im thinking of jack waking reader up with sex?? or like taking care of reader when they start getting subby during rough sex?? 🗣️
also your writing is actually insane thank you for your service 🫡🫡
omg yes to both. idk how this got so filthy im sorry
perv!bf!jack abbot x fem!reader.
18+ MDNI! | content warnings: daddy kink, use of little one and eventually dada, DUBCON, somno (? he wakes reader up by groping them), a little name calling and a little praise, jack gets mean and rough for a second, a singular spank
but jack would wake you up with sex that pervy old man :( gets home from his night shift at like 8am and you're still tucked in his sheets all warm and cozy. the perfect prize at the end of a hard shift.
before he can stop himself, one of his hands is sliding under the hem of your shirt to grip at bare skin.
"little one," he murmurs gruffly into your ear. "wake up for me."
"mmmn— jack?" you stir with a whine.
"yeah, 's just me, baby. daddy's home." he kisses and gropes you for a while, stealing your heat while you whine and gasp under him: "wanna take care a'you. 'm all cold, warm me up, pretty one."
you're immediately fussy and grumpy at being woken up just to be pawed at. "nooo," you grumble.
he hums with amusement at that whining, the way you sound all groggy and bitchy and adorable. he knows you can get cranky when he wakes you up so early, but he can't resist the urge to rile you up right now. he squeezes the bare skin of your side, the one that he knows is a little ticklish. "come on, princess, wake up for daddy."
"whyyy?" you whine, burying your face in his neck as your legs kick in frustration.
"'cause daddy said so," he rumbles against your ear before nipping gently at the shell of it with his teeth. "he wants your sweet pussy right now."
"why now?" you whine again, petulant and overtired as you writhe in his arms.
"because i've been waiting for this all night," he seethes, his patience with your protests growing thin. his hand drags up to pinch at the soft curve of your ass through the fabric of your panties before adding gruffly: "... and 'cause i know my little one likes it when her daddy tells her what to do."
and it's true. you can't really deny that at all, that you're loving this as much as he is. "... okay," you acquiesce limply.
"good girl," jack practically growls, triumphant and impatient, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties and yanking them down your thighs. "that wasn't so hard now, was it? bein' all bitchy for no reason, lemme show you what i want." his palm smacks against your bare ass once, making you yelp, before sliding between your thighs with a deep groan.
"goddamn," he mutters as his thumb drags between your dripping folds, the wet squelch louder somehow in the dim room. "why the fuck were you bein' such a brat n puttin' up a fight? you're beggin' for me."
"daddy," you whine, overstimulated already.
"yeah?" jack rasps, watching your face closely as he finds your clit with his thumb, rubbing slow circles over that sweet little spot. "you like it when daddy touches you like this? when i tease my angel 'til she's all messy and needy?"
you huff, kicking against the mattress in indignation. "i'm tired!"
your little kicks just make his grip on you tighten. "yeah, you're tired," he agrees as the edge in his voice darkens into a hypnotic command. "but you're gonna be a good girl and make daddy feel good right now. okay, baby?"
you huff again irritably, feeling a protest form in your throat. jack knows that sound, the way your shoulders tense as you get frustrated, the way your pretty little mouth starts to pout out into a sulk. his hand tightens on your hip.
"hey," he snaps, his tone suddenly rougher, more authoritative. "i asked you a question, little one. you gonna be a good girl for daddy and let him have that sweet pussy?"
"...yeah," you mumble back reluctantly, and that's enough for him. his thumb immediately drags down your slit and nudges at your fluttering cunt, just teasing, before sliding back up to your throbbing clit.
"there's my girl," he mutters as he feels just how wet and sensitive you are for him. his other hand grips your chin to tilt your face up toward his. his gaze is dark, prideful. "now keep them pretty eyes on daddy while i make 'em leak."
jack loves the way you look at him with those wide eyes, all needy and submissive and obedient. he's obsessed with you. your hips begin to rock into his touch, and when you let out those soft, sleepy, shy moans of not daddy, but dada, he grins.
"you gonna make a mess for dada?" he coos, his thumb still circling your achy clit as his eyes burn into yours. he is so madly in love. he leans in close, his lips so close to yours that his breath brushes against your mouth as he speaks. "you gonna make dada proud, little one?"
your whole body shivers. he's making you feel so good that all you're capable of replying is a whimpered "mmmn..."
he lets out a huff of a breath that's almost a laugh as his thumb speeds up, mercifully bringing you closer to your orgasm.
"use your words, baby," he murmurs, the roughness gone from his voice, replaced by something more tender as your body start to shake. "tell dada if you're gonna make him proud."
"... m make you proud," you manage out through a soft gasp as he pushes you over that sweet edge and pleasure makes your vision white out.
description: you and your attending butt heads—and it’s no secret around the ED that Dr. Jack Abbot is harder on you than the other residents. He pushes you further, critiques you sharper, expects more—and you’re done with it. Just as you’re about to go to Dr. Robby to request a switch to days and finally put some distance between you and him, your patient—and his patient—tests positive for COVID-19. Suddenly, you’re both exposed, and with hospital protocol leaving no room for argument, you have no choice but to quarantine together.
tags/warnings: 18+, forced proximity, implied age gap, power imbalance (reader is a senior resident but abbot is still technically her boss), quarantining when no one does that anymore, tension tension tensionnn, fine line between hate and horny, headstrong reader, mutual pining
A/N: i DONT WANT TO HEAR IT THAT THIS IS UNREALISTIC. It’s fun and it’s my fanfic I’ll cry if i want to and u know you’d quarantine in abbot’s house too if given the chance
AS OF 4/9/26 I DONT HAVE A TAGLIST. Pls follow @meep-updates and turn your notifications on <333 the tags aren’t fully working so i want to make sure everyone gets notified
exposure || day 1 || day 2 || day 3 || day 4 || day 5 || day 6 || day 7 || day 8 || day 9 (12am) || day 9 || day 10 || day 11 || day 12 || day 13 || day 14 ||
༄ synopsis: aang breaks his promise to you, but spends an entire night doing everything in his power to make it up to you.
༄ tags/warnings: contains explicit smut mdni 18+, you and aang are newlyweds, heavy angst, a yearnful aang (ultimate weakness), soft!dom aang, unprotected!sex (aang: “pull out? why? don’t you love me?”), mock sympathy, some nasty passionate missionary, praise (mostly male!receiving), body worship, manhandling, oral!sex/female receiving (ugh just love an eater that eats for his pleasure), good ol’ fashioned grinding, aang becomes a glow stick yay!, headboard!breaking, improper use of air and fire bending, basically you two get in a fight kiss make up and start repopulating the air nomads, pregnancy!mention, fluff at the end, brief mentions of zutara & sukka!pairing (pls don’t bring any ship wars over here i just want aang for myself), contains elements from the legend of aang movie (so beware of spoilers if you haven’t seen it!)
༄ author’s note: crazy how a bald pretty boi can make me come out of retirement after a 5 yr hiatus… this must say some things about me. (but i mean, aren’t we all still stuck on him going “i’m the last airbender” ? like we can start repopulating right now–) ahem. uhhh anyway! tbh, i haven’t written nor posted a thing for some yrs now so i’m extremely rusty. not to mention this is my FIRST atla fic ever (pls go easy on me. im an og fan, just never written anything for the fandom heh…) eng is also not my first language sooo if you see any mistakes or if anyone’s a bit ooc, just pretend you don’t see it and enjoyy xxx
w.c: 28.1k no beta. we die like my social life.
[note: has been cross-posted on AO3 ༄]
“you don't have to promise me the moon or the stars, just promise me you will stand under them with me.” – danielle p.
“It’s just one month. I’ll be back sooner than you think! No. Hmm…that’s not right... How about, sooner than you can blink!”
“Aang…”
“Trust me, you’ll see.”
“Promise?”
“As the Avatar and as your husband, I promise to come back to you. Don’t worry.”
At least, that was what Aang had told you.
But that was two months ago without a word from him since.
Republic City was many things. Boring was not one of them.
The capital was full of life. It had its usual hustle and bustle from lively merchants advertising their businesses, mischievous children darting through the streets, and the abundance of song and dance that carried through the city as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Daylight was quickly giving way to twilight, and it was thanks to the lanterns that littered the streets that helped you follow the path further into downtown.
Republic City held undeniable beauty during the day. It was a city of life and wonder where all things were made possible, but it was towards nightfall when it was truly able to shine through.
The people of the city twirled to the ratta tap beat of the music, clearly enjoying the presence of one another. They were free to love who they wanted, benders and non-benders alike, and could live however they so chose. In hindsight, it wasn't much but it was reason enough for them to express their happiness and gratitude through singing and dancing.
You were merely thankful that Katara had agreed to stay back and live within the capital instead of with her father and brother at the newly established Southern Water Tribe. She was a part of the city council, like you were, and was your closest friend. If she wasn’t here, you weren’t sure what you would have done without her.
In fact, that was where you were headed now.
Her home was only a couple of blocks away from yours and your husband’s, which you were very thankful for. Even though Republic City was, more or less, safe within its own measures, there was still crime here and there. People that stole from the market square and ransacked shop owners. Not to mention the fact that the Denied remained a pressing issue. It was why Aang never liked when you would leave after dark by yourself. It was dangerous. Even though he could be a bit overprotective at times, he meant well and was right.
Truthfully, that was what made having Katara live so close by such a relief.
Subconsciously, your arms stiffened around the warm basket of food that you cradled against your chest as you moved quickly through the dimming streets.
When you turned another corner, your eyes gleamed, looking up at the towering building in front of you. Katara’s home was three stories high, and had several lanterns strung up. It was a lot of space for just one person, but she tended to have company over so it was actually quite convenient.
You could smell the fresh scent of jasmine and the warmth from the hearth inside. You didn’t waste another second and stepped up to the door, giving it a clean knock in three’s.
A few seconds went by before the door swung open. When her familiar face peeked from behind the door, a smile quickly found its way to yours.
“Hey! Took you long enough. Get caught up in all of the usual festivities?” Katara teased, giving you a fond smile back before she pulled you into a hug.
Not giving you a moment to respond, she ushered you in and closed the door behind her.
“Sorry about the mess. I’ve been moving some things around. Sokka said he’s bringing some things from home and begged me to make room so–” She spread her arms out to show her progress with a sheepish smile. “I made room.”
Katara had a unique style about her that was unlike anyone you had ever met. She was creative and stylish, yet had this comforting homey feeling about the way she decorated her home—something that never failed to fill you with dread when it was time to part ways.
There were several pieces and such that were previously made sprawled around the large space. They were all from her home, things that meant something to her. Things that were given to her by the children in the villages, and trinkets that Sokka made for her. He liked to tell her that they would become useful someday. Usually, they didn't but she appreciated his little farewell gifts either way.
You could tell that some of it was put up, but it would seem that she’d managed to keep the more meaningful ones out in view. A beautiful pot of jasmines sat comfortably in the window that was near her balcony. They had been a birthday gift from you. Something for her to look after and care for while she remained apart from what was soon going to be her new future.
You were enlightened to know that the flowers were flourishing.
“Yeah,” you exhaled, catching her gaze. “A lot of room, I see.”
Katara shrugged, some of her long dark hair falling over her shoulder. “Well, you know. Sokka asks, I deliver.”
You hummed and nodded with a knowing smile on your lips as you followed the familiar path to the cooking area of her home.
“Oh, yeah. Of course. I mean, you making all of this space has absolutely nothing to do with your betrothed. The same one that is on his way here from the fire nation as we speak. No, no. Surely not,” you jested, settling the still-warm basket of baked goods down on a nearby surface.
You didn’t need to look over your shoulder to know that she had followed you with her lip fit between her teeth and that flustered glint in her eyes. She was easy to read whenever it came to her and Zuko’s relationship.
Speaking of which, it was never made clear when Katara and Zuko became a thing.
Toph once mentioned that it had happened a year or so after the hundred-year war ended. Sokka had taken a more…romantic approach. He preferred to remember it as love at first sight. Or, more knowingly when Zuko first arrived at the Southern Water Tribe, looking for the Avatar. Katara never bothered to correct nor deny either of them. When asked, she simply said,
“Zuko and I… Let’s just say that there was a mutual understanding between us, even as friends. Time is a funny thing. You really start getting to know someone when the world is ending. Or…beginning, I should say.”
At the time, you didn’t know him all that well but Zuko on the other hand…
“Katara is the moon, a light and beacon when the world around me got too dark to see. She has anchored me and I only wish to remain by her side, for as long as she will have me.”
Aang, on the other hand, was the most surprising one.
His support of their relationship had always confused you. Of course, you’d joined the group well after the war and the building of Republic City, but you became close enough to understand their dynamics and history together. His feelings for Katara was made out to be quite strong. Strong enough to see a future together. You could never understand what had happened between them and why they were not still together, but it meant little to you when you'd realized how happier they were apart.
Not to mention that, within a few months, Katara was going to be fire lady of the fire nation. Added that she would also continue to act as one of the council members for Republic City as well as back at the Southern Water Tribe.
It was clear, for both her and Aang, that there were no romantic feelings between them. They died the day they realized they wanted different things but, in place, something else was born.
A friendship that they knew would last several lifetimes over.
It was never like you needed the reassurance of knowing that they no longer had feelings for each other. It was never about that. You loved Aang, but always wanted the best for Katara. So it warmed your heart to know that she was happy.
She deserved it.
“Spirits, enough about me. We have to talk about you.”
Your expression fell a bit, feeling the color drain from your face. The last thing you wanted to do nowadays was talk about you. In fact, keeping all subjects away from you was what, somehow, helped make the days bearable.
Except, Katara had this way about her that wasn't exactly intrusive because she cared about you and could feel when things were off with you. However, she tended to meddle more than you wanted. Especially when she knew that something was wrong, even if you promised her differently.
And well, she was never exactly wrong. It wasn't as if things had been all that great since...
“If this is about Aang, then–”
“Yes. It is.”
You paused.
"Katara.”
“Come on–”
“I honestly would prefer not to really talk about it.”
There was a sharp finality to your tone that made Katara give you a puppyish look. You let out a heavy breath, feeling exhaustion seep into your bones like it'd belonged there. Then again, did it not?
At least it made you feel something other than hurt or angry.
“Aang does this all the time," Katara tried to reassure you. "He’s the Avatar. He’s a busy guy. A lot of people are counting on him to help keep the balance of the world. Without that and peace, I’m not sure where things would be right now. There’s also a lot of people that need him–”
“And I don’t?”
Your interruption made her stop and blink.
You should've stopped it then and there, but there was an impulse inside of you. It felt like it was trying to claw its way from your throat, and you weren't able to catch it in time.
"I know the Denied are an issue and I knew that there were going to be people that would need his help along the way but it’s been two months, Katara. No letters, no word. I don't even know if he's okay or not. I don't know anything, and that’s what hurts me the most."
The silence between you and her managed to smother the sounds of the crackling hearth from the other room. The longer that you stood in silence, the easier it was for a wave of regret to burrow itself down deep into your chest.
There was nothing that you loved more than being by Aang’s side and supporting him through all of his endeavors. This was his purpose, his reason for existing. You knew this, and yet—
You knew how that had sounded. It was…selfish, on a grand scale of things. Aang was the Avatar. He was who the people of the world depended on the most, even for the most minute of reasons. If they called, he answered, always. But, for some reason, the importance of who he was—
It was taking a toll on you.
“Sorry. That was completely unnecessary.” You turned and pressed your back against the edge of the counter, your eyes glued to the floor. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No,” Katara shook her head, and walked over to place a gentle hand on your arm. She sighed. “You don’t need to apologize. You have every right to feel the way that you do.”
When you looked up, you were met with soft cerulean eyes that gave you more reassurance than you felt you deserved.
“You love him and miss him, a lot. I know the feeling. So don’t invalidate yours by apologizing for something that you can’t necessarily control.”
“I do,” you agreed, fighting the inner turmoil within you. “I do love him, but that still shouldn’t excuse how I’ve been feeling. He’s out there, alone. Sure he can handle himself but he’s...”
A sting to your eyes, a burn to your nose and suddenly your vision started to blur. It only frustrated you more because there was nothing worse than feeling sorry for yourself than crying when you felt you were wrong.
“To me, he’s not the Avatar, Katara.”
You looked at her, ignoring the way your unshed tears made you see the look on her face.
“He’s my husband, and I want him home. I don’t care about the Denied or any other group of criminals. I just want Aang home.”
Katara felt her heart tug down to the shallows of her stomach.
“Hey…”
She pulled you into a hug, feeling your tears dampen her shirt.
“I know,” she nodded. “I know.”
Because if anyone could understand where you were coming from, it was always going to be Katara.
For the past two months, Aang had been on a long and arduous mission somewhere in the Earth Kingdom trying to find out more information on the exact location of the Denied.
Within the last year, there had been several reports that began to surface across entire villages within the Earth Kingdom that were quietly siding with the Denied. Murmurs of a mutual understanding and rebellion against the benders of the world. There were also reports of supply routes disappearing and the Earth Kingdom officials who were being threatened or worse, vanishing completely. No one knew who was leading them, only that they were growing bolder and larger.
Aang was analytical. He knew that they never tended to stay in one place for long so he figured that if he could find their hidden headquarters, he would have access to their current whereabouts or, at the very least, know their next move.
That was what his last letter said to you before they had stopped coming altogether.
Perhaps that was what aided the storm that had been brewing inside of you. The same one that had been creating a monsoon of thoughts and emotions that you would have normally swallowed down in favor of giving Aang your continued patience and support. Even from a distance now forced between the two of you.
And the thing was, you did understand. The Denied were becoming a very serious threat and you knew that he was truly the only one that could sort this without violence and penance.
Your husband was the Avatar, the most important man on the planet. How much more selfish could you be?
“Thank you Katara,” you said and managed to give her a tender smile as you pulled back from her embrace, silently hoping that it was convincing enough to ease her worries.
“Now,” you sniffled, taking a breath. “I believe that we have a lot to talk about with this wedding of yours coming up. Wanna make the tea and I’ll plate some of the homemade sweet buns I brought?”
For a split second, Katara’s brows twitched inward. As if it had been the trick of the room's gentle glow, she smiled warmly and gave you a nod.
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
When you turned to do just that, her face fell.
She knew that look all too well. You were doing it again. You were letting that vulnerable part of yourself decide to crawl back into the cold shadows of your mind where you felt it was safest. It always hurt when you did it with her. She wanted you to feel safe enough to tell her how you felt and rely on her to help alleviate the pain you carried of constantly wondering if you were still a wife or now a widow. It was not easy, of course she knew that. But, still...
She watched you pull two serving dishes from the cabinet and place a few of the sweet buns onto them. When you turned to check on her, she made herself busy by snagging the tea kettle from a lower compartment and filled it with water. You sent her a smile from over your shoulder, and she noticed that it barely met your eyes.
Katara smiled back and turned around, sighing quietly to herself.
Aang, she spoke from the confines of her mind, shutting her eyes. Please come home.
After a rather long talk about wedding plans, council member work and bellies full of a few sweet buns and tea, the sky completed its final cycle and descent into nightfall.
It was time to head back home and just like every night since you were left alone, you dreaded it.
Without Aang, home no longer felt like home. It lacked the warmth and luminance that your lively husband tended to bring with him. Where it felt as though the sun encompassed the space, once he was gone, he left behind a cold and dark cloud that seemed to engulf everything within reach. Like a black hole that only knew how to consume until there was nothing left.
The thought of having to return back to that only made your stomach turn. He should be here. He should be home, with you.
But he wasn’t.
When you made it to the foyer of her home, you were pulled into another hug but tighter this time. Katara squeezed you as if she, too, knew what you were you going back to.
“Promise me that you’ll come back over the day after tomorrow,” She said, just above a whisper next to your ear. “Sokka’s going to want to see you and Zuko too. Honestly, not seeing you for a day will kill me but I have that council meeting about the trades from back home tomorrow…”
Slowly but firmly, you circled your arms around her form, giving her a promising nod.
“Don’t worry. I will.”
When you separated and walked out, you could feel pieces of her home trying to pull you back in. It also knew.
Katara sent you a small wave, and watched you disappear back into the streets of the city, headed down the familiar darkened path to what you still managed to call home.
As if the universe was aware of your desolate mood, it began to rain.
You couldn't help but stop where you were, craning your neck up to the sky. It started with a few drops along your cheeks until the rain fell in sheets, soaking you from head to toe. However, you didn't move. Not even when those that were leisurely walking the streets, likely going back home as well, gasped and jogged the rest of the way, seeking warmth and shelter.
It was the middle of fall, and it was raining. Usually the city would see a few snow-scares before winter finally came around but rain at this time of the year was rare.
A brief sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes, and continued to stand in the middle of the street, ignoring the feeling of your clothes sticking to you like a second skin. Then, you smiled.
Memories of the last time you were caught in the rain resurfaced and helped you remember one of the last moments that you'd had with Aang.
༄ ... flashback ... ༄
"What about this?"
Aang took a brief glance at you from over his shoulder before he released an airy breath.
"Not everything's going to be something worth taking back home, my love." He smiled and turned back to what he was doing.
You raised a brow, and studied the artifact for a moment.
Under the warm glow of a nearby lantern, you held up long, thin pieces of metal that were suspended at uneven lengths and had fading, almost smooth-looking air nomad glyphs carved onto them. There were some parts of it that had green weathering areas from decades of mountain snow and rain exposure while others had small dents along the edges. The metal parts were divided by tiny beads that were carved from pale wood and chimed quietly together when the wind stirred well enough. They produced a soft hollow sound. It was almost…haunting.
That was when you heard Aang shift to look at you again but this time, his face paled.
He sucked in a breath and held it as he turned to face you. His eyes were wide and on the chimes that you were still holding.
"Is that..."
You watched the way his fingers twitched at his side, almost as if he wanted to reach out to touch it but was afraid to.
"That's... Those are prayer chimes."
He moved closer to you, and finally raised a hand to gently brush along the dusty beads. His eyes were glossy, even under such poor lighting.
"The monks used to use these for mediation and mourning. I haven't heard the sound of these since before the war. Since I was a child."
His voice was barely above a whisper and if you weren't paying such close attention, you would've missed it.
When his eyes shifted onto you, your heart sunk.
"Oh, Aang..."
He brought a hand up to his temples and rubbed them before turning back around. Memories of his old mentor and best friend, Gyatso, surfaced.
Times where Aang would mediate with him and hear those same chimes from the archway of the room. How, on nights where it was difficult for Aang to sleep, the old monk would let him rest in his room while the soft ringing of the chimes lulled him to sleep, finally ridding his mind of the nightmares that ailed him.
Flashes of the past began to filter through his mind, glimpses of his old friend, of the children that he played with, of the joy and the laughter. All of it came rushing back, the dreams of his memories that had been haunting him every night were colliding with his waking mind. It was so surreal, he could hardly tell what was real anymore.
It was like they were there, all of them; he could hear them as if he was there again, back at the Southern Air Temple, enjoying his youth with his friends and the one monk that never saw him as the Avatar. Just Aang, a boy that met a worldly responsibility at an age where all that should have mattered to him was being a kid. In the face of what truly came to matter, he got scared and ran away.
If he hadn’t run away, if he had chosen to stay and fight what was inevitably coming, would his people have survived or would he have just died trying?
Aang knew that it was pointless to still dwell on. It was far too late now.
And it was because of this that he would always see himself as a coward, the coward that ran away yet still called himself the Avatar.
How foolish, and undeserving he was.
Without another thought, you gently placed the chimes back on the surface where you found them and slid your arms around his waist, holding him. You pressed your cheek against the warmth of his back, and closed your eyes.
"We'll take them with us. We'll take as much as Appa can carry, okay?"
You opened your eyes and tried to peek around Aang's broad form to see his face. You knew that he was crying. You saw it in his eyes before he looked away, and you could see it now. He was still covering his face, but you could see the traces of tears that started to fall. You could also feel him trembling, and not from the draft curling through the room.
It pained him to be here. It pained him to be in any of the air temples but more so with having you riding along with him. He never liked to show you the weakest parts of him, but being in these places... In the places that held the memory of his people that were long gone and only here through his own memories—it was a kind of pain that couldn't be put into words.
"I'm sorry," you heard him say, watching him shake his head. "This was meant to be a bonding trip for us. I didn't mean to ruin it by getting all sad and emotional."
Your heart nearly stopped. You pulled back just to turn him back around so that you could see him clearly. You reached up and pried his hands away, finding his teary eyes and red-splotched cheeks utterly heart-breaking.
You took his face in your hands, and rubbed away the falling tears.
"Never apologize for having emotions ever again, Aang, do you hear me? I can't bear it. You are allowed to feel exactly how you feel. No matter what emotion that is, it's okay."
He looked at you with such softness and vulnerability, it almost broke you into a million pieces.
"My love, we are two halves of a whole. I share your pain while you share mine. I know that you wanted to come here and show me pieces of your past, but please don't apologize when the memories get too much to bear. As your wife, I am meant to carry that weight with you. Never forget that."
A distant rumble of thunder shuddered and rattled around the old temple, causing some of the ancient wood to creak and groan. It coincided with the storm that simmered at the edges of Aang's mind. Yet, looking at you while placed into the delicate palms of your hands grounding him—he felt it all wash away. The darkness that filled him began to descend and retreat back into the shadows of his mind until all he could see and hear was you.
Aang lifted a hand to cover one of yours, giving you a warm and familiar smile.
"What would I do without you?"
"Mmm," you smiled back. "I don't know. Miss me?"
"You're right." He let out a low chuckle before he pulled you in closer, one hand on your waist while the other covered the back of your hand that was still against his face. His big grey eyes were back to their usual playfulness and you knew exactly what was on his mind.
"Aang, its going to storm soon."
"Mhm."
"Sooo."
He smirked, his eyes moving down to your lips.
"Sooo?"
You tried to hold back a roll of your eyes, but ultimately failed. He laughed as you sighed.
"You're such a handful, you know that?"
Aang lowered his head until his lips were just a breath away from yours. You could practically feel the smile on his lips as he said,
"Yeah, and you wouldn't have it any other way."
The moment that you took a breath, he wasted no time and pressed his lips against yours, swallowing it whole. You gave in and melted against him, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. You closed your eyes, and imagined a world where it was just you and him living endlessly, eternally bound to one another until the end of time and the life thereafter.
You knew that you did not hold the power to rewind time and bring all of his people back. But, what you did have was hope. You would help him build back what he had lost the best way you knew how and that was by focusing on what was still here rather than mourn what was now lost.
It started with you, him, and a lot of dusty old airbender relics…which had to be put on pause the moment that you felt his lips trail from the curve of your jaw to your neck.
"Aang," you whined.
"Shhh."
He switched places so that your back was in line of an old rickety table, and placed his hands at your waist to lift you up onto it. When it wobbled and creaked, both of you shared a wide eyed look before giggling together.
"If this comes down with me on it, me and appa will leave you here."
Aang chuckled lowly as he mapped his wide hands along your thighs, moving between them, close to the warmest part of you. His lips ghosted yours again as a mild distraction and without you noticing, he bended the air, parting your legs to slot himself right in the middle of them.
Your breath hitched when you felt him grip your thighs to pull you right up against him, feeling a desperate ache below your navel stir awake.
He hummed.
"Then I'll make sure I'm real gentle. Don't worry," and claimed your lips again, groaning at the muffled whine at the back of your throat with terrible plans of wrecking you and that feeble ol' table.
When both of you were finally dressed again and Aang told you that it was time to head back home, it began to pour with rain.
Before you and Aang had set out in search of ancient airbender relics at the old northern air temple, the sky was clear of clouds and any other indication of rain. Now, there wasn't a hint of blue left. There were just dark grey clouds and buckets of cold rain cascading down.
Once all of the old relics that the two of you could fit in your satchels were full, Aang whistled for Appa. The large bison roared in the distance and came barreling through the sky, landing a few feet in front of you.
"Come on, let's get back home before it gets worse!"
He took your wrist and tried to pull you along but was met with a bit of resistance. Worried and confused, he looked back at you with furrowed brows.
"Are you okay? What's wrong?"
There was nothing about you that alarmed him other than the way you were looking around. Well, then there was the apprehension in your voice too.
"I don't know, Aang. You know what they say about flying in storms like this. Plus, we're going to be soaking wet. I think I'll pass on that."
All of the tension that quickly coiled under his skin fell away. He smirked, quirking a brow.
"What? Scared of a little water? The same woman that managed to hold her own against a fire bender and a few lightning attacks? Who are you and what did you do to my wife?"
Without looking down, he felt your hand tighten around his. There was a new air of determination about you that made him fight back a smile. He always knew how to get to you. He just had to press the right buttons, and so he did.
"Let's go," you muttered and with a faint yelp from him, you tugged him out to Appa and saddled up. When you grabbed the reins and looked down at him wearing an impatient expression on your face, he finally smiled to himself.
"Yes ma'am," and used the air around him to push off on the balls of his feet up onto Appa as well, sitting right behind you. Even though both of you were soaked through, he still wrapped his arms around your waist, suctioning the front of his body against the back of yours. He felt you stiffen, and watched the way your hands gripped at the reins. He smirked again, and looked ahead. "Appa, yip yip!"
And then you were off, headed back home.
༄ ... end of flashback ... ༄
When the memory faded and you opened your eyes, you felt the wind begin to pick up, ruffling your clothes and the shutters on the houses around you.
It was definitely time to head back home.
Once you'd made it through the entrance, you made a face, finally feeling the heaviness of your clothes. Eagerly, you peeled off each article and hung them up in the entryway to dry. With each pad of your feet towards your shared bedroom, you left behind a trail of wet footprints that you made a mental note to clean up when you were all washed and dried.
As you stood underneath the copper rainfall-style pipe and let the warm water roll off of your body in steady trails, you could feel your mind begin to wander.
Weeks of waiting to hear back from Aang, and nothing. No letters from his wind-swallow messenger nor any word from any of your connections in the Earth Kingdom. Not even from the one person that would’ve sent you an update the moment she caught wind of his name. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to dig for information from Toph. She just didn’t have anything worth noting to give you.
It was nerve wracking having to wait. To worry and spend almost every single night curled up in a ball in a bed that no longer even smelled like him anymore. It felt like each day came to erase him, piece by piece, until time left you with nothing but what he was. Not as the Aang you'd come to know, but as the Avatar instead.
You had half a mind to set out to his last known location to search for him, but Katara stopped you before you could do it. She’d told you that she understood why you wanted to go, but that it wouldn’t help the situation. Especially if, when he did come back, he came back to an empty home and to the news that you were dead, thousands of miles where no one would ever find you.
You understood that it was not because you were weak or unable to handle your own out there. It was simply because there was not a single person alive that didn’t know who you were, unless they lived under a rock. Everyone knew you were the Avatar’s wife, which made you worth as much as Aang. It made you into a target.
Katara was truly your voice of reason; why you decided to stay put and wait instead. You couldn’t bear hurting Aang that way or ever at all. Plus, you were brave but you were not stupid either.
As painful as it was to sit and be patient, it was your only option.
When the water began to shift temperatures, you decided that it was best to finish washing up and finally get dry.
Once you stepped out of the stone-clad bathroom and into the main bedroom, it was hard to ignore the emptiness around you.
During Aang’s absence, you’d made several attempts at keeping the space well-kept and full of the same vibrance that he was so naturally gifted with. From leaving a few ancient nomad scrolls in one corner of the room to keeping an incense lit in the other. It was always the same scent. Cedarwood and Juniper. He’d once told you that it would help him quiet his thoughts. To rest his mind so that he could meditate in peace.
Your brows furrowed, staring at the meditation corner. Try as you might, but it would seem that dust was drawn to the places where he lingered the most. Maybe it was meant to haunt you worse than the memories and the nightmares. You see, dust was something that you could see. What your mind often conjured were things that you could blink away or distract yourself from.
Something physical, on the other hand…
It only served as a cruel reminder that you were alone and had been for a while.
Your feet crossed the room without much sound, flitting about the room like you were just remnants of a person; a ghost in your own home. Once your skin was dry and lathered in its usual oils, you spotted something from the corner of your eye. On the dresser rested a folded heap of orange and yellow fabric. Your heart clung to the cage in your chest as you took in a slow breath, and shuffled over. As delicately as you were capable, you pulled it down and watched it unravel before you.
It was one of Aang’s robes. It was one that he wore when he was at home and could shuck off his everyday wear to replace it with something that didn’t remind him of his duties as the Avatar. You’d made it for him one day, and he had worn it ever since.
When you rose it up to the tip of your nose, you could still smell bits of him.
“I just want to know that you’re safe. That’s all.”
Maybe Aang was safe, he just couldn’t send his messenger, but you selfishly wished that he would just so you could know something.
With a sigh, you placed it back in the same neat fashion the robe was previously in before dressing in your night gown. It wasn’t completely see-through but just enough to keep your skin cool from the hot temperatures of your shower and the mugginess luring in from the outside rain.
After you cleaned up the wet footprints from the entryway, you decided that another hot cup of tea would help you rest for the night. Or, at the very least, settle your cloudy mind.
Luckily, you still had some jujube-ginger tea left over from earlier in the morning and heated the kettle up atop the warming flame. It was going to be a few minutes so you crossed back into the common room for a moment, and opened a few windows along with the balcony doors. For a brief second, you stood there and watched the rain fall.
Aang always did prefer some of the windows opened, especially when it was nice outside and the wind was blowing. He loved the home more when there was fresh airflow coming through but with the rain, it felt cold; much like how everything else around you did.
With a sigh, you turned and chose to take a seat near the lowered table on a fluffed cushion. The silence was welcoming, but the emptiness was not. You brought your legs up so that you could rest your chin on your knees, and stared out at the balcony doors.
During the first week after Aang left for his mission, you started looking for him to come dropping back in on the balcony. The two of you had a wrap-around balcony but he preferred to come in where you could see him. So you would wait up, every night, until you began to realize that he wasn’t going to be coming back home anytime soon.
You’d told yourself that every week but when it got to be a month and a half, you stopped looking for him completely. You went about your days as if he was already gone and in a way, that was what it felt like. It felt like a loss, even though the better part of you knew that he was still out there.
Or, at least, you'd hoped so.
Hope was a funny thing sometimes but it kept you from doing something stupid like going out and finding him yourself, despite what Katara said. Who knows if you would like what you found anyway...
Still waiting for the whistle of the kettle, you shifted and was about to reach for a book you’d started recently reading when your eyes caught a few scattered pieces of half-rolled up paper on the table. Your brows furrowed, and reached for them instead.
When you unraveled one of them, you felt a wave of sadness crash into you. It was all of Aang’s letters to you. Well, the ones that he'd sent before they stopped coming.
You sifted through them until you came upon the first one he’d sent and sniffled, pulling a spare blanket over your legs as you started to read through them all over again.
༄ hey baby, it’s me! well…guess you already know that by the bird huh? by the time you read this, i’ll already be pretty close to the border of the earth kingdom. i wish i could give you more than that but you know how easily these letters can fall into the wrong hands. anyway, i miss you… so much. these past few nights have been so lonely without you… momo and appa would bite my head off if they could read this but it’s not the same without you
but i hope the necklace i gave you makes up for my absence, just until i get back yeah?
wait for me. i will be home, soon
– A
As you read through it, you'd subconsciously reached up and fiddled with the necklace that hung around your neck. It was the only piece of jewelry that you never took off, not even when you bathed. It was the only thing that you had left of him, other than his robe.
You didn’t realize that you were crying until you noticed a dark wet spot on the parchment. You cleared the tears away, and shuffled the papers so that you could read the next few.
༄ my love, my sweet love, how are you?
i got your letter, don’t worry, i just haven’t had time to get back to you because guess what? i found a clue on where they are! well, actually, sorry i forgot to mention that i’m here in the earth kingdom now and actually met up with toph. enjoyed seeing her again but sadly she didn’t have any info on you know who sooo, i went out and did my own digging and actually found something!
it was details about another hideout but it really feels like i’m getting closer which means i should be home soon! exciting right? to see your face again, to hold you and kiss you… it’s all i dream about. well, when i get to sleep that is. sleeping hasn’t been all that easy lately…
sorry that this letter is longer than the last. i’ll work on that. just got too excited to talk to you but i know we will talk again and next time, i hope to have better news. until then…
– A
Thankfully, the hearth in the common room you were in had still been on when you’d left earlier to go see Katara. It kept you warm as you sat there, on the floor, reading through old letters and reopening old wounds.
With another quiet sniffle, you moved on to the next and final one that almost made you break down while reading it.
༄ hi love.
i don't want to scare you but...momo isn’t doing well. i’m not sure when he started to feel sick or how or from what and i was close to turning back but he’s in toph’s care right now and i’m closer than ever on the group's whereabouts. appa is doing ok, don’t worry. me on the other hand…
it’s been storming a lot here. you know i’m not a big fan of storms but even without you here to keep me calm, i’ve been managing.
i want to come back home. i really do. it’s all i think about now but i know i cant. i have to make sure this group is no longer a threat to our home, to you. you understand that…right?
pls don’t give up on me. i WILL be home soon. i made you that promise didn’t i? do you still believe in it? pls say that you do.
i do…
i can’t say when i will be able to write to you again but hopefully you’ll see me in person so we won’t have to rely on these little pieces of paper.
i love you. so much. you are my heart and my everything. i know i have already asked so much of you but pls continue to wait for my return.
talk soon,
– A
Before you knew it, you were sobbing.
Horribly.
The letters were scattered around you when you tugged the blanket up to your face, crying into it. It felt like your heart was breaking into two all over again. Every part of you felt hollow and in so much pain, you could hardly move. Your body shook and trembled, curling into yourself until you felt like the smallest thing in the room.
The battle of knowing that Aang held the world on his shoulders as the Avatar but doubled as your husband and was only trying to do what was right, weighed heavily on you. It felt silly to be so upset just because you missed him but you also knew that it was not only that. It was how worried you were for him. He was never someone that would not communicate, even if it was just a two-sentence letter. What if something really did happen to him? What if you’d spent all this time crying and being angry at him when there was a real possibility that he might have been…
You shook your head and dug your fingers into your legs, pushing your face further into your knees. No, you told yourself. Aang was fine. He was strong and more than capable of taking care of himself. He’d fought many to make Republic City into what it was. He’d even fought a spirit just to fight for his claim over the land itself. Even through the times that he lost, he got back up and kept fighting until he won.
That was your Aang. That was the man that you fell in love with and trusted more than anything. He told you to wait. He promised that he would return to you. You knew this and believed in it, in him.
So why were you doubting him now?
Was it the absence? The unknowing of where he was and if he was really okay? The cut of communication and no information from Toph? The same person that Aang said he'd seen in his letter to you before he had just...disappeared?
You tried to rationalize some of your thoughts before they got too dark. Toph, more than likely, didn't give you any deep information on his whereabouts because it came in a correspondence and was not a conversation that was done in person. You remembered that letters were intercepted all of the time. It did no one any favors for outsiders to know that the Avatar was gone and had left his defenseless wife, at home, all by herself.
Toph was looking out for you and her friend, Aang. It was the only thing that made sense.
You gave yourself a few more moments before you decided to light one of the incenses that Aang used, if not to breathe and bring you momentary peace. Once that was done, the tea kettle squealed hot on its open flame, grabbing your attention. When you gathered the letters and placed them back on the table, you went to check on the tea.
As you poured yourself a cup, the aroma whirled around the space and blended with the scent of the incense, calming your mind and your body in one. For a moment, you allowed yourself the opportunity to think of nothing. To stand in place, and just breathe.
The one thing you’d forgotten to do in your husband’s absence was meditate. Frankly, it was something that you did together. You knew it was often best to do it alone, but you loved being near him in a pocket of silence to sit, breathe, and feel the things around you. He once told you that meditating was not always a way to connect with his past lives. He mostly did it for himself. To ground himself when he needed it most.
Aang was far from perfect. He had just as many flaws as the next person and knew, through meditating, he could find himself again. Especially during his hardest moments.
You wondered if he ever found the chance to meditate while being away. If there was time for him to just be alone with his thoughts and connect back with the air around him. To try and reach out to you the way you’d tried with him in your dreams.
The thought pulled a smile from you. You pictured him sitting in a cross-legged fashion, fists together with a particularly concentrated expression on his face before it turned into a cute pout. Maybe the demands around him kept him from truly being able to focus. Upon people seeing him, there was no telling what kind of side quests he was put on. It was like him to get sidetracked in favor of helping those that needed it along the way.
You took the opportunity to splash a bit of cool water onto your face to subdue any puffiness that might come from your earlier moment of crying and took your tea back into the common room, crossing out to the balcony.
The rain had lightened to a soft pitter-pat with a few rumbles of thunder in the distance. It would seem that the worst of it was well over and left behind a soft soothing ambience to close out the night.
You were appreciative. The rain never bothered you. In fact, you enjoyed storms. It provided enough noise to shut out the bad thoughts, and it tended to fill the home in a way that made you feel less alone.
As soon as you were about halfway through your cup of tea, you set it down and glanced at a few pots of flowers next to you. Your eyes softened. Wind lilies. On one of your first trips out to the Southern Air Temple, there were only a few left that were healthy enough to take back with you and since then, they’d been thriving wonderfully. It was only due to your frequent tending that they had managed to survive for so long. Still, most flowers, especially brought from one region to live in another, would struggle to acclimate to a different climate. These, on the other hand…
“Thank you for sticking it out with me,” you bent to meet the lilies eye to eye, smiling. “My little troopers.”
Moments of Aang struggling to remember to water them half of the time almost made you giggle. He had many talents, but tending to flowers was definitely not one of them. Funny, considering he was the master of patience. However,
“C’mon,” Aang whined, half of his lumbering body hanging across the balcony railing. “You know I’m not good at that stuff. Flowers require too much work.” You smiled, rolled your eyes and continued watering them. He then grinned and made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around you. “Not that it matters when they’ve got such a good mama to do it though, huh?”
“Aang, you’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled, lips against your neck. “I know.”
A sigh left your lips as you studied the flowers a bit closer. There were a few dead leaves that needed trimming and you decided that since you were having some trouble sleeping and was waiting for the tea to kick in anyway, why not cut them now? So, you grabbed a pair of brass trimming shears that were near the flower pots and got to work.
The tranquility of the soft rain, the surrounding city lanterns and the smell of the wind lilies filled your chest with a warmth that you hadn’t felt in a while. You were not often rewarded with nights like this. The ones where you weren’t constantly being haunted and tormented with dreams that would urge you awake, night after night. No, this was one of those nights where you'd almost felt at peace with yourself. Where being at home didn’t feel as though it was draining you. Things almost felt…right.
So, you allowed yourself this momentary feeling of freedom from it all and started to hum as you trimmed, remembering a tune from your childhood. In the stillness of your mind, you'd missed the way the air shifted around you. A breeze that was not there moments ago was now brushing at the ends of your hair like a familiar touch that you’d become unfamiliar with.
Gentle as a breeze, and unbeknownst to you, Aang landed on the other side of the western curve of the balcony that was near the bedroom. He closed his glider, set it to the side, and stepped inside while being as careful and as silent as he could. In truth, it was never very difficult for him. He tended to walk as if his feet hardly ever touched the ground, but he could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him.
It had been a long and grueling journey back home.
Momo finally started to feel well enough to travel so once Aang was able to settle things back at the Earth Kingdom, he knew that it was time to head back. For the first few hours, he had been overly excited. He was coming back home, coming back to you, his sweet little wife, but with the lack of sleep and all of the stress that he had underwent—it was no wonder his footsteps landed on spots in the wood flooring that they normally would not have. They creaked underneath him but he figured that you were probably deep in sleep and wouldn't notice.
When he finally rounded into the bedroom, he discarded all of his damp clothing and slid on a pair of warm loose sleeping pants that he let hang low on his hips. He was fully prepared to slip into bed and cozy up next to you when he noticed that the bed was made as if you hadn't slept yet. It was strangely untouched, almost as if you'd never even acknowledged it at all. Were you not home?
Sporting a small pout, Aang peeked his head into the washroom but was met with the same silence and darkness he'd walked into when he came in.
Softly, he called your name as he moved towards the kitchen area and...nothing. He frowned, but wasn't at the stage of concerned yet. Especially since there was clearly a warm kettle of tea that was left on the warmer. He brushed the back of his hand against it. He was right. You couldn't have made the tea that long ago, so you were close by. He was sure of it.
He was always good at finding you. That was never a problem.
It just helped when he could...cheat a little.
When he stepped into the common area, he circled his fingers through the air, bending the flow of the current to his will so that he could feel for your presence. Since the windows and the balcony doors were open, it was easy for air to travel through the home and wind throughout, being able to cover the entire upper floor before he took his next breath. Suddenly, the torrent of air stopped. His eyes widened, and a warm smile curved at his lips.
There you were.
Before he could walk out to the balcony to you, he heard the sound of paper shuffling to the floor. Curious, he turned and saw what was there. He bent at the knees and with a crease to his forehead, his eyes swept over the pages.
Letters. His letters to you.
Even though he remembered what he had wrote to you, he read over them, ignoring the way his chest flooded with a sinking feeling. They were hard to read, being back home now. He'd missed you, a lot, but didn't want to even imagine how his long and silent absence affected you.
He sighed and dropped his hand, still holding the letters. His eyes traveled over to the hearth that was still aflame, and felt a chill along his naked spine. Maybe he should have rushed the mission. He knew he needed more information on the Denied but was all of it worth it in the end? If you were still up at this late hour and was drinking jujube-ginger tea while rereading all of his letters...
He had been wrong.
He'd told himself that you understood what he needed to do, who he was to the people of the world. You knew he was the Avatar. He had a duty to protect the people and the balance of all nations but more importantly, you.
So did you not understand? Did you pretend to when he first told you that he loved you and wanted to be with you for the rest of his life?
All he wanted was to make sure that the world stayed safe enough for you to live in. It was never like you asked him to take on that responsibility, but he couldn't sleep at night knowing that you were constantly surrounded by danger when he knew that he could do something about it. You deserved what he had to fight for, and that was peace.
But could it really be at the cost of causing you so much pain and unrest?
Suddenly, he was afraid to face you. It felt like judgement day.
Still, no matter what, Aang had to see you. He'd let you cry, scream and hit him if it made you feel better. He just wanted to lay eyes on you. Maybe hold you, if you'd let him. Spirits, he hoped so...
With a firm resolve set in his jaw, he gently placed the letters back on the lowered table and quietly made his way out onto the balcony where you were still chipping away at dead leaves.
Even though you had no bending abilities, you were still able to feel when something...was off. It was like a shift in the air, a turn; a difference. It brushed against your skin like a breath waiting to exhale.
As noticeable as it was, it still didn’t prepare you for what came next.
"You're still awake."
It was as if the world had gone quiet. The rain, the wind chimes, the distant hum of the city below—it all faded into nothing. Even the air in your lungs had abandoned you.
It couldn’t be…
It wasn’t—
But you didn’t turn to look. You didn’t even blink.
Instead, you held your breath and counted down the seconds, hoping that you weren’t having another waking nightmare. Your mind could be terribly cruel that way. It’s enjoyed making you suffer the long and lonely days and nights with your husband gone, tormenting you with memories and phantom touches of his fingers across your skin. It had this peculiar way of creating illusions that it knew you yearned for, if not to silence the thought of losing him.
Aang.
It was him, you knew it. Like the flowers in your palms, this was real; this, you knew. Except, the greater part of you couldn't bring itself to face him.
It was the months of waiting, of spiraling between anger and worry. It took from you until you had nothing left to give.
So, you said nothing.
You resumed snipping at the leaves, and ignored the sharp breath from behind you. By now, he must have realized. How could he not? You'd left things as they were; the bed, the tea, the letters... Oh, the letters. They were the worst. Surely he'd put the pieces together by now. Every fractured part of you was right there in front of him, painfully bare.
Aang had failed to realize the impact of his absence, but he could see it now.
Things were worse than he could've imagined.
After a moment of silence, he took a brave step forward, testing the waters. He let his footsteps create enough sound for you to hear him, but you did not react.
He stepped forward again, and was now close enough to feel your body heat against his own. His eyes assessed what he could see of you. They went from your tensed shoulders to each shallow breath that you took, and down to the rigid way that you were trimming the leaves. His face pulled into a slight frown. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but he wasn't sure how to go about it. You were upset, he could tell, so he wanted to tread as carefully as possible.
But moments like these were handled as they always were.
Aang grinned to himself.
He knew just how to fix this.
He started off by brushing his fingers against your arm, trailing up until they poked against your cheek. Of course, nothing, but he expected as much. He then placed his chin on your shoulder and continued to watch you before sliding his long arms around your waist, holding you against him. Curiosity stirred in his eyes and deep in his chest as he leaned into you, trying to catch your eyes. You were focused, and agonizingly silent.
Aang pouted.
He'd thought that he could fix this the ol' fashioned way.
Guess not.
"Baby... I'm home. I'm here now. C'mon," he closed his eyes for a brief moment, and grazed his lips against your neck. "Talk to me. Please."
He didn't move away, and neither did you. Your mind spiraled as you tried to ignore him. The part of you that was excited to have him back home, safe and sound, had been drowned out by what had lingered after he'd left you in a period of burning silence. You allowed yourself to feel angry, to feel hurt and abandoned because these feelings were coming from a place in your heart where only he occupied.
You didn't love easily. Falling for Aang happened over time. It’d started purely as adoration that eventually turned into something that you knew would ruin you.
It took work to get to where you were with him. He'd spent years pining and yearning after you, courting you with flowers and big gestures that ultimately ended with him proposing to you. You remembered it like it was yesterday. It was beautiful because he had done it privately, just the two of you. That was what made it special.
That was the moment that you'd truly fallen in love with him.
Aang had always been someone that provided you with love, affection, honesty and communication and, maybe, that had turned into your greatest weakness somewhere along the way. You'd fallen so deeply in love with him that a garden of selfishness began to grow. You'd accepted him as the pillar of peace and balance, but that acceptance slowly festered and turned into a nasty thought that wouldn't go away. It wasn't like he could stop being the Avatar. You knew this, but...
You were so selfish. You loved him. You loved a man that was now your husband but still had to give half of himself to a world that would always need him even when you felt you needed him more.
This confliction within you confused you. He needed someone that was willing to be by his side, accept his duties and still love him all the same. You just didn't know how to do that without wanting him all to yourself.
This love for him... It weakened you, and it exposed him. If he decided to choose you over the world one day, what would happen then? Would there even be a world for him to love you in? Would it not go back to the days of chaos and madness? The founding and building of Republic City would be for naught and would fall without his constant influence and protection.
Was it not better this way? To swallow your deepest and darkest feelings lest they come to light and destroy all that you and Aang had built for one another?
A pain twisted in the maze of your heart, settling like a rock in the ocean. Maybe the answer was simple. Maybe it was an answer you knew you wouldn't like.
You paused what you were doing, staring down at the shears clutched in your hand.
When you spoke, you felt his fingers twitch against your stomach.
"Welcome home."
Aang knew he should have been happy. You were talking to him again. However, it was not in the same way that he had become so greedily accustomed to. Your tone was flat, your body was stiff and you still weren't looking at him. His stomach felt twisted in knots. He must've really fucked this up.
The last time you were this upset with him was when he had told you that he was going to the fire nation for a briefing with Zuko and the fire nation council members. There was a border issue that needed addressing and the group behind the incident demanded to speak with the Avatar only. He'd promised you that it was not going to be long before he came back home, and that he would be careful. Except when he did come back home, he was in worst shape than when he'd left. It'd scared you and you told him how the thought of losing him made you feel.
That was the first time, since marrying you, that he'd come to truly realize how deeply and utterly in love he was with you. How it, too, would kill him if anything were to happen to you. It was one of the bigger reasons why he didn't mind being the Avatar. If it meant keeping you safe, then he would choose this path in each and every single lifetime.
Even if it meant having you angry and upset with him more often than not. Much like now, except this...this felt different. He wasn't sure how yet, but it did.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered near your ear, looking at the side of your face like a kicked puppy would. "I mean it. I know I made you worry, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
Those words...
It won't happen again.
But, it would, wouldn't it? And you knew why.
When he felt you untangle yourself from his arms and step back from him, he felt his body wash over with sand, pulling him down until it nearly suffocated him from the inside. Rejection sat heavy within him, too heavy for comfort. Then the frown on your face, the hurt in your eyes and the way you looked at him.
Spirits, he truly hated that look.
It made him inhale, feeling his head swell with an emotion that he couldn't quite place.
"Sorry?" You closed your arms around yourself, and shook your head. "No, Aang... You have nothing to apologize for. It's your duty, as the Avatar, to put the people first. The Denied needed to be taken care of. I...understand this now. It's fine. We're fine." Your eyes fell to the city beyond you, watching the rain scatter across shutters and the rocky pathways of the streets. "Just fine."
You could tell that he didn't believe you. Spirits, you didn't believe you. It almost made you cringe, but you tried to school your features to remain as neutral as you were able to.
"I don't believe you."
Your eyebrows twitched.
Aang stepped towards you, fully expecting you to step back again. When you didn't, he released a breath. Relief acted like a sedative to the rejection from a moment ago. Better, he thought.
"If you were fine, if we are fine, then you wouldn't still have that look on your face."
"What are you talking about?" You asked, your eyes finding his again.
The way he was staring at you now, it made you feel so exposed. You never could hide parts of yourself from him. He was very good at seeking them out and making you lay them all out where he could see them, plainly; openly. It unnerved you when you knew he was right to.
When he said your name, it was under his breath and there was a rhythmic tic in his jaw. He looked as if he was trying to keep his composure, but the shiver that ran down your spine could not be ignored. You swallowed, and pushed your teeth into your lip.
"Don't do that."
His tone dropped quietly, familiar in a way that unsettled you more than if he'd raised his voice. It sounded practiced, like something that was said to you during moments where he felt you slipping away from him emotionally, and instinctively reached out to pull you back.
Your breath stumbled over the next.
"Do what?"
His lips pulled into a half smile, his eyes darkening.
"Act like you don't know what I'm talking about. How long have we been doing this now? How many years have we danced this dance?" He took another step forward and you'd only realized, just now, that there was nowhere else to go. The closer he got, the more you had to bend your neck back to look at him. Was he always this broad and imposing?
"I know you," he continued, peering down at you, only a few inches from you now. "I know your ins and your outs. I know what you sound like when you're happy or when you're all sad and angry at me. Or..." He looked over you, finding the gown that you had haphazardly thrown on earlier to be quite...transparent. His smile turned into a smirk. He didn’t need to say it. You knew.
A breeze whirled between the overwhelming heat of your bodies, caressing the front of your gown, prompting your nipples to peak against the thin fabric. It was him; he was always the wind. An unnatural current of air that moved around you, against you. It shouldn't have been possible, but nothing was impossible for him. He knew you knew this. He tended to use that to his advantage, and sometimes it worked.
Another inhale, and you could feel a bit lightheadedness coming over you. Breathing should have made this easier. It did not.
Without knowing it, he was unraveling you, seam by seam. You could feel it.
There was no more fighting it.
"You always do this," you tell him, shaking your head. "You think you can say a few words to turn me on. Touch me a certain way and smile at me, and suddenly things are back to being okay between us. That's not going to work this time, Aang. I'm sorry but its not and maybe, that's how things should be for us."
You moved past him to go inside when you felt his hand close around your wrist, pulling you back. With a stumble, the front of your body collided into his. He searched your eyes for a moment, letting you stand in a pocket of silence before he spoke again.
"And what if I don't want things to be like this between us? I mean, I know I was gone for a while but I'm here, aren't I?"
He thought that he understood you. He thought that he knew you better than you knew yourself but again, he was wrong. How could he not see this part of you? A part of you that had been there, all along. Did he not know you the way that he thought?
“You don’t get it,” you let out a humorless sigh, struggling to process what you were hearing. “I was so worried about you, Aang. Do you know what it’s like to be so far apart from you and to not know whether you’re okay or not? I know you can always take care of yourself but I also know you’re not invincible. You like to make these rash decisions that put you in the most dangerous situations. So, not hearing from you for months and for you to just show up, out of the blue, thinking a bit of humor and soft touches just…fixes things?”
Aang’s hold on you tightened rather than loosening to let you go. It wasn’t like you were fighting him but you grounded him, even when you looked at him like he’d said or done something completely unforgivable.
Well…maybe he did.
In fact, the time that he’d spent not writing to you was time that he took to focus on his mission. He figured that the less time he spent on constantly writing to you and worrying you with every single detail that was going on, the more time that he would have to get what he needed on the Denied. The sooner he could return back home to you. Except…it would seem that no matter what decision he’d made at the time, it would’ve still been the wrong one.
Why couldn’t you see that? Why couldn't you understand that what he'd done, he'd done for you?
“So you’re saying that this is my fault?"
Your eyes widened in the reflection of his whirling grey ones, feeling your skin prickle as gooseflesh settled over it. The air around you whistled through the tension between you and him as if it was preparing for its final curtain call.
The ridiculousness of his question froze you.
Even the way that he was looking at you. Gone was the boyish gleam in his eyes and the soft touch of his arms around you. In its place were hardened eyes and rigidness in the palms of his hands. He did not release you nor did you look away.
“You say that like it’s a question.”
“Yeah, because it is.”
Your eyebrows furrowed with the hitch in your chest.
Breathing had never felt so agonizing.
“I don’t understand–”
“Yeah. I know. Me neither."
Finally, his arms dropped back to his sides and when he pulled away from you, it should’ve brought you a sense of relief. It did not. It only made you feel colder than you already were.
Calling him the Avatar…
You’d never done that before. In fact, he held nothing but memories of you seeing him as just your husband. He found that he didn’t like it. Not when it came from you, someone he loved more than anyone in the entire world and was comforted by knowing that when he came home, he could just be himself. Just Aang, without the weight of the world sitting heavy on his shoulders as the Avatar.
Aang sighed, and turned to face the railing of the balcony, eyes hard-set on the night covered city. His hands rested on the wood, gripping it until the whites of his knuckles pressed taut against his skin.
“Out there, I am suffocated by the world and its expectations for me. I know I’m not like other people. I have a duty, a responsibility to all of the nations to be this symbol of peace and be a protector of it but sometimes… Sometimes I regret ever being found in that iceberg.”
Despite the frantic thoughts that consumed you and screamed at you to say something, you forced it all back and chose to remain silent.
The lantern light stretched across his back, illuminating the tension coiled through his shoulders. The smooth but ripped skin moved against tendon as he let his head drop, and closed his eyes to let his body expel some of the tension that hid between the grooves of his shoulders and spine.
“I am tired, my love. So very tired and I have not even fulfilled half of what is expected of me.”
Finally you felt the pull to willingly move towards him, but your feet stayed planted where they were. He looked as worn down as he'd sounded. His slouched form, the bags underneath his eyes and the weight of responsibility that still sat on his shoulders. It almost made you feel bad for how you were acting. Almost.
“Aang,” his head turned to your direction but he did not look at you. It was enough. “I know the duty, as the bridge of both worlds, comes with a lot of weight." He winced, knowing what you really wanted to say. "I know that most days, you just want to spend them looking for more airbender relics at the air temples, but you have to think about the people. The world. They need you–”
“Why do you sound like Katara?”
You stopped, and blinked.
“What?”
Aang let out a heavier sigh this time, then fully turned back around to you, his dark brows knitted together.
“You sound just like her. I mean, what’s next? You’re going to tell me that I’m the Avatar? You don’t think I know that by now?” He asked you, gesturing a hand across the length of his body to point out the obvious. There was a new fire stirring in his eyes now, something you didn’t often see. He looked like he, too, was unraveling. “And what’s up with you calling me that anyway? Avatar. You never see me as just that so what’s changed? Is my absence the reason?”
He was talking too fast, saying too much. You couldn’t keep up.
He clenched a hand around the railing behind him, if only to steady himself. There was a storm brewing in those grey eyes of his. Fires that looked like it would take more power than you had to put out.
Maybe it had something to do with the way he was getting all defensive that made you finally snap back.
“Don’t pull that shit with me, Aang.”
Your chest heaved with each passing word, feeling the sting behind your nose and eyes. You didn’t want to get all emotional, but fuck it.
“You’re a hypocrite. You’re a fucking hypocrite and I’m sick of it. I know the things that you think but won’t say. At least, not to my face. How selfish I am with you. How I don’t care enough about the people, the cause. How I’m not supportive enough of you. Now I give you just that and what? Suddenly I’m a different person? That's bullshit, and you know it.”
For a moment, Aang allowed you to fill up the space with your anger instead of his. He practiced great strength in his patience and a certain level of understanding when it came to you. Usually, it was why things stayed good between the two of you. Naturally, there were differences. That came with the territory of being different people from different backgrounds.
Even so, he hated when things got like this between you and him.
“Don’t talk like that with me,” his tone was stern and curt, but still had that brush of calm that you tended to love about him. Except, this time, it was like the flood gates had opened. You couldn’t stop, even if you truly wanted to.
“I’ll talk to you however I want. You don’t own me, Aang.”
When you stepped closer to him, it was like you could physically see the way he was trying to hold himself back from reacting. His knuckles went white again and the dip in his brows deepened.
“This entire marriage with you has been so confusing. It’s been full of emotions that I never knew I had to prepare myself for. Had I known…” Your eyes fell away from his. “Maybe I would’ve… maybe I wouldn’t have…”
Before you could even think about how to finish that sentence, Aang was on you. One hand flew to your jaw, curling a few fingers under your chin to pull your gaze back onto his while the other hand tugged at your hip, pulling you against him.
Once again, you were suffocating in the aroma of everything that made Aang who he was to you. The scents were comforting, but it did nothing to thaw the ice corroding your heart now that you were forced to look at him.
Aang towered over you with ease, his back slightly curved and his wide yet still darkened eyes never left yours. He should’ve backed down. He should’ve let you speak, but knowing what you were about to say… It would’ve broken him into a million pieces. He would have much rather died than hear anything like that come from you. Easily.
“What is this, this fight in you? Where is this coming from? You’ve never been this angry with me. Have I really been gone that long?”
Your face twisted like there was something foul on your tongue.
“Why do you still not understand? This isn’t about the stupid mission–”
“Okay, then tell me.”
He searched your eyes again, frantically, hoping that he would find his answer there. No matter what, it was as if you'd closed him off. Not even through your eyes could he see what you were thinking. Another pang in his chest.
Your vision of him began to blur. When did you start crying?
“I think…I think I lo…” It felt like a rock was lodged in your throat. You swallowed what you could down, and breathed. "I think I love you too much, Aang, and that’s the problem. Katara was trying to tell me–”
“I knew it.” His face fell into a hard line, if that was even possible.
You sighed, shaking your head in his hold. “No, she was trying to help me–”
“Help ruin this marriage? Yeah, I’m sure she was just trying to help.”
With that, he started to pull away. This time, you were the one to pull him back.
“When did you start villainizing her?”
Aang glanced at you before dropping his eyes to the floor. The flex in his jaw was fluctuating now, as if it was trying to weigh what was morally right and what was wrong. Usually, he could keep a handle on his thoughts before speaking. It was easier that way because it kept him from saying something he knew he would regret.
If only he'd done that now.
“Since she started meddling in our marriage.” He peeked back at you from the corner of his eyes, frowning again. “Filling your little head up with crazy ideas and these…” He shook his head. “All of these misconceptions.” He looked away again, finding a new outlet for his anger and confusion. “I knew she wasn’t over it. I just had a feeling.”
At the mention of old wounds, you gripped at his arm, not realizing how your nails dug into his skin. He was too deep in his own thoughts to even notice.
“Are you serious?” At that, he met your eyes again and saw how he had made things worse for himself. “She’s your friend. How could you say that about her? And she’s engaged, for spirits’ sake!” His eyes flinched at your tone, feeling his heart drop. “Or did you forget that too?”
Aang knew he always had this way about him. How he tended to stuff his foot in his mouth, and didn’t realize it was there until it was too late to take it out. He’d messed up. Being gone without reaching back out to you in those few months was now the very least of his worries.
You let him go and ran a hand over your face, trying to reel your emotions back in before you also said something that you knew you would regret.
“Maybe we should head inside, and get to bed. It’s late. You just got home. I don’t want to fight any more than we already have.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Forget it,” you waved it off, letting out another sigh before you turned your back to him. “I’m tired. I just want to sleep.”
Aang’s shoulders deflated. All of the anger that he’d felt moments ago had dissipated into thin air. His body felt numb with too many emotions to place but the one that he couldn’t ignore was knowing that he had hurt you more than he ever had.
It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was meant to surprise you, pull you into his arms and kiss you until sleep took over. He never wanted to fight with you, but this was worse than a fight wasn’t it?
Was the marriage itself on its last and final thread? How could he fix things from here or was it too late?
He should’ve let you walk through those doors. He should’ve let you retire for the night. He’d caused you enough hurt, it was understandable, but Aang started to realize another thing about himself.
He found it hard to watch you walk away from him.
As soon as you started to walk away, you heard a low thump. Worried that Aang had jetted off for the night, possibly off to sleep somewhere that wasn’t right next to you, your body swiveled around with your lips prepared to call out for him when you saw it. Saw him.
Your eyes lowered.
His knees were pressed into the floor, his head hung low and his hands were loosely balled into fists on his thighs. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. He looked defeated, like there was nothing else he could say to fix this between you and him.
So, he figured that the next best thing was to beg.
“Baby… Forgive me… I was out of line. Way out of line.”
His voice was so low, it was almost hard to hear him. You stood standing where you were, your arms by your side. You felt your heart melt in the worst way. He’d never done this before. Well, not in this sort of situation, at least. A man as powerful as him had decided that it was best to meet you on his knees rather than let his bruised ego get in the way.
All you could see was the dark blue arrow that led to his forehead. From his raspy tone, being on his knees and knowing that he was silently giving you back your power—it stirred something inappropriate between your thighs.
Inappropriate because was this really the time for this?
“I’m an asshole. I know that, and I haven’t been all that fair to you. I know that, too. As my wife, you understand what it means to stand by my side through the toughest of times and I love you for that but I have not really seen it through your eyes. I know it’s hard being the Avatar’s wife.”
He sighed to himself.
“Not to mention the fact that I kept telling myself that if I stayed focused on the mission, I’d get home faster. I'll admit, it was the wrong call and I realize that now. I stayed gone for months, and you got nothing. I…I understand how you felt.”
You sucked in a slow breath, and held it as you let him continue to speak.
“You want to be selfish but because you’re so kind, you feel guilty for it. Maybe…maybe Katara was right,” you watched the way his hands tightened back into fists. “You don’t know this but she’d once told me that I was holding you back. That you would be freer if I stopped being so selfish by keeping you here. She thought of you as a caged bird and I’ll be honest,” he let out a humorless laugh. “That broke me.”
And it broke something within you.
Katara never acted nor spoke as if she saw your marriage in such a way. She was the most honest person that you knew. Why would she say something like that?
“Aang,” you interrupted, unable to keep yourself from asking. “When was this?”
His eyes looked off to the side, the moonlight catching them in its cool light, bringing out a gleam similar to that of a moonstone.
“After our last fight.”
Ah. So that was it. The fight after he had returned from that mission at the border in the fire nation. Sure, the argument was bad but you never thought it was that bad.
“So you went to her.”
It wasn’t a question. It was just an observation.
Aang’s head shot up to look at you. He looked ready to get back on his feet and crowd you again, but held himself back. His breath hitched.
“Yes. I did, but only because she’s your closest friend here. I wanted to know if I was truly in the wrong and if so, how to fix it.”
The abrupt silence carried with the wind, allowing you the opportunity to think. It wasn’t worth getting upset over, especially when it was a thing of the past. Plus, Katara was close to everyone. She was Aang’s confidant before you. It made sense that they stayed close enough to still confide in one another so that wasn’t the issue. Well, if there was one to harbor on.
Katara was also nothing but supportive of you and Aang. She was there when you two met, when you started to gain feelings for each other, when you started courting and finally, at your marriage ceremony. It sounded like she had been trying to look out for you and your wellbeing. Though, it wasn't exactly necessary considering you were more than happy with Aang and all of his shenanigans.
Maybe a conversation with her was in order...
Be that as it may, you didn’t care about any of that. You only cared about you and him. That was it. Nothing else mattered.
Slowly, you made your way over to him. When you bent down, you grabbed one of his hands and pulled him back up. When he towered over you again with that softened yet hopeful look in his big grey eyes, you took the chance to pinch one of his big ears.
“Ow!” He instantly pouted, and held a hand to his injured ear. “What was that for?”
There it was. That expression on his face that always did make him look several years younger. He grumbled under his breath, trying to massage away the temporary pain while you let out a snort that easily turned into a laugh. He stopped, and looked at you.
Your laugh was like several bells to his ears. Or, ear. The other one was still throbbing so not much was going through that one but it made his heart jump all the same.
When you’d noticed the familiar light back in his eyes, you felt your own sting with tears again.
“I’m not a caged bird, Aang, and you’re not holding me back. At all. I’m here and with you in this marriage because I want to be. I saw a lifetime with you, and I still do. Yes, it hurts when you have to leave for long periods of time. It hurts when you don’t write for months and leave me waiting and thinking the worst. And yet, I’m still here.”
You raised a hand to his face, sliding a gentle thumb across the apple of his cheek, melting at the realization that you could survive this. That the only reason you’d fought with him was because you never allowed yourself to feel how you felt. It wasn’t going anywhere. You still wanted him to yourself but, at the same time, you were capable of sharing him with the world. You’d realized that there was room within you to do both and in a very healthy way.
He didn’t say anything. He let you continue.
A smile made its way to your lips.
“Maybe I can…travel with you? I know you’ve always said it’s too dangerous and that you don’t want to risk anything happening to me but you know I can fight. I can hold my own. I won’t get in the way. That way I can be right next to you and not a thousand miles away. I want adventure with you, Aang. I want to be with you and never be apart unless–”
For the first time in months, when his lips descended onto yours, you could feel yourself breathe. It was as if he’d given you life and built a new way to inhale, knowing that he was there and always would be. It was what your body had been craving. So, you let yourself finally let go of all the hurt and the pain that came with missing your husband and melted into his touch.
There was nothing more that needed to be said between you and him. Aang understood you completely now. You loved him and with that came the longing of wanting to be by his side more than be in a home that would never be able to replace him.
He could do that. He could take you with him wherever he went because no matter what, he would keep you safe. That had been his only fear and reason why he never wanted to take you with him. But, you were not some helpless damsel that constantly needed protecting. He’d forgotten how well you could take care of yourself too.
For a brief second, he pulled back and looked into your eyes, finding nothing but pure love and devotion staring back at him.
He hummed, and pressed his forehead to yours.
“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I will never leave you alone again. You go where I go and if I have to leave you back here at home, I promise to write to you every single day. If I slip up, I give you full permission to yell and scream at me as much as you want, yeah?”
A giggle bubbled up as you shook your head, “you are going to be the death of me, you know that?”
Aang released a drawn out whine, and traveled his hands down your sides to your hips. He gripped your waist, giving you a look that said more than what he’d said next,
“In more ways than one.”
He reclaimed your lips, pushing his tongue past the softness of yours the moment you tried to say his name. It fell into a whisper and the wind took it, secretly manipulated by him bending the air around you, pulling you closer until it felt like you were molding into one. This is what he would spend his long nights dreaming of. Being able to hold you, to feel you, to kiss you. To hear your sighs, to feel your smile against his lips and to know that with you, he was whole again. To know that he was not alone, and could be no one but himself.
“Aang…not here,” you mumbled, feeling him spread kisses from the corner of your mouth to your cheek.
You felt a rumble in his chest, finding a faint smirk on his face.
“You sure? I think anyone would feel honoured to watch how the Avatar fucks his pretty little wife. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Your body shivered at the feeling of his fingers drawing your gown up from your thighs, moving around enough so that he'd grazed the lower end of your spine. His lips were on your neck now, suckling and kissing, knowing how easily you bruised. He’d leave as many as possible, just enough to make them hard to fully cover.
Perhaps he had a point. The thought of letting him take you here, on the balcony where anyone might come out on their own in the middle of the night and see the two of you, caused a bigger ache between your thighs than you wanted. Or maybe not having his hands on you for the past few months just made you too desperate to say no to any of his outlandish ideas.
Except, he knew that you knew that was not true.
When you felt him playfully bite at your shoulder, you squealed and pushed at his chest with widened eyes.
“Did you just…bite me?”
Aang said nothing at first. He merely grinned like some rebellious teenager, raising an eyebrow.
“What? Didn’t like it? Where’s all that fight from earlier, huh?”
He reached out and curled a finger around a strand of your hair. He licked his lips, observing the way your breath quickened. It would seem that you were just as needy and as desperate as him. And spirits, if that didn’t turn him on in the worst way.
His hand dropped to your collarbone, sliding his fingers down until they met the edge of your gown that dipped in the front. Slowly, he tugged until he could see more of your cleavage and almost groaned. You made him feel so depraved. Like a rabid, starving man eager to devour. Only you could make him this way. Turn and corrupt him into wanting you more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life. Nothing could come close to being with you. Simply being near you, in your presence, made him want to be on his knees, serving you in every way imaginable.
You didn’t have to look. You could feel his knuckles skim the side of your breast, your body reacting almost instantly. His throat dried at the sight of your nipple peaking, almost like it was reaching out to him, begging him to touch.
“Aang…”
Your voice was like honey to his ears, so deliciously sinful. It nearly took the power of his past lives to get him to look at you without ripping your flimsy little gown off and taking you against the railing.
“Where?” he asked you, his voice low and broken, barely trusting himself to say much. Else, he feared he would growl at his weakening restraint. “You said not here, so where?”
Aang prayed to whoever was listening that you wouldn’t say the bedroom. He knew himself. He could feel it. The savage within him wouldn’t let him let you make it that far. It had to be somewhere close but comfortable for you because if it was left up to him, he would have you up against the nearest wall and fuck you that way. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger, just let him do all of the work.
His cock stirred.
Restraint.
Before he let his hand drop back down, you grabbed it and smiled.
“Come.”
And he almost did...until he realized that you’d meant for him to follow you instead.
Yeah, well. He could do that too.
Watching you turn and slowly pull him back inside, his eyes glued to the dip in your hips and the arch of your back, made him fully aware of just how much he could actually see through your gown. How it clung to you like a second skin, and moved with the gentle cadence of your steps. Especially when you passed through the warm glow of a few lit candles on the way in. Had those been lit before?
Truthfully, as much as he loved your body, it was how you'd reached for him as if you didn't need to think twice. As if it was your way of telling him that he had nothing left to fear. That you were silently choosing him all over again. It gave him the confirmation that he needed. That he hadn't failed you or this marriage.
That thought brought a certain warmth and haziness to his eyes. It was all he wanted. He hated fighting with you, but he’d misunderstood your feelings. You were only trying to convey that you'd missed him. He just didn't realize how much.
The moment you were about to cross the hearth, he grabbed you by the waist and captured your lips, groaning right into your opened mouth. He didn’t want to think about any of that right now. If anything, he used the long wait of seeing you as his pillar and reason.
He had to have you. There was no waiting to get to the bedroom. He'd waited long enough.
It felt like he was everywhere. The way his tongue brushed against yours, the feel of his hands digging into your waist and how you had to stand on your toes just to stay connected. Your hands moved over the strong ridges of his abdomen and up to his chest, sighing against his lips.
The love that you felt for him went beyond the limitations of the heart. Everything in you, even down to your spirit, knew that Aang was always going to be the one. The only one that could make you laugh, cry and love, all in the same breath.
He was simply and utterly perfection personified.
The kiss deepened, and you could feel it. You could feel the desperation, the longing that had taken place in your absence. How, not being near you, affected him just as much as you. He moved against you like wind brushing over water. Fluidly, purposefully, tracing his fingers up and down your spine to the base where they could spread over the round of your ass.
"Fuck,” he swore under his breath. His rough, raspy voice against your lips almost made you collapse.
He kissed from the corner of your lips to your jaw, down to your neck where he resumed leaving behind a few marks. He didn't want to hurt you but the thought of leaving darkened spots across your pretty skin spoke to him in a way that it shouldn't have. He imagined you failing to fully cover them and someone noticing. Would they be horrified? Concerned?
He smiled to himself.
He couldn’t wait.
Oh, and the noises, the sounds that you were making...
Truth be told, you were going to be the one to kill him in the end. And if this was to be his fate, then he gladly welcomed it with open arms.
"Aang, please," you pleaded, almost pushing him over the edge.
Still, he always did like how pretty you begged.
"Please what?" he asked you, still nipping and sucking at your neck, one of his hands moving to the front of your gown. His knuckles brushed just above the heat between your thighs, sending a chill through your body.
You gasped, and buried your face into his chest, hearing how steady his heartbeat was. He seemed calm, despite how he was making you feel. You just had no idea how close to breaking he actually was.
Months of being without him made your body miss him in ways you didn’t think were possible. It was sensitive to every touch and every breath, keening at the attention it craved for. It made you want to let go and completely fall apart in his arms.
“Touch me,” you breathed and as pathetic as it may have sounded, it didn’t stop you. “Need you touch me.”
“I am touching you, sweet girl,” he said into your skin, smiling softly, eyes closed. “What, you want more?” He felt you nod, and hummed to himself. “My greedy, greedy wife.”
When his lips found yours again, everything around you faded and blurred away into the background. It was easy to get lost in him, in all that he was. With you, in this moment, he was no longer the Avatar. He wasn’t the dependable friend nor was he the savior of Republic City; of the entire world. With you, he had no responsibilities. No one and nothing. He was just your husband, your Aang.
He didn’t rush. He took his time with you, reaching to cup your face and mold himself to you. He felt you quiver, whine and hold him like you would’ve fallen to pieces if not. He kissed you until you felt your head spin. Until he made you feel like you were somewhere else and not in a world where you had to share him. Until you felt your knees touch the soft rug in front of the hearth, and Aang hovering on top of you, his tattooed hands next to your head. Even the sound of the rain waned until there was nothing but the sound of his breath chasing after yours.
With you flat on your back now, Aang could really get a good look at you. Your cheeks were warm, and your lips were kiss-swollen. Part of your gown had slipped down, revealing your skin shimmering with a glow that made his heart squeeze. The mark on your neck was blooming steadily. You wore it beautifully, the gleam in your eyes telling him that you were proud of it even. His chest ached with so much love and warmth, he could hardly contain it.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”
It was true. He’d met plenty of women, but none held a candle to you. They weren’t worthy comparisons in the slightest. Sure, they held their own unique beauty but you were above that. Everywhere you went, you had a luminescent light about you that made you look so angelic. You also loved with the entirety of your heart, giving away bits of you without caring about what was left. You loved and cared openly, without regard. That made you different, special.
He felt like the luckiest man in the entire fucking world.
As he looked you over, his eyes landed on the jewelry around your neck. He traced a finger along the necklace at your throat. He’d made it for you a while ago; smooth mountain bone carved with an Air Nomad wind swirl, reclaimed glider wood fitted beneath it and tiny bronze pieces. It was meant to mimic the prayer chimes you’d found in the air temple long ago.
Simple, invaluable and perfect, like you. It was also meant to remind you that he would always be with you, even if he couldn’t physically be there. He knew it was not to replace him. Only to keep you company when you felt at your lowest and missed him.
As he stared down at it, he pictured you holding it at random points of the day and crying into it at night. He wondered if you ever took it off even though you’d sworn to him that you never would.
You couldn’t help but catch the distant look in his eyes as he fiddled with the necklace.
“What are you thinking about?” You asked in a soft tone, a hand of yours coming up to brush over the corded bracelet you’d made for him that was wrapped around his wrist.
Pieces of both of you given to each other during the wedding ceremony so many moons ago. While his gift felt like it’d held much more meaning, yours was done through several long and frustrating days. You’d weaved and corded it yourself, despite Katara’s several attempts to help. As much as you could’ve used it, you wanted your gift to be handmade. It felt more special that way but there was nothing truly significant about it.
It was plain cord in a tightly woven fashion. At the time, it felt right because Aang was very simplistic and held no interest over materialistic things. As an air nomad, he was taught not to place value on wealth, extravagance and certain possessions. Thankfully, he didn’t reject your gift but looking at it in the same light that he was looking at his…
“Have you taken this off since I’ve been gone?”
Your eyes widened a bit. “No. Why?”
Aang swallowed, and licked his dry lips.
“Not even once? Not even when I failed to write or you thought that I was never coming back?”
The only reason you’d noticed that his eyes were back on you was because you were already staring at him.
You held eye contact and said, “No. Not even then. Not even when I cursed your name and cried some nights. I held onto it knowing that you would return because you always do.”
The level of faith and adoration that you had in him did something to him that he wouldn’t dare voice out loud. He knew this love for you would be his ruin. It was becoming unhealthy and maddening.
If you loved him, he loved you more. If you put him on some sort of pedestal, then you were the center of his universe and reason for existing. He’d went from believing that his purpose was to the people, to the world as their Avatar. That is, until he met you.
Since then, each breath that he took was for you.
Without you, he was nothing. A ghost walking the earth in service of others, but not living. No, not how he lives for you.
You are the deity in his eyes. The goddess that he prays to on nights that he can spend on his knees, worshipping you from between your thighs. You are his greatest gift, and the greatest weapon to his own destruction. And yet, he did this. He created this. He’d given you all of the power needed to end him because what was a greater tragedy than dying at the hands of someone he loved more than life itself?
“Aang…” your voice brought him back, feeling your hand against his cheek. Subconsciously, he leaned into your warmth and closed his eyes.
You’d always known what his love for you meant and where it came from. Despite the fact that it had happened over a decade ago, Aang was clearly not healed from the tragedy of losing his people. He’d spent years trying to accept it and move on, but you knew the worst of it. It showed through the restless nights full of nightmares, how protective he was of you and how he loved you.
It didn’t concern you the way it did Katara because you understood and accepted that it would always be a part of him. Granted, you didn’t want him to fall into darker places. Yet, instead, you did your best to gently guide him back. If not to remind him that you were not his only reason to live. You reminded him that he needed to come first before you, always.
“You love me so much, I know you do, but don’t let it blind you from what truly matters which is you. I ground you, yes, but you are the epitome of balance within yourself. When you fight, fight for you the way you fight for me. And when you love, love you the way you love me.”
Aang listened because you were right. It was so easy to fall into that place that he held special, just for you. If he let himself think too deeply about where this attachment to you started, he could almost feel the edges of his mind begin to close in on itself. Except, that was where you came in. You quieted the loud thoughts and the burning feeling in his chest that echoed all that he’d lost.
You kept him sane, but he needed to remember that he existed not just for you and the people but for himself too. That he could love you and love himself just as much, at the same time.
“I’ll be better, I promise.”
He turned his head, and placed a kiss to your palm. Another, then another until he held your hand in his, spreading kisses to your wrist before you found him hovering back over you. The way the fire from the hearth danced within the moonstones of his eyes, making them darker than they normally were, it made your stomach curl in want.
“Better,” you breathed and wet your lips, ignoring the way his gaze followed the tip of your tongue. “The way you say that, it’s almost as if—”
“It’s for me, but if I don’t live at least half of my life for you then I don’t know if I could at all.”
Aang parted your thighs with his knee, dropping his eyes down to your chest. He watched as it moved with each passing breath, feeling his mouth water at the sight.
“Earlier…” he started as he leaned down to mouth at your collarbone. “–you told me to touch you. Tell me where.”
He slotted his lengthy body right between your legs, holding himself up to not crush you under his weight but just enough to keep you from feeling how hard he’d been for the past several minutes. Not like he could hide it but the semi dark atmosphere was working a bit in his favor.
His lips moved to your sternum, and ghosted over a nipple. It reacted like he’d hoped it would, reaching out for him again.
Not hearing anything, he glanced up at you and purred against the softness of your breast.
“Can’t touch you if I don’t know where to start, pretty.”
“Aang,” you almost reprimanded, frowning down at him. He figured that you were meant to look a bit more menacing than you did, and it almost made him laugh. You were so cute.
He used the tip of his tongue to swipe up against your nipple. It was warm, warmer than normal and you knew exactly why. It caused you to gasp sharply and wail out his name again, but in a higher pitch. He chuckled.
“You’re not saying anything so I’m going to assume that you’re ready to turn it in for the nigh—”
“Oh, don’t you dare.”
The look you gave him now could’ve stoked the flames next to him. That is, if you were a fire bender. Still, you were a woman of many talents. Talents that he was eager to exploit.
“Then…?” he asked, moving down until his chest met the lower half of your stomach, chin placed perfectly between your breasts. His eyes glimmered with a sudden innocence, nothing like how they were before, and his lips were poked out into a pout.
Your eye almost twitched.
What a little performer.
“I’ve waited months for this, Aang. Just touch me. I don’t care how. Or I’ll just do it without you. Maybe I'll even have you watch this time.”
If nothing else, that got his attention.
Aang’s face paled and fell into a hard line. Before you could protest, your gown was torn into jagged lines, right down the front. It laid in tatters around you, torn apart and utterly unsalvageable. He didn’t meet your widened eyes or the shocked look on your face at all.
Instead, he cupped his hand around one of your breast and closed his mouth over the eager nipple. You let out a long moan, letting your head fall back against the rug underneath you. As if everything about him wasn’t big enough, his tongue covered all that it needed to, not missing a spot.
His throaty sounds of approval made your head spin, yet again, feeling your legs twitch with the urge to close. Except, he was positioned perfectly in between them, keeping them wide open.
When he’d switched to the second bud and used his fingers to tweak and pull at the other, you could’ve cried. Your body didn’t know how to react. It’d been so long, way too long since it felt the touch of another that wasn’t yours. It knew him. It knew his touch like a familiar feeling embedded inside, coded by his hand. Pitifully sensitive and so reactive.
And Aang loved it.
Making you feel good felt like it was a part of his dna. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
Once he’d heard the mutterings of you telling him that you wanted more, he moved further south until he was met with your bare cunt.
He placed a palm just above it and used his thumb to raise as much of you as he could, staring directly at your clit now. It looked terribly swollen and shiny with your own arousal. He felt himself twitch in his pants.
Spirits, if you weren’t going to send him straight to the spirit world early.
He heard you mewl and saw your hips move up, using your body to beg for more this time. He smirked to himself before looking up at you. Like he figured, you refused to look back. Instead, you covered your face with your hands, mumbling about how he should stop staring and get on with it.
“Tell me, have you touched yourself since I’ve been gone?”
When you peeked back down at him, his eyes were back at your clit, massaging around it. He was still refusing to fully touch you, and it started to annoy you.
“Why does that matter? You’re here now. You can touch me—”
“Yeah, but…” Aang stopped what he was doing completely, and maneuvered his arms under your thighs to place your legs on his shoulders. Then, he kissed at the insides of your thighs, smiling into your skin. “Humor me. I wanna know.”
Looking down and watching him give attention to all but where you needed it most made you inwardly sigh. Humor him, he’d said. Fine.
“I did.”
He glanced up at you, clearly amused.
“When.”
“…that night. The same day that you left for the mission.”
A pause. A very long pause, in fact.
“Spirits,” he groaned out your name into your skin, grounding himself with a deep breath. “You’re going to kill me.”
Your clit throbbed.
“Why?”
He took a few seconds to respond, and it was not what you were expecting him to say.
“Because I did too.”
He could practically feel your eyes burning a hole through him, silently wanting him to further explain.
He trailed his lips down your inner thigh until you felt his warm breath just above your weeping cunt.
“After traveling for hours, I stopped at a point and made camp. Leaving you was hard,” he closed his eyes for a moment, reliving the memory. “It’s always the hardest thing I do so, of course, I started to miss you. I didn’t want to trust my dreams to give me what I wanted so I took it instead.”
The way he said that made your legs twitch, and your throat dry.
“When Appa and Momo finally fell asleep, I took a walk. Just to clear my head, you know? Walks usually help me sleep better. Though…” he sighed. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Thoughts of missing you turned into missing your voice, what you were doing, what you were wearing…or not wearing.”
Your breath quickened, knowing exactly where this was going. The mental image that your mind began to paint nearly lit your body on fire.
“I stopped at a tree and just…” he opened his eyes, and saw how hazy yours was. The greys of his darkened considerably. “Well. I’m sure you can imagine what happened next.”
The thought of him getting desperate enough to just…do that in the middle of wherever he was while thinking about you around the same time that you were touching yourself thinking about him…
You couldn’t bare another moment of talking about the past. He was here, seconds away from eating you out. You refused to use that time talking about what was when it could be what is.
“Aang, please stop talking. Touch me or I’m actually going to lose my mind.”
He stopped giving you thigh kisses, his eyes finding yours again, letting his lips curve up into another smirk.
“Yes ma’am,” and focused all of his attention exactly where you needed him the moment he’d laid you down and got into position.
As soon as he covered your clit with his mouth, your back arched and you let out a moan that made him groan right against you. He’d thought about this more times than he could count. Shameless thoughts of him pleasuring you, just like this, and pulling the prettiest sounds from you. Night after night, he laid awake, watching it play over and over. As the days turned into weeks, it only got worse. You made it hard to focus on anything else.
Much like now.
Your fingers plunged into the rug, holding it like it was anchoring you. It was overstimulating. The feel of a hot, slick pressure between your thighs, pressing along your clit, lazily dipping between your sticky folds, parting them for better access. Euphoria, pure bliss rushed through you, coaxing a broken moan that barely made it past your lips when you felt his tongue snake along the slit of your cunt.
"Ah, Aang!"
And the sounds, the slurping and the groaning... He was definitely doing it on purpose. What a little shit.
His name falling from your lips made him grin to himself as he suctioned his lips back around your throbbing clit. He knew that you could come from just this, but he wanted to take it a step further.
Aang let one of your thighs rest completely on his shoulder and traveled his fingers down to your slippery, twitching hole. He teased them up and down, hearing you beg and plead, before pushing a digit inside. His middle finger curled, earning a gasp from you. He hummed into the mess of you, instinctively aware of how to navigate through the warm tightness of your cunt. He'd done this several times, but it always felt like the first. Always felt like a starved-man, unable to get enough of you.
And fuck, if you didn’t taste like the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of eating.
You wailed and cried out for him, wanting more but not sure what more you could want when it felt like he was giving you too much.
He lapped at you with his tongue and sucked, alternating, as he added another finger. Except, this time he made sure both were warm where you would feel it, just like you'd felt the unnatural heat of his tongue moments ago.
Your body was well on the edge, feeling his pace quicken. He didn't stop, not even when you started to beg all pretty. Once he found that spongey spot inside of you, he aimed for it with each thrust of his fingers and fed on your swollen clit until he could hear your breath hitch and your moans get higher in pitch.
He nodded against you, groaning, "Like that, baby. Doin' so good for me."
"Aang!" you cried out again. "I can't!" he continued as he guided you through it.
"You can, love. You're so close," He said in a husky tone, brows furrowed, and still nose deep in you. "Let me feel it. Let me hear it. Please."
And that was all that it took.
He heard your breath stutter, and felt your walls tighten and flutter around his fingers before the squelching sounds turned into a steady drip of arousal. You'd practically coated his entire hand in it, leaving behind a wet, creamy mess. Your hips jerked, thighs quivering, nearly trapping his head there until you inhaled and exhaled.
For a moment, you didn't move and neither did he. As he cleaned you up with his tongue, you twitched but didn't say a word. You just stared up at the ceiling, your skin clad with sweat and warm with heat from the hearth. The thought of doing this and more here in front of the crackling flame no longer felt like a good idea. It felt like your body was on fire as it came down from its high. There was no way you were going to be able to focus if you didn't move elsewhere.
"Aang..." You called out for him, trying to use your fingers to get his attention. They brushed over his cheekbone then to his jaw. When you looked down, he was just coming up. A smile broke out across your face, your own cheeks warming and not from the heat of the fire. "You are so messy."
He chuckled, and rose to half of his height, settling himself properly between your legs again. He smoothed his hands down your thighs and held your gaze.
"So are you."
And well, he wasn’t wrong. You could feel a warm breeze glide between you and him, making you groan and rest your head back on the rug. From the stickiness, the heat and the way Aang continued to stroke and grip at your legs only made you want more. You’d already admitted to him how selfish you were. Why not raise the bar a bit more?
“Let’s move to the bed. I’m hot and this rug isn’t as comfortable as I was hoping it would be,” you mumbled, letting him tug you up until you were nearly face to face. He was so tall, even on his knees he was still looking down at you. Infuriating, but a turn on nonetheless.
Aang stood up first, and reached out for you to take his hands. You did but you looked down and back up at him.
“Carry me?”
He smiled, and tilted his head.
“Why? Can’t stand on your own?”
Normally, he would’ve just done what you asked but he couldn’t help but tease you. You made it too easy.
Your face fell into a scowl, playfully rolling your eyes.
“Fine. I’ll walk then.”
He hummed. “Poor thing. C’mere.” He bent down and like he would with a child, picked you up from under your arms and held you against him, feeling your arms secure themselves around his neck. Once he’d made sure your legs were also secured around his waist, he kissed your cheek and started walking towards the bedroom. “Such a baby.”
You half-smiled to yourself, looking elsewhere.
“Yeah, your baby.”
“Mhm.”
With Aang’s long legs, it didn’t take him but a few long strides to reach the room. Instead of putting you down, he turned and sat on the edge of the bed, still keeping your legs locked around his waist. Straddling him now, he dropped his arms from your hips and leaned back on his hands, eyeing you down. The intensity in his eyes made your arms loosen but not drop completely. Just lax, staring at him back.
“What?”
He didn’t say anything at first, just continued to look at you. Now that he’d had you fully naked and could see every part of you clearly, there was nothing keeping him from ogling you. Beautiful from head to toe. He just didn’t deserve you. He truly didn’t. And yet, you were made for him. You fit perfectly, in every way of the word.
He was just so happy that you’d chosen him to spend the rest of your life with. It wasn’t because he was the Avatar. No, you’d fallen in love with him as Aang, and that made his heart melt. Even to this day. He just couldn’t imagine what his life would’ve been like without you in it.
Just so completely over the moon in love with you.
You brought him back by trailing your fingers across his face, lightly pinching at his cheek.
“You spend way too much time in here,” you tapped at his temple, making him smile again. “What are you thinking about? Hopefully me.”
Cheeky, he thought before he inhaled and suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning up. His nose brushed yours, earning a giggle from you. But not wrong.
“Yes, you, beautiful girl.” He glanced at your lips, pecking them once then twice. He thumbed at your spine, “always you.”
You fought back a smile, biting at your lip.
“I’ve missed you. A lot.”
“And I’ve missed you so much more.”
The moment felt so perfect, it made you wonder if you were dreaming again. You couldn't help but remember what it had been like for you with him gone. Mentally, it was torture. So, to think that this too was nothing but a dream... Was it really that far-fetched?
But maybe it was the way Aang breathed, the feel of his chest against yours and that familiar glimmer in his eyes that promised you this was no dream. That he was truly here, right in front of you. Kissing you, touching you, and the whisperings of how much he'd missed you. It wasn't in your head. Not his voice, not his scent. Not even the way he filled up the space with his radiance, as faded from exhaustion as it was. It was still him. Your Aang.
"Now you're doing the thinking," you heard him say, feeling him press his forehead against yours.
Your lips split into a small grin, briefly closing your eyes.
"Sorry. Remind me to never think about you again."
Aang snorted. "Hah hah."
You snorted also and broke out into a chuckle, your eyes deep into his. "Seriously though. I know you're tired, but I really wanna...you know..."
"Mm," he took in a breath, ghosting his lips over yours and sliding his hands up and down your sides. "I may be the master of all four elements but I don't think I have the ability to read minds. Especially yours."
You stared at him back, and made a face. He grinned, and kissed you. You didn't hesitate to reciprocate it. A hand of yours nearly made its way to the nape of his neck to pull him closer when you broke apart, still giving him a look.
"Don't distract me."
"Awh, and it almost worked."
"What do you mean especially mine? Are you saying that you wouldn’t be able to read mine? Saying I have a big head or something?"
Aang deeply chuckled at that as he moved his lips to your forehead, laying a gentle kiss there, "No, but since we're on the subject–”
"Goodnight."
"Nooo, I'm joking," he whined, tightening his hold on you the moment that he felt you trying to pull away. You rolled your eyes, trying to keep back a smile. "Stayy."
“Why? So you can bully me some more?”
A bit distracted now, Aang kissed at the corner of your mouth before running the tip of his tongue along the seam of lips, not asking but taking. You let him nudge his tongue in and move against yours. He wasn’t even kissing you and you were already aching and wet again.
You let out a weak moan that was practically a whine, trying to lean in for more. When he’d slapped an ass cheek, you gasped and pulled back in shock.
Aang smirked, “don’t give me that look. You’re being bratty now. It’s not very nice so why should I be?”
Your lips formed a pout.
“Well…I’m sorry. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
He shrugged. “Good.”
“Enough?”
“No.”
“Ugh,” you pulled away from his lap and stood, sighing to yourself.
He leaned back on his hands and watched you again. The burning feel of his eyes on you made your body react as if he’d still had his hands on you. It was maddening. He was maddening.
“Baby,” he called for you in that sweet tone of his that he knew always worked on you. “Come back. You were saying something earlier. Was it about continuing what we were doing in the other room?”
You started to pull on another gown as you answered him over your shoulder.
“Earlier? That was like 30 seconds ago, grandpa.”
Aang groaned, “So mean to me,” and fell the rest of the way, now flat on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.
He didn’t say anything at first so you continued to dress, silently wishing the heat from the hearth could reach all the way to the bedroom. Then again, the upper floor of your home had more space than the others. Which meant it took longer for it to get cool and warm at times.
Once your new gown was lazily tied at the hip, you turned and just…stared. Aang’s eyes were closed. You knew that he wasn’t sleeping just yet, but the lax of his face… It made him look like he was. From the dark fullness of his brows, to the slope of his nose and finally to the soft of his lips that were parted. His chest sunk and rose steadily, his body still as if he was at peace in the silence.
As your eyes drifted lower, you couldn’t help but notice how well defined he was. Years and years of evasive combat training, honing his endurance in stamina and breath control as well as conditioning his mobility to perfect aerial techniques. It came from immense focus and strength that was learned, not necessarily taught.
Aang understood that better than anyone. Despite the fact that he was the Avatar, he learned early on that life was never meant to be handed to him. So he earned it, and perfected himself by doing it all on his own. Once he’d become comfortable with using all four elements, he trained in three until they became as familiar as air bending.
Toned, disciplined and strengthened by all of his hard work truly did pay off, just not in the way he had intended it to.
Honestly, it was completely unfair.
The quiet rise and fall of his chest drew your attention lower, expanding and tracing over defined muscle that was softened only slightly by exhaustion. Even after months of being away, his body still carried that same dangerous balance of gentleness and strength that always managed to unravel you far too easily.
There was not a single part of him built for stillness; not truly. Even laid across the bed in silence, he looked capable of movement at any given moment, like the wind itself rested beneath his skin.
And it did because spirits.
Maybe it was the lanternlight. Maybe it was the relief of having him home and alive where you could finally touch him again, but looking at him now made warmth pool low in your stomach in a way that almost annoyed you.
Because this was Aang.
Your Aang.
The same man that had frustrated you to tears only an hour ago now had you standing there in nothing but a thin gown while your thoughts betrayed you in the most depraved of ways.
You looked at him with a hunger that felt insatiable. Like the moment on the rug moments ago had only lit the fire within you, not put it out.
Slowly and quietly, you crept back up to the bed. You were trying to be stealthy, much like a shirshu. They were patient hunters, and earned their prey by tracking silently while being unsettlingly precise. However, the moment your knee dipped into the mattress, hands found your waist and within half of a breath, you were on your back with a real predator hovering over you.
Did he just airbend—?
Aang’s eyes roamed over your fluttering chest, moving them up to your lips and finally to the surprised gleam in your eyes.
A giggle bubbled from your throat, “You could’ve let me think I had that one.”
“Sorry pretty,” he leaned down and skimmed his nose along the column of your neck. “Maybe next time.”
Giving you a single kiss right at the center, Aang pulled back and was on his feet now. He peered down at you, noticing the new gown that you were wearing. He frowned before pouting, but he didn’t comment. Instead, his tattooed hands glided down your calves until his fingers closed around your ankles. Both of you shared a knowing look before he pulled you right up against his pelvis, helping you lock your legs at his waist.
“Aang—”
“Do you still want more?”
His question caught you off guard, but went right to your aching cunt nonetheless. His arousal felt hard and prominent against you, throbbing with the promise of ruining you. You didn’t dare look down. You knew what you would see. You could feel it.
“Yes.”
His deft fingers languidly pulled at the strings that kept your gown closed, and watched it fall apart to reveal your body to him once again. He caught the groan before it left his throat, opting to clench his jaw instead. The want to be inside of you ruled over his body’s need to sleep away the exhaustion of his long journey back home, back to you. He’d tasted you. Now, he wanted to feel you.
“So beautiful….” He bent down and twisted a bit to the side to spread kisses along your navel and up to valley of your breasts. “So mine…”
Aang reached a hand up to gently twist and tug at a nipple, earning a blissful sigh from you that sounded heavenly through the fog of his mind. He didn’t stop to let you breathe. He shifted his hips so that he could grind his erection directly against the bareness of your cunt, fully aware that it would sully the pants he had on. All for the better, really. The more transparent the fabric became, the closer he felt to you. He could bet all of the moon peaches in the world that you were just as warm and as wet as his mind conjured during the nights he’d spent alone.
He’d felt it earlier when he had his fingers inside you but he was smart enough to know that there was a difference between using his fingers and using something far more sensitive and connecting.
“Ahh, Aang,” you whined near his ear as his lips traveled back up to your neck.
He felt the tip of his arousal snag at your clit, causing him to push his face into your skin, hissing and gripping at your breast. He knew he could end the torturing of all this but there was just something so pathetic and primal about rutting against you like this. Perhaps it was also a result of his hazy mind and exhaustion creeping back in. Or maybe it had something to do with how you sounded whenever his length passed through the soaked folds of your pretty cunt.
Yeah. It was probably that, actually.
Though, as much as he enjoyed the thought of turning your brain into mush from a mere grinding session, he wanted something far more rewarding.
“Hold on,” he told you before pulling himself back. Quicker than he was trying to, he’d shucked off his pants and kicked them somewhere in the dark to be dealt with later.
During the brief intermission, you’d decided to move further up in bed, closer to the wooden headboard. The bed was big enough to comfortably fit several people in it so it was a bit funny when you thought back to the reason it was made this size.
Aang hadn’t always been so tall so his growth spurt shocked everyone. Somewhere along the way, a twin sized bed no longer seemed appropriate. He would always complain about his aching back or the way his legs would practically hang off of the ends. By that point, it was time to upsize.
You didn’t remove your gown completely. You just pulled it up your thighs to rest openly at your waist so that when Aang finally resettled in the valley of them, there was finally nothing that stood between you and him.
Except, when he did join you in bed, he’d noticed that you were a bit too far up and as he rested further down, he tilted his head. You recognized the look in his eyes, and felt your stomach jolt.
“Aang—ah!”
He bended the wind between his palms and your ankles, letting the current pull you down exactly where he needed you. His smirk met your flushed pout.
“Perfect.”
You rolled your eyes, wanting to look away. “Show off.”
The heavy weight of his cock settled painfully present against your cunt, oozing strings of precum that made you hyper aware of how badly he wanted you. Well, that wasn’t the only sign. From his chest up to his face, his skin was flushed. Even through the dark cover of the room, you could see the neediness in his eyes. A swirling grey that quietly confessed how much he’d truly longed for this moment. By the looks of him, you couldn’t even imagine how he was able to survive all of that time away from you.
“Better?” You asked him, feeling him twitch against you.
He simply nodded, lips parted, before wrapping a hand around himself. His eyes dropped down to look at how wet you were while you watched him. Slow, leisure strokes that made the muscles in his arm flex and the veins atop his hand push against his skin. Your mouth salivated, noticing the crease in his brows as he used his other hand to spread your folds apart. Sticky and shiny, and so fucking pretty.
He groaned and tightened his hand at the base of his length, letting out a slow deep breath. When he peeked back up at you, his heart almost stopped.
The way you were still watching him, a hand at your breast gripping and pulling at the sensitive bud with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth—
He must’ve died long before he came back home. This was it, his own little oasis in the spirit world.
Nothing in the entire world could compare to this moment.
And he meant nothing.
“Aang…”
He felt you before he heard you, the softness of your hand brushing his cheek. When his vision reorientated back on you, he saw the gentle smile on your face.
“I’m right here,” you said to him in the same soft way you touched him, grounding him again. “I’m real and here.”
Aang felt you pull at his wrist, tugging him down until the tip of his nose pressed against yours. His hands found themselves caging you, being careful to hold most of his weight. You tilted your head and ghosted your lips over his.
“My perfect husband,” you whispered, his back rippling with shivers that he tried to hide but couldn't. As your hands moved over his shoulders and along his back, you’d felt it. “So good to me…so perfect for me…”
When the tips of your fingers trickled down the line of his spine, he let out a whine that made you clench around nothing. It didn't sound like anything you'd heard from him before and maybe that was due to the time that the two of you had to spend apart. Two months had been the longest, and definitely the hardest. You'd felt the strain of it on your end but realizing what it must have been like for Aang, a man that loved beyond the limitations of the air nomadic ways; it was surely just as painful as a loss.
You'd cried many nights for the spirits to bring your husband back home safe and had the support of Katara during it all, but Aang had dealt with the torment alone.
There was still that lingering tension underneath his skin that he'd made sure to hide well from you but you could feel it; could feel him unraveling. You could tell that he was no longer able to keep it buried inside and away from you.
"Please," he begged you, leaving a trail of kisses from your collarbone to your ear. "Need to be inside you. Please."
And who were you to deny him when you needed him just as badly?
"I think you've kept me waiting long enough," you told him as you reached down the small space between your bodies. Once your fingers wrapped around him, his breath trembled as if he was going to fall to pieces before making it the rest of the way.
He gripped at the pillows underneath you, grinding his teeth together. He was fighting to hold it together. He'd wanted this moment to last, but could feel himself unthreading.
The moment you lined the head of his cock up to your twitching cunt, your hands moved to the curve of his ass and started to push him into you. He gasped into your neck, and groaned when the tip of his cock popped past the first ring of muscle. He shook his head in pure disbelief. You'd felt better than he'd remembered. It almost made him delirious.
Aang swore under his breath, feeling you push him in further. Clenching onto him the minute he split you apart, it almost sent him over the edge.
"If you knew what you felt like being wrapped around me like this," he breathed near your ear, "you'd lose your mind too."
"I know baby, I know," you kissed his cheek and jaw, feeling him fill you up until the fullness of him was all that you could feel. “And you’re doing such a good job…”
There was no escaping him now. No where for you to run or hide. He had you fully pressed into the mattress, arms blocking you in and his cock sunk so deep, it made you move your hands back up to the broadness of his back to help anchor you.
"Mmm, aang, you feel so good inside me," you wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning at how snug he felt. It felt so right, so perfect, you almost didn't want him to move but knew that if he didn't, he wasn't going to last long at all.
Once every inch of him was inside, he took in a breath while you exhaled. You allowed him the time he needed to ground himself before watching him lean up. Your eyes had gotten used to the dark and could see the concentrated look on his face as he moved his hands to your hips. His eyes dropped down to where the both of you were connected, and finally breathed out.
Everything about you drove him insane. Even when you’d finally given yourself to him, every single part of you, he still couldn’t get enough. He needed more of you. He wanted to push his body into yours until he was able to combine your souls into one. Claim your entire essence and being as his, marked forever as the one that saved him from himself.
You were his beaming light amongst the black ocean of his heart.
Where he was once drowning under the weight of all of his responsibilities, you saw him and pulled him out of it. How else could he thank you? Being your perfect-imperfect husband didn’t seem like enough. He wished to pull the stars down from the night sky and hand them all to you because you deserve something no one on earth could give you. Something only he was capable of giving you.
What was that? What was the very thing he could give? Something he hadn’t already given you?
It had to be none other than a promise, a proper promise that he would have to keep for as long as he lived.
He just didn’t realize that he’d known it all along. Known it since he’d made his vow to you the day of the wedding.
You could tell that something was on his mind but you didn’t pressure to ask. Instead, you waited.
Then, his eyes finally found yours again and held your gaze as he said,
“I want to make you a promise. A real one.”
You blinked, and slowly nodded.
“Yeah, okay. What promise?”
Aang’s brows furrowed as he mulled over what he wanted to say, and how he wanted to say it.
It took what felt like minutes before he said anything else, and it was not like anything you had expected him to say.
“I may not be able to promise that the world won’t need me again because it will. It always does, but I can promise that you’ll never have to wait in silence like that again.”
His thumbs rubbed across the skin of your waist, his eyes hard set on yours.
“And no matter where I go, I’ll always find my way back to you.”
Aang knew that he didn’t need to make you that promise, especially considering the conversation from earlier where there was finally a mutual understanding of how both of you felt. Even so, he could recognize how much he has truly hurt you. It wasn’t this one instance but for all of the others in the past. He wanted to make up for it all in a single promise that he vowed to never break.
You were rendered speechless. His wedding vows had been a bit different, vowing that he would always be by your side and would always put you first before any and everything, but not like this.
At the time, Aang did not foresee his duties as the Avatar and founder of Republic City getting in the way of his marriage, but he saw it now and only wanted to reassure you that you would be his true priority; that it was possible to love you and hold the world on his shoulders by doing it together.
He could see it, the tears that started to well up in your eyes and quickly shushed you, leaning down to press his lips against your forehead while holding your face. Your eyes fluttered closed, as his lips moved over each of your eyelids and to your nose.
“Don’t cry, not for this,” he whispered, kissing your cheeks now. “Because this promise to you cannot and will not be broken. Even when I’m long gone, I'll keep it. I promise…”
Your heart sunk hearing him talk like that. Just the thought of it…
“Please, Aang, don’t say that…” You sniffled, holding him back into your arms. This time, with no intention of letting him go. “You’re not allowed to go anywhere, do you hear me? Nowhere but here with me.”
“I know,” he breathed against your lips, staring back at you while using a thumb to wipe at the falling tears. “I just love you so much.”
You could see it in his eyes, the love and the utter devotion that he held for you that was unlike anything you had ever felt from someone. He looked at you like you were all that he could see.
And that was all that you could ever ask for.
“I love you so much more,” your lips pressed against his lips gently, sighing into it, feeling him return it eagerly.
He instinctively began to move his hips, rolling into you without rush but with purpose. The slow drag of his thick cock made you whimper into his opened mouth, your fingers dipping into his back.
He grunted, trailing his lips to your cheek, breathing heavily as he fucked into you deeper. Every inch, every part of you felt like pure bliss, a maze that he wanted to willingly get lost in. He didn’t care about anything else but this, you, being inside you and hearing your pretty moans. The way his name rolled off of your tongue, gasping and holding onto him like you were close to falling apart.
You were going to ruin him.
He bit down into his lip, frowning, as he reached up to hold the headboard above you. Something, anything that could keep him from losing his mind early on because he was close, dangerously close.
He kept his hand locked onto the wooden board, bracing his hulking frame as he began drilling into you with a rhythmic, punishing vigor. Every thrust was deep, deliberate and fueled by the weeks of loneliness and longing he had carried in his soul. He wasn't just fucking you. He was trying to merge with you, to bridge the gap that the distance had created between your bodies.
Aang groaned when he felt your cunt tighten around him and your hips move to match his pace.
“Fuck,” he moaned as his cock drove into you harder and faster, chasing more of you.
You choked out a sob, crying into his shoulder, your body jostling with every deliberate pound into your poor cunt he made.
“O-h, Aang! You’re so good, feel so fucking good inside of me!”
More of your begging, your nails sinking into his back, your cries and the feeling of you sucking him in with each thrust.
Call him a greedy bastard, but he wanted it all.
His movements were reckless, the bed creaking violently against the floor with every heavy impact of his hips against yours. His breath came in ragged, uneven hitches and his sweat slicked skin slid against yours, creating a feverish heat.
“Aang!” You sobbed hearing the sloppy squelch of your cunt with each unforgiving snap of his hips, feeling him directly hit that spongey spot inside of you like he was drawn to it.
He bent and kissed down until his lips found one of your perked nipples, sucking and rolling his tongue around the hard bud until he felt you shake and spill out the most prettiest moans he’d ever heard from you.
Aang was losing himself in you, and didn’t notice when his tattoos began to glow a bright blue hue. For you, it was all that you could see.
With his head lowered, you could see the arrow along his skin flickering until it was stable and illuminating, growing brighter with each ragged breath and slam of his hips against yours. His eyes were closed but you knew that those beautiful greys of his had been taken over by the same blue light.
He was terrifying to most in his avatar state but to you, he’d never looked more beautiful.
The headboard creaked under the sheer weight of his hold as he fucked you, the poor wood wailing and threatening to break under the pressure. He let out a broken groan around your skin before raising his head, his voice sounding a bit off. It sounded overlapped with more than one voice but it was still him. Desperate and filled with an overwhelming need to come as deep inside of you as humanely possible.
Your hands moved from his back to his face, holding him with care to get his attention. When he finally opened his eyes again, all you could see was an endless pool of blue. His brows were furrowed, and his forehead was beaded with sweat.
“Are you close?” All he was able to do was nod, nearly collapsing into your hands, his hips stuttering to signal that he was getting incredibly close. “Good, because I’m going to need you to cum and not pull out. Can you do that for me?”
Even through the haze of pleasure, Aang still made an expression of confusion.
“Don’t...pull out. So you want me to…?”
He left it there, knowing that you understood what he didn’t say.
You smiled, and nodded.
“Yes. Can you?”
Aang didn’t quite understand. Every time that the two of you had sex, you always made it clear he had to pull out. Pouting, he agreed but was never shy about telling you that he didn’t like it. If a baby happened, then wasn’t it meant to be? There was no better way to prevent a pregnancy, other than a certain type of tea, so pulling out was next best. Either way, Aang was not a fan but respected your boundaries nevertheless. Now, you were wanting him to…
"Wanna give you a little airbender, Aang. Would you like that?" You breathlessly asked him, feeling his hips falter at the sound of that. You smiled, stroking a thumb across his warm face. "Would be such a good mommy. Could give you everything you could ever want. Let me do it for you, Aang, please."
And that fucking did it.
Your voice, the feeling of your heated walls clamping down onto him, and you giving him permission to fill you up knowing what might happen; all of it sent him right over the edge.
He groaned out, applying more pressure to the headboard than he had intended and felt it split down the middle. The bed collapsed underneath you, surprising you but you weren't given time to assess what happened when Aang leaned down to bury his face into your neck. You felt his cock twitch and pulsate before filling you up until the mix of his thick cum and your arousal oozed out between you. His hands clutched into fists around the sheets as he tried to control his breathing.
You thought that he was done but his hips hadn't stopped. They just slowed to a steady roll, deep and intentional.
"Aang..." You whined under your breath, your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. Your body was nearly exhausted, but you weren't there yet. Could that be his reason?
He didn't say anything. He just kept moving inside of you, kissing at your neck. He shivered, feeling the way your cunt fluttered around him as your calves slid back into place, ankles firmly locked. He hummed, one of his hands sliding down your side until they reached your thighs to grip at them.
“Want you to cum around me,” he muttered low into the warmth of your neck, lazily smiling. “Can you do that for me?”
When he looked at you, you’d noticed that his greys were back and the arrows along his forehead and his back had dimmed back to their normal blue. It made your face warm.
“Yes.”
“Good girl,” he praised, and used his arm to hold himself up while his other hand continued its trek down to your neglected clit. “And don’t think I forgot about her.”
As soon as his middle finger started to draw lazy circles before gradually moving a bit faster while letting his hips roll into you at the same pace, you squealed. You hand instantly reached down to hold onto his wrist as he abused the sensitive little nub, crying out.
“Ah, please!”
Aang was embarrassed to admit but aiming for your pleasure instead of his and watching your face twist up knowing that he was the reason, it made him ten times harder. There was nothing better than servicing you and making you feel good. It was just the simple fact that he had already came.
But who said he couldn’t do it again?
No matter how many times he did this with you, it would always feel like the first. There was just something about being with you in such an intimate way and connecting beyond a conversation or doing anything else together. He was very spiritual and believed that sex was a very sacred act. It was something he would never do with anyone else. Doing this with you, with his wife, felt like the highest form of his love for you.
When he felt your nails dig into the skin of his wrist and your cunt tighten around his cock again, he let out a ragged breath that was mixed with a laugh.
“You’re so tight, it feels like you’re going to cut off the circulation down there.”
You whined out his name, breathless, trying not to laugh at his untimely joke.
“Stop.”
“I’m being serious,” he said, letting another chuckle before groaning out and looking down at you. “Gonna cum, my love?”
You nodded with teary eyes, moving your hand up to his bicep, feeling it flex under your fingers.
“Mhm.”
“Yeah?”
“Aang—”
“Let me feel it.”
He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, eyebrows knitted together, fighting to concentrate.
“Please, let me feel it…”
You moaned out his name again and again, your head spinning, being unable to feel anything but his cock fucking into you and his fingers moving against your clit like it was his last day on earth. His whisperings of telling you how pretty you sounded and how much he loved you was all too much. You couldn’t handle it.
With one more sharp inhale and slam into your hips, your back arched and felt a wave of ecstasy crash into you, leaving you trembling and mumbling a string of nonsense that made Aang follow right behind you. You were too warm, too tight, his release spilled into you again, plugged and just as filled as the first.
Both of you stayed just like that, foreheads together and panting into each other as the comfortable silence of the night finally took over.
After a few moments of him trying to catch his breath, he smiled softly and kissed your nose.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”
You were relieved when he moved off of the bed and walked towards the washroom because your entire body refused to move even an inch. In fact, you were very close to falling asleep if not for the warm, damp feeling of a cloth against your inner thighs and over your mound. He knew your legs were going to instinctively twitch closed so he used his hands to keep them pried apart until he finally finished up.
After properly discarding the small towel, he scooped you into his arms so that he could work on the bed.
At first, it took him a moment. Now that he was able to actually see the bed from a different angle, the headboard lowered the bed quite unevenly. The damage wasn’t bad at all, it would just take a few minutes to brainstorm how to fix it. It was definitely going to be a temporary fix, but he knew it would hold long enough for a good night’s sleep.
Still, the idea of him as the avatar, master of all four elements, being humbled by a broken headboard after wrecking it with his wife—it definitely felt like a very comical irony.
But, someone had to do it so, he got to work.
Aang knew that the only way to go about this was to use air to reposition the splintered pieces back into place, or as close as he could, and then smooth some of the rough cracks. Luckily, it wasn’t completely split down the middle so it was fixable. He just knew that come morning, he would need to fully replace the bed.
Once that was done, he moved onto what was next.
As he held you with one arm and replaced the bedding with his other, you couldn’t help but stare up at him. You knew that he knew you were looking at him, judging by the small grin on his face, but he didn’t say anything and neither did you. You just watched him impressively use one arm to do things that would normally take two to do.
Once the bed was replaced with clean linen and warm blankets, Aang gently placed you back down, joining you now. He shifted onto his back and pulled you into him by your waist. You hummed, curving a leg up and over his thighs, your hand across his chest.
The silence continued and just when you were about to fall asleep, you heard the softness of his voice.
“Three days from now, I’ll be leaving again.”
Because it was engrained in your body, your first reaction was your stomach dropping. Still, you calmed your breathing and chose not to say anything. You remembered what he’d said to you earlier. His words on the balcony, his promise to you now, they all meant something. He wouldn’t do that only to lie to you, so you breathed.
Aang could tell that it had shaken you, telling by the stiffness of your body against his. He smiled a bit to himself before his eyes fell down to the crown of your head.
“And I want you to come with me.”
Your head shot up, meeting the playful glint in his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat.
“Do you really?”
His hand, that rested at your hip, stroked along your skin, his gaze holding yours.
“I made a promise to you, right?”
He placed a warm kiss to your forehead, making your face split into a smile also.
“I know…but hey! Don’t say that like you have to tag me along!” You pouted.
“I’m not, I swear!” He exclaimed with a brighter smile and laugh that shook his shoulders. “I want you to come with me. I want to travel the skies with you, scour and gather more airbender relics and maybe stop at different places just for the fun of it. Maybe help people along the way, but I want to do all of those things with you by my side this time.”
“Even if it gets dangerous?”
Aang paused for a moment and just looked at you. There was a tiny worry that he was taking the silence to rethink his decision to bring you along when he spoke again.
“You can handle yourself. I know that and when you can’t, I’ll be there to protect you. No matter what we face, we’ll face it together.”
It felt like your heart had crawled out of its hiding hole somewhere in your stomach and had soared right through your chest. It was all that you’d wanted to hear from him. To be able to still love him as deeply as you did and to be able to accept him for who he was to the people of the nations—it was the perfect middle ground. There was never a need to ‘fix’ you or him.
Instead, balance was all you ever needed and you knew you would always find that with him.
Your eyes fell to his lips and back up to the shining grey of his eyes.
“I love you.”
His hand moved from your hip to the nape of your neck, gently pulling you closer.
“And I love you.”
When your lips met, it was softer this time; slower. The kind of kiss that carried understanding within it rather than desperation.
You and Aang knew that there would still be difficult days ahead. That there would be arguments, distance and that familiar sense of fear that came with being the wife of the Avatar. Loving Aang would never come without sacrifice and being loved by you would always leave parts of him frighteningly exposed.
But this—this felt like balance.
Like finally meeting one another in the middle after spending so much time pulling at opposite ends.
And somehow, within the quiet warmth of his mouth against yours and the steady hand cradling the back of your neck, tomorrow no longer felt so frightening.
It felt like a promise for a new beginning.
༄ ... mini bonus scene ! ... ༄
The next day was spent making up for lost time.
Which basically means you and Aang barely left the bedroom to eat or even drink water.
Still, despite the time that you'd spent with him, you made sure not to forget about your visit with Katara the next day after that.
When you and Aang arrived, Sokka had answered the door and was happy to see you but as soon as he saw Aang, he'd nearly tackled his taller friend to the ground.
"You're back?! I had no idea you were back!" Sokka exclaimed with a wide smile that instantly turned into a frown, playfully hitting Aang's shoulder.
"Ow?" Aang rose a brow, rubbing his arm with a smile back.
"Don't 'ow' me! You could've let your best friend know you were back all this time, sheesh," Sokka shook his head, scratching his neck. "Some friend you are."
Katara came up next to her brother, and pinched at his ear like they were teens all over again.
"Leave Aang alone. He came back like, two days ago. What are you on about?"
"Sokka," You heard Suki whine in the background. "Give the poor guy a break. He did just come back."
Sokka sweatdropped, looking at the four of you before his eyes stopped on you. He smirked, and fully leaned against the door frame.
"Oh, did he now," He nodded, looking as if he knew something no one else did. "Yep, bet he did come."
Aang's eyes widened and so did yours. That was all Sokka could get out before Katara took him and his ear further into the house, giving him a real good talking to. He'd looked to Suki to help him, claiming that just because they were married, she had to protect him. She only smiled, and continued helping Zuko.
Both of you laughed and stepped inside, seeing Zuko setting up the last part of a banner that said, 'Welcome home, Aang.'
"Aw, guys," Aang pouted at the banner and his friends. "You shouldn't have!"
"Yeah, well, we almost didn't, twinkletoes," Toph grumbled rather loudly to herself, digging her pinky deep off into her ear. "I told them its a complete waste of time. You'll only end up knocking it to the-"
Before she could finish her sentence, Aang used his airbending to bring the gaang all together for a group hug, causing the banner to fly right off of the wooden beam it was expertly attached to. Toph, squeezed right between Sokka and Zuko huffed.
"-ground."
She sighed.
You couldn't help but smile as they all started to laugh, even Toph, catching her shake her head. Suki had her face squished into Sokka's, Katara had her arm around you and Zuko while Aang's long arms nearly wrapped around everyone.
As you melted into the group hug, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world but with your husband and the best group of friends anyone could ever ask for.
༄ author’s end note: tysm for reading! don't forget to tell me your thoughts in the comments and leave a like/reblog! i would lovee to know what you guys think as this may not be my one and only piece of work in this fandom (wink, wink). time will tell... ~
Shy!reader get sick and she visit the pitt at night
okay so this is set before they are a couple!!
thank you anon! i hope u enjoy <3
—
the waiting room was packed and sticky from the humidity.
almost every single chair was occupied as the television mounted on the wall played quietly over the constant murmur of conversations, ringing phones, and coughs.
she had been sitting there for nearly three hours.
at first she'd thought someone would call her back quickly.
and when an hour had passed, she decided to open her kindle app.
and when another hour passed she just couldn’t focus anymore. her book long forgotten.
because every time a nurse appeared through the doors, her head lifted hopefully before sinking again.
the fever hadn't broken and if anything… it felt worse.
her body ached. her throat burned from the constant coughing, and the room was too bright and too loud.
twice she'd considered walking up to the desk and asking how much longer it would be.
twice she'd lost her nerve.
everyone else looked like they needed help more than she did anyway.
so she waited… and waited… and waited.
by the time someone finally called her name, she nearly missed it.
"miss?"
her head snapped up.
a nurse smiled.
"we've got a room for you."
relief hit her so hard she almost cried.
the exam room wasn't much quieter than the waiting room. voices carried through the hallway. monitors beeped somewhere nearby, and stretchers rolled past every few minutes.
she sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap, trying not to feel overwhelmed.
was she sitting weird?
what should she say when the doctor arrives?
she sighed, closing her eyes to calm her nerves before the door opened.
a young nurse stepped inside.
"hey, i'm mateo." he offered a friendly smile while pulling up her chart and read her name aloud.
his brows furrowed, recognizing her name but he pushed it to the side as she coughed into her elbow.
“sorry.” she sniffled.
some of her tension started to ease though, because mateo was easy to talk to. he was kind and he was nice to look at.
"so..” he gave her a smile. “what brings you in tonight?"
she explained her symptoms softly.
the fever that just won’t break.
the cough.
the exhaustion.
and the fact that she had barely eaten all day— her stomach would churn and turn whenever she tried to take a bite of anything.
mateo's expression became more serious as he listened.
"how long has the fever been running?"
"um.. about three days, i’d say.”
his head lifted from the notes he took. "hmm, three days?"
she nodded, coughing in the process making her gasp for air.
“sorry.”
"have you seen anyone before tonight?" he wanted to know.
"uh no."
mateo stared. "you waited three days?"
she looked down immediately, clutching her hands tighter together.
“i thought it'd go away." she let out a nervous chuckle.
a cough following suit. she apologized again, mateo smiled, dismissing it with a wave of his hand.
but before he could say anything else, movement outside the room caught his eye.
someone was passing by.
dark scrubs.
broad shoulders.
a coffee in one hand and a chart in the other.
jack abbot. his attending.
mateo looked up.
jack looked in and halted.
for a second, neither man moved.
mateo frowned in confusion.
"what?" he said to jack.
jack didn't answer.
his eyes were fixed entirely on the patient sitting on the bed. a knowing and surprised look plastered onto his tired features.
she was deathly pale.
flushed with the fever.
and suddenly mateo understood.
"oh."
the single word carried far more meaning than it should have.
because mateo knew.
he pulled it out of jack one night, after he came in for a shift with one of those schoolboy smiles— and jack never did that.
jack abbot wasn't dating her.
but mateo kept telling jack that he could if he grew some balls.
jack stepped into the room, opening the door slowly.
"what are you doing here?" his question wasn't harsh.
it was concerned.. deeply concerned.
she blinked up at him.
clearly startled to see him.
"oh! uh.. hi."
mateo physically had to stop himself from smiling.
“he’s my neighbor.” she said to explain.
mateo nodded. he already knew but he’d never tell her that.
jack crossed his arms.
"you're sick."
she looked down at her hands.
"yeah?"
"how’s the fever?"
she hesitated and gaped at mateo.
mateo answered for her.
"well, she’s had it for three days."
jack's jaw tightened.
"three days?"
she shrank visibly beneath the attention.
"i thought it would get better!”
neither of the men in front of her looked impressed.
jack rubbed a hand over his face.
for a moment he looked less like a trauma attending and more like a man trying very hard not to be worried about someone.
yet unfortunately for him, he was failing miserably.
like, really badly.
"have you eaten?"
a pause between her and mateo. jack winced.
"n-no.” she finally let out.
jack closed his eyes.
mateo immediately looked away towards the ceiling, fiddling his thumbs awkwardly because now he was witnessing something deeply personal.
when jack opened his eyes again, he looked directly at him.
"did we order labs?"
"already done."
"fluids?"
"i was about to hang them before you came in." he pointed.
jack nodded at that.
then he looked back at her.
his expression softened immediately.
"so you're gonna sit here," he said calmly, walking towards her bed.
he stoped so close that he felt her knees against his thigh and spoke again, “and you're gonna let us take care of you. and your going to stop apologizing for coughing."
her cheeks turned pink despite the fever.
because she had been apologizing.
constantly.
and of course jack had noticed.
his voice lowered.
"you understand?"
she gave him small nod.
"good."
and for the first time all night, she felt herself relax.
━━ ⋆ . 𐙚 ̊ . jack abbot x morgue tech!reader ; after your shift, you go upstairs to the er looking for jack and you run into a few of your boyfriend's coworkers, they bring to your attention just how large jack abbot really is ━ 4.2k
field trip ⋆ . 𐙚 ̊ . to THE MORGUE
By the time you finished shift change down downstairs, the hospital had already begun its slow transition from night to morning. The morgue never changed much regardless of the hour.
The fluorescent lights still hummed overhead with the same dull persistence they had at midnight. The air stilled smelled faintly of antiseptic and cold metal and the industrial cleaner the day shift janitors liked to use too heavily.
The prep tables remained clean and pristine despite the three autopsies that you had preformed. It was peaceful for lack of a better word. But upstairs, however, the hospital would be just beginning to wake up.
The emergency department at six in the morning was an entirely different beast than the morgue tucked neatly beneath it. This place moved fast even when exhausted.
The whole floor pulsed with motion and noise and overstimulation.
You hated it.
Don't mistake your dislike for the environment for the dislike of the people inhabiting it. You wouldn't say you were friends with the ER staff, but you were on chit chatting terms with a lot of them since beginning dating Jack. But the sheer amount of everything put you especially at unease.
Too many voices, too many bodies darting from one side of the ER to the other, and that meant too many opportunities for someone to accidentally touch you in passing.
Which is why you usually stayed downstairs until Jack came to get you. That had become your routine somewhere along the line. Most mornings, by the time you clocked out and gathered your things, Jack was already leaning against your desk in the morgue office with that perpetually exhausted look on his face and a coffee in his hand.
Then the two of you would leave together before either of your brains fully registered another twelve hour shift had passed.
This morning, however, he hadn't shown. You were a little disappointed but you weren't outrageously upset about it. You knew that Jack got held up all the time and while this meant you would have to brave the ER again, it wasn't his fault.
Trauma cases sometimes came in unexpectedly, shift hand off lasted longer when it was busier than usual, and you knew that Robby had a tendency to trap Jack into talking about things that didn't have anything to do with the hospital. Like his new on again, off again situationship with Noelle Hastings from social work.
So after a few minutes, you simply slung your bag over your shoulder, grabbed your water bottle, and made your way upstairs. The elevator ride alone nearly convinced you to turn around.
By the time the doors opened onto the ER floor, the department was already in full swing. Phones rang somewhere in the distance. Someone laughed too loudly near the nurses’ station. A monitor beeped insistently from one of the trauma bays, while an exhausted nurse muttered something under her breath about needing a Red Bull.
You immediately regretted coming up here.
Keeping your head down, you slipped towards the break room near the back hallway, careful not to drift into anybody's path. The last thing you wanted after twelve hours underground was to become collateral damage in the organized chaos of emergency medicine.
You set your things down carefully on the small table inside the break room before leaning your head just barely out the doorway. To the left sat the employee lockers and a supply alcove. To the right was the command desk, where everyone eventually flocked and housed the patient boards.
Jack stood there with Robby and Dana, one hand braced against the edge of the counter while the other rested loosely on his hip.
Even from across the department, you could easily see the exhaustion that sat heavily across his shoulders.
The dark scrub top stretched across his back whenever he shifted slightly, and the dark wash cargo pants he wore instead of scrub bottoms sat low on his hips beneath the hem of his shirt.
You couldn't hear from where you were, but you could see Robby's mouth moving and Dana's wholly unimpressed look. You can only imagine what they were talking about. Jack, meanwhile, looked like a man mentally calculating how quickly he could escape the conversation.
Whether he saw you immediately when you entered the ER or simply felts your stare, you didn't know, but his head turned after a moment.
His eyes landed on you instantly and his whole expression changed, annoyance discarded and replaced with pure unadulterated affection. The change was small enough that most people wouldn't have noticed it. But you spent more time staring at Jack Abbot's face than most, so it was easy for you to spot.
Jack's brows lifted slightly before he brought his hands together in a quick apologetic and his mouth formed the word sorry from across the room. You smiled at him despite yourself. He glanced down at his watch before holding up five fingers.
You nodded once. His mouth curved with something guilty and fond all at once before his expression returned to what it was before he saw you and he turned back towards Robby. It was almost comical how fast the stoicism settled over his face again like armor sliding back into place.
You watched him for another moment longer than you probably should've. Long enough to notice the slight tension around his jaw. Long enough that you begun to wonder if his prosthetic was bothering him after being on it all night and then forced to stand there while Robby prodded him for dating advice.
Long enough that the clap against your back caught you completely off guard and nearly sent your soul directly out of your body. You startled violently. "Oh my god—"
"Morning, Morgie."
You turned to find Trinity grinning at you like she'd just caught you with your pants down and your hand in the cookie jar. Dennis lingered behind her with the distinct energy of a man who already regretted participating in whatever conversation was about to occur.
You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your pulse. "Hi, Dr. Santos."
"You headed out?" she asked, a mischievous look in her eye.
"Trying to," you answered honestly.
Trinity barely acknowledged the response. She leaned casually against the doorway beside you like the two of you were old friends instead of occasional workplace acquaintances who primarily exchanged polite nods in passing.
You had known people like Trinity your entire life. Loud people, you mean. People who filled silence immediately and naturally. People endlessly willing to push boundaries just to see what would happen. That wasn't to say you didn't like her.
If anything, you suspected under different circumstances you could probably even be friends. Unfortunately, friendship required social energy you often did not possess after working nights in basement with dead people.
Still, you tried. If not for your sake, then for Jack's. These were his coworkers and you were his girlfriend, you were bound to run into them more often than not, so a good relationship was paramount in your opinion.
"How are you doing?" you asked politely. She had ignored the question entirely, opting for her own line of questioning. "So," she started, eye bright with mischief already, "you and Abbot are like a thing, right?"
You stomach dropped. "What?" Never in a million years did you think that was going to be her question.
Dennis looked like he wanted the floor to open and consume him whole. Trinity, meanwhile, looked absolutely delighted with herself. "Oh, come one," she said. "You guys are not subtle."
You blinked at her.
You genuinely had not realized that people knew. You and Jack were not actively hiding your relationship persay. The two of you just simply hadn't announced it. You didn't exactly have a social circle to update, and Jack was not the type to stand in the middle of the ER making declarations about his personal life.
But apparently none of that really mattered.
Apparently the entire hospital had functioning eyeballs. Before you could figure out how to respond to that, Trinity continued. "But I gotta ask," she said lowering her voice slightly despite the wicked grin still pulling at her mouth, "is he packing? Because that man walks like it's heavy."
Your brain stalled completely.
Packing? Walks like it, what? Those were only some of the thoughts running through your head. You frowned in confusion. "What?"
Trinity stared at you, disbelieving. "You know," she waved her hands slightly as if that would suddenly make you understand what she was referring to.
"No," you admitted slowly, "I actually don't."
For one horrifying second, you genuinely thought she was talkng about his prosthetic. You eyes flicked instinctively toward Jack again. He shifted slightly near the desk, probably trying to relieve pressure from standing too long.
Concern immediately sparked in your chest. Was his leg hurting him?
"Santos," Dennis whisper hissed, scandalized, "you cannot ask people stuff like that."
"What?" she asked. "I've been catching print for the last hour. I'm curious!"
Now you were even more confused. What did that even mean, catching print? Surely she wasn't referring to his prosthetic. You didn't have the greatest view of his leg as it was obscured by the other, but even so it was very difficult to notice it under his cargo pants even under the right circumstances.
"Catching what?" you asked.
She blinked at you incredulously. Dennis covered his face with one hand. "You don't know what that means?" she asked.
"Should I?"
In hindsight, the grin that spread across Trinity's face then should have terrified you, but all you felt was embarrassment beginning to creep up your neck. "Oh my god," she breathed. "Okay. Wait."
Before you could react, she stepped closer beside you and pointed subtly towards the command desk. You followed her gaze automatically. Jack still stood talking with Robby and Dana, completely unaware he was currently the subject of discussion.
"I'm confus—"
"Wait for it," Trinity interrupted.
Jack shifted his weight to his good leg, trying to relieve some of the pressure. You noticed immediately because you always noticed when he was compensating with his good leg after a long shift. You eyes dropped instinctively toward the prosthetic, mentally cataloguing the stiffness in his posture and the slight adjustment of his hips.
Beside you, she groaned dramatically. "Higher," she muttered.
Your brows furrowed but you did as you were told and slowly your gaze dragged upward. Past the heavy line of his thigh. Past the dark wash cargo pants that stretched tighter from the weight shift. You finally understood as your gaze landed on his crotch.
Oh.
Oh.
Your entire body stilled because now that you saw, there was no way for you to unsee it. The fabric across the front of his pants had pulled taut enough to reveal the unmistakable outline of him beneath.
It wasn't obscene or at all intentional. But it was incredibly, horribly noticeable once pointed out. Your stomach dropped directly into hell. Which is exactly where you felt you were. Was it getting hot in here?
It wasn't like this was new information to you. It wasn't like you hadn't seen him naked plenty of times before. It was quite the contrary. You knew exact what Jack looked like beneath his clothes.
You knew the weight of him in your palm, the way his hands gripped your hips when he lost control, you knew the vulgar things that came out of his mouth when he got worked up enough.
This was different. This was public.
This was your boyfriend standing in the middle of the emergency department discussing hospital operations while his coworkers apparently conducted active investigations into the outline of his dick.
Another reason you hated the ER, pointless conversation about topics that were better left unspoken.
And to make matters worse, Jack clearly had no idea. Because you knew that had Jack been turned on right now, his neck would be flushed under his stubble, his fists would flex unconsciously, his shoulders would tense.
Instead he remained entirely relaxed, still focused on whatever Robby was saying. Meaning that it was simply him. Your face went hot enough to physically hurt. Beside you, Trinity looked seconds away from tears from how hard she was trying not to laugh.
You couldn't speak.
You couldn't breath.
Trinity watched your expression transform in real time and absolutely lit up with satisfaction. Because not only had she succeeded in getting her answer, she had effectively embarrassed the life out of you.
"There it is."
Your eyes remained locked on Jack against your will. Because now that you noticed, your brain seemed insistent on replaying memory after memory. Dear God.
Had it always been that noticeable?
You felt mildly sick and somehow even sicker knowing Trinity was watching you realize it. "I, um, have nothing to say on the matter." She finally broke and a loud laugh burst out of her before she slapped Dennis on the shoulder.
"Come on, Huckleberry," she cackled, still grinning wildly. "We've ruined Morgie's morning enough." Then she simply walked away. Leaving you standing there in the break room doorway, staring at your boyfriend across the ER.
You almost didn't answer the door.
The thought had crossed your mind somewhere between your bed and the kitchen island, sometime after you'd buried yourself beneath your comforter and convinced yourself that if you ignored the problem it would eventually disappear.
Unfortunately, simply not answering the door wouldn't make everything alright again, because Jack wasn't actually the problem.
The problem was you.
It was how Jack made you feel.
Jack was thoughtful and kind.
The sort of man who noticed when you skipped meals, remembered your favorite takeout order and worried when you took the bus home when he was supposed to drive you.
The sort of man currently standing in your apartment hallway balancing enough food to feed a small family. You chewed nervously on your lip for a moment as you stared through the peephole.
You hesitated opening the door but ultimately unlocked the dead bolt and pulled open the heavy door. "Jack?" you questioned.
The second the door opened, his attention settled on you. "Hey, pretty girl."
The greeting came naturally as if it had been your name forever rather than just for the last few months. His gaze moved over you quickly but it didn't feel invasive or scrutinizing. You could tell he was looking for signs of the sickness you had told him you'd suddenly come down with.
"Can I come in?"
You didn't really understand why but with those four words, your guilt doubled. Your stomach lurched as you stepped aside without argument. "You didn't have to do all this."
"Yeah, I did," he muttered.
He leaned his crutches against the kitchen island as he began to pull out the various food items.
The apartment suddenly felt smaller with him inside it, and it wasn't because his large frame took up most of your kitchen. His broad shoulders seemed to take up more space than physically possible. But more importantly, when he was here, it felt warmer and homey. Jack made your tiny studio feel different simply by existing in it.
"You look better than I expected."
You could tell the statement was carefully curated. Meant to reassure himself of your state but not as to blatantly say I knew you were lying when you said you were sick.
So you did what you do best in these situations. You doubled down. "I told you it wasn't serious," you explained.
"Mhm." The hum could have meant absolutely anything and the different possibilities were making your head spin.
You watched him continue unpacking the food. Container after container appeared. Then you also noticed the drink carrier and the large water bottle he pulled out from under his arm.
"I didn't know what sounded good," he explained. "So I got options."
You stared. "Jack . . ," you trailed.
"Breakfast sandwich. Turkey club, incase you were thinking lunch and chicken noodle, if you're feeling nauseous." Another container joined the lineup. "Hash browns, too."
"Jack, thats too much."
"I know you forget to eat sometimes and I am almost ninety nine percent sure that's what's making you feel sick." He finally glances over at you. "So please. Eat."
Your chest tightened because there it was again. That awful problem. The caring and the concern. The complete inability to stop looking after people.
You had spent the entire bus ride home feeling ridiculous. Now you felt ridiculous and guilty. A terrible combination, especially when it came to you.
"You sure your head's the only thing bothering you?" Your eyes snapped upward.
Jack had settled on to the couch now, crutches leaned against the coffee table as he pulled off his prosthetic. Then leaned back against the cushions with the exhausted posture of a man who had spent twelve hours standing.
He tilted his head back and rolled his neck. His legs spread as he shifted further into the couch. Your eyes gravitated towards his thighs and for the first time, you noticed he was wearing gray sweatpants. You immediately looked elsewhere.
"I'm just tired," you said quickly, averting your eyes by any means necessary.
"Baby, you've been tired before." His voice remained calm, very matter-of-fact. "This is different," he continued.
You cursed yourself for letting this silly situation spiral like this. You cursed yourself for letting him in the door and most of all, you cursed yourself for being so damn readable.
He had been in your apartment for all of ten minutes and he had already noticed the change in your behavior. Very Jack Abbot of him and very much the bane of your existence.
You groaned loudly, "Oh my god, I'm acting weird."
"A little." You hadn't expected him to agree with you so outright, so your face fell a little when you heard his words. Jack immediately softened. "Not bad weird. Just a little off."
The apartment fell quiet. You looked away. Suddenly finding everything else more interesting. The outside city noises. A dog barking somewhere down the street. The soft hum of your ancient refrigerator.
"Honey?"
"Hm?" You respond but you definitely don't look towards him.
"Tell me what's going on."
You continued to stare stubbornly at the floor. If you didn't answer maybe he'd forget. At least that's what your were foolish enough to think. Unfortunately for you, Jack Abbot possessed the patience of a man who spent his life talking terrified patients through terrible situations.
Silence didn't scare him. It merely encouraged him to wait longer. When you sill didn't answer, he sighed. A change in tactics was in store for you. "C'mere."
You blinked, confused, "What?"
"Your shoulders are practically touching your ears." He tipped his chin towards the couch. "Sit down," he ordered.
"I don't think—"
"Sit."
His command wasn't malicious or harsh. It wasn't even particularly forceful. Yet somehow you found yourself crossing the room anyway. He shifted immediately to make space for you. The moment you sat down, he maneuvered you until your back was facing him and his hands settled on your shoulders. You nearly folded in half at the feeling.
"Oh my god."
"I told you." His thumbs worked slowly through the knots gathered at the base of your neck. You hadn't noticed how tense you'd gotten until this moment. How every muscle in your body had tightened up in your fucked up sense of self preservation.
But as his hands continued to work over the area, the more you relaxed and in more ways than one. The problem was that Jack's hands felt entirely too good. The problem was also that Jack himself felt entirely too good. The problem was definitely not helped by the gray sweatpants and the fact that you were still very much in the proverbial doghouse you had put yourself in.
"You're tight as hell," he mumbled and a strangled sound escaped before you could stop it. Jack froze, one eyebrow raised. "Okay, seriously. What is going on?"
You immediately covered your face as heat flooded your cheeks. "Hey." A hand squeezed your shoulder. "Come on, baby. We talked about communicating, it's important to me."
You groaned into your hands. "Ugh, it's so embarrassing. I don't wanna tell you."
"Well, now you have to," he teased. "It's just me."
"Exactly my point. It's you." You swear if he lifted his eyebrows any further they'd brush his hairline. "Alright, now I'm definitely confused."
You debated lying again. Considered a different excuse, something wholly more believable. But again, Jack had that way about him, which somehow made honesty inevitable.
"While I was waiting for you," you finally muttered, "Santos came up to me and she said—"
Jack straightened immediately. "What? If she crossed a line, I'll have a talk with her."
"No." You sat upright and turned to him so fast his hands slipped from your shoulders. "No. That would definitely not help."
"Okay," he conceded, though suspicion still laced his voice. "Can you tell me what she said?"
You sighed. "She was just being . . ." You searched for the appropriate description. "Being Santos."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"No, I know." You looked down at your hands. "She asked if we were together."
Jack frowned. "Does that make you upset? That people know?"
"No." You almost shout, the answer coming immediately. You softened slightly. "I mean, I know we weren't necessarily hiding it. I just didn't realize how many people knew."
Understanding flickered across his face. Then disappeared almost as quick as it had appeared. "Alright," his voice gentled. "Then what's got you so twisted up?"
And there it was.
This was the moment. The point of no return.
You stared at the wall. Then the floor. Then your hands. Anywhere except Jack. Finally, mortified beyond belief, you mumbled, "she asked if you were 'packing.'"
The silence that followed was immediate.
"What?"
You squeezed your eyes shut, mentally preparing for your next words. "And then she said—and I quote—'he walks like it's heavy.'"
For one glorious second, Jack looked too stunned to react. Then he laughed.
It wasn't a cruel laugh or mocking. Just genuinely surprised. Which somehow made it worse. "Oh my god." You buried your face in your hands. "You're laughing at me. I knew this was stupid."
"No, baby." He was still smiling but he was shaking his head and waving his hands. "I'm not laughing at you."
"You literally are," you said bluntly because he really was still laughing.
"It's just kinda silly," he confessed.
"Silly?" you repeated. "What about this is silly?"
Jack shook his head. "So what if people noticed?"
"You don't understand."
"No. I do."
The corners of his mouth twitched. "So what if you noticed? Ain't nothing you haven't seen before."
"Jack."
"What?"
His expression remained entirely too innocent. "It's the truth."
"Jack!" Your panicked voice earned another laugh. You groaned dramatically. "Stop laughing."
"I'm trying." He absolutely was not. The smile gave him away.
"C'mere." His hand found your wrist before you could retreat again. The gesture was gentle and familiar. "Baby." The amusement faded slightly and he continued, "you're acting like this is some terrible thing."
"It is terrible."
"Why?"
"You weren't there."
"No." His thumb brushed across your skin."Sounds like I missed a hell of a conversation though," he joked.
You glared. The effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that he looked unbearably fond. “I just—" you exhaled. "I know what you look like, okay? Obviously. But that's private."
Your hand waved vaguely between the two of you. "That's ours."
For the first time since arriving, Jack's smile softened completely. "Then suddenly she points it out and now I'm standing there staring at your pants in the middle of the ER like some kind of pervert."
"Oh."
You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean oh?”
The grin returned instantly. "Are you jealous other people noticed?"
"No!"
You stood without really thinking it through. This was how it was with you. Your instinct was always flight over fight. Unfortunately, Jack caught your wrist. "Nope." The grin widened. "You started this conversation. You're finishing it."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
His eyes lingered on your face. "You're embarrassed because Dr. Santos pointed out something you already spend a lotta time thinkin' about."
Your mouth dropped open.
"I do not."
One eyebrow lifted. You immediately looked away. Which told him everything he needed to know.
His laugh returned. "Hey." Your eyes remained firmly fixed on the opposite wall. "Pretty girl."
"Jack, that's not helping."
"You know I like knowing you think about me like that, right?"
Your face somehow became hotter. "Stop."
"What?" His expression remained shameless. "Sweetheart, we've slept together. More than once."
"Please stop talking."
"There is nothin' embarrassing about bein' attracted to me." You stared. Jack shrugged. "Frankly, I'd be a little concerned if you weren't."
Despite everything. Despite the embarrassment. Despite Trinity Santos. Despite spending over two hours making yourself miserable, a laugh escaped.
The moment it did, Jack's expression softened.
"There she is."
You rolled your eyes. The words settled somewhere warm despite your best efforts to resist them.
And the knot that had been sitting in your chest since sunrise finally began to loosen.
being fucked soooo good by jack and your best friend calls and he makes you answer it :(
18+ minors do not interact cw: daddy kink
“shit,” you curse as you look over at the nightstand, seeing that your best friend is calling you right as you start to ride your boyfriend’s cock.
jack stills your hips, looking a little panicked, “what, baby? you okay? it hurt?” you shake your head, quickly leaning over to grab your phone, “no no—let me just send her to voicemail—“
you sit back up, still warming his cock with your phone in hand. jack smirks, fucks his hips a bit up into you, causing you to gasp as he murmurs, “answer it, baby. go ahead.”
you know when he uses that voice there’s no room for argument. wordlessly, you answer, listening to your best friend babble on the other line about her bad date. jack smacks the side of your ass, spurring you on as you slowly start to pick up your pace, grinding your hips back down on his cock, brain feeling so fuzzy.
“you there?—“ she questions on the other line, n you stutter as jack brings his hand forward, playing with your clit. “yeah! yeah! i’m here—he’s a loser, just leave.” you put your hand on jack’s chest, steadying as you bounce on his cock.
fuck, you want to be a supportive friend right now—but the way jack is looking at you, smirking and murmuring lowly, “c’mon baby—you got it. keep ridin’ daddy,” is making you crazy. his hands are squeezing your hips, pulling you down onto him harder n faster, and you finally moan out, “ah, jack—“
your best friend pauses, and you don’t really register it until she starts yelling in your ear. “oh my god! oh my god, is jack there? you know what! i don’t want to know! call me later, freaks! oh my god.”
she hangs up and you giggle with a fucked out smile on your face, throwing your phone on the bed, leaning forward to nuzzle a chuckling jack abbot. “poor thing—she’s gonna think twice before calling now.”
Please i have request 😩where Reader drops by Jacks office/ the hospital to surprise him, only to find a female coworker sitting at his desk, acting overly familiar and joking about being his "work wife" to the Reader's face. The Reader leaves feeling replaced and insecure. When Jack finds out what happened, he’s furious that his professional kindness was mistaken for something else. with happy ending with Jack setting boundaries with the coworker saying he only has 1 wife 😩🙏🏽
The Work Wife
Jack Abbot x wife!reader
Description- Inspired by this request (with a few creative liberties). You pay your husband Jack a visit at the PTMC to drop off some snacks for him and the other nightcrawlers. Before you can find him, though, you run into one of his coworkers, who refers to herself as his work wife and gushes about how special he is to her. No physical descriptors are given for the reader other than having hair, and there's no use of "Y/N" If you're my roommate, stop reading here. I see you girl
CW- relationship insecurity, momentarily feeling in conflict with another woman, lots of mentions of banana bread
AN- I didn't realize how much the banana bread is talked about until right now, but you know what, I have no regrets. It's a damn good food
You were feeling proud of yourself when you strolled into the PTMC. It had been a while since you’d surprised your husband at work, and when you had rooted around in the overstuffed freezer at home, desperate to find a way to fit the ice cream you’d picked up to celebrate Jack’s first full weekend off in months, it felt like divine inspiration had struck. You dared anyone to find a better plan that freeing up freezer space for one treat by making another, and so you’d pulled out a bag of overripe bananas that Jack had wanted to throw out last month but you had insisted on peeling and freezing.
“They’re just bananas,” he had said, giving you a look that said I love you but you look insane right now. “Easily one of the most affordable fruits. I can just buy more.” Maybe he had a point with his look, you acknowledged. It certainly felt strange to take mushy bananas and save them like they were a treasure to be used later, but it was something you stood your ground on.
“I have no doubt that you could,” you countered, not looking at him as you focused on the task at hand, trying and failing to remove the little stringy bits you always found annoying. “Believe it or not, I have banana-buying money too, even without a doctor’s salary.”
That earned an eye roll from Jack, but you didn’t have to look up from your task to know that he was wearing a smile matching your own. He paced around the kitchen island, hands landing on your hips and sliding around your waist in a loose hug as he dipped his head to kiss your shoulder.
“I’d buy you as many bananas as you could ever want,” he murmured against the soft fabric of your sleep shirt. You chuckled, leaning back against his chest for a moment and craning your neck to press an awkward kiss to his temple.
“You’re going to be late,” you chided, glancing at the microwave clock behind him.
Jack exhaled dramatically. You’d think he was going off to war for a second time, not meeting Robby to watch a Steelers game.
“Robby can wait.” His hands landed on your hips again, spinning you around before you had time to process or put up a halfhearted fight. His lips found yours, any protests you had planned to raise dying on your tongue as his found yours, the entire world disappearing until it was just the two of you. His grip on you tightened, a low sound coming from the back of your throat and your hands moved instinctively, one curling into the fabric of his t-shirt while the other fisted at his hair. Only when you realized the weird sticky feeling on your fingers did you pull back, pressing back against his chest with your wrists to prevent further damage.
“Jack,” you all but whined, “I banana-ed you.”
He laughed, full bellied and loud, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder and his arms circling your waist loosely again.
“It’s not funny,” you protested, unable to hide the laugh from your own voice. “You can’t go over there with banana goop all over your shirt. And your poor hair!” You patted at the beautiful mixture of dark and silver curls with the back of your hand, as if apologizing to them for sullying them with your sticky banana-laced fingers.
Jack only pulled back for a moment, still grinning but looking down at you with that familiar smug look you’d fallen for so long ago.
“Believe it or not, they have this great new invention for that,” he drawled, ducking his head to peck you on the cheek. “It’s called shampoo,” he murmured. “Supposed to really be something.”
You rolled your eyes, half heartedly pushing him off so you could wash your hands. “It’s only new to you, old timer.”
You felt almost silly walking through the ED with a paper plate of banana bread muffins, all wrapped up in saran wrap. The clean antiseptic smell in the air stung your nostrils, and you could hear crying from down the hall. It always amazed you how Jack could come back to this, day after day and night after night. It wore him down, sure, no one could leave completely unaffected by the things they saw, but he remained steadfast and stubborn, the same headstrong man who insisted on your fourth date that you’d be married someday with the confidence of a man who knew he was right.
You paused as you neared the central desk, looking around and trying to decide where the best place was to drop off the muffins. You hoped you’d see Jack, just to say a quick hello and tell him about the treat you’d made for him, but you didn’t want to distract him when there was work to be done and lives to be saved. The staff lounge was always a safe bet, but you hadn’t thought to bring a note to leave with them. You didn’t want them sitting there untouched, knowing only a few of the staff who’d been there for years would recognize your form of offering to the kind and dedicated staff of the Pitt. Even the med students deserved a muffin though, especially after the stories Jack had told you about the new recruits struggling with proper nutrition, shoving a few protein bars into their bags at the beginning of their shift and hoping it would be enough to sustain them for 12 hours.
Not on your watch. You would find some spare paper and a pen, and make sure everyone knew they were welcome to a snack. You might even draw an embarrassing heart or write a love letter and slip it into Jack’s locker for him to find at the end of shift.
You were hugging the wall, looking around for Lena or another familiar face not wearing anything bloodstained when someone approached you.
“Excuse me?” the woman asked. “Ma’am, you can’t be here. Only active patients are allowed back here, you have to wait your turn in chairs until someone brings you back.”
You laughed. This wasn’t the first time you’d been mistaken for someone drifting through the wrong door just to end up in the middle of the ED.
“Oh no,” you started, “I’m not a patient. I’m actually here to see a doctor.”
The woman, a pretty woman you’d guess to be somewhere in her forties, glanced over you, as if she was weighing the odds between believing you or not. The plate of securely wrapped muffins in your hands seemed to sway her in your favor.
“Which doctor?” she asked, suspicion leaking into her voice.
“Dr. Jack Abbot,” you answer. “He’s my-”
“Oh, Jack!” she all but squealed, instantly brightening at your husband’s name. “I love Jack, he’s practically my work husband.”
The warm smile on your face flickered at that, a bitter taste forming in your mouth that you weren’t familiar with.
“Is that so?”
The woman, Cheryl, it said on the ID badge clipped to her pocket, seemed to need very little prompting to launch into a tirade of reasons to love Jack. All of which were right, you knew, but somehow that did little to stop the growing knot in your stomach.
“Jack’s the best,” she said, guiding you towards the desk she must have been occupying when she noticed you standing by the wall. “He’s always helping me with my patients, checking it to make sure I’m doing alright, making little jokes just for us,” she looked down almost bashfully, a faint pink rising to her cheeks, though she found no issue continuing to talk.“He walks me to my car at night sometimes. He’s just always there, helping me, looking out for me.”
“Y-yeah,” you fumbled for words. All of that sounds like Jack, in a way. “He’s a great attending. The PTMC is lucky to have him.” You realized with a clench in your stomach that his coffee mug was on her desk, the same goofy travel mug that read Best Doctor on One Leg that you’d gotten him as a joke Christmas present one year. You’d just washed it the night before, still shocked he still used the damn thing outside of the house.
Cheryl snorted a quiet laugh. “Yeah,” she said, leaning across the desk and speaking with an almost conspiratorial hush. “But he’s really here for me in particular, if you know what I mean.” If she can tell from your expression that your stomach drops, the plate of muffins now set aside on the central desk because they feel too heavy for your tired wrists, she doesn’t give any indication. “It’s crazy, it’s like every time I look behind me he’s just staring at me.”
She seemed to remember she was at work and not with her friends at a bar gushing over the cute boys they liked, suddenly looking a bit sheepish.
“So, why are you here to see Jack? Did he treat you?”
You plastered on a fake smile, suddenly wishing you’d taken those acting classes in high school. “Oh, uh, no. No, I just know him. I wanted to bring these by for everyone working today,” you tap the plate of muffins, your hands feeling too unsteady to risk holding them. “I figured I would say hi if I saw him, but he’s got to be busy, y’know, saving lives!”
Cheryl gave you an odd smile then, noticing for the first time that something was wrong. There was something concerned in her eyes, almost pitying, that made you want to crawl out of your skin.
“Okay, well, I’ll tell him someone stopped by,” she offered, using a comforting tone usually reserved for children and people more upset than the situation called for.
Someone. You were “someone.”
You nodded, too sharply, already turning on your heels. “Thanks, you do that.” You grimaced as you began to walk away, cursing yourself for everything that had happened in the last ten minutes.
You were curled up on the couch when Jack came home the next morning. It wasn’t unusual for you to be up so early, preparing a quick breakfast for your husband so you’d be sure he actually ate something and took some time to rest before heading to the gym to work off some stress or collapsing in bed after a quick shower. This morning you’d done none of that though. You had slept like shit, laying awake on Jack’s side of the bed, head pressed to his pillow to breathe in the smell of his shampoo and something distinctly him, watching the ceiling fan spin in endless circles above you. You’d tossed and turned, only slipping under for a few hours at a time before you realized with an uncomfortable ache that you were awake again.
By four in the morning you’d given up, hauling yourself unceremoniously out of bed and trudging to the couch. With a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and a book in hand, you collapsed with a huff, wincing as you turned on the lamp on the end table, even the low light feeling like a sudden intrusion. You stared at the lamp once your eyes adjusted, taking in the smooth porcelain and the small imperfections in the glaze. It was a gift, you remembered, something off your and Jack’s wedding registry. You had loved the set of lamps you’d found at a local farmer’s market, the other part of the pair sitting on a table at the far end of the couch, where you usually sat tucked under your husband’s arm, pressed against his chest to listen to his heart beating, but you had a hard time justifying the cost. Weddings were already so expensive, and even with the modest way you’d chosen to have your ceremony, you didn’t want to go overboard. Jack had laughed at you, teasingly daring you to find handmade lamps at a better price anywhere else, let alone ones that had you so immediately enamored. It wasn’t until two years into your marriage that Jack had admitted during a quiet moment, curled up around each other in bed, that he had been the one to buy the lamps. He had given you that easy smile, all crinkled edges and sleep-tussled hair, when he explained it like it was simple. You had wanted them, but didn’t think you’d deserved them. He disagreed, and, being Jack Abbot, went about fixing it in the most him way possible, treating you with the kindness you’d always yearned for even though you hadn’t even realized it at the time.
You still loved the lamps. Imperfections and all.
Jack kicked off one of his shoes at the door, leaving the other on his prosthesis until he could sit down. He shrugged off his heavy army backpack, laden with all the tools you knew he carried and hoped he never needed, and rested it in the seat of one of the dining room chairs. He moved towards the couch, stepping unevenly at the height difference from still having one shoe on.
“Goodmorning, beautiful.” His hands swept through your hair, gently brushing it out of your face. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, lingering for a moment before straightening back up.
“Have you slept at all?”
You shrugged lazily, giving him a weak smile.
“Some. Definitely not enough though.” You patted the space on the couch next to you, uncurling your legs to make room for him.
Jack joined you on the couch, lowering himself down carefully with a faint grimace. His hands moved to his pant leg, tugging up the fabric to undo the fastenings of his prosthesis. Once it was off, and he’d let out a deep sigh of relief he’d never let anyone else hear, his artificial limb propped up to stand on the floor beside him, he held an arm out to you. You eagerly moved towards him, letting him wrap an arm around your shoulder to draw you closer and press a whiskery kiss to your temple.
“Welcome home,” you said, giving him an easier smile as you settled into your spot against him. He leaned back into the couch, letting the soft cushions welcome him like an embrace.
“I missed you,” you continued, no longer trying to hide just how tired you were, physically and emotionally. “I always sleep better when you’re here.”
“I know, sweetheart.” His hand moved soothingly up and down your arm. “I sleep better with you too.”
“Shen said he saw you during our shift.”
There was no accusation to his statement, just a light lilting tone of confusion. You’d never go in and not ask to see him, even if you only had time to press a kiss to his cheek and tell him how proud you were of him before sending him off again with a cheeky wink and the occasional slap to his ass if no one was around.
“Yeah, I made some banana bread muffins and thought you and the troops could use a pick me up.”
Jack didn’t acknowledge how you side stepped the question he hadn’t asked.
“So I saw. They were delicious, by the way,” he added. “We almost had to intervene so Joy wouldn’t get too territorial over them. Thank you, for bringing them in.” Another kiss was pressed to your temple, lingering a little longer than the last. “I’ve gotta admit, I had my doubts when you started freezing bananas, but I stand corrected.”
You chuckled softly. “Damn right you do,” you murmured into his scrub top. The antiseptic smell still clung to him, but you could pick up enough of him that it didn’t matter. “Never question my freezer organizer skills against mister.”
Jack chuckled, his nose pressing into your hair and drawing in a deep breath. His hand drew lazily up and down your arm for a few moments as you sat in silence, just taking each other in again after a long day.
“Want to tell me why you didn’t wait to see me today?” Jack’s voice was quiet, his low tone rumbling in a way you always loved. There was no pressure in his question, just genuine interest and a tinge of concern. You could tell him no, and he’d accept it, just draw you into a firm hug and hold you until he went to shower before joining you back in bed.
“It’s stupid,” you confessed. You toyed idly with the drawstring of his scrub pants, knowing your frown looked more like a pout than you wanted it to.
“Nothing about you is stupid,” he said seriously, tipping his head a bit lower to press his forehead against the crown of your downturned head. “Sometimes questionable in the moment,” he continued, that gruff humorous lilt coming back, “but if we’ve learned anything from the bananas, you have your reasons.”
You rolled your eyes, lifting your head to look at him. He had a self-satisfied look on his face, giving you a sweet smile and a quick peck on the lips when you shook your head at him.
“You haven’t had, like, a super terrible day, right?” You would kick yourself later if you didn’t ask. Some days he came home barely able to anything but shrug and mumble responses, the ED bleeding him dry of any semblance of emotional energy.
Jack smiled softly. “No, sweetheart. Just regular terrible.” His hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Not so terrible I can’t hear about yours.”
You gave him a small but appreciative smile, returning the squeeze of his hand.
“I ran into one of your coworkers before I could find Lena,” you began, voice coming out slightly quieter than usual. Even with his reassurance, you felt silly acting like it was a real problem. “She was nice. New, I think. I’d never met her before, anyway, and I don’t think you’ve mentioned her.” Jack hummed, his broad hand slowly rubbing your back, urging you gently when you paused. “I was going to ask if you were around, but she didn’t really give me a chance. She was talking about you, how great you are and how much she loves being around you.”
Jack kept his expression neutral, his brow still furrowed as he nodded along, not letting the praise get to him or stroke his ego.
“Obviously she’s right to think all that and say all that,” you add, giving your husband a shy smile to say that it was okay to smile or joke about it. “Honestly, you deserve way more than anything she or I could ever say, but…I don’t know. Something about it felt off.”
Jack frowned. “Off how?” he prompted.
You shook your head, trying to guide the pieces together in your sleepless mind.
“It felt personal to her,” you settle on. “Almost intimate.” You scowled before you could help yourself. “She called herself your work wife. Said you spent more time with her than the others, that you were always looking at her and hovering around her.” You shook your head again, trying in vain to dislodge the ill feelings that were blooming in your chest again.
“And I know you’re a diligent teacher,” you added, looking up at Jack’s concentrated frown. “I know you stare when you don’t mean to, and you have more of a presence than you know-”
“This is starting to feel like an attack,” Jack interrupted, soft grin spreading across his tired face.
You scoffed, hand moving up to cup his cheek, already prickly with the ghost of morning stubble.
“I love your staring and your presence,” you said, firm enough for him to know you meant it, but soft enough to still be teasing. You kissed him once for good measure, enjoying the humorous glint in his eye when you pulled back.
“But they’re for you,” he supplied, putting together the threads between your ramblings. “Not her.”
You gave a small nod, gaze dropping again as a wave of guilt washed over you. You didn’t want to be the person movies and books had trained you to hate for so long, the jealous woman who lashed out when someone looked at her man too long. You didn’t want to be possessive, or read into things that weren’t there, or even worse, punish Jack, your dear Jack, just because you couldn’t get a grip on your own insecurities.
“I don’t want to be crazy,” you all but whispered, hand finding the draw string on his scrubs again and spinning the knot idly between your fingers. “But I didn’t like it. She looked at me decided she had me all figured out. And it felt like she thought she really had a chance with you, and…I don’t know. Maybe I still don’t feel like I deserve you. Maybe I’ve just been missing you more with all the doubles you’ve had to pull. And I know that’s not fair-”
Jack cut you off with one finger held to your lips, shushing you like a child in a way that had your eyes narrowing and looking up to find his. When you did, you found an endearingly soft smile on his lips, looking just as in love with you as he did the day he’d proposed.
“First off,” he said, speaking like he was instructing a new medical student, using only objective facts, “your feelings are always fair. They’re never crazy, or overblown. They always have their reasons, even if you can’t see them right away. Reactions are what matter, and you’re reacting perfectly normally by telling me this so I can help. Alright?” He looked at you, corner of his lip quirking up when you gave a reluctant nod, but raised his eyebrows, giving you a cocky look that you knew meant he wanted a verbal answer. You huffed dramatically, but gave him what he was looking for.
“Yeah.”
He gave you a real smile, hand squeezing your upper arm as a reward.
“Second, you’re not crazy. No one should be talking about me like that at work, even if I was single. And certainly not when I have a foxy wife at home.” His broad hands gripped you as you scoffed out a laugh, dragging you onto his lap so he could wrap his arms around you, smiling smugly at the genuine laugh he’d earned.
“Don’t you dare laugh at that,” he’d added, poking you gently in the ribs. “No one laughs at my woman, not even my woman.”
You grin stupidly wide, arms circling around his neck in a show of surrender.
“Your woman?” you question, clicking your tongue scoldingly. “Guess I’m not the only possessive one then.”
Jack shook his head, his even gaze never leaving yours. “Far from it.” His fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face where it had fallen from his manhandling. They lingered on the apple of your cheek, gently holding you as you leaned into the touch.
“I’ll say no to any more doubles for a while,” he said, barely above a whisper. Your brow furrows, but you don’t interrupt as he continues. “I didn’t realize how long it had been since we’ve gotten time for us. I’m sorry about that.” You could see that he meant it, his face serious as a ghost. You leaned forward, kissing the tip of his nose.
“Okay,” you agreed. “I think you need the break, if I’m honest. You’ve been stiffer recently, and I’ve been worried about you.”
Jack let out an exaggerated groan, stretching his legs underneath you.
“God, you’re right,” he sighed, settling a little lower on the couch, and pulling you down with him.
You grinned. “I’m always right.”
He nodded. “That’s why I married you.”
“And my baking skills,” you added, holding up a finger defiantly.
Jack shrugged, pretending to think about it.
“You’ve developed skills,” he settled on.
You gasped drastically, mustering up as much betrayal as you could in your fatigue, clutching your chest as if he’d wounded you.
“Developed?”
“Yeah. You’ve gotten better.”
You scoffed. “You don’t deserve my muffins.”
His voice was low. “Hey now-”
“Next time I’ll make a sign, For anyone but Jack,” you pretended to write across the air, voice trembling with laughter at the way his jaw dropped open.
“That has to be a violation of your wedding vows.”
You smirked. “No sirree, Jack-ass.” He groaned at the nickname usually reserved for when he was being extra pestering. He slumped his head forward, burying his face in your neck as you continued. “Sickness and health, richer or poorer, but nothing about when your husband doesn’t appreciate homemade muffins made with very resourceful banana preservation tactics.”
The side of your neck warmed from the sudden laugh he let out, muscled arms tugging you tighter to his chest.
“Robby will even get to take home the leftovers.”
Jack feigned a cry at that, raising his head and giving you the most betrayed look he could.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
You paused, trying to find it in you to continue the bit when he looked at you so sweetly, eyebrows knit together like his best friend stealing the muffins his wife made would wound his heart beyond repair.
You deflated with a small sigh.
“No,” you admitted, a smile pulling at your lips at how quickly he brightened. “But I might leave a note saying Cheryl doesn’t get any if you don’t get a work divorce.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Oh, it was Cheryl?”
You nodded, giving him a confused smile. “That change things?”
He hummed in thought. “Doesn’t change them, but it does explain them. She’s new to the Pitt. Doesn’t have a lot of friends, it seems. Don’t remember where she transferred from, but they had different practices, so we’ve been watching her pretty closely to make sure she follows proper procedure.”
You nodded slowly, putting together the pieces in your mind. The feeling like he was watching her, the hovering and checking in, it all made sense. Not that you had doubted his intentions for even a moment. Even if she was the most beautiful woman on the planet, Jack was a man with a strict moral code, and adultery lay far outside the scope of his rules.
“Is it going to be weird working with her? Now that you know everything she said about you?”
Jack frowned. “Nah. I’ll go to HR at the start of next shift, file an anonymous report. They’ll sort things out with her, not make a scene or embarrass her. WIth any luck the whole thing will blow over.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ll make sure the work marriage is annulled, sweetheart. Can’t be a workplace bigamist, can I?”
You sighed wearily. “You can try, but if you open that door, every woman, man, and person in between is going to try to jump your bones, doc.” You gave him an overly concerned look. “You think your old joints can handle all of that at once?”
He had the good grace to look offended at that, giving you only a moment to look pleased with yourself before his hands were on your hips, giving you a great heave to flip you both so you were pinned beneath him on your back. You yelped at the sudden motion, but one of his hands made its way behind you, bracing you to cushion your fall on the already soft couch. His full weight trapped you, pressing you firmly into the cushions.
“What was that you were saying?” he teased, the tip of his nose grazing yours.
You could feel your cheeks warm.
“If you think I’m able to think at all like this, you don’t know me very well, Jack.”
His lips twitched again, too busy taking in your expression to give a proper reaction of his own.
“Or I know you too well.” He leaned closer, leaving a trail of kisses from your temple down your neck and to your chest. His breath came hot against your skin when he spoke again. “Why would I ever want a work wife when I have you?”
SUMMARY ➩ Jack Abbot is the perfect neighbor who is always willing to offer you a helping hand. Until you ask him to take your virginity.
WARNINGS ➩ age gap (reader is early 20s and jack is 50), they have sex and all the things that sex brings along, jack might be ooc
AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Well for once I tried to deliver real smut for you guys so buckle up and leave me some feedback on this one if you like it! NOT PROOFREAD AT ALL and it’s probably obvious so be kind about mistakes lol I wanted to get this to you guys asap!
“I need a favor.”
Jack was used to you asking him for help, had been for the two years since you moved into the apartment directly across from his.
He didn’t mind offering you a lending hand when he saw you struggling to carry your boxes from your small run down car, it wasn’t an inconvenience to collect your mail if you ever had to leave town for a few days, and he really couldn’t complain about having to remind you to get your laundry from the unit down below because it held him accountable too.
It was such a common occurrence, you asking him for a favor, that he wasn’t too surprised to find you at his door. He only gave a soft sigh as you pushed past him to enter his apartment, offering you a lot more patience than he did the newbies at the hospital.
You were always sweet, maybe a little bossy at times, but it gave him some amusement in his otherwise strict routine.
Plus it was admittedly nice to feel needed.
You came to him when your apartment had a leak or your air conditioning went out, knocked on his door whenever it was raining and you’d forgotten an umbrella after locking yourself out, and you even sometimes popped over just to get his opinion on what you should wear out on a random night.
Everybody was always telling Jack he needed a hobby that didn’t involve putting his life on the line, so he rarely told you no and tried his best to brush off Robby whenever he asked what was keeping him so busy lately.
It would be hard enough to explain the dynamic he had with his much younger neighbor but even more so considering you were now standing in the middle of his apartment with a frustrated look on your face, hands on your hips as you tapped your bunny slipper covered foot.
“What is it now?” His voice was gruff and disinterested but you knew well enough that he would do whatever you asked and he was well aware of that too. Still, it helped him just a little to pretend to contemplate it for a second or two first.
“I need you to have sex with me.”
You said it like it was as simple as asking him to come over and check your water pressure, falling out of your mouth casually and landing heavily in the quiet room.
There was no need to pretend this time as he fell into a bewildered silence, raising an eyebrow in your direction and letting his eyes track you as you dramatically sighed and went to flop down on his couch. You’d demanded about a year ago that he got some pillows for it, along with a few other interior design suggestions.
He’d picked up four after his shift that night.
“Please say something.” You were turned around on the couch so you could face him over the back of it, arms crossed as you rested your chin ontop of them.
“I have nothing to say to that.” He shook his head immediately, that stern expression he used on an unruly patient or Robby when he got a little too pushy.
This just made you sigh again, loud and exaggerated as you turned back around to fully lay flat on his couch.
“Why are you even asking me that?” He didn’t want to pry because he knew you well enough by now to know you’d just be encouraged by that but his curiosity got the best of him, circling around to sit across from you on one of the living room chairs.
You didn’t sit up but you turned your head to the side to look at him, a slight frown on your face that he didn’t think was particularly genuine. Your personality was always something Jack admired, not getting a lot of time in his own life to be so bold with his emotions and carefree in the way he spoke and behaved.
He was serious and guarded where you were a walking billboard for spontaneity, coming to him crying about random problems after only half a week of living in the building.
It was mostly endearing but there was the more critical part of him that wondered how lonely you must be to be making friends and finding comfort with some random guy across the hallway, a much older one at that.
Jack knew he had a bit of a hero complex but it typically manifested in a more extreme way, quite literally jumping into battle to save lives or operating on them in their lowest moments. This dynamic with you was a new form of care taking and there’d been a handful of times he’d doubted his own motives.
“Because I have a date next week and I am a complete lost cause when it comes to all things intimacy.” You still had a theatrical flare to your voice, not facing him anymore and instead rambling straight up to his ceiling with your hands gesturing wildly.
He tensed up for two reasons now, one being the mention of a date and the other was your implication you didn’t have any experience.
“But you’ve had sex before.” It came out slowly and half like a question, half like an assumption.
There wasn’t any real reason for him to think that other than his own social expectations. You were gorgeous, one of the prettiest women he’d seen in a very long time, and had a naturally magnetic energy to you that even he couldn’t resist most of the time, platonically but also selfishly deep down, a little more than that.
He’d seen you go on a handful of dates in the last year or two, all guys your age that didn’t seem to know how to pick up a check let alone please you properly.
That’s where Jack’s problem stemmed from.
There had been almost no ulterior motive the first year he had known you, genuinely trying to be helpful and to be a good neighbor. He would get upset when his coworkers would call him anti social or make digs at how unfriendly he was because he hadn’t always been like that and he figured helping out the girl next door was a good first step to getting that part of himself back.
You’d told him after a few months that you had no family on this side of the country, completely starting fresh at a new company you’d applied to on a whim.
It was completely innocent.
Yes, you were undoubtedly beautiful in a way that made his head spin for a second when he first saw you. You had been standing near your car and fighting with a box, both by tugging at it and saying less than kind words in its direction like it could understand you.
Jack had hesitated for a handful of seconds before making his way over and offering to help, feeling this weird pull in his chest when you blinked up at him in surprise and eagerly thanked him.
Once you were in his life, you never left. And he made space for you effortlessly because, quite frankly, he had plenty of it to offer up.
About seven months ago was the first time he had ever seen you with a guy.
He’d been coming home from a long and rare day shift (covering for Robby so he could attend Jake’s graduation), dragging his leg behind him and praying nobody stopped him on the way to his apartment so he could crawl into bed for a few short hours before he had to do it all over again for his own shift.
The only distraction he would have allowed was you but you were clearly busy, standing in the hallway as he got off the elevator and touching the rather small bicep of a guy your age.
Jack hesitated, considered getting right back on the elevator before it could close on him, and then slowly walked to his door.
He had hoped you wouldn’t acknowledge him because his throat was already weirdly tight as he eyed you and the way you stared up at the man (boy, if Jack had to really label it) with that soft and curious expression you always had.
“Jack.” Your voice was full of excitement and he faltered, his key left in his doors lock as he turned to give you an attempt at a polite smile. “Covering somebody again?”
If this had been any other day then Jack would have invited you into his apartment to talk instead of lingering in the hallway. He would have ignored his exhaustion to pair his black coffee with the hot chocolate flavor you liked that he kept in his bottom drawer, complained to you about being tired and listened to you scold him for working too much when he didn’t need to.
But you were in a pretty dress that was clearly on its way to dinner and your date was giving Jack that possessive stare that guys fresh out of college thought was intimidating.
So instead he simply nodded his head and continued to unlock his door.
“This is Asher.” You continued abruptly as he turned his door handled, leaving it cracked as he stopped to look at you again.
He gave you a once over to make sure everything was okay, wondering why you were still insisting on talking to him when you were so clearly meant to be going somewhere else. You didn’t look too uncomfortable but you were watching him back just as intensely so he mentally stored the name and face of the guy anyways, just in case something happened.
“Ashton.” Your date finally spoke and his voice was annoyed and laced with immature bitterness, although slightly valid considering you had forgotten his name.
Your eyes widened, still boring into Jacks, and he smiled a little before giving you a small wave and heading inside.
Jack realized quickly after that encounter that his intentions were a lot less innocent than he had initially thought they were. He’d closed his door before immediately pressing his back against it, listening to the sound of your small heels leaving the hallway as you apologized to your date with a clenched jaw and a pain in his stomach.
The next few dates after that just confirmed what he had already realized from the first one.
He was attracted to you.
Maybe even liked you.
You talked to Jack about almost everything going on in your life, even things he definitely would not have cared about if it came from anybody else, but you never once brought up the dates. At first he had worried you had somehow noticed his weird demeanor that day in the hallway but Jack wasn’t very expressive in general so he figured you must keep that part of your life private for other reasons.
The attraction part was easy to accept mostly, he was only a man and you were clearly gorgeous. Although the age gap was something Jack couldn’t get himself to look past.
You were barely in your early twenties, over half his age younger and overly obviously so. You radiated youth, from your appearance and the way you spoke down to your hobbies and interests.
You were clearly a very young girl and he had felt like a pervert from the moment he saw you outside of that car for the way his body warmed. Jack hadn’t felt much attraction to anybody at all since his wife died, at first out of a lingering loyalty to her that barely faded and then just due to his busyness and his own mental blocks.
That was not a problem when it came to you and he had to give a genuine effort when he was around you to act normal.
You’d come over in tiny sleep shorts or a tight tank top that showed your hardened nipples through the thin fabric, join him for morning yoga in downright sinful leggings and he even was attracted to the stupid bunny slippers you wore.
But you were a young girl and he was a disciplined old man so he barely looked twice in your direction when you were bending over to get mail and he never once touched you, setting boundaries for himself and keeping them.
Which was why it was so hard for him when you slowly shook your head to his question about having sex before.
“What about those guys?” His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you and you sighed like you were embarrassed, a rare emotion to see from you.
“We barely kissed.” You shrugged and finally sat up from your dramatic position on the couch. “Please Jack, I don’t have anyone else to ask.”
“I’m not sleeping with you.” He said immediately, slightly offended you were seemingly only asking him because you had no other options.
You looked completely dejected now but Jack knew there was no way he could possibly accept this request, for too many reasons but especially because of his own moral code. He also didn’t want to ruin what you’d had going on, enjoying your company on his hard nights and finding himself finally letting somebody in after so many years alone.
“Okay so no sex.” You say softly and you stand up when he does, following him as he walks into the kitchen and leaning against the counter to watch him set the coffee machine settings. “But can’t you show me little things.”
He sends you a sharp look that you return with a gentle pleading smile, bouncing in place a little like you think your cuteness is the answer to everything.
And it just might be because Jack sighs softly and turns his full attention back to you.
“Like what?” He knows him asking for specifics will give you hope and he can see it immediately on your face, brightening and taking a step closer to him that makes him tense.
“Maybe just telling me what guys like?” You suggest softly and the words coming from your mouth make him almost groan, keeping his face flat and emotionless as you speak. “And some kissing lessons.”
“You know how to kiss.” He shook his head at you and went to turn back to his coffee but your hand wrapped around his wrist to stop him, successfully keeping his attention on you. He realized that it might be the first time you’d ever actually touched him, skin against skin. “I’ve seen it.”
His posture tightens as he reminds himself of that fact, easily recalling the vivid memory of leaving his apartment to head to work and finding you coming home from a date and making out with a guy against your door.
You hadn’t noticed him at first but he had slammed his door harder than normal, shamefully intentional.
There’d been a pang of guilt when you jumped in surprise and separated from the guy who looked the douchiest out of all of them but it was hard to feel it when you have him a slightly grateful look on his way to the elevator.
You were blinking at him now, almost like you were realizing something, and he looked away in favor of glancing at the clock on the wall.
“Not a kiss that feels good.” Your voice was more serious now, sounding genuinely disheartened by the conversation and the slow unveiling of your inexperience.
He sighed again, just trying to get rid of the tightness in his chest, before shaking his head firmly and fully turning away from you to fill up his coffee mug.
“I’m not doing it.”
—
Jack thought about your offer for the next two weeks. Obsessively.
He waited to hear you bringing somebody else over, someone who had jumped on the golden opportunity to touch you for the first time when he hesitated. You didn’t seem to go on any dates but he supposed you wouldn’t have told him anyways.
The thought of you experiencing sex with some asshole you met off a dating app, nervous and unsure on what to do without guidance, was eating away at him.
Jack was a fixer, he liked to help you, and he had already accepted the fact that he was extremely attracted to you. It wasn’t like he didn’t recognize the jealously in his stomach everytime he saw you with somebody else, a type of anger he hadn’t felt since he was preparing to go into a real life war.
Subdued by age and a calmer reality now but it was still fresh hot anger that he couldn’t shake no matter how much he tried.
You came to him with this problem, not just for pointers and tips but you had actually asked him to be the one to take your virginity.
Virginity.
Jack couldn’t get the concept out of his head and while he hadn’t necessarily considered himself somebody who would care about that type of thing, especially not as he entered his fifties, it did bring a wave of heat over him whenever he thought about it.
You’d never been touched before outside of a few unsatisfactory make out sessions. You, the pretty girl with downright sinful choices of pajamas that consumed his day to day life so easily after he spent such a long time alone.
He thought about it endlessly until it led to him knocking on your door, a rare switch of the usual dynamic that left him feeling a little awkward before you answered.
The sensation went away when you looked up at him, eyes a little wide with confusion as you silently stepped back to let him inside. It was rare for you to be so quiet but maybe you could tell what he was thinking by the look on his face, maybe you were thinking about the same exact thing.
“I’ll help you.” His voice was gruff and flat, waiting until your door closed behind him before he spoke. Your face immediately lit up but he silenced anything you were going to say with a raised hand, your parted lips closing as you waited for him to finish. “But I’m not sleeping with you.”
You pouted a little at the condition but stepped forward after a few seconds, far too close to him for his sanity but he figured you’d be getting a lot closer soon so he forced his breathing to stay level.
Jack used to consider himself quite smooth, still a natural flirt when he joked around with older patients or teased Robby.
But he was completely thrown off of any existing game when it came to you. He didn’t even know he could still feel this way about somebody, the yearning and lustful feeling having been dormant for a long time before you moved in.
“I’ll take whatever you give me.” Your voice was soft now and he’d never heard you like that, maybe a bit of a whine when you impatiently asked him to help you with something, but never so pleading.
You’d shifted even closer as you spoke and he couldn’t help himself now that he practically had permission, his large and rough hand sliding over your waist to rest on the small of your back.
You sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling and he was suddenly aware of how much fun this was going to be if you were that sensitive.
“Not tonight okay?” He replied and his low tone made your eyes soften, nodding eagerly and hesitantly letting your hands land on his chest in balled up fist. “We can talk about it more later and work out some conditions.”
“You’re giving me rules?” You’d collected yourself enough to finally give him some of that familiar attitude, smiling slightly as you stared up at him. He rolled his eyes but let his hand tighten against your back, moving you forward and just trying to test your reaction to the touch.
You lost your smile immediately, shuffling closer until you were pressed against him as your eyes darted all around his face with surprise. It was clear you didn’t expect him to accept at all let alone this easily, despite his two weeks of contemplation, he wasn’t at all hesitate now.
“You need them.” He retorted and his free hand brushed some of your hair behind your ear, the first time you were ever really touching each other being this intimate was sending another wave of affection through him.
A few years ago, Jack couldn’t even get himself to look at another woman, let alone hold one so gently. Even with the slightly out of the ordinary circumstances, he cared for you and you trusted him and that was all that really mattered in his eyes.
“You’re mean.” You’re whispering it and his head tilts at the sound it, overly fond and curious how you can affect him so much just by changing the tone of your voice. “Kiss me atleast.”
It comes out a demand and his eyebrows naturally furrow at the sound of it, knowing immediately that will have to be one of the rules he gives you when you talk them over.
Manners.
He doesn’t respond for a second but you seem to understand before he even needs to scold you, lips parting in realization before they form a small pout and you unclench your fist so your palm is flat on his chest now instead.
“Please give me a kiss Jack.” You sound sweeter now and he would think it was an act, making fun of him for his sudden silent sternness, if it wasn’t for the genuinely pleading look on your face.
The knowledge that you listen so easily, even when he doesn’t actually say it, overrides his senses so much that he actually does bend down to kiss you.
It’s soft at first which you don’t seem to understand, immediately trying to eagerly make out with him like that’s all you really know. He moves one of his hands from your side to hold under your jaw, applying a little bit of pressure near your throat to indicate he wants you to slow down.
You melt against him at the touch but do as he silently communicates and relax a little bit, still moving your mouth a bit sloppily against his but learning to adapt to his slow and easy pace.
Eventually you get the rhythm down perfectly, lips moving together without anything extra added. You asked Jack to teach you so he was going to do exactly that, starting from the basics.
Your face was completely dazed when he pulled back, instinctively shifting forward to try and kiss him again and making a small disappointment noise when his hold near your throat tightened in warning.
“You asked for a kiss.” He said in a low voice, still close to your face so he could perfectly see the way your widened eyes shifted around his features.
He was a bit mesmerized by the way you looked now, so unlike yourself on any other day. It both made his guilt over being perverse grow and also solidified that he didn’t care how wrong it was as long as you kept looking at him like that.
“Get some sleep.” He waited a few seconds before taking the necessary steps away from you, taking a sharp breath as he turned and left your apartment.
His own door had barely closed behind him before there was insistent knocks on it, his head immediately hanging since he knew exactly who it was.
Your eyebrows were furrowed when he pulled the handle to reveal you in the hallway, standing stiffly and glaring up at him but not making any move to come inside. You shifted in place and let out a huff of annoyance as you seemed to search for the right words to convey what you wanted.
“Can you kiss me one more time?” You eventually settled on the blunt question, shifting closer so you were both halfway in his doorway.
While he had a foot inside his apartment still, you had one in the hallway. It left you standing too close for his sanity, feeling it slip almost entirely again when your small hand landed on his forearm and rubbed softly.
“What’s wrong?” He asked softly, sensing your frustration but not knowing where it was stemming from.
He cupped your face with one of his hands, letting the other rest back on your side. You stared up at him as he took a few slow steps forward, backing you up with each one until your back hit the doorframe and took a soft near gasp from your lips.
“Nothing I just…” You trail off as you pout, scanning over his face and then down his chest until you can’t bend your head anymore to look. “I want one more. Please.”
You added it as an afterthought but it was enough for him, pressing his mouth back against yours.
This time, apparently a very quick learner, you were able to meet his pace right away and your mouths moved softly together. Your arms went around his neck so you could fully cling to him as you kissed deeply, heads tilting and quiet pleased noises rumbling in your throat.
You only got louder when his tongue pressed lightly into your mouth, mostly just to test your reaction but unable to stop himself when you were eagerly matching the actions.
It was sloppy and a little too wet, sounds of your tongues tangling together filling the silent hallway and sending a sharp heat down to his gut. He liked how clumsy you were, growing addicted to the way you seemed to have no idea what you were doing but too desperate to stop yourself and ask him for his help.
Jack knew he liked feeling needed but this was a whole different beast, one that came paired with some light shame.
You weren’t innocent and you knew exactly what you needed to about sex but your body was inexperienced and it was getting clearer by the second, your little gasp when he kissed you deeper and the way you tightened your hold on him everytime he went to pull back and attempt to slow down.
You’re red in the face by the time he manages to get you to stop eagerly kissing him, still instinctively shifting closer when he moves back. He gives you a lighthearted sigh, occupied by the softest smile he can manage so he doesn’t actually hurt your feelings when he presses you back against the doorway with the hand that’s still on your hip.
“Time for bed.” He tries to keep his tone light but it comes out more authoritative than he had meant for it to, most likely driven by the way you automatically started to frown as soon as he held you away from him. “We can talk tomorrow.”
You clearly weren’t happy about that but you surprisingly gave him a soft nod, shifting your body until you were out of his entrance and closer to your own.
He watched you and your dazed face, slightly wobbly on your feet, as you disappeared behind your apartment door with a small wave.
-
Jack had started off his day rough the following morning, barely able to sleep after what had happened.
It was a completely split mixture of wanting you so bad it was driving him to literal insanity and feeling disgustingly guilty for even looking in your direction.
He almost considered calling Robby about it but he really didn’t need to hear the lecture that would undoubtedly come his way about the situation. Plus he figured that whatever Robby knew, Dana knew, and if Dana knew then it was only a matter of time before the entire emergency department was gossiping about Jack Abbot and his young neighbor.
The dilemma was so strong that he had almost completely forgotten about the fact he had told you that you’d talk today, although almost intentional.
He was halfway avoiding having to actually sit down and make this arrangement a reality, still having a hard time believing what had happened last night was even real.
He had just started to get changed for work when the knocking on his door started and he knew it was you immediately, standing still and hanging his head for a few seconds like he figured he could just wait you out.
It didn’t take long for his senses to kick back in and he was pulling on a plain black shirt before making his way over to the door, raising his eyebrows at you when he saw how irritated you looked.
You brushed past him immediately and he lingered with his hand on the door knob for a moment before closing it and preparing himself to face whatever wrath you were about to send his direction.
“You didn’t come over.” You immediately accused, finger pointing in his direction as you stood in the middle of his living room with an angry expression. “You didn’t even text me.”
He was already walking closer to you as you spoke and your defenses naturally crumbled at the proximity, especially when his hands were sliding over your ribs to both hold you steady and let him feel your breathing as subtly as possible.
“You can’t just kiss me like that and then ignore me.” You continue on but your tone is a lot softer now that he’s touching you, already getting that dazed edge to it he had heard last night.
“I didn’t mean to ignore you.” He shakes his head and frees a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear, your features have completely softened now at the movement.
Jack wonders for the first time if you might have feelings for him beyond trust and attraction.
For some reason, he hadn’t really considered the possibility before. You were practically his polar opposite and he had nothing in common with any of the boys you went on dates with.
But now, with you blinking up at him like you were hanging on to his every word, he let himself think it might just be likely.
“I figured you changed your mind.” Your words are a little slurred from the insistent pout you have on your face and he sighs again, gently leading you over to sit on his couch.
Your knees brush together as you scoot closer to him the second he’s settled on top of the cushion, your hand wrapping around three of his fingers and squeezing lightly as you wait for him to respond to your fear of being rejected.
“I didn’t but I want to make sure you understand what you’re asking.” His voice is low and nearing stern, the same tone he uses on the new med students who seem a little more cocky than they are willing to learn. He knows that’s not the case with you, knows you’re desperate for any expertise he can offer you, but he still wants you to pay attention and properly understand him. “There’s other ways for you to do this.”
“What, like other guys?” Your eyebrows furrow like the thought confuses you.
His stomach tightens immediately, sick at the thought of it, but he stiffly nods his head.
You’re shifting even closer immediately and he lets out a breath when you’re leaning over his knee nearly, closer to his face than before and scanning over it again.
“I don’t want another guy Jack. I just want it to be you.” You’re whispering now and he can’t stop himself from pressing a light kiss to your mouth, brief but necessary when his brain processes the lack of distance between you. That makes you smile finally and he suddenly feels very stupid for ever questioning you when you’re making a request like this.
“Tell me why.” He mumbles, easily sliding his hands around your middle so he can tug you over more and into his lap. You kiss him again once you’re settled in his lap, still quick like you’re both using it as punctuation during your conversation. “Why me?”
He wants to hear you give a legitimate reason, to undo the hesitance you gave him when you said it was only because you didn’t have anybody else to ask. That’d been weighing on him more than anything else, the thought that you had just settled for your older lonely neighbor who was clearly willing to help you with anything in spite of himself.
Your next kiss was much longer, deeper as you fully sink down in his lap and move your mouth against his desperately. He’d accept that alone as an answer, big palms rubbing over your back and sides so he can keep pulling you impossibly closer.
Your nose is rubbing against his when you pull back, the sounds of your breathing being heavier now making his head spin with the necessary impulsivity to keep making terrible decisions with you.
“You’d make me feel good.” The answer you’d landed on was much more devastating than he was prepared for, his eyes darkening at how confident you sounded in that fact. “I know you would.”
His hands tightened around your soft skin for a second, needing to take a deep breath to ground himself.
It takes a second for him to reply, tucking his face into your neck and inhaling sharply. You smell as sweet as you always do but it’s intoxicating to have it this close after so long, skin soft under his lips as he kisses you softly.
Your breathing gets shaky, arms looping around his neck so you’re practically hugging him. You’re warm on top of him and making the sweetest noises when he moves along your jaw, shifting in his lap to try and get his attention back on your conversation.
“You’ll do it right?” You ask softly, running your hand through his hair and tugging just enough to make him finally look back at your face. His eyes are dark and unfocused as he stares at your pretty features. “Jack?”
“Yeah honey.” He says back after another long silence, voice deeper than he’d ever heard it as he leans in to kiss you again.
You kiss for a long time, wiggling around in his lap when your tongues tangle together and you get to taste him properly again. It’s addicting for both of you, both of your hands running all over the other’s body like you’re trying to learn every part of it you can reach.
Eventually you’re fully rocking against him from your neediness and it takes a second for him to process it, snapped back to focus when he hears the way your whines are getting higher pitched. A near growl leaves his throat as he grabs your hips firmly, thumbs pressing into the bone so he can stop you from moving on top of him like that.
“Jackie.” You whine desperately, kissing him again and successfully distracting him long enough that you can start humping again.
“Stop baby I have work soon.” He scolds in between the sloppy kisses, lips and chin slightly wet from how uncoordinated you still are.
You make another soft noise and he’s confused for half a second before he realizes it’s because of the pet name, smiling softly from his fondness for you as you hide down in his neck for a second.
“You’re hard now, I can feel it.” You’re whispering right against his skin and a shiver runs over him at the lewd words falling from such a pretty mouth, high pitched and almost innocent voice making the sentence sound so much dirtier than it needed to be.
At first Jack doesn’t think you’re right, knowing himself and his body enough to expect he’s not stirring down there even if he wants you so bad it makes him feel insane.
He’s had issues with it for years now, a deadly combination of his age, his traumas, and the carousel of medications he has to be on for a variety of things he wouldn’t disclose to you out of his own pride. That was the reason Jack had stopped trying to hook up with people years ago, giving up on porn entirely when he’d have to spend an hour trying to get hard before he could even attempt to actually get himself off.
It was in the back of his mind when you’d asked him to help you with this but he figured this was about your pleasure, he wouldn’t need to be hard to get you off especially if he stuck to his guns about not actually having sex with you.
He was sucking in a deep breath to explain this to you in less detail, make sure you understood that he wasn’t hard but it had nothing to do with you or his attraction to you, when you gave a particularly deep and slow roll of your hips.
And the effect was completely undeniable.
A shudder ran over him, eyes dropping to his lap that you were still rocking on top of. Your tiny little shorts were so clearly pressing against the tent in his scrub pants, catching on it whenever you lost the energy to move properly as you let out another needy whine and hid back in his neck.
You were completely unaware of his current mental situation, baffled at how easily you’d gotten him to this state from just some sloppy kissing.
You must’ve thought he was ignoring you because you picked up your head to glare at him, a pout on your swollen lips.
“Sorry sweetheart.” He sighed and kissed you gently, rubbing your sides up to your ribs and coming back down right when he felt the swell of your breast against his fingertips. “I really have to go.”
“Let me suck you off.” You requested easily and his breath caught, nearly choking at how simple you made it sound. “I wanna learn and you’re so hard right now Jackie. Please let me do it.”
“That’s not the point of this.” He shook his head immediately and moved you by your hips so you were sat next to him and no longer settled in his lap, clearly upsetting you as you scrambled up on your knees and gripped his bicep so he couldn’t get off the couch yet.
“The point is to teach me things about sex and I’ll need to know this.” You counter, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at why he’s rejecting you.
He finds it a little amusing that you’re so used to him accepting your requests for things that you’re genuinely lost when he doesn’t immediately fold for you. It’s a bratty habit he should have corrected months ago but he can’t find himself caring too much, liking how dependent you’d become on him.
Jack has to contemplate this because he knows you’re right, stomach turning a little at the reminder that you’re going to use whatever he shows you on somebody else down the line.
That selfishly makes him want to cancel this whole thing and leave you completely clueless, hopefully to the point you decide to swear off sex with other men entirely. But he knows how stubborn you are and how stuck you get on something once it catches your attention, figuring you’d get on a dating app and find some idiot in finance to take your virginity as soon as he put an end to this arrangement.
So he lets you slip to your knees off the couch, taking his hesitance to decline again as a positive sign.
“Wait.” He interjects and you freeze, sighing in annoyance as you prepare for him to give another reason you can’t do it. Instead he pulls one of the pillows off the couch and slides in near his feet, your eyes softening as you shift so you’re kneeling on the plush cushion instead of the floor.
“How do I start?” You ask softly, eyeing the bunched up fabric in front of you with interest. He has to stare at the ceiling for a second, slightly losing it at the sight of you kneeling on his floor between his legs. “Do I have to get you ready?”
“No.” He says it gruffly and you tense again, his tone way sharper than he’d meant for it to be. “It’s… I’m ready baby trust me. Just give me a second.”
That calms you down immediately, enough that you rest your head on his knee as you try your best to be patient. His eyes go back to you at the touch and he watches the way you squirm against the pillow, clearly still riled up from the kissing and maybe even the thought of taking him in your mouth.
“Has it been awhile Jack?” Your voice is ridiculous now, clearly teasing him and developing this soft purr that almost irritates him.
His hand goes into your hair at the sound of it, tightening enough that you lift your cheek off his knee and stare up at him with wide eyes.
“Watch it.” He says lowly, using his free hand to untie his scrub pants as you eye the movement with fascination. Your lips part as you stare at his hand and the way his fingers twist the strings, he has half the thought to make you choke on the digits before you try and take anything bigger but your attitude has left him feeling just as impatient. “We’ve got to work on your manners if you want me to teach you.”
That makes you snap back into focus, frowning at his words and shaking your head as you straighten up on your knees.
“I have manners Jack.” You’re clearly trying to convince him, small hands smoothing over his thighs.
He starts to deny it but he’s cut off when you lean forward to nuzzle against him, face pressing right where he’s currently aching under two layers of fabric. His breath catches in his throat and he instinctively tightens the hand that’s in your hair, mumbling out an apology when you make a pained noise but barely loosening it after.
He feels like he needs to keep it there to have any sort of control in this situation, especially given the way you’re almost desperately rubbing your face on his lap.
“Should’ve told me you were this needy.” He half scolds as he shifts his waistband down lower, waiting for you to notice and pick yourself up just long enough to get his pants down.
You don’t give him long at all before you’re back to obsessing over the sight in front of you, eyes fully dazed now that it’s just his boxers separating you from putting your mouth on his hard length.
You’re clearly trying to be patient in an attempt to prove you have any sort of manners, a little pride rippling through him similar to the feeling he got when you had corrected yourself the other night to politely ask him for a kiss.
“You wouldn’t have done anything about it.” You say softly, not accusatory but confident in it like you know it’s true. You lean forward and kiss against the covered bulge, a groan leaving him. “You’re too good of a guy.”
“Clearly not.” He rasped just as you start to lose that faux patience you’re trying so hard to pretend you have, tugging at the waistband of his underwear and smiling softly when he lifts his hips off the couch without arguing. “And you know I never tell you no sweetheart.”
“Yeah?” You’re still trying to talk to him but now you’re completely lost in the sight of him half naked and sitting there with his legs spread in front of you, too desperate to even be intimidated by the size of him. “You would’ve let me do this months ago Jackie?”
He sighs and tightens his hold in your hair again, bringing you forward until he can feel your breath where he’s most sensitive.
Your eyes flicker up to him and the sight is devastating for how deprived he’s been, a pretty young girl like you sitting so nicely on your knees for the first time ever. He can barely even feel that guilt and slightly sick sensation, knowing how perverted it is that he could probably get off just looking at your face and thinking about the way he’s about to corrupt you.
“Stop talking.” He instructs gruffly and you nod eagerly, eyes back on his length and only now looking a little nervous as you swallow before your lips part in anticipation. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Want it so bad.” You don’t hesitate to answer and your voice is a little whinier, swaying forward like you don’t even realize you’re doing it.
Jack lets you move until you’re right there, eyes locked on your face as you give him a nervous look and try to take him in your mouth.
It’s awkward and you’re tense, expression full of hesitation like you’re waiting for him to tell you how to do it properly but he lets himself bask in this for a few seconds.
He knows it’s sick but he finds you the most beautiful like this, confused and desperate to please him without knowing how to. You go between sucking and licking at the tip of his length and while it feels good, no doubt about that especially after how long it’s been, it’s nothing compared to how clearly inexperienced you are.
Finally, he snaps out of his sick fantasies of watching you embarrass yourself trying to please him, and he decides to actually do what you’d asked and teach you something.
“Relax your jaw baby. Just take what you can okay?” His voice is low and gentle, hand loose in your hair but clenching into a tight fist whenever you brush against his sensitive skin with your teeth on accident or try to overachieve and take him deeper.
You do seem to calm down a little now that he’s finally speaking, shoulders slumping and your eyes fluttering shut as you get used to the feeling of him on your tongue.
You’ve barely taken him at all but he’s transfixed by the sight, perfectly content to sit here and cock warm your mouth until you were ready to move him down your throat.
He watches you closely as you pull back to take a few deep breaths, pouting a little at his length and hesitating before you’re touching him with your hand. It’s all experimental, tugging and feeling the skin against your palm while he grunts above you and tries to control himself.
It’s barely sexual on your end considering how fascinated you are by the new experience but he’s halfway losing his mind knowing this is the first time you’re touching somebody like this.
“I gotta go soon sweetheart.” He says and your eyes finally snap back up to him, turning a little red considering you’d been caught just staring at his length as you touched him. “You can play with me all you want after my shift.”
Now you’re full on blushing but you nod your head obediently and lean back in to take him in your mouth again, a little more confident now as you lick around the head and repeat movements whenever it draws a sound out from him.
Jack can barely stand it and he has to put both hands in your hair to keep himself from fucking up into your warm mouth, groaning from the effort it’s taking and considering telling you to get back on the couch before he goes too far with you too early.
You’re clearly just as impatient because you try to take more of him finally and immediately gag at the sensation, pulling back and frowning up at him.
“Help Jackie.” Your voice is whiny and has a little rasp to it now and he kisses his teeth at the sound, petting your hair back out of your face.
“I can’t help with that baby, you’ve just got to practice.” He tries his best to soothe you but you’re clearly frustrated.
“Can’t you just force my head down?” You’re rubbing his thighs as you speak in that ridiculously bratty voice, wiggling around on the pillow like the thought alone is exciting you.
He wants to say no, wants to tell you why it’s such a terrible idea for him to forcefully fuck your throat right before he has to go to work. There’s a million reasons he should be rejecting you right now but that sick voice in the back of his head is struggling to get the words out, especially when you go back to softly kitten licking at his length to keep him hard.
“Fuck you’re nasty.” He gruffs out and your eyes light up at the words, nodding your head and taking him back in your mouth as you keep trying your best to fit him deeper. “You want me in your throat that bad?”
You can’t talk now but your desires are obvious.
He eyes the way you’re shifting on the cushion below you, adjusting his foot the best he can so it’s between your thighs as you kneel. That seems to make you even more desperate, rubbing against him almost feverishly now as you try to focus on having him in your mouth.
There’s no option to do so when he brings his hands back to your hair, silently showing you he accepts your request when he moves his hips off the couch and keeps your face firmly in place so he can push deeper down your throat.
He feels you gag slightly around him but your eyes roll to the back of your head at the same time and you hump against his foot even faster so he can’t find it in himself to stop, thrusting slowly to make sure you don’t end up getting sick or feeling too sore by the time he’s finished.
Jack knows this is far beyond teaching, he’s not even speaking anymore and instead just using your throat to get himself off but you’re even more eager for it than him and he’d never deny you anything you asked for.
“This tiny little throat.” His voice is nearing a growl as he helps move your head up and down his length, reveling in the way you gag and drool around him. “You’re doing so good baby.”
The praise seems to do it for you more than anything else, rubbing your core against his foot so eagerly that you can barely focus on sucking him off. You’re getting too messy to control yourself, mouth slipping off every few thrust before you whine at the loss and immediately take him back in your throat.
Jack takes pity on both of you, both for his own sanity and because he can’t stop thinking about the fact he’ll need to leave as soon as this is done.
You’re clearly upset when he pulls you off, making a loud noise of disagreement that barely sounds like an actual word and frowning at him when he sends you a stern look and wraps his hand around himself instead.
You seem to forget your anger pretty quickly as you watch him touch himself, hips slowed down to a slow rock against his foot as you stare at his length and the way he’s making himself feel good above you.
Jack has to look away when he comes because he feels pretty close to forcing your head back down and making you swallow it, although half positive you’d actually enjoy that more than him judging by how eager you are to try things.
You’re laying your head back on his thigh while he grunts and curses, tightening his fist and going back to staring at your face just for a brief moment so he has a clearer picture to think about.
It’s quiet in the living room afterwards and he feels an odd sense of embarrassment, a rare vulnerability considering you’re still fully clothed and kneeling on the floor. He fixes one of those problems by effortlessly pulling you up by your arms, settling you back against the cushions.
He stands and pulls his pants up while he does so, knowing he’ll have to shower off before he can go to work and get a new pair of scrubs anyways.
There’s a second of hesitation before he goes to get you some water, leaning over your dazed frame and kissing you softly.
“Was it good?” You ask quietly against his mouth, hand tangling in his hair like you don’t want him to go anywhere without answering you first. “You stopped me.”
“You were perfect.” He answers simply and he means it, would probably feel the same if you had accidentally bit him though.
“I wanted to taste you.” You’re pouting again and every time he thinks he gets used to you, you prove him beyond wrong. He sighs and leans further against you on the couch so you’re fully sinking into the cushion below you.
“Next time.”
It comes out before he can stop it and he fully plans to backtrack but your eyes light up at the idea of him letting you do that again so he doesn’t, letting it linger for a few seconds.
“Not when I have to leave you right after. You won’t like it and I don’t want to hurt you.” He’s talking in the stern and no nonsense way he does at work, trying to make sure you understand even though you’re slowly starting to smile as he speaks and he realizes you’re probably not paying any attention.
“You won’t hurt me Jack.” You whisper and it’s so sweet he almost considers calling in so he can stay with you a little longer. “Not in a way I won’t like.”
That makes him scoff out a laugh, a rare sound from him and you look even more pleased at the noise.
“You don’t even know what you like sweetheart.” He says softly and brushes your hair out of your face, letting both his fingertips and eyes trail down your neck until he reaches your collarbones. “But I’ll show you.”
“You’ll show me?” You’re teasing him now, biting your bottom lip to try and hide your smile to no avail.
“Yeah I will.” He smiles too and kisses you again, a little too soft considering what you actually are to each other.
He eventually manages to get off of you long enough to get you some water, watching carefully as you take a few sips and rubbing your knee when you wince at first. He wants to feel guilty for making your throat sore but he can’t, sick enough to admit he just feels the urge to make you take him deeper next time to see if you’ll really let him.
You’re still laying on his couch when he gets out of his brief shower, having changed his pants and taken a few deep breaths while staring in the mirror to try and get ahold of himself. He needs to switch back to reality for atleast a few hours, become the weathered doctor who doesn’t lose his mind over a pretty girl asking for favors.
You set your phone down on your chest, giving him your full attention as he moves towards the door to tug his shoes on.
There’s no indication you plan to leave before he does but he can’t find it in himself to mind the intrusion, going back over to the couch to give you a kiss on the forehead.
“Staying here?” He says in a low voice and you nod eagerly, eyes locked on his.
He lets himself think about his entire way to work, the image of you being there when he gets home from a hard shift. It had been a long time since he had someone to come home to and having you across the hall was already a gift within itself.
Now you’d crossed a line and if he let himself forget the terms and conditions, the fact you were loosely using him just to end up with somebody else as the actual end goal, then he could pretend for a moment that you were the person he got to crawl into bed with when work was tough.
Despite how much he thought about you during his shift, every moment he wasn’t being bombarded with questions or saving somebody’s life on autopilot, you weren’t actually there when he came back.
He knew it before he even opened the door, confirmed by how neatly the pillows on the couch were placed again and the fact your glass of water was rinsed and put away in the dishwasher.
You’d made it look like you were never even there and he knew you still enjoyed his company, maybe enjoyed the newly added sexual dynamic even more, but that didn’t mean you wanted to comfort him after he lost a patient or help soothe him when his leg was bothering him from standing all day.
Jack had to remind himself of the part he was playing in your life currently and try his best to not be disappointed.
It’s two days until he sees you again and he thinks it’s one of the longest spans you’ve gone without talking in almost a year.
He’s just about to start really acting out of character by banging at your front door and asking if you’re avoiding him when he runs into you downstairs, freezing as soon as he enters the lowly lit laundry room to find you leaning against one of the washers and looking extremely bored.
You’re as beautiful as always, casually dressed in nothing but an old band shirt that hangs off your shoulder and a pair of shorts so small he’s pretty sure it’s just boxy underwear.
You don’t look up when he comes in until his leg slightly catches on the step, accustomed enough to the sound of the light dragging he sometimes can’t stop from happening when he’s extra tired.
It’s a relief to find that you don’t have any awkwardness on your face, no sign of being uncomfortable or upset with him.
Then he figures that might just be worse.
He would just about die if he had done anything that made you want to avoid him but the alternative seems to be that you just didn’t want to speak to him and that makes his chest sting.
There’s nothing but silence and the rattling of the old washer as it rocks back and forth on the cement floor, both of you seemingly having decided to not speak to each other first.
(sorry for the brief awkward spacing tumblr says this is too long)
It’s another five minutes of the now awkward stretch of quiet before you clear your throat, turning to face him where he’s fidgeting with his laundry baskets broken handle just to have something to focus on.
“So I went on a date last night.” You say softly, eyebrows raised like you’re genuinely interested in his reaction.
His stomach turns but it’s a relief to have you looking at him again so he takes it, swallowing hard and racking his brain for a response that’s appropriate.
“How’d it go?” He’s asking out of politeness but he’s silently praying you suddenly decide you don’t want to tell him about it. It wouldn’t even make him feel better to hear it had ended terribly, not wanting you to feel any type of negative emotions even if it technically was in his benefit.
He definitely can’t take any sort of mention of you being with another guy physically. He knows it’s coming eventually, it’s the sole purpose behind why he even gets to touch you, but he’s not ready just yet.
You’re quiet again and he really looks at you now, takes in the silent contemplation on your face and the way you tap your fingers on the metal of the washer for a second before pushing off of it entirely.
Then you’re in his space again and it’s like an instinctive move to cup your face, hand on your waist so he can lightly push you back against the machine he’d been in front of. You touch his chest, lightly rubbing in soft circles, and he wants to sigh in relief if that wouldn’t be so painfully obvious.
“Wasn’t a great time.” You whisper and your eyes are on his lips as you speak.
His eyebrows raise and his hand on your body tightens slightly at the same time he uses his thumb to press under your chin and make you tilt your jaw back.
“Why not?” He hates the thought of getting details but he needs to know some idiot from a dating app hadn’t done anything to hurt you.
You don’t answer right away, just standing there and letting your eyes scan over his features on rotation. You finally let out a small breath like you’re about to speak but it never comes, small hands moving to grip his biceps.
“Did he touch you?” He can’t stop himself from asking even though the question makes his voice come out low enough that your eyes flash with surprise for a second, snapping away from his mouth to meet his stare again like you’re looking for something in it.
You shake your head immediately, squeezing his arms and shifting against the vibrating machine.
He’s kissing you then and he tells himself it’s out of relief, the knowledge that you’re still untouched by anybody except for him instantly making this conversation easier.
You’re returning it right away and he’s pleasantly surprised by how quickly you caught on to the type of kissing he likes, his personal preference. He figures he should eventually tell you that not ever guy was going to like your constant licking into his mouth but for now he lets it be, wants you to be trying to please him specifically and not whoever you’d use these lessons with.
It’s ridiculously cute how desperate you get, only needing a few seconds of your tongue inside his mouth before you’re arching off the machine and making soft noises against his lips.
His hands are all over you as soon as he notices the state of you, sliding down to cup your ass with both palms and tug you tighter to his frame.
That makes you out rightly whimper, clumsily trying to hitch a leg around his waist and sighing in relief when he holds your thigh to keep it there. The wet sounds of your mouths fill the small room, body slightly shaking both from need and from the way the washer is vibrating against your back.
“Missed you.” You whimper it out when he pulls back to let you breathe, kissing down your jaw and tightening his grip on the soft curve hidden under your underwear. “Didn’t call me.”
“Were you waiting for me to call baby?” He asks softly, despite how much it had been bothering him, he would never want to make you feel guilty for not reaching out to him after what you’d done.
You don’t answer so he pulls his head out of your neck to look at your face, seeing the soft frown and the hesitation in your eyes.
“Hey.” He breaths out and pushes your hair back to get your attention fully on him, your body softening and completely leaning against his to the point you’d definitely fall if he took a step backwards. “I wanted to give you space. Let you decide when you wanted to continue this, if you did.”
“I don’t want space.” You counter and it’s a little past bratty but he’s so beyond fond of you that he can’t help but let the corners of his mouth turn up at the sound of it. “You’re supposed to take care of me.”
He’s not sure when your dynamic became this way but he feels it as much as you apparently do, knows it’s his duty to make sure you’re always fine and not needing anything he can’t fix. Now there’s the added element of making you feel good, touching you in ways you’re not used to and showing you what pleasure can be like, and he’s not taking it lightly.
“Then I’ll call.” He say softly and your eyes lock on his as you nod in agreement, his hand cupping your cheek so he can keep you still enough to kiss you briefly. “You want me to chase you and I’ll chase you.”
“Right now I just want you to kiss me.” You whisper and he doesn’t need to hear anything else.
You’re back to kissing and it’s feverish now, more tongue than anything and your hands groping each other anywhere you can touch.
He’s lifting you up off the ground just so he can press himself between your legs and swallow the soft needy noises you let out at the feeling, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist so he can’t pull away at all. You’re pressed back against the metal with his hands under your shirt and wrapped around your frame to make sure you don’t fall, thick fingers splayed out against your ribs.
It’s getting hotter in the room and it’s mostly due to the way you’re whining and trying to roll your hips into him, unsuccessful considering how hard he’s got you pinned back to the washer.
“Jack please.” You pant and pull away from his mouth, tucking into his neck and rubbing your soft cheek against his stubble like a needy cat. “Please touch me. Do anything.”
He’s grunting at the request and gently setting you back down on your feet so he can free up a hand, using it to push your shirt up to your neck. He’s not too surprised to find that you’re not wearing anything underneath and your surprised gasp swallows the sound of his low groan.
You’re whining lewdly when he leans down to press kisses against your skin, middle of your breast first to avoid putting his mouth where you really want it. You’re panting, chest rising and falling under his mouth, and tangling a hand in his ash colored curls to try and steer him where you need him.
He wants to smack your hand away and warn you to be patient but he wants you too bad to try and discipline you right now, letting his mouth latch onto to one of your hard nipples so he can hear whatever noise that brings out of you.
It’s loud and intoxicating, his head spinning a little as he keeps sucking and licking your skin, letting your shirt rest on the top of his head so he can use his other hand to roughly grope your other breast and make sure you’re getting equal attention.
“Oh fuck Jack.” You’re whimpering and trying to hump against nothing, back arching as you whine and hold him to your body like he has any plans of getting away from you. “T-that feels so good.”
“Come upstairs.” His voice is so rough it surprises himself, picking his head off your chest and letting your shirt drop so he can kiss you swiftly.
You frown at the loss of contact, rubbing your nose against his and still lightly petting his hair.
“Why not here?” You ask softly and he gives you a disapproving look that makes you sigh and rest your forehead down against his shoulder for a few seconds while you catch your breath. “It’s too far.”
He thinks for a moment before he’s adjusting his stance to pick you up off the ground, abandoning your laundry and his that both likely need to be switched out soon. He’d gladly let it sit and wash it again later if it means getting you up to his apartment as fast as possible.
You make a small surprised noise and cling to him, arms behind his neck and legs wrapped around his middle and he makes his way up the few stairs towards the elevators.
“Jack your leg.” The sight of the steps seems to remind you of his disability and he’d be more irritated by your worry if it didn’t sound so genuine.
You clearly don’t ever think too much about his leg restricting him, never shying away from asking him to lift heavy things or walk with you down to the store. You don’t treat him like he’s fragile or any less of a man for having limitations and he’s always liked that about you, same way he somehow likes your gentle concern even though it would have bothered him if it was anybody else.
“Think I can’t throw you around because of my leg?” He mumbles and you tense in his hold as he walks like you think he might be serious before you’re breathing out a laugh and hiding in his neck.
Jack finally gets back to his apartment, going crazy from the way you’d started to kiss his jaw and whine impatiently in the elevator. Your hands run up and down his arms like you’re marveling at the strength it takes to carry you for as long as he was, making soft needy noises and squirming around.
He can’t even care about the possibility somebody could see him with you, one of the neighbor he’d lived next to for years watching as Jack Abbot carries the much younger girl next door through his entry way as she whines for him to touch her more.
“Calm down baby.” His voice is soft once he gets to his room, setting you down on his bed and taking a few seconds to stare at you as you lay there and pout up at him.
You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and his gut twists a little at the observation, a mixture of desperate unfamiliar need and the same guilt from before accompanied by a new layer of it.
He thinks of his wife for the first time in a while. He used to spend every waking second with her on his mind but she had naturally started to fade from his mind once he met you, something he hadn’t even noticed until you’d already been living across the hall for a few months.
You’d came over for the first time and asked him to borrow some ingredients, strolling around his living room and eyeballing the photos on his walls while he poured some sugar into a small tupperware bowl for you to take back to your place. You had turned to him with a curious face and asked him where his wife was, obviously confused considering you’d never heard of her before despite how frequently you and him small talked.
That was the first time Jack noticed how little he’d been thinking of her lately, not just in the painful mourning way he’d been suffering through since she passed but in general too.
Now he was waking up in the morning and anticipating the next time you’d knock on his door, focusing on his health again so he could occupy you on your walks and not picking up too many extra shifts at work just incase you needed something and he wasn’t there.
Jack was thinking about her again now as you laid on his bed but only because he couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted something this bad, trying to compare the feeling of you to how he felt in his marriage and still thinking it fell short.
He had loved his wife, undoubtedly, but he craved you in a way that almost felt inhumane.
“You’re being mean to me.” You say softly to break him out of his trance, having zoned out just staring down at you and the way your chest was rising and falling with every deep breath.
“I’m never mean to you honey.” He whispers back and finally moves to lay down with you, hovering over your frame and running a hand from your waist to your ribs as he kisses you softly. “I take good care of you, don’t I?”
It’s a bit mean to throw your words from earlier back in your face, especially as he lets his mouth trail down your neck. You make a whiny noise and grip his shoulders, nodding your head and shifting under him so your legs are spread further.
“Yes Jack yes, you take care of me.” You’re practically whimpering and he feels almost drunk from how easily you get this needy, pausing his soft kisses to shift up on his knees and tug your shirt over your head.
You’re the prettiest sight he’s ever seen and he can’t help himself from bringing his mouth right back to your chest, drinking in the way you gasp and moan while he’s licking and sucking on your nipples. His other hand is softly groping whichever breast he doesn’t have his mouth on at the moment and your backs arching off his bed, scratching his shoulders through his shirt.
“Please touch me.” You’re begging after only a few minutes of the slow torture and he lets out a sharp breath, shifting so he’s more to the side of you than on top.
You’re quiet when he rubs his hand down your chest and over your stomach, rubbing at the waistband of your underwear for a few seconds just to hear the way you pant before he’s smoothing over your thighs.
Your back is basically against his chest as he hooks your leg over his to make sure yours are nice and spread for him, kissing your neck softly when he rubs your hips above your underwear.
You bare your neck for him easily and he’s selfish in the way he marks you, sucking any part of your warm skin he can reach so you’re left purple and red all over. He wants anybody you see for the next week or two to know you’ve been with somebody else, to see the claim he laid to your body even if he doesn’t let things go as far as you want him to take it.
Jack doesn’t need to be asked twice to touch you, big hand leaving your hip so he can fully palm your core.
Your reaction is just the way he had hoped it would be, sharp gasp leaving your lips as you instantly buck up against his touch. You whine desperately when he goes back to rubbing your thigh instead, giving you a second to work yourself up to the point he wants you to be at.
“Jack.” You don’t even sound like yourself now and it’s intoxicating, so pleading and broken. “Please.”
“Please what?” He’s practically whispering, perfectly calm and the direct opposite of how broken you sound just from him lightly touching you.
He moves you so you’re fully between his legs, back against his chest as he cages himself around you to keep you from moving.
You’re practically shaking, whimpering and moving your hips against nothing with the hopes he’ll cave and end up touching you again. You’re distracting to look at, body bare except for the pathetic excuse of underwear shorts you’d been wearing under your shirt, like you’d just been hoping he would be the one to find you in the laundry mat.
He has half the thought to make fun of you for that, make you tell him exactly what you were thinking when you left your apartment wearing so little, but he doesn’t think you could handle him saying much at all right now especially not something so demeaning.
“I’m going to touch you.” He says gently instead and kisses the side of your head, letting his hand go back to groping your chest just to make sure you stay worked up.
Even though he doubts at this point he even needs to touch you for that to happen.
“Yeah yeah.” You’re nodding in agreement, seemingly pleased at his decision as you relax back against him and let him touch you freely.
His other hands back between your legs now, letting you get used to the feeling of somebody touching you where you’re most sensitive. He’s just rubbing back and forth, listening to the way you pant and pulling back whenever you start to try and shift against his hand on your own.
“You’re wet just from that?” His voice is a little mean now but you don’t seem to mind, trying to clamp your thighs around his hand but being stopped by the sharp swat he sends to your skin. You wince but move your foot back to the other side of his leg so yours stay open, pouting softly at the silent punishment. “Answer me when I ask you something.”
“I’m always wet around you.” You admit with an embarrassed tone lacing your words, squirming like you wish you could hide yourself from the way he’s staring down at your body. “Want you so bad.”
“I want you too.” He kisses the side of your head, still rubbing you with just enough pressure to make you feel the friction but not to actually get off. “Gonna make you feel so good, you’ve just got to be patient.”
“Stop being scared to hurt me.” Your voice is shaky but as firm as possible, trying to show him you’re a big girl and can handle a little bit of the roughness he’s so clearly holding back.
It’s obvious in the way he was grabbing your throat your first kiss, moving your body around easily whenever he needed to, and scolding you just enough for you to be able to catch the mean tone seeping in accidentally.
Jack clearly has a darker side to him that he’s not letting you see and it’s obviously frustrating you, wanting to be taken seriously.
“I’ll hurt you if that’s what you want sweetheart but not for your first time.” His words don’t leave any room for argument so you don’t even try, sinking back against his firm chest and letting out a deep breath when he shifts behind you and presses himself forward.
It’s not long before you’re not able to wait anymore and he lets you scramble to tug down your underwear, keeping his fingers lightly rubbing between your folds and watching as you struggle to get the fabric past his insistent hand.
Eventually he lets you pull them off and then he’s right back to touching you, bare this time. You both suck in a breath at the contact and you’re practically laying down from how far you’d slid down his chest, spreading your legs as wide as they can go and whimpering while he touches you.
“Do you touch yourself like this baby?” He can’t help the curiosity, the image of you in your bed trying to get yourself off stuck in his mind now.
You shake your head and frown, trying to twist your neck to look at him but being stopped when he uses his free hand to roughly grip your chin and make you keep your eyes on the way he’s touching you, thumb on your sensitive clit now while you roll your hips the best you can.
“No I…” You can barely think let alone speak, clearly struggling as you make a pained and desperate noise. “I get nervous.”
Jack sighs and collects some of your wetness on his middle finger before finally pressing it against the tightness of your hole, not pushing in just yet but teasing it with light pressure and letting you get used to the feeling.
“When you’re with somebody, they should always be this gentle with you at first.” He’s saying softly, remembering that he’s supposed to be actually teaching you something and not just getting you off because he desperately wants to.
You frown deeply as he starts to talk and he doesn’t really understand why, thinks maybe you’re still being pouty that he won’t get rougher with you.
He tries to distract you by finally pressing a finger inside of you and it seems to work for a second, another gasp leaving you as you instinctively clench around the intrusion. He groans, his length throbbing against your back at the thought of being fully inside you instead of just a finger.
“Fuck you’re tight.” He rasps and buries his face in your hair for a few seconds to try and collect himself enough to keep teaching you something, anything at all so he doesn’t keep letting himself think this is something it isn’t. “They’ll have to really get you stretched before anything okay? You need to remember that baby.”
It bothers him so much he can barely focus, the thought of somebody not taking their time with you. He doesn’t want to picture you with another man in general but especially not in a way that hurts you, leaves you too sore the next morning with nobody to take care of you.
He’s so distracted by his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice your face stiffening at first, body a little tenser against him even though you’re still softly squirming to try and get him to put his finger deeper inside you.
“Jack stop.”
He does so immediately and goes to pull out of you before you’re making a panicked noise and closing your thighs around his hand. He lets you this time, pauses all movements just to wait for whatever it is that you need.
“N-no don’t stop that, god please don’t stop that.” Your voice is breathier now like the thought of him taking his hand away from you makes your chest tighten. “Just… stop talking about anyone else.”
It takes him a few seconds to register that and then his hands moving again, enough for you to relax and spread your legs back open.
You’re both quiet now as he adds another finger, lingering in the weight of your request and what it could mean if anything. He’s half sure you only asked because it was pulling you out of the moment, maybe making you nervous to think about doing this again with actual stakes, but the way you desperately tried to stop him from pulling away lets him pretend it was for another reason.
He’s selfish in the way he touches you now, thick fingers moving in and out of you while you cry and whine, gripping at his forearm whenever it feels like too much. He likes the way your nails dig into his arm when you think you might be close, thighs clenching and shifting when his thumb gently circles your swollen clit and how your lips part in breathy cries of his name.
He especially likes that.
You come with moans of his name filling the room and nobody else’s after you’d specifically asked him to stop mentioning other guys. Jack knows it’s selfish, even a little sick and perverted, but he could probably finish just from hearing that.
He’s throbbing against your back and he’s sure you’d be able to feel it if you were able to focus on anything after coming, body shaking a little as you pant endlessly and fall limb in his hold.
There’s a lot of softness that comes after, kissing the side of your head and being gentle in the way he cleans you up. It’s torture to be between your legs and getting to fully appreciate the sight of you for the first time without be able to touch you more but he doesn’t want to overstimulate you so early on.
He does let himself think about that vividly though, kissing against your thighs and picturing when he’s going to be able to put his mouth on you.
You’re quiet above him, eyes a little tired but still overly soft as you run your fingers through his hair and watch him wipe you down.
Then he’s back ontop of you and kissing you softly, shifting your back so you’re laying back against the pillows and not sitting up. It’s soft and bordering on romantic which makes his chest tighten, hoping you have no plans to leave his bed anytime soon.
“You okay?” He asks quietly against your mouth and he can feel you smiling, still touching his hair with one hand and letting the other drift down to the back of his neck.
“Felt so good.” You whisper back and your voice is a little hoarse from all the whining you’d been doing, nose bumping against his and then rubbing on his stubble for a few seconds. “Can I take a nap here?”
“You can do anything you want.” He says immediately, no hesitation as he gets up to get you one of his shirts and help you get comfortable, jumping at the opportunity to keep you with him just like he wanted.
Jack typically has a hard time sleeping through the night in general so he definitely never naps, needing to be truly past the brink of exhaustion to ever rest.
Yet he finds it to be the most simple thing in the world to crawl into his bed with you after taking off his leg, kissing you for a few more minutes before he’s wrapping you in his arms and tugging you back against his chest. He’s rubbing your stomach softly, hand under the shirt he’s given you, listening intently until he hears your breathing even out and then drifting to sleep right after you.
—
It’s one of the highlights of his decade to get to wake up with you still there, warm and making soft tired noises when you feel him start to stir.
His room is dark now other than the slight illumination coming from the moon outside of his window, casting just enough light for him to be able to watch your eyes flutter open.
You give him a soft sleepy smile and instinctively lean in to give him a kiss.
It’s easy to pretend that you are more than whatever this is when you act like this, mouths moving together sensually as if you have nowhere else you’d want to be.
Jack groans softly when your tongue pushes into his mouth, meeting it eagerly with his own and moving so hes hovering over you. Your hands are on his back, spreading your legs below him to let him slot between them.
He feels like a teenager again from how quickly he gets hard, your soft body under his putting him under some sort of spell. His hips shift and you let out a needy whine, scratching his shoulders lightly like you’re trying to encourage him.
You’re still making out slowly when he starts to thrust down against you, slow rolls of his hips to give you just enough friction to start to get desperate.
You’re tugging at his shirt fabric and he takes only a second to sit up and pull it over his head, back on you immediately and kissing you even more frantically. He’s moving your own shirt up towards your ribs but neither one of you wants to stop long enough to take it off, only able to when you need a quick second to take a breath.
It’s the first time you’ve both been nearly undressed together and he feels the effects of it instantly, your chest pressing against his when he lays back over you. Your skin is soft and hot to the touch, those now familiar soft whines leaving you when he lets his hand knead at your chest again.
“Jack please.” You’re whimpering and he finally stops kissing you in favor of sucking at your neck, bringing those marks from earlier back to the surface. “Can’t you just fuck me?”
He groans at the words and has to tuck his face in your shoulder, still rocking his hips against you even though they stuttered when you said that in that whiny voice of yours.
“Trust me, I want to fuck you so bad I can’t even think.” It leaves his mouth before he can stop it, not wanting to reject you again without making sure you know how badly he wants you.
“Then do it.” You’re begging now and he picks his head up to look at you, eyes wide and a little frustrated like you know he’s going to say no. You gasp when he thrusts down even harder, biting your lip as you stare at each other desperately. “Please Jack? Want you inside me.”
“I can’t baby.” He growls and kisses you to give himself a second to think without you arguing.
You’re quick to forget you were trying to convince him of something because you’re kissing him back deeply, angling your head so his tongue can get further and further inside your mouth.
He has that sick and perverted thought again that he’s coincidentally training you to be the perfect girl for him, kissing in a way he likes and not knowing how else to do it. Jack is selfish and wants everything you do to be for him, wants your body to instinctively move and react how he taught you regardless of who gets you next.
The thought of somebody else makes him want to forget his morals and fuck you like you’re begging him, be the one to take your virginity and fill you up for the first time.
He starts to reason with himself that it would actually be a good thing because Jack would never let himself hurt you in a way you didn’t like, he’d make sure you felt good around him and came so hard you weren’t able to see straight.
There’s nobody else who could fuck you like he could so he’s almost convinced himself that it’s a good idea when your phone rings on the nightstand.
You both stop, you’re completely tense under him and he sighs as he kisses you one more time and rolls off of you.
He lays there on his back as you sit up to grab your phone, screen a little too bright in the dark room and causing you to wince. He stares at your pretty face under the light as you open it up and answer it, not thinking much about the interruption despite the small disappointment he feels.
His hand is on your bare knee and rubbing your skin is soft circles, soothing both you and himself by keeping the contact.
“Hello?” Your voice is as soft and sweet as always, a little confused sounding which makes his eyebrows raise. “Oh Carter.”
Jack tenses up at the sound of a males name leaving your lips, his hand freezing and falling still on your knee. You’re avoiding looking at him as you listen to whoever it is speak on the other line, a deep voice bleeding through the speakers just enough for him to hear but not enough to make out the words.
“Tonight?” Your eyes go to the small digital clock on Jacks side of the bed, having to glance over his body in the process. You meet his eyes just for a second before they’re darting away again and it makes the pit in his stomach grow in understanding. “Of course I didn’t forget. I’ll be ready by nine.”
You’re hanging up after a quiet goodbye and now it’s suffocatingly silent in the room.
You’re still sitting up with your legs crossed under you, avoiding looking at him like you’re not still wearing his shirt and covered in marks he’d given to you. He waits for a minute before he’s sitting up and running a hand over his face, on the opposite side of the bed from you and facing the wall so you can’t see his expression when he finally gets himself to speak.
“You’ve got a date tonight?” He rasps out, trying his best to sound unaffected even though it comes out low and tight.
“I forgot.” You whisper back and you sound further away now, a glance over his shoulder confirms that you’d stood up off the bed and are searching for the shirt you’d shown up in so you can swap out of his. “He’s taking me to some art show downtown.”
Jack stares at you as you move around the room, eyes scanning over your body when you pull his shirt over your head and neatly fold it before putting it on his dresser. It feels really final to watch you change back into your own clothes, turning to meet his eyes and letting out a soft sigh when you see he’s already watching you closely.
He hopes it doesn’t show on his face, doesn’t want to be too obvious that he’s probably about two seconds away from throwing up.
“Carter.” He says simply and now you really stiffen.
You stand there for a few seconds like you’re waiting for something, eyes a little expectant and then full on disappointed when he scoffs and moves to put his leg back on so he can stand up and get out of the room that’s suddenly suffocating.
You leave his apartment and all the warmth goes with you.
He stands in his dark kitchen with regret sitting heavy on his chest, wishing he had stopped you and asked you to stay with him instead.
He isn’t sure if it’s the fear of rejection or his own guilt that stopped him but he knew he couldn’t ask you to do that. You deserved better than him and his baggage, his late hours at work and his dangerous hobbies that he needed to keep himself busy with to not think about the things that sent him spiraling.
He couldn’t imagine forcing you into a life where you had to explain him to your friends and family, ignore the curious and judging looks from his own when they realized just how young you were.
Jack knew you were lonely, it was obvious considering how much time you willingly spent with him and it was bad enough he’d taken advantage of your desperation for connection and nearly slept with you.
He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he stopped you from enjoying your youth, having a fun late night in the city surrounded by artsy people your age and not stuck on his couch watching old reruns because he’s too tired after work to properly take you out.
Jack hates himself for thinking all this and then still obsessively wanting you.
So much so that he purposely lingers near his truck right around the time you’d told your date you’d be ready. In his defense, he did actually need a few things from the corner store, so he sat in the parking lot and waited until he saw you come down.
Your date met you at the entrance of the lobby but didn’t take your purse from you or the jacket you were holding, smiled at you politely but couldn’t be bothered to open the door of his car or even wait for you to get in before he did.
It made Jack sick to his stomach all over again, jaw clenched as he sat in the dark interior of his truck and watched you drive off with some asshole only an hour after he’d had you sleeping next to him, panting under him and begging him to fuck you.
Jack decides right then that it all needs to stop, not just the sex lessons but helping you in general. He can’t be that person for you without wanting more, he’s selfish and possessive over somebody that was never supposed to be his and he knows it’s not fair to you.
So he doesn’t answer any of your texts that night, stays quiet in his living room whenever you knock on his door and waits until he hears you leave for work before he goes to check the mail.
He feels terrible for avoiding you but keeps trying to convince himself it’s in your best interest.
Jack is half asleep when the silent treatment finally breaks.
He’d fallen asleep on his couch accidentally, a beer can too many on the table in front of him and the same movie he’d been watching beforehand starting to roll credits. He should have been in bed sleeping after pulling a double at work but he couldn’t stand being in there lately, tossing and turning and trying to catch the faint scent of you lingering on his pillows.
There was a second of confusion, not sure why he had waken up in the first place, until the sharp knocks on his door made him flinch.
He was standing up on autopilot to open it, wincing at how stiff and sore his leg felt from falling asleep with it still on.
Any thought of his pain was gone the second he opened his door and saw your face, tears on your cheeks and your eyebrows furrowed in frustration.
“I need to talk to you.” You said immediately and he ushered you into his apartment, not necessarily wanting to be in an enclosed space with you but recognizing your tearful voice was far too loud to have a conversation in the hallway.
“What’s wrong?” He said softly and takes a few steps towards you on instinct, cradling your cheek and staring down at you when you nuzzle against his touch. “Why are you crying?”
“Because you’re an asshole.” You seem to remember that you’re mad at him because you step away from his touch, pushing his arm back down to his side and storming further into his apartment.
He stands there completely frozen as you toss your purse onto the chair near the couch, your eyes scanning over the beer cans and the obvious indent of where he’d been sleeping.
Then you’re back to looking at him and he knows what he probably looks like to you. The exhaustion is obvious on his face, clothes a little baggier than normal from a lack of taking care of himself and a constant awkward shifting on his leg to keep pressure off of it.
“Why aren’t you talking to me?” Your voice cracks a little and he deflates, taking a few steps closer again even though he doesn’t think you want him to touch you. “Did I do something wrong?”
“What?” His face faces in disbelief at the idea you could ever do anything wrong in general, especially to him. “Of course you didn’t sweetheart.”
“Then why?” Your words are louder now and they linger in the tense air, face pained as you wait for him to answer.
He sighs and runs a hand over his stubble that desperately needs some maintenance, wishes he had the time to plan out everything he wanted to say to you so he doesn’t accidentally fuck it up more than he already had.
“I just… I can’t do it anymore.” He lets his hands fall to his sides with a loud defeated clap and shrugs his shoulders. “I can’t watch you go out with these idiots knowing they can’t take care of you.”
He hopes what he’s trying to say is an obvious to you as it is to him, not able to bring himself to actually voice the fact that he has feelings for you beyond helping out a neighbor.
“You didn’t stop me.” You sound devastated, head shaking like you don’t believe anything he’s saying to you.
You’re not crying anymore thankfully but you look so hurt and disappointed that it makes him physically ache, moving to grab your arm softly and guide you to sit down on the couch with him.
“I waited for you to stop me and you didn’t.” You continue once you’re sitting beside him, legs pressed together in a small amount of addicting content. “Isn’t it obvious by now that I only want to be with you?”
The words hit him so hard that he doesn’t even have time to process them, eyebrows furrowing as the need for more information pushes him to speak.
“Why would that be obvious? The entire point of this was for you to be ready for other people.”
You look a little embarrassed at his sound logic, staring down at your lap where your hands are fiddling with your fingers. He sighs and takes one of them in his, squeezing it softly until you let your gaze drift back up to his.
“I don’t want other people.” You whisper, staring at him with a small amount of hope in your eyes like you’re just waiting for him to understand. “And I don’t want you to be with anyone else either. I just figured… you wouldn’t cross that line without a good reason.”
Jack thinks it’s a little juvenile of a plan but he also knows you’re not wrong. He would have never touched you without the feeling of helping you out with something, no matter how much he had wanted you since the second you moved in.
That little lie was all he needed to get himself through the shame and guilt, the ability to pretend it was for a greater cause and not because he was sick and desperate for a girl half his age.
“Jack.” You sigh when he doesn’t respond for a few seconds, turning so you can face him better and press a soft kiss to the side of his jaw. “Stop thinking.”
“That’s a big ask.” He mumbles back but he gladly turns to give you a real kiss, holding your face in his hand and keeping your mouth against his.
You kiss until you run out of breath, pulling back from him but rubbing your nose against his and letting your small hands grip his forearm desperately.
“Then just be with me for tonight.” You try to reason with him in any way you can, rubbing his arm softly and blinking at him with those big pretty eyes that drive him so crazy.
He stares at you for a moment before he’s standing up off the couch and tugging you along with him, ignoring the little surprised noise you make in favor of lifting you up with his hands on the back of your thighs. You gasp and then giggle softly once he’s got you in the air, arms behind his neck and legs around his middle as he starts to walk you to his room.
“You’re crazy if you think you’re going anywhere after tonight.” He tells you once he gets you settled on his bed, kissing the smile off your face as he climbs over you.
It’s a direct mirror of the other night as you get each other undressed fully this time, kissing the entire time and tasting his tongue deep in your mouth when it starts to get more heated.
“You’re going to be mine.” He says firmly once he’s got you in nothing but your panties, making sure your eyes are locked on his when you hear it. His free hand is all over your body, rubbing from your smooth thigh up to your chest and cupping around your neck for a brief moment while he waits for you to respond. “If I fuck you then you’re mine.”
“I’ve been yours.” You whisper easily, like you didn’t have to put any thought into it.
He falters, hand tightening around your throat on instinct and then releasing the pressure when he sees the way your eyes light up with interest.
“Don’t be nasty baby.” He’s teasing, kissing the corner of your mouth and bringing your leg up so it’s around his waist and he can press himself against you. “Gonna be gentle with you for your first time. You deserve it.”
“I want you to fuck me.” You’re pouting and gripping at him impatiently, running your hand between your bodies to touch his stomach and fidget with the waistband of his boxers. “That’s what I want Jackie.”
“Didn’t ask what you wanted.” He grumbles back, not caring that it comes off a little mean because you whine at the sound of how rough his voice had gotten and he knows you like it.
He’s back to kissing you and it’s filthier than normal, more tongue and spit than anything else.
You’re as vocal as always, whining and begging impatiently when he gets your underwear off and starts to touch you again.
Jack can barely think straight when he’s back inside of you, fingers pushing in easier this time now that you’ve felt the intrusion before and know what to expect. You’re gasping and crying out immediately, unintelligible words that he blocks out in favor of focusing on how you feel when he’s stretches you out.
“Want it so bad.” Your near sob gets through to him and he hisses through clenched teeth at how wrecked you sound already, shushing you softly and kissing your cheeks to try and calm you down.
“I know baby I know.” He’s whispering but you don’t seem to be hearing him, spreading your legs further to try and make space for him to slot back between them instead of using his fingers.
Jack is just as impatient as you but he’s terrified of hurting you too early, although throbbing so hard in his boxers that it’s painful to shift around.
It’s not long before it’s too much prep for both of you and you’re watching him with your chest heaving as he gets himself undressed the rest of the way, leg going on the floor right alongside your underwear that he had slowly pulled down your body before climbing back over you.
Your eyes go down between your bodies where his leg is and he tenses for a second despite knowing you mean well with the concern you have on your face.
“Let me ride you.” You say softly and his chest tightens with that old familiar shame he was still actively working on ridding himself of.
“I can fuck you.” He says gruffly and your eyes flash with regret, pouting a little like you’re worried you’ve hurt his feelings with your thoughtful suggestion. He kisses the expression off your face, a long deep one followed by a few quick pecks to try and ease your mind. “Next time baby.”
He says it both because he knows realistically he has limitations, there will be plenty of nights he’s not able to rail you into his mattress like he wants to, but also because he knows he would die a happy man the second he got to see you bouncing on top of him and desperately trying to get yourself off.
You look like you want to argue but you’re stopped when he’s pushing your legs apart and moving between them, sharp gasp leaving you when you feel his hard length pressing against you finally.
“Fuck Jack.” Your voice is sharp and already a little pained just from the dull sensation of him lining up with your hole, a growl leaving him at the sound of your distress.
“Just relax baby.” He says as softly as he can even though his throat feels tight and raw, kissing you gently to try and get you to calm down enough for him to push in. “You’re too tight sweetheart.”
“I… I can’t.” You let out another sharp cry when he shifts forward, nails digging into his shoulders so deep it makes him wince and lower his head down on your shoulder.
Jack has to use every ounce of self control he can muster to not just fully push himself into you and feel that tight heat he’s getting a taste of, that same sick and selfish part of him that wants you in the first place begging him to just take you already.
Instead he takes a few deep breaths before he’s kissing you with more focus, going back and forth between softly rubbing your side and massaging your inner thigh to try and urge your body to relax and accommodate him.
It’s a torturous ten minutes, especially due to your soft whimpers and the way you cry his name whenever he accidentally moves himself deeper.
Then you’re finally calm enough, bare chest rising and falling with the deep breaths he’d instructed you to take.
“Want you inside Jack.” You’re whining in his ear, clinging to him tightly and almost suffocating him when he immediately takes your queue and pushes in. You tense up again at the brief surge of pain and then let out a satisfied cry when you feel how full you are, clenching around him so ridiculously that he almost needs to pull out to give himself a break despite barely starting.
You’re both too overwhelmed to speak much more once he starts to actually fuck you, deep thrust accompanied by filthy kisses to keep you from waking up the neighbors with how desperately you’re whining for him to keep giving you more.
It’s pure need on both ends, your hips eagerly rocking upwards to try and meet his thrust sloppily while he uses his free hand to roughly push down on your stomach and keep you in place.
“Jackie.” It’s nearly a sob from you now and he can tell you’re close from how much tighter you’d gotten, almost an impossible squeeze for him to keep fucking you through.
He’s grateful you’re so inexperienced because he doesn’t think he’d last long either, not with the way you look as you stare up at him with teary and trusting eyes.
“I know baby you’re doing so good for me.” It’s more of a growl than anything else but he can barely think let alone speak enough to keep encouraging you. “Taking me so well sweetheart.”
“I’m so full Jack.” You whimper and cling to him tighter, nearly pulling him fully down on top of you and knocking him off his balance. “Feels so good.”
You’re stuttering through your sentences and slurring each word, eyes a little dazed in a way that makes him need to squeeze his shut to avoid coming inside you just from that fucked out look you have.
It’s more sweet than heated when you actually do finally reach your peak, holding onto him still and kissing the side of his jaw softly with your face buried in his neck as you squirm and shake your way through your orgasm.
He stays inside of you for as long as he can so you’re not shocked from the sudden feeling of emptiness but you’re squeezing him too tight and he has to pull out as soon as you’re starting to relax. You whimper immediately at the lose and pick your head up to pout at him, eyes panicked like you’re genuinely distressed he didn’t finish inside you.
He shushes you gently and kisses your face over and over, rubbing your side as he lets you fully come back to reality before attempting to clean either of you up or get you dressed.
“Jack.” You’ve got the needy and frustrated tone he loves so much and he knows you’re not dropping it, meeting your eyes with a fond sigh as you glance down at where he’d came instead of inside you.
“Next time.” He promises again and he means it, fully intending to have that conversation with you ahead of time now that he’s got you like this.
Jack isn’t too opposed to the idea of getting you pregnant, not even sure he’s able to with the amount of pills he takes, but he has to push down that thought along with the rest of the sick ones he gets when he looks at your needy eyes.
You smile a little at the loose promise and tuck yourself back into his shoulder, soothing any concern he has about what just happened or how you’re supposed to operate going forward.
He’s undoubtedly the luckiest guy in the world to have you wanting him like this, feeling safe in his arms and desperate for him in the way he’d been for you since the second he laid eyes on you.
Jack was never the type of person to take the duty of taking care of somebody lightly and he doesn’t plan to let you down for even a second, kissing the top of your head softly and letting himself forget about any shame or insecurity just to hold you for awhile longer.
Zuko confesses to his wife that he let her biting habit out to the rest of the Gaang. also girl dad! Zuko is serious about his babies in this one :)
A/N: the tiniest bit suggestive also not really proofread
Zuko supposed somewhere between meeting Appa and falling in love with you- and his three young daughters- that he’d become a human chew toy. Whenever he reunited with the Gaang, the massive sky bison normally greeted him with his long tongue, leaving Zuko sopping wet on one side with strings of saliva hanging off him. When he returned home, he would be whisked away into Fire Nation meetings with councilmen eager for him to solve all their problems. It was only when he was sitting alone in his office, shoulders heavy with the weight of rebuilding his country that you’d bless him with your presence.
He’d wait for you to saunter over to him, for you to drag your manicured nails over his arms, to press a kiss against his temple. Just for you to open your mouth like some elbow leech and sink your teeth into his shoulder instead.
At this point he was so used to the feeling of your teeth sinking into his flesh, he hardly reacted anymore- save for tilting his head to give you better access.
“Did you help Aang and our friends save the world again?” you whispered, lifting your mouth to finally place a delicate kiss on his waiting lips.
A huff of laughter escapes him, “Well they may have had some questions about the bite marks you left on my arms…”
Your eyes widened, almost bulging out of your head, “They saw them?! How?” You started to push yourself off his back and Zuko used it as an opportunity to spin you around and seat you in his lap.
Wrapping his arms around your waist he told you, “We found these hot springs near that village we freed from those Ozai supporters. I tried to get out of it but Sokka convinced everyone that we deserved some relaxation after all that fighting.” Finishing off with a kiss on your shoulder, “It would have been weirder if I didn’t go!”
“Well Obviously not joining them would have been strange!” you giggled, “But what did you tell them?”
Suddenly serious he whispered, “I said nothing! I’m the blue spirit and the Fire Lord I don’t succumb to torture!”
“So you told them everything?”
“No! Sokka and Aang assumed they were from Izumi-”
The sound of your beautiful laugh cuts him off, “Izumi? She barely even has teeth!”
Dragging a hand across his face, “Sokka suggested she might turn into a snake the way Yue turned into the moon.” he told you with a tired chuckle.
“He said my baby is a reptile?”
“Yeah, Suki told him he was dumb. And then she told them I'm your chew toy.”
“Well, that is true.”
Zuko’s face wrinkled, “That Sokka’s dumb or that I’m your chewtoy?”
Your body twisted so that you were sitting facing him, legs on the outside of his thighs and you smiled brightly at him, mouth widening into a Cheshire cat’s grin, “Yes!”
“Yes?” He questions as you reach up to catch his lips in a kiss.
Just for you to lean over and sink your teeth into the side of his neck when you were done. “It helps us destress!”
“Us?!”
“Oh! What are we gonna act like your teeth marks aren’t on my thighs right now?”
Red began creeping up the Fire Lord’s neck (starting where your fresh bite marks were), “Well I-”
Tilting your face with faux concern, you asked, “Chew on me like one of Appa’s toys?”
“I-”
“You know now that you're back…” you started suggestively, “maybe you can help me with my most important duty as the Fire Lady of your great nation?”
Zuko arched an eyebrow and smirked, “and what could this important task be?”
“Well the Fire Sages are incredibly impressed with our three girls, but they feel as though the people of the Fire Nation would feel more secure if we could provide them with another heir.”
Zuko’s face fell, “They want a boy?”
You nodded, “They don’t know that we’re going to leave the country to Izumi regardless of if we have a boy or not.”
“She's the oldest.” He said sternly, “The Fire Nation will be hers, unless she doesn’t want it.”
“Exactly!” You agreed, “So let’s get to making another baby just in case she doesn’t want to!”
And you sunk your teeth right back into the side of his neck.
author's note pt 2: tysm for all the love on Teething Phase! I've been busy with work and planning my sisters wedding but i hope you love this one too! Also the wedding planning is giving me serious inspo for a modern! Sokka romcom inspired fic!!
also i'm trying out new divideres and headers... what do you guys think?
summary: One glitchy tablet, one HR email, and suddenly you’re married to your attending, Jack Abbot. HR thinks it was intentional and has already started merging your records. Claim it was a mistake, and your residency could be delayed. With only three months left until you’re an attending, Jack agrees to play along. Pretending to be married might save your career—but can your heart survive the side effects?
⊹ ࣪ ˖ word count: 127k┊ongoing┊updates weekly (might be later if life happens...)
Summary: A routine IT call in the ED turns into an unexpected reveal when Santos realizes the quiet IT specialist she’s been talking to is married to the doctor she works with.
A/N: Requests are welcome! This work is entirely mine and has been proofread with Grammarly.
Masterlist
Your pager went off mid-sip.
The page had come in as “urgent” which, in hospital terms, usually meant one of the doctors couldn’t figure out how to access their records without their badge automatically logging them in.
It was one of those calls that could be quickly fixed if they bothered to remember their hospital-given access codes.
You grabbed your coffee, badge swinging against your chest as you made your way down to the ED.
The second the elevator doors slid open, the chaos hit you. Phones were ringing, stretchers rolling in, voices overlapping. All of it made you grateful to be hidden away in a room for most of the day.
You made your way to the nurses' hub; it was bound to be the location of the confused doctor.
“Someone called for IT?”
“That would be me.”
You followed the voice to find Dr. Trinity Santos sitting there, staring at a frozen screen as if it had personally betrayed her.
“I’ve been trying to fill out charts forever,” she huffed. “Damn thing kicked me out.”
You stepped in beside her, setting your coffee down carefully before leaning over the keyboard.
“Let me guess,” you said, already reaching for the mouse. “ You tried a couple of passwords, got locked out, and now it's not letting you in.”
Santos pointed at you as you’d just insulted her personally. “First of all, I tried multiple passwords. It’s the damn computer that won't take them.”
“Incorrect passwords are still incorrect to the computer,” you mention lightly, finger moving across the keys as you pull up the backend system.
She groaned, dropping back in her chair. “I swear, technology has it out for me.”
You smiled to yourself, suppressing a laugh. “Technology is a neutral party, but user error isn’t, however–”
“Don’t,” she warned, though there was no real heat behind it.
You hummed, still working. “Alright, I’m going to unlock your account. It might take a couple of minutes.”
She leaned back in her chair, eyes catching on your ring while you typed.
“That’s a really nice ring.”
You glanced down, almost like you’d forgotten it was there, your thumb brushing over the band without thinking.
“Oh yeah, thanks,” you said, a small smile slipping through. “My husband actually picked it out on his own.”
“Did he?” Santo leaned forward slightly, interest replacing her earlier frustration. “Damn girl, he must make a pretty penny. That’s a good choice.”
You laughed at her comment, a grin spreading. “He’s a doctor.”
Santos blinked. “Of course he is.”
“How do you even make that work?” she continued. “I barely have time to see my fling that works here, let alone manage to date or marry anyone.”
“You get used to it.” You shrugged, “Schedule lines up sometimes. Other times you just make time even if it's not very long.”
“That sounds way too functional,” Santos muttered. “Are you sure he’s actually a doctor?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Does he work here?” she asked, curiosity creeping in now.
You tilted your head, like you were considering whether to answer, before just focusing back on the screen. “Try logging in again in a minute.”
Santos huffed, watching you work. “You computer people are too calm. If my job locked me out of patients, I’d lose it.”
“You are losing it,” you pointed out.
“Fair.”
There was a pause while you worked, the hum of the ED filling the space.
“So,” she said again, clearly not done talking, “married life.”
You glanced at her briefly. “What about it?
“How long have you been with Mr. Fancy pants?”
“A while,” you said vaguely.
“That’s not an answer,” she said immediately, narrowing her eyes at you.
You smiled slightly. “It’s a safe answer.”
“You’re funny. I like you.”
“Dangerous combination,” you muttered.
She ignored that. “Okay, seriously though, what’s it like being married to a doctor?”
You leaned back in the chair, still working as you spoke, as the words came easily now.
“It’s kind of funny, actually,” you started. “We met here at the hospital. I was fixing a printer no one wanted to deal with, and he was hovering like I was about to make it worse.
Santos snorted. “That tracks.”
You smiled slightly, shaking your head. “I thought he didn’t trust me at first. Kept asking if I knew what I was doing.”
“Please tell me you humbled him.”
“Oh, immediately,” you said. “I finally turned around and snapped at him, told him if he was that concerned, he could fix it himself.”
Santos let out a sharp laugh. “No—”
“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling a little at the memory. “And he just” you paused, mimicking it slightly, “kind of froze for a second.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious,” you said. “Then he goes all quiet and goes, ‘I just figured you might need help lifting it…’”
Santos blinked. “…lifting what?”
“The bottom panel,” you said, gesturing slightly. “The paper tray was jammed. He thought I wouldn’t be able to lift it.”
There was a beat.
Then Santos’ face lit up.
“Oh my god,” she laughed. “He was trying to help you.”
“Yeah,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee. “Just… very badly.”
“And you snapped at him?”
“I didn’t know,” you defended, smiling. “He was hovering.”
“That is so much worse for him,” she said, shaking her head. “He tried to be nice and got told off.”
You hummed. “To be fair, I fixed it without his help.”
Santos let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Wow.”
She leaned forward again, interested now. “Does he still work here?”
You hesitated just long enough to be annoying on purpose. “Sometimes.”
Before she could even question it, a voice cut in from behind you both.
“Dr. Santos, trauma room four needs your signature before we can send the patient home.”
You didn’t look up right away, your gaze still on the computer loading screen, fingers idly tapping against the desk.
Santos did. “Yeah–got it, I–”
She stopped mid-sentence because Dr. Jack Abbot was standing right next to you, tablet in hand.
He was calm, as usual, not caring that he just walked into the middle of someone's conversation.
You finally glanced up, meeting his eyes for half a second.
It was hard to notice, but the small shift at the corner of his mouth gave him away. Quick enough that anyone not paying attention would’ve missed it, he added the slightest wink to match.
Your fingers stilled for just a second against the desk before you picked your coffee back up, as if nothing had happened.
Santos definitely didn't miss that.
Her brows pulled together instantly, eyes flickering between the two of you.
You, who suddenly looked just a little too composed.
Him, who was already looking back at her like nothing had happened, one hand resting against the counter just beside yours. Close enough that if either of you moved an inch, you guys would touch.
Her eyes slid back to you. Then to your ring.
Then to him.
And something clicked.
Her posture straightened just a little too much.
You took a slow sip of your coffee, unbothered.
Jack didn’t help her either.
Santos looked between the two of you one more time.
Her eyes widened.
“No way.”
You set your coffee down, pushing your chair back just slightly like you were getting ready to leave.
“Try logging in now,” you said casually.
She didn’t move.
Her mouth opened slightly. “…that’s your husband.”
You tilted your head, a small smile pulling at your lips.
“You asked if he worked here,” you reminded her lightly. “You managed to answer your own question.”
For a second, Santos just stared at you. Then at Jack. Then back at you.
Her jaw dropped.
She just stared at the two of you, eyes wide, as her brain had stalled completely.
You stood, grabbing your coffee like nothing had just happened.
“You’ll be fine, Dr. Santos,” he said evenly. A beat. “Try not to make it a department event.”
That made it worse.
Santos made a strangled sound, still staring between you and him like her brain refused to cooperate.
You stepped back from the desk. “Try logging in now,” you said, already turning away.
Jack’s eyes followed you for a moment as you walked off, expression holding the faintest hint of amusement that lingered a second too long before he looked back at Santos.
summary: it's well known across the ptmc that park the shark doesn't like anyone, except for a younger resident he calls 'crybaby,' who also happens to be jack abbot's secret girlfriend. (4k)
characters: jack abbot / sunshine!fem!reader, mentor!brendon park, whitaker & evil whitaker
contents: secret relationship, jealousy, age gap, humor, insecure!jack, not proofread cw for medical inaccuracies, allusions to smut 18+ (MDNI), and r getting turned out that jack takes viagra
( NAVIGATION ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( AO3 )
Crybaby.
Dr. Park was the first to call you by that name — or Park the Shark, they called him, on account of his strong features, and the fact that he looked like he could swallow you whole without blinking.
It was your first rotation at the PTMC, when you screwed up a simple tibia plate fixation. The reduction looked clean, in your defense, straight and stable. “You got it?” the attending had asked. And you’d nodded as you adjusted your grip on the patient’s broken leg — only slightly.
The imaging still looked clear from your angle, as the drill went into the bone. But then you looked down, realizing you had forgotten to account for rotation, and found the patient’s foot slightly turned. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and then to your ass at the look Dr. Park gave you when his screw went in off-axis.
“Everyone take a good look!” he’d announced to the crowd of interns and med students watching after the fact. “If anyone here was wondering how to invent a new way to misalign a fracture, congratulations— You just got a live demonstration.”
Your eyes stung with tears, until your attempt to blink them back had failed.
“If this is all it takes to rile you up, wait until something actually goes wrong,” Dr. Park had scolded. “Now do you want me to go easy on you, or do you wanna get better, Crybaby?”
You stayed. And he made you better. But the nickname stuck.
Crybaby became a term of endearment, a symbol of how far you’d come since your interning days, and was shortened to Baby somewhere down the line. “Baby, take this patient down to CT for me, will you?” and “Cut me an ET tube, Baby, six millimeters,” and—
“Good luck getting that consult, baby,” Jack Abbot says from the opposite side of the exam room, with his strong arms crossed over his chest. The nickname sounds different spilling from his lips. It always has. “The OR’s backed up with Westbridge patients. It could be hours before we get a room booked.”
“She doesn’t have hours…” you murmur under your breath, squeezing past Whitaker and Ogilvie as you part from your unconscious patient. “Excuse me…”
“W-What are you doing?” the former boy stammers.
“Getting us a consult…” you say, half-distracted, as you reach for the red telephone on the wall. You press the cool plastic to your ear and dial the ortho extension.
Jack watches attentively from the sidelines as you make the call upstairs.
“You already sound like you’re gonna say no, so I’m just gonna ask quickly,” you say. “I know, I know— Terrible timing. But we both know I’m your favorite, so just hear me out.”
“Favorite…?” Ogilvie murmurs. “Wait— Who is she calling?”
“Park the Shark,” Whitaker answers solemnly.
“Or as I like to call him— Doctor Dick,” Jack says with a cynical smile. “On account of him being a dick.”
Whitaker nods in concurrence. “To everyone but her.”
You hang up the phone and return to your spot at the patient’s bedside. “Ortho consult’s on its way,” you tell them, half-distracted, as you check the ketamine levels in her IV drip.
“How’d you do that?” Ogilivie squints.
“I asked nicely,” you shrug.
Brendon Park comes into the emergency department barely five minutes later, and brings a tense air in with him that matches the unsmiling look on his narrow face. The way his dark blue eyes lock on you the second he walks in can only be described as sharklike.
“What do we got, Baby?” he asks you, and only you, utterly ignoring the other bodies in the room as he makes a beeline to your side. He smells of sea salt and sandalwood when he towers just behind you, standing several inches taller.
Jack swallows down the anger that swells suddenly in his throat like bile.
“Ten-foot fall onto a metal fence,” you tell him. “Tib-fib amputation— Pretty clean cut.”
“Sliced right through the bone like a guillotine,” Whitaker adds.
Park turns slowly, dark eyes zeroing in on the mulleted boy. “Was I talking to you?”
The boy’s cheeks flare red. He clears his throat. “Uh— No. No, sir.”
“Let me see the X-ray,” the attending says to you, much softer in comparison, and follows you the short distance to the bulky machine in the corner.
“See?” you hum. “Not too bad, right?”
His eyes flit from the x-ray to your hopeful gaze. The corner of his mouth flickers faintly upward as he nods once in response. “Yeah. Should be pretty fun— Where’s the leg?”
“Double bagged on ice.” You motion across the room.
Whitaker watches the older man walk past him with an unblinking gaze. “I didn’t know he smiled…” he whispers incredulously under his breath.
“Yeah, me neither, kid,” Jack mumbles, swaying softly in place, as he keeps his eyes locked on the two of you.
His jealousy is misplaced, but inevitable. Everyone had a certain soft spot for you, but he couldn’t quite stand it from Park — the man who didn’t seem to like anyone or anything but his work and you. Jack knows it makes a part of you feel special, you are special, but he wants to be the only one making you feel that way.
“Tell him how we prepped the limb, Ogilivie,” you tell the MS3.
“Oh, please, not me,” the curly-haired boy mumbles under his breath, looking instinctively to Whitaker for assistance. He swallows hard when Brendon’s dark eyes snap to his. “Uh— Sterile saline in the inner bag, ice water in the outer bag. No direct ice to skin contact.”
Park nods and turns away, unwrapping the severed leg on the table below. “Good…”
“Thank you.”
“I wasn’t talking about you,” the attending snaps. His eyes soften the second he turns to you. “Let me guess— You wrapped this?”
“How’d you know?” you grin.
“Because it’s neat,” Park quips drily as he pulls the bluing limb from the plastic. “And I don’t think Abbot suddenly developed fine motor skills.”
“Stop flirting with me, Shark,” Jack monotones.
“Antibiotics?” the man squints.
“Cefazolin and gent,” you answer. “And we’re already cleared her chest, abdomen, and pelvis.”
Park nods to himself, examining the severed leg with his gloved hands. “Clean wound… No rush injury… Rapid transport time…” he mumbles to himself, visibly pleased in a way that makes your stomach do a backflip. “Replantation is a go. I’ll go ahead and book an OR, get it taken care of for you.”
“Thanks…” you say, smiling a little wider than you realize. Because ever since the day he embarrassed you in front of all your coworkers, you’ve made it your personal mission to impress him.
“What’s the catch?” Jack quips from across the room. “You already got a packed OR so… What? You’re just doing us a favor out of the kindness of your heart?”
“Hell, no,” Brendon scoffs. “Baby’s gonna scrub in with me.”
Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re not sure whether to be happy or horrified, ‘cause you haven’t done a surgery with him since you were an intern.
“Holy shit— Really?”
“Yeah. As long as you promise not to fuck up again,” Park deadpans, though there’s something distinctly soft in his eyes as he quips, “And if you can keep your guard dog on a leash for a few hours.”
Your eyes turn instinctively to Jack. You find his features slightly hardened but mostly emotionless. He shrugs despite the distant searing in his chest.
“She doesn’t need my permission.”
“Then why are you glaring like I’m about to steal your favorite toy, old man?” Brendon scoffs.
Jack’s eyes widen. His head swivels slowly over his shoulder, as if he were looking for someone standing behind him. “I know you’re not talking about me,” he quips drily.
“I would love the opportunity to scrub in, Dr. Shark— I mean, Park,” you stammer.
“Alright, then. Let’s go,” he nods, pulling off his gloves with a low pop as he storms back towards the door. “The rest of you, irrigate the hell out of this with three liters.”
“Wait— three liters?” Whitaker blurts.
Park glares. “Of saline, genius.”
“I… I knew you meant saline…”
You stop short in the doorway with Jack at your side, right before you turn to follow Park into the elevator. You flash him a wide-eyed look full of hope and distant worry, “You’re not mad at me, are you? For doing this with Shark?”
“I couldn’t be,” Jack scoffs.
“Well, then, I’ll let you know how it goes later?” you murmur sheepishly, shifting on your feet like a shy child. “Over dinner?”
“Sure,” he nods. “I’ll take you somewhere nice. You know, to celebrate.”
He gives you a soft smile that fades the second you’ve turned the corner. He feels the weight of his own insecurity sitting heavy on his chest. The notion that he’s much too old for you tends to follow him like a shadow, but it rears its mean, green, ugly head a little extra now.
“Hey…” Robby greets, then slows his stride when he walks past the tree men leaving the exam room. “What’s the long faces for?”
Abbot flashes him an unamused gaze. “Shark attack,” he deadpans.
Robby nods sympathetically. “Yeah, that’ll do it…”
The familiar chaos of the ED wraps around you like a blanket when you come down from the OR — the beeping monitors, the rolling stretchers, the hundred different conversations. It feels welcoming, in a strange sort of way; it fuels you in a way it hasn’t in a long, long time. It feels less like you’re surviving your shift now, and more like you could solve every medical inquiry in this hospital if someone asked you to.
You feel ten feet tall and lighter than air as you weave your way through the crowded emergency department. Jack can see it from where he watches you at the workstation with an eagle-eyed stare. Your scrubs are creased from your hours in the OR; your eyes are as wild as the distant smile sitting crooked on the very edges of your mouth.
You plant yourself at the computer next to his, and Abbot pretends like he hasn’t been waiting for you this whole time.
“How’d it go?” he asks distantly, trying to be casual.
“Great,” you nod with a proud smile. “Like really great. There was a twisted artery, and I was the only one who caught it. I got to reroute it all on my own— It was crazy.”
Jack feels himself smiling despite himself, basking in the rays of your sunshine disposition.
“Really?” he hums, nodding once. “Good job, baby.”
You couldn’t possibly count how many times you hear that nickname on a daily basis, but it’s different coming from Jack. It’s warmer, more familiar — makes your stomach do backflips like it’s the first time you’re hearing the word from his mouth. You go dizzy accordingly, as your fingers flit across the keyboard below.
“I’m just glad I didn’t make a total fool of myself like I did the first time,” you scoff.
“Yeah, me too,” a familiar voice quips from behind you.
You glance over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of Dr. Park as he appears suddenly behind you, dropping a file on the desk next to you mid-stride. His sea salt cologne pervades your senses instantly, clashing with Jack’s softer, muskier scent.
“I thought I heard the Jaws theme playing…” the older man quips in a dry monotone.
“You should be proud, Abbot— Your resident was a star in surgery today,” Park says with a knowing smirk hinting at the very corners of his mouth, so subtle it’s barely there. “Can’t wait for her to be my protégé in the OR someday.”
Jack’s frown deepens when the man claps him hard on the shoulder as he walks back for the elevator, though not without tossing a “let me know when you need a letter of rec for that fellowship, Baby,” over his shoulder as he goes.
He watches the younger attending until he turns the corner, and looks back at you with his jaw clenched a little tighter than before. His chest sears at the distant smile on your face, as the flames of his jealousy burn white-hot behind his ribcage
“Well,” Jack hums drily after a beat of silence. “You guys are getting awfully close, aren’t you?”
You scoff like it’s funny to you, because the thought of Park the Shark liking anyone is funny to you.
“What? No,” you laugh, then shrug at the unconvinced look Jack gives you in response. “He’s just nice to me. That’s all.”
Jack lets out a sharp exhale through his nose in place of a laugh. He turns back to his computer and deadpans, “Yeah. Because he likes you.”
You open your mouth to argue.
Jack beats you to the punch.
“And I don’t blame him, either. I think it’d make me a hypocrite if I did.”
Your face flares as a red-hot heat crawls up your neck. Your adrenaline-induced confidence fades into something softer as you struggle suddenly to meet the older man’s gaze. You glance down at the chart Park left, unable to hide the small smile on your mouth when you peer at Jack again from beneath your lashes.
“Where are we going for dinner after this again?” you wonder, half-sheepish.
The expression on his scruffy face shifts slightly, less tense but mischievous still. “We aren’t,” he says and logs out of the computer.
Your eyes narrow into a suspicious squint as you watch the man round the front desk. “What happened to ‘I’ll take you somewhere nice?’”
“Yeah…” Jack nods slowly, huffing sympathetically, as his hands curl around either end of his stethoscope. “I think we’re gonna miss that reservation, baby.”
Your stomach does a backflip.
By the time you make it to Jack’s place, the adrenaline has worn off just enough to leave you pleasantly exhausted.
He can feel it in your kiss, as you straddle him on his sunken couch in the middle of his dim living room — so quiet compared to the ER that it feels like stepping into a completely different world. You prop yourself over his lap with your palms cradling his silver scruff and lick into his parted mouth in slow, languid motions.
You’ve been at it for a while now. So long that Jack can feel your spit down to his chin. You could kiss him for hours and hours and never get bored — a testament to your youth, perhaps, because Jack doesn’t think he’s made out with someone this long since he was in college.
But, for you, he keeps his head tipped back against the sofa and his mouth obediently parted, letting you kiss him however you want — for however long you want. His wide hands fidget with anticipation on either side of your bare thighs, from where your shirt rides up to your hips.
You’d changed immediately into one of his old tees when you arrived, after a shower your body had been craving all day. You smell like his body wash and lotion as you sit on his lap, running your hands down his clothed chest like soft drops of summer rain.
Your fingers brush the tie in his dark navy sweatpants, and he tenses on instinct. You don’t seem to notice, though, as you leave a trail of wet kisses down his scruffy neck.
“Are you gonna fuck me tonight?” you mumble into his pulse. “’S why we didn’t go out for dinner tonight, isn’t it? ‘Cause I’ve been thinking about it all day…”
Jack goes dizzy at your words — at the otherwise innocent mouth they spill from. His stomach warms, and he jerks back from you before he means to; his mouth wet and rosy from the intensity of your kisses.
“Yeah, fuck— Yeah, I just…” he trails off, though it’s more of a dismissal than a true affirmative. “I just gotta go to the bathroom real quick, yeah?”
“Okay,” you smile politely, unaware of his subdued panic that he’s learned to keep well-hidden. You slide off his lap and onto the other side of the couch. “Sure.”
Jack rises from the sunken sofa with a low grunt in the back of his throat. There’s a slight limp in his step from where the long day has taken a toll on his prosthetic. “Feel free to make yourself at home while I’m gone,” he tosses mindlessly over his shoulder, before he disappears down the dim hallway, making an immediate beeline for his lamplit bedroom.
There’s a bottle of sildenafil in his nightstand drawer, with only one pill taken out of it — which he thinks is somehow even more embarrassing. He’d only taken it to masturbate once, after his SSRIs plummeted his libido and he was itching for a release after a long day.
The small orange bottle feels strangely heavy in his hands now, as he tips his head back to shake one of the tiny blue pills into his mouth before he can talk himself out of it. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows it dry. The pills rattle faintly when he sets the bottle down beside him again.
He drops onto the edge of his bed, mattress squeaking under his weight. He rests his elbows on his knees and hunches over to dig his palms into his eyes. He tries to will himself hard for you, even though he knows that isn’t exactly how that works.
He thinks of you — all young and pretty and waiting for him out there — wasting your youth on an old man who can’t get hard to save his life. It leads to a cycle of self-hatred that prevents him from getting turned on at all. And it’s maddening.
The ajar door creaks quietly as you push it open without knocking.
You slink inside the dim bedroom and freeze at the sight of the man on the bed, like you weren’t expecting to find him there. Jack’s head whips to your form across the room and spins when he finds your underwear peeking out from the bottom of his shirt — a soft orange color patterned with dark black bats, several months out of season.
“What are you doing?” he squints teasingly, blanketed half by shadow and half by golden lamplight.
“What are you doing?” you retort. “I’ve been waiting out there forever.”
“It’s only been five minutes,” Jack scoffs.
“Yeah, tell me about it…”
You’re all but skipping to his side then, bare feet padding along the thin carpet as you go. The thin fabric of his shirt swishes around your thighs when you walk to stand between his. When you wrap your arms loosely around his neck and duck down to kiss him, Jack tips his chin back and opens his mouth to welcome you — until the open drawer beside you catches your attention, as well as the orange pill bottle sitting on the corner of the nightstand, as if he’d just pulled it out of there.
“What’s that—?”
“Nothing,” Jack answers, a little too quickly, and reaches less than casually around you to chuck the bottle into the drawer again. The pills rattle loudly in the quiet bedroom when he shoves it shut a second later.
He can tell by the look in your eyes that you’ve already gotten a glimpse of the label. Your gaze is soft with sympathy and glittering with something wild that he can’t quite place.
Jack says nothing for several long moments, and instead waits for your response.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed…” you murmur when you catch his scruffy cheeks flaring a soft pink.
“I’m not embarrassed,” he blurts, less than convincingly, eyes shifting away and back again. “I’m just… selectively unthrilled with this timing…”
Your nose scrunches at the shy smile you give him. His warm hands settle again on your waist while your fingers twist in the silver curls at the nape of his neck. Your eyes soften with something tender when you wonder shyly, “Is that why… Is that why you haven’t wanted to… you know?”
“No,” Jack answers instantly, then tilts his head to think for a moment. “Well, I mean— a little, I guess, but… I only take ‘em ‘cause of my SSRIs, you know? It’s not… It’s not because of you or anything.”
“Okay…” you nod and struggle to meet his gaze when you ask, “Do you know, like, how long it takes to kick in… or whatever?”
“Last time I tried, it took about twenty minutes—”
“Last time?” you echo with raised brows.
“I was just trying it out!” Jack defends with a crooked smile, slightly egged on by your misplaced jealousy after stewing in his own all day. “I was by myself when I took it, if that makes you feel any better.”
“It does make me feel better, actually…”
Jack’s light eyes narrow. “What’s that look for, huh?”
“Nothin’…” you lilt quietly, with a poorly hidden smile. “I just… I think it’s kinda hot… That’s all…”
His expression flickers in an instant — surprise first, suspicion second, then something darker third. A white-hot desire threads through the distant embarrassment still swimming in his stomach.
“Yeah?” he presses lowly, with a voice like honey.
“Yeah…” you nod once, unable to take your eyes off his prying stare.
He studies you for another beat, before huffing a quiet laugh of disbelief.
“You’re somethin’ else, baby, you know that?” he mumbles with a shake of his head, smoothing his calloused palms slowly up your bare thighs until they disappear under his shirt.
“I know…” you mutter on bated breath, trying and failing to be casual when you ask, “What do you wanna do then, huh? You know, for the next twenty minutes, anyway?”
You fight back a shiver when his thumb brushes over the center of the delicate mound peeking beneath the hem of your t-shirt, concealed by the thin cotton panties you wear.
Jack hears your breath catch in his throat. His darkened gaze flits from your Halloween-patterned underwear to your heavy eyes, now glazed over with a layer of honeyed desire.
summary: the ER knows you're married, pregnant, and hopelessly in love with your husband. so when brendon keeps hovering around you, everyone's convinced you're having an affair.
pairing: brendon park + attending!pregnant!reader
word count: 2.4k
warnings/tags: mentions of pregnancy, workplace misunderstanding
notes: based on this ask from anon, tysm for requesting!
reblogs, likes, and comments are so so appreciated! if you want to read more from me, kindly submit in my inbox !!! xoxo
The first rumor started because of a protein bar.
Not because of anything dramatic. Not because someone saw you sneaking around hospital corridors or caught you pressed against a wall with Brendon Park's hand around your waist.
No.
It started because at two in the afternoon, during a brutally understaffed Friday day shift in the ER, you looked up from charting and said with exhausted fondness:
"My husband is going to kill me if he finds out I skipped lunch again."
And Dana, who had worked enough years in emergency medicine to survive on caffeine and spite alone, snorted.
"Husbands," she said. "They worry too much."
You smiled to yourself while typing. "Mine's worse now that I'm pregnant. Yesterday he tried to meal prep for me."
"Oh?" Santos asked from the next computer. "How'd that go?"
"He labeled every container by protein count."
"Sounds intense," Santos muttered.
"He is intense," you agreed easily. "But he means well."
Nobody thought much about it then. Because everybody in the ER about your husband.
Well, sort of. They knew he existed. They knew he packed your lunches sometimes. That he texted reminders for vitamins. That he apparently folded laundry with terrifying precision. That he hated when you worked overtime but still stayed awake until you got home anyway.
They knew he rubbed your swollen feet after shifts. They knew he was "ridiculously overprotective." They knew he called you "doctor" sarcastically whenever you forgot to take care of yourself.
They knew you adored him, but they didn't know his name.
And somehow, over months of working together, nobody ever asked. Or maybe they had once and gotten distracted by a trauma alert halfway through.
That was the thing about the ER. Conversations happened infragments.
So your husbands became this faceless mythical man everyone pieced together from tiny details.
And because you were basically sunshine in human form (You were the warmest, most patient, endlessly kind person), everyone imagined your husband accordingly.
Probably some sweet elementary school teacher. Or a soft-spoken accountant. Or maybe a stay-at-home husband who baked sourdough and wore cardigans.
Definitely not Brendon Park. Absolutely not him.
The first time most of the ER really met Brendon was during a motorcycle trauma.
The ortho pager had gone off twenty minutes earlier and everyone was already stressed. The patient had multiple fractures, a discolated shoulder, and enough road rash to make the interns pale.
Then he walked in. Tall, broad-shouldered. No greeting, no wasted movement, just immediate assessment,
"X-rays," his voice cut through the chaos.
Someone handed them over. Brendon studied them for maybe three seconds.
"We'll prep OR two. I want vascular on standby."
Ogilvie beside him started talking. "So we were thinking—"
"No," Brendon interrupted without even looking at him. "You were guessing."
Silence. Ogilvie visibly shrank.
"Comminuted tib-fib fracture with displacement. If you'd waited another hour, he'd lose perfusion."
The room went still. Not because he was wrong, but because he was terrifying.
Then his eyes shifted toward you. And the entire atmosphere changed so subtly that nobody noticed it except maybe Santos.
Your shoulders relaxed just slightly. Brendon's expression remained unreadable, but his gaze lingered on you for half a second too long.
"You've been here since morning," he said flatly.
"Hello to you too."
"Did you eat?"
The room paused.
You looked midly defensive. "Yes."
"You're lying."
"I had crackers."
"That's not food."
Ogilvie who'd just been verbally executed stared between you both in confusion. The Shark did not do conversation, yet here he was arguing with you about crackers.
You rolled your eyes. "I'm busy."
"You're pregnant."
"And?"
"And you require actual nutrition."
Santos coughed to hide a laugh. Brendon ignored everybody. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and placed a protein bar beside your keyboard without saying anything else.
Then he turned and walked away. No goodbye or no explaination. He just left.
The ER collectively stared at the protein bar. Then at you. Then back at the protein bar.
Santos finally broke the silence. "...What the hell was that?"
You unwrapped the bar casually. "He gets grumpy when I forget to eat."
"You know Park the Shark?" Santos asked slowly.
You looked confused. "Brendon?"
The entire station froze at the first-name basis.
"What do you mean, Brendon?" Santos asked.
"That's his name."
"No one calls him Brendon."
"Oh," you took a bite of the protein bar. "I do."
After that, people started noticing things. Little things.
Like how Brendon only ever lingered in the ER when you were there. How he answered everyone else with clipped professionalism but always gave you full sentences.
How you somehow never seemed intimidated by him. Everyone else treated Brendon like a shark circling bloody water, you treated him like an annoyed housecat.
One afternoon, during a particularly miserable shift, you were sitting at the station rubbing your lower back.
"God," you muttered. "My husband bought six different pregnancy pillows."
Dana laughed. "Six?"
"He said the first five didn't have the right feeling."
"What does that even mean?"
"I don't even want to know."
Then Santos frowned. "Wait. Wasn't Park carrying a giant package into the parking lot yesterday?"
You didn't look up from your charting. "Probably."
"And didn't he get irritated at at someone who bumped into him because it caused him to drop it all?"
"Oh, that was ours."
Silence.
You blinked up. "What?"
Santos stared at you carefully. "You and Park live in the same building?"
"Oh." You smiled absentmindedly. "Yeah."
Another silence. Santos looked deeply concerned now.
"You're... close with him?"
You laughed. "I mean, I would hope so."
Nobody knew what to say to that. Because there was no way. No way.
You were married, pregnant even. Completely in love with your husband, whoever he was.
And Brendon Park looked at most human interaction like it personally offended him.
Yet somehow he kept appearing around you like a shadow, like it was gravity.
The rumors exploded after an incident at the cafeteria. You had been off your shift for exactly eleven minutes when Brendon walked into the cafeteria still in his scrubs.
And everyone noticed that. Because Brendon never went to the cafeteria (He barely seemed to consume food). He scanned the room once and found you immediately. THen walked over carrying a tray.
Without asking, he switched your coffee with a different one.
"You can't have that much caffeine."
You looked offended. "It was half-caf."
"It was basically battery acid."
"You tasted it?"
"You left it on the counter this morning."
Brendon sat across from you naturally, like this happened every day.
You pointed at his tray. "You got fries?"
"You wanted fries."
"I mentioned fries once."
"You cried about it."
"I was emotional that time."
"You threatened divorce."
The tables surrounding you stared. The conversation sounded disgustingly domestic.
Brendon pushed the fries toward you first before touching his own food. You stole half of them and he didn't complain.
Actually, he watched you eat with this faintly distracted expression that nobody had ever seen on his face before. Like he was making sure you were really eating.
Then your phone buzzed. You checked it and groaned.
"The husband says I forgot my appointment tomorrow."
Brendon immediately said, "Ten-thirty."
You looked at him. "I know."
"You forgot."
"I remembered eventually."
"You remembered because I reminded you."
The silence at the table became defeaning, like somehow everyone was staring at you. Brendon glanced around once, clearly unimpressed by the collective lack of intelligence.
Then his pager went off. And before leaving, he reached down and adjusted you chair closer to the table because you'd been sitting awkwardly with your belly.
The movement was instinctive, like he'd done this a million times. And it was weirdly intimate.
The second he disappeared, Langdon sat on the seat that Brendon just occupied.
"Oh my God."
You frowned. "What?"
He leaned forward carefully. "Are you having an affair with Brendon Park?"
You nearly choked on a fry. "What?"
"That man practically tucked you in!"
"He's just—"
"You literally just talked about threatening him with divorce!"
"My husband!"
"Exactly!"
You stared at him in disbelief before realization dawned.
"Oh my god."
"So, you are!"
"No I'm not, Frank."
"Then why does The Shark know your OB schedule?"
"Because he made it."
Silence. "...Made it?" Langdon repeated weakly."
"He color-coded the whole calendar."
He didn't speak. Then you laughed, actually laughed. Because suddenly the misunderstanding was hysterical. But before you could explain, a trauma alert blared overhead and the conversation died instantly.
Unfortunately for you, the rumor did not.
Within a week, the entire ER thought you were secretly involved with Brendon.
Not openly. Nobody confronted you directly again because you seemed so genuinely confused by the accusation.
But people whispered. The evidence kept piling up. Brendon carrying your bag without asking, appearing whenever you mentioned cravings, glaring at anyone who stressed you out, standing suspiciously close during procedures if you looked tired.
And worst of all? The way he looked at you when you weren't paying attention.
That's what really convinced people. Because Brendon looked at everyone else like they personally wronged him. He looekd at you like you were something precious.
Then one night, the ER was hell. Every bed was full, three ambulanced inbound, a drunk patient screaming in triage.
You were exhausted, hormonal, and dangerously close to crying. Then one of the newer interns snapped at you.
"Can we get another attending to handle this? Dr. L/N clearly isn't keeping up."
The station went silent. Your exhaustion sharpened into humiliation. And before you could answer, a voice cut through the room.
"No."
Everyone turned. Brendon stood near the doors, having apparently arrived seconds earlier. The intern straighted nervously.
"Repeat what you said."
The poor intern paled. "I didn't mean—"
"You questioned an attending physician with ten years of emergency medicine experience while you can barely place an IV."
The room became deathly still. Brendon's voice never rose which somehow made it scarier.
"You will either assist competently or get out of her department."
Her department. The possessiveness in those words hit everybody like a truck.
The intern muttered an apology. Brendon didn't even look at him again. Instead, he turned to you.
"You're shaking."
"I'm fine."
Brendon's hand briefly touched the underside of your belly as he adjusted your position from the station edge.
It was gentle. So different from the cold surgeon everyone knew.
And suddenly Santos understood. Not the affair, but something else. Something much bigger.
"Oh my god," she whispered.
Dennis looked at her. "What?"
But she was staring at Brendon. At the wedding band hidden beneath his gloves as he reached for the chart. At the identical band you wore on a chain around your neck because pregnancy swelling made your fingers ache.
At the way you entire body relaxed when he was near. At the way he knew every tiny thing about you.
Not like a lover, like a husband.
"Oh my god," Santos repeated louder.
You looked up. Brendon looked annoyed already, like he sensed where this was going.
Santos pointed between the two of you. "You're married."
You blinked. "Yeah?"
Brendon closed his eyes briefly like this was exhausting.
You looked genuinely baffled. "Who else would we be married to?"
Chaos. Absolute chaos.
"You let us think she was cheating on her husband?!" Santos yelled at Brendon.
Brendon looked unimpressed. "That sounds like a you problem."
"You never said—"
"Well, nobody asked."
"You literally acted like you hated each other!"
You burst out laughing. "What? No we don't."
Brendon looked down at you. And for the first time ever, in front of the entire ER, his expression softened completely.
Not subtly or barely there, but fully. Warm eyes. Affection. Something that was gentle.
Park the Shark was apparently somebody's husband. Somebody's incredibly devoted husband. And somehow that was more shocking than if he'd announced he killed people.
And somehow, from that day on, things became infinitely worse. Because now everyone noticed everything.
The quiet touches. The instinctive teamwork. The fact that Brendon always knew where you were in the hospital. The way he softened only for you.
The way you could make the scariest surgeon in the building carry your snacks and hold your coffee and rub circles into your back between traumas.
And worst of all?
Now the ER knew that every horrifyingly domestic story you told about your husband had been all about Brendon Park all along.
Which completely destroyed their ability to fear him properly anymore. Especially after they heard him answer your phone one day with:
"Baby, why are you calling me from upstairs?"
thank you for reaching until the end! i'd love to know what you thought about this story anddddd if you'd like to see more ;)
