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As you walked toward the bedroom, pulling an oversized shirt over your head and turning off all the lights, you felt how light and shaky your legs were. It was both tiring and soothing.
Reaching the room, you were met with your very naked boyfriend lying on the bed, completely uncovered and feeling no shameâyou weren't even sure if he knew the meaning of that word anyway.
"Alright, Bambie?" he joked, watching how unsure you were as you walked back.
"Fuck you," you said, rolling your eyes.
"Just did," he winked with that stupid smirk on his lips.
Making your way around the bed, you made sure to open the window as well because the room stank of sex and sweat. It had been amazing, like alwaysâmaybe even more so since he had been away at a tattoo artists' convention, meaning you'd been alone for the past ten days.
In previous years, the convention had been in your town or at least somewhere in the country, but not this year. No, this year it had to be all the way across the world. And during your ovulation week too... this world hated you.
It wasn't even as if he had to go. He was already one of the most famous tattoo artists on the fucking continent. People booked him monthsâif not yearsâin advance, but he just loved showing off. He loved going there and having people ask for advice, appointments, or even jobs.
It fed his ego, and as long as he didn't bring that attitude home, you'd gladly let him go. Every year he'd ask if you wanted to come with him, insisting he had the money to cover your holiday, but you also had a job. It wasn't particularly demanding or anything, but you liked it.
You always missed him a lot when he was gone though.
It had been kind of an ongoing argument when you first started dating because, years ago, he used to move all over the country for months at a time, doing residencies in other artists' salons. After one long break that lasted almost half a year, he came back begging you to take him back, proudly showing you the keys to his own salon with a flat above itâthe very same flat you were now in.
Ever since that day, you had moved in together and never spent long periods apart, so this separation had been hard on both of you. Meaning the sex tonight had been very long, very loving and very raw.
Along his skin, you could still see the marks your nails had left behind on his shoulders and pecs, hickeys staining the pale skin of his neck and collarbones. In the bathroom, you had started noticing the beginnings of fingerprints on your hips, along with the marks of teeth pressed into the insides of your thighs. Just thinking about it was making you wet all over again.
The tiredness was winning, though, and you reminded yourself that neither of you worked tomorrow. There would be plenty of time for more.
Lying down, you let out a mixture of a sigh and a moan as your sore body hit the mattress. Beside you, Ryomen was still lying on his back, his fingers finding your skin the second you settled next to him. They ran up and down your back in a soothing gesture while you lay on your stomach, your head turned toward him as you looked into his eyes.
"I'm so tired," you said, your cheeks squashed against the pillow.
"I sure hope so," he smirked, staring back up at the ceiling. "That was probably my best performance for a long fucking time."
Laughing along with him, you swatted his chest playfully. However, your hand was caught by his as he pulled you closer. His other hand reached for the covers, tucking both of you underneath them. The alarm clock showed almost 2 a.m., and the cool breeze drifting through the open window was slowly lulling you toward dreamland.
"Love you," you murmured against the warm skin of his bicep, which he had slipped beneath your head.
"Love you too, baby," was the last thing you heard before falling asleep.
Startled awake by pounding at the front door, you looked around the room in panic, your heart hammering in your chest. You blinked rapidly, trying to get your eyes to focus and understand what was happening.
Beside you, Sukuna was already up, pulling on a random pair of sweatpants hanging from the dresser before storming toward the door in irritation.
"What the fuck?" he muttered, grabbing the baseball bat hanging on the wall.
The very same one he had drawn all over as a kidâthe proof that he had always been meant to be an artist. It was incredibly precious to him, though you weren't sure he'd even registered what he'd grabbed.
"Stay here," you heard him say when you tried sliding off the bed.
A few seconds later, you heard the front door rattle open while Ryomen's voice grew louder.
"Are you fucking crazy, Jin? Have you seen the time? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Your boyfriend shouted at almost five in the morning, not caring if he woke any of the neighbours.
Though, to be fair, the pounding on the door had probably already done that.
Knowing it was safe, you quietly stepped out of the bedroom. Standing in the doorway was Jin, holding a very tired-looking Yuji in his arms. The little boy was dressed in blue pyjamas, his pacifier hanging from his lips while he hugged a Pompompurin plushie tightly against his chest.
You could see how droopy his eyes were, the little boy fighting sleep after probably being woken up in a hurry.
His father looked completely dishevelled. He was wearing mismatched shoes, his jumper was inside out, and his glasses weren't even sitting properly on his nose. The guilty expression on his face was impossible to miss as well. It was crazy how much he looked like your boyfriend while being so different at the same time.
"I know, I know," Jin said, his voice careful and low. "Choso fell down the stairs and broke his ankle, but I don't want Yuji spending the rest of the night in the hospital." The poor man was explaining himself so quickly that he was running out of breath. "It was too early to go to Dad's, and you know how he is anyway."
"I just got home, man," Sukuna sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. "Can't you go to your ex?" he asked desperately.
The look on Jin's face was the only answer your boyfriend needed before he let out another heavy sigh, his head falling back as he closed his eyes. After the few seconds he needed to compose himself, Ryomen snatched the little boy from his twin's arms, Yuji lying on his stomach across the entire length of Sukuna's forearms.
"You're saving my life," Jin said with immense gratitude.
"Yeah, yeah," your boyfriend brushed off, already closing the front door.
Jin barely had time to throw the sleepover bag he had prepared for Yuji inside before the heavy door slammed in his face, already locked before he could say goodbye.
You were still watching from the dark hallway, a gentle smile on your lips at the sight making its way toward you. Ryomen and his favourite nephew, who was almost asleep as he hung happily from his uncle's arms, dragged themselves toward the only bedroom in the flat.
Ryo knew that if he even suggested having Yuji sleep on the couch, he would be the one spending the rest of the night there. And he didn't want that.
"Back to bed," Ryo said as he passed you, a heavy hand landing on your assâthe sound disturbing the quiet of the night.
"Ryo," you scolded, though you still walked back toward the bed.
When the three of you were lying in bed, Yuji wiggled around until he was warmly tucked between the two of you, cuddling close to you after crawling over to kiss your cheek. It had been a wet kiss, but your heart was full at the gesture anyway. Yuji was such a little ray of sunshine. You loved him as if he were your own family, and he was so round and cuddly that it always made you want to hold him close.
However, Ryomen didn't seem to share the same thoughts at that moment.
As quick as Yuji had settled between the two of you, he was lifted up by the back of his pyjamas and placed behind his uncle. A moment later, you were pulled closer to Sukuna before he instinctively nudged your bodies toward the wall, leaving more space for the six-year-old.
The boy didn't seem to mind. In fact, you heard a tired little giggle, knowing he liked being carried around however his uncle wantedânot matter how "rough".
The fright from earlier had been completely forgotten, and you were slowly drifting back toward sleep. That was until a sweet little voice echoed through the room.
"Uncle Kuna?" The soft voice broke the silence.
"Be nice," you whispered, knowing Ryomen didn't like being bothered once he was trying to sleep.
After your warning, you heard him take a deep breath before answering. "Yeah?"
"You didn't give me my goodnight kiss..." Yuji's voice sounded genuinely hurt, though you knew it was a trickâone that worked every single time.
Knowing there was no point arguing with a six-year-old, your boyfriend turned around and quickly kissed his nephew before rolling back onto his side and cuddling into you. His face buried itself in your neck while yours rested against his chest, the two of you curled together as lovers waiting for the end of the world.
"Pompompurin too," Yuji spoke up again.
"Be nice," you repeated.
And like a well-trained dog, Ryomen turned back around, pressed a kiss to the stuffed, overweight yellow dog plushie then settled down for the night once more. If Yuji had asked him to kiss another plushie, you knew he wouldn't have indulged him.
"What about mine?" you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips.
The only answer you received was another swat to your ass, quickly followed by his fingers gently rubbing the spot before coming to rest there. A moment later, his body went completely lax, his full weight sinking against both you and the mattress.
Behind him, you could hear Yuji's soft little snores.
It was the perfect way to fall asleep, and it wasn't long before you followed the two of them into sleep as well.
㠀㠀â â â â â ă €â about.
wanting to surprise ryomen, your little trick turned against you when he had a surprise of his own. no sorcerers!au. (wc: 2.720)
After another business trip, you were dreaming of nothing but a good shower and a good night's sleep. Two things that were impossible to get at your own apartment, as your roommate was celebrating her engagementâand you hadn't been invited.
It was weird not really being allowed to go back home. Technically, you could still go and stay in your room, but the noise would be unbearable.
When you'd complained about it over the phone to one of your new work friends, she had simply laughed and said, "Go to your boyfriend's place, then."
Boyfriend.
She meant Sukuna. The truth was, though, that he wasn't your boyfriend.
It was hard to describe what you were. Exes with benefits? Friends who slept together? So you usually referred to him as a guy you were seeing without getting into specifics. You were having fun, you felt comfortable around him and you didn't really want to give yourself a headache trying to define whatever this was.
At first, it had been mostly sexual. Well not entirely, you still spent time together as friends, hanging out and enjoying each other's companyâbut eventually, sex always happened. Now, though? Almost eight months after that first night, it wasn't just about sex anymore.
Sometimes, you'd go to his place simply to eat good food, watch terrible TV shows, and then... go to sleepâwarm and safe in strong arms. More and more of your things had gradually found their way into his apartment. You had a toothbrush there, a hairbrush and your dyson airwrap was neatly tucked away in what had somehow become your drawer, ironically the same you had when you lived here years ago.
It was crazy how easy it was to fall back into a routine.
So naturally, you pulled Ryomen's apartment keyâthe one you used to own, with the same Nick from Zootopia keychainâfrom your purse and unlocked the front door. The flat was quiet and dark, a soothing contrast to the chaos of airports, public transport and long flights.
It was perfect, especially since he wasn't home yet. You hadn't been completely truthful about when you'd be coming back, wanting to surprise him. As far as he knew, you still had four days left on a two-week-long business trip.
As quickly as you could, you took a long, well-deserved hot shower before slipping into some nice lingerie. You'd bought it during the trip with the enthusiastic guidance of your favourite colleague. Knowing you'd want to wear it as soon as you got home, you'd even washed it at the hotel, since doing so at your apartment wouldn't have been possible for your plan to work.
It was a beautiful black set embroidered with delicate pink flowers. The fabric was sheerânot completely transparent, but enough to accentuate your curves. With the matching bra and panties, it made you feel beautiful and sexy.
Studying yourself in the mirror, you liked what you saw. Even without makeup, the way Sukuna always looked at you made it easy to feel attractiveâthere were faint shadows beneath your eyes from the trip, and your eyebrows weren't as neatly groomed as usual. Beneath the fabric of your panties, the soft growth of hair was visible along the inside of your thighs. During your shower, you hadn't even considered shaving.
It had never mattered with Sukuna.
Even back when you'd been together, he'd told you countless times that he didn't care about body hair. He'd practically had to argue the point because you never seemed to believe him, that leading to small fight in the beginning of your relationship.
You were still admiring your reflection when you heard keys rattling at the front door.
With a startled gasp, you hurried to switch off the lights before rushing toward the bed. You threw yourself onto it, attempting what you imagined was a seductive pose. Your stomach felt awkward when you lay on your side, so you shifted around a few times, trying to look more natural.
When that failed, you gave up and decided to lean casually against the bedroom doorway instead.
From the kitchen came the sounds of cupboards opening and utensils moving around. It sounded like he was already starting dinner. With every minute that passed without him heading toward the bedroom, you felt yourself growing more nervous.
Then soft lofi music drifted through the apartment from the speaker.
Great. He wasn't coming anytime soon.
Taking a deep breathâthough you had no idea why you were suddenly so anxiousâyou quietly made your way toward the kitchen, quietly.
There he was, standing with his back to you, slicing vegetables while meat sizzled on the stove. It already smelled incredible, but the meal you had in mind was probably better. On the bench near the front door, you had saw his work formal clothes laid in a pile as he was now wearing more comfortable sweatpants and a large shirt.
"Took you long enough." Ryo's voice cut through the comfortable silence.
Even though you were staring directly at him, you jumped. It was ridiculous. You were supposed to be the one surprising him or at least startling him a little. How on earth had he known you were there?
"You turned the alarm off, dumbass," he replied before you could even ask the question. He shrugged, still focused on the cutting board.
"Should've been moreâ" The words died in his throat as he turned his head and finally looked at you. "Oh." His eyes widened slightly. "Wow."
You didn't need him to say anything. The instant his gaze landed on you, you saw the unmistakable change in his expression, his eyes turned hungry the second they settled on you, roaming from head to toe. Of course, they lingered on the bra and panties, but you weren't about to complain.
Before he could say anything else, you rushed toward him, crashing into his chest. As soon as your body pressed against his, you pushed yourself up and kissed his lips fiercely. It felt so good to have him close again after days apartâa feeling that was almost nostalgic.
His reaction was immediate. Strong, warm hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer before drifting lower without an ounce of shame, pawing at the fat of your ass.
His lips met yours with equal enthusiasm. When he grew tired of bending down, Ryomen simply lifted you, turned around, and sat you on one of the kitchen counters.Immediately, your legs wrapped around his waist, pushing on his arse a way of urging him even closer.
The kiss went on for several minutes, neither of you pulling away and it was starting to drive you crazy. His hands were not venturing like they usually did, while yours were running from his shoulders to low stomach. Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you grabbed his wrists where they rested on your thighs and guided his hands higher and your boobs.
This new set was meant to be appreciated. You hadn't bought it for nothing.
Like muscle memory, his fingers moved instantly, tracing over the fabric with practiced ease, fondling at your chest with eagerness. The moment didn't last long, though.
"I can't," he murmured against your lips, sounding reluctant to pull away.
Humming softly, you ignored him and kissed him again. His body wasn't making any effort to move away from yours. If anything, he seemed just as affected as you were as you felt his dick chubbing between your legs.
"No, really," he said again. "I can't."
This time, hurt, you pulled back. Your legs slipped from around him and dropped against the counter. Of course, he could be tired, he could simply not be in the mood. But your brain immediately translated it into rejectionâsomething that had always been a foreign thing with Ryomen.
You hadn't seen each other in a week and a half, you'd expected him to be all over you the way you were all over him. Maybe he didn't like the set you'd bought. Maybe whatever the two of you had been doing all these months was finally running its course.
I can't, he'd said. Did he have someone else? Surely he wouldn't have kissed you like that if he did. Then again, maybe he would if it was serious between them.
"Stop." His voice cut through the spiral in your head.
"What?" you asked, pulling your hands completely off him.
God, this was awkward.
You could already feel tears threatening to gather in your eyes. Over the past few months, you'd grown comfortable again, safe and appreciated. Comfortable in a way that reminded you of your relationship before everything had fallen apart.
Didn't people always say that good things came to an end?
"Look at me." Ryomen's voice softened as he tilted your chin upward. "It's nothing to do with you. I justâ"
"It's okay," you whispered.
You needed to get out of here, you were feeling the suffocating approaching and you couldn't stay in this room. Fuck your roommate. You'd hide in your room if you had to, anything to escape this embarrassment.
You shifted, trying to slide off the counter, but the warm, solid body standing between your legs didn't budge. Instead, Sukuna settled his hands on your hips, keeping you firmly in place.
"I got pierced," he sighed, already knowing exactly where your thoughts had gone. "It was supposed to be a surprise, but you came home early, so..."
Eyes widening, you stared at him before your gaze dropped instinctively between his legs. For several seconds, you looked down, then back up at him.
"Looks like you little minx weren't the only one with a surprise," he teased, his voice low as his eyes swept over you again.
To emphasize his point, his fingers slipped beneath one of the straps and let it snap lightly back into place.
"I'll be cleared for sex with a condom on Monday," he added. "The day you were supposed to come home."
The confession caught you completely off guard.
Sure, he'd mentioned wanting another piercing before, but surprising you wasn't exactly his style. Back then, he'd rarely stepped outside the routines the two of you had built togetherâa habit that had eventually led to more than a few arguments.
It was strangely heartwarming and a little heartbreaking.
Not because he hadn't cared about youâhe always hadâbut because it showed a version of him that might have existed all along if things had been different. Maybe you living had been the electroshock he had needed.
The piercing was mostly for him, at the same time, he knew how much you liked them. He'd gotten his nose pierced during your third date simply because you'd drunkenly told him it would suit him when you first met.
"Can I see?" you asked, unable to stop yourself.
Laughing, Ryo pressed a kiss to your forehead before stepping back just enough to give you some space. Even then, his warmth lingered around you, comforting after the emotional roller coaster you'd just put yourself through.
A few moments later, he showed you the new jewellery. Three jewels were now on the back of his dick neatly done like the rest of the one he got. Jacob's ladder, of course, he had talked about this one.
The piercings were neatly aligned, catching the soft kitchen light alongside the one he already had. There was something oddly satisfying about how symmetrical they looked, as though they belonged there.
"Wow," you whispered.
"Knew you'd like it," he said with a grin before stepping closer again. "Can't really do much with it right now, though."
"It hurts?" you asked, lifting your eyes back to his.
He had already moved closer, hands braced on either side of you against the counter. Smirking, he shook his head and leaned in to kiss you again. It was brief this time, barely more than a peck.
"Not really," he murmured against your lips. "Just kind of uncomfortable."
Then the kitchen fell silent.
He leaned back to his full height, showing no sign of moving away anytime soon. Meanwhile, you were becoming more and more self-conscious as the adrenaline faded, the cold of the room hitting your body. Suddenly very aware of the outfit you were wearing, you started fidgeting with your fingers.
"Give me your shirt," you broke the silence.
"Why?" he asked, a knowing smirk pulling at his lips. "I like the view."
Without an ounce of shame, his eyes travelled over your body once more, making you feel oddly exposed. Lifting your arms across your chest, you tried to shield yourself from his gaze and looked away.
A quiet scoff left him before he stepped back completely, pulling his shirt over his head.
"Arms up," he said, it wasn't a request.
Rolling your eyes, you reached for the shirt, but his reflexes were faster. He pulled it out of your reach with an unimpressed look. You deadpanned at him, the very sale stare he returned.
With a dramatic sigh, you raised your arms, allowing him to pull the shirt over your head himself. Before you could say anything, his lips were back on yours for a quick kiss.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he returned to cooking.
Shirtless and completely unconcerned about itâit wasn't as if he spent much time wearing one at home anywayâhe moved around the kitchen while keeping you effortlessly woven into his routine. He'd kiss you in passing, rest a hand on your thigh whenever he walked by, ask about your trip and tell you about his own work.
It was so domestic that it made your heart pound.
Eventually, dinner was ready. The two of you settled onto the couch in the living room, plates balanced on your laps. Beneath his oversized shirt, the lingerie remained untouched, though it had started to feel uncomfortable.
Before you could properly relax, you slipped off the bra beneath the fabric, finally able to breathe normally again.
It ended up abandoned beside you on the couch. Sukuna noticed immediately, letting out a sigh as he shook his head.
"You're putting that back on later," he said around a mouthful of food.
"If you're nice," you teased.
The side eyes he gave you made both of you laugh before your attention drifted back to whatever random show was playing on the television.
"I got the new Mario Kart," Ryo said between bites. "Wanna try it?"
At his words, your eyes lit up. Mario Kart had always been one of your favourite games while it was also one of Ryomen's most hated. He was a terrible loser and absolutely despised getting passed right before the finish line. Which meant he'd bought the game for you.
Again, just like so many things he'd done recently, your heart started beating a little too fast. It felt like falling in love all over again.
"Yeah!" you answered immediately, already looking forward to destroying him.
That was how the rest of your night went.
You watched as the man who had once broken a controller over the same game carefully managed his frustration because he knew how much you hated seeing him get angry over something so small. How scary he could get as well.
The game that had once started countless arguments because he'd get upset whenever you laughed at his losses had somehow become something sweet. Even sweeter when Sukuna's laugh joined yours after getting hit by two blue shells in a row.
At one point during a race, while you waited for him to finish, you found yourself simply watching him. Sitting cross-legged on the carpet, he was so focused that his eyebrows were drawn together. Every now and then, you caught him biting the tip of his tongue in concentration.
Usually, by now, the evening would have ended in a screaming match or he would have rage-quit and locked himself in the bedroom.
But not tonight. Tonight, he was calm, laughing. Tonight, he was trying.
It was silly, really, as his attention stayed fixed on the screen, you quietly brushed away a tear that slipped down your cheek.
Better late than never.
And maybe this time... Maybe this relationship could work.
㠀㠀â â â â â ă €â about.
life had gone on. now that you had finally found peace, you couldn't help but remember how everything had changed for the better the moment you first set foot in the highlands. (wc: 8.940)
㠀㠀â â â â â ă €.á warnings.
smut. fluff. loss of virginity. pregnancy. domesticity. chubby reader.
㠀㠀â â â â â 㠀ᯠmasterlist.
â series masterlist. (bold †french ⥠italic †gaelic)
Tired, thatâs how youâd felt for the past seven months.
Of course, you were happy, overflowing with love for the life growing inside your belly. But God, did you wish they were born already. This wasnât your first babe, after all. You already had a few little Mactavishes running around to look after, and now, you were growing another.
It had been years since that fateful night. Years filled with discovery, with life in the Highlands. Your body, mind, and soul had taken to the changes well, once you'd accepted that fate had brought you here for a reason.
And that reason stepped out the door, stumbling into the sunlight at just the right moment.
He was broader now, if that were even possible. Maybe heâd put on some weight alongside you during the pregnancy, his own strange way of offering support. He was softer, yes, but you loved him all the same. His thighs were still thick with muscle, strong enough to lift you whenever you needed, you or the little ones who now raced across the garden to meet their father.
If there was one thing you could never fault Johnny for, it was his boundless love for his children. From the moment the first was born, he had been nothing but a devoted father, tending to every need before you even had to ask. Even as the chief of the clan, he never once let his duties as a father fall by the wayside.
Johnny had always loved children, always dreamed of a big family. Growing up with seven siblings would do that to a person. Youâd once told him, back when you married, that you wouldnât go through eight pregnancies. And yet, here you were now, safely carrying the fifth.
Yours had been the sweetest of marriages, a blend of christian traditions and sacred Celtic rites, the perfect union of you and Johnny, in every way that mattered.
Nerves were eating you alive.
Left alone after Johnnyâs sister helped you dress, you stood before the mirror, watching yourself. Waiting. For what, you didnât quite know.
It felt strange to be in a wedding gown again, especially after what had happened the first time you wore one. The memory threatened to pull you into panic, but you reminded yourself: it wouldnât happen again. The war was over, it had been a year and peace lasted. No one was looking for you anymore.
Not even your own family.
News of your motherâs passing had reached you months ago, and the grief still lingered. She had likely been the only one back home who still believed you were alive. After her death, and still burdened with guilt over the battle that had taken place here, you had made the decision to stay.
To stay forever.
Perhaps Johnny had something to do with that choice.
The way he looked at you. The way his hands always lingered, warm and steady. The way he had held you through your mourning. The way heâd gone and called for a new priest when the villageâs old one passed. When he asked, formally, to bind his life to yours, you had said yes without hesitation. All those quiet, loving gestures⊠they made you fall for him.
And now, here you were.
A firm knock pulled you from your memories.
When the door creaked open, Sir John stepped inside. Though, he simply went by John nowâthe French knight was long gone. He was a Highlander these days, through and through. He trained the villageâs young men, sat at Johnnyâs council and had even found himself a woman to share his life with.
She had lost her husband in the battle, left to raise two babes on her own. And John, ever the quiet protector, had stepped in. They had met when the council had offered help to widows and families that had lost their father, brother or son. From the second he had seen her, John had felt the need to help herâafter months of kindness and warmth, she had fallen in love. Just like John had.
He loved her children as though they were his own, and his affection for their mother was plain in every glance, every touch.
Once, as your personal knight, he had sworn an oath never to marry. His life had belonged to you , his sword, his loyalty, his every breath. It was heartwarming. Now, as your eyes caught the glint of a simple ring on his finger, a soft smile spread across your lips. You were happy for him.
He was still by your side, always, but things had changed. His priorities had shifted, and you were no longer a woman in danger. No one in the clan would dare harm you now, not the future bride of their Chief. He was ready to let another take care of you.
More than that, you had found your place here. Slowly, quietly, youâd begun walking the village paths, speaking with the people, learning their ways, their stories, their customs. And in time, they welcomed you. Loved you. As deeply as you had come to love them.
There was no talk of war anymore. No whispers of kingslaying, no embers of revolution. The French court, once the centre of your world, was far behind you now. Left in the past, a past you had once clung to with shaking hands, unwilling to let go.
But you had. At last.
"You look beautiful," John said softly, his eyes filled with quiet wonder at the woman you had become.
"Thank you," you whispered, still gazing at the delicate details of your dress, fingers brushing over the fabric as if grounding yourself in the moment. "You think he's going to like it?"
The dress was far more extravagant than the first one you had wornâthe one that had ended up stained with blood. That dress had been plain and simple, nothing like the one you were wearing now. The lace detailing was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen: an intricate blend of leaves and flowers carefully sewn into the fabric.
âHeâd be a fool not to,â John chuckled, clearly amused by your doubts, as if Johnny could ever dislike anything about you. âThe boy worships the ground you walk on. Iâm certain heâll be overjoyed to see you in a wedding dress, darling.â
That made you laugh a little too. Johnny had been nothing but loving toward you since what happened in the chapel. Just thinking about this night made you feel guilty, the way you had been sinning in God's house, but it had felt so good, you didn't truly regret it. If anything, you were eager for more.Â
Johnny had always been ready to give everything, to wait for you as long as you needed, but you had insisted on remaining pure in the eyes of God until your wedding. Even if he didnât share your beliefs, he had never pressured you.
âAre you not happy?â John asked gently, his hands settling on your shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.
âOf course I am,â you replied immediately, conviction in your voice. âI just⊠I cannot stop thinking about what happened the last time I wore a wedding dress.â
John sighed softly behind you before meeting your gaze in the mirror. âNothing like that will ever happen again,â he said, trying to reassure you.
And while you wanted to believe him, fear still lingered. That day had been traumatic, just like the night the Englishmen had attacked the village. It had all been because of you. Men had died for you, and you had never wanted any of it to happen.
But the war was over. The Highlands were quiet now, and across Scotland, the echoes of battle had finally faded. The English had retreated, no one was hunting you, no banners waved with threats. Safety, at last, had wrapped its arms around you, but your mind refused to follow.
Guilt clung to you like a shadow, forged into your bones since childhood. Guilt for being a woman and not a warrior, guilt for surviving when others had fallen, guilt in the eyes of God for daring to love a man who did not share your faith. Even now, surrounded by calm and laughter, the memories of blood and screams clawed at the edges of your consciousness.
âStop all this,â Johnâs voice broke through, firm yet gentle, dragging you back to the present. His hands rested lightly on your shoulders, anchoring you. âToday we celebrate. Everything else, leave it for another day.â
And all the guilt, all the fear, was instantly forgotten as you walked up the aisle of the small castle chapel, guided gently by John.
The wooden floor creaked softly under your steps, the faint scent of burning candles mingling with the fresh Highland air drifting through the open windows. Sunlight streamed through the small stained-glass panels, painting fragments of colour across the stone walls, falling on your dress and making it glow with a soft warmth.
Johnny waited at the altar, a calm yet radiant presence, his posture straight, shoulders squared, yet there was a tension in him you could almost feel even from this distance. He was clad in a black wool jacket, a matching belt cinched over his kilt, the tartan draped over his shoulder blending seamlessly with the Mactavish Clan colours, perfectly mirroring the pattern of his kilt. Even the same tartan traced along his knee-high socks, subtle but deliberate. A symbol of loyalty, heritage, and pride.
A memory of his father and his legacy.
The very same colours that would soon become yours seemed to blaze brighter in that light, marking the beginning of something unshakable, something eternal.
Every step you took brought you closer, yet time itself seemed to slow. The soft rustle of your dress echoed in the quiet chapel, mingling with the faint scent of lavender from the bouquets lining the aisle. The warmth of Johnâs hand guiding yours was an anchor to the present, grounding you, reassuring you that this, this was right.
Johnny was watching you with a storm of emotions in his eyes. He tried to hide it, as he always did, but it was impossible, impossible for either of you. Your own eyes were already glistening with tears, and the moment his gaze met yours, just after he had taken in the sight of you in your wedding dress, every thought and worry melted away.
And when you finally reached him, standing before him in that quiet chapel, you knew that every danger, every tear, every moment of fear had been worth it. The world outside could rage on, but in this moment, nothing existed but the promise in his eyes and the tartan that now bound you together.
Now that you were by his side, even with the white veil concealing part of your vision, you could see the tears lingering in his eyes as he took your hand from John's. He nodded respectfully to your old knight.
It was symbolic. John had spent your entire life protecting you. Now, he was finally letting go.
The ceremony was simple, soft, and intimate. Even though Johnny had not been a believer for a long time, he honoured your faith, speaking his vows under the protection of the God you believed in.
For the past year, you had drifted away from your faith, only to return to it changed. You had washed away your sins, but you had also renounced the guilt you once felt over the love and pleasures life had to offer. You still believed, but you were no longer the utterly faithful woman you used to be.
However, t was still important to you to be married in the eyes of God. When you had explained your feelings to Johnny, worried about how he might react, he had simply agreed. Almost like it wasn't that big of a demandâeven though you were asking to be married under the God he believed had killed his mother.
He had been with you through every moment of doubt, through every conversation and every question. He knew it all. Accepting it had not been difficult for him, so long as, at the end of the day, he could call you his wife. He had once believed in the same God. He would oblige.
After a kiss made you a married woman, you walked down the aisle with your husband under the cries of joy from the crowd.
Gone was the name that tied you to the French monarchy, you had become a Highland woman, symbolised by the ring resting on your finger. It was simple, but you could see the countless hours the jeweller had spent crafting it, along with the soft stone carefully carved into the gold band.
On Johnny's finger rested a simple gold band, one he had chosen himself, not wanting anything too fancy. What you had yet to notice were your initials engraved inside it, just as his were engraved inside yoursâa small surprise he planned to reveal later.
While everyone else headed to the main hall for the celebrations, you and Johnny parted ways with the crowd and made your way to his mother's clearing, beneath his favourite tree. Under its branches stood Duncan, a man who had been like an uncle to Johnny his entire life, ready to unite you in the way of the Clan.
This had been Johnny's compromise. He would marry you under the eyes of a God he no longer believed in but he would also marry you in the way of his peopleâthe traditional ceremony he had dreamed about since the moment he had set eyes on you.
As he held your hands and repeated the sacred words along with you, you saw the longing in his eyes. Sadness briefly overtook him as he wished the man standing before you could have been his father.
The feeling vanished as quickly as it had come when he turned to look at you.
Draping his tartan over your shoulders, he promised to care for you, love you, and cherish you until the end of his days. It was a promise you repeated back through tears. It had been so long since you had cried this much, but this time, it felt good.
After the vows had been exchanged once more, you turned toward Duncan as he tied your hands together. The ribbon was, as expected, made in the colours of Clan Mactavish. It was a sweet ceremony, one that felt real and sincere.
When you entered the main hall where everyone had been waiting for you, you were greeted by loud applause and joyful cheers. Hand in hand, you smiled as you made your way to the largest table, sitting in the centre beside Johnnyâstarting the feast.
The joy of the feast was heartwarming as you ate, drank, danced, and laughed.
There was nothing but smiles and love, everyone united like one large family. For someone so far from her own, it filled an empty place in your heart, even more so now that you were sitting on Johnny's lap.
It would not have been considered proper in France, but things were different here. No one batted an eye when Johnny pulled you onto his lap after you returned from dancing with his sisters.
The wine flowing through your veins made you less concerned with etiquette, so you simply accepted it.
It was nice, and it felt even better when Johnny fed you pieces of meat from his plate. Something primal inside you burst into flame as you felt the strength of his body pressed against yours while he cared for you, fed you.
Every now and then, he would press kisses to your cheek or neck without a hint of shame. He even did it in the middle of conversations with John sitting right beside him. Both men were slightly drunk on wine, neither of them finding anything improper about it.
The sweet moment shattered when you felt Johnny's body stiffen beneath you.
Pausing your conversation with one of his sisters, you turned toward him and watched his expression harden as he stared at the main door.
There stood Isla.
Although a year had passed, Johnny had yet to forgive her. She had been cast out of the castle, though not from the town as she lived alone.
From time to time, you visited her, knowing what it was like to be consumed by guilt. She had always been kind to you, you did not blame her for what had happened. If anything, you still blamed yourselfâa thing Johnny hated, always trying to change your mind.
Johnny did not like that you went to see her, but he allowed it. Deep down, you knew it was because he wanted news of his sister as well. He simply needed time.
"I invited her," you whispered to Johnny.
Frowning, his eyes turned toward you. The moment they met yours, they softened. Tilting his head, he clicked his tongue and released a long sigh.
"Mo ghrĂ dh..." he muttered, shaking his head. "Iâ"
"You need to forgive her," you cut him off. "Every time I visit her, you pretend not to listen when I tell you how she's doing, but I know you are."
He was already preparing to deny it, as he always did whenever Isla was mentioned, but you spoke first.
"Do not lie to your wife now," you scolded, holding your index finger in front of his face.
He closed his mouth. Then a spark of mischief crossed his eyes, and he nipped lightly at the finger pointed at him. Laughing as you pulled your hand away, you swatted his shoulder before rolling your eyes.
"It's time to make amends, my love," you whispered, your hands cupping his cheeks.
"If it wasn't for her," he started, his voice low as he looked anywhere but at you, "my father would have been here."
"No, Johnny," you replied softly, shaking your head. "The English would have come here eventually, and you know it. You know it, but it's easier to blame her."
Looking back toward the large doors, you watched Isla staring at the two of you. Her eyes were filled with tears she refused to let fall. Her fingers twisted together anxiously, as she looked like she might faint at any moment.
When you turned back to your husband, his gaze had returned to his sister. You could see the turmoil in his eyes, the battle raging within him as he struggled to decide what to do.
"Alright, yes," he sighed, dropping his head onto your shoulder.
Before lifting it again, he pressed a kiss to your skin.
Then he gently got the both of you up before helping you back into his chair, finding comfort in seeing you seated in a place that belonged to him.
With soft eyes, you watched him cross the room toward his sister. He did not stop directly in front of her, merely spoke a few words you couldn't hear before the two of them left the hall together. Taking a deep breath, you hoped with all your heart that this would end well.
One of the reasons you had fallen in love with Johnny was the depth of his love for his family, for his siblings. For what it meant to be the eldest brother.
You had watched him care for the younger ones and patiently listen to the complaints of the older ones. He truly cherished the role he had been given. You knew he missed Isla and this reconciliation was long overdue.
To take your mind off them, you decided it was time to dance again. The music was lively, and you joined the children, taking their hands and following their playful steps. The moon climbed higher into the sky, and fatigue began to settle pleasantly into your bonesâa reminder that the day had been full and fulfilling.
With no sign of Johnny, you eventually returned to your table, sitting down with a contented sigh as your muscles relaxed. Beside you, John glanced your way, offering a warm smile before returning to his conversation.
That was when Johnny reentered the hall, Isla following close behind.
Even from across the room, you could tell they had both been crying, their eyes were red, but matching smiles rested on their faces. The moment Johnny's sisters spotted Isla, they rushed toward her, pulling her away to dance.
You knew they visited her often. The only member of the family who had never gone to her new home was Johnny.
Once he reached you, he leaned down and kissed you firmly. A kiss that said a lot. Thank you. I love you.
At the same time, he pulled you up before he dropped into his chair and you onto his lap with a single tug, making you stumble into his arms.
"Thank you," he murmured against your ear before pressing another kiss to your cheek.
His words needed no response. You simply smiled and kissed him again.
Together, you watched as all of his sisters danced across the hall, laughing loudly as they spun in circles hand in hand, filled with a childlike innocence.
Nearly another hour passed before exhaustion finally caught up with you. The night was still young, but keeping your eyes open was becoming increasingly difficult. Johnny noticed.
With you still perched on his lap, he helped you to your feet before standing himself. Without a word, he took your hand and began leading you toward the side door that connected to the main chambers.
The chambers you would now share.
No one commented as you crossed the room, but the knowing smiles and amused glances were enough to make your cheeks and neck burn with both excitement and apprehension.
You knew exactly where Johnny was leading you.
Even though you had dreamed of this moment ever since that day in the chapel, a small part of you remained nervous. His hand remained warm around yours as he guided you along int the corridors and into your new chambers before quietly closing the door behind him.
His eyes lingered on you as you stood awkwardly in the centre of the room.
His head tilted slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. For the first time all day, it felt as though you were truly looking at him and he was undoubtedly the most handsome you had ever seen him.
He was broader than when you had first met, the responsibilities of being Chief strengthening him both physically and mentally. His thighs were powerfulâalmost unfairly soâand he flexed them deliberately when he noticed your gaze lingering, like he always did.
A slight frown crossed your face when your eyes landed on the stubborn scar on his knee, the one that refused to heal properly because Johnny refused to leave it alone.
His stomach pressed faintly against the fabric of his shirt tucked into his kilt, while his arms bulged as he crossed them over his chest. You had never imagined yourself being attracted to a man with his physiqueâstrong, broad, and imposing.
Perhaps it was because men like him simply did not exist where you came from.
"Like what ye see?" Johnny teased, his smirk widening. "Ye should, I am yer husband now. I sure like how me wife looks."
The word made you smile immediately. It was a childish reaction, perhaps, but you could not help it.
In return, Johnny gave you the same bright, excited smile, remaining on his face as he approached. He moved with the confidence of a predator, his gaze fixed entirely on you. And in a way, you were his prey.
The difference was that you had no desire to run.
Yet the pounce never came. Instead, Johnny circled around you and stopped behind your back. His hands settled on your hips before sliding across your waist, drawing you gently against him.
Once satisfied with the closeness between your bodies, he lowered his lips to your neck and bare shoulders, placing soft kisses against skin untouched by fabric.
"Ye're the most beautiful lass I have ever seen in me life," he whispered against your skin, his lips barely leaving it. "From the first time I saw ye... I ken it was ye."
His words brought tears to your eyes. Your hands settled on his forearms, which were wrapped around your waist.
"It wasn't mutual," you joked, though Johnny already knew how you had felt about him back then.
Against your skin, you felt the rumble of his laughter. His arms tightened around you for a moment before they disappeared but not his body. His warmth remained right behind you while his fingers worked at the ties of your dress.
He moved slowly, giving you every opportunity to stop him if you wished.
There you stood, dressed only in your underdress. The fact that he remained behind you made you uneasy, you wanted to see him, to see his eyes.
What if he did not like what he saw?
You wanted to look at him and know that he still loved what was before him. Your mind worked against you as your arms rose instinctively, trying to conceal your breasts through the sheer fabric, as well as your stomach.
"Nae, nae, nae," Johnny murmured softly from behind you before stepping around to stand in front of you.
There they were. His eyes. Filled with nothing but love and concern.
"I just want to see you," you whispered, unable to speak any louder.
"Aye," he replied with the gentlest smile.
A moment later, his lips found yours.
Instinctively, your arms dropped, only to rise again around his neck. Against your lips, you felt him smile at the gesture before his hands returned to your hips, pulling you closer.
For several long moments, you stood kissing in the middle of the room.
It had been a year since you had felt his lips. Though he had courted youâand you had accepted his courtshipâyou had denied yourself nearly all physical affection beyond holding his hand or allowing him to kiss your forehead and cheeks.
Only now did you realize how much you had missed it. How much you had missed him.
"My wife," Johnny murmured against your lips as he slowly guided you backward toward the bed.
Once you were seated on its edge, he remained standing before you. With a teasing nod, he silently encouraged you to move farther back toward the headboard.
You obeyed carefully, aware of how shaky your hands felt, until you were settled against the heavy pillows. Once you were comfortable, Johnny removed your shoes, pressing a kiss to the top of each foot before tossing both shoes and stockings behind him.
He did the same with his own before pulling his shirt over his head.
It was a sight for sore eyes.
The candlelight, lit by the maids before your arrival, cast a warm glow over him. The room felt impossibly intimate, as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
The stone walls were thick enough to silence the celebration still raging elsewhere in the castle.
Here, now, you were alone with your husband.
Warmth returned to your cheeks and neck as Johnny climbed onto the bed beside you. As gently as possible, he settled over you before kissing you again. It was the first time your hands explored his body without even a trace of shame or guilt.
Those feelings were gone. All that remained was the excitement of sharing your love with him.
His body pressed against yours, every movement making the muscles beneath his skin shift and flex.
"Johnny," you breathed softly against his lips when you felt him press closer.
You might have been a virgin, but you understood how these things worked. Back in France, you had spoken with women who were far more reserved than the women you had met in Scotland.
Here, women did not speak of intimacy as a burden to endure. They spoke of pleasure, trust and sharing a part of themselves with someone they loved. It was exactly how you had hoped your first time would beâespecially with Johnny.
A man you loved with your whole heart.
"I'm here," Johnny whispered back before gently catching your lower lip between his teeth.
As though reassuring you, one of his hands drifted from your neck down to your hip, where he squeezed lightly. In doing so, he shifted your underdress slightly higher, exposing more of your skin to the warmth of his body.
"So soft," he murmured, his hand lingering there.
As the fabric gathered higher around your thighs, you instinctively parted your legs enough to make room for him. Johnny settled between them without hesitation.
A small sound escaped your lips.
"Oh." The breathless whisper seemed to delight him.
Johnny leaned back on his haunches as his fingers slowly lifted the fabric of your underdress.
As it rose, his gaze followed the soft curves of your body and the pale marks that crossed your thighs and stomach from the weight you had regained. Those marks, along with the hair between your legs, had always made you self-conscious.
Yet there was nothing in his eyes except genuine affection.
When the fabric reached the underside of your breasts, the urge to pull it back down nearly overwhelmed you. Even after everything that had happened in the chapelâafter his hands had already explored so much of youâyou still felt shy beneath his gaze.
A moment later, the garment disappeared over your head entirely.
The cool air raised goosebumps across your skin, making you shiverâyour first instinct was to cover yourself. But before you could, Johnny's warm hands gently caught your wrists.
His eyes raking over your body, the anxious feeling nagging at you and the chill of the room made your body shake while his hold on your wrists loosened. Once they were free, you didn't know what to do with themâuntil Johnny laid back on top of you.
Carefully. Making sure he wasn't putting all his weight on you.
It was the first time he had seen you naked, but he seemed to remember that it was also the first time you had been naked in front of a man.
Johnny had never hidden that he had been with women before. He had told you very soon after the courtship started, wanting you to know who you would be accepting as your husband. You hadn't tried to know more, only that he wasn't seeing those women anymore, which he promised he wasn't.
That had been enough.
And in a way, it was reassuring that he knew what he was doing because, even after gossiping with the women here, you had no idea what you were doing. All you could do was follow his lead.
His lips were back on yours, his warm chest now bare against your own exposed one. The feeling of his skin was addicting. The second you felt his warmth, your shaking stopped.
Almost as if your body knew it was meant to be beside Johnny.
His kisses were growing deeper, his tongue becoming bolder by the second, and his hands were no less relentless. While he never stopped kissing you, his fingers fondled one of your breasts while his other hand kept his body from completely crushing yours.
For a few minutes, he played with your breast, making your breathing quicken and making it difficult to kiss him back. Every time you pulled away from his lips to let out little moans and whines, you could feel Johnny smiling. It was intoxicating, like you had drunk too much wine.
Before long, his fingers left your nipple and drifted between your legs, feeling how soaked you were. Even when you had tried things on your own in the middle of the night, you had never felt like this, and it had never felt as good.
Not as good as when Johnny's fingers started rubbing the little sensitive bud between your legs. He wasn't rushing, nor was he hurting you, it was the perfect amount of pressureâsomething you hadn't even learned for yourself.
His body leaned a little more against your right thigh, letting you feel something hard pressing against the fabric of his kilt. You didn't know if Johnny was doing it on purpose, but he was rutting softly against your skin. It felt so good, you were starting to lose your mind.
"My wife," Johnny breathed against your lips, his head dropping to your shoulder.
It was as if he was intoxicated himself, the gaelic slipping out of his mouth without him noticing. Between your legs, his fingers stopped rubbing and instead drifted lower until they were teasing your fluttering hole. At the sensation, your body immediately stiffened.
The unfamiliar feeling caused the reaction, even though you trusted Johnny with your life. Sensing it, your husband lifted his head from your shoulder and looked into your eyes.
"We dinnae have to do anything, mo ghrĂ dh," he whispered, trying not to break the moment with speaking to loudly.
"I want to," you said in a meek voice, shifting slightly on the bed. "I'm just nervous."
After your words, Johnny sat back, looking at your face with the softest eyes you had ever seen on him.
However, the nervous feeling returned when he left the bed. Frowning, you were about to apologize, though you weren't entirely sure what for. The words died in your throat when he undid the belt of his kilt, leaving himself bare beside the bed.
Unable to stop yourself, your eyes settled on what was between his legs.
Just like the rest of him, it was covered with hairâoddly well-kept, howeverâwith his penis resting against the lower part of his stomach. It was flushed, veined, and leaking slightly. In a strange way, you found it fascinating... and pretty.
With a gentle smile, Johnny sat back on the bed and pulled you up in front of him, sitting your up. Sitting bare before one another felt more intimate than anything you had ever done in your life.
It was the first time a man had seen your body, and the first time you had seen a man's.
Baring yourself like this, even in the dim candlelight, made it feel as though Johnny could see every one of your flaws.
However, your husband seemed to see only a dream come true.
"Ye're so pretty," Johnny whispered, unable to speak any louder.
Awkwardly, you laughed, looking down at your hands resting in your lap.
"You're really pretty too," you whispered back, meeting his eyes.
Taking your hand in his, he gently pulled you closer until you were sitting in his lap once more.
Any doubts you had once had about your weight were long gone, especially after seeing the softness on Johnny's stomach and finding it beautiful.
If you loved his softness, why wouldn't he love yours?
Once you were settled, he kept your hand in his and looked into your eyes before guiding it down, between his legs. It was warm, firm, and surprisingly soft. Your gaze fell to your hand, noticing how much larger his was than yours and how small your hand looked in comparison.
"Is this okay?" Johnny asked, his eyes never leaving your face.
Nodding, you squeezed your hand slightly, earning a sound from your husband.
When you tried to pull your hand away, worried that you might have hurt him, Johnny's hand simply tightened gently around yoursâa silent reassurance that you hadn't.
After a quick glance at his face and the reassurance in his eyes, you looked back down and squeezed him again. Against your hand, you felt him twitch slightly, making you giggle.
You were becoming more familiar with him, moving your hand a little more, squeezing slightly harder here and there. It was comforting to feel his hand covering yoursâsimply rested there, not moving, letting you explore him.
The more comfortable you became, the more comfortable Johnny seemed to become as well.
His own exploration resumed, but this time his attention returned to your trembling hole, between your legs. You felt his fingers wander for a moment, gathering some of the wetness that had begun to coat his skin.
When he felt no resistance and sensed that your fear had eased, Johnny slowly pushed a finger inside.
"Oh," you breathed out, your fingers tightening involuntarily around him.
This continued for several minutes, your hands moving in sync as pleasure slowly built for both of you. Johnny added a second finger, his movements as slow as possible, yet enough to make you feel good.
When he touched a particular spot inside you, your forehead dropped onto his shoulder. As Johnny's shoulder shook with laughter, you couldn't help but smile along.
That smile was quickly cut short when your husband withdrew his fingers, leaving behind an emptiness you had never felt before. His hands remained gentle as he removed yours from him.
You were about to complain, but he cut off your protest, kissing you sweetly while lowering you onto your back once more.
When your head settled against the pillow, you felt more relaxed than before, though your breathing remained shaky with both pleasure and anticipation. Just as before, when Johnny leaned over you, your legs parted on their own, making room for him. This time, he pulled one of them over his hip, drawing himself closer.
"Ye're okay?" Johnny asked softly, his eyes fixed on yours.
You couldn't speak. All your emotions seemed to melt together, leaving you able to do nothing more than nod. His head tilted slightly, as though he were waiting for something more, while a faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"Yes," you finally whispered.
That was all Johnny needed before he kissed you again. It served as a small distraction as you felt a warm, hard length push into you. It wasn't painful per se, but it was filling. A sensation you weren't used to, more uncomfortable than truly painful.
It didn't stop the little uncomfortable whine from leaving your lips. It was instinctive. Johnny hadn't even moved as he was now fully inside you, he had waiting for you to adjust without you saying a word. His own instincts kicked in as well, one hand cupping your cheek as he looked into your eyes.
You knew what he was seeing: the tears gathering there, tears you refused to let fall. They weren't relevant to how you felt right now. It was simply a physical reaction, something you couldn't control.
"I'm fine," you reassured him with a smile.
Johnny didn't say anything. He simply nodded, offering a soft smile of his own. You thought that would be enough to make him move, to start thrusting, but he didn't. Instead, he leaned in and planted soft kisses all over your face.
It started with your forehead, then your eyebrows. Two little kisses landed on your eyelids, then the apples of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and both sides of your jaw before he reached your lips. He didn't kiss them immediately. He kissed both corners first, making you reach for him and whine when he barely pulled away.
"Greedy," he laughed against your lips before finally kissing them.
The kiss was soft and gentle, nothing like the rushed ones you had shared earlier. He was making sure you felt all his love and affection before choosing that moment to finally move. It was more uncomfortable than his fingers had been, but at the same time, it brushed against something inside you that made your whole body tingle.
His lips never left yours, and his thumb continued to stroke your cheek. It was comforting and intimate, everything you had always known he would be.
His movements were slow, just like his kissesâalmost as if he were following the rhythm you were setting. Your lips pushed back against his, and you noticed that whenever they slowed, so did his thrusts.
Testing your theory, you slid your hands behind his neck and pulled him closer, pressing your lips harder against his. Just as you had predicted, his movements became a little stronger as well. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel it more. It felt good, a warmth that spread all the way to your stomach.
Against his lips, little sounds escaped you, making him smile.
As his movements gradually picked up again, his forehead dropped to your shoulder. In response, you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around him until his chest was pressed firmly against yours.
Your nipples were brushing against his own chest, and you found out that they were more sensitive than you thought. Everything seemed to blur together. The closeness, the warmth of his body, and the growing pleasure twisting low in your stomach.
Johnny pressed his face against your neck, leaving soft kisses along your skin. Tomorrow, the traces of them might make you blush, but right now, they only made your head spin.
Just as much as the pleasure steadily building inside you.
You hoped Johnny was feeling just as good, but it was becoming harder and harder to focus on anything except how you felt. His movements had become more urgent now, barely separating from you. His pelvis was rubbing against your clit more and more, the hair there was emphasizing the pleasure as tickling it.
Every sensation seemed amplified.
When he groaned against your neck, you answered with breathless sounds near his ear. Your legs had wrapped around him without you even realising it, holding him close. It was a little crazy how quickly you had grown used to thisâto himâbut you certainly weren't going to complain.
"Johnny," you breathed, a little louder than before as the tension inside you tightened.
"I ken, ugh, I ken, love," your husband replied between heavy breaths and moans.
Even the sound of his voice was enough to make your head spin. It was getting harder to focus on anything except the moment itself.
You and your husband, tangled togetherâbody and soul.
It was almost too much. You felt suspended on the edge of something, and you knew the fall was near. You could feel how close you were, and it was reassuring to know Johnny seemed just as close.
"Tha gaol agam ort," Johnny groaned before lifting his face from your neck.
Before you could answer, his lips crashed into yours again. The kiss was hungry, filled with everything neither of you could put into words.
Not long after, the tight knot inside you finally unravelled. Your whole body tensed as you clung to him, pulling him closer. A loud, embarrassing sound escaped your lips, while a similar one left Johnny.
His hips had pushed hard on last time before he stopped completely inside of you, his pelvis against yours.
"I love you too," you whispered against his lips, not trying to pull away.
The room was filled with nothing but your heavy breathingâa sort of silence that was broken by your quiet giggle. It was all the nerves finally settling, and you couldn't help it. The little giggle eventually turned into genuine laughter, one that Johnny soon joined.
Without pulling away from you, he kissed all over your face againâonce more finishing with your lips. These kisses were sweet. Calmer.
Without meaning to, you felt yourself tighten around him, earning the sweetest sound you had ever heard. That made you giggle again, while Johnny dropped his head against your chest.
"Wanna stay here forever," he murmured against your sweaty skin before pressing a kiss there.
His words only made you laugh harder, to the point where the tears lingering in your eyes finally spilled over. It was a body shaking laugh, the kind that was impossible to stop once it started. It quickly became contagious, and Johnny eventually pulled out, as gently as he could, before settling beside you.
While you were still laughing, he pulled you closer until you were using his chest as a pillow. He was soft all over, making him the most comfortable thing in the roomâeven more comfortable than the mattress or pillows.
Once the laughter faded, you looked up at Johnny, chin against his chest, as he was now looking down at you. Both of your bodies were still warm and sweaty, but goosebumps began to rise on your skin as the chill of the room started settling in.
Reading your mind, Johnny pulled a fur blanket over both of you while drawing you even closer. Closer, for him, meant that you were now lying completely on top of him. It was a position you tried to change, worried about crushing him, but your husband didn't seem to mind at all.
"Stop moving," he groaned, his eyes closed as he fully relaxed.
Rolling your eyes, you tried wiggling out of his grip once more without success. Instead, you earned a light slap on your arse, one that you answered with a swat to his chestâhis smile only widened.
"Are ye okay?" His voice was softer now. "Nothing hurts?"
His concern made you smile as you rested your head on his chest. His breathing was soothing, along with the steady rise and fall beneath your cheek, his strong heartbeat almost lulling you to sleep.
"I'm more than okay," you replied with a long, content sigh.
To reassure him further, you pressed a kiss right above his heart.
"Want to do it again," you teased.
One of your hands, which had been absentmindedly caressing his stomach, began wandering lowerâa move that was quickly stopped by Johnny's warm hand. Smiling, you looked up at your husband. In his eyes, you saw nothing but admirationânot the rejection his actions could be interpreted as.
"Tomorrow," he said, guiding your hand back to his stomach. "And for the rest of our lives."
Nodding, you pushed yourself up and kissed him again. The kiss lasted longer than you expected, mostly because Johnny deepened it while his fingers ran through your hair.
Before either of you got carried away again, you pulled back and settled onto his chest once more. Even though you were used to sleeping without candlelight, however, you were far too tired to get up and Johnny seemed just as exhausted beneath you.
Instead, you shifted into a more comfortable position and closed your eyes.
If this was what every night would look like for the rest of your life, you were more than happy with it.
Your smile grew even wider as you thought about a little life growing inside you one day. Your own family, with the man you loved more than life itself. What had once felt forsaken now felt like heaven on earth, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
"The end," Johnny said, feeling exhaustion clawing at him as he sat on the floor.
"Again!" Fionn's little voice shouted as he bounced on his bed.
Shaking his head, Johnny watched his firstborn trying to pull his siblings into his enthusiasm.
Every night, his children demanded the same storyâthe story of their parents' love. Of course, Johnny indulged them... though he left out a few gruesome details.
Secretly, it was his favourite story to tell as well.
It was one that remained dear to his heart, even seven years later.
With a tired smile on his lips, Johnny watched his other children tucked warmly beneath their blankets, covers pulled up to their chins as they listened with drooping eyes while the oldest tried to convince his father to tell the story again.
"Fionn," Johnny said softly but firmly, glancing toward the youngest, who was already asleep.
The little boy turned toward his father, his smile fading when he saw the look in Johnny's eyes. He flopped back onto his bed, tucking his chin to his chest and Johnny knew he was trying not to cry.
Getting to his feet, the man groaned after sitting in such an uncomfortable position before making his way toward the small bed.
With gentle hands, he pulled his boy into his arms before lifting the covers and settling him back beneath the warm furs. Once he was tucked into bed, Fionn's eyes struggled to stay open, only making Johnny scoff.
"Tomorrow, boy," Johnny promised in a gentle tone. "Like always."
After his son nodded and closed his eyes for the night, Johnny kissed his forehead. He did the same for all four of his children before turning toward the door.
His body felt heavy, tired, and relaxed all at once. As he walked toward his own chambers, the smile on his lips only grew as he thought about what awaited him. His heavily pregnant wife, lying in the bed they shared, waiting for him and his warmth before calling it a night.
It was crazy how the passing years had never made Johnny love you less. If anything, with every year spent together, he only loved you more. With every child you gave him, bringing them into the world through pain and tears, he felt that love grow even stronger.
On his worst nights, he imagined what would have happened if you had returned to France. Those thoughts still haunted him.
Pushing open the heavy door, Johnny shook his head, chasing them away. His eyes immediately landed on you. You were lying on his side of the bed, your belly stretching the sheer nightdress you wore. His own pillow was tucked beneath it, but Johnny couldn't have cared less. If he had to sleep on the floor for you to be comfortable, he would.
There was nothing he wouldn't do for you.
Once fully undressed, Johnny made his way around the bed and climbed in beside you. The weather was still cool despite summer approaching, and when he lifted the covers to join you, the rush of cold air woke you.
"Johnny," you groaned, shifting around in search of a comfortable position.
As though waking up had instantly reminded you of every ache. This wasn't your first pregnancy, but seven months in, it was still exhausting. Even more so when you spent your days taking care of four small children.
"Sorry, mo ghrĂ dh," Johnny whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder.
His body melted against yours, gathering you close and sharing his warmth.
After all these years, you had grown softer and rounderâsomething that drove Johnny absolutely mad. If it weren't for the exhaustion settled deep in both your bones, he would have happily spent every night worshipping you in the very own way that gave you all your babies.
Something you had never really minded, considering how many children you already had.
"How are you feeling?" Johnny asked, closing his eyes as sleep began to pull at him.
"Fat." Was the only answer you gave, your voice quiet.
Johnny reacted immediately, gently swatting your arse. He never liked hearing you speak badly about the body that had given him his childrenâthe body he had loved from the moment he first laid eyes on it. The body he still loved every day he was fortunate enough to walk in this world.
"Stop," Johnny scolded softly before kissing your neck in apology.
"I want this baby out, husband," you said, your voice tight with exhaustion rather than anger.
"A couple more months," he replied, telling you something you already knew.
As you spoke, his hand drifted over the heavy curve of your stomach after lifting your nightdress. Johnny had always loved skin-to-skin contact, and if you weren't so determined to sleep in a nightdress, he would have had the two of you sleeping naked every night. For the children, you always said as your little kids loved to slither into your chambers.
"No more after this one," you broke the silence.
That only made Johnny laugh behind you, his arm pulling you even closerâif that was somehow possible.
"You said that with Ailie," he chuckled, kissing your skin again. "And with Connell."
"I mean it this time," you clicked your tongue, swatting his hand away.
The moment you felt his warmth leave your stomach, however, you grabbed his hand and placed it back where it belonged as if you were angry he left youâeven when you had been the one pushing it away.
Johnny loved how feisty pregnancy made you. He wouldn't have changed it for the world. You could swat him morning, noon, and night, and he'd still be the happiest man alive.
"Sure, mo ghrĂ dh," he smiled against your skin.
He knew there was no real bite to your words. But he also knew that if you truly meant them, he would respect your wishes completely. All he wanted was your happiness and that of his children.
If five children were enough for youâthe one carrying themâthen five would be enough for Johnny too.
"I love you," you whispered before your breathing finally began to settle.
"Tha gaol agam ort," he whispered back, the smile never leaving his lips.
㠀㠀â â â â â ă €â about.
after almost two weeks off, you came back for the night shift. however with your luck, it started as a terrible nightâone you could only hope would get better. (wc: 13.400)
㠀㠀â â â â â ă €.á warnings.
smut. fluff. domestically. age difference (eleven years). car accident (nothing major). medical inaccuracies. canon medical procedures. injuries. bruises. some insecurities. chubby reader.
㠀㠀â â â â â 㠀ᯠfirst part. duo masterlist. main masterlist.
It wasn't like you to be late, so you forced your legs to move faster even as sharp pain flashed through your hip and thigh. Of all days for this to happen, it had to be todayâyour first shift back after a week and a half of medical leave. And now you were walking into the emergency department nearly an hour late.
Of course, on the very day you were finally coming back to work, you'd been hit by a car.
It hadn't been a major accident, and it hadn't even been the driver's fault⊠but the impact had still been hard enough to hurt, and most likely bruise.
You'd already been running late, so you'd rushed across the street without noticing the light turned green. One second you were hurrying toward the crosswalk, the next a car had slammed into you or rather, you had slammed into it. The vehicle hadn't been going very fast, but it had hit you hard enough to knock you onto the pavement.
Your elbow had taken the fall on the concrete while your hip had taken all the car's force straight into it. On the floor, you felt the little pebbles breaking your skin while you could already imagine the giant bruise on your hip.
A crowd had gathered almost instantly, trying to assess your injuries as if you weren't a nurse yourself. Some people had even suggested calling an ambulanceâwhich you fiercely refused, insisting you were fine and explaining you worked at a hospital anyway.
It had taken several minutes of convincingâand you showing off your nurse badge from PTMCâbefore the crowd and the driver finally let you leave, especially since the poor man looked terrified you were about to sue him. You'd reassured him repeatedly that you wouldn't, because the accident had absolutely been your fault and you definitely didn't have the money to pursue anything of this sort.
Still fifteen minutes away from the hospital, you'd texted Dana to let her know you were running late but were still coming in. Since being late was completely unlike you, you already had five missed calls from different staff members by the time you arrived, so you asked Dana to warn them you were coming as well. She only replied with a simply "Okay".
The moment you stepped inside, you headed straight for the staff room as quickly as you could. You shoved your dinner into the fridge, peeled off your jacket, tossing it onto the coat rack before a sharp sting shot through your elbowâthe opposite side from where your hip ached.
Looking down, you realized the skin was scraped raw and streaked with drying blood.
"Argh, I don't have time for this," you muttered with a sigh, heading for the sink.
You rinsed the scrape under cold water, biting back a groan as the sting intensified, then dried it carefully with a paper towel. It had already stopped bleedingâit was only a minor woundâbut it still looked rough.
Shaking your head, you grabbed the white long-sleeved shirt you always kept in your bag. As quickly as possible, and without flashing any of your coworkers, you pulled it on beneath your scrubs to cover itâhoping hard it wouldn't taint the shirt.
Finally satisfied that your injuries were hidden well enough, you left the room and headed straight for the nurses' station.
"I'm so sorry," you said as you approached Dana, who looked up at you over the rim of her glasses.
As gentle as ever, she pulled you into a quick hug and assured you it was fineâthat these things happened to everyone. Even so, you could see the exhaustion on her face. It must have been a rough day shift, which usually meant an even rougher night ahead. You silently prayed for a quiet evening.
"I'll come in early next shift if you're working," you promised as she gathered her things after explaining what had happened today.
"You don't have to, sweetie. Just make sure you're alright," Dana replied with a soft smile before heading out for the night.
"Better yet, come in at seven-thirty tomorrow morning, okay? So I don't feel so bad," you teased, giving her your best puppy eyes.
"Don't threaten me with a good time, kid," she joked, shaking her head with a laugh.
After she left, you immediately went to Shen and asked how the beginning of the night had been. He assured you everything was running smoothly while sipping his usual coffee. His nonchalance used to annoy the hell out of you, but over time you'd gotten used to it. It was oddly soothing to have someone this chill and relax while everything around here always turned into chaos.
You also knew Jack was working tonight, and you were doing your absolute best to avoid him.
First, because you knew he'd immediately notice something was wrong with you as he noticed everything. And second, more importantly, because of the very last text he'd sent you.
Good girl.
Two fucking words that had haunted you for the past week and a half.
Sometimes you'd be grocery shopping or curled up on the couch reading, and suddenly your mind would drift back to that text. Instantly, warmth would spread through your entire body going straight between your legs.
It was absolutely ridiculous how two simple words could affect you so much, but you couldn't deny the reaction they triggered.
Your cheeks would burn so hot it almost felt suffocating and you'd suddenly have the overwhelming urge to slip your fingers beneath your panties.
Which was exactly why avoiding Jack Abbott seemed like the smartest possible decision.
Four days ago, when you'd returned to have your stitches removed, you'd specifically chosen to show up during the day shift, when you knew he wasn't scheduled. You knew how unpredictable he could beâshowing up on his days off and lingering around the hospital for hours wasn't unusual for himâbut arriving at one in the afternoon had felt like a safe bet that he'd hopefully be in bed... or just far from the hospital.
And thankfully, you had been right.
Getting the stitches removed had been quick, and you'd been more than happy to chat with Samira while she worked. You'd insisted a student nurse could handle it, but she'd waved the idea off, claiming she needed the break. Naturally, you'd indulged her.
Now, walking through the department with an iPad in hand, checking that every patient was where they should be, receiving the right treatment, eating properly, and generally comfortable, you found your thoughts drifting back to Jack once again.
The number of time you had imagined his deep voice saying those two words were shameful, but you couldn't help it. If anything it had been the bastard's fault and he should be the one feeling guilty. If guilt was even what you were feeling.
Shaking your head, you forced yourself to refocus. At home, obsessing over him was one thingâyou weren't responsible for an entire staff and people's lives there. But this was work. Here, you needed to stay professional.
Hearing your name, you turned toward the sound and met Mateo's eyes. You gave him a small nod, waiting for him to speak.
"North 12 is getting discharged, and South 3 is still waiting on results, but upstairs isn't answering," Mateo explained as he pulled off his gloves and tossed them into a nearby trash can.
"Okay, I'll call when I get the time," you replied, already discharging North 12 on your iPad.
Still sensing Mateo lingering beside you, you looked up with a raised eyebrow. "Anything else?"
"HuhâŠ" he started, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Abbott's looking for you."
"Tell him I'm busy," you answered as casually as possible before turning back to your screen.
The second Mateo was out of sight, you bit down hard on your lip, trying to control the immediate reaction that shot through your body at the mention of the older man. You usually weren't like this. But Jack was just⊠something else.
Maybe it was the way he carried himself so effortlessly, never ashamed of his actions, never trying to hide his interest in you. He was confident about itâopenly soâand somehow that only made him more dangerous.
God, that old man was infuriating.
After finishing your rounds, you were almost surprised by how calm the night still was despite the packed waiting room and ED. Returning to your desk, you sat down to update the department boardâwhich beds were free, who was waiting on scans, who was ready for transfer, and who still needed treatment.
"Vivi," you called as she passed by.
She immediately stopped and turned toward you.
"North 7 needs blood test."
"On it," she replied with a bright smile before hurrying off.
Watching her leave, you shook your head fondly. You really did have an incredible team of nurses. Then you sensed someone approaching.
Looking up, you saw Abbott making his way toward your desk, hands clasped behind his back in that rigid military posture of his.
You were absolutely not prepared to talk to him, especially not in the middle of the ER but there was no escaping now. Short of divine intervention, you were trapped.
And somehow, you got exactly that.
Behind you, the red emergency phone rang loudly enough to cut through the chaos of the department. Abbott glanced toward the phone with a raised eyebrow while you immediately rolled your chair back and stood.
"PTMC Emergency, charge nurse," you answered, deliberately looking anywhere except at Jack, who remained standing directly in front of your desk.
As the paramedic spoke, your brain instantly started reorganizing the ERâeyes running everywhere in the room except on Abbot. "We'll be ready."
The second you hung up, you turned back, relieved to see Abbott had been joined by Ellis.
"Bar fight incoming," you summarized quickly, already moving toward the trauma bays. "One guy has part of a beer bottle lodged in his skull, and the other's unconscious with an open radius fracture."
Leaving the doctors behind, you pushed open the door to Trauma 1 and found Shen and Toomarian working on a patient who, thankfully, didn't seem critical.
"We need the room in two minutes," you said.
Your nurses immediately nodded.
"Alright, boss," Shen replied before looking back at his patient. "Let's go on a little trip!"
You rolled your eyes at his complete lack of seriousness while walking back toward the desk, only to hear an enthusiastic "Weeee!" behind you as Shen rolled the patient out of the room.
Taking the phone out of your breast pocket, you quickly composed the neuro number before putting the phone to your ears.
"Dr. Walsh," a voice answered on the other end of the phone a moment later.
"Was supposed to call neuro," you replied, confused as to why she had picked up instead.
"They're tied up. What have you got?" Emery asked immediately, skipping all pleasantries.
"Open head trauma with the bottle still embedded, and another patient with a open fracture," you explained while leaning over your desk and rearranging beds on the board.
"That sucks," the surgeon replied dryly, pulling a quiet laugh from you. "I'll come down in a few and page ortho on the way. Neuro's gonna be difficult tonight, but I'll see what I can do."
"You're the best," you mumbled, eyes fixed on your screenâand meaning every word.
Emery Walsh was one of the reason you missed being a surgery nurse sometimes. People found her dry and hard, but working with her, you'd learnt that she was a really good person.
"Yeah, I know. See you soon." Then the line went dead.
The phone stayed wedged between your shoulder and ear while you typed, barely noticing it anymore. Around you, the department shifted into controlled chaos as trauma rooms were cleaned, supplies restocked, and doctors prepared for the incoming patients.
Bar fights were common enough. The outcomes, however, were never predictable.
Slowly, you felt the phone slipping from your shoulderâuntil it disappeared completely. It didn't crash onto the desk or floor. Instead, someone gently placed it beside your keyboard.
You looked up and found Abbott standing there, right by your side, watching you with a slight smile and his head tilted faintly to the side. His eyes were soft but teasing staying on, what you were certain, were wide doe eyes.
"Walsh is coming down," you explained immediately quickly getting back on your feet while sticking strictly to work-related conversation. "Hopefully with ortho. Neuro's unavailable right now."
"We'll make it work," he said softly, voice deep and grounding.
That voice. The exact same calm, low tone your brain had replayed for a week and a half alongside those two words.
Good girl.
It was genuinely becoming a problem.
You nodded quickly and started to turn away so you could brief a few nurses, but Jack stopped you again.
"How's the hand?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.
Wanting to get through the conversation as quickly as possible, you answered immediately. "Never better."
"You did come, right?" he pressed, his eyes dropping toward your hand.
Ever since that text, your mind had been completely corrupted.
Even though his gaze was clearly fixed on your hand resting near your hip, your stupid brain instantly interpreted it differently⊠going to a very different place than you fucking hand. That absolutely did not help your obsession with that man.
"What?" you blurted out, louder than necessary.
"You didn't remove the stitches yourself, did you?" he clarified, clearly confused by your reaction.
"Oh." Your eyes widened as realization hit you. "No, no. Samira did it."
Frowning slightly, Jack looked at you with a strange twist to his smile, something dangerously close to a smirk. "Samira? From day shift?"
"Yeah, wellâŠ" You shrugged awkwardly. "I was off for more than a week. It's crazy how quickly your body adjusts back to a normal schedule."
The joke came out clumsier than intended.
You glanced at his eyes, immediately looked away, then stupidly looked back again before darting your gaze elsewhere for a third time, your anxiety practically written across your face.
"Right," Jack replied slowly, amusement clear in his expression.
"Okay," you sighed with an overly tight smile before quickly turning around and walking away.
Why did you have to be this awkward? Of course he hadn't been making some crude comment in the middle of a shift with half the ER around. Jack was bold, sure, but not that bold.
Your brain seriously needed to calm the hell down before you lost your mind completely.
Unfortunately, too distracted to pay attention to where you were going, you walked straight into Walsh as she strolled into the department.
"Wow," she blurted, eyes widening in surprise. "You good?"
"Huh? Yeah. Just getting ready for the traumas!" you called over your shoulder, not slowing down for even a second.
Forcing yourself back into work mode, you started assigning nurses to incoming cases and gathering supplies that were missing from the trauma rooms. By the time you finished restocking everything, the EMTs were already wheeling the patients in through the ambulance bay.
"Trauma 1 and 2 are clear and ready!" you shouted as the teams split apart and rushed into their assigned rooms.
Finally getting a brief moment to breathe, you called about the lab results Mateo had mentioned earlier, only to discover they'd somehow been lost in the system and were now being resent. Seconds later, the files appeared on your iPad.
Perfect timing, too, since Dr. Porat, R2 of the night shift, wasn't tied up with the trauma teams. After forwarding her the results, the front desk called your extension.
"Charge nurse speaking," you answered while scrolling through charts waiting to be reviewed.
"Jim Burlt's family is here," Chantana said softly over the line.
"Who?" you asked automatically, not recognizing the name.
"The truck driver who got electrocuted. He passed earlier, during day shift, I think." Her voice lowered so the family wouldn't overhear.
"Fuck," you whispered, letting your head fall back for a second. "Okay. I'm coming."
It wasn't that you didn't want to handle itâyou just had no idea where the man's body had been taken. Dana hadn't mentioned it during handoff, and since you'd missed rounds, you were completely behind.
Pulling up his chart in the system, all you found were three cold words:
Dead on arrival.
With no better option, you headed into Trauma 1, since it sounded like the quieter room of the two. The moment you pushed open the door, Abbott looked up at you immediatelyâas though he'd sensed your presence before even seeing you.
"Know a Jim Burlt?" you asked, unable to stop yourself from instinctively checking the patient's vitals first. Stable.
"Yeah. Robby's patient," Jack replied, eyes already shifting back toward the trauma bed.
Patient. The word twisted uncomfortably in your chest. The man had arrived dead. There had been nothing anyone could do besides call the time.
"His family's here. Do you know where he is?"
"Morgue," Jack answered, finally looking back at you with sympathetic eyes. "And it's not a pretty sight. Especially for the family."
"Fucking perfect," you muttered under your breath before turning to leave.
As you headed toward the waiting area, a warm hand settled gently on your shoulder, stopping you mid-step.
You turned around to find Jack standing close behind you.
He'd already stripped off the bloody gown, gloves, and protective glasses from the trauma room. Without all the gear, he looked unfairly goodâcalm, composed, and for once actually rested.
"I'll do it," he said quietly, nodding toward the waiting room.
"It's okay. I can handle it. You clearly have your hands full." You assured him, painfully aware of the warmth spreading through your neck where his hand still rested close by on your shoulder.
"Robby already explained the case, and they don't need me in there anymore," he replied lightly, the corners of his mouth lifting.
Even though you'd initially thought Jack was highly professional and not nearly this bold, he quickly proved you wrong as he stepped closer, leaning toward you. His lips hovered far too close to your earâclose enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath against your neckâwhen he finally spoke. "But this place will fall apart without you."
"HuhâŠ" was the only sound your brain managed to produce.
When he finally stepped back, there was a teasing smirk tugging at his lips before he simply walked away, leaving you stranded in the middle of the hallway like your system had completely rebooted.
Your eyes struggled to focus on anything.
His words. His voice. That stupid charisma. It all tangled together until your thoughts turned into static.
The loud laughter of a drunk patient somewhere down the hall finally snapped you back to reality. Within seconds, you were moving again, heading toward your desk while taking a deep shaky breath.
It was genuinely unfair how easily he could throw you completely off balance while you seemingly had nowhere near the same effect on him.
Fucking diabolical.
Hours later, after working nonstop without a break, you finally stole a few precious minutes for yourself in the stairwell. It was quieter than the break room and safer than the ambulance bay. Here, nobody bothered you.
You still kept your phone nearby in your chest pocket, and never disappeared for longer than ten minutes, but at least you could drink your coffee in peace. You'd warn the attending and your nurses before just disappearing.
Only three hours remained in your shift now. Close enough to the end that you could finally see it.
Eyes closed, head resting against the stair railing, you sipped your coffee slowly while focusing on your breathing exercisesâyour usual way of bleeding off the stress that came with the job.
The hospital staff were used to finding you here during night shifts, so when the stairwell door creaked open and footsteps started approaching, you barely reacted at all.
"Abbott's looking for you." Walsh's voice shattered the brief moment of peace you'd managed to find in the stairwell.
"When is he not?" you sighed, taking another sip of coffee.
You only opened your eyes when you heard Emery groan dramatically as she dropped down beside you on the steps. She looked exhaustedâbut then again, who in this hospital didn't? Even so, there was still something sharp and alert behind her tired eyes.
"I'd kill for a cigarette," she muttered, rubbing both hands down her face.
"Stay strong," you laughed softly. "If you relapse, you'll drag me down with you."
It wasn't entirely true, but you still remembered the nights you'd both decided to quit smoking together. Back then, she'd sneak out through the ER ambulance bay and wait for you outside. For five peaceful minutes, the two of you would talk about life, relationshipsâanything except the chaos happening inside.
"Oh, fuck no," she smirked, side eyeing you. "I do not need cowboy doctor on my ass."
You turned toward her immediately. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Play innocent all you want," she dismissed while standing up, brushing the non existing dust of her pants. "And please don't call me for the rest of the night."
"Not my decision," you called after her as she disappeared up the stairs.
Laughing quietly to yourself, you finally pushed yourself to your feet and stretched your stiff limbs.
Huge mistake.
Pain exploded from your hip all the way down to your knee while your elbow throbbed sharply in protest. You should've expected this. Since the second you'd been hit by that car, you hadn't stopped moving long enough for your body to fully register the damage.
Now, after ten minutes of sitting still, it absolutely had.
Walking back to the ER without limping turned out to be significantly harder than expected, but somehow you managed it. You smiled tightly at nurses, greeted techs, gave instructions to interns, the usualâall while pretending nothing hurt.
By the time you reached the sink to wash your coffee mug, you were quietly breathing through the pain. At this point, the shift simply couldn't end fast enough.
All you wanted was for Dana to arrive on timeâwhich she always did, though you had told her she could come in late⊠You were fucked.
"Why are you limping?" The deep voice behind you made you flinch so hard you nearly dropped the mug.
"Jesus Christ," you let out, your heart racing.
Turning around, you found yourself face-to-face with Jack Abbott, standing there with his hands clasped behind his back like always.
"I'm not limping," you dismissed immediately. "Maybe you need glasses, old man."
Not wanting to deal with his scrutinising stare, you turned back toward the sink and focused intensely on cleaning the mug.
"So that's definitely not blood on your elbow," Jack replied dryly, his tone carrying that specific kind of sarcasm that really meant don't bullshit me.
Twisting your arm enough to see your elbow, your stomach dropped. A smear of blood stained the sleeve of your white shirt. You must've bumped it against a wall without noticing. And of course you'd chosen the one white shirt you owned.
"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, too quietly for him to hear. Then louder: "Old stain. Hard to get out, you know how it is."
With your back still turned to him, you prayed he'd just accept the lie and leave.
But miracles clearly had limits, and you'd apparently already used yours for the night. No one interrupted. No emergencies pulled him away. So he stayed.
He didn't move closer, but you heard the irritated click of his tongue behind you.
You deliberately took far longer than necessary washing the mug, dreading the moment you'd have to turn around and face him properly. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to find out you'd been hit by a fucking car.
That would mean another medical leave. And beyond the fact that you absolutely couldn't afford more time off, you genuinely didn't want it.
"So we're lying now?" Jack asked as you finally turned toward him.
There was something unreadable in his voice, not exactly anger, not exactly amusement either. His arms were crossed over his chest now, head tilted slightly as though challenging you. Instinctively, you mirrored him, crossing your own arms while raising an eyebrow in return.
You were not about to snitch on yourself. And judging by his expression, he clearly wasn't planning on dropping it.
"I guess it's your problem if you don't believe me," you replied with a smile so forced it practically hurt.
Before Jack could answer, Sophie stepped into the roomâonly to freeze immediately under the weight of both your stares. Her eyes widened slightly with concern.
"I'm just getting water," she explained cautiously, like she'd accidentally interrupted something terrible.
"Of course," you replied instantly, your tone softening. "Take ten if you need."
Then you looked back at Jack. The smile you gave him this time was entirely differentâtight, restrained, and far less friendlyâbefore brushing past him and leaving the room.
As you walked away, you heard Jack reassuring Sophie that she'd done nothing wrong and that she should take whatever break she needed.
The rest of the shift passed surprisingly smoothly, even if the pain stubbornly refused to fade. It was honestly impressive how well you managed to hide it from everyone.
Everyone except Jack.
He never brought it up again, but for the remainder of the night, you could feel his eyes on you every single time you wincedâeven slightly. Every time your limp slipped through before you could correct it, you caught him watching with furrowed brows.
Now, finally sitting down near the end of shift, you chatted quietly with Robby while the rest of the night crew signed off one by one.
The only person still missing was Dana. Because you had stupidly told her to come in late.
At least you'd warned Robby ahead of time so he wouldn't panic about being left without a charge nurse. You kept working through the final charts and updates, determined not to leave Dana with a disaster just because you were exhausted and hurting.
You'd pushed through for hours already. There was no point falling apart now when the end was finally in sight.
The moment you saw Dana walking through the ER doors, relief washed over you so strongly you almost sighed out loud.
The older woman chewed lazily on her gum, glasses already perched low on her nose while her stethoscope hung around her neck. Even the way she walked radiated competence. The second she reached you, you wrapped your arms around her and let out a tired groan into her shoulder.
For the next ten minutes, the two of you made rounds together while you updated her on the nightâwho'd been admitted, who'd gone upstairs, who'd died, which beds were opening up. The usual end-of-shift rundown.
Once you finished, she gently nudged you toward the corner where you'd dumped your belongings hours ago.
"Off you go, kid," she said simply before turning back toward the department.
And honestly? Sleep had never sounded so good.
Even if getting home meant enduring a painful fifteen minute walk, you figured you could survive it. You'd spent the entire night running around nonstopâwhat was another few minutes on your feet?
As you headed toward the exit, already dreading having to come back later that night, you pulled out your phone to check your texts and emails.
A sharp whistle suddenly pulled your attention away from the screen. Confused, you looked up. Standing in the ambulance bayâlike he'd apparently been waiting there for a whileâwas Jack Abbott.
Which made absolutely no sense.
He'd left on time for once, along with most of the night staff, so why the hell was he still here? Even stranger, his car was parked right beside the ambulance entranceâsomething nobody was allowed to do, not even for five minutes.
"Forget something?" you asked innocently, nodding toward the illegally parked car.
"You," he answered immediately.
You scoffed automatically, but the sound died quickly when you realized he wasn't joking.
"What?" you deadpanned when he made no move to smile.
"I'm taking you home," he said calmly. "And you're going to tell me what happened to you."
It wasn't phrased like a question. Not quite an order either, but there was absolutely no room for argument.
"Jackâ" you started, fully prepared to fight him on it anyway.
"Nope. In the car."
Then he casually walked around and opened the passenger side door for you.
When you still didn't move, he simply tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving yours. There really was no escaping this. With a deep sigh, you shook your head and walked toward the open door.
The second you sat down, Jack gave a satisfied little nod, like he was pleased you'd listened, before closing the door for you.
A minute later, after he climbed into the driver's seat, you noticed your address already programmed into his GPS.
"How did youâŠ" You trailed off, pointing weakly at the screen.
"From the Uber last time," he replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"RightâŠ" you murmured, smiling despite yourself.
Being trapped in such a small space with him felt oddly intimate. The car smelt like him, a smell that was oddly comforting, messing with you. And unfortunately, your exhausted brain didn't help much more, immediately fixated on his hands resting on the gear shift as he put the car into drive.
You were far too tired to stop yourself from staring for a second longer than necessary. Then a thought suddenly crossed your mind.
"Can you even drive with your leg?" you asked as the car rolled forward. "Well, I mean, obviously you canâŠ"
That made him laugh, a real laugh. Warm and genuine enough that you immediately turned your head toward him. And honestly, if you could've seen yourself right then, you were pretty sure you would've looked completely smitten.
"Was that rude?" you asked, giggling softly when you noticed how bright his smile had become.
"Not coming from you," Jack replied gently, sending you another small smile before looking back at the road.
That alone was enough to make you grin like a teenager.
Your cheeks and neck warmed instantly, heart beating embarrassingly faster just from the softness in his voice.
Resting your elbow against the door, you propped your head against your hand and stared out the window while gently rubbing your forehead. Your elbow protested immediately, but at this point everything hurt anyway.
Your hip had been throbbing for hours, a migraine lingered behind your eyes, and all you wanted in the world was a shower and your bed.
"God, I'm so tired," you whispered, knowing perfectly well he'd hear you.
"Want to tell me what happened now?" Jack asked, still using that same quiet voice.
Rolling your eyes toward the window, you let out a long breath.
Of course he wasn't going to let it go, you should've expected this. Honestly, it had been predictable from the moment he'd noticed you limping. Still, you'd hoped exhaustion might make him back off for once.
"Seriously?" you groaned, finally turning your head toward him with narrowed eyes.
"Surprise," he shot back with a smirk, knowing deep well none of you were actually.
Closing your eyes briefly, you felt exhaustion and pain mixing together until lying almost felt too difficult to bother with anymore. And really⊠what was the point?
He wasn't going to stop asking.
Turning back toward the window, you watched the sunrise spill soft orange light across the quiet city streets.
"Got hit by a car," you said suddenly.
Silence filled the car immediately afterwards, which definitely wasn't a good sign. But it was peaceful while it lasted.
"Come again?" Jack asked slowly, sounding like he genuinely thought he'd misheard you.
"I got hit by a car crossing the street. My fault entirely," you clarified casually, like it wasn't a huge deal. Because honestly? It wasn't.
You were alive. Nothing was broken. Nothing life-threatening had happened.
At worst, you'd end up with an ugly bruise on your hip, a scraped elbow, and aches for a few daysâit could've been so much worse.
"I landed on my elbow, which explains the blood," you continued before he could interrupt. "And my hip took most of the impact, which is why I'm limping." You shrugged weakly. "I'm alive and mostly intact, Jack. Nothing to worry about."
"You should've said something," he growled, shaking his head.
"So you could've sent me home?" you shot back immediately. "I handled the shift just fine."
"You handled it," he agreed tightly, nodding while his jaw was tightly set. "But now you're limping, and I'm willing to bet your hip's killing you."
He sent you a dark look before focusing back on the road. Before you could argue further, the car pulled up in front of your building.
You weren't about to pretend you weren't grateful not to walk the rest of the way home. Turning toward him, you opened your mouth to thank him and wish him goodnight, ready to forget it all about the previous conversation.
Only to frown when his car door slammed shut. Seconds later, he was already on your side of the car, opening your door for you.
"You don't have toâ" you started while pulling your seatbelt off.
"Don't," Jack warned simply as he leaned inside to grab your bags.
It was ridiculously sweet. And it also made you feel slightly guilty because you knew his own leg had to be hurting after such a long shift too, but he didn't show even a hint of discomfort.
He just straightened back up with your bags in one hand while holding the car door open with the other, waiting patiently for you to get out.
Getting out, you knew there was no point arguing with Jack, so you simply started walking toward the building's main door. Turning back toward him, you walked straight over and reached into your bag without even asking for it back, you already knew he wouldn't give it to you.
Once your keys were in hand, you unlocked the door and headed straight for the elevator. When Jack stepped into the small space beside you, you realised he was actually walking you all the way to your front door.
It felt strange being trapped in such a narrow space with him, but he seemed completely determined to make sure you got safely inside your flat, as if something terrible might happen between his car and your front door. You supposed you never really knew, but it still felt highly unlikely.
The ride up to your floor was quiet and slightly awkward, despite how quick it was.
Standing in front of your door, you unlocked it and suddenly felt far too awkward to simply say goodbye there. So you stepped inside, leaving the door open behind you as a silent invitation.
"Want some water?" you asked, breaking the silence as you made your way toward the kitchen. "You can leave that by the door," you added, pointing to the bags still hanging from his hands.
"I'll take some water, yeah. Thanks," he replied softly.
When you returned to the living room with two glasses of water, Jack was standing in the middle of the room, relaxed as though he belonged there. He was looking around at every little detailâevery book, every picture, every vinyl recordâstudying it all with quiet attention.
Watching him in your space made the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Your mind instantly started imagining him there all the time, as if his belongings naturally belonged beside yours, some jazz vinyl mixed in with your indie pop collection, his medical books stacked beside your fantasy novels. It would fit so perfectly.
Shaking the thought away and forcing a soft smile, you stepped closer and handed him his glass.
"Thanks," he murmured, his gaze drifting slowly from your head to your toes without the slightest hint of shame.
The two of you remained standing in the middle of the living room, slowly sipping your drinks. Locked in each other's eyes, the tension quickly became unbearable, yet neither of you looked away. Jack held your gaze openly, his expression soft and calm. Gone was the tired, sarcastic man you usually worked with. This version of him felt entirely different, but oddly comforting.
After a few seconds, he stepped closerâwith a slight limp of his ownâand set his glass down on the nearby table. Gently, he took your own empty glass and placed it beside his.
"I know the best treatment for your hip," Jack said, his voice low and deep. His eyes gleamed with something you couldn't quite name.
"Yeah?" you asked, your voice embarrassingly shaky. Ridiculous, you were a grown woman.
"Relaxation," he whispered, lust filling his eyes. That had been what you couldn't name before.
As soon as the word left his mouth, his hands rose to your cheeksâwarm, soft, safeâbefore he leaned in. His lips hovered just above yours, not quite kissing you, but making no effort to hide how badly he wanted to.
The second you felt his warmth so close, your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation and, without even realising it, you rose slightly onto your tiptoes to meet him halfway. A few long seconds passed before you finally felt Jack's lips against yours.
They were soft and unhurried, as though he was trying to ease you into it while slowly pulling himself closer. His warmth completely surrounded you now, his chest pressed lightly against yours. You weren't even sure when he'd moved that close, only that it felt incredibly good.
He was everything you had imaginedâsteady, solid, groundingâwhile your own hands shook where they rested against his chest. His hands had slipped from your cheeks to your hips as carefully as possible, mindful not to hurt you while gently tugging you closer.
"Let's go sit down, yeah?" He murmured against your lips.
You hadn't even realised you'd started shaking. Your legs felt weak, your thoughts racing so fast you could barely keep up with them. No one had ever made you feel like this beforeânot once in your life had someone unsettled you so completely.
"Mmh," you hummed against his lips before leaning up to kiss him again.
Both of you laughed softly into the kiss as Jack began stepping backward. When the backs of his knees bumped against the couch, he paused for a second before sitting down. You moved to sit beside him, but his hand stopped you.
Spreading his legs slightly, he guided you to stand between them instead. His face hovered near your stomach, immediately making you self-conscious. But the moment his lips pressed soft kisses there through your shirt, the butterflies in your stomach only grew wilder. Your breathing turned uneven as you stared down at him.
His eyes lifted to yours while his lips continued trailing slow kisses over your stomach.
"Can I?" he asked quietly, his voice rough with restrained need.
It was unfamiliarâfeeling this wanted by someone who wasn't rushing straight toward sex. There was something comforting about the patience in him, about the way he seemed to want more than just your body. His fingers rested lightly against the hem of your shirt, playing absently with it, waiting for permission.
When you noddedâa little too quickly, you'd admitâmischief flickered in Jack's eyes as he raised a single brow in silent warning. The effortless dominance he carried so naturally made your head spin.
"Yes," you managed to say, breathless, earning another quick kiss in return.
Agonisingly slowly, Jack pushed your shirt upward, his lips following the rising fabric. Once it was high enough, you tugged it off yourself, suddenly standing half-naked in front of the man you'd been hopelessly crushing on for months.
You still hadn't dared look directly at him, but the second you heard him click his tongue in disapproval, your stomach dropped. Had he imagined your body differently? Was he disgusted by what he saw? Was the soft weight on your body suddenly repulsive once shown without clothes?
"No fucking wonder you're limping," he muttered, sounding almost irritated.
Looking down quickly, you were met with a patch of darkened skin peeking out from beneath your pants. The bruising already looked terrible, staining your skin in a way that made it obvious to anyone that it hurt like hell.
"Oh," you breathed out shakily, finally releasing the breath you'd been holding.
He wasn't disgusted by you at all, he'd simply slipped into doctor mode. You weren't even sure he'd realised it, but one of his thumbs was slowly caressing the bruise while his eyes remained fixed on yours.
"Did you at least get their name?" he sighed, shaking his head.
"It wasn't his fault," you explained quietly.
"He should still pay for the medical treatment. You were a pedestrian, it was his fault anyway," Jack continued scolding gently, resting his chin against your soft stomach while keeping his eyes on you.
Scoffing, you shook your head. "What medical treatment?"
"Still," the older man muttered stubbornly before glancing back down at the bruise.
As carefully as he could, he tugged your pants down a little farther, revealing more of the dark purple mark. It wasn't pretty, but at least it was only a bruise and not a broken hip. That would've been a nightmare.
"Does it hurt?" His voice softened again, slipping back into the soothing tone he always seemed to use around you.
"Not right now," you whispered, far too distracted by the feeling of his lips brushing against your skin again.
He kissed around the bruise as though he could somehow heal it with tenderness alone. Every soft press of his mouth made your heart skip wildly in your chestâa feeling that was becoming dangerously familiar whenever he was near. At first, it had annoyed you but now, standing half-undressed in your living room, it felt exhilarating.
He chuckled softly at your answer before pressing another kiss to your skin.
Then, before doing anything else, he leaned back against the couch. His warmth barely left your body, yet you missed it instantly. Once he'd settled farther away, his hands moved to the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion.
The sight nearly stole your breath.
This manâolder than you by more than a decadeâhad a better body than most men your own age you'd ever been with. His chest was broad and toned, scattered with freckles that made you ache to trace every single one with your fingertips. His stomach was firm too, though softened slightly by a thin layer of fat that somehow only made him more attractive, more real. It made you want to bite into it.
And his arms, God. They'd already been distracting enough at work, but seeing them like this, bathed in the warm sunlight filtering through your curtains, was almost unfair.
"Wanna sit down now?" he teased, his thumb still stroking over your hip. "Because this must be killing you."
Nodding, you finally dragged your gaze away from his chest and smiled sheepishly when you met his eyes. You felt no embarrassment about being caught staring, and judging by the smugness on his face, he was thoroughly enjoying the attention. Then again, he had no shame eitherâhis own eyes had drifted toward your breasts more than once already.
"How about we take these off first?" he murmured teasingly, lightly snapping the waistband of your pants against your good hip.
"Sure," you replied, feeling strangely at ease around him now. "Just warning you⊠I'm not wearing my best underwear today."
"Oh no," Jack said dramatically, shaking his head in fake disappointment.
His hands betrayed him completely, though, as he carefully slid your pants down your legs, making sure not to brush too hard against the bruising. Once they passed your thighs, the fabric dropped to the floor on its own.
Leaning back against the couch, Jack rested his hands low on your hips while he looked at you with quiet hunger. His gaze wandered slowly over every inch of you, from your face down to your knees, taking everything in with patient, gentle attention.
And weirdlyâfor probably the first time in your lifeâyou didn't really feel self-conscious. You'd made peace with your body years ago, but old insecurities from your teens and early twenties still lingered in quiet corners of your mind.
Yet there was no judgment in his eyes. No disgust. His gaze moved over your stretch marks, your soft stomach, your love handles, the natural curve of your breasts, and the faint hair peeking out around your panties without hesitation or discomfort.
If anything, he looked captivated.
Smiling softly, he leaned forward to press another kiss against your stomach before settling back comfortably against the couch again. Once he was fully relaxed, he patted his thighs lightly, eyes never leaving you.
You hesitated awkwardly, standing there half-naked in the middle of your living room. Even if he clearly liked your body, a small part of you still worried you might be too heavy for him. Buying yourself time, you bent down to pull your socks off.
"Come on," he coaxed with an amused smirk. "You're not gonna break me."
Your eyes widened in surprise. You hadn't realised your thoughts were that obviousâyou'd always been good at hiding your insecurities and fears. Perhaps, it had been that your partner didn't really pay attention.
"You think too loudly, sweetheart," Jack said, his teasing smile softening. "And you're way too pretty to waste time worrying about stupid things."
As if to reassure you even more, he patted his thighs again before his hands slid back to your hips, guiding you closer inch by inch.
His gentleness and words made you smile despite yourself, your eyes dropping shyly toward the floor. Once you reached the couch, you slowly lowered yourself into his lap, your legs settling on either side of his hips. He was so broad that the stretch tugged slightly at your sore hip, painful but strangely pleasant too.
Your hands rested uncertainly on his shoulders, still hesitant to put your full weight on him even though your hip was throbbing. Jack solved the issue himself by gripping your waist and pulling you down firmly onto him.
The second your full weight settled in his lap, a sound escaped himâa rough mixture between a groan and a moan that instantly sent heat rushing through your body. As a reflex, your thighs pressed together, or tried to. Instead, the movement rocked you lightly against him, your body brushing over the hardening shape still trapped beneath his cargo pants.
The reaction it pulled from both of you was immediateâa long shared breath, shaky and warm.
The moment your eyes met, laughter burst out of you unexpectedly. Jack laughed too, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. Meanwhile, his hands slid slowly up your back. Without thinking, you melted into him, your arms slipping around his neck automatically.
The hug felt dangerously close to home.
He was so warm, so solid, comforting in a way you couldn't even explain. Like curling beneath a blanket on the coldest winter night. Safe. Easy. Real.
And somewhere in the back of your mind, your thoughts betrayed you again, instantly imagining what it would feel like to fall asleep wrapped in this warmth every night. To wake up curled into his burly arms, head lying on his chest.
"You're so warm," you whispered against his neck before pressing a soft kiss there.
Jack laughed quietly under his breath and pulled you even closer in response. He kissed the top of your head again, slow and absentminded, the kind of affectionate gesture that felt almost painfully domestic.
The hug, the forehead kisses, the quiet closenessâit made your heart race uncontrollably. And with your ear pressed against his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding faster than normal too.
His hands slid from your back to settle on your ass. They didn't grope or squeeze greedily, they simply rested there, warm and steady. Grounding. And at the same time, impossible to ignore when his now hard cock was pressed right between your thighs.
Lifting your head from his neck, you kissed him again. This time the kisses turned deeper, messier, more desperate. Teeth brushed lips, tongues tangled slowly and warmth spread through your entire body until you felt dizzy with it.
When it became too much, you instinctively rolled your hips, searching for friction.
And friction was exactly what you found.
His dick, hard beneath the fabric of his pants and your panties, rubbed perfectly against your clothed clit. It had been so long since you'd felt someone against you like this that greed started creeping in before you could stop it.
Pressing your hips down harder against his, satisfaction bloomed in your chest when a rough groan escaped him. His hands remained on your ass now, kneading softly while guiding your movements, encouraging every slow grind against him.
The feeling of skin, heat and pressure was intoxicating. Too much and somehow not enough at the same time. The rough fabric of his pants against the backs of your thighs suddenly became unbearable though, you needed it gone.
Without really thinking, your hands slid from his shoulders down toward his waistband. Rising just enough, you started tugging at them.
Rising slightly, the loss of friction made you whine immediately, even though it had been your own doing. But before you could get very far, Jack's hands gently stopped yours.
You froze at once. Your fingers hovered shakily above the waistband of his pants, your stomach dropping.
"I'm sorry," you whispered quickly against his lips. "Sorry."
Your pulse thundered painfully now, not from desire but embarrassment. Maybe you'd pushed too far. Maybe kissing had been fine, touching had been fine, but thisâ
"Shhh." His voice was soft and immediate, reassuring. "Relax, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong."
But you still couldn't look at him. Your gaze darted everywhere except his face until one of his hands gently cupped your jaw, carefully guiding you back toward him. His eyes looked exactly the same as before: warm, patient, hungry in the gentlest way imaginable. No discomfort. No anger.
"You know about my leg, right?" Jack asked quietly. After a hesitant nod from you, he nodded too. "But you've never seen it," he continued softly. "I just don't want you to be surprised, okay?"
For a second, you simply stared at him. Then laughter burst out of you unexpectedly. Real laughter, the kind that shook your entire body.
Was he seriously worried you'd be disgusted by his prosthetic? By an amputated limb?
Jack leaned back slightly against the couch cushions, head tilted while he watched you laugh yourself to tears. A small smile tugged at his lips, like he understood you'd needed the release after panicking.
Once your laughter finally settled, tears prickling lightly at the corners of your eyes, you looked back at him. Relaxed against your couch, shirtless and warm in the dim morning light, he looked strangely comfortable there.
"You know I'm a nurse, right?" you asked in disbelief.
He answered with one slow, firm nod. Eyes blinking softly in a cat like way.
But then doubt crept in anyway, irrational and sharp. It made no sense for him to think you'd care about his injury, which meant maybe he was only saying it because he wanted to stop. And if he wanted to stop, that was okayâbut the thought that he might be searching for an excuse instead of simply telling you hurt more than it should have.
Wrapping your arms around yourself, you shifted back slightly until you were sitting more on his thighs than directly against his crotch. His thumb still stroked gently along your jaw while he studied your expression carefully.
"We can stop if you want," you said softly, though the voice barely sounded like yours. "We don't have toâŠ"
The words trailed off awkwardly. Your toes curled restlessly against his skin while you fought the urge to fidget with your fingers.
"What if I don't want to stop?" His voice dropped lower again.
You stayed quiet, only staring at him while he searched your face.
"Do you want to stop?" Jack asked.
His gaze pinned you in place, making it impossible to look away this time.
Blinking quickly, you shook your head. "No."
"Then come back here," he murmured, teasing warmth returning to his tone so suddenly it sent heat rushing between your legs again. His tone wasn't commanding, but it had that natural dominance that didn't really let you do anything but what he said.
At some point his hands had slipped back onto your ass, stroking lightly until you shifted closer once more, settling back properly against his lap. Relief flooded through you when you felt him still hard beneath you, still wanting you just as much as before.
A soft moan escaped you as you rolled against him again.
"Good girl," Jack said deeply, voice raw.
The words hit you like a lightning strike.
Your entire body reacted instantlyâthighs tightening around him, your breath catching embarrassingly hard while a pathetic little moan slipped free before you could stop it. Mortified, you buried your face against his shoulder while instinctively rocking your hips again.
"Didn't you want this problem solved?" Jack teased lightly.
Between your legs, you felt his hands playing with the waistband of his cargo pants. Deliberately, the back of his hand brushed against your clothed clit, adding just enough pressure to make you whine again.
A soft laugh rumbled through his chest beneath you.
Then your next roll of your hips dragged another rough groan out of him, lower this time, almost strangled. The sound sent a thrill straight through you.
"Who's laughing now?" you asked breathlessly, unable to stop yourself from grinning.
The light smack he gave your ass was the only answer you got before his palm rubbed soothingly over the spot afterwards.
A moment later, he tapped lightly against your thigh in silent request. When you lifted yourself just enough, Jack awkwardly tugged his pants off the rest of the way beneath you.
While he worked them free, you occupied yourself by kissing along his neck and shoulder slowly, patiently. You didn't want him to feel rushed or self-conscious. Nothing about this had felt hurried from the start, and you weren't about to change that now.
Once the discarded pants landed somewhere across the living room, his hands guided you back down onto him carefully so you wouldn't strain your sore muscles for too long. Your hip was definitely starting to ache again.
Settling comfortably against him once more, you kissed him deeply while your hips resumed a slower, steadier rhythm.
The soft fabric of his boxers felt infinitely better against you than the roughness of his cargo had. Even more intoxicating was the warmth of his bare skin against the backs of your thighs.
Combined with his wandering hands and his mouth against yours, it all became overwhelming in the best possible way. You weren't inexperienced, but somehow this felt entirely newâraw and exciting enough to make you feel like you were discovering sex for the first time all over again.
Between your legs, heat and dampness had already soaked through your panties, probably staining his boxers too. Normally that thought would've embarrassed you. Right now, though, you barely cared.
Maybe Jack sensed it too, because his hand suddenly slipped between your bodies, easing beneath the cotton of your underwear.
His fingers moved slowly through the soft hair there without hesitation, without comment, simply exploring you gently. The lack of judgment alone made something in your chest loosen. No criticism, no awkward remarks.
For several long seconds he only teased you lightly, fingers wandering until a shaky moan of his name finally escaped your lips.
You felt his smirk against your mouth immediately afterwards.
Then his fingers slid lower.
The second they found your clit, your entire body jolted. You'd been half convinced he'd drag it out and tease you endlessly, but instead he touched you with immediate purposeâslow, tight circles that stole the breath straight from your lungs.
Your kisses quickly fell apart after that, little gasps and broken sounds replacing them as you struggled to focus on anything except the feeling of his fingers working between your thighs.
Soon enough, the kisses became one-sided in the best way possible. Jack simply nipped and licked lazily at your lips, a smug smile tugging at his mouth while you struggled to breathe through the pleasure rolling through you.
From watching him at work, you'd hoped his hands would be skilledâsteady, strong, careful. You'd been completely right.
A man his age, as experienced as you'd imagined him to be, clearly knew exactly what he was doing. He didn't fumble around searching for your clit or rush too quickly to the point of slight pain. Everything he did felt deliberate and perfectly paced, like he already knew your body despite never touching you before.
It was insane how naturally you fit together.
Sure, you'd known each other for over a year. You'd flirted shamelessly for most of it. But you never could've imagined actually being with him would feel this good. This easy. Like two puzzle pieces assembling.
"Feels really good," you breathed out between shaky moans against his lips.
"Yeah?" he teased softly before kissing you again.
"Mhm." You nodded rapidly, biting your lip as another wave of pleasure rolled through you.
"Good." That simple word, paired with the soft kiss he pressed to your forehead afterwards, made warmth spread through your chest just as much as between your thighs.
His fingers never left your clit, never broke their steady rhythm. Eventually it became impossible to focus on anything except feeling, Jack didn't seem to mind in the slightest. He wasn't asking for anything back from you, wasn't trying to make you perform for him.
Instead, his mouth wandered lower.
You couldn't exactly blame him when you'd been arching into him shamelessly, practically pressing your chest into his face every time pleasure jolted through you. Gently, his lips moved across the swell of your breasts while his teeth tugged teasingly at the fabric of your bra, letting it snap softly back against your skin.
He did it again. And again.
Finally, blinking through the haze, you looked down at him.
His eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them beforeâheavy with hunger. You'd seen him irritated, exhausted, sarcastic, even angry at work. But this version of him? This was entirely new.
And it was all because of you.
"Wanna take this off for me?" Jack asked, his voice calm and grounding despite the way his fingers kept working between your legs. "How does that sound?"
"Good," you moaned immediately when his touch pressed a little harder against your clit.
With trembling hands, you unclasped your bra and let it slide off. Cool air brushed over your bare skin instantly, your nipples already hard from both the temperature and the overwhelming pleasure building inside you.
The second your chest was fully exposed, Jack let out a slow breath.
"You're absolutely breathtaking," he murmured.
And then he kissed you there.
You barely even processed the compliment because the moment his mouth closed around one nipple, your thoughts scattered completely. His free hand cupped your other breast, rough thumb stroking over the sensitive peak without mercy before rolling it between it and his index finger.
It was too much. Completely overwhelming.
His mouth, his hands, his fingers between your legsâit felt like he was everywhere all at once. Yet the idea of him stopping felt unbearable too. Something tight and hot was building low in your stomach now, pressure winding tighter and tighter with every movement of his hand.
"Jackâ" You moaned loudly.
The warning barely left your mouth before his teeth grazed your nipple a little harder. At the same time, his fingers sped up slightly against your clit.
That was all it took.
Pleasure crashed through you so suddenly your back arched hard against him, thighs clamping around his while your nails dug helplessly into his shoulders. The sounds leaving your throat were embarrassingly brokenâhigh, shaky whines mixed with uneven breaths as you struggled to recover from how hard the orgasm hit you.
Recovering only became more difficult when Jack spoke again.
"Good girl," he murmured against the skin above your pounding heartbeat. "You just needed to relax."
The bastard absolutely knew what he was doing.
Especially when he could clearly feel the way your pussy clenched again at his praise while his fingers still rested between your thighs. Dropping your forehead against his shoulder, you let out a breathless laugh before lightly biting at his skin.
"You fucker."
Chuckling softly, Jack slowly slipped his fingers back out from your underwear before settling both hands comfortably on your ass again, as though they naturally belonged there. His other hand drifted soothingly along your back while he rested his head lightly against yours.
"Don't be mean now, sweetheart," he teased before giving your ass a playful slap. "You know you love it."
You opened your mouth to deny it automatically, purely out of spite, but his lips brushed against your ear before you could get the words out.
"I can still feel you clenching to it," he whispered, voice so low it sent a full-body shiver through you. As if your body wanted to prove him right, you felt your pussy involuntary clench afterwards.
"Just like that," he praised softly, along with a little laugh.
Groaning, you bit his shoulder again while trying desperately to steady your breathing.
For several quiet minutes, neither of you moved much. You simply stayed tangled together on the couch, half-dressed and warm, breathing each other in. It was soothing enough to make you sleepy.
And maybe that should've scared youâthe intimacy of it, the domestic softness settling so naturally between youâbut it didn't. If anything, it made you want to stay there longer.
Jack seemed perfectly content to follow your lead. Even with that effortless dominance wrapped around everything he did, he never pushed or demanded. He simply let you decide where things went next.
Still, despite the warmth and comfort, you wanted more.
Which meant eventually you had to get up.
Carefully pushing yourself to your feet, your shaky legs protested immediately as you stretched your arms over your head. Once again, you found yourself standing between his spread thighs while his gaze wandered openly over your nearly naked body.
Jack let out a low whistle of appreciation that made you roll your eyes instantly.
"Shut up," you muttered, fighting back a smile as you turned toward your bedroom. "I'll be right back."
When you returned a minute later, your heart skipped unexpectedly at the sight waiting for you.
He was still exactly where you'd left him, relaxed against the couch cushions with his legs spread comfortably. Like he belonged there, the thought crossed your mind again.
And he didn't seem remotely uncomfortable about his prosthetic being visible now that his pants were gone. The human body really was incredible in the way it adapted.
As you approached, Jack said nothing at first. He simply patted his thigh again in invitation.
Smiling softly, you settled back into his lap without hesitation this time, all your earlier self-consciousness gone. Once comfortably seated, you held up what you'd brought back with you.
A condom.
His smile widened immediately, surprise and clear approval flashing across his face.
"You're not tired?" he asked quietly.
You doubted he even noticed how instinctively his hands had already settled back onto your hips the second you sat down. It seemed neither of you could stop touching the other for very long.
"I have trouble sleeping," you teased lightly, tilting your head. "What about you, old man? Getting tired already?"
Clicking his tongue, Jack tried and failed to hide his grin. Accepting the challenge, he took the condom from your hand before pulling you firmly back against the hard length between his thighs.
"You'll get tired before I do," he warned, voice low against your lips.
And the way he kissed you afterwards made it sound dangerously close to a promise.
It was a rushed kiss, overflowing with longing and want. His tongue slipped immediately into your mouth, tangling with yours while your teeth brushed together clumsily in your desperation. His hands kept pulling you closer and closer until there was no space left between you at all.
Chest to chest, you could feel everythingâhis heartbeat hammering beneath your palms, the rise and fall of his breathing, the twitch of dick between your thighs whenever you rolled your hips.
It only took seconds before the grinding started again, though "dry" hardly fit anymore. Not when both of you were already flushed and overheated from everything that had happened. Anf from how soaked you felt between your legs.
One of Jack's hands tapped lightly against your ass before slipping lower, tugging your panties down as far as he could manage.
"Okay, okay," you mumbled between kisses, with a breathless laugh as you lifted yourself enough to help.
You hurriedly kicked the fabric off while Jack tugged his own underwear down as well. The second you noticed how neatly trimmed he was, self-consciousness crept back in unexpectedly.
"You don't⊠uhâŠ" Your eyes dropped nervously between your legs. "You don't mind, right?"
Jack looked almost offended by the question.
"What do you take me for?" he asked seriously, immediately shutting the doubt down before it could grow. "Come here, sweetheart. Stop being silly."
The warmth in his voice made you smile despite yourself.
Settling back over him, you hovered there for a moment with your hands braced against his shoulders while he rolled the condom on carefully. You couldn't stop staring at his hands, at the way his fingers moved along himself with practiced ease. Anticipation curled low in your stomach instantly.
He wasn't the biggest man you'd ever been with, but somehow you already knew he'd fit you perfectly. No painful stretching. No discomfort. Just right.
"Ready?" he teased, stroking himself once more while his eyes gleamed mischievously up at you.
Nodding quickly, you shifted closer with a shaky breath. Your heart was pounding so hard it almost felt ridiculous. You couldn't remember the last time sleeping with someone had made you nervous like this.
Then again, you'd also never spent months hopelessly crushing on someone before finally ending up in their lap.
Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him.
The first stretch pulled a soft gasp from both of you. Just like you'd expected, he fit perfectly, full enough to make you shiver, but immediately comfortableâwarm and right. Jack's fingers tightened instinctively against your hips, hard enough to make a small sound of pain slip from your mouth before he immediately let go.
"Fuck, sorry, sweetheart," he breathed, his hands dropping quickly to his own thighs.
"It's okay," you reassured him softly.
Missing his touch almost instantly, you grabbed his wrists and guided his hands upward onto your chest instead. Somewhere safer. Somewhere he wouldn't be afraid to hold you tightly.
On instinct, his palms squeezed gently while his thumbs brushed over your nipples, drawing another shaky breath from you.
Once fully seated in his lap, neither of you moved right away. You simply sat there breathing together, staring at each other as the reality of the moment settled over both of you.
Then, almost at the same time, you both laughed quietly. The nervous tension melted immediately after that, and something about knowing he was just as affected as you were made your chest ache warmly.
Unable to resist, you leaned down to kiss him again.
The kiss deepened quickly, soft turning hungry within seconds, and your hips began moving instinctively against his. At first you only rocked slowly, getting used to the feeling of him inside you.
But soon you pushed yourself up carefully on your knees, lowering yourself back down in a slow rhythm. Every movement dragged him along your walls in a way that made little moans spill helplessly from your mouth into his.
Jack wasn't much quieter.
Soft groans vibrated against your lips while his grip flexed against your body, and every now and then he hit a spot inside you that made your thighs tighten around him uncontrollably.
Still, after a few minutes, exhaustion was already catching up to you. Between your long shift, your bruised hip, and the emotional rollercoaster of the night, your body was starting to give out.
You tried to hide it by kissing him deeper, slowing your movements into lazy rolls of your hips instead of proper thrusts. But of course Jack noticed immediately.
"I told you you'd get tired first," he teased softly against your mouth.
Before you could protest, his hands slowed your hips until you were sitting still against him again. When you tried moving once more, his grip tightened gently around your waist, holding you in place.
"Jack," you whined quietly, attempting to squirm free.
"Tsk." He clicked his tongue before deliberately shifting his hips upward just enough to make you gasp. "You're exhausted and your hip hurts," he scolded calmly. "We're not pushing it."
With a defeated sigh, you finally stopped fighting him.
Searching his expression nervously, you expected to find disappointment somewhere in his face. Frustration maybe. Annoyance. Instead, all you found was softness, warmth and concern. Desire still lingering there too, but patient now instead of consuming.
The sudden tenderness made your eyes sting unexpectedly.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, looking away before he could see you tearing up.
"You don't have to be." Immediately, he pulled you gently against his chest again. "You didn't do anything wrong, sweetheart."
The second he wrapped his arms around you, your body seemed to finally give up entirely. Tension melted straight out of your muscles as though all you'd needed was his warmth to feel safe enough to let go.
One of his hands rubbed soothingly up and down your back while the other reached for the blanket tossed over the couch earlier, draping it carefully around your shoulders.
Only then did you realise you'd been trembling for the past minute.
Shock, stress, adrenalineâyour body had probably been running on fumes since the accident earlier that night. Then there'd been Jack coming to your apartment, all the emotional chaos of finally crossing this line with him⊠It had been a lot.
"We can keep going," you whispered weakly against his skin anyway.
You felt him shake his head against your hair. "Nope."
The simple firmness in his voice somehow made you relax even more. Your eyes still sting with unshed tears, but you were finally getting your breathing back to normal. A minute later, your stomach growled loudly enough to break the silence entirely, both of you burst into laughter instantly.
"I feel sore everywhere," you complained dramatically as you finally pushed yourself upright a little.
The mood had shifted already, softer now, calmerâbut you still didn't want him to leave. Some irrational part of you worried that if he walked out this morning, this whole thing would disappear with him.
"Go take a shower," Jack said gently, kissing the top of your head. "I'll make us something to eat."
"You're staying?" The question came out far more vulnerable than you intended.
Jack scoffed softly, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. His hands settled back onto your ass automatically.
"You think that little of me?" he asked quietly. There was a smile on his lips, but this time it looked faintly hurt around the edges. "I care about you for a hell of a lot more than sex, okay?"
His thumbs stroked lightly against your skin.
"If you want me gone, I'll get dressed right now," he continued gently. "But I don't think that's what you want."
It took your brain a few seconds to fully process the sincerity in his voice.
"I want you to stay," you admitted softly, suddenly embarrassed you'd doubted him at all.
Jack answered by kissing you again. Not hungry this time. Not desperate. Just soft and reassuring enough to quiet every lingering fear in your chest.
"Go take your shower then," he murmured against your lips.
Once you were finally standing again, wrapped in the blanket and still trembling slightly, you watched Jack sit forward, elbows resting on his knees.
"Do you need help?" you asked meekly, nodding subtly toward the space between his legs.
Laughing softly, he leaned closer until his forehead rested against your stomach. The edge of the blanket brushed against his skin while your fingers slipped gently into his hair. The gesture soothed both of you instantly. Soft. Familiar already.
"No, I'm fine," he replied before pressing a quick kiss to your stomach and nudging you toward the bathroom.
You disappeared down the hallway with one last glance back at him.
Once alone in the bathroom, waiting for the water to warm, you finally looked properly at the bruise blooming across your hip. It looked awfulâdark spreading across your skin in uneven patches. Even brushing against it hurt. Walking had become nearly impossible without limping, and you already knew the next few days were going to suck.
After a quick shower, you returned to the living room wearing soft pyjama shorts and an oversized shirt. Your body felt heavy and relaxed now, though your hip still throbbed painfully.
The second you stepped into the kitchen, you stopped.
Jack stood by the stove, shirtless, cooking scrambled eggs like he belonged there.
You hadn't been prepared for the sheer domesticity of it. Somehow, seeing him casually cooking in your kitchen felt more intimate than everything that had happened on the couch. The fact that he was doing it shirtless only made it worse.
Now that you were dressed again and no longer overwhelmed by desire, it felt easier to slip back into yourself. Easier to joke. To breathe.
"I'm pretty sure cooking without a shirt isn't medically recommended, Doctor," you teased, leaning against the doorway.
"Don't worry," he replied without missing a beat, glancing back at you briefly before returning to the pan. "I've got the best nurse around to take care of me."
Then he winked.
You rolled your eyes instantly, fighting a smile while he turned the stove off. Dinnerâbreakfast or whatever this meal counted as, was ready.
As you reached into the cabinet for plates, a huge yawn escaped you. It was ridiculous how completely your body had relaxed after an orgasm, a hot shower and finally letting yourself feel safe. Earlier, you hadn't lied when you said you had a hard time falling asleep, but now it felt like you might pass out standing up.
The meal itself passed in easy conversation.
You talked about work, books stacked around your flat, music from your vinyl collection. Jack teased your taste in indie pop while pretending not to know half the artists already. The eggs were ridiculously good too, which annoyed you a little.
Once you'd finished eating, he immediately forced you back onto your seat while he cleaned up. You'd protested, arguing that if he cooked then you should do the dishes, but he'd refused the second he noticed your limp worsening.
So instead you sat there with your cheek resting against your hand, watching his broad back move beneath the warm sunlight while he washed dishes at your sink.
It was such an ordinary sight. And somehow that made it unforgettable.
"You know," you started quietly, eyes still fixed on him, "I have one of those plastic stools if you want to shower."
"Yeah?" You could hear the smile in his voice immediately.
Relieved he hadn't taken offence, you nodded awkwardly. You knew he wasn't secretive about his disability, but you still didn't want to accidentally say the wrong thing.
"It's not exactly a disability shower thing, butâŠ" you trailed off carefully.
"I'd like that," he replied easily, turning toward you. "A stool's fine. Don't worry."
Once he reached you, he leaned down and tilted your chin upward gently. A small kiss brushed your lips. Then another. Finally, one soft kiss landed on the tip of your nose.
"You're waiting in bed, though," he murmured with a wink. "Doctor's orders."
After showing him where the stool was, locking the front door, and turning off the apartment lights, you finally made your way toward your bedroom.
The room glowed softly from the bedside lamp while the sound of running water drifted from the en-suite bathroom. You'd left him a towel and a spare toothbrush without even thinking about it. Neither of you had outright said he'd stay the night, it had simply happened naturally, like an unspoken agreement.
At some point, exhaustion dragged you under.
The sound of the bathroom door opening startled you awake. Disoriented, you blinked sleepily toward the doorway where Jack stood, shirtless and damp-haired beneath the soft light.
"Sorry," he whispered immediately.
"It's okay," you mumbled, pushing yourself up slightly. "Didn't mean to fall asleep."
Jack smiled softly before walking toward the bed. The limp in his step was more noticeable now, and guilt twisted in your chest immediately. You suddenly hated how little your apartment offered to make things easier for him.
"Are you okay?" you asked quietly, glancing toward the prosthetic.
"Been worse," he replied with a faint smirk before his expression softened. "It won't make you uncomfortable if I take it off?"
The vulnerability in his eyes startled you more than the question itself. You'd never seen Jack uncertain before. At work he was always composed, teasing, confident.
"Of course not," you answered immediately, giving him the gentlest smile you could manage.
Nodding once, he carefully removed the prosthetic and placed it beside the bed. You watched him massage along the scar absentmindedly for a moment before he finally slid beneath the blankets and leaned back against the headboard.
"I left the stool in the shower," he said after a beat, voice quieter than usual. "Hope that's okay."
"It's fine," you replied softly, reaching over to take his hand. "You can actually lie down, you know."
Laughing under his breath, he finally stretched out beside you. Slowly but visibly, his entire body relaxed more and more the longer he settled into the mattress.
"This bed is terrible," he announced after a few moments of silence.
Scoffing dramatically, you smacked his chest lightly. "Do you know how expensive mattresses are?"
Pulling his hand from yours, he wrapped his arm around your back and tugged you closer until your head rested against his chest.
"You'll come to mine next time," he murmured sleepily, eyes already half-closed.
"Next time?" you teased, tilting your head to look up at him.
Like this, relaxed and exhausted, he somehow looked younger. Softer. His freckles stood out beautifully across his face in the low light.
"Oh, definitely," Jack replied, a lazy smirk tugging at his mouth. "A bruise like that takes weeks to heal. Lots of relaxation."
"Oh, sure," you laughed, shaking your head. "The bruise. Right."
Still smiling, you leaned over to switch off the lamp before settling back against his chest. His breathing rocked you gently while your fingers traced lazy patterns up and down his stomach. Trying to comfort him the same way he'd comforted you all evening. And somehow, wrapped up in the warmth of the biggest crush you'd ever had, you fell asleep faster than you had in years.
All because of one stupid, unexpected accident. Honestly, you couldn't bring yourself to complain about it.
i know this one came up terribly late, but im still dealing with some depressive aftermath. hope you enjoy it though, cause i kinda rewarded your waiting with a 13k second part hihi (yes it's a pattern that they never get to cum... if you noticed, no you haven't.)
㠀㠀â â â â â ă €â about.
a terrible date, on your evening off, ends you up at the emergency service in a bad state. the very same emergency service you work at. (wc: 5.550)
㠀㠀â â â â â ă €.á warnings.
soft angst. age difference (eleven years). flirting. blood. medical inaccuracies. canon medical procedures. car accident. quick reflexion about deceased wife. chubby reader.
All through dinner, he had been dismissing your job as a charge nurse. Like so many others before him, he thought you were too young and making it up just to impress himâhis exact words. You truly didn't know why you didn't leave after he had said that.
He did believe you were a nurse, sure, just too young for the responsibilities you were talking about. At thirty three, who was running an entire service? He has asked with disdain and mockery.
Truth be told, you were used to that kind of judgment. When you had been transferred to the emergency department, the nurses had given you sideways looks before they saw what you were capable of. Lena had trained you, explained how things worked, and made sure you understood exactly what you were getting yourself into. It had been a hell of a ride this past year, but you'd say you were doing well and so did your nurses and the doctors.
It was a hard, demanding, and stressful job, yet one you were thriving in.
Gulping down the last of the wine in your glass, you zoned out, no longer really registering what Jordan was even saying. He talked about his job endlessly, unbothered by whether you were listening at all. You took comfort in the fact that you had finished your dessert and were simply waiting for him to finish his.
The moment you'd get home, you'd call your best friend and tell her you never wanted to be set up with anyone ever again. You already knew what she would say: that you needed to get over the massive crush you had on your sort of boss.
The night shift attending. Doctor Jack Abbot.
In your defence, he had been the one to start the flirting. And he had gone in hard. He had been all over your work during your training, and on your first night as charge nurse, he hadn't restrained himself on the praising.
Usually, you weren't the type to be thrown off by a man's words, but Jack was different. It was hard to explain what had shifted between the two of you, since you had known him from your very first day at the hospitalâback when you were a surgery nurse. He would occasionally come up to the floor to check on a few patients, always warm and polite, a refreshing change compared to some of the surgeons.
When a charge nurse position opened up in the ER, you had applied and after a few interviews, you had gotten it. The step up was more than welcome, even if the role was more draining.
Once you had finally found your footing, built trust with your nurses, the doctors, the interns, and the studentsâyou had felt confident enough to flirt back.
And from that point, there had been no coming back. He was older, but you didn't care. What were eleven years, really, at your age? Nothing drastic, nothing that would stop either of you anyways.
Also, you couldn't help but think he looked far better now than when he was younger. You had once seen a photo from when he was first hired, and while he had been genuinely cute back then, the silver in his hair and the quiet confidence and dominance that came with age had made him something else entirely.
It had started with small compliments, scattered here and there. How good your new hair colour looked. How fresh your makeup was. How well you worked. How the place wouldn't survive without you. All of them unapologetic, said loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. You were no different. Every haircut earned a comment from you. You would bring him food when you could tell the night was going to be a long one. You praised what a good doctor he was, just as he praised what a good nurse you were.
It was a little much and at first the rest of the crew had felt awkward around itâas though they were always walking in on something. Eventually they learned to move around the charged atmosphere you two put out and stopped hesitating to interrupt when needed.
After a year on the night shift, neither of you had ever acted on any of it, both seeming to feel that doing so might ruin what you had. As if it was something sacred. That hadn't stopped you from developing serious feelings for the man, and you were almost certain they were returned.
But for one reason, you were afraid. You had noticed that Jack had stopped wearing his wedding ring somewhere between your promotion and now, and that had unsettled you deeply. You didn't want to replace herâhis late wifeâyou couldn't even if it was your greatest wish. It wasn't, you had too much respect for the deceased woman, it wasn't even a thought that had crossed your mind. However, you were terrified that was exactly what he was looking for in you.
It would be impossible to fill her shoesâto fill the hole she had left behind in Jack's heart. Even with all the love you could possibly have for him in a near future, you would never be her. And that was a terrifying thought: maybe he was simply looking for a replacement. Someone to fill the hole. A hole no one would ever be fit to fill.
That had been why you had accepted this awful date.
After splitting the bill, at his demand, you were now out on the street ready to part ways. He had driven you both here, but honestly, you couldn't stand the thought of spending another minute with this man. It wasn't that late and you lived close enough, you could and would walk.
As you pushed through the restaurant door, you felt a quiet frustration settledâyou had wasted a perfectly good dress on someone who hadn't even bothered to notice it. It clung to your curves beautifully, with a low neckline that deserved at least a glance at your breasts. It hugged your stomach too, but you had never made any effort to hide the fact that you were on the curvier side, and you weren't about to start now.
After exchanging a few polite words, both of you promising to textâeither of you knowing full well the both of you were lyingâyou set off toward your place, mildly annoyed that he hadn't even offered to drive you home. What a complete waste of an evening off.
Not three seconds later, you heard a loud crash behind you, unmistakably the sound of a car accident. You turned to find your date on the ground several feet from a stopped car, a large shard of windshield glass lodged in his shoulder.
"Oh, fuck," you breathed, and then you were running.
He was conscious, sitting up on his own, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Once you were satisfied he was alert, you rushed to the car. The driver was conscious too, yelling about how Jordan had come out of nowhere, his hands shoving uselessly at a jammed seatbelt.
People nearby had already called 911. All there was left to do was wait. As a nurse, walking away felt almost criminal, so you stayed. While bystanders gathered around the driver and worked to get him out of the car, you went back to Jordan.
You crouched in front of him, and for just a moment your eyes left hisâlong enough for something warm and wet to splash across you, followed by a sharp groan.
"I don't think I was supposed to do that," Jordan said, the glass shard now in his hand a look of shock splattered across his face.
Blood had poured from the wound straight into your cleavage before slowing to a trickle running down his chest. You pressed both hands hard against the wound without hesitation.
"No, you weren't." You kept your voice flat, falling on your knees on the concrete scratching them. He was about to pass outâyou could see it in the way he was staring at the glass in his hand. "Can someone get me a towel? Anything?" you called out to the crowd.
The response was immediate, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Seconds later you were pressing down on the wound with a clean towel while Jordan lay unconscious on the ground. It wasn't blood loss that had taken him under the wound was small, even if it had bled dramatically after he took of the piece of glass. It was the sight of his own blood.
You exhaled slowly and looked up just as ambulance lights swept down the street.
The paramedics assessed Jordan, applied pressure to the wound, and were now loading him into the ambulance. You stood there weighing whether to follow. You recognised the crew, and given where the restaurant was, you already knew they were heading to PTMC.
You looked down at your hands, still trying to decide and that was when you noticed it. Something was wrong. At some point between the accident and now, you had sliced your palm open. It wasn't serious, nothing you couldn't handle yourself, but your hands were covered in blood.
Blood that wasn't yours. Blood that could be infected.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," you muttered, then raised your voice to flag down the paramedics before they pulled away.
Walking into the ER was one of the most humiliating experiences of your life. Rationally, it wasn't that bad, you were staff, you walked in here almost everyday. But you were also covered in someone else's blood, and those two facts did not sit well with each other.
Your date had been taken straight through when they arrived, while you had deliberately hung back for a few minutes. It had seemed like the considerate thing to do at the time.
It was, after reflexion, possibly the worst decision you had made all evening. Because rather than looking like someone who had helped an injured man, you looked like a woman who had been assaulted.
The first person to spot you was Shen, who had been laughing with Ellis at the nurses' station. His laugh cut off the instant his eyes landed on you, replaced by a sharp intake of breath. Within seconds he was crossing the floor toward you at speed, already calling out for a wheelchair.
"No, no, I'm okay," you tried explaining as the entire ER seemed to converge on you at once. "It's not my blood, I'm fine."
But it was too late. You were gently lowered into a wheelchair while Lena rushed you into a free room, and everything you said was brushed asideâthey had likely decided you were in shock and weren't taking any chances.
Lena was already calling for Abbot while hands came at you from every direction. Someone was listening to your heart and lungs, someone else was pressing along your ribs asking if it hurt here or there, nurses were checking your vitals from both sides.
It was the arrival of Abbot that finally pushed you over the edge. He came through the door looking as though someone had told him you were dead. The room felt like it was closing in: the nurses crowding around you, Lena directing everyone with sharp precision, all those hands on your body. It was too much.
You stood up quickly and backed yourself toward the far wall, away from all of it. You'd give them that much, you must have looked unhinged in that moment with palms raised in front of you like a barrier, your breathing starting to climb.
"Enough," you said, chest heaving. "I'm not hurt. This isn't my blood. I was with the man from the car accident who just came in, Jordan."
Every doctor and nurse in the room looked to the charge nurse on duty. Lena gave a short nod, confirming that a Jordan had indeed just been brought in.
"The idiot pulled a piece of glass out of his own shoulder and the blood went everywhere, all over me." You kept going, your breathing steadying now that nobody was staring at you like you were about to collapse. "I would have gone straight home if it weren't for the fact that I cut my hand and his blood is all over the wound." You looked around the room. "I just need a blood test."
That was when your eyes found Abbot's. He hadn't said a word yetâstill standing at the entrance, arms folded across his chest. He looked almost composed, except for his eyes, which were moving over you carefully, methodically, searching for anything anyone might have missed.
"Okay, everyone back to work," he said at last, apparently satisfied you weren't in need of urgent care. When no one moved, you rolled your eyes before his voice boomed again. "Come on, Nightcrawlers. You're needed elsewhere."
That did it. The room cleared, leaving only you, Abbot, and Lena. Almost at the same time, as though they had rehearsed it, both of them tilted their heads toward the bed.
You let out a small laugh and shook your head, but you moved toward it all the same. Once you were sitting, Lena slipped the pulse oximeter back onto your finger and studied your face with quiet intensity.
"I'll be right back for the blood test," she said, her voice soft in a way that told you she was still being careful with you.
Technically, blood tests weren't part of a charge nurse's duties, but you weren't going to say a word. If she wanted to do it herself, you would let her.
It must have been genuinely frightening, seeing a colleague walk through those doors covered in blood. It was only now beginning to register that you could have gone home first to cleaned up and change before coming in.
"Well, that was something," you said lightly, glancing over at Jack, who still hadn't moved from the doorway.
The look on his face told you he did not find the situation even remotely amusing. His expression was hard enough that you felt your gaze drop, your fingers starting to fidget in your lap, until a sharp bolt of pain shot through your hand and up to your elbow.
Abbot was in front of you within seconds. He reached for your hand, then caught himselfâalmost as if he had reached out for your on instinctâ and turned to pull a pair of gloves from the dispenser on the wall before taking your hand carefully in both of his and lowering himself onto the rolling stool.
"This is pretty deep," he said, eyes on the wound.
"No, it isn't," you scoffed.
You were a nurse. You knew how to assess an injury, and this was a cut you could have handled at home with what you had in your bathroom cabinet.
You laid back against the bed as he glanced up at you with that look again, and made yourself comfortable while Abbot reached for the saline. He opened his mouth, something sarcastic clearly on its way, but Lena reappeared in the doorway before he got the chance.
It took only a few minutes for Lena to run through her checks and let you know they had drawn blood from Jordan as well and were still waiting on his results. You gave her a thumb up and thanked her warmly while Jack continued rinsing your hand with saline.
He swivelled on his stool and rolled toward the supply drawers. "Have a look for yourself, genius. Not deep, my ass."
You pushed yourself up slightly and looked down at your now clean palm and, well, fuck. It was deeper than you had thought. Considerably so. How had you even managed that? You had felt the concrete scrape your knees, but how had you not noticed your entire palm getting sliced open?
"Shit," you said, and let your head fall back against the bed. "I need stitches."
"Yep," was all he offered in return.
What was supposed to be a quick stop at the ER had turned into you becoming a patient. You were on the other side of things entirely but apparently you were getting the full VIP treatment, because Abbot had already turned back around with a suture kit in hand.
"You can call one of the nurses. I know you have more important things to do," you said, watching him lay everything out.
Without even looking up at you, still focused on getting everything the way it was supposed to, Abbot shocked his head.
"Nuh uh," he let out, followed by an almost whispered, "I can take care of you."
The words, the cadence, the casual dominance, the way his voice dropped lower than usualâit sent a shiver straight down your spine and ran straight between your legs. It took everything you had not to press your thighs together.
You knew he would notice, as Jack noticed everything.
You opened your mouth to argue. His eyes met yours with a look that left not room for complains. That happened so often with Jack, the way he could hold a room without even trying. That effortless, unassuming authority he carried without ever seeming to reach for it.
"Shen has the floor covered," he said simply, leaving no room for further debate.
Once he had numbed your hand, he got to work. The silence that followed was uncomfortable in a way that surprised you, the two of you weren't used to quiet moment. There was always something easy and warm between you, something a little flirty and a little playful. The absence of it was starting to press on you.
"That's one pretty dress," Jack said, breaking it, almost as though he had sensed the shift.
"It's completely ruined," you said, glancing down at the dried blood stiffening the fabric. "And it didn't even get me a single compliment all night." The words were out before you had quite decided to say them.
"Really?" It wasn't quite a question, you could hear it in his tone while his eyes stayed on his sutures.
"Really," you confirmed, thinking back to the vaguely disgusted look Jordan had given it. "He split the bill too." You kept going, unable to stop yourself now that you had started. "And didn't offer to drive me home."
That made him look up.
"He let you walk home alone at night?" he asked, making sure he had understood correctly.
"Well, I would have said no anyways, I really didn't want to spend another minute with him⊠but the fact that he didn't even offer. That's a red flag if I've ever seen one." You laughed, and then the laugh faded the moment you caught his expression.
His jaw was set, his eyes hard and anger lingering behind them. Not at you but at the man who had let a woman walk home alone in the dark. You could practically watch the what-ifs moving behind his eyes.
"Karma got him in the end, though. I mean, he got hit by a car," you tried joking, reaching for even just a small twist of his lips.
The joke didn't land. He went back to suturing in silence, brow furrowed in concentration. Then, a few minutes later, without looking up.
"For what it's worth, you make the dress even prettier." His voice was barely above a whisper.
You laughed awkwardly, the way you always did when you didn't know how to receive a compliment, especially one about your body. "Well, enjoy it while you can. It's going straight in the bin when I get home."
"A shame," Jack said simply, and you knew he meant it.
You could feel the warmth spreading up your neck and into your cheeks, and you couldn't quite make yourself look away from him.
The ease of it, the way he could flirt so quietly and so naturally while stitching your hand, as if the two things required the same level of calm made him more attractive than you knew what to do with. You had a feeling this was a point of no return.
The thought dissolved when Lena reappeared in the doorway, a wide smile already on her face and a sheets of papers in her hand. You knew she had pulled a few strings to get the results flagged as a priority, and you were grateful for itâyou needed the peace of mind.
"He's clean," she said, her smile widening. "You'll still need a round of antibiotics, but there's nothing to worry about."
You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly. It would have been a devastating thing, picking up an infection from a man you hadn't even wanted to have dinner with. When you opened your eyes, Jack was already gesturing for Lena to bring the results over. You watched some of the tension leave his face as he read through them.
Did he realise how expressive he was? At least with you.
"Thank you, Lena," you said warmly as she gave you a quiet wink and slipped back out of the room.
Soon enough, the sutures were done. Strangely, despite being someone who lived nocturnally even on your days offâdeliberately, so as not to lose your rhythmâyou were starting to feel the pull of exhaustion.
When Jack rolled away to dispose of everything, you wiggled your fingers experimentally, trying to gauge how much anaesthesia was left. Sensation was slowly creeping back, and the absence of feeling in your palm was really weird in that particular way that made you want to keep testing it.
"Stop that," Jack said, his back still to you, before turning around with bandages, antiseptic, and compresses.
"I can't feel anything," you said, not entirely sure whether he was telling you off to protect his work or protect your hand.
"I don't care. Don't ruin my good work." He looked at you as he said it, a faint edge of amusement in his expression.
"Oh, right, of course. My sincerest apologies, Doctor Abbot." You rolled your eyes and dropped your good forearm over your face.
All you wanted now was to go home and sleep. With an injury like thisâeven though you would have argued you were perfectly capable of workingâyou already knew Abbot would sign you off for at least a week, or until the stitches came out. There was no getting around it.
Once the bandage was secured, you moved to sit up, and a warm, heavy hand pressed gently but firmly on your shoulder and guided you back down. You frowned and tried again. The hand pressed once more.
"Don't move," Abbot said, clicking his tongue, his expression leaving no room for negotiation.
He shifted down the side of the bed and lifted the hem of your dress slightly without saying a word before reaching for the antiseptic. Of course, he had noticed your had scratched your knees. Abbot noticed everything.
"You don't have to do that," you said, keeping your voice gentle.
It was something you could easily take care of at home. You didn't need to take up any more of his time, knowing how wild the night shift could get. When you made another attempt to sit up, the same hand came to rest on your knee unhurried, measured and still so freaking warm. His eyes found yours, one eyebrow raised in a question that needed no words.
You tilted your head and felt a flicker of genuine irritation. "I'm a nurse. I can manage a few scraped knees myself."
He said nothing at first. He simply reached for a sealed compress and tore it open then paused, and looked up at you with a slow, knowing smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing. You hated wasting supplies and he was well aware of it.
"Oops," he said simply, and picked up the antiseptic.
It took everything you had not to say something about how annoying he was. You swallowed it and let him work in silence, watching. His movements were gentle and precise, carefully cleaning a wound that could have been sorted out under a shower at home.
His fingers were light against your skin, one hand cradling your knee while the other pressed the compress softly against the bruising. It was such an unexpectedly tender thing that it was making you feel warm and strange and a little undone. The way he was hunched over you, his posture terrible, as though his back wasn't going to punish him for it the moment he stood up straight.
"Your back, Abbot," you said, in a tone that came out far more like a scolding wife than you had intended.
The only answer you got was a knowing smirk as he moved on to the second knee. His fingers were warm, and you noticedânot for the first time, honestlyâthat they were the right size. Not large exactly, just... proportioned perfectly. It was a strange thing to be fixated on, but you had been quietly obsessed with his hands for months, and feeling them on your skin for the first time was doing something to your brain. Rewiring it, almost.
"All done," he said, pulling you back. "You can get up, now."
Feeling inexplicably guilty, as though you had been caught thinking something you shouldn't, you sat up too fast and felt the blood rush immediately. You lost your balance and missed the edge of the bed on your way down but Jack's military reflexes were faster. Both hands closed around your forearms and set you upright before you had any real chance of hitting the floor.
"Easy, tiger," he said, still watching your face with eyes that were a touch more worried than the joke suggested.
You laughed it off and stood again, slower this time, giving him a thumb up before grabbing your bag from the bed and following Abbot toward the nurses' station. After reassuring your colleagues that you were absolutely fine, despite knowing you looked anything but, you turned to Lena.
"What are the chances Abbot doesn't put me on medical leave?" you asked, watching him chart you from across the room. It wasn't a complicated entry given the nature of the injury, but it also meant he was prescribing medication, and very likely signing the paperwork you were dreading.
"Absolutely none," Lena replied without looking up from her own screen.
"I could work," you started, but the look Lena levelled at you over her monitor stopped the sentence dead. "How will you manage?" you asked instead, guilt settling in your chest.
"Don't worry about me," the older woman said, her smile warm enough to be annoying about it. She stood and pulled you into a hug. "I know you have a habit of worrying about the elderly," she murmured, "but I'm not quite there yet."
"Lena," you gasped, pulling back with mock horror.
You glanced around quickly to check whether anyone had caught that. Satisfied that the rest of the night shift seemed to be occupied occupied, you shook your head slowly. Ready to scold her, you were stopped by a masculine presence.
"Here." Jack's voice cut through as he appeared beside you, pressing a folded set of papers into your good hand.
"You know, I couldâ" you started, glancing down at the medical leave form.
"No." He cut you off immediately, steering you toward the ambulance bay with one hand settled at the small of your back.
He didn't even give you time to properly say goodbye to Lena. You threw her an apologetic look over your shoulder. Her smile only widened and she was soon joined by Shen and Mateo, wearing the exact same knowing smirk.
Jack's hand sat across the small of your back as though it had always belonged thereâand again, it was just so warm. He wasn't pushing, exactly. It was more like being gently herded, a steady and certain pressure guiding you precisely where he had decided you were going: home.
Once outside, you drew breath to say goodnight and finally make your escape taking a small stop away from him. Looking at Jack, you were met with something unfamiliar. It was rare for this man to check on his phone and yet here he was.
His phone was in his handâthe hand with no wedding ring anymoreâhe appeared to be thinking. He frowned faintly, then looked up at you, his expression easing just slightly.
"What's your address again? I looked it up in your chart but I forgot," he said, almost to himself, his thumb already moving across the screen.
You caught a glimpse of the Uber app open in front of him. Widening your eyes, you shook your head, this wasn't happening.
"No. Nope. Absolutely not." You shook your head. "Goodnight, Abbot."
You should have known better. Of course Jack Abbot wasn't going to stand there and watch you walk away at nearly midnight. For what felt like the tenth time that night, he reached for you. His fingers wrapped around your wristânot tight, always gentle, always warmâholding you back. He had been deliberate about it too, catching your uninjured arm.
"If you think," he began, his eyes steady on yours, "that I'm going to do what that terrible date of yours did and let you walk home alone, think again. You're either getting in that Uber or you're sitting here until my shift ends."
In his eyes, you could see it was pointless to argue. You clicked your tongue, closed your eyes, and let out a long breath. When you opened them, you gave a single nod, eyebrows raised.
"Put that I'm paying in cash," you said. Not a request.
He didn't even glance up. He simply scoffed, as though you had said something mildly entertaining.
"I'm not joking," you replied, a little sharper than you had intended but the exhaustion was beginning to win.
"She's three minutes away, out front," Jack said, unbothered, already looking back at his phone. "Text me when you're home. Come back in a week for the stitches."
And then he was gone, back through the doors without a goodbye, without giving you a chance to get another word in.
You stood there for a moment, weighing your options. With him inside and unable to see you, you could absolutely just walk home and let him deal with a one-star rating from you skipping the ride home. Your ego was genuinely putting up a fight.
But something about the way he had looked at you before disappearing inside made it difficult to do anything other than what he had asked. Almost as if he had anticipated the internal debate, your phone buzzed: a screenshot from Jack, the car model and licence plate from the Uber app.
Less than fifteen minutes later, you were home. When you had tried to pay the driver, the woman smiled and told you it had already been taken care of through the app. You exhaled slowly, thanked her, and got out of the car. At least she was honest enough.
Right after locking your front door behind you, you went straight to the bathroom, desperate to get out of the bloody dress you've been in for hours now. It was almost starting to itch from how uncomfortable you felt in it. Before stepping into the shower, you fired off two quick texts to Jack.
how much do i owe you fucker?
im home btw
It was late, you were tired, and you were annoyed with him, the insult had slipped out on its own. Besides, technically you were equals hierarchically speaking. He simply had an extra qualification to his name. And you knew he wasn't the sort of person to get offended over such a trivial thingâeven more when he had been the one pushing your patience.
You took your time in the shower, washing slowly and thoroughly. You had already washed your hair before the date, but it felt necessary to do it againâlike washing the entire evening off. You were careful around the stitched hand, working methodically around it.
Hair dried, skincare done, body moisturised, new bandage onâyou were finally ready for bed. It was half past one in the morning, and if there was one good thing about the medical leave, it was that you could sleep in without feeling any sort of guilt.
You didn't check your phone. You simply plugged it in on the nightstand, turned off the light, and settled into bed. Despite everything, despite the irritation still slithering quietly under the surface, all your mind kept returning to as your eyes closed was the feeling of his hands on you.
How warm they were. How careful. How certain. How capable.
You were seconds from sleep when your phone buzzed. Once. Short and deliberate. You reached for it blindly, hand patting across the nightstand until your fingers closed around it. You tilted the screen toward you. Two words.
Two words that sent warmth pooling straight to places it had no business going at one-thirty in the morning.
㠀㠀â â â â â ă €â about.
you and jack have a tendencies of flirting, quite a lot. all the night shift has gotten used to it at this point, they are just waiting the both of you to get things over with.
㠀㠀â â â â â ă €.á warnings.
soft angst. eventual smut. flirting. blood. medical inaccuracies. canon medical procedures. canon gore details. car accidents. insecurities. chubby reader.
㠀㠀â â â â â 㠀ᯠmain masterlist.
a diptych ËËË
㠀㠀â â â â â 㠀ᯠthe terrible date
a terrible date, on your evening off, ends you up at the emergency service in a bad state. the very same emergency service you work at. (wc: ?) coming soon .á
⊠â àŁȘ. about: having a big fat crush on your attending wasn't the best thing, but how could you not when he looked that good?
⊠â àŁȘ. warnings : silly fluff. pining. age difference (unspecified). yearning. reader is down bad. chubby and senior resident reader.
⊠â àŁȘ. words : 3.4k
㠀㠀â â â â â ă €đ main masterlist
â ao3
The night was still young, and for a night shift at PTMC, it was oddly calm. Of course, you wouldn't say that out loudâyou'd risk Parker's anger for jinxing itâbut still, it was a quiet night.
So quiet, in fact, that you had time to catch up on charting, nearly finishing all your patients at barely 2 a.m. Beside you, Crus was doing the same, occasionally pouring a Monster into two cups.
It was always comforting to work with Crus. Your friendship went way back to medical school. Somehow, you'd managed to do all your rotations togetherâit had felt like a miracle at the time. Every time you switched services, Henderson seemed to follow. Over the years, he'd become your rock through the hardships of being a student, then an intern and now, both of you were senior residents.
Of course, it couldn't last forever. Specialisation was creeping closer. You were still torn between pediatrics, orthopedics, and emergency medicine. You'd probably apply to all three, you had a strong record and you were confident you could get recommendation letters from Abbot and Walshâmaybe even Park, if you caught him on a good dayâbut the uncertainty of what came next was unsettling.
Shaking your head, you took a deep breath and went back to typing, finishing your charting for now.
Stretching, you let out a small groan as your back popped. "God, I love nights like these."
"Don't say it," Crus said with a sideways smile, glancing at Ellis by the nurses' station. "That won't go down well."
"Don't tell me you believe that now." You nudged him lightly with your elbow before standing. "I love when it's calm."
Immediately, Ellis' eyes were throwing daggers at you. The next second, the red phone at the nurses' station rang.
The three of you looked at it like it was a bomb. Your eyes widened as you turned to Lena with the phone to her ear. When she didn't say anything and just kept listening, you winced, already bracing for the consequences.
"I told you this phone was for emergencies only!" The charge nurse snapped before slamming it down.
Before anyone could ask, she shook her head, grabbed an iPad, and hurried off.
"See? All good. You guys need to relax," you joked, flashing Ellis a wide smile.
"You and Shen are going to be the death of me, I swear," she said, though there was no real anger in her voice as she went to check something.
Turning back, you raised both hands at Crus, which made him laugh before he returned to his work. Without another word, you grabbed a cigarette from your bag by the nurses' station, picked up your energy drink, and stepped outside for a few minutes.
The night was warm, the soft weight of summer settling in as June drew to a close. You looked up, exhaling smoke toward a bright, full moon. Laughing softly, you thought of all your friends and family who had warned you you'd regret taking night shiftsâbut you had never felt this peaceful in your life.
You stood there for a good four or five minutes, quietly enjoying the smoke and the silence, before Vivi came running out from inside.
"Multiple casualties, six drunk frat guys jumped off a roof into a pool. None of them made it to the water," she said breathlessly, already turning back.
Fuck. You did jinx it.
Finishing your Monster like a shot of vodka, you spun on your heel and rushed back inside. Just as expected, all the interns and residents were gathered in front of the nurses' station, Abbot waitingâapparently for youâbefore starting.
It was hard to focus on what he was saying when he was leaning over the desk like that. Both hands planted firmly, veins standing out along his forearms like they had something to prove. Every so often, his biceps flexed, making them look even bigger.
Even if you tried, you couldn't look away. All you could think about was what it would feel like to trace those veins up his arm and to feel them around your neckâWhat the fuck?
No. Absolutely not. You were going too far. Sure, Abbot was easily one of the hottest men you'd ever metâprobably the hottest doctorâbut he was also your attending. A very hot, very strong attending, but that was beside the point.
If you were being honest, it wasn't just his looks. It was the way he workedâcalm, controlled, never letting chaos take over. He taught while treating the patients, guided without hovering. He could be tough, but he gave praise just as easily, and when he did, it actually meant something. He never had to raise his voice to be heard.
That might have been even more attractive than his looks. Well⊠maybe not. But it was close.
What had started as a small crush back when you were an intern on his team had, apparently, grown into something much worse.
Still following the lines of his veins, you felt an elbow nudge your side. You blinked, looking upâonly to realize everyone was staring at you. Including Abbot.
"HuhâŠyeah, sure!" you blurted, having absolutely no idea what you were agreeing to.
Next to you, Shen and Crus were quietly losing it. Heat crept up your neck and into your cheeks as the room stayed focused on you for a beat too long. When your gaze flicked back to Abbot, just for a second, you caught the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Glad to see you're so enthusiastic," he said dryly, straightening up and crossing his arms. His eyes flicked over you, sharp but not unkind. "But next time, try listening before you agree to anything."
Then, just as quickly, his tone shiftedâstill calm, but firmer. "Focus. We've got five incoming with potential multiple trauma. I need you in the game, not in your head. Understood?"
His gaze held yours for a second longer than necessary before he gave a short nod that you reciprocate, before moving on. "Good. Let's move Nightcrawlers."
"You ain't being slick," Crus whispered as he passed by, already getting ready for the incoming rush. "You're with Abbot, by the way."
You gave him a tight smile and a thumbs-up before heading for a gown and gloves. Apparently, Abbot had already briefed the team: one of the six young men had died at the scene, two were in critical condition, and the remaining three were stable but still needed intervention.
Ten minutes later, you were doing chest compressions on a man in Trauma One while the team tried to figure out what had pushed him into cardiac arrest. Vivi was placing defibrillator pads on his chest while Toomarian ran an ultrasound over his heart.
"Charged!" Vivi called, glancing at Abbot for the next step.
Instead of answering, he simply said your nameâwaiting for your call.
Without stopping compressions, you glanced at the ultrasound. Everything looked normal. Nothing that would contraindicate a shock.
"Clear," you said, lifting your hands briefly before nodding to Vivi.
The shock worked on the first try. His heart kicked back in, and you let out a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding, the same one you always held when someone was crashing.
Passing just behind youâcloser than necessaryâAbbot stepped in, penlight in hand, checking the patient's pupils. For a split second, your eyes flicked to the veins along his forearm and hands right beside you before you forced your focus back to the monitor.
"Doctors?" a voice called from the computer station.
Both of you moved at the same time, but Abbot was fasterâas usual, running on pure adrenalineâand he walked straight into you. Instinctively, his hands landed on your stomach and lower back, steadying you for a brief moment before pulling away just as quickly.
"Sorry," he said, already stepping past you.
It took you a second longer to recover. The imprint of his hands lingeredâsolid, grounding. It was a strange feeling, being someone on the chubbier side, to have someone else feel bigger, broader. And his hands had been so warm as well.
Shaking it off, you joined him at the computer. One look at his expression, and you already knew.
Positive for fentanyl.
That explained it, the arrest made far more sense now, given his injuries were mostly fractures and some internal bleeding.
"Prepare naloxone," you said, exhaling as you stepped out of the trauma room, catching Nazely's eyes. "You good here? Looks like Toomarian needs me."
"All good," Abbot replied, already turning back to the patient. Then, almost as an afterthought. "You did good."
It was the last thing you heard before you pulled off your gloves and gown, dropping them into the bin on your way out.
The rest of the night blurred into controlled chaos. You had to admit it, you'd definitely jinxed it. After the frat boysâwho, thankfully, all made it out alive except the one. that didn't make it to the hospitalâmore intoxicated patients kept rolling in by ambulance and then two little children came with a heavy case of chicken pox along with a car crash.
Hours later, you were slumped back at a desk, finishing your charting. The shift was almost over, and you couldn't wait to see the day crew stumbled in. Mateo was talking your ear off about cases he'd had ages ago that still didn't make sense, but all you could focus on was Abbot.
He was standing near Lena, listening to her. The thing was, he was standing in a way that made him unfairly attractiveâhands clasped behind his back, leaning slightly toward the head nurse. The freckles along his skin were mesmerizing, almost hypnotic. In your head you'd imagine yourself running your fingers along them, like tracing a constellation.
"Oh my God," you whispered, tearing your eyes back to the screen.
"I know, right? Crazy, I'm telling you!" Mateo exclaimed beside you, completely oblivious to you ogling your attending.
"Yeah!" you replied, playing along despite having no idea what he was talking about. As if on cue, Lena called Mateo away, leaving you alone again.
Throwing your head back, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. It had been so long since you'd had a dateâlonger still since you'd gotten laid and felt the heat of another body against yoursâthat it was starting to drive you a little crazy. And of course, your attending had to be the main characters of your little dreams.
Your hot as hell attending.
"Everything good, Nightcrawler?" The voiceâhis voiceâwas suddenly very close. Above you, actually.
You opened your eyes, head still tipped back, and found Abbot looking down at you with a faint, teasing glint in his eyes. Without meaning to, your thighs clenched together and you prayed it hadn't been obvious. This was going be a standing ovation later on in your head, this very moment.
You straightened quickly, turning your chair to face him.
"Yep," you said, a little too awkwardly, giving a thumbs-up like a cringy teenager.
Just as awkwardly but with far more natural charm, he returned the gesture before walking away. Your eyes betrayed you, drifting to his lower back⊠and just a bit lower, before you forced yourself to refocus on your screen.
At the desk beside you, Crus was now watching you with his face in his hand and the widest, most mocking grin imaginable. It was mortifying but you could only blame yourself. And vodka. One night, one too many drinks, and you'd confessed your ridiculous little crush.
"SoâŠ" he began.
"Nope," you deadpanned, shooting him a side-eye while you kept typing. You caught him opening his mouth again in your peripheral vision. "No. Don't."
"I wasn't going to say anything," he pouted, not sounding hurt at all, before returning to his own charting.
The next twenty minutes passed quietly, aside from greeting a few members of the day shift. Rounds would be called soon, but a few people were still missing. You were done with your notes and more than ready to go home.
Still in the same chair, you crossed your arms and closed your eyes, which were starting to burn. When you opened them again, Robinavitch was standing right in front of you with Abbot a bit further by the nurses' desk. They were talking about something, and you couldn't help but notice a resemblance.
"Hey," you called, not taking your eyes off them. When you heard a small hum from Henderson, you continued, "Don't you think he looks like a meerkat?"
"What?" Crus chuckled, glancing in the same direction.
The resemblance was there. The posture, the natural pout, the watchful eyes scanning everything, the slightly lifted chin. Jack Abbot looked like a fucking meerkat.
"You don't see it?" you asked, flicking a glance at him before looking back.
"Okay⊠yeah, I kind of do now," Crus admitted, a grin spreading across his face as he pulled up a picture of a meerkat on his phone.
The two of you must have looked unhinged, staring at Jack Abbot from across the room like that. Eventually, he seemed to feel it, turning toward his senior residentsâneither of you looking away. Almost reflexively, he straightened, his chin lifting slightly in silent question.
"See!" you blurted, a little too loudly, snapping your gaze back to Crus and the picture. "I told you."
"Didn't know you were into that," Crus teased before turning back to his screen.
"Iâwhat? NoâŠ" you started to defend yourself, but before you could say anything else, day shift rounds were called.
As usual, most of your patients were scooped up by McKay or Mohan before they finally relieved you. Like every morning, you told McKay not to kill your patient, and like every morning, she shot back that she'd keep them alive so you could do it yourself the next night.
God, you loved Cassie.
Stepping outside, you felt the sun on your face for the first time in twelve hours. You stretched your arms high above your head, watching your coworkers drift off in different directions. After putting out your cigarette, you started toward the street, already thinking about a well-earned coffee before heading home to shower and crash.
"What was that about earlier?" The voice came from right beside you, matching your pace.
"Hm?" You frowned, trying to place it, then it hit you. "Fuck."
"That bad, huh?" he said lightly, clearly guessing it wasn't that bad, or you and Crus would've been subtler.
"It's just thatâŠ" You sighed, turning your head toward him and immediately regretting it.
He had one hand hooked around his backpack strap, the arm closest to you flexing just enough to make his bicep stand out distractingly. He'd changed out of his scrubs into a fitted black T-shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the muscle. Damn. That man had no business looking that good.
"You kind of look like⊠huh. Like a meerkat," you finally managed, lifting your eyes to his with a straight face.
"A meerkat?" he repeated, like he wasn't sure he'd heard you correctly.
"A meerkat," you confirmed with a small nod.
For a few seconds, you walked in silence. With every passing moment, your eyes widened a little more. You were about to apologiseâwhether for overstepping, or insulting him, or whatever line you'd just crossedâjust because the silence was starting to get unbearable. Then, after another step or two, the corner of his mouth twitched, just barely.
"Meerkat," he muttered under his breath, like he still wasn't entirely convinced. "Never got that one."
Not really knowing what to say, you just smiled widely, forcing your hands and your thumbs to stay down. The fact that he didn't add anything else made you nervous, which of course made you awkward. So awkward, in fact, that when you walked past your usual coffee shop, you didn't even stopâyou just kept going.
A few steps later, you froze.
Abbot had stopped too, raising an eyebrow as he glanced back at you.
"This was me, actually," you admitted, turning around with the same awkward smile you'd been wearing since the start of the walk. "You want one? I can get you one." You pointed toward what you firmly believed was the best coffee shop in all of Pittsburgh.
He just nodded and followed you inside.
It was your spot, the place you came to almost every morning. The sweet woman behind the counter knew your order by heartâand knew you always came alone. So when she saw you walk in with someone, a man, her eyes widened along with her smile.
"Oh!" she let out, almost squeaking. "The usual?"
You nodded eagerly before both of you turned toward Abbot. His gaze flicked up to the menu behind the barista before he spoke.
"I'll have an Americano, please." His voice was soft, his expression relaxed, and you knew you were going to end up daydreaming about this stupidly domestic moment later.
This was not helping your crush. At all.
Before you could even process what was happening, Jack had already stepped forward and paid. No hesitation, no glance at you, no question about splitting it. He just⊠did.
"Hey, I was supposed to pay for that," you protested, stepping closer like it might somehow undo it.
He didn't answer just gave you a small, knowing smirk.
"Youâ" You cut yourself off before you could accidentally insult your boss.
Still determined, you pulled a twenty out of your wallet but a warm hand stopped you.
"Don't," he said simply, his hand still resting over yours.
"Butâ" you wanted to argue.
"Don't. The tone was final. No room for argument.
And, annoyingly, that only made him hotter.
When he finally let go, you could feel the barista's knowing look on both of you. You already knew tomorrow morning would come with a side of gossip. To her credit, though, she worked quicklyâprobably out of professional habit dealing with hospital staff.
"If I'd known, I wouldn't have picked the most expensive drink and a cookie," you muttered, pouting a little, worried he might think you were taking advantage.
"Didn't want to abuse the elderly?" he shot back, eyes dropping briefly to your pout.
"You're not that old," you said, rolling your eyes as you looked at him.
"Older than you," he replied.
"No shit, Sherlock," you deadpanned, then because apparently you had no self-preservation instincts, added, "But you're not, like⊠ugly old."
Why did you say that? You had no idea. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe the months of quiet pining. Maybe the fact that he was finally paying attention to you. Or maybe you just had no filter left.
Either way, his only reaction was a slow-growing smirk. No comment. Which somehow made it worse.
Once outside, you knew it was time to part ways, your apartment was actually closer to the hospital, before the coffee shop. You took a sip of your vanilla latteâeasily the best in the cityâthen looked up at him. It lasted all of two seconds before it felt like too much, and your gaze dropped to your feet.
"So⊠I'm this way," you said, pointing back the way you'd come.
"Alright." He nodded, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "See you tonight, champ."
He gave you a small smile, barely there.
You waved, turning away, already thinking about your balcony, your coffee, your cookie, and replaying this entire interaction on a loop in your head, like a lovey dovey pining girl.
"You're not young ugly either."
You froze for half a secondâthen kept walking, your body choosing flight over function. Your eyes went wide as you started giggling to yourself like a teenager.
It really didn't help that when you showed up at the hospital that night, a vanilla latte was waiting for youâcomplete with a poorly drawn smiley face on the lid.
⊠â àŁȘ. about: ryomen and you had lived a very beautiful love story for about three years before it all went down, but the meeting itself? it was surely the antipode of romantic.
⊠â àŁȘ. warnings : suggestive thoughts. yearning. mention of beating someone up. chubby and horny reader.
(no sorcerers!au)
⊠â àŁȘ. words : 2.4k
㠀㠀â â â â â ă €đ series masterlist
â main masterlist & ao3
It was a nightmare. A real, true, and horrible nightmare.
You shouldn't even be hereâit wasn't your fault, what happened. However, since your friends were the worst people on earth, you were now the only one getting locked up for the night. Of course. You.
It was awful. None of them would come to bail you out since, well, the cops were probably looking for them too, and you had absolutely no one else to call. Bail wasn't even that expensiveâyou were just meant to stay the night until you sobered upâbut you didn't really want to spend the night in a jail cell filled with strangers. Hopefully one of their boyfriend's would come to the police station, you'd be so grateful.
The crime? The reason you were now locked up in a room with bright lights, shoes flopping loose from missing laces, was absolutely ridiculous.
Disorderly conduct.
All from a stupid idea that wasn't even yours. One of your friends' boyfriends had cheated on her, and she'd just found out. The night was only supposed to be a fun one, ranting about what a terrible, idiotic person he was while drinking litres of sex on the beach.
But then Layla had the absolutely insane idea that you should all go to his house and throw eggs and whatever else you could find. You had been more than reluctant about the whole thing, but hey, you weren't about to be the party pooper, right? So you went along.
Of course, at almost 2 a.m., even if the ex wouldn't have called the cops, one of his neighbours would haveâyou were all screaming, laughing, and calling him a cunt very loudly. And when the police showed up? Well, let's just say you didn't have the best reflexes and weren't exactly the fastest runner.
Sighing loudly, you dropped your forehead against the cold plexiglass window of the locked door. This was the worst thing. Ever.
Turning around, you scanned the room, trying to figure out which spot would be best to claim for the rest of the night. This place was your literal nightmare: the room was full of men. Gulping, you cringed when you noticed they were all looking at you.
All but one.
He was clearly the tallest, and definitely the broadest. His arms were crossed over his chest, biceps straining against his shirt sleeves, thighs thick and spread slightly apart. His eyes were closed, head resting back against the wall. His face looked calm and unbothered, a line of black ink tattooed across the bridge of his nose.
He had a big nose. A perfectly crooked oneâexactly the kind you had always found particularly beautiful and attractive. His hair was artfully dishevelled and dyed a light pink, which felt a little unexpected on a man with his... build.
As you walked slowly toward him while doing your best to ignore everyone else in the room, you came to the conclusion that this man, whoever he was, was probably the most attractive person you had ever come across in your entire life.
Even better, he wasn't sitting in the middle of the bench, leaving plenty of room at the end so that he would be your only neighbour. It was perfect.
Once you sat down at the far edge, the eye on your side opened slightly, looking at you as though you were bothering him. In his barely-open eyes you caught a flicker of surprise at seeing a womanâfollowed by one raised, pierced eyebrow.
He gave you a single look up and down, then closed his eyes again.
For some reason, his gaze had unsettled you. You tugged your skirt down as far as it would go without showing half your ass, then did the same with your t-shirt, pulling it over the soft curve of your stomach.
For a good thirty minutes, you succeeded in entertaining yourself in your own head, trying not to feel the ugly looks all the men were sending you, even more so when a few more arrived. The only solution you'd found was to avoid their eyes and fidget with your fingers and rings.
Without noticing, one of your legs had started bouncing up and down from stress, anxiety and exhaustion.
"Can you not?" A deep voice came from beside you.
Turning your head toward the sound, it was the man right next to you. His eyes were a strange dark brown, almost reddishâa colour you had never seen before. His skin was smooth and flawless, scattered here and there with perfect freckles and beauty spots. He truly was handsome.
His head wasn't completely turned toward you, and the angle gave you a close look at just how perfect his nose was. With his sort of alternative vibe, he really should get it pierced. To accessorise it.
"You have a very beautiful nose," you told him, the alcohol in your blood serving as liquid courage.
He raised his brow and turned his head fully toward you, a smirk playing on his lips. You hadn't really noticed them at first, but god, they were perfect too. Not too thin, perfectly symmetrical, with a cupid's bow that was to die for. How unfair.
"Yeah?" he teased, but you were too far gone to catch the tone.
"The most handsome one I've ever seen," you nodded enthusiastically. "You should get it pierced."
For a moment he looked straight into your eyes, then closed them again with a soft scoff. His laugh was hot as well. How could a laugh be hot, you wondered, but it didn't really matter.
Was this what love at first sight felt like?
Wait. You were still in jail. That sobering thought crossed your mind as you remembered where you were and where that very hot guy was, for that matter. Without stopping to consider that it might be slightly dangerous or offensive, your mouth moved before your brain could catch up.
"What are you in here for?" Your voice was a little higher than normal, which, given the silence in the room, meant it came out very loud.
"Beat up that guy," the man said casually, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward a man holding an ice pack to hisâvery imperfectânose.
Frowning, you hadn't really gotten violent vibes from the guy. Which meant nothing, because, to be honest, you were pretty drunk. You really didn't want to find a man that thrived on violence hot.
"Why?" you asked, like a four-year-old peppering their parents with random questions.
"'Cause that little fucker over there can't take no for an answer," the hot guy said with a humourless smile, eyes still on the other man. "He learned his lesson, though."
Looking at him, you were sure there were hearts in your eyesâlike in cartoons. Did he have any flaws? So far, all you'd seen was that he was hot and he defended women. Win, win. Where was the lose?
"What's your name, lovely?" he asked, his smirk softening into something gentlerânot the teasing one from earlier.
After you told him, his smirk only grew before he spoke again. "Cute. I'm Ryomen. Nice to meet you."
He extended his hand, and it took you a couple of seconds before you shook it. It truly wasn't your fault. His hand wasâlike the rest of himâperfect. Fingers slim but looking strong, nails polished in black that was slightly chipped but suited him entirely, skin soft without a callous in sight, decorated with various rings. His wrists were adorned with heavy black lines tattooed around them, and as your eyes drifted higher toward his biceps, you noticed more dark ink peeking out from beneath his sleeves.
Without you realising, because your drunk mind was convinced you were being subtle, Ryomen was watching you with amused eyes. He couldn't blame you from the moment you'd spoken to him, he had been eyeing you too. A little too hungrily, he would admit.
Once you dropped his hand with an awkward fumble, you looked back at his face. Curiosity about this man was getting the best of you, and your friends had always said you were a yapper.
"What do you do for work?" It was a random question, but it wasn't like you had anything else to do tonight but get to know him.
"Just started at an architecture firm," he answered, his thighs spreading a little widerâalmost discreetly.
It might have gone unnoticed if his knee hadn't brushed against the side of your thigh. He was so big, and it was turning you on far more than it should, given that you were spending the night in jail.
"As?" You asked for more details.
"An architect." He deadpanned, very seriously.
"No, really, what do you do?" you pressed, flustered by how close he was but doing your best to stay focused on the conversation.
"I'm not fucking with you," his voice was calm, deep, and effortlessly charming.
Your eyes widened slightly as you looked him up and downâthe piercings, the rings, the nail polish, the pink hair, the tattoos... all of him.
"You don't look the part," you said, frowning.
Then he did something you were not at all prepared for, he leaned in. Not close enough to touch you, beyond his knee still pressed against your thigh, but his lips were suddenly just beside your ear.
"Did no one ever teach you not to judge a book by its cover?" His voice had dropped lower, making it deeper and faintly hypnotic.
He should do ASMR videos, you were certain he'd go viral. Or maybe porn audios, recordings of another kindâhe'd be famous overnight. God, now you were picturing him above you in a bed. Heat crept up your cheeks and you immediately looked down.
Which wasn't the best idea, because now your eyes landed on his ringed fingers, which looked like they would fit perfectly in your mouth.
"Sorry," you muttered, dropping your gaze to your feet.
Beside you, you heard him laughânot mockingly, though. "You're cute," he said, leaning back against the cold wall behind you both.
Looking back up at him, you fully expected to find something teasing in his eyes, some sign that he was just playing with youâthe way men usually did when they said things like that to you. But you found none. Only sincerity and a gentle smirk.
"Why are you in here? Public intoxication? Or are you some big evil criminal they finally caught?" His voice was smooth, and he held eye contact steadily which was making you nervous.
"Oh yeah, caught me at last. Murder." you joked, since it was fairly obvious that being drunk had something to do with why you were here. "Egged a friend's ex's house," you explained after he let out a small laugh, gesturing vaguely at yourself, "but I don't run as fast as them."
"Glad you don't run fast then," Ryomen said, his eyes trailing over your body.
This time you caught it and you were far from unaffected. Without even meaning to, you pressed your thighs together, trying to will away the feeling building between them. It wouldn't be so distracting if you weren't literally in jail.
"Really?" you replied, your voice coming out small and not quite like your own.
"How else would I have met you?" He wasn't really expecting an answer but you didn't realise it was rhetorical.
"Fate?" you offered with a proud smile, like a child getting a question right in class.
That made him laugh, nodding along in agreement with your little theory. Then, probably without realising it, his eyes swept over your body again, slow and hungry.
"Sure. But this is a better story though. Something to tell our grandkids." He said it shamelessly, his smirk growing wider.
The room was already warm, but his words made your cheeks burn hotter than ever. It was striking how at ease he was, how simply he said what he wanted, without game-playing. It felt like a breath of fresh air.
"IâI, uh..." You were still searching for something to say when the door swung open and a cop called your name.
You turned. He looked up at you. "You're free. You made bail."
Oh.
Most of you was genuinely relieved to be going home, to shower, and to sleep in your own bed but a quieter part of you was sinking. Leaving meant never seeing this man again, and you were already certain he was everything you'd ever wanted. Big, warm, flirtatious, and honest.
When were you ever going to meet someone like that again?
It was almost like he could read your mind. When you turned back to him to say goodbye, he spoke first.
"You know the Garden Coffee Shop?" You frowned slightly and nodded. "Tomorrow. Five o'clock. You're going to be there and you're going to let me buy you a coffee."
It wasn't a question. It wasn't quite an order either. It was simply his confidence, the quiet certainty that you wanted to see him again just as much as he wanted to see you.
The cop called your name again, impatient this timeâbarked it, really. You could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head.
Ryomen had your head spinning, not helped by the alcohol still humming through your system, and you couldn't find a single word to give him. You just nodded, stood up, and tugged your skirt down.
"Have a good night, lovely." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, settling into the exact position he'd been in when you first walked in.
Glancing back at him just before you crossed the threshold, you couldn't help but think he truly was the most attractive man you had ever seen in your entire life. The kind you didn't come across every day and you were not about to let your chance slip away.
What you didn't know was that this chance would bring three years of happiness, along with months of sadness and tears. But in the end, you'd still say it was worth it.
a.n.: what a mess that was right? at least tumblr fixed it quickly so y'all don't have fomo for a long time. hope you enjoy this after this fucking stressful time. (as if we needed that)
⊠â àŁȘ. about: ryomen and you had lived a very beautiful love story for about three years before it all went down, but the meeting itself? it was surely the antipode of romantic.
⊠â àŁȘ. warnings: suggestive thoughts. yearning. mention of beating someone up. chubby and horny reader.
hey.
i know it's really unfair that you, reader of tumblr, are getting punished for tumblr's bullshit new update but i don't feel comfortable posting on here as long as they don't delete this new update.
i love to see all your reactions, your reblogs, your comments and i don't want to miss any because of a stupid thing. so, as far as they don't go back, i will post ONLY on ao3.
and you need an account and to be register to see my things there, because of all the stealing bots there as well.
i've been in a very dark place mentally lately, and the only time i can finish a fic... tumblr does this. ridiculous. when (if) this bullshit is all sort out, fics will get posted here again.
anyways, hope you will like this part of HOW TO UNLOVE SOMEONE, how everything started.
⊠â àŁȘ. about: trips to the emergency room landed you in the path of none other than doctor jack abbot, and maybe it was just fate trying to push things along a little faster.
⊠â àŁȘ. warnings : slight angst. death. slightly suggestive. wrong medical procedures. ex jack abbot. surgery attending and chubby reader.
⊠â àŁȘ. words : 3.1k
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This night had yet to truly begin, but the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center had no intention of sleeping it off. The night shift was starting to arrive, little by little, ready to take over and you had been the first one. Well second one, but the real first one had a tendency to arrive hours before, anyway.
You were watching the sun slowly dip below the horizon in the ambulance bay while smoking what would probably be your last cigarette of the day. The sky was clear, no clouds hiding the fading light, and the temperature was perfectâneither too cold nor too warm. The short sleeve t-shirt, that was definitely not yours, felt perfect for such temperature.
Spring was slowly settling in, and it felt good to finally enjoy some mild weather.
"Those will kill you!" an annoying voice called from the side.
Turning toward the voice, you were met with Dr John Shen, the night shift R3 resident. In his hands were two iced lattesâone he was sipping far too loudly on and the other he now held out to you.
"Heard it was you tonight," he said between sips.
"Walsh is here too," you replied, dropping the finished cigarette butt on the ground before accepting the much appreciated coffee. "Never thought I'd be shadowing again, but she's showing me the ropes as a surgery attending."
With that explanation, you shot him a pair of finger guns before taking your first gulp of coffee. Crouching down, you picked up the cigarette butt between your fingers and tossed it into the trash.
"Excited?" Shen asked, returning the finger guns.
Sometimes, you missed it, being an emergency doctor. Even if it had been an easy decision after your first year of residency to switch to surgery, you had loved both paths all the same. Most of your training years, both as a doctor and as a surgeon, had been spent away from Pittsburgh, which meant you had never really worked with Shen or Ellis back thenâyet they had become very dear coworkers.
"Sure. Don't think it'll change much," you answered with a shrug. "My OR might finally be quiet, though."
Shen laughed at that. Being an attending meant you were the one doing the procedures. As a resident, you still operated, but someone was always thereâwatching, guiding, teaching. Necessary, of course, but you had never fully gotten used to people hovering over your shoulder and the loud way they worked.
"When's it your turn?" you asked, glancing down at the watch on your wrist.
You still had ten minutes. Good.
"Still got a year or so," John said, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Good morning," another voice chimed in before you could respond.
Turning around, you were met with none other than Emery Walshâyour favourite coworker slash mentor, if not one of your closest friends. Her hair was already tied up, unlike yours, and she wore that usual serious expression, softened only by the small, sweet smile on her lips.
"Ready for your first night of freedom?" she asked, looking at you.
Laughing softly, you nodded as you sipped your coffee. It was a much needed boost of energy, and you intended to drink as much of it as possible before heading inside. Emery, however, had other plans.
Clapping her hands together, her smile widened. "Let's go, then!"
Turning to follow her inside, you winked at Shen, knowing it wouldn't be the last time you saw him tonight. On an average night, you would go down to the emergency department at least ten or twelve times but since this was your first night, and you were convinced it was jinxed, you had a feeling you'd be seeing them far more often.
Every first day of every new year in your career had been chaotic. A bus accident. A mass shooting. COVID. It had always been a mess, and even if you wanted to believe tonight would be different, you weren't entirely convinced.
Upstairs, as you changed, you chatted casually with Emery while she walked you through your responsibilities even though she had technically been giving you the same ones for years. Now, it was simply official.
The first hour was calm. A little too calm.
Garcia made her rounds, briefing everyone on what to expect for the night and what had been handled during the day. According to her, it had been a nice day, though some would argue her definition of nice was questionable. The moment she badged herself out, however, you were paged for a surgery consult in the ER.
It took only a few minutes to get downstairs. Lena directed you to Trauma 2, where a drunk man had jumped off a bridge, apparently convinced there was water underneath. The paramedics didn't know how he had survived but luckily, he had.
When you entered, you were already on the phone with neuro. You stopped in your tracks as you took in the scene. Around the patient stood three residents and, unmistakably, the department attending. Dr Jack Abbott.
Your ex.
That alone didn't make you see red. What did was the procedure he had already started. Still listening to your colleague on the phone, you watched with growing anger as he manoeuvred a catheter that absolutely should not have been in the patient's back yet.
"Neuro wants a CT and X-ray first," you said sharply as you slipped into a gown and sterile gloves.
"He doesn't have time for that," Jack replied, unconcerned by your tone.
Then he motioned Ellis forward, who looked up at you in confusion. You shook your head slightly rising an eyebrow at the same timeâasking her silently not to goâbut Jack insisted. You understood why the procedure was tempting, innovative and impressive but it was also a very bad idea in this situation.
Stepping forward, you reached to take the catheter from Parker's hands, but Jack moved in front of you, his back blocking your path.
Clicking your tongue, you circled the table instead, knowing Abbot wouldn't move, eyes flicking to the vitals and the ultrasound the nurse was holding, already assessing the damage.
"This is a bad idea," you argued, glaring straight at Abbott.
"If he lives, he's going to be grateful," Jack replied, his eyes never leaving his student's hands as they moved between the patient and the screen.
"Exactly," you shot back, spite creeping into your voice. "If he lives."
That finally made him look at you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He was infuriatingâespecially because you knew he was an excellent doctor who wouldn't attempt a procedure he didn't believe in. Still, his habit of overruling other departments got on your nerves on the daily, and you truly hoped your shifts wouldn't keep lining up with his.
Minutes later, your hands remained clean. The patient was stable and could wait a few hours for a neuro consult. His spine was still in rough shape, and you had no idea what his brain looked like yet, but he was stable.
"Can take him upstairs now," Abbott said with a smirk, his eyes boring into yours.
You smirked right back. "He'll have to wait. Since he doesn't need surgery anymore, you'd better find him a nice spot in one of your hallways, Dr Abbott."
Dropping your gloves and gown into the floor, you checked your phone for missed calls. Nothing. Not from Walsh, not from Neuro. The man would have to wait.
"We don't have the space," Jack commented as you were already walking out.
Moving backward, you shrugged at him with a satisfied smile. "Should've thought about that before you did your thing."
With your grin stretching wider, you turned on your heel and headed toward the elevator. Ellis Parker caught up with you halfway there, jogging slightly.
"I didn't want to overstep you," she began, clearly ready to say more.
You lifted a hand to stop her as you pressed the elevator button. Turning to her, you offered a soft, understanding smile.
"I get it," you reassured her. You would've done the same in her position. "Don't worry about it. It's all Abbott."
Back on your floor, you let out a long sigh.
It probably would've been better to bring that man upstairs so he could have a room instead of sitting in a hallway but Abbott had made his call. No urgent surgery meant he stayed put until a room freed up. No bending rules on your first day. You didn't really want another email from the big guys upstairsânot right after your promotion.
You dropped into the chair next to Walsh and finished what remained of your coffee, sipping loudly. Even while staring at the surgery board, you could feel her eyes drifting from her screen to you.
"What happened?" she asked, already knowing something had.
"Abbott happened," you sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "Why call for a surgery consult if he's just going to do whatever he wants?" You muttered to no one in particular.
"You two really need to fuck it out and get it out of your system," she deadpanned, eyes still on her monitor.
You cringed and rolled your eyes. "We tried that for years. Didn't work too well."
You and Abbott had been together for six years. But workâand the fact that you were both hopelessly married to itâhad made the relationship difficult. Eventually, neither of you put in the effort anymore. It didn't help that Abbot was a rules bender and you were a rule follower. Two very different way of working, and once you were working in the same hospital⊠it all went down.
"Try again," she shot back before lowering her voice. "I'm tired of hearing you complain about him."
"You complain about him too," you snapped.
She laughed, then turned fully toward you, her chair squeaking. Mischief sparkled in her eyes.
"Unlike you, I'm not desperately in need of getting laid," she smirked, gesturing toward the framed photo beside her computer of her and her girlfriend.
You rolled your eyes again, mimicking her tone under your breath before turning to your own screen. According to the schedule, it was supposed to be a calm night. Not much planned. Plenty of free ORs for emergencies. It should've been smooth.
Then your phone rang again.
Seeing the name of the neuro attending, you braced yourself. Sure enough, you endured several long minutes of being lectured about how reckless it had been to let Abbott attempt that procedure. Obviously, he didn't know Abbott. As if he would have listened to you, even if you had gotten there before he began.
Later, in the OR, you were finally working in silenceâthe kind you preferredâwhen the nurse, Matthews, answered the ringing wall phone. Walsh was in another OR, handling something far more urgent so calls went your way.
After Matthews said your name to the caller and put the speakers on to you, Abbott's voice came through. You almost wished it were anyone else, but lately it seemed like every call was him.
"Any rooms available right now?" he asked, sounding out of breath. Which was odd, he usually was in total control of himself. That only made you a bit panicked as Abbot wasn't one to panic easily.
"Yeah. Plenty," you replied, adjusting your grip on the scalpel. "No surgeon available though. Why?"
"Fuck," he muttered immediately. "How long before someone's free?"
"Why?" you pressed again, already preparing yourself for something big.
"Family of six hit by a drunk driver," he said quickly. "Six criticals. One dead on scene."
"Fuck," you whispered, glancing up at your team. "We'll move as fast as we can. Have Lena warn Walsh and the nurses up here."
"Yeah." And the line went dead.
Thirty minutes later, your appendectomy patient was back in recovery, and the rest of the night's schedule had been cleared. As soon as you finished the procedure, you left your student to handle the sutures and rushed downstairs.
When you pushed through the trauma bay doors, chaos greeted you. Pulling on a gown and gloves, you hurried toward the nearest bed.
"What am I looking at?" you asked as the small child's body lay covered in compresses.
When you gently pushed them aside, you saw the metal pole lodged in the left side of her chest, making you inhale sharply. It had been cut down by the paramedics, surely, but it was still in place. Glancing up at the ultrasound, you noted the alarming amount of blood pooling insideâalmost as much as what had already soaked through the dressings.
This wasn't looking good. At all.
"She's bleeding out," you muttered, immediately calling cardio.
The bar was dangerously close to her heart and had grazed a lung. Letting out a slow breath of relief at that small mercy, you instructed the team to move her upstairs immediately. Cardio was already waiting by the elevator.
The next trauma room was even worse than the first.
Blood, compresses, torn clothesâeverything littered the floor, all of it soaked red. The child on the bed was older than the girl you had just seen, but Jack was performing cardiac massages with a force that told you the little boy's chances were slipping away.
The vitals were crashing. When they paused to shock him, the monitor gave no response. No rhythm. No recovery.
When you looked down at the boy, you met Jack's eyes. Carefully, you shook your head, just slightly, before stepping out of the room.
The mother had survived the crashâalong with two of the other childrenâand you still needed to assess them. As you pushed through the glass door, you frowned when the steady, unbroken beeping filled the air behind you, followed by Jack quietly calling the time.
He had looked barely older than eight.
Three hours later, with the moon high in the sky, you finally allowed yourself a short break. Slipping out to the ambulance bay, you leaned against the wall, letting the silence of the night settle around you. Closing your eyes, you light up your cigarette.
The mother hadn't survived. Three children left alive and now orphaned. The drunk driver, meanwhile, barely had a scratch.
Life was cruel like that.
A police officer stood guard outside his room, waiting for him to wake up so they could question him and hopefully arrest him.
You took a long drag of your cigarette, not noticing the footsteps approaching until a warm, familiar presence settled beside you. You didn't even open your eyes.
"Thought you said you were quitting," Jack said softly. No smirk. No teasing edge. Just quiet.
"Tonight isn't the night," you replied, exhaling smoke slowly.
"A bit rough for your first night as an attending," he said, attempting conversation, though the air between you felt heavier than usual.
"Don't know why you'd say that," you answered, finally opening your eyes to look up at him. "Only lost a child and his mother, leaving three kids as orphans. Could've been worse."
Your tone was humourless, the joke hollow even to your own ears.
Most people would've flinched at that. Thought you cold. Detached. A bitch. But not Jack. He knew you well enough to recognize the cracks you refused to show in front of anyone else. No one wanted to see their doctor cry. He knew you were fighting off the break down that was on the verge of happening.
Soft fingers plucked the cigarette from your lips and brought it to his own. You rolled your eyes as he took a small drag before exhaling. It was a rare sight, Jack Abbott smoking and somehow it only made him more irritatingly attractive.
Your phone ringing broke the moment.
Walsh's voice spilled through the line, saying she needed your help, but your eyes were still fixed on Jack's handsâthose stupid, steady fingers moving from his mouth to holding the cigarette between them. His bicep flexed slightly with the motion, and by the way you could feel his gaze lingering on you, you knew he was doing it on purpose.
The asshole. It was unfair how attractive he was.
The plan was to leave without saying anything. And you tried. You really did. But the image of his fingers lingered in your mind, and before you could stop yourself, you spoke right before the ambulance bay sliding door.
"Meeting at your place at 9 a.m.?" you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder.
His smirk returned, softer this time. Gentler. The kind of smile he only ever showed you, the one no one else got to see. It wasn't mocking. If anything, it was predictable. You knew he would've texted you the same thing within the hour if you hadn't asked.
"Sure," he replied in a low voice. "But I'm making dinner. Don't bring anything."
You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but still gave a small nod. You liked this little arrangement of yours. No one but the two of you knew that the breakup hadn't really been a clean breakup. That, every now and thenâoften after long shiftsâyou'd end up at his place, or he'd show up at yours.
The comfort you brought each other was something you couldnât find in anyone else. It was hard to find someone who truly understood your line of work, who knew what it meant to lose a life and keep moving anyway because you had no choices. With Jack, that comfort had always come easilyâquiet, wordless, and steady. Toward the end of your relationship, it had been the only good thing left between you.
A bit of distance had done you both good. It had forced you to grow, to change, to compromise in ways you never had before with the other. Because, in the end, you had both realized that living entirely without each other felt worse than being apartâat peace.
Walsh's earlier words echoed in your head as you stepped into the elevator, making you laugh quietly to yourself. Unlike you, I'm not desperately in need of getting laid. If only she knew.
Not that you'd ever admit it out loud, not when Abbott's ego was already large enough but the sex you were getting was certainly better than hersâand way more frequent. The truth was that your situation, whatever it was, worked. Situationship, friends with benefits, unfinished business⊠it didn't really matter what label people would give it.
And while neither of you wanted to acknowledge it, it looked an awful lot like the way things had been when you were still together.
A little secret never hurt anyone, after all. And it certainly wasn't hurting youâquite the contrary.
a.n. : happy birthday to me :) for the occasion a little abbot thing based on what i imagine walsh and him dynamics gave in s1, petty exes. yeah i also made her a lesbian because she also gives off this vibe... miss her.
⊠â àŁȘ. about : you had left this house a few months ago; it was never part of your plans to come back. the story was over and more than anything, you knew it would only break your heart all over again.
㠀㠀â â â â â ă €. related to this (can be read alone)
⊠â àŁȘ. warnings : angst. suggestive. past toxic behaviour (from both). good dad/bad husband toji. chubby reader.
(no sorcerers!au)
⊠â àŁȘ. words : 18.1k
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It was probably the worst thing that could have happened to you.
You were on the floor, your little boy crying at your side, his two puppies whining and howling right along with him. Cocoa powder dusted the kitchen counters, your hair, and the tiles beneath youâthe packet still clutched in your hand from when you fell.
Megumi was trying to reach you with teary eyesâShiro and Kuro, his two puppies, were loyal by his sides.
The kitchen chair you'd been standing on lay completely toppled over now, a cracked dent splintering the tile where it had landed. It had broken your fall just enough to make it survivable but breaking your leg in the process. At least, you were fairly certain it was broken, judging by the sharp, relentless pain screaming through it and the weird looking bump in the front of your leg.
You refused to panic. You sat there for a few seconds, breathing through it, until your very little, very tired, very young son began crying and inching closer. In his four-year-old mind, you knew exactly what he was thinking. This was his fault. Megumi had been the one who asked for hot cocoa because he couldn't sleep. If he hadn't asked, you wouldn't have climbed onto the chair at all.
You reassured him anyway, even as tears threatened to spill from the pain flaring through your leg and the wrist you'd landed on. Your backside throbbed too, but that felt like shock more than anything else. Your leg, though? That was a real problem.
"Shh, baby, it's okay," you murmured, pulling him close against your chest as you leaned back against the kitchen counter. "It's not your fault, Gumi."
"You hurt," he hiccuped. His two puppies rested their snouts on the thigh he wasn't sitting on, tails tucked and eyes wide.
"Yeah," you winced, trying and immediately failing to move your leg to assess the damage. You'd been with an EMT for eleven years. You knew you were fucked. "Gonna have to call an ambulance."
"Daddy?" Megumi asked quietly, his head still tucked against your neck.
"No, not Daddy," you sighed, tipping your head back as your fingers absently ran through Chika's white furâactually praying your ex husband wasn't working tonight.
"But Daddy is an ambulance," he mumbled, his crying finally slowing.
Despite everything, a soft laugh slipped out of you. "He's not an ambulance, baby. He's an EMT. He's one of the people who work in the ambulance."
After ten minutes on the phone with emergency services, they finally understood that you couldn't get yourself to the nearest ER and neither could your four year old son. It wasn't as if you could call a friend and have them move you without risking making it worse.
Toji had always drilled it into you: never touch someone who's seriously hurt. Always call an ambulance. They had training. Protocols. They knew how to handle fractures like this. Harass them if you had to, that was your ex's words.
They told you they'd be there in twenty minutes, and you prayed they would be on time. It was getting late, and Megumi was still shaking slightly against you. That hurt more than your leg ever could. He was so small. So fragile. You never wanted him hurtâbut he was deeply empathetic, especially with his parents, and you knew all you could do was hold him until he calmed on his own.
To your utter lack of luck, your parents were out of town for the winter, escaping the cold as they always did before coming back right for Christmas and New Year's. That left you with only two options: take Megumi with you to the hospital, or call his father.
His father, who was either sleeping or working.
The answer was quickly answered when you heard hard and loud knock on your front door followed by an masculine voice presenting themselves as the ambulance. Not having any other choices, you asked Megumi to go open the door, his puppies following behind him. Not that they would be any help if it wasn't paramedics.
Thankfully, it was the ambulance you had called.
After assessing the damage to your legs, they decided it was best to get you to the ER immediately. One of the paramedics asked if someone was coming to watch your kid.
Megumi, meanwhile, had been thoroughly distracted by the other paramedic, who was explaining the bones of the human body to him. It was painfully cuteâyour little boy, teary-eyed, listening with absolute focus, his small hands clutching his bunny plushie.
"No," you said with a tight smile. "He has to come with us."
It was the weekend, so at least he didn't have school the next day but still, you hated the idea of him missing his bedtime. Either way, even if he went to his dad's, you knew he wouldn't sleep. The night had already been far too stressful for a four year old.
"Your husband isn't here?" the man asked, glancing around your kitchen with thinly veiled condescension.
"Don't have one," you replied immediately, already bristling at his tone.
"His dad, then?" he pressed, unchanged.
"Working," you deadpanned.
He let out a heavy sigh and looked back at your son, who was rubbing his eyes and smiling softly as he pointed at his knee. The paramedic beside him chuckled and raised a hand for a high-five, which Megumi returned without hesitation. You caught the flicker of irritation in the other man's eyes, clearly unhappy about having to bring your kid along but there weren't any other options.
"Dogs have to stay," he concluded curtly before standing and leaving the kitchen.
"Yeah, no way, fucker," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. "Gumi, baby," you called gently.
Megumi padded over at once, his four-legged companions trailing behind him. As quiet as ever, he settled beside you, slipping one small hand into yours while the other stayed wrapped around his white bunny.
"We're going to go to the hospital, okay?" you said softly.
When he nodded, you went on, "It's going to be a long night, but when we come home we'll sleep in for as long as you want, yeah?"
You could practically see the gears turning in his little head. "Sleep together? The four of us?" he asked, glancing briefly at his dogs.
"Whatever you want, baby. In Mama's bed, yeah?" You pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
By the time they came back with the stretcher, Megumi was ready. You'd told him to grab a few things to pass the time, and he'd taken the task very seriously, packing a couple of books and a few favourite toys into his small Paw Patrol backpack, slung over his shoulders like he was heading to school.
His bunny was still clutched tightly in his arms, hugged close to his chest. He'd wanted to bring his wolf plushie too, but you'd insisted on just one. You didn't want him losing both of his favourites.
The kinder paramedics held his hand as they carefully wheeled you out of the apartment, taking their time down the stairs. Before leaving, you'd asked Megumi to fill the dogs' bowls with food and waterâyou had no idea how long you'd be gone.
Less than fifteen minutes later, you were dropped off at the hospital's emergency department, transferred into a wheelchair. Arriving by ambulance meant skipping the waiting room, but it didn't mean things moved quickly.
Your hospital bracelet read 9:34 p.m. By the time the doctor finished setting the cast on your leg after the X-ray confirmed a clean fractureâit was almost 2 a.m.
Megumi laid curled against you on the narrow bed they'd placed you in after the x-ray, fast asleep. Or trying to be. Without his dogs, his sleep wasn't peaceful. He was dressed in his frog pyjamas, shivering every now and then from the cold, despite the jacket you'd draped over him.
You understood the ER kept the AC running to keep the place from overheating, but this was excessive. Still, you said nothing. You didn't complain when the nurses forgot your pain medication. You didn't complain when the doctor was called away halfway through your cast. You didn't complain when he was supposed to return quickly with your prescription and showed up nearly forty five minutes later.
But you did raise your voice when the nurse refused to let you leave on your own.
All you'd asked was to be wheeled outside so you could order an Uber, get home, and put your son to bed. That was it. The nurse, however, wasn't budging. He kept repeating that legally, he couldn't let you leave alone, that they needed to call your emergency contact.
And when he said Toji Zenin, you saw red. They would not be calling your ex-husband in the middle of the night.
You were throwing a fit, your son sitting in your lap, not understanding why you didn't want them to call his dad. Quiet, helpless tears slid down his cheeks as he watched you grow more agitated with the medical staff. When the nurse realised you weren't going to back down, he called the head nurse and the night attending.
"Ma'am, we cannot let you leave on your own," the attending said, trying to sound calm, though you could tell you were already irritating her.
Normally, you would've apologized for overreacting, blamed the exhaustion. But you couldn't let Toji walk into the ER and see his son like this. See you like thisâhurt, exhausted, barely holding it together. It wasn't his role anymore. If it had been Megumi who was injured, you would've called him immediately. But you? You weren't his responsibility now.
"He's an ex-husband for a reason," you said tightly. "I understand you can't just let me go, but I'll sign whatever paperwork you need, saying I won't sue the hospital if I hurt myself more." Your voice cracked with frustration. "I just want to get my son to bed."
"You are in no condition to take care of yourself or your child, ma'am," the doctor replied, firmer now. "I'm sorry, but we have to call him. Whether you like it or not." She turned away, already reaching for the phone.
If Megumi hadn't been in your lap, you might've stood up right then and thereâcast or no castâto hang up the phone yourself. But his quiet hiccup, the way he tried to stifle his crying, snapped you out of your rage. You looked down at him, at how small and fragile he looked, and your shoulders sagged.
Instead, you pulled him closer, murmuring softly, rocking him until his sobs eased.
"Mr. Zenin?" you heard vaguely. "Doctor Ieiri here. I'm calling because you're listed as the emergency contact forâ"
You stopped listening after that.
From your old place, Toji could be here in less than ten minutes. That had been one of the reasons you'd chosen the house when you were pregnantâclose to a school, close to a hospital. That had been your only standard for a house and your old house had been exactly that.
"Thank you, sir. We'll be waiting for you," the doctor said before hanging up.
After that, they moved you to a small corner of the hallway so you wouldn't occupy a room anymore. As you waited, you read to your son, doing your best to distract him from the memory of his mother yelling at medical staff.
It was an interactive book with animal sounds, always a hit with your son. A soft smile curved your lips as Megumi became fully absorbed, even though he'd had youâand his father, you were sureâread it to him nearly every day.
Hearing your name made him look up. Mostly because he recognized his father's voice, too.
"Daddy," he said, carefully climbing off your lap, mindful of your injury.
You closed the book just in time to watch his small legs carry him forward, arms already lifted. Instinctively, Toji crouched and scooped him up without hesitation. Megumi looked impossibly small in his arms, your ex-husband all muscle and broad shoulders, swallowing him whole.
After pressing a kiss to Megumi's temple, he turned toward you, anger flashing in his eyes. He looked exhausted, no doubt that they'd dragged him out of bed with a 2:30 a.m. phone call. You already knew where this was going. He'd rant about how you should have called him, if only to take care of Megumiâframe it like you'd failed as a mother.
When he stopped in front of you, you looked up, irritation plain on your face.
"Don't start," you warned. "I told them not to call you."
"Yeah, I know," he shot back. "Doctor said you were being aggressive with her staff." His tone was sharp, but his gaze flicked down when the weight against his chest went slack.
Megumi had fallen asleep almost instantly, lulled by his father's warmth.
You rolled your eyes and slid the book back into your son's backpack. "If they'd listened to me, Megumi would be in his bed right now."
"Yeah, no," he muttered, shifting Megumi higher with practiced ease before grabbing the handles of your wheelchair. "I'm not doing this right now."
And just like that, you were being wheeled straight out of the hospital and into his carâa car parked shamelessly in the ambulance bay.
"Can you even park here?" you asked as he settled Megumi into the car seat without waking him.
"Got privileges," he replied flatly. "Ran into a couple coworkers."
"One named Mahito?" you asked, watching the careful way he buckled your son in.
"I know him," he said, frowning slightly as he closed the door. "Not on my team. Why?"
When his eyes lifted back to yours, you caught it, possessive curiosity, sharp and immediate, at the mention of another man. He masked it by opening the passenger door and reaching for you.
"He was pretty rude, honestly," you said, bracing your hand to help yourself in.
You barely registered the click of his tongue before he scooped you up instead, lifting you carefully and settling you into the seat like you weighed nothing. He even leaned in to fasten your seatbelt himself, invading your space without hesitation.
He never had cared much about personal space, and you used to love that.
"Yeah," he added, finally, as he straightened. "He's got multiple complaints."
"Figures," you muttered as he shut the door and walked back inside to return the wheelchair.
The ride was quiet after that. Neither of you had the energy to argueânot at this hour. You were relieved to see he wasn't driving toward your old shared house like you'd feared. All you wanted was to crawl into bed, curl around your son, and sleep. It was late. You'd worked all week, looking forward to a calm, quiet weekend.
Apparently, karma had other plans.
When Toji pulled up in front of your building, you reached for the door, already planning the next steps. The ER had given you crutchesâor maybe Toji had insisted on themâso all you needed was for him to grab Megumi. Easy.
Except the door wouldn't open. You tried again. Nothing. He'd locked the car using the child safety lock, making it impossible to open from the inside.
"What are you doing?" you asked, frowning as you turned to him.
"Give me your keys," he said, ignoring your question.
"No," you snapped, tugging uselessly at the handle again.
Behind you, he sighed, muttering under his breath, "I try to be fucking nice."
Then he got out of the car, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frame. However, he caught it before it would made a loud sound, waking Megumi. You hated how his sharp reflexesâfast, controlled, dangerousâstill managed to make him look unfairly good and hot.
For a second, you wondered if he was really going to let you struggle inside on your own. Then you saw what he pulled from his pocket. A set of keys. With a small frog keychain.
"Fuck," you breathed.
The spare.
You'd given it to him after you movedâafter a lot of thought. If Megumi ever had an emergency and you were unconscious or worse, you wanted Toji to be able to get in. That meant he had a key. Just like you'd kept one to the old house.
About seven minutes later, you saw him again.
He came into view carrying two bags stuffed with what you assumed were yours and Megumi's things, two leashes looped around his wrist, the puppies trotting along behind him. Rounding the car, he opened the trunk and loaded everything insideâbags, dogs, all of it.
The doctor had signed you off work for at least a month, asking for another X-ray and possibly another cast depending on the results. You hoped it would heal cleanly but there was no universe in which Toji imagined you spending that month with him. Your old house didn't have a guest room, and the couch was far from being comfortable.
"Toji, we're not staying with you," you said once he slid back into the driver's seat, your voice exhausted more than angry.
"There ain't no we," he replied flatly. "Meg's staying with me as long as you've got that cast. And since you can't even take care of yourself properly, especially not in a fucking duplex, you are too."
"Tojiâ" you started, irritation creeping back in.
"It wasn't a suggestion," he cut in, ending the conversation right there.
His tone was firm, final. His eyes stayed on the road, flicking only occasionally toward the sleeping toddler in the back. The dogs whined softly, recognising his presence and wanting closer, their noses surely pressed against the seats.
"I'm not sleeping on the fucking couch," you snapped, deciding to let him have this, for now.
There would be a moment when he wouldn't be there. A moment when he wouldn't be hovering, controlling, deciding things for you. And when that moment came, you'd go home. You were a grown woman, no matter how much he treated you like a moody teenager.
To that, he only scoffed, shaking his head without bothering to respond.
When he pulled into the familiar driveway of your old house, he got out first. You reached for the door, but it was still locked from the inside. The complaint was already on your tongue but when you turned to voice it, your eyes landed on your son's peaceful face.
So you stayed quiet.
You watched as Toji carried the bags inside, leading the dogs with himâlikely letting them out into the yard first. Then he came back, opening the back door. Gently, carefully, he unbuckled Megumi and lifted him into his arms, your son's bunny plushie looking impossibly small in Toji's large hand.
"I told him he'd sleep with me," you whispered, aware that Megumi always rememberedâeven half-asleep and he always stirred when he was put down.
Then it was your turn.
Toji came back to the car for the third time. He didn't say a wordâjust lifted you into his arms like you weighed nothing, locked the car, and then the front door behind you.
The house looked exactly the same as it had when you'd left a year and a half ago. Same furniture. Same smell. Same quiet sense of comfort. Even in the dark, you felt it, the lingering warmth of a place that had once been a family home.
He carried you straight to the bedroom.
Megumi was already there, sitting under the blankets in the middle of the bed and rubbing at his tired eyes.
"Mama," he whined softly when he saw his father carrying you in.
His puppies were curled up at his feet, sprawled across the middle of the bed, just as exhausted as the rest of you. Gently, Toji laid you down on your side of the bed, right next to your son. Megumi immediately nestled into you, small hands clenching your shirt with all the strength his tired little body could manage.
When he didn't see his father climbing in beside you, he whined again. "Daddy?"
"I'm right here, Meg," Toji replied, already tugging off his jeans and swapping them for a pair of joggers.
His shirt soon joined the pile on the floor before he crossed the room to draw the heavy curtains shut. If they'd been left open, it would've meant an early shift but you knew him well enough to know he'd already called in.
Then he slipped into his side of the bed and turned off the light.
You heard the soft click of his tongue, followed by the quiet whines of the puppies, which made you let out a breathless laugh. Moments later, you felt his warm hand settle over Megumi's stomach, fingers brushing against your stomach.
The instant Megumi felt his dad beside him, he released a long, contented sigh and melted even further into your chest. The comfort of it all, combined with the dull ache in your leg and the bone-deep exhaustion pulled you under quickly.
It had nothing to do with the familiar comfort of the old bed, or the warmth of Toji's hand resting so close to you. Nothing at all.
The quiet domesticity felt like nostalgia wrapped around your ribs, tight enough to sting. It might've brought tears to your eyes, if you hadn't already drifted off to sleep.
The next few days were rough.
They were filled with quiet irritation, mostly at the way Toji kept making decisions for you, insisting you stay in your old house. You understood his argument when it came to Megumi and would've gladly left your son there if needed but Toji still refused to let you go home on your own.
The only thing that truly warmed your heart was how happy Megumi was.
You saw it in the way his face lit up when he woke from a nap and found both his parents sitting on the couch. In the way his eyes shone with pure affection on Sunday mornings, when the three of you sat at the dining table togetherâjust like when he was smaller, when this had been his normal.
The divorce had been a mess. Six long months of arguments and lawyers before you'd finally learned how to talk to each other againâif only for your son's sake.
Being trapped within those walls brought everything back. The dark days. The slow unravelling. The way everything had fallen apart. It had hurt deeply, a painful mix of broken trust and betrayal. You'd both made mistakes by the end of the marriage, but that didn't make the pain any lighter.
The fights had started on an ordinary night.
You'd just put Megumi back to bed. He was transitioning from breastfeeding to solid food, and your hormones were spiralling from the abrupt change combined with your first periods coming back. Your thoughts felt scattered, your emotions constantly unsteady and you were so tired. You'd always been clear, you wanted only one child.
And yet, suddenly, you found yourself wanting another. Megumi had been such a gentle, angelic baby. How could you not want more of that? That same night, you brought it up to Toji.
His answer had been immediate. Final. No.
He didn't ask why. Didn't listen to your reasons. After saying it once, he laid back on the bed and scrolled through his phone while you tried to explain yourselfâlisting every reason you felt the way you did.
Then came his words.
"Your little brain is fried from hormones," he'd said flatly. "You don't know what you want."
That shut you up for the night.
But your mind didn't let it go. Deep down, you knew he might be partly right, that your hormones were throwing everything out of balance. And still, the idea didn't make you unhappy. The thought of another baby didn't feel wrong.
Apparently, it did to him.
For days, you tried to talk about it again. And every time, he shut you down. Eventually, he barely listened to you at allâeven when the subject had nothing to do with children. Work had been stressful, and while he knew it wasn't an excuse to be cruel, he couldn't seem to stop himself.
All he wanted was to crawl into bed with his wife at the end of the day and not worry about whether you'd taken your pills.
One morning, you caught him counting your tablets. Watching. Making sure. That was the first time he broke your trust.
You never imagined your husband would think you'd go behind his back, get pregnant without his knowledge. That wasn't who you were. But apparently, it was who he thought you could be.
After that, you had stopped talking to him. Completely.
Aside from a curt Good morning or the occasional frantic call when Megumi was sick or doing something weird, words between you were rare. Most of your days were spent debating whether to try couples therapy or just taking care of your son, who filled your heart with more joy than anything else.
He was working more than usual anyways, taking on double shifts. He was even making it hard to have a conversation about it.
Megumi was the only thing that made both of you truly happy. So why not have another? Another little life to try and recapture some of that happiness? You knew it was a terrible argument, one you couldn't win with but your mind still drifted, daydreaming about holding another tiny bean in your arms. Forgetting all about the bad times.
It was during one of those daydreams that your marriage finally shattered.
It was a day off. Toji had said he'd be home by noon, but now it was nearly three. Megumi napped softly in the crib while you lounged on the couch, watching whatever was on, gently caressing your belly.
The front door opened, and something about him immediately felt off. The way he walked, the slight wince with every step, the exaggerated groan as he sank onto the couch.
When he spoke, you knew, it was over.
"I got a vasectomy."
Just like that.
He had gone behind your back, done something permanent without so much as a discussion. He hadn't waited for a few weeks for your hormones to settle. He hadn't considered you as his wife and partner in life. He had just acted.
The words hung in the room, heavy and sharp, slicing through all the fragile daydreams you'd been holding onto. You didn't say anything. You tried to process what he'd just told you, but your mind refused to make sense of it because never, in your life, would you have imagined doing something so life-changing behind his back.
As if he'd felt the shift, Megumi began to cry and on autopilot you stood to take care of him. You barely remembered that day after that, everything felt numb. What you did remember were the tears slipping from your cheeks onto his, yours soaking into his soft skin as you held him close.
You hadn't tried to stop them. Hadn't tried to wipe them away. As you had rocked your son, your thoughts drifted to a lawyerâone a friend had used during her divorce.
That had been the last night you spent in that house.
The next day, while Toji was at work, you had packed a few suitcases, took your son, and left. You didn't set foot inside again until a few days ago. The lack of worried calls from Toji told you everything you needed to know. He'd known this was coming, sooner or later.
And that had been the final betrayal. He didn't fight for you. He accepted that you were gone and did nothing to stop it. Didn't try arranging the love you had carried for each other for over a decade.
"Why you crying, Mama?" a small voice asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.
You opened your eyes and met a pair of familiar ones, mirrors of your ex-husband's, staring up at you with quiet concern.
"Leg hurts?" he asked again, stepping closer, careful and slow.
You brushed your tears away and nodded before lifting him into your arms, hugging him tightly. From the living room doorway, your eyes met Toji's. He leaned against the archway, his expression unreadable. It had always been hard to read him, and somewhere along the years you'd spent together, you'd stopped trying.
Because he used to tell you what was wrong. Until he stopped.
You looked away, pressing a kiss to the top of your son's head and holding him closer.
When Megumi began to wiggle free, you let him go but not before kissing his chubby cheek. With a soft smile, you watched him run toward his room, his puppies racing after him, their paws skidding on the floor. His laughter echoed through the house, warming your chest enough to almost make you forget what you'd been thinking about.
Almost.
Toji was still by the doorway, his gaze fixed on your drying tears. If he wanted to say something, he didn't. Instead, he approached, slid a pillow beneath your injured leg, and turned toward the kitchen without a word.
Silent. Like he'd always been.
Down the hall, Megumi's laughter rang out again, and you found you couldn't sit still anymore. Grabbing your crutches, you made your way down the hallway. His room was on the opposite side of your old one, something you'd never liked.
It meant that when nightmares came, he had to cross the dark hallway alone and scared. Just the thought of it made your chest ache.
At his doorway, you paused.
Megumi was on the floor, playing with a handful of animal plushies while his puppies lounged nearby. Shiro rested his small white head on Megumi's lap, sniffing eagerly every time a toy was offered. Kuro was curled behind him, black fur pressed against his back, eyes closed as he dozed.
When Megumi noticed you, his face lit up with pure, innocent joyâbrighter still when he realized you were there to play. You smiled back, settling onto his small desk chair and leaning your crutches behind it before carefully lowering yourself to the floor.
Your casted leg stretched out in front of you, toes brushing against Shiro's soft fur, while you tucked your other leg in close.
For the next twenty minutes, you were introduced to all his plushiesâall of them you were already familiar with. Mr. Froggie. Bunny Bun. Bird Flyer. Grumpy Wolfy. Very creative names, the lot of them. He explained who they were to each other: neighbours, best friends, cousins, and everything his little mind could come up with.
Husbands and wives, too. Grumpy Wolfy and Bunny Bun were apparently married.
Megumi also explained that Grumpy Wolfy was Toji, because his dad had a tendency to be an old grump, which made you laugh when he explained it. And the bunny? His wife. Of course, it was you.
"Because you're soft like a bunny, Mama!" he said, like it was the most logical thing in the world.
His little voice and his small smile brought tears to your eyes, but you quickly looked back at his toys, asking questions so he wouldn't notice them. Eventually, you noticed he was getting bored, his gaze drifting again and again to your cast.
"What is it, baby?" you asked gently.
With a mischievous little smile, he looked up at you. The look in his eyes reminded you of Toji so much it almost hurt and it was wildly unfair. You were the one who'd carried him for nine exhausting months and gone through forty-three hours of labour, and yet he'd come out a perfect copy of his father.
It was unfair.
But you wouldn't have had it any other way.
"Can I draw on it?" Gumi asked, his eyes flicking between your face and the cast.
You let out a small chuckle and closed your eyes. There was no real reason to say no. It wasn't like Toji was letting you leave this house anytime soon, and you could let your son have a little fun. Even if you still had the cast on by Christmas, nothing a nice pair of pants couldn't hide.
"Yeah," you said simply, flexing your toes.
With a happy squeal, your son jumped up, accidentally waking one of the sleeping dogs as he ran off to grab his markers. He was a creative little guy, always drawing fantasy creaturesâfrogs with wings, a big orange bird with thunder powers, two weirdly familiar "shadow" dogs, whatever that meant.
His newest gang member, though, was a terrifying big white monster. Not really an animalâmore like a large humanoid figure, all white, with a wheel over its head and something like a skin ponytail trailing behind his head.
Very weird.
It had been brought up during one of his therapy sessions, but his psychiatrist had said it was just his imagination.
Ever since he was little, Megumi had been plagued by nightmares, worrying both you and Toji. The minute he was able to talk about them, you brought him to therapyâjust to be sure everything was okay. It turned out everything was fine, he simply had a very big, vivid imagination that sometimes worked against him.
Talking about them helped. What used to be one or two nightmares a week slowly turned into one a month.
They were usually triggered by long periods of stress and when you and Toji separated, the nightmares came back hard. At first, it made you feel like a bad motherâlike it was somehow your fault. But as the months passed and the nightmares eased again, you felt lighter. You didn't care if he slept with you every night just to keep the monsters away.
As you watched him try to recreate both Shiro and Kuro on your cast, you smiled, realising it had actually been a long time since he'd had one. You knew about the nightmare he'd had at Toji's, and Toji knew about the one he'd had with youâit was something you shared so the therapist could be kept informed.
Opening your calendar app, you counted. Three weeks and four days since his last nightmare.
It was crazy, especially considering how scared and stressed he'd been the night you broke your leg. Looking back up at him, your smile widened when you saw his little pink tongue sticking out in concentration.
The dogs on the cast were looking rough, to say the least.
"What are you doing on the floor?" a deep voice asked from the doorway, sounding scolding.
"Drawing," Megumi answered immediately, his soft voice steady, not even looking up at his father.
A chuckle slipped past your lips, he was completely oblivious to the fact that the scolding tone hadn't been meant for him. Toji wasn't a harsh father at all, but he had a habit of sounding stern even when he was teasing. Megumi was long used to it.
"Not you," Toji scoffed, one brow lifting as he looked at you.
"Letting him draw," you replied, forcing a smile his way.
With a heavy sigh, Toji entered the room and sat down on the small bed. It wasn't actually that small, but his sheer size made it look like something meant for dolls. He was broad without even trying, unfairly so.
"And how do you plan on getting up, genius?" he asked, mirroring your forced, irritated smile.
You glanced around the room, hating how right he was. It wouldn't be impossible to get up but it would definitely be humiliating, involving some awkward crawling and a lot of careful movements to avoid your injured leg. Still, there was no one here to be embarrassed in front of.
Megumi wouldn't laugh. And Toji⊠well, Toji was Toji. He'd probably comment but you wouldn't really care. It wasn't like he had friends to laugh about you with.
"I'll manage," you concluded, rolling your eyes when he nodded mockingly.
"Don't fight," a small voice interrupted, breaking your eye contact as both of you looked down at the same time.
Megumi still wasn't looking up from your cast, but you noticed his drawing had slowed. That made your chest ache. The only memories he really had of his parents together were long silences or arguments.
"We're not fighting, baby," Toji said immediately, his voice softening. "We're just talking."
"Don't talk then," Megumi replied, going right back to his drawing.
You let out a laugh, then felt his small hands steady your moving leg before he sent you a little glare. The message was clear: don't move. You raised your hands in surrender and stopped your leg from shaking.
Toji, however, petty as ever especially after his son had just told him to shut up, leaned down to inspect the drawings on your cast.
"That's two very ugly dogs," he commented before straightening up.
"Toji," you said, without any real bite, rolling your eyes at their antics.
"You're an ugly dog," Megumi mumbled back, completely focused on his work. Your laugh slipped out again, and instantly his sharp little glare turned on you. "Mama!" he scolded, indignant, before returning to his dogs with renewed concentration.
"Sorry," you muttered to him.
However, your son didn't have much time to finish his drawing before his father scooped him up from the floor. The puppies startled at the sudden movement, barking playfully as they jumped up, trying to nip at Megumi's socked feet.
"Daddy!" he whined as he was lifted.
"Dinner time, munchkin," Toji said, his expression still twisted with soft pettiness. Before disappearing, he looked you straight in the eyes. "I'll come back for you. Don't move."
Even though you didn't want his help, the tone of his voice made you stay put. It was the same one he used when he really wanted you to stop overworking yourself and it had always worked. A year and a half apart didn't undo over a decade of conditioning.
Left alone in the room, you looked down and cringed at the sight before you. The two dogs on your cast looked more like oddly shaped horses than anything else. Smiling softly, you snapped a picture and sent it to your mother so she could admire Megumi's artwork.
They were coming back from their trip tomorrow to get ready for Christmas, and they'd offered to take care of you and Megumi but you'd refused. Megumi adored his grandparents, and they adored him just as much, but they were getting older. They were past the age of taking care of their daughter and her child.
It didn't take long for Toji to return, but he didn't help you up yet. He just stood in front of you, arms crossed, wearing a mocking glare. His mouth curled into a smirk, tugging slightly at the scar on his lip. And for a brief, unwelcome moment, you felt a pulse between your legs.
Something you hadn't felt in a long time.
"Say it was dumb," he said, crossing his arms tighterâhis biceps bulging deliberately. He knew what he was doing. And you knew it too. However, you knew he was so used to doing that, it might have been unintentional still.
"Oh, fuck off," you snapped, dropping onto your hands and knees.
You weren't about to give him the satisfaction. You could get up on your ownâit might take longer and look ridiculous, but at least it would be on your own. Turning toward Megumi's bed, you began crawling, carefully avoiding your injured leg, putting all the pressure on your knees. Since the floor wasn't carpet, it hurtâthat white pain straight on the bone.
You almost reached it when you were suddenly lifted from the floor.
Strong arms wrapped around your waist, hoisting you up like you weighed nothing. It felt like being picked up like a misbehaving cat, so you kicked your feet, trying to get down, not even caring if you put pressure on your leg.
Your hands landed on his forearms as he pulled you closer, turning and heading the same way he'd gone with your son minutes earlier. That same son now watched with amused, hopeful eyes as his father carried his mother toward the dining tableâall forgetting about how his father had cut short his drawing time.
You squirmed the entire way, but when he finally set you down on a chair, you felt something hard brush against your ass.
You felt it. Toji felt it.
Neither of you said a word. You didn't even look at each other.
Dinner passed with Megumi happily narrating yet another of his imaginary stories, punctuated by small yawns and quiet comments from you and Toji.
Bath time came and went. You did the dishes seated on a chair in the kitchenâafter Toji had plopped you there and threatened you if you moved. The threat meant nothing until he mentioned taking away your favourite snack. That did it. Your ass stayed firmly planted.
Before putting Megumi to bed, Toji brought him into the kitchen so he could get his goodnight kiss from his mother. Parting with a big loud smooch, Megumi closed his eyes hugging his father close as he let himself be carried toward his bed.
Just as he passed the door, you saw Toji kissing Megumi's cheek right where you had kissed the little boy. Just like he used to do when you were still married. Kissing by WiFi, he called it. You had always thought it had been cute, and seeing it after so long apart, it warmed your heart.
Shaking your head, you forced your mind away from the though and got back to your dishes. It didn't take long for you to finish it and you were ready to get into bed already. You weren't tired, but you just wanted to lie down and watch a movie or show.
Getting up, taking your crutches, you didn't even bother putting the chair back where it belonged knowing it would be hard with no hands available.
Simply, you walked toward the bathroom closing the toilets lid down so you could sit down on it. On the other side of the wall, you heard the little noise from the animated book and Toji's voice telling the story.
Even with the door open and Toji finished bedtime, he didn't come to bother you. He didn't come to scold you for walkingâhe had probably heard the crutches anyways. You saw him briefly in the mirror as he crossed the hallway and then heard him moving around in the living room and kitchen.
It was so weird living back in this house, with Toji and Megumi. It was playing tricks on your mind every time you woke up to his warmth next to you, your brain needing a minute to remember you were not a couple anymore. That you couldn't really cuddle into his arms and chest in order to fell back asleep again.
It was just so easy to fall back into a routine, it scared you.
Quickly finishing in the bathroom, you turned to lights off before making your way toward the bedroom. Comfortable in bed, you turned the TV on ready to fully relax. Toji was probably watching some sports in the living room, and you knew it wouldn't be long before he came to bed.
He was working a morning shift, and had to get up quite early. And take Megumi to kindergarten. All while you slept away because he made sure not to wake you. You felt so uselessâand also like a bad motherâbut even with you telling him you could help, he never woke you.
Choosing a short movie, you underestimated how tired you were. One moment you were watching the movie and the next, you felt the remote being gently taken from your hand before the room turned silent. It was impossible for you to open your eyes even when you felt hands tucking the covers higher and the feeling of soft warm lips on your temple. With this familiar comfort, you let yourself fell back to sleep.
This housing arrangement was dangerous and you knew it would break your heart all over again.
It had been almost three weeks since you'd been staying with your ex-husband, and Megumi's birthday was approaching fast.
After that sweet gingerbread activity afternoon, you'd found yourself cuddling with Toji every single night since, when he was present. His body would mould right behind yours, being always careful with your injured leg. Like before, when you were still married, he also did his best not to wake you up.
Comfort wasn't a good thing, at least not in your mind. You were divorced, you didn't want to get used to his warmth again. And soon you'd be going back home, where the warmth and presence would be a missed comfort.
Well. Not as soon as you would've liked.
Right now, you were sitting in the car on the way to pick Megumi up from kindergarten after a doctor's appointment. It was supposed to be the day they removed your cast, but the X-ray hadn't shown the progress the doctors were hoping for. When they started asking questions about whether you'd been walking on your foot instead of resting it, Toji had cut you off immediatelyâsnitching on you without hesitation.
He'd told them he had to force you to use the crutches, otherwise you'd just limp around on cast, now that the pain was gone. He'd also explained that you were spending far too much time on your feet instead of sitting down.
He had ratted you out, even though you hadn't wanted him in the room at all. He'd insisted.
So here you were, pouting in the passenger seat as he drove toward Megumi's school. You were stuck with the cast for at least another three weeksâmeaning Megumi's birthday, Christmas and New Year's. It wasn't like you'd had anything big planned, not with a four-year-old anyway, but it still felt like your independence was being stripped away, and you hated it.
"Stop pouting," Toji said beside you.
"You snitched on me," you shot back.
That only earned you a mocking scoff. In his mind, he'd been completely in the right. For proper recovery, doctors needed to know when patients weren't following orders. He was a EMT, he knew exactly what lying patients could cause to themselves.
"You're a child," he replied, not apologizing as he parked in the short-term drop-off area in front of the school.
You didn't answer. Instead, you opened the car door and turned so your legs hung outside, eyes fixed on the school entrance. It was the last week before winter break, and the kids were buzzing with excitement.
After about five minutes of silence, you finally spotted your little boy running toward the car, his hands clasped tightly in those of his two best friendsâYuji and Nobara. Even though they'd met only about three months ago, after both kids transferred, it felt like they'd known each other forever.
During his first years of school, Megumi had been lonely. No friends at all, something that had worried you deeply, especially since it happened right after the divorce. Somehow, you'd convinced yourself it was your fault. Therapist had said it was normal, that he was just a shy little boy but that you should try going to playgrounds to help. It didn't.
Turned out he'd just been waiting for the right people.
The three of them ran straight toward your car, not even bothering to look for Yuji's uncle or Nobara's mom. And with the mischievous glint in their eyes, you already knew they were about to ask for something.
"Mama!" Megumi shouted, running as fast as his little legs would carry him.
You looked at him softly, biting your lip to keep your smile from spreading too wide. Seeing him this happy warmed your chestâhe'd been such a shy, lonely baby.
"Gumi, you can't run here with your friends before they go see their parents," you explained gently.
You pushed yourself up so you'd be standing, just so you could kneel in front of the three kids but you barely got halfway there before a strong hand pressed on your shoulder, forcing you back into your seat. A bit too harshly. You hadn't heard him approach, hadn't even seen him.
"But Mama, we want to ask you something," your son said softly, not even acknowledging his father at all, which made you laugh.
If he was ignoring Toji, you knew the answer was probably noâbut he thought he had more luck with you.
You nodded, letting him know you were listening. Beside you, near the back of the car, you heard the flick of a lighter. Turning your head quickly, you saw your ex with a cigarette between his lips.
Since when had he started again? He'd quit when you were pregnant. You didn't have time to ask before Megumi spoke again.
"Can Nobara and Yuji sleep over for my birthday?" he asked, his voice so gentle it almost hurt and a big smile stretched on his lips.
The two others kids were looking at you with the same begging eyes and smile. Good lord. Handling three five year oldâespecially for what would likely be their first night away from homeâwas a recipe for disaster. But Megumi was a smart kid. If you explained it properly, he'd understand that you just couldn't handle that.
Apparently, Toji had other plans.
"Fuck no," he said flatly through the smoke. "I'm working that night, and your mother's not taking care of three little munchkins like you."
Even if he wasn't wrong, the way he said it was, by a lot.
All three children looked up at him like he was the devil himself as he leaned carelessly against the car, eyes fixed on the school building. He didn't even bother looking at themâit would've been useless anyway. Toji wasn't a man easily manipulated, not even by three pairs of puppy eyes.
"Toji," you sighed, mostly at the language because deep down, you agreed with him.
He'd told you he was working that night, but his shift didn't start until 9 p.m. That still left plenty of time for Megumi to enjoy his little party and have a proper bedtime with both his parents. And while you could handle three toddlers for an afternoon, you weren't okay doing it at night and alone.
Toji glanced at you with a knowing smirk, then shrugged.
While the two friends continued staring at him with a mix of awe and fear, Megumi turned to look at you instead. He already knew it was futile, you'd always made it a rule never to contradict each other in front of him. Whatever one of you said, went.
"Oi, brat!" A deep, irritated voice cut through the moment, making Yuji turn immediately.
Striding toward the car with daggers in his eyes was RyomenâYuji's uncle and caretaker. It was a bit hard to piece together the boy's family situation, especially when it came filtered through Megumi, but you understood that Ryomen was raising both Yuji and his older brother, Choso.
According to Megumi, Choso was in "the big boys' school." You still hadn't figured out whether that meant middle or high school.
You had met Ryomen a handful of times since September when picking up the kids. He was polite enough, but you'd quickly understood he had a temper of his own and also liked to keep to himself.
"The fuck are you doing all the way over here?" he spat again, getting closer.
His choice of vocabulary was just as charming as Toji's, which made it easier to understand why little Yuji looked more shocked by the size of your ex rather than by his words.
"I'm with my friends," Yuji shot back, completely unfazed by the anger.
Rolling his eyes, his uncle approached and instead of grabbing Yuji and leaving immediately, he went straight for Toji. Frowning, you watched as the two men shook hands before Toji offered him a cigarette. Moments later, they were already talking about sports and horses. Of course they got along.
Well, apparently he liked to keep to himself when it came to you.
A few seconds later, Nobara's mom joined the little group that had formed around the car, while the kids started chatting among themselves about what they were going to do at Megumi's party. It was the 16th and he had handed out his homemade invitations todayâonly to the three of them, which made it easier to organize.
Toji and you had a week to organise little activities to entertained three children during hours. Knowing you couldn't go outside because they were announcing snow and well, you were still walking with crutches.
After exchanging a few words and confirming she'd be there, Nobara's mom left with her daughter just as Ryomen finished his cigarette and whistled for Yuji to follow. The boy obeyed immediately, laughing loudly as he ran toward his uncle, like a real little puppy.
It was an amusing sight, and you could tell the chubby toddler, legs pumping as fast as they could carry him, was used to it. Even more so when his uncle reached a hand back without looking, and Yuji caught it instantly, like it was second nature.
With a small pout on his lips, Megumi said nothing when his father picked him and his bag up. Once he was settled and buckled into his car seat, the pout didn't disappearâif anything, it deepened as he crossed his arms and frowned.
That only made Toji mock him slightly before shaking his head.
"One day, you're gonna have kids," Toji said, eyes flicking from the road to the rearview mirror. "And then you'll understand why I said no."
"I don't like you right now," Megumi's voice echoed from the back seat, making you snicker.
"That makes two of us," you muttered, low enough that your son wouldn't hear but you knew Toji would.
And he did. He shot you a glare before rolling his eyes. He was so annoyingly beautiful, and it really wasn't helping your case.
From your seat, you glanced at his arms, constrained in a tight black long-sleeved shirt. He had claimed he was running hot when you'd asked why he wasn't wearing a sweater or a coat now that winter was settling in. His arms flexed every time he turned the wheel, making you look away from the muscles.
He drove so effortlessly, every movement fluid and unfairly attractive.
It didn't help that he knew you were still watching here and there. The smirk on his lips only grew wider, unapologetic. Why would he hide it? He had no shame about the fact that he was still eyeing you every chance he got, and he liked that you were doing the exact same thing.
The rest of the drive was quiet as soft music played while Toji drove through town toward the house. It was a short ride, which meant Megumi was still pouting when you arrived. Between his sulking, he sneezed several times and coughed in a way that made you a little worried.
Forcing yourself to believe it was nothing, you watched with a very motherly frown as Megumiâstill poutingâran toward the house, eager to be reunited with his puppies. It was also time for their long walk of the day.
Before father and son could leave, you forced a beanie, a scarf, and mittens onto Megumi. He didn't protest, letting you fuss over him with a satisfied smile on his lips. He had always loved being pampered. His nose was running, and he sniffed every few seconds.
As he waited for his father on the front porch, playing with the puppies while you kept your eyes on him while Toji put on his shoes.
"Not gonna pester all over me, Mama?" Toji teased, glancing at you as he tied his laces.
"He's gonna get sick," you said, still watching your son.
"Trust his immune system a little," your ex replied, shaking his head with a small laugh.
"We'll see if you're still laughing when you have to take him to the doctor's office," you shot back, rolling your eyes as you headed to the kitchen to start cooking.
And let's just say Toji wasn't nearly as amused when he came back from work the next morning to find you waiting by the front door with a teary, shivering Megumi in your lap, the doctor's office already on the line asking when Toji would be bringing him in.
Who was laughing now?
It was just the flu. It had been going around the school, and little Megumi had caught it. Of course, you called to let them know he wouldn't be coming in for the rest of the week. They had the audacity to suggest that school time wasn't meant to be used for starting vacations early.
That made you see red.
You spent a solid ten minutes scolding them, telling the school it was their fault for keeping little kids outside in nearly freezing weather because they needed fresh air.
All the while, Toji lay stretched out on the couch beside you, Megumi resting in his lap, thumb tucked in his mouth. He didn't do that oftenâonly when he felt really bad and needed comfort. Shiro and Kuro were curled at the foot of the couch, their snouts pressed against Toji's legs. Megumi drifted in and out of sleep, stubbornly fighting it for reasons only he understood.
Toji, however, was wide awake, even after the brutal shift he had. He watched you as you snapped into the phone, an unreadable look in his eyes. The same look that had once led to Megumi being conceived.
It wasn't a look that should've still been there. Not after the divorce.
When you finally hung up, you moved to take Megumi from him so he could go get some proper rest. Toji clicked his tongue.
"Stop," he muttered when you tried again, lightly slapping your hand away. "You're already injured. Don't need the flu too."
"Trust my immune system," you shot back, twisting his own words against him.
When you reached for your son again and he gently pushed your hands away, you slapped his hand in return. Megumi, somehow, was finally asleep though his little brows were furrowed, like he was fighting things you couldn't see. Fever and nightmares together would be too much. You just hoped he'd have a peaceful night.
"You need to sleep. Give him," you hissed softly, careful not to wake the boy.
"Nuh uh," Toji replied, sinking deeper into the cushions and keeping Megumi snug against his chest. "Think I'll nap right here, Mama."
Your eyes narrowed at his stubbornness. You sincerely hoped Megumi wouldn't inherit that traitâit had caused a lot of arguments over the years. And, admittedly, a lot of sex. But that was irrelevant.
Speaking of sex⊠the way Toji was looking at you hadn't changed. His eyes were slightly hooded, that lazy, familiar lust simmering in them as they dragged slowly over you. From your face, down to the way your chest filled your pyjamas, to the soft roll of your stomach pressing against the fabric.
You didn't know if the look at been there the all time, or if you were finally allowing yourself to notice it, he had never been shy about his attraction to you after all. From the moment you met, he'd made it abundantly clear he thought you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
Even when your own mind couldn't understand how a man like him could want a woman like you.
And the best part? He'd proven you wrong every single time. You'd been certain he'd be disgusted by the pregnancy weight layered over the fat you already carried. Instead, he'd only wanted you more. He'd told you that body had given both of you the little boy you both loved so dearly.
And he'd never once looked at you like anything less than something precious. But then you remembered his condescension about that same body.
Not physically, he had never and you were sure he would never, belittle you or mock the way you looked. That wasn't the problem. The problem was how he had acted like he understood what was happening to you better than you did.
The return of your period during postpartum had been complicated, extremely soâin a already really hard postpartum. Both physically and mentally. All you had needed was comfort. Kindness. A little reassurance. Not the way he had handled your hormones being all over the place.
It had already been hard enough taking care of a newborn while feeling like you were somehow pregnant all over again, the symptoms being way too powerful for you to think rationally. Even more when you were so tired all the time.
The symptoms had felt so similar, and it had triggered something strange inside you. A longing. A confusing, aching desire for another baby before your body had even finished healing from the first.
Instead of navigating it like a gentle, loving husband, he had brushed you away with harsh words and mocking tones. Then betrayed you.
All you had asked was for him to sit you down and explain softly that you didn't actually want a second child like you had said for years, that your body was regulating itself, that hormones were confusing your brain. And yes, maybe you would have taken it badly at first. Maybe it would have felt like he was treating you like a child, mansplaining things.
But it would have been better than shutting down for months. Better than not trying. Better than spying on you. Better than getting a vasectomy behind your back.
It had been both your faults, you could admit that. But even if you were partially to blame, you hadn't broken his trust. You hadn't gone behind his back. For one simple reason: you loved him. And when you love someone, you trust them.
Apparently, he hadn't trusted you.
So what was the point of staying with someone who didn't? You had taken the choice away from him. Made the decision for both of you. You left. It had been for the best. At least, that's what you had told yourself.
But now, after almost three weeks of living back in this house, playing the perfect little family, it forced you to confront what you had truly missed for a year and a half.
Being around him reminded you that he was a good father. You had always known that. But he had also been a good partner.
Aside from the lack of trust he had showed you. If he had just communicated, maybe you would have worked through it. Maybe it would have been an ugly phase in the marriage. A scar. Not the end of everything.
Looking into his eyes now, you sighed. You couldn't stay in the room any longer. You could already feel the tears building again, and you were tired of crying. You had cried enough over this marriage.
So you stood and quietly made your way to Megumi's room instead, tidying it absentmindedly. You opened his window for a few minutes to let in fresh air, remade his bed as best you could with the crutches, and straightened his desk.
Under a pile of drawings, animals both real and imaginary, you found one that made you pause. In childish, uneven lines, there was a house. A tree. Grass. A bright sun.
And in the centre of it all: three stick figures. A woman. A man. A child. All smiling. All holding hands. Above them floated a small heart.
You slowly lowered yourself into his chair, letting your crutches fall to the ground, eyes fixed on the drawing as the tears you had tried so hard to hold back finally slipped down your cheeks.
It was the first time he had drawn something like this.
Every other time, he had drawn himself with either a woman or a man but never both at the same time. He didn't remember what it felt like to live with both his parents under the same roof.
But here, in uneven crayon lines, he had imagined it.
And the little boy in the picture, even in its simple and clumsy style, looked so happy.
Hours later, you were alone again, in bed.It was nearing midnight, and sleep refused to come.
All afternoon, you hadn't spoken to Toji. He had slept on the couch for nearly four hours with Megumi in his lap, not moving once. And even after that nap, he hadn't let you take care of your own son.
It pissed you off.
You weren't working right now. It wouldn't have mattered if you got sick. But he hadn't relented. He fed him, napped with him again, fed him once more, bathed him, and put him to bed.
During bedtime, you had been in the bathroom but you heard everything. Megumi asking if he would be okay for his birthday while Toji reassured him that he would, as long as he listened. And then the part that made your jaw tighten.
"Don't go to your mother, okay? You can't get her sick. You sleep in your bed like a big boy, yeah?" Toji had said, his tone serious enough to make it clear he wasn't joking.
So now you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if your son was sleeping well. The fact his father was taken away his comfort was breaking your heartâeven more when you knew Megumi almost always listened to the rules.
But almost as if he had a sixth sense, you heard small footsteps padding down the hallway. You sat up before the door even creaked open, turning on the bedside lamp just in time to see him standing there.
Grumpy Wolf dangled loosely from one hand while Bunny Bun was hugged tightly to his chest. His eyes were glossy. His little body trembled.
"Mama," he called softly from the doorway.
One look at him and you knew, he had tried to stay in his room. Tried to listen. Tried to be strong. But it had been too much.
"Come here, baby," you cooed, your own vision blurring.
Exhaustion, this house, being around Toji, it was making you more emotional than usual.
Megumi didn't wait for another invitation. He climbed onto the bed and immediately settled between your pillows, right against your chest as if he was trying to mould against you. Moments later, Shiro and Kuro jumped up as well, curling at the foot of the bed like it was routine.
"Cold, Mama," he whispered, inching closer.
"Oh, I know, my love," you murmured, pulling the covers higher around him.
His skin was burning under your touch, the fever still stubborn. His body was damp with sweat from fighting the infection, yet he shivered like he was freezing. It broke your heart. He was so small. So fragile.
You forced yourself to remember that the flu was common, that it passed. That in a few days, he would be running around again like nothing had happened.
Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you pulled him closer and reached behind you to switch off the light. To hell with Toji's orders, your son needed comfort, warmth and love.
If Toji didn't like it, he could sleep on the couch again.
With Megumi tucked against your chest, your body finally began to relaxânot the fake stillness of staring at the ceiling, but the heavy, real kind, the kind that pulls you under.
Against you, Megumi softened too. His breathing evened out as he clutched his plushies tightly, one small hand clenching into your pyjama top like he was anchoring himself and this time, you let sleep take you both.
You woke up disoriented, your heart thumping fast and hard against your chest. The sensation of your son being lifted from your arms had jolted you awake, fear rushing through you before you could think.
Logically, you knew it had to be Toji coming back home. But your brain hadn't caught up yet.
"It's just me, baby," you heard the familiar voice say as you clung tighter to your son's body. The term of endearment slipping out brought some sort of comfort.
"No," you mumbled, pulling him closer against your chest. "Leave him."
"He's sick," Toji sighed softly, carefully lowering Megumi back onto the mattress when he felt how tightly you were holding him.
Your breathing was still uneven, adrenaline slow to fade. In the dim light spilling in from the hallway, you could make out Toji's silhouette at the edge of the bed. Megumi stirred faintly between you, a weak whimper leaving his lips as he burrowed closer into your warmth.
"No," you whispered, forcing your eyes to stay open.
Even after the stress of being jolted awake like that, exhaustion weighed heavily on you. You weren't going to change your mind, and judging by the deep sigh that left Toji's lips, he understood.
When you opened your eyes again, you saw him turn toward the door.
"Toji?" you called softly, before you could stop yourself.
"Just going to shower. Go back to sleep," he replied, before leaving the room.
Knowing he wasn't mad comforted you more than it probably should have, though you couldn't explain why.
A small whine sounded against your chest. You looked down. Megumi's eyes were still shut, but his brows were furrowed, and his thumb had slipped back into his mouth.
You adjusted yourself carefully and pulled him closer, letting your body relax now that you knew no one was trying to take him away. The distant sound of running water was strangely soothing, dragging you back to a time when you had been the happiest you'd ever been.
Minutes later, you felt the mattress dip on the other side of your son. A hand slipped gently between the two of you, reaching over until it rested against Megumi's forehead. Toji's arm brushed against your chest as he leaned in.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath before pulling his hand back.
"Burning up?" you asked quietly, too tired to check yourself.
Your voice must have startled him, you felt him tense slightly before settling into the mattress.
"Yeah," he sighed. "Need to call the doctor back in the morning."
Scoffing faintly, you opened your eyes and looked at him. "It is morning."
That earned you an eye roll.
You didn't know the exact time, but old habits told you it had to be close to six a.m. Too early to be awake, but undeniably morning.
At the foot of the bed, you heard soft whines and heavy sighs as Toji shifted, trying to find space. The dogs had claimed most of it. They avoided your feet to escape accidental kicks, but now they were crowding him instead. The mattress wasn't big, something Toji used to complain about before he figured out how to take advantage of that fact.
"Fucking mutts," he muttered, clicking his tongue when they started rustling. "Stop."
His voice dropped, firm and deep. Instantly, the puppies settled.
"Be glad they're not on your pillow trying to get closer to your son," you mumbled into Megumi's hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head.
He didn't answer right away, but you could still hear him shifting his feet probably playing with them for a bit. For someone who claimed he wasn't much of a pet person, he seemed to interact with them an awful lot.
"Back to talking to me, Mama?" Toji asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Your eyes opened again. He wasn't about to start something right now, was he? You'd like to think having a child had made both of you more mature. But your ex-husband could still be incredibly petty.
"Don't start now," you spat back, rolling your eyes.
"I ain't starting anything," he scoffed, his eyes never leaving yours. "Just continuing what you started."
Here you go again. He always used to do this, that condescending, fake-calm demeanour whenever he didn't like something you did. But if you mirrored it? He'd lose his temper. It was exhausting. You had hoped he'd changed or that you'd never have to live through it again.
"And then you still wonder why I left," you whispered, not even meaning for him to hear.
In any other situation, at an hour when the world was this quiet, he wouldn't have. But he did. And Megumi lying between youâsick, feverish, fragileâwasn't going to stop him from pushing it.
"Oh yeah?" he shot back. "You gonna tell me all about how I'm a bad father and a bad husband?"
The pettiness in his voice almost made you laugh.
"I'm not doing that right now," you bit back carefully, holding your words so they wouldn't turn cruel and insulting.
It was insane how something soft and almost peaceful could crumble over silenceâa silence treatment Toji had never been able to tolerate. He always ask communication, words to understand what was going in. Praised it, even. How ironic.
As gently as possible, you sat up and lifted your son into your arms before turning onto your other sideâyour back to Toji, Megumi warm against your chest. You were ready to sleep. Or at least pretend to, until a reasonable hour.
Then he chuckled. That humourless, sharp exhale he always gave when you said something he didn't like. It snapped something in you.
"You were a bad husband," you whispered, though the edge in your voice betrayed you. "Is that what you want to hear? You were a fucking bad husband at the end, Toji. Spying on my pills. Belittling my emotions. Getting a vasectomy behind my back? If that sounds like being a good husband to you, then maybe I should've left way sooner."
The silence that followed was cutting.
You knew your words were harsh. You didn't regret them. You wouldn't apologize for them either, because they were true. The whole point of sharing a life with someone you love is trust, cherish and love them.
At the end of your marriage, he did none of that.
"You made me feel like I was the one betraying you. Like I was going to baby-trap you. Instead of talking to me, using that communication you love to preach about, you fucked up. At least have the decency to stand by your actions before you put words in my mouth."
There was more you wanted to say. So much more. But Megumi whimpered softly in pain against your chest, and your rising voice dropped instantly.
"You are a good father," you finished quietly. "But you were not a good husband."
You forced your eyes closed. If he wanted to fire back, he didn't. He didn't even move. For a second, you weren't sure he was breathing. But you should have known it wouldn't end there.
"You weren't the perfect wife you like to think you were either," he said at last, his voice low tight with something darker than pettiness.
You let out a short, almost unhinged laugh, shaking your head at the audacity.
"Never said I was," you replied. "Sorry if all I asked for was my husband's love and time. Oh, dear Lord, forgive me for needing more attention when my hormones were fucking me up. But I guess they weren't messing me up that badly if they made me leave you. Right?"
That did it, he didn't say anything else.
Behind you, though, you could hear him settling into sleep. Every now and then, a quiet scoff slipped out, or the faint click of his tongue, like he couldn't fully rest even in silence. You didn't know whether he was angry at you or replaying his own actions and turning that frustration inward. It was something he used to do, sometimes.
Either way, you truly didn't care. This cohabitation could have been smooth, almost effortless. But of course, old habits died hard.
As you let yourself drift off again, the only thing you longed for was the comfort of your own home, somewhere far from Toji, who was breaking your heart all over again.
The week that followed that fight was tense, to say the least. You were both adults, yet both stubborn and full of unsaid words. The divorce had been relatively quick and yet not that easyâas you had refused to see him and would only communicate through lawyers. So many things had been left unsaid back then, and you were not exactly eager to dig them up now. Especially during the holiday season.
What was supposed to be a cute and meaningful birthday for your son turned into fake smiles and overly nice words so he wouldn't feel bad. But your little boy wasn't dumb, he could feel something was wrong between his parents. He would ask in a quiet voice during bedtime, only to receive the same answer from both his mother and father.
It's nothing, grown-up stuff.
Christmas hadn't been any better. Going to your parents' house with Megumi made you feel almost guilty for leaving Toji behind. It had been the same last year as well, but you hadn't been sharing a house then. Of course, like last year, your parents had invited him so Megumi could have both his parents with him, but his ego didn't let him accept. It was the same story this year, even after Megumi asked every day for about five days.
Toji's family was complicated: a bunch of very traditional, racist, and misogynistic pricks he never wanted to be associated with. In eleven years together, you had never met them. Not even his parents. To be completely honest, you didn't even know if they were alive. He never spoke about them, and with time, you learned not to ask.
And so had Megumi.
He understood it made his father upset, and he had never asked again after that realization.
For New Year's, you told your parents you would stay at their place. You let Megumi spend it with his dad and his puppies. He had told you all about it on the phone when he called the next morning. They had played games, played with the dogs, eaten a lot of candy, watched Zootopia twice, and he had even slept with his dad. He had been so excited about his day that it made you feel a little better about leaving them alone.
However, he did say he wished you had been there and asked when you were coming home. That had been his exact word. Home.
As if you were still living in that house with them and were just away for some unknown reason. Even if he was a bit more bright than most kids his age, you understood how confusing it must have been for him to get used to his parents living in different places, only for them to suddenly live together again while his father took care of his mother.
He was only five years old.
The next time you saw Toji, it was back at the hospital. Some time away had done you good, and you decided it was better to stay with your parents for the rest of the time you had the cast on. It was better for everyone. Except your son, who had the saddest voice every evening when he called you.
He would understand when he was older. You knew he would.
It wasn't better for him to live in that house while you barely spoke to Toji. The atmosphere would only be tense for everyone, and it wasn't something you wanted to put your son through.
However, your parents couldn't take you to your check-up appointment, so Toji volunteeredâhelped greatly by little Megumi begging. It was on a Saturday, which meant Megumi was coming with you. He hadn't really seen you outside of facetime for about a week and a half, and he was clearly missing his mother. You understood that the moment he ran your way when he opened the car door, getting out without even waiting for approval.
Now, sitting in the doctor's office, you were biting your lip as the doctor closely examined the X-ray. It had been more than a month in the cast, and you were more than ready to have it taken off. It itched underneath, and you just wanted to be able to walk, drive, and live normally again.
"All good now!" the doctor concluded, making you let out a small laugh of relief.
Right next to you, on Toji's lap, Megumi laughed along with you and clapped a few times, his enthusiasm making all three adults laugh at his gesture. He was such a sweet kid, it was truly heartwarming to see, as well as a little scary. You never wanted anything to change that.
An hour later, you were walking on your own two feet as you exited the hospital, your son's hand in yours. He was already rambling about all the things you could do with him now, how you could help him with the bike he had received for Christmas. He was so excited that he didn't even notice the awkward tension lingering on the way back to the house.
Most of your things were still there, and you were now ready to go back to your own place. To finally be alone when you wanted to be, and not feel the forced loneliness that house constantly reminded you of.
Stepping inside, you told Megumi to get ready to go back home.
Almost immediately, the little smile that had been on his face since the hospital disappeared, replaced by a small pout. Still, he listened and quietly went to his room with his head down.
On the other side, Toji had sat himself at the dining table, his head resting in his hand as he watched you. His eyes looked conflicted, as if he were hesitating between staying quiet and saying something. It wasn't easy to ignore him when his gaze was practically boring into you as you walked around the house, putting your things into bags by the front door.
Once you were done, you waited for Megumi.
Of course, you could have rushed him, but you didn't feel like it. It was hard enough for his mind to understand that the past few weeks spent with both his parents under the same roof weren't permanent. You weren't going to stress him more. If he wanted to take an hour to gather his things, you would let him.
That left you in an awkward silence with Toji, the two of you sitting on opposite sides of the room. He hadn't moved from the dining table, while you sat on the small bench by the front door. Your leg bounced restlessly as you leaned forward, elbows on your thighs.
Even during the divorce, things hadn't been this weird between you and Tojiâmostly because you simply hadn't seen him. But right now, you almost wished you could disappear. It made it worse knowing he would be the one driving you back to your place, even after you had insisted you could take an Uber.
"Not with my kid," had been his answer.
Then, you reached for your handbag, looking for something inside. Taking the check book out, you started searching for a pen as well. It was the most logical thing in your mind, as Toji hadn't let you pay for anything while you stayed here.
"I don't need your money," Toji broke the silence, his voice booming in the room.
"I know you don't," you scoffed, you had been the one reorganizing the bills back together. "Doesn't mean you won't take it."
To that, he let out a humourless laugh. "If you give it to me, I'll rip it apart. I don't want your money."
At those words, you sighed heavily. Why did he have to make everything complicated? Looking up, you were met with a hard glare. Hurt and annoyance could be seen in his eyes, but surely you were giving him the same look.
"Why are you making this hard?" You spat.
"I ain't making it hard. I'm making it quite easy, I don't want your money." He forced a smile on his lips.
"Toji," you sighed again, looking back down at the check.
"You paid enough when we got together, Mama." The term of endearment slipped out as he concluded, finally saying the real reason he didn't want your money.
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you couldn't believe he was still stuck on something that had happened over a decade ago.
When you had met, you were both pretty young, and while you already had your life somewhat figured out. Toji didn't, at all.
Back then, he had no job and relied only on gambling to get money, which wasn't really fruitful, and you found yourself paying for his rent or food more often than not. Why you had stayed back then, you still had no idea.
Perhaps it was because he was never cheap once he wonâclothes, restaurants, trips. He had no financial education, and it showed. Perhaps it was because the sex had been the best you had ever had in your life, and he was such a generous loverâwhich was rare these days. Perhaps it was because, after months, he started showing signs of change. Started talking about training programs he had heard about to get a real job.
Perhaps it was simply because you had fallen in love with him.
"Stop calling me that," you shot back, rolling your eyes.
"I ain't the one that wanted that divorce," he repeated, the same line he always used whenever you asked him to stop.
"Well, it sure looked like you did," you replied immediately, the words slipping out before you could think.
It didn't matter anyway. You had already told him everything you thought days ago. Still, it was never pleasant to have your own words thrown back in your face every once in a while. However, right now, you were not looking for another fight but as his eyes darkened at your response, you knew it was coming your way.
"You keep saying that, and yet I wasn't the one that left, right?" he said, his tone laced with accusation.
It was your turn to let out a humourless laugh. The fact that he still didn't understand what you had been trying to say proved how little effort he was actually making.
"Being here physically is very different from being here mentally, Toji." You were tired of explaining that to him.
"We could have worked it out," he sighed, as if you were the one who had never understood his point all along.
"Yes, we could have," you answered quietly, not even raising your voice. What was the point anymore? "But you went and betrayed me. That one's on you."
Something shifted in his gaze, almost as if your words had finally landed. After nearly two years, it was about time. Truthfully, you weren't expecting anything from him anymore. But if he could at least understand what he had done wrongâso he wouldn't unconsciously pass it on to your sonâthen maybe it would mean something.
"I did what was best for us," he muttered, loud enough for you to hear.
"You did what was best for you, Toji. Don't twist the story," you retorted, glancing down the hallway, half-expecting your son to peek out of his room.
"I did it for us," he insisted, emphasizing the us. "We never wanted another kid, and you were complaining I wasn't touching you anymore. And you didn't want condoms. I wasn't even sure you were taking your pills, so I did what I had to do."
His eyes stayed locked on yours now, no longer looking away.
"What would we have done if you got pregnant? You would've been happy for a while, and we would've raised that kid just like we did with Meg," he continued, one brow lifting. "But what about us? Remember the baby blues you had after Megumi was born? You didn't want to feed him, didn't want to see him at all. And we wanted that kid."
He was dragging you back to a time you had always tried to forget. You had been so happy when you got pregnant, and the pregnancy itself had been manageable. But after the delivery? Everything had fallen apart. You wouldn't leave your bed. You didn't want to see anyone.
Not even baby Megumi.
"What would've happened if we had a baby we didn't even want?" he asked again, waiting for an answer.
"I was taking my pills," you whispered, your gaze fixed anywhere but on him.
"How the fuck was I supposed to know?" he raised his voice, throwing his hands in the air. "You used to take them right next to me in bed, and all of a sudden you started taking them in the bathroom."
For some reason, you couldn't even remember why you had started doing that. That whole period remained blurred in your mind. The postpartum had been brutal, and your brain had done its best to bury it all.
Hormones, you had been told.
The silence in the room grew thick, neither of you ready to admit your own faults. Of course, you knew you had been wrong in some ways, but in your mind, he had been more wrong. At this point, it felt less like a conversation and more like an ego match.
"Mama?" a small voice called from the hallway.
Turning around, you saw your son standing there with his backpack on, his puppies on their leashes, and Mr. Froggy clutched tightly in his hand. He looked so soft and sweet that you instantly hoped he hadn't been listening to the conversation. Not that he would have understood the words, but he surely would have noticed the reproachful tone in both your voices.
"Let's go, baby," you said, your voice calm and gentle again as you motioned him forward so you could put his shoes on.
Behind you, Toji let out a heavy sigh, as if he wanted to say more but was holding himself back. Which he probably was. And, thanks to Megumi, he did. You weren't sure you wanted to hear anything else about this right now anyway.
"Thank you," was the only thing you told him when he dropped you back home, leaving behind a check of a thousand dollars on the passenger seat. He could do whatever he wanted with it, it eased the guilt on your side, at least.
Once you closed the front door, you let out the heaviest, most relieved sigh of the day.
Megumi immediately dropped his bag to go play with Shiro and Kuro. The house smelled stale after weeks of being closed, so you opened all the windows, remade the beds, and started some laundry.
However, when you stepped into the kitchen, you were surprised to see that the fridge and fruit bowl had been emptied, nothing left rotting inside. The floor had been cleaned from the cocoa powder as well.
Of course.
Now, hours later, you were eating junk food with your son while watching The Grinch on TV. He was laughing, rambling about how he and Yuji had tried to scare little Nobara with the Grinch voice, only for it to scare Yuji more instead.
Even the puppies got a few extra treats tonight.
Bedtime was another small joy. It had been a long time since you had tucked him in, and you were savouring every second of itâtelling him stories, playing silly games, and cuddling beside him until he finally fell asleep.
However, when it was time for you to go to bed, something felt missing.
A presence. A warmth. And that was exactly what you had been afraid of when you chose to stay with Toji. The after.
Even if the divorce had been necessary, it wasn't any less painful. Toji had once been your endgame, the love of your life, the person you thought you would grow old with. But life rarely went the way you planned.
Turning on the TV in your room, you tried to trick your brain into thinking you weren't alone. It wasn't truly comforting, but it worked enough for your eyelids to grow heavy. It would have been the perfect way to fall asleepâif only your phone hadn't vibrated on the bedside table.
Picking up the screen lightly, you checked the notification, expecting an emergency from your friends or your parents. But it wasn't. And a small part of you almost wished it had been.
On your screen was a single message. Two words.
I'm sorry.
From Toji. And that text kept you up all night.
It was a strange feeling, dressing up to go on a date with someone new after decades with the same person.
It wasn't as if you had been forced into it. Kento was your favourite colleague: always respectful, always helpful, and undeniably good-looking. Since Toji, he had been the only one who made those butterflies in your stomach flutter again.
And still, sitting in his car with a gentle, easy conversation flowing between you, you felt off.
Almost stupid. Like you were overdressed. Like you had put on too much makeup. Even if Kento had complimented you the moment he opened the car door, calling you beautiful, your mind refused to settle.
It made you feel guilty. As if you weren't supposed to be there. As if you were betraying your husband.
Your ex-husband.
Which didn't help, considering he had no issue flirting with Megumi's teacher every time he picked him up. Megumi had snitched without even meaning to.
The restaurant was nice. Kento was even nicer, and he kept complimenting you throughout the evening. The conversation came easilyâyou laughed, joked, and talked about everything and nothing.
It was always pleasant to talk to him. You rarely worked directly with him since he wasn't in your department, but whenever you did, he was the kindest person to ask for help. His other colleagues were insufferable finance assholes, and you already dreaded the day he might accept a better job offer and leave.
The date was sweet. Sometimes he would take your hand across the table, but the contact never went much further than that. He asked about Megumiâhis interests, how he was doing, how he behaved. It was rare for men to stay interested once they learned you were a single mother.
Every time, they asked about the father. And the moment they found out he was still involved in the child's life, they ran. As if they would have preferred you to be a miserable, overwhelmed mother with no support. Easier to play the saviour that way, for you and for the kid.
But as long as the father was present, they wanted none of it. No competition. It had made it almost impossible for you to find anyone after Toji, and you couldn't stand most of them anyway.
Kento Nanami wasn't like that.
He even asked about Tojiâwhat he did for work, what he was likeâcarefully, respectfully. You liked that about him. He wasn't insecure. His eyes were soft, attentive, he listened, asked thoughtful questions, seemed genuinely interested. You didn't understand how he was still single.
And yet, when he kissed your forehead in front of your building, the butterflies were gone. Just like that.
It was messed up. Pushing your back against the front door, you let your head fall against it with a heavy sigh. For months, you had nursed a quiet crush on Kento from afar. It had taken time after the divorce, but the crush had definitely been there.
So why, after such a sweet, pleasant date, were the feelings suddenly gone?
It was frustrating. One single night back in your ex-husband's arms had been enough to send your butterflies into a frenzy again even after he had hurt you the most. Kento had never been disrespectful, never cruel, never anything but kind, and yet nothing.
Lightly knocking your head against the door, you started to hate yourself a little. The night had been perfect. Your brain had ruined it anyway. And, as usual, your brain, your worst enemy, made the decision for you.
Your apartment felt too quiet. Too dark. Too empty. Megumi was staying at your parents' house for the weekend after begging you to let him, he hadn't really seen them since Christmas, and March was already creeping closer.
Shaking your head, you couldn't bear the silence any longer. You grabbed your keys and rushed back outside. As you made your way down to the parking lot, you tried to talk yourself out of what you were doing, but you already knew it was useless.
The drive was short. And when you parked in front of your old house, you let out a long, tired sigh. What were you even doing? Seeking comfort in the wrong arms. But you were already here now. And it was far too late to turn back.
Knocking on the door felt just as humiliating as it was exciting. The waiting didn't help much either, your brain was working a hundred miles an hour. However, the sight your eyes fell upon when the door opened made you forget it all.
Toji stood there in sport shorts, bed hair all over the place, scratching at his bare stomach with one hand while the other held the door open. His eyes were small, like you had woken him upâyou had, but you didn't truly care.
"Where is Meg?" he asked, his brow frowning.
"With my parents," you responded, pushing past him as you dropped your bag by the front door and let your coat fall as well.
"Well, isn't that a nice little dress." Toji whistled, looking you up and down from behind. He wasn't being slick at all, you could feel his eyes on your ass. "All this for me?"
"You ruined my date, actually," you deadpanned, turning back toward him as he closed and locked the door.
At that, he let out a small, unimpressed laugh. "Please do tell how."
"'Cause he wasn't you," you said simply before reaching for him.
Pushing onto your tiptoes, your hands cupped his cheeks as you pulled him closer. Damn his height. When your lips met, it was as if the planet started turning right again. As if all your pain had vanished. The longing, the familiarity of his body, and the pleasure tied to it made every doubt in your mind disappear.
"Are we sure about this?" Toji asked, his lips never quite leaving yours. His hands were already on your hips, kneading the soft flesh there and pulling you closer. It didn't match his words at all. "You're not drunk?"
"No," you said, forcing yourself higher onto your toes.
He must have felt your frustration, because his hands slid from your hips to under your ass, lifting you into him. Oh, how you had missed his strength. Your legs wrapped around his lower back while your arms circled his neck. The kiss turned messyâtongue and teeth, breath and heat. It wasn't a battle for dominance, just familiarity and longing. With the kiss, you could feel how much you had missed him, missed this.
His feet carried you both to the bedroom, where he sat on the bed with you in his lap. Beneath you, you could feel how affected he already was from that little kiss, and you would have been lying if you said it didn't warm your heart to know you still had that effect on him.
"Already?" you couldn't help mocking.
His only response was his hand slipping between your legs and under your dress, feeling how soaked your panties already were. He broke the kiss then, raising an eyebrow at you with a small smirk tugging at his lips. However, he didn't remove his hand, his fingers lazily played with your clit over the cotton before his mouth returned to yours, uninterested in whatever retort you might have had.
He didn't really care. His fingers were slow and teasing while his lips were hard and impatient. It went straight to your head, and you started rocking against his hand. The dress began to feel too constricting, and you wanted to feel his warmth against your skin. Letting go of his shoulders, you reached back for the zipper and pulled it down.
When the dress fell to your waist, Toji pulled his lips away, eyes dropping to the bra you had chosen.
"This motherfucker wasn't getting lucky tonight," he joked, not even letting you answer before pressing his lips back to yours.
"Fucker," you mumbled against them, pulling him closer as you slipped the bra off.
Once you were bare on top, you shifted higher on his hips so your chests touched. The feeling was so familiar, and you had always been a bit clingy, being away hadn't changed that. His free hand pulled the dress up and over your head until you were left in nothing but your panties. His other hand never left between your legs, not relenting for a second. The movements stayed slow and soft, but the rhythm was starting to drive you crazy.
Rocking your hips harder, you tried to send him a message as your lips drifted to his neck and shoulder. Your kisses were rushed, nipping at every bit of skin you could before he inevitably got tired of your teeth. He always did.
Seeing he wasn't going to speed up, your own hand traced down his chest to his shorts. Sliding underneath, you were pleased to find he still slept commando in cold weather. When it was warm, he used to sleep nakedâuntil Megumi started having nightmares, anyway.
"Settle down, Mama," Toji laughed when he felt how hurried you were.
"Want you," you mumbled between kisses.
Seconds later, you were on your back in the middle of the bed. It was unmade and still warm from his sleeping body. It smelled like him, and your body relaxed against the familiar mattress.
"God, I miss this bed," you breathed as his lips moved to your neck, nipping lightly.
"Thought you'd ask for it in the divorce," he chuckled against your skin, biting a little harder on the last word. Divorce.
"Should have," you said, letting out a soft moan. "My bed is shit."
You wanted to say something else, but his mouth closed around your nipple, and every thought slipped away. He was messy about it, drooling over your breast while his other hand kneaded the opposite one.
However, when you thought he was going to move lower, his face instead settled between your breasts, simply staying there without moving. His breathing was slightly ragged against your sweaty skin, sending chills down your spine.
Your own breathing was faster than usual, your chest rising and falling beneath his head with every inhale.
"So soft," he murmured against your skin, his hands sliding up and down your sides, kneading gently like a cat.
"Toji?" you heard yourself whisper.
"Shh, Mama," he replied softly. "Let me have this."
All the tension and lust that had built up slowly softened into something quieter. After a few minutes, both of your breathing began to settle, and Toji seemed to grow even more comfortable. His body relaxed completely, half draped over you and half sunk into the mattress, his knees no longer supporting his weight.
His face remained nestled against your chest, one arm tucked under you while the other lazily traced little shapes along your hip. Every now and then, his lips would press light kisses and small nips against your skin as he gradually drifted lower.
Minutes later, he was lying on your stomach.
Your own hands moved almost automatically, caressing his hair and shoulders. The moment felt peaceful, miles away from the last time you had seen him. There were still so many things left unsaid between the two of you, but you chose, deliberately, to ignore them for now and simply exist in this fragile quiet.
"Was this what you were looking for?" Toji's voice came out muffled against the softness of your stomach.
"Kinda wished for some good sex," you joked lightly.
That earned a low laugh from him and a gentle bite to your stomach.
"If you're still here in the morning, you'll get that," he said simply, feeling the way you trembled beneath him.
A moment later, he pulled the blankets over both of you without moving from his spot. He stayed sprawled across your stomach, completely under the covers. Where you might have felt suffocated, he seemed perfectly used to it. He only ever did this when he was exhausted, and you suspected you had caught him on a particularly bad night.
"Then we can talk," he added, his voice slightly smothered beneath the heavy blankets.
"Yeah," you replied softly, a small smile forming despite yourself. "We can talk."
And you had so much to talk about.
As his body grew heavier with sleep, fully relaxed against the bed yet still anchored to you, sleep refused to come to you. This had been a mistake that hadn't quite turned into one. Or maybe only half of one. But if it allowed the two of you to talkâproperly, like adults, without screams or tearsâyou would take it.
Turning your head in search of a more comfortable position, your gaze landed on something that hadn't used to be there. Something that definitely hadn't been there when you were recovering.
A single photo frame sat on Toji's side of the bed.
The three of you. Megumi perched in your lap while you sat in Toji's, all of you smiling so hard it had made your cheeks ache. A small chocolate cake with a single candle sat on the table in front of you, its light caught mid-flicker in the picture.
That photo used to be in the living room. You had always been a little sad you'd forgotten to take it when you moved out. Seeing it now, placed on his bedside table, made your eyes sting. It meant it was the last thing he saw before falling asleep and the first thing he saw when he woke up.
You looked like a happy family. You had been a happy family.
Lying there, feeling his slow, steady breathing against your stomach, a fragile thought began to take root: maybe it was possible to get back to that time. A long, honest conversation, without reproaches, mockery, or resentment might help. Maybe even counselling.
That date with Kento had made you realize something uncomfortable. No matter how kind, sweet, and gentle another man could be, they would never come close to being Toji. And you weren't even sure you were capable of loving someone who wasn't him.
More than that, you weren't sure you truly wanted to.
That was why you hadn't accepted your parents' offer to house you during your recovery. Why you hadn't protested the first time he had held you again after so long apart.
No one compared to him. And judging by the way he clung to you even in his sleep, no one compared to you either. Maybe this could work. Maybe, one day, you could become that perfect little family people used to envy.
It would take time. It would take compromises. But this time, you would make it work.
When people had told you that sometimes the first years were harder than the first months, you wouldn't have believed them. But now that Maya was almost two years old, it was getting pretty obvious that they had been right.
Once she had started walking, the house had turned into a mess. Jack, who by then had become an important part of both your lives, had gone a little crazy and baby-proofed the entire place. He closed cabinets, protected the corners of the furniture, and even went as far as buying baby-safe cleaning products that were completely free of chemicalsâbecause she also had a habit of putting everything in her mouth.
Now, a year later, she was starting to talk. Gone were the little gurgles, the simple mama and dada she used to let out at the sight of the two of you. It had come a bit later than usual, and the paediatrician had mentioned itâsomething that had made Jack upset, insisting that his baby was just taking her time and that she was still well within the age where it wasn't worrisome.
When he had said that to the doctor, your face had burned with embarrassment. It was reassuring, truly, that your partner was a doctorâa very skilled one at thatâbut he tended to go a little overboard when it came to his daughter.
And you. But he was your practitioner now, so it wasn't really relevant.
Right now, the house was quiet, the clock nearing 1 a.m. Your little girl was sleeping in her room, and you were getting ready to do the same. Jack was supposed to be with you, but Shen had called him earlier, asking if he could come in because he needed another set of hands. A big car crash, several residents on holidayâit had been a mess.
And Jack, being the good doctor that he was, had agreed.
You didn't mind him going back to help, as long as it didn't become a regular thing. When you had first gotten together, and Maya was still so small and in need of routine, you had made that clear. It would have been easier to leave him back then than it would be now.
Still, he had promised that he had things to come home to now, that he no longer felt the need to stay at work the way he used to. That promise had broken and warmed your heart at the same time.
So far, he had stayed true to his word. Nearly two years later, this was maybe the fifth time he had gone back in on his day off or worked a double shift. That, too, was something you loved about himâhow dedicated he was to his work, how deeply he cared about it.
Just as your head touched the pillow, you heard the front door open and close softly. You had left your bedroom door open, as you always did, wanting to hear him come home, and you caught the tired sigh that followed.
It worried you when his footsteps went up the stairs instead of toward the kitchen. He had left before dinner, and you knew he hadn't eaten anything on the way to or from the hospital. For someone who took such sweet and careful care of you and your daughter, you hated how often he neglected his own needs.
Waiting for him, you didn't turn off the light right away. But he made a small detour, and you saw his shadow pause as he stepped into Maya's room.
Jack would always do that, check on her whenever he came home. Whether he returned late at night or early in the morning while you were both still asleep, he would walk softly into her room, kiss her forehead, and fix her blankets before doing the same with you.
It wasn't long before he crossed the threshold of your shared bedroom. His soft, tired eyes settled on you as a gentle smile stretched across his lips.
"You're supposed to be sleeping," he said, nudging the door so it stayed ajar.
Turning his back to you, you watched him in the mirror as he took off his watch, setting it gently on the dresser. Then his eyes lifted from his wrist, meeting yours in the reflection. A single brow rose in a teasing look.
"It's not that late," you replied, a smirk forming on your lips.
When he approached the bed, you didn't bother sitting up. He knew better than to sit down with his outside clothes on, so he simply leaned in and kissed you softly. The kiss lingered a moment longer than intended, until his age caught up with himâhis back protesting from the awkward position.
That was when he straightened and headed toward the en-suite in silence.
For the next ten minutes, you scrolled on your phone, remembering you had to order something, before finally getting comfortable again, waiting for Jack. You were already drifting toward sleep, your body anticipating his warmth before fully relaxing.
It didn't have to wait long. You felt his warm, still slightly damp body settle behind you. The bed you shared wasn't very bigâand that had been your insistence. You had always loved sleeping close to someone, whether it was your mom when you were little, friends and cousins growing up, or boyfriends later in life.
Lately, you had also loved sleeping with the small, chubby body of your daughter tucked between the two of you. Jack had initially insisted it should only be on nights when she had nightmares or couldn't sleep, but he never objected when she simply asked with the few words she knew.
"Maya, bed mama dada. " He always said yes.
With his foot planted beside the bed, Jack finally settled behind you with a heavy, content sigh. You heard a few of his joints crack as he reached to turn off the light, making you chuckle softlyâa sound quickly swallowed by a yawn.
"Told you you should've been asleep," Jack murmured in your ear as he moulded himself against your back.
Feeling how heavy your eyelids were, you didn't bother replying. Scooting back, you settled into his hold, ready for a good night's sleepâespecially knowing he wasn't working tomorrow.
Then, almost as if he were trying to be sneaky, his hand slipped under your shirt and found your breast, squeezing it like a stress ball. For a few seconds, he kneaded it carefully before stilling his hand, leaving it there, warm and steady.
"Jack?" You barely found the strength to question him.
"Just making sure there's nothing to worry about," he mumbled against your neck. "Doctor's conscience."
You let out a quiet, mocking scoff. Truth was, it wasn't unusual to wake up with one of your breasts in his hand. Actually, it happened every time you woke up while he was still in bed. Still, you'd never felt him sneak his hand in like that before.
"Find something?" you asked teasingly.
"Nothing, no," he replied, his smile brushing against your skin. "Might need to check again tomorrow, though. And the day after."
"Oh yeah," you yawned. "Makes sense."
"Just to be sure," Jack concluded, giving your breast one final squeeze.
He might have been joking, finding comfort in the familiar weight in his handâbut deep down, you knew he really was checking, making sure nothing was wrong. He'd told you once that nothing terrified him more than the thought of you or Maya having something he hadn't noticed.
Like it had happened with his late wife.
And truly, you didn't mind if he wanted to hold your breasts every night. If it brought him comfort and helped him sleep, you were more than happy to let him. Especially when his hands were always so warm.
⊠â àŁȘ. about this chapter : it wasnât hard for you to imagine a plan to escape, but that didnât mean you could forget about the demon. and it seemed you werenât the only one craving vengeance.
For a week, you were still tied to the bed. Your days were spent in silence, broken only when Norm showed up with food and water. At first, he talked enough for the both of you, trying to get to know you. His efforts were useless. You were absolutely not going to say anything about your life, your clan, or your family.
You simply stayed silent, watching him with observant eyes, trying to understand what he truly wanted from you. He remained nice and friendly even after you had bitten himâand tried to do it again, many times. Norm tried to make it seem like he understood you.
There was nothing you hated more than pity.
Theyâhe had said it wasn't his decisionâhad chosen not to untie you. And so Norm had taken on the role of feeding you. He would sit by your side on the same rolling stool he always used, bringing fruit and cooked meat to your mouth.
At first, you refused the gesture.
You were not a young one. You could feed yourself, and they were the ones refusing to let you. If you withered away, that was their problem. But somehow, your stomach had a mind of its own, and after three days of not eating, you finally let Norm feed you.
Just like he was doing now.
You were still silent, and he was still talking. He talked about anything. Sometimes he mentioned Earth, only to notice your jaw tighten along with a harsh glare you'd sent his way and quickly changed the subject. Mostly, he spoke about science and the species of Pandoraâsome you had never even heard of. Oddly enough, it was interesting, and you found yourself entertained by his voice.
It was better than the ever lasting silence forcing you back into your own mind. Into unwanted memories.
After the food was gone, he didn't leave. He stayed on his stool and kept talking. Now he spoke about how the roots were all connected, how nature on Pandora was a single living entity, and how mesmerising it was to witness.
That made you smile, just a little.
He was like a child discovering the planet for the first time. It was almost heartwarming to watch. But then he scratched his face, and you saw his five fingers, reminding you who he was. What he was.
Just like that, the smile disappeared, small as it had been. It didn't go unnoticed by Norm. He seemed to think he was making progress with you, even if Jake and Max were far more sceptical.
A sharp whistle made you both turn toward the broken mirror. Behind it stood Jake Sully, a metal weapon resting in his arms.
Like clockwork, he was there every day, ready to take you outside. You were certain it had been Norm's ideaâto give you a bit of decency, a bit of fresh air. It wasn't much. Twenty short minutes. But it was better than nothing.
When Jake stepped through the hole in the wall, Norm began pushing his stool back. He never left the room, and you weren't sure whether that was for your safety or his friend's.
Once the demon was close to you, he pushed his gun behind his back before taking the restraints into his hands. One hand closed around your tied wrist, pinning it firmly against the bed. You guessed he had learned from his mistakes, not to trust you again.
With his other hand, he untied the knot securing you to the bed before forcing both your wrists together, not bothering to be careful with your injured arm. Every day, Norm scolded him for that, telling him to be gentle. Jake Sully never listened. Once your hands were secured together and unmoving, he made sure to tie you back to the bed before moving on to your feet.
The first time he had done this, your foot had connected with his face. The bruise still lingered, a soft purple blooming on his cheek. Seeing it brought you a small, vicious satisfaction. You hoped it reminded him that the only reason he was still alive was because you were restrained.
Just like with your hands, one of his hands pressed down on your ankle before untying it and forcing your legs together so he could grab both ankles at once. He wasn't especially large for a Na'vi maleâif anything, he was a bit on the shorter sideâbut he made up for it in strength. You couldn't deny he was broader, stronger than most of the males you had known.
And yet, you had almost killed him.
Once your feet were free, you watched carefully as he took a quick step back with watchful eyes on the slightest movement. When you didn't move, he stepped forward again, reaching for your wrists. He had fashioned the restraints into a sort of leash, yanking you upright in a harsh motion.
Pain flared through your shoulder, hot and sharp, but you swallowed the groan before it could escape.
"Jake," Norm let out at his harshness, shaking his head in disapproval.
Moving stiffly, you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed until your feet touched the floor. It felt good to stand again, even briefly but the wound in your thigh throbbed, making it impossible to stay upright for long.
It angered you that Jake Sully walked around all day without apparent concern for his own injuries. That told you everything: you must have missed the artery, or his recovery would have been far longer. To anyone else, he looked fine. But you always noticed the little limp when he walked ahead of you.
You knew the route by heart now. East, until the stream with the large rock beside it. Jake would untie you there and sit with his back to you on the stone. Escape was impossible though. His ears flicked at every sound, every movement. He was hyper-aware of his surroundings and of you.
His tail would flick if you stayed quiet for too long, almost like he was restraining himself to turn around.
More than once, you had considered letting the current carry you away, silently. But you were still too weak, and it wouldn't take long for him to notice your absence and follow. It was a bad plan as you could tell the current wasn't that quick. You needed something else.
As you washed today, your thoughts turned to the only real chance you had. Norm.
He was the only one who showed you any kindness. Sometimes, without explanation, the other scientist, Max, would come in to take your blood before disappearing again. Just like they did in TAP. Maybe Max and his friends were trying to create more avatars. Every time he came, you wondered how much longer they intended to keep you alive.
At the same time, you didn't understand why they were keeping you alive instead of killing you or letting you go. Neither choice would have surprised you. This slow, suspended existence made no sense in your mind. Perhaps Toruk Makto was only waiting for the right moment to kill you. The perfect moment for his revenge.
Yet, as you soaked in the cool water of the stream, doubt crept in. They didn't feel like executioners, they had plenty opportunities and ceased none. Even after you attacked them, multiple times. Maybe they wanted answers instead. To know how you spoke English so well. How you fought like a trained soldier.
Who had carved that scar into your face so deliberately.
Lying back in the water, none of it seemed to matter anymore. The stream closed over you, cool and gentle, and for a moment, peace settled into your bones. It reminded you of your family, of the Tlalim, of the water clans you visited so often. Of drifting beneath open skies, moving from clan to clan, carrying stories and songs. Of peace and happiness.
All of it, before the demons came.
A small smile tugged at your lips as sunlight filtered through the leaves, warming your face. Tiny fish brushed past you, some lingering near your feet, bold with innocent curiosity. The water eased the ache in your body, soothed the wounds, washed away, just briefly, the darker thoughts gnawing at your mind.
Until it would be taken from you again.
Floating there, you let yourself imagine the life you should have had if the demons had never reached your home. You would still have your parents. Your siblings. Nights spent laughing and dancing around the fire, voices raised in song instead of screams. Perhaps you would be mated by now. Perhaps even carrying a child.
The anger rotting inside you would not exist. Your nights would be quiet. Dream-filled. Free of blood and terror.
And as the water held you, you mourned not only what had been taken, but the person you had been before it was. Tears slipped freely down your face, dissolving into the stream as you grieved the life you should have livedâthe person you were never allowed to become.
Behind you, beyond your line of sight, Jake Sully watched.
For the first time, you looked peaceful. Even with tears tracing your cheeks, even with grief weighing heavy in the water around you, there was a softness to you he had never seen before. The faint smile on your lips was unfamiliar, almost unsettling in its gentleness.
He had stood to tell you it was time to go. But something in his chest fractured at the sight. Slowly, he sank back onto the rock, the weight of his weapon forgotten. Just a little longer, he told himself.
Just a little longer.
"What was Earth like?" you heard yourself ask aloud.
Norm had been staying in your room longer and longer now, lingering after meals, filling the silence with words. The question came out of nowhere, nothing he could have predicted.
It was also a useless question. You already knew about Earth. The humans of the Ambassador Program had taught you about it when you were young, carefully shaping the story so you would understand that they had no choice but to come to Pandora. Their planet was dying, they had said. What they never mentioned was that they were the ones who had killed it.
"Well⊠huh," Norm started, staring at you like you'd grown another hand.
You forced your face to relax, softened your gaze, made your eyes gentle. You had no interest in Earth's history. What you wanted was his trust and maybe a little pity. That would help. It had been days since you'd cried in the stream, and slowly, carefully, you were putting your plan into place.
You couldn't ask for sympathy right away. You needed him to believe you were changing. That maybe they had been wrong about you. And you knew Norm was the weakest of the three men. Jake Sully was useless to try with, and you never spoke to Max at all.
So Norm it was.
"It was dirty," he finally said, when he caught the fake interest in your eyes.
It was the first time he'd heard your voice since that first day. Since you'd attacked him. After that, you'd gone silent. The only time you ever spoke was at night, singing old songs from your people for comfort, songs no one ever heard but you.
"We destroyed it," Norm continued quietly. "Didn't realize how bad it had gotten until it was already too late."
You bit the inside of your lip to keep from telling him they were doing the same thing here. This was the moment to play innocent. You bit down harder, tasting blood.
"I heard it used to be beautiful," he went on. "Green everywhere. Forests. Animals. Rivers. Clean air." His voice softened. "I only ever saw pictures. Studied it for my degree. Never saw it with my own eyes."
Not before Pandora, he had wanted to add but it felt misplaced.
Hearing him blame his own kind was satisfying. The Ambassador Program's teachers had just been paid mouths, repeating a story they'd been given. Climate disaster, they'd said.
"We were too many for too few resources," Norm said. "Famine, wars, those were normal. Especially for people who couldn't even afford rent." He paused when he noticed your brows furrow. "Oh, rent. Uh. Definitely not a thing here." He let out a small laugh.
"People owned houses where they would let other live in," he explained gently. "But in order to live in the house, you needed to pay."
"People had to pay to have a home?" you asked, genuine disbelief slipping through despite yourself.
What happened to those who couldnât pay? Were humans truly so cruel that they left peopleâentire familiesâto rot in filthy, ruined streets? You had seen the images of Earth. TAP had made sure of that, showing them to you again and again so you would pity them, so you would understand why they had to stay on Pandora.
"Yeah," he laughed again. "Crazy, right?" But this time, the sound was hollow.
Silence followed his statement. Humans were crazier than you had ever thought. Why would anyone make people pay for something as vital as a home? Then you remembered back in the Program, you'd been given tickets for foodâextra ones, beyond the daily rations. If you wanted a snack, you had to give up a ticket. It had felt so strange, knowing that outside, you could simply walk into the forest and pick a fruit from a tree.
But that had been forbidden.
You would be punished for it. The forest around the base was RDA property, and taking from it was considered stealing. You had always wondered how something that belonged to Pandora could be stolen at all. It had never made sense to you.
It still didn't.
The People traded. They shared. They helped one another in times of need.
"Children were getting sicker and sicker," Norm continued. "The air was unbreathable. And the only thing keeping most people afloat was joining the RDA." His eyes stared into nothing. "They promised food, money, insurance. A better life, apparently. So people enrolled, became soldiers and died far from home."
He swallowed. "Just like Jake," he murmured, not realizing what he'd said.
Oh. That made sense.
Jake Sully was a soldierâof course he was. The songs never spoke of his human life. They only said he was strong, unbreakable. But as Norm kept talking, you began to understand the way Jake clung so fiercely to his beliefs, how he refused to let go once his mind was set. The few human soldiers you had encountered in your life had all been the worst men you'd ever known.
"And then," Norm said quietly, "we discovered Pandora. After destroying our own home, we found a world still full of life."
There was grief in his voice, real, raw. For a moment, it almost made you pity him.
"Just like everything we touch," he went on, his voice lowering, his eyes now locked onto yours, "we hurt it. That was never what I signed up for. I wanted to study Pandora. To see if something here could help us save our planet." His jaw tightened. "I never wanted to be part of what they did to the People."
The look in his eyes was genuine, something you couldn't deny. His pain and anger sat openly on his shoulders, bare and vulnerable. Norm wasn't asking for forgiveness, he was only explaining that none of it had ever been his intention. And no matter how much he spoke, deep down, he knew you would never truly understand.
Just following orders, that what some soldiers in the Program would say when you'd ask why they were punishing children.
When you said nothing, he turned his head away, rubbing his face with both hands. You had seen the tears, but they stirred no pity in your heart. Humans deserved extinction. If they couldn't take care of their own planetâone that had once taken care of themâwhy should you mourn their loss? Especially when they learnt nothing from it.
Harsh words burned on your tongue, sharp and eager, but you forced them down. This was a game now, and you had to play it well. If you didn't, you would never leave this place.
Norm left after that conversation. Maybe he felt he had said too much, or maybe he hadn't gotten the reaction he'd hoped for. It didn't matter. Not really. Especially when he returned the next day with a soft, careful smile.
And a book.
After feeding you, he sat close and opened it. The pages were filled with images of animalsâEarth animals. He spent minutes on each species, explaining where they lived, how they survived, and which Pandora creatures they most closely resembled.
Even though you told yourself you didn't care, you couldn't deny that his lessons were a welcome distraction from the endless days of waiting. Sometimes, you even asked questions, ones born of genuine curiosity. Some things simply didn't make sense.
"You kept animals inside?" you asked, staring at a strange-looking creature in the book.
You had learned that most Earth animals were covered in hair, which you found unsettling. Norm explained it was because of the climate, that some regions were cold, and animals needed protection.
"Pets, yeah," he said, searching for the right word. "They were kind of like children. In a way."
When your frown deepened, Norm let out a loud laugh. It wasn't mockingâit sounded warm, almost relieved. His eyes returned to your face, and you saw him soften.
Good. You had him exactly where you wanted him.
Forcing yourself, you let a small smile tug at your lips before looking back down at the book. His gaze lingered on you a moment too long, making your skin crawl. There was something there you didn't like, something hopeful. You needed to cut that off before it grew.
The next day, you asked to be untied to eat. You told him you were tired of being fed like a child. He hesitated, eyes flicking toward the camera before finally agreeing. Meaning no one else was watching. If Jake had been there, he would have stormed into the room and tied you down himself.
You didn't do anything that day. Small steps. You simply ate while he showed you more animals, nodding along, asking a few harmless questions, offering soft smiles in return. You made yourself small. Fragile. Someone who needed help.
You avoided any question too deep, though you triedâcarefullyâto understand where you were. Which clans lived nearby. How far the forest stretched. Norm either didn't notice or chose not to answer.
By the third day of being untied to eat, you noticed it clearly. Norm's guard was down.
He trusted you, almost as if he had forgotten the way he'd found Jake after your attack. Almost as if he'd convinced himself you were harmless now.
Your eyes drifted to the camera. The red light was off. It had been that way for days, though you hadn't known whether it was a trick. But now, with the way Norm didn't tie you back down immediatelyâonly doing so when he knew Jake would arrive soonâyou understood.
There was no one else here.
Your gaze lingered on the side of Norm's face as he spoke animatedly about boars. He must have felt it, because he stopped mid-sentence and turned to look at you.
"What?" he asked, uncertainty creeping into his voice.
You tilted your head, finally letting the twisted smirk surface. "Sorry."
You watched his expression shift from confusion to fear. He tried to push his stool back, but it was already too late. Your untied hand shot out, gripping the back of his head and slamming it into the metal bar along the side of the bed.
His tall body collapsed to the floor, the stool skidding away across the room.
Not sparing him another glance, you lunged forward and twisted your body, fumbling to untie your feet. By the angle of the sunlight cutting through the broken wall, you knew you had waited too long.
The demon would be here soon. You should have done this earlier.
The knots at your ankles were tight, his work. Precise. Secure. Military. Made to hold someone who fought back. With only one usable hand, your fingers slipped again and again, panic burning hotter in your chest with every wasted second.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last knot gave way.
You pushed yourself upright, breath ragged, and looked down at the body at your feet. Norm laid still, sprawled awkwardly where he had fallen. No blood stained the floorâyou had been careful. In the weeks you had spent watching him, listening to him, something traitorous in your chest had decided he wasn't meant to die by your hands.
You crouched beside him, pressing your palm briefly to his chest. A heartbeat. Strong. Alive.
Satisfied, you turned and bolted from the room, alone for the first time since your capture.
You didn't have much time, but you needed a weapon. Anything. A blade, a tool, something sharp. You tore through the corridors, breath echoing, pulse roaring in your ears. You found nothing. Only metal. Guns.
Weapons you had sworn you would never touch again. You turned away from them and ran, unarmed.
The plan was simple. Desperate. Reach the stream.
You knew you were leaving a trailâfootsteps, disturbed earth, broken leaves. Normally, you would have hidden it easily, erased yourself from the forest like breath in the wind. But your leg still burned with every step, the limp betraying you.
All you needed was to reach the water before Jake Sully returned to the base. So close. Then you heard it. Footsteps. His. They were going toward the old base, soon he'd know. Soon he'd see his friend on the floor.
You forced yourself faster, quieter, every movement a battle between pain and will. The sound of water grew louder, salvation just ahead. You refused to let this chance slip through your fingers.
This wouldn't be the last time Jake Sully saw you. Once you healed, once you were strong againâyou would come back for him.
Your feet splashed into the stream just as running footsteps thundered behind you. Without hesitation, you threw yourself forward, letting the current pull you away from the shore. The water was slower than he was, just like you had thought.
You saw him step onto the familiar rock, weapon already raised, aimed straight at you.
For a heartbeat, you only stared at each other as the distance widened. Your chest ached with how hard your heart was pounding. You watched his finger tighten, hover over the trigger. Then loosen. The weapon lowered.
His eyes never left yours.
And as if Eywa herself were mocking you, one of her seeds drifted down and landed softly on his shoulder.
Sitting on the grass, you were mixing herbs, your thigh wound reopened once again.
The current of the stream had battered your body against rocks, and the constant walking of the past day had broken the stitches. The sun shone down on the open clearing, warm and almost peaceful, while various fruits lay beside you in a makeshift bag woven from leaves.
This was as far as your plan had gotten. You still had no idea where you were, or where you could find an ikran or a clan willing to help you back to the Tlalim. Everything would be easier in the sky, but here in the forest, on the ground, it was impossible to gauge your location.
Your next step would be a bow, a few arrows. You didn't know what, or who, you might encounter in these woods, and you preferred to stay free. Mangkwan raids on foot were rare, but you had learned not to underestimate their twisted minds.
Once your mixture was ready, you applied it carefully to the woundâcovering both sidesâbefore wrapping it with leaves. It wasn't perfect, but it would heal faster than the stitches ever could.
"Oh."
The voice startled you, pulling you to your feet. Spinning around, you saw a male Na'vi. A hunter, judging by the way he carried himself. Over his shoulder was the body of a beast he had killed, clearly for his clan.
"Are you lost?" His concern was genuine, not fear.
Of course he wouldn't be scared of you, not yet. You didn't look menacing, even with blood dripping down your thigh from the abrupt movement.
"Are you hurt?" His eyes narrowed, glancing at the blood.
This was your chance.
"Yes," you whispered, voice small.
"What happened?" The male, barely older than you, stepped closer, gently setting the animal down.
"Mangkwan," you said, offering only half the truth.
His hand tightened on the knife at his waist, eyes flicking to the clearing, scanning for signs of fire. A small step back, cautious. You could see the suspicion in his postureâhe was thinking of a trap.
"Here?" he asked, tone wary.
You shook your head, keeping your eyes on his hand and the knife. "Days away, in the sky. They killed my ikran."
A pain flashed through you as you remembered the arrow flying through you sweet girl's throat. The effect of your words was immediate: his shoulders relaxed, tension melting from his stance. What you didn't notice there was the way his eyes weren't leaving the scar on your cheek. He approached again, fingers lifting to touch the wound on your shoulder, barely grazing it.
"This too?" His gaze was gentle, careful.
When he eyes went back on your face, they lingered again on your scar.
"Yes," you whispered again.
"What clan are you from?" He looked down at your small belongings.
"Tlalim," you said.
His face brightened. Pieces were falling into place. He had surely heard of the attack days ago. You weren't lying, at least not entirely, and he was beginning to trust you. You could see it in the subtle shift of his eyes.
"Come," he concluded, turning back to lift the beast onto his shoulder. "I'll take you back to my clan, the Tsahik will heal you."
When he looked at you again, his smile was soft, kind. You caught the way his eyes lingered on the scar on your cheek, only for a heartbeat before meeting your gaze again. He was as young as you, perhaps a little older. Old enough to know what that scar meant.
You followed him, keeping a careful distance. Trust did not come easily to you anymore, even if it was the way of the People. The demons had twisted your thoughts, carved paranoia into your bones.
"It's a shame," the boy said, sounding genuinely sorry. "You just missed the Tlalim. But with an ikran, you'll catch up to them soon enough." He glanced back at you, his smile reaching his eyes.
Something about him made your skin prickle. You couldn't quite name it. Maybe he was lying about the Tlalim. Maybe not. Maybe he was lying about having a clan at all. Something was off.
"I am Petnay," he said, turning forward again. "Petnay of the Kame'tire Clan."
If suspicion hadn't rooted your feet to the ground, you would have stopped walking entirely. The Kame'tire. The very clan you had been searching for. That meant you were near the Clouded Forest, closer than you had ever dared hope. A miracle, or something masquerading as one.
The Great Mother's plan.
You had assumed Jake Sully had kept you near the Omatikaya lands, close to what he knew best. Instead, he had hidden you somewhere else entirely.
"We do not come to you often," you replied, keeping your tone even, almost polite.
"No," Petnay agreed. "It is very rare. But your Olo'eyktan was searching for his daughter. Said she was attacked nearby." He glanced at you, gauging your reaction. "They did have luck either."
A chill slid down your spine.
He recognized you. You were certain of it now. If his words were true, Merak would have spoken of you,of the one thing that made you unmistakable. The Sarentu scar. Why he hadn't said anything yet, you didn't know. The silence felt deliberate, heavy with meaning, and it made you question the path he was leading you down.
What if he wasn't taking you back to his clan at all?
Na'vi did not think like sky people, they did not hurt for pleasure. But if he knew what Mokasa had doneâand if he stood with himâthen perhaps he would see you not as a survivor, but as a threat.
A living reminder. You were a walking spark, one truth away from igniting everything.
"It's a day's walk from here," his voice was soft, almost hesitant. "We'll have to sleep out for the night. You don't mind, rightâŠ" His tone trailed, waiting for your name.
When you said it, Petnay no longer doubted who you were. You heard a faint scoff escape him, but he didn't turn to look at you. If you didn't need him to lead you to Mokasa, you would have left.
The forest was tricky, and you couldn't even remember the last time you'd been near the Kame'tire clan. It was a distant route, one the Tlalim caravans sometimes usedâbut not your usual path. You'd never understood how the Olo'eyktans assigned these routes, and you'd never bothered to ask. Now, other things occupied your mind.
"You go all the way out here to hunt? Alone?" you asked, keeping your eyes on the back of his head, trying hard not to sound suspicious.
It wasn't unusual for clans to send hunting squads, but for a single hunter to travel this far from his people in search of prey was rare. Clans usually stuck to their familiar grounds, where they knew the animals' cycles and numbers.
"Yes," he replied, curt and unyielding.
The Kame'tire were known to seclude themselves and distrust outsiders. That he was taking you back to them so easily was highly unusual. Rumours among nearby clans tied them to the disappearance of the Sarentu, your clan.
That knowledge stopped you cold. How could you have forgotten?
Before the Sarentu vanished, both clans had been close, sharing many traditions and customs. When the Sarentu disappeared entirely in a single night, and the Kame'tire claimed ignorance, concern rippled through the other clans. Their Tsahik had forced herself into exile, believing she was to blameâa tale spun by TAP and spread by the Kame'tire clan advisor, Mokasa, who had been left to rule in her absence.
He knew who you were. It hadn't been mockery in his eyes earlier, it had been resentment. He blamed you for the downfall of his clan, for their isolation. If he didn't know the truth, he likely assumed you, as a survivor, had spread the stories.
He had lied. He said the Tsahik would heal you. The Kame'tire had no Tsahik.
When he suddenly halted, his hand brushing toward the knife at his waist, something in you snapped. Without hesitation, you bolted.
With your thigh throbbing, you knew you couldn't run forever. You needed to be smarter. It was crazy, just weeks ago, you had been ready to die, but now, faced with real danger, your body pushed itself beyond its limits.
You still had things to do in this life, and you were not ready to let them go. Not when you had been so close to your goal, twice.
Oh Great Mother, let me live. You clutched at the thought as you plunged deeper into a forest you did not know.
Was this punishment for trying to go against her will, for trying to kill the Chosen One? She mocked you, forcing you so close to what your heart desired most, only to make you failâagain and again.
Behind you, you heard Petnay gaining ground, each step echoing in your chest. Your leg was moments from collapsing, and that would mean death.
There was nowhere to hide, no place a hunter couldn't track you. A tracker that had been going so far from his clanâsearching for you. No matter where you hid, he would find you. You knew it. Your heart pounded violently as you focused on the path, leaping over roots, brushing leaves from your face. To stop meant dying.
Weakness clung to you like a shadow, the slow drain of the past weeks' injuries compounded by the wounds reopened again and again. Every step sapped your energy. You had none left to fight a man driven by vengeance.
You knew all too well what vengeance did to someone's soul. It twisted it until it was nothing but hate and anger.
Breath rasping in your throat, your strength fading fast, you could feel the floor calling to you. Tears ran freely down your cheeks, and yet a single thought comforted you: soon, you would see your family again. Soon, this hatred, rotten and gnawing at your soul, might finally be released.
Through blurry vision, you saw them. Atokirina. Guiding you. Without thinking, you followed, drawing on the last shards of energy coursing through your body. The Great Mother had a plan, and you were following it.
The seeds led you to a clearingâwide, open, with the sky above and the eclipse drawing near. You skidded to a stop, struggling to comprehend why she would lead you somewhere so exposed, so easy to see.
Closing your eyes, you thought: this is the end. You weren't being saved, you were being punished. Punished for letting your anger consume your soul.
A high-pitched scream split the air above. Familiar. The footsteps behind you accelerated while you were still unmoving. Panic surged, and you forced your eyes open just in time to see an ikran diving toward you. It didn't matter if it was wild, it was Eywa that sent it.
"Oh, thank you, Great Mother," you whispered, relief washing over your body running toward the animal.
The closer you ran, the larger it became. It wasn't an average ikran. Not even close. Your steps slowed, disbelief gripping you, this was no ikran. It was a Toruk.
Realisation didn't strike fully, not until the quickening footsteps behind you came to a complete stop, making you glance back. Petnay's eyes were wide, frozen in awe and fear. Surely, this was the first time he had seen oneâjust like you.
The creature was magnificent. Mesmerising from size and colours. Never in your life you had seen such an animal. The clearing fell silent. Birds froze mid-flight, smaller animals disappeared into the underbrush. Even your own breath caught as the Toruk spread its wings, blotting out the sun.
When it screamed again, it lunged. Its wings brushed the tops of your head as it dove straight at the man you had been watching. You froze before turning back, watching with ragged breaths as its jaws closed on him, crushing his skull. The sound echoed, a horrible, wet crack that rattled through the clearing.
And then, it stopped.
The beast did not toy with him. It did not continue. It simply turned, slowly, deliberately, and advanced toward you. Calm. Unyielding. But still, tears ran down your cheeks. The Toruk tilted its massive head, studying you, then let out another piercing scream.
The wind from its wings hit you like a storm, knocking you backward. You fell to the forest floor, chest heaving, as the Great Toruk lifted into the sky. Its shadow shrank, then vanished entirely.
The forest slowly came back to life around youâthe birds chirping, the leaves rustling, the world returning to itself.
By your foot, landing softly on the leaf-strewn ground, was another seed.
⊠â àŁȘ. about : the thing was, ryomen still knew your body as if you were still together. something that felt just as confusing as it was strangely heartwarming.
⊠â àŁȘ. warnings : smut. unprotected sex. dick piercing. chubby reader.
(no sorcerers!au)
⊠â àŁȘ. words : 3.5k
㠀㠀â â â â â ă €đ series masterlist
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This new job was so great it even came with a fancy, all-inclusive corporate trip. A business trip, sure but God, it was relaxing too. The two weeks you spent abroad were probably the most fun you'd had in a long time.
Your colleagues were amazing, the hotel was absolutely phenomenal, and the work itself was the easiest part. It took you so little time each day, and you were showered with praise from your manager, who insisted it wasn't that the work was easyâyou were just good at it.
On the way back, settled into business class, you couldn't stop smiling. It felt like such a relief after your previous job, where no one was united or even kind. This job was easy, the pay was good, and it didn't fuck with your brain or your self-esteem. It was even more gratifying knowing you'd landed it on your own.
Ryomen had tried to set you up with a trusted client from his architecture firmâsomeone who was looking for a profile like yoursâbut you'd refused. You wanted to make it on your own.
That decision had led to a small fight. Ryomen couldn't stand seeing you miserable in a shitty job, refusing his help. He'd been trying to fix things in his own way, and it had pissed you off. You didn't need to be fixed, you needed the space to figure things out yourself. All you'd asked from him was support and a good dinner.
Falling back into old habits, you'd both shut down and kept your distance. Then, almost like a miracle, Ryomen had been the one who came back to apologise for overstepping. That had been the moment you truly started to think that maybe, just maybe, he had really changed.
As you sipped the free tea on the plane, all you wanted was a good night's sleep and, if you were lucky, some good dick. Even if the jet lag wasn't too bad, exhaustion weighed on you, your head starting to pound from lack of sleep and the relentless air conditioning.
When you opened the door to Ryomen's apartment, you were met with silenceâsave for the low hum of the fridge. Truth be told, it wasn't that early, but he'd warned you: a big project at work was keeping him late.
It was fascinating how much he loved his job. Once, that had been impossible for you to understand. You'd always believed people were lying to themselves, clinging to delusion to escape the truth that no one was ever truly satisfied. But as you undressed, leaving a trail of clothes from the front door to the bathroom, you began to realize that some people really were happy in their work.
Just like you were now.
After a well-deserved, wonderfully relaxing shower, you were finally ready to let the fatigue catch up to you. Checking the time, you figured Ryomen would be home within the next hour or two, so you could wait for his text saying he was leaving the office before ordering food.
Satisfied with that plan, you settled onto his couch and turned on the TV, landing on a silly reality show meant to kill time. It was about horrible mothers-in-law, and God it somehow made you grateful that Sukuna's family had always been surprisingly chill.
He couldn't say the same about yours.
The headache, however, refused to go away. It had started on the plane, and you'd assumed it was just from the trip, but now it stubbornly lingered. The pain wrapped around your head, creeping behind your eyes. You'd taken paracetamol, put your glasses on, dimmed the lightsânothing helped.
Closing your eyes, you focused on the show through sound alone, concentrating hard on not falling asleep.
When a soft blanket was draped over you, you jolted awakeâstartled and scared. Your foggy brain hadn't registered that you'd fallen asleep, so your heart slammed in your chest at the sudden presence in a place where you'd thought you were alone.
Without meaning to, your legs kicked out, striking the man in front of you straight between the legs.
"Fuck," he groaned, folding in on himself.
"Oh my God," you squealed, sitting up quickly, your hands landing on his shoulders. "You scared me," you tried to explain, though your thoughts were still fuzzy with sleep.
"Yeah, no shit," he grunted as he dropped onto the couch beside you.
Kneeling, you watched him lean his head back against the couch. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into black dress pants, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie laid abandoned on the coffee table. He was always so polished and well put together for workâit contrasted sharply with his rough, imposing presence.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, clearly trying to keep his groans of pain quiet.
"Sorry," you whispered, crawling a bit closer and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"It's fine," Ryomen mumbled, eyes still closed.
When he opened his eyes again, you were met with a sharp side glance. You answered it with nothing but a soft, innocent smile. Rolling his eyes, he clicked his tongue before leaning into your personal space, closing the distance in a kiss.
It was a gentle oneâwordless, but heavy with meaning. Missed you. Glad you're here. Things Ryomen Sukuna rarely said out loud. He wasn't much of a talker, you'd learned to live with that.
"Hungry?" he asked when his lips finally left yours.
You nodded, your hands cupping his cheeks before you kissed him again. When you pulled away, he dropped his phone onto your lap and stood up.
"If you pay, you're going to your place," he said flatly before disappearing down the hallway.
God, he was annoying.
Since your new job came with better pay and actual benefits, the last time you'd ordered food together, you'd paid. A completely normal thing to doâespecially considering he always covered food and your Uber when he was too tired to drive you home. When you even went home. You'd only been trying to be nice.
Days later, he'd realized you were the one who paid and had gotten madâfor no reason, in your opinion. Still, it was progress. He hadn't yelled, hadn't shut down. He'd talked. Explained why it bothered him.
His reasoning made sense, you supposed. You were new at your job, had lost a lot of income because of sick leave and vacation days at the old oneâthere'd even been a month when rent was hard to cover. You were back on your feet now, a few months in, but he didn't see it that way. He wanted you to have savings, just in case something happened. So he would pay.
That was his logic. One you didn't particularly like.
It was nice being taken care of, you couldn't deny that but sometimes, you just wanted to spoil him too.
"You're being patriarchal," you shouted after him, shaking your head.
It didn't take long for you to end up in bed after finishing dinner, settling in for what you hoped would be a good night's sleep. Ryo had told you he'd join you soonâhe just needed to finish a floor plan. Said it wouldn't take long. That had been an hour ago.
You didn't really care. You were too tired to, anyway.
It turned out Ryomen wasn't working tomorrow either, and you'd already made plans. That new coffee shop you'd shown him a few weeks ago, then the architecture exhibition at the museum downtown, and finally a movie at home. Simple plans, good ones. Things you were actually looking forward to.
You were barely drifting off when you heard footsteps approaching. Annoyingly, the headache was creeping back in, dull and persistent, keeping you from fully falling asleep. You could feel exhaustion deep in your bones, and it was starting to get on your nerves.
There was nothing more frustrating than being tired but unable to sleep.
"Still awake?" came his low voice as Sukuna's body settled beside yours.
You were lying on your stomach, facing his side, eyes barely open. You watched him shrug out of his shirt and sweatpants before slipping into bed in just his boxers. Usually, he slept nakedâyou weren't sure why tonight was different.
"Not naked?" you murmured, a small smirk tugging at your lips.
"Felt a bit cold," he replied with a knowing smile, inching closer. "Why aren't you sleeping?" he asked again, clearly not letting it go.
"Headache," you mumbled into the pillow, eyes closing once more.
"Want me to make it better?" he asked, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.
"'M tired," you said, pressing your cheek deeper into the pillow. "But turned on."
That earned a quiet laugh from him as his body moved closer. His warm hand settled on your ass, kneading it gently before nudging you onto your side, your back fitting snugly against his chest.
"Didn't say you'd have to do anything," he murmured against your neck, lips brushing and kissing whatever skin he could reach.
Once you were settled on your side, you felt his hands tug your shorts and panties down to mid-thigh, before taking them off completely. While you'd been away, you'd missed thisâthe intimacy, the ease with which your souls fit together.
Something you'd never felt with anyone else.
"Got a surprise for you," Ryo whispered in your ear, making you shiver.
When you only hummed sleepily in response, his hand lifted one of your legs, resting it over his, positioning you just right. In your exhausted haze, you didn't immediately register that something was different.
"It's all healed up now," he said, smug and unmistakably proud. "No more condoms."
Just as gently as ever, you felt his cock slide into you. Even with the piercing sensation you'd felt before through condoms, nothing compared to this. It was slightly cold at first, dragging slowly along your walls as he eased himself fully inside you.
"Oh, wow," you breathed out, a soft, breathless moan escaping you.
"Fuck," he exhaled against your neck, warm and shaky.
You could tell he was trying hard not to moan out loud. It had been a long time since you'd felt anyone raw, and God, you'd missed it. And from the way his hips pressed into you, slow and needy, you knew Ryomen had missed it too.
"We didn't do any tests," you murmured in a brief moment of clarity.
"I'm not fucking anyone else," he groaned into your ear as his hips began to move. "And neither are you."
The cold metal was getting gradually warmer, but the sensation of it sliding inside you was already driving you insane. How could it feel this good? It had never felt like this with condoms, and you were starting to regret all the time you'd done it that way. Of course, it had needed time to heal but your brain wasn't thinking clearly right now.
"Say you're not fucking anyone else," he said, a little harsh, one hand coming up to your jaw and forcing your face upward.
"I'm not," you replied between soft, needy moans.
His hips never stopped. They didn't rush, just kept a steady, unrelenting rhythm, the kind he knew would overstimulate you both. Especially after almost three weeks of nothing.
"Good girl," he murmured, nipping at your earlobe.
After a few minutes of slow thrusts and building pleasure, you heard him curse more than usual as the back of his hand pressed against your forehead.
"What are youâ" you started, cut off by a moan. "âdoing?"
His thrusts didn't falter. Ryomen had always been good at keeping his rhythm no matter what. It wasn't unusual for the two of you to argue even while having sex, and he was just infuriatingly good at doing two things at once.
"Are you sick?" he asked, breathless.
"No?" you replied, genuinely confused.
He let out a mix of moans and small whimpers behind you, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. The sounds were intoxicating, enough to make you clench tightly around him. That earned another broken whimper.
"You're so fucking warm," he said quickly, like it physically hurt. "Warmer than usual."
That made you laugh, the sound breaking into little whines as he kept moving.
"Been so long since you had a pussy without a condom you forgot normal human temperature," you teased, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts.
You felt the knot in your stomach tighten sharply, ready to snap. From the way his cock twitched inside you, it was obvious he was close too. Slipping your hand between your legs, you began circling your clit, intensifying everything.
A sharp slap landed on your ass, forcing a loud moan from your throat.
"You're getting sick," he said between his own moans. "Don't complain when you have a fever tomorrow."
"Sure, Doctor Sukuna," you mocked, fingers moving faster.
With one last hard clench around him, the knot finally snapped. Your head tipped back as a loud whine left you, followed by a broken moan when you felt him come too. The sensation was warm and familiarâsomething you'd missed more than you cared to admit.
The orgasm flooded your brain with endorphins, making you forget all about the headache, it was completely gone now. Behind you, you felt Ryomen trying to push deeper, his arms wrapping around your body to pull you as close as possible.
"Fuck," he breathed after a few seconds, letting out a soft, almost giddy laugh.
"That piercing was the best decision you ever made," you mumbled, sleepiness finally catching up to you.
That earned a full, deep belly laugh from him, his body rocking slightly against yours.
"Yeah?" he teased, his voice dropping a notch. "You like it?"
Just to push it a little further, he thrust a few more times, drawing soft, sweet moans from youâsounds you knew he loved. When you went quiet again, he pulled out slowly, careful not to rush the movement.
"Don't fall asleep," he said, nipping at your neck again, thankfully not hard enough to leave a mark. "Gotta pee."
With a loud groan, you rolled onto your back and pushed yourself upright. The movement sent a dull throb through the back of your head. Even though the headache was creeping back, the exhaustion weighed heavier.
Dick really was the best medicine.
A few minutes later, you were back in bed beside a now very naked Ryomen. He lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, scrolling on his phone with the other. You could tell he wasn't all that tiredâhe probably would've gone for another round if you hadn't clearly been ready to sleep.
Resting your head on his chest, you glanced down at his phone, immediately unprepared for what you saw. You frowned, eyes glued to the screen as he zoomed in.
Why was he looking at penises?
"Thinking of getting this one," he said casually, as if reading your mind. "What do you think?"
Then you noticed it, small metal beads lining the underside of the penises he was looking at. Another piercing. Of course.
"Jacob's ladder?" you asked. When he hummed in confirmation, you tried to picture it on him. "Would look pretty."
"Would feel nice too," he added with a smirk.
"In, like, another six months of condoms," you mumbled against his warm skin, your eyes slipping shut.
"Oh fuck," he muttered. "Didn't think about that."
"Obviously," you replied, shifting closer to get comfortable.
The headache was starting to come back, and you wanted to fall asleep before it got worse. Your throat was beginning to ache too, and you wondered if maybe Ryomen had been right after all.
Surely your pussy temperature couldn't indicate illness.
âŠRight?
You woke up to shivers running down your body. You felt warm and freezing at the same time. Just as you tried to turn over, searching for a cooler spot on the mattress, a heavy weight dropped onto you, another blanket. A weighted one.
Groaning, you tried to open your eyes, but failed. You managed to push weakly at the blankets instead, it felt suffocating.
"You need to sweat it out," a deep voice said above you.
Forcing your eyes open, you found Ryomen standing beside the bed, hands on his hips. He was wearing shorts that hung low on his hips, like he'd thrown them on in a hurry.
"Told you you'd get sick," he taunted, the I told you so clear in his tone. "You doubt my pussy-reading gift."
You groaned in response, trying again to shove the blankets away. Ryomen didn't let you. He sat on the edge of the bed and pressed them back down, then leaned half his weight onto your chest. His face was close now, close enough for you to see that look in his eyes, the one that meant there was no arguing.
"You're heavy," you mumbled, finally letting your body relax.
"And you like it," he shot back immediately, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Now stay still."
"I'm hot," you tried to argue, already knowing it wouldn't change anything.
"I told you," he said again, and you knew he'd been waiting a long time to say it.
Without meaning to, you fell back asleep. It was the strange kind of fever sleep that felt endless, broken into short moments of consciousness where you were either burning hot or freezing cold. Sometimes there was a warm towel pressed to your forehead, other times, a hand checking your temperature.
When you finally woke up for real, you were alone again.
You could hear noise coming from the living room. Wrapped in soft blankets, you dragged your feet out of the bedroom and into the main room, where you found Ryomen sprawled on the couch.
A movie played quietly in the background while he typed rapidly on his laptop, jumping from tab to tab, completely absorbed.
"Hi," you said.
Ryomen screamed. Not yelledâscreamed. Pure, startled fright.
When his narrowed eyes finally focused on you, you burst out laughing, which quickly turned into a painful cough. It was rare to catch him off guard, he was usually hyper-aware of his surroundings. He must have either been deeply focused or very confident you'd be asleep all day.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he snapped, setting his laptop aside.
"Here as in⊠your place?" you asked innocently, fully aware of what he meant and choosing to mock him anyway.
He shot you a glare before standing. The way he approached you felt predatory, like he was sizing up prey, eyes flicking over you, lingering on your bare legs with a frown.
"Sit down," he muttered, guiding you back toward the couch before disappearing into the kitchen.
You changed the channel and burrowed deeper into the blankets, pulling them up to your neck. You looked like a little fur ball on his couch, and honestly, if not for the fever and sore throat, you would've been perfectly comfortable.
When Sukuna returned, he carried a steaming mug in one hand and two pills in the other.
"I ruined our plans for today," you said, freeing your hands from the blankets to take the mug. The warmth felt heavenly against your cold fingers.
"Yeah, you did," he replied neutrally, not accusing, not mean.
He sat back beside you, set his laptop on his thighs, and returned to work. He didn't say anything else, and you weren't sure what there was left to say. You probably should've said something.
When you opened your mouth to apologize, he cut you off immediately.
"Don't," he said, clicking his tongue. "You didn't do it on purpose."
You closed your eyes and turned your head slightly, studying his profile. You weren't sure how you'd ended up pulling someone like him into your life, but you were glad you had. He was rough around the edges, quietly attentiveânever one for many words, but always showing up through his actions. Saying I love you didn't come easily to him, even now that you were back together.
But he showed it every day.
Smiling, you stayed silent. It was obvious he didn't want you to say anything. For some reason, he hated having his care thrown back in his face. Not because he was ashamed of you, far from it. He had no issue keeping a hand on your ass in public or pulling you onto his lap without a second thought but thank him for something, and he'd turn red as a tomato.
Whatever his logic was, you didn't know. And you didn't really care.
Not when your heart was pounding like it had that very first night you slept over, nervous and excited all at once.
