#I am both okay with this and in need of medical help | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mariahthelioness29 · 3 days ago

Text

Bless me if I am being too forward

jack abbot x nurse!latina!reader

Synopsis: You are a night shift nurse who is loved by everyone; however, you keep attending Dr.Jack Abbot at arm's length, and he confronts you about it, unraveling feelings that were hidden.

Warnings: SMUT, power dynamics due to rank ( attending, nurse), age gap ( mid 20s-30/Jack is in his 40s going to 50), Oral sex (f and m receiving), spanking probably inaccurate way on how to put a leg prosthetic ( I researched as much as I could), a smigde of brat tamer!Jack. Some inappropriate touching in the workplace ( some kissing). Probably inaccuracies on how nurses work Translation from Spanish to English at the bottom DNI, interact with this fic if you are NOT 18+. If you are triggered by any of the warnings, please do not interact

I got inspired to write about Dr.Jack Abbot, thanks to these beautiful blogs

@superhoeva @science-hoes @jackabbotsfakeleg @thatcorporategirlie @erwinsvow @ovaryacted @ozarkthedog

Shout out to Ryan on TikTok for answering some medical questions for this.

It is an uncharacteristically quiet night at the E.R., but Jack is not amused even though he should be. He sees you tending to one patient, a slash on her hand.

He can hear you explaining to the patient how to treat the slash in Spanish.

“ Si para esa fecha todavia la herida esta roja o tiene pus, tiene que venir para aca de una vez, okay, que tenga buenas noches y cuidese”, you smile at the elderly women. The elderly women nodded in agreement.

“ Ay que bueno que tienen una persona que hable Español, con el dolor, el Inglés me fallo,” they both chuckle. They said their final goodbye. You go to the board, looking up at the screen, seeing that there is just one more person, but Henry, your best friend, is going to take it.

You pass near him. You nod to him in acknowledgement, “Dr.Abbot”. He nods back with a smile. One that you don’t return. If Jack from the past saw that he is exasperated because the beautiful, extroverted, life of the party nurse puts a wall between them, he would tell himself to get over it. PTMC is not about making friends but about saving lives. Walsh hates his guts, and he does not give a fuck so why does it matter that you are not at least friendly with him.

But he sees the way the Medical Assistants were with you. Those three stooges are trying to impress you, and you play along. The security, Ahmed. Shen and Ellis.

Shen and Ellis are always chatting it up with you. You treat him kindly professionally, but not as part of your friend circle like the others.

He thought he had made progress with you, the night of Pittfest. When you assisted with his methods. For someone who did not do Combat Medicine, you were on it.

“Solid Work”, he smiles at you, feeling proud.

“That was all you and Dr.Mohan, I just assisted.” You bow your head a little and smile, too.

Then you compose yourself, changing to that fucking kind professional but arms at length personality.

You swallow “ -uhmm, I need to help dismantle all this, thank you for coming on your day off, Dr. Abbot.” You smile and then turn around and leave.

You left Jack tongue-tied; he wanted to tell you to take the win and maybe take a coffee with him.

All the people are gathered at the station for Robby’s speech, but Jack can’t see you, so he looks for you.

“ There you are, Robby needs to say some words to everyone ”, he tries to look you in the eye, but you avert his gaze.

He hears a small but discreet sniffle. It could be dismissed by everyone but him.

“Hey, look at me”, he says softly when he finds you trying not to cry, composing yourself.

You look at him, and your eyes are glossy.

“How could someone do this?” you ask him, holding the tears in your voice.

He takes a deep breath.

“Violence just takes over. Come, don’t hold it back”.

With that, he came closer and hugged you, and you let him, and you finally cried. He let you cry against his chest. You stopped crying shortly after. Jack comforted you, just rubbing his hand on your back. You soak up the feeling. He feels warm, safe, and his perfume is grounding you, but then you realize that you are getting too comfortable, so you part away from him.,

He looks into your eyes and asks you, “Better now?” You nod

“Never feel shame for feeling for your patients, understood”. He nods.

You nod.

He opens his backpack and gives you a small pack of tissues.

You took the tissues and then again composed yourself.

“ I am sorry, thank you, I’ll see you at the nurses station”, he looks at you straighten up like seconds ago, you didn’t hug him, bury your face in his chest, and cry.

Henry finished with the patient and found you.

“Seriously, I hope they fix the interpreter machine, ‘cause nobody is paying me the differential rate cause I know how to speak Spanish”, you roll your eyes at Henry.

Henry chuckles at that. “ What are we betting about ?” you ask Henry

“How long until Dr.Shen says that q-word?”, Henry informs you. He is going to say it in 2 hours, and I’m bracing myself. You put the alarm on your watch. Put the money where your mouth is”, Henry rubs his index and thumb together

“ Let me go, get a 20 from my purse”, you say to him.

Again, you pass near him. He sees you going into the locker, getting your bag, and taking out money. The bets. “He’ll participate.

You go to Ahmed, and he has the money. He follows you there.

“Hey Ahmed”, you smile

Ahmed smiles back, “I hope you don’t get all our money this time, cause it is scary how accurate you are”, he tells. You shrug,” You never know”, you laugh.”

You do this often, Jack asks you,” behind you.

You flinch and turn around. “Oh, Hi, Dr.Abbot, uhm, yeah, you know it’s just something silly we all do, your voice giving away your nerves. “ Uhm-Are you going to..*swallow* participate.

“Yeah, here is my 40,” he says, giving the money to Ahmed. “I say, he says it in an hour and a half”. “May the odds be ever in your favor, he whispers to you. “Mhmmm”, you smile, tight-lipped, going rigid.

Ahmed presses his lips in a thin line, trying not to burst into laughter at your nervous stare. “Don’t”, you mouth to Ahmed.

Ahmed just lifts his hands in surrender.

Henry grabs you by the arm, you get startled.” Girl, I saw that”, he smiles maniacally.

“Babes, you have to step your pussy up and tell him you like him”, Henry whispers making sure Abbot is not near. “ This is my place of employment, he is married, I do not want to be with a married man”, you whisper-shout.

“I heard from Perlah, the day nurse, that she sometimes does double shifts. That she heard from Dana, the day charge nurse who comes and helps us from time to time, that he's a widower. The guy just loved his wife, and maybe he's used to it; that’s why he does not take the ring off.

Do with that info what you will. If I were you, that Dilf would’ve been fucked out on my bed tonight,stat. Your mouth stays agape.

“Henry! You’re on a time-out”.

“ How about you get some time out, get some good vintage dick, how about that ”, he answers with all the sass he has. You pushed him gently. “Go help your patients”, you cut him off, laughing.

You see him, staring at you with an unreadable expression. You feel your heart rate starting to go quicker. You look at him also with an unreadable face, waiting for him to say something, or come to you.

Jack looks at you, but he thinks, “What the hell is going on?” You flinch near him. He needs to find out why. What is it about him that makes you so nervous? “Was it because he saw you so vulnerable after the PittFest?

He comes to you, his face serious. “Could we talk in private ?” he asks you, but you know better; he is not asking. You nod nervously. The call room? You ask meekly. He just nods.

You follow him to the call room. He opens the door for you and motions you to come in. He closes it.

“I am going to be blunt, what is it ?” he crosses his arms and stands against the door.

You chuckled in disbelief. “What?”

“You avoid me, you flinch when I am near you, you just talk to me about the necessary. If I have done something to offend you, I am sorry.”Jack let his arms fall and came closer to you. “You don’t do this to anyone but me, Henry, Larry, Paolo, Ahmed, Patricia, everyone here laughs at your jokes, at the music you and Henry play in the breakroom. What are you so closed off to me? Is this about Pittfest ?” he looks puzzled.

You freeze, looking like a deer in headlights.

“I-”, you try to speak, but it does not come out.

The few seconds of silence feel like hours, and you close your eyes for a moment.

“Say something”, Jack urges

“Alright fuck it”, you groan in annoyance.

“This is so embarrassing”, you shake your head.

“I like you, OK, it is very distracting, since the first moment I saw you, and I know you are married because you have a ring on your finger. But everything about you just gets me going. I thought it was some little stupid crush, but working with you, I realize it is not just a silly little crush, and since Pittfest, I have relived that hug in my head so many times. Happy”, you roll your eyes at him.

You feel so embarrassed, you need to get out, so you move to the door, but he grabs your arm and yanks you to him.

Jack smirks and looks at you, shaking his head. “I like you too, but you made me feel unwanted, you’re paying for that, just wait and see.” He takes your hand and intertwines it with his. “And don't you roll your eyes at me, brat”, he warns you, putting his index up. I am a widower, I just wear the ring, just cause I feel naked without it”, you see his face soften with melancholy.

You let out a sigh of relief, but you still look at him like you cannot believe it. Jack kisses the top of your hand.

“ I am sorry about your wife”, you say in earnest.

He just shrugs with his head down.

Then he pecks your cheek. You close your eyes at the feeling, feeling warm inside. Then he kissed the corner of your mouth. He gets so close that you breathe in his breath.

“ Give in”, he whispers while stroking your face with his thumbs, holding your face.

“Just give in already ”, he whispers against your mouth

“It’ll feel good”, looks directly in the eyes and nods.

You nod too, your lips parting, and then he kisses you so softly as if you are going to break. His kiss keeps getting momentum, getting a little tougher til he grabs you by the back of your head, swipes your lips with his tongue, and deepens the kiss. Your hands caressing his back, going to fist his curls. He moans at that, and you like the sound of it. He lifts your leg, wrapping it around his waist, and he stops kissing, looking deep into your eyes. You don’t know what he is looking for in your eyes, but you look back at him, then he slowly goes and kisses your neck. You pull him closer to you, you are writing against him, feeling the hard-on he already has.

You sigh a moan. You feel his hands going under your scrubs. His touch is soft but gruff. His hands tell the tale of a man who has been on the edge and lived to tell the tale. You keep enjoying that feeling and kiss some more, but you see the clock with the PTMC logo, and you wake up from the daze of his kisses.

“We can’t…not here”, your voice sounded breathless.

But you still kiss, sucking a little on his lower lip.

“ Then stop...”, Jack dares you.

But you kiss again, one last time, slowly enjoying his breath, the very hard and big hard-on he has, his sounds, the feel of his lips against yours, those curls in your hand before stopping.

“ I need to... our jobs.” You close your eyes and part from him.

Jack bops your nose with his index finger. “ This isn’t over”, he makes it clear.

“I know”, you acknowledge, the few seconds of silence sealing what is sure will happen after this shift or another.

You laugh, “You have pink gloss. You swipe your thumb over his lips.

He laughs softly and then licks his lips.” I like it, cherry flavor”, he notices.

He turns and rearranges his pants so that no one notices how hard he is.

“Go, I am sure we’re needed”, you tell him.

He goes to the door, but before he opens it, he comes to you and gives you another deep kiss, leaving you surprised. With that, he opens the door and goes.

You stay stunned for a second before mentally smacking yourself.

You fish out your lip gloss and small mirror from the pocket of your pants

You reapply your gloss, making sure that nobody knows you made out with Dr.Abbot, fixing yourself, your hair, and you reach for the door

It is still quiet, some patients here and there. You do your rounds for the people still waiting for a bed upstairs.

In the nurse station, Dr.John Shen is sipping his Dunkin cold brew, he lets out an exasperated “Fuck, it’s quiet “ and everyone in vicinity groans.

You look up at the ceiling and pinch the bridge of your nose while there is a beep sound from your watch. He said it in two hours, you win. “John Shen, I hate you and I love you. You kiss his cheek while speeding to Ahmed, leaving a confused Shen on your way to Ahmed.

You sing to Ahmed “ My hmm shaking ass with their hand out pay up .pay up”, while stretching your fingers out to him. He just shakes his head. He gets the money out of his pocket. A neat wad of cash tied up with an elastic.

You smile at him, “ winning, it never gets old, thank you, everyone”, you sing the last part.

Your celebration does not last long cause here come the people.

You hear your charge nurse saying that patients are incoming.

‘Thank you, Shen”, you grumble

“You’re welcome, without me, you wouldn’t have that money”, he smiles

“Alright, you and me together”, Jack surprises you, but you don’t flinch.

“Where were you?” You turn around.

“Calming down, taking care of what you left behind”, Jack breaths out.

“These are the miracles of being a woman, no one knows,” you smile, biting your lip.

You see the paramedics coming, you and Jack jumped into action.

The hours seem to pass, accidents, drunk people fights, a stabbing, a burned patient, gun shot patients, by the time you have to chance to lift your head, it is 7 A.M Your feet hurt, you are exhausted, and you feel like a mess.

You take your bags out of the locker and you feel someone, something staring holes behind your back, and you don’t have to turn around. You know exactly who.

“Congratulations, you won”, he says, giving you a small smile.

“Thank you, but that money is going somewhere else”, you deadpan.

“What a shame that money should be for you, he caressed his neck.

“Yeah, it is what it is”, you look resigned.

Jack does not like that resigned look on your face.

“ I didn’t see your car today,, He states.

“I mean, I always hear it, thumping a good bass, I don’t know what type of music that is. He explains while he gets next to you.

“My car is at the mechanic, I am taking an Uber,” you explain to him, while he leans against your locker with his military backpack hanging from one shoulder.

Jack is pensive. He knows you won’t accept it if he offers to pay for your car. He’ll convince you at breakfast.

“No”, he blurts out.

“ I’ll take you”, he offers

“ You don’t have to, I am sure you are as beat as me”, you explain.

He gets just a little close and just shrugs, “ wasn’t asking”.

“ You can’t just order me around”, you defy him, but there is a glint in your eye.

Jack catches it.

“ That was not what I saw in the call room, that girl was willing to follow my lead”, he quips back, tilting his head to the side.

You sigh. “ I think if I go with you, we will continue, and I don’t want to continue, feeling like this, looking like this”, you gesture to yourself.

“ You could wear a potato sack and still be gorgeous”, he looks at you up and down.

“Nothing will happen, just some breakfast at that cozy place near here, something to drink that is not coffee, then I’ll take you home and ask you for a date. He looks at you for confirmation.

“O.k.” You just feel your face warm, and look at him barely.

You walk together

Henry crossed paths with you, and his eyes almost bulged out, but he quickly gained composure when he saw Abbot look from his phone to him.

” Hi, Dr. Abbot, hey girl,, he greets.

“Hey, Henry, how are you?” Jack offers.

“Another day in paradise”, Henry gestures to the room.

Abbot nods in understanding

“Girl, I was looking for you to give you a ride”, Henry explains.

“Thank you, Henry, but Dr. Abbot offered me a ride.” You act as if this interaction is not going to have Henry screaming at your messages later in the day.

“ Sure, any day, take care of her, Dr.”, Henry tells Jack jokingly, but there is an edge of protectiveness at the take care of her.

“ I will”, Jack answered with an unspoken understanding.

“We'll talk later, we have some plans”, Henry wiggles his brows.

“I see you around, girl.”,

“Bye, Henry.”

“Have a good day, Dr. Abbot”,

“Goodbye, Henry.” With that, Henry goes his way.

“I am sorry about Henry, he is very protective of me”, you tell him. You felt the understanding between Henry and Jack.

“ No, I like him, you two are good friends.” he takes your hand, and you get into the parking spot. He opens the door of his car and helps you to get in.

The ride was quiet, short, but not uncomfortable.

You look at the window, and you feel his hand on top of your thigh.

“Penny for your thoughts”, Jack asks you.

“Nah, it has been a night from making out with you to seeing you cauterizing a patient. You huff.

Jack gives you a tired smirk.

“ I thought finally, we had a once-in-a-blue-moon quiet night”, Jack confesses.

“It’s the Pitt, I lost hope”, you laugh.

At the coffee shop, you enjoy small coffees, cause at the start of the day, you need a caffeine breakfast with some orange juice.

The conversation flows between you.

“ Why did you never say anything to me, that you felt as much as I do:, you ask him. Putting his hand on top of his.

“ Well”, Jack takes a sip of his orange juice before speaking.

“Look at me and look at you, I am an attending, you’re a nurse, young, I am old, greying hair, wrinkles, I don’t know what you see”

“Don’t say that, it makes you hotter”, you confess, licking your lips.

Jack truly laughs at that.

“Thank you, it has been a long time, someone call me hot”.

“You’re welcome.”

You keep eating, talking in between about everything from his days in the military, your days as a nursing student, till the topic circles to his wife.

“ I know the ring makes you uncomfortable”, he notices

“What?”, you look puzzled

“I see you look at it”.

“What if, like the way it looks on your hand”, you shrug

“I will take it off, for me, for you, this isn’t just some adventure to me, I know what I want”, he assures you.

You nod, just taking it all in.

“What is it that you want?” you answer, shifting a little forward

“You”, Jack answered simply, with no hesitation.

“This, being together, being for one another, making you smile, that smile when you dip your head down, my favorite”, he explains.

“ I come to realize, I don’t like seeing you upset, keep the money you won on the bet, I’ll pay for your car”, Jack states.

“Jack, this is barely a first encounter, and you want to pay for my car”, you question, but you’re amused.

“Yeah”

“I’ll do it, give me your details, I'll send you the money, I’m not playing.”,

“Alright, if you say so”, you are skeptical, but you give him your information and how much the damage costs.

You finish eating, get in the car, and Jack, as the gentleman he is, opens the door of the vehicle for you. He takes you home.

“Home, sweet home”, Jack announces, putting the car in park.

“Thank you for telling me that you like me”, he leans in and kisses you.

The kiss feels soft but confident, his hand cupping your face.

“ I can get a chef table at that fancy place everyone is raving about, I know the chef, saved his hand with Walsh, he promised me one chef table, 7:30, I’ll pick you up”.

He kisses you one more time, sealing the promise of your date.

“Have a good sleep”, you kiss his cheek before opening the door, but he stops you.

“ You know the deal”, his face becomes stern.

You close the door and let him open it again for you.

You slump against the door, and when you close it behind you.

“What a night, what a day”, you contemplate.

You relive that kiss, the feeling of his hands, his caress, the way he wants to care for you.

You hear a ping, and it is a Cash App notification from Jack with a message “for your car, and you, J.” Your eyes bulged at the amount.

During the days leading up to your date, you keep it undercover, as best as you can. There is always a discreet hand on your lower back, guiding you. A conversation. A stolen kiss when you least expected it, making sure no one saw.

The day you both are off comes. You are getting the last touches of your makeup and putting on more perfume for your date with Jack. You hear your phone; it's a message from Jack: “I’m here.”

You open your door, and there is Jack with flowers in his hand.

“Flowers? Did you step out of a romance book?” you say while taking the flower from his hand and giving him a small peck on the lips. You invite Jack in.

It’s been a very long time since I went on a date, last I knew, women like flowers”, he explains.

You pick a clear vase that you had on your table.

“You look”-Jack puffs out his breath

“You like it? Just something I put on”, you gesture to your dress.

“You look beautiful”, you see him admiring you.

Jack looks around. The apartment is small, but you made it yours, cozy.

He sees putting the vase with the flowers on the table.

“Ready ?” he asks you.

You nod, “Ready.”

The restaurant was gorgeous, and your table was separated from the rest.

Of course, Jack opened the chair for you.

You see him anxious. You have to laugh.

“ I am going to be blunt, what is it ?” you ask him.

“ Nothing, is just that, I haven’t done this in a long time, I am rusty”, he admits

“ The man, who took me to the best restaurant in the city, brought me flowers, paid for my car, gave me money to buy this dress, has been nothing but a gentleman, you call that rusty, I can’t wait when you’re smooth”, you take a sip of your wine.

Jack just takes a breath and also drinks from his wine.

“Just wait and see”, he assures.

The conversation flows between you, and by the time you notice, you are the last in the restaurant.

You were telling him about your first day without a preceptor and how chaotic that day was.

Jack laughs, “Now that was baptism by fire, baby”.

Ughh, so embarrassing”, you shake your head, still cringing from that day.

“Holy shit, we’re the only people in here left, they are praying to every entity for us to go”, you realize.

Jack paid the bill, gave the server a nice cash tip, and went back to your apartment.

He parks, and he just looks at you, and he intertwines your fingers with yours and brings his lips to the top of your hand.

“Thank you”, he breathes out.

“You're welcome, I haven’t had this much fun in a while”. You bit your lip, smiling.

“ Want a nightcap ?” you ask him.

“ I would love to”, Jack confesses.

You open your door and then enter.

“ Make yourself at home”, you tell Jack while you take your heels off.

You sigh in relief, taking them off.

“ Want a massage ?, Jack offers “Sure, why not? , you accept

Jack is sitting on your couch, and he sees you go to your room and come back with lotion.

You sit at the other end of the couch, letting your feet rest on his lap, and throw the lotion at him.

He catches it.

He put lotion on his hands and put it on the small table next to the couch.

He began to massage your feet, making sure all the stress leaves your feet.

You moan tossing your head back “fuck, you’re good at that”. “Ouu, don’t say it like that, I can be good at other things”, Jack warns you.

“What other ways?” you ask, feeling warm on your chest.

“I'd rather show you than tell you”, Jack licked his hips, and he kept massaging your calf.

“I would like that”, you whisper, feeling your brain short-circuit a little.

That was all Jack needed you to say.

He lifts one of your legs and kisses your ankle.

“Come here”, he beckoned you with his fingers.

You get off the couch, then come to stand in front of him.

He grabs your hand and tugs you to him and makes you straddle him.

“God, you’re beautiful”, he whispers, caressing and groping you before kissing you.

His kiss takes you by surprise; he deepens it as soon as he can, his hand wrapped around the base of the back of your neck, stabilizing you, pulling just right on his center. You writhe and grind, feeling him under his pants. You take a breather, parting just to breathe. He slides the straps of your dress, takes your bra off, throwing it, not caring where it lands.

You feel him peppering kisses all over your chest before taking one of your breasts into his mouth, looking up at you, while grabbing the other in his hand.

You look back at him, biting your lips, trying to stifle your moans, and also getting your fingers on his greying curls.

He stops and grabs you tightly by your hips.

“Either you let me hear it or I stop”, he warns you.

You nod, and he looks at you one more time before putting his hand again on your breast and sucking on the other one. You keep grinding against him and he keeps alternating between your breasts, sicking, licking, and giving them a bite. You stop him so that you can take his shirt off. You unbutton his shirt in a hurry, impatient, and you both work on taking it off, and you also throw it on the floor.

Now you're the one, taking over, raking your nails over his back, while kissing his neck. He hisses and grunts, throwing his head back. You kiss his shoulders and also stop to admire the freckles that adorn his arms and his shoulders.

“I like these”, you admire the freckles on his shoulders. Your hands go to his belt, unbuckling it.

Then you see in his eyes, the way he went rigid, his breath stuttered a little.

“Hey, look at me”, you grab his hand and give his lip a little peck.

He doesn’t say anything, just averts his gaze.

“What is it?” his eyes are closed, and he takes a deep breath. He was stuttering “-my- le-

“Jack, I don’t care about your leg, it’s part of who you are and I fucking like everything about you “, you are the one looking for his eyes.

He closes his eyes and then looks at you again. He just nods.

He lets you help him with taking his pants off, and you see him, just in his boxers.

You stand in front of him, letting the dress fall off you.

“Let me take them off”, he said, looking at your lace panties. You get closer to him and stretch your hand to him.

“How about we take this to the bedroom ?, you prompt

He takes your hand and helps himself get on the couch.

He follows you to the bedroom.

In your bedroom, you go on your knees and slide his boxers off, letting his dick spring free.

You can’t disguise the shock on your face. Jack chuckles at that. “Now, how is that going to fit?” you wonder out loud.

“ Don’t worry, it will”, Jack assured you, making you look up time by grabbing your chin between his thumb and index.

“Sit at the edge, get comfortable”, you point at the bed, and he does that.

It is a short distance, so you crawl to him, never taking your eyes off him.

Jack knows he is a lost man when he sees you crawling to him; he has to have to touch himself for some relief.

You caress, his thighs and begin to lick the tip while he continues to jerk his dick. Seeing you on your knees kissing his tip, he needs to look up or otherwise he’ll cum. You keep doing that kissing, lick his tip, sucking it on that part that make his thigh shake and his moans stutter.

You take over, pushing his hand away, your head bopping up and down, and your hand also massaging his balls. Jack becomes a puddle of just moans, growls, and whines when you take him as deep as you can.

You look up to him, teary-eyed, your eyes have lust written all over them. Jack needs to stop you so he fists your hair in his hand and yank you away from his cock and brings you up to him, kissing you stealing whatever breath is left.

“ I don’t want to cum yet”, not letting go of your hair.

“Lie across my lap, we've got things to settle”, he tells you while manhandling you so you can lie across my lap.

You lift from him a little, and he slides your panties off.

He gropes your ass so that he can see how wet your are, how you are pulsing around nothing.

“Oh, baby, all of that for me?” Jack says with a faux-surprised tone.

Jack caresses your ass cheek before striking, taking you completely off guard.

Your yelp ends in a moan.

“That’s for keeping me at arm’s length all this time”, he confesses, and he starts to insert one finger inside of you, hissing along with you.

You felt him teasing you from the inside, you feel your breath getting stuck in your lungs, then he enters another one, and that's when you feel that electric feeling buzzing all over, and you let out your loudest moan yet.

“Atta girl, that’s where it is, baby ?” he asks you

You nod fast, you can’t answer, not with him making his fingers touch that spot.

You can hear your wetness, and it should make you feel self-conscious, but you revel in it instead.

With his other hand, he grabs you by the neck, firmly.

“Answer me”, he slows the speed of his fingers

“Yes, that’s where it is”, you answered back, all slurred and with a mewl.

He takes his fingers out and just licks them. He makes sure you hear it.

You press your thighs together.

He began the sweet torture of spanking you and fingering you until you’re about to cum and repeat.

“Fuck, it makes me jealous when you kissed Shen on the cheek”, he spanks you again.

You’re so pent up, you whine.

“ I like the sound of that”, he manhandles you, getting you off his lap.

You're on your back, and you are surprised by the way he just manhandles you.

“I want to taste you, sit on my face”, he grunts

Jack-, you chuckle a little, taken aback.

“Don’t overthink it, just do it”, He yanks you closer to him and gives you kisses from pecks to deep ones with tongue until he lays flat on your bed and makes you straddle until his mouth is right aligned with your pussy, he grabs your hips making you sit on his face.

He starts slow, calculated, but still relentless, you see him reach for his cock, eating you out while jerking himself off.

You ride his face in pleasure, your moans and his groans, moans mix.

You lift off his face to let him breathe. He stands up, putting you on his side, and takes your ankle, dragging you to the edge of the bed. You giggle and let him do it. And he goes on his knees.

“Oh, look at her just waiting for me, just perfect”, he is more talking to himself than to you.

You are supported by your elbows, looking at him, dipping down and begin to kiss your inner thighs, giving them playful bites, before he goes and makes out with pussy. He is ravenous, and you don’t know what to do; your hand flies to his hair, tugging him closer, riding the waves of pleasure.

He loops his arm around your thighs, and you can’t close your legs even if you want to.

He puts pressure on you clit, sucking it, licking it.

You are seeing stars when you feel his fingers slip in, while he sucks on your clit. His finger does that come here motion non-stop, his moans, the way he looks at you, you feel the pressure in your stomach, you feel your brain go fuzzy, you want to feel it, but at the same time, you are squirming away.

He puts his hand on your lower stomach, making you stay still.

“I don’t think so, he reprimands you.

Just let it happen, give in, sweetheart”, he pleads with you.

“I want to see it”, he grunts, going steadier and faster with his fingering, and that’s when you gasp and see your release flowing out of you, your thighs shaken.

You say his name over and over in a dazed, slurred state, and Jack knows he is an addict. He will make you do this anytime he can.

“Fuck, yes”, he groans in arousal

Not caring how you wet his chin, the sheets, his hand.

He stands up and hovers over you with one hand holding him up, and you take his hand and suck his fingers, looking at him, moaning at your taste.

“Good girl”, he breathes out before kissing you as if he tries to find your taste still on your tongue.

“I need you, I have condoms but they're in the living room”, he whispers against your lips.

“Right nightstand, second drawer”, you caress his back. He gets up and goes there to pick up a condom. He rips the packet and puts it on.

You feel your nerves skyrocket.

He hovers above you, you kiss again, softly and deeply, consuming you before he lines up with your entrance and goes in. You both got your moans stuck in your throats.

You feel him so deep, making space for him just for him. He starts moving slow, kissing your neck sucking on the pulse point, making your legs tighten around him. You feel lightheaded.

“Fuck, she’s sucking me in, you want me that much, baby?”, he whispers in your ear, his tone laced somehow with a little bit of cockiness and disbelief.

It is so hypnotizing, his voice, the way he moves in and out of you, it just slipped out in a whisper “daddy”, your eyes beginning to roll. Ecstasy all over, but then you realize, gasping, covering your mouth, trying to get him off of you.

But he just put more of his weight on you, with that smirk

“ What did you say to me ?” He asks you, grabbing your face

You shake your head,

“Say it”, he says, kissing your neck again, angling his hips so that he hits that spot.

“Let me hear it”, he whispers

“Daddy”, you whisper

“You want me to be your daddy, huh? I’ll be your Daddy from now on”, he groans with a grunt he pulls out.

He grabs one of your pillows, placing it under you by your hips. Making you lie flat, he caresses your back your legs, your ass, admiring the curves your body.

“So pretty”, he whispers in awe, while he is on his knees, straddling you from behind and making your hips raise a little.

He is in you and all over you. You can only let out choked moans while he puts some of his weight on you, wrapping his arm around your throat, but not choking you, just for you to feel him.

“Fuck”, you moan all drawn out.

He just grunts and moans in your ear.

“You’re mine, he breathes out against your shoulder.

“I’m yours”, you tell him, while your lips barely touch.

He feels you tighten around him, thrashing against him as best as you can in this position.

You mewl.

“Give me what’s mine, sweetheart”, he encourages you, tightening the grip on his arm around your throat with expertise,

You feel the air leave your lungs at the same time, you’re coming.

You feel every nerve sing, pulse, while you pretty much howl and moan, grabbing the sheets beneath you.

That’s what does it for him. He doesn't stop, he fucks you through your orgasms without a shadow of mercy. You’re babbling, moaning.

He knows he is there ready to cum

“Oh, fuck, I-”, his voice trembles before his grunts and moans cut his sentence.

He comes wishing he didn’t have to use a condom, wishing he could feel you.

He moves his hips against you till he spends and drops on top of you, trying to control his breathing. His breath fanned the side of your face, and you liked his weight on top of you.

“Mmm”, you close your eyes, with a dopey smile.

He is getting off of you when you stop him.

“Noooo, just a little more”, you whine

“Sweetheart, I am crushing you right now”, he chuckles a little winded.

“Don’t care”, you say, a little muffled

After a couple of seconds, he slips out slowly with care.

He stands up and takes the condom off carefully,

You turn on your back. Seeing him naked, going to your bathroom to throw the condom away.

You are so screwed, it should not make you that giddy, seeing him prancing in your room naked.

“ What are you so giddy about, huh ?, he asks, getting back on the bed and pulling you so that your head lies on his chest and your leg is over his hips.

“You have a nice ass, Dr. Abbot”, you hide your face

“Well, my face is not much, so I have to do something else”, he says, all serious.

You both laugh at that.

“You need to take that off”, you remind him, pointing at the prosthetic.

Jack nods.

“Would it be bad if I say I was going to do it when you were asleep ?” he confesses.

“I want to help you, I know you’re always used to do things yourself, but sometimes people want to help, I want to help you, this part of you, if we’re going to keep doing this- you kiss him softly but feel of promise- then I have to take care of you, just like you take care of me”, you tell him.

He kisses you again, and there is a glow in his eyes like he wants to cry, but he is not letting it.

“C’mon, let's sit you down.” You let him sit up again.

You get in front of him.

“There is a valve a the bottom, unscrew it, he instructs you, and you do as told.

You hear the air releasing.

Pull slowly, he further instructs you.

You keep doing as he tells you, waiting for instructions

Pull the sleeve slowly, he bit his lips, taking a deep breath.

You do as told.

You check his skin for any redness or irritation. You have the lotion ready to massage his stump, and you do that,

then you clean the socket and sleeve with a cleanser. You put the prosthetics next to the side of the bed he is on.

He takes a deep breath, swallows before saying “thank you”,

“You’re welcome”, you smile and lift yourself to kiss him again. he cups your face and then puts his forehead on top of yours.

You help him lie down, and he makes you rest on his chest. He kisses the top of your head.

It is silent yet not uncomfortable; it feels as though it is meant to be. Jack feels a warmth in his chest. He looks at you, you were tracing his freckles with your fingers, but you fell asleep while doing it.

He still can’t believe he’s here in your apartment, on your bed, without his leg, and you want him, all of him.

Jack hasn’t felt so vulnerable in a long time. He kisses the top of your head again.

You woke up looking at Jack splayed out on your bed, sleeping without a worry, and you like that look on his face. You get up and go to the bathroom and see the state Jack left you in in the mirror.

You take a bath, clean yourself, and put on something comfortable.

You step out of your bathroom into your room, and you see him still sleeping.

You pick all your clothes, shoes, both yours and his, from the living room and the bedroom, and put them on the chair in your bedroom

You go back to your kitchen and start thinking about what to cook with your phone.

You get the ingredients out of the fridge, you’re going to cook for two. You put on music on the phone, some Latin music your mother used to hear.

And you start prepping, cooking, not noticing Jack is in his boxers, with his leg on, watching you dance, singing in Spanish with a spatula.

Jack does not need any confirmation; his new goal in life is to wake up like this, just you singing, being happy.

translation Spanish to English:

“ Si para esa fecha todavia la herida esta roja o tiene pus, tiene que venir para aca de una vez, okay, que tenga buenas noches y cuidese” If by that date, the slash is still red or has pus, you need to come back here at once, okay, have a good night, and take care. Ay que bueno que tienen una persona que hable Español, con el dolor, el Inglés me fallo Oh, what good, that there is a person who speaks Spanish, with the pain, English failed me

#latina reader #jack abbot smut #jack abbot #the pitt #nurse reader #jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x you

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thelastattempt · 2 years ago

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Spotify wrapped has the unique ability to make me question my existence, whilst also validating my existence.

#like YES #I listened to over 50 #THOUSAND minutes of music apparently #and 5K of that was simply Louis #I am both okay with this and in need of medical help #also pressure sure Spotify is insulting me when it calls me ‘the collector’ cause I only listen to my playlists and not their generated #and frankly odd playlist compilations #but… we move #Spotify wrapped 23

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waytoobsessed · 2 years ago

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People are receiving parental approval or whatever

#rambles #it is making me #feel like I want some but also like I should be giving it out too #I am not parent ages but I have the mom energy apparently #SPEAKING OF MOM ENERGY #I’VE BECOME BOTH THE INSANE FRIEND AND A SEMI MOM FRIEND #BECAUSE. I LITERALLY. CARRY EVERYTHING IN MY DANG BAG LIKE A MOM DOES #LIKE ONE OF MY FRIENDS NEEDS PADS? BOOM. CARSICK? GOT THAT COVERED.#ONE FRIEND GOT HIVES ONE DAY #AND GUESS WHAT? HEH #I HAD SOME SPECIAL CREAM THAT HELPED!#(Its medication for excema thats supposed to help like inflammation or whatever)#(before you say anything: My mom (a nurse) said it would help and it indeed did)#(plus there was an ambulance so if it didn’t it would be okay)#then we have the ADHD✨ SIDE FRIEND #This post had #has become a completely ramble oh my god

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butyoudidthis4what · 2 months ago

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No Man's Land Part 2

Jack Abbot x f!reader || Part 1

18.6k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: mentions of blood, mentions of bones breaking, mentions of guns/shootings/gunshot wounds, mentions and discussions of suicide/suicidal ideation, CPR, mentions/discussions of jack's injury and losing his foot, anxiety about partner's safety, angst, Jack's traumatized, everyone's traumatized honestly, probably incorrect description of medical events, potentially incorrect medical descriptions/knowledge, PIV sex, mentions of morphine and alcohol, age gap referenced in passing once kind of, reader loves Paris and the Louvre, reader's favorite flowers are daffodils, I had this idea and started drafting before we knew Jack was a widow so in this world he has never been married, no use of y/n or related.

Summary: The aftermath of you being shot and collapsing in the trauma room and a new reality.

AN: I'm a certified yapper like our man, so I apologize for how long this is.

You drop at just the right point in your swaying that you fall backwards, head first. You hit the floor back of your skull first with a sickening crack.

Everyone in the room knows what that was the sound of - your skull cracking.

“Fuck me!” “Fucking shit!” “Holy fuck!” “Oh god!” “Was that her fucking skull?” Verbalized reactions fill the air from Robby, Dana, Heather, Mel and Santos, respectively. Jack is silent. He’s not even sure he’s breathing. He’s frozen as he looks at you, both struggling to process what has happened and already understanding what has happened at once, hearing dulled as he focuses on you.

Things have now gone from really fucking bad to somehow a lot fucking worse in a matter of seconds.

A head injury was the last thing you needed. And it was preventable. He should have prevented it. He should have stayed with you, told Robby to handle the code on his own, kept holding you, actually looked you over before letting you go but he didn’t.

“Somebody get a fucking gurney in here!” Dana yells out the door.

“Collins, you handle this. Mohan, you’re with me!” Robby orders. Once your neck is secured in a c-collar and you’re on a gurney you’re rushed into trauma two, the team swarming you just like they do any other unfortunate soul who ends up here.

Jack suddenly finds himself again, hearing no longer dampened and follows your gurney into trauma two. “Mannitol-”

“Get out Jack!” Robby shouts at him amid the chaos of getting you hooked up to monitors and IVs going. “You can’t be in here!”

“And yet here I fucking am.” Jack almost snarls back at him as he takes a place on the other side of you.

“Dana.” Robby shoots her a look and she steps back and away from you, peeling her gloves off and tossing them to the floor.

“Jack,” she says softly to him, rests a hand on his bicep and squeezes gently. “Let’s step out.”

He shrugs her hand off. “No. No fucking way. Somebody…” He trails off as he looks down at you, freezing again. More blood pours from your mouth, and now your nose. He looks down and sure enough, it’s dripping out of your ear too, not unsurprising given the head trauma, but still. The image is seared in his brain.

“Fuck!” Robby yells. “She’s in DIC.” He takes a look at your vitals. To say they’re abysmal would be a gross understatement. “Okay, massive transfusion protocol now, people! I wanna do two to one to one with how much blood she’s lost. Set up for a central line.”

“Push etomidate and roc!” Mohan yells into the chaos. “7.0 ET please.”

“Jack, you have to move, okay? They need access to her.” Dana grabs Jack’s arm again and is able to pull him to the side. “Once she’s intubated you can sit by her, okay?”

He gives a single nod in response, sits automatically when Dana pushes the stool into the back of his knees. It doesn’t take the team long to get you intubated and Dana helps him move so that he sits at the top of your head.

Everything and everyone else fades away as he looks down at your face, your beautiful blood smeared face. He leans in towards you a little. He has so much he wants to say and yet he can’t get a word out.

“We’re taking her up to surgery, Jack.” Robby is suddenly leaning down next to him. “We have to stop the internal bleeding before we can image her head.”

“She’s in DIC. She has a subdural from the fall, I’m sure. Fractured skull. We have to address it.” Jack almost mumbles it as he watches them put the bed rails up and start to move you.

“I know,” Robby tells him gently, “but if the major source of bleeding isn’t stopped, you and I both know that the skull fracture and subdural aren’t going to matter.”

Jack just nods and stands, follows your gurney in silence up to the OR floor. He hates it but he has to take one last look at you before turning to go into a locker room to grab a fresh pair of scrubs. He changes fast, finds Garcia and Shamsi in the scrub room.

“What are you doing Jack?” Garcia asks him, sharing a look with Shamsi. “You’re not coming in the OR.”

“Yes I am.” He ignores her, grabs a pack and starts to scrub. The door opens again and Jack doesn’t need to turn to know it’s Robby.

“You guys go.” Robby nods at Garcia and Shamsi. “Jack, come on. Let’s go to the gallery or waiting room.”

“Fuck that!” Jack yells as they walk in. He’s still scrubbing furiously. “I’m not going to watch them hack her-”

“You and I both know they’re not going to ‘hack her’ and that there’s nobody else you’d rather have operating on her. You need to let them do their work.” Robby stops next to the sink Jack is scrubbing at. “That is the best thing you can do for her right now. Let them work.”

Jack keeps scrubbing for a minute, jaw clenched tight. But then he stops. He knows Robby is right. Knows that scrubbing in and being in the OR isn’t going to fix you. It isn’t going to let him make up for not noticing you were shot earlier, before you were already half dead on the floor with a broken fucking skull he could have prevented.

The combination of emotions is crushing. He throws the soap at one of the doors in the scrub room and yells a “fuck!” There’s a moment of silence and then a whispered “fuck,” that his voice crack on half way through.

“Come on.” Robby picks up the soap and throws it away, throws a towel at Jack for his hands. “Let’s get some air.”

“I’m going to obs.” Jack tells him. Robby tries to speak. “No. If I don’t get to be in the OR with her I at least get to fucking watch over her from obs.”

“No, Jack! I’m not letting you fucking torture yourself by watching this. She wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want you seeing her like this-”

“You don’t fucking know her!” Jack seethes, getting up in Robby’s face, chests touching. “So stop fucking acting like you do.”

A tense silence passes, a staring match before Robby holds his hands up in defeat and looks away. “Alright. I’m sorry.”

“I have to watch her die, Robby. I have to have been there for her. Been there with her. I am not letting her go alone.” Jack shakes his head, eyes red rimmed and glassy but more serious than Robby has ever seen him before.

“I know.” Robby opens the door of the observation suite for him. “If something happens and they get close to calling it you can go be with your girl, okay?”

“No.” Jack huffs, treading water more and more to try and stay above the flood of emotions. “No it’s not fucking okay! None of this is fucking okay! She’s not okay! I’m not okay!” Jack takes in a shuddery breath and turns his back on Robby. “None of this is okay,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion and tears that can no longer be held back.

Robby lets Jack have a minute to try and pull himself together. He knows that right now is not the time to have some sort of heart to heart with Jack. Instead he puts the intercom on so that they can hear what’s happening in the OR but the OR can’t hear them.

It’s not good but it’s not bad, you’re not dead. There’s no conversation between the two men, just Jack up almost pressed into the glass to watch while Robby observes him more than the surgery.

“So,” Robby says casually after a couple of minutes. “Peter?”

Jack huffs, shaking his head and coming to sit next to Robby. “Don’t ask.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I really like this little routine, you know?” You smile at Jack as he peruses the shelves, coffee in one hand and your hand in the other. You’re back at the bookstore where you met, off in the back shelves where it’s quieter, fewer people. You’re alone in the aisle.

“Coming here?”

“Mhmm.” You nod at him. “It was a really good idea.”

Somewhere between dates number three and four Jack had suggested you guys go back to the bookstore once a week. Make it a thing. Get coffee, pick out books together. Just walk around. How could you ever say no?

“I have one every now and then.” He smiles at you.

You point to a book, say the title. “That looks interesting.”

Jack looks at the book. It’s on the bottom shelf. You didn’t ask for him to bend down and get it for you but he will anyway. And you knew when you said it that he would. He’s just a gentleman like that. And so he does. Sets his coffee on the shelf and bends down to get it for you.

“Why is it that every book you want is always on the bottom shelf?” He feigns a huff.

“Because I like making you bend down so that I can check out your ass.”

He freezes for a second. It was so not the answer he was expecting. He’s not sure he was expecting an answer. But then you come out with that. Always keeping him on his toes.

He grabs the book and stands back up, smirking as he hands it to you. His fingers find the belt loops of your jeans and pull you close to him, lips brushing against yours. “You like my ass?”

You giggle against his lips and kiss him. “I do.”

“You’re terrible, woman.” He gives you another kiss.

“More like your terrible woman.” You can feel his jaw clench at that and he holds you a little tighter. Oh he liked that. A lot. It makes you smirk.

“Damn right you are.” One last kiss and then you break apart.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Peter.”

He cocks his head at the name. “Peter? Should I be concerned you can’t keep your men straight?” He doesn’t mean it, nor does any anxiety roll through him. He knows you, knows it was deliberate, and knows you’re about to give him some ridiculous explanation.

“Rabbit,” you grin. “Peter Rabbit. Abbot. Jack Abbot always makes me want to call you Jack rabbit. Ergo, Peter.” You run the back of your second knuckle on your index finger over his shirt. “Inspired by the book.” You nod and look to the side. He follows your eyes to the display you look over at where, sure enough, a copy of Peter Rabbit sits.

He groans and makes a face. “Really?” He grimaces. But you both know it’s fake. His eyes are too sparkly and the ghost of a smile is too present on his face. It’s so ridiculous. If anyone else dared to call him that he would hate it and they would know it.

“Really, Peter. Better get used to it.” You wink and start walking down another aisle.

“I think I’ve already fallen in love with you, Doll.” Jack whispers to himself. “You’re not allowed to go anywhere on me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake with a start, your body jerking for a second before pain rips through your stomach and head. It’s bright. So so bright. Your eyes instinctively close and you pull your head back, trying to get away from the tube that feels like it’s down your throat but it follows. You start panicking.

It filters back in. What happened. Passing out in the trauma room. Jack’s face. The pain. The bullet hole you’d felt on your skin.

“Honey?” A voice you can’t place calls out your name. A woman’s voice. “It’s okay.” You know she’s trying to be reassuring but at the moment it’s not. There’s only one voice you want to hear and it’s not hers and you panic more when you don’t hear his because where is he? Did something happen to him? Maybe he’s here and you just can’t hear him. One way to find out.

Your eyes blink back open to an unfamiliar face above you. After you adjust to the light you quickly look around as much as you can without moving too much.

Jack isn’t here.

The woman above you smiles down at you. “I’m Dana. Jack just stepped out to shower and I said I’d stay with you. He’s going to kill me for convincing him to go and you waking up while he wasn’t here. It was his nightmare. He’s on his way. Knowing him he’s liable to just have a towel wrapped around him and soap in his hair because god knows if he wasn’t finished showering he wasn’t going to finish when he heard you’re awake.”

You blink a few times, start to calm. Dana. She has a calming presence. Jack told you about her. You trust her. “Good, that’s good. He’s going to be here any second. And I’m going to get your doctor and see what we can do about getting this tube out of your throat, yeah?”

You can hear Jack before you see him. Hear him running down the hall towards you. He’s panting when he runs into your room, looks at you, your vitals, Dana and then back to you. “You’re awake.”

All you can really do is look at him with wide eyes. He’s over by you in a second, taking Dana’s place as she goes to find your doctor. One of his hands finds yours, squeezes reassuringly. “I’m here. God I’m so sorry I wasn’t when you woke up, I didn’t want to go but they convinced me and-”

You squeeze his hand and then let go, make a motion like writing. “You want to write? Hopefully you can be extubated soon, you might be breathing over the vent already, I can look.”

You squeeze his hand again and it focuses him back on you. “Shit. Yes, um…” He feels all the pockets on his scrub pants until he finds the little notebook and pen. He gives you the pen and holds the book for you.

Scared.

A piece of his heart shatters when he reads the word.

“I know Doll, I know. It’s okay.” He strokes your hair gently. “I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I love you.” Jack’s eyes bore into yours and in the moment you’re so grateful for his need for direct eye contact. It’s reassuring in a way you can’t describe. Even if he hadn’t said anything. If he had just looked at you like he is now it would have been enough to calm your fears. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”

“I heard she’s awake?” Your eyes leave Jack’s and look over at the man who entered, but Jack’s eyes never leave you.

“Yeah, she is. This is Robby, sweetheart.” You blink slowly.

It’s a lot. Everything is a lot and there’s a tube in your throat and more people walk in, Dana again and your doctor, a nurse. You’re overwhelmed. You just want it to be you and Jack and you want to be at home cuddled in bed together, both of you perfectly fine. You don’t want this. It makes you kind of dizzy. And your inability to express yourself makes it all that much more difficult.

You focus on Jack’s eyes, try to block everything else out. Focus on his touch. His hand holding yours, the other stroking your hair. There’s a faint buzz of the others talking together and you know it’s about you but you remain centered on Jack. “That’s right, Doll,” he murmurs, voice low, just between the two of you. “Just focus on me. I’m right here. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

“She’s breathing over.” Robby says quietly. “We can pull it.”

Jack raises his eyebrows at you and nods his head a little. “That’s good. We’re going to get the tube out, okay? Then you’ll be able to talk.”

Your eyes widen a bit and you move your hand towards the notebook again, point at the word.

Scared.

“I know. I know it’s all scary, and I know thinking about having the tube out is scary. But you’re safe, okay? If you need it back in then we will put it back in okay?” He squeezes your hand. You give the smallest nod.

Jack explains what will happen to you and then they do it. It hurts and is uncomfortable and you panic for a minute after it’s out because you’re coughing and it feels like you can’t breathe. Jack puts an oxygen mask to your face. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe. You’re just coughing, it’s okay. It’ll be better in a minute. I promise.”

And just like he promises it does get better. “How about we switch this,” he takes the oxygen mask from your face and hands it to Dana while taking the nasal cannula from her, “with this.” He gets the cannula adjusted under your nose and over your ears and then smiles at you.

You still haven’t spoken. You can’t find words. You don’t know what to say.

Robby hands Jack a cup of water with a straw silently before he, Dana, your doctor and the other nurse slip out.

“Here, I’m sure your throat is dry.” Jack holds the straw for you. “Small sips.”

You take a few before pulling back a little. “Thank you.” You’re quite hoarse and make a face at the sound of your voice but Jack. Jack beams. It makes you smile, makes everything start to melt away. You’re here and awake and Jack is here and everything is okay. “I love you too.”

You press your lips out a little and it hits him. He can kiss you now and he does, soft but lingering. He never wants to pull away.

“How long was I out?’’

“Since surgery?” Jack glances down at his watch. “Sixteen hours and thirty seven minutes. Give or take ten seconds.”

You smile. It’s a little weak which shoots a bit of a pang through him, but it’s okay because you’re smiling at him. “Not that you were counting.”

He laughs and rolls his eyes at you, eyes watery. “I’m really fucking glad you’re okay.”

You get a little teary. “I’m really glad you’re here. I was really fucking scared Jack.” You let out a breath and a few tears.

“There is nowhere else I’d rather be than by your side.” He leans back in, kisses you again, kisses all the tears away. “There is nowhere else I will be, okay?”

You nod a little. You want to ask him what happened, what your injuries are but you can’t bring yourself to. You don’t want to know. Not now.

Jack doesn’t volunteer anything. He figures that you’ll ask when you’re ready. He knows what it’s like to have it shoved in your face when you’re scared and drugged out on morphine and other medications and overwhelmed and not in a mental place to process it.

You can’t have been awake for more than thirty or forty minutes but you’re already so tired again. Jack can tell.

“Sleepy?”

“A little.” You pause. Then, a whispered admission. “Kind of scared to go back to sleep.”

Jack’s heart squeezes. “That’s understandable,” he nods. He knows the answer is no but he asks anyway. “Can I do anything?”

“Hold me.” Your words are out before he finishes his questions. His eyebrows raise. He wasn’t expecting that.

You can see him thinking. Thinking about how to say no. His face is pained and he tilts it. You know he’s afraid to hurt you. “Please.” He bites his bottom lip. “I need this Jack,” you whisper. “You need this.”

“If I hurt you at all you have to tell me, okay? If anything feels like it’s tearing or pulling or ripping, you have to tell me immediately.” He gives you a serious look, fear blazing in his eyes.

“I promise.”

He nods. “Okay.” It takes a while for him to help shift you over a bit and move all the wires and lines but eventually he’s in bed with you, holding you.

“Thanks Peter.” It’s completely sleep garbled but so precious and he has to laugh because even with all that’s happened you’re still calling him that name.

“You’re welcome, Doll.”

Once he’s sure you’re asleep Jack sobs as quietly as he can as he holds you. Lets himself process the emotions that he has tried to keep himself walled off from since you went down in the trauma room. He doesn’t want you to see, doesn’t want you to have to deal with him right now when you need to focus on yourself and recovering. He doesn’t want you to feel guilty, because he knows you and he knows you already feel bad about all of this. Like it’s your fault.

Jack doesn’t know it but you wake when you feel him start to tremble. You hear and feel every sob. A little piece of you dies inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack leans against one of the windows in his apartment, stares out into the dark city and alternates watching the rain fall under the light of the street lamps and tracking drops that slide down the window. The bedroom is dark, only illuminated by the light of the city that pours in. He’s half dressed, shirtless, a pair of flannel pajama pants. The window is cold against his arm but he likes it. It reminds him in the moment that he can still feel.

You watch him from the bathroom doorway. You’ve been together seven and a bit months now.

You’re struck by how beautiful he looks in the backlighting. Struck by how sad and conflicted he looks.

You walk over to him quietly, but making your footsteps just heavy enough so that you don’t startle him when you wrap your arms around him from behind, rest the side of your head on the smooth skin of his back. Always so warm, your Jack, even now in the chill of the rainy night.

He leans back into you for just a second, just long enough to acknowledge that he knows you’re there, appreciates it.

Neither of you say anything for a few minutes before his voice interrupts the patter of the raindrops hitting the window.

“I’m sorry.”

Your brows furrow. “For what?”

“Being like this,” he shrugs. “It’s been so long. It shouldn’t still affect me like this.”

“Well first, should is a stupid word. Nothing should or shouldn’t be. Things just are. And it’s okay for them to be as they are. It’s okay for this to be as it is.” You lift your head from his back and gently pull at his torso a bit to get him to turn and look at you. He tries to avoid that eye contact he normally needs but you don’t let him. “Second, you have nothing to apologize for. And third, I don’t know Jack, I’d almost be more concerned if the anniversary of the day you lost a piece of yourself, literally, and woke up alone and terrified in a hospital bed ever stopped affecting you.”

As difficult as it is to hear, he likes that you just say it, say what happened. You don’t shy away from it, don’t avoid talking about it or speak about it without actually saying it. You never have. You’ve always just accepted it as part of him. He takes in a deep breath and then grabs your hand, leads you over to bed with him and waits for you to get in.

But you give him a look, a slight raise of your eyebrows and nod. He sits on the edge like you wordlessly asked. You kneel before him and it makes his heart pound, blood rush towards his groin even though he knows this isn’t going there. It’s just instinctual.

Jack watches you with glassy eyes as you push his pant leg up and remove his prosthetic for him, set it aside. You don’t have to ask if it’s hurting, of course it is. It’s the anniversary of losing his foot. Even when there’s no real reason for it to be causing him pain it is anyway. You know it. He knows you know it.

You open the drawer of his nightstand and pull out the balm he has, get a little bit and warm it between your hands before placing them there. You glance up at him. You always do. Always make sure it’s okay. You know how hard it can be for him to have you touching there sometimes if he’s too in his head. He just barely narrows his eyes before letting them go back to being wide and round as he watches. An unspoken please.

You start massaging gently and he takes another big breath in and holds it for a moment before letting it out and leaning into your hands slightly. “Mirror?”

He knows you’re asking if the pain is bad enough for him to want to do mirror therapy. He shakes his head. “No. It’s not that bad.” He gives you a small smile, cups your face with a hand. “Especially not now. You make it better. You always make it better, make everything better.”

A slow smile spreads over your face. You work on him a little more before his hands are on yours and pulling you towards him a little. He slides into bed and you follow.

You lay on your sides looking at each other. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not right now, no.” He swallows hard, looks like he’s waiting for you to be upset. “Is that okay?”

“Course it is. I’m never going to force you to talk about it with me.” You already have talked about it. You know everything, every detail he can remember and was told about what happened. About his hospital stay at Landstuhl, transfer to Walter-Reed. How depressed he got, the survivor’s guilt, the wishing he had just died instead.

But he knows what you mean. You don’t have to talk about it now, about his feelings, what he’s carrying in his chest and mind at the moment. You lean in and kiss him. “We can whenever. If and when you’re ready. Or you can talk to your therapist. It doesn’t have to be me.”

The way he looks at you makes your stomach flip. Like you’re the most important thing in his world, like you hung the moon and stars for him, like he’s amazed by you. Like you’re helping to heal him.

He reaches out to cup your face again, runs a thumb over your cheek. “I want you.”

You smile at him, soft and small, befitting of the moment. “You have me. You’ll always have me. No matter what.”

He gives you a look that acknowledges your words. “You know what I mean.” His hand starts to wander down to the hem of his shirt you wear. “I need to turn that part of my brain off. Get lost in you.”

“God, what a tough ask,” you click your tongue, voice teasing and full of feigned exasperation. “Such a real hardship for me.”

He laughs a little. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh no Dr. Abbot,” you move closer to him and push at his chest so he rolls on his back, straddle his hips and bring your chest to his, lean in to kiss him but stop short, just let your lips move against his, “this is all about you.”

Jack groans from somewhere deep in his chest. “You know what doctor does to me,” he murmurs before he kisses you hard, possessively, holding the back of your head with one hand so you can’t move away, not that you’d ever want to.

“Indeed I do, sir.” Another groan from him and a smirk from you as you sit up and push the covers back, pull his pajama pants and boxer briefs down all at once.

Jack swears you spend hours lavishing him in attention, kissing every inch of him, every scar. Even that one.

By the time you guide him inside of you you’re the only thing on his mind. You ride him slow, just fast enough to not be teasing, at the rhythm and pace you’ve learned he loves, let him watch as he slides in and out of you because you know how much he loves it.

You lean back at one point, rest your hands on both his thighs and something about the move and the way you’re not afraid to get close to the missing part of him heals him and makes him lose it.

After, you lay on his chest, absentmindedly draw random shapes on his skin while he runs a hand up and down your back. “This part always feels just as good but in a different way,” you murmur.

“Cuddling releases oxytocin. Oxytocin makes you feel happy, helps you heal, reduces stress, bonds you to the one you’re snuggling with. It’s called the love hormone.” Jack always makes you laugh when he does that, explains something medically, biologically. You like him sharing his knowledge, little pieces of his job with you, and you like that he’s not condescending about it, just tells you it like you’re a student.

You laugh a little. “That tracks then.”

You sit in a comfortable silence for a bit. Jack thinks about everything you’ve done for him tonight, over the past seven months, how you feel laying here on his chest. A surge of oxytocin hits him and he’s overwhelmed by it, how much he loves you, how much you do for him, care for him.

“I don’t deserve you.” He says it quietly, almost like he doesn’t mean to speak the thought out loud.

You stop tracing shapes, furrow your brows and lift yourself up to look down at him sternly, eyes burning with love. “I’m not even gracing that absolute bullshit with a reply tonight Peter.” You kiss him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four days pass. Things are simultaneously getting better and increasingly harder.

You meet everyone, the entire ED, you swear, everyone Jack has ever talked about. They’re all lovely and genuine. You hit it off with them all despite the circumstances. Part of you worries though, that they only like you because they pity you and because you’re in the hospital and what else can they do. Jack reassures you that you’re one of them now, you’re Pitt family, that even when they didn’t know you or about you and had never met you, you already were.

Jack helps you shower. Really Jack showers you. Does it all for you. It’s one of those most intimate things you’ve experienced with him. Him taking care of you like this, when you can’t take care of yourself. He takes his time washing your hair and body gently, like you’ll break if he touches you just a little too hard. He makes sure your stitches and central line stay dry. Makes sure you don’t lean your head back too far and aggravate your skull fracture.

Physically you’re doing okay. Improving. Maybe not as fast as everyone, Jack especially, would like. But you’re not getting worse.

Mentally, however, things are devolving. Rapidly.

Once the initial shock and happiness at being alive wore off you’re left with reality.

A nurse from the floor comes in to take vitals like they do a couple of times a day. Jack steps out to go grab a drink from the vending machine while you and the nurse chat a little. You ask her if you can move into the chair, go sit by the window. She says of course, unhooks you from some monitors and helps you move over. She takes your dinner and sets it on the table in front of you. You thank her and wait for Jack to come back.

Dusk is falling over the city. It’s easier to sit and look outside when it’s not so bright. You keep the lighting in your room low to help with the headaches you’re still fighting. You suppose a broken skull will do that to you.

You haven’t felt well all day, have slept more than usual. You’re sure it’s just depression from being here and all the changes and mostly, probably, seeing what all of this already has done and continues to do to Jack, physically and mentally. Your stomach turns at the thought and you shiver despite your cheeks burning. You’re so uncomfortable and there’s no end in sight and you don’t want to keep doing this to Jack, keep asking him to be here and sleep here. The logical and rational part of your brain knows that you’re not asking him to do anything. He’s doing it because he wants to, because he loves you.

“You need to eat,” Jack reminds you as he walks back in the room.

“I’m not hungry,” you murmur, continue to look out the window.

“I know, Doll, but you’ve gotta eat to keep your strength up.” Jack says softly as he pulls up a chair to sit across from you. You nod a little at him but don’t move to start eating. “What’s wrong?” he finally whispers.

It takes a moment but eventually you shrug. You don’t want to burden him with it.

“Talk to me. Please. Even if just a little.”

“I don’t know… I’m just tired, I think.”

He tilts his head at you, eyes appraising and clinically evaluating you. Something is off, something has been off, he’s just struggling to figure out what.

“Don’t look at me like that, please,” you whisper.

He furrows his brows. “Like what?”

“Like I’m a patient who needs to be evaluated.”

“I can’t help it. It helps reassure me that you’re okay.” He lets out a bit of a breath. “I’m worried about you right now. Is everything okay? Do you feel okay?”

You take in a big breath of air and fight back the wince before letting it out. “I’m just… I don’t know Jack. I’m sad. I’m fucking sad. All the time.”

Ah. Depression.

He knows it intimately and chastises himself mentally a bit for not realizing it sooner, not recognizing it. Not anticipating it from minute one. He gives you a moment to see if you want to say more.

“I… I feel sorry for myself, yes, but it’s more than that. I see what it’s doing to you, the pain it’s causing, I’m causing you. Physically, having to sleep here. I can practically see your back and hip hurting, Jack. I can see the overcompensation when you walk. I know you cried. I was awake. And I didn’t want to make it a thing and pressure you into talking to me. But I see how scared and on edge you are, all the time. Because of me-”

“No.” He doesn’t mean to interrupt but he has to right there. “Not because of you. This is not your fault. None of this is. This isn’t because of you, it’s because of what happened to you.”

You shake your head. “No, Jack, it’s me. It is me. I feel like I’m sucking the fucking life out of you. Dealing with me is exhausting. I can’t keep asking you to do this, be here and take care of me. It’s not fair.” You sniffle and wipe some tears you didn’t know fell with the back of your hand. “I mean, Jesus, Jack, I’m exhausted and all I have to do is sit in bed all day. I hate it.” The tears fall a little faster and he gives you space to let it all out. Your emotional brain takes his silence as some sort of tacit and silent agreement. That you are hurting him, that it is exhausting him, that you are sucking the life out of him.

The rational part of your brain is right there but you’re too exhausted to listen to it, to fight your emotional brain on it. So it all consumes you.

“I sit here and sometimes I just wish it would stop, wish it would be over, for both of us. Wish I had never even made it out of the OR, fuck out of the courthouse. You could be properly grieving already and working towards mo-”

“What the fuck?” It falls out of his mouth before he can even stop it. “Are you for fucking real?” He knows this reaction is wrong, that he should be validating your feelings. He knows far too well what it’s like to be depressed in a hospital bed wishing that you had died instead. But it’s too much for him because he already lived so intimately with the possibility of that reality. Of you dying. And so to have it brought up and brought up by you. All rational thought and ability to control himself disappears. “Properly grieving? You think I’d be properly grieving? Jesus fucking Christ, Robby would have had to beat me to the fucking roof or they’d be burying us together!”

You shake your head, tears falling harder. “I don’t want that, I would never want you to do that. I’d want you to take care of yourself! I’d want you to live for me. For us. Find-”

“No.” He shakes his head, runs both of his hands over his face, heel of his palms pressing into his eyes for a moment. “No. I can’t fucking-” He has to swallow hard through the intense nausea that threatens to make him dry heave. Just thinking about this, let alone living it. He knows this is not his finest moment, not a good reaction, that it’s a really really fucking bad one, but he can’t think about it right now, about an alternate reality where you died, where he was anywhere other than right next to your side in this moment. It’s too much. And so he reverts back a bit, starts to completely emotionally shut down. You’ve never seen him like this before. “I can’t fucking talk about this right now.”

A knock on the door interrupts you and you both look up and over at a smiling Robby. “Hey! Look who’s awake! How are you feeling sleepy? You’ve been asleep every time I’ve come to visit today.” He starts making his way closer.

“We can talk about this more later,” Jack mutters at you under his breath. His tone is a little sharper and more brusque than he means or even realizes.

But with your emotions where they are already it feels a little like he’s pulled a piece of your heart away. You wonder if this is it. If he’s finally had enough of all of this. Of you.

He didn’t sign up for this. There haven’t been any vows of sickness and health.

The adrenaline runs icy through your fingers and toes and sits like a rock in the back of your throat, hugging tightly around your stomach so much that your incision burns and itches. It gets hard to breathe. It’s panic, you tell yourself. You nod silently, fidget with your fingers and whisper the smallest “okay.”

You’re thankful for the low lighting and the cover it gives you and your tears. “Sorry about that,” you force a small laugh at Robby. “Just one of those days I guess.” You force a yawn this time. “Honestly I’m actually a little sleepy again,” you admit sheepishly. “I think I might get back in bed.”

There’s a pause as Robby waits for Jack to react. But Jack says nothing, and the look on his face tells Robby he’s a million miles away. You getting up is what brings Jack back to himself somewhat and he’s up and hovering behind you to make sure you don’t fall in an instant.

“Um, well.” Robby runs a hand through his hair and over his beard. “Jack, if you wanted we’re pretty backlogged down there, we could use someone for even just a few hours to help out. I just wanted to offer. We’ll be fine if you don’t.” Robby’s eyes flick between the two of you. “Thought it might be a good way to help transition back to full shifts eventually.” He coughs awkwardly.

Jack looks at you with his eyebrows slightly raised, like he’ll do whatever you say as opposed to what he actually wants. Despite looking at you it’s like he doesn’t consciously take in your face at the moment, how hurt you look, how small, the tears lining your eyes, how scared you look, how anxious, how questioning.

“Up to you.” You give him a strained smile. “I’m just going to sleep, so it’s not like you’re going to miss much here. Robby is right, might be a good way to help transition.”

Jack nods. “Okay. Okay, yeah.”

“Fuck, thank you so much,” Robby sighs in relief. “It’s pretty bad honestly.” He looks at you with a soft smile. “Sleep well and I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

You give him a forced smile back and nod, waiting for Jack to come say goodbye before following Robby out the door. But Jack is so shut down and on autopilot he doesn’t even give you a kiss or say anything other than an absent, “sleep well,” before he follows Robby out of the room. The sound of the door closing behind him may as well be the sound of your heart shattering.

Hours pass.

Hours you do not in fact spend sleeping but instead wide awake feeling like you’ve got the flu. Everything hurts, you shake, you’re sweaty because you’re so hot but you feel so cold. You just feel so weak. You’re so miserable you’re not even aware of the way breathing takes more effort and seems less effective, how much it hurts. Hours enough for you to miss Jack and wish he was here and want to call down and beg him to please come back up. But not quite enough hours for the next vitals check.

The hours are quick for Jack. Work helps him. It keeps his mind busy. The more and more he comes back to himself fully and opens back up with clear eyes the more desperate he is to get up to you and apologize. He feels awful about actually deciding to come down here. How could he leave you? He knows he didn’t react well. It just caught him so off guard and he reverted back to a previous version of himself. All he can do is hope you’ll forgive him, but he knows you well enough to know that you’ll understand and be able to put yourself in his shoes and forgive him and you guys can talk.

He volunteers to take one last ambulance coming in. He goes outside to wait for it, to get some fresh air. To be out of the hospital if only for a moment.

Mel runs through the automatic door, head on a swivel to find him. She starts running to him when she sees him. “Dr. Abbot!”

Jack turns his head, thinks Mel’s voice is off, but he guesses it’s been a bit since he’s heard it down here. But when he sees her face, the way she’s running towards him, his heart speeds up and he shakes his head a little as she approaches him. Mel’s eyes are wide, just the slightest bit wet.

“Dr. Abbot,” Mel breathes. “She’s crashing. Robby went up to see her and she crashed.”

“What?” It’s whispered. Jack’s whole world stops again. He doesn’t even wait for an answer, is sprinting inside and screaming to hold the elevator because he knows it’ll be faster than he can take all the flights up to your room. He tries to hold onto hope. Mel had said crashing not coding.

This would fucking happen. This would fucking happen. He leaves you and then you crash. The realizations hit him when he gets in the elevator and presses the door closed button over and over. That the last thing you said to him was that small, barely audible “okay.” That your last interaction was an almost fight in a way, was him upset when you were telling him what was on your mind when that’s what he has been begging you to do. That he walked out of your room without saying goodbye, without giving you a kiss, without telling you he loved you.

Sleep well.

That could be the last fucking thing he ever said to you. Sleep well. He pictures your face when he looked at you that last time, near tears, scared, small, anxious, questioning. Probably questioning whether he was going to come back or whether he loved you or whether he still wanted to be with you after so clearly hitting a nerve with him. Especially on top of all the guilt you were already feeling before that conversation. The guilt you were telling him about when he shut down.

The world already gave him a second chance with you and he fucked it all up in a minute. Somewhere deep in his bones he knows “sleep well” will be the last thing he ever said to you, that your last interaction together will be a quasi-argument. Because if you’re crashing at this point, this far out from surgery, something bad is happening. Differential diagnoses flip through his mind. Pulmonary embolism, having somehow reopened one of your internal wounds and bleeding out, sepsis, delayed collapsed lung, drug reaction, the list goes on and on. None of them are good. All of them would require you to fight hard to pull through.

And with fucking “sleep well” as the last thing he said to you after he practically jumped in your shit you probably think you have nothing left to fight for.

You’re vaguely aware of Robby coming into your room and talking to you even though you can’t make out any words at first. But then you become acutely aware of him screaming about you crashing and somebody call Jack.

Jack.

Robby says something about intubation but you get a hand up, cling to the fabric on the arm of that blue sweatshirt he always wears. “Wait,” you choke out, wondering when it got so hard to breathe and how you’re just noticing. “Jack,” you force out in a wheeze, “want to talk,” you look up at Robby with terrified eyes he’s seen hundreds of times in patients who think they’re about to die, only yours have a slight look of determination. “Please.”

He hesitates for just a second. “Okay,” he nods, looking down at you. “Okay. But only if he’s here within the next two minutes. I’m counting.” He grabs an oxygen mask and holds it over your mouth and nose. Your eyes say ‘thank you’ in the most heartbreaking of ways. You both know he’ll be there with one minute and fifty six or seven seconds to spare.

The elevator door opens on your floor and Jack’s sprinting out of it to your room, praying that maybe you’ll still be alive when he gets there. He could talk to you, tell you he’s sorry and he loves you and please fight. He’s panting when he runs into your room, looks at you, your vitals, and then Robby. “Why the fuck isn’t she intubated yet?!”

“She wanted to be able to say something to you,” Robby tells him as he pushes drugs, barks out orders and gets ready to intubate you. “She’s totally fucking septic Jack, out of fucking nowhere,” he calls back over his shoulder. “She must have thrown a septic PE.” Robby pulls the oxygen mask away from your face.

Jack looks back at you as he moves closer. You lick your lips and rub them together a little, trying to get them wet and unstuck from each other. You look terrified but try to offer him a brave smile anyway. “I love you,” you manage to mouth before everything is consumed by black and quiet.

Where everything goes black and quiet for you, Jack’s senses are overwhelmed by the look on your face, the way your eyes shut, the way Robby’s hands so gently turn your head back so he can intubate you and seconds later by the high pitched whine coming from your patient monitor announcing you’ve flatlined and Robby yelling for someone to start compressions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s not exactly looking for it when he spots it as he walks down a street to pick up the take out you ordered on his way home. But it’s there and it makes him think of you. It’s almost perfect. Almost.

He slips inside, gets in a conversation with the store owner. They can customize it for him. He thinks you’ll love that, the idea that nobody has the same engagement ring as you. The owner says he’ll get him some sketches. Jack puts down a deposit. You text asking if he’s okay.

He says a quick goodbye to the owner and that he’ll be back and runs to get the food and back to you. He’s known for a while now that he wants to ask, wants to marry you. You just get him in a way he can’t describe and knows he’ll never find again.

That night in bed he lays awake spooning you and thinking about how to propose. You wouldn’t want something too big and flashy. But he doesn’t think you’d hate it being in public necessarily. God, what if you say no? What if you’re not ready or it’s too fast or he’s too old, too broken?

No. He knows you don’t think he’s too old or broken at all. He knows you’ll say yes, knows you’ll cry. But how to do it. Where to do it.

The bookstore with the ring in the book feels like too much, a little too on the nose. You wouldn’t hate it by any means but it doesn’t feel right.

He thinks about a conversation you had in the travel section at the bookstore.

“I love travelling.” You say it as you look over the shelves. “Especially internationally.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmmm,” you hum. “We should go somewhere.” You hand him a book on Paris. “I love Paris. Have you been?”

Jack shakes his head, starts thumbing through the book. “Can’t say that I have.”

“I would love to show you around. It’s just so pretty. The Eiffel Tower sparkles and they light up all the buildings at night and I swear almost every building looks so beautifully historic. And the Louvre. I love the Louvre. I don’t even really know why, I just do. I like the inverted pyramids by the entrance and I like how you just get lost in there.” You’re flipping through your own book, this one about France in general. “We could do a France tour. Start in Nice or somewhere and work our way up.” You look up at him, and when he looks up from his book at you he’s surprised to see nerves. “If you would want to, of course. Obviously. There’s no pressure. I know you’d have to take time off from work and you love work and it would waste a lot of time off, probably depending on how long we went for. If we did. So it’s okay. I could go by myself or with a friend if I got desperate enough.” You give a breathy, anxious laugh and fiddle with the book.

Jack gives you a little smile and puts the book back where it belongs. “It might shock you to hear this but I have maxed out the amount of annual leave time off I can accrue. I donate everything I have leftover at the end of the year. I’ve donated all of it for a couple of years now because I can’t accrue it anymore.”

“Oh, well,” you clear your throat and it would almost be funny and adorable if he didn’t hate seeing you in distress. “That’s very nice of you. You’re a very good man Peter.”

“I want to go with you.” Your lips twitch up and eyebrows raise. “I want us to do that.”

“Yeah?” You beam at him and it’s straight sunshine. You’re too good for him, he swears.

“Yeah,” he nods, returns your smile, kisses you quickly. “Robby might try to kiss you like that for getting me to go. He’s always on me about taking a vacation.”

Yes. In Paris. That would be perfect. You haven’t started planning the trip because life has gotten busy for both of you, but he mentions it enough to make sure you know he hasn’t forgotten, you talk about when you’ll start planning it some nights but often fall asleep mid conversation, exhausted from your day.

In front of the inverted pyramids at the Louvre. He can hire a photographer and they won’t even look suspicious. Just like someone taking photos of the Louvre.

He starts planning it, the France trip. Doesn’t tell you. Reaches out to your boss who he has met to make sure you can get the time off. He’ll surprise you with it soon, he tells himself. He’ll tell you soon now that he has the ring hidden away in a box in a closet that you can’t reach easily.

Soon. He knows he can’t keep putting it off, can just hear Dana and Robby in his ear if they knew, telling him to grow a pair and do it, that tomorrow isn’t promised, that he should do it here at the hospital so they can finally fucking meet you. That, while they don’t know you, Dana would give him a sharp look then, they know you’ll love it.

You’ll be at the courthouse tomorrow. It’s not too far from his place. He could surprise you and pick you up, take you out somewhere nice. He has the day off too so he could go get the book you handed him, put the tickets and copy of the itinerary he’s planned so far in it.

He smiles to himself as he imagines the shock on your face, the way you’ll struggle for words and repeat a bunch of one syllable ones for thirty seconds before the ability to form real sentences comes back to you. Yeah, that’ll work.

Tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a perfect day. Not too hot and not too cold. Like that Miss Congeniality bullshit that you made him watch and he secretly and surprisingly enjoyed.

It’s your perfect day.

Jack thinks that’s real fucking ironic.

Sleep well.

Jack was right.

Those were in fact the last words he ever spoke to you.

While you were conscious anyway. It’s all he can think about as he sits here in his dress blues at your fucking funeral. He couldn’t bring himself to buy a plain navy suit for the occasion.

No, that day he had said a lot more words to your unconscious self up by your head as Robby and the team tried and succeeded at stabilizing you enough to get you to the OR. And he had said a lot more words when they let him in the OR so that he could hold your hand and talk to you for just a bit longer before they called it. Somehow in the moment he had managed to block out Garcia standing on the other side across from him with her hand in your chest, manually beating your heart to give him more time with you.

And then he had said a lot more words to your dead body.

He must have sat in that stupid operating room with you for hours just holding you once they had closed your chest and sat the OR bed up a bit for him. He thinks he must have cycled through every stage of grief with you in his arms.

Denial. All he could do for a while was mumble to himself that this couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. You weren’t really dead. This is some twisted fucking joke you’re trying to play. To see if you could get him to cry. You can stop playing now, Doll, you got me to cry. Okay so not an elaborate joke. Well, you’d wake up in his arms any second now, shock everyone, the whole medical community with your recovery. Because this simply could not be fucking happening.

Anger. He yelled at you to wake up and not do this to him, to think about how unfair and selfish you were being, how fucking dare you. How dare you leave him here alone. How dare you for talking about him properly grieving. Does it look like he’s properly fucking grieving to you? And he knew, he fucking knew you were about to say moving on, that he could be working towards moving on as if he’s ever going to fucking move on, fuck you for that. He was supposed to propose and you ruined it. You left him How. Fucking. Dare. You.

Bargaining. He negotiated with himself. He should have looked you over before stepping away from you, should have taken you right into an exam room and checked every inch of you for injury before leaving you. If he could go back he would. He would do it all differently. He wouldn’t let you out of the house, would have insisted you skip work that day. He’s not a particularly religious man but he’s praying, bargaining with a God he’s not sure he believes in to bring you back to him. Take his other foot, take his hands, take his ability to be a doctor, take anything and everything that’s enough to bring you back.

Depression. Crushing and all consuming. The reality that this was happening. A sadness so deep in his soul and causing so much physical pain in his heart that for one glimmer of a second he thought maybe he was suffering from broken heart syndrome, that maybe if he could keep himself worked up and sobbing it would kill him. A sadness so consuming he’d never pull himself out of it. There would never be enough tears shed or enough therapy or enough anything to make any of it better.

Acceptance. Eventually it washed over him. You were dead in his arms. He was holding your lifeless body. This was his new reality. One without you in it.

But mostly he just sat there and cried over you. Cried for you. Buried his face in your neck at times to muffle the screaming sobs that made him shake. Rocked you and held the side of your face against his when his sobs became so deep they were soundless.

For a while he thought Robby and Dana were going to have to drag him out of there, drag you out of his arms. But at some point he just broke in a different way. Became some sort of numb. Resigned. So he forced himself to leave.

The only thing he could think to do at the end as he laid you back down was to try and make them better. Those two words.

Brushing some hair back from your face and running his thumb over your jaw he had told you that he loves you and that he always will. He whispered for you to rest now, gave you one last unreciprocated kiss, and then murmured “sleep well.”

He had to damn near drag himself out of the OR after that. Robby knew it. Dana knew it. They were both right there waiting for him. He had needed to get the fuck out of the hospital and to somewhere he could just send himself into oblivion because he had no fucking idea how to deal with the pain, with the loss of you.

Dana’s hand on his arm grounded him a little. Enough that he heard Robby say quietly, “let’s get you home.”

Home.

Jack had realized in that moment that he didn’t have a home. You were his home. Your heartbeat. The one that was now gone. That simply no longer existed. That had been thrown away by the universe like it meant nothing when it meant everything to him.

Yes, he realized he had an apartment, he had somewhere to go. But that was the apartment that he was supposed to have shared with you. The apartment with all of his things, all of your things, still in boxes. You had been planning on spending the weekend unpacking and painting and getting furniture where you wanted it. You had been planning on making it your home. Together. And then you got shot.

And now, Jack had realized, there was no more together. There was simply an apartment full of boxes of shit and furniture haphazardly placed just to get it in.

He had had to laugh about it, it was so fucked up. He had barely even realized that he, Dana, and Robby had made it outside somehow, through a side door so that he didn’t have to walk through the entire Pitt. And so out there on the sidewalk in the sun - because of course it couldn’t have been night, he couldn’t have had one thing to give him comfort - he’d broken down in a fit of laughter for a moment that quickly devolved into sobs.

Big wracking ones that required Robby to hold him up until he had let Jack slide down the side wall onto the ground where the sobs came so hard they were silent. It hadn’t been just you he was weeping for at that point. It had been for you and for himself and for the future you should have had together. For the apartment whose lease would be broken and the trip to Paris he had planned to surprise you with that would never be gone on. For the engagement ring that would never grace your finger. For everything that could have been. For everything that already was.

He’d stopped crying at some point. Dana had gotten her car and driven him and Robby to Robby’s place. Everything since then had more or less blurred together.

Schedules had been changed so that Dana and Robby worked opposite shifts so that one of them could always be with him. Always watching him. Acutely aware what was likely to happen if they didn’t.

You had no family so everything had been left to Jack, which meant it really had been left to Dana because Jack was barely functioning. Funeral planning. Burial or cremation. Dealing with all of your things.

Unsure of your preferences Dana had picked burial, found a cemetery, bought a plot, gotten it all arranged. Unbeknownst to Dana the one thing Jack had managed to do during all of this was purchase the burial plot next to yours. Only time would tell how long that space next to you would remain empty. Not long if Jack had it his way.

And so here they all were. At the cemetery. On your perfect day.

The funeral was to be held graveside and then back to somewhere for the celebration of life, Dana told him where at one point but he doesn’t remember. Somewhere in his mind he notes that it feels like the entire damn department is here and he can’t help but wonder who the fuck is staffing it right now. As if it matters. As if he’ll ever bring himself back to that hospital.

Jack’s completely zoned out, unaware of what’s being said, if anything is being said. Your casket is right there. With you in it. He wants to climb inside with you and let them bury you both with him alive. He wants to let your grave smother him to death. He realizes it already is in its own way. So then he might as well be with you, right? No. You’d specifically told him you wouldn’t want that. You said you’d want him to take care of himself and live for you, for the two of you. But he doesn’t fucking want to. He just wants to be with you.

He tracks your casket as it lowers six feet down. He wants to dive in after you. After a moment Dana nudges him. Right. It’s time. Time for him to throw a flower and some dirt on the top of your grave.

He forces himself to stand, takes the two daffodils from Dana and approaches your grave. One for him and one for you. They’re your favorite. He stops for a second and just stares down at the wooden box that houses you. Some sort of broken and raw moan slips out before he can stop it, a whimper just a second long, just enough to prove to himself that he’s alive and you’re not standing next to him and there to comfort him and make it all better. He can’t cry. Not here. Not now. Not in front of all of these people.

He brings a shaky hand up and reaches under his overly pressed shirt until he finds the chain, pulls his dog tags up and over his head, wraps them around the stems of the two daffodils. His chin trembles as he tosses them on top of your casket before following with a little dirt. He thought about tossing the ring he bought you in too, but instead he wears it on a different chain around his neck for now.

The symbolic burial of himself with you through his dog tags doesn’t escape anyone’s notice and if anyone present wasn’t crying already they were now. Robby and Dana share a heavy tear blurred look with each other. He still can’t be alone.

Jack just stares down. Can’t bring himself to move. To go sit back down. So the funeral ends with him standing there, looking down at you.

Robby and Dana give him a few minutes. As he senses people leave he lets the tears slide down his face silently but copiously. His shirt is darkened by his tears quickly. Eventually Robby clears his throat and steps up behind him.

“Jack?” Robby says his name softly at first. Jack doesn’t respond. “Jack, come on.” It’s a bit louder this time, but still nothing. Robby grabs his shoulder and gives it a little squeeze, is much louder now. “Jack!”

“What? What happened?” Jack’s head snaps up, the rest of his body following and pushing him out of the chair in seconds. His neck twinges from the awkward angle as his two fingers curl over your wrist automatically, finding your pulse as his vision clears and the patient monitor showing your vitals becomes readable.

All your vitals are normal. Stable.

Your eyes remain closed. Comatose.

“Nothing,” Robby says quietly, squeezing his shoulder again. “You fell asleep. It didn’t look comfortable. You’re going to fuck your neck if you’re not careful.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Jack pants, the sheer amount of adrenaline spreading through his system so fast making him shake. He closes his eyes as he tries to bring his heart rate and breathing back to normal. He takes a second to focus and it’s there, under his two fingers thumping along in time with the reading on the patient monitor. Your heartbeat.

“Fuck.” Jack brings his free hand up and uses it to wipe away the tears itching his face. His chest is wet, shirt undoubtedly darkened by his tears.

“Another one?” Robby gives him a knowing look. “Funeral again?”

Jack just nods. It’s not the first nightmare Robby has woken him from in the last three days. It’s not the first time Robby has woken him up from that nightmare.

“You talked to your therapist recently?” Robby asks as he sits in the other chair near your bed.

“I don’t have fucking time for the psych-bullshit right now, Robby.” Jack huffs as he sits back in his chair, stretching out his neck. “And I don’t need therapy. I need her to wake the fuck up and come back to me.” He leans forward to kiss your hand, gives it a squeeze and holds his breath that you’ll squeeze back. You don’t. “It’s been five days Robby. Five fucking days.”

Robby nods slowly. “I know. Her body has been through a lot. Sepsis on top of a gunshot and skull fracture is a lot and brain bleed is a lot. And she had a PE, and they had to crack her chest, Jack.” You got lucky and didn’t need surgery to fix the brain bleed. And nobody had wanted to do a thoracotomy on you, not while you were septic, but with your other injuries they had to be careful with blood thinners and the thoracotomy quickly became the only real option. The last ditch option. “All of that is a lot. She needs time. And it’s not bad news. She’s been extubated. That’s a big thing, you know that.”

“I know,” Jack sighs. It’s small and as exhausted as he sounds and makes him deflate into the chair. “I just… can’t Robby. I can’t keep having that nightmare. I need to hear her voice. I need to know she heard something from me other than fucking ‘sleep well.’ I need this to have never fucking happened!”

Robby doesn’t reply immediately, gives Jack a few minutes to come back down. “She knows you love her, Jack. She knows that you guys would have worked through whatever it was. Deep down she knows that, even if in the moment she was having anxiety.”

“You don’t even fucking know her. You can’t say that.” Jack shakes his head at Robby “You have no fucking idea.”

Robby just raises his eyebrows and gives him a resigned look, lets the silence take back over.

“I need to get back down there, but Dana is going to come up in a bit,” Robby tells him as he stands up.

“I don’t need babysat.” Jack huffs.

Robby walks by and squeezes Jack’s shoulder again. “There’s a difference between being babysat and your friends wanting to sit with you to be with you through a difficult time, Jack. We just want to help and right now all we can really do is be here. It’s not babysitting. It’s being a friend. It’s loving a friend. Let us do it, okay?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before walking out.

And so here you are again. Just the two of you. Only one of you conscious. Jack runs a hand through his hair, moves his chair back closer to your bed and holds your hand. He’s exhausted but terrified to sleep. It always ends the same.

He’s hardly aware of time passing but knows it must because Dana walks in, hands him a cup of tea. “How’re you?” Jack shrugs. Dana lets him. “Drink the tea.”

He takes a sip, if for nothing more than to get her off his back about it. They sit mostly in silence. Sometimes Dana volunteers a funny story or tells him about some ridiculous patient they had, keeps him up to date on the Pitt gossip.

“You should shower,” she suggests to him. She’d gone over to your guy’s place at some point and brought in toiletries, fresh clothes for you both. “I’ll sit with her.”

“I’m fine. It’s not like I do anything other than sit here.”

“Still, it’s a good place to take a minute to yourself. Clear your head.” Dana tilts her head at him. “Look at me.”

After a second he does, tears his eyes from you to look at her. “She’d want you to take care of yourself.”

Her words are a little too close to what you had said to him and he bristles, looks back at you. “Nerve there,” Dana observes, always perceptive. “I know I’m right. I know she must have told you that at some point or it wouldn’t have pulled whatever that reaction was.”

“I’m not leaving her. I don’t care if I can use the shower in her room.” All he can think about is showering you there, watching the pink water go down the drain as he got all of the blood out of your hair and off the rest of your body, the way you melted into his touch and thanked him. How intimate it was. Potentially one of your last moments of intimacy.

“And the last time I gave into you and showered she fucking woke up without me.” The words hit him and he looks at Dana. “The last time I showered she woke up,” he whispers. He’s not really one to normally believe in such a thing but right now he’s clinging to anything. “I should shower.”

Dana gives him a long nod with a small smile. “Yeah.”

So he does. Tries to split the difference between quickly so that he doesn’t have to spend too much time alone thinking but slow enough to give you time to wake up. But when he turns the water off and doesn’t hear Dana talking he already knows.

You haven’t woken up.

“I’m sorry, hon. I was hoping it would work.” Dana looks at him apologetically.

He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Dana nods a bit and walks out.

Jack finds it hard to talk to you like this. He doesn’t really know why. Maybe it’s just too hard for him to stand the silence he gets in return.

Sometimes he’ll read to you. That feels nice. You go on and on sometimes about how much you love his voice. You guys met at a bookstore, both love reading. So it just feels right. And he doesn’t have to stop talking and forget and be waiting for a reply that you won’t give him. He can just read.

He picks up whatever he had been reading to you and starts back up. He doesn’t make it through much though because he just can’t. The sun is setting outside again, another whole day of you in a coma almost finished and he can’t stand it.

It burns him from the inside, makes him feel like he needs to crawl out of his skin. He needs you to wake up. He needs to fix you. He’s a doctor. Fixing is what he does. He’s fixed countless people.

But he simply cannot fix you. The only one that matters.

“You know,” he starts, leans back in his chair and looks at you. He scoffs. “God I don’t even know. I don’t know how to do this. What to say to you.” He shakes his head. “And I hate that,” he whispers.

He sets the book down and the author’s name catches his eye. He moves in closer to you, gets up and sits on the edge of your bed, leans his head in a bit towards you as he holds one of your hands. He needs you to hear this. “I’ve decided that if you don’t wake the fuck up soon I’m going to have no choice but to have someone bring me that book and start reading it to you.” He squeezes your hand and shrugs. “So there. That’s my motivating wake up talk.” Tears hit his eyes and his lips wobble a little. “Wake the fuck up or I’m reading you the god damn book.”

Jack watches you for a moment and sighs. He leans in and gives your cheek the lightest kiss. He can’t bring himself to kiss your lips again and not feel yours move back against his. He settles back in his chair and picks up the book he was reading. Instead of opening though he just vaguely hits himself straight in the face with it a few times. He doesn’t even know why. He just has the impulse. It’s not hard, it doesn’t do anything. It’s just tapping, just something to ground him maybe. He rests it on his face, closes his eyes and leans his forehead into the cover just to feel the resistance when he pushes the back against him a bit. Maybe he tries to pretend it’s your forehead and the way you lean into each other with your foreheads together sometimes.

“Should I be jealous of the book Peter?” Your voice is barely audible with how cracked and dry your throat is.

It takes a second for the book to drop out of Jack’s hands and hit the floor. “Holy fucking shit,” he breathes. “You’re awake.”

He’s frozen for a minute, shaking hard as adrenaline pours into his system and he feels every emotion he can think of at once.

“Fuck me,” he huffs. “Really? All I had to do was threaten to read that stupid book to get you to wake up?”

You give him a pained smile and small laugh. It sends him into action.

“What can I say? I really hate that book. Couldn’t have you torture both of us. I think I’m doing that enough to the both of us right now.” You lick your lips and try to swallow. “Water?” You whisper at him.

He brings you a cup quickly, holds the straw for you. “Sips,” he says softly. “Little sips right now, okay?” You do as he says, eventually nodding for him to take it away. “Pain? Are you in pain?” He looks on your bed and finds the remote. “Here.” He puts it in your hand, your thumb on top of the red button. “If you need a booster of morphine press the button.”

You’re immediately pressing it over and over. “What happened?” You groan slightly. “My chest, Jack. It’s so bad. It hurts to breathe, like a weight’s on it.” Your words are a little slurred as the boost of morphine hits. It takes him back to the way you slurred in the trauma room and he has to fight not to go right back there in his mind. You need him.

“I know.” He strokes your hair. “I know, I’m so sorry.” He looks over at one of your IV pumps. “I can ask them about upping your dose now that you’re awake, okay?”

You nod, blink at him. Your hand drops the button and finds one of his and gives it a little squeeze. “What happened?”

He searches your eyes with his, lets them flit about your face. His lip trembles. It breaks your heart. Whatever it was destroyed him.

He sits back in his chair, moves it as close to you as he can get it. You reach up to cup his face with your hand and he leans into it immediately, puts both of his hands over yours. “You went septic. Threw a clot. It was bad. It was really bad. You coded. They had to crack your chest to get you back. So that’s why your chest hurts so bad. You’ve been in a coma for five days. I’m so sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry I didn’t-”

“Hey, hey,” you whisper back to him. “Don’t do that. Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything, didn’t cause this.”

“No,” he sniffles, “I know, but I just… I…” Tears start to stream down his face as he looks at you helplessly and shrugs. “I couldn’t…”

“Jack.” The way you say his name shatters him and he folds, buries his head in your lap, wary of hurting you, and sobs as he keeps squeezing your hand. “It’s okay,” you whisper, run your free hand through his hair. You both know its a lie. Nothing is okay right now.

But you’re awake.

He doesn’t cry for long, too conscious of how exhausted you must be, how he doesn’t want this to be how he spends the time he just got back with you. Not right now anyway. There will be time for tears and emotions and processing later.

He rubs his face in your lap a bit to wipe his eyes and then lifts his head before resting it on its side against your legs. “I’m just so happy you’re awake.”

“Me too.” You give him a sleepy smile. “Was always going to wake up, couldn’t leave you here alone could I?”

He gives a little half laugh, half sob. “Good. Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You want to tell him he’d figure it out but you don’t.

“You gonna give me a kiss now Jack Abbot? I know I haven’t brushed-”

He’s moving the second you say kiss. He feels bad it didn’t occur to him immediately but he was just so overwhelmed with you being awake. His lips against yours cut you off. It’s not just one kiss, it’s two and three and you lose count.

Soft ones, small, just long enough. They say more than he could figure out how to say with his words right now. Each one is perfect in its simplicity.

“You should rest,” he murmurs against your lips. You hum at him in response, eyes already fluttering closed. “You know I love you right? More than anything. More than I deserve.”

You open your eyes back up and look at him. “Course I know that,” you murmur. “You know I love you right?”

He smiles at you. It’s a little watery, a little trembly. “Course I know that.”

You swallow hard, just from all the meds and fighting the exhaustion. “Get in bed.” Your tone doesn’t leave much room to argue but he does anyway.

“No. It’s not safe. I could hurt you. You need to heal a bit more.” He squeezes your hand. “But believe me, I want to, more than anything.”

“You won’t hurt me. Didn’t last time.” You look at him with big sleepy eyes that kill him. “Heal better with you in bed with me.” He bites his lip, torn, so scared of causing you any pain and so desperate to give you what you want. To give himself what he wants. “You’re the one that said oxytocin helps healing…” Your eyes flutter closed again.

He has to laugh through some tears. “God, you really do listen and learn don’t you?”

You hum at him. “Someone has to be your best student. And it better always be me Dr. Abbot.”

He laughs at that. It’s so you, such a you thing to say. For the first time in days he really laughs even with as short as it is. For the first time in days he feels hope. Hope that everything is going to be okay and you’re going to go home together and unpack and set up your place and paint and just be together.

“You’re my best everything,” he murmurs as he gently shifts you and all your wires and climbs carefully into bed next to you. He needs it. And you need it. And so he lets you both have it. He lets himself hold you as best he can while keeping you in a neutral position that won’t hurt you. Your head falls to rest on his shoulder and you sigh softly as you fall asleep. Jack kisses the top of your head, lets his lips linger.

“Sleep well.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Doll, I am not a dancer. I promise you. Nobody wants to see it.”

“I don’t believe you,” you pout at him. “And I’ve seen those hips in action Peter. I know how much control you have over them. How you can isolate all the little muscles in them.”

“None of the muscles in your hips are particularly little-”

“You’re not changing the subject,” you cut him off. “It’s a wedding. We’re going to have to dance. At least to the slow songs.”

“Are you sure you really want to take me?” He doesn’t even really mean to ask it, it just comes out.

You look up at him and pause, drop his comforter that you were pulling back to get into his bed. “I… Is it too soon? Too serious too soon? I guess going to a wedding together is kind of…” you trail off looking for the word. “I don’t know a thing.”

“No!” He’s quick to reassure you. He leans up and pulls the comforter back for you. “Get in bed.”

You do as he says. “It’s not too soon, and I want to go with you, trust me. Even under threat of dancing. I just wanted to make sure you don’t feel like you have to take me. I know a lot of your friends will be there and if you’re not ready to make those introductions, that’s okay,” he explains as he pulls you to him, arms wrapping around you but loose enough so that you can see each other.

“I don’t feel like I have to take you. I want to. I want people to meet you. I want to show you off.” One of your hands slips into the back of his hair and plays with it, ruffles the curls and scratches at his scalp on and off as you look at each other.

“Show me off?” He smirks at you. “You wanna show me off?”

“My intelligent, thoughtful, hot as all fuck doctor of a boyfriend? Yeah. I wanna show you off.” You grab at the old shirt he’s wearing to sleep in and give it and him a look of mock offense at it being on but pull him to you by it anyway. “Wanna see you in a partial suit. Nice slim fit pants, collared shirt, a tie, one or two buttons open at the reception and the tie shoved in your pocket to use on me later.”

Jack sucks in a sharp breath of air and you just give him a little raise of your eyebrow, start to roll onto your back. He’s on top of you and kissing you and has his hands roaming all over you the second your head hits the pillow.

He always pauses for a moment and makes eye contact with you before letting himself collapse on top of you after he’s done fucking you like this. The intimacy of that quick moment always makes your heart metaphorically skip a beat. This time is no exception.

Jack snuggles into your chest, kissing at the top of your breasts as he does before he settles. You run your hands through his hair, are always running them through his hair or up and down his back or both. He loves it.

“Hey Jack?” He’ll never get used to hearing his name come off your tongue.

He makes a little hum of acknowledgment, still blissed out and coming down.

“We’re dancing at the wedding.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days blur together.

Your Pitt family rallies around both of you.

You start seeing a therapist and it helps, you improve some, mentally. Jack finally makes an appointment with his therapist and it helps him.

Everyone helps distract you, but it’s not just sitting in your room with you. One night Samira, Javadi, McKay, Mel and Heather show up in your room with painting supplies, easels, foldable stools, and a woman you’ve never met before.

Paint and sip, they explain. You��re doing a paint and sip right here in your room, minus the sipping, unfortunately, because of your meds. It’s so sweet and thoughtful it makes you teary. Jack will never admit it but it may or may not have made him a little teary as he gave you a kiss and walked out to be with Robby for a bit as you guys did your painting.

There are more things. There are a lot more things that they all do for you, and for Jack. Robby forces Jack to leave the hospital, just to go home, get more things for you, pick up food you like, small things. The first time is rough for both of you. But it gets better.

Of course, the most special though, the one that helps your mental health the most, is what Jack does for you.

One night a good two and a half weeks into your hospital stay, Jack goes out to pick up dinner and Dana, Samira and Heather show up in your room again, but this time they have clothes for you. Nice clothes. A nice dress, the one you were going to wear to the wedding. Nice shoes. Make-up. Perfume.

The Pitt is having a little get together on the roof and you should come, they explain. You worry that Jack is not going to be happy with you out of your room and on the roof, that it’ll scare him and you don’t want to scare him any more than you already have. They convince you that it’s okay, that Robby called Jack already and told him and so he knows to meet you up there. You’re confused by it all but don’t feel you’re in a position to really question anything and also very excited about the prospect of getting to be out on the roof in fresh air and city noise.

The girls help you get dressed and your makeup and hair done nicely. Dana sprays some perfume on you. It makes you smile.

“What?” She asks, but it’s a little too knowing.

“I wore this perfume on Jack and I’s first date.”

She hums. “Well isn’t that special? You’ll have to see if he remembers.”

Heather and Samira disappear, say they’ll meet you up there, they’re going to go change. Dana brings you up, opens the roof door and tells you to go, she’s gotta go change. You look at her confused and shaking your head and now you know something is up. But she’s off before you can question her.

You turn around and walk out onto the roof a little, around a little corner and there’s Jack.

There’s Jack standing next to a dinner table with a white linen tablecloth with candles on it, fairy lights strung up on the guard rail. There’s Jack holding a bouquet of daffodils for you and looking at you like you’re a vision. There’s Jack standing in front of you in nice slim fit pants, a collared shirt with two buttons undone.

You look shocked because you are so far fucking beyond shocked you didn’t even know it was possible. He did this for you.

“We didn’t get to go to the wedding,” he calls to you as he walks over while you walk to him. “You look gorgeous.”

You’re speechless. Beyond. You’re thoughtless, struggling to process this, all this work that he did for you.

“I promise to give you a raincheck on the tie,” he smirks as he reaches you, leans in and kisses you. He pulls back, brows furrowed like he’s confused and it makes you laugh a little because how the hell is he the confused one now. “You smell like our first date.”

“I…Jack, this is… Yeah, it’s the same perfume. Dana brought it.” You pause, think back on your conversations with Dana. She dragged it out of you so casually one day you thought nothing of it. You shake your head and laugh a little. “She asked me about it one day and I didn’t even think about it.

“She’s pretty good, isn’t she?” Jack laughs. You nod.

“Jack, I’m,” you look around, hold onto his forearms to ground you. You’re teary. Of course. “You did all this? For me?”

“Well I certainly had many co-conspirators who helped me get it all set up, but yeah. It was my idea. You needed it. I needed it. We needed it. A date night. And this was the only place we could get in.” He hands you the daffodils, grabs your hand and leads you over to the table where you stop.

“I…” You look around again. “It’s safe? For me?” You look back at him and he knows from the look in your eye that you’re not asking because you’re worried about yourself. You’re asking because you’re worried about him, worried about putting him through more trauma and more pain if something were to happen to you up here.

“Yes.” He helps you into the chair. “You’re probably the safest diner in all of Pittsburgh tonight. You’ve got a physician’s supervision.” He smirks at you. His eyes flick to the ground on the side. His go-bag. He’s prepared, just in case. That brings you back to reality, brings you back to yourself, makes you smile and give a soft laugh.

He sits down opposite you, starts to take a drink of water. “Have I ever told you how hot I find it that you’re a doctor?”

Jack chokes, starts coughing and it makes you giggle.

“What?” You draw the word out with a bit of that shit-eating grin he loves. “What did you expect me to say?”

“I don’t fucking know but not that! You were so speechless a minute ago!” He’s laughing a bit now, looking at you like you’re one of the seven wonders of the world.

“It’s just the truth!” you say through a laugh. He reveals dinner to you. Your favorite dish from your favorite place. You thank him for this, all of it, you keep saying it because you’re so blown away.

You eat dinner. You eat all of yours for the first time in two weeks and it makes Jack so incredibly happy and relieved. After you’re done with dinner you sit for a bit, chat a little before Jack stands up and holds out his hand to you. You raise an eyebrow at him.

He takes his phone out and thirty seconds later your guy's song, soft and slow, starts playing from a speaker he had hidden under the table. He offers you his hand again.

“Oh Jack.” You pull the words out a little bit as you start to cry.

Through tears you take it and let him pull you close into a dancing hold. “I hope they’re good tears,” Jack murmurs as he holds you close.

“They’re the best,” you sniffle. “I love you so much.”

Jack kisses your temple at the side of your eyebrow. “I love you more.”

The song plays on a loop. Jack dances with you until you admit you’re tired and need to rest. It’s not even really dancing more than just swaying together, him holding you close, murmured conversation. But it’s everything. He’s everything.

You’re there for weeks. Weeks that are beautifully uneventful, the only exception being when you hit some milestones in your recovery.

And then one day is eventful again because a word starts being used. The word you’ve both been desperate to hear.

Home.

You’re desperate to get out of the hospital and home. Jack is just as desperate to get you there. He never wants to let you out of it again, but that’s a conversation for a later day. He’s dreading when you have to go back to work, back to that courthouse. Rationally he knows with the increased security since the shooting it’s probably one of the safest places for you to be but his emotional brain doesn’t give a single fuck about that.

You laugh about it with Jack one day, how you’re going to go home to your apartment that’s still in boxes with furniture pushed to the center of rooms so you could paint. “It’s okay, we can wait to paint or I can make Robby help. And then you can just boss me around and tell me where to put things as I unpack while you rest on the couch.”

He gives you a very pointed look.

“I think I’ll be okay to help you unpack. At least some things and at least for a while. If I get tired I’ll rest and I won’t go lifting a box of books, okay?” You give him a reassuring smile.

“No.”

You let out a deep sigh. “Jack, we’ve talked about this. You can’t treat me like I’m glass forever. Especially once we’re home.”

“Why not? And it’s not even treating you like glass, it’s making sure you take it easy and recover.” His face is set, but not quite as hard as it has been when you’ve had this conversation in the past.

“I will take it easy. And I will recover. And you will be there to make sure I do both of those things. But being active, to an extent, I know, is important. Robby has said it. Dana. Heather, Mel, Santos, Shen, Parker, Perlah, Princess, Shamsi, Whitaker, Garcia, Javadi, Mohan, Mateo, everyone who has ever stepped in this room. Even you told me that, back when I didn’t want to get out of bed.” You run your hands over his chest, try to be soothing. You don’t want to upset him. “I know you have been through a lot with this. I know I have been. I know we have a lot to process and work through together and individually. I don’t want to argue. And I know that if our positions were reversed I would be the exact same way towards you, and that if anything you have it worse because you’re a doctor and so you know way too much about the things that could go wrong. But I’m okay. I will be okay. You tell me everyday how I’m getting stronger.”

Jack settles his hands on your hips, rests his forehead against yours. “I know. I just… struggle. Because you were better and then you weren’t. And I am terrified that’s going to happen again even though I know the chances at this point are so low.” His hands squeeze your hips. “I think maybe seeing you out of here will help. Seeing you at home. It’ll make it more real. That you’re really okay.” He pulls his head from yours. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” you cup his face with both of your hands. “I don’t want you to be sorry, Jack. Not for caring so much, for loving so much. Because that’s what this is and I know it. It’s not micromanaging or not trusting me or wanting to control me. I know that. I promise. I know this is motivated by fear and by love. We’re going to get through this together, okay?”

He nods because he knows it’s true.

And then there’s another eventful day, with a phrase you’ve both been itching to hear.

Discharge instructions.

They let Robby give you them even though he’s not technically your doctor. He gives them to you even though he doesn’t need to because you have Jack who’s going to be all over you and enforce stricter ones. But you still appreciate hearing them so that you have some idea of what’s okay and what isn’t and what appointments you have scheduled for follow ups and the meds they’re sending you home with.

You ask about sex.

Jack almost drops the bottle he’s packing away for you. “Why, please tell me why on earth,” he draws the word out, “you’re thinking about sex? And not recovering.”

You look at him, hold a finger up and then riffle through the bag next to you on the bed. You take out the small stand mirror Dana had brought you so that you could do your makeup that one night. You open it and hand it to Jack. “Take a look in the mirror Dr. Abbot.”

You’re so nonchalant with how you say it, like it’s obvious and just a fact and nothing you should really have to be explaining.

“Oh my god,” he mutters.

Robby ends up totally snorting his laugh because he tried to stifle it for Jack for a minute but it’s too good, it’s too funny. Robby smiles at you as he pulls it together, thinks how good you are for Jack. How you’re what he needed.

“You could have just asked me, you know! I’m a doctor! I know you know that, you tell me how hot it is all the time! We didn’t have to fucking drag Michael into this,” he huffs. But all of you know it’s not serious. He’s not really mad. He’s just worried and scared and wants to protect you and doesn’t want anything to happen to you and more than anything he doesn’t want to hurt you. But there’s the subtlest tinge to his voice that reflects his lust, his want, his desire to have you like that again.

“Yes, but I don’t trust you to give me a straight answer right now,” he goes to interrupt you but you shake your head and continue, speaking over him, and Jack pouts. Truly pouts. “And you know that’s valid and you would have given me the most conservative answer possible. And it’s Robby,” you shrug, “he’s a doctor and your best friend and obviously knows we’re having sex, or were before all of this. Plus he saw my tits when he coded me, I think we lost some boundaries when that happened.”

“They’re very nice b-”

Jack shoots him a glare, one that would have Robby dead on the floor if looks could kill.

Robby stops talking and clears his throat. “Right, well, uh,” Robby hugs his tablet to him and rocks back and forth a bit. “I mean as soon as you’re ready and feel up to it.” You look over at Jack and flash a pleased smile, raise your eyebrows. “But nothing too rough or overly strenuous. Keep it soft, slow. You know real love-making-”

“I’m going to fucking quit if you keep talking.” Jack interrupts Robby who wears the biggest self-satisfied shit eating grin.

You snort a laugh because the whole situation is so fucking absurd. “Thank you, Robby.”

“Of course.” He opens his arms and you hug. “Don’t take this the wrong way but I am really fucking glad I won’t see either of you tomorrow.”

The three of you share a laugh. “Ready?” Jack asks you. It’s funny how in the moment you’ve been dying for you’re suddenly terrified and unsure. The hospital is safe. There are doctors and medications.

You remind yourself that there’s a doctor and medications at home too and the thought lets you smile at Jack and nod.

He flicks his chin to the wheelchair. “Oh you cannot be serious. That is so unnecessary.”

“Hospital policy.” Jack shrugs.

“Hospital policy or Jack policy?”

“That one actually is hospital policy.” Robby confirms.

Jack gives you a triumphant smirk and you roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him. He does it back.

And then he wheels you out.

Being home is strange. It’s a whole new normal to get used to again. There are lots of emotions. You’re all over the place, somehow more emotional labile the first two days at home than you ever were in the hospital.

Despite his own emotions Jack is your rock through it and things start to get better. He paints with Robby’s help. You talk him into letting you paint. You direct Jack and Robby on where furniture should go, with Jack’s input of course. You and Jack unpack boxes together.

Six or seven days after you came home you’re down to just two boxes left. All books. You and Jack are unpacking them together, him bending to get them out of the box and you alphabetizing as you put them on the shelves.

Jack picks up a book. The book. The one that started it all. The one ‘Move in with me?’ is written in. He stares down at it.

Earlier today he’d unpacked the box where he’d hidden the ring. The ring box is in his pocket, pants loose enough to hide it.

“Peter?” You hold a hand out behind you to get the next book from him but Jack doesn’t put one in your hand or say anything. “Jack?” you repeat as you turn around to him staring at the book. He has a weird look that you can’t really place. Your brows furrow in concern. “Are you okay?”

He sets the book back in the box and looks up at you for a second. And then he’s sliding down to one knee and your eyes widen. “Jack,” you whisper, already teary.

“We’re going on the France trip,” he starts. “It’s all planned. You should be well enough to travel by then and we can adjust to take it easier if we need.” Your mouth drops open a little. “I had this all planned too. Proposing. I was going to take you to the Louvre, propose in front of the inverted pyramids, have a photographer. I had planned to tell you about the trip the night of the day you got shot. And then the entire time you were in the hospital I wanted to ask but I didn’t want it to feel like I was asking because you were in the hospital and things were scary.”

You bring a trembling hand to your mouth. “But I can’t wait anymore. I can’t wait for Paris. You know this has nothing to do with what happened. I had planned this before what happened. I knew I wanted to marry you within a month. That time you met me outside of the hospital after I coded that vet at the very end of my shift. We had spoken on the phone for less than a minute, I didn’t tell you about it or say anything was wrong and yet you just showed up. In your work clothes. When I asked why you were there you said you could hear it in my voice, that I needed someone, needed to not be alone and so you took the day off, and it’s funny because up until you said it I had been telling myself that I needed to be alone. But you were right. When I started to argue you just put a hand to my chest and kissed me, told me that it was already done, you’d already let your boss know, grabbed my hand and started walking to my place. And that’s when I realized you knew me better than I knew myself and that you weren’t afraid to just do things for me, that you weren’t going to make me ask, ever, for anything, when you knew I wouldn’t be able to. You weren’t going to make me struggle, force me to either open up or not get what I need from you. That’s when I knew I wanted to marry you.” He pauses and swallows, trying to clear the tears that line his eyes from his voice. “There’s so much I wanted to say in this moment, so much you deserve to hear” he laughs a little, the sound wet with tears, “but everything has fallen out of my mind. I promise though that, if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of our lives making sure you hear them and know how important and necessary you are to me, how much I love you.”

Tears stream down your face. They have been for a while now. Your mouth and chin tremble under your hand.

Jack gets the box from his pocket and opens it.

The way Jack says your name is etched into your memory. Then. “Will you marry me?”

You move your hand from your mouth, give him a look and move your shoulders in a way that says he didn’t even have to ask.

“Yes.”

It’s not exactly whispered, your voice is just so choked with tears it makes it sound like it. Jack’s face breaks out into the biggest teary smile and yours matches. Shaking hands get the ring on your finger and then Jack is standing up, arms going straight to hold your face and he kisses you like he never has before. It’s indescribable. It’s perfect.

You hug him tightly for a minute before you both pull away. “Is it okay? The ring?”

“Oh,” you sniffle, try and wipe at your eyes with your hands. “You’re going to laugh,” your voice gets a little more high pitched as another wave of emotion hits you. “The tears, there’s too many, I haven’t been able to see it.” You cover your mouth with your hand.

And Jack, Jack starts laughing. Because it’s so you, from being too teary to see it to the way you got even more emotional when you told him. You laugh-cry with him.

The entirety of the proposal is perfect.

As is what follows once you’ve seen the ring, almost screamed about it and how perfect it is, and gushed about it for several minutes to him.

Jack takes your hand and leads you to your bedroom. Your shared bedroom. He lays you down on soft sheets. It’s your first time after what happened.

He takes his time with you. Kisses every inch of you, every scar, new and old, lingers on the new ones. He worships you. Takes you apart and puts you back together again. Lets you do the same to him.

The groan of relief that comes from his chest when he finally pushes inside of you is unholy. He holds you tight to him. He adjusts so that he’s on top of you, arms under your shoulders with his elbows supporting him, holding your face in his hands. It’s all panting and breathy and sloppy kisses and uncontrollable groans and moans and warm sweaty skin and eye contact and Jack slowly losing it and groaning nonstop as he fucks you and chases your hips harder and harder, moving you both up the bed a bit as he tries to get deeper and closer to you.

You take a bath after to clean the sweat off of you both and just to feel each other. He pours in so much epsom salts to help you heal that you tease him you’re going to float in the water. It’s so warm and his touch is so relaxing that you actually fall asleep leaning back against him for a few minutes. He lets you sleep. Tries to commit the moment to memory.

You decide to have a housewarming party. You invite everyone from the Pitt, time it so that the night shifters can drop by for a little bit before their shift starts if they want. You invite some of your friends too.

You use it to announce your engagement. Every time someone knocks you and Jack go get them and you hold your left hand up. Everyone is happy for you. Some cry which makes you get teary. Jack hears you discussing the ring with Dana, Samira, McKay, and Javadi, you holding your hand out and all of them looking closely at it. He can’t hear the conversation but he catches, “he custom designed it,” and “it’s so perfect, just like him.”

He stands alone for a minute watching you and the party. He smiles as you walk up to him, arms automatically opening for you to step into. “And how is my beautiful fiancée doing?” You giggle at the word. Fianceé. It makes it so real. “Tired?” He’s checking in on you and you know he’d have all of these people out in a literal minute if you said you were tired and needed to rest.

“No, I’m okay, I promise.” You lean up and give him a kiss. “How’s my handsome fiancé?”

“I’m pretty perfect, Doll.” He gives your hip a squeeze. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You cock your head at him a little and he melts even more for you somehow.

“For everything.” Jack kisses you. “For saying yes.” Another kiss. “For waking up.” Another kiss. “And for telling me that book wasn’t worth it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wanted both without having to destroy Jack because he deserves everything so here we are. I hope it was okay! Please let me know your thoughts and comments!! Liking, replies and reblogging are so so appreciated! My inbox and requests are open (see masterlist for more)! Thank you for reading all of this, I know it was long!

Part 3 is up!

And let me know if you'd like to see more of these two! Wedding, more before reader is shot, just little domestic moments between the two? I'm hoping to do a follow up to Perfumer and maybe a few more shorter things, maybe some Robby? Who knows, certainly not I.

Thank you again for reading and your support!

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thecherrypittttttt · 2 months ago

Text

SOLID WORK; dr jack abbot x dr!reader

words: 4,700+

content warnings: my minimal medical knowledge, doctor humor, abbot’s filthy mouth, some smut, fluff <3

notes: i am so beyond new to this fandom and to tumblr so please stick with me but i couldn’t not write this🫶

・❥・

”Solid work.”

My breathing slows as I start to process the complexity of the procedure I had just performed. I’d probably be blushing at Dr Abbot’s praise if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing through me.

“That was your save. Not mine.”

Trust me - I am never jumping to credit a man with my work but that was the truth. I may have physically done everything but the idea and the instructions that made it possible were all Dr Abbot.

I look back down at the patient. I tell myself it’s to make sure this is all real. That I really just did that. But if I am being honest it’s to avoid Dr Abbot’s unwavering eye contact.

“Hey-“

He is not gonna let me. I look up to meet his gaze. So rock solid but somehow so warm all at once. He may as well be staring right through me.

He lightly rests his hand on my forearm to stop me from going for the suture. To stop me from giving him anything other than my undivided attention.

“-you are the smartest person in here. Take the win.”

I can’t help the exasperated smile that spreads across my face. He’s right. I’ve only got a couple months left of residency. I should just take the fucking win for once in my life.

Abbot, much to my surprise, smiles back. And he has dimples because of course he does.

He’s calm under pressure, he lies on official paperwork to get a teenage girl the abortion she has every right to, he’s the actual smartest one here, he’s kind to everyone in this ED regardless of the stress he is under, and…he still has his hand on my arm.

His hand. The veins there don’t hurt the eyes either.

We must both realize his lingering touch at the same time because he is clearing his throat and pulling away. He reaches for a surgical instrument he doesn’t need. Picks it up and then puts it down.

I swear there is a faint blush on his cheeks but if I think about that too long one will appear on my own.

“Let Whitaker stitch this up. Go home - get some rest. Your shift ended hours ago.”

“I love Whitaker but he is so slow we may as well let the wound heal all on its own.”

Dr Abbot laughs. Genuinely, truly laughs as we exit out of the trauma bay. So loud that Robby looks over and asks if he’s okay.

Don’t get me wrong. Dr Abbot has a wonderful sense of humor. A wicked one, actually. But it’s one of those dry, witty kinds. Not the animated, giggly kind.

I tell myself it’s not a bad thing that I’m proud to have gotten a good laugh out of him. That it’s not a bad thing that it gave me butterflies. That’s it’s not a bad thing that I am laying in bed wondering how the hell I am going to get him to do that again.

・❥・

Jack lets out a low moan as he recovers. His eyes are dazed, his head slightly tilted back but not so much so that he can’t keep eye contact with me.

His hand that held the makeshift ponytail in my hair starts to massage my scalp as the other hand reaches for my chin and tilts my head up to meet his strong gaze.

Once he’s got me where he wants me, his thumb travels from my chin to my lips, swiping what’s left of his release off of it.

“My good girl. So good for me, yeah?”

My thighs involuntarily clench together at his words. He knows it too. I nod as his thumb presses further into my mouth, my lips wrapping around it.

His mouth quips into a smirk, “Solid work, doctor.”

I roll my eyes and bat his hand away. Standing up from my knees on my own. Ignoring his arms trying to gently guide me up instead.

“That! That is exactly what I am talking about!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, baby.”

Jack just laughs as he grabs my wrist, turning me back towards him. He’s quick to have me pinned up against our shower wall - his strong thigh spreading my own apart as he plants long slow kisses across my neck.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Back when I was a resident, otherwise known as a couple months ago, Jack consistently praised what I was doing by saying “Solid work.”

The way he did always made me dizzy. His voice would drop an octave and he’d look me straight in my eyes while he said it. There is nothing inherently sensual about the phrase but it took me a while to realize he was not complimenting the other residents like that.

Him saying it during sex started as a joke. Harkening back to when, as he puts it, I was so painfully oblivious to his flirting. To which I responded, “That was flirting?”.

He said it again to me at work the next day. Being completely and utterly genuine. I don’t even remember what I did but I did it well and he is always the first to acknowledge that. So he was confused when I just huffed in annoyance and peeled out of the room without so much of a glance at him.

I wasn’t annoyed at him. I was annoyed that now all I could think about was him. His hands, his biceps, his tongue. Everything. And I still had six hours of my shift to go.

He followed me into the on-call room I was going to find some refuge in. He locked the door behind him - closed the curtain for good measure.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

And then I felt bad. He thought something was actually wrong. That no way I’d ever brush him off like that when he was just trying to compliment me unless something was seriously wrong.

His eyes bored into mine, genuine concern and love pouring out of them. And here I was just being a brat.

I tried to be sly about the way my eyes trailed the veins bulging out of his biceps. I tried to be sly about the way I was imagining my hands tugging on his salt and pepper curls that were just slightly askew from a couple hours work. Unfortunately for me, Jack can read me like a book.

“Did you just stomp out of the ED because you’re needy?” Jack couldn’t contain the grin that spread across his face at the realization.

“Well maybe if you weren’t always going Mr Christian Gray on me with the praise-“

“I don’t even know who that is but all I said was ‘Solid work’-“

Jack stops himself as he remembers the past couple nights. When he was saying the same thing in a much different context.

I can’t say I’m entirely innocent. Or innocent at all really. I love throwing in a ‘sir’ every now and again at work to tease Jack. So he does the same to me with other phrases - constantly.

And he said the same thing in that on-call room that he is saying to me right now, “But what I do know is how fucking wet you are for me. So stop pouting and let me taste you, yeah?”

He swipes a finger through my soaked folds before he’s the one sinking down to his knees as I try to keep mine from buckling.

・❥・

“Solid work, Dr Abbot.”

I smile down at my sparkling new engagement ring and then up at the love of my life.

“Seriously? You can tease but I can’t?”

“What’s that saying again? Happy wife, happy life?”

Neither of us can wipe the huge grins off of our faces. No one knows we’re engaged yet. Just how we wanted it.

A couple of months ago, right after I had taken an attending job at The Pitt, Jack had broached the topic of marriage. We’d talked about it before. We both knew we were spending the rest of our lives together. But we hadn’t actually talked about the timeline of it all - the logistics.

Jack was always extremely hyper aware about how our relationship affected me. He didn’t want it to interfere with my career or all of my hard work. So as much as he would’ve walked down the aisle six months ago, he wanted everything to be on my terms.

“Hypothetically - if I were to propose, say within the next month - would you say yes?”

“Hypothetically - if I ever say no to a marriage proposal from you - please get me a psychiatry consult.”

Jack laughed - in an airy way where you could tell he was relieved. I kissed him. There was no universe in which I ever said no to a proposal from him.

He pestered me with questions. He wanted direction but not so much so that I wouldn’t be surprised when the time came.

I told him I didn’t want anything fancy. No big party although I did want to have a small gathering with our friends and family at some point afterwards. A nice sized diamond but not gaudy. No grand gestures - just him being him is all that I wanted.

And he executed perfectly. Because when does he not. It was our first night in the new home we had bought. He said we could get a hotel while we waited for our furniture to be delivered. But I wanted to do one night with no furniture, an air mattress, some candles, and a pizza delivery.

“Like camping.” I had said.

“You hate camping.”

I laughed because he was right but he obliged me anyways. He carried me over the threshold and I made a joke about how he’s got to be careful - being old and all.

Then he carried me right over to the air mattress, said something like “Can an old man do this?” and went on to coax four orgasms from me - one from his fingers, one from his tongue, one from his thigh, and finally one from where I wanted him most.

When we were done, I threw on one of his old tshirts and a pair of boxers. He just had on an old pair of sweats and a white tee. We stared into each others eyes like two lovesick teenagers until he said “Come here - I gotta show you something.”

“Babe, the house is empty.”

“Get over here smart ass.”

Jack picked up a candle and lead us over to the fireplace. He set the candle on the mantle as I read what was now engraved into the stone ‘The Abbots - Est 2025’

“So this is why you were getting all of those random tools from Amazon.”

Ever the handy man he is. Then he was on his knee. His bad one. To which I told him he didn’t have to do that. And then he said he would even if it killed him. And I think I said something stupid like “Not on my watch.”

I don’t even remember what he said after that. He doesn’t either. We both blacked out from sheer happiness. All I really remember is him asking me to do him the honor of being his wife and me pulling him up off of his knee and saying ‘Duh!’ as fast I could before kissing him. Over and over and over again until that air mattress was just a deflated extension of the wood floor beneath it.

・❥・

Dana’s hand rests on my thigh gently. My leg stops shaking. My mind doesn’t stop racing though.

I'm not an anxious person. If anything, I can be relaxed to a fault. But I am an intuitive person - and something is wrong.

Where is he?

“Relax. When is that man ever late?”

“That’s why I’m worried.”

You would think I didn't have my own license or car the way Jack insists on driving me everywhere. He tells me it is to keep our insurance from being sky high. I may or may not be a bit accident prone when behind the wheel. I tell him it's because he's obsessed with me. He always huffs a laugh and murmurs something about two things being true at once.

The Pitt makes sense. Ever since Jack started taking on more day shifts to balance out our conflicting schedules, a lot of times we are arriving and leaving here together. But on the off chance we are not, he is still picking me up. Always with some kind of treat in hand - usually a McDonalds Diet Coke much to Jack's dismay.

Jack takes the saying 'If you're not early - you're late' far more seriously than anyone I have ever met. The day shift typically gets off at 7 PM which means he is usually here to gossip with Robby on the roof by 6:35 PM.

“Go - take a case! He’ll be here to pick you up before you know it.”

My dissents are quickly met with Dana shooing me from the nurses station and personally squaring my shoulders to the board.

I haven’t even read the first name when Robby appears at my shoulder.

“Where is your fiancé?”

“Say that any louder and you’re going to be my next patient.”

“Yeah because you two are so inconspicuous with the whispering and the giggling and the big honking rock on your finger and the-“

“-disappearing to 'clean' the on-call room.” Dana finishes Robby’s sentence as they both double over in laughter.

Dana, Robby, and Collins are the only people in the ED that know about Jack and I’s relationship.

Collins knew I had feelings for Jack before I even let myself go there. Robby knew Jack had feelings for me before he let himself go there. So they took matters into their own hands.

Collins had a $100 on Jack breaking first. Robby $100 on me. And he had an extra $100 to spare when he bribed Dr Ellis to ask me to take her night shift for a week. Oh, how that backfired on him.

Three shifts later and Robby was $200 in the hole.

Six months later, I was moved out of my city apartment and into Jack's house.

Dana offered to drive me home after shift one night. Because it was cold and rainy and my apartment was close by. My apartment that I no longer lived in.

Jack wasn’t picking me up - he was out of town at a conference. I insisted on taking an uber, the bus, walking - anything that meant not explaining to Dana why my new address was the same as Dr Abbot's. She wouldn't take no for an answer and yelled "Oh, I knew it! Bridget owes me $100!" when I finally fessed up.

One year later, almost to the day that Robby had to pony up on his bet with Collins, I had an engagement ring on my finger.

Tonight, after he picks me up, Jack and I are going to pilates together.

It was only a matter of time before Robby and Collins gave it another go and I bet Jack that Robby would fold before Collins.

What's the point in betting money when we share a bank account? Seeing Jack in the pink pilates grippy socks he does not know I got him will be priceless.

“Well, when you find him please tell him that he is late for our date on the roof."

"Stop dragging him up there - you already have a date tonight!"

"Yeah, one in which I need his advice on."

"Oh please, you're talking to the wrong Abbot if you need advice on how to woo Collins." Dana interjects. Not everyone in the ED knows about Jack and I but they do know Heather and I are best friends.

"Oh, I wasn't aware you two had tied the knot already. Do you want me to change your name on the board? I can do that right now actually. Does HR know? It'll just take a moment-" Robby teases.

I grab the remote out of Robby's hands as he laughs, "Okay fine - go have your little roof date but do not take long!"

"Well, we'd already be done if he wasn't late. Where is he by the way? He is never late for anything.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

I step forward, my elbows on the counter of the nurses station and my head now in my hands as I groan.

“Relax. It’s Jack - we couldn’t keep him away from this place even if we wanted to. Especially with you in here.” Robby squeezes my shoulder and is off to what I assume to be the roof.

I check my watch before I stand back up to scan the board for real this time - 6:50 PM.

Where is he?

I pull my phone from my pocket. There’s no new message from Jack lighting up my home screen but I open up our conversation anyways.

From Jack: I miss you

From Jack: I can’t believe Langdon is getting to hang out with you right now and not me

From Jack: If you stay at that damn hospital any longer we’re gonna have to start forwarding all these packages you order there

Little does he know one of those many packages holds his new pilates socks.

To Jack: Oh please - as if more than half aren’t all your little go bag gadgets

To Jack: And to think our colleagues think I’m the drama queen

“Incoming - Trauma 1!”

I’m happy for the distraction. I’m gowned, gloved, and ready to go before the patient is even rolled in.

The doors to Trauma 1 fly open - but not with a patient. Just Dana.

“I’m going to get Robby! You should not have to do this.” Dana is staring pointedly at me before she’s off. I don’t even get a chance to respond.

Weird. I know I’ve only been an attending for a couple months but Dana had more confidence in me on my first day as an intern than she did just now.

I now understand why as the patient is rolled in front of me.

There he is.

Unconscious. Cold. Clammy. And slightly bloody from a small cut on his forehead.

My world stops.

“Heart attack.” Langdon is here.

Somehow all I can think of is Jack’s text from earlier. I want to laugh but I can’t. What if I never get one again? I’m supposed to see him in pink pilates socks tonight. Not in a body bag.

“CLEAR!”

Suddenly all the pieces from the past couple days are coming together and I cannot believe I didn’t catch it sooner. Can’t believe he didn’t catch it sooner!

“CLEAR!”

His dizziness. The increase in massages of his amputated leg. The quick heart beat. The rash.

I hear the commotion around me. But I’m not processing any of it until it’s directed at me.

“I said CLEAR! Move!”

This cant be happening. So I decide that it’s not going to.

“No!” My voice comes out way more feeble than I meant. Way more feeble than anyone in this ED has ever heard me.

“Well I hope you enjoyed being Abbot’s favorite because you’re going to kill him and your career in one go.”

“Langdon - he is not having a heart attack.”

“Yes he is!”

“No he isn’t - take off his leg!”

“Take off his leg?! Okay, you’re literally going insane. And I’m supposed to report to you?! I know I went to rehab but oh my gosh - CLEAR!”

“I’m going to clear you out of this trauma bay if you do not get out of my way.”

You know how they say a new mom could lift a car off of her new born baby? I’m pretty sure that’s the phenomenon I am experiencing right now. I don’t exactly know what other worldly force is taking over me right now but I do not question it. I am watching myself from outside of my body as I spring into action.

I shove Langdon to the side as I lift up Jack’s pant leg to remove his prosthetic. The prosthetic that noone else in this room would’ve known he had.

He doesn’t keep it a secret but he doesn’t exactly advertise it either. Especially when he refuses to sit down on a double shift. Ironically enough, that’s probably why he is on this table.

I spot what I’m looking for immediately but Langdon is the one who speaks it out loud, “Pressure ulcer - he’s in septic shock.”

“Thanks for finally using your brain Dr Langdon but we’re going to be using mine from here on out.”

“Blood ox is 91.” Someone yells. I don’t know who. What I do know is that 91 is dangerously low.

“Scalpel.” I demand.

“What are you going to do?”

“We need to drain this fluid before his organs start to fail.”

The first and only time Jack taught me this procedure it was his save. Now it has to be mine.

I tell myself that one day we will be sitting in front of our engraved fireplace. Old. Like, actually old. Not the fake old that Jack tries to pretend he is. With kids and grandkids - telling them the story of how Jack saved his own life through the transitive property. So I better get to work.

“Scalpel. Now.”

Langdon slams the scalpel into my hand. I ignore the looks around the room. The looks that say ‘The only person qualified to perform something like this in an ED is the patient’.

“Your funeral. And his.” I ignore Langdon.

I must have cut the most perfect incisions of my life. Performed the most flawless procedure anyone has ever seen from me. I don’t remember any of it.

The loud beeping slows. His blood pressure rises. Then his blood oxygen. Then the bag I drained is full and being disposed of by Dana.

When did she get here?

Robby’s hand is on my shoulder, trying to pull me away.

When did he get here?

I hear him tell Whitaker to get a suture and close up the wound. Oh, the irony. Credit where credit is due - Whitaker has gotten much quicker under Jack’s patient teaching. Thank fucking goodness.

I think of the first real laugh I got out of Jack. My eyes start to tear up but I stop myself. I will hear that laugh again. Over and over and over again. So much so that I would get sick of it if that was even possible.

Robby is apologizing profusely into my ear. He has nothing to be sorry for. But I can’t manage any words. So I just let him move me out of Whittaker’s way but I do not leave Jack’s side.

I can’t seem to register anything beyond Jack’s face that I’m seemingly trying to force into consciousness with my stare alone.

“Where the hell did you learn that?”

My head turns to Whitaker at his question but it swivels so fast back to Jack I think I give myself whiplash. Because I don’t speak - he does.

“Solid work, doctor.”

I’ve never been happier to hear those words come out of his mouth.

“Oh my god.” My hand clamps over my mouth as my head dips to Jack’s chest, my arms wrapping around his shoulders.

My adrenaline tank plummets to zero and I am absolutely sobbing into Jack’s chest. Whatever was coursing through my veins during that procedure is coming out in what feels like gallons of tears and hiccups.

I don’t care who’s in the room. I don’t care that everyone is slack jawed and staring and so beyond confused. I don’t care that out of the corner of my eye I see Perlah slapping a $100 into Princess’s palm.

All I care is that Jack’s hand has found its way into my hair and when I place my shaking hand on top of it to make sure it’s real - it is. Even better - it’s warm and dexterous and alive.

He’s alive and he’s here.

He gently guides my head out of his chest. I lift my chin up to look at him - give him the eye contact I know he is seeking. That we both are.

“Baby - I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m safe, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice is as steady as ever. His heart beat matching it. The beat that was so faint what seems like moments ago.

I let it calm me down. I place a kiss to his chest and lean up to do the same to his forehead. My hand tangles in his salt and pepper curls as I hold his sweaty forehead to my lips and then bring my own forehead down to meet his. I close me eyes and breath him in.

He’s alive and he’s here.

“Welcome back, brother.” Robby manages to choke out through a couple tears of his own.

“Just wanted to make sure you guys weren’t getting lazy at the end of your shift.”

We all crack a smile but only Robby speaks, “Does this mean I have to work a double?”

“Not if you go park my car. It’s in the ambulance bay.”

I speak a full sentence for what feels like the first time in days, “You drove here?”

“We had a date. Plus, I wasn’t feeling quite right.” Jack nods down towards his amputated leg like it’s nothing but a minor inconvenience.

I dig into his pocket and toss Robby his keys. Robby calls for a CT and a room with a bed before ushering himself and everyone else out to give us some privacy.

“And how are you feeling now?”

“I’m feeling like I’d like to make the woman who just saved my life my wife.”

My hand immediately flies to the small cut on his forehead. The blood dry and crusty, “How hard did you hit your head? We’re already engaged.”

Jack chuckles, places his hand on mine and squeezes, “I barely hit my head when I fell out of the car. I’m fine - I just really don't want to live another moment without being able to call myself your husband.”

So we don’t. Not really anyways. I make Jack get every fucking scan in the book that I think we hit our insurance deductible in under an hour. He humors me by lying in the bed in one of the ER rooms as I pump a myriad of fluid and antibiotics into him.

After a few hours his blood oxygen is perfect. So is his blood pressure and his heart rate. I don’t think I’ve taken my eyes off of him once. Or my hands. Running my hands through his hair, caressing his forehead, squeezing his forearm. Just to reassure myself he is here.

He understands what I’m doing. Hears what I cannot say. He grabs my hand on its next pass through his hair and presses a kiss to every single knuckle before speaking, “Baby, I’m sorry I scared you. I scared myself honestly. But I promise, I am not going anywhere. Ever. And I am so sorry you had to go through that. You should have never had to operate on me. I don’t know how you did that. I mean if it was flipped. If I saw you come in like that-“

His voice falters, his bottom lip quivers and he pulls me into the tightest hug as we both begin to cry. I think if we could crawl into eachothers skin, we would.

We stay there like that for a while. Until Jack grabs my face, kisses every single part of it, then whispers “I love you so much but I think if you pump anymore fluid into me you’re going to water board me.”

As if on cue, Robby whips the curtain open, “To the roof we go!”

“You can’t be serious.”

Robby holds up some kind of certificate as Collins and Dana round the corner.

In the hours I spent nursing Jack back to health, I went to the bathroom one time. And only because I hadn’t gone the last four hours of my shift and I own a huge water bottle.

In that one bathroom break, Jack had managed to get Robby ordained online and enlisted Dana and Collins to ‘decorate’ the roof.

We’re still gonna have our wedding ceremony and the reception and the whole ordeal. But I agree with him - I can’t go another second not married to him. Not after today.

So we go up to the roof. Jack still in his hospital gown and me in my scrubs. Robby officiates, Dana sings because she can’t help herself, and Collins ‘witnesses’ which really means crying.

Jack is kissing me before Robby can even say, “You may kiss your bride.”

When we come up for air, Robby claps both of us on the back and says, “Solid work, you two.”

I just kiss my husband again. Because he is alive and he is here

#jack abbot #dr abbott #dr abbot x reader #dr abbot x you #jack abbott #the pitt #dr abbot smut #dr abbot fluff #dr jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot fanfic #dr jack abbott #dr jack abbot x you #the pitt hbo #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #jack abbot x female reader #jack abbott x reader #jack abbott x you #jack abbott x female reader

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clockwayswrites · 27 days ago

Text

The Haunting of Danny Fenton Chapter 7, Part 2

masterpost I am not a doctor lol

“And look up,” the doctor instructed before pulling away the pen light.

Danny blinked back the after images that it left. The eye exam certainly didn’t help, but the overwhelming feeling of seeing was better. Everything was still on the blurry side—too soft, too bright, too white—but it didn’t make Danny want to hide from the world anymore.

“Well, the good news is, your eyes are dilating and have no issue with movement. They’re just far too dilated. We’ll need to get you to an ophthalmologist to be sure, but I suspect that your vision will return to normal as the side effects of the event fade.”

“‘kay,” Danny rasped. He took a grateful sip from the cup Wally passed him before he tried to continue, “Same on the hearing, or…?”

Danny didn’t much like the way the doctor frowned.

“It could be,” the doctor said. It was clear the effort she was putting in to speak loudly and articulately enough, “but hearing doesn’t bounce back the way eyes can. I think it would be good to at least be braced for bad news. The good news, even if it’s bad news, is that you seem to still have some hearing in both ears, so you should be a good candidate for hearing aids.”

Danny rubbed at his face with a shaky hand. “Right. Thank you. What do we think about the hand tremors?”

“Another wait and see. But we’ll start you on some physical and occupational therapy. You and the Flash can be be PT buddies,” the doctor said with a little smile. She really was doing her best. “I also want everyone to watch for signs of seizures, especially more minor ones. Like a lot of the cases here, you’re a one off, but that doesn’t mean that we won’t do everything that we can to take care of you.”

“Thanks, really,” Danny said. “I think I’m just here for right now, so whatever works for those appointments? You can let Nightwing know when they are if I’ve crashed again or not remembering or something.”

“The memory issues should go away as you stay awake and get oriented, but I’ll make sure that Nightwing knows of all appointments also. I know it’s easy to lose track of time when you’re healing.” The doctor stood and rolled her gloves off. “Make sure to eat and hydrate while you’re awake, but rest when you need and keep the oxygen in when you’re resting. Flash—stay put and keep that IV in.”

“Yes ma’am!” Wally chirped as Dick showed her out.

Wally hooked his chin over Danny’s shoulder and pulled him back against his chest. Danny let himself slump back into the hold with a sigh. He found the straw to sip at just so that he didn’t have to say anything right away.

“Alright!” Dick said with a clap of his hands. “Food! As long as Wally drinks his smoothies and stays on that IV, we’re not on a restrictive diet, so Danny, what are you thinking?”

“Trash,” Danny decided. “Nuggets and fries and like a shake or something. Just salty trash.”

“Deal! Shake flavor and dipping sauce?”

“Strawberry I guess and like, honey mustard? Honey something. Surprise me.”

“Can do,” Dick said complete with a little salute. “I’m going to to let the others know you’re awake awake and get their food order too, okay? But I’ll keep the horde away for now.”

“Thanks,” Danny said with a grateful smile. He liked the all the Titans, but he really just couldn’t right then, not with his senses all off. Two was just enough. After Dick left, Danny leaned a little more firmly against Wally. “Nice to be able to finally touch you.”

Wally said something then cleared his throat and said more clearly, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Even though… just… some of those things might be permanent,” Wally said, voice almost dipping too long a few times.

“Yeah,” Danny sighed. “I really hope the vision isn’t. I’d like the tremors not to be too, you know? And the seizures would suck if they’re as bad, but I bet there’d be medication for that at least.”

When Wally sighed, it was with his whole body. “You’re so calm about it. I—Danny, you got hurt bringing me back, maybe for good. That… doesn’t that make you mad?”

Danny played with Wally’s fingers as he thought about how to answer that. “You’ve had to have been hurt as Flash.”

“I heal fast,” Wally pouted.

“Okay, lucky guy,” Danny said with a little snort. “But you have or Dick has. You know it’s part of being a hero.”

“You’re a civi right now. You’re a civi and I’m not. I know that even heroes can need rescuing, but you shouldn’t have been hurt because I fucked up!”

Ah, that was it.

Danny brought up Wally’s fingers and kissed them lightly. “Everyone fucks up. And part of me will always be that stupid teen who was a hero. I’ll deal with what this got me just like I deal with the aches and pains I already have. I don’t blame you.”

“You should.”

“I don’t,” Danny insisted. “And you have to respect me enough to know that I went into this willingly and with open eyes. If you can’t do that, then our date when we’re free from here needs to be a friendly dinner instead. I’m not going to be with someone who doesn’t respect my right to decide.”

Wally left out a huff of air like he was deflating. “Sorry. I didn’t mean too… just… hero guilt.”

“I get it, really I do,” Danny said. “But shove it aside, okay? Because both of us are here and alive and I think that’s a damn good outcome when dealing with unknowable forces of the space time continuum.”

“Nerd,” Wally teased.

“Oh like you aren’t.”

“No, I totally am,” Wally said, “but now I have someone to curl up and watch Star Trek with. I love Dick, but he’s an absolute pop culture heathen. He swings between cartoons and reality tv.”

Danny held back a laugh and nodded wisely instead. “Well, we’ll put on ‘The Voyage Home’, and he can fall asleep to the dulcet whale songs.”

“Perfect, as soon as you can hear better,” Wally promised with a soft kiss to Danny’s temple.

#dp x dc #thodf #danny/dick/wally

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dixons-sunshine · 4 months ago

Text

(GIF isn’t mine.)

Summary: After getting attacked by a Saviour that hurt you, Daryl was visibly shaken up, enraged by what happened. You needed to talk him down and try and help him relax, not realizing that your injuries were worse than you thought.

Genre: Angst.

Era: Saviour war.

Warnings: Blood, bruises, injuries, typical TWD warnings.

Word count: 890.

A/N: I don’t really know what this is, but I felt bad for the lack of writing and need to post something, so here’s this lol. It’s not my best work at all, but hope you all like this nonetheless!

Daryl was visibly shaken up, his appearance one of disarray. His hair was a mess, mud and splatters of blood coating the brown strands. His clothes were dirty and torn, and his face had blood dripping from it, both his own and from the now-dead prick that lay in front of him, the perp’s face unrecognizable from the sheer force of Daryl’s punches. Daryl’s knuckles were split open and clearly needed medical attention, although that was the least of his concern.

His mind was racing at the speed of light, his eyes resting solely on the corpse at his feet. Daryl was furious, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, his breaths deep and heavy. He was barely aware of his surroundings, too caught up in his own rage-driven thoughts.

“Daryl?”

The soft, quiet sound of your voice reached the huntsman’s ears. However, he did not react to it. It sounded like you were far away, like he was submerged in water and your voice was muffled to him. He knew he had to snap out of it. He knew the two of you needed to get out of there. Other Saviours could show up at any given moment and then this would all have been for nothing. However, it was like he was paralyzed, unable to move, speak, or do anything.

Slowly and carefully, your frame appeared in front of him, your own appearance similar to his, and that made Daryl’s jaw clench. If the guy wasn’t already dead, Daryl would murder him again. He hurt you. He put his hands on you. That bastard deserved to burn in the fiery depths of hell for all eternity.

“Daryl,” you called to him softly, hoping to calm him down enough to make him realize that you both needed to get the hell out of there.

You raised your hand slowly, it being shaky and trembling, and gently cupped his cheek. The archer flinched a little but didn’t pull away, finally snapping out of the daze he was in. His cerulean eyes flickered over your face, taking in the cuts and bruises that were forming, his heart aching for the state you were in. The state his actions got you in. He felt absolutely terrible.

As if reading his mind, your gaze softened and you subtly shook your head. “Don’t.” When you saw the frown tug at Daryl’s eyebrows, you continued, “Don’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault.”

Daryl inhaled a shaky breath, not sure if he wanted to start crying or punch a wall. He was enraged at the whole situation. He was mad at himself for letting you get hurt. He was mad at the Saviour for daring to lay a finger on you. He was mad at everything. Everything except you.

“I’m okay, Dar. I promise.”

Daryl shook his head. “Y’ain’t. You’re hurt.”

You knew there was no use in trying to deny it. You were hurt. You ached all over, and you felt really dizzy. However, you couldn’t let that slow you down.

“I am,” you admitted, “but I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” When Daryl went to protest, you cut him off. “I promise I’ll be okay, Dar.”

Daryl wanted to protest. However, low groans filled the air, and he saw the guy he had killed start to twitch. He had changed. Some part of Daryl wanted to leave the bastard like that. To let him walk like that for his whole miserable undead existence. However, he didn’t. Daryl forced himself to get it together and stepped away from your touch to get the walker in the brain, effectively killing the Saviour for the second time.

When he turned back to you, you were already adjusting your bag on your shoulders, grimacing at the pain that shot through your body at the added weight and stumbling a little bit. However, you chose to ignore it, knowing that there were more pressing concerns at hand.

“Let’s go,” you said quietly.

Daryl exhaled and strode over to you, holding his trusted crossbow up in front of him as you both began making your way out of the room. He snuck glances at you every few seconds, trying not to let the guilt of letting you get hurt consume him. There would be time to process and deal with everything later when you were back at Alexandria, safe and taken care of.

Daryl opened his mouth to say something, but before a sound could even leave him, you suddenly collapsed in front of him, no warning whatsoever. His heart stopped, before he rushed over to you, dropping his crossbow in the process. He dropped to his knees next to you, taking your face in his hands.

“Y/N?!” he exclaimed, scanning you to see what made you collapse. “Y/N!”

You weren’t fully unconscious, but Daryl knew you would be soon. Gingerly tilting your head to the side, he tried to see what caused this, his heart hammering against his ribcage when he saw blood pooling from a wound on the back of your head, one neither of you had noticed. As you slipped from consciousness, Daryl had only one thing on his mind:

He needed to get you back to Alexandria, and soon. And any Saviour that dared get in his way would suffer.

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popcornpoppypop · 1 month ago

Text

Blood is Blood

Summary: You're one of the best attendings in The Pitt, Robby and Abbot trained you up themselves. When you find yourself in a tough spot and need someone to drive you home from an abortion, it had to be Robby.

Warnings: Abortion, vomit, blood, bad boyfriens

A/N: I have not had an abortion, I have had friends who had them and taken care of them after. That is mostly the information I used for this and some stories on reddit, I wanted to rely on patient experience rather than medical procedure and policy for this one.

You had only been an attending for a total of six months, and in that time, you had to help lead the hospital through a mass shooting, the idiot who let off fireworks in the trauma bay, listeria outbreaks 1 through 3, and train the new interns and med students. It had been a lot.

You had leaned on your fellow attendings, trying to learn how to be a leader and the one everyone turned to for everything. Dr. Abbot helped teach you that some people need to be pushed even if they look like they might crumble. Dr. Robby taught you how to make sure everyone was looked after. They both showed you how to carry the weight of every patient and staff member on your shoulders. You figured they would get as tense and tired as theirs were one day.

Robby and you had struck up a friendship and mentorship. It sometimes veered into something else, something neither of you had the confidence to name. Nothing more than flirty jokes and glances across the trauma bay. Besides, you had a boyfriend. Or a sort of boyfriend. You fucked a guy.

“Hey, you look like shit.” Robby smirked as you walked up to the hub desk. Your face pale, shoulders hunched, clearly dehydrated.

“Yeah. Not a great morning.” You sighed.

“You need to go home?” He asked, suddenly concerned.

“Haha. That’s so funny. I’ll be fine. Write me a prescription for Zofran and I’ll be fine.” You groaned as you sat down to start working on your morning paperwork.

“If you need Zofran, you need to go home. Maybe you got that flu that was going around, can’t have you getting patients sick.” Robby shook his head.

“It’s not the flu. I’m fine. Can you just leave it? I’m not in the mood.” You bit back. Robby’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. You were never angry, not really and never with him or the staff. Hell, a med student vomited on your shoes and you still fussed over making sure they were okay.

“Alright. Don’t push yourself too hard.” He pointed and walked away.

You were grateful he hadn’t pushed it any further. You really didn’t know how to deal with your situation and Robby fussing wouldn’t make it better.

You managed your way through most of the shift, having to stop and sit a couple of times. Something Robby was keenly aware of. You were about to head into another room when your phone rang. Robby watched you take it, something that was also very abnormal for you. You had a strict policy with yourself about phone usage.

“What!? No. That’s not going to be possible.” You snapped. Robby watched as you got frantic with whoever was on the phone.

“F-fine. I’ll figure something out I guess. Yeah, keep the appointment.” You hung up the phone and shoved it back in your pocket as you stomped off to the next room.

“Hey, Dana, what’s going on with her?” Robby leaned over the counter. Dana looked up at him, glasses perched on the end of her nose, then to you and back to him with a confused look.

“How the hell should I know? You two are besties, surely if she wanted anyone here to know, you’d be the first.” She shrugged.

“She’s off today.” Robby wrung his hands together.

“She’s doing fine. You’re just nosey.” Dana laughed. Robby waved her off as he watched you scurry from room to room.

You were grateful when you saw Dr. Shen walk in. You were ready for the day to be over, you were ready before you got out of bed that morning.

“John, I am so glad to see you.” You sighed as you walked up to him.

“It’s nice to be needed.” He smiled as he sipped his coffee. You rolled your eyes as you began to rattle off your cases to him.

“You’re lucky you get Y/N as your number two. Shen still hasn’t found his drive yet. Not sure what I’m going to have to do for that kid to get motivated.” Abbot shook his head.

“Has she seemed off to you lately?” Robby asked as he watched you and Dr. Shen talk.

“No. But we only work together once a week. Why? Something up? You think she’s breaking” Jack leaned in with a concerned look.

“I don’t know. Dana thinks I’m being nosey. I don’t know. I’ll keep an eye on it.” Robby shrugged as he hiked his backpack on his shoulder. He ran to catch up with you as you left.

“Hey, you sure you’re okay? You seemed upset today.” Robby dug through his backpack.

“Just…don’t feel well.” You said, you could feel the emotion catching in your throat. Your body knew when the day was over and would start to make the wall of professionalism crumble.

“You need anything?” He asked as he handed you a protein bar. You often forgot to eat until you got home. He’d caught you when you passed out from low blood sugar once. He tried to shove protein bars at you every couple of hours.

You took it and flipped it around in your hands. You’re mind was racing, too much happening. You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

“I…”

“Hey, you two coming to the park? I got those seltzer things you like Y/N.” Donnie smiled.

“I can’t.” You blurted out in a way that made the two men look at you confused. “I’m not feeling well.” You cleared your throat. Donnie nodded and walked off.

“You need me to walk you home? Where’s that boy you’re with anyway? He usually drives you home.” Robby looked around the street.

“We…broke up.” Your voice cracking.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Robby suddenly felt like an ass. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.” He said, guiding you by the shoulder.

You walked in silence for a while. Robby keeping on eye on you, watching as a thousand thoughts flashed across your face. He wanted to stop and ask what the hell was going through your head but didn’t want to impose. He walked you to the front door of your apartment and was going to start his goodbyes when you grabbed his hand and pulled him into the apartment.

“Whoa, what the hell Y/N?” Robby stumbled into the apartment, nearly face-planting with the force you pulled him.

“Sorry! I just, I need something and I couldn’t ask while people were around and it’s already going to be hard for me to ask and I just feel myself losing the nerve.” Your words falling out of your mouth in a rush of anxiety and desperation.

“Hey, it’s okay. Take a breath. What’s going on?” Robby put his hands on your shoulders.

“I need to ask you a favor.” You bit at your bottom lip, tasting the copper as it started to bleed. You lead Robby into the living room, gesturing for him to sit. He obliged, though his confusion hadn’t lightened.

“Are you in trouble?” Robby ran his hands up and down his legs as his anxiety started to rise.

“No. Well, yes.” You sighed. “Okay, I need you to let me just get all of the information out and then you can ask questions.” You looked at him with big, scared eyes.

“Okay, I’ll be quiet.” He agreed, his brows furrowed still.

“I found out three days ago that I’m pregnant. I didn’t notice any symptoms for so long, most of the ones I did kind of notice I chalked up to stress. When I finally went into my GP to try and get something for my acid reflux, she told me that I was pregnant. Went to the OB, she confirmed it. Problem is, I’m 12 weeks, or I guess closer to 13 now. Anyway, I don’t want to be pregnant and I sure as hell don’t have the time for a damn baby. I got set up for an abortion appointment next Wednesday. Oh! I told Darren, the guy I was seeing. He took off, screamed in my face how it was my fault and left. Prick. Anyway, I got a call today that because it’s further along they’ll have to do a surgical abortion and I’ll be sedated and because of that I have to have someone to take me home or they won’t do it. So, I need someone to pick me up and I love Samira but she’s so young and she still lets secrets slip sometimes and you’re off on Wednesday too and I trust you to keep this to yourself.” You took a breath, feeling like you just did sprints.

Robby sat there trying to decipher the information he had just received.

“Darren screamed in your face? You’re pregnant and he screamed in your face?” Robby felt himself starting to get angry, who the hell does that?

“I think you missed the important part.” You crossed your arms.

“No, I got that important part. I’m taking you to get an abortion on Wednesday. He screamed in your face? Where does he live exactly?” Robby asked as he got his phone out of his pocket.

“He’s an idiot, not important. I’m not giving you that information anyway.” You rolled your eyes.

“I bet Abbot could figure it out. He’d have some shit to mess him up too.” Robby said mostly to himself.

“Jesus, Robby!” You snapped.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. You’re right. Not important. Are you okay? I mean, that’s a lot to deal with.” Robby looked up at you with those soft, brown eyes that could melt snow.

“Y-yeah. It’s not great, but I’m fine.” You shrugged.

“You’ll tell me if you’re not.” He said it as an order more than anything.

“I will. Sorry, I freaked you out.” You tore your eyes from his in an attempt to keep from getting too worked up.

“Okay. What time?”

“Huh?”

“What time do I pick you up?” He tilted his head.

“Oh right. Duh! The procedure lasts about forty five minutes, appointment is at noon so around 12:45pm.” You nodded.

“So, 11:30am. Got it. I’ll be out front at 11:30am.” He nodded

“You don’t have to drive me. I was going to uber there.”

“Honey, Please. Like I’m letting you do that.” He shook his head, a smile spread across his face.

“Uh…” You’re mind going blank.

“I’ll see you Wednesday.” He nodded as he left.

You tried to go about the rest of the week as normal. Unsure how to feel about any of it. It was too much to think about, you put it in a box to deal with later.

You let out a groan as you forced yourself awake, Wednesday morning. You kept to your normal routine, showering, brushing your teeth, putting your hair up. The doorbell went off at 11am. Of course he would be early.

“You’re early.” You raise an eyebrow at Robby who was leaning on the doorway with two coffees.

“Wanted to make sure you had enough time to talk if you wanted.” He said, handing you a latte.

“I’m not supposed to have this.” You scolded.

“Oh we both know that it’s fine. You haven’t eaten anything right?” He asked, taking his sunglasses off.

“No, but they said no coffee.” You said sipping the latte.

“You’ll be fine. Enjoy the caffeine.” He had an Ikea bag slung over his shoulder as he barged into your apartment.

“What are you doing?” You looked at him, confused.

“Where are you going to want to rest up? Bed or couch?” he asked, looking like a man on a mission.

“Um, I was planning on staying on the couch mostly. Why?” You followed him into the living room. “I wanted to get it setup now so we aren’t worrying about it later.” He said as he started pulling things out of the bag.

“What the hell is all that?”

“Right, I did some googling,”

“Dangerous.”

“I found some Reddit posts where women talked about what they needed or wanted when they were recovering. I got you a new heating pad, a new blanket, and one of those neck massagers because it looked cool. I got some snacks, too. I got a big ass water bottle, too, that you will finish today, no arguments.” He said as he started positioning everything within arm's reach.

“Robby, you didn’t need to do all that.” You said, your throat tight with emotion.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to. So, I’m only going to ask once and then we can move on. Are you sure?” He said, suddenly getting serious.

“Thank you. Yes, I’m sure. I can’t…I can’t have a baby right now.” You looked away, the tears stinging as they formed.

“Okay. That’s okay.” He smiled. “Let’s get this done with then.” He nodded as he grabbed your sweatshirt hanging by the door and tossed it to you.

The waiting room for the OB was always so odd. Some people were there to get great news. Some for check ups, just another Wednesday. Some people were there with bad news. No one every really knew how to act. You sat in the uncomfortable chair, your knee bouncing with nerves.

“You okay?” Robby asked.

“Just nervous.” You cleared your throat.

“I forgot to ask, do you want me in there?” He shifted to face you.

“That’s asking too much.” You shook your head.

“It’s really not. If you want privacy that’s okay. But I’m more than happy to sit with you.” Robby smiled. You looked up at him, your hands were shaking and he could see how nervous you were.

“Okay. Yeah. Please.” You stuttered.

“Y/N L/N?” The nurse called out. You jumped up and scurried toward her. She brought you into a procedure room and handed you a gown.

“Hubby, you can help her get dressed.” The nurse said.

“Oh no. I’m not, I’m just here for moral support.” Robby’s face flushed red.

“Could have fooled me.” She chuckled as she left.

“I’ll just turn around, while you do that.” Robby cleared his throat as he faced the wall. You laughed as you gowned up. This man has torn the clothes off of countless patients but the thought of seeing you nude made him blush.

“You can turn around.” You said as you got settled on the bed. Your hands sat on your lap; you nervously picked at the cuticle.

“You doing okay?” Robby sat in the stool beside the bed.

“Don’t laugh, but I really have a hard time with needles and get nervous with sedation.” You sighed.

“Seriously? You’re around needles all day. You sedate people all day.” He scoffed.

“I know, other people. Not me.” You fidgeted with the collar of your gown. Robby realized you were serious and moved to take your hand.

“It’s not full sedation, just enough to relax you. I’ll be here the whole time, so you know there won’t be any mistakes. Okay?” He moved his head so you’d make eye contact. You nodded, afraid if you opened your mouth you’d start crying.

“Good morning, Y/N. It’s good to see you again.” Dr. Smith smiled as she came in.

“Good morning.” You cleared your throat.

“Is this your partner?”

“Oh no, just the moral support.” Robby smiled.

“Okay, do you need me to go over anything, I assume you understand the procedure.” Dr. Smith asked as she sat down across from you.

“No, I’m just ready to get this over with.” You took a deep breath.

“Understandable. Nurse Garcia is going to come in and get an IV going and start the sedation. Once you’re comfortable we’ll get started.” She nodded as she left.

“last chance to make a break for it.” Robby smiled.

“I can’t wait for the drugs, Jesus my hands are sweaty.” You shook your shaking hands. Robby laughed, though he could see the grief forming in your eyes.

“Hello, I’m Nurse Garcia. I’m going to get you hooked up for sedation.” She smiled. She brought a tray over with the IV supplies on it. She started cleaning your arm and your breath started picking up.

“Hey, look at me. You’re okay. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You know that.” Robby held your hand in his, rubbing the soft skin in circles to distract you.

“Yeah, I know. I know that.” You nodded. His smile made the wrinkles around his eyes form and it made your stomach flip.

“Alright, sweetheart. You’re all set.” The nurse smiled. “I pushed the sedative, you should start to feel it in a few minutes.” She said as she lowered the lights and left the room.

“Not so bad.” Robby shrugged.

“She was good.” You nodded. “You were good.” You smiled.

“Not like I’ve been doing this for thirty years or anything.” He said.

“I should bring you to every blood draw.” You chuckled.

“I’d go if you needed.” He smiled. You couldn’t tell if it was real or the meds, but Robby was flirting. You wanted to flirt back, but this was your abortion and you were starting to feel high.

“Damn, that shit hit like train.” You mumbled as you swayed back and forth.

“Okay, Trainspotting. Lay back before you fall off.” He laughed as he helped you get comfortable.

“You’re so nice to me. I like it.” You smiled up at him sleepily.

“You’re easy to be nice to.” He said as he tucked the blanket around you.

“You aren’t this nice to the other attendings. You wouldn’t tuck Abbot in.” You laughed.

“I don’t think Jack would let me. He’d be an angry sedated patient.” You both chuckled.

“You have nice eyes. I always get all giddy when you smile and they look all gooey.” You mumbled.

“Oh yeah? Gooey?” Robby leaned on the guardrail.

“Yeah, like a sad puppy. It makes my tummy all butterfly-full of butterflies.” You said. Robby should tell you to stop. He should maybe excuse himself, have the nurse sit with you. But he wanted to say the same thing back.

“Alright Y/N. We’re going to get started.” Dr. Smith came in.

“Hooray. I can’t wait to have an empty uterus.” You cheered.

“Let’s get her legs in the stirrups.” Dr. Smith said as the nurse put your feet up.

“I can’t believe I let that stupid boy knock me up. Dumb boys.” You grumbled.

“We are dumb, sorry.” Robby nodded.

“No. You’re not a boy. You’re a man. Men are stupid too but not as much. You wouldn’t scream at me. I need a man.” You grumbled.

“I’d never scream at you.” Robby said as he watched the tears quietly fall down your temples.

“A little sting now. Just to help open the cervix.” Dr. Smith said. Robby took your hand in his. You hissed as the pain hit. “Good. Alright, you’re going to feel some pressure.” Dr. Smith noted as she started her machine.

“It can help to massage her belly.” The nurse nodded to Robby.

“Right. Yeah.” Robby cleared his throat as he put his wide hand on your lower belly and gave a gentle rub.

“Hmm…Warm.” You hummed.

“Almost over.” Dr. Smith said.

“You’re doing great.” Robby said.

“Hurts.” You groaned with knitted brows.

“I know, Hun. Do your best to relax.” The nurse gave your leg a pat.

“Deep breaths, Y/N.” Robby couched.

“Ah! That’s too much!” you hissed.

“I know, just squeeze my hand. You’re nearly there.” Robby brushed some stray hair from your face.

“Okay, sweetheart. You’re all done. Everything looks good. We’ll keep you here for thirty minutes to make sure there’s no reactions and you can go home.” Dr. Smith smiled as she helped the nurse put your legs back down.

“It’s done?” You whimpered.

“Yeah, it’s done.” Robby confirmed with a soft smile. You nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“I don’t want to cry.” You sighed.

“It’s normal. Nothing to be ashamed of.” Robby said, handing you a tissue.

“I wanted this.” Your bottom lip trembled.

“Doesn’t mean it was going to feel good. You’ll be okay.” He rubbed circles with his thumb on the back of your hand. Robby felt his heart breaking for you. He also couldn’t stop thinking about Darren. That boy would be in trouble if they crossed paths.

“I’m sorry, I asked you go through this.” You sighed, the sedation starting to wear off.

“I’m not. I would hate to know you’d gone through this alone.” He smiled. You looked up at him and you felt the need to ask him if he felt what you did. You were about to say something when the nurse came back in.

“Alright, you are good to go. Remember to take it easy today, the next week if you can. Drink lots of water and good meals. You’ll be bleeding on and off for a while. If you’re going through more than a pad an hour, go to the ER.” She said, handing you some paperwork.

“Okay. Thanks.” You said moving to sit up, Robby held your arms as your head wobbled a little.

“You want some help getting dressed?” Robby asked, keeping his patient care voice on.

“I…I might need it yeah.” You sighed as you fumbled with your underwear. Robby took them from your clumsy hands. He eased them up your legs, his fingers tracing up the skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He stopped at the top of your thighs, letting you take over.

“Hold onto my shoulders, step in.” He instructed as he got you into your sweatpants. You finished pulling them all the way on.

“Can you untie the gown?” You asked turning away from him. He hummed in agreement. He pulled the tie and grabbed the gown, tossing it in the laundry bin by the door. He grabbed your shirt and pulled it over your head, his eyes never leaving your back.

“Sit back down, I’ll put your shoes on.” He cleared his throat as he put the shoes on. You watched as he tied them tight, the muscles in his shoulders flexing with his movements.

“Thank you.” You hummed.

“Let’s get you home.” He said, holding out his hands for you. You took them and clumsily got to your feet. You wobbled a little, Robby steadying you with an arm around your waist.

The car ride was quiet, not suffocating but nearing comfortable. You let your head lean against the cool window. You were fighting the nausea, you didn’t know if it was from sedation or morning sickness. You were losing the battle.

“Robby. Robby pull over!” You gasped, suddenly bolt up right.

“Okay, Okay.” He moved the car off the road. You fumbled to unbuckle yourself, flinging the door open. Robby ran around to you, grabbing your hair as you retched into the gutter. “You’re okay. Easy.” He helped you sit back up.

“Ew.” You groaned.

“You alright?” He asked, looking you over like the trained medical professional he was.

“Yeah. I think it’s fine for now.” You nodded.

You had always had a low pain tolerance. You would break down if you scraped your knee. The pain radiating from your abdomen made you want to break down completely. The walk from the car to your apartment was arduous. You leaned most of your weight onto Robby. He offered to carry you, but you declined due to concerns for his back.

“Okay, let’s get you some Zofran.” He said as you got comfortable on the couch.

“I don’t have any.” You grumbled.

“Yes, you do.” He came back in with the pills. “Had them filled yesterday. Perks of working in an ER.” He smiled, handing it to you. You took them happily.

“Everyone said it wouldn’t be too bad. The liars.” You groaned as you wrapped the blanket around you.

“Different for everyone, you know that.” Robby sighed. “Drink your water. I’ll be back.” He nodded and left. You were going to question where he was going but decided you didn’t really care. Your head felt heavy and you didn’t care to fight it, letting yourself fall asleep.

“Honey, you need to eat something.” Robby’s rough voice lulling you awake. Your apartment suddenly filled with the smell of food.

“Hmm, what?” You grumbled, confused. Robby was standing next to you with a bowl.

“You need to eat so we can give you something for the pain.” He said, handing you a bowl of soup.

“What’s this?” you asked, confused as to where the hell he had found soup in your apartment.

“Chicken noodle soup. My grandma’s recipe, so no jokes. Her’s was better, not sure how.” He shrugged.

“You…made me soup?” You looked up at him, confused.

“Yes. It’s got protein and iron, two things you need most right now.” He said as he lifted a book into his lap.

“What is that?” you pointed to the book.

“Well, I would have hoped you encountered a book in med school at some point.” He teased. “It’s a book about emotional trauma. My therapist is making me read it.” He cleared his throat as he put his glasses on.

“You brought a book? How long are you planning on being here?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Until you go to bed tonight. Or you kick me out, whichever comes first.” He said, not looking up from his book. You let out a huff, enamored with this strange man. You ate a spoonful of soup and were surprised by how good it was.

“Fuck that’s really good!” You blurted out.

“Gee thanks.” Robby chuckled.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Cook is a strong word. I get around the kitchen well enough. I make pasta, soup and that’s about it. The soup is in the genes.” He winked.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever made me soup.” You sipped at the broth.

“Really? Your mom never heated up a can when you were sick?”

“Ha! My mother barely checked my temperature if I was sick. I was a nuisance if I was sick. She never stayed home to take care of me. If I didn’t look sick enough, I was faking. I heated up my own soup.” You shrugged.

“Every time you tell me more about your life, I get sad.” Robby laughed.

“Oh, please.” You swatted at him. “You don’t need to stay here. I’m going to be asleep, mostly.” You said.

“Someone needs to make sure you hydrate. You’re terrible at it.” He said, flipping a page. You were going to retort but felt the distinct gush of blood that told you, you needed to change your pad at the same time a cramp squeezed your insides. A finishing move from your reproductive system.

“Oh fuck…” You groaned, hunched over.

“You okay? What do you need?” Robby put his book aside and put his hand on your back.

“Cramps. Blood. The usual.” You groaned. “I need…I gotta go change.” Your face red.

“Okay.” Robby didn’t hesitate to help you up.

“There’s going to be blood everywhere, just turn around.” You warned.

“Oh please. Like blood has ever bothered me, you know better.” Robby chuckled.

“But it’s different blood.”

“Blood is blood and I don’t give a shit.” He shrugged. “You go to the bathroom, I’ll clean this up.” He nodded. You grabbed his hands and heaved yourself up. Sure enough, blood everywhere.

“Damn, I liked that couch.” You shook your head as you hobbled off to the bedroom to get changed. When you came back out, the couch was cleaned up and a new blanket lay ready.

“I got you some OTC pain meds if you need them.” Robby’s glasses sat on the end of his nose as he scrolled on his phone. “Your color is still a little off. Do you want some apple juice? I got one that has iron.” He offered as you stood in front of him, looking confused.

“You got me apple juice with iron?”

“Well, you need to keep your blood sugar up so it’s easier for you to replenish your cells and you are bad about eating well. I knew making you drink juice would be easier.” He said putting his phone away. You watched him for a minute, trying to understand this man that was taking care of you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

“Whoa, what!?” He looked shocked, his face going red.

“I’m so confused.” You shrugged, going to sit back down.

“Are you feeling okay? Should I be worried about neuro symptoms right now?” Robby gave a nervous chuckle.

“Maybe it’s my bad luck with men or humans in general, but I’ve never had anyone take care of me, let alone to this level, unless they were trying to get something from me.” You wrapped the blanket around yourself.

“Honey, the fact that you weren’t looked after at any point in your life makes me want to take even better care of you.” Robby sighed, leaning on the back of the couch. “To answer your question, no. I don’t want to fuck you.”

“Oh.” You said, your face flushed with embarrassment.

“I don’t want to fuck you because you just had an abortion and feel like shit. That would be very fucking weird of me.” Robby smirked. “But, if you’re asking if I have feelings for you, then yeah. I thought it was obvious.” He said.

“Obvious? In what world!?” You chuckled.

“I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. But you said that butterfly comment today, and even though you were high, I didn’t want to push it away anymore.” He sighed. “I wasn’t going to say anything tonight, by the way. Was just going to take care of you and go home. You forced my hand.”

“Jesus, Robby! You realize that all of this,” You waved your hands around the apartment and up and down his form. “would make any woman fall desperately in love with you? I already was, but you never gave a girl a chance!” You laughed.

“So, what I’m hearing is that you love me.” He winked.

“You were ready to beat up Darren for screaming at me,”

“Still debating on not doing that.”

“you googled how to take care of me in recovery, drove me to get another man’s fetus aborted, held my hair while I vomited, made me soup.” You scoffed. “Cleaned up my blood! I don’t even know the last time I had a man that didn’t cringe when I leaked through a tampon, let alone helped clean up! Of course I love you!” You shouted.

“Okay then!” He mimicked you.

“So, what now?”

“Now, you take those meds and drink some juice.” He said, looking at you like it was obvious.

“No. No, I mean with us?” You said, grabbing the pills and sipping your water.

“I don’t know. I’m leaving that at your feet, Honey.”

“Why do you always call me Honey? You’ve been doing that since I was a resident.” You cocked an eyebrow.

“You don’t remember? You were fixing up a wound and using an entire jar of Manuka honey on it, when I came in, you had it everywhere. I think that’s when I knew I was done for.” He smiled.

#the pitt #the pitt fanfiction #dr. robby #dr. michael robinavitch #dr. robby x reader #dr. michael “robby” robinavitch x reader #michael robinavitch #michael robinavich x reader

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femsolid · 1 month ago

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A little post in favour of getting involved in other people's lives...

I'm the only person who intervened when a woman was sunbathing topless and a bunch of young men surrounded her, called her a whore and ordered her to cover herself. I yelled at them, they tried to turn it on me, it didn't work, they stopped and begrudgingly left, the woman thanked me.

I'm the only person who intervened when I heard a woman fighting a man to escape an apartment; she was only wearing her panties. I grabbed her and told the man to let go of her, which he did. I noticed she had a knife in her hand. I stayed with her for a while till she calmed down and decided what she wanted to do.

I've called the police twice on a man who was beating women in his apartment. Everybody could hear it, no one else cared. The police came, didn't do anything. However, it sent a clear message to both the man and his victims: what's happening is not okay and some people are paying attention and they care enough. I also alerted the building manager.

And this week-end, I alerted a pet shelter because a neighbour who had recently adopted a dog was mistreating him. They immediately sent a team.

And many other instances.

I'm not saying it's easy, my hands are always shaking when I decide to intervene, but it's not that hard and it can make a difference. You have to think of the victims. I know the doubts one might feel: Is it that bad that it needs reporting? Am I going to make things worse? Am I going to hurt someone's feelings or get them in trouble with the law? Am I going to be victimised too? Am I a snitch? Trust me, it's better to be "overreacting" and to be a "snitch" than to look the other way when you could save someone's life. "What if I'm mistaken about the situation?" So what? A little embarrassment never killed anyone, but neglect does, every day.

My cousin once told me the story of when a woman was banging at every door in her building, begging for help and saying her husband was going to kill her. And my cousin said she didn't open her door, because it was none of her business and she didn't want to risk getting involved. From what I've seen, it seems to be how most people still operate. It's none of my business! What's the point of living in a society if people are going to stay as silent as trees? Might as well live in the woods.

I've been through hell and I remember all the times I was left to die by neighbours, teachers, doctors, the police or emergency responders. But I also remember, perhaps more starkly, the people who helped me. I remember the social worker who confronted my mother. I remember the woman on the train who immediately noticed I needed medical attention. I remember the man who yelled from his balcony at the boy who was assaulting me. I remember the people who helped me and my dog get out of the river.

All I can say is: if you can help a woman, a child or a pet, please try. It's not your fault if you don't succeed. But you need to try.

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teddypines · 11 months ago

Text

Fight

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Sumary: Dick and Batmom!reader got into a fight which upset both of them in the end.

Dick x Batmom!reader, Fem!reader (Use of she/her pronounce)

Note: Dick might be a bit out of character in this. Art/picture is from Pintrest, credits go to whoever made it.

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“Get back here, Richard!” Y/N yelled as Dick stormed off towards his room. The two of them had been in a fight. Dick had gotten really hurt on a patrol, but refused to seek medical attention. This, of course, upsetting Y/N. Hating to see one of her birds hurt like this. Yes, Dick was the oldest. yes he was old enough to deal with things on his own, but not with injuries like this. "Richard! Don’t you dare walk away right now!” Y/N yelled after Dick as she walked up the stairs.

Dick ignored Y/N as he continued to struggle with walking towards his room. “Richard Grayson!!” Y/N yelled out one last time before Dick turned around to face Y/N. “Stop it! i am fine! I don't need you to baby me!” Dick hissed at Y/N. He was tired and just wanted to go to bed, but no Y/N needed to be a worried mother hen. “Just let me sleep! I do not need to be patched up!”

“Dick have you looked into a mirror? You look like hell, you need medical attention. Those wounds will get infected.” Y/N answered while trying to reach out for Dick. “I don’t need that, now stop being so annoying and let me be”

“Dickie, come on, please you really need to clean those. I am your mother, let me help you” Y/N Said, her anger slowly fading more and more as she looked at the beaten up boy. Something snapped in Dick’s tired mind and he got furious. “You are not my mother! Stop acting like you are!” Dick didn’t realize what he had said, because he turned around too fast to see the upset look on Y/N’s face. “I… I’m sorry Dick, i’ll let you be.” She said before Dick slammed his bedroom door shut.

Y/N turned around and slowly walked towards the master bedroom, tears rolling down her face as she crawled into bed. After a while Bruce joined her in bed and wrapped his arms around her. “What’s wrong, love? Did something happen with Dick?” Bruce asked, but he didn’t get an answer. not until the next morning. Bruce understood Y/N didn’t want to talk about it just yet and just held her even closer to him.

<----------------------------------------------------------------------->

The next morning Y/N did come down for breakfast, but she was rather quiet. Not like her usual self, not telling Damian to not mess with his brothers or telling Jason to put his book down. Everyone noticed but Dick. He was still upset, but he did feel bad. Once he shut his door last night he realized what he had said and that broke him more than the wounds he had. Breakfast was quiet but not awkward.

After breakfast Y/N just got ready for work and waved Damian and Tim goodbye as they went to school. She kissed Bruce’s cheek when he went to work. Dick looked on as Y/N did her normal routine, only feeling left out since they didn’t give him his hug.

“Mom?” Dick called out to Y/N, but she didn’t answer, too busy getting her bag ready. Dick carefully tapped Y/N’s shoulder which made her stop packing her bag. “Yes?” She answered a bit on the dry side. “Mom… I…” Dick started but he couldn’t find the right words. “It’s okay, Dick, you don’t have to call me mom if you don’t want to.” Y/N said, upsetting them both in the process. She gave Dick a sad smile before leaving for work.

Dick sighs and gets ready for uni. “What was that?!” Jason asked shocked as he looked at Dick from the living room. He had a day off so he was going to do nothing all day, maybe bother Alfred a bit. “Nothing.” Dick answered his brother. “That was most definitely not nothing!” Jason gasped. “Oh my god, you and mom had a fight!”

“We did not have a fight,” Dick said as he shoved one of his books into his bag. “I just said something I regret…” Jason narrowed his eyes and glared at Dick. “What did you say?”

Dick groaned a bit when he stretched his arm the wrong way when grabbing another book to put in his bag. “I might have said that she wasn't my mom so she should stop acting like it” This made Jason gasp. “Yeah, I know, I screwed up...”

<---------------------------------------------------------------------->

A few days go by in which both Dick and Y/N are upset over what happened, everyone saw it. Dick did get some medical attention for his wounds but the sad smile Y/N wore that week hurt more than anything else. Dick sighed and started to make his way around the manor in search of Y/N. He eventually found her in the Batcave looking over some files and homework Damian did. He carefully sat down next to her at the Batcomputer. “Mom?” He said, which made Y/N turn her head towards Dick. “I’m sorry mom. I never meant to yell at you or say you’re not my mother. Because I do love you as my mom even with my own mom being, well not here… I was just so tired and patrol didn’t go well, and uni wasn’t great that day and… and.. I just don’t know anymore. But I don’t want you to be upset… That hurts…” Dick said through his tears.

Dick was surprised when he felt two arms around him. Y/N held Dick close to her. “I forgive you, sweetie, but please don’t ever say it again. It really hurts, when all I wanted to do was make sure you were taken care of. Maybe I shouldn't have yelled, though.” Y/N said as she slowly leaned back and started to whip Dick’s tears away with her thumb. She carefully leaned over and kissed Dick’s forehead. “I love you, Bluebird.”

“I love you too, ma”

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deepestnightcolor · 1 year ago

Note

Oml I love your writing, I just binged all the Sam fics! I saw you take requests for Harvey 👀 any chance for a “confidential check up?”

Hello, dear anon!~ Thank you so much for both the compliment and request. This was my first time writing a full-blown Harvey fic - and I hope I did suffice :D

Thanks for your request, and thank you so much for your time and love! <3

ᴀ/ɴ: as I said, this is my first time writing a Harvey fic and I am still sick, so I hope it will suffice!!

PS: I hid two Easter eggs this time. >:)

PPS: maybe 2,5, one being a slight nod at @sashiavi >:))

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Harvey (SDV) x Fem!eader

ᴡᴄ: 4194 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: medical misconduct, unprotected sex, light nipple play, seductive reader, Harvey's a little insecure.

☾ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴅʏ ☽

A secret that you'd never share? Simple and carnal, your secret was. Primitive, even. You had only made the appointment with Doctor Harvey to finally wrap the man around your finger.

You had tried it fair and square at first, you seriously had! Coming by whenever he had time, bringing him little gifts you were sure he'd like; trying to engage him in conversation.

However, Harvey always seemed so busy, so professional. Telling you to take care and stay healthy and giving you advice on how you achieve just that. Always looking out for you, always gentle in his words and behavior. And by Yoba, it made you want to break him even more.

Also, what better way was there to implement your plan than to catch the little lamb where it felt the safest and most confident? Of course, it was a little unfair, pretending you needed his help and skills to treat an injury, but then again you did. Just not in the way Harvey would expect. He had loads of chances to get the hint, but nothing had worked. Not even when you had fished out the shortest skirt possible out of your closet and wore it with a top that left barely anything to one's imagination, accidentally falling on your knees right in front of Harvey, showing off those lace panties of yours. No, that hadn't worked either. Harvey had let out a gasp that made you believe you had finally done something to him, just to rush to your side and ask if you were okay. If you needed help, if you were dizzy. Fuck did you want to cry out that you were dizzy for him, his touch. Instead, you gave him a sweet smile, fluttering your lashes at him as you told him no, you were fine. But thank you so much, Harvey!

You had scrambled to your feet and made your way back to the farm with your head hanging, and that was the point you decided it would probably need to be all or nothing.

“So, what brings you here today? Maru only noted that you requested to see me. I hope you didn't hurt yourself?” Harvey asked, scooting closer on his rolling chair. You were already propped up on the table, smiling sweetly at Harvey.

You had picked out an excellent outfit for the day, if you were allowed to say so. A blouse that was easy to open up and discard, and a skirt that seemed modest enough yet was nothing but of the mere purpose of covering up your lack of panties. And you were hurting. Terribly so, even. For him.

“Nono, Doc. I just, you know. I've been feeling some kind of way. Under the weather, you might say.” You leaned forward a bit now, running your fingers through your hair before twirling a strand around your finger. You were met with a pair of green-brown eyes, so full of consideration and empathy. It made you want to just sit on his face and make him spill all of his care onto your sweet pussy until you could feel it in every part of your body.

“I see! And how does that show? Do you have a headache? Do you feel more tired than usual?”

So sweet and caring, Doctor Harvey. Too cute to not bite.

You let out a sigh as if you were contemplating, biting around on your lower lip. “No, that's not it. I don't know how to describe it, it's…embarrassing.”

The doctor looked up at you again, putting away his notepad now. He gave you a sweet, genuine smile. A hand landed on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"There’s absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. This is a safe, confidential space; nothing will leave these walls.”

Go on, little lamb. Step right into the trap.

You leaned back a bit, pushing out your chest now. “Well, it's my chest. It's been so…so tender lately.”

A hum. That's all you got. A hum. Or so you thought. Because if you looked closely, you could see more. His moustache was twitching as his eyes flickered down to your breasts. Harvey was a professional, though. He quickly cleared his throat, nodding at you.

“Alright, I will glad- I would be happy- let's take a look, shall we?”

It took a lot from you to not break out in a grin; having the man break out in a stutter like that? It definitely was a step forward.

“Yes, please.” You needed to pretend to be innocent now - you didn't want to scare him away, after all.

Your fingers were quick to unbutton your shirt and your upper body was already bare before the doctor could even properly turn back to you. For a moment, his motions seemingly stuttered to a halt, his hands still clasped together from rubbing the disinfectant on them.

His moustache twitched again as he approached you, taking a seat on the chair again.

“Alright, my hands might be a little cold from the disinfectant, but I should be quick.”

Fuck, you hoped that he wouldn't be. You gave him a nod and what you hoped to be a shy smile, pushing your chest towards him a little.

And then, finally…Fucking finally you felt tender fingers on the soft skin of your breasts. It left you breathless for a moment, helpless as he traced the curves of your tits so expertly.

The moan falling from your lips really wasn't an accident, but Harvey, dear sweet Harvey, decided to let you off the hook. Ever the gentleman, wasn't he?

“Did that hurt?” He asked, his eyes flickering up to you, gently squeezing the flesh again. This time you looked straight into his eyes as you moaned, licking your lips. “No, it just…tingles,” you grinned, eyes following Harvey's dropping hands with dismay.

“Well, I did not find any lumps or irritations that could explain the tenderness. Did any lifestyle changes happen? Or perhaps a new medication?”

Pretending to be thinking, you swung your legs back and forth. One of your feet got in contact with his shin, slowly tracing upwards only to slide down again.

The man’s face was stoic, eyes trained on your face with a stern look.

Yet again, the twitching of his moustache betrayed him.

The thought that you hadn't responded yet reeled you in a little: “No…Well. Maybe kind of? You know…I've been having, well. Thoughts about someone. Thoughts about them touching me, wanting me,” you began, your foot wandering to his knee.

“Could that be it?”

A blush had spread on his cheeks now, and Yoba did you love to see it. He picked up the notepad and quickly jotted something down, then nodded.

“I assume that could be it-”

“And what do I do about it, Doctor? It hurts, after all.”

Immediately, his attention is back on you completely. “Hurts? Where?”

A vague pointing to your body made Harvey's hand reach out, touching your stomach. “Here?”

You shook your head, letting your foot wander down again. “Lower.”

His brows furrowed now and he let his hand slide towards your abdomen. “Here? Are they cramps?”

Again, you shook your head.

“Lower.”

He was hesitating now, looking up at you with an uncertainty you had never seen before, and it felt like another small victory.

“Could you…uh. Point me to where it hurts?”

Click - the trap was snapping shut.

It didn't need many words; you opened up your legs without an ounce of hesitation, revealing your cunt, all wet and ready for the doctor. “There.”

Harvey swallowed thickly, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. Words that wouldn't have him lose his license. It wasn't like he hadn't seen genitals before - much more than one would expect from a small town like this - and he had never been affected. So why was his throat dry now? Why was his heart pounding like this?

“It's getting like this whenever I see handsome men like you, what could that be?”

“It’s getting like…what?” by now he was thankful that he was able to get some words out with his head feeling as light as it did right now.

“I dunno…wet?”

His eyes went straight back to your pussy, staring at it. You were wet. And you looked delicious. But he was a doctor. A professional. He had done so much to be where he was right now!

“Oh! That…uh. That…it- well. It stems from attraction. It's so..so sexual intercourse can happen more easily, you see. All natural. There's no need to worry at all.”

He was pulling back, this damn professional. Even though you could see that you were getting to him. “But…isn't there a remedy?”

Harvey wanted to just sink into the ground. His head still felt light, and he could feel his pants tighten - he had been mesmerized by you ever since you had introduced yourself. And of course, he had noticed your attempts to catch his attention - he wasn't stupid, after all. Yet Harvey had promised himself. Promised himself to not get too involved anymore. And now you were here. Exposed, and seemingly ready for him. So close but- he had to be strong. Be a doctor.

“Well, for one…You could do some self-care. Masturbation is quite healthy for the human body and mind.”

Like hell he'd recommend you to have sex with someone else, not even someone like him could be so professional. You called him handsome after all, for crying out loud!

“Oh! And…how does that work?”

Your patience was running thin now, but you felt like you were so close to having him where you wanted him, despite him being so oblivious. His face was motionless now as he stared at you, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He was obviously looking for words.

“I-”

“Come on, Doctor Harvey. You're supposed to help me, aren't you?” You cooed, interrupting the clouding thoughts before they could really rain on him.

“But- that is the thing. I am your Doctor-”

You didn't answer him right away, your hand wandering to your clit first, giving it a gentle flick.

“And what if you prescribed yourself to be my remedy? I think you're the only thing that can help me,” you moaned.

The groan coming from his direction certainly wasn't professional anymore. A hand, now warmer than before, settled on your thigh. “You said it hurts here?”

Before you could look where his finger was pointing you could feel the pad of it trace through your wet folds.

“Exactly,” you breathed, spreading your legs a little further.

“I can't see much,” he murmured, his cock twitching painfully in his pants. “I'd need to clean you up first before I run some more tests...is that okay with you?”

The bobbing of your head was enough for Harvey to finally break down.

He leaned forward faster than he would have guessed from himself, his fingers spreading your folds, and by Yoba, you were wet. All the more reason to examine you closely, wasn’t it? Keeping you healthy wasn’t bad, after all. It was his job. And if that was what it took, he would oblige – for the sake of medicine, of course. Not because of his throbbing cock and the desperate need to taste you on his tongue; not because he was salivating from the thought alone.

His tongue slowly slipped out of his mouth, a sliver of hesitation lingering in the air. He could see your hole contract when you thought him close, he could see the shivers making the muscles of your thighs twitch whenever his hot breath hit the wetness of your cunt, and yet…wasn’t this wrong? Had he somehow taken advantage of you?

“Harvey, fuck, please?” A small rock of your hips followed your words. Urging him closer. He could smell you now, and holy life, did you smell good. Lured him right into taking a deep whiff, as if he didn’t know he would get drunk on you immediately. Yet he did know and he willingly took another deep inhale. The impatient whine above him caused his eyes to flicker up to your face. You looked down at him, your lower lip tugged between your sets of pearly whites. No words needed to be spoken, and yet Harvey still followed your order.

His tongue slowly slipped out of his mouth; eyes glued to your face. He wanted to see how you would react to that first contact, wanted to see if you felt as hot as he did right now. His pants were really straining against his aching erection, his zipper pressing against the shaft through his boxers. He was pretty sure those were wet too by now, with all the pre-cum he had been leaking. He finally pressed the muscle against your entrance, licking a flat, thick line upwards. And he took his time doing it; so much so that it had your toes curl and your thighs close in around his head. The brunet was quick to react, though, one hand holding your leg open, while the other busied itself with spreading open your pussy for his hungry tongue. His licking had become faster now, but precise enough to avoid your clit. He was, after all, only cleaning you up now, wasn’t he? Still, that didn’t mean that his hot tongue licking up whatever you gave him didn’t make you moan for him. How long had you been thinking about this? Having Harvey between your legs, in any which way he would have offered? Too long. And now he finally had his head buried between your thighs, licking and sucking you up like a starved man offered a meal after ages of going hungry. His tongue licked up and down, from one side to the other, but he still ignored your hardening clit with apparently the same professionalism he had ignored your advances before.

He gave your lips a light suck, then sunk his tongue deep inside of you. A groan left his glistening lips, eyes shut tight while he lapped at your walls eagerly, trying to get as much of you as possible into his mouth. “Harvey, oh fuck, right there,” you breathed, hand flying in his hair to hold onto the strands between your fingers tightly, giving a tug that was harder than you had intended it to be. But that only seemed to spur the male on more, his face burying deeper, tongue and lips working in unison now. And by Yoba, he had never tasted anything this good; so sweet, so…you; and you were addictive.

Your hips bucked upwards for him, if to grant him easier access or just because you couldn’t keep them down anymore, you didn’t know. You didn’t really care, either. Harvey’s moustache rubbed against you in a way that made your head spin, his lips sucking on you while he circled his tongue within you made your whole body tense. Even when pussy-drunk he seemed incredibly precise, knowing just where to brush past, when to suck and when to lick.

You weren’t able to do much anymore, just hold onto his hair and wait for the sweet, sweet release to wash over you and in turn, Harvey’s tongue.

It was close; you could feel it in the ripple down your spine, in the way you clenched around him, you could feel it in the pit of your stomach, too. You were dangerously close to the edge, and one well-placed flick would push you over. You were ready for it; the string of moans that left your lips were dirty, raw, carrying all the words you couldn’t form anymore.

You awaited the feeling of your orgasm crashing over you, not to suddenly feel empty and cold after being engulfed in the warmth of his mouth. But Harvey was standing now, his face wet and his glasses fogged up from the heat that had reached the cool surface, and yet you knew that he was staring right at you. You opened your mouth, but you didn’t trust your vocal cords just yet, so all you did was letting out a confused hum, to which the brunet in front of you smiled.

“You are all clean now- I believe you are ready for further tests.”

Fuck, you were. More than that. By now, you really felt an ache in your body, and the only remedy was there, right in front of you, fumbling with the buttons of his pants. His hands were shaking, enough so for you to lean forward, popping the button open for him. The doctor let out an awkward laugh, moustache twitching from the embarrassed rumble that went through him. “Sorry,” he whispered but quickly switched gears when you pressed a kiss to his lips. The taste of you mixed with his spit made you whimper, the appetite for him only growing within you. You wanted to help him tug down his boxers as well, but instead of fabric, you were met with the soft skin that had been hidden beneath until now. Your throat went dry; you just had to pull away and look at him. He was big, tip coated in a layer of pre-cum, his shaft girthy.

“Harvey, please,” you stammered, leaning back on the table so he could lean over you more easily.

The brunet followed you like a well-behaved lamb, leaning in again to kiss you. You could feel the tip of his dick against your entrance, slowly pushing forward. The stretch the head of his penis caused made your eyes roll back, excitement for the rest of his girth stretching you bubbling inside of you.

Harvey, ever the gentleman, took it slow. Rutting inside of you, centimetre after centimetre, eyes fixed on your face for any signs of pain and discomfort. He brushed your hair to the side to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how good you felt, how wet you were for him, and holy Yoba, did he ever feel anything like this before?

You had to admit, at first, the stretch did hurt a little, but with both him being so tender with you, so gentle, the pain quickly turned into a cloud of lust and despair. You wanted him, and you weren’t afraid to show him anymore. “Harvey, oh, for fuck’s sake, fuck me.”

A twitch, and then a shove that made him bottom out inside of you. A groan from him bled into the moan that tore from you, but that didn’t make Harvey pause. Not anymore.

His thrusts were shaky, unsure at first. He was just so adorable, wasn’t he? His eyes searched yours as if to ask for approval, as if to make sure he was doing this right, and it made your heart swell within your chest.

“You are so good to me, Harv,” you whispered, shamelessly letting your moans slip for him. The brunet’s eyes lit up, and he pushed his hips forward faster, more eagerly now.

Smiling to yourself, you let your head lull back. Harvey’s dick felt so good within you, filling you out with clumsy thrusts that steadied the more confidence he felt. Your back arched in as the brunet found a rhythm that seemingly fitted both your tastes; fast strokes that reached deep within you. The little grunts that left his slightly swollen hips only added fuel to the fire, only made you want him more.

Your legs hooked around his soft hips as he fucked into you with quick thrusts, body working with him to get him to go harder, more ruthless. Lucky for you, Harvey was a quick learner. Dick now fucking into you harder, red tip still pounding as deep as he could go.

The man’s face was a mix of pleasure and astonishment as if he wasn’t able to believe this was really happening to him. You just felt so damn good around him, walls clinging to his hot cock, sucking him off with each thrust. If he had a say in it, he would have never left your sweet pussy again, keeping his dick buried inside of you, thrusting into you whenever he deemed fit.

The moans and whines of his name that filled the examination room made his vision blur; his balls incredibly tight all of a sudden.

“Harveeey,” you gasped out, your hand reaching for his in an attempt to hold onto something again, fingers gently brushing along his knuckles before intertwining. The brunet above you was panting now, his hips never stilling as he fucked into you. His eyes, however, weren’t focused on your face anymore; they had fallen onto your tits that were bouncing oh so nicely for him with each of his thrusts. He just couldn’t help himself; it was too tempting – his head dipped down, teeth catching one of your pretty pink nipples, nibbling on it just to suck it into his mouth moments later.

You could feel the feeling start to grow inside of you again, your orgasm approaching you, even though you didn’t want this to stop yet. You didn’t want this to end just now, now that he was filling you up so perfectly, cock sliding against your squishy walls with such ease; you didn’t want his balls slapping against your wet cunt to stop just yet, you wanted, no, needed, more.

As if hearing your thoughts, Harvey picked up his pace just a little more, his mouth switching to the other nipple to pay it the same amount of attention. The squelching sound of the wetness between your legs was to die for, just like the feeling of his orgasm hot in his veins.

You just felt so deliciously good, better than any neat whiskey ever could have, and it made him go crazy. He felt hot, he felt like he was just about close enough to heaven to feel it, but not quite there. The bucking of his hips grew more desperate as he chased his orgasm, going hard and deep inside of you while his mouth busied itself leaving hickeys on your bouncing tits. The insecurity from before had vanished, and the groans, the begs, the whines, the praise, all coming from you was enough to keep it away.

“Harvey, I am- fuck, I am so close-“

He would have answered, had he been able to. But he had basically gone mute, aside from the whimpers and groans, as well as high-pitched moans that dared to tumble from his tongue. Instead, he just nodded at you and did his best to pick up the pace some more. It was just so hard with you sucking around him so nicely, drooling all over his dick. So hard to focus when he could feel you shake beneath him, making his body ache for the final push.

The bite to your tit he gave you, combined with his deepest thrust yet was enough for you. You squeezed his hand tightly, your toes curling and your back arching in as finally allowed the release to flow over you. You cried out his name, your sweet, pretty cunt spasming around poor Harvey, who was, admittedly, both absolutely pussy-drunk and empty-minded.

His breathing now came in forceful, laboured pushes, and if he had ever heard a patient breathe like that, he would have sent them straight to bed and run endless tests on them. But this – this was nothing but the sheer hunger for one person.

He suddenly slammed forward once more, his back arching in as he moaned out your name loudly, penis twitching as he came inside of you, cum painting your walls white. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to not lose focus, his mouth hanging open as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your legs were quivering with each thrust that sent shocks up your spine from the overstimulation that slowly started to nag at you.

Panting, the brunet tried to keep himself from crashing down on top of you, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. His eyes were still hazy as they took in your fucked-out expression. You looked ruined but also completely…satisfied.

Your hand was still shaky as you reached up to let it run down his flushed cheek, a smile on your lips. “That definitely helped, Harv,” you whispered, voice slightly more hoarse than it had been that morning.

Harvey cleared his throat, and after a moment or maybe two – maybe also three, he just felt so good inside of you – pulled out of you, shaky legs carrying him over to the sink where he wettened some paper towels to clean you up.

“I am glad I was able to help.”

Disappointment settled in your stomach. Was that it? Did he just go back to his professional self like the table beneath you wasn’t drenched in your wetness and his cum?

“But I need to run a few more tests. I think home visits would be best; I’d need different surfaces and times.”

Click. Two lambs had fallen for the trap

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