❥ olderbf!kuna sees you without makeup for the first time (cw: shyinsecure!reader)
you were standing outside of your boyfriend’s apartment, waiting patiently, you held onto the strap of your overnight bag with so much emotion.
it’s your first time spending the night at his place. you hear his footsteps get closer. you anxiously take out your phone and get a quick good look at your appearance, i mean, you might lose your virginity tonight?
shit.
you’re completely barefaced. not even a coat of mascara. you look like a complete mess.
before you could dig something out of your bag. sukuna was towering over you. “hey” he says softly, the corners of his mouth twitched at the sight of you.
you don’t speak at first—you don’t even look him in the eye, your eyes glue themselves to the ground.
the shame and embarrassment you felt burned. it felt like your face was on fire. so many thoughts kept crossing your mind.
would your boyfriend still have feelings for you if he knew how you really looked?
would he still be attracted to you if he saw your body bare.
would he still hug and kiss you?
would he still find you beautiful?
would he even want to be around you if he saw all your imperfections?
would ryomen sukuna still love you if he saw you..?
you nervously chewed at your bottom lip, blood threatened to show.
“brat.” he lifts up your chin. “why are you hiding your face from me. what’s the matter?”
your eyes fill with salty tears that threaten to fall at any moment “i- can’t you see? i’m n-not pretty.” your eyes still don’t meet his.
sukuna felt his heart drop all the way down to his feet. you don’t think your beautiful?
how could you not see the beauty you carry within yourself?
you’re the most precious thing to him ever.
you’re his pretty girl.
“is that what this is about? sweetheart c’mon” he pulls you inside, flush against him, your face presses against his broad chest, his palms rub soothing circles on your hips. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry— sniffle— you have to see me like this.” your fingers clutch onto the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
your warm tears seep through. soaking the fabric.
“stop apologizing and look at me, let me see your face.” you slowly lift your head up, fully staring into his red irises.
“you are so incredibly precious to me, it pains me to know you feel that way about yourself—how can you not see the beauty in yourself ?” his thumb gently caresses your face, wiping all those sad tears away.
“and ‘m not the only who sees it y’know? you got no idea how many stares you get from everyone around you.” he smirks “just the other day that guy was hittin’ on you thinkin’ he stood a chance tch.” you give him a sweet smile, tugging him closer. “you really should be more cocky.” he pokes your cheek.
“thank you ryo. i’m sorry if this upset you, or caused you any trouble.” you mumbled quietly.
“you just keep on apologizing? you sure are a damn pathetic brat” he laughs mockingly, ruffling the top of your hair.
you smile, burying your face into his chest. “don’t make fun of me kuna!”
summary: the new nurse in the pitt has caught jacks attention.
content: fluff, hurt/comfort, yearning, protective jack, age gap, miscommunication, slow burn, he snaps at you, descriptions of reader injury/blood, mentions of abuse (patient)
wc: 10.5k
note: this is my first fic, enjoy :))
masterlists
You desperately wanted to make a good first impression on your first shift at PTMC.
The universe had a different idea, with your plan actively unravelling.
You’re new to Pittsburgh, and unfamiliar with the notorious unreliability of the public transport system, causing you to be 45 minutes late and frantically running from the nearest bus stop into the emergency department.
This is your worst nightmare. You picture everyone looking at you as you walk in, silently judging. Hating the feeling of eyes on you. You’re definitely flushed red in the face, your bag being packed to the brim with items you certainly do not need weighing you down, cursing yourself for packing so heavy.
While running through the entrance of the ER, you’re barely looking where you’re going and end up colliding with a chest, solid and unmoving you almost mistake him for a wall. You stumble a little, losing your footing and almost fall backwards over your own feet.
Warm hands on your shoulder steady you, preventing the horrific embarrassment.
“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry– I didn’t even see you,” your voice is frantic and apologetic, worried you’ve already made an enemy and you hadn’t even started your shift.
A deep, gravelly voice cuts through to you, grounding your panicked state.
“Hey, kid– easy, easy. You’re okay.” His voice is instantly calming. “You our new nurse?” he asks gently, while his hands slip to your arms, fully stabilising you.
You settle down quickly, gathering yourself and finally looking up at him, nodding after a while realising he asked you a question.
He’s incredibly attractive.
The first thing that you notice about him is how big he is. He’s taller than you and so broad, forming a literal wall between you and the ER in this moment, no wonder you crashed into him. He stands so close to you that you have to lift your head to look up at him as he towers over you with a gentle, concerned look. Butterflies twist in your stomach.
You swallow thickly, nerves returning as you realise you probably fucked this impression up by remaining silent and gawking at this man.
Collecting yourself, “Uh– yes! That’s me–” you stumble over your words internally cringing, “I’m so sorry about being late, it won't happen again.”
He chuckles quietly, finding your flustered state incredibly cute, and extends a hand to you.
You notice the size of his arms, his veins, his hands– oh, you’ve got to stop thinking like this. You’re so fucked.
“Dr. Abbot, nice to meet ya, kid.” His voice is low and gravelly, stirring your stomach. “But don’t let it happen again.” His voice is firm, making your insides flip and guilt rises within you.
“No, no of course not. I promise. I’ll be 45 minutes early every day!” Your voice is laced with guilt and you avoid his eyes, whilst shaking his hand, feeling like you’ve already failed before starting.
“Jesus, kid, breathe.” He chuckles, mouth twitching in amusement. “You’re apologising like you hit me with your car.” He soothes, smirking a little at how easily his teasing had gotten to you.
He watches your face fall in relief, and you let out a small, shy laugh. Still holding onto your hand a second longer, it's hard for him not to notice how incredibly soft your hands are in his, how untouched by cruelty, unlike his rough, calloused hands. Something protective stirs in Jack, confusing him, but a drive to keep you safe, keep you soft takes root in him. He needs to ensure this place doesn’t ruin you, doesn’t cause you to burn out like he's seen time-and-time again with nurses and doctors.
“I’m really not usually this much of a disaster– well, most of the time.” You laugh shakily.
You notice his intense stare, like he’s studying you, makes you squirm under his gaze. Your eyes flick down where your hands are still joined, you notice the sheer size difference, how his hand completely engulfs yours. You go to pull away, when he brings a second hand to cup your hand, completely engulfing it, before he pulls away entirely. Your breath hitches, trying to stave off any completely inappropriate thoughts,
Dr. Abbot tilts his head towards central, signalling to meet him there once you’re settled.
“Oh– and, kid?” He drawls, eying your bag as you head towards the lockers.
“We do have supplies here, I promise.” he teases, but his voice is soft and amused, referring to your massively overpacked bag, watching heat flood your face and you nod, completely embarrassed.
Jack watches you scuttle away, shaking his head and chuckling to himself, but his mind is elsewhere, how you were looking at him so shyly, your wide doe eyes ingrained in his mind. Imagining your eyes after kissing you, those eyes looking up at him when– Fuck. This is so unlike him.
Approaching central, he sees Lena and Shen talking in hushed voices. He chooses not to entertain their shenanigans, just crossing his arms and staring up at the patient board, but he catches Lena’s fierce stare in his periphery, alongside Shen’s smirk.
“Stay away from my nurses, Abbot. She’s clearly a good kid.” She scolds, her tone firm and motherly. He can feel her eyes shooting daggers at him.
Jack doesn’t look away from the board, smirking a little.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice is low and equally amused, shaking his head gently. “Just being friendly.”
Shen scoffs, “Yeah? Friendly? You look like you wanted to eat her.”
Jack tenses a little going to defend himself before Lena’s sweet voice interrupts him. She walks past Jack making her way towards you where you had emerged from the lockers and placing a protective hand on your shoulder.
“There ya are, honey. I’m Lena, your charge nurse. C’mon, let us give ya a tour, get a lay of the land, yeah?”
During the tour, you notice Abbot seems to never stray too far from you. Always directly behind you, his hand hovering over the small of your back whenever the halls get crowded, ready to move you if needed.
Surely it's just friendly, you tell yourself.
You hope otherwise.
───────
True to your words, you’re never late again.
Always early to every shift, settled down and working by the time Jack clocks in. But he notices since you’re starting to be early, you get closer and closer with Robby, and it wouldn’t bother him, if you’d at least show the same fondness for him.
Every shift, you avoid interacting with Dr. Abbot at all. You tell yourself it's necessary, you can’t let yourself fall for an attending, despite how flustered, frankly, just warm all over, he makes you feel. You love watching him work, his competency and confidence as he works allures you. Especially in trauma cases, when he barks orders to his residents, you imagine him telling you what to do, when to do it, how to do it, guiding you.
However, during a particular trauma, you were meant to be in the background, watching and learning. But you couldn’t stop watching Abbot’s hands work with such fine precision, the way they flex, the veins popping out. You get lost in your head staring at how big they are, how they’d feel cupping your face, your neck, inside you–
That’s when you decided, for your own well being, but most importantly your work, you couldn’t be around him.
From then on, if you needed anything, you went to anyone and everyone, to avoid speaking to Abbot. Even if he was right there, and asking if you needed anything, you’d go quiet, and your quiet, meek voice dismisses him, “Oh, uh, I’m okay, thank you.” Before you turn and scuttle off in the complete opposite direction, towards Shen.
It bugs him.
How you avoid him, how easily you laugh and joke with Robby, or how you always go to Shen for questions or help.
Jack watches right now, as you laugh freely with Robby, gazing up at him as if you’re hanging on to every word. Gazing at him like he hung the moon. He feels an ugly feeling crawling up his throat, and doesn't want to admit jealousy. He’s not jealous. He’s not. He simply wishes you'd talk to him, with those wide, round doe eyes, smiling shyly and getting you to fall apart with the simplest of words and touches.
He’s so lost in his own head, he doesn’t notice Robby walking by ready to leave for the day.
“You got a good one there, brother, might steal her from the dark side if you’re not careful.” Robby jokes in passing, leaving Jack completely stunned. His eye twitches and his breath stops.
No.
His gaze flickers up to you across the ER, your sweet laugh cutting through the air.
You’re his.
───────
Admittedly, you’re making it very hard to make you his.
You’re almost too polite with him. A small, “good evening,” greeting when he comes in, a simple, “see you tomorrow, boss,” whenever you head out. You’re impossible to get time alone with.
Every time he catches you walking down the hall, jogging to catch up to you, asking you how your night is, you get all quiet. You don’t even look at him beyond a polite glance, your smile is tight and professional. Nodding before dipping into the closest room to get away.
He sighs, thinking you could be so focused on your work you may not want to entertain small talk. But he knows that’s not it, seeing how you laugh every time Shen or Ellis make jokes as you walk with them in the hallway.
So he tries to talk to you when you’re not as busy, just charting.
Jack’s leaning against the counter at central, pretending to be looking at the patient board, but his eyes keep drifting over to you, thinking of ways to get you to talk to him.
He watches the way you pout while charting, your brows pulled tight in concentration, and has the sudden urge to smooth the crease between them with his thumb. He wants to gently scold you for mindlessly chewing at the tip of your pen whilst you work, to take his hand and brush the hair covering your face behind your ear–
His body takes him over to your desk before his mind catches up with him, a seemingly magnetic pull driving him to your side.
He slots himself beside you, a hand over the back of your chair, leaning down to look at your screen.
“Oh– Dr. Abbot!” you startle, being caught off guard.
Your mouth dries and your heart rate ticks like a rabbit, having him so close. His face is so close to yours, you don’t turn your head, you can’t. You can hear his breathing, can smell his cologne at this distance. Your mind reels.
He can smell you too. Caramel and vanilla.
The proximity alone has your stomach flipping, his hand behind you becoming an oddly domestic, claiming gesture. Placing a hand on your back, his voice is gentle, low when he speaks.
“This is good stuff, kid, keep it up.”
His praise sends a jolt down your spine and your face reddens instantly. He can feel you twitch under his hand.
You dip your head, hiding your red face and mumble a quick, breathless, “Uh– thank you, Dr. Abbot.”
He watches you fidget, uncomfortable from the praise. Laughing quietly, before removing his hand.
You’re so shy. Shy with him. Oh.
But then you flee, almost running in the opposite direction, and his mind reels. Maybe he’s read this all wrong.
───────
He concludes after a few more nights of avoidance that maybe you just want nothing to do with him at all.
He keeps his distance, returning your polite greetings, but he hates it. The night shift is supposed to flow, be light and less stressful. Jack's spent so long cultivating an environment where people feel free to laugh, ask questions, not be afraid of getting things wrong.
Now you’re here and he’s all confused. He wants you to enter the stream but it feels like wading against a river trying to figure out what to do differently for you.
He decides to just ask. He approaches you during your break one night.
You’re sat in the break room scrolling mindlessly whilst poking at your food.
His quiet, tired voice cuts through.
“S’alright if I join ya?”
You’d been too tired, too into your phone you hadn’t noticed him come in. Nodding fervently you allow him to sit opposite you, his tone of voice sounding different than it does most nights, almost resigned. You actually look at him properly, concerned.
“Listen, kid. I just wanna apologise if I’ve ever done anything to make ya uncomfortable, yeah?” His eyes meet yours, intense and serious.
You pause.
Uncomfortable?
Fuck.
You were avoiding him so much he thought you didn't like him, made you uncomfortable. Your eyes widen in panic, head shaking rapidly putting your phone and fork down immediately.
“No, god, no. You’ve never– that’s not it–” Stop rambling, you tell yourself. Swallowing, taking a deep breath, you realise you need to get over yourself. “M’sorry for the way I’ve been acting. It's not you.” Your voice is quiet, avoiding his eyes.
He tilts his head down to try and meet yours again, concern on his face. His voice is so soft, when he says,
“You sure, kid? You can tell me–”
You shake your head again, cutting him off.
“You make me nervous.” You blurt out in one panicked breath. You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment and literally bring your head to the table, groaning.
Abbot lets out a quiet chuckle, amused.
“Honey, hey, look at me.” He coaxes trying to get you to stop wallowing in embarrassment. “Please?”
You lift your head slightly, hands covering your face, peeking at him through your fingers. He’s smiling, like this is funny to him, like you didn’t completely ruin everything–
“S’okay.” His expression softens, voice gentler now. “You never gotta be nervous around me, you hear me?”
Oh.
He misunderstood, thinking you mean nervous of his authority. You can work with that, you haven’t entirely humiliated yourself.
Your hands drop from your face, blush still evident on your cheeks and a shy smile creeps up. You nod in affirmation to his words letting out a deep breath.
“I want you to come to me as well, for anything. Not just Shen, Lena, or Robby. Me.” His inflection on Robby’s name confuses you and makes you giggle a little.
The sound awakens something within Jack, without thinking, he leans over placing a hand over yours where it rests on the table.
“I mean it. Anything.”
───────
He notices how you don’t run from him anymore, don’t push him away, let him exist within your space.
You’re still nervous most of the time, but you push it away, and he’s proud. He wants you to come out of your shell with him.
One evening, Lena calls you into North 7 for a debridement, knowing how much you love mindless, repetitive tasks. It unwinds your brain, picking out thousands of tiny pieces of gravel and debris from a patient's leg, letting you let go and not have to worry about doing something wrong.
You’re about halfway through, the only thing heard in the room is the slow hum of the patient's monitor, and Lena tidying up a cart nearby, when you hear the door open.
You frown, not enjoying having been disturbed and the loud, chaos sound of the ER filters through the door. You keep your attention laser focused onto the patient, until you hear his familiar, gentle voice, checking in.
“All good in here?”
You hesitate, stopping your motions for the first time since you started, before lifting your head up and looking at Dr. Abbot, leaning against the doorframe. Your breath hitches as you make eye contact, his focus entirely on you, not the patient. His head is tilted, and his eye contact is intense, making you nervous.
Lena scoffs to herself. Checking in, my ass.
“Mhm.” Your sweet voice hums in affirmation, the only thing you can manage to verbalise at the moment.
Lena pauses from tidying up the cart, turning raising an eyebrow at you, oh god not you too.
“Good. Can always count on ya to keep things moving smoothly, can’t I, sweetheart?” His voice is sweet, almost cooing.
You’re starstruck. Sweetheart.
You blink, unable to respond, but he’s already leaving with a smug, self-assured smile like he accomplished his goal. You swallow, unable to stop the smile spreading on your face, ducking your head to hide your flushed, red face from Lena.
Walking down the hall, he recalls how much the praise got to you when he complimented your charting, and watching you now?
The knowledge that praise gets to you so much?
Wrecks him.
He feels a sense of power, knowing how much he can get you to fall apart from a few words.
───────
The closer he gets, the more he observes your interactions with everyone else. You’re just as shy and nervous with everyone too. A quiet little thing.
During shift change over one morning, a few night shift and day shift nurses and doctors are gathered gossiping about a particularly rowdy patient you had that night.
You’re off to the side, included, but just about. He notices that's always the position you take, included just enough, but never in the centre, never leading, and never actively involved. He thinks maybe you just like to listen, observe, feeling more comfortable for you like that knowing how shy you are.
He frowns, because the rowdy patient they’re on about? You were the only nurse working with him. He wasn’t dangerous by any means, he was strapped to the bed. Jack would never let you in a room with a patient that’s a danger to your safety.
But the group were already feeding the rumour mill, exaggerating the patients words and actions. He watches you from the corner of his eye where he’s leaning against the counter with a pen in hand, stopping his writing to watch.
He wants you to speak up, correct them, and join in.
He watches your eyes dart around the group, you lick your lips, breathing becoming shallower. You’re assessing for the right time to jump in. You’re so nervous to speak up, his heart aches.
And when you try? You’re so quiet, no one even noticed. Immediately you were cut off.
He watches you blink, swallowing in embarrassment before collecting yourself as if you hadn’t even spoken, smiling along.
His heart breaks.
You’re used to this, being spoken over always happens, you’re just too quiet sometimes, better at one-on-one interactions, not groups. Though you’re a little stung, you push it away, familiar with the feeling. Sighing, you slip into your coat before silently taking your leave.
Just before you can head through the exit doors, he catches up with you.
“Hold up, kid.” You hear him jogging slowly behind you.
You turn, smiling at him, he can see the tiredness and hurt in your eyes even if you’re trying to hide it.
“You leaving without saying goodbye?” he teases lightly, his expression incredibly soft.
You dip your head shyly,
“Didn’t think anyone would notice.” You mumble, trying to laugh it off.
His brows scrunch, a displeased look on his face, almost offended.
“I notice.”
His words are so final, so real. You just stare at him with a vulnerable expression. His words heal something deep, knowing someone cares about your presence. You’re speechless.
He places a hand on your back guiding you outside, noticing your hesitance.
“C’mon. Let me walk ya to your bus stop, you can tell me about the rowdy patient, yeah?”
You nod shyly, trying not to let your eyes well up from his care. It’s a short distance, the sky brightening as you both walk. He’s silent and attentive, actively listening to every word you tell him, like they’re the most important words ever.
When you reach the stop you turn to thank him, but before you can he speaks first.
“Hey. M’proud of ya, for speaking up in there.”
You give him a little confused look shaking your head.
“It didn’t really feel like I did.” You laugh awkwardly, embarrassed to revisit the moment knowing he was watching.
“You did. I’ll always listen, whatever you wanna talk about, yeah?” Your chest tightens painfully at the sincerity in his voice. You can only nod, suddenly too affected to trust your own voice.
“G’night, sweetheart” He drapes an arm around your shoulder squeezing you before letting you board.
On the way home, your head mulls over his words, settling on one detail.
He’s proud.
───────
Being around Abbot so much recently is fucking with you, to say the least.
His constant praise at your actions, you begin expecting and waiting for it. Every time he’s within your vicinity, you wait for his gentle but ragged voice ushering praise.
“Good catch, sweetheart.”
“Don’t know what I’d do without ya.”
“Jesus, you really make my life easier, y’know that?”
And he always delivers.
Aside from the praise, he’s incredibly attentive and observant, knowing what you need exactly when you need it. Encouraging breaks any time he sees you get overwhelmed during the night, telling you to drink water, take a breather.
But he’s also so patient with you, like no one's ever been. With him, you begin to unlearn your fear of being judged for saying the wrong thing, acting the wrong way, because he never judges.
Tonight is no different.
You’re in central 7 with Dr. Ellis, with a very panicked, frantic mother and her daughter. Her child is only around 6 years old, clearly withdrawn and quiet. Her mother explains to Dr. Ellis how she’d been bathing her daughter that evening, when she found a large bruise on the daughter’s back and legs, suspecting her husband’s abusing her.
You immediately make eye contact with Ellis, silently signalling that you’ll call Kiara, the hospital social worker. But before you can step out to do so, a large, loud and drunk man barges through the door, angry.
He’s unsteady on his feet, eyes directly narrowing onto his wife, before pushing past you and immediately going to yell at her.
“You bitch! You have NO right bringing our daughter here without my permission–” He yells spit flying out of his mouth, alcohol clearly on his breath
“Sir–” Ellis tries to calm him down, placing a hand on his shoulder which he shrugs off.
“No!” He shrugs her off
“Your permission?” The mother yells back, cutting him off in disbelief. “You’re laying your fucking hands on my kid and you think I’m gonna let you be near her?” She’s defensive, shrill, adrenaline thrumming through her.
The yelling gets to you admittedly, you’re never good whenever patients of their families raise their voices. They carry on, Ellis begging for them to keep it civil or he will be removed by security
The door opens swiftly with Dr. Abbot and a night shift security guard filtering through to de-escalate.
Drowning it all out, trying to not let it affect you, you turn your attention to the little girl on the bed, all hunched up scared of her parents yelling. You turn her towards you telling her to focus on you. You just try to distract her in any way possible, asking her questions about school, her friends, her hobbies. It works a little, her tiny voice whispering over her parents yells.
The father is finally removed, and the air to the room returns, silence taking over.
“It’s alright, you’re okay.” You comfort the girl placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, testing it beforehand to see if she pulls away.
Jack turns to you then, really looking at you. The way you’re so gentle with the girl, how your focus was on her comfort during her parents screaming match. God, he admires you. But he also picks up on your tense shoulders, the way your breathing is unsettled, your face is tighter than normal.
You step back once the mother sits by the daughter’s side comforting her, you don't realise you walk back into Jack’s hand, which now rests on the small of your back. He leans closer to you dipping down to speak into your ear,
“Go take a breather, yeah?” His voice is soft, gentle.
You look up at him to convince him you’re fine, you don’t need a break. But the look in his eyes is stern, pleading: do not fight me on this.
───
Jack finds you around 5 minutes later in the stairwell, you seem to just be sitting there lost in your own head.
He approaches slowly, groaning as he sits next to you on the stairs, your shoulders touching. He speaks first,
“You did really well there – with the girl.” He nudges your leg with his as he praises you, trying to cheer you up. You can tell he’s looking at you from the corner of your eye but you keep your eyes on your lap. Pedes cases always got to you.
“She shouldn’t have had to hear that.” Your voice is quiet, unsteady. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, but the tears build in your eyes anyways. You dip your head down further trying to hide.
“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice softens, his hand settling on your knee. “Talk to me?” His voice is begging.
You lift your head to look at him, drying your eyes. “It’s stupid, really.” You shake your head quickly, trying to laugh through it. “I just don’t handle yelling very well.”
“Yeah. I thought so, honey.” His thumb rubs back and forth over your knee, comforting you. “That’s not on you.” His voice is gentler now.
“I feel ridiculous.” You wipe quickly under your eyes. “I should be able to handle it better by now.” Insecurity laces your words at breaking down like this in front of an attending.
“No.” His response is immediate, firm but gentle. “Don’t start thinkin’ the answer is makin’ yourself colder.” He aches at the prospect of you removing the brightest parts of yourself, to dim your light to handle the harshness of the world. Absolutely not. He wants to shield you, be the barrier between people's cruelty and your soft, gentle heart.
Your shiny eyes meet his, vulnerability flashing through them. Without even thinking he brings his thumb to brush a stray tear from your cheek. He watches your eyes flutter close and your breath hitching at the gesture, his heart leaping.
“Take as much time as ya need. Come find me at the end of the day, I’ll take you home, yeah?” His voice grumbles, sending a jolt through you.
Your eyes open ready to protest, you can’t possible accept a ride from him, thats asking too much–
“Ah, ah, I’m not taking no for an answer.” He smirks before standing and heading back out to the ER.
───
Before your shift ended that same day, you had asked Lena to show you how to work the medicine cabinet as you’d had trouble returning a vial earlier in your shift.
The day shift starts to filter through whilst Lena is describing the steps to take, making you distracted.
You see Dr. Abbot in your periphery down the hall, talking to another nurse, one you had never seen before, most likely on the day shift.
She’s gorgeous.
She stands tall, confident and makes him laugh. Nothing like you.
Your heart aches, as you stare unapologetically, completely drowning out Lena’s voice. You watch as he also dips his head to catch her eyes, how he touches her arm, how charming he is.
It feels like your heart gave out and fell into an endless pit. Eyes flickering away slowly, realising your hope that the way he treated you was special, is just his charm. His naturally flirtatious personality.
God you’re so stupid.
Lena sighs, shaking her head before closing the cabinet and turning to you, sensing your distraction and sadness.
“Hun, you don’t wanna go down that route.” Her voice is firm, but motherly. Like she’s truly trying to protect you, not wanting you to get hurt.
Your head snaps over to her wide eyed and panicked having been caught.
“Oh– no it’s not like that.” you laugh awkwardly, embarrassed but your excuse is weak and she sees through it instantly. Placing a hand on your back and directing you away from the hallway before you get in your head any longer.
“Trust me, hun. I’ve been around long enough to know, men like him don’t realise the effect they have on girls like you.”
Your brows furrow at her words, girls like me? You reach the lockers before she hits the final blow.
“You’re young, go on dates. Don’t pine over old men like him, you’ll only get hurt.”
She walks off, leaving you speechless. You gather your things, mulling over her words. Is she right? Have you been misreading everything, pining over a man who’s naturally charming and kind to everyone?
You’d completely forgotten Dr. Abbots offer to take you home by the time you’re walking out of the doors. Your mind is only repeating her words and reevaluating all of Abbot’s actions towards you, trying to search for when you’d started to misinterpret things.
Jack frowns watching your hunched up form walking out of the ER from where he stands and talks to Ruby. He excuses himself from the conversation, trying to catch up with you before you leave, but you’re already down the street by the time he’s at the door.
───────
Just as he thought he was making progress, the rug is pulled from under him, and you’re colder than ever.
You’re distant with everyone, clipped greetings and polite words the only things you mutter during your shifts. He watches how you avoid groups, but more importantly, how much harder you’ve been working.
You’ve doubled your workload, trying to forget your feelings by distracting yourself. Always with a patient, never sitting down and charting, avoiding your colleagues asking you what’s wrong. Or, avoiding where Dr. Abbot could find you and make you fall for him all over again.
He notices how you’re no longer early to your shifts, just right on time, jumping straight into cases. Whenever he tries to coax you into slowing down and taking breaks, you brush him off, refusing to admit you need them. But he notices the bags under your eyes, you’re pushing yourself too much and he hates it, he can’t help and it’s hurting him.
But he also notices how late you stay. As you no longer chart during the day, you spend 3 to 4 hours overtime during the day shift charting. Robby allows it, sensing something going on with you but doesn’t want to overstep. Occasionally, you ask to work doubles, staying to around 1-3pm during the day shifts. It’s completely wrecking your body, but you don’t want to think about anything else except work.
One evening, during shift change before you got to work, Robby pulls Jack aside.
“Hey, brother, I gotta ask.” Robby glances over his shoulder towards the door, checking you hadn’t arrived yet, before lowering his voice. “Somethin’ going on with her lately?”
Jack’s brows furrow instantly, worry clenching at his heart. “Why?”
“She’s running herself into the ground, to put it mildly.” Robby sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s working through till the afternoon, then coming back to do it all again at night. Girl can’t be getting more than a couple hours of sleep.” His expression tightens. “M’worried about her.”
Jack goes still, his stomach dropping.
He noticed, of course he noticed. He just hadn’t realised how bad it’d gotten.
His jaw tightens, hand dragging tiredly across it as he sighs.
“Fuck.” The word leaves him quietly.
“I’ll talk to her.”
───
Later that night, Jack came to find you during a particularly quiet lull around 11pm. He assumes you’d be with a patient, checking with Lena before heading towards south 16. He’s rehearsing his speech to you, over and over.
When he approaches the room, his body stops. He hears you laugh. It’s beautiful, and he doesn’t realise how much it hurt him not hearing you laugh recently.
Rounding the corner he sees you through the glass stitching up a man’s forehead, and you’re blushing. You have that bashed, shy smile as you work, the type that was reserved for Jack. You're standing close to the man from where he sits on the edge of the bed, and he’s looking up at you with desire in his eyes, clearly flirting with you.
He shouldn’t feel jealous, but he does, insecurity clawing at his heart. The man you’re stitching up, he’s definitely closer in age to you than Jack is. He hates the way that fact digs under his skin, the sudden awareness of the years between you two. You’re still soft, bright, and untouched by the world in ways he hasn’t been for too long. He can’t take his eyes off the easy smile you give the man, bitterness twisting low in his chest.
He knows he should leave, but he can’t bring himself to move. Which is why when you turn, putting down the sutures, you see him outside watching you, and your body stills. He watches your face fall, and it hurts him how you’re no longer happy to be around him.
Jack sighs ready to turn and leave, but you excuse yourself from your patient and head outside to catch him.
“Hey–” Your voice is gentle and cautious, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear nervously at Abbot’s expression. “Did you need something?”
Jack’s jaw tightens as he hears your voice, trying to steady himself. This is the first time you’ve chosen to speak to him in ages, and he hates how relieved and conflicted he is right now.
His eyes flicker behind you, to the man in the room sprawled out on the bed scrolling through his phone, and his chest tightens. Possessiveness and insecurity battle within his heart, and he doesn’t even think when he blurts out a cold comment to you.
“Didn’t realise we were entertainin’ patients now.” His voice is clipped, and he regrets it as soon as he says it.
He watches your face fall. Fuck.
Your head shakes rapidly, apologetically.
“I-I’m sorry–” Your voice is meek, he can’t bear that he caused this.
“Just don’t let it happen again.” Jack’s voice is firm, as he walks off. He needs to leave, clearly not in his right mind, he’s hurting you and he’s completely out of line.
───
The way he spoke to you eats him all night, distracting him. He’s completely unfocused during cases, Shen telling him to take a breather during a trauma, get his head right. How is he supposed to make sure you’re okay if he’s also driving you away.
He decides to start small. Around 1am he watches you exit a patient's room, pausing outside leaning against the wall. He can tell you’re exhausted by the way you hold yourself.
He slows as he approaches you, wanting to get you to slow down, take a break. Up close he can see the way your shoulders sag like the weight of the wall is the only thing keeping you together, your undereyes heavy with exhaustion. He can’t remember the last time you sat down.
“Hey– hold up.” His tone is softer, contrasting the way he spoke to you earlier. “You eaten yet?
Your eyes flick towards him briefly, before looking away again.
“M’fine.” You’re short, a little dismissive.
Jack nods awkwardly, he knows he doesn’t deserve your kindness right now.
“It’s quiet, you should take your break–” He tries but you cut him off.
“I said I’m okay.” Though your tone has little real bite behind it, it’s still harsher than he’s ever heard it.
He stills, letting out a deep sigh. The silence between you both hangs in the air thickly. You won’t look at him.
Jack nods, accepting his defeat watching you walk off.
What he doesn’t see is the guilt flooding your face.
───
You need to apologise. He’s your attending and it was extremely unprofessional of you, a nurse, to speak to him that way. Guilt is clawing at your throat and you can’t get rid of it.
You decide that after you finish organising the supply room with Lena, you’ll find him. Explain yourself.
You’re standing on a stepping stool as Lena passes you supplies to restock the shelves with.
“That guy– from earlier? He was a real hottie, hun.” She says while passing you a box of nitrile gloves. Your face scrunches in amusement as you let out a breathy laugh
“That guy who got his head smashed with a beer bottle? Yeah, right. Like I need that kind of trouble in my life right now.” You joke back with Lena about the flirty guy.
“C’mon, you’re young. Live a little! He’s insanely hot, god knows if I was 20 years younger I’d jump his bones–” you cut her off with a real, chesty laugh.
“Lena! You’re married!” You turn towards her with a wide smile.
“I can appreciate beauty when I see it, hun.” She smirks before continuing. “What’s the harm? He’s still here isn’t he? Go get his number, go on dates, have mind blowing sex– just do something to get you outta this slump, y’hear me?”
You sigh whilst organising the top shelf. You don’t want that guy. You want Abbot.
What you didn’t realise was Jack was walking past and heard snippets of the conversation, well, particularly Lena’s grand speech about having mind-blowing sex with the man. He falters in his steps, realising who she’s talking to, who she’s talking about. The ugly, possessive feeling rears within him again. He peeks through the door, watching your face. You’re smiling, like you’re considering it. He can’t handle it. He storms off, childishly slamming the door of the next room he enters, blaming it on the draft.
You jolt at the sudden noise and frown before continuing. “I dunno, Lena.” Your voice is almost sad. “He’s not who I want.”
“You’re still hung up on him, aren’t you, honey?” Her voice is soft, pitying. She watches your sad smile when you nod in affirmation. “M’sorry, hun. It’ll pass, I promise.”
You don’t want it to pass.
───
You can’t seem to find Abbot for the rest of the night, until a trauma comes in around 5:30am forcing you both into the room together.
The EMTs roll the patient in on a gurney as you jog over to Trauma 1, reading off his vitals. Fuck, it’s a kid.
“Pediatric MVC, eight-year-old male, unrestrained passenger. Vehicle rolled twice after being T-boned at a high speed. Drunk driver.” The EMT scoffs.
You begin to glove up as you walk alongside the stretcher, Jack on the other side, his eyes land on you as he actively listens to the EMT, his gaze feels as if he was assessing you.
“Initial GCS was 10 on scene, refrained from intubation. BP 80/52, heart rate 145, satting 92 percent on non-rebreather.”
You watch Abbot nod, cutting through the patient's clothes as Ellis and Shen check current vitals and assess internal injuries. You end up stationed directly behind him, ready to hand him what he needs. But him in action is making you nervous, like he doesn’t want you here.
The EMT cuts in. “Father pronounced dead on scene, mother inbound, no obvious injuries.”
“Decreased breath sounds on the left side, significant bruising across the abdomen and chest. Patient increasingly lethargic.” Abbot begins his assessment. But is being drowned out by an increasingly loud scream from the floor outside the room, his mother arriving.
She rushes to the doors, doctors encourage her to wait outside but she barges in regardless. Her sobs and yells for the doctors to save her son cut through the room, loud and distracting. You take a deep breath at the sound trying to focus, remain unaffected by the scene, present.
Abbot’s jaw tightens as the room erupts around him. The mother’s wailing to his right, monitors beeping rapidly as the boy gets worse, the blood coating his gloves as he presses harder against the kid’s abdomen.
“Pressure’s dropping.”
“BP 78/40.”
“We’re losing him, Abbot.”
Fuck. Each sound and sensation cramming for dominance within his skull, overriding his focus.
And then he glances behind at you, where the station is set up ready for you to hand him things. But you’re spaced out, wide-eyed and pale, clearly overwhelmed by the sounds of the boy crying in pain and grief for his father, the mother’s wailing. Jack’s chest twitches violently. One thing at a time. Save the boy.
“Get her out!” He yells across the room, his voice loud and booming, a couple nurses urge for the mother to wait outside.
But he can’t focus with you standing there looking wrecked, your hands shaking. His focus should be on the boy, not you.
“Gauze.” He commands, a hand outstretched towards you.
Nothing.
The gauze finally hits his hand, a few seconds delayed.
His pulse spikes, the room suddenly feeling too loud. Your presence pressing against the back of his skull.
He snaps.
“I can’t afford hesitation right now.” Jack’s voice cuts sharply across the room, eyes snapping to yours. “If you can’t keep up, leave.”
You feel like you’ve stopped breathing. The room goes painfully quiet, heat rushing to your face instantly at the humiliation.
Your chest feels like it’s caving, shame burning beneath your skin. You swallow hard, blinking rapidly, staving off tears.
You nod once, unable to trust your voice, before stripping off your gloves with trembling fingers backing away from the table.
Another nurse takes over flawlessly, the room continuing like normal around you. You exit the room, tears burning your eyes and threatening to fall.
Lena sees your shaken state from across the room, beginning to make her way over to you. But you duck, scuttling away to lock yourself in the toilet. Needing to break down in private.
You sink against the wall, sliding down until your head rests on your knees.
You know he’s right, you shouldn’t have hesitated. Your throat tightens.
The boy could’ve died because you froze. He still might. For what? Because Abbot didn’t want you near him anymore? Because the sounds of the boys’ mother screaming cracked something open inside of you?
Abbot’s words replay over and over in your head as self-punishment, as you sob into your hands.
───
Jack regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.
He watches your face crumple in devastation and it almost knocks the breath from his lungs.
Your teary eyes flicker away, avoiding his fiery gaze. He hates that he’s the one who put those tears there, made you cry. He never wants to be the reason for your pain.
He watches you nod, so meekly it hurts his heart, the tremble in your hands when you pull off your gloves. Every instinct in him screams to go after you. He can’t. He turns back to the table, continuing to work on the boy even more distracted than he was before.
───
You manage to gather yourself not long after, exiting the bathroom and ignoring Lena’s concerned looks, just searching for a simple case to get your mind off what happened. You can hear the chaos continuing in Trauma 1, still working on the boy.
Lena assigns you to a wound debridement, a simple task to recalibrate and gather your thoughts.
You set up your tool table beside you, and you’re lucky your patient isn’t a chatty one. His arm rests on the bed, skin burnt red and white.
You’re utterly exhausted, emotionally spent. Too in your own head to notice how cramped your fingers get around the scalpel.
You try to reposition your grip, but the blade unexpectedly slips from your grasp, falling and slicing a clean gash from your hand down your arm. Pain slices hot and immediate.
“Shit–”
The scalpel clatters into the tray as blood begins to well. Your vision blurs for half a second, before you jerk back sharply, hissing from the sudden pain
“Oh shit you okay, lady?” You hear the patient ask, but you’re already halfway out the room, asking Matteo to finish your case before entering an empty room to sort yourself out.
“God fucking damn it, piece of shit–” You curse violently, voice breaking, trying to hold back tears yet again, whilst setting up the equipment you need to clean your cut.
Your heart beats violently, embarrassed at fucking up yet another thing. Abbot cannot know, he cannot have another thing to chew you out over.
You’re not that lucky.
“Hey, listen, I wanted to say that– what the fuck?” Jack’s voice is shocked when he glances down at your bleeding arm from where he stands at the door.
Your head whips around immediately, eyes wide and panicked but you don’t speak or move. Fear wraps around your heart knowing you’re going to get scolded for being distracted, getting yourself hurt, or creating unnecessary paperwork for the hospital.
The sight of your bleeding arm disturbs him. But what hurts more is the way you look at him, wrecked and terrified, like a child that just got caught for doing something wrong, more worried about his reaction than the fact you’re hurt. He shakes his head stepping inside fully making his way to you.
“Sit.” He commands, his voice tight, clipped.
Your breath hitches at his tone, interpreting it as annoyance for having to deal with this, but you do as he says, not wanting to make things worse.
“You don’t have to–” You attempt to say you’re fine, you don’t need help, it’s a small cut. But when you look into his eyes, you pause, there’s something softer behind them, concern.
“Yeah. I do.” His voice is gentle and strained like it pains him you’re trying to hide your hurt.
You watch his face as he washes out your cut and stops the bleeding. You can’t read him. He avoids your eyes, focusing solely on your injury, you watch as he clenches his jaw and swallows.
He can’t look into your eyes again, the broken teary look you’re adorning right now would completely break him. He feels your pulse thrumming from where he holds your wrist, shaky breaths like you’re trying not to cry in front of him.
“This’ll sting–” He warns gently before bringing a cold disinfectant wipe to your cut. He cleans it so gently, so carefully, you realise how much you’ve missed him. His touch, his care, his smell.
You hiss slightly at the alcohol stinging, and he quickly retracts, gaze flicking to meet yours worried.
“I’ve got you.” He coos, rubbing a thumb back and forth against your hand, avoiding your injury. “You’re alright, sweetheart.”
His soft tone breaks the flood gate, tears flowing freely and you sob. Hard.
“M’so sorry.” Your voice breaks, blurting out apologies, as you try to catch your breath. “I’m sorry, please–”
His heart shatters at the sound, immediately setting the wipes down and cupping your face.
“Hey– No. No, honey. Don’t.” His warm hands ground you, wiping the tears as they fall. He can’t stand the sight of you falling apart in front of him.
You shake your head. “I keep fucking up–” you whisper brokenly, your expression apologetic.
“God, c’mere.” He coos bringing your head to his chest rubbing his hand on your back. “You got nothin’ to apologise for, y’hear me?
His chest aches at your cries, knowing he led you to this, knowing he hurt such a sweet girl. His sweet girl.
“I shoulda never yelled at ya, it weren’t right.” His voice vibrates through your body against him, sniffling into his chest. “You get that? You did nothing wrong, baby.”
Baby.
He pulls back cupping your face again, eyes intense and searching. Searching for something in your eyes that tells him you understand him, that you know you didn’t do anything wrong.
“Is he– is the kid–” You choke out, genuinely terrified that your slip-up had cost the kid his life, and had cost the mother losing both loves of her lives on the same night.
Jack shakes his head quickly, dismissing your worry. “He’s good, he’s stable. Dontcha worry about that. I let shit get to me, yeah? Not on you.”
You sniffle, breathing jagged as you settle down. The kid will be okay. Abbot isn’t mad at you. His hand lifts from your cheek to smooth down your hair on your forehead, tucking it backwards. Looking at you like you're precious.
Unexpectedly, he brings his forehead to rest on yours, whispering:
“I never wanna make you feel like that.” His voice wavers slightly, but you notice. “Never again.”
You stop breathing at his proximity. Realisation crashing down at how stupid you’d been to avoid him all this time, to let insecurity overrun your thoughts. His lips are so close to yours.
“Jack–” You practically whimper his name.
His breath hitches, searching your eyes before leaning in slowly.
He presses a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, testing.
Instinctively, you turn your head towards his lips.
You both pause, staring at each other and breathing heavily. He watches as you dart your tongue out, licking your lips nervously, and he breaks.
He crashes his lips to yours.
It’s hungry, full of apology, and devotion. He brings a hand to cup the back of your head, deepening the kiss. Electric sparks fly down your spine, your mind turning to mush. The emotional toll of the day mixing with the high of finally kissing Jack, you melt.
He finally pulls away, after needing to catch his breath, not because he wants to stop kissing you. He’d kiss you for the rest of the night, if he could.
He takes in your flushed state, catching your breath and looking at him with so much trust. Your red cheeks, dazed and glossy eyes, and plump red lips and he lets a sound akin to a growl out. The look wrecks him.
He shakes his head, pressing a short, quick kiss to your hair before physically stepping back before going too far with you.
“I didn’t– I convinced myself you didn’t want me like that.” Your whisper breaks the silence. “I couldn’t be around you, it hurt too much.”
Oh.
He swallows the lump in his throat before nodding. He understands. Why you avoided him all this time, you must have been going crazy. Hell, you’d affected him so much tonight he snapped. He can’t imagine what living like that for so long would do to you.
“You don’t gotta explain, sweetheart.” He brings the chair to sit in front of you on the bed, and he takes your hands in his, bringing a small kiss to your knuckles. “But you scared me, doll. You gotta take care of yourself.”
Your gaze flickers downwards a little embarrassed, nodding
He turns your injured hand over in his, nodding his head towards it before gently asking.
“How’d this happen?” He refocuses on cleaning and assessing if it’s deep enough for a bandage or stitches.
“Wasn’t–” You pause, recalling how he scolded you last time for being distracted, shaking off your fear, you continue. “Wasn’t paying attention, cutting off patients' dead skin. Hand cramped n’ tried to fix it, blade slipped.”
He takes in a deep breath hearing your shaky explanation.
“Why didn’t ya tell someone, hmm?” He speaks softly, his attention focused on placing small little butterfly bandages along the cut.
You shrug. “Wasn’t thinking straight. Was overwhelmed, on the verge of crying again. Just needed to be alone.”
Crying, again. He hates the recollection that he made you cry that night. That after you had left the trauma room, you’d broken down alone.
He places the last bandage on, setting down the equipment and turning to you once more, placing a hand on your thigh.
“You always come to me when you’re hurting, yeah? I hate that I didn’t know, baby. Hate you were hurt and you tried to deal with this alone.” He begs, squeezing your thigh.
He sighs in relief as he sees your small nod. “Good.”
He places a small, gentle kiss over your cut. “There we go, all fixed up, my sweet girl.”
You flush red, a shy smile taking over your face before you can stop it, letting out a small laugh of disbelief.
“There she is.” He coos at your smile.
───────
After a few months of dating, Jack took a sabbatical, and asked you to go with him.
It was his way of an apology, for snapping at his sweet girl, taking you away from the place that you’d been running yourself into the ground for.
He didn’t tell you much, just to pack your cutest dresses. You obeyed mindlessly, trusting him completely. Truthfully, he couldn’t get enough of seeing you in sundresses after one particular picnic date where he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, or hands. Needless to say, the date ended early, with Jack driving you back to his place to tear off the sundress.
You’re leaning against Jack in his truck as he drives through the country. He had specifically chosen to bring this truck due to its bench seats, needing a hand on you at all times.
The warm breeze filters through the truck windows, and you hum gently along to the faint country rock playing through the truck radio, Jack tapping his fingers against the wheel along with the beat.
Everything felt perfect, domestic, calm.
Until you get deeper into country backroads.
You frown the first time you drive by a small animal on the side of the road, clearly roadkill. It disturbs something in your stomach, seeing the bloody mangled animal alone. You try to push it down, focus on Jack, the trip.
Until you seem to keep passing more animals.
Deer.
Squirrels.
Rabbits.
Foxes.
Every animal seems to twist your heart more and more, saddening you so deeply, wishing you could protect the babies that died alone.
Jack, observant as he is, feels you go quiet against his shoulder. No longer humming or drumming your feet with the music, just looking straight ahead into the dashboard, stiff. Something had set his girl off. He brings his hand that rested on the gear stick onto your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze, checking in on you.
His hand is warm where it rests on your thigh, grounding, as he coos, “Talk to me, sweetheart.” He glances over briefly before looking back at the road. “What’s got my pretty girl all quiet, hmm?” he says, softly.
Your stomach flips, of course he notices. He’s so in tune with your tells by now, you couldn’t even hide it if you tried. You whine a little embarrassed, turning to hide your face into his side.
His heart aches at the small, sweet noise you make and his grip tightens protectively on your thigh. Sensing your shyness, his thumb starts rubbing back and forth on your leg.
“Don’t hide from me, my sweet girl,” his voice is gentle and sweet, the tone he uses when he knows something is bothering you. Gentle fingers tip your chin upwards to meet his eyes momentarily, your stomach twisting as he brushes the hair behind your ear, a silent plea: tell me.
Hesitating, feeling shy and not wanting to ruin the trip you tell him, “It’s nothing, really, It’s the animals–”, your breath hitches as Jack drives by another dead deer on the side of the road. Your voice breaks before continuing, “It hurts”, you whisper sadly whilst immediately ducking your head to not look out the window for too long, the scene disturbing you.
Oh. Realisation floods Jack’s face and his heart clenches, oh, his sweet, sensitive baby.
You hear Jack breathe out a small sigh, before dipping his head and placing a small gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Yeah? That’s what’s gotten my girl all upset?” his voice soothing and rubs his hand up and down your thigh in comfort. Your stomach twists at his sigh, unsure if he’s silently judging.
“They might have had family or friends waiting for them!’’ your voice is whiny, desperate for him to understand as deeply as you do why you’re upset. You sniffle a little, trying not to let tears fall.
Jack blinks, trying not to laugh at his sensitive girl, knowing it’ll upset you more. He doesn’t mean to find it amusing, but your true devastation over deer and squirrels having family and friends, he can’t help but let out a low chuckle.
“You’re right baby, m’sure they’re sat around the dinner table, waiting for ‘im to come home.” He teases gently a smirk playing at his lips.
“Jaaaaack! It’s not funny,” you pout petulantly, hurt. You shift away from his side, scooting over to the other side of the truck, feeling dismissed.
Jack shushes you quickly, grabbing you by your shoulders before you move away, hating the way you curl in on yourself so easily. He pulls you back into his side, coaxing an apology.
“M’sorry, baby, c’mere.” He’s still smirking a little, but knowing he may have teased too much in your sensitive state, he needs to calm you down.
You feel him pepper quick kisses to your forehead, whilst rubbing the back of your neck gently. Your body relaxes instantly at the touch.
You sniffle a little calming down, wrapping your arms around his middle.
“Shh, baby, I know, I know.” He says, his voice softer now, before continuing. “I was so mean for teasing my delicate girl, yeah?” His inflection rises at the end of his question, like he was comforting a small kitten.
Sniffling, you nod at his comfort. “You know I love how my sweet baby feels everything deeply.” he croons, and you feel him run his fingers at the nape of your neck into your hair, petting you.
“You just keep your eyes on me, yeah? Focus on me for the rest of the trip.” He commands gently, shielding you away from the hurt of the world.
The low music continues to hum in the car, yours and Jack’s breathing matching as you sit quietly soaking the evening breeze.
Gravel crunches as you pull up to the cabin, you notice he doesn’t make a move to exit the truck yet. You frown, worried, is something wrong? Before you can even ask him, Jack breaks the silence, with such a soft tone it's unexpected.
“S’why you’re my favourite nurse, baby”. You falter, his words stirring something in your stomach, his praise making you shy. You feel him draping his arm around your waist and tugging you into his lap, straddling him.
Unable to avoid his intense eye contact, you duck your head shyly, quietly asking, “What is?”
For the life of you, you can’t figure out what he means. He ducks his head following yours to look into your eyes, cupping your face.
His voice is low, serious, when he speaks. “Your sensitivity, compassion, empathy.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, uneasy by the intensity of his praise. Tucking your head into his neck to hide your shyness, you quip– “It’s not the sex?”
You hear him chuckle, the vibration running through your body.
“You were my favourite before the sex smartass– no, you have a big heart, biggest I’ve ever known, you care deeply.” You feel him guide your head out of his neck, needing to see your face, his thumbs brush against your cheeks as he watches your wide, doe eyes trying to accept the praise.
“Plenty of other nurses and doctors are empathetic.” You begin shyly, trying to brush the compliment off, uneasy by how seen he was making you feel. Always having been told your sensitivity is a curse, especially in this field, and it’ll wear you down.
Jack immediately interjects, not enjoying how quick you are to self deprecate, diminish yourself.
“Not like you, baby.” His voice is stern, as are his hands gripping your face. Desperate for you to see yourself the way he does.
Those three simple words cut deep, your eyes watering from so much care. He wipes the tears before they fall and watches a shy smile tugging at your lips, hitting him like a punch to the chest.
“You hear me, baby? Hmm?” he coos gently while pressing a kiss against your temple. You nod in his hold, cheeks flushed from receiving so much affection, never having been treated so carefully before.
“You’re m’favourite attending.” You mumble shyly fidgeting with your hands in your lap.
Jack laughs deeply, he knows, of course he knows. He just hadn’t expected that to be what you said. He finds your tone so cute, like you're too shy to admit it.
“Oh yeah? S’not Robby?” He teases, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, laughing again at your scrunched up face, like the idea is ridiculous to you.
“I know, sweetheart.” He calms you, presses a final, soft kiss to your temple and brings you closer to his embrace.
Outside, the sun sets as crickets chirp around you, the air gets cooler but neither of you rushes to leave the car yet, this moment meaning something so deep to the both of you.
─
Jack is setting down the last of the bags in the bedroom when he hears you yelp from the bathroom. Before he can even ask if you’re okay, you call out for him, your voice startled and afraid.
“Jack!”
His heart jumps, and his mind immediately rushes to the worst idea, that you’re hurt somehow.
Jack runs to the bathroom panicked, “Baby, what’s–” he calls out in fear, until he enters the room, and pauses, blinking.
You’re crouching on the toilet seat like the floor is lava, with one shoe off, in your hand, looking around the floor terrified. You meet his eyes, genuine fear behind them,
“I swear, it's taunting me! It looked me right in the eyes!” you whisper urgently pointing at the small bug in the corner of the room.
Jack laughs for real this time, tilting his head affectionately, “baby, what are you doing?”
You screech as you watch the tiny dark bug scuttle along the bathroom floor and chuck your shoe at it, completely missing it.
“Please– kill it, quick!” you beg him
He smirks at you from where he leans against the bathroom door frame, crossing his arms, and taunts you, “What if his family is waiting for him to come home, hmm?”
You groan as Jack points out your hypocrisy, squealing again as you watch it come towards you. “Jack, I swear to god–”
He hangs his head in, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face before he walks over and stomps on it. He picks you up into his arms and mumbles into your hair.
“Yeah, you’re not lasting ten minutes out here, sweetheart.”
18+ ⸝⸝⸝ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 is not okay after making out with nerd!reader. it’s worse when you show up at his door…
part 1 | part 2 below | part 3 | part 4
you don’t dare speak about it—about the way his body betrayed him, about the heat that flooded the room before either of you knew what to do with it.
until a week passes.
sukuna seems… alarmingly different.
he’s tense and distant, like he’s keeping himself out of your reach on purpose.
he used to show up at your dorm unannounced, leaning in your doorway like he belonged there, asking what you were studying before plopping onto your plushie filled bed like it was his.
now there’s barely anything.
no late night knocks at your door when you were supposed to be studying. no lazy texts. not even his familiar presence lurking outside your lectures to scare people away.
you find yourself replaying everything, searching for where you might’ve gone wrong. had you’d embarrassed him? made him angry? crossed some line you hadn’t even known was there?
so now you standing outside his dorm.
you’d been here for a full three minutes.
you don’t even know why you’re here. panic, probably. impulse. the gnawing fear that if you don’t do something, the distance would harden into something permanent.
you smooth your sweater down for the third time, push your glasses up your nose, then knock before you can talk yourself out of it.
once. then twice.
footsteps approach on the other side of the door.
it opens—and sukuna freezes.
he looks like he’s been caught doing something illegal. eyes widening just a fraction, posture stiffening like he doesn’t quite know where to put himself. his hair’s messy, like he’s been running his hands through it too much.
and he’s shirtless.
your brain short circuits.
you’ve seen him in tank tops, loose shirts, jackets half zipped—but this is different. bare skin, sharp lines of muscle you absolutely were not prepared for. your gaze drops before you can stop it, then snaps back up, mortified.
“oh—” you blurt. “i’m sorry, i didn’t— i can go—”
his brain tries to catch up to the fact you’re literally standing in front of him, but all he can seem to focus on are your eyes glued to his bare chest, lips parted like you’re trying—and failing—to keep from staring.
“no.” too quick. he clears his throat, jaw tightening. “it’s fine.”
it very much does not feel fine to either of you.
the silence stretches. uncomfortable. heavy. you’re suddenly acutely aware of how close you are, of how warm the hallway feels, of how you can’t quite stop yourself from staring even when you try.
you swallow.
“i just…” your fingers curl into the hem of your sweater. you take a deep breath and manage to spit it out. “you’ve been avoiding me.”
his expression flickers—something sharp passing through it before he schools it back into neutrality.
“haven’t been avoiding you.”
right.
that hurts more than you expect.
“oh.” you nod, too fast. “okay. i just— you used to come by all the time and then you stopped and i thought maybe i…” your voice falters. “did i do something wrong?”
the question hangs there.
for a split second, he looks genuinely appalled.
“what?” he snaps, then catches himself. “no. no— you didn’t.” immediately, firmly. like the idea offends him. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”
your shoulders loosen just a little, though your heart is still pounding.
“then why—”
he looks away, hand lifting to rub the back of his neck. you notice how tense he is now, how carefully he’s standing, like he’s trying not to move too much.
“i just needed space,” he says finally. not meeting your eyes. “that’s all.”
it’s not an answer, not really. it feels purposefully incomplete.
you hesitate, then nod. “okay.”
another pause. thicker this time.
you shift your weight, eyes betraying you again, flicking briefly—accidentally—over his chest before you can stop yourself. heat floods your face instantly.
he notices.
his jaw tightens, breath hitching just enough to give him away. he takes a subtle step back, like he’s putting distance between you on purpose.
and suddenly, the explanation doesn’t sit right.
“space from… me?” you ask quietly.
he stiffens.
“no,” he says too fast. then corrects himself, slower. “not from you.”
you frown, fingers curling into your sleeves. “then what?”
he doesn’t answer right away. his gaze drifts past you, down the hall, anywhere but your face. the silence stretches long enough to make your chest ache.
“you don’t just disappear for a week for no reason,” you say, sterner now. “if i did something, i’d rather know.”
his eyes snap back to you. you almost wish they hadn’t. there’s something raw there, something tightly leashed.
“you really think that?” he asks, low.
you shrug, small, looking down and mumbling. “i don’t know. i overthink. you know that.”
that seems to hit him harder than anything else you’ve said.
he does know that. and the thought of you agonizing over this, wondering what you did wrong is enough to make him flinch. he’s been trying to keep his distance, avoid temptation, but here you are, standing in your goddamn oversized sweater like this is just an everyday conversation.
he almost laughs. there’s nothing everyday about badly he wants you right now, how much he aches to pull you in.
he exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “you didn’t do anything,” he says again, firmer. “i’m not mad at you. i just… needed to get my head straight.”
“about what?” you press, heart thudding.
another pause.
he takes a step back, then another, stopping just inside the doorway. like he’s choosing distance on purpose.
“…about you,” he admits, barely above a mutter.
“me?”
he swallows, jaw flexing. “don’t make me spell it out.”
that only makes your confusion worse.
“i don’t understand,” you say honestly. “you’re acting like i did something wrong, but you keep saying i didn’t.”
his mouth twitches, almost a smile, but there’s no humor in it.
“yeah,” he says. “that’s kind of the problem.”
he finally looks at you again, really looks—eyes dark, expression strained, like he’s holding something back by sheer force of will.
“…i didn’t want to scare you off,” he says.
the words are soft but they hit harder than anything else he could’ve said.
you blink. “scare me off how?”
his jaw tightens immediately, regret flashing across his face like he’s said too much. he exhales through his nose, slow and controlled, like he’s trying not to unravel.
“by being too much.”
you stare at him, genuinely baffled. sukuna? scared of being too much? the guy who never hesitates, never second guesses, himself, never backs down?
you scoff. you’ve gotten used to him. what was his problem now? “you couldn’t scare me even if you tried.”
he laughs, dry and low, a sound that’s part exasperation, part disbelief. it’s not a full laugh—more like the sound of someone trying to keep himself from unraveling. then he pulls himself back into his room and plops back onto his bed, hands covering his face, letting out a long, slow breath.
you follow him inside, closing the door behind you, heart hammering. you try not to look—really try—but it’s hard not to notice the way his torso stretches across the bed, the faint trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of his sweatpants, and the way his muscles flex even as he’s slumped down.
your stomach twists, and you force yourself to stare at his hands instead, at the way they lace together over his face in frustration.
he mutters, voice muffled through his hands, “fuck. it’s just… i’ve been holding back from doing things i shouldn’t.”
your stomach flips, and for a moment your brain freezes. heat rushes to your cheeks in realization, heart hammering. you know exactly what he’s talking about.
it takes a second for your words to catch up.
“but— what if i… what if that’s something i want?”
he freezes. his jaw tightens, eyes widening in disbelief. “what?” he manages, voice rough. “you… you want it?”
you nod, blinking rapidly, suddenly very aware of how close you’ve gotten to him. “uh huh,” you admit quietly. “i want you.”
he blinks again, then leans back slightly, running a hand through his messy hair, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “seriously? why? fuck— i still don’t even know why you like me. why you’re with me.”
you bite your lip, fiddling with your sleeves. “because… you’re… nice,” you say softly, like it’s almost too simple to say aloud.
he freezes mid motion, hand hovering over his head. “me?” he repeats, incredulous. “nice? i’m nice? don’t call me nice, nerd.”
you nod vehemently again, cheeks heating further at the name he always lets slip. “…yeah. you are.”
he lets out a short, harsh laugh, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it. “nah,” he says, voice almost bitter, “that can’t be true.”
“it is,” you insist. “you noticed me. spent time with me when i was lonely. you were the first guy who called me cute. you didn’t use me for help like other people do because i’m a nerd. you—”
“stop.” the word cuts through sharp. “only i can call you that.”
before you can even process it, he’s moving—hands on your waist and pulling you forward. you barely have time to gasp before you’re settled onto his lap, knees bracketing his thighs, your hands instinctively flying out to brace against his shoulders.
you freeze.
so does he.
for half a second, neither of you breathe.
his grip is tight, like he’s afraid if he loosens it even a little, he’ll lose you—or himself. his chest rises beneath you, warm and solid, and the closeness hits you all at once. too close. way too close.
“don’t,” he mutters, low and strained. “don’t say shit like that like i’m some good guy. like i deserve you.”
your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure he can feel it.
“why?” you whisper, eyes wide behind your glasses. “i’m just telling the truth.”
his jaw clenches. he looks everywhere but your face—your shoulder, the door, the wall behind you—like meeting your eyes might be the last straw.
“because i can’t—” he cuts himself off, swearing under his breath. “because you’re making this really fucking difficult.”
“it doesn’t have to be difficult! i’m telling you i want you sukuna,” you reply, just as exasperated.
“you don’t know what you’re asking for.”
there’s a beat.
you swallow, nerves buzzing, and shake your head—small, but sure. “but i do,” you say quietly. “i know what i’m asking for.”
that finally gets him to look at you.
really look at you.
your words hang in the air soft, but unshakable. and for the first time since you walked in, he doesn’t look away. his fingers twitch against your hips like he’s fighting the urge to pull you closer or push you off entirely.
“you don’t know what i want,” he mutters, voice rougher now. “what i need.”
“then tell me.”
his eyes drop to your lips, then back up—and something in him cracks.
“i want to kiss every part of you until you can’t say my name without shaking,” he says low, “i want to make sure everyone knows whose girl you are just by looking at how i touch you. i want… all of it.”
he swallows hard—like admitting that terrifies him more than anything else ever has.
“so no. you only think you know what you’re asking for.”
your pulse skyrockets—but instead of pulling back, your hands slide up his shoulders and settle behind his neck.
“i’m still not going anywhere.”
he stares at you like you’re a miracle wrapped in glasses and an oversized sweater that drives him wild.
“i’ve thought about that too…” you admit.
that seems to knock the air out of him.
he stares at you for a long second, like he’s trying to decide if you’re serious—or if he misheard you entirely.
“…really?”
you nod, nails curling into his skin without realizing it. “really.”
his throat bobs as he swallows. his hands stay at your waist, firm but still restrained, like he’s holding onto the last thread of his self control.
“you really shouldn’t say stuff like that,” he says again, quieter now. not a warning. more like a confession. “i just… i don’t want to be that guy who takes advantage of you.”
“but you’re not taking advantage of me! i- i may not have any experience but i’m not clueless.”
he exhales sharply through his nose, eyes flicking over your face like he’s measuring something fragile.
“are you sure?” he asks, slower now. “you get flustered just kissing. i don’t want you regretting anything.”
your face goes hot instantly. “i— that’s not—”
he watches the way you stumble over your words, like it proves his point. “see?” he mutters. “that’s what i mean.”
something in you sparks, embarrassment tipping into indignation.
“you’re one to talk,” you blurt. “you’re acting like i’m—” you stop yourself for half a second, then barrel on, flustered and bold all at once. “you’re the one who got hard when we were making out!”
his eyes go wide—dark, sharp, and utterly unguarded—and for a moment he just stares at you, jaw tight, like he can’t believe you actually said those crude little words.
“…what?” he mutters, voice low, rough, almost strangled.
you blush harder, looking anywhere but him. “you heard me.”
he swallows audibly, like he’s trying to force down the heat rising in him. for half a second, he doesn’t move. then, one hand shoots up to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him.
“…you have no idea what you’re asking for,” he growls, voice husky. “i shouldn’t— i can’t—”
“i said i know!” you snap back, trembling. “i know what i’m asking for! how many times do i need to say it?”
that seems to finally break something in him.
his free hand cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek, and before you can even think his lips are on yours.
it’s fierce, unrestrained, and utterly consuming.
you freeze for a fraction of a second—then melt into him, hands gripping his shoulders as his body presses against yours. the world narrows to the heat of him, the brush of his lips, the way his chest rises beneath you.
he breaks the kiss only to drag it along your jaw, teeth grazing your bottom lip, thumb stroking your cheekbone, eyes dark and desperate. “you have no idea what you just said,” he growls, voice rough against your ear.
you shiver at the noise and the way his lips press against your jaw. your fingers tangle in the messy strands of his hair as heat blooms through you.
“i think i do.”
he chuckles—almost feral—and his hands tighten at your waist, sliding lower, thumbs brushing just over the curve of your hips. “you’re insane,” he groans, nipping lightly at your earlobe, “i’m losing my mind.”
he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and heated, pupils dilated. “you really want this?” he asks, voice rough, each word deliberate, testing you.
you nod, cheeks flushed, pulse pounding. “i do. i want you.”
that seems to push him over the edge. he presses you flush against him as his other hand frames your face again. his lips slam back onto yours with renewed force, teeth grazing, tongue teasing, each movement demanding and consuming.
your back arches instinctively, breath hitching, and he grunts deep in his throat. his hands roam, memorizing, claiming. the subtle heat of him—the firmness of his chest, the tautness of his muscles—makes it impossible to think.
“you’re gonna regret saying that,” he murmurs between kisses, but there’s no warning left in his tone—just raw, unrestrained need.
“i won’t,” you gasp, fingers clutching his hair tighter, body pressed impossibly close.
he hums against your lips, a sound of dark satisfaction, and for the first time, he lets himself stop holding back entirely, each kiss, each brush of his hands, pushing you both further into something you can’t—and don’t want to—escape.
he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, breath heavy, eyes dark and dangerous. a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“so you came here just for this, huh?”
your face heats, and you shake your head, fumbling over your words. “no! i… i didn’t! i just— wanted to…talk.”
he raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly on his elbows, still holding you close, grin widening. “talk,” he repeats, voice dripping with amusement. “right.”
you can’t help the small, nervous laugh that escapes. “i did! but—”
“but what?” he prompts.
“i just… didn’t expect… this to happen.”
his smirk softens just a fraction, though the dark amusement never fully leaves his eyes. “hm.”
he hums, mock contemplative, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with the back of his hand. “and here i thought you came just to drive me insane.”
you let out a small, exasperated sigh, shaking your head again. “i—i didn’t!”
his grin widens, wicked. “sure. keep telling yourself that.”
then, without warning, his thumb slides up and presses firmly against your kiss bitten bottom lip, pressing, dragging lightly, teasing.
you gasp, breath catching, eyes widening as heat floods through you. your fingers clench at his shoulders instinctively, heart hammering in your chest.
“…sukuna,” you whisper, voice trembling, “st-stop…”
he doesn’t stop. he just tilts his head, smirking down at you, eyes dark and calculating. “oh? thought you said you wanted this. thought you could handle it.”
you swallow hard and force your words out even as your chest hammers. “i- i can.”
his smirk twists wider, “oh? really?”
you nod, fingers digging into his shoulders. “yeah.”
he leans in closer. “then be specific,” he murmurs, thumb still teasing your bottom lip. “tell me what you can really handle.”
you swallow, cheeks burning hotter than ever, and finally whisper, “i- i can handle you touching me.”
his eyes widen ever so slightly, then narrow. “is that so?”
“uh huh.”
without warning, two of his calloused fingers slip between your lips, testing, pressing, and you instinctively part your mouth to welcome them.
he hums, low and approving, eyes locked on yours. “you really mean that,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers lightly over your tongue.
you nod, mouth full, unable to look away.
he chuckles, a dark, dangerous sound, and doesn’t pull away. instead, he tilts his head, pushing just a little further, pressing his fingers deeper into your mouth, making you gasp around them.
“good,” he grunts. “because once i start i wont stop.”
you shiver, heat pooling low in your tummy.
“suck them,” he orders, voice low and rough, almost a growl. your breath catches and you let out a startled sound around his digits. “don’t test me. i said suck.”
your body betrays you, hot and quivering on his lap, and you obey, lips hesitantly sucking his thick fingers. you squirm on top of him, suddenly imagining how they would feel inside you, the heat between you spreading, every nerve alight.
he hums approvingly once more, eyes locked on yours. “god… you’re so eager. you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
you whimper softly, cheeks burning, and before you can react, he pulls his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop.
before you can process it, he’s flipping you over onto his bed. your back hits the mattress, breath catching as he settles over you.
“we can go slow,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “tell me what you wanna do first.“
you gulp. you already know what you want. what you’ve wanted. your gaze drops to his fingers, still coated in your own saliva. “c-could you… um… finger me?”
he grunts roughly like the words kill him. “knew you’d say that.”
he shifts, one hand braced beside your head, the other hovering just above your waist—fingers still glistening from your mouth. his breath is uneven against your neck.
“say it again,” he growls. “say it like you mean it.”
you swallow hard, pulse roaring in your ears. “finger me?”
his eyes darken.
“again.”
your face burns, but you whisper it—bolder this time, “please sukuna...” you beg, “i want you to finger me.”
he makes a sound low in his throat—like he’s losing himself—and finally moves. one hand tugs gently at the hem of your sweater. “off,” he murmurs. “i wanna see you.”
trembling, you obey—lifting the fabric over your head and tossing it aside.
he sighs a curse under his breath. “look at this pretty little bra. wore this for me?”
you whimper. don’t answer because really, you don’t know. maybe you did.
he grins.
and then his hands are back on you—hot, slow—as one drifts to the waistband of your jeans that suddenly feel too tight.
“relax,” he murmurs against your lips.
your hands clutch his shoulders. “i’m trying,” you breathe, arching against him. he nips at your jaw, fingers dancing over the buttons of your jeans.
he chuckles, voice low and strained. “you’re so damn impatient.”
you whine and protest, “m’not.”
“mmm right.”
you shiver and he only smiles against your skin. and then, oh so slowly, he’s unbuttoning your jeans and pulling down its zipper.
he tugs them. “c’mon. lift your lips for me, baby.”
you do and then he tugs your jeans all the way down, slow and steady—leaving behind goosebumps in his path. your own breathing seems far too loud in the silence of his dorm.
the jeans hit the floor and you shift on his mattress, suddenly feeling too bare. too exposed.
he pulls back for a moment to look at you, at your flustered look and at the way your chest rises and falls. he looks just as wrecked, lips swollen, eyes intense, chest heaving.
he swallows.
“god. look at you.”
you cover your eyes over the frames of your glasses. you whine his name in embarrassment.
he catches your wrist, pulling your hand gently away from your face. “don’t,” he murmurs, voice rough but soft. “don’t hide.”
your breath hitches as he leans down, brushing his lips over the bridge of your nose, then the corner of your glasses.
“you’re so damn cute like this,” he admits, almost grudgingly. “all shy and flustered… wearing these thick glasses like you didn’t come here to ruin me.”
he kisses you—soft at first, then deeper.
“leave ‘em on,” he growls. “i wanna see you come apart with them all crooked on that pretty face.”
the unsolicited visual and his vulgar words make your cheeks heat even further.
you were gonna leave them on anyway.
you couldn’t see shit without them and he knew that.
a smirk quirks his lips, as if he’s reading that thought.
he kisses your jaw. your nose. then he makes his way down your neck, kissing your collarbone.
your breath hitches again, head tilting back to give him access—letting out a soft whimper as his mouth brushes your neck.
“so sensitive…” he murmurs between kisses.
his mouth keeps moving lower and lower—onto the valleys of your breasts. and then down to your stomach. his nose drags gently across it, electrifying every inch.
you can hardly breathe.
he trails kisses down your belly, fingers brushing your ribs, the skin there quivering under his touch. he pulls back to look at you. just looks. and you try not to squirm under the scrutiny.
you manage a breathless, “stop staring.”
he grins, dark and hungry. “make me.”
you try not to roll your eyes. you really do.
but he’ll be making them roll for a different reason soon anyways. he’s too close to where your aching cunt is leaking for him.
“sukuna…”
he hums. his hands flit to your panties. “want these off?”
you nod shyly.
and then you’re gasping, fingers curling into the sheets, head tilting back as his lips brush lightly over your hipbone. he peels off your panties little by little. your breathing is labored. you’re flushed. and he’s taking his sweet time with you.
it’s driving you nuts.
when they’re finally all the way off, you clench your thighs together feeling too exposed to him.
he clicks his tongue. “none of that,” he murmurs, pressing a hand to each thigh and gently forcing them apart. “you gotta let me see you if you wanna feel good.”
you gulp nervously. but still, you let him pry your legs apart without anymore resistance. his eyes darken once they fall onto your slick cunt. he can see the way you tremble and clenche around nothing.
you look at him. he looks back, a moment of quiet that makes the air seem heavier. he doesn’t say anything.
oh no. does he think it looks weird? ugly? you—
his words shut up your internal panic, “fuck. she’s so fucking pretty. can’t believe she’s this wet just for me…” his words come out almost strained.
the sound that leaves your lips would’ve been humiliating if you cared enough.
he finally reaches out, fingers finding your aching clit, making you jolt. he circles it once—slow, driving you mad—and you whimper, hips bucking without permission.
“ah-ah,” he murmurs, pressing down just a little harder. “stay still.”
your breath hitches. you try to obey.
he teases you like that for what feels like forever—light flicks, lazy circles—until you’re trembling and leaking onto his sheets.
only then does he slide his middle finger deep inside.
you cry out, back arching off the bed.
he groans at the sound—at how tight you are—and mutters against your thigh, “fuck… knew you’d feel this good.”
there was nothing—nothing at all—to prepare you for this moment. for how thick and long just one of his fingers were. you clench around him, eyes watering, breath coming in short gasps.
“too much?” he murmurs, watching your face like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
you shake your head—fast, desperate. “n-no… it’s just never— ah…”
your hands clutch helplessly at the sheets underneath you.
he crooks his finger inside you and you clench with a whimper.
“hmmm? your tiny fingers never reached this far, huh? is that what you’re tryna say?” he tuts and pouts mockingly, “i dunno if it can even fit another.”
you gasp at the words, jaw dropping.
“no! ‘kuna, please!”
“please what?” he drawls, slow and cruel, curling that finger just right—hitting a spot deep inside you that nobody has ever been, making your back arch off the bed. he thrusts it in and out slowly, hitting that sweet spot every time he gets deep enough. “you gotta be specific, baby. i’m not reading minds here.”
tears prick the corners of your eyes—half from sensation, half from frustration. his smirk widens.
“say it,” he murmurs, dragging his thumb over your swollen clit in maddening little circles. “tell me you want two fingers. tell me you want me to stretch you open.”
your breath hitches—you’re trembling all over now.
“ugh— pl-please ‘kuna? wanna try another—”
and oh… the way his nickname falls from your lips so sweetly because you can barely get the words out? how could he ever deny you?
he leans down to press a kiss to your trembling stomach.
“there we go… that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
he slips in a second finger and you cry out.
it burns—just a bit—and you can feel yourself clenching painfully around them.
he shushes you, his touch soft and soothing. he kisses anywhere he can reach. your stomach. your hip. the inside of your thigh.
“does it hurt, baby? should i slow down?”
you shake your head with teary eyes, legs threatening to close around his hand.
it like too much and too little all at once.
“no! ngh— i- i just need to get used to them— oh!”
your words die when he curls both his fingers inside you, hitting your sweet spot when he moves just barely.
he grins, pleased.
you feel so damn tight around his fingers. he has to be careful not to let his eyes roll back at the sight of you.
“you want me to start moving them or do you need a minute, sweetheart?” he breathes out. you swear his voice is even raspier.
you try to ignore what the pet name does to you, your fingers reach for him desperately, needing something to cling to—he obliges by taking your hand.
“yeah? you need somethin’ to hold, baby?”
“mgh— y-yeah—” you whimper pitifully.
“yeah what? want me to move or keep holding ya?”
your bottom lip trembles. “both.”
“oh… mhm. that’s my smart girl.”
he starts to move—slow, deep curls inside you—and your whole body seizes at the sensation.
tears slip from the corners of your eyes again, and you squeeze his hand where it’s laced with yours like it’s keeping you grounded.
“you feel that?” he murmurs, watching your face with dark fascination. “me stretching you open? filling you up?”
he scissors his fingers inside you to puncture his words and a broken noise escapes your lips—half sob, half moan—as his fingers work deeper.
“that’s right,” he coaxes, thumb brushing over your clit again in slow circles. “just let go for me. take it. feel good?”
“y-yes! really good…” you moan.
and that little noise does him in.
he grits his teeth, hips jerking forward against the mattress on instinct. almost like he wants to replace his fingers with something much bigger.
“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, watching your puffy cunt clench around his fingers. “you say that like you wanna make me lose control.”
your only answer is a whimper as he picks up the pace—deeper, faster.
his thumb presses harder on your clit and your back arches violently off the bed.
“you gonna cum for me soon?” he grunts against you, the squelches in the room sickeningly pornographic. “i wanna feel it.”
you feel something inside you threatening to snap and you nod.
“good girl. you gonna cum and make a pretty face for me, hm?”
you can hardly speak. so you nod again.
he smiles at it. his pressure on your clit moves. you clench around him.
“y-yes! i’m—i’m gonna—”
your hips stutter, thighs trembling violently as his fingers work inside you, relentlessly.
“that’s it,” he grunts, voice rough with need. “cum on my fingers. let me feel how much you want it.”
you cry out his name as it hits—a sharp, bright wave unlike anything you’ve ever felt that crashes through your every nerve. your cunt clenches around him in hot pulses.
he doesn’t stop. keeps moving those fingers through it all, drawing the pleasure out until you’re gasping for air and thrashing under him, glasses fogging, still gripping his hand.
only when your whimpers turn shaky does he finally pull free—and even then, he drags them slowly across your clit one last time.
you shudder hard.
“look at this mess,” he murmurs darkly, lifting his glistening fingers to show you—then without breaking eye contact… he sucks them into his mouth.
your breath catches all over again.
he licks slow and deep like a fucking animal then smirks at the taste of you.
“sweet.”
“sukuna…” you pant, scandalized as if he hadn’t just been fingering you, moving your hands to push your glasses up.
he catches your hand before it reaches your face, guiding it back down.
“leave ‘em crooked,” he smiles against your neck. “i like you all messy like this. my pretty little nerd isn’t so proper now, is she?”
you whimper as his weight settles over you—hot, heavy, unmistakably hard where his cock grinds against your thigh.
he drags a rough kiss along your jaw. “still with me, baby?”
your fingers clutch his shoulders and you nod. “y-yeah...”
his grin is pure sin. or maybe that’s how you see it with what he’s just done.
“good.”
the way he looks at you—with pupils blown and lips still wet from tasting you—makes your cheeks flush all over again. your cunt still wet and sensitive and throbbing—and you can’t believe you’re about to say what comes next.
“wait… i— i wanna taste you too.”
he freezes.
his eyes widen and looks like he’s stopped breathing.
“...what?” he rasps, voice barely there.
you push up on your elbows, shaky but determined. “i want to taste you,” you repeat—softer this time, but still sure. “please…”
he stares at you like you’ve just ripped the world out from under him.
“fuck.” he laughs, runs a hand through his hair. “let’s save that for another day, yeah? let me get you cleaned up first.”
you pout.
but he’s already heading to his bathroom.
so much for post nut clarity.
maybe you should stick to not saying the first thing that comes to mind.
sukuna returns a beat later with a warm washcloth and a glass of water. he kneels beside the bed, helping you sit against the pillows. his touch on your skin is gentle. tender. you can barely meet his eyes as he works between your legs. he’s silent through the whole process, gently wiping, so tender it makes your chest hurt, handing you water to drink.
he tosses the cloth aside once he’s done and crawls into his bed with you.
your eyelids suddenly feel heavy. you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.
“c’mon. get some rest. don’t you have an early lecture tomorrow?”
“uh huh…” you mumble. he knew your schedule better than he knew his own. “but you’re still hard…” you yawn, eyes already fluttering shut as your rest your head against his warm chest.
“shut up, brat.”
he gently takes off your glasses and sets them aside. pulls you closer so your head is tucked under his chin.
he feels you nuzzle into his body and he can’t fight the soft smile that tugs at his lips. he lets his arms curl around you protectively.
you let out a little sigh of contentment as you relax against him, feeling safer than ever.
he pulls you even closer, breathing you in, and eventually you fall asleep just like that—tucked in his arms.
>> next ch / series masterlist
shy series taglist! @gg-trini @luredlilac
also tagging people who commented for a part 2 (hope you guys don’t mind)🥹 @hoebiii @tobesocoldasyou @sloppyfrenchfries @iwantnewfyp @kiakiabby @silverserpentsofhogwarts @nutellajade @letiziabordas @userizzzzup @lost-fantasy @tewstupidfaman
taglist for pt 3 is closed (bc i’m loosing track of people to tag) but you can still be added to the shy!reader x jjk men taglist or my full taglist here!
also I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK ALMOST A MONTH…😭 i hope it was worth the wait! this has to be one of the most favorite things i’ve written.
authors note: a little self indulgent imagine. i hope my fellow shy girls enjoy <3 [ due to popular demand: find part two here ]
—
she was crouched in the hallway outside her apartment at eight in the morning, trying to pick up the contents of a ripped grocery bag.
“are you serious right now” she groaned.
she moved into the building about a month ago and already felt too awkward. everyone here seemed polished and so certain of themselves, living their fabulous lives while she still hesitated before speaking in shared elevators.
then came the heavy sound of boots down the hall.
“jesus,” a rough voice muttered. “you got jumped by a whole foods?”
she looked up too fast. her eyes widening, mouth going dry at the sight of him.
the man standing there was devastatingly handsome. large broad shoulders under a dark tee shirt, a hospital badge still clipped onto it. his face was worn like he was exhausted but in a way that made him even more gorgeous.
his eyes landed on her like she was something that caused her heart to skip a beat. he was looking at her like he actually saw her.
heat crawled up her neck as she spoke timidly, “the bag broke.”
stupid. obviously he can see that.
“yeah..” he hummed. hands on his hips as he peered down at her.
suddenly he crouched beside her without hesitation, large calloused hands collecting apples before they rolled away. his elbow brushing hers once as she nearly stopped breathing.
“new neighbor?” he asked.
she nodded. “mhm.. i’m actually across from you.”
“that explains it.” he hummed, bringing his lips into a sideways smile.
“what does?” her curiosity getting the better of her.
“i haven’t seen you before.” his gaze flicked toward her, steady and unreadable. “would’ve remembered.” he shrugged.
her stomach flipped so hard it almost hurt. men never say things like that. not to her.
growing up, she had always felt slightly out of frame beside other girls. too quiet. too nervous. too soft in the wrong ways. boys liked her friends, of course, they were the confident ones, the loud ones, the girls who knew how to flirt without blushing.
meanwhile she spent most of her life shrinking herself before anyone else could do it first.
but jack looked at her like none of that existed. like she was actually worth noticing.
“what’s your name?” he asked, struggling slightly with the weight of his body resting on his prosthetic.
she told him her name, earning a hum in response as he handed her the last can from the floor, fingers lingering for half a second. “i’m jack.”
she swallowed. “uh.. i know.”
his eyebrow lifted in curiosity. “oh yeah?”
breathlessly, she let out, “the walls are thin.”
that made him laugh, deep and low and surprised. and for some reason, that manly sound settled something nervous inside her chest causing her to smile bashfully.
oh my god?! why would you say that?!
jack stood, taking two grocery bags from her hands before she could protest. “come, i’ll walk you in.”
panic dripped into her veins, what was he doing?? he can’t do this! “you don’t have to—”
“already doing it.”
-
inside her apartment, she rushed to clear a couple of unopened boxes off the counter while he set the groceries down. her place was a homey delight, the caramel heugh coming from her sunset lamp creating a warmth that engulfed them as they stood in her kitchen in silence.
she braced for embarrassment.
instead, jack slowly looked around the apartment, then at her. “it suits you.”
her heart stuttered as she let out a chuckle, “you don’t even know me.” she said, a small smile plastered across her face as she gripped onto the island counter.
“don’t gotta know everything.” his eyes held hers again. they were intense enough to make her butterflies flutter. “can tell plenty already.”
no one had ever looked at her like that before. like she was soft in a way worth protecting. like her quietness wasn’t something to apologize for.
she looked down quickly, suddenly shy beneath the weight of his undivided attention. jack noticed, of course he did.
his voice softened. “you always avoid eye contact like that?”
a nervous laugh escaped her. “how- i… yes.”
“why?” he wanted to know.
because people don’t usually like what they see she wants to say.
because no one had ever made her feel beautiful before.
because wanting to feel desired felt embarrassing when you spent your whole life feeling forgettable.
but of course she didn’t say any of that.
jack stepped closer anyway, not crowding her but still enough for his presence to wrap around her.
“well,” he said quietly, “you should stop.”
she finally looked up and there it was again…that devastating look.
the one that made her feel warm, feminine and wanted, like every hidden ache she carried in her head had suddenly been placed in someone else’s careful hands.
jack’s jaw tightened slightly as he looked at her. “pretty little ladies shouldn’t hide.”
her breath caught at that. her heeks going pink and her head all fuzzy as she looked up at him.
because somehow she has an inclination that he meant it.
‘ TOLD YOU I LIKED GENTLE GIANTS SO YOU SOFTENED UP . ‘
— in which frat! sukuna realizes he’s totally whipped for his shy! gf 🥹
“i told you, i have to go to the library today.” you say sternly, looking at yourself in the mirror as you curl your hair. sukuna’s wide hands laying dormant against your hips, crimson eyes following your every move in the mirror. he grumbles, hips grinding against your ass. “why you always leaving me? y’hate me?” he murmurs, kissing your neck. “you’re so annoying.” you whisper lowly, somewhat cowering into yourself. even though you and sukuna have been dating for almost four months, you still shy away at his advances. “you’re always shufflin’ away from me. stay still.” he grins, bringing your hips back against him. your face heats up as you put your head down, putting away all your hair products. “‘m still annoying?” he chuckles, manually rolling your hips against him. “always.” you meek out, pushing your glasses up.
you gently pull away, turning around to face your boyfriend. you press a calm kiss to his cheek, a manicured hand resting on his pecs. “i’ll see you later?” you assure, head tilting to the side. his eyelids flutter, his grip on your hips tightening just a smidge, as if it was a silent plea for you to stay. “yea-fuck- yeah. i’ll see you later.” he almost whines out. he follows closely behind you as you put your shoes and coat on by the door. he gives you five one more “see you later” kiss before sending you on your way. he watches from the frosted window as you get in your car and drive off, pulling off his snapback and pushing his hair back with a groan.
warnings: reader can’t swim, soft!steve, friends to lovers, fear of drowning (?), shy!reader, mentions of mean girls, mentions of body insecurities (kinda), the first half of this was written like 3 months ago i just found it and decided to finish it so if that’s noticeable i apologise.
word count: 2.5k
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Steve had always been pretty good at noticing things. When he was a kid, he picked up on his fathers affair as soon as his dad started coming home an hour later than usual smelling like woman’s perfume. He could tell every time when Tommy and Carol had had a fight, he’d learnt quickly that Dustin hated noise whilst he did his homework and Lucas enjoyed sports but was too afraid to tell his friends. He noticed things.
That’s why, during the first proper hot day of the summer, he realised something about you.
He’d invited the group round to go in his pool, he hadn’t been in it since the night Barb went missing and he didn’t want the first time to be alone. He didn’t mention anything about it, but he could sense that everyone else knew what he was thinking. The kids were splashing water at each other, Robin was teaching them how to play chicken and he was barbecuing some burgers for lunch.
You, on the other hand, hadn’t moved from the sun lounger. You’d been laid there in your bikini since everyone had arrived.
“Don’t feel like going for a swim?” He asked, coming up beside you with a fresh cherry cola — he’d noticed you’d put your last one down awhile ago and hadn’t picked it back up, telling him it was probably empty.
“Uh, no, guess not,” you shrugged, giving him a small smile.
You were so shy around him, you had been since the moment you’d met. Sure, you’d gone to school together but he was the grade above and you weren’t in the same social class as him. He was King Steve whilst you were just… you. It wasn’t until he started working with Robin and she brought you around that you became officially acquainted, and he hadn’t left you alone for more than a week since.
It was a little embarrassing, honestly. How often he’d be calling you, how he’d always jump at the chance to see you. He hadn’t had cherry colas in his fridge until he noticed that you seemed to always buy them at the store. Robin would call to invite you out and he would have already done it. He didn’t care how much she complained, it was her fault for introducing you to him.
“C’mon, a little break from reading wouldn’t hurt,” he teased, making you flush. You’d been reading one of his moms cosmos that she kept on the coffee table purely for decoration.
“I— maybe later,” you murmured in response.
You didn’t go in later. Or the next time they all came over, or the next. It was starting to truly bug him, of course he had no problem with you sitting around in a dainty bikini all afternoon but he felt like you were missing out on the fun. He took his opportunity to ask you about it when you went to the bathroom. He followed you, as innocently as possible, and waited on the couch.
“Why aren’t you going in the pool?” You almost jumped out of your skin as he spoke up, having not noticed him sitting there.
“God, you scared me!” You exclaimed, cheeks red. He gave you an apologetic smile; if you were anyone else he would’ve laughed his ass off. “What… what do you mean?”
“You haven’t been in the pool, I was just wondering why,” he explained.
“I have been in.” It was a complete lie. You failed to notice that his eyes were on you at all times of the day. He knew you hadn’t been in.
“You haven’t,” he replied, keeping his tone soft so you didn’t think he was accusing you of anything. “Is it because of what happened to Barb? Because, I promise, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not that anything would, it’s perfectly safe.”
You’d just so happened to have been dragged into all of this last summer, when Steve and Robin worked together at Scoops Ahoy. So, you’d been filled in on everything else that had happened prior. He wished that you hadn’t had to deal with any of it, but once you were stuck in a Russian filled basement with him he couldn’t exactly save you. He got a good few black eyes for trying, though.
“No, I know,” you reassured gently. “I just— I’m not really that big on swimming.”
“Is it the kids? Are they too intense? I can tell ‘em to knock it off, they listen to me… mostly,” he offered.
“No! No, they’re fine,” you responded. His eyes stayed on you and you knew he wasn’t going to let this go. You sighed, looking down at your feet. “I… I don’t know how to swim.”
Your words shocked him. He blinked in surprise. “You don’t know how to swim?”
“Not all of us grew up with pools in our backyard.” He smiled slightly, even when throwing a jab you sounded sweet.
“I know, but we did swim practice in high school,” he said.
“I didn’t like the idea of being in a bathing suit in front of girls like Carol and Nicole. Every time we’d do it I made my mom write a note that I couldn’t,” you admitted.
He despised the thought of you feeling insecure, he also hated the fact those girls had been his friends. His smile faltered and he looked at you with guilt in his eyes. “You’re beautiful though, you know that right?”
Your cheeks lit up as you avoided eye contact, being able to see his grin from the corner of your eye. “That didn’t really matter with girls like that, they’d find anything to bully you on.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” He’d heard the insults those girls would throw at people in the halls. Half of them didn’t even make sense, but because he was such an ass he’d just laugh along with them rather than doing what was right. “I’m sorry for that. For them.”
“You don’t need to apologise for other people, Steve,” you said softly. “We’re not in high school anymore, and I’m not bothered by it. It’s just the reason I never learnt to swim.”
“Good. You shouldn’t be.” He was happy to know that their petty words hadn’t affected you long term, he was sure for some others that wasn’t the case. “I’m sorry for bringing it up, guess I’m too curious.”
“It’s okay,” you replied. “I’m good sticking to the lounger. Your mom has some good magazines.”
“I’ll make sure she keeps buying them, then.”
It was a week later that Steve had invited you back over. You didn’t get your usual call from Robin, but you didn’t think much of it. By now she was used to Steve beating her to the punch. You showed up at his front door and knocked, expecting either Dustin or Max to open the door since they were the ones that were inside the most (Steve would make them take breaks because they burnt the easiest).
It wasn’t them, though. It was Steve.
“Hey,” he greeted with a smile, moving out of the way to let you inside. Surprisingly, he was in his swim trunks. He didn’t get in the pool that often himself, he wasn't afraid of it anymore but he was usually barbecuing or sitting next to you shamelessly flirting.
“Hi,” you replied softly, smiling at him. You had clothes on over your bikini, you’d gone with a white one this time; it definitely wasn’t because Steve had told you that was his favourite. “Am I the first here?”
“You’re the only one coming.” You gave him a look of confusion, but he was just grinning to himself like he’d won the lottery. “I didn’t invite anyone else.”
“Oh.” You blushed. “Why?”
“Because I’m gonna teach you how to swim.” Your blush quickly faded. This wasn’t because he wanted to hang out one on one with you, it was because of his need to help everyone with everything.
“What?” You asked, nerves tightening in your chest.
“C’mon, I was captain of the swim team and a lifeguard. I’m pretty much made for this shit,” he explained, arm wrapping around your shoulders to lead you further through the house; and stop you from running away.
“That doesn’t mean you taught people how to swim. Wouldn’t they already need to know how to do that to be on a swim team?” You mumbled.
“Not necessarily.”
“I don’t know, Steve,” you said anxiously as you neared the pool. Just being so close to it made you nervous. “What if I, like, drown?”
“How are you gonna drown with me right next to you?” He deadpanned. “Besides, it’s really not that deep. If you stand on your tiptoes you could probably breathe.”
“I’m gonna look stupid,” you carried on.
“I’ve watched you drunkenly fall face first out of my car and still didn’t think you looked stupid. Impossible,” he argued. You wanted to slap him just for bringing that up. “Please? I want you to be able to enjoy hanging out with everyone rather than sitting alone. I promise, it’ll be fun.”
You hesitated, but the pleading puppy-dog look made you huff. “Fine, fine you can teach me to swim.”
“Yes!”
“But, I swear Harrington if I drown—”
“You won’t be able to do much if you’ve drowned.” You gave him a look. “You’re not gonna drown! C’mon, we’ll start slow. Just dip your toes in.”
“I have been in a pool before. Just… the little ones for kids,” you mumbled, sitting down on the edge once you’d kicked your sandals off.
Steve sat next to you, grinning from ear to ear. The water was a little cold on your feet, but compared to the hot weather it was nice. “Ready to get in?”
“It’s been two seconds!” You squeaked out nervously.
“Come on, I’ll go first.” You didn’t expect for him to cannonball in, splashing you.
“Jesus!” You exclaimed, pouting as you looked down at your soaked crop top and denim shorts.
“They’ll dry in the sun. Come on.”
You huffed, but stood up from your place beside the pool and moved to put your clothes on your lounger; god you wished you could be sitting there today. You took your top off first, Steve’s eyes watched your every move. He smirked to himself at the sight of the white bikini. You kicked your shorts off and walked back over to the pool, stopping by the side.
“Come round here, this side is shallower.” He swam over and waited for you. There were steps which you slowly descended into, water slowly rising up your body. “Okay?”
“I guess,” you murmured. You knew you could’ve just done this before, but the fear of one of the kids asking for a race or to play chicken with them had stopped you.
“Good. So, here’s what you’re gonna do.” He started to demonstrate from beside you, showing you how to put your legs and arms. You tried to copy him, but failed miserably as you nearly swallowed a mouthful of pool water. “Not the worst first try I’ve ever seen.” You gave him a glare, wiping the water from your eyes.
“This is ridiculous,” you huffed.
“Right, how about we just get you feeling comfortable in the deep end,” he suggested.
“How do we do that without me swimming?” You sighed.
He reached out and grabbed your waist, you flinched in surprise. “Trust me?” He asked. You nodded your head. He pulled you closer. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”
“Steve…” your cheeks were as hot as a volcano at this point.
“Just do it,” he murmured. Your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands rested under your thighs. He moved to the deeper end with you in his arms and your hold tightened around his shoulders. “You’re good, I’ve gotcha.”
“Promise?” You hoped he wasn’t going to do that thing they did to babies where they just drop them in.
“I promise,” he soothed, giving you a reassuring smile. You were so close, the closest you’ve ever been, it wasn’t helping the butterflies in your stomach. He stopped when he got to the deepest section of the pool. “How’s it feeling?”
“I don’t know, fine,” you mumbled, although you were still gripping onto him like your life depended on it.
“How about we try floating? I’ll hold under you, so you know you won’t fall,” he offered.
“Here?” You squeaked out.
He smirked down at you. “Yeah. Here. I promise, you’re safe. I’m riiiight here, nothin’ bad can happen with me around."
“Okay,” you agreed hesitantly.
He situated you on your back, but his hand rested underneath you, holding you up. “Gotta let go of me,” he laughed. You hadn’t even realised that you were gripping onto his arm. You slowly let go, squeezing your eyes shut as you waited to go under… but nothing happened. You opened one and looked at him, he was grinning. “See?”
“Yeah,” you whispered.
“You’ll be swimming in no time,” he murmured softly.
He invited you round the next few days, giving you lesson after lesson. But you’d get tired at points, so the two of you would sit at the side of the pool and have lunch. You got to speak to him on a level you never had before, not when everyone else was around. He told you about what he wanted to do in the future, you told him that Robin had been your only friend for a long time; up until now.
On the final lesson, you finally did it. It was messy, water splashing, but you managed to swim from one side of the pool to the other. He stood in the water with you, just incase, cheering you on like you’d won the Olympics.
“Atta girl!” He cheered, swimming over to you. Your legs wrapped around him as he pulled you to him, both of you grinning from ear to ear.
“Did I pass the class?” You joked.
“Absolutely,” he nodded. “You get an A.”
“Any extra credit I can do for an A+?” It was a joke, you hadn’t even thought of the innuendo behind it. But you watched as his eyes flickered to your lips, your cheeks turned pink.
“I can think of one thing, but it’s a bit of a grey area. Could get me fired,” he murmured, lips now brushing against yours.
“I mean, I was your only student. You could just quit,” you whispered back.
He grinned, lips pressing to yours. You hummed into the kiss, his arms tightened around you as his lips moved against yours smoothly. He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “I’d say that’s an A star.”
“Never had one of them before,” you giggled shyly.
“Well, now you have. C’mon, let’s get out of here. We could… go for dinner or something?” He suggested, the most nervous you’d ever seen him.
“I’d like that,” you murmured.
“Cool. Let’s do it.” He didn’t put you down as he moved to the shallow end, helping you out of the pool.
He leant down and pressed another kiss to your lips. You were extremely happy that you’d never learnt how to swim.
Okay could I request Steve with shy!reader staging over at his place for the first time!! Like not necessarily smut but their first sleepover so it’s awkward and careful but r has a cutie little pajama set that’s driving Steve crazy
Thank you for requesting lovely!!
Steve Harrington x shy!reader ♡ 869 words
“Steve?”
Steve straightens like a meerkat, head twisting toward your voice. “Yeah?”
Hesitancy from the other side of the bathroom door. When you speak, embarrassment tinges your voice, like you’re only asking Steve as a last resort (this is probably accurate). “Are you dressed?”
He can’t help it; he laughs. “Yeah. I’m decent.”
It’s not like you haven’t seen each other naked before, but you’re funny. You always want to keep things polite anytime Steve isn’t putting some very obvious moves on you. The bathroom door cracks like you’re checking to be sure. Steve’s wouldn’t ever be that sort of cruel, but he doesn’t object to your overcaution. He raises his eyebrows as you peer out.
“I’ve been dressed for like ten minutes,” he says. “How long have you been waiting in there?”
“Not a long time,” you reply, though your smile is the sheepish grin of a liar.
He grins back, about to tease, but then the door opens the rest of the way and his thoughts stutter to a stop.
Steve has seen you naked before, but he hasn’t seen you like this. Fresh-faced and shiny from your quick shower, your feet bare on the cold tile, and in the sweetest fucking pajamas Steve has ever seen.
It feels shockingly intimate. More intimate somehow than your nude body beneath his hands is the pad of your feet crossing his room and the sight of lace against your skin.
“You always wear these?” he asks, as you perch uncertainly on the edge of the bed. Your dropped gaze tells him enough of what he needs to know.
“No,” you answer softly.
Steve softens his voice in response. “Yeah? C’mere.” He scooches over, moving away from his side of the bed to make room for you. You can have it. You can have anything right now, probably, Steve’s head is half mush. He watches you lay down next to him with his heart thudding against his skin. “Are they new?”
“Yeah.” You smooth your finger over a crease in the pillowcase. Then, softer still, like it’ll kill you to ask, “Do you like them?”
“Yeah,” Steve echoes you, his lips tugging. The material of your pajamas is a soft-looking blue lined with gray lace, like that early morning fog in spring. They’re pretty, he’d like them anyway, but knowing you picked them out just for your first overnight stay at his place? They might be Steve’s new favorite thing ever.
He fingers the lace lining of your shorts, knuckle brushing your thigh. “You look pretty,” he says earnestly.
Your lashes flicker. Steve’s pretty sure if he pressed his fingers to your cheek he’d find it hot to the touch despite the raised bumps going down your arms. “Thanks.”
He grins. “You want to get in here?”
“Oh. Yeah, sorry.”
Steve lifts the covers, and it’s an awkward shuffle, you half crawling up onto his pillow to slip underneath them. You end up closer to Steve than you probably mean to be, the cold of your skin infiltrating his warmth.
Steve isn’t shy. He hasn’t owned pajamas since he was a little kid, and it didn’t so much as cross his mind to buy them for when he shares a bed with you. He’s grown up in locker rooms and spending summers at the pool; he’s not going to be self-conscious about wearing boxers to bed. He doesn’t torment you by asking if you like his pajamas, too.
He hisses when your icy fingers graze his abdomen. “Jesus. What are you, cold-blooded?”
“You’re so warm.” You sound surprised.
“Yeah, because I’m, like, human. What the hell? Come here.”
Steve catches your hands, folding them between his. You watch him blow hot air on your fingers with a little smile teasing the corners of your mouth. This close, Steve can smell his body wash on you. It does something insane to him, makes him encourage you closer with a hand behind your back despite the cold contact of your knees bumping into his. He wants to kiss your shoulder, but he wants you to stay here more, so he plays it cool.
You talk in whispers about your plans for the next day while Steve warms you up. You’ve got it all laid out—your perfect date, from waking up in the morning together to late in the evening. Steve secretly hopes the morning part lasts a while. He wants to keep you here as long as you’ll let him, warm and whispery beneath his bedsheets.
You start to doze before long. Words stringing together, mattress shifting as you relax into it, your hand falling to Steve’s chest. Every time you touch him is like the first, tender and asking, even now. He puts an arm around your shoulders to keep you close.
“How are you still cold?” he murmurs.
“Hm? Dunno.” You nuzzle your cheek into his pillowcase, lids drooping. “Guess you didn’t fix me well enough.”
Steve lets out a breathy laugh. Your rare bouts of audacity never fail to surprise him. “Guess not,” he says, hand splaying over your back. He relishes feeling the smooth material of your pajama top beneath his fingers. “I’ll have to keep at it.”
Robin and Nancy work together to get you and Steve on a date, you find out that all you needed was a little push
Steve was going through a rough patch, after his glory ‘king Steve’ days, it seemed no girl cared about him anymore. His reputation was already ruined by being employed at the local family video, and on top of that, all the female customers just ignored him when they walked in.
Robin prided herself on her match-making skills, the problem was that Steve was going after the usual high school hook up type. He needed someone that was looking for the same thing as him — ready to accept the slightly worn out Steve, someone to actually settle down with long-term. And Nancy had you as a friend, you weren’t all that outgoing — preferring to stay in, curled up on the couch with a book in your hands during a Friday night. But according to Robin you were perfect, you would be able to slow Steve down a bit, and “make that dingus finally get a girl.”
So they started arranging it, but Nancy and Robin had to be discreet. If Nancy told you that you were going on a date with Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington, who you’ve only seen from further away, you’d be scared off and refuse to go. And Robin knew Steve was the overly excited type, he’d spend hours messing around with his hair and clothes, and overthink everything that he was going to say, not being able to act like himself.
Nancy was driving you around Hawkins, she mentioned she needed to run a couple of errands before going back to her house. But you noticed there was something weird going on with her, she was practically bouncing out of her seat, a small smile creeping up onto her face.
‘Maybe she’s just thinking about Jonathon’ you thought to yourself shrugging.
Nancy and Steve’s past relationship hadn’t gone down the best, it was full of regrets and hurtful words but she managed to move on with Jonathon. But Steve was still her friend, she knew how much he had grown these past few years, and he deserved a companion just as much as you did — someone to treat him better than she ever did.
She pulled up into the parking lot of family video. “Hey, can you grab the movie tape I told you about earlier inside? I just need to tell Robin something and we’ll be out of there.” You nodded, and followed her inside.
The store was fairly empty, you quickly spotted Nancy’s energetic friend Robin who was standing behind the counter, a wide smirk on her face. What was going on with them?
You wandered over to the rom-com section browsing for the tape Nancy instructed you to find.
You were lost in your own world, unaware of the commotion happening a few sections back. “Dingus, go help her, I’m busy right now!” Robin whisper-yelled hitting Steve’s back as he came out of the break room.
“Ouch, ok ok I’m going.” Steve yelped, spotting you across the store struggling to find a specific tape.
He walked over and your back was still turned to him, he cleared his throat awkwardly standing. “Er, can I help you with something…oh,” Steve went slack-jawed when you turned around.
He could only describe you as the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen in all of Hawkins. You were holding your hands together in front of you, shifting between both feet, looking up at Steve with the most adorable look on your face. He could instantly tell you were shier than most, your eyes looked all around his face before settling on the floor.
“I-I’m good, just looking for a…movie” you squeaked out. You remembered Steve but he looked different now. He lost his youthful lean body, his shoulders were broader now, jaw sharper with light stubble coating his once clean shaven face, and his hands god. They were rougher — the veins popping at the surface, it was clear he worked now, not just lazily kicking back and letting others take over. He smiled when it meant something now, and he looked like he went through some tough moments.
“Need help?” Steve swallowed thickly.
“I…mhm,” your voice coming out as a faint whisper, a pink colored flush swallowing your face whole.
Despite your closed-off nature Steve took a step closer, he found himself unable to keep the short distance from the quiet kind of beauty that was in front of him.
“This is the one you’re looking for?” He pulled out the tape you were endlessly searching for.
Your eyes widened at the way he understood what you wanted without having to communicate it. “Y-yeah, that’s the one.” You looked into his eyes, while a soft smile spread onto Steve’s face.
He extended the tape towards you, and you reached out wrapping your fingers around it, they skimmed Steve’s own fingers but neither of you pulled back. You weren’t one for physical touch, but there was something about his warm skin against yours that found you aching for more.
Steve’s breath paused when he made contact with you for the first time, tingles spread from his fingertips straight into his chest. Unbeknownst to them, Nancy and Robin were hidden behind the counter giggling uncontrollably, and high-fived each other at their brilliant thinking.
After a couple seconds you took the tape away and held it close to your chest not sure what to say anymore. “T-thank you…you must know all your movies well.” Your poor attempt at flirting with Steve sent butterflies through his stomach, and he let out a quiet laugh shaking his head.
“Not really no, I don’t even know how I got this job. But if you keep showing up, I’ll have a reason to try and pay attention from now on.” Steve effortlessly responded, reminding you of the ladies man you once knew.
You ducked your head, cheeks darkening even further, though you smiled. You weren’t use to this type of attention, especially not from Steve Harrington, but that’s what made your heart start to quicken. Why was he so damn charming?
You turned away before you could embarrass yourself more, he was probably just being friendly, you were a customer after all. Steve rung you up but snuck glances at your face, reveling in the way you refused to meet his eyes anymore.
Nancy finally emerged and held a smug look on her face as she walked alongside you back to her car. “Sooo” she dragged out. “How’d it go!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Nance,” you tried brushing her off, busying yourself with getting your seat buckled.
“Oh, stop it! You know what I mean…” she wiggled her eyebrows at you with a knowing look. “Steve Harrington.”
You buried your face into your hands groaning, it was embarrassing just how affected you seemed, after a short interaction with the attractive man. “He’s so…” you sighed, not being able to describe so many characteristics into one word. Handsome? Flirty? Helpful?
“I knew it, you guys were made for each other. So when’s the date?” She asked getting to the point.
“What?” You screeched out. “I’m not—he didn’t, he just helped me out.” You settled on, though the warmth still swarming through your chest said otherwise.
“Practical Steve, he’s never been able to make the first move without a little push,” Nancy rolled her eyes. Was she seriously expecting Steve Harrington to ask you out? You were nothing like the girls he went for, and were you even looking to date anyone right now?
Back in family video, Steve hadn’t even moved since you left, frozen in place still thinking of your fluttering eyelashes at him. Robin tackled him, her curiosity not even trying to be hidden. “Well? Are you back in the game Romeo? You two look so cute together I’m already planning your wedding!” She was bouncing up and down.
“It was—she’s—god she’s beautiful.” Steve shook his head, about to ask Robin to pinch him out of this dream.
“What did she say when you asked her out?” Robin was beyond happy.
Steve’s eyes widened his stare turning blank. “You did ask her out…right dingus?” Robin repeated slowly, looking like she was about to seriously hurt Steve if he denied.
“Uh…I…it completely flew out of my mind.” Steve’s gaze turned downwards, regretting the past ten minutes of his existence.
“Are you out of your mind Harrington? We bring you a girl, who’s exceptionally pretty and smart, and everything you don’t deserve, and you fumble that hard? What, did you expect her to do it for you?” Robin stretched her hands out grabbing Steve by the collar, drilling her words into his head.
“Start using your brain, before I take it away from you, Steve. I’ll tell Nancy to give me her number and you will call her tonight. Ask her to go on a date. Or so help me god I will never try to help your doomed love life again. Alright?”
Steve nodded rapidly, “yes yes ok, I’m gonna ask her out.” Prying Robin off of his body.
And sure enough, Robin gave him your phone number and later that night Steve was anxiously sitting by the phone preparing to make his move.
Your phone rang once, twice, then you picked it up. “Hello?” You questioned softly, Nancy never called you this late, and there was no one else that would be willing to strike up a conversation with you right now.
“Hey…Hi, it’s Steve, from earlier today.” He spoke his words slow, thinking about them more carefully now.
“Oh, hi! How’d you get my number?” You were shocked, maybe you hadn’t been imagining things after all.
“Robin gave it to me from Nancy. Don’t worry I’m not a stalker,” Steve awkwardly laughed and you couldn’t help the giggle that creeped through the line.
“But…I actually meant to ask you something, I forgot to earlier, it’s your fault actually, for distracting me.”
Your lips parted, you were distracting? Usually people barely detected you, but Steve noticed you enough to call you hours later.
“Yeah?” You asked, your tone still not rising above a whisper.
“Of course, which is why I wanted to know. Would you go out with me, like on a date?” Steve matched your pitch, wishing he could see through the phone, imagining how hard you would blush at his words.
You were taken aback, that was definitely not what you were expecting. Maybe he got you mixed up with another person, but your heart fluttered just a little.
“Really?”
“Yeah, pretty.” Steve’s word almost made you go into cardiac arrest. He called you pretty. A boy called you pretty. Steve called you pretty. You tried not to let how hard your heart was beating show through your voice.
“Um—yes. Yes! I’d like to.” You’ve truly never felt this excited in a long time, embarrassingly you’ve never gone on a date before. Guys were never really interested in you, and although it stung every now and then, you learned to ignore it, maybe love was never supposed to be in the cards for you. But Steve made sure to keep you on your toes.
“That’s great! Amazing actually!” Steve accidentally let his excitement show, but he felt like he was on cloud nine.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, alright?” Maybe Steve should’ve asked if you were even free then, but all he wanted was to see you again as soon as possible.
“Okay, sounds good.” You agreed, looking forward to your date.
The line filled with a long moment of silence, no one making the move to end the call. You could hear his soft breathing on the other end, and found yourself wondering what he was thinking too.
“Goodbye, Steve.” You whispered, hoping that your fondness would be able to reach him.
“Bye, pretty.” Steve whispered back, and you put the phone back down screaming into your pillow.
The next day you hurriedly invited Nancy over to help you prepare, maybe it was weird she was helping you get ready for a date with her ex, but she seemed just as excited as you.
She searched through your closet for the best outfit you own, pulling out a short navy plaid skirt paired with a soft sweater. You didn’t want to look like someone different, you wanted Steve to see the real you. Nancy did your hair and applied some light makeup to your face, just enough to bring out your features.
It was slowly getting closer to the time Steve was supposed to be picking you up, and you stood in front of your mirror admiring how good you looked.
“He’s going to fall at his knees for you,” Nancy giggled, and you shoved her away gasping.
“Nance!”
“I’m only saying the truth. You’re an amazing girl, it doesn’t take Steve much to see that. Just be yourself, I know it might feel like too much, but he just wants to impress you. Don’t get in your head,” Nancy finished by pulling you into a hug.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Nance, thank you, I owe you one.” You said smiling, Nancy shook her head shushing you.
She left your house with a wave and you patiently fidgeted around now, growing more restless by the minute. Then you heard it, the soft knock at your door by who you could only assume was your date. You smoothed down your skirt before swinging the door open.
You came face to face with Steve who was standing just as nervous you were, though he did a better job at hiding it. He put a lot of effort into his hair you noticed, wearing a jacket over his sweater and jeans. In his hands, Steve was holding a small bouquet of flowers, your favorite.
“Hey,” he breathed out, looking deeply into your eyes.
“Hi,” you couldn’t stop the small smile pulling at your lips.
“Hi,” he repeated, causing you to giggle. He shook his head, pulling himself out of the trance he was stuck in after seeing you looking all pretty for him.
“These are for you, I didn’t know what kind you liked, but…” Steve trailed off, handing them to you.
“They’re actually my favorite,” you tilted your head at him, moving them up to your nose to deeply inhale.
“Oh, well, looks like I’m an expert.” Steve puffed out his chest smugly.
You figured you should leave your doorway now, and he guided you to his car with a hand on your back. His touch, again.
He pulled open the passenger door for you, and once he made sure you were fully inside he shut it, jogging over to the drivers seat.
“I’d tell you where we’re going, but it’s a surprise.” He started driving, and every now and then, would take a glance at you, both of your smiles never leaving your faces.
He pulled up to a busy parking lot and a soft gasp left your mouth when you spotted a ferries wheel in the distance, Steve took you to the yearly carnival. You had always wanted to go, but going alone wasn’t ideal, and the crowds of people terrified you.
“We can leave if you don’t like these kinds of places,” Steve fully turned to you, not leaving the car yet. You felt like crying at how sincere he was being, taking your preferences into account.
You shook your head, “this is perfect, Steve.” You said, and he had to blink a couple of times at how good his name sounded leaving your lips.
He nodded rapidly and got out of the car coming around to help you out. He led you through the busy crowds, and your hands started brushing against his at your side, all you wanted was to reach out and hold his, but what if he didn’t want you to?
As if Steve was sensing your thoughts, you suddenly felt his warm hands lace his fingers through yours, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. You tried to not allow Steve to see the effect he had on you, but he pulled you just a tiny bit closer to his side, bumping hips.
“I’m not the best at carnival games to be honest, but they’re rigged anyway so who cares?” He said walking you over to a ring-stacking game.
You watched as Steve handed the worker some cash and was about to start playing before he turned to you. “Well, find a prize you like, for when I win it for you.” He winked, and you bit back a smile, shaking your head.
He squinted focusing as hard as he could, and got it in on the first try. “You see that!” He jumped, embodying an excited puppy.
“I see that, good job Steve”. You laughed. He got the next two rings successfully onto the cone and you cheered.
“Gimme that one.” Steve pointed at a small bunny plushie, looking so soft covered by fur.
He dramatically presented it to you, acting like it was gold. “For my good luck charm,” Steve bowed. You took it, giving it a light squeeze. “Hey, it kind of looks like you,” Steve teased.
You pointed at a penguin plushie, “and that one looks like you.” You teased back, Steve’s face morphing into one of shock.
“Take that back! If anything, I’m a lion” he playfully pushed you.
“Mhm sure, whatever you say.” You retorted, not able to take him seriously.
After sometime Steve took you to a cotton-candy stall, buying a huge bright pink one sharing it between you. What you really weren’t expecting though, was for Steve to pick off a big chunk and bring it to your mouth waiting to feed it to you. Your brows raised at his gesture, but you humored him moving to bite the sweet sugar from his hand.
He stared at you hungerily while you ate, and afterwards when there was some left over on the corners of your lips he lifted his thumb to gently swipe beside your mouth. “Good girl,” he muttered, low enough for only you to hear.
Burning heat rushed to your face, and Steve gave your still interlocked hand a soft squeeze, but undeniably gloated at how flustered he made you.
“‘Cmon pretty, we can’t leave without going on the Ferris wheel. I saw how excitedly you looked at it before.” He mentioned, grabbing you gently to get in line for the ride.
The sight was beautiful, you were looking up at the night sky, the wind softly blowing your hair back. You turned back to Steve who was watching you the entire time. “I had a really good time today with you, Steve.” You said.
“Me too, you look so beautiful.” He reached forward and tucked a loose strand behind your ear, getting to admire your features up close.
“Thanks…” you whispered, your gaze never leaving his honey brown eyes.
He seemed to not be able to look away from your eyes either and before you knew it, the distance between your faces was slowly closing, and you didn’t want to pull away.
“Steve,” you sighed, waiting for his soft pink lips to attach to yours.
“Yeah, baby?” He whispered, his hands not leaving your face.
“Kiss me,”
And just like that, Steve stopped over thinking every little movement, and allowed his heart to take control, his lips pressing fully against yours in the softest of kisses.
You didn’t pull away until you couldn’t breathe, but as soon as you did you wanted nothing more than to kiss him again and again.
“I want to be yours.” Steve confessed.
“I’d like that too.” You smiled wide, as he brought you into another kiss.
Nancy and Robin called it a success when they saw you two walking hand in hand the following day, exchanging low words. By the second date, he was already your boyfriend. You had finally found your person, and Steve found his.
