P e t a l

Im just doodling nothing more Requests open! 19

[lobotomyleakage]

Would literally throw my self at these women

[deliriousfoxx13]

guts with bed head

that’s it. that’s the post.

[deboisdead]

guts is genuinely so fine holy shit

[rosekibbls]

PLSPLSPPS MORE MEAN SCHLATT PLEASESEEESESEDSEEDEDDE

meanest (not really) BIG GUY Hcs

since anon asked for more, i will be giving more😝

MDNI

Cw: nsfw, manipulation tactics fr, some breeding kink and housewife kink like i promised. Not that smutty, just a dash

lore filled hcs, since i kind of want to start writing more of this than the sappy stuff.

Jschlatt x reader

Dividers by: @v6que

Nsfw below the cut

Fiancé life definitely was a hell of a ride, for the good and the bad.

The good:

“Way too tired, jay” trying to deny him of his late night loving. Since the engagement, there definitely was a noticeable difference in schlatt. He became more lenient on his rules, became more affectionate, and became more needy. ”Don’t you wanna give your future husband some affection right now?” ”don’t wanna start thinking your dumb little brain started forgetting who’s the boss here.” He rolled you over, facing him hunching down on you.

”you want my loving right now? Or you just wanna fuck me senseless?” Looking up at him with a smirk creeping on your face. ”you might’ve start looking at me as a sex-crazed man, toots, but i do need some loving time to time too.”

kissing you up and down your neck.

“i love you, babe.”

”i love you with everything that i have and am, toots.”

The bad (not really):

Schlatt definitely became more boastful to say the least. He became a wife-guy way too fast. ”you know hasan, you’re pushing forty, you might need to start settling down.” J and Hasan decided to revive the “Did schlatt win” channel with the argument of is being taken or single better. We obviously knew which sides they take. ”be a man like me, damn i got my wife he-“ ”y’all are not even married bro, stop calling her “my wife”.” ”you know what, hasan? We’ll get there and im sure of it.” For some reason, they got loss in the sauce bantering. ”fuck, im living my best life here. My wife just cooked me up the best alfredo pasta i’ve ever tasted in my goddamn life.” Panning the camera on his plate of food. ”if you were taken, has, you’d be in cloud nine like me, too.” ”what’s your next step in life now? You gonna make one of the most successful streamer of the platform a trad wife?” ”what? Have her start popping babies? Definitely.”

Despite being almost just a year in to the relationship, schlatt knew that he wanted to end the year with a wedding band on his finger. He wanted to get married to you NOW.

“Babe, i already told you, we can’t do the wedding in november. We’ve already tried crunching up all our scheds, it won’t work.” ”toots, we’re so fucking rich! We could afford to move the contracts a bit farther.” Trying to reason you into submission. ”you really want us to spend more money than what we had already paid for? that be so much!” “if it means i get to be your husband faster, then so be it, babydoll. The rich only gets richer, baby.”

Schlatt made sure that the wedding would stick to every attendees mind till the end of time. He spent so much making it lavish, something that would be a standard to someone’s dream wedding someday, invited so much people to witness what greatness truly is, and to show to hasan, that he had won.

The party was ecstatic, you found schlatt’s arms wrapped around you possessively throughout the night. It was mostly filled with thanking everyone who attended, and of course, more boasting from the new yorker (starting to feel like a trophy wife fr) (poor hasan). Schlatt was probably never the smartest person in the room most the time, but he isn’t fucking dumb. trying to get you wrapped around the idea of you dating him wasn’t hard, it was the keeping people away from you that really took his energy and hard-work. Most especially, Hasan piker. Schlatt concealed his genuine hatred in hasan in a way that people knows him to be best at. Being a motherfucking struggle. When hasan found out that you took immediate interest in schlatt, he immediately started bubbling your little head of doubts. As a good friend and co-host of the fear& podcast, you took it lightly, and Hasan didn’t found comfort in that. recap: ”A little birdie told me that one of our co-host is trying to get a little go on a relationship.” Blaire said, eyes and smile hinting chaos. “hasan or y/n, which one of you stops being the thirdwheel?” Will looked at the two of you inquisitively, hiding his laughter behind. “seriously, fuck you, qt!” Cursing blaire before bursting out of laughter. “it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, though.” hasan speaked up, so nonchalantly. “i know you’re not about to shit on my parade right now, come on dude.” replying to hasan. “IM JUST SAYING” putting his hands up in defense “guy’s reputation is fucked.” “y/n literally about to enter her lover era and then here comes hasan, spitting and shitting in her parade.” Austin, Will, Blaire, and Marche all laughing incredulously. while you stare at hasan’s eye, wanting to kill him right then and there, mouth agape. “It’s all in the name of being your good friend, i swear, i know this guy alot, dumped a lotta girls before you-“ “One ended in a scandal” Austin cutting him off, all while they’re still losing their heads laughing. “Is this episode titled “shit on y/n day”, i haven’t even entered my lover girl era yet!” anger disguised as laughter filled your throat. oh, best believe you weren’t the only one fuming. He wasn’t an einstein smart, but he could see through the facade hasan had put up. for fuckssake, hasan felt like everything he had worked for in building up the bond with you cracked when schlatt just so happens to destructively appear in your life. It was real genuine concern, he didn’t want you to end up getting hurt, but he also didn’t want to lose you. Schlatt was just about to do that for him. he threw a vase at the tv. “That motherfucking hasan.” “Fucking sabotaging me and shit.” ”he’ll fucking get what’s coming to him.” ”he destroys my image to you, i’ll destroy his image to you.” pointing at your face through the broken tv. Schlatt got onto his connections, ordering them to dig up bones stored away in his closet. Bones that you didn’t bother to know, or you just never really had the awareness of existing. Payed big bucks for a renowned journalist and a credible enough publishing site. “Hasan Piker’s seedy, sex-obsessed life.” you read through the screen of your phone. You really thought he was a decent man, at least. You felt sicker and sicker in your stomach, reading through the article. You thought that schlatt was just exaggerating about how bad the article was, asking if you had read it, and if hasan knows about it. Bad, you knew he was this playboy, fratboy motherfucker under his feminist face, but all of this, was fucking bad. The fear& crew gathered around the table to discuss damage control, maybe he could excuse himself that he’s to attend another election campaign, or to do a debate overseas. Maybe he could brush it off and say that the opposite side is just trying to stain his reputation, deeming his campaigning useless for the man that he is. He couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck what the public thinks of him.

He had faced so much fake accusations that he had started to subtlety sweep the real ones with it too, and while he knows the public will believe it's just another way to for haters to try and tank his reputation, you believed the article, and that's what had hit him the most.

The silence radiated by everyone on the room had long gone confirmed the article.

They know, and they couldn't give a fuck.

Business as usual.

You now, left wandering if hasan truly meant that he ever cared for you and all the conversations shared with eachother.

“I wanna say sorry, you shouldn't have had to read that.”

“i know hasan, and it's so fucking bad!”

“i've changed, y/n.”

“I know, but you hiding who you are and lying about it just brings you back to the person you've "supposedly" changed.”

“i can't fucking believe you, hasan.” Staring at him, trying to not show anything, but the disappointment was so evident, it's like the sky got colored with the most putrid shade of green. While hasan's stressed out on the how to atleast save the friendship. Schlatt was smiling ear to ear as you reported the chaos that had ensued in the fear& house. “i just wasn’t expecting that from him, im not angry or anything, that’s not my place to be. Im just so disappointed.” leaning on his kitchen counter you knew your place, not in hasan’s business. God, you really are his girl. “especially after what he said about you on the pod.” Starting to slouch, nursing a bottle of wine, taking a few swigs after each few minutes. “Well, you know, doll. Those kind of people like hasan just like to project. They present themselves as confident men to forget things they’re insecure of.” Like him. Looming towards your back, massaging your tense, tired shoulders. “i don’t know, schlatt.” “Made me want to trust people less.” ”what about your trust on me, toots?” ”you know you’d never lost that.”

Back to the present: He doesn’t know where you’ve wandered, probably checking up on your bridesmaids. He’s decided that there is no better company than hasan himself. “congratulations on the wedding, man.” ”really gave it your all, huh?” leaning towards him, voice laced with mockery. Of course, they’ve pretended to be all civil around you or things you’re aware of. Something about egotistical men is, they never forget. “She really wanted these florals, you know. Spent almost 100 grant in these.” “Laying the boasting thick today, huh?” ”Only want the best for the wife. My Wife.”

Honeymoon was where it started. Schlatt began leaving so much hints, you’d be a dumb tea towel if you don't know what he’s referring to.

“Look at that little dude, love.” “Who?” ”the little boy wearing that baseball fit, quite nice, toots.” Who could’ve guessed it, the honeymoon was at japan. Somehow landing through the middle of a march of pre-schoolers on their “what do you want to be” walk. ”imagined one of those kids were ours, would be so sweet, toots.” ”oh yeah?” Looking smugly over him ”i’ve been imagining what our kids will look like, babe, what do ya think?” ”hmm?” ”how about we find out.” He fucked you raw and hard and started spouting domestic thoughts on your ears. don’t get me started on the babies he saw in the street. ”that would be so nice.” ”what would be nice?” Interrupting your husband’s daydreaming. ”imagine our next trip here next year toots.” ”like what.” ”we’d be carrying our little love here, too.” ”you really couldn’t wait for it huh, bub?” ”hmm.” Wrapping his arms on your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder, gently swinging you to the tune of the nearby shop.

Schlatt didn’t bother take any more longer in getting in the work into building his family, right after coming home, he went right on business.

“you fucking want this huh?” ”getting pounded all over the house.” ”you’d give me the most beautiful babies huh, toots?” ”yes, daddy.” ”wanna give you so many babies.”

When you both found out about the pregnancy, just a month into the marriage, he couldn’t be more proud. He started dreaming the amount of kids you’d bear and how the silent house will soon turn into a madhouse.

“How many kids you think we’ll have, toots?” staring at the ceiling, just after receiving the news. He couldn’t help but overthink the future. What if you didn’t want the same things as him? What if you regret everything? What if you didn’t want this family? What if you just up and leave him for different man? “earth to you, babe.” ”huh, what?” ”i asked you about why you’re asking, babe.” ”just been on my head for the past hour, love.” ”i think i want 5 kids.” ”really?” Bewildered by your answer. ”but realistically, maybe only 3 babe.” ”never told me you wanted to have a big family, toots.” ”wouldn’t the house just be more fun if our clones are running around.” ”well, hold on don't make me sound like im Dr. Evil now, toots.”

Schlatt didn’t intend to keep the pregnancy a secret, so as soon as you got the “go” signal from the doctors that your pregnancy is stable, he had already started showing you off and calling himself a “family man”.

Annoucing the pregnancy was definitely one of the hard parts of the pregnancy for you. It was the complete opposite for J. The pregnancy was leaked by an employee long fired ago, thankful that the pressure of keeping it a secret is gone but hating that the mundanity of the situation is fleeting. “What about it.” first day back on streaming and j is already being annoyed by the donos, inquiring for more information about the pregnancy. “all i can say according to my missus is that yes, it’s true.” ”y’all better believe me when i say you should start hearing that news from use each year.” ”can never let a family man like me have just one kid, plus, the wife needs some kids to occupy her time.”

When the little guy came, it really change his perspective in life. The domestic life he used to egg you on as flirting is now his reality.

The loud cries of your son brought relief to your hazed mind. ”hi baby.” The baby seemingly knowing that’s mom, started to calm his crying. For schlatt, looking over you and the baby, relief wasn’t what he felt, change is what he felt. A hundred thoughts running through his mind. He felt softer, felt more loving and sappy, he felt so sure of something. That of which is the life you created and will continue to create in the future. He felt home. “Hello, my boy.” Leaning bedside, softly speaking to the baby, pecking mama on her lips and baby on his head. “My sweet boy, you look just like daddy.” cradling your newborn to your chest, trying to calm the infant. Schlatt sat there amazed on the scene unfolding before him. Hours passed. Schlatt still couldn’t believe it’s true. He couldn’t help but watch as his wife swayed their son to sleep. He has yet to touch Jude, afraid of taking care of something as precious as his son. “Daddy, you think you can hold jude now?” whispering through the dimly lit room. “Don’t know baby, but i wanna try.” Shedding the layers of his clothes, now reaching for the baby. Bringing the baby up his chest, he felt the warmth spreading through his whole body. His little bud started to stir and fuss over the new feeling. “You’re just a fussy little baby, huh? Be nice to daddy, it’s his first time holding you.” Cooing softly at the newborn, staying by your husband’s side. “Nah, i think he’s just like his old man.” ”mhm?” ”we both never want to be separated from you.” “you’re getting in your sappy now huh.” Poking fun at your husband. ”just wanna be a great husband and father, toots. Every man’s dream, really.”

Sorry for being inactive, babes. I’ve been so sick this past few days and i’ve just slowly started feeling better.

Please suggest more fics idea since im running out. Im going to be updating my schlatt fic every Thursday from now on, while the ted fic while probably follow up after that.

tysm for reading💕

[petalsmoons]

THIS IS SO CUTE!!!!

[k1swass]

when u find a masterpiece x reader fic, but the reader turns out to have a name and a description

[vxin-x-exe]

Ghost kept Soap's scarf.. 🥀😣🤌

(No.. I'm not crying.. I'm NOT)

[sai-int]

WHAT IS GOIN ONNNNN AM I GONNA HAVE TO PICK SIDES

[speedlimit15]

its my pleasure to produce a grammatically fucked sentence

[braziliangirlthings]

I don’t want to be a naive, pure, and innocent reader; I want to be a femme fatale, a dominatrix, an alpha wolf, a powerful witch, a gluttonous demoness, a man-eater...

[tiktoksthataregood-ish]

[willowas519]

STOP PUTTING YOUR OC UNDER “X READER”!!!!! I DONT WANT TO READ YOUR STINKY LOVE STORY, *I* WANT TO BE THE LOVE STORY!!!!

[rotten-puppet]

Quick reminder for fanfic writers both on here and ESPECIALLY on AO3…

If your main character has a name and described appearance, DO NOT use the character x reader tag. Like…seriously.

That is an OC. Use the “x oc” or “x original character” tag. Stop using the “x reader” tag. It will not give you more reach because people looking through the “x reader” tag aren’t going to read it. Three guesses why.

You are also making the filtering system null and void, which is harmful ESPECIALLY for archival sites like ao3 where the tags and filtering system are specifically there to make things easier. It’s basic fandom etiquette guys. Common sense and consideration for others. It won’t kill you to tag things correctly.

[mirk0-maniac]

Me now that the avatar fanfics are back

IM SO HAPPY THE AVATAR FANDOM HAS BEEN REVIVED

[richeeduvie]

CRY INTO HIM

A cruel patient has you in tears in the supply closet, and when Jack is the one to find you, the need to comfort is only made up of instinct.

cartoonishly cruel patient, low self-esteem, Jack’s baffled, you don’t think urself as the prettiest girl in the whole wide world, just some light angst with a whole load of soft, gruff comfort. jack's sexy in his threats and disbeliefs concerning how you don't think your beautiful. been writing a fairshare of smut recently, been missing the boring moments of love and fluff 🫩 this would’ve been out ten hours ago if my internet wasn’t shitty.

// FIC DIRECTORY // CRASH!AU TAG // newest smut tidbit // WC: 3.5k //

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

You’re pretty sure you’re built for the collar of vitriol and degradation that patients throw around your neck. For the ones who call you the worst sort of names when they’re scared, or just enraged as they pretend it’s fear that’s causing their harassment.

For the families who need someone to blame in the midst of their grief. For the patients who eye you like you're a bag of meat in kittycat scrubs that you dared to wear for Free Scrub Friday. Etcetera, etcetera. 

You’ll take it, reroute the hurt and the way your stomach swallows your heart, keep your hands steady while you start an IV, keep your voice light as your confidence waivers.

That’s what being a nurse is.

“I’m your nurse tonight, I’m gonna take your vitals, and then we’ll get you some—

So, if you manage to burst into tears, you know it’s bad. Or…well, maybe you’re just getting worse when it comes to what makes you cry, even though you’re sure that’s just Jack and Finding Nemo.

You’re hoping this is just a worse sort of case, the one that would get to anybody—even the nurses who don’t decorate themselves in glitter and bows and cheesy, unintentional flirtatious grins. 

“No. Get me a different one.”

The star of the show is the man in 12. He’s middle-aged with stable vitals and no exact reason for the kind of pettiness he’s carrying. The pain he’s in for is just as petty. And loud. Abdominal pain that’s been a “ten out of ten” for two weeks. You think he’s been drinking for three more.

You squeeze the BP cuff you were going to put around his bicep. 

“I–Sir—”

“Get me a different one. Please.”

His demand is flat as he looks you up and down. You’re a healthcare product he’s disappointed in, apparently. Okay. Nothing new, but you still blink and swallow like you misheard his jab. Your heart is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“A different—?”

“A different nurse,” The man repeats, louder. Slower, as if you’re stupid for being confused. “One that preferably doesn’t look like....” He gestures vaguely with a burp. “...You.”

…Oh. 

Well, can’t be everyone’s type, not with the way you look—not with the way you look even when you think you’re pretty. Even though…a nurse shouldn’t have to be anyone’s type to do their job. There was no beauty contest in the hiring process, from what you can remember. Whatever, sir.

Your smile doesn’t falter as you reach for the script of routine. 

“I can absolutely take care of you, but if you have a preference for a male nurse or, I’ll admit, someone who looks more experienced, I ca—”

“Listen, Honey. I’m in pain. I don’t need some ugly little girl fumbling around on me.” 

You blink. You swallow. 

The word ugly lands like a slap on your face. Ironic, considering that’s what he’s calling ugly. 

Ugly. 

It’s not like you haven’t heard it before, it’s not even the worst thing you’ve been called. But…none of that softens the blow. It doesn’t lessen the hurt in how he’s found your soft spot. 

You keep your tone even, again, despite the way your confidence just washes down the drain. Go you!

“That’s not appropriate.”

The patient laughs—a near snort, and you’d swear you can feel him enjoying this. 

“Oh, here we go. The lecture. You nurses all think you’re underpaid saints. God forbid, a guy don’t want some butterface twenty-something sticking needles in him.” His eyes flicker over your chest, your badge, your mouth. “Just expecting attention, acting sweet, and God forbid, that guy tells you the truth instead.”

You feel a heat drag a burning of humiliation along your neck. You think your palms are going damp, and you realize that you’re still holding the BP cuff, and now…it feels like a toy in your hands. 

“Sir, if you are…if you’re going to continue to speak to me like that, I’m going to step out, and we can try again when you’re calmer. 

He leans forward, scoffing as he rubs his nose, and as his voice drops, you’re very sure he’s purposeful in his poison. 

“If you don’t get me a new nurse when you step out, I’ll tell someone who can actually do their job right that you refused to treat me because you didn’t like what I said.”

“I didn’t like what you said, Sir—”

“Girls like you, you think you’re something because men look at you sometimes. Up close though…”

He makes a sound, a soft click of his tongue, before slumping back on the bed. 

“You’re not even pretty. It’s all the decorations you’ve got that are killing me. You’re trying, I’ll give you that, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitches. 

That opens up a wound, no—a scar, something old, something pre-Pitt. 

Something that’s making sure you know he’s only telling the truth, and it’s a splinter in your heart. 

You don’t melt down in front of him, because oh, wouldn’t that be material? You just feel your eyes stinging, your body betraying you as it follows your insecurities instead. 

“Okay…um—”

You turn away fast, like you’re reaching for supplies, anything to hide your face as you feel tears gathering anyway, hot and humiliating. 

Go you. 

“I’m gonna—I’m just gonna step out for a second and get—”

“Thank you.”

You fumble out of the room as your heartache compresses itself into one goal. Don’t let anyone see you like this, you absolute mess. You’ll be as ugly as he said you are. 

You make it to the supply closet, slipping inside. The door doesn’t latch all the way. There was no way you were going to make it to the bathroom without sobbing for free admission. 

The door stays cracked open, a sliver of fluorescent light spilling from the hallway. 

You press the heels of your hands to your eyes. You try to breathe. 

You don’t believe him. Not…not fully. But he wanted to hurt you. And he did. That’s the worst part. It’s like he walked in looking for someone to bruise, and he just happened to find the easiest one to make cry. You’re a crybaby. You’re nothing but tears, and sensitivities you hide with bubbilness and sparkles. Stupid! 

You swallow hard, shoulders shaking. A tear slips. 

Then another. 

And suddenly, as your breath catches, you realize you’re sobbing. Yep. Okay. That tracks. 

You’ve done so much, and you’re here in a closet because a stranger called you ugly. 

Well. That’s what happens when someone hits a nerve, right? 

You laugh through congestion and snot, wiping your face as you lean your forehead against the cool metal shelf. 

“Get it together—”

A shadow falls across the sliver of light. 

Your name falls out, graveled and low with all the familiarity that makes you freeze. Your stomach drops at the door creaking. 

Of course, it’s Jack. Of course, it’s the one person you don’t want to see you like this, is the one who finds you, because the universe loves you. 

You scrub at your cheeks again, turning your face away. You try to make your breathing even, like the claim you’re fine is a plausible one. 

“Just…just resetting.”

Jack doesn’t answer right away, and that quiet is what makes you look up despite everything. 

He’s standing in the doorway, broad-shouldered as his eyes take in the red of yours, the way you…at some point, you guess, ended up clutching a pack of gauze. 

…You think he looks…surprised. 

It’s a genuine, almost boyish shock, which seems impossible for such a well-aged man like Dr. Jack Abbot. You’d think he thinks a universe where you aren’t invincible is an alternate one. 

You’ve gifted me these types of tears, Jackie. More than you think. But it’s not your fault, I’m as sensitive as you are mean. 

“What happened?”

The surprise is gone as quickly as it went. You can tell by his neck rolling his head forward, eyes focusing on you through his brows, as his stare is just as harsh as his question.

He’s at your side in an impossible second, palm resting flat on the small of your back. 

He doesn’t blink as he waits for your answer. You laugh weakly. 

“Nothing.”

Again, Jack just stares at you, and that doesn’t help your heart to soften in its pained beat. His jaw only tightens, and you think he’s measuring the cost of getting the truth out of you. 

You know very well he can afford it. 

“This is not nothing. Tell me what happened.”

You swallow. Your throat aches. 

“Just a patient.”

“Which one?”

“It doesn’t matter, Jack—” You insist, wiping your face once again even though there’s nothing left to wipe. You hate that your hands are shaking, you hate the way you want to lean into Jack’s hot touch. “I just—it was stupid—”

“Did he touch you?”

Jack shifts closer in his low, lamenting question.

… You don’t know what to make of the anger he peers into you, as you’re sure he’s imagining a patient touching you. 

“No.” Your answer is immediate. No, he just made sure to remind me how ugly I am. “No, he didn’t touch me.”

“Did he threaten you?”

You hesitate for half a second. And wouldn’t it be Jack to catch it? Of course, not like he’s looking anywhere else to miss the slightest tell.

“Sleepy.” 

You exhale. There was no way you’d come out of this undefeated. 

“He said…he’d make stuff up if I left, that I refused to treat him just because I didn’t like what he said.”

Your voice cracks. 

“He was just being a jerk.”

You can’t stop the tears from streaking down your cheeks, and it’s where Jack looks like he’s holding a storm in his breath, where his hand finds its way to your neck, his thumb rubbing the end of your jaw. 

You watch him watch you through the blur, and you’re sure it’s his warm, soft-rubbing touch that soothes you as much as it engulfs you. That’s Dr. Abbot’s hand for you, always. 

“He’s got you in tears,” Jack swallows. “And you think this is nothing?”

The laugh that comes out of you is wet. “I know. I’m embarrassing. You tell me enough. You can—you can go.”

Jack doesn’t move. He just takes in a short breath. It leaves him in a slight huff. 

“Not going anywhere. You’re not embarrassing. I don’t—”

This is instinct, he thinks, Sleepy. He wonders if you can tell. It’s not a fucking choice, he just heard kiddo’s voice break and his body that’s already swallowed by filth, and, in turn, you decided mine, mine, mine before he could edit it into something relatively appropriate. 

Jack expects nothing less from the girl who’s ruined him. 

Your lips wobble, and God—Jack’s sudden, gruff gentleness when you feel ugly and small almost worsens your cries with relief, with his comfort. 

It’s gonna be him. It should be, always, but you’ll be thankful if this is the only moment where you have him soft. 

“Talk to me. What did he say?”

“Jack—”

“What did he say specifically?” 

You look down at the gauze in your hands. You don’t really want to give the words life again. 

But Jack is here. Jack is waiting. Jack is listening. His steady, stern presence makes it harder to keep the lid on. You can’t—you can’t deny him. You don’t know why being stubborn with him became impossible. 

“He called me ugly. A butterface.” You’re ripping off a bandage with how you blurt it out. “A–and he said I wasn’t even pretty up close. The way he said it—it was like my face was a trap. He just…knew exactly how to say it.”

Your confession is what gets Jack to drop his touch from your neck, and in the moment after, he goes completely still.

For a heartbeat, you think you’ve done it, you’ve said the thing that will make his face soften the way it does when he’s hurt you, when you think he’s jealous but can’t think of yourself deserving of Jack’s feelings like that enough to fully claim said jealousy. When his flirtatious jabs turn controlling or entitled. 

“You didn’t tell me he was blind.” 

He crosses his arms. 

“Ugly?”

His question repeats the word, flat. You wipe your cheek with the back of your wrist, sniffling, shame and humor burning behind your eyes. 

“You really know how to flatter a gal. But…yeah. It sucks that he just…made my face a point. Brought up the elephant in the room. It’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t care.” 

Jack’s brows pull together. His voice drops. 

“No.”

You blink. 

“No…what?”

“No, that’s—” He looks genuinely…baffled. For the first time, you’ve thrown Jack off-balance when you didn’t mean to. “Kid, that’s bullshit.”

A tiny, startled laugh escapes you, but Jack’s every-color gaze locks on your face, and you wouldn’t have to know his features as well as you to know he’s frustrated. You make your face, trying to soften his glare with humor. Humor’s safer than sincerity. 

“I mean…I’m not, like, a model. He wasn’t totally wrong. I try. It’s fine.”

Sometimes humor is sincerity. See the previous sentence. Ha. 

Jack tilts his head a fraction, and you’re just waiting to see how the joke lands. 

With how the exhale through his nose comes out in a sound that’s almost a throaty scoff—not cruel, just more like he’s outraged on your behalf, you think it’s crashed. 

“Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.”

He’s shaking his head, and your cheeks heat with every second he seems disappointed. 

“What?”

“You’re not—” 

Kiddo thinks she’s ugly, the world might as well be made of fucking pudding. 

You watch Jack take a deep, deep breath. He’s trying to keep restraint tight, and you can’t know why, because his chest is stretching against his scrub top beautifully. That helps with the tears. 

“You are not ugly.”

You huff a laugh. “Okay, Jack—”

“Do not brush me off. I may let your jabs and bits slide enough that you think you can brush this off, but Sleepy, I swear to God—I can admit my temper’s scaling.”

His temper’s about to find a target. It’s usually you, but not today. Not in this moment. Just at the idea, you could actually fucking believe you’re not the most beautiful woman in the world. At whoever’s the dumb fuck that put the idea that you’re ugly in your head. 

“I’m…brushing it off because I have to go back out there and do my job.”

“And you can, you always do.” 

There’s a pause after his demanding fact, and you realize you’re being defensive because the idea of being this vulnerable with the man you dream about at night, his face between your legs with his fingers down your throat, well…really, you can’t lose points for being defensive here. 

“But you don’t get to stand here and tell me you’re ugly like it’s true. Like you’ve been walking around thinking this low of yourself, like your self-esteem’s some fucking joke.” 

…Why is he so peeved by this? 

“It’s just—some people are pretty, some people…adorn themselves in sparkles and fun makeup and hope flirting and sweetness are enough to distract others from this.”

You gesture to your face, hand circling as your lips pout dramatically. 

“Uh, ow!—”

And you don’t know what, Jack practically slaps your hand down, face casual as he holds onto your wrist after. 

“Excuse me, Dr. Abbot—”

“You walk into a room, and people look at you. It’s always you. And I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you that you can’t hear yourself speak. You hearing yourself?”

You roll your eyes, trying not to collapse from the stern warmth of his hold. That, the tears, his unrelenting gaze, and comments that are somehow demeaning and uplifting…it makes for a bad cocktail. 

“They look because I’m loud.”

“No.” Jack denies you immediately, stepping half a pace closer, and his voice turns gruffer as you can hear his spit move along his tongue and teeth. 

…Somehow, with this being fourth worst shift you’ve ever had, you could die happy. You can smell the whole of him when he’s close like this. 

“They look at you because you’re…you’re beautiful. Very beautiful.” 

You freeze. 

He’s made the occasional joke that you could never believe, the most recent one being how “He couldn’t care that you’re pretty. Blood getting everywhere, including the mug, makes sure of that.” But this, it finds your stomach flipping wildly, and every other muscle burns so hot that you’re sure you might melt. 

How can the most beautiful man in the world think that?

“I’m not saying that to—” He shrugs. “It’s just…fact.” 

You’re stunned enough to only keep your mouth open, a baffled codfish in scrubs. Jack’s jaw only works. 

“It’s fact, and you’re crazy if you wanna act like you’re some busted little thing.” He shoves his hands in his scrub bottom pockets. “Busting my brains, alright. Who else?”

You can’t even take in a breath with the raw…intensity behind Jack’s words. He’s insulting you, because you think that’s just because he’s—he’s offended, like the idea of you thinking you’re ugly is an insult to reality. 

“Jack, calm down—”

“I am calm, I’m stating a fact.”

You watch him, the roll of his head and his quick, furrow-browed blinking. 

“You really think I’m beautiful?” 

His thinking you’re beautiful feels like an insult to reality, but god, you’re selfish enough reality to mean nothing. You want to be flattered. You want to sink into him. 

“It’s not about me thinking. You are. Obviously.” 

His gaze drops only to snap back, and his voice returns slightly more controlled. You watch his shoulders loosen, and you think it’s a forced sort of calm. 

“Listen to me.” 

He squeezes your wrist, and that touch edges down to your hand. He squeezes there before just…holding.

It’s the lightest hold, and what you thought before sticks true now. 

I could die happy here, Dr. Abbot. I’ll listen to you forever and a day. 

“That guy said that because he wanted to hurt you. That’s all. And because of that, you’re not going back in there alone. We’re not giving him another nurse to harass either.”

“Jack—”

“I’m not asking. I’m coming with you. He needs to get treated by a doctor anyway. He can find himself another hospital if that’s not a suitable form of treatment.”

You hesitate, and you’re thankful he doesn’t mind waiting for your hesitation. 

Sometimes, his protection can feel so cruel, but here, hand on yours, it feels like relief, and that fact blooms your belly all too sweetly. 

You nod. Jack drops your hand, and you’re pathetically reeling from the loss of his touch. 

But you don’t mind at all when he replaces it with his palm between your shoulder blades.

He opens the supply closet door, pausing as you step out just before him.

“Sleepy?”

“Hm?”

Jack’s eyes hold yours. Something raw flickers there, and boy, does it make you tingle.

Though he’s hoping you’re not sober from your tears enough to know it’s just ruin and attraction, intense and ready to kill, that he’s trying to bury under anger and righteousness. He’s right. The prettiest girl in the whole wide world think she’s ugly.

He’s right to be angry and righteous in the filth, he just doesn’t know when he stopped caring enough to deny there was that sort of rage for kiddo in the first place. 

He rubs the slight of your spine with his thumb. 

“If you ever say that shit about yourself again, I can tell you, there’s more where that slap came from.”

[petalsmoons]

THIS WAS SO CUTE!!!!!

[faeriepunk]

thank fucking god for twink death

[wrathful-lambb]

The greatest husband reveal.

[rainedravens]

"holy shit they finally confessed, what comes next--"

[megumour-deactivated20260504]

reading fanfics instead of going to bed #youngho