#sorry this took so long for to get to but I wanted to have time to give it a good review that it deserved

[butyoudidthis4what]

No Man's Land Part 3

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

You can find Part 1 here and Part 2 here!

25.1k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: mentions of blood, mentions of guns/shootings/gunshot wounds, mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation, CPR, mentions of jack's injury and losing his foot, anxiety about partner's safety, angst (kind of), very emotional, probably incorrect description of medical events, potentially incorrect medical descriptions/knowledge, reader wears Jack’s clothes, self-hate, Robby has been to therapy, fighting/arguing (no raised voices), unprotected PIV sex (BC implied with their committed relationship), allusions to sex and oral sex, discussion of end of life wishes, descriptions of nightmares, discussion of someone dying in front of reader, panic attacks, vomiting (very brief, not reader), discussion of scars/wounds, grief, mention of UTI, myrna, reader likes candles, Jack is the best, 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, not really proofread.

Summary: Healing is hard. Emotions abound. Somehow life goes on. [Author continues to suck at summaries.]

AN: I am so sorry this took so long 😅 The vignettes have a bit of a different feel here because the way we are moving through time is much different and on a larger scale. But each vignette 'happened' before the scene it precedes. Part 4 is already like 75% of the way done so it will not be as long of a wait, I promise 😭 I know some wanted it all at once and I'm sorry it isn't, but I can offer as an apology the fact that because we're getting another part we're getting more content both in Part 3 and in Part 4!! Also I promise Quiet Part 2 is next up after Part 4. Thank you all so much for your patience and support and for reading!! Your replies and likes and reblogs mean so so much to me and I know we're all busy so I really appreciate you taking the time to read whatever it is I do here ♥️

After the housewarming party, life is good. You and Jack are still home together while you recover, in love and soaking each other in and planning France and dreaming out loud about your wedding. And healing. Individually and together. 

Things get harder though.

You’re both in therapy, yes, but you’ve been through a lot in the last month and a bit, and an hour a week only does so much. You’re both struggling, struggling a little harder now that the kind of honeymoon period of you getting home from the hospital has passed. 

You and Jack talk about it sometimes, about how things feel harder in a way all of the sudden now that you’re not focusing on being home finally and getting your place painted and all moved into. You think it’s just because you have lost some of that distraction. The reality of what happened starts to sink in deeper. Especially because things are ostensibly returning to normal but not really. 

Because normal isn’t being at home together while you’re recovering. You’re back to that hospital feeling of waiting. Waiting for you to recover enough for the next step to get taken. Jack going back to work. You going back to work. The return of your true new normal. 

So things get a little harder, emotions more intense. Some days it feels like you guys are taking more steps backward than forward. But you’re taking those steps in whatever direction together and you have each other and are in love and that’s all either of you need at the end of the day. Each other and your love.

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

It’s day four. 

Four days now you’ve been in a coma. Four days with no signs of waking up soon, even after they weaned you off the meds that had been keeping you under to help you heal. No twitch of your fingers or toes, no flutter of your eyelashes, no little grunt, no breathing over the vent. Nothing. Just you laying there in a hospital bed. Technically still alive and with him, but are you really?

Jack stretches out. He hasn’t left the hospital since you got shot. Literally has not set foot out of the building, hasn’t gone to the roof or out into the ambulance bay or gone through the main doors to stand on the street. 

Dana brought him in clothes and toiletries. She brought some for you too, telling Jack that you’d want them as soon as you were awake. Half of Jack wanted to scream at her for tempting fate like that, now that she brought them there would be no use for them because you’d never wake up. 

And half of him wanted to just sob into her because he knows that as much as she did bring them for you, she brought them for him. To give him the option of smelling like you, or just smelling your shampoo to smell you for a second. To give him a shirt of yours to keep near his head when he tries to get an hour of sleep. It helped once. He was actually able to grab a couple of hours. 

It’s not the same though, because those products haven’t mixed with your body chemistry to become the unique scent that is you. But it’s better than nothing. Because until Dana had brought it in for him he’d forgotten what you smelled like. 

He’d forgotten what you sounded like too. The sound of your voice, the way you say his name. The way you say you love him. Your laugh. He just couldn’t hear it in his head. He cracked on day three and listened to a voicemail you left him, watched a video of the two of you that you’d taken one day. It was comforting to be able to remember what you sound like and what you look like when you smile, to have those little pieces of you back in his mind. But it was also a devastating reminder of what he might lose. 

Your things, the voicemails you’ve left him and the videos and photos you’ve taken together might be all he really has left of you at the end of this. The realization had made him dry heave a little.

Robby walks in as Jack is stretching, hands him a coffee and a brown bag. Breakfast. “You have to eat if you want the coffee or else it’s just going to shoot up your heart rate and give you more anxiety.”

Jack looks at him almost blankly as he sits down in the chair on the other side of your bed across from Jack. “I’m still a doctor, you know?” The words hit Jack. “A fucking shitty one apparently. I can’t even fix her. This shit is what I do and I’ve saved so many people but the one fucking person who actually matters.” Jack shakes his head. “And nothing.” 

Robby cocks his head at him. “No doctor could fix this Jack. She’s in a coma. You’re making sure she gets the best care possible. That’s all anyone could do for her right now, doctor or not.” 

Jack waves Robby off, takes a sip of the coffee but makes no move for the bag. It earns him a look from Robby that he ignores. They sit in silence for a bit. It’s hard to come up with things to say. But Robby knows Jack needs to start thinking about it. It’s still very far down the line but it’ll be better for him to start thinking and coming to terms with it now, Robby thinks.  

“Jack.” Jack pulls his eyes off you and over to Robby. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

Deep down Jack knows exactly what Robby’s question means. But he doesn’t let himself go there. He can’t. Robby will have to spell it out for him. “What I’m going to do about what?”

“What you’re going to do if down the line she heals physically but doesn’t wake up?” Robby says quietly, as though saying it lower will make it somehow less painful, pull less of a reaction from Jack. 

“What the fuck is that? Why the fuck would you even bring that up?” Jack snaps at him. While you were awake after surgery you’d signed a healthcare proxy giving Jack the authority to make treatment and end of life decisions for you. It had been just in case. Better to have it because then you would never need it right? Wrong. “We’re so the fuck far away from that. She’s not even healed. You and Dana are the ones that keep saying ‘it’s only been four days Jack give her time’ and now you’re coming at me with this bullshit?”

“I’m not coming at you with anything. Just asking a question because maybe it’s better to start preparing now for something you’ll never have to do than to be unprepared.” Robby shrugs. 

Jack doesn’t say anything, just looks back at you. He scoots his chair closer so that he can hold your hand. You’re just so goddamn still. It’s unnatural. Even the way you breathe is, it’s mechanical. Chest rising and falling in time with the clicks of the vent. 

“I know that I don’t really know her, Jack, and certainly don’t know her well. But just from the little bit of time I have been able to get to know her I don’t think she’d want this Jack. Not indefinitely. I don’t think she’d want machines keeping her alive.” Robby watches Jack carefully as Jack takes in his words. Devastation is quickly covered by anger. 

“I don’t fucking care. She should wake the fuck up then and not leave this to me. Not make me fucking kill her.” Jack knows his anger at you is misplaced and a cover for how much this conversation is hurting him. Anger is just easier to deal with than heartbreak and grief right now. He sees Robby go to speak. “Just fucking don’t Robby. Don’t. You’re right. You don’t fucking know her. And I don’t care. I don’t fucking care if she wouldn’t want it because I need her. And having her here with me like this is better than not having her at all.” Jack knows how selfish he sounds, how selfish he’s being.

Robby doesn’t say anything, waits until Jack glances over at him, tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, asking him ‘really?’ without a word. 

Jack sighs and looks back over at you shaking his head. “No,” he whispers. “She would hate it. We fucking talked about it once, way before this when it was on some show or movie we were watching. It would be cowardly and selfish of me to keep her here like this forever, just so that I wouldn’t have to deal with completely losing her and could live in a perpetual delusion that she’ll wake up tomorrow.” Jack gives a short and hollow laugh through his nose. “Right before I left to go down to the ED and help, we… argued isn’t the right word, but I don’t know what is. She mentioned it, her dying. That if she had already died, in the OR or at the courthouse then I could be properly grieving, and I cut her off but she was going to say that I could be working towards moving on.”

Jack feels guilty for getting angry at you, for being selfish. He knows you’d understand and wouldn’t care and wouldn’t want him to feel guilty but it doesn’t help. He swallows thickly and then takes in a deep breath, squeezing your hand, praying you’ll squeeze it back, even just a little. 

“But there’s no moving on from her.” Jack shakes his head as he looks down at you. “The problem is that I don’t think I’ll be strong enough to do it. To sign the damn papers,” Jack admits, voice wet with the tears lining his eyes. 

Robby nods slowly. “You are now and you will be then, if that then does ever come. You will because it’s for her. And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen two humans love each other as much as you do, the way you do. She would do anything for you. And I know you’d do anything for her, no matter how much it killed you inside. So I know that if that day ever comes you’ll be strong enough to sign for her, to do that for her.”

Jack’s silent for a minute, trying not to give into the urge to grab your shoulders and shake you awake. “I don’t know Robby. I don’t know how to talk to her like this. I try, but I just never know what to say other than I love her and please come back to me and please don’t leave me alone. And I hate it. She deserves more. For it to not be about me,” he whispers, stands and runs the back of his bent index finger over your face like he’s trying to memorize you. As if he hasn’t already. He’s teary, voice small and raw from all the tears he’s already shed. “So how do I let her be taken from me? How do I give her up, give up on her, tell her it’s okay to let go? How do I stand there and fight all my training and every instinct and just watch her die and know it’s my fault?”

Robby has to take a minute to compose himself because his heart aches for Jack. It’s hard to see your best friend, your brother, contemplating losing the love of his life. Even though all of Jack’s questions are rhetorical he answers the last one. 

“You don’t,” he says simply. “You get in bed with her and you hold her and find it within you to talk to her. Tell her all of your favorite memories together. Tell her what she means to you. Tell her you love her. And you stay there in bed holding her until she’s gone.” 

Jack takes in a shuddering breath as he sits back down in his chair. “Hope seems so worthless and useless right now even though it’s all I feel like I have left.” Jack grabs your hand again, brushes his thumb over your knuckles. “I hope I never have to sign those papers.” 

Robby sniffles a little, not crying, just emotional. “That makes two of us, brother.” 

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

“I think you should consider leaving your engagement ring here.” You and Jack are planning more for your trip to France, making packing lists. Well, you’re on the computer planning and making lists and Jack is chopping up ingredients for dinner. 

It’s been four days since the housewarming party. You feel like Jack has been more stressed lately, more on edge. Looking at you like he’s terrified of losing you again, like he did at times in the hospital and the first two days you were home.

“Why?” You pout at him from the stool you’re sitting on at the kitchen island. “I want to wear it and show it off and take photos with it on while we’re in France!”

“I know,” Jack hums lowly, his eyebrows raising a little as he focuses on chopping. “I worry about it getting stolen, you getting assaulted for it or something, especially in Paris.”

“But walking around with it on in Pittsburgh is okay?”

He sighs at you. He kind of hates that you said that because now it’s all he can think about. Whether he has put your life in danger for a third time by getting you a nice engagement ring. Because he’s already done it twice. When he didn’t check you over in the trauma room before letting you go and going to help Robby, and when he left to go down to the ED and wasn’t there to notice you going septic and throwing a PE. 

You’re the only one who would notice him stiffen the way he does, it’s so slight. You feel bad. You know he’s been struggling more the closer he gets to going back to work and having to leave you alone. Even starting with half shifts. And you know he’s struggling to talk about it with you because he doesn’t want to burden you with it or make you feel any guiltier. You’ve both fallen into that habit a little bit. 

“I really don’t think anyone is going to try to steal it off me or assault me to get it when I’m walking around with you.” You raise your eyebrows at him and give him a knowing smile, wait for him to lift his head to look at you once he’s finished chopping. He does. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” He points the knife at you teasingly and holds your gaze for a moment before grabbing something else to chop and getting back to it.

“But I don’t want to leave it here Peter!” you almost whine. It makes Jack chuckle to himself a little. “I don’t want to argue about it, but I really want to take it. I like showing it off, like everyone knowing I’m yours.” That makes him look up at you again and you smile at him and nod encouragingly. You can see the possessive look in his eyes, the way he breathes a little bit faster thinking about it. But he just clicks his tongue on the back of his teeth at you and shakes his head as he looks back down. “Okay, how about a compromise?”

“A compromise?” Jack echoes.

“Yes. A compromise.” 

There’s a beat where neither of you talk, only the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board. Jack pauses his cutting and looks up at you. “Are you gonna tell me what the compromise is?” 

“I’m thinking of one,” you grumble, knowing how satisfied he’s going to be. 

“Oh,” he draws the word out teasingly, “she suggests a compromise before she even has one!” 

“I’ll come up with one, just give me a minute,” you huff. Jack hums at you again, keeps chopping. “Okay, yes! I have one. What if while we’re in Paris or whatever bigger cities or places you’d prefer I wasn’t wearing it on my finger you wear the ring around a chain on your neck? Even on the same one as your dog tags if you’re bringing them. People are much less likely to try to snatch it from your neck and run, plus it’ll always be covered by your shirt unless you’re going to start wearing deep v-necks, which I doubt.” You smirk. 

You watch Jack’s eyes slide from you to the wall behind you and glaze over. It’s clear he’s going back somewhere, you just don’t know where or why or what happened. The smirk slides from your face as it twists into concern.

He goes to say something but stops as your words fully process. Wear the ring around a chain on his neck. Like he did at your funeral. 

Jack drops the knife, it falls out of his hand and clatters a bit as it hits the counter. “Jack?” you whisper, your heart rate picking up. 

The nightmare plays on fast forward in Jack’s head, every emotion he felt when having it slamming into him all at once and making his head spin. With the massive flood of epinephrine, norepinephrine and cortisol all those emotions cause his body to release, Jack’s turning and leaning over the sink to be sick. 

It’s all too much. 

“Jack!” You’re off the stool and over by him in a second, rubbing his back. “Hey,” you murmur, “it’s okay, you’re okay.” You have no idea what’s going on with him, but have a feeling.

Jack shakes his head at you as he dry heaves a few more times, trembling like nothing you’ve seen from him before. “I’ve got you.” Your hand keeps rubbing circles on his back soothingly and it’s simultaneously comforting him and burning him, because it’s all too much. There are too many emotions. 

You were dead. He was at your funeral. It was so real. 

Tears start to stream down his face silently as he rinses the sink and his mouth. “We can get you to bed, okay? I’ll make you some broth if you feel up to it.” 

He can hear the anxiety in your voice, the worry for him, your love for him. He loves it, he does, truly, but it almost makes it worse because you were dead. And if you were dead, if you had really died, he wouldn’t have this. He wouldn’t be in sweatpants and an old shirt at home chopping things to make dinner for the two of you while you sit in the kitchen to be with him and plan your trip. You wouldn’t be rubbing his back and so worried about him. You wouldn’t be taking care of him and offering to make him broth. 

You simply wouldn’t be. 

Jack shakes his head and sniffles. He turns to you and your eyes widen when you see him crying, pain and a heartbreaking and agonizing sorrow etched into his face that threatens to bring you to tears. You immediately know what this is about. He doesn’t need to say anything. He’s not ill. But you’re not sure how to support him, what to say, what exactly is wrong. “Jack what’s-”

You’re cut off by him crumbling in front of you, grabbing at your forearms to pull you closer as he slides down the base cabinets to the floor, bringing you down with him. “I,” he tries to choke out, “I, I…” He shakes his head again. 

He can’t speak right now, and you know it. “Okay, it’s okay,” you tell him as you reach for him and pull him close to you as you press your back against the cabinet, letting him almost lay on you. 

Jack buries his head in your chest, careful not to press into your still healing sternum too hard, and clings to you, both arms wrapped tightly around you, one diagonal up your back, hand clinging to your shoulder for just a second before it slides over to your neck, two fingers pushing down. 

He’s looking for your pulse. 

“Oh, Jack,” you whisper, your own voice thick with tears now. “I’m here. I’ve got you baby.” You hold him just as tight, let one hand find his hair and run your fingers through it, scratch at his scalp at times, kiss the top of his head and nuzzle your nose into him in hopes of soothing him. Sometimes you rock a little, but you’re not sure if that’s more to comfort him or yourself. 

And you whisper little words of reassurance and, you hope, comfort to him. “I’ve got you.” “I’m here.” “You’re okay.” “I love you.” You hold him and let him weep into you. Let him keep his fingers pressed into your pulse point. Let him cling to you like you’re the only thing left in the world, because to him you are. You’re his whole world. 

It kills you, seeing him like this, hurting this badly. This deeply. You know it has to do with what happened, know that it’s been building up in him for a long time. That he hasn’t said anything about it, not because he was trying to hide it but because he just couldn’t. And you understand that. A whole lot.

“Here baby,” you murmur at one point, try to move his head a little which just makes him sob harder and hold you closer. “Shh, I’m not going anywhere, just trust me, okay? I think this will help.” You try again and this time he lets you move his head, lets you turn it to the side and move it over and then pull him back to your chest, keep your hand on the side of his face, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. He’s confused until he hears it. 

The rhythmic beating of your heart in your chest. 

It makes him tremble against you harder, clutch at you tighter. But you don’t care. You wouldn’t care if he held you so hard it hurt. You’d take on all the physical pain out there without a second thought and genuinely smile about it if it would take away Jack’s pain.  

It starts to pass the longer Jack is in your arms, ear to your chest listening to your heart beating, fingers pressing into your skin feeling your heart beating. It calms him. He quiets, reduced to only sniffles and hiccuped in breaths and swollen eyes and an ache so deep in his chest he’s not sure it can be fixed. But you’re with him, still holding him on the kitchen floor and brushing at his cheekbone and scratching at the nape of his neck and kissing his curls and whispering soft words of reassurance to him.  

You’re here. You’re in your shared apartment. You’re alive. 

You have to be, right? The sound of your heart beating and the warmth of your chest and your voice whispering quiet words to him has to be real. It would make sense for you to come up with the idea of him wearing your engagement ring on a chain around his neck all on your own as a compromise. It doesn’t mean he’s still in that nightmare and just starting to realize it. It means the two of you just think alike. Right?

You aren’t sure how long you end up sitting there on the floor together, his head pressed against your chest. It doesn’t really matter. You know he’s really starting to come down when his fingers no longer press into your neck to feel for your pulse. “I’m here if and when you want to talk,” you whisper. You don’t expect anything back from him and aren’t hurt when he remains quiet.

Eventually Jack pulls his head from your chest and looks up at you. After a few seconds of eye contact he pushes himself up and sits with his back against the base cabinet next to you. He wipes off his face with his hands and once he’s done, one of your hands immediately finds one of his and squeezes. He needs it. Little things like a hand squeeze from you to remind him that you’re still here with him. Eventually he lets his head tilt and rest on your shoulder. You turn your head, give him a lingering kiss to the temple and then rest yours on top of his. 

And then you just sit like that. For as long as he needs. Even when your ass goes numb and back stiffens a bit. You stay just like that with him. 

Jack loves the way you don’t press him. You don’t ask if he’s okay, or if he wants to talk about it, or tell him gently to talk to you. You just let him be as he comes back to himself fully. And he knows it’s not because you don’t want to talk about it or don’t want him to talk to you about it but because you understand that sometimes there is simultaneously too much and nothing to be said. So you let him be. 

After a while Jack takes a big breath in and slowly lets it out. You feel him pull his head a little so you lift yours up and look over at him as he looks at you. 

He looks wrecked in a way you’ve never seen before. Eyes red and swollen, lips a bit swollen too. Mouth set and lips pulled just the slightest bit down, hair fluffier and more askew than normal because of how much you’ve run your hands through it. His shirt is wrinkled, part of the neckline darker than the rest of the shirt from his tears. He looks haunted. 

But mostly it’s the way he’s looking at you that really shows how wrecked he is. You’ve seen Jack look at you a lot of ways, with a lot of different expressions, especially recently with everything that has happened. Happy, sad, like he’s amazed and can’t believe you’re alive, like looking at you hurts him a little because it reminds him of what he almost lost and who he couldn’t protect.

But you’ve never seen Jack look at you like this. He’s looking at you like he can’t believe you’re alive, but not in an incredulous, happy sense. Jack’s looking at you like he truly cannot believe you’re alive, is scared to believe it even for a second. Like he doesn’t trust the world that you are in fact alive, doesn’t trust himself and his ability to know whether you’re alive. Like you’re a hallucination or a mirage, or a ghost who has been living with him and he’s just realizing it. Like you’re a dream he’s about to wake up from. 

“I…” Jack tries to start, voice raw, as unsure and questioning and wrecked as he looks. He just keeps looking at you like he’s about to come back to reality and you’re about to disappear right in front of his eyes, just cease to exist. 

He shifts and leans off the cabinet, gets closer to you and takes your face in his hands. Jack holds your gaze how he loves to do, lets his eyes burn into yours as though they’ll give him the answer to whatever question it is he can’t speak. 

You lean your head into one of his hands a little and then Jack’s kissing you, pressing against your lips hard at first like he was bracing to just move through air and never actually find your lips. It’s short, his head pulling back from yours for a second to look you in the eyes again before his eyes drop to your lips. 

Glassy eyes look back up at you, questioning. You nod slightly, because of course he can kiss you. And he does. 

Jack pulls your head back towards his as he leans in, both of your mouths opening just slightly. He takes the opportunity, licks into your mouth and starts devouring you, his head moving slightly with each kiss and slip of his tongue back into your mouth. 

It’s greedy the way he kisses you, nose smushing into your face as you both start to breathe hard, the sound almost lost in between the noises of pleasure you pull from each other and the pops of your lips with each pass. Jack kisses you like he doesn’t believe you’re real. Like each kiss might be the last one he’s ever able to give you, like it’ll never be enough, like he’ll never have enough of you. It’s not something you’ve ever felt from him before. You can tell he’s scared in a way but you aren’t sure about what exactly. 

He keeps kissing you but his hands drop from your face to grab at the hem of your shirt, start sliding it up your body, stopping to pop the clasp of your bra as he works the shirt up and eventually over your head, helps you shrug your bra off. You expect his lips to return to yours immediately but they don’t. 

Jack stands as he tosses your shirt and bra to the side, hands reaching down for you and helping to get you up on your feet. Before you can say anything his hands are on your hips and his lips are back on yours. He walks you backwards to the kitchen table until your ass bumps into the edge of it. Without breaking the kiss he moves his from your hips and blindly wipes off the table, sending some mail and books and whatever else happened to be there clattering to the floor.

He finally breaks the kiss to give you a chance to breathe and so he can check there’s nothing on the table. “Jack,” you breathe out with some surprise. He grabs your hips and helps you sit on the edge of the table before stooping to bring his face back close to yours. 

“Please,” he whispers against your lips, “please. Please, I need this.” He pushes his lips to yours once again, licking into your mouth once again. “I need to feel you.” He feels your hands at the hem of his shirt and moves apart just enough for him to get it off and throw it to the floor. “I need you.” It’s pleaded, desperate and needy, but not erotically so. 

“Of course, always.” You let him support you as he leans over you and guides you down until your back rests against the table. “You have me, you always have me.”

It’s quick then, the way he tears off your bottoms and then his. You wrap your legs around him as he leans back over you, chest to chest and kisses you again, like he can’t get enough, like each kiss is a surprise he wasn’t expecting to actually get. He grinds himself into you as he does and you respond in kind, tightening your legs around him and letting your hips buck as much as they can against him to search out more friction. His hands roam your body, pressing into you to feel as much as he can, groping at your breasts and squeezing your hips as his lips stay on yours.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, hand sliding between the two of you to feel how wet you are for him. “Can you take me like this?”

“Yeah,” you pant softly, “yeah, please Jack.” You wrap your arms around his neck, hands tangling in salt and pepper curls you adore.

He shivers at the way you say his name, his lips leaving yours so he can look down at you as his fingers run through you and then over his cock to slick himself up as much as he can. “I need to know you’re real and still here. I need to be close to you.”

Jack notches himself in you and then moves to rest on his forearms with his hands holding your face, forehead resting against yours before he finally pushes himself into you slowly. His voice cracks with emotion part way through the needy and relieved groan he draws out as he pushes in. 

“Oh Jack,” you moan as you take a breath in and feel it catch in your throat. 

Once he bottoms out Jack stills, the two of you panting against each other’s lips until Jack’s are claiming yours once again. He stays still, lets himself relish in the way you taste and how you feel around him, so tight and warm and fluttering as you adjust to taking him with no real preparation. 

Jack finally draws his hips back slowly and steadily pushes himself back in with a grunt. “You okay?” Even with as out of his mind for you as he is, how desperate and needy and frantic he is to have you he’s still checking in on you. Would rather die than hurt you, especially like this. 

“Yes,” you breathe, “yes, Jack please. Need you.” Hearing that you need him has Jack pulling his hips back again, faster this time before snapping back in.

From there it’s all feral need and grunts and groans as Jack tries to be closer to you, to consume you, to be one with you. His strokes are hard as he tries to get as deep inside of you as he possibly can. His pace varies, keeps you on your toes, but it’s not deliberate this time. It’s Jack chasing what he needs from you however his body tells him, however feels right at that second. At some point one of his arms slides under your back, his hand wrapping over the opposite shoulder so that you tilt to the side just a little and he can pull you down onto him as he fucks you so hard your last clear thought is of concern he might break the table. 

Your hands tug at his hair, nails draw up his back when he starts mouthing at your neck, kissing and sucking, lips passing over the scar from your central line again and again. He rests his cheek against yours leaving his mouth near your ear allowing you to hear every little noise your body pulls from him. Jack is fucking you with pure need but it’s not an erotic need like it is sometimes when you tease him or he’s been thinking about you all day. It’s intimate. Jack needs you. He needs you. All of you.

Only you.

You’re so lost in the haze of pleasure that it takes you a moment to realize your cheek is wet where your and Jack’s touch. You realize he’s crying. “Jack?” You moan his name so sweetly for him, lace it with all the concern and worry and need you have for him. 

It makes him let out the smallest sob and breathe in hard through his teeth, shake his head a little against yours. He pulls his head from yours and looks down at you, hips slowing but not stopping. “Tell me you’re here,” a fresh wave of tears roll down his face and hit your cheeks. He’s unfairly beautiful when he cries. “Tell me this is real. That you’re real.” A few of your own tears slip out the corner of your eyes and roll down towards your ear. “Please,” his voice cracks, more of his tears joining your own on your face, “please be real. Please tell me you’re here and real and with me.”

You do. Over and over and over until his lips are back on yours and consuming you in a different way now. More confident, more convinced you’re real and here with him and letting him fuck you on your kitchen table to soothe himself and fix something inside of him he didn’t realize was broken. 

Letting him take solace from every part of you.

One hand slips between your bodies and with how well he knows you it’s not long before Jack has you soundless with pleasure for a moment as your orgasm crashes over you, voice coming back to moan out little whispers of his name, veiled pleas for him to take anything and everything he could ever need from you. 

And so Jack does. Lets himself give in and lose himself all the way in you, your name groaned with a relieved intensity you’ve never heard from him before, lower and more gravelly than usual right at your ear.

Jack works himself through it before stilling and resting his forehead back against yours, the two of you panting softly as you come down, bodies hot and sweat sheened and sticking together. “I love you,” Jack whispers, eyes opening and finding yours before kissing you, chaste but lingering. Just to feel you. 

“I love you too,” you murmur against his lips when you’re able, hand running through his hair and scratching at his scalp. Jack kisses your lips again and then your chin, down your neck and to your central line scar, lingering there before kissing down to the highest part of your thoracotomy scar. “Bed?”

Jack nods, lifts himself off of you and pulls out gently. He steps back and helps you up and off the table. “I should take care of all this.” He nods to the kitchen.

You shake your head and grab his hand. “The carrots and potatoes can live there overnight and it’ll be fine. We can order something from bed.” You squeeze his hand and pull him gently so he starts walking with you. 

Jack pulls back on your hand before you can get in bed, flicks his chin towards the bathroom. “Go,” it’s not an order, just a reminder. “We don’t want my… whatever that was to be the reason you get a UTI. You really don’t need that right now.” 

You smile at him gently and nod. Even after all the emotional turmoil he just went through, still is a little bit from what you can see in his eyes, he’s still thinking about you and your well being and keeping you healthy and safe. “You’ll get in bed?” 

He nods and drops your hand, sits on the edge and takes his prosthetic off as you go pee. He’s leaning against the headboard and staring into space when you get into bed. You slide up next to him so that your legs touch and lean back against the headboard, let your hand rest on his thigh and give it a little squeeze so he knows you’re here for whatever he might need.

“When you were in a coma,” Jack starts, voice strained and raw, “I started having nightmares.” He rests his hand on top of yours. You close your eyes and bow your head a little, heart sinking. “Some weren’t completely awful. But the one I got the most…” he trails off and shakes his head, grows quiet again. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” you remind him softly, lean your head over and kiss his bare shoulder. 

“I know, but I want to. At least enough to explain what that was.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Jack.”

“I know but I want to tell you.” He pauses for a second. “The worst, and of course most frequent, one was where you died in the OR. And I had to hold your lifeless body and somehow force myself to walk away from you. In the nightmare I’m thinking back on that while I’m sitting at your funeral.” You blink away tears because you can’t even imagine the level of pain that must have caused him. Multiple times. “The details, I… They don’t really matter, right now. In the nightmare I wore your engagement ring, the one that never got to go on your finger because I never go to ask, I wore it on a chain around my neck.”

“Oh fuck Jack,” you cringe, closing your eyes and squeezing his thigh tight and hating yourself. “I am so fucking sorry.”

Jack finally turns his head to look over at you. “Don’t be. Seriously. You had no way of knowing.” You appreciate him saying it but it doesn’t stop the guilt that builds inside of you. You were the reason he had the nightmare in the first place and now you’re the reason he had to go right back there. “So when you, when it got brought up, it just made it all hit me again, all the emotions from that nightmare and it made me panic almost. That this wasn’t real, that you weren’t. And I lost it a bit and so I did whatever that was and then needed to be as close to you as possible.” He shrugs a little. “I needed to know you were real.” 

Jack’s hand slides under yours and picks it up, laces your fingers together and squeezes. You feel vaguely lightheaded by his admission and then berate yourself and feel guiltier for thinking about yourself when this is about Jack and him still needing you. “I,” you try to find words to say, “I’m sorry,” Jack shakes his head but you continue, “I can’t even begin to imagine how painful that must have been.” You pause and have to look away from him for a moment, can feel his eyes remain on you. “Or maybe I can, to some extent at least, and that’s why I’m sorry and wish I could take it all away from you, make sure it never happens again.”

“That one has only happened once since you’ve been home. The first night.” You feel a little relief at that, are able to look back up at him. “They’ve kind of changed though, honestly. It’s not holding your dead body in an OR anymore, it’s walking in the door from work or the store or wherever and finding your dead body on the floor or in bed or wherever. Complications. Something else random. Freak home deaths I’ve seen roll through work before.” He lets go of your hand to bring his hand to your face again. “I wake up and have to convince myself you’re here. I’ve gotten quite good at the art of taking your pulse on your wrist without you waking up.” He gives a little laugh through his nose, trying to infuse a little lightness. It doesn’t work. If anything your lips pull down a bit. “Sometimes I just lay awake for a while watching you breathe. Sometimes I cuddle up to you a bit closer to feel your chest rise and fall against mine. Sometimes I fall asleep counting the beats of your heart while I feel your pulse.”

You take in a shuddery breath, trying so hard to focus on him and helping him and being here for him and not on the way this is all your fault. “Do you want to talk or for me to just listen?” You don’t want to force him to truly discuss this with you if he’s not in the headspace right now and it won’t surprise you if he’s not.

Jack thinks about it for a second. “Listen, please.”

“Okay.” You nod at him. “I’m not saying this to start a conversation when you just told me you wanted listening but I just need to make sure you know. You can do whatever you need to do Jack. When you wake up from one. Wake me up. We can talk, we can just sit together, whatever you need, okay?”

He nods, pulls his hand from your face to wipe away the couple of tears that have fallen down his own during this conversation. “Actually when you shifted us earlier, in the kitchen. Pulled my head to your chest so I could listen to your heart. It helped a lot. I just didn’t want to hurt you, before. With your chest healing.” He tries to laugh softly at himself. 

You give him the best smile you can manage with all the guilt and self-hate swirling inside you. “You can roll me into whatever position you want so you can listen anytime.” You know he’s trying to keep the conversation light because he knows how hard hearing it is for you. But that’s not fair. You should be the one trying to keep it light for him, should be taking care of him. “We could get you another stethoscope to keep on your nightstand,” you offer. “Then you could really listen whenever you wanted.”

He gives you a little more of a laugh at that and it makes your small smile become a little more genuine. “Could, yeah. But I like having my head on your chest, feeling you. I think it probably helps ground me in its own way.”

“Makes sense.” You rest your left hand on his chest, push down a little extra hard with your ring finger so he can feel the band that lives there now. “Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn’t easy and that you didn’t have to. And I want to do whatever I can to help you because I don’t want you to suffer.” You stop yourself from adding the because of me that you want to so badly. 

Jack picks up your hand, brings it to his lips palm first and kisses the band of your engagement ring before flipping your hand and kissing to the side of it the best he can with the setting. He brings your hand to the side of his face and covers it with his as he leans into it. “You always help. Even when you’re just laying there asleep and don’t know it.” 

You give him a little smile and laugh through your nose, try your best to take his words to heart because you know how much he means them. Jack knows you’re struggling, he can read you like a book. But he senses that you don’t want to acknowledge it so he doesn’t bring it up. 

His stomach growls then which makes you laugh a little more and he huffs. “Ruined our moment.” 

“Nah,” you shake your head and pull your hand away and rub his stomach, push off the headboard to sit up more. “What do you feel like? Can’t have my man going hungry.” The smile you give him is genuine, all the way to your eyes this time and it makes him mirror you, that smile of his you love so much pulling onto his face. 

He widens his eyes at you for a second and raises his eyebrows and you already know what he’s about to say. “You.”

“Yeah, I walked into that one,” you click your tongue at yourself. Jack gives you a smirk. “I don’t think I’m going to be filling enough for that-”

“I could go for seconds. Thirds, even.” 

“Mm, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but no.” You boop his nose and the way he scrunches his nose at it is so cute you could bite him. “Real food first. Me later, if you’re good.” He raises his eyebrows at you with a little smile. “What would you like? I’ll order.”

“Feisty. I’ll take it. Be so good for you so I can have dessert.” He nods all saccharine and put-on grin that makes you roll your eyes at him playfully. He thinks for a moment and then says the name of your favorite restaurant. 

You tsk at him and give him a really? look, but you’re smiling still, grinning, in fact. Like an idiot. It’s so sweet and so Jack, just one of those little casual ways he shows he loves you. 

“Whattt? I can’t want that?” 

“You can, but I don’t think it’s really your first choice, right now.” You shake your head a little as you speak. You start to slide out of bed and Jack whines, grabs at one of your arms. 

“Where are you going?” he pouts at you. 

“Gotta go get my phone so we can order, baby.” 

His pout lessens fractionally. “Alright, but hurry back.” 

“You’re very cute when you’re clingy,” you giggle at him as you get out of bed. He goes to make a smart comment back that he isn’t clingy but stops. He is right now and he doesn’t fucking care. He’s allowed to be. 

Jack has a favorite restaurant, just like you. Several, actually but you know the one that really tops the list. But you’ve also deduced that Jack has a favorite comfort restaurant that’s different from his favorite favorite. And you know what his favorite comfort meal from that restaurant is. So you add it, pick something for yourself and order it to be delivered before walking back into the bedroom with your phone. 

“Took you long enough,” he teases as you come into view. “What were you doing?”

“Ordering.” You toss your phone at him as you slide in and he unlocks it, reads it over. 

He swallows thickly and looks at you with glassy eyes. You make him feel more loved than he could ever possibly deserve, knowing him that well without him having ever said a word about it and doing it for him without asking. You give him a soft smile when you turn to look at him. “Okay?” 

“More than,” he whispers. “Thank you.” He pulls you closer to him so that you’re cuddling chest to chest, gives you the sweetest, simplest kiss. It’s everything. “You know,” he hums, starting to push you on your back. “I think you’re my appetizer and dessert.”  

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

“How about the day we met? We consider that our first date, it’s our anniversary,” Jack suggests. 

You and Jack are lounging on the couch together, half watching your show and half discussing wedding things. You’re not making any real plans, just thinking and dreaming out loud with each other. 

You can’t help but tease him. “Is that because you only want to have to remember one date?”

He shoots you a look. “No.” He wags his head at you as he says it. “I just thought it was kind of sweet. That’s our day, you know? And it falls on a Saturday that year.” He waves his phone that’s open to the calendar app at you. 

You grin at him. “You’re a romantic, Jack Abbot.” You’re crawling into his lap as you sing it, running your hands up his chest to hold his face so you can cover it in kisses.

“So you’ve said.” Jack moves his head and chases your lips with his trying to get a kiss on the lips. “Multiple times.”

“Because it’s true,” you mumble against his lips as he kisses you, running your hands through his curls.  

“Yeah, yeah.” He playfully waves you off as you settle on his lap perpendicular to him, one of his arms resting against your legs, hand spread over the thigh closest to him. His other hand rubs up and down your back absentmindedly. “You thought about where?”

“Mm,” you hum, look down at your engagement ring, “not so much. You?”

“Yeah,” he nods, squeezes your thigh. “I was thinking the bookstore.”

Your eyes come up from your ring and look at the wall in front of you for a second before looking at Jack. He can’t be serious. You open your mouth to say something, but close it as you struggle to find the words. 

“I didn’t expect speechless but I knew you’d love the idea.” Jack smiles. He uses the hand rubbing at your back to gently grab the back of your neck and bring your face close to his as if he’s going to kiss you. He drops his voice and lets a breath of hot air fan over your lips. “I’m fucking with you,” he murmurs before pulling his face away a bit and releasing you, letting his hand come down to your back again, a huge self-satisfied smirk on his face. 

“Jack!” He laughs at the shrill tone of your voice and the way you swat his chest playfully. 

“I really had you there for a minute,” he laughs as you fake pout at him. “But something I love about you is the way you were thinking so hard of a way to let me down without hurting me.”

“You did!” You huff at him. “I was sitting here thinking how am I going to explain to him that while I love our bookstore it doesn’t say wedding venue, nor do I want our wedding to be a near recreation of our first date with a bunch of extra people with us!”

Jack chuckles a little more. “I haven’t really thought about where either. Hard to think of where before you have a date to know the season.” You nod and hum, he makes a good point. “I only have one wedding requirement. And it’s not even really the wedding.” 

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow at him in intrigue. “What’s that?”

“I plan the honeymoon.” Both of your eyebrows raise at that and you cock your head at him. You don’t know what you expected him to say, but it wasn’t planning the honeymoon apparently. “And you don’t get to know where we’re going until we’re at the gate about to board.”

“How will I pack?” You look slightly stricken. “Jack, I love you and I trust you with my life, truly, but packing-”

“I’m going to give you,” Jack cuts you off with an oddly reassuring smirk, “two packing lists. You’ll make two piles. Once you’ve left to go get ready I’ll put one of the piles into a suitcase. That way I get my surprise and you’ve packed for yourself.”

You blink at him for a moment. “Jack,” you whisper, swallow hard and will away the tears you can feel forming. “You have this all planned out just to surprise me?”

“I thought you might like the idea, but it’s okay if you don’t.” He nods to emphasize that part. “But if we do decide to do it this way we’ll still talk about places of course, it’s not like I don’t want any input from you. I’ll just be the final decision maker.” 

“No, I love it.” The laugh you give him is breathless. “It makes me feel so loved and taken care of. It’s hard to wrap my head around.” You lean into him to give him a deep kiss. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“I think the general idea came to me a couple weeks after I knew I wanted to marry you.”

You beam up at him. “That long?” Jack nods. “Wow.” 

“Did you have a moment?” Jack asks you. You furrow your brows at him and shake your head slightly to ask him to explain. “A moment when you knew you wanted to marry me. That you knew you’d say yes if I asked. It’s okay if you don’t, honestly.”

“Of course I do!” You click your tongue at him. You let out a short laugh. “It actually wasn’t long after yours. Like two-ish weeks later, maybe? Things had been adding up, there were lots of things. This was just the first moment where I really consciously thought it.” You smile at him, wrap one arm around his neck so your fingers can scratch at the back of his scalp and nape of his neck how he likes. 

“You had just worked I think five nights in a row helping cover shifts. We hadn’t spoken on the phone that day, but exchanged some texts in the morning before you got home and went to sleep. And I could tell just from them that you were so beyond exhausted. My day, well. It was probably the worst and hardest day I had ever had at work and I felt so selfish but once I was able to leave I just went straight to your place. Without asking. So I knock and wait, get ready to leave because I know you’re asleep but then you open the door in your pajama pants, you’d clearly just woken up. And you give me this little ‘Hey Doll, come in’ as you open the door. I was frozen by that point. You took one look at me, grabbed my hand, pulled me inside and sat me on your couch and then disappeared. At some point you came back and gave me a tight hug, kissed my forehead and said ‘I’ve got you.’ And the next thing I know you’re stripping me and getting me into the bath you’d apparently drawn. You sat on the floor next to the tub with me. I still hadn’t said a single word to you at this point. Not even hi. And then you start talking to me. Just talking. I don’t remember about what. But you knew just from looking at me that I needed help getting out of my head. And as I listened I finally found my voice and was able to say I was sorry. You asked why and I said something along the lines of I was being selfish and knew you were exhausted and shouldn’t have come and made you do all this just because I had a bad day. And then you said, ‘Don’t apologize for needing me. Ever. For anything or for any reason. The day will never come where you need me and I am too tired for you.’ It wasn’t a big deal or a huge declaration. Just a casual fact you were stating. You knew what I needed just by looking at me. You didn’t care that I didn’t say a word to you while you did all this stuff for me. You didn’t ask what was wrong or for me to talk to you. You just met me where I was. And as you were helping me out of the bath and drying me off with a towel I just had the thought. I want to marry him.”

You wipe a few tears from your eyes. “Sorry, that was probably way more of a story than it needed to be to answer your question.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Jack murmurs. His eyes are glassy just like yours, a bit red. He gives a soft laugh. “I just feel kind of bad now that I didn’t give that much detail.” 

“Don’t.” You shake your head at him. “I promise, if I had been down on one knee on this floor that story would have been a whole lot fucking shorter.” 

That makes Jack laugh properly which makes you laugh properly. You turn a little and slide your arms around his neck to hug him, his arms sliding around you in return and holding you close. 

You nuzzle into his neck and then pull back for a kiss, let Jack deepen it as he begins moving to get you on your back on the couch, propping himself up on his elbows on top of you to keep too much weight off your chest and abdomen. You have to break apart for air but Jack goes straight to your neck, kissing and sucking and pulling all those pretty little sounds from you that he loves. 

“We have a date,” you whisper, hands tugging at his curls a little. 

Jack pulls back from your neck to look down at you, both of you grinning at each other. “We have a date.” 

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

You and Jack walk into the Pitt together. He needed to grab some stuff and sign a few things and was going to have Robby drop it all off so he didn’t have to leave you. You haven’t been outside much since the shooting. But you convinced him that you guys should go together, that it would be good for him to see people. As long as he would drive you guys, which he would of course. 

Jack was weary at the idea. You seemed to be struggling a bit harder lately and he worried something about being in the Pitt specifically might be too triggering for you. He knows that you have a lot of unresolved anxiety and guilt about what happened still. And that, while you’ve spoken generally about feeling guilty for putting him through all of this, you, like him, struggle to talk about it with him because you see it as burdening him or guilting him.

But you reassured him that it would be fine. You’d been back to the hospital since everything for follow up appointments. Not to the Pitt, but if the hospital didn’t completely trigger you why would the Pitt? 

You feel a little twinge of something as you walk through the ambulance bay doors, the ones you’d come through that day. Jack can tell and he squeezes your hand, stops and pulls to the side. “You sure about this? We can leave, right now.”

You shake your head. “No, no I’m sure. It’ll be good for me. I’m okay, really. It was just a little second of something.” 

He eyes you for a second but nods and starts walking you further in. It’s busy, nobody notices either of you as he leads you over to the break room. “You want to wait here? Shouldn’t take long. You can check the fridge. Anything with Robby’s name on it you can steal.” 

That makes you laugh, helps you relax. “I’ll wait here, yeah. Go do your thing, Dr. Abbot.” You wink at him. 

Jack lets out a little chuckle and shakes his head. “Don’t even start with me, Doll.” It makes you giggle as he leans down to kiss you. “I won’t be long, okay?” You nod at him, take a seat as he walks out. 

You scroll on your phone for a few minutes before your curiosity gets the better of you. You walk over and peek out the window of the door. It’s constant movement right now, people barely acknowledging each other as they rush to get somewhere else. You open the door and step out, just to look around. 

Before you’re even really aware of it you’re standing in front of one of the trauma rooms. That trauma room. The parts you can remember play in your head. Hugging Jack, Robby calling him over, you realizing what had happened and calling to Jack. And then nothing. Standing here you can only imagine what it must have been like for Jack, for him to have seen where you were shot and then watch you collapse. And then you made him live in the hospital with you for weeks. And now you’re making him stay home with you. Sometimes your guilt makes you feel like his jailer. 

Jack chats with Robby at the desk while he fills out one of the papers, gives whatever info it is HR so desperately needed to process all his leave correctly. Robby’s mid sentence when Jack spots you just in the corner of his eye, turns to see you standing in front of the trauma room. Jack leaves without a word to Robby and strides to you. 

“Hey,” he calls out as he gets close so that he won’t scare you when he steps in front of you and puts his hands on your arms. He sees that your eyes are a little glazed over when he gets a good look at you. “Why don’t you come over to the desk with me, yeah?” He’s not going to ask you why you were there like you’re a child who needs to explain yourself to him. He’s just going to redirect. “Yeah?” He asks again as he cups your face with one hand. 

“I just wanted to see. I, I got… curious. Just wanted to watch.” You explain anyway. “And then I was here.”

“That’s okay, Doll. You can sit at the desk with me, yeah?” 

You look around. There’s a chair against the wall a bit down, not facing the trauma room. “I’ll sit there. If that’s okay. Then I can watch.”

Jack glances over. “Yeah, that’s fine, that’s okay.” He walks you over to it, squeezes your hand. “I’m almost done, I promise.”

Being away from the room and back in Jack’s space snaps you back a little. “Okay, Peter.” You smile at him before he walks away. 

After a few minutes sitting there by yourself a woman rolls her wheelchair up to you. “And who are you that they’ve got sitting in time out?”

You glance around for a second to see if anyone’s coming after her and when nobody does you figure fuck it, and answer. “I’m Jack, um, Dr. Abbot’s fiancée.”

“Oh you lucky girl,” the woman smirks at you. “I’m Myrna.”

“Oh!” You smile widely at her. “Yes! I’ve heard a lot about you from Robby!”

“Have you now? Fruitcake’s talkin’ about me outside of this shithole. I knew I had that cocksucker wrapped around my finger.”

“Fruitcake?” You laugh. “That’s what you call Robby? Fruitcake?” 

“Yeah,” she nods. “He loves it.” Myrna gives you a conspiratorial wink. “He pretends it doesn’t, but I know it makes him feel things.” 

At the desk Robby looks up, sees you and Myrna talking and you laughing. “Oh that’s not good.” 

“Hm?” Jack raises his brows and then looks up. He smirks. “Not for you, but I think it’s going to be pretty funny for me.” Jack signs the last form and they both walk over to you. You and Myrna quiet as they get closer. 

“Myrna, are you harassing Jack’s fiancée?” Robby asks sternly, crossing his arms. 

“Not at all Fruitcake!” You answer for her. “We were just having a little chat.” 

Robby lets out a big sigh as Jack laughs. “See man, I told you. Not good for you, funny for me.” 

“Actually, we were talking and Myrna is free, Robby. She can be your plus one to the wedding! You said yesterday you were still looking!”

“That sounds perfect!” Jack smirks, clapping Robby on the shoulder. “I’ll let you see my vagina again for free Fruitcake,” Myrna offers, raising her eyebrows at Robby. 

Robby lets out another sigh and hangs his head. “The roof doth beckon.” 

You and Jack laugh while Myrna swats at him. “Ready Doll?”

“Yeah.” You look at Myrna. “It was lovely meeting you Myrna, I look forward to seeing you again.” You turn your attention to Robby, disguising your smirk with a warm smile quite well. “Bye Fruitcake!” You lean up and give Robby a quick kiss on the cheek as Jack snorts a laugh and holds his hand out for you. 

As the two of you walk away you hear Myrna giving Robby more shit.

“How come she’s allowed to kiss you on the cheek, cocksucker, but when I try you threaten to call the cops?” You and Jack laugh with each other as you walk out the ambulance bay doors to go back home. 

That night Jack thinks it’s a little strange, how long the shower has been running. And how it doesn’t sound like you’re in it. There’s no pause to the water raining down on the tiled shower floor, no slaps of water hitting against the floor suddenly when you step to rinse your hair or body, no muffled rain sound when you let yourself stand under the stream and soak. Only the uninterrupted sound of water raining from the shower head onto the tile. 

He glances at the alarm clock on his nightstand. You have to have been in there for at least thirty minutes. Jack looks back over at the bathroom door. It’s unnerving. Something is wrong. 

He gets off the bed, shirtless and just in his sweatpants. You guys had been winding down for the night before you decided to shower. He tries the handle. It’s unlocked. There’s an unspoken rule between the two of you that you can enter without asking if the door is unlocked. 

“Doll?” Jack calls to you softly as he opens the door. 

It’s like you don’t even hear him. Jack finds you in only your underwear staring in the mirror at your scars, one hand hovering over the bottom of the long laparotomy scar running up your stomach, another over your mouth, tears streaming down your face. Being at the Pitt today pushed you over some edge you didn’t realize you were so close to.

He knows now that you were using the sound of the shower to hide your muffled sobs. 

His eyes run over each of your scars, starting with the one up near your neck from your central line, that one fading quicker with how small it is, especially in comparison to the others. From there his eyes move down until he hits the scar from your thoracotomy. He traces the line with his eyes before he finds the laparotomy scar and lets his eyes drag along it. And then his eyes move over to the more circular scar. The bullet hole. 

“Doll, sweetheart,” Jack keeps his voice low as he walks into the bathroom. He steps over to the shower first and turns it off. Even that hardly seems to get through to you. He sees your eyes leave yourself in the mirror and flick to him for just a second. The tears start to fall harder. 

Jack walks up behind you so that his warm, bare chest presses against your back, his hands resting on your hips and lips kissing at your neck. Not teasing, just loving, soft and sweet and trying to soothe you when he knows words are only going to go so far. 

“What if you can never look at me the same way again?” You finally whisper, moving your hand from your mouth. 

You can see his brows furrow and a look of confusion fall over his face. “What do you mean?”

“I know you’ve kissed all of them, that you did the first time we had sex again after what happened. But I see you looking at them all, all the scars, whenever one is visible. And so what if you can never look at me the same way again, especially when they’re visible. What if my body is just always a reminder of one of the worst days of your life? A visual reminder that sends you right back there, that just, that just tortures you!” You let out a quiet sob. “What if that’s all you can ever see when you look at me?”

Jack takes in a deep breath and you can feel his chest press into you a little more as he does. He catches your eye contact in the mirror. “Doll,” he murmurs, “I think that you misunderstand why I look at your scars whenever one is visible.” Jack slides his hands from your hips around your front in a kind of backwards hug, pulls you back closer to him a bit. 

Your chin trembles a little. “Oh?”

He nods. “Will you turn for me? Sit on the counter?” Jack tilts his head a little so that it rests against yours. “You can say no and I’ll still tell you of course. You know I just like my eye contact.” He says it with just a hint of a smile and self-teasing tone to try and get you to smile. 

And it’s small, but it works. Your lips pull up just slightly for a second. You chew on the inside of your cheek for a second before you turn around and let him help you get you up to sit on the edge of the counter. 

“Thank you.” Jack steps between your legs and leans down to kiss your forehead. “You want me to grab your shirt?” He’s cognizant of the conversation you’re having and the fact that you’re topless, scars on display. You give him a little nod and he grabs it from the pile of your clothes you made to the side of the door. “I say your shirt, but I really mean my shirt, don’t I?” 

You’d been wearing one of his old shirts that’s a bit oversized on him, soft and worn in and smelling like him. You stay quiet and nod. Jack’s heart almost throbs in his chest at how much he hates seeing you like this, this upset. Your tears have stopped now though. Little victories. Once it’s on he rests his hands on the tops of your thighs, rubs his thumbs in what he hopes are soothing circles. 

“Your scars don’t remind me of one of the worst days of my life. Looking at them doesn’t send me back to the hospital or torture me. Pretty much the exact opposite.” This time it’s your brows that furrow. “They’re a reminder of what happened, sure. Of what I almost lost. But it’s that part that’s important. What I almost lost.” 

“You know what you didn’t have in any of my nightmares?” Your eyes widen a little because you know what he means, what he’s going to say. “Scars. You only had wounds, fresh, stitches still in them. No scars.” Jack squeezes at your hands. “When I was in that operating room holding your dead body, you didn’t have any scars. So your scars, looking at them, when I look at them, they don’t torture me or send me back to one of the worst days of my life. They tell me that you’re alive. They remind me how hard you fought to stay here with me. They remind me how strong you are. They remind me that you’re here with me, healing and living.” 

Jack moves his hands from your legs and sets them on the outside of each of your thighs on the counter, hunches over a bit and leans on them as he moves forward to kiss your forehead again. You bring your arms up and set them on either side of his neck, fingers playing in the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Your scars are proof that you’re alive. And so your scars will never be anything less than one of the most beautiful and important and comforting things I could ever look at.” He says it so seriously, so firm and settled, looks you straight in the eye as he says it. It makes a few tears slide down your cheeks again. “Second only to your face and you in general, okay?” He nods as he says it. 

He brings a hand up to wipe away the tears that have fallen. “Can I give you a kiss?”

You nod as a couple more tears fall. Jack takes your chin between his thumb and index finger and tilts your head up so he can kiss you. It’s gentle, soft and sweet and lingering as he just holds you there. He pulls back but then goes back for another quick one. 

Both you and Jack are surprised you haven’t started fully bawling into him, but there’s something in your chest that stops it from coming out like it needs to. You couldn’t describe it if you tried. 

“Bed? Or you wanna shower?”

It takes you a moment to answer. Not to decide. Just to answer. “Just bed, please.”

“Of course, Doll.” Jack steps back from between your legs and helps you get off the counter safely before taking your hand and leading you back to your shared bed. You both slide in and Jack takes his prosthetic off and gets an arm around you, pulls you into him as he leans up against the headboard. 

You let him, let your head rest on his chest and let his arms wrap around you and let him hold you close as you think about everything he said. You believe him, you do. You know he would never lie to you and when you think about it all it makes sense. You just wish it were the same for you. Wish you could look at them and feel something, anything other than crushing guilt. 

Because for you they’re a reminder of a traumatic event but more than that they’re a reminder of what you put Jack through. What you continue to put him through now as you try to heal physically and mentally. 

Sometimes, maybe a lot of the time recently, you go back to that place. That place where you just wish it would stop, be over for the both of you. Wish you hadn’t made it out of the OR or the courthouse. That place where your brain tells you that Jack would be better off without you, that it’s unfair of you to ask him to do this all with you, that he’s only here with you still because he feels some sort of weird responsibility for what happened to you, that even if he doesn’t think he could, he would survive losing you and he would properly grieve and he would move on and find someone else. Someone who’s less work, less of a burden. Someone who’s better. That it wouldn’t even be that hard. 

The rational part of you knows that those thoughts aren’t true. That Jack is here because he loves you, more than anything, that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. That he would not survive losing you or properly grieve or move on. That if he knew he would tell you that you’re not work at all, not a burden, that he could never do better. That he had an entire nightmare about having to bury you and it hurt so bad that even weeks later when he thought about it he was physically sick and broke down in the kitchen. 

Jack doesn’t push you, just like you never push him. He does get worried though. He hates to see you cry but this silence is somehow worse. 

“You wanna go to the bookstore tomorrow?” He asks it just to ask. Just to fill the silence and help distract you and maybe keep you out of your head. Or from getting further into it. 

You can feel the vibration of him speaking as your head rests on his chest. “Hm?”  

He kisses the top of your head. “Bookstore tomorrow?”

“Maybe, yeah.” It’s an odd answer from you. “I don’t know.” 

Jack nods slowly. “It’s okay to not know. And I’m here if you want to talk or have me listen. Whatever you need.”

You hum at his words. “I don’t know anything anymore Jack,” you admit. 

You feel his arms hold you a little tighter. He doesn’t understand and something about the way you say it scares him a little. “What do you mean?”

The something in your chest that was blocking everything from coming out starts to crack. “I don’t know,” you whisper, high pitched and cracking. “I don’t know how to do this.” You pull away from him and move so that you’re sitting next to him with your legs crossed so that you can face him. 

“I know I’m in therapy. And I know it helps. And I hate to think about what I’d be like without my therapist.” You shrug, chin trembling and tears lining your eyes as you look at him. You look so sad and it kills him. 

“But I still don’t know how to do this Jack. How to heal, how to grieve. I don’t know how to heal the tremendous guilt I feel. And everyone says to let myself grieve and what the fuck am I grieving? I don’t have anything to grieve. I didn’t lose anything! Not like you. It’s not the same as what you went through. You lost a piece of yourself. I happened to get shot and spent time in the hospital and yes I almost died but I didn’t lose a piece of me. And so I don’t know what I’m grieving and I don’t know how to grieve or what I’m grieving or how to heal from this… this amorphous concept. This thing, that just happened to me. This event. And I shouldn’t need to! I shouldn’t need to grieve or heal. There’s nothing there. I don’t have anything to grieve or heal from, and I shouldn’t be like this! And I’m not trying to throw what happened in your face Jack, I’m not, I promise, and I’m not for a second saying you somehow had it easier because there was a more tangible thing to grieve, if anything it’s the opposite, you lost a piece of yourself and I lost nothing. You had so much to grieve and heal from, you needing to grieve and heal and struggling that makes sense. I lost nothing. I don’t even know what I have to grieve. I don’t know.” 

All the tears in your eyes spill over at once. You bring your shoulders up to your ears in a held shrug. “I don’t know, Jack.” He’s never heard you sound so small. Not even that ‘okay’ you gave him in the hospital was like this. The guilt and shame and embarrassment all flood you, make it hard to look at him. “I didn’t say anything even though I’ve been struggling because-” 

You shake your head, try to wipe some of the tears off your face, look down at your hands in your lap. “I just don’t know how to do this, whatever this is. And it’s like recently I’ve lost all the words to even try and begin to explain how I feel or felt. I lost all the words.” You force yourself to look back up at him because when you admit this and apologize you need to be looking at him. “I lost all the words and my head got so fucked up that I didn’t know how to ask for help, from anyone.” 

Jack catches the change in tense. You had said you don’t know but now you’re saying you didn’t, like somewhere along the way in this conversation, this admission, this time with him, you found the words again. 

You shake your head a little as more tears slip down your cheeks. You whisper now, voice thicker than he’s ever heard with emotion. “Not even you. I didn’t know how to ask you for help Jack.” You try to hold back a small sob through your teeth. “And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I just didn’t know, I wanted to, I just couldn’t. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-” You’re cut off by the wracking sob that you’re finally able to let out as that something in your chest shatters.

“Okay, shh.” Jack shushes you softly as he reaches for you while you let yourself fall forward into his chest, rolling on your side slightly to get your legs stretched out as he pulls you on top of him and cradles you against his bare chest. He isn’t shushing you to get you to stop, only for the comfort of it.

Jack hates this. He hates seeing you suffer so thoroughly. He hates the way he can’t hug you and put you back together, the way he can’t fix this for you, can’t take away your pain. Can’t take on all of the pain for you. Jack believes you when you say you didn’t know how to ask, knows that you weren’t trying to hide it from him, just like he wasn’t trying to hide his shit from you. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He repeats it as he continues to hold you, rocks with you at times like you did with him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” “I’ve got you.” “I’m here.” “You’re okay.” ���I love you.” One arm keeps you close, his other hand rubbing your back in circles. He knows there’s very little he can do right now except hold you through it. 

With time, you run out of tears, exhaust yourself out of crying and just sniffle and hiccup into Jack. He keeps holding you, doesn’t push for more from you. 

“It’s just so hard.” Your whisper breaks the silence after a good five or so minutes. 

You can feel Jack nod. “Talk or listen?” he whispers. 

You try to think about it. You’re not really sure what you want. “I don’t know,” you admit, “I’m sorry, I don’t know.” You try to stop yourself from getting worked up again, the reality of one more thing you don’t know hitting you hard. 

“Shh,” Jack soothes you, “it’s okay, you don’t need to apologize and you don’t need to know. It’s okay. I promise.” His hands rub up and down your back and he kisses the top of your head. With how escalated you are right now he thinks eye contact will be too much so he just holds you tight as you are. “I’m going to talk. And if you want me to stop, just say so, okay?”

You nod. Jack takes a breath in as he tries to think of how to start and how he wants to say what he has to say. “You don’t ever need to apologize for struggling and not knowing how to ask for help.” There’s a pause as Jack realizes how guilty he feels about that. He knows he can’t focus on himself right now. You need him. “I think maybe we need to try and find something that you could do, that both of us could do honestly, that doesn’t require words but would let the other know we needed help. So then we don’t need words and can still get help.”

“Probably, would be good, yeah,” you mumble against him.

“Good. We’ll figure something out, promise.” He’s quiet for a moment to give you the chance to say you’ve talked enough for the night, but you don’t. “As for the other part, I know and understand and hear you when you say that you don’t know what you’re grieving and that you don’t have anything to grieve. But Doll, you do. You have so much to grieve, so much you are grieving even if it’s hard for you to see or understand right now. There doesn’t have to be some tangible loss like a foot or a person for you to have something to grieve. I hate it, and I wish that I could make it different and better for you, but you did lose a piece of yourself.” Jack feels new tears wet his chest but you don’t ask him to stop or make a noise so he continues. He knows he’s not what’s making you cry. That it’s just hard to hear and realize. “You lost a piece of yourself the moment that gun went off, and the moment you watched someone die in front of you,” he addresses the one thing you don’t talk a lot about because you’re not ready yet. It took a while for you to even be able to tell him. “And the moment,” he has to take a breath to steady himself because it’s still so hard to say, “the moment that bullet hit you, and when you almost died and over weeks in the hospital. All of those things take something from you, even if it’s not something tangible. You’ve lost a piece of yourself. And you’re grieving the person you were before you lost it. You’re grieving the you who didn’t know this type of violence, the you who didn’t know what it felt like to be shot, or what it felt like to be drowning in your own blood, or what it felt like to be septic or what it does to you to watch someone die in front of you or how it feels to see reminders of what you went through permanently on your skin. You’re grieving the person you were. And you’re grieving other things that I don’t know because I’m not in your brain. But those ones I said, those are ones I can see you grieving and struggling with and I hope it doesn’t feel like I’m being condescending or trying to define your grief for you, because I’m not. I’m just trying to tell you what I see in the hopes that it’ll help you be able to see, or give you a starting point.”

You shake your head against his chest. You know he’s not doing any of that, he didn’t even need to say it but you find it sweet that he did. “I know,” you sniffle. “I do. And it does help and somewhere deep down I know what I’m grieving, all of those things. Some things I probably can’t articulate. I just feel like I don’t know how to grieve. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to grieve obviously but I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s all the guilt making me feel like I don’t deserve to grieve or heal and should be stuck in this weird limbo forever or what. I just don’t know how.”

You both sit with your words for a minute. “I wish I had answers,” Jack finally murmurs. “But I’m not sure if anybody really knows how to grieve.” He tries to think of more to say that might be comforting or helpful. Before he can you speak.

“I got you all wet and snotty, I’m sorry.” You lean off his chest a little and put your hand under your shirt and bring it up to try and wipe him off. Jack understands you. You’ve talked enough for the night. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay,” Jack laughs softly, grabbing at your hand to get you to stop. “Two of the most benign bodily fluids I’ve had on me, and they’re yours. Plus, I think I’ve done the same to you recently.”

“That’s different.”

“I knew you were going to say that,” he shakes his head, gives you a little tap on the ass. 

“It’s true!” you protest. “I was wearing a shirt. You’re not. That’s different.”

“Still.” He knows you’re technically correct. “I did the same to you. And I’m pretty sure I cried tears onto your face while we were, you know… at the table.”

You burst out laughing. “While we were at the table? That’s what we’re calling it?”

“It’s not incorrect.” He shrugs, beaming just from hearing you laugh and being the one to pull it from you. 

“Well, actually, I think it was more you were at the table. I was on the table,” you point out. 

Jack shakes his head and smiles at you. “Prepositions are overrated.” 

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

You and Jack don’t argue often. But you’re humans. Humans who went through a major trauma together. And humans aren’t perfect. Individually or as a couple. 

Neither of you even remember how it started. And you’ve somehow moved far, far away from what you were initially discussing and starting to bicker about. But you’re here now and things are escalating into a kind of argument. Even with the escalation you never raise your voices at each other, never yell. Still. It’s neither your nor Jack’s finest moment. 

Jack has never pressured you into going outside. He knows it’s still hard for you, knows how much it scares you. But he also knows that you really need to and that it’s never going to get less scary. He knows that he needs to go outside but doesn’t want to leave you, feels like he can’t leave you or something will happen like when he left you that time in the hospital. And you know that you need to go outside. It’s just so scary. You were shot. You’ve put Jack through so much, and when you think about outside you think about what if something else happened, when will it be too much for him, you can’t keep asking him to do this.

Jack isn’t pressuring you to go outside but he does ask. Again. In the space of minutes.

“I don’t want to, Jack.” Your tone has a snappy edge to it. You’re getting frustrated. At yourself more than Jack. 

“You’re going to have to go outside eventually, Doll. For more than me driving you to a doctor or therapy or the bookstore.” Jack tries to keep his tone even. He’s getting frustrated too, also more at himself than you. Something about his words stings when you know he doesn’t mean them to, know it’s because you’re escalated and more sensitive in a way. The way he says it makes it seem like he’s not doing those things with you, just driving you somewhere. Chauffeuring you. Like he doesn’t want to be doing it. “Around the block, please. Nothing major. I’ll be with you the whole time, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You shake your head from where you’re sitting on the couch, knees coming up to your chest. “I don’t want to. Asking me eight more times isn’t going to change my answer.” 

“I’m worried about you!” Jack stands across the living from you in jeans and a shirt. Actually dressed compared to you in lounge clothes that are effectively pajamas. “I’m not trying to pressure you,” you can’t help the little face you make at that, “I’m really not, I promise. I’m just worried. You need to go outside. Get some fresh air. You’re holding yourself hostage here. You’re holding me-”

Jack stops as soon as he realizes what he was about to say. But he knows from the look on your face that it’s too late. And he’s right. It hits you like a slap to the face, far worse than he even realizes or could imagine. Because you’ve never really explicitly or in any detail told Jack about the guilt you have from effectively asking him to do all of this with and for you, about how guilty you feel that his entire life has been turned upside down and that he was confined to the hospital and is now confined to home because of you, because you’re scared to go outside. About the guilt of feeling like his jailer. Or hostage-keeper, apparently.

It’s a silent type of panic. One that pulls a band around your chest and stomach making it hard to breathe and sends adrenaline through your veins to chill your fingers and toes and has tears hitting your eyes. 

“Doll, I didn’t-”

“No, Jack, finish the goddamn sentence.” Your voice is eerily calm now. Jack takes in and lets out a breath, tilts his head and goes to speak. “No Jack. Finish the fucking sentence.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know that. I wasn’t thinking when I said it, phrased it like that.” Jack sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Phrased it like what? Like you resent me? Like you’re getting tired of me? Of having to take care of me?” You’re pushing some of his buttons now, a little more deliberately than he had initially pushed yours. 

Jack clenches his jaw and tries to breathe through his hurt and rising frustration. “I don’t resent you, nor am I getting tired of you or having to take care of you.”

“You just feel like I’m keeping you hostage in your own home?” It’s cold, the way you say it. Icy. The guilt eats away at you. You hate yourself for what you’ve put him through. 

“You won’t even try, Doll! I know you know I need out of this house and you won’t even try!” A push back at your buttons. Jack knows that it’s not a matter of trying. He knows it’s not that simple. Just like you know he isn’t growing tired of you or caring for you. 

“You won’t try leaving me alone,” you fire back. “I got fucking shot and I don’t want to go outside. So why don’t you try just leaving me here alone if you want to go outside that badly?” That one really hits a nerve, harder than you realize because Jack hasn’t directly expressed just how guilty he feels about what happened when he left to go down to the ED that time in the hospital. How fucking responsible he feels for what ended up happening, for you almost dying. How he thinks it’s completely his fault and could have been prevented, easily. 

“Because the last time I left you alone you ended up coding in front of me and coming a centimeter and a half away from dying!” Jack takes a quick breath. He hates himself for what he let happen to you. “You don’t even know what you don’t fucking know! I watched my best fucking friend intubate you and do CPR on you and shock you. I watched them crack your chest. I have seen your literal fucking heart.” That’s all new information to you and it makes you hate yourself a little bit more even though you know that wasn’t Jack’s intention. “I have sat by you while you were in a coma for five fucking days, all because I-” 

You cut him off before he can finish his sentence. All because I left you and so I wasn’t there to notice you getting sicker and to feel your fever before you went septic and threw a PE. 

“Oh well I am so sorry Jack, that I went to work and got shot and almost died-”

“Don’t.” The way he says it is almost dark, low and deadly serious, face set and eyes piercing the thick tension between you. That’s the line for him. The almost flippancy in your tone. 

Jack holds his hands up. “I need air.” You don’t say anything as he walks over to the entryway and puts on his shoes. “I love you.” He puts his hand on the door handle and pauses.

“I love you too.” The door opens, Jack walks out and it shuts, key turning the deadbolt to lock a few seconds later. 

The sudden quiet of your apartment is what seems to bring you back down. You take a gasping breath in as everything you said to him sinks in. You bring a hand to cover your mouth, tears wetting the back of it. You’re pretty sure you’ve never hated yourself more. 

You stay there on the couch, are stuck there really, unable to bring yourself to move. All you can do is cry and think about how to apologize to Jack. You start ruminating and edging toward panic thinking about whether he’ll be able to forgive you, whether you guys will be able to work through this. You know it’s panic and that you guys will be able to. That both of you said things you didn’t mean and that were designed as jabs at the other. But yours feel so much worse than anything he said to you. Even when Jack forgives you, you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself. 

Jack takes a couple of steps away from your apartment door but stops. He can’t. He can’t go any further. He knows he needed air and was right to step out and get some and help diffuse things between the two of you because that conversation was not going anywhere. But his fear is still there. So he walks back and slides down the wall right to the side of your door, convinces himself that this way he’ll hear you fall, if something happens. He’ll know. 

Sitting in the quiet brings Jack back down too, gives everything he said to you the chance to sink in. He runs his hands over his face and through his hair before bringing the heels of his palms to his eyes and pressing in. He’s pretty sure he’s never hated himself more. He gets panicky too, it gets hard for him to imagine how you could ever accept his apologies, how he could ever make this right. He knows that you’ll forgive him, and that you’ll work this out. He just doesn’t know how he’ll forgive himself.

Neither of you even cares what the other said to you. Not really. Both of you can hardly even remember what the other said to you now, in part because it doesn’t matter. It was said out of frustration and hurt and a deep grief, none of it was meant. Things just boiled over. And in part because all you can remember is the terrible things you said to the other. 

Jack doesn’t sit there long. It can’t be more than twenty minutes. You’re on your feet the second you hear the door start to unlock, walking closer to it and trying to wipe the tears from your face quickly. Jack pushes it open and looks at you, looks just as devastated as you feel and you hate it. He walks in and closes and locks the door. 

“I’m so sorry.” You both say it at the same time and it makes you smile a little at each other. You’re both moving then, walking towards one another until you meet and pull each other into the tightest hug. 

“I was so out of line Jack, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it.” Jack can feel your tears wet his neck and it makes him squeeze you a little tighter. 

“I was too. Way out of line. I didn’t mean it either. I’m so sorry, Doll.” Jack kisses the top of your head. 

The anxiety hits you a little harder being in Jack’s arms for some reason and you start to tremble. “I feel so awful, and I promise the tears aren’t manipulative or for guilt or to distract, I’m just so sorry and I hate myself for what I said and I don’t want to lose you.”

Jack frowns to himself. He’d like to have a strong word with whoever made you feel like you have to explain your tears. “I promise you that I never, for even a second, thought that. Now or any time in the past. I don’t want you to hate yourself, but I get it because I hate myself too right now. I don’t want to lose you either.” 

A few tears of Jack’s own slip down his face as he says it at the thought. “You’re not going to lose me,” you whisper.

“And you’re not going to lose me,” he whispers back. “Let’s go to bed.”

You pull away from him a little. “We can go out, if you just give me a couple of minutes to change-”

Jack shakes his head. “I don’t want to go out right now, I just want to be in bed with you, holding you close.” Jack brings a hand to your face and cups it, brushes some of the tears away. “I’m just as insecure as you are right now. Just as shaken. And not by anything you said. By myself, for what I said.”

You lean into his hand. “How do you always manage to do that?” Jack raises his eyebrows to seek clarification. “Read me so well. Know how I’m really feeling.”

He shrugs, like it’s simple and obvious. “You’re my favorite book. I’ve got you so well memorized you’re an easy read.” You give him a sad nod and look down at his chest. “Hey,” he guides your head back to look at him when you don’t resist. “That was so cheesy and deserved at least a pity laugh.” 

You give him the smallest one through your nose. You love this about him, it’s one of the ways he takes care of you when you’re upset, tries to make you laugh a little when appropriate to help distract your mind. Usually it works. You’re just a little too shaken yourself for it to right now. 

“I,” you try to find the words. “I’m not upset or shaken by anything you said either. I just want to make sure you know that.” 

“I do.” Jack nods. “Honestly Doll, I barely remember what you said to me. All I can hear in my head right now are the things I said to you.”

You give a slightly bigger laugh through your nose. “Same. I can only hear myself, only remember my words.” You know you’re preventing him from getting you in bed where he wants to be, but you have one last thing to say. “I don’t want that to ever happen again Jack, I don’t ever want to hurt you like that again, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, and I don’t want to hurt you or say things like that to you ever again. But right now, I think we hurt ourselves more than we hurt each other.” He leans down and you share a kiss, three actually, each one lingering, an apology, forgiveness given and declaration of love from both of you to the other. “We’re going to figure it out, okay? I promise.”

Jack’s promise is how the two of you found yourselves here. Couples therapy. 

It wasn’t one person’s suggestion. After the argument the two of you had been talking in bed, trying to work some of what you each said out. You both talked about your own therapy and it just kind of dawned on you both at the same time and you both agreed, easily, even laughing together when you said it at nearly the same time. 

You stand outside the office with Jack. You hate the term, feel like it implies something. But nothing is wrong between the two of you. Just the opposite. After your argument you both knew you needed guidance on navigating your guilt and healing as a couple, not just as individuals. Both of your therapists had recommended the same couples therapist when asked, one who specializes in helping couples who have gone through an acute traumatic experience together.  

Nothing changed after the argument. You were both clingy the rest of that day and for a few days after. If anything in some ways it made you guys feel stronger as a couple. But at the same time neither of you ever want it to happen again. 

So here you are. You know it won’t make you as individuals or partners or your relationship perfect because that’s impossible. And you both know you’ll hurt each other again as you heal from this and move through life together because you’re human. Neither of you expect perfection.

Jack squeezes your hand as you stand there. You squeeze back, hard as you let out a big breath.

“Preventive medicine,” Jack reminds you. You’d admitted to him one day how much the term couples therapy freaked you out and how you knew it was stupid and nothing was wrong with you guys or between you guys but it still freaked you out. Jack had suggested calling it preventive medicine, asked if that might help. You weren’t sure you were sold but knew you’d pick apart any potential name for it and preventive medicine was better than couple’s therapy to you for some reason.

“Nothing is wrong?” Sometimes you just need reassurance from him. He’s always happy to give it. 

“Absolutely nothing. I’m not mad or upset with you. I’m not hurt. I don’t resent you. I love you. More than I did yesterday, less than I will tomorrow, whatever the fucking saying is. We’re okay. I promise. And if we’re ever not, if we ever even get remotely near being on the same planet as not being okay I will tell you.” Jack kisses your forehead. “This is a good thing. It’s smart. They tell people to do this before they get married even when one of them hasn’t just been shot and almost died.”

You smile at him, soft and a touch somber, but a smile nonetheless. “I know. And thank you. I’m sorry, I know I’ve been so insecure and worried lately and asking for so much reassurance.”

“I’ve been the same,” Jack reminds you. You hum and shake your head as if to question him. “I have been, at least a little bit. And you give me reassurance. You don’t mind. You say you’ll give it to me as much as I need it, never take it personally because you understand. The same is true for me. I will give you however much and whatever type of reassurance you need as much as you need whenever you need and I will never take it personally. I understand too. I’d rather you ask than live with worry that could be soothed by asking, yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You lean into Jack for a second and take in a deep breath. “Alright. I’m ready. I don’t know why I even had to stand here and become ready, but whatever.” Jack smiles to himself because he loves when you do that kind of self-commentary. “You ready?”

“I’m always ready for anything with you Doll.”

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

Jack is obviously the first of you to return to work. It’s not something either of you are looking forward to really. In a sense you both are because it checks off another box on the return to normalcy. But you’re not looking forward to being alone and Jack isn’t looking forward to leaving you.

The two of you talk and decide he’ll start with half shifts, give you both some time to adjust back into things. He had been working days but he thought maybe nights would be better until you were back to work, you’d be asleep when he was gone that way. You were fine with it and so that’s what he worked out with Robby. 

It’s strange sitting on the bed watching him pull on black scrubs that have been folded so long they’re a little creased. It’s been a long time since you last saw him in scrubs. It makes you smile because it reminds you of life before the shooting. And he still looks incredibly, incredibly fucking hot in them. 

“What?” He smirks as he looks at you after pulling his scrub top on over his undershirt. 

“I didn’t say anything!” You give him a look of mock offense. You really are doing your best to temper your anxiety about tonight. 

He narrows his eyes at you a little and walks to stand in front of where you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “You didn’t have to say it. I could just feel it.”

You lean your head forward onto his tummy and rest your forehead there for a moment before looking up at him. “That so?” He gives you another smirk and nods. “I’m not allowed to appreciate how good you look in scrubs anymore, Dr. Abbot?”

Jack steps back and takes your hands to pull you off the bed. “Of course you are. Doesn’t mean I won’t tease you about it.” He uses one hand to hold your face before leaning in and kissing you, hard, a little bit of tongue. Just because he can. He pulls back just far enough so you can see each other and gives you another smirked smile before kissing your forehead and releasing you. 

The two of you walk back into the front room together, and you sit on the couch and fidget with your fingers while Jack looks through his backpack to make sure he has everything he needs. You grab your phone, try to distract yourself with it so he doesn’t feel you staring at him the entire time. You don’t want to make this any harder for him. Both of you know the other is just as anxious. 

Jack glances down at his watch. He needs to leave. The urge to pull out his phone and call Robby to say he can’t make it in is immense. But he, and you, know that this day has to come eventually. He walks over and sits next to you on the couch. “You gonna be okay?” He grabs one of your hands in his to help ground you, get you to focus on him. 

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” You try to give him a brave smile but you’re not sure how well it lands. 

“I want you to call me or text me if you need anything, okay? I mean anything. If I have to leave early then I have to leave early.” His eyes flit around your face trying to make sure he’s reading every little bit of you. “And if for some reason I don’t answer the phone, call the hospital, yeah?”

“I know Peter,” you murmur, bring his hand up to your face and lean your cheek against the back of his hand. “I’ll be okay though. Really. It might be hard at first but I’ll probably just end up falling asleep and then you’ll slip into bed beside me before I even know it.”

“I really hope so, Doll.” Jack leans in and kisses your forehead, lingers for a moment before he pulls back and looks back down at you. His brows are creased, mouth just slightly pulled down, eyes a little wider than normal. He’s concerned, worried about you. You hate seeing him like this. You know part of it goes back to his nightmares about coming home and finding you dead.

“It’ll all be okay in the end. You’re coming home to me.” You manage to give him a real smile, as small as it is, and it visibly helps him relax. 

He’s able to return it. “Yes I am. Always.” He stands up and you follow, walk him over to the door. 

“Text me when you get there, yeah?”

“Course. And you text me during the night if you need, okay?” You nod at him, give him another little smile as he pulls his backpack over one shoulder. He pulls you close to him in a tight hug, kisses the top of your head before letting you pull back and kissing you. “I love you. So fucking much.”

“I love you more,” you murmur before stealing another kiss. Normally he’d argue with you, but tonight he lets you have it. 

Jack opens the door and steps out and you close it behind him. You both know that if he turned and looked at you he probably wouldn’t end up going in. He waits to hear the deadlock before he takes a few steps away. He has to stop though and just breathe for a minute before finally setting off. 

You lock the deadbolt and then rest your forehead against the door, one palm flat on it. Tears hit your eyes and you feel so fucking ridiculous about it. Like some clingy, codependent fiancée who can’t stand to be away from her man for more than ten minutes. You try and remind yourself that this is okay, you’re allowed to feel what you’re feeling and you being upset isn’t because you’re clingy or codependent. It’s because you went through a major trauma and are healing and it’s your first time truly being on your own since you were shot. You know this won’t last, that it won’t always be like this, but in this moment it feels like it will and it overwhelms you.

Your hand itches to undo the deadbolt and dart out after him, beg him not to leave you. But you can’t do that. This is something that has to happen. So you pull yourself from the door and head back to the couch for a second before getting back up to go do the dishes from dinner. You thought it might be a good distraction. Instead it just reminds you that he’s not here doing them with you. 

Your phone dings as you finish loading the dishwasher and washing the pan that can’t go in it. It’s Jack letting you know he got to work. He keeps typing, and you chew on your lip as you wait to see what he’s going to say. 

J - I just want to let you know that it’s slammed here tonight so I’ll probably be busy and not around a ton. But I’ll check my phone often even if I can’t always reply. So text me if you need to, or call me or the ED. I love you. 

Your heart falls at his words and some part of you feels selfish for it. It’s good. It’s good for him to be there and be busy and have that distraction and get back to normal. It just sucks you won’t have him to talk to much. You had tried to prepare yourself for this, tried to operate under the assumption that he wouldn’t be around much but a part of you, apparently a big part, still held onto the hope he would. 

There’s also the unspoken meaning of the Pitt being slammed. The chances he’ll get off on time are probably slim to none unless some miracle happens. You try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter. You’re going to be asleep anyway. But will you really?

Jack is anxious to get a text back from you, glancing at his phone nonstop while Robby goes over the board with him. This was exactly what he did not want to happen. He didn’t want it to be slammed. Busy, fine. He appreciates the distraction it brings. He’d still be able to respond to you more even if not as frequently as he’d like. And slammed means the chances of him getting off in six hours are a fraction above non-existent. He knows you know that too. 

He also knows that he’s the lucky one out of the two of you. He can’t afford to be distracted here. So he has to do some kind of compartmentalization. It doesn’t mean he won’t miss or worry about you constantly. He will. He just has to force himself to stay present where he’s at. His inability to be distracted here is itself a distraction from his anxiety and missing you. 

It feels selfish. He knows that you don’t have the same luxury at home, if anything it’s the opposite. You have to try and find things to distract yourself so that you don’t end up getting too into your head. He knows that sometimes you struggle to come up with ways to do that, or that you think of ways but can’t convince yourself to do them. He gets it. He’s been there himself. And up until now he’d been there to distract you when you couldn’t do it for yourself. But now he’s not. 

So he’s anxious as he waits for a response. He knows you’re just staring at your phone trying to think of what to say. He’s trying not to think about the likelihood of teardrops hitting the screen of your phone and magnifying whatever they fall on. He’s trying not to think about what you look like when you cry like that, completely silent with the tears slipping down your face. 

You’re looking down at your phone enough that the first tear to roll off your face hits the screen. You shake your head at yourself. You need to get a grip. It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Jack will be fine. 

You - I’m glad you made it there safely. Thanks for letting me know, I hope the night isn’t awful. Let me know when you’re on your way home. I love you

Jack feels better for about half a second when your name finally flashes on his screen. But then he reads your message. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back for a second before looking back down at his phone. He can feel your dejection through the phone. For his part Robby gives Jack space, doesn’t comment on it, intercepts a couple of people who want to welcome Jack back. It takes Jack a moment to decide on what to reply. He knows that it doesn’t matter what his reply is, it’s not going to make anything better. 

J - Of course. Don’t forget you have a couple new books on the kitchen table and all of wedding pinterest and the knot to explore. I love you more

His message does manage to pull a little laugh from you. He’s so sweet, your Jack. Reminding you of things you could do to keep yourself occupied and distracted. You look around the kitchen and take in a deep breath, try to hype yourself up. 

It’s going to be okay. You’re going to do this and be fine and Jack will be so proud of you. You can do this. You grab your laptop and settle on the couch, put a show you like on and start looking through pinterest like Jack said. It goes well at first. Until you see something you really like and go to turn your computer and look over at Jack to show him. The realization hits you then that you’ve only ever done this with him. 

Fine. That’s okay. You have books. You turn the TV off and go look through the stack, pick one out and curl back up on the couch. Reading also goes well at first until it finally hits you that you’ve been staring at the same page for quite a while now because it’s hard to see through your tears. You set the book down and feel so defeated. You want to be okay so badly, for Jack and for yourself. But it seems the more you try to be the more you aren’t. 

You check your phone. 7:47. Nothing from Jack, not that you expected anything, especially since effectively no time has passed since his last message. You don’t know why you can’t do this, why it’s so hard. And that just makes you more upset. 

You get up once you start sniffling from the tears and just take yourself to bed, curl up in a ball on it with a box of tissues and let yourself cry. You grab your phone several times, have to fight the urge to call him and plead for him to come home. You have to fight the urge to get up and grab an uber and show up at the ED. The only good thing about crying is that it’s exhausting, and the swelling of your eyes makes you feel even more tired. And so you slip under without even realizing it. 

When Jack finally gets a second to check in and look at his phone sometime around 10:00 he’s a little surprised to see nothing from you. It’s unlike you. Normally you’ll text him often throughout your day, even if he can’t reply. Just little things. What you’re doing. Something funny that happened or that you saw. A photo of something that made you think of him. A moment on a show he doesn’t watch but that you want him to see. But then he realizes the problem with his thinking. Normally. 

Normal at this point is synonymous with ‘before you were shot.’ Because nothing has been remotely normal since then. It’s all been temporary. The hospital was temporary. Him being at home with you was temporary. Even his half shifts are temporary. And you both want normal back. But it’s not. And even when it is you both know it’ll be different, and that’s okay. A new normal is okay. But you’re not there yet and so, Jack realizes, thinking about what you’d normally do is futile and deceptive. He is surprised he hasn’t gotten anything wedding related though. He thought you’d take him up on that suggestion, go on pinterest, send him things you find and like. 

J - Finally have a second. You doing okay?

Before he can even start to wait for your reply Parker is grabbing him for help with a patient and his phone is back in his pocket. He tells himself he’s just been moving a lot and so that’s why he hasn’t felt his phone vibrate with your message. But when he pulls his phone out at 12:23 and there’s nothing from you he can’t help the pit of dread that starts to form in his stomach. 

Flashbacks of nightmares play in his head. You dead on the kitchen floor. You dead in your bed. You dead on the couch. He stops himself. You must be asleep. You just fell asleep early. Hell, maybe you took some sleeping meds just to make it easier for yourself and were asleep before his last text. That has to be it. Even though he’s sure you won’t see it, because you’re sleeping, he sends another one with the news you both saw coming. 

J - Hope you’re sleeping well. I’m going to be stuck here past 1. I’m hoping for 3/3:30, at most 4. I promise as soon as I can get out I will. I’m sorry. Love you

You wake with a start, covered in cold sweat, heart racing, chest heaving. It takes you a minute to fully come to. You had a nightmare. You were back in that courtroom with gunshots deafening you as you tried to hide. And then that body collapsed in front of you just like it did that day but this time you do recognize the person when their face rolls towards you as they bleed out, eyes fluttering closed. 

Jack.

You think you woke up before you even got shot, though you’re not sure. You’ve never been able to remember exactly when it happened. All you know is you saw Jack’s face and Jack’s blood and then mercifully woke the fuck up. You take a second to try and come down, look over at your phone and see it’s just after 2:00 and Jack’s messages. Your heart is crushed a little by the disappointment of him being home late even though you expected it. If he had gotten off on time he’d have been here, might have woken you getting into bed, might have stopped you from having that nightmare and that image of him seared in your brain. You know it’s not fair to put that on him and you aren’t, you don’t blame him. You just can’t help but think it. 

It’s what makes you burst into tears, again. Your disgust at yourself for even coming close to thinking about blaming him. And then you’re crying about all of it. Tears of anger at yourself, tears of frustration with yourself, tears of despondency about getting better, tears of panic from seeing Jack in your nightmare, tears of sorrow that he’s not home, tears of disappointment with yourself that you couldn’t do this one night, tears of confliction about being alive. You wear yourself out again. 

But this time you don’t go back to sleep. Instead you get up and take a shower to rid yourself of the sticky cold sweat that covers you. You hold some ice to your face once you’re out, hope it’ll help with the swelling of your eyes and lips enough that Jack won’t notice, especially in the dark. You toss the copious tear soaked tissues in the bathroom garbage and put the tissue box back where it was so that Jack won't see anything amiss and crawl back into bed. The exhaustion of crying pulls you under again. 

Jack’s out at 3:13. He hates it. He’s still on edge because still nothing from you even though he didn’t expect anything. He lets you know he's on his way home anyway. He cannot be home and have eyes on you soon enough. The drive is at least short at this time of night. There’s no lights on when he opens the door. Part of him is relieved because that would make sense if you were sleeping. But part of him is just put more on edge by the darkness. He doesn’t let himself think about it much, drops his backpack and gets his shoes off quickly and then is heading for your room. 

As much as he wants to, he doesn’t turn the overhead light on. He can make out your form on the bed so he steps over to the bathroom and reaches in to flick the light on, leaves the door open to give him just enough light in the bedroom to look at you. Normally the sight would turn him on, immensely. It still does, he can feel it. But tonight that’s overshadowed by the way it breaks his heart because he knows what it means. 

You’re curled up on his side of the bed, head on his pillow, wearing one of his shirts and holding another close to you, clutching it to your chest really. He lets out a slow breath through his nose as he takes you in. His brows furrow a little. He’s not sure if it’s the lighting or if your eyes and lips are really a little swollen. He makes himself let go of the thought for the moment so that he can grab a pair of pajama pants and just get in bed with you. 

When he walks in the bathroom properly it hits him. It’s a bit warmer than your bedroom, a bit more humid. And the smell. It smells like he just showered. Which means you showered recently and used all of his products so that you’d smell like him. It’s so sweet but it hurts, that he wasn’t here when you so clearly needed him. He tries to set that aside and not feel guilty, think about and apply what you guys have learned in couple’s therapy but it’s hard. And it gets harder when the pile of white catches his eye and he sees all of the tissues in the trash can. It wasn’t the lighting. The swelling is real. You cried. A lot. 

You’re not sure what wakes you but when you force your eyes open you realize the bathroom light is on which means Jack is home. It’s the first time you’ve smiled since he left. “Peter?” you call softly as you get out of bed to walk to the bathroom. Jack’s out of his scrubs in just his pajama bottoms.

“Hey, I’m sorry Doll, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You shake your head at him, meeting him at the doorway to the bathroom. 

“I’m just glad you’re home.” You push your lips out for a kiss he happily gives you. “Missed you. Were you okay?” 

“I was yeah. Being slammed was good at keeping me distracted." He frowns for a second because he knows how not the case that was for you. He leans in for another kiss. "I missed you more,” he murmurs against your lips, hands finding your waist. 

You hum back against his lips as he kisses you again. “I’m going to let you have that only because I was passed out most of the night.” 

Jack nods at you. But you can tell from the speed of it that he knows. You just give him a little shrug to tell him you know he knows. 

“Why didn’t you call?” It’s soft. He’s not angry at you or upset with you in any way. Just curious. You look away from his eyes down at his bare chest and give another little shrug. “Did you need me?”

“I was okay… eventually,” you admit. One of his hands finds your chin, gently pushes it up to see if you’ll move your head up to look at him. You don’t resist so he tilts your chin up. 

Jack gives you a small smile and keeps his voice low and gentle and he hopes comforting. “That doesn’t answer my question.” The hand still on your waist gives it a small squeeze. “You can be okay and still need me, or trying to convince yourself you’re okay and still need me, or trying to be okay and still need me.” He raises his eyebrows a little at you. 

You look at him for a beat and then let out a big sigh, lean forward and into him a bit so that your forehead rests against his chest. “I hate it when you do that,” you grumble against him. 

“What’s that?” He leans down and kisses the top of your head. 

You move your forehead off his chest but plant a kiss there before looking back up at him. “See right through me,” you murmur through a watery smile. “I don’t know how you’re so damn good at it.”

“Well,” Jack nods slowly, “in your fourth year of med school they pull a couple of students aside, obviously the ones they think are the best since I was one of them, and they teach us x-ray vision.” 

You let out a huffed laugh but smile at him. “I really thought I was about to learn something about med school.”  

“Are you saying you don’t believe me?!” He gives you his best surprised face. 

You roll your eyes at him and laugh a little with him but it quickly turns into trembling lips and you shaking your head. 

“Okay baby, come here,” Jack whispers, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, one hand finding the back of your head and holding your face against his chest. 

“It was so bad Jack, it was so bad,” you choke out through a strangled sob. “And I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to cry into you tonight or this morning or whatever the fuck it is. I just want to get in bed and be with you.” You sniffle and try to pull yourself together. 

“I know.” He rocks you just a little, presses his lips to the top of your head and lets them linger. “But we can be in bed together and you can be crying if that’s what you need.” As he speaks he flicks the light off and settles one hand on your hip and slowly begins walking you backwards toward the bed. 

“I’m tired of it being what I need,” you mumble. At least you’ve managed to stop the tears. You turn once your knees hit the back of the bed so that you can slide in, Jack following you once he has his prosthetic off. “I just…I had a nightmare.”

Jack cringes as he settles and holds his arms open for you. “I’m so sorry.” He knows all too well how much they can rattle you and fuck you up for days. How long it can take to get them to a point of only happening a few times a year. How much therapy and EMDR he’s had to do to help with his over the years. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You sigh as you curl into his side and drape your top leg over his, rest your head against the crook of his shoulder. The hand of Jack’s arm that’s now behind you starts rubbing your back up and down. “I was back there. In that courtroom on that day. And it was all the same and as much as that sucked it was fine. But then I got to the part where that woman collapsed in front of me and died but,” you have to pause and try and get yourself closer to Jack. “But it wasn’t her. It was you.” Jack’s shifting onto his side a bit more at that and pulling you closer into him, pressing the front of his body against yours. He positions you so that you can rest your ear up against his chest. “And unlike her you rolled your head to look at me as you were bleeding out and then I woke up.” 

You hear the click of Jack’s jaw as he opens it to say something. But it never comes, instead you just feel his head shake a little. You let yourself focus on the beat of his heart underneath your ear, the warmth of his skin. “I’m so sorry,” he finally whispers. “I know it’s not my fault but I am so sorry that you had to experience that Doll.”

You shrug a little. Apparently you’re all out of tears for the night. You’re too tired for them. And here in Jack’s arms with his heart beating under your ear it’s not so scary. There’s an odd sense of calm that fills both of you. You feel kind of bad, like you've taken this for yourself, haven't talked about how he did at work. But you know there's time. “Don’t be,” you whisper, turn your face a bit to nuzzle into his chest. “At least I didn’t have to live through your funeral. I’ve got that goin’ for me. More than you can say.”

He can feel your lips turn up in a smile against his chest. And he has to let out a laugh at it too. Because you’ve hit a point where you can start to make small jokes about what’s happened, what you’ve both been through. Because it’s all so miserable and horrific that if you guys don’t laugh you’ll cry. After a second you pull your head from his chest and look up at him. He looks so amused with his wide closed lip smile, shaking his head at you slightly that you have to bite your lip to stop from laughing. But that makes him crack and start properly laughing and so you do too. 

You guys laugh until it hurts, until the smallest tears slide out the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry, that was probably so insensitive of me-”

“No,” Jack keeps laughing, “no. No, Doll that was so fucking needed, fuck me. The laughing feels just as cathartic as crying right now.”

“I agree,” you giggle as you both start to wind down. You lean in to kiss him and Jack keeps you there, nipping at your bottom lip and tugging at it a little when you try to pull away. “Needy,” you murmur teasingly.

“For you? Always.” You lay there and kiss. Kiss and make out in bed pressed against each other simply because you want to feel close and because you can. It’s not leading anywhere as good as it feels and as wired as it makes both of you. You can feel him growing hard against you and yourself growing wetter for him but you’re both content to stay like you are. 

Eventually the kisses slow. You’re both sleepy, and between snuggling with each other and all the kissing it’s quick to catch up with you. Just as you both start to nod off you think of something. “Hey Jack? Maybe no more night shifts.” It’s all sleep slurred and in that drowsy tone you get that he finds particularly adorable.

He laughs a little through his nose. “No more night shifts,” he agrees, just as groggy.

When you wake up the next day Jack is able to get in touch with Robby and switch things back so that he’s on days again. Something about the daylight makes it a little easier for you, and you don’t seem to have any nightmares when you sleep snuggled into Jack. The next time he goes to work for half a day shift sucks still, but significantly less than that first half a night shift. Each time it gets a little bit easier, even when Jack is finally back to regular twelve hour shifts. 

And then eventually it’s your turn to go back to work. It’s not just going back to work, it’s going back to the place you were shot. Both of you are on edge. Jack hates the thought of you having to go back there, it sends his anxiety through the roof even though he knows logically it’s probably the safest courthouse in the entire country right now with all the heightened security. 

“You’re sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Jack asks you for probably the tenth time this morning alone. 

“I’m sure,” you call to him from the bathroom as you finish getting ready. Jack appears in the mirror behind you, stopping at the doorway of the bathroom. You look at him in the mirror. “It’s okay, I’m ready. I can do this.” 

You sound more like you’re trying to convince yourself than you are Jack. “You can call me. If you need anything.” 

“I know,” you nod, “I promise I know and that if I need you I’ll call.” You turn to look at Jack and start walking towards him. Half of you feels ready for this, is craving the normalcy that being at work will bring. The other half knows you’re probably not quite ready. You haven’t even been by the building to expose yourself to it.

You pick at the breakfast Jack made you, stomach churning too much to feel hungry and making it hard to swallow anything down. He doesn’t comment on it as he sits at the table across from you working on today’s crossword, isn’t going to pressure you into eating more or potentially make you feel bad by calling you out on it. He gets it. He didn’t eat much dinner the night he went back to work for that one half a night shift. 

It’s going to put your shoes on where you really start to let yourself realize how not ready you are for this. You stare down at them for what feels like ten or so seconds but is in reality close to a full minute. Jack knows because he glances at his watch after the first few seconds pass and you don’t move to put them on. 

Finally you force yourself to and grab your bag. You take in and let out a deep breath and ignore how shaky it is as Jack walks over to you. He doesn’t want to smother you in reassurance and reminders you can call him or end up letting an ask for you to stay home slip out. “Have a good day Doll. Call if you need and I’ll be here waiting for you when you get home. I love you.” 

Jack leans down and kisses you, one that lingers followed by a bunch of softer pecks. “I will,” you nod. “I’ll see you tonight.” You put your hand on the door handle and open it a little. “I love you more,” you smile up at him. He lets you have it this morning. 

As you walk out the door and close it you know immediately you’re not ready. Jack knows you aren’t ready. But you try anyway and he doesn’t try to stop you because this is something you need to do for yourself. 

It doesn’t take too long to get there, the commute is generally fairly easy even though it’s busy. You walk up to the courtyard of the courthouse and stare at the entrance. It feels like you can’t breathe and you’re aware of how badly your hands shake. Your heart races as you try and tell yourself you just need a minute and then you’ll go in. 

But everything just gets worse. All you can hear is screaming and gunshots, taste that metallic flavor of adrenaline, and smell sulphur and smoke. You can’t do this. You so cannot fucking do this.

You get yourself back enough so a trembling hand can get your phone out of your bag, unlock it and hit Jack’s name. He answers on the first ring. “I’m not ready Jack, I can’t do this, I, I, I’m stuck outside and I need you, please come, I’m sor-”

“Doll,” Jack interrupts you. “Turn around.”

You do and standing at the edge of the courtyard is Jack. 

He hangs up his phone as he starts moving to you, shoving past a couple people with a distracted excuse me because he just needs to get to you. He knows that you don’t want to fully lose it here, not with the potential for people you know or work with every day to see. And Jack doesn’t want it for you either. He knows you hate crying in front of people, that it took a while for you to be able to cry in front of him. 

“I’m here,” he’s saying as he gets to you, arms reaching out before he’s even all the way there to start pulling you into him. “I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re okay.” Your hands slide around his waist and clutch at the back of his shirt as you close your eyes and press the side of your head to his chest. 

You breathe him in, smell your laundry detergent and his body wash and him. You focus and let his heart beating become the only thing you can hear. The metallic taste in your mouth starts to fade.

“Ready to walk?” Jack whispers as he feels you start to calm down. You nod against him and so he lets go of you. A hand finds your lower back and starts directing you over to a bench outside of the courtyard facing away from the courthouse.

You both sit and he pulls you as close as possible, wraps the arm closest to you around your waist to keep you close as you rest a hand on his knee. Jack brings his other hand across his body and rests it on top of your hand, laces your fingers together from above. 

Jack doesn’t pressure you, doesn’t ask you for details or if you want to talk or what exactly happened. He just sits there with you holding you close. You tilt your head and let it fall onto his shoulder. He tilts his head and his lips press against you where they can reach before he lets his head rest on yours lightly. 

“I feel so ridiculous,” you murmur after a while. 

Jack squeezes your hand. “Why?”

“I knew the entire morning I wasn’t ready. I just wanted to be so bad so I didn’t listen to myself.” 

“I know. I knew,” he murmurs. “But that doesn’t make you ridiculous. Just human.”

“You knew?” you whisper, pull away to look at him. “How?”

“You told me as much with your eyes and the way you hesitated before you did anything related to getting ready this morning.” He squeezes your hand. “Before picking up your hairbrush and putting your bra on and picking up your mascara, that type of stuff. Your hand hesitated for just a second or two before you grabbed whatever it was. And then when it took you as long as it did to get your shoes on I just had an intuition or gut feeling or whatever you want to call it that I should be here.” 

“You didn’t try to stop me?” 

“No,” he shakes his head and gives you a small smile. “It was obvious that you needed to do this. Come here. Try. Get yourself back in front of this building. You needed to do it for yourself and I wasn’t going to interfere with that, no matter how badly I wanted to stop you so you wouldn’t hurt. You needed to do this. My role is to support you and help you with your healing. Not to dictate how you do it.”

You take in and hold a long breath before letting it out through your nose and shaking your head a little. “You’re way too fucking good for me.”

Jack gives you a look. “Not even gracing that bullshit with a reply,” he parrots the phrase you love to use back at you.

You give him a little eye roll and a smile. “I just should be better, Jack. I should be able to go back and get back to normal. But then I got here and it’s like it was yesterday.”

He nods slowly. “I think it was yesterday in a sense, Doll. This is your first time even being in front of the courthouse since it happened. That’s one. Two,” he pauses to take a breath and look down and away from you for a second. “A very, very smart woman,” he looks back up at you with a small smile, “once told me that 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’re quiet for a few seconds before you let out a huffed laugh through your nose. “I can’t believe you just used my own words against me twice in a row.” 

Jack clicks his tongue and shrugs. “I can be a real dick sometimes can’t I?”

You roll your eyes at him again and lean back into him. “Maybe. But you’re my dick, so it’s okay, I’ll allow it.” 

That makes him roll his eyes at you and chuckle. “Yeah, I’m your dick, alright. I’m glad to hear you’ll allow it,” he teases. 

“I’m actually quite impressed that you remember that entire little speech I gave you,” you admit after a few minutes. 

“Repeated it to myself a lot. Still do. Well, really in my head you’re saying it to me and I hear it in your voice. So I guess I have you repeating it to me a lot.” He pauses. “It’s important to remember.”

“I suppose it is.” You pull away again to look up at him. “Thank you. I love you.”

“Always, Doll.” The kiss he gives you is quick yet ardent. “I love you too.” 

There’s a lull as the two of you just sit on the bench and exist together, soak in the sun.

“You wanna go to bath and body works?” Jack breaks the silence. An amused smirk pulls on your face as you pull away to look up at him. “Candles are on sale. $12.95. And they just released a bunch of new scents.” 

You know he’s offering and that he keeps tabs on when they’re on sale and when new scents come out because he knows how much you enjoy candles and the fun of smelling them. You bite your lip and look up at him all dreamy. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head and stands up, offers you his hand and helps you off the bench so you can head to the store. “Just in love.”

You take a bit more time for yourself before you try going back again, go and sit outside the courthouse with Jack and alone. And the next time you go back to work Jack goes with you, holds your hand all the way up to the employee entrance. He gives you a kiss goodbye and holds the door open for you, watches you for a second before he lets the door close. He waits outside on a bench for a bit, just in case you decide you’re not ready again and need him. But you don’t. And so Jack smiles to himself as he gets up and heads back home. 

Normal. Things are finally starting to get back to normal.

But, as it turns out, normalcy is a fragile thing. And so things are finally starting to get back to normal.

Until they aren’t.

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

Thank you so so much for reading, I hope it was okay!

Part 4 will be out soon!! This weekend for sure! And then we're straight into Quiet 2 which I am so fucking excited for! I have many many plans! How many exclamation points can I use in a row!!!!!

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[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 14

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You two have a little getaway.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: This took a hot minute lol I kept rewriting the first bit even after the rest was written, and then my dog got a bad infection (he’s okay now). It’s been a time lol I hope you enjoy!

Thank you for all the comments, likes and reblogs last chapter💜

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: age gap, SMUT (MINORS DNI), p in v, oral (f! receiving), fingering, light dirty talk, pet names (honey, sweetheart, my love), foul language

not beta read

On the night of Michael’s birthday, he grew more reserved. Dinner came and went with you trying to coax him back out of his shell — and you hoped it was only his nerves about you meeting his friends afterwards. You were nervous enough for the both of you, but you began to worry he was having second thoughts.

In the car, he said, “I’m nearly twice your age now.”

You leaned back into the passenger seat with a long sigh. You both sat quietly for several moments, Michael staring out the window while you rubbed your thumb along your other palm. The age gap seemed to hold steady over your heads — even as you were falling in love. He was now closer to nineteen years older rather than eighteen, and would be until your birthday later in the year. It was clear the near two decades were weighing on him.

You reached over to grab his hand, “And so what? We’ve discussed this.”

Michael ran his other hand over his face, letting out a huff of air. “I don’t want to steal your youth.”

“Michael, you’re not stealing anything.” You told him, “This is a two way street. One I’m actively choosing.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept looking out at the parking lot. He squeezed your hand with a heavy sigh.

“Do you feel like I’m stealing something from you? I don’t know…I haven’t fully gotten my life together yet, I’m still waiting to get my certifications…I can’t always be there in a way someone older might be able to—”

His eyes were on you while he shook his head, “Not at all. That’s not…I want you as you are.”

You held his gaze and smiled, trying to convey the same sentiment, “That’s what I want, too.”

“I’m sorry. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy or normal. I don’t want to keep chasing you away, I just wasn’t expecting to feel this way today.”

“Well, I’d rather you tell me what's going on in your head rather than bury it.”

He nodded, “And what happens when I turn 50?”

“That’s five years away. It’s not like I’m immune to aging…I’ll age five years, too.” You said. “And I’d hope we’d have made a life together by that point. We can deal with how you feel about it together.”

“I like the sound of that.”

You smiled, and he leaned over to kiss you.

The drive to the bar was quiet, but nerves had invaded your belly at meeting people from Michael’s life. You had been able to learn how to handle the judgment from strangers, but it felt like a whole new ballgame with people in his life.

Jack was tough to read, and it felt like Dana had been an easier sell. Her husband, Benji, had been easy enough to talk to, and took some of the conversational weight off your shoulders. Perhaps since he also did not work in the hospital, or perhaps he took pity on you, either way, it was relieving.

When asked about it, you told them about school and graduating — but it made you feel too young. One could attend university at any time in their life, but all of them had finished closer to when you were born. You tried not to be uncomfortable about it.

“How did you guys meet?” Benji asked, sipping his beer.

Your eyes flickered up to Michael, trying to conceal your alarm. Why hadn’t you discussed it? Did he want to tell them the truth or—

“Coffee shop. Our orders got mixed up.” Michael supplied, the lie passing easily from his lips.

Though, you had met at a coffee shop, so it wasn’t a straight up lie.

You forced a smile looking back to Benji, “We ended up talking for a while and I gave him my number.” Again, not a total lie, but your cheeks burned.

Dana’s eyes moved back and forth between you, “You could’ve told me she was your girlfriend when she came in, Robinavitch. No need for all that secretive VIP crap.”

You watched Michael cringe slightly at the use of his full name.

“I wasn’t yet.” You interjected, smiling shyly. “It took awhile for us to figure that part out.”

The night continued after with less pressing questions and easier small talk. They each traded stupid stories about patients, or the weirdest thing they found swallowed or inserted on x-ray. With Benji there, it made you feel less out of the loop, and he waved them off.

“Don’t you guys work there enough to not talk about it after hours?” Benji asked.

“Never after hours.” said Jack with a shrug.

Michael rolled his eyes playfully, “Fine, fine — how’re the kids?”

Another hour and they were all departing. Dana pulled you into a quick hug, whispering, “You’re good for him.” in your ear. You had grinned wide, relief flooding your system as you thanked the woman. Everyone parted ways after, and Michael took your hand as you walked to his car.

“They all seem like good people. I hope they liked me.”

Michael kissed the side of your head, “Of course they did. You make it easy.”

Your eyes met his brown, “You think so?”

“I know so.”

Before opening the passenger side door, he turned you around. He was fidgety, his hand growing clammy while the other rubbed the back of his neck.

“You okay?” You asked tentatively, squeezing his hand.

He cleared his throat, “I can’t really even begin to tell you how much I enjoy our time together, how much I enjoy you. I’ve—this hasn’t been easy and we had a rough start, but I’m glad you’re in my life. I love you.”

Your breath caught and you stared at him wide-eyed. Your heart thudded hard against your ribs and you reminded yourself to breathe.

When your thoughts returned, you smiled at him, “I love you, too, Michael”

—

“You sure know how to play the long con.” You said, eyes still bleary from the early morning as trees raced by.

Michael looked over at you with an eyebrow raised, before looking back at the road.

“Murder me in a cabin in the woods?” You elaborated, “Peaceful, quiet. It’d be great if it wasn’t so cliche.”

Michael laughed loudly, shaking his head. “Does that have anything to do with the documentary you insisted on watching last night?”

You had barely been able to fall asleep until Michael had pulled you into his arms, making you feel safe and protected. You loved those documentaries, despite how dark they were, or how many lights you had to turn on to get through them.

You sipped your coffee, “Of course not.”

“I see far too much blood and guts on a daily basis; I’d never spoil the cabin like that.” He said, tone momentarily slipping into something serious. “Besides, I like you too much. Thought I’d keep you around.”

You laughed, “How romantic.”

“I’m plenty romantic!” He said with a smile, “Cabin in the woods, a fire, good wine, the works. I even remembered to snag your favorite rom-coms from your apartment last week.”

You hid your grin by glancing out the window at the world speeding by. “And to think, you did all that to take me fishing…”

“You said you wanted to learn!”

Laughing, you said, “No harm in trying something once.”

He reached over the center console to grab hold of your hand, “I’m glad we’re getting some time away. It’ll be nice to not worry about work for a bit…”

“Or studying.” You added, intertwining your fingers. “Thank you for bringing me, I’ve been looking forward to it.”

He smiled softly, and you thought about all the feelings swirling in your chest. All of them easily spelling out love. Even after confessing it to each other weeks ago, it still felt new and exciting. Like everything had finally clicked into place after dancing around it forever.

His cabin was miles off the highway, found after traveling several winding roads, a long driveway nestled between towering trees. The trees eventually gave way to the cabin, quaint but with plenty of character. A picnic bench sat to the right of the structure, where a set of stairs led into a screened in porch. A large built in firepit sat several feet away from it.

The back door opened onto the porch, which held an outdoor dining table and a few outdoor loungers. The land began to slope downward right where the porch started, free of trees that made the view of the mountains all the easier to take in. The forest picked back up again about a quarter of a mile down, where it seemed the land leveled out again. Jutting out just slightly from the cabin was a storage closet, holding some cushions for said loungers, an umbrella for the table, and some odds and ends.

You took a deep breath in, and leaned into Michael when you breathed out. It was quiet and serene, the silence only filled by birds and buzzing insects. You could only slightly see one of his neighbor’s houses through the trees, but otherwise, it was completely private.

“You sure do know how to pick ‘em.”

Michael looked at you and smiled, “Yeah, I do.”

—

After an unsuccessful fishing trip, a hike and a long soak in the clawfoot tub, you emerged in the kitchen to see what Michael was doing. Uncooked burgers sat on parchment paper on a sheet tray, while Michael was putting a bowl of pasta salad in the fridge.

You followed after him and sat on one of the loungers while Michael cooked the burgers. He was humming an old blues song while you took in the view of the retreating sun over the mountains.

Dinner was spent under the sky, with quiet banter and easy conversation — and you savored more than just the meal. Pittsburgh could be busy, messy and complicated, but stepping back in a secluded cabin, you knew you wouldn’t change a thing about your life.

Cleaning up dinner, you both settled on the couch, turning on one of the rom-coms he had brought — How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days — and you curled into his side.

By the time the credits were rolling, you found yourself in his lap, kissing up his neck while his hands explored your figure. Your heart sped up in your chest, moving your hands to his hair. You tried not to grind your hips into his, trying to be slow — but your mind grew hazy with lust.

“Mike.” You breathed against his lips, half a whine, half a plea.

Like he could read your mind, his hands were on your hips, pushing just enough to where you got the hint and stood up. Your lips never left his, even as he led you to the bedroom, hand in your hair.

Once on the bed, Michael removed your pants and trailed kisses up your inner thigh. Your face heated and you suppressed the urge to beg him to move faster. You never wanted to rush him, to be painfully young in wanting it all without the chance to savor it, but his hot breath on your skin and his teeth nipping at your flesh made you feral. You were already squirming before he even situated himself to your wet heat.

Discarding your panties, Michael left a wet kiss to your clit, and you jolted at the sensation. One of his hands traveled up your torso to grab hold of your breast, fingers twirling around the nipple, while his other was locked around your knee. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and you took in a deep breath to steady yourself.

Your clit was throbbing, spurred on by the sensation on your nipple. He held your gaze as he licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit. You moaned, gripping the wrist that was at your breast and held onto him like it would keep you tethered.

His tongue was an expert, and always left you seeing stars — your orgasm never taking very long, especially not when his fingers rubbed at that spongy spot inside you. He sucked, licked and devoured everything you gave him like a man starved, and it thrilled you more to know he was enjoying it. Even when he was being slow or teasing, he never seemed to mind how long it took.

Michael’s fingers curled upwards, tongue tracing circles on your clit until the wave took you in. You cried out his name, fingers in the bed sheets while the heat barreled through your system. He had a habit of not stopping, even when you grew overstimulated, sometimes eagerly even trying to coax a second out of you.

This time, though, you pulled him up to kiss him hungrily. The taste of yourself on his tongue made your thoughts stutter, before bringing him closer.

Without warning, you flipped you both so Michael was on his back and he stared up wide-eyed at you. Your shirt was easily discarded.

He smirked, hands going to your hips while you undid his pants. Pulling off his shirt, he pulled you in for a quick kiss. He was straining against his boxers, hard and immediately at attention when you pulled back his boxers. You were quick with the condom before steadying yourself over him. You leaned down to place a delicate kiss to his lips.

You sunk down on him slowly, hissing as you adjusted to his size, hands on his chest. He groaned low in his throat and you pulsed at the sound, your hips meeting his.

“Yeah? Like hearing what you do to me, sweetheart?”

You grinned, nodding dumbly, pulling his hands from your hips up to your breasts. To be so full of him made your eyes water and you threw your head back to try to find your breath again.

“Feels so good.” You moaned, looking back into his eyes.

You moved up slowly, before grinding back down and trying to find a pace you liked. Michael stared up at you, eyes dark, meeting you halfway with thrusts of his own. Heat coiled low again, pooling throughout your abdomen.

Michael moved a hand to your clit to rub lazy circles, and it burned deliciously — overstimulation yielding to pleasure. You moaned, moving up just enough for him to brush against that spot inside you.

“You look so good like that, honey. Fuck, you ride my cock so well.”

Your pussy fluttered at the words, eyes screwing shut. You felt lost in the winding euphoria coiling tighter. Michael gripped your hip while keeping his thumb rubbing your clit, thrusting up into you as you grew tighter and tighter.

Michael choked out a moan, and you hummed a mewl as you approached your climax.

“Mike—Mike—“ you whined, “So close—don’t stop, please.”

“Gonna fill you up, my love, come on. Come on my cock, know you want to.” He ground out. “You look so pretty when you do.”

You moaned low when the coil snapped and the white-hot heat invaded your vision and took over your senses. It rushed throughout your body and a single tear escaped the corner of your eye.

Michael was relentless after that, even as you were whining from the overstimulation, he kept going. Chasing his own high, but he never let up on your clit.

You felt completely blindsided by your third orgasm, rolling off the waves of your second until you were fluttering around him again. Crying out and squirming, you met a few of his thrusts in a cock-drunk daze.

Pleasure contorted Michael's face until he was coming with you, a groan low in his throat. His thrusts grew sloppy until they slowed. He twitched and you felt the warmth of it inside you, blooming upwards.

Your hairline was wet with sweat, and you breathed heavily. You leaned down to lay on his chest, his cock still stuffed inside you, but it had pleasure still echoing in your system.

Moving your head to his shoulder, Michael kissed your forehead. One hand trailed light lines up and down your spine, while you kept your hands on his biceps trying to catch your breath.

“I don’t think I ever wanna leave.”

Michael chuckled lightly, and brought you in for a kiss.

[ Next ]

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Companionship taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty @elli3williams @yournerdmodziata @i-know-i-can @dickheadturner @dcgoddess @pittobsessed @glamorizethechaos @blueb33ry-cat @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @burningpenguinwitch @evienorville @equallyshaw @heyysolsister @justrandomthougt @babygirlagenda @lauracantsleep @rogersbarnesxx @longlivecandice @misshoneypaper @moonshooter @catmomstyles3

Dr. Robby taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys @happyfox43 @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @girl-obsessed-with-things

(50 tags have been reached with the combo of all three taglists, so unfortunately some of Dr. Robby & all of The Pitt taglist for this series will be added in a reblog right after this is posted - I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience!)

I’ve gotten a lot more comfortable with bigger age gaps since this started. Sometimes I forget I aged Michael down slightly lol

Robby’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day up next!

[1d1195]

Pucking Rookie Extra II

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~4.6k words

From me: I probs should have made this two parts but I felt like Harry was suffering at the end of where I wanted to cut it off and I think you'll see that he's suffered enough.

Warnings: angsty and fluffy

Summary: Before the season begins, Charlie tells the team his niece is off limits. After they're together, Harry wants to cry because he loves her so much and is all but dying to say it.

*Preseason*

“Look who decided to grace us with his presence!” Charlie could hear Asher’s voice coming from the next room. He shook his head with an eye roll. His players were loud, cheeky, and very forthcoming with their sexual partners toward each other. Charlie ignored most of it...

“Sorry y’can’t find a woman put up with your sorry ass,” Harry called back.

Charlie loved his team. They were like a giant extended family—a set of twenty-something sons. But the boys were in their twenties, just like his niece. And today he took notice of how they talked about women.

To be fair, they never spoke poorly of women. Honestly, there was no question in Charlie’s mind that they adored women.

Especially his star forward, Harry Styles.

But maybe he had ignored it because he hadn’t really had a conversation with his niece in a long while. Maybe he hadn’t thought about his daughter growing up and being the same age as some future hockey star that would make his skin crawl to know she liked. Or maybe, it just wasn’t his concern because since he had been assistant coach, the team and his extended family were mostly separated and the connection didn’t click for him.

But that was before. He had just gotten off the phone with his brother. He had called and asked if he could give his sweet niece a call. It sounded a little ominous and Charlie was ready to battle like the hot-tempered hockey boys in the locker room just outside his office. In fact, at first, he considered asking the boys for help. They would blindly love getting into it with a stranger. Especially on his behalf. There was no question that the team respected Charlie. “Of course I can, is everything alright?”

“She’s not giving me much to work with,” he explained. “Give me a call back if you figure it out.”

Charlie responded to his brother, but he listened in to the conversation happening behind him.

“Maybe if you didn’t sleep with the entire city there would be a woman to put up with him,” Callie answered Harry’s rebuttal on Asher’s behalf.

“S’not the entire city,” Charlie could practically hear Harry’s eye roll.

“Anything more than five may as well be,” Asher grumbled.

Charlie looked at the family portrait on his desk. Himself, his wife, and their two kids: daughter and son. Captured by the lovely niece he was just thinking about. The quality of her photography was unmatched. She called herself an amateur when she sent the pictures over, but they were lovely. There were a couple photos blown up and framed in his house and he couldn’t thank her enough for capturing the love in his family.

It made him more nervous about her call.

“Hi Sweetheart,” he smiled into the receiver.

“Hi Uncle Charlie,” she sighed. Her voice cracked a bit. “Thank you for calling me. I’m sorry to interrupt and I hope I’m not bothering you and your busy schedule.”

He frowned immediately. He remembered the little girl the day she was born and how she didn’t cry the way some newborns did around strangers. She looked around in fascination even if her eyes weren’t developed yet and couldn’t see more than a centimeter in front of her. It was like she was already looking for that perfect angle when she was just hours old. Hoping to find the right moment to capture in her little mind just like the camera she would hold in several years’ time. He adored his older brother and by proxy this little girl was wrapped around his finger. Even after all this time, his niece was one of his favorite people. He loved seeing her, loved hanging out with her, and loved talking hockey with her.

If she didn’t cry coming into this crazy world, Charlie didn’t think she ever would. So, hearing the sadness in her voice made him miserable. Ready to tell the boys to get in their cars and head to wherever she was and make sure whomever made her cry never did it again. “Sweetheart, you’re no bother. Ever. What’s the matter? You sound upset.”

She took a shaky breath and sniffled. “I-I’m sorry.... I-I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “Kael,” she swallowed, her voice breaking on a cry. “I’m sorry,” she took a deep breath trying to steel herself. “Kael and I are over. I’m moving out your way. I’m going to waitress at The Locker Room. Have you heard of it?”

Good riddance, Charlie thought. Kael Crowe was the worst kind of guy for her. Granted he probably would have thought about that for the best guy there was for her. But Kael didn’t appreciate her the way she deserved, that was obvious. But they had been together for years. For them to be over something bad must have happened.

Of course he had heard of The Locker Room. It was the team’s favorite hangout. “Yeah, Sweetheart. It’s a good place. Louis is a good guy.”

“I figured because I dropped your name,” she swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

He chuckled without humor. “That’s what it’s for, Sweetheart. Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t... not right now. But it’s bad,” she took another shaky breath. “But waitressing isn’t going to be enough,” she sniffled. “Do you have any media leads? I’ll do anything. I’ll run the Instagram account. I’ll take pictures of the old jerseys you want to auction off. I just...”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll call over right now. You can have whatever you want.”

She took a deep breath and paused. “Thank you, Uncle Charlie. So much. I promise I’ll do whatever you need too. Photos, babysitting, anything.”

“You don’t have to do anything Sweetheart. Promise the guys are going to give you a run for your money.”

“That’s okay,” she laughed dryly. “I’m done with hockey players.”

“You’re jus’ jealous that I can get laid every night and you can’t,” Harry had a shrug in his voice overshadowing the conversation he was having with the girl who would always be a baby in his eyes.

Good. He thought to himself. “Sweetheart,” he said tentatively.

“How your dick hasn’t fallen off I’ll never know.”

“S’jus’ like hockey, practice make perfect,” Harry answered casually making his teammates laugh.

“Yeah?” She asked quietly.

“You know that Kael’s number one rival is on the team,” he reminded her.

“So he is,” she mumbled. “Guess working for you will be two-fold.”

He smiled. “Harry...” he said quietly just in case the boys walked by his office. “He’s a bit... over the top sometimes.”

“I just told you I’m done with hockey players. Especially ones that know they’re the best in the league and are on track to break franchise records in scoring, assists, and fights.”

“You keeping tabs on my players?” He chuckled and was looking forward to adding a picture to his desk of his niece. Couldn’t wait to spend more time with her. He felt awful she was sad, but he was excited to get some quality bonding time.

“I can get laid every night,” Callie countered. “I am also just looking for the one I want to fuck every night.”

“Is that why you hooked up with that hot girl from Seattle? So you could fuck her every night?” Lang chuckled.

“I would love to fuck her every night,” he groaned.

“Me too,” Asher agreed.

“Not with this job,” Harry snorted. Charlie was suddenly and acutely, more aware of the sexuality of his players. Hearing that his beautiful, sweet, kind, and intelligent niece was practically on her way to the clubhouse... he had to give a warning.

He had already warned her of Harry... because it was no secret he enjoyed spending time with women. But the thought of any of his players with his niece made his blood boil. Especially knowing that Kael hurt her in some way that was making her uproot her life.

However, he couldn’t help but notice the tinge of sadness in Harry’s voice. It was overpowered by the idea of murdering his best player if he hurt the sweet girl about to take photos of them all, but he still heard it.

“The boys will love you,” Charlie warned.

“Plenty of people have wives and girlfriends in the league,” Niall reminded his best friend.

“Good for them. M’happy with m’situation,” he affirmed with the same shrug in his voice. “No strings, no heartache, and a whole lot of fun,” he chuckled.

“I’m sure I’ll love them. They probably hate Kael as much as I do,” she sniffled.

He frowned. “Do you need help, Sweetheart? Moving or anything?”

“No... I’m leaving a lot behind. I just have to get out of here.”

“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.”

“It’s okay,” her voice broke again. “It’s for the best.”

“Call me if you need anything. Are you flying?”

“Yes.”

“Have a safe flight, Sweetheart.”

“Thanks Uncle Charlie. Thank Uncle Ray for me as well.”

Charlie pushed back from his desk and headed to the locker room, his hands in his pockets as he watched the players in their various states of dress and undress. He leaned against the wall casually. “Team meeting,” he called.

They all glanced at their head coach’s office. They all knew Ray was tending to business elsewhere, so they were confused about their meeting. They watched with rapt attention, Lang quieted the younger guys with his captain authority and waited for the announcement.

“My niece is coming to be part of the media staff,” he stated.

“Finally,” Callie cheered. “It’s about time we got some pretty motivation around here.”

“Which is exactly why I’m having this conversation, Calloway,” he narrowed his eyes at him. “She is completely off-limits. She’s done with hockey players.”

“She’s got a thing for hockey players?!” Asher perked up excitedly.

“I just said she’s done with you lot.”

“Hit too many times into the boards, Coach,” Callie smiled. “Can’t understand you sometimes.”

“If I find out that any of you, so much as breathe on her when she doesn’t want it, I’ll kill you. Then bench you,” he threatened. “Even Niall,” he added.

The team looked at one another in surprise. Niall was the golden boy. He was their goalie. The sweetest by far on the team.

Coach meant business.

“Didn’t know you had a niece coach,” Lang mumbled. “Everything okay?”

“No,” he said. “We also hate Kael Crowe more.”

“Oh, y’should have led with that, Coach,” Harry rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Can’t wait t’wreck him for two reasons now.”

“Holy shit, this is your niece, Charlie? Thank God your genetics are weak,” Callie grinned holding his phone in front of him.

“Let me see!” Asher crowded nearby and then the rest of the team was itching and moving to huddle around Callie’s phone to get a look at his niece. Charlie snagged his phone from his hand and dropped it in the trash can without so much as a second glance.

“Hey!”

“Off-limits. All of you,” his eyes paused on Harry for an extra second. “Styles, my office.”

“Ooh...” the sound echoed while Callie stuck his head halfway into the trash bin filled with medical tape and discarded Gatorade bottles to retrieve his phone.

Harry sighed, rolled his eyes, and followed Coach. Once inside, he closed the office door. Harry sat in the seat across from his desk. “You can’t fight Kael, not for my niece.”

“T’be fair coach, I was going t’fight him anyway,” he shrugged. “Y’jus’ gave me another reason t’win.”

“You are not to fuck with my family,” he stated next. “Do you understand?”

“Why are you singling me out?” he frowned.

He was right to, but he didn’t really want his coach knowing of that. He looked up to Charlie and he wanted to earn his respect. “Because I know you’re popular with the ladies... and my niece is too sweet and doesn’t deserve her heart to be broken by the two top forwards in the league.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Crowe isn’t even that good.”

Charlie snorted. “Not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“If you hurt my niece, I’ll kill you. Which is bad for the team. I love this team, Harry.”

“M’not gonna hurt her,” he rolled his eyes. “M’very respectful towards women,” he reminded him.

“From the sound of what I hear, you really respect women.”

Harry felt the slightest bit of shame creep up from his chest, up his throat, and a burning sensation filled his cheeks. “I do,” his voice was quiet. Because he meant it. He may have slept with a lot of women, but he respected them first and foremost.

“My niece is off limits.”

“Isn’t she old enough t’make her own decisions?” He asked. See? Respectful. She deserved to decide herself if Harry was worth her time. Harry didn’t even want a girlfriend. He was happy with his life. It made sense. There wasn’t time for a girlfriend. Wasn’t time for love that made his heart stutter. Retirement. That was when he would find a girl and get the family he always dreamed of having. Right now, was for hockey and sex.

“She’s vulnerable, Harry. She’s going through a hard time right now and she doesn’t need you to be... you while she figures things out.”

Harry frowned and glanced away. It felt like he was in trouble at the principal’s office. “M’not going t’do anything,” he mumbled.

“She’s the best, Harry. Literally the best. You cannot hurt her.”

“Jesus Coach, I won’t. Fuck. Y’gonna give Callie this talk?”

“Callie doesn’t have a list of women in every city. Callie doesn’t come telling the locker room his conquests from the previous night.”

Harry could feel his blood boiling. But he was right. “You’re a tremendous young man, Harry,” Coach said gently, and Harry swallowed down the emotion in his throat, he was angry, frustrated, and hurt. It was all his own doing and for what? So, he wouldn’t hit on Coach’s niece? Whatever, he couldn’t date a woman anyway. Not with his schedule. He wasn’t going to fall in love. He didn’t deserve it.

Coach was right. It was bitter and awful to feel. But he was. Harry wasn’t the love and relationship guy. Not right now.

“I just don’t want my niece to get her heart broken again.”

Harry nodded silently. “We’re done here?” He asked.

“Done,” he responded.

Harry practically jumped out of the chair so quickly it tipped a bit before righting itself. He slammed the office door open so hard he was surprised the glass didn’t shatter. Fuming, he headed toward the rink. He punched the wall hard and then growled out a moan as he clutched his hand to his chest and turned toward the trainer’s office hoping he only sprained his finger and not broke the knuckle for the beginning of the season.

*Present*

Harry came home from a grueling day at practice. His body was aching, and he missed the pretty photographer that seemed as much of a fixture of the rink as net or bench. But she wasn’t truly needed for the day, and she was working at The Locker Room that night,so she wanted to get some things done around the house.

Not that Harry didn’t insist that he could hire someone to clean now that it was worth cleaning. When it was just him, he didn’t care much. But now his princess lived with him, and he didn’t want her living in filth.

“Hi, Harry!” She called.

Harry smiled instantly, all the achiness and exhaustion melted off him. Her voice carried from the living room. Michael and Marc were on the sofa playing a video game while she snuggled on the chair with her book. Harry leaned over the back of her chair and kissed the top of her head. “Hi Rookie,” he grinned and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“Where’s my kiss?” Marc asked.

“Shut up,” Michael rolled his eyes. “You sound desperate, and you have a boyfriend.”

“We both have a mutual understanding about Harry.”

She shook her head, ignoring her friends while she flipped to the next page. “There’s food on the stove; it just finished a little bit ago.”

“It’s delicious,” Marc added. “I didn’t think chickpeas could taste that good but put it with sweet potatoes and veggies and apparently I’m in.”

Harry chuckled to himself and went to the kitchen to make himself a plate.

“We’ll get out of your hair,” Michael said.

“Speak for yourself!” Marc frowned. “I don’t have my study dates anymore.”

Harry brought his plate back to the living room and stood in front of her. She finished her page and looked up with a grin. “Can I help you?”

“Get up,” Harry murmured. She tilted her head at him.

“Why?”

“Jus’ get up,” he sighed. “M’tired, Bunny. Please don’t argue,” he mumbled and yawned as if to prove his point.

She giggled but stood up. Instantly, Harry sat down and with his free hand pulled her down to his lap. She shifted slightly so he could eat comfortably, and she could read without putting too much pressure on his leg or groin. “There’s a whole couch over here you know,” Marc patted the seat beside him with a megawatt grin. He also squished Michael into the other end of the couch at the same time.

“You’re pathetic,” Michael saved his progress and stood. “Thanks for letting us come over, babe,” he squeezed her shoulder as he passed her and headed for the front door. “Marc, let’s get out of their hair.”

He sighed dramatically. “Bye babe,” he mumbled. “Bye Harry,” his voice was flirtier and airy as he spoke to him. Harry smirked around his bite of food.

“Bye Marc. Bye Michael.” Once they heard the door close, she stood from the chair to give Harry some breathing room.

Tried to, anyway.

“Where are y’going?” he grumbled, frowning as he snagged her with one hand and tugged her back almost dropping his yummy food in the process. She sat right back in his lap. She turned, grabbing his plate while he adjusted her so she sat cradled on his legs. She fed him another bite as she spoke.

“I was just giving you space to eat.”

“What ‘bout me says I want space from you?” He questioned, his eyebrows pinching together in the process.

“You’re a fun boyfriend,” she giggled feeding him another bite.

He rolled his eyes. “M-hmm. Why’s it so cold in here?” He asked, taking another forkful of his food. She wiped her thumb on the corner of his mouth as she shrugged.

“To save money. It was just me for most of the day.”

He frowned. His heart aching for her. “Kitten, y’don’t need t’save money on heat. I don’t want you t’be cold. Y’don’t live in your apartment anymore,” he reminded her.

“I know, but still...it seems...wasteful.”

“S’not. Nothing ‘bout you is wasteful, Rookie,” he promised gently and kissed her cheek. “S’cold at the rink, want t’come home t’a warm house with a warm girlfriend.”

She tucked her face into his neck and Harry squeezed his arm around her waist sympathetically. He leaned forward to set the plate on the coffee table and pulled her closer to him and rocked her gently for a moment in his lap. “I suppose m’partial to this though,” he practically moaned kissing her neck. The need to say I love you was so prominent. It was aching to leave his mouth. She felt so good in his arms. He wanted her to melt into his body so they could meld into one person, and he would never have to leave her. “Missed you,” he mumbled instead.

“Oh, thank God. I missed you too. I thought I was insane. It wasn’t that long but I missed you anyway.”

He practically groaned. “Don’t go to work, Bunny...”

“Harry!” She giggled. “I have to,” she rubbed his back and pulled his face from her throat so she could read his eyes. “You don’t have to come out—”

“Of course, m’going t’come out. Jus’ because we’re dating doesn’t mean m’gonna change everything. I just get to fuck you now,” he cupped her jaw and parted her lips with his own. He had that boyish smile pressed against her mouth as she laughed into the kiss.

“You had a long day though, you should stay—”

“I can’t be away from y’for this long, Rookie. I’ll go insane.”

She opened her mouth to say something but at that moment her phone rang. “I’m sorry I have to take this,” she sighed. “Hello...? This is she. Thank you for getting back to me,” she listened closely, and he could see her thinking actively as she listened, calculating, and questioning something that was said. “I just don’t understand how that’s possible. I’ve had this policy for years. Since I first got my license. I’ve been such a loyal customer and—”

Harry’s lips parted. “Oh, shit,” he whispered.

She looked up at him and realization colored her face as well as his own. She put together that Harry knew exactly what happened with his quiet expletive. “I’m so sorry, can you please hold on one second?” She pulled her phone from her ear and muted it. “What?”

“Is that your car insurance?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah, I got a notice that my policy was terminated and I—”

Harry sucked his lip into his mouth and sighed. “That’s my fault.”

She stared at him. “Why?” She asked.

“Well... I figured y’were driving m’car it would be easier t’have you on m’insurance. So... I jus’ kinda told them y’lived here and...”

“How did you get my information?” She asked her eyebrows pinched together. She didn’t seem mad.

“Well... I really only needed your birthday—”

She gasped as the understanding came over her in an instant. “Is that why you asked about my birthday the first time I came over?” She whispered. Her eyes watered almost instantly, and Harry frowned.

He asked for her birthday months ago. He put her on his car insurance months ago. They weren’t even a thing. Not even in the way the rest of the team insinuated when they were at the airport, or when she wore Niall’s jersey.

“Yes,” he nodded and brushed his thumb beneath her eye even though no tear had fallen. “S’when I gave you my car t’borrow,” he shrugged. “I didn’t want you t’have t’worry ‘bout anything—”

She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing as she dropped her eyes to her lap. She put the phone back to her ear after unmuting. “Sorry about that, I figured out what happened... I’m sorry for the confusion, everything is all set. Thank you for the help,” she hung up and she looked at Harry, her face pouting so cutely Harry wanted to take a picture of her himself. Honestly, he wanted to capture every emotion that crossed her pretty face on film so he could look at it when he missed her. Even if she was only gone for a few hours. “Harry,” she said seriously, her voice catching as she said his name. It practically broke his heart to hear her say it with so much admiration. He didn’t deserve it. She was perfect and she deserved so much better than a hot-tempered hockey player who was busy seven months out of the year.

“Yeah?” He asked tentatively. Maybe she was upset. An overreach yet again. But he wanted her to have the best of everything. Car insurance to make her safer. A car that wasn’t going to break down at a moment’s notice. An art gallery displaying beautiful photos of the sports world she loved perhaps as much as he did if not more.

“How did you get the reputation you did?” She began and Harry felt his stomach nearly fall out from him. She was in his arms, unmoving, but he was so scared she was going to bolt. Why wouldn’t she? He overstepped a lot. He was clingy and he was gone so much. He had never been so in love with someone, and he couldn’t even tell her. Somehow, he offended her, and he couldn’t help but think about when coach had told him she was off limits. Harry didn’t deserve love because of his schedule and who he was. Top player in more than one way. No wonder coach threatened him. Here he was not enough once more and now she realized it.

“No one has ever been as kind to me as you. Or as thoughtful. I feel so adored—so seen by you,” Harry’s heartbeat flew.

He was wrong. She wasn’t upset. He felt his throat tighten on his vocal cords as he tried to say something to stop her so he could beat her to the punch. But she left him speechless. Utterly stunned that she was going to say it before him. “I love you so much I can’t keep it in any longer,” she held his gaze as she said it, only blurred slightly by her own unshed tears. “You don’t have to say it if I’m too soon or if—”

Harry crushed her to his chest and buried his face in her hair against her neck once more. He tried to work his jaw to loosen his vocal cords, but the ache wouldn’t go away. Then he sniffled unwillingly. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You weren’t supposed t’say it first, Bunny. I wanted t’say it after our first real night together,” he croaked. “I love you so much, I’ve waited m’whole life for you, Rookie. I don’t deserve you or—”

“Harry,” she cooed. “Baby,” she frowned cupping his face. “Of course I deserve you. You’ve been taking care of me from the moment you caught me from slipping on the ice the first day I met you,” she reminded him. “You have cared for me in ways no one ever has. You could have said it, baby,” she peppered kisses along his hairline so sweetly it made him want to cry harder.

Perhaps he was hiding all these years about how badly he wanted this kind of love. How much he wanted to love someone. All the women he had been with were lovely in their own way. Served a purpose, but it wasn’t real. They couldn’t be. It never would have worked. Now that he knew what this felt like with the beautiful woman who took pictures of his team, it seemed so obvious.

“I love you so, so much,” she whispered in his ear and clutched to him despite the fact she knew she probably turned his leg numb from holding her for so long. “I’m sorry I pushed you away, baby. You didn’t deserve that... I don’t deserve you. You’re perfect in every way. I wouldn’t change a second of our relationship or an ounce of your personality. I know we joke, but I was right: any girl would be lucky to have you and I’m the luckiest there is.”

Harry was hopeful the guys never found out that he burst into tears over the pretty girl on his lap telling him she loved him for the first time.

But even if they did, he wouldn’t mind. He was too in love to care.

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[strawberry-nugget]

notion | k. bakugo | 2

Notion M.list

Paring: Bakugo Katsuki x reader

Summary: The last four years have been a blur. You and Bakugo had been in this hellish friends with benefits/ situationship for way too long until you decided to end it last year. Now, due to being peer-pressured to choose Izuku over him, you've been in no contact for two whole months and you are finally making a hear out of permanently living in Tokyo, three hours away from him and everybody.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, fwb, jealousy, alchohol drinking, bakugo is bloody after patrol, just a tad of angst, situationships (my real worst enemy), no smut in this chapter tho oopsiesss, Bakugo fighting with Mitsuki, All characters are 20+

A/N: oopsies sorry it took me years to come back to this fic 😅 However, next chapter is pure filth to make up for it

Your apartment in Shibuya is too small. It’s a studio apartment, kitchen crammed into one corner, bed pressed against the opposite wall. The Hero Commission pays for it, but that doesn’t make it feel any bigger.

You don’t mind, not really. Most nights, you’re too tired to care. Between patrolling for the agency and handling the odd jobs your boss throws your way, you’re lucky if you get six hours of sleep. The city hums outside your window, neon signs reflecting off glass, the distant chatter of nightlife a constant reminder that Shibuya never really sleeps.

The agency you work for part-time isn’t bad. The pay is decent, the hours flexible—you even get to spend three days of the week back at Musutafu. It’s not a top-tier agency like Endeavor’s or Hawks’, but that works in your favor. Less press, less scrutiny, fewer expectations. The heroes running it like that about you. You’re efficient. Capable. And a former top student at UA. You’re unremarkable and so well trained in such way that makes you easy to move around like a chess piece.

This is the job, after all.

You haven’t been back home for two months. Not since Izuku confessed to you.

His words had been careful, earnest—so painfully Izuku. Through text, on your way home for the weekend, he told you he had feelings for you, that he had for a long time, that he wasn’t expecting an answer right away but just wanted you to know. That was the problem. You didn’t have an answer.

You have not been back home since that stunt Bakugo pulled just to be the one to pick you up from the train station that day and definitely not after that dinner at the Bakugos’ in which Mitsuki was trying her best to set you up with someone that isn’t her son.

Then again how could she have known you and Bakugo have had your fair share of occasional sex throughout the course of four years?

The memory of how awkward that night was makes you groan inwardly. Mitsuki had been relentless, a whirlwind of enthusiasm as she served dinner, her eyes practically sparkling as she brought up Izuku. “You should go out with him! He’s such a good boy, and he really cares about you!” she had exclaimed, nudging you with her elbow as Bakugo sat across the table, his expression a mixture of annoyance and disbelief.

You had tried to redirect the conversation, bringing up Bakugo’s latest achievements or the new training regimen he had implemented, but Mitsuki had been having none of it, like it was too easy for her to pester about Izuku now that he had politely declined her invitation to grade papers for his class “No, no! I mean, have you seen how well he treats you? He’s always looking out for you!”

Each comment made Bakugo’s jaw tighten, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You had laughed it off, but the undercurrent of tension in the room had been palpable. That was the night you’d left, feeling more confused than ever—especially with the way Bakugo had glanced at you when he thought no one was watching.

You remember the way his fingers tapped against the edge of his plate, his eyes flickering to you every time Mitsuki gushed about Izuku’s “perfect boyfriend potential.” He didn’t say much—not outright—but you could feel his irritation radiating off him in waves.

Mitsuki, oblivious as ever, had kept going.

“And you know,” she had continued, pouring more tea into your cup, to help the food go down smoothly “he’s such a sweet boy. Hardworking. Polite. Not like this one—” she jabbed her thumb toward her son, “—who still thinks grunting is an acceptable form of communication.”

“Oi,” Bakugo had grumbled, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he shot you a look, something unreadable simmering in his red eyes before he went back to stabbing at his food. Like he was begging you to say something.

Anything.

Even to mention that he’d come visit you in Tokyo. Something to establish a different kind of familiarity between the two of you to his mother.

You had tried to laugh it off, waving a hand dismissively. “Izuku and I are just friends, miss Mitsuki”

“For now,” she had teased, wiggling her eyebrows. “Come on, you’ve known each other forever. Doesn’t it make sense?”

But you had known Bakugo since forever too. You wish someone could see through that, you wish someone could urge the two of you to admit your feelings but your shenanigans had been tight lipped and banned to mention to the world. Maybe it could have been different had any of you spoken about each other to your friends.

Because how else could you tell his mother you’re never going to fall in love with Izuku-— you’ve been in love with her stupid, begrunting son since high school.

“Katsuki! Put some thought into her brain! She’ll listen to you!”

That was when Bakugo stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. “Tch. I’m fucking done.” He grabbed his plate and stomped toward the sink, movements sharp and tense. You’d barely had time to process before he was brushing past you on his way out of the kitchen, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“You don’t gotta humor her.”

He drove you home, tried to kiss you before you opened the door to leave but settled for kissing your cheek. You kissed his neck in return. A promise you do not want Izuku, but not enough of a confession to let him know how you feel.

That was the last time you’d seen him in two months.

Your shifts at the agency have doubled since, at your demand. You’ve tried anything to get him out of your head, anything to just convince yourself that life goes on. You can stay friends with him and pretend you’ve never been anything else.

‘If he wanted to, he would be with you’ one of your coworkers had told you the other night, when you mentioned the matter, while deliberately skipping to mention who you’d be talking about, in your desperate attempts to finally make friends out of all the people you spend everyday with.

And she’s right. You know she’s right.

She’s also right when she pesters you to join her and a few of your other coworkers for dinner on Friday after patrol. Claiming you’ve been so shut off, that they want to get to know you better. And you say yes, because you have nothing better to do— you can’t spend another sleepless night staring at Bakugo’s last message that you left on read. ‘If he wanted to he would’ replaying in your head like a mantra.

______

Friday comes too quickly.

Between being on the edge every single day as your parents are begging you to come back home for the weekend and a single text from Bakugo on Wednesday night asking if you’re still alive, you’ve been expecting the outing with your coworkers religiously throughout the week.

It’s your only excuse to get black out drunk and go home and sleep the weekend off.

Aiko, the coworker that invited you asks you to dress nicely— no cargo pants and a sweatshirt like the ones she sees you exit the agency with and you pack a plain sweater dress with you before you leave for the agency in the morning.

And while the dinner goes smoothly, you’re asked to join them for drinks— frankly you can’t refuse when seeing that they paid for your dinner too.

You promise yourself It’s not a regular thing—you’re not close enough to any of them for that—but someone suggested it after patrol, and you were too tired to come up with a reason to say no. So now you’re here, tucked into the corner of a noisy izakaya, half-listening to a conversation about some high-profile villain case in Minato while nursing a glass of highball.

The place is warm, filled with the scent of grilled meat and cigarette smoke. Your coworkers are already a few rounds in, voices louder, laughter easier this time.

Some sick part of your brain wishes Bakugo was here too. That all your friends were here too, or maybe, that this was one of your class reunions at Shoto’s house.

“You ever think about going full-time?” one of them asks, nudging you with his elbow. Watanabe. He’s been at the agency for two years, still hoping for a promotion. You mostly share patrols with him and Aiko. “Commission’s gotta be lining you up for something better, right?”

You take a sip of your drink, the ice clinking softly. “Doubt it,” you say. “They like me where I am. I like where I am. It’s flexible and pays well. I used to go home in Musutafu every weekend.”

“Oh yeah, you went to UA!” another one exclaims.

“Man, that’s rough,” Watanabe laughs, shaking his head. “With how you handle yourself, you could be working for one of the bigger names. Hell, any big agency at this point. You went to college too. That’s like, insane hero knowledge.”

You don’t respond. You just glance at the condensation on your glass, at the way the dim light catches the edges of the liquid inside. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Not like you don’t know you’re capable of more, but the top hero life isn’t something you ever wanted. You like your job just how it is. Your pay is the same as the one in your old agency in Musutafu where you worked full time and Tokyo is a far better city to live in than your hometown.

There’s a comfort in the routine, in knowing exactly what’s expected of you and having the freedom to navigate your own path. Besides, the last thing you want is to be in the spotlight, not when you’re still trying to figure out your own identity beyond being a hero.

In Tokyo, maybe you could finally get away from that messy situation with Bakugo. You could always be three hours away from him, working less, having more time to yourself. Not fighting for any rank.

As the night rolls on, the conversation shifts from work to personal lives, and your coworkers seem all too eager to poke fun at each other. You try to keep your head down, focusing on your drink, but Watanabe isn’t done with you tonight. So much for wanting to get to know you.

You wonder if Bakugo would snap at them for all those questions. God, he infiltrates your mind in all the wrong times.

Begrudgingly you reach for your phone. You want to message him, casually, maybe snap a picture of the place and caption it with something along the lines of ‘wish you were here too’ but that’s pushing it and you’re not even sure he’s going to let you live this through.

Still, you force yourself to reply to him.

It’s simple. It’s three days late, it’s two o’clock in the morning and it’s pushing Saturday. And you don’t even know the state that he’s in tonight.

You: yeah...

You: If I could see you I’d be better.

You press send and think nothing more of it.

“Hey,” it’s a while before Watanabe calls your name again, “you’re awfully quiet over there,” he calls out, his voice cutting through the buzz of chatter. “Got a boyfriend keeping you busy, or something?”

The table erupts in laughter, and you can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks. “Yeah, right,” you scoff, rolling your eyes as you shut off your phone and set it on the table beside you, screen facing the wood “As if I’d have time for that.”

“C’mon!” Aiko, chimes in “You’re out here saving the world everyday! Don’t tell me you don’t have a cute guy waiting for you to come home!”

You chuckle nervously, unsure whether to play along or deflect. “I’ve got my hands full with work,” you say, forcing a smile. “That’s enough of a challenge for me.”

“Maybe you just need to let loose a little,” Watanabe teases, wiggling his eyebrows. “What’s the harm in dating a villain or two? It could spice up your life!”

The group bursts into another round of laughter, and you can’t help but shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite the embarrassment. “I think I’ll pass on that,” you reply, trying to sound firm but failing to hide your amusement. “I’m not looking for any extra trouble. Or loosing my license”

“Sure, sure,” Aiko says, leaning closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “But if you do find someone, we expect an invite to the wedding! You know how to plan an epic event, right?”

Marriage sounds like a nightmare to you, right now, tonight, at almost three am, when your phone chirps with a notification for a text that you know who it belongs to.

It doesn’t make sense that he’s awake, but your heart tightens as you catch a glimpse of his name on your screen as the light starts to die down.

Katsuki <3: Really?

That’s all it says. One word. You read it in his cocky, too annoyed-at-everything voice.

And yet, it makes your stomach drop.

You stare at your screen, throat tightening. It’s been three days since he texted you—three days of silence on your end, because you didn’t know what to say. Because you were trying to be smart about this, about him. Because you’re trying to keep a space between you, since this isn’t working out for your poor heart.

Because if he wanted to, he would.

You should’ve known he’d be pissed.

“Hey, you good?” Aiko’s voice cuts through the background noise, and you force yourself to look up. She’s watching you closely, brows furrowed. “You just spaced out.”

You exhale slowly, shaking your head. “Yeah. Just—forget it, just my sister.” Your fingers tighten around your glass.

You don’t know what to say to him. You never really do, and yet you answer when you know you shouldn't.

You: really

____

Katsuki stumbles through the front door of his house, the heavy thud of his boots echoing in the quiet of the dead of night.

It’s barely past 3 am.

The dim light of the hallway barely illuminates his bloodied form as he drags himself inside, his limbs heavy and unsteady. His chest rises and falls in uneven gasps, each breath painful, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving him with a deep, gnawing exhaustion. His body screams for rest, but instead, he opts to stare at the screen of his phone, he chooses to re-read your goddamn message like a book that’s too dear to one's heart.

He curses under his breath, a low, rasping sound as his fingers grip the doorframe, steadying himself for a moment. Blood drips— from his eyebrow down to his eyes, from his lip down to his chin, streaking across his costume in dark, splotchy patterns. His head throbs, dizziness sweeping through him like a wave, but he forces himself to move forward. One step. Then another. But each motion feels like a battle, and the world spins with every turn.

The house is silent. Too quiet.

He kicks the door shut behind him, the noise louder than it should be, reverberating through the walls. He freezes for a second, holding his breath, hoping that his mother isn’t awake now, from that sound only. He doesn’t want to deal with her—not now. But of course, the creak of the floorboards in the hallway answers his silent plea, and he hears her footsteps before he even sees her.

Mitsuki, of course, appears at the top of the stairs, her expression initially blank, but then it shifts. Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of him; his bloodied face, his torn-up hero costume, the way he’s swaying slightly on his feet, his face lit, only by the screen of his phone.

She rushes down the stairs in a frenzy.

“Katsuki?” Her voice is tight, laced with a mixture of surprise and concern, but it doesn’t take long for the anger to seep into her tone.

When she reaches him, she grabs him by the arm, steadying him with a grip that’s deceptively strong for someone who isn’t as physically imposing as him.

“You’re a goddamn mess,” she hisses, her red eyes scanning him with an expert gaze, noting the blood trickling down his face and his furiously bruised cheekbone, “What the hell happened?”

Katsuki opens his mouth to respond, but his words slur slightly, the pain of everything catching up to him. “Nothing. I’m fine.” He tries to brush her off, but his voice cracks as he sways on his feet, almost losing his balance.

“Fine!? Fine?” Mitsuki’s voice sharpens, rising in volume as she pulls him further into the house, her hand pushing him toward the couch. “You’re barely standing, and you’re covered in blood! You think I’m gonna just let that slide?”

“M gonna go bathe, go to sleep ma” he says dismissively, too silently, hissing at the way his jaw clenches before storming off to the downstairs bathroom.

Mitsuki watches him for a long, tense moment as he stumbles toward the bathroom, clearly not even close to being in the state to do anything for himself. But she’s already too far gone to let him do this alone. Her anger is bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over as she takes a step forward, her eyes narrowing.

“You’re not going anywhere, Katsuki!” she snaps, her voice echoing down the hallway. Without waiting for him to turn around, she grabs his arm again, yanking him back toward her.

Katsuki stumbles forward, but she shoves him down onto the couch, and for a brief second, the world tilts dangerously. He grits his teeth, trying to steady himself, but the dizziness doesn’t let up. His vision blurs, and for a moment, everything feels muffled. He can hear the rapid beat of his heart in his ears, drowning out everything else.

Mitsuki stands over him, arms crossed, her eyes flicking over his body with that sharp, cutting gaze of hers “You’re gonna strain yourself like this, you have to rest.”

“No. No I don’t”

“Don’t give me that shit kid.”

“Oh” he chuckles, looking up at her with full blown eyes “I ain’t giving you any shit Ma. ‘M perfectly fine”

“Right, because isolating yourself and running yourself into the ground is so much better.” She glares at him, voice dropping into something softer, almost concerned. “You barely come home anymore, and when you do, you’re either exhausted or pissed off. This isn’t sustainable, Katsuki. You’ve always been bratty, but this? Why do you always want to get yourself killed?”

He clenches his jaw, looking away, shoulders tense. He hates this—hates feeling like a kid again, like she can still see right through him no matter how much distance he tries to put between them and he definitely hates the fact that his mother has to see him like this. Weakened. Like he’s sixteen with a pierced heart again.

Mitsuki sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You should at least spend time with your friends. What about Izuku? He was asking about you the other day.”

That makes Bakugo bristle instantly. “What about him?”

She gives him a look, like he’s being difficult on purpose. “You know. Maybe you should take a page out of his book—he’s got a healthy work-life balance. And he’s got time to check in on people.”

“Yeah? Good for him.” Bakugo’s voice is flat, but his fists tighten at his sides. He brings out his phone again, trying to check the time—it’s 3.12 am, but instead of actually remembering the time on the screen, he sees that stupid photo of you and him as his lock screen.

His mother notices, says something about how ‘you haven’t even called her’ that you’re the same as him. That she sent you a text on messenger about Izuku the other day and you didn’t respond.

Katsuki hates that his mother so casually mentions you in this conversation, like she can make up for the way she’s been speaking to him so far.

His breath catches, but he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he scoffs, shoving his phone into his pocket like the sight of it suddenly pisses him off.

“Tch. She’s busy.”

Mitsuki raises an eyebrow. Of course, she doesn’t stop at lecturing him about work, she has to mention you. You, in the same sentence with Izuku. Like she’s not the reason you haven’t come back in Musutafu for so long. It makes him so extremely mad.

“You should call her. Go to Tokyo with Izuku. Help set them up. It’ll do good to you.”

Katsuki’s eyes snap impossibly open at her words “who? Me? I ain’t you. I ain’t setting anyone up. They’re both shit for all I care. I ain’t going to Tokyo just to set that idiot up with her. And I’m not gonna see anyone who doesn’t want to see me”

Lies. Lies. Fucking lies. He wants to see you so hellishly bad.

He gets beat up by a villain and all he wants to do is come to you, wrap his arms around you and drown in that comforting cradle that you’ve got. And you’re in fucking Tokyo for all he cares, because his mother and Izuku and then himself, pressured you into two different choices the last time you were here.

He can still fucking see you in his kitchen, trying to help his mother put the dishes away. He can still feel you kissing his neck, in his car, that same damn night, when he told you he’d beat the shit out of his childhood friend for wanting to get with you.

He wonders if that’s how you felt, four years ago, when he asked you to let him eat you out so he could practice— to do it to someone else.

You’ve never made it weird. Never judged him. You kept giving and giving and he kept taking for three whole years and instead of manning up asking you to be with him, he let things boil to a shimmer and die down.

Now you’ve been in Tokyo for two whole months. You haven’t visited home at all.

“I don’t need a fucking day off.” His voice is sharp, tired, like he’s barely holding himself together. “And I don’t need to hang out with anyone. I'm not going to waste my time setting anyone up.”

The truth is, he doesn’t want to set you up with anyone but himself and he doesn’t even know how to do that.

“Just because you keep running yourself to the ground doesn’t mean no one else can’t be happy!”

“Huh?” Katsuki asks, like a menace, like he’s so furious at his mother for speaking profanities “I'm perfectly happy being a hero!”

Mitsuki scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, please. You’re a goddamn mess, and you know it. At least help her and Izuku be happy, get yourself someone too! You’re twenty fi—“

“I don’t fucking want anyone, I ain’t got time for this shit!”

Katsuki grits his teeth then hisses, his hands shaking where they’re clenched into fists against his thighs. His head is still pounding, his vision still swimming slightly from exhaustion and blood loss, but nothing—nothing, makes him feel worse than hearing his mother talk about you and Izuku in the same fucking sentence. Hearing her trying to scold him at late am im the morning about being single.

How did this fight—that was originally spurt by his battered state, turn into this?

Right.

It’s because for him, everything somehow leads back to you.

No matter how much time passes, no matter how much distance stretches between you, no matter how much he tries to drown himself in the job and pretend it doesn’t eat at him—it really fucking does.

His mother is still staring him down, exasperation written all over her face, but Katsuki barely sees her anymore. His pulse is pounding in his chest and ears and his jaw is clenched so tight it might crack. He sways slightly on his feet, exhaustion threatening to drag him under, but the anger burning in his chest keeps him upright.

“They’re your friends. For god’s sake”

He doesn’t know who he’s angrier at; Mitsuki, for bringing this shit up and merging into this matter like it’s her business? Izuku, for even being in the damn equation? Or himself, for not shutting this down the second your name left her mouth.

He knows he’s not mad at you though. So that’s got to count for something.

“You’re fucking delusional,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “You really think I give a shit about some dumb romance? You really think I’ve got time to play matchmaker?”

Mitsuki gives him a long, unimpressed look. “I think you’ve got time to be miserable and angry every damn day, so yeah, maybe you could afford to think about something else for once.”

“Ma—”

“Oh, come on.” She rolls her eyes. “You know Izuku’s interested. He told me so himself, and I think she likes him. I don’t see why you have to act so weird about it.” Mitsuki doesn’t notice the way he jerks at that. “You do want her to be happy, don’t you? What’s wrong with giving them a little push?”

His grip on the back of the couch tightens, his breath ragged. “I don’t care what they do,” he lies, and it tastes awful. He absolutely cares about what you do. “Just leave me alone. Wanna wash this blood off me”

He takes off with that— pushes off the couch with any strength he has and gets on his feet. Ready to fleet, ready to rest in the comfort of the downstairs bathroom that he so likes in this house.

And he wobbles, he fucking wobbles. He’s beaten up so bad he really fucking wobbles like a toddler learning to walk.

“Katsuki” Mitsuki snaps towards him, ready to give her full weight to support him and he winces. He wants her away. He’s so tired that he wants everyone to be at least a mile away from him.

“Tch. I just said im fine”

Mitsuki doesn’t buy it for a goddamn second. But he’s fucking fine. At least—he has to be.

He forces his legs to work, trudging toward the bathroom with slow, heavy steps. Every inch of him aches, every breath stings, but he doesn’t stop. He won’t. Not until he’s behind a locked door, away from Mitsuki, away from her damn nagging, away from the thoughts clawing at his skull like they’re trying to tear their way out.

His fingers fumble with the doorknob, slick with sweat and dried blood, but he forces it open, stepping inside and shutting it behind him with more force than necessary. The click of the lock sliding into place echoes in the quiet.

And finally, after an excruciating double shift, a villain with a stupid muscle power quirk and his mother, he’s alone.

Katsuki exhales sharply, leaning against the sink, gripping the cold marble so tight his knuckles go white. His reflection stares back at him from the mirror, slightly swollen, bruised. His lip is split, dried blood crusting over it, and there’s a deep gash above his brow that still oozes sluggishly down the side of his face. The bruise at his cheekbone shines through it all like a movie star on a red carpet premiere.

He looks like shit. He knows that much.

He scoffs bitterly at himself before turning the faucet on, letting the water run warm. He peels his hero costume -whatever’s left of it- off piece by piece, each movement stiff, his muscles protesting as the adrenaline wears off completely. The fabric clings to his skin where the blood has dried, and he hisses when he finally manages to strip the last of it away, standing bare in the dim light of the bathroom.

His body is littered with bruises, deep and ugly, blooming across his chest, ribs, and arms. He traces his fingers over a few of them while looking at himself in the mirror before shaking his head and stepping into the shower.

The moment the hot water hits his skin, a groan rips from his throat. His body slackens, his forehead pressing against the cool tile as steam fills the space around him. The heat soothes some of the ache, washing away the blood and grime, but it does nothing for the real problem.

Nothing washes you away.

A year ago you said you two should stop fucking around. He said yes. No more casual sex, no more getting in between your legs almost every Friday night when you’d arrive at the train station. No more one on one time at night at all, in his car.

A year ago, he said he’d be a good friend. You did too. But you ghosting him for two months and then replying to him three days after his initial text with the desire to see him, deems him unable to keep his word.

He hates it. Hates how even now, even here, when he should be focusing on breathing through the pain of his body, his mind still drags him back to you. To the message on his phone. To the two months of silence that stretch between you like a fucking canyon that was broken tonight with that wrecking ball of a sentence.

It’s stupid. It’s nothing. It’s a simple fucking sentence, but it’s you.

He squeezes his eyes shut, fists clenching at his sides. He wants to hear your voice. He wants to tell you to come back. Offer you a job at his agency too.

He wants to demand to know if you miss him like he misses you—if you ache for him the way he aches for you. He wants to make this shitty fucking joke of entanglement end and make you his officially.

Dammit, he just wants the normality of you.

He can’t let anyone swoosh you away from him.

He sighs.

Tokyo is three hours away, but at this time the roads are empty and truthfully, he’d be better if he could see you too.

Exiting the bathroom, he’s already set on a decision for tonight. He throws on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants; the set of gray ones that you got him for his birthday two years ago, jokingly saying it’s an outfit for your eyes only, and rampages through his clothes for another change.

With a backpack that’s too out of sight, he scoffs, running a finger through his damp hair. He's too frantic about this, but he’s going to do it.

Mitsuki crosses her arms, unimpressed, standing right at the doorframe of his room.

“Where are you going now? You’re gonna go sleep at the agency? Get a bed in there won’t you?” She jabs and Katsuki stares at her so intensely, backpack finally in his sight and hand that he feels his look could pierce through her.

The sound of Bakugo’s palm slamming against the edge of the bed as he grabs at his clothes makes her jump.

“Stay the fuck out of it,” he growls.

“You’re gonna wake up your father if you keep yelling like that”

“I'm going to Tokyo” he finally announces, after a moment of silence. He wants to be calm. He wants to be with you.

Mitsuki blinks at him, momentarily caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His voice is low, rough, like he’s barely keeping himself in check.

“But she and Izuku, they—“

“They’re not a fucking they.” His breathing is harsh, eyes blazing with fury. “I wanted her first. Got her first and you don’t get to decide shit for her. Stop with this fucking Izuku bullshit. If you wanna play matchmaker do it for me and her”

Mitsuki studies him for half a second before scoffing. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me you actually—”

Katsuki doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, but she sees the way his grip tightens around the backpack’s edge.

Mitsuki exhales sharply. “Jesus Christ.” She shakes her head and smiles “You do like her.”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Bakugo’s fingers twitch. His mouth opens, then closes. His heart is pounding, but he refuses to let it show.

“You’re gonna strain yourself like this, you have to rest. Go tomorrow ”

“I don’t wanna rest,” he snaps, voice low and razor-sharp. “Can’t fucking rest, so what do you want?”

Mitsuki glares at him, arms crossed tight. “Don’t you dare start with me, Katsuki. You come home at three in the goddamn morning looking like that— you’re not going to Tokyo in the middle of the fucking night.”

“Oh yeah? Watch me.”

Mitsuki pinches the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply. She looks at him the way she always has when he’s being especially difficult—like she’s two seconds away from wringing his neck and kissing his forehead all in the same breath.

“Katsuki.” Her voice is sharp but edged so sweetly. Right underneath. “You can barely stand.”

“I can stand just fine.”

“You were wobbling like a damn drunkard ten minutes ago.”

His jaw tightens. “I’m going.”

“You’re just gonna show up at her door? At this hour? Looking like that?”

Katsuki’s grip on his backpack tightens. Yeah. That’s exactly what he’s gonna do. That's the plan.

Mitsuki exhales slowly, shaking her head. “You’re not thinking straight.”

“M not,” he admits, “but I don’t care.”

He steps past her, brushing against her shoulder as he heads for the door. Mitsuki doesn’t stop him this time, just lets him go with a sigh that sounds resigned. She’s too tired too.

Katsuki pauses, his hand hovering over the doorknob. His mother’s voice follows him like a shadow.

“Be careful”

He doesn’t respond. Just pulls the door open and steps outside, rushing to his car.

The roads are empty and he’s driving a porche.

Tokyo is three hours away— but he’s gripping the steering wheel like he can cut that time in half. The dashboard clock glares at him, bright in the dark.

3:45 am.

He doesn’t care. He barely even feels the bruises tightening over his ribs as he shifts in his seat, pushing the car faster down the highway.

He should call, let you know, ask you why you’re up so late, ask what you’re doing, ask if you’re even okay with him coming to fucking Tokyo in the middle of the night just because he wants to hold you.

Instead—He sends you a text.

_____

Katsuki <3: Where the fuck are you?

You blink at the screen, heart stuttering in your chest.

It’s four in the morning. You weren’t expecting him to respond—especially not this late, and definitely not like this.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. You could play it off, tell him you’re just out with coworkers, that it’s nothing. But there’s something about the way he texted you that makes your stomach twist.

You: Izakaya in Shibuya

Katsuki <3: You drinking?

You hesitate at first. What does it matter if you are? You’re not his girlfriend. Hell, you’re barely even friends at this point—not after two months of silence, not after you stopped responding like a coward. You’ve been nothing but unfair to him and yet, you reply, perhaps out of the newfound boldness of sake. Like this damn exchange of messages means anything.

You: yes

You set your phone to the side, get sucked into any conversation thats going on in the background

But then, before you can reply to whatever question Aiko shoots at you, your phone buzzes again.

Katsuki <3: R u drunk?

The words send a shiver down your spine.

“Hey, everything okay?” Aiko’s voice pulls you back to the present. She’s leaning toward you, brows raised in concern. You force a smile, nodding as you flip your phone facedown after typing the fastest reply in the world.

You: eh idk

You: why?

Not a lie. Not the whole truth, either.

Katsuki <3: just checking

You’re restless now. Your fingers tap against the side of your glass, your pulse thrumming in time with the background music. Bakugo shouldn’t have this effect on you anymore—not after all these years, not after everything.

And yet a lump forms in your throat.

If he wanted to, he would.

Maybe this is just nothing. He’s just bored. Just finished a night shift. Maybe he’s drunk and picking at a wound he doesn’t even realize he left behind.

Part of you wants to ask if he’s doing okay, if work at his own agency has been treating him right lately. But you don’t. You’re lost in your own trance of thoughts.

You want to fucking leave this place. You want to go home. Stare at the screen of your phone, at that two worded response until the sun is up.

“So if you date anyone, you’ll invite us to your wedding?” Aiko asks, giggling over her own glass.

Oh right, the topic of conversation is romance once again.

If you could vomit your heart out on demand, you would.

“My imaginary wedding? Yeah yeah”

You quickly start to think of ways to run away from this place to go home, but none of them do. You just have to rip the bandaid off and do it.

“Promiiiise!”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Alright, I promise, though I have to go, I got a big report to fill out tomorrow and I need to make sure I’m awake enough to handle all of you!”

As you stand up to leave, Aiko leans across the table, her expression suddenly serious. “Don’t fall for any villain on the way home”

“Yeah, please dont, text us when you get home!” Watanabe adds, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “You know we’re always here for you”

You smile, feeling a warmth in your chest at their support, but secretly you wish this was your friend group back home saying all this to you “I will, I promise! Thanks for tonight, you guys. It was… surprisingly fun.”

When you finish gathering your things, Watanabe leans forward, an adorning grin plastered on his face. “Wait a second! I’ll call you a cab it’s almost five am”

Your heart skips a beat, and you freeze for a moment, caught off guard. “Uh, thank you so much,” you say quickly.

“No problem! Get home safe and let us know you’re safe”

You give them one last smile, your heart lighter than when you first arrived. “Alright, alright! I’ll keep you posted!”

As you make your way to the exit, you can still hear their laughter and playful teasing trailing behind you. You can’t help but feel lighter as you step out into the cool Tokyo night, the city alive with its usual energy.

The streetlights cast a warm glow around you, and the chill in the air feels refreshing against your skin. Your thoughts drift back to the teasing, the laughter, and the moments shared. There’s something about it all that ignites a spark of hope within you. Maybe it was time you made a hear out of permanently living in Tokyo.

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated equally

Taglist: @littlebignoona @cielito--lindo @hopingforgoodblogs @sexylexy12 @bestyouveevermet @dreamingoftomorrow @2elusional @meeeepsworld @psicotropicwanderlust @katsucookies @xxkay15xx @drabby-abby @ryuucollapse @jennatollsthings @ihatethis222

Sorry if I’ve missed anyone. I will be updating it in the morning

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

Bucky didn't need medical attention. That was what he told himself, and he said the same thing to the team after he took a hard hit to the head. But he made the mistake of telling Bob that he admittedly felt a little dizzy, who then told Yelena, who then demanded that he go to the hospital. Not only did she demand that he go, they all went and were currently hanging out in the lobby to make sure he was okay. 

Of course Bob told Yelena and them all waiting there is just so cute 🥹

He took a hit to the head. So what? He experienced much worse when it came to his head and he was a super soldier for God's sake, so he’d heal just fine. It was a bit cocky to think like that but others needed help more than he did and he wasn't in the mood for anyone to inspect him or ask questions. At least he wasn't until he saw your face. 

How quickly the tables turn 🤭

He opened his mouth to say he hadn't waited long at all, but no sound came out. Thank God he wasn't hooked up to a heart monitor because it would've picked up on the accelerated rate when you smiled at him again. He almost forgot to breathe before his body reminded him that he needed oxygen. No one should look as beautiful as you in medical scrubs or under the harsh hospital lighting. He wondered if he looked okay despite the blood and dirt on his clothes. 

Ahhh he is instantly smitten 🤭🥰

With a deep breath he thought instead of his wonderful treatment in Wakanda and reminded himself that he was safe, free. It helped the next breath come easier. He then looked at your face where he only saw concern and compassion. You weren't going to hurt him. You were there to help. 

He needs a friendly face in a moment like that

“And I appreciate that you're thinking of my time, but it’s my job and I wouldn't feel comfortable with you leaving without completing my exam,” you said, taking a closer look at him. It wasn't concern he saw in your eyes now, but understanding. “You're not exactly a fan of hospitals, are you?” The question took him by surprise. How did you guess? “Not exactly,” he replied, choosing not to elaborate on that and you were thoughtful enough not to push. Just a sympathetic nod, which he appreciated. “But the work you and everyone else in the medical field does? It's incredible. Thank you.”

They are both so thoughtful 🥰

“As long as everything is stable and there are no new or worsening conditions, you’ll likely be discharged within an hour or two,” you replied. He almost argued that he healed from injuries faster thanks to the serum, but that wasn't too long. Better safe than sorry. At least it wasn't a headscan. “Would you like some water? I can get you a snack, too.” The snack and drink were likely to make sure he could keep them down. “Sure, thanks,” he whispered. 

I juat know he loves a snack, especially from a pretty and nice nurse

“Sorry that you’re stuck with me checking on you for the next hour or so,” you said. Bucky’s smile grew before he chuckled. “You won't hear me complaining,” he promised. 

I'm sure he won't 🤭

Hell, he'd probably fake an injury just to see you again, or at least ask for you if he ever had to come back to the hospital for any reason. He wondered if you were single. You weren't wearing a wedding band or an engagement ring. That didn't necessarily mean-

Hahaha there is no denying in him having a crush is he is willing to get injured 😅

“I’m single,” you said quickly. He glanced at you before his eyes went wide. Shit, he said some of that out loud? “Oh, well, that’s…” He wasn't sure what to say. Should he apologize? “Nice.”

I love that they are both so out of it and random in saying these things😂

“Were you a sarcastic guy before the hit to the head, or is this a new side to you?” you teased back.  “Oh, the sass has always been there,” he said, taking a sip once you handed the drink over. “Better to be smart-ass than a dumbass, right?” Why was he talking so much?

Maybe because he wants to keep talking with her, just a thought 🤔🤭

“Why don't I walk you back to the lobby?” you offered. “Oh, you don't have to do that,” he said, regretting it since it sounded like a brush off and that wasn't his intention. “But if you wouldn't mind?” Your face lit up, at least he thought it did. “I don't mind at all.”

She doesn't just mind, she would love to 🤭

He smiled to himself when he spotted his teammates sitting in the waiting area. None of them looked particularly comfortable, but they stuck it out for him. It meant a lot. 

🥹🥰🥹🥰

Of course Yelena and Ava instantly clock his crush 🤭 and Alexei obviously had to chime in 😅

“Hello?” Yelena asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “What are you staring at?” He blinked a few times. “Nothing.” “Nothing? Oh, I think he was staring at that pretty nurse,” Ava answered.  Bucky shot the entire group a glare, his cheeks hot. “No, I wasn't,” he grumbled. Except he was. He stared at you. And by the amused looks on their faces, they all saw it.  “It’s okay to stare or have a crush. She’s a beautiful woman.” Alexei clapped a hand on his shoulder. “She would be lucky to date the Winter Soldier.”

“Ask her out! I drive you for your date!” Alexei offered, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll set the mood. You see.” Yelena pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered, “Dad, stop.” Bucky shook his head and shut his eyes, wishing he could teleport himself out of there. “Yes, please, stop.”

😂😂😂

“Is your head okay?” Bob asked, making him open his eyes. Of course he was concerned with his pain, and Bucky was glad for the change of topic. 

Oh Bob, he is just the cutest 🥹

John stretched his back once he stood up. “If you really want to see that nurse again I can make sure you get another hit to the head.” Bucky’s eyes turned cold. “I’m not a killer anymore, but I may make an exception if you try anything.”

Hahahaha John just like Bob want to be useful, but he really has to work on reading the room 😂

I would love to read if they reunite 👀

Hit to the Head

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't think he needs medical attention after a hit to the head, but he's glad he met you.

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Meet cute (of sorts?), possible concussion, mention of HYRDA, team dynamic, humor, Bucky's POV, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) and he's smitten.

A/N: A new AU (as if I need more) inspired by this wonderful nonnie. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 (and thanks for the assurance on the medical discussion), but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn't need medical attention. That was what he told himself, and he said the same thing to the team after he took a hard hit to the head. But he made the mistake of telling Bob that he admittedly felt a little dizzy, who then told Yelena, who then demanded that he go to the hospital. Not only did she demand that he go, they all went and were currently hanging out in the lobby to make sure he was okay. 

It was a sweet gesture, if not a wasted one. 

He took a hit to the head. So what? He experienced much worse when it came to his head and he was a super soldier for God's sake, so he’d heal just fine. It was a bit cocky to think like that but others needed help more than he did and he wasn't in the mood for anyone to inspect him or ask questions. 

At least he wasn't until he saw your face. 

“Hi,” you smiled, pulling back the curtain to give him some privacy. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He opened his mouth to say he hadn't waited long at all, but no sound came out. Thank God he wasn't hooked up to a heart monitor because it would've picked up on the accelerated rate when you smiled at him again. He almost forgot to breathe before his body reminded him that he needed oxygen. No one should look as beautiful as you in medical scrubs or under the harsh hospital lighting. He wondered if he looked okay despite the blood and dirt on his clothes. 

Wait, why did it matter what he looked like? He wasn't there to flirt with or impress you. There was no reason for him to sit up straighter or flex his right arm. There sure as hell wasn't any reason to run his fingers through his hair to get the tangles out. It was a hospital visit, not a date. 

You wore a name tag, but introduced yourself before taking a look at his chart. “I understand you took a pretty hard hit to the head, Mr. Barnes.”

His voice came out huskier than he anticipated when he said, “Call me Bucky.” Clearing his throat he added, “If you consider a slab of concrete to the head hard, then yeah, but at least my head didn't split open.”

He felt the need to assure you he was fine when concern crossed your beautiful features. “I’m very thankful your head didn't split open, Bucky.” He liked the way you said his name. “But a concrete slab to the head is no joke.”

“You should see the other guy,” he joked, making you giggle. Was he funny or were you only laughing for his benefit? “But seeing the other guy wouldn't matter anyway since you won't let me leave without an exam,” he guessed. Even if he didn't believe he needed one. 

It wasn't just his belief that he was fine. Most didn't know it, but every now and then hospitals made him feel like he was back at HYDRA, ready to be strapped to a chair to await his next form of torture or to be experimented on. He wouldn't say he was afraid, but there was discomfort. Enough to make it feel like the walls were slowly closing in. 

With a deep breath he thought instead of his wonderful treatment in Wakanda and reminded himself that he was safe, free. It helped the next breath come easier. He then looked at your face where he only saw concern and compassion. You weren't going to hurt him. You were there to help. 

“Well, I wouldn't be a very good nurse if I just let you walk out, would I?” you gently smiled. 

He managed a smile for you because you weren't just doing your job. You also seemed kind. “I guess not.”

He could get through a simple exam. 

Bucky inhaled, detecting a hint of something sweet under the sterile surroundings as you checked his heart beat. It was so subtle that he wouldn't have been able to pick up on it if it weren't for his heightened senses. He almost leaned into you before you pulled away, and thank God for that. Would he have been able to blame it on his head if he did?

“I don't have a concussion,” he blurted out. 

“Is that right?” He swore there was amusement in your tone when you shone a light in each of his eyes. “I imagine you're somewhat familiar with them in your line of work.”

“You can say that,” he said. He had his fair share of hits to the head, and helped his teammates get through injuries. “No nausea, no stiffness or imbalance.”

He didn't mention the dizziness since he didn't want to stay longer than he needed to. 

“Any issues with your memory?” you asked. 

He smirked a little. “That's a bit of a loaded question.”

“Can you tell me what day it is and what hospital you're at?” you asked. 

He answered the questions with ease. He also spelled “world” backwards when you asked him to. “See? I’m fine,” he said. 

“Your vitals are normal. Pupils reactive. But-”

“Look, I appreciate you checking me out,” he cut you off, keeping the bite out of his voice because he refused to snap at you. “But I don't want to waste your time.”

Bucky hated that he was trying to rush out when you were only trying to help, but he could hear people in the other rooms even as he tried to block it out. They were in pain, struggling. They needed you more than he did. 

“And I appreciate that you're thinking of my time, but it’s my job and I wouldn't feel comfortable with you leaving without completing my exam,” you said, taking a closer look at him. It wasn't concern he saw in your eyes now, but understanding. “You're not exactly a fan of hospitals, are you?”

The question took him by surprise. How did you guess? “Not exactly,” he replied, choosing not to elaborate on that and you were thoughtful enough not to push. Just a sympathetic nod, which he appreciated. “But the work you and everyone else in the medical field does? It's incredible. Thank you.”

In his eyes, people like you were the real heroes. You didn't just face battles, you faced pandemics and life changing events. You risked your lives, saw the best and worst of people, and how many thanked you in return? And from the little time he knew you he could sense the love and dedication to your job and patients. He respected that. 

“Thank you. And thank you for all that you do, too,” you said sincerely. The compliment had the corner of his lip tugging in a smile. “I know you want to get out of here, but I am here to help. If you're fine, great. If not, please, let me help you.”

He tried to look anywhere but at you. It unnerved him that you got under his skin with so few words and he wondered for a second if that hit to the head did more damage than he thought. “I feel a little dizzy, but that’s all,” he admitted, and he felt better by doing so. 

You put a hand over his, little currents of electricity shooting up his arm. “Thank you for telling me,” you whispered, like it was your little secret. “Since you are feeling dizzy, I would like you to stay for observation.”

Bucky sighed. “How long do I have to stay?”

“As long as everything is stable and there are no new or worsening conditions, you’ll likely be discharged within an hour or two,” you replied. He almost argued that he healed from injuries faster thanks to the serum, but that wasn't too long. Better safe than sorry. At least it wasn't a headscan. “Would you like some water? I can get you a snack, too.”

The snack and drink were likely to make sure he could keep them down. “Sure, thanks,” he whispered. 

“Sorry that you’re stuck with me checking on you for the next hour or so,” you said. 

Bucky’s smile grew before he chuckled. “You won't hear me complaining,” he promised. 

Hell, he'd probably fake an injury just to see you again, or at least ask for you if he ever had to come back to the hospital for any reason. He wondered if you were single. You weren't wearing a wedding band or an engagement ring. That didn't necessarily mean-

“I’m single,” you said quickly.

He glanced at you before his eyes went wide. Shit, he said some of that out loud? “Oh, well, that’s…” He wasn't sure what to say. Should he apologize? “Nice.”

He grimaced. Nice? What was wrong with him? Maybe he had a concussion after all. 

You looked at him, your smile soft and easy. He either wasn't the first patient to make a fool out of himself like that or you were being nice. “I’ll be back shortly, but buzz if you need anything.”

“I will,” he said, his finger itching to push the remote the second you left him alone.

He leaned back in the bed and tried to make himself comfortable while he slowly looked around. How was it that the room seemed darker, as if you took a bit of the light and warmth with you? He shook his head slowly and carefully. It was a ridiculous thought. 

“Observation for an hour or two. You okay sticking around so you can drive me back?” he messaged Yelena. 

Yelena messaged back almost immediately. “Everyone is staying. Even Walker.”

He scoffed, but there was a smile behind it. “Not that you need my permission, but you can punch him if he steps out of line.” Yeah, John was still an asshole, but they did work together and he was trying. Some days. 

He perked up when you came back with a cup of water and a snack. “You doing okay?” you asked. 

“Since you left a minute or two ago, yeah,” he teased. 

“Were you a sarcastic guy before the hit to the head, or is this a new side to you?” you teased back. 

“Oh, the sass has always been there,” he said, taking a sip once you handed the drink over. “Better to be smart-ass than a dumbass, right?”

Why was he talking so much?

“So much better,” you smiled, going to the small computer to type something in. He tried not to stare as your fingers flew across the keyboard. He could always blame it on his head if you caught him. “I’ll be back in just a bit, but-”

“Buzz if I need you. I know,” he smiled. 

“At least there isn't too much sass in your tone,” you joked before you left him alone once again. 

If he didn't know any better he would think you were flirting with him, but you were just being a friendly nurse. 

He also tried not to eavesdrop when he heard you assisting others, but your voice drew his attention and he hung on your every word. You were professional, yet personal, showing each patient expert care. You lightly scolded an older gentleman who hadn't listened to you, which brought a smile to Bucky’s face when the man apologized and didn't give you any trouble after that. It was a delicate balance to be kind and assertive and you did it well. 

“You are something,” he said to himself. 

For the next hour or so Bucky didn't say much when you checked on him, but you had his undivided attention, his eyes following you wherever you went. He wanted to find excuses to keep you there and possibly make small talk, but it felt wrong when there were other patients who needed your attention. He caught that sweet scent again whenever you were close to him. Alluring, captivating. He tried to figure out if it was a body wash or just you. 

Something he noticed and tried not to was that your heart raced faster when you were near him. Maybe there was a slight chance that you were attracted to him? Beyond being a friendly nurse, maybe the possible attraction was why you kept smiling at him. He wanted to believe so. He wanted to feel your hand on his hand again. The brief touch had him wanting more, which was crazy. 

And before Bucky knew it, it was time to leave. 

“Vitals still look good. No change in symptoms,” you confirmed after he said the dizziness had subsided and he didn't feel at all nauseous after the snack. “Do you have someone to drive you home?” you asked. 

“Yeah, I have some friends here,” he answered. Even if he wasn't dizzy there was no way they'd let him drive after that. 

“Try to take it easy for the next 24-48 hours. If there are new symptoms or if the dizziness gets worse, you should return to the hospital,” you told him. “Other than that, I think you're good to go,” you smiled, but it didn't look as bright as before. 

Were you disappointed that he had to leave? Bucky was disappointed, but what could he do? He had no excuse to stay. Ironic how he was itching to leave when he got there when he now wanted a reason to stick around. 

“Thanks.” He grabbed his jacket after slowly getting to his feet, your gaze lingering on him when he slipped it on. 

“Why don't I walk you back to the lobby?” you offered. 

“Oh, you don't have to do that,” he said, regretting it since it sounded like a brush off and that wasn't his intention. “But if you wouldn't mind?”

Your face lit up, at least he thought it did. “I don't mind at all.”

Keeping a respectful distance, but not too much of a gap as you walked together, he stole a couple of glances at you. The quiet confidence in which you carried yourself was beautiful and you turned a few heads from nearby patients. He wondered if you noticed. 

He smiled to himself when he spotted his teammates sitting in the waiting area. None of them looked particularly comfortable, but they stuck it out for him. It meant a lot. 

“That group right there is my ride,” he said, not wanting you to go any closer. If they got the slightest hint that he enjoyed your company for a short time, they’d pounce. “Thanks again.”

“I’m glad I could help," you said, gazing at him. “Havd a good night. And don't forget to take it easy for the next 24-48 hours, hero.”

Hero. The nickname almost made him smile. “You have a good night, too.”

You lingered for just a moment, almost as if you expected him to say something else. When he didn't, you offered him one last smile and scanned your card to get back through the double doors. His shoulders dropped once you were out of sight. He should've said something. 

“Hello?” Yelena asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “What are you staring at?”

He blinked a few times. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Oh, I think he was staring at that pretty nurse,�� Ava answered. 

Bucky shot the entire group a glare, his cheeks hot. “No, I wasn't,” he grumbled. Except he was. He stared at you. And by the amused looks on their faces, they all saw it. 

Yelena exchanged a look with Ava before they both smirked. “Yes, you were. Do you like the nurse?”

Bucky’s fists curled. He was not having this conversation after a hit to the head. “Can we leave?”

“It’s okay to stare or have a crush. She’s a beautiful woman.” Alexei clapped a hand on his shoulder. “She would be lucky to date the Winter Soldier.”

A growl escaped before Bucky could stop it. Yes, you were beautiful. Did he need Alexei to point that out? And he didn't have a crush. How could he? 

“When was the last time you went on a date?” Ava asked. 

Bucky took a deep breath. He really didn't want to talk about this. “Does it matter?” he asked. 

“Ask her out! I drive you for your date!” Alexei offered, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll set the mood. You see.”

Yelena pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered, “Dad, stop.”

Bucky shook his head and shut his eyes, wishing he could teleport himself out of there. “Yes, please, stop.”

“Is your head okay?” Bob asked, making him open his eyes. Of course he was concerned with his pain, and Bucky was glad for the change of topic. 

“I’m fine,” Bucky assured him. There was nothing for him to worry about. “I just need to take it easy for the next day or so.”

John stretched his back once he stood up. “If you really want to see that nurse again I can make sure you get another hit to the head.”

Bucky’s eyes turned cold. “I’m not a killer anymore, but I may make an exception if you try anything.”

John held his hands up, but still had a smirk on his face before Yelena shot him a look. “A small injury could bring you back here.”

“No one is injuring me to bring me back here,” he announced. Everyone looked disappointed except for Bob. “What, you all want me to get hurt?”

Why did he decide to join this team again?

“No, we just want you to see the nurse again,” Ava said.

“Let’s go,” he ordered. 

As the group left, Bucky snuck one last look over his shoulder. You were a good nurse, and you made his night better. A small part of him hoped he made your night a little better, too. And while he certainly didn't want more injuries, a part of him did if only to bring him back to you.

So, what injury is Bucky getting so he can see you again? sebastian stan x reader, james bucky buchanan barnesLove and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[h66nki]

hi sochi, can u do smt plz? nerdy jake (with glasses) & reader doing cowgirl, he grips her ass and sucks her tits that hickey stains were appearing, reader kisses him and his face is filled with lipstick stains, then reader sitting on his face while he pleasure her with his mouth and tongue and she overstimulated & squirted in his mouth, jake end up drinking licking all of it. Tysmm!!

warnings; pussy eating (kinda pussydrunk!jake), face sitting, squirting, cum eating (jake swallows his own cum lol)

jake looks so beautiful when he cries. it's a strange thought if you really analyze it. the way his eyes fill with tears and his lips form an imperceptible pout makes you clench around his cock.

"babe..." he whimpers, as you ride him. his large hands rest on your lower back. you feel so good, so good that he can't help but cry and bite his lips until they bleed.

"making you feel good, huh?" you tease, caressing his cheeks, splattered with your red lipstick. jake looks at you through his glasses, his eyes shining.

"i always feel good when you ride me. you take such good care of me."

you smile proudly, never stopping your hips. jake is so deep inside you that you feel every inch of him as he nibbles at your tits, covering them with bruises.

your orgasm is building but, unexpectedly, he cums —hot semen filling your fertile womb. your legs give way, buckling against the sides of his hips.

he seems ashamed.

"i'm sorry, baby... i couldn't stand your warm cunt squeezing me any further. i'm sorry," he moans, pouting as his hair clings annoyingly to his forehead.

"it doesn't matter, baby," you whisper, watching him still lost in his ecstasy.

he feels bad about himself. you took such good care of him, but he hasn't been able to give you the same treatment. he hasn't been able to make you cum like you did to him.

his cock is sensitive and softening, so sensitive that the fact that you're slipping out of it makes him curse under his breath.

"let me fuck you with my tongue," he begs, licking his lips. "please?"

he looks at you so sweetly, so willingly... you can't refuse, not when he came so soon and you didn't have time to keep up.

"okay. you can eat my cunt."

jake smiles at you, tired but willing. "sit on my face. i want you to ride it." his hands work quickly to remove his glasses and place them on the nightstand. he adjusts himself on the mattress, leaning his back against it as he breathes heavily. excited to make you feel good.

you crawl up until you're sitting lightly on his face, your slit directly at his mouth. jake begins to lick tentatively, like a kitten. he takes a long lick from your hole to your clit, savoring your taste.

he doesn't flinch when his cum begins to seep from inside you; on the contrary, he swallows it all. he swallows his cum from your used hole, moaning against your pussy at the feel of your combined juices.

he licks between your folds, paying attention to your clit with his tongue in irregular patterns. he sucks the specific spots that make you see stars and thrusts his tongue deep inside you, as if he's searching for any trace of his cum inside your soaked pussy.

jake takes his time sucking everything off: it's his apology for cumming inside you so quickly, like a teenager.

his cock twitches when you grab a handful of his hair and start using his face to cum. the tip of his nose brushing against your clit works wonders, as do his licks.

"baby..." you whimper, pressing yourself down on him. "i'm going to squirt all over your face... take it like a good boy..."

jake smiles against your hole, sucking and licking with more passion, practically making out with your pussy.

you finish in his mouth, making a mess as your juices drip down his face, shoulders, and the sheets. jake's tongue never leaves your cunt, licking and taking everything you have to give him.

when you're done, he helps you get off his face, smiling and proud at the sight of you in a trembling mess.

"drank all your juices, doll. i made your cunt feel good so you can see im your good boy."

thank you for your req love im barking at my phone. hope you like this.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I’d be interested to see soft dom hiromi. But could I request he be written with y/n having a praise kink instead of degradation? I’d love being his good girl 😭 🩷🥹

The way Hiromi softly doms you

Tags: Hiromi x fem!Reader, praise kink, sub space, NO age regression, nsfw, mdni

An: I am SO sorry it took me so long to put this out 😭

• Hiromi works long hours as a defense attorney. Far too often he gets caught up in court, so when he does finally get home, he needs a good girl like you to cheer him up!

• As soon as he’s home, he wraps his cute girl up in a big hug, and he just holds you to his body for a while. He’s silently decompressing from his day and counting his blessings for getting to come home to you each and every evening.

• Hiromi doesn’t talk about work to his girl. If he needs to vent, he’ll call and rant to Nanami on his way home. The more ignorant you are to his struggles, the better. He doesn’t want you fussing over him, and he wants you to just enjoy being his perfect girl.

• Hiromi’s the type of dom to take off his coat after a long day, still wearing the rest of his suit before he takes a seat on the couch. He guides you to sit on his lap. “Tell me about your day, baby.”

• He runs his fingers through your hair, listening to you yap about your day. Of course, he lets you be a stay at home wife. He prefers it that way so that nothing takes your time or attention away from him.

• He truly listens to all the things you tell him, even the pointless things. “Oh no, I’m sorry the store was out of your favorite creamer, sweetness. I’ll pick you up some on my way home tomorrow.”

• “Such a brave girl.” while his fingers are giving you gentle head scratches.

• All of the sweet/cute nicknames, “baby”, “pretty girl”, “sweetheart”, “darling”, “pumpkin”.

• Hiromi doesn’t make you dress a certain way. His eyes light up seeing you in all types of clothes, even if they are a little revealing. “My love, I can’t keep my eyes off of you. You’re magnetic.”

• He definitely doesn’t let you shy away from compliments. “Look at me, baby… Thereee we go.. Such a pretty girl.”

• Is such a pleasure dom. He just wants to hear your sweet moans and cute breathy whimpers all the time :(

• He loves when you sit on his face. He literally doesn’t want to breathe. He just wants to get drunk off your essence and make you fall apart on his tongue over and over again.

• He’s the type to cum without being touched. He doesn’t need stimulation. All he needs is to know that you’re enjoying yourself so much.

• The only time Hiromi can be a little mean is when he makes you compliment yourself while taking his fat cock. “Say it. Come on… Say it for me, angel. I’ll stop if you don’t say you’re the prettiest girl in the world.”

• Hiromi’s the type to mount you and give you the sweetest forehead kisses while he fucks you from behind, whispering all the praise in your ear, “Keep being so good for me.. That’s it…”, “Oh, you feel fucking incredible, angel.”, “God, I love how you take me. I’m so proud of you.”

• The. Aftercare. King. Hiromi’s the type to clean you off while telling you how lucky he is to have you and how beautiful you are. He doesn’t run a bath just yet. Instead, he holds you in his arms and watches whatever you want to watch whether that’s TikTok, your comfort streamer, or something on TV. He’s there and present with you the entire time.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @airandyeah

[wonfaery]

I SNUCK INTO YOUR ROOM – L.HS

THINKING ABOUT STEPDAD!HEESEUNG WHO IS AN INSATIABLE FREAK AND USES YOU WHENEVER HE WANTS.

CW — STEPCEST, DADDY KINK, UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP, CHEATING, UNPROTECTED SEX, CREAMPIE. MDNI

You’re not sure how it all started. Somewhere along the lines of your mom’s third marriage, her sweet husband revealed his true nature to you. Since then, you took pleasure in being his toy; in letting him use you because your mother wasn’t enough for him. The thing about your stepdad is that he never cares when or where. If he wants your pussy, he’ll take it.

And you’re always too happy to give it to him because you’re addicted to his cock.

That’s why you find yourself face down with your ass up on your bed, moaning into your pillows as he thrusts his thick cock into your tight hole. It doesn’t matter to either of you that your mom is sleeping down the hall in the other room. What daddy wants, daddy gets.

“Fuck, daddy!” You cry, arching your back so he can fuck you deeper.

“Shh, baby,” Heeseung shushes you through a deep groan, smacking your ass as a reprimand. “You have to stay quiet.”

Your juices paint your stepdad’s dick as he rubs your ass to soothe it. The petulant whine you let out makes his dick throb, and he starts to fuck you harder for being such a nasty girl. Your room reeks of sex and filthiness as he drills his cock into your sopping pussy. Heeseung’s been fucking you for a long time now, and you can no longer stay quiet.

Not that he actually cares. You knows he secretly loves how you can’t ever stay quiet when he fucks you.

Heeseung briefly thinks that maybe he shouldn’t be taking such a big risk and fucking you while his wife is sleeping in their shared room, but the thought doesn’t even cross your mind. Not when his big cock stretches you out just right. You can feel his thick veins slide against your velvety walls as his every thrust becomes rougher than the last.

“Sorry,” you mewl pathetically, not really meaning the apology. “Y-You’re just so deep, daddy.”

Your cunt squeezes him tightly, eliciting a deep groan that’s like music to your ears.

“Yeah?” He laughs, drinking in the way you’ve already gone dumb on his cock. “You like having daddy all up in your guts, baby?”

He revels in the way your fucked out yes! mixes in with the sound of your ass bouncing back on his pelvis. Your stepdad’s hips don’t stop, especially when he sees you bury your face in your pillow to try and muffle the filthy cries you’re letting out. He grins deviously, loving how you’re always trying to be such a good girl for him.

“Shit. This pretty little pussy was made for my cock, huh, baby?” Heeseung grunts, thrusts getting more aggressive when he feels you clenching around him.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the feeling in your stomach starts to tighten. His long fingers dig into your hips to help you meet his thrusts. Your whimpers are getting louder which makes your stepdad grin sleazily.

“I’m gonna cum, daddy!” You moan into your pillow.

“I know, baby girl,” he coos at you sweetly, eyes locked on the cream you’re leaving on his dick. “Let go for me. Cum on daddy’s cock.”

It just takes a few more deep thrusts for you to gush all over your daddy’s dick. You cry out loudly as Heeseung just keeps fucking you relentlessly through your orgasm. He can feel his own release approaching quicker just seeing you cream on his cock.

“That's it, baby,” Heeseung groans, slapping your ass again. “Such a good girl for daddy.”

Your legs start to shake when your stepdad grinds his cock deeper into your pussy. His weeping tip kisses your cervix in a way that makes your cunt gush with more arousal. Pleasure shoots up your spine when his hand reaches around to pinch your clit. Heeseung grins when you pull your head up from your pillow to let out a loud squeal. His hands move to your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft skin harshly.

A choked moan leaves your lips. The squelching from his dick pistoning into your cunt sounds loud and salacious in your room. His rough thrusts grind your clit against your sheets, sending molten heat to pool in your belly. At this point, you don't try to be quiet anymore—not that either of you care.

“Filthy little girl,” Heeseung groans, the sound of you falling apart on his cock for the second time pushing him closer to the edge. “Your mom could walk in at any time and see me pounding your little pussy. What would you do then, hm?”

His cock brushes against your g-spot, making you squeal and clamp down on him. “Daddy!” You cry out. “Please cum in my pussy!”

Heeseung coos lovingly. “Since you’re asking so nicely, I'll pump you full of my cum, but only on one condition.”

You mewl desperately, hips moving back to get him to give you what you want.

“Cream on my cock again, and I'll breed your sweet little pussy until you’re dripping with my cum.”

You shudder and moan out his name, hips moving wildly to meet his harsh thrusts. Quicker than either of you expect, your orgasm hits. Your warm walls clamp and pulse around his thick cock as Heeseung fucks you harder and harder. He moans out your name deeply, burying his cock deep inside your hole, cum spurting from his tip as his balls empty into your pussy.

Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as he fucks his cum deeper into you until neither of you can handle the sensitivity. Heeseung is breathing heavily, loving that he can feel your mixed cum slowly drip down to his heavy sack. He licks his lips, caressing your ass while making no move to slip his dick out of you.

“Such a good girl,” Heeseung’s voice is sweet and satiated. For now.

He quickly shifts you onto your back and gives you a sloppy, nasty kiss. You moan into each other’s mouths when he slowly starts rocking his hips, twitching cock still eager to be milked again.

“My sweet girl’s earned a reward,” Heeseung groans against your lips. “Daddy’s gonna fill you with cum all night for being so good.”

You clench around your stepdad’s cock, eager and ready to be stuffed to the brim.

[mysterymachine67]

got you into the loophole that is daredevil. i love it. talking about the blind man;

coaxing him to stay home for the night, with a lot of difficulties, but still managing to get him to bed as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear, promising to take care of him in a LOT of ways, then finally relieving him, allat 🤲pls

PAIRING -> Matthew Murdock x M!reader

SUMMARY -> Taking care of Matt because he needs it.

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

My writing in this is so ass I’m so sorry 😭

“C’mon, baby, you’ve done enough today,” You spoke, softly. You stood behind him, an arm wrapped around his middle. You were whispering into his ear, trying to convinced him to stay home for the night. But was he listening? No. “You deserve a break for a night. Lemme take care of you.” Matt had one of his hands on your wrist—holding a tight grip.

“I can’t stay tonight you know there’s been a lot of stuff going on lately. If I stay here—“ you cut him off because you couldn’t bear to hear him any longer.

“Matthew, not everybody is your responsibility. You deserve a break—a day off. Let me do something for you.”

There was a long beat of silence.

“No, not tonight. I can’t. Got stuff t’do.” he finally answered.

“Stuff that can wait. You’ve done so much lately, don’t you think you deserve some sort of reward?” God, this was gonna take forever. Matt tipped his head back, and you took the opportunity to kiss at his neck. Maybe not?

“I don’t know.” He sighed. Your other hand came up, sliding along his stomach till it met with his hip. Burying your face into his shoulder you groaned. Why couldn’t he just agree? You promised to take care of him—treat him for a few hours. Who would turn that down? Matthew fucking Murdock it seemed. Just as you were about to open your mouth to say another plea, he started to speak. “If I agree…” he paused for some reason. You could practically hear his smile. “Promise to take care of me properly?” Was that even a question? You popped your head up, lips brushing over his ear. Even nipping a bit.

“Course,” you whispered.

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The two of you slowly walked to his bed, with how you kept stopping to kiss him and feel him.

“I’ll make you feel so good. Make you forget everything,” you’d say, voice calm and steady. When you got close enough to the bed, you pushed Matt down then climbed on top of him. His hands immediately reached out for your body. With you leaning down to kiss him, it made it easier for his hands to roam up and under your shirt—all the way to your back. You groaned softly, pulling back to kiss at his jaw instead. Pressing small, quick kisses all the way down to his neck. Matt gasped when he felt a slight sting due to your teeth; you didn’t bite down too hard, just enough to get a reaction out of him. But either way you ran your tongue over the bite, and sucked—soothing the sensitive area. His breath hitched, legs shifting as he started to get more and more desperate. Your mouth got lower and lower, causing you to have to move your body down. You pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss right on his Adam’s apple. Meanwhile, your hands pushed his shirt up till you couldn’t anymore. You then pulled away, and watched as he sat up a bit to take off his shirt.

Matt threw the piece of clothing down to the floor somewhere, a problem for later. When he laid back down you went right back to the same position you were in before, but this time you were down more so that you could kiss at his chest. He huffed, shutting his eyes for a brief moment. Your hands ran down the sides of his body, all the way to his thighs. Which with every kiss you planted and hickey you made, you got closer and closer to where Matt wanted you the most. Your lips brushed over his stomach before pressing a soft kiss, and your hands started to undo his belt. With his cock finally free after a minor struggle, Matt whispered something. Which you couldn’t make out but you’d assume it had to do with you about to pleasure him.

Anyway, he adjusted his position—getting more comfortable because he had a feeling what would be next. And oh, he was right. The moment he felt your lips wrap around his tip he groaned lowly. A hand coming up behind your head, only daring to hold. Matt let out a soft gasp when you continued. Your tongue rubbing at the underside, then moving to lap up the pre. His legs moved, feet planting on the bed. Thighs tensing and attempting to close around your head when you took him a bit deeper. Keyword, attempting. Fortunately you were in between them so they couldn’t.

You moved back just enough to only have his tip in your mouth. You swirled and flicked your tongue, relishing in the sounds that poured from his mouth. A few seconds past, then you took him. All of him. Relaxing your throat and letting him sit in your mouth for a moment before starting to bob your head. Matt let out a drawn out groan, letting his head fall back against the pillow beneath him. He even dared to raise his hips. Which you shot him a look. The more and more you moved your head, sucked, and moved your tongue, the closer he got. Head turning from one side to the other. Not frequent, just every so often. Pulling away with a wet ‘pop’, you traced a vein with your tongue. Even managing to collect some of his pre-cum. The blowjob didn’t last long. It wasn’t really surprising. You had a pent up, somewhat needy boyfriend who just wanted something, even if he wouldn’t admit it. So when you finally got him like this? After all the struggles and difficulties you went through? He was finally, finally starting to let himself go.

You pressed your tongue flat on the head of his cock, then proceeded to move it upward. Hearing as he sucked in a breath and moaned. He couldn’t help it, the way you took him was perfect. A whine falling from his lips as he went to push his hips up, not intentionally, but forcing you to take more of him. Which it caught you off guard, but with a thought to yourself and a slight grumble you let him do what he needed to do. Which was slowly fucking your mouth. Moving his hips up and down while he let out sounds. Even taking it a step further and slowly putting his hands at the sides of your head. As if he was testing the waters. He couldn’t see your reaction, no shit, but he could tell that you didn’t protest or anything of that matter. In just a few seconds he held his hips up, keeping his cock in the warmth of your mouth as he came.

↓

You were buried inside him in a matter of minutes. Not moving or anything, only making out as you jerked him off lazily with one of your hands. Matt groaned into your mouth, taking your bottom lip in between his teeth when you pulled away briefly. Although this was nice, you knew the both of you needed something more.

So, you did you both a favor—switching him over on his back to finally fuck him properly.

↓

Your cock pushed against all the right spots within him. And something even better? He hugged you perfectly. As if he was made for you. His legs tightened around your waist, pulling you closer—deeper into him. He knew what he was doing, and you did too. Not that you were going to stop him or anything.

You made sure to keep your cock buried inside his warm hole when you leaned down atop him. Your lips brushing over his. First taking his bottom lip in between your teeth and pulling before letting go and kissing him. Just how he had done to you. Matt moaned into your mouth, hands coming up to your shoulders then slowly wrapping his arms around your neck. Pulling away for a quick breath he murmured against your mouth. “You’re really keeping your promise, huh?”

You smiled. “Of course.” You say, before leaning back in for another kiss.

Your hands gripped at his sides, one of your pointer fingers tracing one of his scars. With a hum you broke the kiss, Matt groaning from the loss. Within a few seconds you pulled back, straightening your position then picking up your pace; going back to the fast and deep thrusts that he loved.

Thirty minutes later, you were still pounding into him as if he was gonna disappear. During those thirty minutes, Matt came again. Staining areas of his chest white. The position changed, his legs now hooked over your shoulders—giving you a better angle to fuck your cock deeper into him. He wasn’t that tired. Maybe a few more rounds left in him. At the moment he couldn’t bear the thought of feeling the loss of your cock. You were fucking him too good. The feel of you hammering his insides made him squirm, arch his back, and do anything but stay still. That was until you decided enough was enough; moving your hands from his thighs to his hips. Grabbing him strong enough to make him stay still a bit. His mouth was hung open and all that left it was weak groans, moans, and nearly high pitched whines ‘n whimpers. Which just fueled you on even more. Not stopping till you were grabbing ahold of him once again, and cumming deep in him with a groan. Hips stuttering but still trying to maintain the pace you had set. And Matt? Matt was gone. The thought of him being able to go a few more rounds was no longer in his head—completely faded away. The moment he’d felt your cum fill him once again he came with you. His orgasm washing over him, dick jumping and absolutely throbbing. The angry shade of red it wore wasn’t hard to miss.

When your thrusts slowed, and turned into heavy, deep thrusts, the more easier it was to calm yourselves down. Catching your breath while Matt was still breathing heavily and clutching the sheets so tight his knuckles turned white. You leaned down over him, stopping the movement of your hips. Your lips hovered over his for a few short seconds before you gave him a proper, gentle kiss. “Did so good takin’ me—letting me take care of you.” You mumbled, hands starting to run up and down his sides.

This was something you both needed.

[theorphicangel]

HELLO HELLO!! I think your writing is super duper adorable, and often times really heartwarming!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

How would Sukuna be with a shy partner? Lowkey a doormat but is trying their best? He’d be such a menace especially in a modern college au LMAO

sorry sorry sorry i took so long to answer, life is so crazy and busy but omg i love you!!!! thank you so much for reading my works i'm so glad that you enjoy them!!!

and arghhhhhh!!!

sukuna with a shy reader would be...something.

i would say at first he would make fun of you and nitpick at your lack of confidence but as your relationship develops he realises your shy nature and feels a weird instinct to protect you.

sure he can make fun of your shyness but if anyone else made fun of you or bothered you about it i'm sure he would say something.

your shyness comes particularly when it comes to asking him for things or asking him to hang out. your tone drops and you mumble, it's annoying to him but he has his own pleasure in making you speak up.

'what was that?'

'i didn't hear you the first time, speak up.'

'why are you so embarrassed?'

on the other hand he knows you're introverted and trying your best, so when you have trouble speaking up he'll attempt to stick up for you.

'if they don't want to speak, they don't have to. move it.'

if you have a presentation for one of your uni classes he'll go over it with you, practising as many times as you want but also giving feedback on how to make your voice sound louder.

'pretend i just punched the shit out of everyone and they're all unconscious.'

'why would i do that?' you frown.

'to make you more confident. duh.'

he'll be there cheering you on, sneaking into the back of the class and watching. you're not sure if that adds onto the pressure or not but somehow he makes you more confident and reminds you of all the times that you did get your words right.

after your presentation you find him waiting in the hallway after class with your favourite snack as a reward.

'i told you it would go well, you worry over jack shit sometimes.'

[angel-writes-skz-here]

All in a Day's Work

Dad! Bang Chan x AFAB! Reader Synopsis: Hwan meets the members of Stray Kids, and in turn, it sparks a conversation about your relationship with Chan. Warnings: Fluffy fluff, a little angst, signs of anxiety, that's really it. A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long. Thanks to @breakmeoff for helping me form a plot for it. I hope you guys enjoy. Please comment to be added to my tag list!

“Come on, I bet he would have fun,” Chris says as you start portioning out dinner.

“Hwan! Dinner’s ready!” You call out, hearing the little boy’s feet hit the ground with each step.

Chan's been begging you to let Hwan come to work with him for the last few weeks. You wanted Hwan to be involved but this was a big step. It felt like a commitment. Like something set in stone that the two of you were really trying again. Of course you knew that, and you were ok with it, but letting others know, it wouldn't be as quiet if things went wrong like it was the first time.

“I don’t know, he might get bored and want your attention.”

“There’s eight of us, y/n. If I can’t play with him, someone else can. We don't all record at the same time,” he tries to reason with you.

“Let me take him to the studio, show him what I do and meet his uncles.” You sigh as you set his plate down.

“You aren’t going to let this go until I say yes, are you?”

“Nope,” he says proudly. You roll your eyes as you sit down. You glance over at your son who smiles with chewed food in his teeth.

“Eww,” you giggle at him.

“Hwan, don’t do that,” you lightly scold before looking to your boyfriend.

“Fine, but promise me you’ll call if he starts getting fussy or wants to leave.” Chris’s smile stretches from ear to ear.

“Of course, but he’ll be fine!” He says before leaning over kissing your cheek.

“Whatdaya say buddy? Wanna come to work with me?” Hwan looks up at his dad and nods his head quickly.

You smile at the boys before digging into your own dinner.

-

The next morning you’re watching Chris get ready for the studio.

“Mm, you look handsome,” you say as you wrap your arms around his torso in the bathroom. He looks back at you as he feels your lips place kisses on the exposed flesh of his shoulder, the toothbrush in his mouth hanging there as he studies you.

“Be careful today, yeah? Precious cargo.” You playfully tut.

“Yes ma’am,” he responds before washing his mouth out and giving you a passionate kiss. Your lips move in sync, his tongue darts out against your lips, as your arms go around his shoulders. He softly grunts into the kiss as his hands frame your face.

“What are you guys doing?” a small voice interrupts your kiss and you pull apart, both smiling.

“I’m giving your Appa a good luck kiss. And you’re next!” you tease and he runs away screaming. You chase him to the door of your bedroom and scoop him up, planting kisses all over his tiny face. Unbeknownst to you, Chan steps out watching you both as you laugh and twirl the young boy in your arms. Hwan lets out a squeal before you put him down, and you catch a glimpse of Chan chuckling. You smile as Hwan runs back to his room, you following behind to help him get dressed.

-

At the studio, Chris walks in with Hwan holding his hand. Hwan, being the lively social boy he is, waves to everyone.

“Hi, this is my Appa!” he tells the lady at the front desk. She smiles at him and offers him a sucker. He accepts it happily before the two walk into the elevator, coincidentally, where he meets Changbin for the first time.

“Binnie, this is Hwan, Hwan this is Binnie, my friend.”

“Hi,” he waves dramatically, Changbin smiles at the little guy before bending down to him.

“Nice to meet you,” he puts his hands up and does a small bow. Hwan looks to Chris confused.

“You should bow too, it’s a sign of respect,” he encourages and Hwan nods once before doing what his Appa suggested.

Changbin offers him a smile before the elevator doors open to their floor.

Walking into the studio Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Lee Know, Seungmin and I.N are waiting.

“You’re late,” Lee Know informs him.

“Sorry, sorry, I had a special guest coming in today.” Hwan steps out from in behind Chan’s legs, all the guy’s eyes growing wide.

“Wait, who’s this?”

“This is my son, Hwan. Hwan, this is,” he points to each member as he names them, “Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Lee Know, Seungmin and Jeongin,” He looks to each of them, his eyes slightly wide before looking to his dad.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it.” He smiles before walking to sit down in his chair. Hwan makes his way, with his little Pinkfong lunch box, to the leather couch behind his dad.

“I’ll take that for ya,” the younger Aussie drawls. Hwan smiles and hands it over. Felix puts the lunch box up in their little fridge.

“So how old are you, Hwan?” The Maknae asks.

“I’m four!”

“Yeah, buddy you’ll be five soon.” Chan calls out.

“Don’t you mean, foive,” Seungmin jokes and Chan rolls his eyes with a smile.

“Foive?” Hwan repeats earning a laugh from the guys.

“Not you too,” Chan drawls. Seungmin gives Hwan a high five.

The day goes on, Hwan finding ways to entertain himself as the guy’s record. Chris lets him sit in his lap, pride busting at the seems as he lets Hwan mess the soundboard and try out some stuff.

“And this makes a trumpet sound,” he presses the button letting him hear it and Hwan presses it again.

And again.

And again.

And again before Chris laughs and has to find another way to entertain him. He looks around, spinning the chair, to see Han snoozing on the couch.

“Hey, I need Han awake to record. Can you wake him up for me?” Chris asks, a mischievous look in his eye. Hwan nods before hopping down.

He jumps on top of Han’s chest making dinosaur noises in Hwan’s face.

Han lets out a genuinely started yell making everyone, including your son, laugh. Hwan is all giggles that he doesn’t register that Han is picking him up and putting him over his shoulder until it’s too late. He squeals excitedly pounding on his back.

“Put me down!” He giggles. Han fake-drops him, causing more laughter to leave the small boy’s mouth. Han chuckles along with your child before setting him down to sit in the chair beside Chan, an isolation filter set up for him to rap into. Hwan watches as the idol raps into the mic, a new fascination unlocking.

Once Han is finished, Hwan hops up in the chair.

“Budah budah budah,” he starts to try to imitate Han’s vocals earning smiles and stifled chuckles from the guys.

“Was I good?” Hwan’s voice holds an air of hope.

“That was great, son.” He smiles, pride once again filling his entire being.

Hwan smiles satisfied.

“Did you like it? Did I sound like you?” He asks Han who can’t help but smile.

“It was great, buddy.” He smiles at the young child as Chan starts looking at mixing the song.

To help pass the time, the boys start playing dinosaurs with your son. Lee Know, I.N and Felix are on the ground, rawring and crawling around trying to entertain him. The little boy feels a sense of excitement, a sense of home with his new friends. Hyunjin takes a video of the group having playtime, one he’ll both send Chris and use for leverage if it’s ever needed.

Chris is listening to the way the sound is mixed and he can’t help but feel something is missing at the end of the song.

“You good, Channie hyung?” Felix asks once he needs a break from being down on all fours, Han taking his place as Hwan pouts that he left.

“I can’t figure out what needs to be here, listen,” he says as he plays the song. It sounds great until it gets to the end, something sounding as if it’s missing.

Felix nods in agreement, looking over to see Hwan on Han’s back.

“Looks like he’s made a friend.” Felix points to the two boys. Hwan is now riding Han’s back like he’s a horse.

“Might have to double check with y/n to make sure he’s really mine,” Chris jokes. Felix is about to swat at his friend before his face twists in confusion.

“Wait, y/n? Why does that name sound familiar,” Felix ponders before his eyes go wide.

“Wait! You guys are, no way!” Felix stands up out of his seat all excited, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room.

“Yeah, it’s her,” he smiles, a light blush popping up on his cheeks.

“Congrats man, I know you were broken up when you two ended things.” He smiles.

“What’s happening?” Lee Know asks, standing up from his position. Han goes to stand up too, Hwan holding on, forcing Han to put him on his shoulders.

“Chris was dating this girl, y/n, like four years ago, remember how he was always sneaking off and never would tell us where he was going?” The guys thought back to how their leader had a period of constantly not being found if he wasn’t working.

“You were going to see a girl!” Seungmin and I.N gasp playfully. Chan puts his face in his hands, Hwan looking between everyone.

“What’s going on?” He whispers to Han.

“You’re Appa is being teased.” Han says from the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, leave my Appa alone!” Hwan says defiantly.

“No, no it’s ok. I’m ok.” Hwan looks over to his father, a furrowed brow and slight frown being found on his face.

“It’s ok, Hwan,” he giggles. Hwan holds on to Han’s neck as he walks over to the couch, letting the little boy off his shoulders. Hwan rawrs at Han one last time, a large grin on his face as he does so. Chan’s eyes grow wide with a grin as his fingers snap.

“That’s it! Hwan, come here,” Chan motions for the boy to come over and he speedily gets on his feet and races to his father.

“Wear these.” He puts the headphones on Hwan’s head, and helps him into the chair.

“Ok, when I point to you, I want you to make the same sound you just made at Han.” Hwan nods. But when Chan points to him, he suddenly gets shy.

“Come on, buddy. You can do it.” Chan can sense the shyness in his only son.

“Han, come here,” Lee Know instructs. Han looks up from his phone, oblivious to what’s going on. His eyes are wide as Lee Know walks him over to stand beside Hwan.

“Ok, look at him like you’re a monster, and then make him go away, ok?” Lee Know indulges the child. Hwan nods and on cue the music starts and Hwan does the rawr perfectly, a slight growl in his voice, exactly what Chan was wanting. The boys clap when Chan gives the thumbs up.

“We may have a ninth member back on our hands,” Hyunjin teases the kid with a pat on the back. Hwan smiles up at him loud and proud.

“Watch him for me, just for a sec. I need to make a call.”

-

Back at home it’s getting late, you haven’t heard much from Chris all day, but just when you’re about to press his name to call you, his contact shows up on your phone and you sigh in relief.

“Hey, can you come up here, I wanna show you the song we’ve been working on all day!” You can hear the child like excitement in your man’s voice.

“Yeah, is Hwan ok? Nothing’s wrong?”

“He’s great,” you can hear the smile in his voice,  “Just come on, we’ll get dinner to celebrate.” A night where you don’t have to cook or do dishes?

Hell yeah.

-

Arriving at the studio, the sun is almost down and the air is brisk. You walk in, seeing Chan waiting for you at the front desk.

“Where’s our son?” You ask frantically.

“He’s fine, he’s with Han and the guys.” You sigh a little.

Oh.

“Wait, I’m meeting them, you didn’t mention that!” You whisper yell as you walk to the elevator.”

“I thought it was implied.” He smiles sheepishly as you sigh. It’s not that you didn’t want to meet them, but you didn’t know what they knew.

You walk in behind Chan, Hwan sharing some string cheese with Changbin. Everyone turns their attention you, your cheeks going a shade of crimson.

“Guys, this is y/n, y/n this is Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin.”

“And I’m Hwan!” He smiles as the room looks at him. You giggle at your son.

“I know who you are, silly,” you tease as you walk over to him. You can feel them staring at you as you move through the room.

“Did you have a good day?"

Hwan nods enthusiastically at your question.

“We played dinosaurs and horsey and I even,”

“Hang on, buddy, let’s let Eomma listen to the song first,” Chan interrupts his son before he can spill the beans on the little surprise. You eye Chan with a suspicious look before sitting down to listen.

The song is great, one that you’re sure will become a hit. You take his hand in yours, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of it, as you smile proudly at him.

You nod your head along, listening intently to the song when the end of it comes and you hear it. An all too familiar growl noise at the very end. You look to Chan with as smile before looking down at your son who’s beaming up at you.

“I helped Appa today! He wanted me to growl and so I did, at Han,” he points to his new friend.

“Wait, you growled at Han?” You look over to him and he nods.

“We were playing dinosaurs and Appa said to growl at him so I did and now it’s in the song," he explains.

“He was the missing piece that ties it all together,” I.N speaks up. You smile at the young member.

“I’m so proud of you,” you kiss your son’s forehead before turning your attention to Chan, “Both of you,” you kiss his cheek as you stand up.

“I’m starving,” you say as you stretch your arms above your head.

“How about we all go out to dinner to celebrate?”

Everyone agrees and the ten of you leave.

-

At the restaurant things are going smooth. Everyone is laughing and cutting up, the food is great and things just over all are good.

“So, to address the elephant in the room,” Lee Know begins, “What happened?”

You look to Chris who flashes a warning look to Lee Know.

“I just want to know, I mean you had our hyung out all the time from what I remember. If he wasn’t recording he was with you it seemed. You smile at the memory.

"And then he was crying, devastated really all of a sudden one day." Lee Know says casually. You feel a slightly awkward tension as your cheeks heat up.

“We had decided mutually that it was best to end the relationship. With his career he wasn’t going to be around as much, and we were both so young, it just wouldn’t have worked.” You explain. Lee Know nods.

“So then,” he nods his head to your son who’s coloring on a page with Felix and Changbin.

“I found out after we broke up.” The guys nod.

“Ok, that’s enough,” Chan warns. You put a hand on his thigh.

“It’s ok, they’re curious and I don’t blame them. Imagine how crazy the world will be once they know too.” Chan’s eyes grow slightly wide at you.

“Oh shit,” he whispers. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Will JYP even let you confirm it?” Changbin asks.

“I don’t know, I hadn’t thought that far ahead to be honest."

“But first thing tomorrow I will. Because I’m not hiding this information from Stay or anyone else.” He smiles proudly as he takes your hand.

“Hey, we don’t have to rush anything, ok?” you wink at him, Chris a little confused at your hesitation. He gives you a wary look but you brush it off, for now.

The rest of the night is great, Hwan enjoys his new friends, but things between you and Chris feel just a little off and it’s not something you can shake.

-

The car ride home is silent; awkwardly silent. Hwan falls asleep in the backseat of the car, forcing Chris to carry him inside and tuck him into bed.

He walks out, staring at you as you sit on the couch. The air is thick with tension.

“Is everything ok?” Chris’s voice is weak, but steady.

“Huh?” you look up at him.

“When I mentioned about talking to the company, you kinda shut me down at dinner, why?” He asks bluntly. You sigh.

“I don’t want us to rush things, Chris. I mean, I know it’s been about six months but that’s not a super long time,” you begin to explain.

“So, what you don’t think we’ll make it?” His voice takes on an air of defense.

“If I didn’t think we’d make it, I wouldn’t have let Hwan go to work with you at the studio today. I wouldn’t have allowed him to meet your friends and be apart of his life.” You explain as you walk over to him.

“So you don’t want me to talk to the company yet?” He steps back away from you.

“Christopher,” you sigh, “It’s not that I don’t want you to, it’s that I want to give us more time. I mean,” you sigh before he interrupts you.

“I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“What if we don’t?” you blurt it out like the words have clawing at your throat. The room goes silent, the two of you barely meeting each other’s gaze.

“What if we don’t make it? What if we implode again? What if I screwed up? By letting Hwan going to the studio with you, by letting him and you get so close because if we don’t make it, I can’t just keep him from you,” your heart starts to race against your chest, panic attacking your senses. You begin to ramble, voice on the verge of a whimper as tears fill your eyes.

“What if we don’t? What if all of it has been a mistake?” Chris softens a little at your state, moving in to hold you as you cling to him.

“Hey, shhh, take a breath, breathe in,” he inhales with you, “breathe out,” he exhales with you. His hand is cradling your head while the other holds you around your waist.

“You just said if you didn’t think we’d make it, you wouldn’t have let him come with me today,” he says while peering into your eyes, but he sees it. The doubt, the fear, the hesitation.

“It’s just, it happened once before. Who’s to say it can’t happen again?” Chan looks at you, trying to conceal his hurt. The words shouldn’t cut deep, but they do.

“Y/n, things are different now. We aren’t 20 and 22 anymore. We have a little boy to think about.”

“But life was crazy before,” you go to say and he purses his lips.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. Trust me, please,” he whispers the plea into your ear.

“I know you’re afraid, but I’m here, so give all that fear to me. Don’t hold it, don’t carry it and don’t bury it. Give it away to me and let me shelter the burden of it, ok?” He says into your hair. You squeeze him tight, allowing the emotion to come up.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him multiple times. He gently rocks your body to the beat of his own drum.

“We’re gonna make it,” he promises you as he closes his eyes.

“We’re gonna make it.”

Tags: @breakmeoff @thelovelybireader

Please do not repost my work

Love notes, comments and requests are appreciated!

[alisonwritesimagines]

Delicate ~Bucky Barnes Imagine~

Summary: You first meet The Winter Soldier persona that Bucky worked so hard to hide.

Author’s Note: This is more of a prequel to this imagine.

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings/Tags: mentions of mind control, grumpy x sunshine trope, i used google translation so if it's bad, you know why, reader is not from New York, reader is used as a test subject but nothing bad really happens to her tbh

Do not repost this anywhere!

Bucky could trust Steve ever since he began to remember him. That's why he went to him four months after leaving Hydra.

But during the time he's been with the Avengers, the hold that Hydra had on him continued to linger. Throughout the time he's been with the Avengers, trying to get better, there were a few slip ups when he would revert to The Winter Soldier persona.

That was until he met you.

Tony had brought you after meeting you when you saved his life with your special weapon that impressed him. Your dice that affects your opponents based on what the number it landed on. One could either blind people enough for you to take them down or six that can send people flying back and cause the room to burst into flames.

Not to mention you were an excellent fighter and held a bachelors and Masters in computer science and information science. Along with a minor in physics. So Tony brought you in.

That was three months ago. Three months since you've joined the Avengers. Three months since you've met Bucky and became close to him. Three months since Bucky did everything he can to make sure he didn't show up again.

~~~~~

It was your free week after a mission. A week to recover. And you wanted to get your favorite pasties as a reward for being able to get the mission done sooner than estimated.

"Are you sure you have to have these pastries?" Bucky asked you as you were getting ready to head out.

"Yes. I've been wanting them all week and I am going to get them. You can come with me if you'd like," you offered.

"We were comfortable on the couch," Bucky tells you with a small pout.

"It's just a fifteen minute walk. I will be back soon," you smiled at him.

You got into the elevator before pressing the button.

"What do you want by the way?" You asked him.

"Surprise me," Bucky tells you with a soft smile.

"Ooh! Okay," you say excitedly as the doors closed.

You had been gone for an hour. No texts from you, no calls. Nothing. Bucky grew worried. And then he appeared.

"Где она? (Where is she?)" Steve heard. Steve quickly turned around to see Bucky standing behind him. Sam looked up from his phone as he noticed the sudden change in Bucky.

"Friday, alert everyone and let them know we have a Code Snow," Tony says calmly to prevent The Winter Soldier from being provoked.

Everyone looked at The Winter Soldier as they got ready to fight him just in case. No one knew what triggered him.

"Bucky. You're okay. It's me," Steve says. The Winter Solider stared at him with a dark look.

"Hey guys! I'm back! Sorry it took so long. Line was super long and my phone died while I played Candy Crush," you say, walking out of the elevator with the to go bag from the bakery shop.

"Y/n! Stay back!" You heard. You looked over to see everyone in a defensive position.

"What's wrong?" You asked confused. You looked over at Bucky who stared intensely at you. As if he was on a mission to protect you.

"Bucky? Is everything okay?" You asked, taking a step closer to him.

"Y/n, I wouldn't do that," Steve advised, stopping you in your tracks.

"What? Why?" You asked confused, looking over at Steve.

"He's back to his Winter Soldier mindset," Steve said.

"His what?" You asked confused. Your eyebrows furrowed, not understanding what he just said.

"Did Bucky not tell you about when he was under control by Hydra?" Steve asked you.

"He was part of Hydra?" You asked confused and in shock.

"Did you not read the files I gave you?" Tony questioned. A mixture of upset, annoyed, and confusion mixed in his tone.

"I... may have just skimmed through them," you admitted, looking away so you didn't have to look at him in the eye.

"Just come here," Tony said before grabbing your wrist.

Before Tony could pull you back to everyone else, Bucky quickly grabbed Tony's arm. Bucky pulled you back to him before throwing Tony back. Luckily, Steve quickly caught Tony.

"Bucky! No!" You yell, grabbing his right arm. He looked back at you before cupping your face.

"Ты в порядке? (Are you okay?)" The Winter Soldier asked you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I don't speak Russian," you tell him.

"Are you okay?" The Winter Soldier asked you again in English.

"I'm fine. But you shouldn't have done that! Tony could've gotten seriously hurt!" You yelled at him.

"He grabbed your wrist," The Winter Soldier pointed out, remaining calm as if nothing had happened.

"But he didn't hurt me," you tell him. "Please. Don't fight them. Let us help you get back to normal."

You stared up at The Winter Soldier with a look. The Winter Soldier stared at you before giving you a nod. He stood behind you as you looked at everyone else.

"What do I do now?" You asked nervously.

"Huh. That's new," Sam said.

"Y/n, can you lead him to the lab? We need to see something," Bruce asked you.

"Okay. Um, Bucky?"

"I'm not him," The Winter Soldier tells you.

"Okay. Um what do I call you?" You asked.

"Солдат. (Soldier)"

"I'm sorry. What?" You asked.

"Soldat," The Winter Soldier corrected. But this time, he said it slower and in a way you could understand.

"Soldat. Follow me," you tell him as you followed Bruce to the lab.

You stayed next to Bucky as he sat down for Bruce to look over at him.

"Interesting," Bruce says.

"What?" You asked.

"He seems more calm when it comes to you. Before you got here, his levels were high. But now, he seems more stable around you," Bruce tells you.

"Oh. That's good?"

"I would like to try something out if that's okay?" Bruce says.

"Okay."

"Go to the training room," Bruce says.

"Do I need to change?" You asked.

"No. But just know, this is a test," Bruce tells you.

"Okay," you nervously say.

You and Bucky walked into the training room while Steve, Tony, Sam, and Bruce watched from the side.

"Y/n, remember. This is a test," Bruce tells you.

You looked at him in confusion before seeing one of Tony's training bots walk over with a knife.

"Target acquired," the robot said as it walked over to you with a knife.

It tried to attack you but you quickly dodged it. The Winter Soldier quickly grabbed the bot but it's head with his mental arm before crushing it with his hand. You looked at The Winter Soldier as he looked over at the four. He began to walk over to them, ready to attack them.

"Soldat! Stand down!" You yelled.

The Winter Soldier stopped as you rushed over to him. He looked down at you, making sure you were okay.

"I'm okay," you tell him.

"Okay. Y/n, stand here with us and Steve, you go in," Bruce tells you both.

You walked over to Bruce and Tony as you watched Steve and the Winter Soldier stand in the middle of the room. Another bot attacked Steve but The Winter Soldier didn't do anything, he stood near you, as if he was protecting you. Tony controlled the bot to come towards you but The Winter Soldier quickly stopped it. Crushing it as he did with the one before.

"Okay. It's clear to say that he's only going to protect Y/n."

"What do I do now? When will Bucky be back?" You questioned.

"Usually we keep him contained until Bucky reverts back. But if he's not letting anything or anyone hurt you, then there is a chance he could be okay to roam around as long as you're with him," Bruce says.

"Is that a good idea?" Sam asked.

"We can give it a shot. And if something goes wrong, we'll keep hm contained until he reverts back to Bucky," Steve said.

"I'm willing to try it," you tell the boys.

"Are you sure? You saw what he can do to my bots," Tony asked.

"I'll be okay. And if something goes wrong, I'll call you guys," you tell them.

"Keep this with you," Tony said, handing you a small remote with one button on it. "If he starts to hurt you, just click it and we'll rush to you."

"Okay. Thank you," you say. You looked back at the Winter Soldier who stayed nearby, staring at you.

"I am feeling hungry so come on. I'm gonna make some lunch," you tell The Winter Soldier. He nodded as he followed you out.

Throughout the day, The Winter Soldier stayed close to you. While everyone kept their distance (mostly in fear that The Winter Solider would attack them if they got too close to you), you seemed to be fine with The Winter Soldier lingering near you.

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight everyone," you say as you walked over to your room. You noticed The Winter Soldier stand by your door as you grabbed your pajamas.

"Oh right. Soldat, you can go to your room. I'm just gonna shower and sleep," you tell him.

"Я должен остаться здесь на случай, если у тебя возникнут проблемы. (I must stay here in case you are in trouble)," he tells you.

"English please. I don't speak Russian," you remind him.

"I must stay here in case you are in trouble," he tells you.

"Um okay. I'm just gonna shower and change really quickly," you tell him before walking into your bathroom. You closed the door and locked it before turning on the shower.

After the shower, you changed into your pajamas before blow drying your hair. You walked out of the shower to see The Winter Soldier sitting on your bed.

"Do you need to shower or change into your clothes as well?" You asked.

"I don't need to."

"If you're gonna stay here you're gonna shower. Come on," you tell him before walking out of your room. You led him to his room which was as bare as when you joined the Avengers. You took out his spare clothes before handing them to The Winter Soldier.

"Go shower. If you want, I'll stay out here until you finish," you tell the Winter Soldier. Bucky nodded before walking in the bathroom. You lied on his bed, feeling yourself grow comfortable.

The Winter Soldier walked out of the bathroom in his new clothes to see you asleep on his bed. He turned off the lights for you before sitting on a chair, watching you sleep.

You could feel him watching you, making you slightly wake up.

"You know, that's really creepy," you yawned. "Just come into the bed. You're gonna give me nightmares.

The Winter Soldier sat on the bed, staring at the door, waiting for anyone to come in. You pulled in down onto the bed, making him lie down. The Winter Soldier looked at you as you slept soundly, facing him. He moved his hand, placing it on top of yours.

~~~~~

Bucky had been avoiding you ever since you both woke up in his bed after he reverted back from the Winter Soldier. No matter how hard you tried to talk to him, he was good at hiding away.

"Did I do something wrong?" You asked Wanda and Natasha.

"What do you mean?" Natasha asked.

"Bucky has been ignoring me for the past couple of days. I've tried talking to him but he keeps avoiding me," you pouted.

"You didn't do anything wrong. I think Bucky's embarrassed. I'm surprised he didn't tell you about The Winter Soldier," Wanda said.

"Is it cause I'm new?" You asked.

"You can't be that clueless," Natasha tells you.

"Clearly I am because I don't know what you're talking about," you continued to pout.

"He didn't want you to know because he likes you."

"What? What do you mean?" You asked, sitting up.

"Come on. Ever since you've joined, Bucky has been by your side. If he's not with Steve or Sam, he's with you. And even on missions, he's by your side or close nearby," Natasha says.

"He could just be friendly. Last time I thought someone liked me, they were just being nice and I felt embarrassed and never showed my face to them again," you admitted.

"Bucky is different. He likes you and it's easy for us to see that but you," Wanda says.

"But do you like him?" Natasha asked.

"Yes. He's tall, handsome, he's nice to me and I will admit, it was kinda hot seeing him all protective," you admitted.

"Go talk to him. He should be done with training by now," Natasha tells you. You nodded before getting up to find Bucky.

You found him walking to his room which you quickly caught up to him.

"Bucky. Can we please talk," you asked.

"I have to shower," Bucky says, still trying to avoid you.

"Fine then. I'll make it quick. I like you. And I don't care if you're still struggling with dealing what Hydra put you through. I want to help you anyway that I can. Because that's how much I like you. I like you for who you are. And you're just gonna have to deal with that," you tell him.

Bucky stared at you, surprised at your confession, as you stared at him.

"And now I am going to go because building up that confidence was a lot of energy and if you don't like me back, then that's fine. I just wanted you to know that I like you," you tell him before quickly turning around to leave.

~~~~~

You sat alone up on the roof as you stared out at the city. This was a long way from home but at least the view was nice to look at. You heard someone clear their throat, turning your attention over to them. You found Bucky standing nearby with a pastry box that had a slice of your favorite flavored cake.

"What's that for?" You asked.

"It's an apology cake slice. I'm sorry I've been ignoring you the past couple of days," Bucky said, handing you the cake.

"Thank you for the cake. Please be honest, did I do something wrong?" You asked him, putting the cake next to you.

"You did nothing wrong. It's mostly me," Bucky says as he sat down with you. "To be honest, I really like you too. But I was afraid you would get hurt by The Winter Soldier. Then when I woke up and you were in bed with me, I was afraid he or I took advantage of you.

"Well just to be clear, you didn't. And if you want, we can start things off slowly. I really do like you Bucky," you offered.

"I'd like that. I really do like you too, Y/n and I don't want to ruin anything between us. Believe it or not, you're the only other person I'm comfortable here with," Bucky tells you. You smiled at him.

"I'm comfortable with you too," you tell him.

"Are you doing anything tomorrow?" Bucky asked.

"Not really. Why?" You asked.

"Well, I was thinking, would you want to go on a date? We can go to Coney Island and grab some dinner. Or we can just take a stroll around Central Park," Bucky suggested.

"I like any of those. I've never fully experienced Central Park and I haven't been to Coney Island yet so surprise me," you tell Bucky.

"Alright. Will do," Bucky smiled.

"Do you want to stay here with me and stare out the city? It's one hell of a view," you say.

"I'd like that," Bucky says.

You scooted closer to Bucky before leaning your head on his shoulder. Bucky put his arm around you as you both stared out at the city.

[woso12]

Ten times the team finds you napping

Arsenal x teen reader

I’m sooo sorry this came out so late I had my graduation and then my grad party so I got busy but I hope you enjoy - love mady💕

One

As Leah entered your room to inform you that she was going grocery shopping, she noticed your absence and began to feel anxious. She approached your bed and pulled the covers off, thinking you might be hiding as you often prank her by jumping out to scare her. Frantically, she searched for you in every corner, but you were nowhere to be found. Finally, she decided to check the last place—the closet.

Leah walked back into your room and slid open the closet door, and there you were, curled up on a pile of unfolded clothes. She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. After shutting the closet, she sent you a text to let you know she had left, so you wouldn’t panic upon waking up.

Two

As the team headed back to the locker room, they realized the youngest member was missing. “Where’s the kiddo?” Leah inquired of Lia, who was walking next to her. “I’m not sure; I believe she mentioned something about working on school assignments in the common room,” Lia responded. Beth, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation, chimed in, “I’ll go check on her to ensure she’s okay.” “Alright, just keep us updated,” Leah replied, her tone laced with concern.

As Beth entered the common room, she noticed the light, which gave her a glimmer of hope that you might be inside. Upon stepping further in, her gaze quickly fell on your open laptop, but you were nowhere to be seen. Curious, she decided to investigate. As she approached, she realized that your head was resting on the laptop. A soft laugh escaped her lips as she made the decision not to disturb you, especially since Leah had mentioned during breakfast that you had stayed up until 3am last night

As Beth opened the locker room door, Leah stood up straight and hurried over to Beth, asking, “Is she okay?”“Yes, there’s no need to worry; she’s just having a little nap at her computer,” Beth replied, struggling to contain her laughter

Three

Traveling is a vital aspect of every professional football player's journey. Here we are, the entire Arsenal women's team, at the airport bright and early at 5 a.m. As Steph went around ensuring everyone was accounted for, she had just finished checking Katie's name off the list. When she looked at the next name, Y/N, and approached the first row of seats, she noticed a pair of blue Nikes sticking out. Realizing they belonged to Y/N, she leaned over the seat and saw you sleeping face down. Taking out her phone, she snapped a photo and sent it to the group chat, letting out a quiet laugh as she moved on to check off the next person.

Four

The last thing Katie anticipated upon returning home from training was finding you napping on her couch. You might be curious as to why this is so surprising; after all, you live with Leah, not Katie. This makes your presence on her couch quite unexpected. Katie approached the couch, removed the blanket from the back, and gently draped it over you before heading into the kitchen to call Leah, ensuring you wouldn't be disturbed.She took out her phone and navigated to Leah's contact. After a few rings, a surprised Leah answered the call.

“Hello.”

“Hi, I have something of yours.”

“And what might that be?” Leah replied, puzzled.

“Your child—she's napping on my couch,” Katie said with a playful tone.

“Oh my gosh! She told me she was going to a friend's house,” Leah said, stifling a laugh.

“Yeah, I expect $400 if you ever want to see her again,” Katie said, attempting to sound serious but failing to hold back her laughter.

“Whatever, I'm on my way to come get her.”

Five

Leah inserted the key into the lock and pushed the door open, exhaling deeply as a wave of happiness enveloped her; she was finally home after a long day of training and errands. As she strolled past the living room, she glanced inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of her adopted child. Not noticing anything unusual, she continued to the kitchen to put away the groceries. Afterward, she made her way back to the living room, where she discovered you sleeping on the floor. A soft laugh escaped her lips as she pulled out her phone to capture the moment, adding the photo to her collection of you caught sleeping in amusing places

Six

The gentle hum of the movie filled the room as Leah's eyes remained glued to the screen, which was about halfway through. Suddenly, she felt a weight on her shoulder and realized that Y/N had begun to doze off, resting her head against Leah. “You're so annoying,” Leah muttered to herself.“So are you,” Y/N replied, her voice drowsy

Seven

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of training as everyone began heading toward the tunnel to the locker room. However, Alessia noticed that the youngest player was nowhere to be found, prompting her to return to the pitch. While most of the media had left, a few remained, enough to keep the area bustling. Alessia glanced at the sideline and spotted you, peacefully sleeping on the bench right next to the water bottle station. With a soft laugh, Alessia took out her phone and snapped a picture before putting it away and approaching you. “Hey, y/n, practice is over,” she said, gently shaking your shoulder. “Oh,dang ” you replied, getting up and making your way to the locker room alongside Alessia.

Eight

As Leah cruised down the highway, the soothing hum of music filled the air. Completely absorbed in the road ahead, Leah failed to notice that Y/N was nearly dozing off in the passenger seat. A few hours later, Leah pulled into a gas station to take a short break. She turned off the car and glanced over at the passenger seat, discovering Y/N peacefully asleep. Leaning over, she gently shook Y/N awake.“What—how long was I out?” Y/N asked, their voice cracking from the sudden awakening “Come on, this is the last stop I'm making before we arrive,” Leah replied, stepping out before Y/N could respond.“Right,” Y/N said, following suit and getting out of the car.

Nine

The soft hum of the projector had unintentionally lulled Y/N to sleep as the manager's voice faded into the background, and she gradually drifted off. A little while later, as the meeting was coming to a close, some members of the team began to get up and head out. Just as Lia was about to leave, she noticed Y/N asleep in her chair. With a chuckle, she nudged Leah, and soon the news spread through the entire team, each member spotting Y/N in slumber.Lia decided to take one for the team and approached Y/N to wake her up. “WAKE UP!” Lia shouted into Y/N's ear, causing her to jolt awake in a panic. “WHAT?” Y/N exclaimed, a bit startled, but then she recognized the joke and started to laugh. “Nothing, I just need you to wake up,” Lia replied, giggling as she walked away. “You guys are so annoying,” Y/N muttered, making her way to warm up for training.

Ten

As the team began boarding the bus and finding their seats, Leah opted to sit at the front with Kim. Meanwhile, Y/N made her way to the back, joining most of the team and taking a seat next to Caitlin. She removed her backpack, pulled out a blanket, and wrapped herself in it, settling comfortably between two bus seats. Y/N then picked up her phone and started scrolling. However, the early wake-up call was starting to take its toll, causing her to drift off. Each time her phone slipped from her grasp, she would wake up, only to slip back into slumber again. Eventually, she set her phone down and closed her eyes, succumbing to a deep sleep. Caitlin, sitting closest to Y/N, was the first to notice. Kyra, seeing Y/N asleep, exclaimed, "Please don't wake her up! Leah told me she was up until 1 a.m. doing homework, so please, I beg you, DON’T!" Before Kyra could do anything bothersome, Caitlin intervened. “Whatever,” Kyra replied, moving to a seat next to Steph.

[moniquill]

So there's a post going around that I'm not going to engage with because my point is entirely different than what the discussion is covering there...

It's this thread: https://www.tumblr.com/galileosballs/783607164314976256/some-of-the-responses-to-this-have-been-in

(I will not be weighing in on that thread)

Here's the thing about schooling and Kids These Days from the elementary to the college level using generative AI (which is Bad for many reasons; I am not defending it):

School (for the purposes of this discussion, public school in the US because that's the only kind of schooling I personally have extensive experience with) is not designed to promote learning.

Lamentations about the ethics of the students who do this, about how this is devaluating education, about how it's frightening that future doctors etc are cheesing their way through medical school with AI all have their eyes on a particular symptom of a much, much bigger and deeper problem. That problem is ULTIMATELY capitalism, but on the way there it's about pedagogy.

I, from the perspective of not having been beholden to school for many years, can confidently say that I did not learn a single fucking thing in school between fourth grade (age 9; I learned how to do long division) and college (age 18, learned a lot of different things, absolutely none of them particularly relevant to any paid work I've ever had). School was a six to eight hour time sink (plus however long homework took) in my day that actively got in the way of me learning things WHILE piling a bunch of stress and trauma onto me that I had to spend years recovering from.

School, in the US, is designed from the ground up to train children into compliant workers. It's about showing up on time, being willing to follow arbitrary and often unfair rules, doing as one is told by figures of authority, and giving the desired answers to direct questions (while asking as few clarifying questions as possible). Curiosity and creativity are actively punished by public school.

"Does saying things that are true and that you know are true only matter when someone is giving you a little prize for it?" Literally yes, that his how the system is built. Under capitalism, there is no motivation to say true things that are true that you know are true. It is likely, in fact, to get you punished! If you want to change that behavior, YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THE SYSTEM THAT PRODUCES IT.

This quote, in particular, seems to miss the point hugely:

"Some of the responses to this have been, in essence, "well, it's not our fault for being raised in a bad educational system that prioritizes grades over comprehension". And you're right, it's not your fault.

But you freely admit the system is bad. That it values the wrong things.

So why do you limit yourself to only achieving what it values? Do you not aspire to be better than a system you know is wrong? Don't you want to change the world?" with a post script of "the system is bad and that fact absolves me of moral responsibility to be a good person” is CEO rhetoric frankly"

It should be noted that absolutely no one in the thread has espoused a belief that 'hat fact absolves me of moral responsibility' - they are all talking about ways that the system is rotten from the ground up and needs to be dismantled and rebuilt. Many, many people reblogging the chain are ascribing malice/excuse-making to people who are merely correctly identifying the problem. Explanations are not excuses; sorry that someone taught you that at some point.

No one in that thread has said "I use AI, and think that it's a good and laudable thing to do!" - that is not a position that anyone seems to be holding.

There are a lot of people in that thread who are indignant that anyone is going to college who isn't deeply invested in learning, as if that's the goal that sends people to academia.

We do not live in a world that rewards learning. We live in a world that awards the possession of credentials.

We do not live in a world where people pursue careers because they are inherently important and meaningful to them - they pursue them because they want to survive under capitalism. Most people are not going into healthcare, for example, because they genuinely want to help heal people who are sick or injured; they're doing it because it's a stable career that generated a livable income. I say this as a person who works in healthcare and deals with others working in the field.

"If you're using AI to get through your education you've not fucking earned your qualifications. That AI did."

No one has ever 'earned their qualifications' re: possession of a college degree. They have merely shown a capacity and willingness to jump through the required hoops.

Do you think that you can shame people into not using shortcuts?

I want readers to look at this thread:

which has a much more coherent idea of what the problem is and what can be done about it. I want readers to look into pedagogy; check out these old-ass videos:

And just... just go watch every Ted Talk by Sugata Mitra.

I think we as a society need to be far more honest in what the goals we have are and how they're best achieved. Most of the jobs that people end up spending their lives doing should not be asking for college degrees. Most people do not want or need to go to college. Most people in college, in school at all, are there under duress and the threat of destitution.

I really want people to reblog and reply to this with thier own thoughts - I know that's no longer vogue on tumblr, but I am trying really hard to bring it back. No, the replies will NOT be opened. Fucking reblog it.

[whilesjunnie]

Vampire!Choso x amab reader

AN: Hey guys, this is my first fanfic so sorry if it’s not the best. I had a lot of fun writing it and will probably write more in the future. Tell me if you like it and feel free to leave any tips for new writers🫠

Tags: blood mentioned, smut, top choso, amab reader, spit as lube, biting, idk what else

“Baby pleaseeeee, just one little bite?…” Choso whined as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses starting from your shoulder.

“Cho, I fed you earlier. You hungry again already?” You whispered back softly as your body trembled, caught off guard by the sensation of your lover’s lips against your skin. The feeling moving down your body and stopping itself right at your cock.

His kisses somehow always managed to get you all hot and bothered within minutes, like he knew exactly where you were sensitive and where he'd get the best reaction out of you...which he totally did.

You don't exactly remember how this absolute hunk of a man had become yours, but he'd been like this for as long as you could recall. A clingy, obsessive, and needy guy with a taste for blood. Specifically, your blood. And you'd always give it up willingly. I mean, who could refuse such a cutie when he looked so good on his knees, grabbing at your thighs, just begging for a taste - a drop of your heavenly fluids? Definitely not you. Never in a million years.

So, when that same cutie came marching around the corner, plopping down beside you, and pulling you into his lap, who were you to ignore his requests?

“ ‘m not hungry. Just want another taste of you right now..." Choso's breathing was heavy and deliberate as he began to inhale in your scent. He took in all of you as if your existence was fleeting, like you'd disappear from his arms at any given moment and he needed to have all of you before that moment ever came near.

As your lover continued to plant kisses across your nape, you couldn't help but feel your pants tighten around your crotch, a bulge forming. "I guess one more wouldn't hurt..." You finally replied, deciding that you too, needed a taste of him.

He smiled as he heard your words. His soft smirk transformed into a fang baring grin, his breathing heavy as he leaned in.

You winced as you felt a bit of pain slowly blooming above your clavicle.

His teeth pierced your flesh, small droplets of red slowly spilling from the wounds. Choso lapped up the blood, sucking out the prized liquid.

His movements soon became more erratic after tasting you. Hands roamed your body, trying to feel all of you at once. He had decided that your clothes were his biggest enemy at the moment. Keeping him from seeing your body, his interpretation of absolute perfection.

So, he tore them all off you.

"You really could've just asked me to undress for you..." You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief as the mangled remains of your favorite shorts laid at your side. Whatever, you'd find a way to make him buy you better ones in the future. Right now, all you wanted to focus on was how you were going to handle Choso manhandling you for the next few hours.

-In the bedroom

Choso was kneeling in front of you, head resting on your lap as he looked up at you with a smitten look on his face. The way he admired you, his eyes devouring every part of your body. It made your erection throb with excitement, a bead of precum already forming at the slit.

"God, sweetheart... You're so fuckin' gorgeous… and pretty eager for me by the looks of it." Choso giggled, kissing his way up your inner thighs. He took his sweet time savoring everywhere his lips touched, loving how your legs trembled beneath his touch.

He would leave deep bite marks on your thighs, the pain blending with the pleasure you got from him. Most of the marks oozed blood before he thoroughly licked it all up, causing you to shiver.

“B-babe..please. You’re just teasing me at this point..” You whined, yearning for him to just take you completely.

“ ‘m sorry, love..I guess-I got carried away..”Choso chuckled softly, his attention moving to your cock. He hooked his hands underneath your legs, spreading you even wider while closing the distance between you guys.

You moaned, bucked your hips forward as you felt Choso licking your cock, leaving wet stripes of saliva up the shaft. Then, he took it in his mouth.

He tightened his grip on you, bobbing his head back and forth on your cock as his tongue massaged your tip. Taking you was hardly a challenge for him despite your above average size.

“Ngh! W-wait…give-give me a second.” You cried out. Choso, too engrossed in the feeling of you, ignored your pleas. He only moved faster, causing more moans and grunts to spill from your lips.

“C-Cho, ‘m c-close…so cl-close!” Hearing your words, your lover immediately slowed, coming to a complete stop as he released your cock from its oral confinement with a small pop.

“Don’t cum too fast, babe. I want us to do it together.” He said, finally climbing up on the bed with you. Once again, his hands found their place on your legs, pushing your thighs up to your chest with your ankles over his shoulders.

“Make sure to tell me if i’m going too far. I don’t wanna hurt you.” Choso said, leaning down for a kiss. Your lips met a short yet sweet embrace, one that left you begging for more of him.

Once he pulled away, he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and making sure they were nice and wet.

Somehow, the sight of his bloodstained lips sucking his fingers gave you butterflies in your stomach which were soon overpowered by the sensation of his fingers poking and prodding at your exposed rim.

Once he decided he’d teased you enough, He pushed his fingers deep inside you, earning an arch from your back followed by a soft moan.

He continued to thrust his hand inside you, his fingers scissoring open your tight hole for later use. You met his thrusts, clenching and grinding around his fingers, aching for more. “I-I need you, Cho…so bad. P-please, give it to me. I can take it…I’ll be good, promise…”

His already rock hard cock throbbed painfully against his boxers at the sight of you. You were coming undone for him while not have even reaching the main event. “You’re already doing so good for me, baby boy. Just stay like that, you’re absolutely perfect.”

As he took his fingers out, a dissatisfied whine left you mouth, making it known that you were getting impatient.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long, because in a matter of seconds, you felt Choso’s member enter you. His vigorous thrusts following suit.

Wet plaps, the grunts and whines of your lover combined with the chorus of your pleasure filled moans created a symphony of sexual noise in the room.

“F-Fuck! B-Baby…y-you’re still so tight. It’s too much.” He groaned, plowing into your ass even deeeper. Your g-spot was being absolutely destroyed by him and his obscenely large dick.

“I-if ya keep doin’ that…i’m gonna c-cum…won’t be able to hold it, b-babe…” You managed to mutter out, despite the ever increasing pleasure filling your insides. Tears formed in your eyes as you latched on to Choso’s back, nails digging into his skin.

“D-Don’t hold it in…C-cum for me, love…I’m so close too!”

With those words, you allowed yourself to let go, your body being sent over the edge, orgasming. As you came, you clenched around Choso as if trying to make your hole remember every ridge and vein his cock carried.

Warm ropes of semen painted your chest, some even landing on your face. This sight of you, all messy looking and with cum spilled all over yourself, was what sent Choso past his limit.

“F-fuck, I’m cummin’!”

His grip on you tightened as he leaned his face into your neck and bit down, hard. Many whimpers escaped his occupied lips as he shot his load inside you, filling you to the brim with his seed.

The two of you lied there for a good while, Choso, licking the fresh wound he had made before looking back at you with his puppy dog eyes.

“Round 2…?”

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

a love that makes sense

── bucky barnes x fem!reader (former avenger, currently part of the thunderbolts*)

word count: 3.7k

clearing up a few things timeline wise, to avoid confusion. infinity war happens in 2018, thunderbolts* in 2027. the events of the winter soldier happen in 2014 so when i eventually mention how long reader and bucky have known each other, its 13 years.

no use of y/n but i do use she / her. no physical descriptors other than reader being shorter than bucky (sebastian is 5’11 - 6’ so do with that what you will). powers are similar to that of wanda maximoff, but i don’t write about them in this part. hero name is Dark Surge (where wanda’s powers have a red energy, your color is black, hence the name). readers parents are both dead.

baby girl is back on the big screen and my writing gears are turning again. inspired by @aquaticmercy! their entire masterlist is stunningggggg, and brb im gonna go re-read right now. this is my take on the secret wife trope with thunderbolts* bucky, but someone on the team already knows 👀

*NOTE: benjamin poindexter is not bullseye in this. i just need a name that’s easy to associate being a piece of shit with hshxjsidnxfj

also i am a slut for a backstory, so sorry if you hate long pieces but get a snack and get comfortable

SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS* BELOW THE CUT!!!

Bucky hated the idea of a gala to introduce the (rich) world to the team.

To the new Avengers.

Valentina said it would be good for you to show face, that it would be the first planned public outing as a group.

Sam Wilson had made it known he didn’t like you all using the Avengers as your team name, what with him trying to sue for copyright, and Valentina was a little too quick to point out that now was the time for a united front. The public needed to see that not only were you heroes, but that you were also a real team.

None of you could see how dressing up and playing nice with the upper class would prove that, but you all discussed and decided it was better not to argue.

Yelena pointed out that the Thunderbolts, or Avengers, or whatever the team name was, basically owned Valentina. Bob was on your side again, and even Valentina knew that all it would take was one of you going to the press to expose her.

But it was Alexei who said Valentina was right. The world knew who you all were as individuals, but they’d yet to see you as a team in a somewhat normal setting.

You suspected he just wanted a chance to dress up and have people admire him, but kept quiet about that.

But back to why Bucky hated the gala.

It wasn’t for him. It was true, he didn’t like the idea of having to put on a show, even though he was used to it since becoming a congressman. And he hated that he could hear the whispers of the general public, who often referred to him as the Winter Soldier behind his back.

No, he hated this for you.

Of everyone on the new team, you were the only one of the original Avengers. You’d joined shortly before Loki and the whole attack on New York, having been recruited by Steve.

And as the only original Avenger, people tended to pay extra attention to you. He knew without a doubt, you’d be smiling for more photos and answering more questions than any of them.

You loved what you did, that you got to help people. But you didn’t like how public it all was. You missed when you were an unknown vigilante working (mostly) alongside the law. When you took on smaller problems like robberies or attempted shootings. Because no one knew who you were back then, you weren’t often praised. And that was exactly how you wished it could’ve stayed.

What Bucky hated most, was how he wouldn’t be able to comfort you tonight.

He’s known he loves you since before he could even remember what love was. You tracked him down to his tiny apartment in Romania, but didn’t tell Steve right away. You gave him 6 additional months of peace, while slowly inserting yourself into his life.

And while his memory was foggy, he wasn’t stupid. He knew who you were when you approached him at that outdoor market he used to frequent, but he believed you when you said you had no intention of alerting Steve, yet. That you needed some peace and quiet too.

The first time you helped him through a nightmare, and held him as he sobbed and said he wanted the pain to end, that was it for him. When he woke up the next morning to see you curled up next to him, your hand on his chest as if you needed the reassurance his heart was beating, he knew he didn’t ever want a life without you.

And when you finally opened your eyes and smiled at him, for a brief moment it felt like all was right in the world. You seemed to know how he felt, because you simply moved closer and spoke softly as you told him everything was going to be okay, and that the 2 of you didn’t have to discuss feelings, but you felt the same way.

With all that went down once you finally did have to tell Steve where Bucky was, and all that happened after, your relationship was obviously kept a secret from, well, everyone.

Eventually the 2 of you felt comfortable enough to tell Steve, who smiled as if he already knew. And you then confessed that Nat knew, and had known for a long time because you needed someone outside of the relationship to talk to.

As time went on, the rest of the team each found out in their own way.

Tony found out when he overheard you talking to Nat about how you were terrified to tell him about you and Bucky. Tony was the closest thing you had to a dad, and you didn’t think you could handle him being disappointed in you.

Thankfully, he and Bucky had long ago sorted everything out, and he told you that he overheard you, but you had nothing to worry about. If you were happy, so was he.

Clint found out at the same time as Thor and Bruce, when the 3 of them had taken the elevator up to your floor of the tower to ask about an upcoming mission. They froze as soon as they got off of the elevator, and were met with the sight of you fast asleep, your head on Bucky’s chest as he lazily scrolled to find something good to watch. By then he was genuinely friends with everyone on the team, so he didn’t have much of a reaction to them.

But he sighed, knowing you wanted to tell them yourself. You’d just gotten back from a solo mission though, and were more tired than he’d seen you in a long time. So he simply looked at them and mouthed if you wake her, I will kill you.

All you had to do was mention to everyone that you both wanted to keep the relationship out of the public, and that was it. You trusted them, and knew nobody would ever say anything.

That was a long time ago, though. You didn’t know most of your teammates that well.

You were still on the fence about John. With the recent string of events that had taken place, he’d proven himself to be a good teammate and valuable asset to the team. And knowing what he saw in the void, you felt bad.

But that still didn’t erase the things he’d done in the past. You remembered all too well, what happened when you were working with Bucky and Sam and the wannabe Captain America showed up.

As for the other members of the team, well all except 1, they were nice enough, but you weren’t close enough with them (yet) for you and Bucky to feel comfortable revealing your relationship.

It wasn’t unusual to everyone else that the 2 of you spent more time with each other than any of them, after all you’d known each other longer. But you were worried that one day, someone would catch on before you had a chance to tell them yourself.

Which was how you found yourself in this unfortunate position, wandering around the massive room Valentina rented for the night. She instructed everyone on the team to go off on their own, mingle with the people. And do not stick together like a pack of wild animals being cornered.

Of course, it wasn’t lost Bucky that if your relationship was public, he could ignore her suggestions and just walk around with you, arm in arm. He could pull you in for a kiss, maybe even ask you to dance if these fancy galas did that sort of thing.

And it wasn’t lost on you that if people knew the 2 of you were together, you could comfort Bucky. Like right now, you can tell by the way he’s walking around with his metal hand in his pants pocket and his right hand holding a glass of champagne, the way he keeps looking around as if a threat is close by, that he’s anxious. And anxious probably isn’t even a strong enough word, because you know he hates these public events as much as you do.

“You always come to these things alone?”

You had enhanced hearing, but still felt like you were going to have a heart attack at the sound of an unexpected voice. How had someone managed to sneak up on you? You really had to work on not zoning out in public.

“Pardon?” Not wanting to seem rude, you put on a smile and turned to face the man on your left.

He was tall, and not bad looking. But something about the way he smirked at you put you on edge. He stared as if you were a prize to be won, or he needed time in the spotlight so he spoke to you, hoping one of the few invited members of the press would soon walk by.

“I just asked if you always come to Valentina’s galas by yourself.”

You hoped you didn’t sound as annoyed as you felt.

“Well this is the first event being thrown by Valentina, so no. It’s been a few years since the Avengers have thrown a gala. And even then, Tony only invited respected individuals that we worked with closely.”

The man scoffed. “Right. Guess my invites always got lost in the mail.”

“Guess so,” you shrugged.

“Now that I’m here though, I can keep you company.”

This guy needs to work on his subtlety, you thought to yourself.

You briefly surveyed the room, and found that Bucky’s eyes were already on you. You suspected that he’d been watching since the man first approached you.

You okay? He mouthed. You gave a slight nod, and he turned back to the person he was speaking with, though you knew he’d look back at you once you looked away.

“I’m actually meant to mingle with everyone, but I appreciate the offer…”

“Benjamin Poindexter,” he held his hand out. You hoped your smile was convincing as you shook his hand. He held on just a little too tight, for a little too long.

Before you could step back, you and Benjamin were both startled as a hand not at all gently gave him a pat on the shoulder. You looked to see Alexei, and were never more relieved to see him than you were in that moment.

“How are we doing this evening, huh?”

Benjamin opened his mouth to answer, but Alexei had already put his arm around you and had begun leading you in another direction. Almost as an afterthought, he turned back around.

“Sorry I need her for official superhero business, you understand.”

Only when you were nearly across the room, did Alexei finally stop walking. “Should I kill him?”

You laughed, but had to stifle it when you saw his completely serious facial expression.

“I— no. Hey look at me, no killing him, right?”

“Maybe I just accidentally—”

“No. I really appreciate you saving the day, but I think he was just a weird fan who managed to sneak his way in. Promise me he’ll leave here alive.”

“Oh okay okay, I get you. I wait until he leaves and then—”

“Alexei!”

Yelena approaches, having heard the tail end of your conversation.

“Trust me, I wish I could kill men simply for being creepy as well. But the public won’t love Red Guardian so much for killing a man out in public just for being a creep.” She turned and whispered in your ear, “he won’t be able make it l look like an accident. But I can. We’ll talk later.”

🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

What feels like a lifetime later, but is really maybe an hour, you’re all seated at dinner. And of course in another effort to whore you all out to the public make people think the Avengers were just like everyone else, the entire team were sat at different tables.

“Well well well, guess it’s my lucky night.”

Oh fuck me, you thought as Benjamin took the seat next to you. How had you not noticed his name on the place cards?

“Hello,” you gave him a nod and tight lipped smile, before turning to survey the room once again.

Alexei held up a steak knife and motioned to Benjamin when he wasn’t looking. When you shook your head, he sighed and resumed conversation with the man he’d been talking to.

You were sad that Bucky was on the other side of the room, so you wouldn’t be able to see him after this long and boring dinner was over.

Ava and Alexei were the only ones who lucked out with table mates.

You turned to your right and saw John sat between 2 men who both seemed to be vying for his attention. He caught your eye, and you laughed and mouthed having fun?, and had to force yourself to not laugh when he slowly raised his hand to flip you off.

Yelena was a few tables away, resisting the urge to grab her steak knife and shove it in the throat of the man speaking to her. He clearly just loved the sound of his own voice, and she hadn’t even gotten a word in. The topic? Himself, of course. And how he could’ve been a hero too if life had dealt him better cards.

Bob was the only one who’d been excused from tonight. Understandably, as he was still recovering from recent events.

Earlier you offered to stay back and hang out with him. The rest of the team agreed that might be a good idea, until Valentina swooped in and immediately said no. That everyone would be wondering where the only original Avenger on the team was.

“So being an Avenger and all that, do you have a lot of free time?” Benjamin asked.

“Umm no, not really. Between missions and writing the reports and training, I don’t have a lot of time for myself.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping to take you out some time,” he put an arm around your chair while also scooting his closer.

That’s when you finally stood up. “I’m not dating anymore, but again I appreciate the offer. If you’ll excuse me.” You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before you started to walk away.

Valentina unintentionally saved the day, calling you over to talk to a mayor of some city a few states away. Why he was at this dinner, you had no idea. But after only a minute of conversation, you could tell he was genuinely a nice guy, so this was already a lot better than talking to Benjamin.

After everyone finished eating, the team mingled with guests for another hour before things finally started to wind down. Half an hour after that, and only a handful of people remained.

“Ready to head home? I’m exhausted,” Ava was the last of the group to approach the table you’d all gathered at.

“Yeah,” you looked around the table, “shit. I think I left my phone in the bathroom. I’ll meet you guys at the car.”

Everyone slowly stood up and gathered their things, but Bucky lingered near you. “I can wait for you,” he offered.

You could see he was just as mentally exhausted as you were, maybe even a little more. “It’s okay, I’ll meet you at the car in a minute, I think my phones on the counter by the sinks.”

After double checking, he nodded and turned around to look at the team. They were all talking amongst themselves as they headed to the doors, so Bucky took the opportunity to take your hand in his. “You did good tonight doll, proud of you.”

“Right back at ya’ Sarge,” you smiled.

You held hands a few seconds more, before expertly letting go and making it seem as if you just walked side-by-side. Unbeknownst to each other, you were both thinking that you couldn’t wait until the day came where you didn’t have to do that.

Once exiting the ballroom / banquet room, Bucky turned left and made his way to the exits, while you went right and headed for the restroom.

When you saw your phone sitting exactly where you thought it’d be, you felt relief. As you walked back out, you scrolled through your missed messages and calls, not looking up from your phone.

“There you are.”

You’d later swear your heart stopped when you heard Benjamin’s voice again. And you mentally cursed yourself for not paying attention to your surroundings. This was now 3 times the same man managed to sneak up on you.

“Hi,” you quickly nodded before taking a step towards the doors.

“Not so fast,” his hand reached out to grab your arm, and he wasn’t at all gentle.

You sighed as you tried to remove your arm from his grip, but fear quickly replaced annoyance when you realized he was stronger than he looked. And when he looked up, gone was that smug smile. Now he only looked angry.

“All night you’ve been such a fucking bitch to me, and for what?”

“Let go of me. You clearly know who I am, so you know what my powers are. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He laughed, then leaned down so his face was only inches from yours.

“You think you’re too good for me, because you’re an Avenger and I’m not? I could’ve been a hero too, you know.” He laughed, although there was no humor behind it. His grip on your wrist tightened as he gave you that sick smile. “I can—”

You didn’t get to find out what it was he could do, before a hand reached from behind you and wrapped around Benjamin’s throat. In seconds, he was pinned against the wall.

And even if the hand around Benjamin’s throat wasn’t metal, you still would’ve known who it was that was behind you.

“James,” you turned around and smiled. “I could’ve handled him.”

“Oh I know you could’ve,” he tightened his grip as Benjamin tried to speak and continued to try and remove Bucky’s hand. “You could’ve kicked his ass, but you shouldn’t have to.”

By then, the rest of the team had all come back into the room. Benjamin looked to them as if to silently ask for help, but suddenly they were all preoccupied with the floors and ceilings. Alexei even went so far as to whistle and brush invisible crumbs off of his suit jacket.

Bucky shook his head as he finally dropped his left hand, allowing Benjamin to breathe properly for the first time in a couple of minutes. Any relief he felt was short lived though, because Bucky almost immediately used his right hand to slam him back against the wall.

“You’ve been bothering her all night. And I know exactly who you are. Dishonorable discharge from the Army for sexual misconduct against female superiors. Looked into you after you bothered her the first time. And she,” he nodded towards you while never taking his eyes off of Benjamin. “Has been too polite to tell you to fuck off, but I’m not. If you so much as breathe in my wife’s direction again, it’ll be the last breath you ever take. And if you tell anyone about what’s going on right now, I can promise you that you’ll only wish you were dead.”

With that, he let go, and Benjamin fell to the ground as he tried to catch his breath. He got up after a moment, a hand on his neck as he scrambled for the doors.

“You’re all fucking psychopaths!” He yelled. Yelena took a step towards him, causing Benjamin to yank the doors open, probably running faster than he had in his entire life.

“You okay doll? I knew something was off when you were gone longer than a minute. I meant what I said, I know you could’ve handled it, I just—”

“It’s okay,” you placed your right hand in Bucky’s left. “I kinda like when you come to my rescue.”

You took a deep breath before turning to face the team, all staring at you with wide eyes and open mouths. “I know you have questions, and I promise we’ll answer them all… eventually. Let’s just get home first.”

Alexei immediately opens his mouth. “So you two—”

He was stopped by Yelena, who grabbed his arm and began walking towards the car. “Chop chop let’s go people I have a lot of questions.”

Only a few minutes later, you all finally slumped back in your seats.

“Former Winter Soldier and vigilante both turned Avenger, meet and fall in love. Beautiful!” Alexei grins, giving you a thumbs up in the rear view mirror.

Bucky takes your hand in his, apologizing once again for letting the cat out of the bag.

“Seriously though,” Ava leans forward in her seat. “Does no one know about you two?”

You shrug, “the… original Avengers, is that what we call them? Anyway, they all found out a long time ago. Natasha was actually the first one I told.”

Hearing that you confided in her sister brings a smile to Yelena’s face.

The rest of the ride to the tower is silent. And you end up falling asleep leaning on Bucky’s arm. At one point, he turns and places a soft kiss on your head. The team all turn to look at each other, as if silently asking if they were really all that blind. How had they missed this??

You wake up just as Alexei not so delicately comes to a stop as he waits for the gate to the parking structure to open.

“At least I can finally do this now,” Bucky smiles as he walks next to you, slipping his hand into yours as you head into the tower.

When you all walk into the downstairs lobby area, Bob is there.

“Saw you guys pull in on the cameras. Figured I’d wait to see how the night went.” He looks at you and Bucky holding hands, and smiles. “Oh you guys finally told them!”

All eyes are on you again.

“What the fuck!”

“Wait BOB knew?!”

You and Bucky turn to look at each other. “This is gonna be a looong night.”

why this is called “a love that makes sense” is coming in part 2!

TAG LIST FOR PART 2 ── 2 of 50 spots taken. if you’d like to be added, let me know!!

@rafesgurl | @julesandgems