: hey where’d you go we’re about to eat

Y/N: peter?

Y/N: are u seriously doing this again??

Y/N: are y gonna do this everytime I invite u to smth? In front of all my friends ?

Y/N: yk if u don’t wanna come next time just don’t show up 

November 16th

10:28 pm

Peter: Y/N

Peter: Can i come over?

Y/N: sorry I’m cleaning 

Peter: I’ll help you clean 

Y/N: I don’t need help

Peter: I’ll keep you company then

Y/N: peter stop okay 

Peter: I’m sorry Y/N 

Y/N: I don’t want any apologies 

Y/N: I just want some space plz I need to think

Y/N: I’ll talk to u later

Peter: alright

November 18th

9:07pm

Y/N: I’m gonna ask u smth and I want u to be honest with me

Peter: Anything yeah 

Y/N: and u cannot lie to me

Peter: I won’t I promise 

Y/N: and also dont freak out

Peter: I definitely wont

Y/N: are u spiderman?

Peter: what

Y/N: idk I’ve just been thinking about it and it makes so much sense

Y/N: you always randomly disappear when spiderman HAPPENS to be fighting someone halfway across the city 

Y/N: ur always getting beat up and then somehow like a day later ur completely healed??

Y/N: and u always leave ur house without leaving ur front door so i guess u use ur balcony which is about ten feet off the ground so how else would u do that

Y/N: oh and I downloaded that spider tracker app and he (you) is ALWAYS by our apartment soooo

Y/N: am I right? 

Y/N: peter??

Y/N: i can hear u moving around in ur place okay don’t ignore me

Peter: Can I come over?

Y/N: yes

November 19th

7:07pm

Peter: *image attachment*

Y/N: am I just gonna get spiderman selfies now?

Peter: Yes you are

Y/N: I think J Jonah Jameson will love these

Peter: Don’t even start

Peter: And you can’t lie this is sick 

Peter: Don’t I look so cool swinging all over the city 

Y/N: sigh I guesssss 

Peter: I’ll take u one day then you’ll see

Y/N: in ur dreams Parker 

Peter: That’s Spiderman to you

this is jsut smth short and sweet because im going on holiday tonight so!! Wont be posting for a week x

notice peter asking u to patch him up knowing he’s gonna be healed in like ten minutes…

peter Parker I wish u were real I wish

[laraisoncall]

lucky number seven

summary: The entire hospital fears Brendon Park. Except you. You can steal his coffee, order him around, tease him all day, and tell him he’s being an ass. Nobody understands why he listens until they discover you met him before — back when he was struggling, unknown, and not yet “Park the Shark.” 9.9k

The scent of hospital-grade disinfectants and stale dark roast coffee was the same in Pittsburgh as it was in New York, but the air here felt heavier, thick with the damp heat of an impending late-spring thunderstorm.

You adjusted the collar of your black scrubs, checking your reflection in the small, slightly warped mirror of the staff locker room.

Undeniably, the move had been a shock to your system. A week ago, you had packed your entire life into a single U-Haul, leaving behind a brownstone in Brooklyn, a prestigious fellowship, and a man who had successfully managed to hollow out your chest over the course of three years.

“You’re just never there, babe,” Richard had said, his voice dripping with that smooth, corporate condescension you had somehow mistaken for maturity when you first met him.

He had been standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows of your downtown apartment, not even looking at you. “I need someone who actually shows up for dinner, not someone who prioritizes a bunch of strangers over her own relationship. Look at you. You’re undeniably beautiful, you’re brilliant, you have the whole world handing you whatever you want—but you’re empty. Your job is your real partner. I’m just the guy holding the ring until you realize you don’t have room in your life for a real man.”

That last sentence had been the final, brutal blow—the one that made you slide the engagement ring off your finger, drop it onto the marble kitchen island, and tell him to get the hell out. You weren’t going to let a man who wanted a trophy wife make you feel guilty for saving lives. So, you chose yourself. You chose your career. You chose Pittsburgh.

The memory still tasted like ash, but as you tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, you reminded yourself of who you actually were. You were young, you were an incredibly talented Emergency Medicine attending, and despite Richard’s parting attempts to dismantle your self-esteem, the appreciative glances you’d received in the hospital corridors over the last seven days proved you hadn’t lost an ounce of your charm or your looks.

You were talented, you were charismatic, and you were finally free.

Pushing through the double doors into the main hub of the Emergency Department, you were immediately greeted by the low, constant hum of the pit.

"Morning, superstar," called out Dr. Robby, the Chief of the ED. He was a salt-pepper haired genial man whose eyes always held a paternal warmth. He was leaning against the central tracking board, a tablet balanced on his forearm. "How's the transition treating you? No one’s driven you back to the turnpike yet?"

"Not yet, Chief," you said with an easy, radiant smile that made a passing intern nearly trip over an IV pole. "The pace is good. The staff is sharp. I think I'm actually starting to figure out which elevator leads to the cafeteria without ending up in the morgue."

"That's a victory in week one," Dr. Frank Langdon chimed in, stepping up to the desk. Langdon was a senior resident, highly excellent, effortlessly charming, and currently sporting a grin that suggested he’d spent the last ten minutes trying to think of an excuse to talk to you. "If you ever need a personal guided tour of the city's better culinary establishments, Doc, my schedule is surprisingly flexible for an R4."

"I appreciate the offer, Dr. Langdon," you replied, your tone perfectly balanced between warm collegiality and a gentle, unmistakable boundary. "But I think I'll stick to learning the hospital grid before I venture out into the wild."

Langdon gave a good-natured shrug, his eyes lingering on your smile for just a beat too long before he walked away. He wasn't the first.

Over the past week, a steady stream of eligible bachelors from cardiology, neurology, and general surgery had suddenly found reasons to consult or simply wander down to the ED, all of them eager to introduce themselves to the gorgeous new attending everyone was talking about. You had politely, flawlessly deflected every single dinner invitation. Your heart was under construction, and frankly, you didn't have the bandwidth for more corporate slickness.

"Don't let them hound you," a gravelly voice said from behind the terminal. Dr. Abbot, the night shift attending who was currently finishing up his hand-off notes, looked up with a tired but deeply kind smile. "They're like seagulls when a new ship docks. You've been a breath of fresh air around here, truly. The night shift reports have been immaculate since you took over the swing."

"Thanks, Abbot. Get some sleep. You look like you're walking in a dream."

"More like a nightmare, but I'm heading out now. Good luck today," Abbot said, gathering his things with a grateful nod.

You walked over to the main nurse's station, where Dana Evans, the legendary charge nurse of the PTMC trauma bays, was currently terrorizing a supply representative over a late shipment of rapid infusers. Dana was tough, deeply competent, sarcastic to a fault, and fiercely protective of her clinical space.

She slammed the phone down, took one look at you, and her fierce expression softened into a wry smirk. "Look at you, still looking like a shampoo commercial after five consecutive shifts. What's your secret, Doc? Genetic superiority or just high-quality concealer?"

"Good moisturizer and a complete lack of a personal life, Dana," you joked, leaning against the counter.

"Well, keep that shield up. The vultures are circling," Dana said, gesturing subtly toward a group of internal medicine residents pretending to study a chart nearby. "They aren't used to an attending who can run a level-one trauma without breaking a sweat or looking like they slept in a ditch. Speaking of which, you've got Trinity Santos on your team today. Keep her on a leash."

Right on cue, R2 Trinity Santos marched up to the desk, her jaw set, her eyes burning with the fierce, highly competitive ambition she was already famous for. She was sharp-tongued and possessed a brash confidence that bordered on terrifying for the medical students.

"Hey, Doc," Trinity said, dropping a clipboard onto the counter. "Bay 3 is prepped for the chest tube evaluation. I've already reviewed the films from last night. I can perform the exchange myself, no supervision required."

Before you could answer, R3 Melissa King drifted over. Melissa was empathetic and highly intelligent, possessing an incredible emotional perceptiveness, but she was also humanly, beautifully awkward. She was clutching a cup of tea like a security blanket. "Um, actually, Dr. Santos, the patient in Bay 3 specifically asked for a female doctor who 'doesn't shout at them,' so maybe... maybe we let the attending take the lead? Not that you shout! You just... speak with high velocity."

Trinity rolled her eyes. "It's efficiency, King. If the patient wants a lifestyle chat, they can call a therapist. We need the bed."

"Let's compromise," you said, your calm, cool voice instantly cutting through the resident bickering. "Trinity, you'll perform the procedure, but I will be in the room, and you will speak to the patient at a volume that doesn't suggest an air raid. Melissa, I want you on the ultrasound for the subsequent cardiac window checks. Deal?"

Both residents nodded—Trinity with a tight, respectful click of her jaw, and Melissa with a sigh of relief.

Just then, Dennis Whitaker, an R1 who perpetually looked like he was being hunted by an apex predator, stumbled toward the desk, nearly dropping a handful of specimen tubes. "Uh, Doc? MS4 Victoria Javadi is in the hallway... she's trying to explain the entire coagulation cascade to a patient with a minor laceration, and the patient is crying because they think they have leukemia now."

You let out a soft laugh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. Victoria Javadi was a brilliant medical student, but her social skills were still in the embryonic stage. "Dennis, breathe. Go tell Victoria that the cascade is beautiful, but the patient just needs three standard sutures and a lollipop. Then take over the closure for her."

"Yes, ma'am! Thank you, ma'am!" Dennis scrambled away like a startled rabbit.

Dana Evans shook her head, an amused grin on her face. "You're a saint, Doc. Seriously. If this were the upper floors, they'd have eaten those kids alive by now. Especially if they wandered into the penthouse."

"The penthouse?" you asked, charting a quick note on the computer.

"Ortho," Trinity Santos answered, her voice dropping into a tone that was unusually reverent for her. "Specifically, the Chief of Ortho. Dr. Park. They call him 'The Shark.' He’s a total machine. Aggressive confidence, complete clinical dominance, and if an intern breathes out of rhythm in his OR, he bans them for a month. He’s completely terrifying."

You frowned slightly. Park? The name was common enough, but a strange, distant memory twitched in the back of your mind. No. It couldn't be. The only Park you knew from medical school was someone who couldn't even look a Starbucks barista in the eye without stuttering, let alone terrify an entire Level 1 trauma center.

"He doesn't have emotions," Melissa King added with a slight shudder. "I saw him look at a shattered femur last week like it was a fun puzzle, and when the resident missed a bone fragment on the pre-op, he just stared at them until they started sweating through their scrubs. Literally. He’s like an apex predator."

You smiled slightly, shaking your head at the hospital lore. Every major trauma center had one—the legendary, unyielding surgeon who ruled their department with an iron fist.

"Well, let's hope the Shark stays in his deep water today. We have enough to deal with down here."

The peace didn't last. Forty minutes later, the red courtesy phone at the trauma desk began its shrill, rhythmic wail. Dana picked it up on the first ring, her sharp eyes scanning the room as her expression instantly shifted into high-alert mode.

"Copy that. ETA three minutes. Give us both bays," Dana barked, slamming the receiver down. She looked directly at you. "Multi-vehicle collision on I-376. Inbound are two criticals. First up is a twenty-four-year-old male, unrestrained driver, ejected from the vehicle. Unstable vitals, massive pelvic disruption, obvious open deformities to the lower extremities. Second is a passenger, entrapped for thirty minutes, severe crush injuries."

"Alright, let's move!" you commanded, your voice carrying that effortless, magnetic authority that instantly pulled the chaotic ED into a tight, synchronized orbit. "Trinity, you're with me in Bay 1. Dennis, get the rapid infuser spiked. Melissa, I want you on airway with Dr. Garcia from Trauma Surgery. Victoria!" you called out to the medical student who had just appeared. "Stand back, observe, and do not recite textbooks unless I ask you to. Let's go!"

The doors to the ambulance bay flew open with a violent crash, the sound of rain and roaring sirens flooding the room. The paramedics rolled in, their faces grim, their forearms strained as they kept manual pressure on a mountain of bloody gauze.

"Patient is responsive only to deep pain!" the medic yelled over the din. "Systolic's been hovering in the low seventies. We got two lines of wide-open normal saline going. He’s got an obvious unstable pelvic binder on, but his left leg is practically pointing backward!"

"On my count, over to the trauma gurney," you ordered, stepping into the slot at the head of the bed. "One, two, three, shift!"

The patient was transferred in a flurry of movement. The smell of copper, road rash, and damp earth filled Bay 1.

"Trinity, check breath sounds. Dennis, get those lines hooked up to the blood products now!" your voice was a cool, steady anchor amidst the storm. You ran your hands expertly over the patient's abdomen and pelvis, feeling the terrifying, unhinged crepitus of a shattered pelvic ring. "He's bleeding out into his retroperitoneum. We need an immediate pelvic binder tight, and call the blood bank for a massive transfusion protocol."

Dr. Yolanda Garcia, the attending trauma surgeon, strode into the bay, her eyes taking in the scene in half a second. "He's got a rigid abdomen, Doc. We might need to ex-lap him right here if we can't stabilize this pressure."

"It's the pelvis, Yolanda," you argued, your hands steady as you secured the mechanical binder, pulling it taut until the lock clicked. "Look at the left lower extremity. The femoral artery is compromised from a massive orthopedic distortion. We need an immediate ortho consult for external fixation and vascular exploration. Dana! Who's the on-call ortho attending?"

"It's the Shark's service today," Dana said, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "Paging him now."

"Tell him to get his ass down here in thirty seconds or he's going to be operating on a corpse!" Trinity Santos yelled, her competitive adrenaline spiking as she tried to maintain an airway window.

"Watch the tone, Santos," you said mildly, not looking up as you began an ultrasound of the patient's heart. "But she's right, Dana. Make it a stat page."

The minutes stretched like taffy. The patient's blood pressure ticked up slightly with the first two units of O-negative, but the left leg was cold, pulseless, and pale—a ticking clock of ischemia.

"Where the hell is Ortho?" Garcia muttered, her hands hovering over her surgical tray.

Suddenly, the automatic doors of the trauma bay didn't just open; they seemed to part out of sheer deference. A tall, broad-shouldered man in dark green scrubs and a black surgical cap strode into the room. His presence was immediate, an oppressive wave of absolute focus and aggressive confidence that caused Dennis to instinctively step backward into a corner.

He didn't look at anyone's face. He walked straight to the foot of the bed, his dark eyes fixed entirely on the mangled left leg of the patient.

"What do we have?" his voice was deep, gravelly, and entirely devoid of warmth. It was a voice designed to cut through noise and command absolute obedience.

"Multi-vehicle MVC, severe pelvic ring disruption, open left femur fracture with absent distal pulses," Trinity Santos rattled off, her voice actually trembling slightly as she stood before the legendary surgeon. "We’ve placed a binder, but the limb is ischemic."

The tall surgeon reached down, his large, powerful hands moving with an terrifyingly precise efficiency as he evaluated the injury. "The binder is decent, but the traction is wrong. Who placed this?"

"I did," you said, stepping around the side of the bed to face him directly.

Dr. Brendon Park looked up from the injury, his sharp, dark eyes locking onto yours for the very first time.

The entire trauma bay seemed to lose its oxygen.

The man standing before you was a towering specimen of clinical perfection. His shoulders were broad enough to fill the doorway, his jawline sharp, his posture commanding and unyielding. He was the epitome of a brilliant, intimidating Chief of Orthopedic Surgery.

But as you stared into those familiar, dark eyes, the hospital room completely vanished.

You weren't looking at "The Shark."

You were looking at Brendon. Your Brendon.

The lanky, socially awkward, intensely brilliant boy from medical school who used to trip over his own shoelaces and hide in the back row of anatomy lectures. The boy whose shoulders used to slouch because he hadn't yet figured out how to carry the weight of his own genius. The boy whose lips had tasted like cheap beer and desperate, beautiful promises under a starry Ohio sky seven years ago.

Brendon froze. The absolute, unshakeable confidence that defined his entire reputation cracked in a fraction of a second. His wide, expressive eyes dilated, his lips parting slightly as a sudden, breathless shock washed over his features.

He whispered your name, his voice suddenly losing every ounce of its gravelly, intimidating edge. He looked at you like he was seeing a ghost, his hands hovering mid-air above the patient's leg.

"Brendon," you breathed, your cool, professional composure momentarily slipping as a wave of intense, buried yearning slammed into your chest.

For three long seconds, the busiest trauma bay in Pittsburgh was completely silent. The nurses, the residents, and the trauma surgeon stared at the two of you in absolute, slack-jawed bewilderment. The terrifying "Shark" was looking at the new ED attending like a man who had just found water in the middle of a desert, and you were looking at him with a vulnerability that none of them had ever witnessed from the unflappable new doctor.

"Uh..." Dennis Whitaker squeaked from the corner, breaking the spell.

Brendon blinked, his wall of clinical steel instantly slamming back into place, though his eyes remained fiercely, desperately anchored to yours. He cleared his throat, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath.

"Right," he said, his voice deep again, but there was a subtle tremor in it that only someone who knew him inside out could detect. "The leg needs immediate reduction and an ex-fix in the OR. If we don't restore perfusion in ten minutes, he loses the limb. Is she stable for transport, Doctor?"

He called you Doctor. The professionalism was a shield, but his eyes were pleading with you.

"Vitals are holding after the second unit," you replied, your voice snapping back into its signature, charismatic rhythm, though your heart was hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. "He's all yours, Dr. Park. Take him."

"Santos, Whitaker, with me," Brendon commanded, turning on his heel. "We're going straight to OR 4. Move!"

The residents scrambled to unlock the gurney, flying out of the room behind him.

As Brendon reached the threshold of the door, he stopped for a second, turning his head just enough to catch your eye one last time before disappearing into the corridor.

Dana Evans stepped up beside you, her eyes wide as she looked from the doorway back to you. "What the hell was that?"

You let out a breath you felt like you’d been holding for seven years, leaning against the central desk. "That... was an old friend."

By the time your shift wound down to its final hour, the storm outside had broken, a steady, rhythmic rain drumming against the frosted glass of the emergency department.

The adrenaline of the trauma had faded, leaving behind a profound, aching hollow in your chest that you hadn't felt since you left medical school.

You sat in the quiet doctors' lounge, a lukewarm cup of terrible coffee cradled between your hands, your mind entirely hijacked by the past.

You had met him during your second year of medical school at Ohio State.

You had been one of the "cool girls" in your class—undeniably brilliant, managing to effortlessly ace your pathology exams while still maintaining a vibrant social life, going out to bars, and living your early twenties to the absolute fullest. You had a status to uphold. You were charming, pretty, and effortlessly popular.

Then came the infamous mid-semester house party.

You had gone because you desperately needed to unwind, to forget the crushing weight of textbooks and clinical rotations for just a few hours. The air was thick with the scent of cheap beer and loud music.

And that’s where you first saw him.

Brendon had been dragged there by his roommate, he was sitting in the corner of a crowded kitchen, looking completely miserable, wearing an oversized gray hoodie that practically swallowed his lanky, six-foot-two frame. He was fumbling with a red solo cup, staring intensely at the floor, praying to whatever deity was listening that no one would try to talk to him. He was painfully shy, socially awkward, and completely out of his depth.

You had found him absolutely adorable.

Later in the night, a rowdy group of drunken surgery track students forced everyone into a circle for a classic, juvenile game of "Seven Minutes in Heaven." The beer bottle spun on the carpet, slowly losing speed, until the neck pointed straight at you.

The crowd cheered. You smiled, tossing your hair back, ready for whoever it was.

Then, they spun the bottle for the guy.

It landed on Brendon.

The room erupted into groans and laughter. Brendon looked like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. His ears were bright red. He clumsily stood up, his long limbs awkwardly adjusting as he was pushed into the small, dark coat closet under the stairs with you.

“Good luck, babe, he might faint if you touch him!” your friend had yelled.

The door clicked shut, plunging both of you into darkness, save for the faint sliver of light beneath the door.

"Um... hi," Brendon had squeaked, his voice cracking slightly. He pressed his back firmly against the wall of the closet, as far away from you as physically possible.

"Hi," you had laughed softly, stepping closer to him. The scent of his clean laundry and nervous sweat filled the small space. "You know," you said, your tone light, cool, and teasing, "you don't look like you're in heaven, Brendon. You look like you're on death row."

"I... I don't really do parties," he stammered, staring at the ceiling. "And I... I really don't think we should do this."

You blinked, surprised. "Do what? Kiss?"

"Yeah," Brendon muttered, his face burning hot even in the dark. "I mean, you're... you're you. You're popular, and you're really pretty, and everyone knows you. And I’m... I’ve only ever kissed my high school girlfriend, okay? Once. And it was bad. I'll just embarrass myself. So... we don't have to. Let’s just stay on opposite sides of the closet.”

You had been surprised. Most guys in med school were arrogant, overflowing with unearned ego. You had found his honesty incredibly endearing. You actually wanted to kiss him. You had wanted to see what those nervous lips felt like.

But you respected his boundaries, and more importantly, you had a reputation to uphold. If you walked out of that closet and told everyone that the awkward, lanky guy had rejected kissing the coolest girl in the class, your ego would never recover.

"Alright," you had said, a mischievous spark igniting in your chest. "We won't kiss. But we have to make them think we did. Otherwise, they'll never let us live it down."

Brendon looked relieved. "How do we do that?"

"Mess up your hair," you commanded smoothly. You reached up, your fingers running through his thick, messy dark hair, intentionally rumpling it. Brendon went entirely rigid, his breath hitching as your fingers brushed his scalp. You grabbed the lapels of his oversized hoodie, shaking them, making a rustling noise, while you loudly sighed and threw your back against the closet wall, making a soft thud. You even let out a breathless, fake moan that made Brendon exhale a strangled, terrified gasp.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, his face burning in the dark.

“Shh, they’re listening,” you giggled.

"Perfect," you smirked. "But listen, Park. I'm saving your reputation out there, and I'm protecting my own. So, you owe me. Big time."

Brendon blinked in confusion. "A debt?"

"A debt of absolute servitude," you had declared dramatically. "From now on, you buy my late night coffee. You are going to be my personal driver when it rains. And you are going to be my mandatory study buddy, because I know you're secretly a genius who makes perfect flashcards. Deal?”

Brendon had stared at you through the dark, a slow, incredibly endearing smile finally breaking across his face. "Okay. Deal."

That silly party game had been the catalyst for the most beautiful, chaotic friendship of your life.

Brendon had kept his word with terrifying precision. He became your shadow, your defender, and your personal assistant. The hospital staff at your school clinic used to laugh watching the two of you. You would sit at the library tables, completely exhausted, and bark orders at him like a spoiled queen, and he would just grin and fulfill them.

“Park! I need a venti iced caramel macchiato with exactly two pumps of vanilla, and if it’s warm, I’m giving you the most complicated cases on our next quiz,” you’d yell across the student lounge. And twenty minutes later, he’d return, breathless, holding the perfect cup.

“Park, my car is making a noise like a dying cat. I need a ride to my 4:00 AM shift,” you’d text him at midnight. And at 3:45 AM, his beat-up Honda Civic would be idling outside your apartment, the heater already blasting because he knew you hated the cold.

The peak of your comedic tyranny had occurred during your internal medicine rotation. You had unexpectedly started your period during a twelve-hour shift, and the hospital supply closet was completely bare of anything useful. You had called him in a panic.

“Brendon. I need you to go to the pharmacy right now. Get me a box of Tampax Pearl. Regular absorbency. Do not get the generic brand, or I will end our friendship.”

An hour later, Brendon had sneaked into the back of the ward, his face bright red, holding a brown paper bag like it contained active explosives. He had handed it to you, coughing nervously. “I... I didn't know what absorbency meant, so I bought one of every box they had. The cashier looked at me like I was a pervert.” You had laughed so hard you almost cried, pulling him into a fierce hug right there in the hallway.

But slowly, beautifully, the surface-level banter had faded into something deeper. You began to see the brilliant mind beneath his awkward exterior. He was the only one who understood the crushing, suffocating anxiety of trying to be perfect in a field that demanded infallibility. You would sit on the floor of his messy apartment, surrounded by open textbooks, talking until the sun came up—not about medicine, but about your fears, your childhoods, the things that kept you awake at night.

He became your anchor.

Slowly, under your warmth and confidence, Brendon began to bloom. His lanky frame filled out as he started lifting weights to handle the physical demands of orthopedic surgery interest. He grew taller, his shoulders broader, his confidence slowly blooming under your constant, fierce encouragement. You had built him up. You had told him every single day that he was going to be the greatest surgeon this country had ever seen.

And then, during the final week before graduation, the tension had finally snapped.

You had been sitting on the hood of his car, looking out over the city lights. He had turned to you, his new, broad frame towering over you, his eyes burning with a confidence he had stolen directly from your belief in him. He had reached out, his large hands cupping your face, and he had kissed you.

It wasn't the awkward kiss of a boy. It was a kiss full of 2 years of unsaid words, full of desperation, yearning, and promises that tore at your soul. You had clung to him, your cheeks wet with tears, knowing that you had fell completely, deeply in love with him, and he was completely, utterly devoted to you.

But medical school is a meat grinder. By your final year, the pressure reached a boiling point. You were placed in different clinical rotations at entirely different hospitals across the city. You were working eighty-hour weeks, collapsing into sleep the moment you got home. The coffee dates stopped. The late-night study sessions vanished.

The final, crushing blow came on Match Day. You opened your envelope to find you had matched into an ultra-competitive emergency medicine residency in New York. Brendon opened his to find he had matched into an elite orthopedic surgery residency in California.

The distance, the exhaustion, the terrifying reality of residency loomed over you both. And on that rainy day at the airport, unable to face the agony of a long-distance relationship while drowning in intern year, you had mutually, heartbreakingly let each other go.

You remembered the tear-stained cheeks. The hugs that felt like they were trying to fuse your ribs together. And the kisses—god, the kisses—that were full of promises you both desperately wanted to keep, but ultimately couldn't. “We’ll find each other,” he had whispered into your hair. “I’ll come find you, baby.”

And then, life happened. Years passed. You met your douchebag ex-fiancé.

And Brendon became the "Shark."

The doors to the doctors' lounge flew open, shattering your reverie.

Dennis sinks against the wall, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Oh my god. I thought he was going to murder me for leaving the drill bits.”

"He's a psycho," Trinity Santos huffs, straightening her lab coat defensively. "He thinks he owns this entire hospital just because he’s a prodigy. Did you see the way he looked at everyone? He’s completely heartless."

You stand there, quietly hooking your stethoscope around your neck, a brilliant, knowing smirk playing on your lips.

Heartless? If only they knew.

Over the next few weeks, a massive, utterly baffling phenomenon takes over the halls of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.

The entire hospital fears Dr. Brendon Park. The nurses warn new interns not to look him directly in the eye. The residents tremble when his pager number flashes on their screens. He is an unstoppable, ruthless force of surgical perfection.

Except when it comes to you.

It starts on a chaotic Tuesday morning. The ED is overflowing, and Brendon has been down in the bays for three hours helping reduce a complex posterior hip dislocation. He is standing at the central nursing station, looking absolutely exhausted but radiating pure, unadulterated venom as he berates Zach Torres, the senior Cardiology resident.

"If your department can't clear this patient for the OR within the next ten minutes, Torres, I will personally wheel him up myself and write the clearance under your name," Brendon growls, his broad chest looming over the senior resident. "Don't waste my time with unnecessary echoes."

Zach, usually highly excellent and charismatic, is sweating through his white coat. "Dr. Park, we just need to ensure—"

Suddenly, you stroll up to the desk, looking radiant and completely relaxed. Without saying a word, you reach out, snatch the tall, steaming cup of artisanal dark roast coffee right out of Brendon’s hand, and take a long, satisfied sip.

The entire nursing station goes dead silent. Dana Evans stops typing, her jaw literally dropping. Victoria Javadi, who was standing nearby carrying charts, gasps softly, grabbing Dennis Whitaker’s arm in sheer terror. They are all waiting for the "Shark" to turn around and rip your head off.

Instead, Brendon stops mid-sentence. He slowly turns his head to look down at you.

The terrifying, icy glare completely evaporates, replaced by an expression of pure, exasperated fondness that none of the staff has ever witnessed.

"You're drinking my coffee," Brendon says, his voice dropping from a roar to a quiet, familiar rumble. "Again."

"You order too much espresso, Park. It’s making you cranky," you say smoothly, handing him back the half-empty cup. You reach out, your hand casually pressing against his broad chest, physically pushing the feared Chief of Orthopedic Surgery back half a step. "And stop bullying the cardiologists. Zach is doing his job. You’re being an ass."

Zach Torres stares at you like you are a goddess descended from the heavens.

Brendon sighs, a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips threatening to turn into a smile. He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking less like a ruthless surgeon and more like a tired boy. "He's taking too long."

"Go sit down in your office and rest for twenty minutes before your next case," you order him playfully, tapping your clipboard against his arm. "Doctor’s orders. Move it, or I'll make you buy me tampons again."

Brendon’s ears turn a violent shade of pink. He clears his throat, glances at the stunned residents, and mutters, "Fine. Ten minutes."

He turns and walks away toward the elevator, completely submissive to your command.

Langdon blinks, utterly bewildered. "What... what just happened? Did you just hypnotize the Shark?"

You laugh, taking another sip of your own water. "No, Frank. He just needs a Snickers bar and a nap."

Dana Evans leans over the counter, staring at you with intense, analytical eyes. "Doc... what kind of voodoo magic do you possess? Nobody talks to Park like that. Nobody. Last month a general surgery attending tried to tell him he was being an ass, and Park almost threw him into a linen cart."

"We just have a history, Dana," you say with a wink, walking away to check on a patient.

But it doesn't stop there. The teasing and the dynamic between you two becomes the primary source of entertainment and gossip for the entire medical center.

A week later, you are up in the main OR tracking a trauma patient. Brendon is in OR 3, finishing up a grueling, six-hour spinal reconstruction. He is furious because the equipment tech brought the wrong size pedicle screws, and his booming voice can be heard echoing through the sterile hallway, terrifying the scrub nurses.

You walk straight into the scrub room, pop the door open with your elbow, and look inside. "Park! Shut up!"

The entire OR freezes.

"You're vibrating at a frequency that's giving me a headache from across the hall," you call out, completely unfazed by the sterile environment. "Use the alternative screws and stop throwing a tantrum. You're a big boy."

Brendon looks up through his surgical loupes. The entire room holds its breath, expecting him to banish you from the surgical floor. Instead, he just lets out a heavy breath, his broad shoulders dropping. "The alternative screws have a wider thread pitch, Doc."

"Then adjust your torque and stop crying about it," you reply cheerfully. "I’ll see you at hand-offs."

"Unbelievable," Brendon mutters under his breath, but the anger completely leaves his voice. He looks at his scrub nurse, his tone entirely calm now. "Let's get the alternative tray, please."

The staff is utterly flabbergasted.

Later that evening, the Pittlings are sitting in the cafeteria, desperately trying to deconstruct the mystery.

"I'm telling you, she must have dirt on him," Trinity insists, stabbing a fork into her salad with fierce competitiveness. "She probably knows about a malpractice suit, or she caught him doing something illegal. There is no logical reason why a brutal chief of surgery lets a newly transferred ED attending push him around like a puppy."

"No, it's not dirt," King says softly, her highly perceptive nature taking over. She smiles, staring into her soup. "Did you see his face when she took his coffee? He didn't look mad at all. He looked... happy. Like he was finally breathing. I think they knew each other before. Like, way before."

"Before?" Victoria asks. "Like... before residency? Back when he was a nobody? But Dr. Park was never a nobody, he's a prodigy!"

"Everyone was unknown once, Victoria," Melissa points out wisely.

The bubble popped on a chaotic Friday night.

The weather had turned violent, a severe thunderstorm rolling over Pittsburgh, causing a massive pile-up on the Fort Duquesne Bridge. The ED was under siege. Every single trauma bay was full, the air thick with the smell of blood, sweat, and the sharp tang of antiseptic.

You were in Bay 2, dealing with a twenty-two-year-old female patient who had been crushed in the driver’s seat of her compact car. Her status was critical, deteriorating by the second.

“Vitals are dropping!” Victoria called out, her voice tight with panic. “BP is 60 over 30! Heart rate is spiking to 160! She’s slipping into profound hemorrhagic shock!”

You were standing at the patient’s side, your mind racing through the differentials. She had massive internal bleeding, but her abdomen was firm, and her pelvic X-ray showed a severe, unstable "open-book" pelvic fracture. The blood was pooling in her retroperitoneal space.

“We need to bind this pelvis, now!” you shouted over the noise. “Dennis, get the binder!”

“We’re out of binders!” Dennis yelled back, his voice cracking as he rummaged through the supply cart. “The previous traumas took the last ones from central supply, they’re fabricating more now!”

“Fuck!” you cursed. The patient’s monitor began to beep erratically.

“She’s going into PEA!” Trinity Santos called out, her hand flying to the patient’s carotid artery. “No pulse! Starting compressions!”

You looked at the monitor, then at the patient’s pale face. You were out of options. The blood transfusion wasn't keeping up. The pelvis was wide open, acting like a massive, bleeding cavern that was draining her life force. If you didn't close that pelvic ring immediately, she would die on this table within two minutes. You couldn't wait for surgery. You couldn't wait for a binder.

A reckless, insane, completely unorthodox idea flared in your mind. It was a technique you had read about once in a military medicine journal—a desperate, high-risk field maneuver used in combat zones when standard equipment was unavailable. It was highly reckless, completely unauthorized by hospital protocol, and could permanently damage the patient’s internal organs or nerves if done wrong.

But it was the only chance she had.

“Trinity, stop compressions,” you commanded, your voice turning to absolute ice.

“What? Doc, we need to keep perfusion—”

“STOP. COMPRESSIONS!” you roared, a rare flash of raw, commanding power echoing through the bay. Trinity instantly froze, pulling her hands away.

You stepped onto the step-stool at the side of the bed. You looked down at the patient’s fractured, unstable hips. Without a binder, you had to use manual, extreme counter-traction and internal fixation using whatever you had.

You grabbed a heavy, thick cotton hospital sheet from the bottom shelf. You quickly threaded it under the patient’s lower back, aligning it with the greater trochanters.

“Dennis, grab that end of the sheet,” you ordered. “When I say go, I want you to pull with everything you have. We are going to manually crush this pelvic ring back together using the sheet, and then I am going to lock it down using a surgical clamp from the chest tray.”

“Doctor, that’s... that’s completely non-standard!” Mel stammered, her eyes wide with terror. “The sheer force could transect the femoral nerve if the bone fragments shift wrong! It’s too dangerous!”

“She’s already dead!” you snapped. “Pull, Dennis! Go!”

You and Dennis pulled the sheet with brutal, immense physical force, twisting the heavy fabric against each other, forcing the patient’s shattered pelvic bones to slam back together by sheer tension. You felt the sickening crunch of bone shifting beneath the flesh.

The patient’s body jolted. Holding the immense tension of the sheet with one white-knuckled hand, you reached for a massive, heavy-duty Kocher forceps from the emergency thoracotomy tray and clamped the twisted sheet tightly against the patient’s skin, locking the makeshift binder under extreme, crushing pressure.

“Resume compressions!” you shouted.

Trinity jumped back on the chest. Within three cycles, the monitor beeped.

A rhythm emerged. Weak, thready, but stable.

“Pulses are back,” Victoria breathed, looking at you like you were either a god or a lunatic. “BP is... 90 over 50. It’s holding.”

You stepped down from the stool, your hands shaking from the sheer physical exertion, your scrubs soaked in sweat. You had done it. The reckless, insane technique had closed the space and stopped the catastrophic bleeding. You had saved her life.

The automatic doors slammed open.

Brendon strode into the bay, flanked by two orthopedic residents. He had received the page for an unstable pelvic fracture and had rushed down from the OR. He took one look at the patient, then his eyes dropped to the makeshift sheet-and-clamp setup crushed around her hips.

He froze. His face went entirely pale, then flushed into a deep, terrifying crimson. The "Shark" didn't just return; he exploded.

“What the hell is this?” Brendon’s voice thundered, vibrating the glass walls of the trauma bay. The residents shrank back.

“It’s a makeshift binder, Dr. Park,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm, though the adrenaline was still pumping through your system. “We were out of standard binders, she lost pulses from hemorrhagic shock, and I had to close the ring.”

“With a sheet and a chest clamp?” Brendon marched up to the bed, his eyes flashing with a raw, furious brilliance. He looked at you, his voice dripping with venomous, professional outrage. “Are you completely out of your mind? Do you have any idea what you just did? You could have severed her internal iliac artery! You could have shredded her sacral plexus! You took a blind, reckless gamble with a patient’s life!”

The room went dead silent. The residents didn't dare breathe. It was the first time the hospital had ever seen the Shark turn his teeth on you.

“She was in PEA, Brendon!” you shot back, using his name, your own temper flaring. “She was dead! I didn't have time to wait for your department to fabricate a piece of plastic! It worked. Her vitals are holding.”

“It was luck!” Brendon snarled, stepping into your personal space, his imposing height towering over you, his eyes cold and hard as flint. “It was a reckless, arrogant, cowboys-and-indians piece of medicine that violates every standard of care in this institute. You didn't save her; you got lucky that you didn't paralyze her. Get out of my way. Move.”

He shoved past you, his movements aggressive and sharp as he immediately began to assess the damage, barking orders to his residents to get her to the OR for a proper external fixator.

You stood there, your heart pounding against your ribs. The insult stung—not just because he criticized your medicine, but because he had done it in front of the entire department, stripping away the mutual respect you had built over the last few weeks. He looked at you like you were a liability. An incompetent child.

“Fine,” you said, your voice dropping into a cold, lethal whisper that cut through his shouting. “She’s your patient now, Chief.”

You turned on your heel and walked out of the trauma bay, your face a mask of absolute, icy calm, leaving a stunned, silent room behind you.

The fallout was immediate and devastating.

The playful, legendary dynamic between the ED’s star attending and the Chief of Ortho vanished overnight. In its place was a terrifying, suffocating ice age that gripped the entire hospital.

For three weeks, there were no more stolen coffees. There were no more playful shoves at the scrub sink. There were no more private smiles or late-night laughs.

When Brendon came down to the ED for a consult, the atmosphere turned to absolute glass. You handled hand-offs with an icy, flawless professionalism that was completely devoid of emotion.

“Patient in Bed 4 has a displaced bimalleolar fracture,” you would say, your voice flat, your eyes fixed strictly on the computer monitor, never looking at his face. “Films are on the system. Ortho is consulted.”

“Understood,” Brendon would reply, his voice deep, hollow, and equally cold. He would take the chart, his eyes lingering on you for a desperate, painful second, hoping for a spark, a glance, anything. But you gave him nothing. You were a wall of ice.

The hospital staff was miserable.

“I hate this,” Dennis Whitaker whimpered in the breakroom, putting his head in his hands. “When they were flirting, the hospital was safe. Now? Dr. Park looked at my cast yesterday and told me a toddler with a crayon could have done a better job. He’s meaner than he’s ever been.”

“She isn't doing well either,” Dana Evans sighed, leaning against the counter. “She’s quiet. She’s brilliant as always, but that light she brought with her? It’s dimmed. They’re both miserable, stubborn idiots.”

You were miserable. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the fury in his eyes in that trauma bay. The words “reckless, arrogant gamble” burned in your chest. You had thought he, of all people, would understand. He knew how you operated; he knew you would never do something unless it was the absolute last resort. But he had judged you. He had put his professional arrogance above the reality of the situation.

And worse, it felt like your ex-fiancé all over again—someone telling you that your passion, your instinct, your identity as a doctor was flawed, dangerous, or empty.

You threw yourself into your work, pulling extra shifts, running yourself ragged just to keep your mind from thinking about the giant, dark-eyed surgeon who occupied the upper floors.

It was a rainy Thursday night, nearly four weeks after the argument. The storm outside was a mirror of the mood inside the hospital.

You just visited a pediatric patient on one of the top floors of the hospital. You had promised the kid that you’d visit her after her CRPP. Your shift had just ended, and you were thoroughly exhausted. Your feet ached, your eyes burned, and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into your bed in Shadyside and sleep for a week.

You walked toward the main elevator bank in the central pavilion, waiting for the car to arrive. The bell chimed. The doors slid open.

You stepped inside. You reached out to press the button for the ground floor, but stopped.

Sitting in the corner of the elevator, leaning heavily against the handrail with his eyes closed, was Brendon. He looked absolutely destroyed. His scrubs were wrinkled, dark bags hung under his eyes, and his broad shoulders were slumped in a state of profound, total physical exhaustion.

You froze. Your first instinct was to step back out, to wait for the next car. But before you could move, the automatic doors slid shut behind you.

The elevator began its smooth, silent descent from the twelfth floor.

You stood near the control panel, your back rigid, your eyes fixed on the digital floor indicator as it changed. 11... 10... 9...

The silence inside the small metal box was heavy, suffocating, and charged with four weeks of unspoken agony. You could hear his breathing—slow, deep, and tired.

8...

Suddenly, the elevator gave a violent, sharp lurch.

A loud, mechanical screech echoed from the shaft above. The lights flickered violently once, twice, and then died completely, plunging the car into absolute darkness. A second later, the emergency red backup lights kicked in, casting a dim, crimson glow over the small space.

The elevator ground to a dead halt.

You blinked, gripping your bag tighter. You reached out and pressed the emergency call button. Nothing happened. The system was completely dead.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath. “Just perfect.”

From the back of the car, you heard a long, heavy sigh. Brendon shifted his weight, his large frame moving through the red light. He looked up at the digital indicator.

The indicator was stuck on a single digit.

7.

The irony hit you like a physical blow to the chest. Floor 7.

Seven years ago, you were trapped in a dark closet for seven minutes. And now, seven years later, you were trapped in a dark elevator on the seventh floor with the exact same man.

Neither of you spoke for a long minute. The red light painted the space in a surreal, intimate warmth, cutting off the rest of the hospital, the rest of the world. There were no residents here. No nurses. No watchful eyes. Just the two of you.

“Are you okay?” Brendon’s voice broke the silence. It wasn't the voice of the Shark. It wasn't the voice of the angry Chief of Ortho. It was soft, hesitant, and carrying a deep, raw ache that made your chest tighten.

“I’m fine,” you said coldly, keeping your eyes fixed on the closed doors. “Just tired. I’d like to go home.”

“Baby... please.”

The use of the old nickname sent a violent tremor through your defenses. You closed your eyes, fighting the urge to turn around.

“Don’t call me that, Dr. Park,” you said, your voice shaking slightly despite your best efforts. “I think you made your thoughts on my identity quite clear four weeks ago.”

Hear a rustle of movement behind you. Brendon stood up. He walked across the small car, his massive, imposing presence closing the distance until he was standing right behind you. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, smelling the faint, familiar scent of cedar wood and soap that had always been him.

“I was wrong,” he whispered.

You bit your lip, refusing to look at him. “You think?”

“I was wrong about why I was angry,” he corrected himself, his voice cracking with emotion. He reached out, his large, calloused hand hovering over your shoulder, before he gently, tentatively placed it there. The touch was electric, burning through your scrubs. “I wasn't angry because your decision was bad. I knew the technique. I knew it was a battlefield maneuver. I knew she was in PEA.”

You finally turned around, snapping your eyes up to meet his. In the dim red light, his dark eyes were shining with unshed tears, his expression completely broken, stripped of all pride.

“Then why did you humiliate me in front of my team?” you demanded, your voice rising, the anger and hurt finally spilling over. “Why did you call me reckless and arrogant? Do you know what that felt like? After everything I went through, after my ex told me I was empty and that my career was a disease—you stood there and told me I was a liability!”

Brendon looked like he’d been stabbed. He took a sharp breath, his hands coming up to gently grip both of your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing circles against your skin.

“Because I was terrified!” he shouted softly, his voice thick with raw passion. “I walked into that bay and saw you covered in blood, pulling a stunt that could have ended your career if it went wrong. If that patient had died, if you had cut that artery, the board would have stripped your license before the sun came up. They would have destroyed you.”

He stepped closer, his chest pressing against yours, forcing you back slightly against the elevator wall. He looked down at you, his eyes wild with a desperate, consuming love.

“I didn't care about the protocol, baby. I cared about you. The thought of you losing your license, the thought of this hospital breaking you, the thought of you being taken away from me again before I even got the chance to tell you... I couldn't handle it. The Shark? That’s an act. It’s an act I put on so I don't break. But when it comes to you, I have no skin. I am completely raw. I saw you risking everything, and I panicked.”

You stared up at him, your breath hitching in your throat. The anger in your chest melted away, replaced by the profound, crushing realization of his true intent. He hadn't been attacking your competence; he had been trying to protect you from the system that had almost broken him.

“Brendon...” you breathed, your voice softening, your eyes searching his face.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, his forehead dropping down to rest against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“Seven years, baby. Seven years of working eighty hours a week, looking at bone scans, moving up the ladder, but every single night, I woke up wishing I was back on that floor in med school sharing Chinese food with you. I wished I could turn back time. To when things were simple. To when I was just the awkward kid who was lucky enough to have the most beautiful girl in the world look at him.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, catching the red light. “I wished for it too,” you confessed quietly. “Every single day.”

“I love you,” he said, the confession raw, heavy, and absolute. “I never stopped. Not for a second.”

The final wall of ice inside you shattered into dust.

You reached up, your hands flying to the back of his neck, burying your fingers in his dark hair, and pulled him down.

The kiss wasn't like the ones from seven years ago—it wasn't full of tragic promises and impending goodbye. It was a violent, passionate, territorial reclamation. It was the release of seven years of pining, of loneliness, of misery.

Brendon groaned deep in his throat, his arms wrapping around your waist like bands of steel, lifting you slightly off the floor as he crushed his lips against yours. He kissed you with a desperate, consuming hunger, his tongue parting your lips, tasting you, drinking you in like a man dying of thirst.

You gasped into his mouth, your body melting completely into his broad, massive frame. You locked your legs around his waist, your back pressing hard against the cold metal wall of the elevator as he held you up effortlessly, his hands gripping your thighs with a fierce, possessive intensity.

The red light flickered around you, creating a private, chaotic heaven. He moved his mouth down your jawline, his lips burning against the sensitive skin of your neck, making you arch your back and let out a soft, breathless moan that echoed off the metal walls—the exact same sound you had faked seven years ago in that closet, but this time, it was entirely, beautifully real.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned against your skin, his hands sliding under your scrub top, his warm palms mapping the curves of your waist, making your skin tingle with an electric fire.

You pulled his head back up, your eyes meeting his dark, blown-out pupils in the crimson dusk. “Don’t stop,” you whispered breathlessly. “Don’t you dare stop.”

He didn't. He kissed you until your lips were bruised, until your lungs burned, until the seven years of separation felt like nothing more than a bad dream.

CLUNK.

The elevator gave a sudden, violent jolt.

The mechanical screech returned, and suddenly, the bright, harsh fluorescent white lights of the car snapped back on. The digital indicator flickered and changed to G. The elevator began to move again smoothly.

You both froze. You quickly slid down his body, your feet hitting the floor, your hands frantically smoothing down your wrinkled scrubs and fixing your hair as Brendon stumbled back a step, his chest heaving, his face flushed, his eyes wild.

A second later, the chime echoed. The doors slid open smoothly to the main lobby.

Standing right outside the doors, waiting to board, were Langdon and Santos.

The two of them looked into the elevator. They took in the scene: you, standing near the back, your lips visibly swollen, your hair slightly disheveled, but your face wearing a cool, utterly unbothered expression. And beside you stood the Chief of Ortho, Dr. Brendon Park, his scrubs wrinkled, his breathing heavy, and a look of profound, dazed distraction on his face.

Trinity’s eyes went wide. Langdon blinked, looking back and forth between the two of you.

“Uh... evening, Doctors,” Frank stammered. “Is... is the elevator working?”

You flicked your hair over your shoulder, stepped past them with an elegant and utterly effortless charisma, and gave them a sweet smile.

“It’s working perfectly,” you said smoothly. “Have a good night, everyone.”

You walked out into the rainy Pittsburgh night, your heart soaring higher than it ever had in your entire life. Behind you, you heard Brendon’s heavy footsteps rushing to catch up.

The rain had stopped by the time the sun began to peek over the Monongahela River, casting a pale pink and gold glow over the brick buildings of Shadyside.

Inside your bedroom, the air was warm, quiet, and peaceful. The half-unpacked boxes in the corner didn't look like an unfinished chore anymore; they looked like a beginning.

In the center of the bed, tangled deep within the white cotton sheets, lay the two of you.

After the elevator doors had opened, there had been no more talking, no more hesitation. You had driven back to your apartment in a blur of rain and neon lights. The moment the front door had clicked shut, the clothes had been shed, the barriers broken down completely.

The sex had been profound—an intense, passionate, and deeply emotional consummation that carried the weight of seven years of waiting. It hadn't just been physical; it was the reclamation of your souls. Every touch, every gasp, every whispered confession against the skin had been a promise rewritten. He had loved you with a fierce, worshipful intensity that made you realize you were anything but empty. You were his entire world.

You slowly opened your eyes, a soft, content sigh escaping your lips.

The morning light filtered through the blinds, illuminating the broad, muscular expanse of Brendon’s back. He was sleeping on his side, his large frame taking up most of the mattress. One of his massive arms was wrapped tightly around your waist, his hand resting possessively against your hip, pulling your back flush against his chest even in his sleep.

You smiled, turning around slowly within his grip so you could look at him.

Without the mask of the Shark, his face was peaceful, handsome, and remarkably soft. The dark circles under his eyes seemed less prominent now, smoothed out by the deep, restorative sleep he’d been deprived of for weeks.

You reached out, your fingers gently tracing the sharp line of his jaw, moving up to brush a stray lock of dark hair away from his forehead.

Brendon stirred. His long eyelashes fluttered open, his dark eyes cloudy with sleep. The moment his gaze focused on your face, a slow, incredibly beautiful smile spread across his lips—a smile that was reserved strictly for you.

“Good morning, baby,” he rumbled, his voice thick and raspy from sleep, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Good morning, Shark,” you whispered back, leaning forward to press a soft, sweet kiss against his lips.

He groaned happily, his arm tightening around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Don’t make me go to work today,” he murmured against your skin. “I’ll page out. I’ll tell them I broke my arm.”

You let out a melodic, genuine laugh, running your hands through his hair. “You’re the Chief of Ortho, Brendon. You can't page out for a broken arm. That’s bad for your brand.”

“My brand is entirely yours,” he whispered, kissing the sweet spot just beneath your ear, making you gasp softly. “Let them handle the bones today. I’m staying right here.”

You smiled, closing your eyes as you held him tight, feeling the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest.

The past was gone. The cruel words of your ex-fiancé were nothing more than ash. You were here, in a new city, running a world-class department, and waking up in the arms of the man who had loved you through a lifetime of separation.

You were the cool and undeniably brilliant doctor who feared nothing—not the trauma bay, not the future, and certainly not the Shark. Because beneath the steel and the bone, he was just your Brendon, and you were his.

[iwritefanficx]

But your the first - Jack Abbot

“Congratulations Jack” Dana smiled as he walked in to do handover with Robby “thanks” Jack’s wife had just found out she’s expecting her second child, yes second but Jack’s first technically.

Jack met his now wife when she was just a single mom, to you. Who is now fourteen and he had seen you grow over the last eight of being with your mom and in your life and it wasn’t something he took for granted at all being able to apart of your life, knowing it was such a big deal when your mom first introduced you both “how is the mrs holding up?” Dana asked “not her first rodeo” he smiled “and how is the teenager?” “Not as excited as us” Dana sighed “stopped calling me dad in the last week it fucking sucks” “oh Jack” “we knew it would be a big adjustment for her but I didn’t expect her to completely cut me out” “I’m sure she will come around” Dana patted his shoulder “got to be nice expecting your first child though, that’s so exciting” Shen said making Jack pull a face “this baby isn’t my first child, y/n will always be my first child even if she’s not biologically” “you know I didn’t mean it like that man, sorry” Shen took his coffee to go find somewhere else to be “Jack have you ever thought that’s what she’s thinking right now? You’re replacing her?” Jack hadn’t even thought that would be the case, he never even considered that being the reason you had cut him out, gone quiet and stopped calling him dad “do you think so?” Dana nodded “it’s a possibility she’s been the only kid in the house for so long, she’s been the only person apart from each other you both give attention too, she’s probably scared she’s going to loose you Jack” “she could never loose me” “she doesn’t know that Jack, she’s a teenager we both know their brains don’t work logically” he sighed and dana smiled sadly at him.

The night rolled on, 1am hit and his phone went off, glancing down seeing his wife’s name come up “can you excuse me, I need to take this” he wouldn’t normally leave a patient but he knew his wife wouldn’t call at 1am for nothing “hey” “Jack she’s not come home” “what?” “Y/N Jack she’s not come home, I’ve been waiting she’s not answering my calls” “she will be okay, have to checked with Daisy’s mom” “yeah she’s not there and daisy is in bed” “okay, I’ll come home” “no stay there incase she comes to you” “keep calling her, I’ll get Lena to call her from the hospital phone, I’ll call her too”

Nothing and it was now 2am, no answer from you, radio silence, Jack felt physically sick he hadn’t been able to work properly always checking his phone that he left on the desk with Lena, checking out in chairs to see if you were there, but nothing like you just disappeared which made him want to actually be sick “Jack” he turned to see an ambulance crew walking in, one that always works nights with him “I need you to come outside” he was confused not hearing the sirens or being told someone was coming in “I was coming back from my rounds and seen her, knew it was her” they reached the back of the ambulance and he saw you sat there on the steps “y/n” he rushed over “Dave can you go back in tell Lena to call my wife and tell her I’ve got her” he nodded heading back inside as Jack joined y/n at steps of the ambulance “where have you been bug?“ “does it matter?” She whispered “of course it does, are you hurt?” She shook her head “I was at the skate park, everyone left and I just stayed on a bench” he nodded “your freezing lets get you inside I have a hoodie in there” “no” “what do you mean no?” “I’m not sure why you are acting like you care, I’ll go home but I’m telling mom I’m going to stay at nans” Jack looked at the girl confused until what Dana said popped back into his mind “hey sit down” she listened “what do you mean acting like I care? I’ve always cared” “Jack” his first name coming from her mouth killed him, stabbed him in the heart “you have your own kid coming now” “okay?” “I’m not your kid” “no not biologically but that doesn’t mean you won’t always be my first kid” she sighed “is that why you didn’t go home?” “I’m not sure I belong there” she whispered “this baby will be both moms and yours I’m just moms” Jack closed his eyes, because he felt his heart break at her words “listen to me” pulling her into his side to hopefully warm her a bit if she wasn’t willing to go inside “you will always be my first child, your the one that taught me how to love a child, taught me how to be a dad, you will always belong with us and if this kid is half the kid you are me and your mom are some lucky people to be able to have the both of you” he saw her smile a little bit “will you please come inside and let me get the hoodie and a hot chocolate” she nodded, they stood up together and he kept his arm around her shoulders “Jack” Lena went to speak but seen you next to him “noones in the break room” she pointed over and he nodded “I’m sorry” y/n whispered as they entered “you have nothing to be sorry for, having feelings is okay” “I probably stressed mom out” “you did but nothing a hug won’t fix when you get home” he looked at the time seeing it was now nearly 3am “im going to get Shen to cover the rest of the night and we will head home” “I can go home alone” “and what kind of dad would I be sending my fourteen year old daughter home alone at 3am” she shrugged “we going home together” he smiled “now I’d really appreciate a hug from my first kid, because not only did she have her mom worried sick but her dad too” y/n smiled ever so slightly and walked into his open arms “always be my first okay?” She nodded “plus this baby won’t be able to drop my lunch off that I forget it on purpose on a Thursday just so I get to see my kid for the first time since Tuesday morning” sometimes jack working nights meant he was asleep when you went to school and at work when you got home, so he purposely started forgetting his lunch just to be able to see her for a few seconds and get a hug, he felt her laugh “I love you kid” “I love you too dad”

[satellite-evans]

kick

Pairing: Jack Abbot x reader

Summary: Jack finds his pregnant wife asleep in the staff room, and a quiet moment together quickly becomes one of his favorite memories <3

Word count: 1k+

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy

A/N:

a cute little blurb to get back into writing xxx

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.

Jack realizes you've fallen asleep the second he nudges the staff room door open with his shoulder.

He's balancing two thick chocolate milkshakes in one hand, still cold enough that condensation has started running down the cups, the little peace offering he'd slipped out to grab during the first lull they'd had in hours. He'd remembered you mentioning, somewhere between a trauma activation and a consult, that the baby had decided chocolate milkshakes were the only thing that sounded edible today.

The room is quiet, almost eerily so compared to the constant noise outside.

You're curled sideways in one of the old chairs, knees tucked up as much as your growing belly allows, your cheek resting against your hand. The other hand is spread protectively across the gentle curve beneath your scrub top, like even asleep your body instinctively knows where to keep it. Your stethoscope hangs crookedly around your neck, one shoe is half kicked off, and there's a chart lying forgotten in your lap.

Jack stops in the doorway.

For just a second, he doesn't move.

His chest tightens with something so painfully tender it catches him completely off guard.

The shift has been relentless. Trauma after trauma. Endless consults. A waiting room that never seemed to shrink. Somewhere around nine that evening, the two of you had shared a granola bar because neither of you had managed a proper lunch, and even then you'd insisted he take the bigger half because, "You burn more calories chasing people."

You were carrying a baby, and yet, you'd still refused to slow down. Of course you'd crashed the second your body realized it finally could.

A smile tugs at his mouth before he can stop it.

Carefully, he sets both milkshakes on the table without making a sound. One of them has extra whipped cream because he knows you like it that way.

He shrugs off his jacket, planning to drape it over you before the air conditioning turns the room into a refrigerator.

Just as the fabric hovers above your shoulders, your eyelashes flutter open.

"...Did I fall asleep?" Your voice is thick with sleep, every word soft and slow, and Jack has to bite back another smile.

"Yeah sweeatheart. For..." He glances dramatically at his watch. "Approximately nine minutes."

Your face immediately crumples.

"Oh no."

"What?" He asks.

"I am so fired."

A quiet laugh slips out before he can stop it.

"No one is firing you because you took a nap. Besides, you are literally an attending."

"I'll fire myself."

"You don't have that authority, gorgeous."

Still smiling, he settles the jacket over your shoulders before crouching as much as he can beside your chair. Pregnancy has somehow managed to make one of the smartest, most capable physicians he knows simultaneously brilliant and completely ridiculous. You'd spent almost twelve straight hours on your feet, barely eaten anything beyond half a granola bar, carried a baby through every trauma activation the emergency department had thrown at you, and somehow the thing you were worried about was accidentally falling asleep for nine minutes.

"You've been on your feet all day," he says gently. "You've barely eaten, you've been carrying a human being this entire shift, and you closed your eyes for less than ten minutes. Nobody's judging you."

You blink at him, still unconvinced.

"...Still. It's not convenient."

He opens his mouth to reassure you again, but your expression suddenly shifts into horror.

"I drooled, didn't I? Omg please tell me, did I drool?"

Jack presses his lips together, doing a terrible job of hiding his amusement.

"...Maybe a little."

Your eyes widen dramatically.

"Oh my God. Did anyone see?" You asked.

"I'm kidding, baby, you didn't drool."

"Jack." You said with a stern voice and smacked his arm.

"That's not funny. You swear?"

"I swear."

You continue studying his face like you're trying to diagnose whether he's lying. Finally, you narrow your eyes.

"I don't believe you."

The words leave your mouth automatically, but the annoyance fades almost as quickly as it arrived. Your shoulders relax, and without really thinking about it, you push yourself to your feet. It's become instinct over the past few months, something your body does before your mind even catches up. The moment you're standing, you step into him, your hands finding the front of his scrub top and gently bunching the fabric beneath your fingers. Jack doesn't hesitate. His arms slip around you as naturally as breathing, steadying you before you can even lean your weight against him. You let out one long, weary breath and rest your forehead against the center of his chest, every bit of exhaustion from the day seeming to melt away the second he holds you.

"Love you..." you murmur quietly.

He doesn't answer. He simply wraps one arm around your shoulders while his other hand settles against your lower back, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles through your scrubs. You let out one long, weary breath that seems to carry every ounce of exhaustion from the day with it.

Jack rests his cheek lightly against your hair and closes his eyes, content to stand there for as long as you'll let him. Then something taps gently against his hand.

His fingers freeze.

His head lifts.

"...Was that—"

Another kick answers him, stronger this time, deliberate enough that there's no mistaking it.

Your sleepy smile appears almost instantly.

"Yeah."

The expression on Jack's face changes every single time he feels the baby move, and every single time it's exactly the same.

It's as though the rest of the world simply disappears.

His eyes soften first, then widen ever so slightly, the corners crinkling with quiet disbelief before the smallest, most genuine smile spreads across his face. It isn't the smile he gives patients or coworkers. It isn't the amused grin you get when the two of you are teasing each other. It's something far more vulnerable, something so full of wonder that it almost catches him off guard every time.

He's an emergency physician.

He's watched tiny hearts flicker across ultrasound screens and heard first cries echo through delivery rooms. Those moments never lose their magic.

But this?

This is different.

This is his child.

His hands.

Your stomach.

Your family.

There isn't a medical explanation in the world capable of competing with the feeling of knowing that the tiny life beneath his palms belongs to the two of you. No matter how many kicks he's felt over the past months, every single one still leaves him looking like he's experiencing a miracle for the very first time.

Slowly, almost reverently, he spreads both hands around the gentle curve of your belly, his thumbs stroking absent circles over the fabric of your scrub top.

"Hey, little troublemaker," he murmurs, his voice dropping instinctively, as though your baby can already recognize it. "You keeping your mom awake again?"

Almost as if they've been waiting for him to ask, another determined kick presses firmly into the center of his palm.

You let out a sleepy laugh, shaking your head.

"I think that's a yes."

Jack's grin grows impossibly wider.

"Definitely my kid."

You pull back just enough to look up at him, eyebrows lifting.

"Excuse me?"

"They're already interrupting people."

A laugh escapes you before you roll your eyes.

"Well, can you tell your kid that they need to stop interrupting my bladder?"

He snorts, the sound escaping before he can stop it.

"...I'll make an appointment with them."

"Good," you reply with exaggerated seriousness. "Because I haven't slept through the night in weeks."

Jack nods thoughtfully, pretending to consider it like a genuine consultation.

"Mm. I'll see what I can do, but from what I'm hearing..." He glances down at your stomach with a small smile. "This patient seems pretty stubborn."

"They get that from you."

"I was going to say they inherited your attitude."

"My attitude?" You place a hand over your chest in mock offense. "I'm delightful."

He laughs, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead before looking back at your stomach.

"I've got my hands full with the two of you already."

Another tiny kick answers him, and his smile only deepens.

[shadeofpeach]

Words you can’t unsay

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x nurse!girlfriend!reader Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, verbal aggression, age gap (20 years age difference), violence, argument, immature behavior, blood, injury, crying. Summary: ​what begins as a reprimand spirals into a painful argument, exposing the fragile fault lines of your relationship. Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction and written solely for entertainment purposes.

.⁠‧₊˚ part 2 ; fixing us (soon)  🎀 Based on a part of this request  🎀 

You knew you shouldn't had done it.

It was reckless but it has to be done.

Jack hadn't said a word since he pulled you out of Trauma 2 by the arm.

He stood with his forehead pressed against the door, his hands on the door, breathing heavily, trying to hold back everything he had to say about what you had done. Struggling between his professional side and his lover side.

The age gap between the two of you had always been something you both navigated quietly, the twenty years of wear, loss and hard earned medical instincts that gave him those faint silver threads at his temples.

Usually, that difference felt like a safe harbor.

But tonight, right now, it felt like a burden.

"Jack-" you started, your voice trembling as you held the bleeding wound on your forearm.

"Don't," he snapped, his voice was cold, sharp, and vibrating with danger. You had never seen him direct at you that way.

He finally turned to face you, stepping into the center of the room. His jaw was clenched so hard the muscle jabbed against his skin.

"What were you thinking?" he asked, pointing a finger directly at you, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to keep it steady. "Answer me. What in God's name was going through your head back there?"

"The, the patient had a knife! He was escalating, and security was at the other end of the floor-"

"So you stepped in front of him?!" Jack raised his voice, a sharp laugh bursting from his throat before turning deadly serious again. "You stepped into the reach of an intoxicated patient holding a fucking knife, bare handed? Without gear, without training, without waiting five bloody seconds for back-up?!"

"He was going to hurt a nurse!" you shouted back, the adrenaline still coursing hot through your veins. "I was right there! I reacted!"

"You didn't react, you acted like a reckless child with a savior complex!"

The words hit you. You flinched, the sting of the insult cutting deeper than the actual slice on your arm.

Jack instantly closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. But when he opened his eyes again, the fury hadn't faded, it had just shifted into something far darker, laced with terror.

"You could have been killed," he whispered, his voice dropping, trying to calm himself down. "Do you understand that? One inch to the right, one sudden movement, and he would have stab you on the chest. And I would have been dragging your body onto a gurney. I would have been the one running the code on my own girlfriend."

"I made a decision-"

"It was a stupid decision!" Jack slammed his hand down on the metal table. You flinched, with a mix of fear and hurt. "It was completely undeniably reckless! You aren't invincible. You think you're helping, but all you did was put yourself in fatal danger!"

He ran both hands through his hair, pacing the narrow length of the room. The angry on his face was agonizing to look at.

"This isn't a fucking videogame, he stabs you and you're gone," Jack murmured, his voice cracking slightly as he stopped pacing, looking at you with eyes that were red rimmed and filled with agony. "You can't do something so impossibly stupid, so utterly careless with your own life..."

He paused, swallowing hard, his chest heaving.

"I hate it when you're like this" he breathed, the words heavy and devastating. "How easily I could lose you because you don't respect how fast a life can end in this place."

Tears finally welled up in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. "Jack, please..."

"No," he said softly, holding up a hand, refusing to let you touch him even as his own hands shook violently. "I need you to listen to me. I love you, baby. I love you so much it frightens me every damn day. I cannot watch you throw yourself into a fire just to prove you're brave. If you ever, ever, do something like that again, I won't be able to keep doing this."

He stood there for a moment, watching you cry.

Then, he reached into the cabinet, pulled out a strip of sterile bandages and an antiseptic wipe, and walked slowly over to you. "Come here,"

As his hand brushed against your skin, you pulled your arm back sharply, taking a sudden step away from him.

"Don't," you choked out, wiping the tears from your cheek with your shoulder. "I can do it myself."

Jack stopped, his hand hovering in mid air. A deep frustration crossed his features, pulling his brow down tight.

He had reached his absolute limit, the adrenaline and sheer terror of the night twisting his patience thin.

"Don't be immature," Jack said, his voice dropping into a firm tone. "Stop acting hysterical. You're bleeding, sit down and let me fix it."

The words immature and hysterical sliced through you, burning far worse than the cut on your arm.

The built up fear, the humiliation of being berated like a child, and the weight of his anger all exploded at once. You were done with him tonight.

"I said I can do it!" you gasped out, your voice cracking into a choked sob. You shoved at his chest, hard enough to pus him and make the boundaries clear. "Just go away! Leave me alone!"

Jack froze, taking a step back, shocked by the pain in your voice. But before he could say another word, the door opened.

Outside, Shen was by the doorway, listening. When he heard your voice, he step in. He took in the scene instantly: you backed from Jack, chest heaving and sobbing hysterically, and Jack standing over you with bandages in hand, looking stormily defensive.

Shen didn't hesitate for a second.

"Jack," Shen said, his voice was completely non negotiable as he stepped directly between him and you. "Out. Now."

"Shen, this isn't-" Jack started as he looked at him.

"I said out, Abbot," Shen interrupted, pointing firmly toward the open door. "You're done in here. I'll take care of her."

Jack looked from Shen back to you. You wouldn't meet his eyes, your head turned away as quiet sobs tore from your chest.

For a second, the anger in his eyes vanished, replaced by the realization of how he had just hurt you.

With a tight nod, Jack swallowed hard, set the bandage strip down and walked out without another word.

The rest of the night shift passed in a cold fog.

Shen had cleaned and bandaged the cut on your arm, giving you a little speech before sending you back out to work.

For the remaining four hours, you actively avoided Trauma Bays, took the long way around the nurse's station, and kept your head down whenever his figure in scrubs moved through the hallway.

Jack did the same. Whenever you were in the same general area, his presence felt impossibly heavy, but he never approached.

When 7 AM finally rolled around, you clocked out, feeling bruised down to your bones. You walked out to the parking garage, cold morning air biting at your face.

You half expected him to have left without you, but there he was.

Jack was leaning against the passenger side of his car, holding two paper cups of coffee from the cafeteria. He always drove you home after your shift. It was a rhythm you’d built together, a quiet ritual of transitioning from the madness of the ER back to normal life.

Neither of you spoke on the drive. The silence in the car felt suffocating.

When he finally pulled up outside your apartment building, Jack cut the engine. He didn't unbuckle immediately. Instead, he rested his hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead through the windshield before turning to look at you when you opened the car door to leave.

"Can we talk?" he asked quietly as you where already walking to the building with wet eyes. "Please."

You turned around, nodding slowly. You didn't want to bring him inside, so you two stayed in the hallway outside your apartment door, key resting heavy in your palm.

Jack stood a step away, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

"I shouldn't have raised my voice at you," Jack began, taking a breath and looking at youy. "And I shouldn't have... used those words. I was... terrified. I was out of my mind with fear, watching you put yourself in front of a blade like that. But I handled it wrong."

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. "You spoke to me like I was a child, Jack. You called me immature and hysterical."

"Because you were acting on pure emotion!" Jack said, stepping a fraction closer, though his tone was defensive despite his apology. "You're a talented healthcare worker, but you lack the experience to know when a situation is beyond your pay grade. You rushed in without thinking about the consequences. That is impulse. That is a young and reckless reaction, and I can't just ignore it because it hurts your feelings to hear it."

His words settled over you heavily.

He is apologizing for how he said it, but not for what he thought.

Standing there, looking into his eyes, you saw it clearly. He didn't see an equal who had made a high stress judgment call in a chaotic trauma center. He saw a young, naive girl he had to manage and protect from her own foolishness.

The age gap between you wasn't just a number to him right now; it was a wall he was using to put himself above you.

A cold clarity washed over the anger, leaving behind an ache.

"You really see me like that, don't you?" you whispered, the realization pulling a broken breath from you. "Just a young, immature girl who doesn't know any better."

Jack blinked, panic entering his eyes by the calm of your voice. "That's not what I'm saying-"

"It is," you interrupted, shaking your head gently. "You think I'm too young to understand the risks, and you think you're the only one in this relationship who has any wisdom. Profesional and personal talking."

"I'm trying to keep you alive!" Jack snapped softly, reaching out to touch your arm, but dropping his hand when you took a small step back. "I care about you. I love you. But I've been doing this for longer than you've been in medicine. I know how this ends when people get careless."

"I know you love me," you said, tears brimming in your eyes again. "And I love you, too."

Jack let out a breath, his shoulders dropping slightly in relief. "Okay. Good. Then let's just go inside, get some sleep, and-"

"No," you said firmly, lifting your chin. "We need space. I need space."

Jack froze, his forehead furrowing. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not breaking up with you. But I see how you see me during some shifts. I'm going to ask to be switched to day shift for a few days," you said, your voice remarkably steady despite the tremble in your hands. "I need to work without you staring over my shoulder waiting for me to to fail and you need time to decide if you actually respect me as an adult, or if you just see me as someone you have to babysit."

Jack stared at you, stunned into silence. For the first time all night, the authority drained out of his posture, replaced by vulnerability.

"Day shift?" he repeated quietly, the reality sinking in. "We won't see each other at work. We won't even have the same sleep schedule."

"I know," you replied feeling your heart break and a tear escaping your eyes. You turned the key in the lock and opened your apartment door. "I don't liked how you talked to me tonight. I understand your point but I think that's what we need right now."

You stepped inside, but paused.

You looked back at him standing alone in the hallway. Despite everything, the sadness and terror in his eyes was still raw.

You leaned forward, rising on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss against his cheek.

Jack’s breath hitched. His hand shot forward, wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you against him so suddenly it felt like a silent plea. He squeezed your waist with a desperate warmth, his whole body shaking as if he were trying to convince himself you were still whole and unhurt. For a fleeting second, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his uneven breath felt hot against your skin.

He wanted to hold on. He wanted to pull you back inside the safety of his arms, but the unspoken wall of his condescension still stood cold and immovable between you.

You gently placed your hand over his wrist and slowly pushed back.

His grip loosened with agonizing slowness, his fingers lingering on your waist as if letting go was tearing something out of him. He lifted his head, his eyes glossy, and completely shattered by the realization that his own need to protect you had pushed you away.

"Get some sleep, Jack," you whispered, your voice breaking on his name. "I will... I will text you later. Okay?"

His hand finally slipped off your side.

He didn't speak. He couldn't. He just nodded.

You stepped into the safety of your apartment and pulled the door shut. The click echoed down the hallway, leaving him standing in the cold alone. Regretting all he has said.

⋆｡˚☤🩺✧˖°.｡⋆💉

the pitt masterlist

Let me know if you want to be tagged on part 2

[youthereader]

Jack abbot x nurse reader where he is with the swat team for a hostage situation (bank robbery idk) and has to help talk them through a procedure via radio/goes in to help and protects the reader from the danger

If I Were To Lose You

pairing: Jack Abbot x Nurse!Reader

word count: 3.4k

summary: What you thought was a regular morning turns into a attempted bank robbery with you caught in the crossfire.

warnings/content: depictions of gun violence, blood, highly inaccurate medical procedures, praise kink, woman on top, colleagues to lovers, competency kink

a/n: so this took much longer to write than I expected. I've missed posting sfm but I've been burnt out and struggling to stay motivated with what little free time I have. I MISSED YOU. I wrote this primarily on my phone in Google docs so it's bound to be messy and poorly worded. not really proofread, please forgive me

It was the only time you had to get to the bank that morning and there was a line nearly out the door, like everyone got the same dumbfuck idea as you.

You knew your bank had laid off a bunch of people lately and were closing branches, making wait times all the worse, but you actually couldn’t do this online. An elderly patient had written a check and you said you’d cash it for them, they were a semi-regular fixture at the Pitt, unfortunately.

You and your big mouth trying to make peoples’ lives easier. You kept your arms folded as the line moved maybe an inch, and you zoned out, thinking of your shift tonight. You still needed to get home and pack everything, get yourself ready. 

As your mind drifted, the line moved again, and you shuffled forward with a short sigh.

What came next wasn’t the grumble of the man behind you, but a yell that cut through the overlapping murmurs and taps of computer keys.

“EVERYBODY GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!”

You spun around and saw several men in dark clothes, wearing ski masks, armed with duffel bags at their sides.

The adrenaline spike was a familiar one to you; you drew in a breath, scanning the crowd. Some people shrieked, but everyone ducked to the ground, you included.

You put your hands behind your head as instructed. The man kept yelling over the sudden silence of the bank, brushing past you:

“This, ladies and gentlemen, can go one of two ways. You do as you’re told or you die.”

People were already crying, but you tried to think. Were there any children there? You didn’t recall any in front of you in the queue. You dared a glance behind you.

“Don’t move,” came a voice, with a boot on your shoulder pressing you back down. 

You went still, obeying. 

The ringleader kept talking. 

“No doubt the police have been called already. But I want phones now. Right fucking now!” 

You took out your phone from your jacket pocket, putting it beside you. Men came by with their bags, snatching phones. 

All those photos on there you didn’t have copies of… you tried not to think about that. 

“How long would it take cops to get here?” someone whispered close by, and you heard murmured back:

“Three minutes maybe?”

“I want the manager out here,” yelled the ringleader, throwing his rifle over his shoulder. 

This would all be over soon. You just needed to stay calm, make sure no-one did anything stupid. 

Like the manager, who decided it was a great idea to come out with his own weapon, making you and many others gasp at the sight of his pistol.

“Very brave, very stupid,” the ringleader said. 

All his men were trained on the manager. The manager whose face was dripping with sweat, wet patches on his blazer and shirt, shook as he moved forward with his gun still raised.

“I am tired of people like you,” he said, and you closed your eyes. “You want nothing but destruction. You’re entitled to whatever you want. You’re filth-”

A gunshot rang out and someone screamed. You saw the manager clutch at his chest and topple over, losing his weapon.

You had never seen someone shot before. You only ever saw the after effects, at the hospital…

It all happened so fast. The men seemed unbothered by the violence, the ringleader turning to the crowd.

“Anyone else feeling brave today?” 

“Please let us go!” wailed someone.

“We’ll let you go once a line of communication is established with authorities, of course,” the ringleader said, shrugging. “Would any other staff like to be an acting manager?”

The silence that followed was the deafening kind that left your ears ringing. It took a minute before someone came forward, a younger woman whose face was streaked with tears. 

“I can do it,” she breathed. 

From your space on the ground, you could see the branch had been barricaded, the men stationed at each exit, each door that left the main floor. You scanned their faces, none of them familiar to you. 

You looked back at the manager on the ground, at the blood spreading across his chest. He was still breathing. You needed to find a way to get to him, to help him. You only had minutes, give or take. Time worked differently now, both simultaneously dragging and speeding up. Each movement was sickening.

“Up,” someone said, and you shot up from the floor, hands up.

You backed away, rounded up to sit on the floor with your back to one another. The circle consisted of around forty people, not including the staff they had lined up against a wall.

“Is he alive?” you asked, loud enough for one of the masked men to hear you.

“Shut her up,” the ringleader snapped, before you could be answered by his associate nearest to you. “Or I will.”

“I’m a nurse!” you added hastily.

A phone began to ring and their leader was momentarily distracted, rounding on the acting manager. She scrambled for the phone, placing it to her ear.

“H-hello?” 

Everyone waited. The woman carefully took the receiver away and looked at the ringleader. 

“It’s for you.”

He took it and pushed her away, the woman stumbling backwards. You hated him more than ever for being so rough with someone half his size. You looked over at the bleeding man on the floor, watching his chest rise and fall. 

You tuned out the demands you heard made from this end of the phone call. It felt like these men had seen one too many heist movies. 

You knew it was only a matter of time before the SWAT team arrived, and then there’d be bullets flying every which way. 

The bleeding man was wheezing. 

He was dying.

The sound finally filled your ears once more. Someone was crying softly close to you, and you drew in a breath. 

“He needs medical assistance now,” you said, a little louder than before. 

The ringleader spun around, eyes wide with outrage. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“You’re on the phone to the police, right? They’d have med guys on their team. Get me someone to save him, or you’re being tried for murder on top of everything else.”

Though his mask obscured his face, you could see he understood the gravity of the situation, as if his own adrenaline had begun to wear off.

“Okay.”

You got up, stalking towards the phone. You were on borrowed time, everyone there was. You weren’t dying before trying to help, though. You would not go gentle into that good night.

“Hello?” you said, phone to your ear. “Someone’s been shot, I need help.”

“Is anyone else firing right now? What’s your name?” 

You said your last name reflexively, feeling eyes on you. 

“No, we’re… kind of just waiting right now.”

“One moment.”

You couldn’t make out what was being said, like someone had muffled the phone. You swallowed, looking at the rifle that the ringleader leaned on. He’d tracked mud everywhere, you noted.

“This is Dr. Abbot. What’s the situation?”

“Abbot?” You repeated, and for a second you floated. “Jack?”

He said your name, and you sucked in a breath. 

“It’s me.”

“What the fuck are you doing there, sweetheart?” 

You couldn’t decipher what he was feeling by his tone, but it was all bad. You trembled as you glanced over at the bleeding man. 

“I’ve got a gunshot wound, mid-forties… gunshot wound to upper chest.”

You took the phone with you, ignoring everyone else. Jack managed to do that to you. Once you reached the bleeding man, you settled next to him, hands checking.

“Pale, tachycardic. His… trachea is shifting.” 

Jack’s tone changed to focused, sharp.

“Listen carefully. He’s developing a tension pneumothorax.”

Your stomach dropped. You knew what that meant. The air was trapped in the chest cavity, the pressure building. Lung collapsing, the heart compressing. 

“Jack…”

“You need to decompress the chest.”

You’d never done that procedure before. Not on a person, not outside of a simulation. You weren’t a doctor, either, but refrained from reminding him.

“I…”

“Stay with me,” he said. 

“I don’t have a kit,” you retorted. “I…”

You looked around at the desks, the people staring at you from the circle on the floor. You wondered who else was listening in on this conversation. 

“What do you have?”

“Maybe… a first aid box? Tape?” 

“That’ll work,” he said, which was just like him. “Get a catheter from a kit. They’d have one.”

You looked at the acting manager, clicking your fingers.

“Hey! First aid.”

She raced off. It seemed the men could no longer control her in this situation. She raced over to you, wide-eyed and panting when she reached your side. 

All the while, Jack remained steady in your ear.

“You need to find the second intercostal space.”

“The-”

“Top of the ribs,” he said calmly. “Count down from the collarbone.” 

You pressed shaking fingers against the man’s chest.

“One… two…”

The injured man wheezed painfully.

“You’re okay,” you whispered automatically, though you weren’t sure who you were talking to anymore.

“Midclavicular line,” Jack continued. “Just above the rib. Not below. You go below, you hit vessels.”

Your breathing turned shallow.

“I found it.”

“Good girl,” he said instantly, instinctively.

The words hit like a spark straight through your chest.

Then professional again:

“Needle perpendicular to the chest. Firm push.”

Your hand shook violently.

“I can’t-”

“Yes, you can.”

The sharpness in his voice startled you still.

“You hesitate now, he dies.”

Everything narrowed. The blood.

The hostage gasping beneath your hands.

Jack breathing quietly through the radio.

You steadied yourself and positioned the catheter.

You pushed.

There was resistance. Then -

POP.

A violent hiss of escaping air burst from the needle. The hostage jerked beneath your hands.

“Oh, my God…”

“There you go,” Jack said immediately, relief bleeding into his voice for the first time. “There you go. Advance the catheter.”

Your hands obeyed automatically now.

The man’s breathing eased. Still ragged, but better.

Color slowly returned to his face.

The room around you seemed to exhale collectively.

You realized your entire body was shaking.

“Jack…”

“You did it.”

The praise in his voice nearly undid you.

Then his tone shifted again to cold, alert. 

“They're going in.” 

You glanced up, your eyes meeting the ringleader. 

What came next was a cacophony of voices, first from the phone and then beyond the bank foyer. 

Whatever plan there was in place for a rescue, it felt to you like all that was pushed aside. The masked men also left behind whatever restraint they had. Everyone panicked. 

You didn't know how, but you promised you wouldn't let your patient die there. Once the ringleader heard the SWAT team advance, he barked orders to his men, to hold their own. 

He glanced your way, bolting. You automatically dropped, laying on top of your patient, wet heat of his blood pressing against you. 

You may have screamed. The overlapping gunfire and yelling drowned it all out anyway. The ringleader fell to the ground. The lights went out. 

“Please, God-” 

Who was that? You flinched when a hand found yours in the dark. 

“Jack?”

The bank once again flooded with fluorescent light, harsh and unforgiving. 

Jack Abbot shoved his night vision goggles off, eyes wild as he scanned you. His gloved hands pulled you up. He cupped your face. 

“I'm okay,” you whispered. “Hey, I'm-I'm okay…” 

Your ears were ringing but the gunshots had stopped. Jack kept staring at you. 

“Stop it, I'm fine. It's not my blood.” 

He gave your face one last brush with his thumb and then let go, glancing down at your patient. He set to work, admiring your job. 

“What bank has a catheter in their first aid kit?” your murmured, and he smirked. 

“Most metropolitan banks have these kinds of situations.” 

You sat beside him, glancing about. Men were on the ground. The SWAT guys were fastening zip-ties. You were suddenly exhausted, scrubbing your face. 

Paramedics came in. The bank manager was taken away. You fell into a silence only ever broken if you were spoken to. 

“You'll get a medal for this,” Jack said.

You were outside, media having arrived. Someone was bound to see you on TV. 

“Not why I did it,” you muttered, eyeing a camera aimed at the building behind you. 

“I know,” he murmured. “I'm just forewarning you. You might actually have to take a compliment one of these days.” 

You chose not to roll your eyes. He'd gone softer, quieter as if to mirror you. 

“Will you go with them?” you asked, meaning the patients sent to the hospital.

“Nah, I'll stay with you,” he said. “Where'd you park?”

You watched him as he looked around, and you remembered. Driving there that morning - mere hours ago - felt like days. You sighed.

“If you got a ticket, they'd understand...” 

His eyes swung back over to yours, assessing. 

“Are you okay?”

“Not really,” you admitted in a rush. 

Your chest hurt. He only nodded, and you nodded back. 

You had to wait a little longer, until you were cleared to leave. Jack remained beside you the entire time, hands behind his back. 

There'd be no shift tonight. Advised you were in no fit state to work, you wanted to argue. Helping other people would keep the morning's incident off your mind. 

“C'mon,” Jack said, soft and patient. “I'll walk you back to your car.” 

You fell into step, silently weaving through people milling around. People openly stared at you - you hadn't changed out of your bloodied clothes yet. You avoided their gawking, bumping into Jack by accident. 

His hand was on your lower back, guiding you. The steady assurance warmed you when you were otherwise numb. 

When you finally reached your car, taking out your keys took longer. You sighed. 

“Lemme drive.” 

This was the most time he'd spent with you alone, you realized. It didn't feel out of place. That alone made you hyper aware of his proximity to you. 

You climbed in beside him, pulling your seatbelt on.

“Don't touch the radio,” you warned, and he smirked. 

It dawned on you that he remembered the street you lived on. You must have mentioned your apartment block enough during work. He didn't need directions, knowing the streets like the back of his hand. 

He drove in silence, as if understanding that you needed this relative peace. 

“Thanks,” you said, as he pulled up on the curb. “For… this. For everything.” 

“You gonna be okay?” he asked, as the car idled. 

You looked down the street, at the life unreached by the morning's shock and horror. Everything was coming back to you again. You'd woken up in such an ordinary way only hours ago.

“Can you stay?” you asked. “I know you're busy-”

“It's a good excuse,” he interjected. He wasn't letting you apologize for asking for help, thank fuck. 

Again - more surprises. He knew you too well, and you hadn't known that yourself. 

“Okay.” 

He followed you up, and you fumbled the keys, dropping them. He scooped them up, helping you once again. 

“I'm hopeless,” you said, unable to stop yourself. 

“You're exhausted,” he retorted, letting you in. 

It felt too right, your chest tightening. You ducked under his arm. 

“I meant before,” you amended. “I couldn't have saved him without you.” 

“It's what we do,” he said, shrugging.

We. 

You nodded. You gestured to the hallway to your bedroom. 

“I need to lie down. You don't have to stay long… I have coffee pods-” 

“It's fine,” he said. “I might… snoop and stuff.” 

You smirked, nodding.

“Go,” he added for good measure. 

You left him in the living room, trudging back to bed. It took barely a minute after you flopped down on your bed for you to fall asleep. 

-

You startled awake, a figure in the doorway. You fought your way back to full consciousness, feeling a tension, a neediness between your legs. 

It was as if thoughts of Jack summoned him to your room. He looked sheepish. 

“I was just checking on you. It's been… an hour and a bit.” 

You blinked, sitting up. Your shoes were still on. You scrubbed your face. 

“I…” 

You looked at him, his sentence falling away. He started again. 

“I think I should go.” 

He didn't look like he wanted to. He leaned against the doorframe, watching you take in your surroundings. A ghost of a smile formed. 

“I… don't know what to do now,” you admitted. Your routine was off. 

“Go back to sleep.” 

“Don't want to,” you retorted. At least you didn't want to cry or scream.

You were pretty sure you had a sex dream about Jack. You pressed your thighs together. 

“I don't want to leave you here,” he admitted. 

“I'm okay,” you said automatically. You weren't exactly lying. “I'll be okay.” 

“I know you will,” he said. 

It wasn't an argument. He folded his arms. 

“Tell me what to do,” you said. Your eyes were trained on his skin, then slid up to his warm gaze. “Like before.” 

He only stared at you for a minute, and you thought maybe you crossed a line. He drove you home and he'd come to your apartment, but that was a favor. This was something more. 

He drew in a deep breath, then said on exhale: 

“Let me into your bed.” 

You shuffled onto your knees, and he moved to meet you, hands taking hold of your face when you reached the end of your bed. 

He leaned down and kissed you and you gasped at the promise in his touch, how easily you melted underneath him. 

His tongue was in your mouth, tangling with yours and you both moaned, your hands deep in his greying curls. 

“Jack-” 

He kissed your cheek, your throat. He pulled you up into his arms and held you tightly. 

He'd been scared. You kissed his cheek, rubbed his back. You wanted to dote on him, too. It was in your nature. He made it easier than most. 

“Wanna take these clothes off you,” he mumbled. “Wash away the blood…”

He kissed you again. You yanked off your sweater. 

“I liked that one,” you lamented.

“Shower?” he said, and you shook your head. 

“After,” you said. “I need you…”

Moments later, bare to one another, you threw your leg over him and settled in his lap. 

His cock teased you, leaking at the tip as he stared up at you.

“I'm okay,” you whispered. “I'm still here.” 

You let out a little cry when he pushed inside. He was so deep, thick enough to make you shiver, the stretch perfect. 

Your cunt fluttered around him, greedy. 

“Oh, God,” you gasped, as you shifted, testing the waters. 

Your noses brushed, tongues teasing as you didn't quite close your mouths. You gasped again, when he pushed up, fucking you back. 

You'd learn how to do this every way you possibly could, you vowed. Have him bend you over, throw you around. You'd crawl to him if he asked you to. 

The last thought must have slipped out of your mouth, his grip tightening on your hips. 

“Yeah?” he panted. He lifted you up, slamming you down on him. “You’d do that for me?” 

He worked you up and down. You revelled at his strength, as he never slowed, watching as you climbed higher and higher. 

His thumb pressed against your clit and you lost all control of your voice, whimpering as you clamped down on him, vision darkening at the edges. 

You came with a hoarse cry by his ear, feeling a warm trickle down your thigh. He'd made you come so hard, you slurred, when you managed to come back down to Earth. 

He kissed your face again and again, nearing his own end. You watched, a little delirious, as his eyes went to your face, then your bare chest, then down to where your bodies met. 

“Shit, sweetheart,” he hissed, and his eyes slammed shut, his forehead pressing to yours. 

It was a sweaty, beautiful mess. He twitched as he came inside you, long pulses that felt right. 

Safe and warm.

Neither of you moved for a long time, his hand trailing down your bare back, settling on the top of your ass. 

“You're okay,” he whispered, either to himself or both of you. 

He didn't leave your apartment for a long, long time after that. 

tagging: @sirens-and-moonflowers @lacy1986 @mayawainfleet @kittykaylat1987

[iwritefanficx]

Don’t go - Michael Robinavitch

“I don’t believe you are going to leave that woman and her kid for three months, to go on some motorcycle death wish” Dana spoke, not even considering the fact her voice might have been a bit to loud “it’s not a death wish it’s a vacation” he argued back “so take a vacation with them Robby, take that little girl to Disney, take them on a vacation” Robby sighed knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with her, walking off to his next patient.

It wasn’t a secret that after Pittfest, Robby struggled - but you were the always, whenever he needed someone but the thing with Robby was he didn’t open up very often, he kept himself locked away. One of his many issues.

“Maybe Jack can talk some sense into you” she mumbled watching the man leave, he entered a room where Perlah was with an older lady in with a burn, he knew this older lady was going to ask questions they always did, he put on his best fake smile “no ring Doctor?” He shook his head “no not married” he spoke putting on gloves “no but he does have a girlfriend and a step daughter” Perlah smiled over thinking back to all the times Robby walked in with a new picture for his collection “she not want to marry you?” She asked, he didn’t answer before Perlah did “can you blame her, he’s going on a solo vacation for three months on a motorcycle” the older woman looked horrified by what the nurse had just told her “oh no, you can not do that to that woman, leave her when one man already has” he closed his eyes and thought back to the face you had when he told you his plan, you hide the pain well you always did, to protected your feelings who could blame you “shall we get this burn sorted”

The burn was wrapped and he left nurse Perlah to take over the discharge instructions “Doctor Robby” he turned “don’t leave them, that little girl doesn’t deserve that and neither does her mom” people were making it like he wanted to leave you and your daughter, he didn’t he just didn’t think he was good enough for either of you, he was being a coward, he knew his mental health wasn’t the best and he didn’t want your daughter seeing that.

He sighed and looked at the time as Jack approached “if you have another talk for me you can leave it” “no, but I am worried about you” “so is everyone else it seems” “because we care Robby, look I can’t tell you not to go, BUT I can tell you that your leaving behind something special and important” and there everyone was back to you he knew what he was leaving “I’m a fuck up” “we all are that work in this place” “she deserves better” “you can’t make that choice for her” “I can” “no you can’t Robby, because guess what - she knows you are a fuck up and still loves you, that kid loves you because guess what believe it or not they picked you” “I don’t want to hurt them” “you are hurting them by leaving, it takes someone special to date a doctor, we see things, we see things we can’t forget but there is people out there for us, I lost mine Robby, I did my therapy, it’s your turn to do therapy and keep her, keep them” he pulled his friend in for a hug “now ditch this motorcycle death wish, take that kid and her mom on a vacation I heard Disney is good this time of year” he smiled remembering the time you came to meet Robby for some food and she was there dressed as Cinderella “looks like there is some people here to see you” he pointed to the nurses desk and there you stood with the little girl on your hip, who’s head was looking around for him, eyes landing on the men stood in the room “there he is, mom” she pointed “see if she didn’t love you Robby, she wouldn’t be seconds away from the door” he finished what he said as the girl bashed into Robby’s legs “we came to say bye and watch the fireworks before you go” his hand came to the top of the girls head as he looked over at you talking to Dana a small sad smile on your lips and down at the girl looking up at him, Jack long gone on the next case leaving just the two of them “come on, mommy said the roof is really good to see them” he nodded and took the girls hand, where she led him to you, you didn’t say hi or lean in to hug him or anything, he knew this was your goodbye forever, he knew he lost you.

The three of you watched the fireworks, he stood back just behind your daughter “Robby” you whispered “don’t just let me have this, I know” his eyes sad, he hugged both of you before he got on his motorcycle, you stood there with your daughter, duke hadn’t left yet, leaning forwards “I still think you are stupid leaving them” he didn’t agree with his friends motorcycle ride, he watched as your daughter hid in your neck, crying and he broke, his heart broke as he heard her shout don’t go, Dana stood watching her arm linked with your spare one that wasn’t holding your daughter, same look she had this morning, Jack has said his bit in the room and didn’t appear again.

“I’m sorry” he mouthed to you, you just nodded not even watching him go, walking off with her crying looking at him from over your shoulder, Dana wanted to smack him, wanted to shake him until he saw sense, duke followed you, making sure you were safe to drive the both of you home.

He drove, he didn’t make it ten minutes away from the hospital before he stopped, looking at his phone it was a picture of the three of you, he clicked your name and it just rang, he knew you wouldn’t answer, he phoned Jack, he also didn’t answer, he called Dana, who did.

“Go back to them Robby, make it right, yes your a fuck up we all are, but we all have our people and they are yours, take the break but with them go back make it right” she hung up, he turned round, driving to your apartment, knocking until you finally did answer “I’m sorry I know she’s in bed I know it’s late but I need to say something” he stood there and spotted her sat on the stairs looking at the open door, tears on her face “hard for me to get her to bed when the man who has read her a story every single night isn’t here” you face had no emotion to it “I’m sorry, I’m here, I’m not going, I, I” he took a deep breath “can I come in I don’t want to say this out here” she looked up at her daughter who nodded but stayed put on the stairs, she stepped to the side for him to enter “I’m sorry” he said again “that’s not enough Robby” “I know, I’m sorry, I keep saying it because I am, but the truth is I’m scared, scared I wasn’t enough for you both, scared that my job would get in the way, it takes up so much time, so much head space, I was a coward and decided running away would be easier, for us all” she looked at him “truth is I love you both so much it scares me” “I know I’ve gotta earn your trust again, I’m going to phone Jack and get that therapist number, im going to make changes, will you have me back?” He heard you sigh “you can’t walk out on us again Robby” “never” the small voice from the stairs broke the silence between the adults “are you staying?” He looked to you, not knowing the answer “yeah” you whispered “can you read me my story now?” She asked he nodded joining her on the stairs and heading up towards her room.

You stood at the door watching them, the tears in your eyes, he came back but you still felt sad, he was where he was meant to be but it still felt like he was out the door, he got up as she fell asleep and met you at the door “are we okay?” He whispered “no we’re not we won’t be for awhile Robby, but your here and that’s what matters” he nodded “I’m still taking the three months” she nodded “but I’m taking them with you two, if you will let me” “Robby you can’t walk out on her again, she’s had one dad walk away” he nodded, looking back at the girl asleep in her bed pushing you a little more into the hallway and shutting the door “I know this doesn’t make up for anything but on the way over here, I booked something for us” “that was brave what if I said no” “I just hoped you wouldn’t” “so?” “I booked Disney for our princess, a princess and her mom I won’t be leaving, because everyone was right I was fucking stupid”

[iwritefanficx]

That’s my kid - Jack Abbott

The moment Jack realises that his girlfriend’s kid, has claimed her spot as his kid too.

- Jack knew that you and your kid was a package deal and he was 100% on board with that wanting nothing more then a family he can come home too

- you had boundaries set when it came to your kid at the start, waiting a good six months before they even met

- Jack always asking how she was whenever date night happened, even before they even met

- once they did meet the trips to the zoo and aquarium were a regular thing

- three years down the line and he’s doing the school drop off like any dad would

- he didn’t stick around in the mornings anymore, he’s out those doors the second he can

- “when do you think he’s going to admit that kid is more then just his girlfriends kid?” Dana asked Robby who watched Jack grab his bag and practically run out the door not wanting to miss you both before the school run

- jack getting a call from the school, because you were in meetings all day and not answering to be told she fell and needed picking up

- Jack rushing out the door without a second thought to anything else

- Jack taking one look at the arm and calmly saying they needed to visit uncle Robby

- Jack stood outside the room that he left her in with Robby, to take your call and explain everything and telling you she was okay and to just get here

- Robby popping his head out the door “Jack, she’s asking for you” he nodded hanging up the phone “well actually she’s asking for her dad” Jack frowned knowing her dad isn’t in the picture and hasn’t been for years, never even met her “Jack she’s talking about you, come on” breaking his friend train of thought

- Jack walking in as the little girl on the bed reaches for him “daddy, Robby said a shark needs to come to fix my arm” Jack smiled, trying not to cry at the same time “I actually said park the shark, not just a shark”

- the little girl being just as sarcastic as Jack “good because I think a shark would do more damage” “your not wrong sweets” Jack nodded as Robby rolled his eyes knowing the influence Jack was having on the little girl

- once you arrived, Jack left for all of a couple of seconds just to check if park had decided to show up yet

- “how’s it feel to be a dad jack?” Dana asked clearly being told by Robby “fucking scary” “yeah they do that to you” “but I’d die for her” “yeah they also do that to you”



[iwritefanficx]

Jack’s Daughter - Jack Abbott

You had been a single mom before you met Jack, your daughter was 3 when you met Jack, her dad wasn’t in the picture at all and where Jack treated her like she was his own, she never changed her last name not even when you and Jack got married, it never bothered him not because he didn’t care just because he wanted her to be comfortable with whatever she felt was right, so she stuck with your last name but did call Jack dad, they were both more then happy with that.

Graduation rolled around, two weeks before she approached Robby, which wasn’t odd considering he was like her uncle now, always there when she needed and ear or when Jack or yourself couldn’t figure out some homework, she entered the ED, Robby’s eyes instantly finding her, giving her the mental once over to make sure she wasn’t hurt “you okay kid?” She nodded “I just need to talk to you, before I talk to my mom” he nodded “he’s not here is he?” “Of course he is kid but he’s in a trauma for atleast another twenty minutes” she nodded as he lead her to the break room “what’s going on?” “Do you think he will let me have his last name?” Robby smiled “kid there is nothing more he wants then for you to have his last name” she looked down at her hands “what’s brought this on?” “I want to be a doctor like you guys, but I want to, but I want all my documents to have Abbott on them because he’s the reason I want to be the doctor in the first place” “I can guarantee you, he would give you his last name in a heartbeat kid” she nodded “I wanted to surprise him at graduation” Robby smiled “we can definitely do that, talk to your mom she’s a master at coming up with plans like this” remembering the birthday party they put together for Jack and he was none the wiser, she nodded and hugged her uncle “now get out of here before he spots you and questions while your here, let’s not give him a heart attack” she nodded waved by to both Robby and Dana on her way out “was that my kid?” Dana with quick thinking about the cookies that she had left in the break room “oh yeah she dropped some cookies off, said her and her friends made them” he nodded “and she didn’t stick around to say hi” he pouted “don’t want to rub it in but I got a hug” Robby joked

Everyone’s families filled the room where graduation was taking place, sure it was only high school graduation but you can bet both Jack and Robby weren’t missing it for the world, Shen covering for both men while they went to support you “we have ages til her name is shouted” Jack moaned “she had to keep your last name didn’t she” she joked, you looking at Robby behind his back who had the camera ready pointing towards Jack “yeah I know, such a long wait” you seen your daughter looking for you, in the crowd when her eyes did land on you, you gave a wave and a thumbs up, the teacher started talking then the certificates started “Grace Abbott” the name rolled off the teachers tongue as Grace stood up, looking towards Jack as he took a second to catch up “wait? Did she change it?” The tears in his eyes as you nodded “and she has the sweetest reason” Robby spoke patting his friends shoulder “you knew?” “That’s why she was at the Pitt couple weeks back she wanted help” “I did think those cookies weren’t hers, the tasted to good” he laughed knowing his kid wasn’t the best baker but she tried, the ceremony was over and the first thing Jack did was wrap his arms around his girl, his kid “is it okay?” He heard her whisper “more then okay kid” he whispered back kissing the top of her head like he always did “sorry it took so long” “you have nothing to be sorry for it was the best surprise ever” as you joined the hug and then Robby not one to be left out of course.

Years and years had passed and you were in The Pitt as a resident, your dad retired a few years ago, but Robby was still there of course he was “Yano, we had a Dr Abbott a few years ago” a resident in her last year said “oh yeah” Robby looked over to see what you were going to say “yeah, retired not to long ago” “oh yeah I know, he’s my dad” Robby smiled at how proudly you said it because if there was one thing he knew about the Abbott’s it was how insane proud of each other they were “that’s so cool that you are now following in his footsteps” “as long as she doesn’t take up swat aswell” Robby added in with a laugh patting your shoulder “shit I forgot that probably makes him your uncle, good luck” the fourth year laughed. 

[akilumi]

My Forever Dream Girl

In which, you and Aang started to have dreams of each other, not knowing that you both were lovers of a past lifetime. Only to meet once again

Part one(you're here!)Part two

Contains: Aang x Reader, Reader is Sokka's and Katara's sister, fated lovers(?), fluff, slight angst, comfort. Connected dreams. Modern au, atla as the past. Reader is a year older than Aang.(Aang is 22, Reader is 23) NO SMUT.

Word count:...I don't know it's long

Warnings: This is the first time I'm writing on Tumblr! Sorry if I make any mistakes. English isn't my first language. So sorry if I mischaractize any characters!!

It all started three weeks ago.

Three weeks, 2 days, and 12 hours exactly, from what you recorded in your journal. But it the time since you started to dream of him

At first, you were brushing it off, thinking that he was just a person that was part of your dreams, someone that your mind had conjured up so seamlessly and perfectly. Especially since he had these arrows on his body.

Then....came the next night, and you both met again. It was shocking, even he was shocked too. But you both talked. You thought it was a mere coincidence.

But it happened, again, the next night and every night, Same place. Same little air temple. Same weird strange clothes, and the same man.

Sometimes, you see him with an big strange creature he had called appa, or with a lemur with unusually big ears that he had said was Momo. It felt...right, for the most weirdest reasons. It felt...like an memory of a life you don't remember around them.

More specifically him. You just can't quite place it. Neither can he. No matter how many times you tried to remember his name after you wake up. You couldn't, and it ached at you. Hard, that you couldn't remember the name of him.

Of the man that laughs were like the wind chimes on your balcony.

Of the man that grey eyes always seemed to light up each time he sees you back in the dream realm.

Of the man that held your hands and promised to find you one day.

Of the man that was just a boy when he fell in love you back at the-

Wait. When did the last part happened?..when did it-

"....Reader...."

"hey....earth to..."

"Reader!!"

You snapped out of your daze, Head shooting upward and looking around. You swore your heart was racing as fast as an hummingbird. Until your gaze finally landed right back at Sokka.

Oh.

Right.

You're here, with your family, with dinner on your plates. Gran Gran's special, an special broth she makes from her garden ingredients, in the middle of the table.....with Sokka snapping his fingers close to your face. your older brother pale blue eyes squinted with exasperation and suspicion at the same time. If that was even possible

But undeniably, he was relieved beyond comprehension seeing you finally snapping into awareness. "oh thanks the spirits! You been out looking off into the sunset for a while. I thought you lost your mind" he chuckled, though you, on the other side, felt your cheeks and ears warming due to the fact you were lost for a long time.

Though he raised an eyebrow at you, tilting his head, he was watching your expression. He raised one of his arms to the back of your chair. He could tell something was up. Especially with the way you drifted.

"but really, you been out for a while. You okay? Nothing...bad going on...or" his face shifted into an knowing, smug grin seeing your face shift into that flustered expression you had since you were a kid. "you're not thinking of a special guy are you, eh?"

Immediately, You placed a hand behind your head. Rubbing the back of your neck as stared to the side when he had mentioned an "special guy" you wanted to give him an glare or shoot a look at him to shut up "It's...it's not that- it's just-"

Thankfully, Katara was there to save your day as she placed placed the bowl of broth in front of you. "Oh leave her alone Sokka, finals week is coming up soon, she's probably more concerned with that than an "special boy" She placed an bowl on his side of the table too, which made him just shut up for a while to focus on the food.

She turned back at you with an warm yet concerned smile, placing a hand on your shoulder "but he has a point you know? You've been drifting off into your head these past few weeks..you're not overworking too hard on the finals. Are you?"

You sighed, reaching for the bowl and the spoon now given at your side. She was right, it had become noticeable that you were off more in your mind.

"I just...have a lot in mind really." you didn't specify what you meant as you turned your eyes to look at the wall. You can't help but feel that you have a lot in mind. With...him. With the finals, but also, with the strange echoes, and the heavy deja vu that you felt.

Sokka just hummed to your response. Currently dipping his bread in the broth and eating it. He pointed the bread to you as he looked at you with an knowing look.

"That's what Aang been saying too you know?" he spoke muffled, eating while speaking. "saying he had an lot in mind, but looks up at the sky with longing eyes like a-" Katara firmly slapped his arm slightly trying to not let him ramble too much

Aang, you didn't know much of him, Sokka and Katara just met him about 3 months ago, but from what you could tell. He was pretty close with the two of them. Enough to make a group with other people you know, Like Toph.

Sokka rubbed his arm and pouted back at Katara. "ow what was that for!" Katara only huffed, moving to look back at you as she placed a hand on yours.

"Well...whatever you have in mind, I hope you can ease it down...I'm here in case you need anything, okay? Sokka's here too...though he won't do anything but add to your mess" Sokka gasped dramatically, giving a pointed stare at Katara.

You didn't say anything, but smiled warmly at Katara's words. She always with you, and Sokka too, it reminded you that you weren't alone. Even if you don't want to say anything else about the topic.

"Well...enough of this talk, I was thinking. Maybe we could go together to the museum to that new section they opened, all of us. With Aang and Toph. And I guess Zuko can come too. It would be fun" Sokka's voice ease through the heavy air as he looked towards you.

You hummed slightly. The museum, of course. You know that place as well as you knew your major. Since you were studying the great Era of harmony to be an historian. That place was the only area that gave you deja vu each time you visited. Especially with those statues.

"that...would not be too bad" you smiled slightly, he always incorporated you into his plans, mostly since you never really came out of the room unless Toph dragged you out, or Katara did. "I guess I could meet this Aang too"

Aang, his name always felt too weird for you in your tongue, it felt...warm, but heavy with deja vu. You wondered why...but you didn't focus on it too much.

Katara clasped her hands together. Smiling brightly. "Oh wonderful! I already got the tickets too for tomorrow! Trust me. He's a very nice guy once you meet him. And I already have so much plans for after it..."

..................................

You didn't know when exactly did you went to sleep after dinner.

Maybe it was due to the plans for tomorrow clouding your mind. And the tug of your heart each time the museum was getting mentioned. The deja vu clouded your mind enough for time to blur out.

Those memories....there were always those memories that didn't feel like yours. About war. About an boy that laughed similarly to the dream guy in your dreams. About happy moments. Intimate moments.

But you didn't focus on that as you entered the dream place.

And once again. It was the same place. The same old temple that you always admired. The wind blowing softly, and there? There he was.

The same dream guy with those beautiful grey eyes that always brightened when he saw you. He was standing nearby appa. Patting his fur before he turned to you.

And just like that they bloomed with happiness as you stood there for a while. Before you moved and rushed towards him. Every burden. Every duty. Always melts away when you saw him, time meant nothing here, and so did both your loves.

"woah hey there!" he laughed as he wrapped his arms around you. Twirling you around for a bit before settling you down. Still holding you close as he looked into your eyes. "Miss me that much?" he tilted his head, his crooked grin appearing just as every time he's with you.

You giggled lightly, tilting your head to the side as you looked at his face. Your heart thudded happily. Despite these three weeks, you two had bonded instantly, it was a connection that felt as old as time itself. "Well, who can blame me when this day been long?"

He just chuckled back as he let go, though his hands lingered, hovering in the air for a second too long as he moved it to appa. He didn't add to your words, or respond. Because it was true.

The air shifted into comfortable silence as you moved to rest on appas side, the big air bison responded with a low rumble shifting slightly. His wide tail tapping the ground before he moved to rest

He just shift the topic instead. Settling beside you. His hand near you, pinkie touching pinkie. "If the day been long...mind telling me about it? I love to hear what happened on your side" He gave a warm smile, the type that made his dimples shine and eye crinkle at the edges.

That always had captivated you, yet reminded you of an memory you couldn't place, of a man that had the exact same smile, only that it was covered with a love that transcends time. You raised your shoulders slightly.

"Well, nothing really, just focusing on class, working, coming back home to study for the finals. And hanging around my siblings" you moved to touch your hair slightly. An habit of yours. Before your hand settles on your knee.

The grey eye man absorbed every word, his eyes never leaving yours, or the way your hand shifted, instead. He raised an knee. Putting his arm on it. "Yeah, I get that...Finals. I have them too, next week, luckily I'm studying for it with a couple of friends." he rubbed the back of his head. His eyes closing as he gave a sheepish grin.

You felt an weight move off your shoulders. There it was. The fact that you both could relate to an situation so easily. "That's...not that bad actually. I study alone. Since my friend. #&/#, is blind, and her tutoring..is something"

When you try to mention toph, the name just..blurs. That was one strange thing. You can't mention any name here. Neither your own. Or his. It was the one thing. The one thing that keeps you two from finding each other.

His eyes didn't widened at the blurred name. He got used to it after a couple of dreams shared together, and he just sighs, his smile softening. "I get that, I have a blind friend too in my group, but that doesn't stop her from being herself, she's great. Oh! actually, we were talking about going to the museum tomorrow-"

You stopped, your eyes widened at what he had mentioned. Museum? Talking? A group of friends? That...reminds you of the talk Sokka and Katara were having "....My siblings were talking about going to the museum too...tomorrow, during the morning."

The moment you had mentioned it. He went still. His whole body went still and he didn't breath for a while. You know it felt like a coincidence, to both you, and him. Maybe it's not the same museum. Maybe it's not even the same place.

But the fact that you both had some of the same groups made you two realized.

"wait. That means-" he tried to speak. But as suddenly as the realization came.

---------------------------

You woke up in your bed. Heart racing, eyes widened. Gasping. Sweat sticking to you.

No.

No. No!

You were finally getting somewhere, you were finally getting a grasp of his location, and if it was possible that maybe. Maybe you both can meet.

The door to your room opened. Katara peeking in to check on you. She was already dressed. Holding her bag with her. Her blue eyes gently looking at your figure as you immediately straightened. "Good morning dewdrop, You woke up a little late than usual, but that's okay. Just get dressed so we could head out" she spoke warmly as she then closed the door. Leaving you to your own devices.

Later than usual? You swore you felt that the dream was more shorter than usual. Way more shorter. It felt...like you were just kicked off the moment you were grasping at strings that appeared.

But you didn't waste too much time on thinking. Your heart raced at the thought of him. If he was there, if he's going to the exact same museum...

Then you won't wait to see if he's real.

--------------

Sokka and Katara were inside the car, With Sokka warming the car due to the snow that had been starting to fall due to December, and early winter weather. He hummed an light tune until he yelped when he heard the sounds of the car door closing shut, with you there. Dressed up in your best winter outfit.

"Oh for the love of spirits dewdrop! You scared the life out of me for a second and..." he side eye you from the rear view mirror. Seeing you were more..dressed up that usual. "..Are you seriously wearing that scarf? You never-" Katara cut him off before he makes any rude comments. Looking back at you from the passanger seat. "Don't listen to him. You look beautiful...and excited. I guess the museum really brought your spirits up?"

You just nodded, a lot in response. Staying quiet. Though your leg were bouncing up and down in response to her question. Katara took that as an yes as she turned back to look at your older brother. "well, if we're all here. Then let's get moving Sokka"

"right. Yes. Of course." Sokka started to move the car away from the driveway. Settling into the road to start moving to the museum. It was 11 minutes from your home. Which was not too far. "Museum time it is baby!"

The drive there felt long. Too long for you in fact as you bounced your leg continously through the ride. Your heart thumping at an speed that felt like it would rip through your ribs and run out the road.

What if he's not there? What if it was a lie? What if your dreams were just...dreams? You hoped. Badly. That it wasn't those options. You hoped dearly, because...he felt real. His touch felt real. His words, his laugh....

You just hoped it was not something just an dream.

By the time you arrived. You spend at least 5 minutes outside while Katara was calling the group. Or the "Gaang" as Sokka likes to call it. You fidgeted with your fingers. Staring up at the round iceberg statue that lingered outside the museum.

Then, there was a voice, a familiar voice, and you turned.

Right there, a few feet away. Was him. The same man, with his arrow tattoos. Wearing mutes brown yellows and Vermillions. While holding an leash to a very fluffy big dog with cream fur and But those eyes..you couldn't help but think-.

"Aang! You're early come over, meet my sister, reader" Katara called out, and right then. You didn't move. He didn't move. Your eyes watered with the memories of the dreams swarming right back at you. All the memories. All the things you shared with one another. You couldn't help but let out a shaky breath and say just one single thing.

"...Aang...?"

"....." he was silent. Still, with grey eyes widened as the snow fell between the both of you. His dog, Appa, only let out a light ruff. Nudging him to move. There was no reaction until...a bright, glowing smile broke through his face as he let out a breathless laugh, he let appa move ahead towards Katara and Sokka. But his gaze was duly on you as he started to run towards you.

And he didn't just wave. Or hug you. He embraced you. Lifting you up and twirling you around, Aang eyes were almost teary as he held you tightly and close to him.

"my dream girl!...my dream girl"

Finally. You both found each other. Again.

Just like every other lifetime.

To the ones that wanted to be tagged ❤️ : @ninrixs

Hope you readers liked this! It's my first masterpiece, and hopefully, maybe I can make a part two soon?

[voidsagent]

Willing & Able - jack abbot x reader

Pairings: jack abbot x attending!reader

Summary: with jack’s mental health deteriorating he tries to pin an accusation on you.

Warnings: mentions of minor injuries, talks of ER/ED, explicit language, angst, age-gap, slow burn, pinning, mentions of widower jack, mentions of mental health/self-harm, yearning/longing, probably some scientific & medical inaccuracies.

Word Count: 4k+

Author’s Note: here’s my fic in honor of mental health month !! (it’s an angsty one, i fear.) i spent a long time on this one to make it good for you guys & represent mental health for all of us that struggle. i love jack so so much !! i hope you all enjoy this, it’s a very special fic for me. <3

Jack Abbot wasn’t used to living alone. He went straight from his parents house growing up to the army housing—to sharing a place with Robby during med school—to living with his late wife.

The townhouse he occupied now felt too big, too empty, too full of ghosts haunting him from different stages of his life. Still, it beat wandering around the lonely house he had shared with his wife before she passed. He couldn’t stand sitting there any longer, all the what ifs of what life could’ve been followed him through every room.

So he moved into a townhouse, smaller, still two floors, enough room to occupy but still feel empty. Mostly bare of decorations. A few medical textbooks books, pictures from his younger days, his wedding day. Random shit Robby and Dana had bought him to put out when he’d moved in.

He stuck to himself for a while; go to work, to the gym, come home; and sleep until his next shift to do it all over again.

Robby finally snapped him out of it a few months later. He started talking to old friends again, going out more with coworkers when Robby and Dana asked, even if it wasn’t his scene.

Years went by and he fell back into the swing of things. Moved around the ED with as much ease as he had when he first walked through the ambulance bay doors all that time ago. His humor came back, he joked more with residents and mentored better. Things seemed normal, well as normal as they could be after everything he’d been through.

It all came crashing down around him when a new attending walked into his night shift—when you walked in. You, the cheery and kind new attending Gloria hired to have two on each shift. You with the pep in your step, you who always spoke softly to scared patients and took extra time to explain things to them. You who wiggled your way into a spot under his ribs he didn’t even know existed anymore.

But more than that; you challenged him. You were just as quick and witty as he was—taking him aback the first time your sarcasm and teasing was directed at him.

The way it made the ED fall silent around you, all eyes watching as the staff held their breath.

Lena smirked behind you, Shen and Ellis’ mouths fell open.

You were gonna fit right in, even if it kept Jack on his toes—especially if it kept Jack on his toes.

You were at the hub with Lena when it happened—chatting in between patients when he came up behind you. His uneven gait was recognizable from two hallways down. The soft thump of his sneakered prosthesis hitting the floor.

He stood next to Joy, talking about charting and something else you couldn’t pick up on. His voice hit your ears before hers did.

“That’s how we rolled when I was a resident”, Jack smirked.

“Was that in the 1900s?”, Joy jutted back as she looked up at him.

Jack’s smirk didn’t waver; “Yeah, when charts were written by candlelight.”

Your smile was full of mischief now, words slipping out before you could stop yourself; “Written with ink and a feather pen too, Peepaw?”

The room stilled.

Jack let out a noise that almost sounded like a laugh.

Shen choked on his iced coffee.

Ellis let out a “Daammnnnn!!”

Jack just…stared at you. Lips still pulled at the corners, but his eyes were darker now; something lingering underneath that you couldn’t quite place.

“Only until typewriters became popular.”

He was giving it right back.

It continued that way—you and Jack ribbing each other back and fourth. He didn’t know when he realized how much he relied on that, relied on you. It hit him square in the chest; something new he didn’t quite know what to do with, or where to put it.

─ ─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ─── ─

To say the past month had been hard on Jack would be an understatement; he was exhausted.

The anniversary of his wife’s death was approaching, Robby had just gotten back from his sabbatical which had thankfully taken some of the work load off of his shoulders—but he was so ingrained in the new routine of constantly being the one on call and working overtime that he didn’t know how to stop.

His leg was bothering him more than usual lately, he could barely sleep at night; his anxiety was through the roof lately and to make matters even worse—there had been an influx of veteran’s coming through the ED like a revolving door.

Jack had lost too many people in his life; patients included.

His wife, his leg, countless numbers of his old army buddies and people he knew in the service. The biological family he had left was scattered. His chest felt tighter than normal, and now when he saw you; instead of immediately succumbing to the excitement in his chest—his blood ran cold.

He felt guilty. Guilty for thinking about anyone other than his wife, guilty for liking you, guilty for you being the best part of his day and looking forward to seeing you; guilty for wanting you.

As soon as he trekked into the ER that night the entire atmosphere shifted. The air around him went tense and cold, settling in the deep crease between his brows. He huffed under the pressure of his prosthesis digging into his skin with each step. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken it off for more than an hour.

He barely grunted a greeting back when Robby approached him, listening through handovers with silence and dark, tired eyes that looked way too sharp and miserable to be the same warm hazel ones he always had.

He’d lost his Jack spark.

When you approached him to sign off on an order of meds he barely moved.

“Doctor Abbot, can you sign these off for me?”, You ask.

A deep puff of air leaves his nose as he slides his readers on, taking the tablet from your hands with a grip that was too tight and stiff.

He didn’t say a word; just signed with his pointer finger after reading it over and handed it back to you.

You frowned; “Is uh, everything ok, Doctor Abbot? You seem upset.”

He inhales sharply; “Fine. Get those meds to your patient.”

No banter. No ribbing or poking fun with you. Just a flat voice empty of any of its usual emotions.

“Are you sure? Is there someth—“

“I said i’m fine”, He cuts you off, squeezing past you; “Get back to work.”

You watch him go with wide eyes and stunned silence.

“Brrr”, Lena says next to you; “Who pissed in his cheerios?”

“I don’t know…”, You trail off, watching him round the corner and disappear; staring at the spot he’d been seconds earlier.

You didn’t have much time to reflect on it or ask him anything further as the noise of the ED picked up. The ambulance bay door kept opening and closing like it was on a timed loop. Your hands were busy.

So were his.

You saw him across the floor a few times, looking down at his feet or off into space while Robby or another doctor talked to him. He still took care of his patients with efficiency; but he didn’t hover anymore.

He stood with his arms crossed, back tight and jaw the same. Lack of emotion. Normally, where he’d make sure he was on the same level as a patient to make them feel comfortable; he now stood towering over them. He didn’t let his hand brush their back or knee to offer comfort, didn’t smile; at least not real ones.

His visit times were quick; barely letting out a few words as he read a patients chart, asked a few questions and got a briefing before he was passing the case off to a med student or intern unless it was an emergency.

He was stiff as he assessed a younger man who had come in from a car accident. Dislocated shoulder, multiple fractures of the leg and arm. He grunted as he helped lift him off the stretcher and onto a hospital bed. A twinge of pain flickering across his face for the briefest second.

His jaw stayed tight as he called out directions and sent the man up to the OR.

He went completely rigid when a veteran a few years older than him came in with a multi-car pile-up. The man was mostly stable until he wasn’t; stats tanking suddenly and alarms blaring. Jack coded him for an hour to no avail. The time of death left his mouth between gritted teeth as he tore his gown off.

Nobody went after him. Nobody dared. Nobody wanted to set him off first.

─ ─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ─── ─

Jack found a quiet hallway in one of the empty wings of the hospital, back pressed against the cool wall as he slid to the floor. His elbows dug into his knees, heels of his palms rubbing against his damp eyes. His leg burned and sent a jolt of lightning up his spine at the movement. A shuddered and shaky breath left his lips as he tried to regain his composure.

But he couldn’t, not with everything weighing down on him all at once. So he let himself cry softly, quietly in the way he trained himself to; cursed himself under his breath for doing so.

When his breathing lost its shakiness he finally pushed himself up off the floor, one hand pressed against the cool wall as he looked down at his feet—a hand on his hip.

He shook his head with a long exhale; “Come on, Jack…snap out of it already.”

He wiped his face once, forced himself to stand straight despite the still worsening pain in his leg; and walked back into the ED like a man on a mission. Though he wasn’t completely sure what that mission was.

Survive this shift, sounded like a good one.

You caught his gaze by accident as he walked back in. Standing at the hub going through patient lists to update the board, when the familiar sound of his footsteps filled your ears.

You looked up like you always did. His eyes found yours for a second before he looked away. He didn’t stop, didn’t speak; just kept going.

You frowned at the sight of him; cheeks pink and tear-stained. Eyes exhausted and devoid of their usual light. His jaw was ticked and clenched tight. The shift dragging on around him. He puffed his chest out as he walked by in an attempt to seem like everything was normal. But you’d seen him enough, learned things and taken in his very being to know that wasn’t true.

You didn’t know him that well personally, but you knew enough about him inside the hospital to know when things were off. Knew him enough to know there was something charged between you. To pick up on his usual mannerisms or when things were wrong.

Things were definitely wrong right now; but you couldn’t figure out what. Just that Jack Abbot clearly needed help.

You cornered Dana at the hub later; “Do you know what’s up with Jack?”

She took off her glasses, didn’t linger on the fact that you were on first name basis—and got straight to work.

She sighed; “No, but…whatever it is, it’s not good.”

You wanted to laugh at the obviousness of it.

“Have you ever seen him like this?”, You ask.

Her expression goes soft, a little sad; “He usually gets in his head around this time every year…his wife’s anniversary is in a few weeks”, Her brows furrow; “But I’ve never seen him this bad. Not like this.”

Guilt climbs up your spine; his wife. Of course that’s why he’s upset. But Dana’s words linger in the back of your mind; “I’ve never seen him this bad.”

You wanted to help him. Needed to help him. Whatever was going on between the two of you; flirting or not—could wait. You decided right then and there, standing next to Dana; that you were going to do whatever you could to help—to save him before he spiraled too far.

─ ─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ─── ─

Jack Abbot fully cracked with two hours left in his shift.

Another trauma had come in, bystander in a bank robbery gone wrong. Clinging to life as the alarms split through the room around him.

You were gowned up next to him, following nurses and residents around as they prepped the trauma room. Robby and Jack were standing over the patient, calling out directions as they always did.

Another alarm started going off, Jack’s head whipping up.

“Oxygen is tanking! We need to intubate, get me a tube—now!”

You moved quickly, grabbing all the supplies you needed and getting them to Jack. He took them immediately. The scalpel in your hands slipped before he could get in fully in his grasp; the sound of it clanging against the floor echoed through the trauma room.

The room fell silent except for the sound of metal against linoleum.

Jack stilled, everyone’s eyes on you.

“Doctor Abbot—I’m so sorry! Let me get-“

“No”, He blurted out.

“What?—“

“Clearly you can’t be trusted in this room, and we need people who aren’t going to fuck up saving someone’s life”, He says through his teeth, face almost red.

You’d never seen Jack like this before. He never raised his voice at anyone. Not unless you were a patient threatening his staff or causing problems. Never over something simple like this; never over mistakes.

He’d usually talk lowly to you, reassure you it’s ok and encourage you. Tell you that you’ll do better next time as he guides you through the procedure. But that Jack was not in this room, you weren’t even sure he was in this hospital.

“Doctor Abbot, I-“

“Henderson, get me a new scalpel”, He orders, barely looking at you; “You step back, we don’t need anymore screw ups.”

Screw-up. That’s what you were to Jack in this moment? Just another thing that wasn’t going his way.

Your eyes and face burned. He saw it, but didn’t say anything else. Ignored the twinge of pain in his chest as soon as the words left his mouth; at the look on your face. More guilt hitting him.

“Jack”, Robby warned, making him look up.

“What?”, Jack snapped.

Robby raised his brows, sending Jack a look that didn’t need words. Jack silently got back to work with the intubation as soon as Henderson handed him the scalpel.

Robby’s eyes found yours as you hovered next to him, not sure what to do.

“Go take ten, kid. Get some water and some air”, Robby tells you quietly.

You don’t argue, just nod once in response before pushing the trauma doors open and leaving behind the humiliation of Jack’s words.

Jack watches you go, the pain in his chest doubling. Fuck, he messed up.

“What the hell was that, brother?”, Robby asks.

Jack doesn’t answer, only a sigh leaving his nose as he finishes the intubation.

You don’t know when you ended up in the bathroom splashing water on your face, but here you were.

A few tears lingered in your eyes; but they weren’t from Jack’s words. Sure they hurt, but the only thing on your mind was how worried you were for him.

Never in a million years did you think you’d see the day Jack Abbot snapped at someone during a trauma—let alone at you.

You dabbed at your face with a cold paper towel, taking a deep breath before you walked back out to find your water bottle.

“You ok?”, Dana asked softly.

“M’Fine. But he’s not.”

Both of your eyes found Jack’s figure across the room. Still working in the trauma, still rigid and still making your chest ache.

Jack Abbot hadn’t cracked yet, but he was seconds away from doing so.

The moment it finally happened the ED was filled to the brim, staff were running in every direction. Another vet had come in with chest pains, everything else seemed normal; until he tanked.

Jack moved like he was back in the field; nothing else around him existed except for the man on the table. He coded within a half an hour. Jack immediately started compressions, ignoring the ache in his leg that had turned to jolting pain in the last few hours.

He ignored Parker’s voice at hour one. Just kept doing compressions.

1…2…3…shock.

He ignored Shen’s a half an hour later.

1…2…3…shock.

He ignored Robby’s voice at the two hour mark. The first time, at least.

When Robby stood behind him, so close Jack could feel the heat of his words crawling up his spine; he couldn’t ignore him anymore.

“Jack…there’s nothing we can do, he’s gone”, Robby said softly.

Jack’s eyes stung as he finally, finally removed his hands from the patient’s chest—handprints almost visible in their wake. He took a step back, feet faltering and making him sway for a second. Robby reached out to steady him; but the touch burned him. He pulled away, looking around the trauma room at all the eyes on him.

His gaze landed on you; watching him with wide and concern filled eyes. Almost teary with his own. That stung like a punch; because if you were watching him, so was everyone else—which meant it was bad. Whatever he’d spiraled into, whatever he had tried so desperately to hide; he couldn’t anymore.

He left the trauma room in two wide strides, TOD leaving his lips in a brief huff; the door swinging shut with a loud gust behind him. He didn’t take off his gown or his glasses or the gloves that were sticky against his hands. He just moved to wherever his feet were taking him; wherever they knew best.

The ED paused around him.

Dana watched him rush by with horror and dread donning her face—in all the years she’d worked with him, she’d only seen him like this once. A few weeks after his wife had passed.

She watched him disappear into the stairwell, knowing better than to go after him. The silence following was deafening. She swallowed hard, looking around once before speaking.

“Alright, everyone back to work.”

The ED resumed like the pause had never happened.

But the whispers and concerned gazes remained; because Jack Abbot was a steady beacon in a place that became reckless.

What happens when the beacon itself becomes unsteady?

─ ─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ─── ─

“Where’s Abbot?”, You asked Dana, breathless and cheeks hot.

She sighed hard; “…Getting some air.”

You didn’t wait for her to say anything else before you were moving; climbing the same stairwell Jack had only a few minutes before.

Your footsteps were lighter, still just as hurried and charged—but they didn’t carry the same weight that his had.

You swung open the heavy door to the roof with a small grunt; the cool early-morning air smacked you in the face—making your already pink cheeks redder.

Your eyes landed on him immediately. Wrong side of the railing. Stethoscope hanging from the metal behind him. Like he’d already made a decision. You swallowed thick.

“Jack”, You spoke.

No movement except the faintest shake of his head. He didn’t answer, didn’t look at you, didn’t look away from the city below him. He was stuck there like a magnet; like something else was holding him down. Mental weight pushing down on his shoulders harder than it ever had before.

“Jack”, You try again, stepping up behind him but still leaving some distance; “Jack, go home”, You say.

“What home?”, He spits, eyes rimmed red; “I have no home.”

You see his face only for a second; but it’s enough to send your heart down to your stomach and a sudden spike of urgency down your spine.

His hands dig deeper into his pockets, heels of his shoes going with them against the rooftop.

“It’s just an empty fucking box. Too dark. Ghosts of everyone I’ve ever failed to treat that haunt me and keep me awake at night. Makes my head spin and digs me deeper into this fucking…hole that I can’t get out of.”

His chin wobbles now, a scoff escaping his lips despite himself. He turns further away, eyes flicking back across the city line—blurry and glowing behind unshed tears. Face red as he puffs out his cheeks with a breath, shaking his head like it’ll make all this disappear. The thoughts, the memories, the darkness; that fact that you’re seeing him like this. At his lowest. When he’s supposed to be the one there for you.

“I lost two vets today”, He grunts; “Two.”

“That’s not your fault, Jack. You did everything you could”, You say.

He scoffs again, tears still burning as he looks at his feet; his bad leg that echoes like a taunt.

“Are you still seeing your therapist?”

It’s an innocent question, but it hits Jack wrong.

Another scoff; “Yeah, fuck lot of good that’s doing.”

He runs a hand desperately through his hair; “I go in there, every week. It’s the same questions. Same schpiel, same routine….I spit some bullshit back that isn’t true just to get out of there.”

“Jack, you can’t do that…”

“Why not?”, He almost yells, almost, but not quite; “It doesn’t work anyways.”

You hesitate, wracking your brain before you take one small step forward. Just one, enough to test the boundaries. Jack doesn’t step away.

“I’ve seen too much. I’ve seen…so much”, His voice cracks, wavering and wet; “I’ve seen way more than any person should ever have to see. ‘Seen so many people die, slip right through my fingers like nothing I did mattered…”

He’s quiet, then a whisper; “…Maybe it doesn’t.”

You step closer at that, hand resting lightly on his shoulder; “That’s not true.”

He doesn’t look at you; “How do you know?”

“I know because i’ve seen you, Jack.”

He doesn’t say anything back, shuffling his hands back into his pockets, keys jingling quietly between his fingers.

“What you do, matters so much Jack”, You whisper; “You matter, so much.”

He finally looks up now, tear lines streaking his red cheeks—the whites of his eyes just as red. His face heavy and tired and holding the weight of the world in them.

“You’re the safety net, you’re the hope of so many patients. You’re the steadiness and the knowledge and what people need when they’re drowning. You’re kind, and competent and compassionate and caring. So many people see that; including me.”

He takes a deep breath; “Everything I care about, everything I fight so hard for. Fight so hard to protect, goes away. Gets taken away from me…like I was never meant to have it in the first place.”

His shoulders sage under your hands.

“My deployment, my leg…my wife”, He breathes, voice shaking; “It’s all gone…like some big joke.”

You hesitate before you speak; “You still have them Jack. Maybe not physically, but they’re with you all the same. In your heart, in your life story, your experience.”

He shifts his weight a little.

“A wise man once told me that just because you loose something doesn’t mean it’s truly gone. You get to choose how much it stays around.”

The corner of Jack’s mouth turns up the tiniest fraction; “Sounds like a pretty smart guy.”

You smile now; “The smartest guy I know…don’t tell Robby.”

Jack takes a deep breath, still a little shaky as he fully turns to look at you; “I don’t know how to do this without her…to allow myself to live without it feeling like I’m replacing her.”

“What do you mean?”, You ask.

“To allow myself you”, He exhales once, eyes dipping back down to the ground.

His words hit you in the chest hard. You scramble for words, somehow still managing to find the right ones.

“I’m not trying to replace her, Jack. I know I never could, and I’d never want to”, You reassure him; “…But maybe I want to find a different spot to fill.”

Jack softens at that, you see it in his eyes, in his entire face.

“You already have, kid.”

His hand finds your arm, finger twitching softly against your skin.

“Now please, for the love of god; come back on the other side of that railing before I have a stroke”, You say.

That earns a small laugh from him, before he pulls back and ducks under the cool metal—straightening his back when he’s on the other side.

“C’mere”, He breathes, pulling you against his chest without another word.

It knocks the air out of you. Being this close to him, you can smell every layer of his cologne. The sweat that’s lingering on his skin, the sadness. The warmth.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you”, He whispers; “I didn’t mean any of it. I know it was an accident and anyone could’ve done it and I wasn’t in the right space. I know that doesn’t excuse it. I was an asshole and i’m sor-“

“Jack”, You stop him with a hand at his cheek; “It’s ok. I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?”, He asks it like his ears are lying to him.

You shake your head; “No”, You tell him; “I’m worried about you.”

He lets his forehead fall against yours for a brief second before pulling away.

“Thank you”, He breathes; “For coming after me.”

You pull back just enough the look at him; “Hey, wasn’t gonna let my best attending think himself off the roof. We need him too much.”

His chest rumbles a little at that. You find his hand with yours, interlacing your fingers to hold him closer, still scared he might change his mind and jump over the railing.

“M’not going anywhere, sweetheart”, He says, voice gruff and low.

You realize then he still has tears on his cheeks, brushing your thumb softly against his skin to wipe it away.

“You know…maybe you don’t have to do it alone”, You start; “Maybe we could go visit your wife together…if you want to.”

You offer it quietly, regret pulling at you when you feel him tense up.

“Unless that’s overstepping it, i’m sor-“

“I’d like that a lot”, Jack says, cutting you off and quieting all your worries with one breath.

He lets his hand find the back of your head, pulling you closer to press his lips to your temple. He lingers there for a moment; letting it ground him and bring him back to the place he matters most.

“I guess we should get back down there”, He finally says, grabbing his stethoscope off the railing and swinging it back around his neck.

You step in front of him; “No”, you say.

His eyes widen and he cocks his head with a disbelieving laugh; “No?”

“You”, You say, “Are going home. Dana’s orders.”

“She’s bossy”, Jack says.

“You’re tired”, You offer; “and in pain.”

His shoulders drop at that, finally letting the full force of his exhaustion show.

“Yeah”, He says; “I am.”

But then he moves closer to you, and you suddenly realize; he doesn’t want to be alone.

“Want to go get breakfast first? My treat”, You offer.

“I’d like that, too”, He says with a small nod and a quirk of his lips to match.

He follows you to the roof door, hand hovering at your elbow; holding the door open for you to step back inside the chaos of the hospital.

“But if you think i’m letting you pay, you’re wrong”, He says, stepping in after you.

The door shuts behind you both, his front pressed up against your back as he steadies you at the waist; big warm hands grounding you.

“Must you argue?”, You tsk.

“Makes things more interesting”, He says, shrugging once before moving you both forward; “Cmon kid, bed’s calling my name.”

You watch him go for a second, how he turns with a brow quirked as if to ask “you coming?” How his face is still slightly puffy from crying, the way he carries himself differently now, more vulnerable. More open.

You realize then that things will be different between you two. Different in the way he lets himself hover near you; touching now instead of holding himself back.

Different in how you end up in his bed that morning after breakfast, holding him close as he drifts off; silent cries and shaking shoulders finally relaxing.

The way he’d eventually kiss you for real, soft and surprising outside the ambulance bay after another stressful night like this one. How he’d start reaching for you when things got hard. How you ground him the way no one else can even get close to.

The remnants of outside air floated around you and Jack in the stairwell, your eyes sweeping over him one last time to make sure he was okay; that he wasn’t going to crumble right then and there.

“I’m ok”, He says softly when you step up next to him; “I’ve got you.”

Your heart clenches once, pushing sweaty curls out of his face with a small smile; because Jack Abbot is safe with you.

taglist: @mysoulbelongstobuckybarnes @cajunebugg76 @littlewolfbird @marquiserose @oneinamelanie @vipervixxen @eternalseeker999 @silovicbaird @lovesflourmorethananything @shawnhatosyfan @barnesonfilm @pinkgarnet @bethexo07 @lynnmaybewrites @mrsconradfisher @lostacademia @jacksbrownie @yellrow @dyeditkeylimegreen @andrearose89 @lilmisslexapro @anthropsych @kneelforloki @croissant31 @ryannnleigh @jennataurus @laenys-targaryen @mafercita101 @queen-honeybee-stories @emma8895eb @lovergirlellie @sir-thisisadndserver @org12 @merlin288 @gotlostintranslation @princessak @sucker4seresin @ilocuras24 @thewillowarchive @luluskye @thehockeynerd30 @sliversprings @staygoldsquatchling02 @saralovesjoelmiller @ozwriterchick @nepttune1 @myescapefromthislife

if you wanted to be tagged but don’t see yourself here, it’s because your username didn’t come up when typed !! <3

[oweninadaydream]

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 (𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲)

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: (anon) Can I request an Ouri x reader? Where Ouri requests Utage for housekeeping for the third time, but she ends up being double booked, so reader, a friend and coworker of hers has to cover her shift for Ouri. And reader’s Ouri’s obsessed fangirl. So basically Ouri getting his very own crazed fan like the rest of the group.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ouri Sakaguchi x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.413

This was the third time the F/ACE royal found himself pacing around the small living space when the clock was about to strike 5 p.m., waiting in hopes of hearing the doorbell ring, turning the doorknob and seeing Utage standing on the other side.

The other two previous attempts at hiring Utage's housekeeping services (as an excuse to see her, of course) had failed miserably and had led to a plethora of thoughts that went from infuriated to dejected: "how busy can she actually be? tsk, idiot", "that poor excuse of a human... Tamon is holding her hostage in his place 24/7. Someone should call the police on that creep", "what's it about him that makes her want him despite knowing the truth?", "why won't she come to me?". This time, however, his skimming of the confirmation email following a short call with the company's secretary had ignited a feeble flame of hope, making him grow anxious in anticipation.

*ding dong*

Breaking news: the feeble flame had suddenly turned into a large-scale wildfire.

That two-second sound made him jump out of his seat and bolt towards the door. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, mentally checking that his hair was stylishly in place and that a curated remix of his idol persona and his true self was all ready to go. Once he made sure he could keep his cool, he proceeded to unlock the door.

"Huh?! you're not kinoshita-san. Who the hell are you?!"

"Good afternoon, sir. As the email mentioned, my friend and coworker Kinoshita-san is unfortunately double-booked , so I have come here as a replacement. Please rest assured that I will work as diligently as she would. Here is my company ID for you to confirm that I am an actual employee of the cleaning company you contacted. We apologize for any inconveniences." Looking up from the bowing position she had assumed out of politeness, the girl saw how his blue eyes stared down at the piece of plastic as if it had personally offended him just by existing.

"The fuck ?!? The email clearly said she-"

As if expecting him to make that point, she swiftly took out her phone with the email in it for him to revise. Upon further reading, it turns out it did contain an explicit mention of the girl's conflicting schedules and how another housekeeper would be sent his way unless he canceled the service. Apparently, merely by seeing her name and the date confirmation written there, his brain had made up a whole separate scenario and deemed unnecessary a more careful inspection.

Anything synonym to "uncomfortable" would fit in a description of the atmosphere. Completely drenched in shame and self-hatred, the idol could not make himself say anything, not even attempt to let out any of the thousands of swearwords he usually hollered when in gorilla mode.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." Squeezing through a flabbergasted Ouri and the doorframe, she made her way inside.

His temperamental nature infused him with enough rage to snap out of his daze and go in search of the woman with the most audacity he had ever had the misfortune to encounter. "OI, WAIT A DAMN MINUTE"

He stopped dead in his tracks at the realization that, while he got his shit together outside, she had welcomed herself right in and: found the vacuum, sorted all the trash he was too busy to recycle, distributed her cleaning products by the room in which she would make use of them, and started cleaning the dining room floor.

Okay. That's impressive as shit. Was she a robot programmed to do chores at inhumane speed? Had she acquired superpowers from exposure to radiation? Whatever the case may be, perhaps the presence of this psycho was tolerable for the sake of his apartment being left spotless in no more than an hour.

And that's how Ouri Sakaguchi began his new life with a housekeeper.

A silent room was okay. Silence in general was more than okay. Silence pleasantly contrasted with the music bass being blasted on full volume during uncountable hours of rehearsal, the screams of cheering crowds in every event on his overflowing schedule and the many cars cruising by in typical urban rush. Ouri really liked silence. This silence, though? deeply unsettling to say the least. It was day six of her coming every other day and god, weren't things awkward as hell!

A young idol worshipped by millions, humiliated and intimidated in his own home? He seriously needed to put a stop to this nonsense; she was working for him and this was his place, he should stop being so childish and start acting as if there were nobody else roaming around.

With all the gathered courage on as armor, he moved from the comfort of his room towards the kitchen where she was currently doing the dishes. He tried to sit as casually as possible at the kitchen table, face resting against one hand while the other pretended to scroll through an app he would not be able to name if asked with how little attention he was paying to the screen.

Because he was actually staring at her. Had a stranger witnessed this, they would have dismissed this behavior as merely spacing out, a clear case of absent-mindedness and perhaps a pinch of grumpiness. However, that stare followed her every move with intent and sought refuge in the rest of elements within the room whenever he suspected he could be caught red-handed like in a game of hide-and-seek.

As much as it pained him to recognize it, there was no use in denying he felt at least somewhat compelled to her. He was used to girls swooning over him flashing a smile or fixing his deep sea blue hair, but this one did not show the least interest in his presence. Ugh, this strange need to make her pay attention to him was so infuriating, like an itch you just can't seem to reach and scratch. At least Utage passionately scolded him whenever he dared to insult her all-powerful god Tamon. Could it be that she was simply not familiar with pop music? That would mean she would not know F/ACE nor his charming idol persona...

"Ahem"

"AHEM"

His fake throat clearing finally caught her attention over the music playing on her noise-cancelling earbuds. "Is there anything you need, mister Sakaguchi?"

"Do you even know what I do for a living?"

"Should I?" Oh, a bit of tease in her voice, he thought, this is looking good already.

No sooner had the young woman turned around than Ouri went full Idol Mode: cheeks covered with a soft shade of red, tender eyes overflowing with tiny shiny stars and neon hearts, bright smile and playful giggles as cherries on top, the whole package basically. He came closer to her, to the point of having her body cornered between him and the sink. "Don't you know I'm Ouri, the prince of F/ACE? I could make you my princess if you dare accept the crown"

Since part one of his plan was already done, it was now time to contemplate the effect it had had on her. While he did not expect her to pass out from excitement, the usually venerated public figure was NOT prepared for such a... neutral? facial expression. He stepped back, reverting to his annoyed natural state once defeat was accepted.

"Whatever, you wouldn't know sophisticated seduction if it hit you in the face!"

He assumed the interaction was over and started to make his way back to his bed to rot peacefully in frustration, but he decided to stay in place once her breath showed signs of her having something to say. "Please be sensible and never do anything similar again. I am your cleaner after all, if I must remind you... "

"I uhm, I deeply apologize. I never meant to make you uncomfortable, yknow" He was not one to admit fault that quickly, but the sight of her back turned on him while delivering that message in such a tone somehow made him want to crawl out of his skin.

Time passed excruciatingly slow but her time to clock out still arrived. He bid her goodbye and got a glimpse of how, while taking her leave, one hand was covering half her face and feeble noises came out of her, something similar to stifled sobs.

He assumed their conversation had not been to his employee's liking, for the next day he spotted a pair of earphones covering the girl's ear canals. She was dusting the shelves full of performative decoration he had never spared much thought to, as he despised spending time in that apartment. The pastel blue apron she always wore had two front pockets that were by no means to be trusted with things bigger than a pack of tissues. At one moment, she was standing on her tiptoes to reach that last speck of dust left in the whole piece of furniture when her phone dropped. It was no big deal to Ouri's reflexes, which caught the device before it reached the floor.

As it had slipped while unlocked, Ouri caught a glimpse of what song was currently making her unconsciously do a little dance while performing her duties around the house.

"So, what were you doing listening to Sweet Magic? After our conversation I thought you didn't care about F/ACE. Hold on, were you making some of the moves from the MV?!?!?" The smugness in his tone was evident even without seeing the gigantic smirk plastered on his face.

"I simply wanted to see for myself what the fuss was all about"

The playfulness with which he had started this conversation faded in an instant, and in it's place remained a desire to know her actual thoughts. He tried to convey his genuine interest by softening his features. "And? How did you find it?"

She held his stare one second longer than usual, but then the clock decided to burst their little bubble by announcing the end of her working hours. Their hands got a brief taste of each other's warmth when she took her phone from his grip and, granting him a gentle smile and the most endearing airy laugh, she turned on her heels. "I'll see you on Monday, mister-"

"I told you to call me Ouri, idiot"

"Hahaha, right. Well then good night, Ouri" was the last thing that was heard before the door shut, blocking the sight of her walking away as well as the air from entering his lungs.

The song, her cute expressions, the way his name fell off her lips oh so sweetly, the ice wall that had existed between them seemingly starting to melt, the way her eyes talked to him. All this was way too much to handle for a heart that was only used to anger and dejection, so it did not take long for the shortness of breath to appear. He screamed silently, fearing she would still be within hearing distance, and his hair was being teared out as another consequence of extreme frustration. His next move had him crouching down, as if in excruciating pain. In that moment, one thought and one thought only remained in his mind:

"more"

"I want more"

"I want you to praise me"

"and I want you to do it all the time"

" more, please"

Ouri firmly believed he was losing it.

On the one hand, he was glad he was no longer fixating on Utage; he made peace with the fact that his obsessive need to possess the most precious thing in Tamon's life was a clear self-esteem issue he had mistaken for something else. Now the problem resided in the fact that he often found himself thinking about a person that was very hard to decipher. And yes, that person was the housekeeper he had been assigned to a bit more than a month ago.

At first, he believed to have many reasons to conclude she hated his guts, idol or not. But then, strange things began to happen whenever she was on shift. Small details that perhaps she thought went unnoticed. But he did see everything.

One time Ouri came back late from rehearsal in state of starvation and asked her whether she could whip up something real quick. She put herself to work after one nod and in the blink of an eye she had prepared a mouthwatering sweet treat. She retired for the day and he proceeded to devour her creation in peace; after one of the first bites he registered that was his favorite dessert, a fact he had not shared prior to this. He got weirded out for a second, but then reasoned it was the obvious thing to bake with the ingredients he had left in the pantry.

He decided to let that go, but then he caught her listening to yet another F/ACE song, this time deciding to remain silent and settle for observing from a distance. The list of similar occurrences kept on growing and they gave way to something that was making Ouri's heart to forget what a normal heartbeat felt like, with all the palpitations he was suffering. Was he one step closer to earning a place in her heart?

What was driving him the most crazy was the way the two had fallen into some sort of domestic routine (discussing what he should wear to whatever filming he had scheduled the following day, going on grocery shopping trips, redecorating the place together after her shift to "make it feel more lived-in" as she liked to put it, and a thousand more things that screamed ROMANTIC), the way she showed eagerness to connect with him only to backtrack the next second, like she had momentarily forgotten that accepting his advances was clearly unlawful.

The "ping" of a notification was what finally brought Ouri back to reality, cutting short the deep thought he was lost in. Fuck, a fan event that would take up all his day, which meant he would not be able to sit around the apartment and indulge in his favorite activity: chase her figure around with his gaze, waiting for the perfect time to engage in one of their initially awkward yet captivating conversations that were almost guaranteed to result in someone blushing. Never in a million years would Ouri have imagined he'd look forward to spending more time in that shithole than what was strictly necessary.

Despite everything that had been going on between them, the young man tried not to let his heart indulge in the fantasies where she fell for him for too long; she had met his B-side first and his made-up personality had had zero effect on her, so how could that disastrous chain of events lead to him getting the girl? Maybe Ouri needed to settle as a friend for the time being and rethink his strategy long-term, or should he just give up altogether? His dilemma would have to wait, because popstar duty called!

Ouri might suck at expressing his real feelings and interacting with people in a non-threatening way, but he was no idiot. He was awfully aware of his yearning for his own Utage, not her per se but the idea of someone devoting themselves to not only his on-stage presence, but also to the rough version that comes alive when the flashes are off.

Maybe, if he focused all his efforts on becoming a version of himself worthy of her love, then perhaps that stranger who had charmed him so easily could feel compelled to fill her heart and mind with everything that he is. He did not wish to mold her into anything, he lost his mind on the daily about her already. He simply wanted her to enter his world and, amongst all the options everyone seemed to always favor, he desired for her to not even spare them a glance and run straight to him and choose him.

"Ouri?"

No famous parents. No Tamon, or Natsuki, or Keito, or Kai. Him, only him. That's-

"Ouri?" Once his view stopped being blurry, his eyes landed on a photocard of himself and an expecting fan shaking with excitement.

"Oh please excuse me pretty, what were you saying?"

"It's okay! God what a beautiful smile, never drop it! I just wanted your autograph on this and on my T-shirt and on this CD"

"Sure thing! Let's also take a photo!"

"Fuck, I just can't concentrate on the event! I keep going back to... I'm always messing up but I can't afford to do that right now"

Hours passed by and finally the event came to an end.

"Heeyyy, thanks for the hard work, everyone. I'm gonna take a break outside before we leave if it's no problem" And without letting the organizing committee get a word in, he rushed through the back door to catch some breaths of fresh air, hoping to regain control over his mind. But something way more entertaining than some breathing exercises took his attention off the issue.

He couldn't help but snoop around at the minimal sign of confrontation. Three girls with his merch were crowding someone and yelling at them. He stood as close as he could without outing his whereabouts and that's when he saw it.

A tear-stained, trembling version of the object of his desires, staring at the floor looking down without any attempts of defending herself against the insults of the group.

"I can't believe a weirdo like you thinks it could be remotely interesting to Ouri-sama"

"Yeah I mean it's embarrassing how you thought we'd let you in and poison his handsome body with your disgustingly cheap caloric bomb. Homemade? I don't think so. Anyways we're glad you stayed right here, on the floor, like the trash you are-"

"HEY YOU JERKS, LEAVE HER ALONE!" The girls turned around to confront whoever was trying to intimidate them, but their plan was cut short when their eyes took in the sight of a fuming guy in a gorilla mask sprinting towards them. Given the situation ahead of them, the bullies decided that a timely retreat was their best option and ran off down a nearby alley.

The singer's heart was pounding from the sudden physical effort and the ire at the scene he had conveniently interrupted, factors also preventing his labored breath from evening. The sniffling figure beside him tugged his pants to catch his attention. "I- I really appreciate it but, w-why did you defend me? Do I know you? That would be so embarrassing-"

He needed answers and he needed them immediately. The mask fell off, revealing a pair of electric blue eyes the girl was unfortunately familiar with.

"Oi, stop talking like that, you did nothing wrong. Those idiotic creatures are at fault." Though he had decided to comfort her first (in his own way), something still sat wrong with him. " But why weren't you defending yourself?" He could not believe that the housekeeper who would boss him around and act so collected and calm would sit there and just take such verbal abuse from randoms. It kinda pissed him off but he contained his opiniated comment so as to not upset her any further. "Wait a second, what are you doing here?" Upon further observation, he almost fainted when he realized she was full in Ouri merch. "WAIT A SECOND, WHAT ARE YOU DOIN' HERE DRESSED LIKE THAT?!?!?! WHAT THE HELL?!?!?"

Her jaw hit the floor the second the gorilla man turned out to be her employer; the questions were augmenting her desire to be swollen by the ground beneath her feet.

"Aren't you gonna answer me?"

Silence. Another kind of silence that made Ouri's stomach turn.

"I'm aware you think I didn't know who you were when I started working for you. I did that on purpose. Not even Utage knows I'm a F/ACE stan, yknow. My plan was to create an even more exaggerated version of my work persona, a kind of robot whose only job was to clean and leave. I honestly can't believe I made it past the first weeks, my heart was never able to stay still and I feared you would be able to tell from the other side of the house haha" An attempt of a chuckle was thrown into the narration as the girl reminisced. "I had everything under control, at least until you... until you..."

"Until I started to chase you... But I don't get it. If you're such a fan and you have picked up on my intentions, how come you have yet to accept my feelings? Why are you pushing me away and keeping this secret?"

"I discovered your band as soon as you debuted. I watched all the video blogs, the interviews, I bought the magazines and every piece of merch I could afford. I even decided to participate in a fan event. But unfortunately my experience was not very pleasant; not only did the people in my life mocked me for it, but even the other participants of the event left me out of it, as if I was not allowed in their world, in your universe. And so from that day on I decided to keep to myself. And now I was trying to get someone about to enter the event to hand you this piece of cake; you can see how that turned out. But you gotta understand! How could I ever reciprocate your feelings? Losing you would be the end of me, I'd rather settle with the dream of you. That's safe and that's how it's supposed to be."

Ouri was a mess; his hair disheveled, tears running down his cheeks and a frown so deep it seemed like it would remain on his face forever. He made several attempts at speaking but none were successful. One last deep breath allowed him to assemble his thoughts into coherent words.

"I'm here and I'm real. Your love as a fan was already enough and precious, no one should have messed with that. But now I'm here by your side, the real deal, and I'm never letting you go. Because I see myself in you but I also see everything that I'm not, and I adore that. Fuck what's safe and fuck what's supposed to be. We'll prove to all the tasteless fools who wronged us that we are the greatest team the world has ever seen."

"Please let me kiss you. I might die if I don't in the next three seconds-"

The idol needed to beg no longer, for the fan kneeling at his feet rose up to grant him his wish.

"Just so you have been warned; I'm actually pretty crazy, especially when it comes to you"

"You have no idea how good that sounds to me"

(some weeks later)

"Um, where is the bathroom?" This was Sakaguchi's second visit to her apartment, so he was still feeing a bit shy. The first time, he had barely seen past the hall, since they were only there to grab her coat and leave immediately for the train.

"It's an ensuite! Go to my room" His girlfriend answered from the kitchen where she was fixing some drinks.

He felt up the wall to find the light switch and after a second the space lit up; the furniture, the color of the walls, the trinkets and paintings, all the elements present screamed "HER". He got giddy surrounded by her essence and scent, but he quickly shook his head and forced himself to focus on the mission at hand.

On the short walk from the door to the bathroom, he tripped over one of his untied shoes. After a moment, he decided to get up and take this humiliation to the grave. But before he could move on with his life, he noticed a blue box with his name under the bed. Ever since their messy confession, she had opened up to him and he couldn't be happier about it. However, this exact thing had not come up in any conversation, and a wicked smile formed on his face; while she showed her more fangirl side to him and he loved teasing her and pretending to be scared, she was still one one calling the shots and he still obeyed like a good boy. He dragged the box and placed it right before him and opened it.

Photos. Magazines. CDs. His version of the collab F/ACE did with that perfume brand. His fan. An array of blue objects (for aesthetic purposes, he assumed). Photocards. A lightstick. A nendoroid looking exactly like him? A- wait, was that a wrapping of the cookies he kept at home?! And under it was one of the shopping lists he wrote. And hey! He could clearly see the t-shirt she swore had been unable to take one more trip inside the washing machine due to its advanced age.

Before he could dig deeper into the treasure chest, a powerful presence materialized right behind him. His neck turned very slowly until his eyes met hers. A dark halo and a very strange glow in her gaze made her almost unrecognizable. Beads of sweat fell down his face while the lump in his throat refused to leave.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh hi babe"

"Oh hi handsome"

"Hello"

"You're holding my stuff"

"Hello my beautiful girlfriend"

"I see you found it. My Ouri collection."

"And I feel incredibly flattered. But why the wrapping?"

"It's from my first day working for you, I could not just go home without something to commemorate!" Her demeanor changed and turned into a much more characteristic softness. "You know I don't care about you snooping around, I just don't want to scare you off hahaha"

"Quit that shit! You know I'd never be such a pussy" He got really annoyed whenever she would said shit like that.

"... don't say that before finding the shrine"

"the what now?"

A closet door creaks behind him, giving way to a life-sized cardboard of the idol falling on him.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH"tamon's

"Stop being such a drama queen, we're gonna be late to our double date with Tamon and Utage"

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH"

Don't mind his screaming. He's right where he wants to be.

[gojosteddy]

⋆˖ blocking sae after an argument, part 2 (ｰ̀⤙ｰ́ ) 🗯️

⨳ 𝓬𝔀/𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓼: read part 1 here, angst to fluff, relationship conflict, miscommunication & reconciliation, sae being absolutely chalant, brief smut towards the end, not proofread sorry ⸝⸝ 5.7k wc ✩ art by sae0o

it’s been five days, and the silence was starting to feel unbearable.

you kept yourself busy with work, with errands, with anything that made the hours pass faster. anything to stop yourself from thinking about him. but every notification still made your heart leap out of habit— the disappointment hits all over again when you remember you had blocked him everywhere.

which meant no updates.

no calls.

no little ‘read’ beneath your messages to tell you he’d seen them.

you told yourself it was better this way; that silence hurt less than waiting for him to disappoint you again.

but at night, when the apartment grew too quiet and your bed felt far too big, you would stare at the darkened screen of your phone and wonder if he was okay… or if he even missed you at all.

your thumb had hovered over his contact more times than you could count, guilt settling heavily inside your chest whenever you considered unblocking him. but something always held you back. pride, hurt, exhaustion— whatever it was, it kept you frozen, staring at his contact name as though it could somehow answer all the questions you were too afraid to seek.

—

on the other side of the world, sae was losing his mind.

five days of complete silence.

five days of his messages failing to deliver. five days of his calls going straight to voicemail. five days of not knowing what you were doing, or what you’d been up to since you had blocked him everywhere else too.

and yet, every morning before training, he'd find himself opening your chat anyway. he'd type out another message, watch the familiar ‘not delivered’ appear beneath it, then lock his phone with a quiet click before heading to practice. every night, he'd call out of habit despite already knowing it would go straight to voicemail. by the fifth day, he had memorized the automated voicemail greeting.

he sat on the edge of the bed in his hotel room, one hand resting against the back of his neck as he stared down at his phone, looking more worn out than usual. he was exhausted from training, irritated from the lack of sleep, while still carrying the weight of the upcoming matches. but none of it compared to the frustration & unease gnawing at him over the way things had fallen apart between you two.

“tch… this is annoying,” he muttered under his breath, brows furrowed deeply.

truthfully, he knew he had fucked up.

he knew his replies had been getting shorter, his attention split between training & the growing pressure of the upcoming matches. but the fact that you had deliberately cut him off completely—blocking him as though he were nothing more than another inconvenience—still felt like a punch to the gut. as much as it pissed him off, he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

and when you told him you were done, he had realized a second too late just how far he had pushed you up to that point.

he'd spent the first few days convincing himself that you simply needed space. if he kept forcing his way back in, you'd only resent him more; so he'd waited. he'd given you room to breathe, hoping you'd unblock him when you were ready. but by the fifth day, the silence no longer felt like space. it felt more like distance.

and for the first time in a long time, he found himself genuinely afraid that if he kept waiting, he'd lose you.

sae picked up his phone again, staring at the blank screen as though something might magically change if he looked at it long enough. then, with a sharp exhale, he stood and began pacing across the room.

“… fine,” he breathed, his frustration gradually hardening into determination. “if you’re not gonna answer, then i’ll make sure you can’t ignore me.”

the next morning, a series of knocks startled you awake.

you rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you made your way towards the front door, expecting a neighbor or perhaps a delivery meant for someone else. instead when you pulled it open, you were met with an enormous bouquet wrapped in crisp ivory paper, the pale pink tulips peeking out from between lush greenery, alongside a small ribbon-tied gift bag that was held carefully by a delivery man. you blinked in confusion as you signed for the items, a strange rush of nerves settling beneath your ribs.

tucked between the flowers was a small cream-colored card, a message printed neatly across the front.

i know you’re upset, but i’m not letting you disappear on me that easily.

open the box.

- sae

with unsteady hands, you reached into the gift bag and pulled out a small velvet box.

inside was a delicate necklace that looked far too expensive to have been chosen on impulse— a fine platinum chain with a custom pendant resting at its center. it has a miniature soccer ball encrusted with tiny pavé diamonds intertwined with a polished heart, a single larger diamond catching the light where the two charms met. when you carefully turned the pendant over, you found a few words engraved across the back in fine lettering:

‘no distance changes us.’

your vision blurred almost instantly.

you clutched the necklace against your chest, your thumb tracing over the engraving as though you needed proof that it was real. the last bit of anger you had been desperately holding onto began to crumble around the edges.

then, a few seconds later, another knock sounded through the apartment.

when you opened the door again, a second delivery man stood outside holding a paper bag from morethan bakery(which was your favorite bakery)— the familiar logo stamped across the front while the warm scent of butter & sugar somehow escaped through the neatly folded top.

“delivery for [y/n]?” he asked, glancing down at the receipt.

“y-yes, that’s me,” you answered, still struggling to blink away the tears gathering along your lashes.

after thanking him, you carried everything inside and carefully laid the enormous bouquet across the coffee table before opening the pastry box. inside were your favorite butter croissants, golden and flaky; still warm enough for their rich, buttery scent to fill your entire apartment almost immediately.

you simply stood there in stunned disbelief, letting everything sink in.

only after the initial shock began to settle did you carefully lift the necklace from its velvet box and fasten it around your neck. once the clasp clicked into place, your fingertips immediately found the pendant, pressing against it as though you could somehow feel closer to him through the tiny charm.

it felt exactly like something sae would do— express everything he couldn’t put into words through one carefully chosen gift, finding a way to reach you without demanding that you answer.

you took a small bite of the croissant, chewing slowly as your eyes drifted towards your phone lying beside the box.

for five days, you had convinced yourself that silence was easier than another half-hearted reply, easier than another reminder that loving someone across different time zones could sometimes feel lonelier than being alone.

but now, with an enormous bouquet of your favorite flowers spread across your coffee table & his necklace resting warmly against your skin, your resolve felt weaker than ever.

your thumb hovered over his contact again.

this time, you didn’t stop yourself.

*unblock*

for a few seconds, you remained on the screen, staring at his contact as though something might suddenly change.

but nothing did.

well, of course it didn’t. any messages he might have sent while he was blocked wouldn’t magically appear now that you unblocked him. still, you hated the pang of disappointment that crept inside you.

you didn’t even know what you had been hoping for. perhaps some impossible flood of missed messages, some proof that he had spent the past five days trying to reach you. some sign that the silence had indeed hurt him too.

then a bitter thought slipped into your mind.

he could’ve found some ridiculous way to reach you if he truly wanted to. spotify, shared notes, or even a new account made solely to get through to you. and yet, deep down, you knew sae well enough to know that if he had kept pushing— you probably would’ve hated that too.

a quiet exhale slipped past your lips, carrying some of the tension with it. before you could talk yourself out of it, you opened your chat with him & stared at the empty space beneath your last conversation.

your fingers moved before you could think too much.

[ 9:15 am ] you: i got them.

you stared at the message.

then deleted it.

[ 9:15 am ] you: thank you.

deleted.

[ 9:16 am ] you: sae, i—

deleted again.

you let out a shaky breath, pressing your lips together as frustration and longing tangled painfully inside your chest.

then, as though summoned by the thought of him, your phone buzzed.

your heart nearly stopped when you saw who the message was from.

[ 9:17 am ] sae ♡: did you receive it yet?

for a moment, you could only stare at the screen.

the timing was so coincidental that it almost felt as though he had been waiting on the other side the entire time, watching for the second you'd finally let him back in.

[ 9:18 am ] you: yeah…

three dots appeared almost immediately.

then disappeared.

then re-appeared again.

[ 9:18 am ] sae ♡: good.

you swallowed hard, glancing down at the necklace.

of course.

of course he would say it like that, as though he hadn’t just arranged for some of your favorite things to be delivered to your doorstep even while he was at an entirely different country.

[ 9:19 am ] you: you’re unbelievable.

his reply came only a few seconds later.

[ 9:19 am ] sae ♡: can’t believe you blocked my email too. seriously, my email?

you covered your mouth as a breathless giggle slipped out before you could suppress it. you couldn’t believe he had noticed that too.

[ 9:20 am ] you: well, i was mad. and you could’ve tried spotify.

[ 9:20 am ] sae ♡: spotify? we’re able to text people there now?

[ 9:21 am ] sae ♡: and i get it. you had every right to be mad.

your fingers hovered over the screen, but before you could respond, another message came through.

[ 9:22 am ] sae ♡: can we call for a bit?

your throat tightened.

for a second, you only stared at the message, your heartbeat suddenly loud in your ears. then your gaze flickered towards the time at the top of the screen.

9:22 am.

which meant it was a little past two in the morning for him.

your brows knitted together as the realization made something ache inside your chest.

[ 9:23 am ] you: aren’t you supposed to be asleep?

his reply came almost instantly.

[ 9:23 am ] sae ♡: yes

[ 9:23 am ] you: sae…

[ 9:24 am ] sae ♡: just answer the call.

before you could type anything else, his name lit up your screen.

incoming call from ‘sae ♡’

your thumb stalled over the green button before you finally answered.

the line connected instantly, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. all you could hear was the faint static of the call, the quiet rhythm of his breathing, and your own pulse beating far too quickly beneath your skin.

then his voice came through, low and rough with exhaustion.

“… you’re wearing it?”

your hand immediately rose to the necklace.

you hated how easily he knew.

“… how would you even know that?” you mumbled, hating how quickly your voice softened.

“because i know you,” he answered simply.

you blinked.

“w-well…” your lips pressed together as you struggled to keep your composure.

“… you’re not asleep?” you asked, changing the subject almost immediately. “it’s two in the morning there, sae.”

“couldn’t sleep.”

“because of training?”

“no…” he answered after a moment, the silence stretching around the word.

your chest tightened.

“then… because of me?”

he didn’t answer straight away.

then, quietly, he said, “because of us.”

your heart softened at the weight of his confession. you looked down at the half-eaten croissant in front of you, at the bouquet of tulips spread messily across your coffee table, at all the little reminders of him scattered throughout your apartment as though he had somehow filled the room without even being there.

“you know… you really didn’t have to send all of this,” you murmured, brushing your thumb over the pendant.

“i did.”

“sae…”

“you wouldn’t answer me.”

“because i was still hurt.”

“i know.”

his usual composure held, though something unguarded had begun to surface. “… i know,” he repeated, sounding more vulnerable the second time.

“i made you feel like you were asking for too much,” he continued, his grip tightening slightly around the phone. “and i shouldn’t have said what i said. i was tired & irritated, but that’s not an excuse.”

you swallowed hard, your eyes stinging at his words.

“you made me feel like i was bothering you,” you admitted, your voice beginning to tremble. “like wanting to hear from my own boyfriend was an inconvenience.”

sae didn’t answer immediately. for once, he allowed your words to settle instead of rushing to defend himself.

“i know you’re busy,” you continued, your fingertips catching the tears before you even realized you were crying. “i know how much your training and matches matter to you. but sometimes, it felt like i was always waiting for whatever pieces of you were left at the end of the day.”

his breathing shifted faintly through the speaker. “i didn’t realize it had gotten that bad.”

“well… it did.”

a long pause followed before he finally spoke again, the usual firmness gone from his voice.

“… i’m really sorry,” he breathed, guilt weighing heavily on every word. “for making you feel like you weren’t important to me.”

your face crumpled before you could stop it. you hated how badly you had needed to hear those exact words from him.

“and i’m sorry too…” you whispered. “for blocking you everywhere.”

“tch. you should be,” he replied dryly, the faintest trace of amusement slipping into his voice.

you laughed beneath your breath, wiping at your damp cheeks.

“you blocked my email.”

“well… i was fully committed.”

“but blocking my email was a bit excessive, no?”

“i was hurt, okay?” you huffed, though there was no real anger behind it anymore.

his voice softened again. “… i get it.”

with sae, it had always been this way. he rarely said more than necessary, but somehow; the few words he did give you always carried more weight than he realized. and when he truly meant something, you could feel it— even through the distance of a phone call.

“i-i missed you,” you blurt out, unable to keep the longing out of your voice.

sae went silent and for one terrifying second, you wondered if you had said too much.

then he exhaled softly. “i missed you too, amor.”

for a moment, neither of you said anything.

you stood beside your coffee table with one hand wrapped around your phone, listening to his breathing on the other end as though it were the closest thing you had to being held by him again. and eventually, you asked the question that had been sitting heavily inside your chest.

“so… when are you coming back?”

“next week,” he answered after a brief pause, his voice dropping slightly.

you let out a deflated sigh, disappointment settling inside you even though you had expected that answer.

“ohh…”

“i’ll be back soon enough,” he reassured, hoping it would ease some of the ache in your voice.

you looked down at the croissant in front of you and picked absently at its flaky edges. “i-i just… really really miss you a lot.”

on the other side of the world, sae’s expression softened, something tender flickering across his tired features at your honest confession.

“i know,” he murmured. “… and i miss you a lot too.”

a quiet pause followed.

“i’ll be back soon,” he promised. “and we’ll talk properly when i am.”

your fingers tightened around the phone.

“promise?”

“yeah,” he answered without hesitation. “i promise.”

you nodded even though he couldn’t see it.

“… okay.”

for the first time in five days, the silence inside your apartment didn’t feel so unbearable anymore. because even though sae was still thousands of miles away, you no longer felt like you were the only one holding on.

it’s been a few days since you’d unblocked sae, and the two of you had been texting ever since. well, that was until… he suddenly stopped replying to the last message you’d sent just the night before.

why wasn’t he answering?

you tried convincing yourself there had to be some kind of explanation. but after everything that had happened between you two, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering whether he had suddenly changed his mind about fixing things.

beep.

you glanced down, expecting to see sae’s name, only for your sister’s contact to appear instead.

[ 2:20 pm ] sister: SISSYYY

[ 2:20 pm ] sister: please tell me you’re free tonight 😬

[ 2:21 pm ] you: yes i am…

[ 2:21 pm ] you: why tho?

[ 2:22 pm ] sister: the new restaurant that just opened near the waterfront

[ 2:22 pm ] sister: I WANNA CHECK IT OUT 😭

it wasn’t unusual for your sister to invite you out to dinner at the very last minute.

if anything, this was very much like her. she was always the first to discover new cafés & restaurants, sending you random food videos on tiktok and insisting the two of you ‘needed to try this place out before it got too crowded.’

so you didn’t think much of it.

[ 2:23 pm ] you: sure, what time?

[ 2:23 pm ] sister: 8:00pm? i’ll meet you there

[ 2:24 pm ] sister: ohh & wear something cute

[ 2:24 pm ] you: WHY would i wear something cute just to eat dinner with you?

[ 2:25 pm ] sister: because i’ll be wearing something cute & i don’t want to outdress you??? 🥱🥱

[ 2:25 pm ] sister: AND DON’T BE LATE

you rolled your eyes at her dramatics, though a small smile still tugged at the corner of your lips.

[ 2:25 pm ] you: whatever bye 🙄

the rest of the afternoon passed with you checking your phone more times than you could count, hoping sae’s name would appear at the top of your screen.

but every time you unlocked it, there was still nothing.

no reply, or an explanation.

just the last message you had sent him, still sitting on delivered.

by the time evening came, you had finally convinced yourself to stop staring at your phone as though it owed you something. you got ready for dinner slowly, standing in front of your closet longer than you meant to as your sister’s words echoed inside your head.

‘wear something cute.’

you huffed beneath your breath, pulling out an outfit and holding it against yourself in the mirror.

“… so extra,” you muttered, shaking your head.

still, you ended up choosing something nicer than what you would typically wear for a casual dinner. you made a few final adjustments to your hair, dabbed a little tinted gloss over your lips, and adjusted the necklace resting against your collarbone.

sae’s necklace. your fingers lingered there for a moment, brushing over the tiny pendant sitting warmly against your skin. you studied your reflection before tearing your gaze away and reaching for your handbag, refusing to let your thoughts drag you back to him again.

—

you arrived at the restaurant a few minutes before eight.

the place was already busy, golden light spilling through the glass windows and stretching across the pavement outside. every time the door opened, a rush of sound escaped with it— the clinking of cutlery, bursts of laughter, and the faint call of someone’s name from somewhere inside.

it looked newer than most of the other places along the waterfront, with polished wooden tables, low-hanging lights, and cream-colored walls that made the entire restaurant feel warmer than the evening air outside. a small line had already formed near the entrance. through the glass, you could see servers weaving between tables, plates balanced carefully in their hands.

you checked your phone.

still no message from sae. and nothing from your sister either.

frowning slightly, you began to type.

[ 7:56 pm ] you: i’m here. where are you? 🙄

a few moments passed before she finally replied.

[ 7:58 pm ] sister: omg sorry 😭

[ 7:58 pm ] sister: enter first!! i’m reaching soon

you sighed, already used to this.

of course she was late after repeatedly telling you not to be.

you waited outside for another minute, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as people moved around you in pairs & small groups. when your sister still didn’t appear, you finally stepped inside before you began looking too much like someone who had been stood up.

after making your way towards the hostess stand, she smiled politely and confirmed the reservation under your sister’s name before leading you towards a table near the window.

it was tucked slightly away from the crowd— close enough to watch people passing outside, yet secluded enough for the restaurant’s bustle to soften into distant background noise.

you sat down and placed your handbag on your lap.

five minutes, you told yourself.

you would give her five minutes before you started complaining.

while you waited, you opened the menu and scanned the different entrées available. pasta, grilled chicken, rice, steak, desserts— everything began blurring together as your attention drifted back towards your phone.

still nothing from sae.

your fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the table.

maybe he was busy.

maybe he was asleep.

maybe he had finally realized that fixing things from another country was more difficult than he’d thought. the possibility made your stomach twist, and you hated yourself a little for even considering it.

your sister was late. sae wasn’t replying. and somehow, both things were making you feel far more agitated than they should have.

another minute passed.

then another.

you glanced towards the entrance again, expecting to see your sister hurrying inside with that sheepish expression she always wore after keeping you waiting.

but she still wasn’t there.

instead, the hostess was speaking to someone near the front. you couldn’t see his face clearly at first. only the dark coat draped over his lean frame and the way his presence felt strangely familiar before your mind could make sense of why.

something inside your chest tightened.

then he turned slightly— just enough for the dim restaurant light to catch a glimpse of his reddish-brown hair and the familiar side profile you would recognized anywhere.

your breath stopped.

no fucking way.

for one impossible second, you couldn’t move.

you couldn’t even convince yourself that you weren’t imagining him; that missing someone hadn’t finally made you desperate enough to start seeing him in strangers.

then he began walking towards your table.

slowly.

your pulse thundered inside your ears with every step he took.

he stopped beside the empty chair across from you, one hand resting lightly against its back. up close, he looked tired. not the kind of tired you could hear through a phone call, but the kind that settled beneath his eyes, in the few loose strands falling over his forehead, and in the quiet heaviness of someone who had spent too many hours between airports and flights yet had still come anyway.

his gaze dropped first to the necklace resting against your collarbone.

the one he had arranged to have delivered to you. then his eyes lifted towards yours.

for a moment, neither of you said anything. the entire restaurant seemed to dissolve into a distant blur around him.

sae’s lips parted slightly before his voice finally broke through the silence, low and familiar enough to make your heart ache.

“hello, amor.”

your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

sae studied you for another second, his expression unreadable, though something softer flickered beneath his teal irises.

“you look beautiful…”

you blinked, still struggling to process that he was really standing there— about to sit across from you in a restaurant where you had expected to be eating dinner with your sister. your fingers tightened around the menu as though it were the only thing keeping you grounded. “… y-you’re supposed to be in spain,” you whispered, your voice barely carrying over the clinking plates and low murmur of nearby conversations.

“you said next week.”

sae pulled out the chair and sat down slowly, as though he were giving you time to adjust to the sight of him.

“i changed my flight,” he explained. “and i asked your sister to bring you here so i could surprise you.”

you stared at him, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“w-why didn’t you just tell me?”

“because then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.” his gaze briefly lowered towards your necklace again before meeting your eyes.

“and i wasn’t sure you’d agree to see me.”

the raw honesty in his answer stole some of the air from your lungs. before you could respond, a waiter stopped beside the table with a notepad in hand.

“good evening! are the two of you ready to order?”

you & sae both lowered your eyes to the menus, scanning the options quickly as the printed pages gave you both a brief excuse to look away. “um… i’ll just have the grilled chicken, please.”

“and for you, sir?”

sae’s eyes moved briefly across the menu before looking at the waiter. “the steak.”

“how would you like that cooked?”

“medium rare.”

the waiter nodded as he scribbled everything down. “anything to drink?”

“water’s fine,” you answered quietly.

“same as her,” sae added.

“perfect. i’ll put those in for you.”

you murmured a soft thank you as the waiter collected the menus and walked away. once he was gone, the tension slipped back into place. your fingers found the strap of your handbag again, twisting it loosely around your hand while sae remained still across from you, his attention fixed solely on your face as though he were waiting for you to pick up where the interruption had left off.

you drew in a slow breath, trying to gather the courage to say what had been sitting inside your chest for days.

“i was really hurt, sae…” you breathed, finally looking at him again. “it felt like i was always the one waiting— like i was bothering you every time i texted or called, y’know?”

sae’s expression remained serious, his attention fixed entirely on you.

“i understand that training is important, and i know how much your career means to you,” you continued, your voice growing quieter. “but sometimes it feels like i’m not even a priority to you anymore.”

sae remained silent for a long moment, his forearms resting against the table as he listened attentively to everything you had to say.

when he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, though something remorseful lingered beneath it. “i was… too focused.” he said after a pause, his gaze briefly dropping. “i thought that if i kept pushing through the season, everything else would be fine.”

his jaw tightened faintly. “i didn’t realize how much i was shutting you out until things had already gotten that bad.”

he looked at you again, teal-eyes serious in a way that made your chest ache. “… i’m really sorry,” he murmured, his expression softening. “for making you feel like you were asking for too much. for the short replies. for making you feel like an inconvenience.”

he paused, his gaze holding yours.

“you’re not, and you never have been.”

your eyes began to sting.

you looked down at your hands, trying desperately to keep your voice steady. “i missed you,” you whispered, blinking quickly when your vision began to blur again. “even when i was angry, i missed hearing from you. i missed…”

your breath caught slightly. “i missed us.”

sae reached across the table, his larger hand settling over yours. his thumb brushed slowly across your knuckles— a small, grounding gesture that somehow felt louder than anything else he could’ve said.

“… i missed you too,” he murmured, his usual composure slipping just enough for you to hear the ache underneath. “more than i knew how to tell you.”

his fingers curled around yours.

“the hotel room felt too quiet & i kept checking my phone even when i knew you still had me blocked.”

eventually the food arrived, but neither of you touched it immediately as the silence between you felt different now. still heavy, but no longer painful.

“i don’t want us to keep doing this,” sae said after a moment, his voice low. “the distance. the arguments. feeling like we’re always one bad day away from falling apart.”

his thumb continued tracing absent circles over your knuckles.

“i want to be better at this,” he admitted. “for you & for us.”

you looked up at him, your eyes glassy. “i want that too,” you whispered. “but i don’t want to feel like i’m begging for scraps of your time anymore.”

sae nodded, gently squeezing your hand. “then we’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice calm but certain. “together.”

he held your gaze as he continued.

“no more shutting each other out. no more assuming the worst without asking. even when things get difficult, we talk about it.”

you let out a shaky breath, a small, tearful smile finally breaking through.

“okay…” you breathed, squeezing his hand back.

afterwards, the rest of the evening seemed to pass by in a blur. there were still things left to mend, but for the first time in weeks, neither of you seemed afraid of trying. the resentment that had once sat heavily between you had begun to loosen its hold.

when the bill arrived, sae was already moving. he placed his credit card onto the tray before you could so much as glance at the amount.

the waiter returned a few minutes later with the receipt, and sae signed it almost absentmindedly before setting the pen back down.

then he stood, pushed his chair back, and offered you his hand.

“let’s go home.” he murmured, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.

you looked at his outstretched hand for a moment before placing yours inside it. his fingers immediately intertwined with yours as the two of you walked out of the restaurant hand-in-hand. the soft noise from inside gradually faded behind you, replaced by the faint rush of passing cars & the muted sound of waves folding against the seawall.

the night air felt cool against your skin, but sae’s hand remained warm in yours, his fingers laced securely with your own as though he had no intention of letting go again.

18+

the ride back to your apartment drifted by in silence, but it no longer carried the weight it once had. sae’s hand never left yours, his thumb brushing slow circles over your knuckles the entire way. every now and then, you’d glance at him like you still couldn’t believe that the two of you were finally reunited after weeks of distance, arguments & almost losing each other completely.

when you finally stepped inside, the door barely clicked shut before sae had you pressed against it, his lips claimed yours in a desperate, heated kiss. his hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips as he pulled you flush against him.

“… missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his breathing already ragged. “so fucking much.”

you whimpered into the kiss, fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer. “then show me,” you whispered, nipping at his bottom lip.

sae groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your mouth. he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you straight to the bedroom and laid you down on the bed gently. the bulge in his pants was apparent, straining against the fabric.

he stripped you out of your clothes, eyes dark as he took in every inch of your body. it had been weeks since he’d last touched you like this, weeks since he’d been close enough to feel your warmth under his hands. when he finally settled between your thighs, sae didn’t rush. he started pressing light kisses all the way down your body, tongue teasing over your skin until you were trembling beneath him.

“sae…” you breathed, hips lifting instinctively as his mouth hovered just above your entrance.

he looked up at you, teal-eyes burning with desire. “let me take care of you.”

his tongue dragged slowly over your folds, tasting you like he had been starving for weeks. you let out a salacious moan, fingers tightening in his hair as he licked and sucked on your sensitive clit with focused intent, like nothing else in the world mattered but making you fall apart on his tongue.

“haaahhh— right there,” you gasped, back arching when he when he sucked harder on your swollen clit, tongue flicking rapidly against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

he groaned against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. he didn’t stop, tongue pressing firmer as he slid two fingers inside your core, curling just right until you were shaking. your hips bucked wildly against his mouth, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your belly as the combined sensation of his tongue and fingers pushed you right to the edge.

but no, sae wasn’t done yet.

he moved up your body, kissing you deeply again so you could taste yourself on his tongue. only then did he pull back to strip himself fully, tugging his shirt over his head before shoving his pants and boxers down in one rough motion. his gaze never left yours as he climbed back over you, one hand spreading your thighs while the other guided his throbbing length between them.

when he finally pushed inside you, it was slow and deep, stretching your walls open as he bottomed out. “… fuck,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours. “missed this pussy…”

he started moving, hips rolling in a steady, powerful rhythm that had you moaning with every merciless thrust. his hand slid between your thighs, thumb circling your clit in slow circles as his cock plowed in & out of your greedy pussy, hitting that sweet spot inside you with every deep stroke.

“mine,” he rasped against your neck, biting down gently to leave a mark. “you’re mine.”

you could only babble his name, nails digging into his back as the pleasure built again, faster this time. sae’s thrusts only grew rougher, more desperate, his breathing growing ragged against your skin.

“s-sae— ah, fuck—” you cried out, voice breaking as your legs tightened around his waist. “mmngghh— feels so good—”

your hips rolled up to meet his thrusts, chasing the deep, delicious drag of his cock inside you. every powerful stroke made your toes curl, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your belly until you felt like you might just shatter from how good it felt.

“cum for me, amor.” he growled, the pad of his thumb pressing firmer on your clit. “let me feel you.”

your body convulsed beneath him as you felt your release rush up all at once, clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you. sae followed right after, burying himself deep with a low, broken groan as he spilled his white-hot release inside you, hips jerking through every pulse.

afterwards, he rolled onto his side and pulled you into his chest, keeping you close like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you yet. his arms wrapped around you tightly, one hand stroking your back as you both tried to catch your breath after the heated session.

“… i love you,” he whispered against your hair, voice hoarse but sincere. “don’t ever doubt that again.”

you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, eyes already heavy.

“i love you too, sae.”

⨳ 𝓷𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: someone commented— why didn’t he try texting her through spotify & i just had to incorporate that in 🙂‍↕️ but i genuinely don’t think he knows we can do that now…

© gojosteddy | please do not repost, plagiarise or modify any of my works

taglist: @no1-glazer @kkyutiepie @alysecretss @stal1n33 @dhsksjsj @swivi @itzynie @tinkeyisinlavwkaiser @livandluv000 @freedomm131 @xobunsae @toorufairy @jinjinx22 @heeseungslefttoee @gojopolo @shy-guy927

[thefictionalmanswhxre]

Hiii bby!! I have a Park the Shark request :)

I’ve always had this head canon that he’s a bit of a guard dog boyfriend. So my request is Park the Shark and younger nurse reader have been secretly dating for a bit. They keep things professional at work but he decides to bring her around his med school ortho friends to introduce her. Immediately they start playfully flirting with her and he gets protective and possessive. They start teasing him and telling him things like “if I had her in my OR I wouldn’t get any work done I dont know how you do it.” She notices that he’s a bit tense and tries to get him to calm down a bit. However he has the satisfaction in knowing he gets to have a pretty young thing like her to take home while they can just look but not touch ;)

𑣲 𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘺!!! 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘵, 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵

⋆ ✴︎ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ✴︎ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ✴︎ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ✴︎ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ✴︎ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ✴︎ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ✴︎ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ✴︎ ˚ ｡ ⋆

𝑶𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒆

warnings! 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘶𝘮, 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯, 𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘣𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴!𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦!𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘢𝘨𝘦-𝘨𝘢𝘱 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘢𝘧𝘢𝘣, 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘴, 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘸𝘤: 𝟏.𝟒𝑲+

You watch your reflection closely in the mirror as you apply one last coat of mascara.

Tonight there was a reunion event for Brendon’s graduating class from medical school. 

You had seen the invitation in the mail and insisted he go and see some familiar faces. And also throw around some bragging rights as the one of the east coast’s top orthopedic surgeons.

After some top tier convincing, he finally agreed but only if you went with him. Now it was you who had to be convinced.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 

"𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯 𝘯𝘰."

"𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘤'𝘮𝘰𝘯," 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 "𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘥𝘰."

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 "𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘯..."

"𝘚𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦?" 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺

"𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘯, 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘸. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘴𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘩'𝘴 𝘣𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘢'𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺."

𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴.

"𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦."

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯.

𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 "𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘦. 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰."

𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.

"𝘞𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘰" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Brendon watches you get ready from the doorway of the bathroom. If he could stare at you all day long he would.

When he met you, you were the fresh faced nurse starting out in the pitt.

It only took him overhearing you talk about your interest in orthopedics once for him to fight day shift tooth and nail for you.

With a promise to Robby that he would watch out for you, you were moved to orthopedics.

You were brilliant and young, eight years younger than him and completely out of his league.

You still were out of his league now.

Yet as soon as he asked you out for the first time back then, you immediately said yes.

He often worried with the age gap people would have things to say. That those words would drive you to be with someone closer to your age.

Even though you always reassured him that would never be the case, you both agreed to keep things under wraps at work and discreetly out in public.

You never minded, only wanting to ease his mind. You’d do anything for him

Brendon was glad to have you on his arm tonight but he still worried just a tad that you’d catch the eye of someone who may try to steal you away.

—-

You and Brendon walk into the event room, your hand holding onto his bicep.

“Wow..” you say looking around at the beauty and decor of the room “it’s gorgeous in here.”

Brendon’s gaze lingers on you as you admire the space “Yeah, sure is.”

You turn your head and catch him staring, rolling your eyes with a smile.

He chuckles at your reaction as you both make your way to the bar.

“Hey! Look who it is! If it isn’t Park!”

The voice makes you both turn your heads.

To the right of the bar in a seating area towards the back are a few guys, all smiles as they wave in your direction.

Brendon waves back as he leans close to you.

“Some guys I studied and hung out with most of the time in med school.” he whispers

He gently leads you towards them.

A taller guy greets you guys first when you get closer.

“Well well well if it isn’t Pennsylvania’s most sought after ortho surgeon” he smiles and then his gaze turns to you.

“Well hello there, and you are?”

You smile politely and introduce yourself.

“You a doctor too, sweet stuff?” 

Brendon’s hackles go up at the flirtatious tone and pet name.

“No, I’m a nurse for orthopedics at ptmc with Brendon.” you share

The guy briefly glances at you and Brendon and notices your intertwined hands.

A giant smirk works its way on his face.

“Ohhh shit! Guys!” he grabs the attention of the other men sitting close “Our buddy here brought his O.R. nurse and girlfriend!”

Your face warms in slight embarrassment from the attention as all the men start whistling and yelling at the introduction.

Brendon’s hand moves from yours to your waist, pulling you close.

A waiter walks by and offers you both drinks.

Thank god.

You both needed one.

Brendon grabs a whiskey and you grab a wine glass.

The friend closest to you guys beckons you over to sit.

Casual conversation flows and Brendon adds in here and there, glad that the attention is off of you.

Or so he thought.

Brendon glances around the group subtly and notices a few of the guys eyeing you and looking you up and down, not so subtly.

His jaw clenches at how they unashamedly stare and gawk at you.

“Hey baby,” he whispers to you “could you grab me another drink? Maybe a snack we can split?”

You smile at him and kiss his cheek quickly.

“Yeah of course. Be right back, baby.”

He watches you as you walk off and turns back to the guys and sees they’re also watching you walk away.

“Yo Park, your girl is fine as fuck” one guy says with his eyes still on you in the distance.

Brendon’s composure is slowly crumbling.

“Yeah,” another guy chimes in “if I had her in my O.R.? Shit, not a damn thing would be getting done except for her.”

The man breaks into a fit of laughter as the other guys high five him and agree.

Brendon frowns at the jokes being made, gripping his thigh hard to keep from decking the men.

He doesn’t like the idea of anyone else having you. 

You're his.

—--

On the other side of the room you're grabbing new drinks.

It’s like you can feel his brooding attitude from across the room.

You turn to look for him and you see the irritation clear across his face as he swirls the whiskey around in his cup.

After the bartender hands you the drinks you make your way back to him.

His buddies quickly glance at you as you walk past, not being discreet enough with their comments about you.

“Fuck, the things I’d do if I had her.”

“She could have anyone and she chooses old man over here.”

“I bet he had to pay her to be here. No way she’s actually dating him.”

The smiling assholes aren’t subtle when they say it and it’s clear that Brendon hears it too when his frown gets even worse.

Luckily you can squash the talk and reassure Brendon all at once.

Brendon is sitting on a leather couch. So you place your left leg between his and then place your right knee on the cushion on the outside of his leg.

The placement has you practically straddling his thigh with your dress riding up dangerously high.

Brendon must notice because his hands grab your ass and hold you closer to him, shielding what’s only his to see.

“Hey baby” you greet him sweetly.

He gives you a “hey”, frown still in place.

You lean in closer so your mouth is right by his ear.

“I know what they’re saying, Bren. You also know that none of it is true. As far as I’m concerned,” you whisper “they’re not the ones who get me in their O.R. every day. You do.”

Your hand makes its way to the back of his head where you lightly scratch through his hair.

A weakness of his.

“They’re also not the ones who are gonna get to fuck me at the end of the night. You are. So, how about you turn that frown upside down and we go home to our own party?”

You hear his breath hitch at your words and a slight groan escapes him.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah let’s fucking do that” he grits out “But can we wait a few minutes?”

Your eyebrows furrow at the question.

“I mean yeah but wh-” 

Your words are cut off as he pulls you flush against him. 

More so against his hard cock.

“Aaah okay baby” you laugh a little.

“Thanks sweetheart.” he groans as he leans his head back against the couch.

—-

Unbeknownst to you both, your audience had watched the interaction with rapt attention.

Eventually they all had silently slipped away to collect themselves and let their jealousy spill over elsewhere.

You made it clear you were Brendon’s and they had finally gotten the message.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉: @theory-saturn @kmc1989 @zeynire @livlovesfastcars @thewillowarchive @annabellq @lacy1986 @ilocuras24 @thehockeynerd30 @straykids1011 @stardustdd @itzpixiebabe @darknessofhell666-blog-blog @thedivinegirlyp0p

[vikwritesshit]

a/n: every time he's rude to his mom i lose a year off my life

cw: fluff, grumpy katsuki cus when is he not

The front door to the Bakugo household burst open with its usual intense energy. You clutched the strap of your bag a little tighter as Katsuki dragged you inside by the wrist, his calloused hand warm and insistent.

“Oi, we’re here!” he barked, kicking off his shoes with more force than necessary. “I brought someone! Come say hi,” he dropped his voice, “Or don’t.”

Your heart hammered. This was supposed to happen eventually. But, Katsuki being Katsuki meant no warning text, no hey, mind if I bring my girlfriend over, just a casual ‘come on, dumbass’ after patrol, and suddenly you were standing in his house.

His mom appeared from the kitchen like a storm front, wiping her hands on a towel. Her sharp eyes - identical to her son’s - widened when they landed on you, then narrowed at Katsuki.

“Katsuki! You bring your girlfriend home and don’t even text me first?! I look like I just crawled out of a villain fight!” She gestured at her casual house clothes, then turned to you with a bright, slightly frazzled smile. “You must be the one he’s been muttering about. Come in, come in! I’m Mitsuki. Ignore my idiot son’s lack of manners.”

Masaru waved at you from his place at the dining table, “Welcome. We’ve heard… bits and pieces.”

You bowed politely, cheeks warm, “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m sorry for the surprise visit-”

“Surprise?” Mitsuki cut in, rounding on Katsuki, “Someone has the audacity to drag his girlfriend over unannounced like I run a damn hotel! I haven’t even started dinner properly!”

Katsuki stepped in front of you slightly, bucking up to his mother out of habit, “For fuck’s sake, woman! I don’t bring her home, you get mad at me, and when I do you get mad too! Cut me some slack, you old hag-”

“Katsuki Bakugo.”

The whole room stilled in an instant with the snap of your voice - the only sounds coming from the worn A/C unit and the birds outside. Masaru hid a growing smile behind his cup of coffee. Mitsuki didn’t bother to mask the look on her face - first shock, to fondness when she looked at you, then an expectant look back at Katsuki.

Katsuki, for what it was worth, was stiff. Frozen in place - shoulders high and tense - looking like he’d rather be fighting All for One than turn to face you.

You gave him approximately two seconds before flipping him around yourself, one hand pointing a finger in his face, the other twisted in his shirt collar. “You will speak to your mother with grace, or so help me God I’ll make sure you have no choice but to crawl back home.”

His face twisted, “But, she-”

“No,” you spun him back around to face Mitsuki - who was sporting a small smirk, arms crossed, “Apologize.”

He gestured to Mitsuki, looking at you over his shoulder, “Babe, she knows I don’t mean it- Hey-!”

You stepped to his side, grabbed his ear, and pulled, voice laced with venom as you growled at him, “Apologize to her. Now.”

He clenched his jaw, but made no move out of your grasp - hunched over almost halfway. He glared at his mother, words coming through gritted teeth, with an edge of sarcasm you knew you could never fully sand away, “Sorry. Or whatever.”

Mitsuki opened her mouth to speak, but before she could you tightened your grip, making him wince, “Try again. Like you mean it.”

You heard him grumble under his breath, eyes squeezing shut in frustration for a moment before sighing deeply, “...I’m sorry, Mom.”

You beamed - kissing his cheek, smoothing his shirt and letting him go all at once, “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Mitsuki burst out laughing, a loud, triumphant sound that filled the house, “Holy shit, she’s got you whipped already! I love her.” She wiped a tear from her eye, then pulled you into a fierce hug. “You’re staying for dinner. No arguments.”

Katsuki rubbed his ear, glaring daggers at the floor, “Tch. Whatever.”

You pinched his side lightly, “Watch your tone. That’s your mother you’re speaking to.”

He stiffened but bit back whatever retort was brewing. Masaru hid his grin behind his coffee mug.

The evening settled into a surprisingly warm rhythm. In the kitchen, Mitsuki kept up a steady stream of stories about Katsuki’s childhood while you helped chop vegetables. Every time Katsuki tried to snap at his mom - “Stop running your mouth, hag” - you’d shoot him a warning look or tug his sleeve.

“Try again,” you murmured the second time, voice low but firm.

He exhaled through his nose, jaw tight, “…Can you pass the salt. Please.”

Mitsuki’s eyebrows shot up, but she handed it over with a smirk, “Well damn. Miracles do happen.”

Dinner was lively. Katsuki sat glued to your side, his knee pressed against yours under the table like a silent claim. When he started to bark at his mother about her overcooked rice, you cleared your throat pointedly.

He caught himself, snapping his jaw shut mid-sentence, cheeks flushing. “It’s… fine,” he grumbled instead.

You smiled and squeezed his hand. His ears went red, but he didn’t pull away.

After the meal, while Mitsuki and Masaru cleared plates (insisting the ‘lovebirds’ relax), Katsuki hauled you upstairs to his room. The second the door clicked shut, he crowded you against it, forehead dropping to yours.

“You’re such a pain,” he muttered, but there was no real heat in it - only fond exasperation. “Making me act all polite like some damn extra.”

You cupped his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks, “She’s your mom, Katsuki. She deserves respect. I’m not letting you talk to her like that, not in front of me.”

He groaned but leaned into your touch, “Yeah, yeah. I get it.” His voice softened, almost shy, “…Thanks. For handling my dumb ass.”

You kissed him slow and sweet, feeling the tension melt from his shoulders. When you pulled back, he was smiling softly - a small, crooked thing meant only for you.

Downstairs, Mitsuki’s laughter echoed up the stairs. Katsuki rolled his eyes but laced his fingers with yours, “Guess you’re stuck with all of us now.”

You grinned, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

i want it all | jamie tartt x reader

summary; jamie tartt breaks up with you when you're teenagers, so when you show back up in his life with a child that looks exactly like him, jamie learns a hard lesson about regret

ted lasso masterlist

a/n: i've been working on this one for a minute! may be a part 2 - not sure, it would be nice for James to meet the team, and Jamie's mum & learn who jamie is...

"So, you're saying you don't love me anymore?"

"No, babe, I'm not saying that I jus' think ... like I'm gunna be busy, and with trainin' and everythin' I won't be able to be a very good boyfriend and really, I jus' feel like I need more time to play the field. I don't want to be settled down yet and... I don't know it just feels like that was where this was heading... does that make sense?"

"Yeah, okay," you look at your feet, unable to face Jamie as he tears your heart out of your chest, throwing it in the back of his closet like all the other forgotten toys. "Good luck then, Jamie, I guess."

You start to get up, and Jamie has the absolute audacity to look shocked.

"Whoa, come on, don't talk like you won't be around to see it! I don't want to not talk anymore."

"You don't get both," you say, chin betraying you by wobbling, "you don't get to rip me apart and have me by your side too."

"I'm not - Jesus, I'm not tryna rip you apart, I just think we're not ready, you know? I've got a whole future ahead of me, and so do you, we're, we're just kids really."

"I'm not angry at you Jamie," you say, stopping in the doorway, leaning against it while Jamie grips the edge of his bed, his decision feeling more final than he thought it would be. "You're gunna be fine, just... be good, all right?"

"You're acting like I'm never gunna see you again - that's not what I wanted."

"Bye, Jamie."

You don't give him another chance to speak, you just leave. Your first love - your first, well just about everything, breaking up with you so he can date around while he starts playing football professionally. The pain in your chest blossoms when you leave his house, pulsing and thumping in your heart as you make your way down the street, hands tight around the purse in your hands.

He didn't give you a chance to speak before he started breaking up with you. Didn't give you a moment to tell him why you called him to talk.

The pregnancy test in your purse is weighing you down, it feels like a massive weight on your shoulder and you can't take it, you rip it out of the bag and toss in into the first garbage bin you see.

"Tartt, the funniest thing just happened to me," Colin says, kicking his shoes off, "I've seen a boy that looks exactly like you."

"Okay, weirdo, been lookin' at kids lately, have ya?"

Jamie laughs as Colin hits him on the shoulder. "Shove off that, it wasn't weird, he was just outside with Will, and you guys looks identical, it was kinda freaky."

"Does Will have a kid?" Isaac asks, "I didn't know that."

"Oi Will!" Jamie shouts, calling Will over. He'd been walking passed the room at the perfect moment. "D'you have a kid we didn't know about?"

"No... I don't think so. Unless I dunno 'bout him either."

"Who was the little guy you were here with a minute ago then?" Colin asks. "I thought he looked exactly like Jamie."

"Oh, that kid, uh, yeah I don't know - just came up to me maybe or uh, I don't know."

"Y'all right, mate?" Isaac asked, eyes narrowing at the response, "that was a weird way to answer. You don't have to tell us but jeez mate, don't sound so suspicious."

"Suspicious...? Oh god, no," Will sighs, "he's my cousin's kid. She told me not to tell. She's just giving me a ride this week."

"Who's the dad, is it Jamie?" Colin asks, laughing, all the boys laugh except for Will, who looks oddly petrified.

"I should really get to work," he says, rushing out of the room. Isaac is the only one not laughing, Isaac is the only one who noticed that Will didn't actually deny it. And that Will seemed cagey over the question.

Isaac turns to his locker, it must be a coincidence, right? Or just Kitman being an idiot. He decides that it's probably just in his head, that he's making up a scenario that doesn't exist.

But the next morning, he just can't drop it. He waits until Will is being dropped off before he comes out of his car, Isaac is doing everything to act nonchalant. Grabbing his bag outta the boot like normal, waving politely to Will and the mysterious woman in the car, and then trying to peak at the situation.

Nothing seems weird at all, and he doesn't know why he's even doing this, until a little voice calls his name.

"C'mon bud, don't yell at strangers like that it's not nice, even if they're famous footballers," you're telling the kid, but Isaac sees an opportunity and he takes it, he comes over to the group of you.

The kid is still in the car, buckled into a booster seat, wiggling around trying to get out.

"Big sports guy?" Isaac asks after polite hellos are exchanged, when you tell him your name, he smiles kindly, then turns to your son.

"Yes, the greyhounds are his favourite team. Watches them on the telly all the time, isn't that right?"

"I saw you on the telly!" the kid says, continuing to wiggle. "Mum?" he whispers, "can you let me out?"

And you do, and Isaac can't stop staring. Because this kid is the spitting image of Jamie Tartt. Same goofy smile, same puppy dog eyes, Colin wasn't kidding, this kid looks just fuckin' like the prick.

"What's your name, mate?"

"James, and I'm five," he holds up five fingers, and beams up at Isaac.

"Oh, you're 5!? That means you're a big man, huh? The rest of the team should be gathering inside, if you've got time, I'm sure they'd love to meet the little fella."

"Mum!"

"I'm sorry baby, but you've got school! Maybe sometime soon we'll come by and Will can show you around the club, ya?" You frown as James sadly gets back into the seat, shoulders slumped as you buckle him back up.

And Isaac tries to let it go.

He really does.

But he cannot shake that uncanny resemblance to Jamie's smile. And for christ sakes, the kids name is James.

Isaac drops his bag, unable to stop the wheels turning in his head as he watches Jamie, and that stupid, similar grin... is it Jamie's brother? Does Jamie know he has a brother? Is it a weird doppleganger situation?

Colin waves a hand in front of Isaac's face to try to get his attention.

"Y'good mate? You haven't moved in like, five minutes."

"Yeah, yeah, I just ... Jamie?" Isaac asks, thoughts still miles away. "You ever meet Kitman's cousin?"

"How would I know?"

"Her name is uh... ah fuck she just said it, oh uhm," when Isaac says your name, Jamie's face goes pale. His blood turns to ice, and he doesn't say one word. "Mate?"

"She was here?" Jamie asks finally, his voice sounding smaller than ever, barely above a whisper. "It can't be her, I mean, what are the odds?"

"What are you talking about?"

"My first girlfriend, well the first real one anyway that was... tha' was 'er name."

Colin and Isaac share a look, but don't say anything. Jamie runs to the parking lot, ignoring Keeley and Roy who call out to him in the hallway, but when he gets to the parking lot, you're already gone. If it really was you, he's let you get away again. He's kicks at some rocks in frustration, and slams the door open on the way back in.

Jamie tries to catch sight of you every day for the night week. But you're never there, and Will is not being any help at all. Jamie's losing his fucking mind, thinking you're so close and you know he's there, but you don't want to see him.

And he knows he's being selfish, that if you don't want to see him then he shouldn't be trying to make it happen, but you're all he can think about. How did you turn out? Did you go to school for what you wanted? Did you fall in love again? Do you still listen to the soundtrack of your favourite movie while doing housework? Who did you become? Would you like Jamie now? Would you like the person he became?

It's plaguing his mind as he walks across the parking lot, how was your mum doing? She'd been sick when he broke it off, and he... he never checked in.

And then he sees you.

The air around him grows impossibly thick.

His stomach turns with nerves.

You're still there with Will, talking to Roy Kent of all people, and Jamie has turned to stone, staring at you as if he's seeing a ghost in real time.

Without any input from his brain, his legs start towards you, and they don't stop until he's right in front of you.

Jamie Tartt is standing in front of the first love of his life, and you are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. You've always been beautiful to him. But it's like he's seeing you for the first time all over again, and his stomach turns into rock and drops into his abdomen and he feels sick.

"You look beautiful," Jamie says before anything else, and Roy turns his lip up in disgust.

"Why would you start with that?" Roy asks, and turns back to you, noting the way your face has gone pale. "Ah, well, I'll be inside. Tartt, ten minutes." Roy starts to walk away. "And bring the little guy around for a tour!"

"Jamie," you say, too stunned to comprehend what was happening. Of course you knew there was a good possibility of running into him here, maybe you wanted to get caught - not for you, but for your son, Jamie's son...

"What are you doing here? You're not... you're not here with Roy, are you?"

"Wha - Roy? No, I just met him." You look towards the car and back to Jamie, thinking about your options. But it all feels like too much. You feel your knees growing weak, and you're overwhelmed and... you have to get out of here. "I have to go, school starts soon and I-"

"Are you a teacher?"

"No, I just... I just have to drop off my son."

"You have a kid?" Jamie falters a bit. He's thought about you a lot, and never had that thought crossed his mind, it never... he didn't... It wasn't fair for him to feel jealous at the thought of you moving on, it was his fault it all got thrown in the rubbish, but he felt it anyway. Images of you walking into the house with your son on your hip, to a man that scoops the little guy up and swings him around. "Who's the uh, who's his dad?"

"Jamie, I really have to go."

"Wait, can we - could we get coffee sometime? Or something?" Jamie steps closer, but you step backwards, inching towards the door. "Or dinner, or drinks? Or anything?"

"Jamie - I don't... I don't know what we'd say, I mean, you were right we were just kids and..."

"No, I..." Jamie pauses, looking into the backseat of your car where you son was rolling a hot wheels along the side of his car seat. "Is that, how old is he? Who did you say his dad was?"

"I didn't," you say, unlocking the car and slipping into the seat. Jamie stops you from closing it, not by force, but he just holds the frame.

"And how old is he?"

"I'm five!" James shouts from the backseat. "I saw you on the telly too!"

Jamie doesn't say anything else, the thoughts in his mind running too fast for even him to follow. You grab his wrist, moving his arm back from the door, and close it.

Jamie doesn't fight, just watches you drive away - with a boy that looks exactly like him.

"Tartt! I said ten minutes!" Roy comes out shouting, but when he sees Jamie, he stops, eyes blinking in confusion. "What is your fucking problem?"

"Why was she here? D'you know?" Jamie asks, his voice is distant - close, but as if his thoughts were miles away.

"That's Kitman's cousin. Why? Did she reject you?" Roy asked, smirk threatening to pull at his lips, but Jamie still hasn't turned around, so nothing seems quite funny yet. "What is your problem, eh?"

"Roy," Jamie lifts his hand and then drops it. "I think I just met my son."

"Fucking pardon me?"

"You think he's yours?" Colin asks, "I was just joking when I said he looks like you, honest."

"He looks just like me," Jamie puts up one finger, "he's five years old, and I broke up with her just over five years ago - I checked," he puts another finger up, "she named him James."

"Yeah that's..." Isaac and Colin look at each other. "Yeah, likely yours then."

"Why wouldn't she tell me?" Jamie said. "I could've, I would've... sent her money at least."

Roy grunts from beside them. "No wonder she didn't fuckin' tell you. Find out you may have a kid and the first thing to think about it is fucking money."

"Well I just mean I could've helped support em!"

"Kids need their fucking... a waste of - argh!" Roy stand up, and points at Jamie. "Make it right!" He shouts, and Jamie leans away, resting against Isaac as Roy stares him down.

"She didn't even tell me so how's it my fuckin' fault!?"

"I can only imagine it..." Roy backs off, and quiets down, but his tone is sharp - angry and vulnerable from unresolved issues that Jamie didn't cause but was feeling the consequences of. "Eighteen year old Jamie dumps his girlfriend and moves on with models and actresses and is all over the news... my heart breaks for that fuckin' girl and you..." Roy points at Jamie. "Did she have... people?"

"Well," Jamie is scared to answer, "her dad was already gone and her mum was pretty sick..."

Colin and Isaac wince. Roy is breathing heavily, just staring.

"I fuckin' hate you so much."

You don't drive Will to the dog track anymore, but Jamie waits outside just in case.

Until he sees Will walk in, head down like he's sorry. Jamie then usually waits another ten minutes or so after that, just in case.

But today... today Will feels extra guilty, so as he's walking passed Jamie, he slips him a post-it note with an address on it. No words exchanged, but Jamie hugs him, then runs to his car.

He doesn't care that Roy will make him run laps until his feet are bleeding, Roy's been riding him all week anyway - he can't sleep, can't eat. All he can think about it is you and that little boy. He needs answers.

So here he is, knocking on the door like a madman, but once again not getting any answer. He was going to explode. He takes a seat on the step, head in his hands.

He tortures himself by imagining your life without him. He pictures you happy, dancing with some man in the kitchen, experiencing your sons childhood with someone tall dark and handsome who wasn't a fucking idiot. But then he pictures a sadder, harder reality, where you were alone. Mum and dad gone, no man, just a single mum trying to get by right out of highschool.

You pull into the driveway before his imagination starts playing that Sarah McLaughlin song, but he'll admit, that was probably close.

You don't startle when you see him sitting there, you knew it was only a matter of time until Will cracked, he was kind of... soft.

"Hello Jamie," you say, too casually, like you're passing by a coworker you see everyday.

"Where's the little guy?" Jamie asks, eyeing the empty car seat.

"He's got school Jamie, I imagine they're halfway through the ABCs right now."

"Right, yes... got it."

"Jamie..."

"Don't say my name like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're... dismissing me. I think I deserve some answers."

You look at him thoughtfully. "Why?"

"What?"

"Why do you deserve answers?"

"What the- what do you mean? I've got a son and you didn't bother to tell me!" Jamie doesn't raise his voice per se, but there's a tone that left friendly behind.

You sigh, "let's take this inside, I don't need the neighbours to know that my sons father was on some trashy tv show."

And shame washes over Jamie like a cold bucket of water, and you move around him like you didn't just flip his world on his head. James is his kid, he knew it, but now he knows it. And he's missed it. First steps, first word, first day of school. He's missed it all. Christmases, birthdays, all have been without his dad.

"Jamie?"

"Hmm?" He can't look up from this one spot of your lawn, he's glued to the spot.

"Are you coming?"

He pulls himself out of his trance and follows you in. It looks like his moms house. There are toys littered across the floor. Pictures of your son hanging off the walls, he notes there are no boyfriends or husbands, and he doesn't rejoice, but he takes note.

"Why'd you name him James?"

"I don't... I don't really know. It seemed right, at the time."

"Does it still seem right?"

You smile. "I couldn't imagine him being anything else but exactly as he is."

Jamie nods thoughtfully. "Can I meet him?"

"I don't want to confuse him."

Jamie takes that as a maybe. You haven't said no, but you have let Jamie in the door, so that has to mean something.

"How's your mum?"

"She died," you say, and Jamie's eyes widen, "died before James was born."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jamie is trying to calm down, your mum had always been sweet to him. He'd always liked her.

"You were already gone, and you were so excited to start your life it was just... it was how it had to be Jamie."

"I would've gone to the funeral, I didn't know I had to say goodbye." Jamie feels sick. He's been living this life of over indulgences and girlfriends (who he's treated poorly) and parties... and you've had the weight of the world on your shoulders.

"You would've seen I was pregnant, then you would've had to deal with that, then you would've grown to resent me... Jamie please, I've thought out every scenario, this was the best for everyone."

Jamie shakes his head, his face twists up in pain. "It wasn't, I would've been a dad to him. I would've taken him to home games and taught him how to ride a bike..." Jamie's throat tightens at all he's missed. At the daddy issues he's caused simply by not being around.

"Parenting is not all football and giggles Jamie, it's messy. And it's exhausting. And it probably would've gotten in the way of your career, and I - I did a fucking bang up job. James is happy, and he's healthy. He's got friends. I check for monsters. I taught him how to ride a bike."

"He can ride a bike already?"

"Okay I taught him how to get on a tricycle, but I will teach him how to ride a bike."

"I can do that part," Jamie says, "Let me do it. And I can check for monsters. And I can teach him how to kick a ball. I can have your back when you're parenting and I can help him with his homework." Jamie sighs. "I didn't know, and I was such a wanker. And I'm not even asking for you to give me a chance as a boyfriend," he mumbles 'maybe later' under his breath and you laugh softly, shaking your head, "but give me a chance to be a dad, I swear, I'll be such a good co-parent, I swear."

"Why don't you come by for supper," you sigh, "not as a dad. But... you can get to know him a little. He can get to know you."

"I love supper," Jamie says, making his exit before you can change your mind.

Jamie doesn't go back to training. He gets a haircut. Showers, puts on some nice clothes - but not too nice.

He can't stop thinking about James.

Can't stop thinking about you.

He's been... a fool. Such a fool.

Breaking up with you had always felt kind of wrong. There was always a part of him that wondered about you, always a part that was so sure you'd find your way back to each other. Which, in hindsight, is shitty, when you're dating other people but it always felt... something was always wrong. And he knows what it is now, it was his family, getting by without him. While he looked for something akin to love in all the wrong places, there had been a home, made without him.

Jamie tries to keep himself together as he pulls up to your house. He can't believe you're letting him in for supper, can't believe this chance is happening.

He parks the car, takes a few deep breaths, and collects the flowers and the toy cars from the passenger seat.

There isn't a time Jamie can remember where his nerves were so shaken. The back of his knees are sweating, his heart is racing, and his fingers are going numb.

If you don't open the door soon, Jamie may have a heart attack on the porch. Then Roy will really kill him.

"Hello?"

A tiny voice calls Jamie's attention, and there he is, James, standing behind a screen door, looking up at Jamie with the same eyes that are looking down at him.

"Hey mate," Jamie says, voice cracking with nerves, "is your mum 'ere?"

"Come in, Jamie!" he hears you call from the kitchen.

And the nerves get worse, because you come out of the kitchen with a messy ponytail, apron on, pulling off oven mitts and Jamie's heart leaps and bounds like it just landed on the moon.

And he wants to cry.

Wants to cry and scream and sob because this could've been his.

He could've gotten out of training, picked up flowers and brought them home to his girl, and his son, and maybe a new baby too - and then joined his family for supper.

He didn't even know he wanted this.

Last week he would've laughed.

This week he feels like crying.

"You look beautiful," he says, in lieu of a greeting once again.

You laugh, "I do not and you are early."

Jamie's cheeks flush. "I know, I'm sorry, I would've called but I didn't get your number. I was too excited to wait."

"Are these for me?" James whispers, not quietly at all, eyeing the bag in Jamie's hand.

"James, that is not polite. You didn't even say hello."

James pouts. "I said hello! At the door."

"Yes, but when people come to see us we ask how they are, not what they've brought us. Like this, ready?" you walk over to Jamie and he can smell your shampoo, and it's the same as you always used and his brain misfires. "Thanks for coming Jamie, you look well, how are you?"

"Good, I'm good thanks." Jamie's knees feel weak, you're so close to him. He can see the colour of your eyes, he always thought they were so beautiful. He still does. "I brought these for you," he says, holding out the bouquet.

You hesitate, surprised Jamie remembered your favourite flower. And the right colour. "Thank you," you whisper, and your hands touch when you take them, electricity shooting up your arm, and you swallow, suddenly less sure of every decision you've ever made. Jamie was always so special to you. You always... saw him. You knew there was more to him than the cocky, pretty boy attitude he'd had in school. You were the one who saw him for him. A bitter reminder that that wasn't enough.

"And yes, these are for you." Jamie hands James the bag. "They were mine growing up, they were my favourite ones."

"Oh," James says, gingerly taking the bag, he looks up at you and his eyes widen, like he remembered something, then he says, "thank you!"

"You're welcome."

"Why don't you two go play while I finish cooking."

You retreat into the kitchen with the flowers, and have to set them down, to breath. You grip onto the ledge of the counter, taking a few deep breaths. Jamie is... he's always been what you wanted. You'd resolved to not let those feelings back in. But it's hard. When the first great love of your life is here, in your home, looking like being with you and James is exactly where he belongs.

You shake the feelings out, or try to, and move to get the flowers in a vase, getting them in the kitchen window for some sunlight.

A knock on the doorframe startles you, and Jamie is standing there, tail between his legs.

"D'you need any help in here?"

"No, no," you say, waving your hand, smiling and feigning nonchalance. "You go play with James, he'd be all too happy to show you his room if you ask. That's why you're here, right?"

You don't mean it to sound bitter, but Jamie flinches anyway.

"I'm here for you too, I've uh," Jamie's mouth goes dry, "I missed you."

"Jamie..."

"I know," he says, "I know I made a real mess of this one, but... I'm not going anywhere I'm going to, I'm going to fix it." Jamie doesn't carry any of his usual bravado. He doesn't act like it'll be easy, doesn't even seem sure of how he'll do it - but he will do it. And for whatever reason... you believe him. "I want to be a good..." Jamie looks over his shoulder at James, he doesn't want him to hear. "I want to be around, for both of you."

"I'm not going to stop you," you whisper, almost as if the words came out before you could stop them. "Being here for him, I mean. I'm not going to stand in the way - but we do it the right way, no confusing him and no changing your mind." You take a breath. "So we'll have supper, and then by the end of supper you have to decide if you're in it for keeps or not, because if not then I won't subject James to a distant father, better to have none at all."

Jamie's eyes widen, and he nods, unable to say anything. He's scared. He's so fucking scared to blow it.

And he doesn't have the right, he knows he doesn't have the right but he wants you too. He wants you both. He wants to pull you in for a kiss and hug you, rubbing your back until the worries melt away. And he wants to go into the living room and pick his little boy up, spinning him around until his tummy hurts from giggling.

He wants it all.

And he doesn't have the right to any of it, but he's going to earn it.

During supper, one that feels normal and comforting, Jamie fits right in around the table, listening to James tell a story about something that happened at recess. You and Jamie are laughing, and sharing knowing looks because damn this kid is a terrible story teller... and you and Jamie nod along and encourage him, and then when the story is over Jamie tells him without missing a beat, "Awh, mate, that's the best story I've heard all week - can't wait to tell the lads at the club," and your heart soars because... maybe Jamie could do this.

Maybe you could let him in.

But then after dinner, as Jamie is showing James how to flip cars off the back of the couch, Jamie's heart rate picks up - he just... can't stop thinking about missing five years of his son's life. That is time he can't get back.

"Can you give me a minute, bud? I'll be right back and we'll play so many race cars, a'right?" Jamie says, and excuses himself out of the room.

At first, you're angry. You've seen Jamie panic before, and this is it - you think this is where he says he changed his mind and he's out the door forever. Again.

James is none-the-wiser, flipping his hot wheels off the side of the couch. But you've seen Jamie fleeing, and this looks exactly like that. You follow him down the hall, and stop outside the bathroom he ducked into, ready to knock and give him a piece of your mind, when you hear soft sniffling on the other side of the door.

You knock, and the sniffling abruptly stops, and you hear rustling, and then Jamie opens the door, eyes still filled with tears.

"What's wrong?"

Jamie sighs, and lets you into the bathroom. He sits on the edge of the tub, and looks almost exactly like your son does when you're scolding him. Spittin' fuckin' image.

"He's just..." Jamie sighs again, "he's perfect. He's so perfect, and beautiful, and I've just missed so much. And it's my own fault, and I'll never be able to get any of it back, and I jus'... I'll regret it forever."

You sit beside him, putting an arm around him, letting him rest his head on your shoulder - because you understand. James is perfect. And beautiful. You both sit in the moment for a minute, until there's a tiny knock at the door.

"Mum! Do you think Jamie can stay and play Candy Land with us? I think he'll like it," James says through the door, and James looks to you, waiting for your okay, but all he can think about is how much he'd like to play Candy Land.

"Yeah, sure baby!" you say, kissing Jamie gently on the forehead, before walking to open the door and bring your son back to the living room while Jamie takes a minute to fix himself up. As you're walking away he hears you say, "I think Jamie had so much fun that he might come 'round more often for supper, and to play race cars with you, how does that sound?"

And his heart swells with joy when he hears his son, clapping and cheering at the idea of Jamie being around.

When he comes out of the bathroom, you and James are sitting on the living room floor, and you're setting up Candy Land while James sits patiently, legs tucked under him and hands in his lap.

James waves at him, you smile softly at him, and Jamie's heart starts beating for the people in this room.

It belongs to you.

It belongs to James.

And Jamie Tartt doesn't want it back.

[sophiariddlenott]

Ink Stains

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: You never expected your classroom doodles to start a conversation. You definitely never expected Mattheo Riddle to be the one writing back.

Warnings: Nonnnnee!! Fluffy story!

A/N: I love sketch artist Matty. Requests are open! Comment or message if you want to be added to my taglist.

Masterlist

————————————————————————

You doodled when you were bored.

You doodled when you were stressed.

You doodled when professors decided that reading from a dusty textbook for two straight hours somehow counted as teaching.

Today's victim was your History of Magic desk.

A tiny dragon chasing its own tail.

A mushroom wearing boots.

A very questionable attempt at drawing Professor Binns asleep while teaching.

Underneath all of it, you scribbled,

Hiiiiiiiiii.

Because why not?

The bell rang before you could add anything else.

You packed your things and disappeared into the hallway with everyone else, already forgetting about your artwork.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mattheo hated sitting anywhere except the third desk from the window.

It was quiet.

Nobody bothered him there.

Unfortunately...

The desk looked like someone had tried casting Fiendfyre on it.

"Brilliant."

He muttered something under his breath and scanned the room.

One seat left.

The messy one.

He dropped into the chair with a sigh.

Immediately his eyes narrowed.

"What..."

There were drawings everywhere.

Stars.

Flowers.

Tiny smiling ghosts.

An angry-looking teacup.

Who drew an angry teacup?

His eyes lingered longer than they should have.

The proportions were awful.

Perspective?

Nonexistent.

The mushroom looked anatomically impossible.

Yet...

They made him smile.

Just a little.

Not enough for anyone to notice.

Certainly not enough for Theodore, who would never let him live it down.

His gaze landed on the corner.

Hiiiiiiiiii.

Mattheo counted.

Nine i's.

Entirely unnecessary.

He reached for his quill.

"Too many i's."

He paused.

Too blunt.

He crossed it out.

Instead he wrote,

"Your drawings need work. I fixed them. You're welcome."

With practiced movements, he reshaped the mushroom.

Added proper shading.

Fixed the dragon's wings.

The teacup remained angry.

Some things couldn't be improved.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The next morning...

You almost dropped your books.

Someone...

Someone had touched your drawings.

You leaned closer.

The mushroom looked...

better.

The dragon actually looked capable of flying.

Your eyes found the note.

Your drawings need work. I fixed them. You're welcome.

Your jaw dropped.

"The nerve."

People nearby turned to stare.

You smiled awkwardly.

Then looked back down.

"...Okay but the mushroom is adorable now."

No.

Absolutely not.

You refused to admit defeat.

You uncapped your new silver ink.

Beneath his message you wrote,

Correction. MY mushroom had personality. Yours pays taxes.

Satisfied, you added a tiny stick figure kicking his mushroom.

Mattheo arrived that afternoon.

Sat down.

Saw the reply.

He laughed.

Blaise looked over.

"Did you just"

"No."

His face snapped back to his stubborn glare.

"You smiled."

"I didn't."

"Nott."

Theo looked over.

"...Mate."

"What?"

"You smiled."

Mattheo glared so hard Theodore immediately looked away.

"...Never mind."

Once they weren't looking anymore...

Mattheo read the message again.

Yours pays taxes.

Ridiculous.

He picked up his quill.

At least mine has structure.

He drew a tiny tie on his mushroom.

Then...

Just to annoy them...

He added little glasses.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

For two weeks...

Nobody knew.

Not your friends.

Not his.

Not even you.

Every day...

One of you arrived first.

Every day...

The other answered.

Soon the desk became impossible to read.

The mushroom had a wife.

The angry teacup was now divorced.

The dragon had accidentally adopted six ducks.

One of you had even drawn an entire soap opera starring vegetables.

Then...

The messages changed.

You draw professionally?

Used to.

Why'd you stop?

There wasn't a reply.

For three days.

You almost felt guilty.

Almost.

Then...

One sentence appeared.

Someone told me I wasn't good enough.

You stared at the words.

They looked...different.

Less sarcastic.

Heavier.

You didn't know why...

But your chest hurt a little.

You grabbed your quill.

Well...they were wrong.

Nothing else.

No joke.

No mushroom.

Just that.

Mattheo read it five times.

Nobody had ever said that before.

Not once.

He ran his thumb over the words.

The ink had dried hours ago.

Whoever they were...

They believed it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The next morning...

You found something waiting.

Not a joke.

Not another sarcastic correction.

A drawing.

A phoenix stretched across nearly half the desk, its wings unfurled as if it might burst into flight at any moment.

Every feather was painstakingly detailed.

Every line was confident.

It was...

Beautiful.

Beneath it, written in neat handwriting, was one simple word.

Thanks.

You couldn't help but smile.

Maybe your mysterious desk partner wasn't so insufferable after all.

You traced your finger over the edge of the drawing before the bell rang.

Reluctantly, you packed your things and headed for your next class.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mattheo arrived early for his lesson.

Students were still packing away their books from the previous class.

His eyes drifted to the familiar desk.

You were sitting there.

His brows furrowed.

The bell rang.

Students began filing out.

You were one of the last to leave.

As casually as if you'd done it a hundred times before, you pulled a quill from behind your ear, leaned over the desk, and scribbled something in the corner.

Then you slung your bag over your shoulder and hurried after your friends without looking back.

Mattheo didn't move.

His eyes followed you until you disappeared through the doorway.

Slowly, he looked down at the desk.

The ink was still fresh.

Beneath the phoenix, in the same familiar handwriting he'd spent the last two weeks looking forward to, were three tiny words.

Nice bird, nerd.

Mattheo's eyes flickered back toward the now empty doorway.

Then back to the note.

No.

No bloody way.

For the first time in years...

Mattheo Riddle was completely speechless.

————————————————————————

Tag list - @pbjts @bunnieeegohop @mooniez @ithinkaboutyouuu @yourstargirlyyy